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<h3>CHAPTER XCIV.</h3>
<h4>A REAL CHRISTIAN.<br/> </h4>
<p>In the meantime the Rowleys were gone. On the Monday after the
departure of Stanbury for Italy, Lady Rowley had begun to look the
difficulty about Nora in the face, and to feel that she must do
something towards providing the poor girl with a temporary home.
Everybody had now agreed that she was to marry Hugh Stanbury as soon
as Hugh Stanbury could be ready, and it was not to be thought of that
she should be left out in the world as one in disgrace or under a
cloud. But what was to be done? Sir Marmaduke was quite incapable of
suggesting anything. He would make her an allowance, and leave her a
small sum of ready money;—but as to residence, he could only suggest
again and again that she should be sent to Mrs. Outhouse. Now Lady
Rowley was herself not very fond of Mrs. Outhouse, and she was aware
that Nora herself was almost as averse to St. Diddulph's as she was
to the Mandarins. Nora already knew that she had the game in her own
hands. Once when in her presence her father suggested the near
relationship and prudent character and intense respectability of Mrs.
Outhouse, Nora, who was sitting behind Sir Marmaduke, shook her head
at her mother, and Lady Rowley knew that Nora would not go to St.
Diddulph's. This was the last occasion on which that proposition was
discussed.</p>
<p>Throughout all the Trevelyan troubles Lady Milborough had continued
to shew a friendly anxiety on behalf of Emily Trevelyan. She had
called once or twice on Lady Rowley, and Lady Rowley had of course
returned the visits. She had been forward in expressing her belief
that in truth the wife had been but little if at all to blame, and
had won her way with Lady Rowley, though she had never been a
favourite with either of Lady Rowley's daughters. Now, in her
difficulty, Lady Rowley went to Lady Milborough, and returned with an
invitation that Nora should come to Eccleston Square, either till
such time as she might think fit to go to Monkhams, or till Mrs.
Trevelyan should have returned, and should be desirous of having her
sister with her. When Nora first heard of this she almost screamed
with surprise, and, if the truth must be told, with disappointment
also.</p>
<p>"She never liked me, mamma."</p>
<p>"Then she is so much more good-natured."</p>
<p>"But I don't want to go to her merely because she is good-natured
enough to receive a person she dislikes. I know she is very good. I
know she would sacrifice herself for anything she thought right. But,
mamma, she is such a bore!"</p>
<p>But Lady Rowley would not be talked down, even by Nora, in this
fashion. Nora was somewhat touched with an idea that it would be a
fine independent thing to live alone, if it were only for a week or
two, just because other young ladies never lived alone. Perhaps there
was some half-formed notion in her mind that permission to do so was
part of the reward due to her for having refused to marry a lord.
Stanbury was in some respects a Bohemian, and it would become her,
she thought, to have a little practice herself in the Bohemian line.
She had, indeed, declined a Bohemian marriage, feeling strongly
averse to encounter the loud displeasure of her father and
mother;—but as long as everything was quite proper, as long as there
should be no running away, or subjection of her name to scandal, she
considered that a little independence would be useful and agreeable.
She had looked forward to sitting up at night alone by a single
tallow candle, to stretching a beefsteak so as to last her for two
days' dinners, and perhaps to making her own bed. Now, there would
not be the slightest touch of romance in a visit to Lady Milborough's
house in Eccleston Square, at the end of July. Lady Rowley, however,
was of a different opinion, and spoke her mind plainly. "Nora, my
dear, don't be a fool. A young lady like you can't go and live in
lodgings by herself. All manner of things would be said. And this is
such a very kind offer! You must accept it,—for Hugh's sake. I have
already said that you would accept it."</p>
<p>"But she will be going out of town."</p>
<p>"She will stay till you can go to Monkhams,—if Emily is not back
before then. She knows all about Emily's affairs; and if she does
come back,—which I doubt, poor thing,—Lady Milborough and you will
be able to judge whether you should go to her." So it was settled,
and Nora's Bohemian Castle in the Air fell into shatters.</p>
<p>The few remaining days before the departure to Southampton passed
quickly, but yet sadly. Sir Marmaduke had come to England expecting
pleasure,—and with that undefined idea which men so employed always
have on their return home that something will turn up which will make
their going back to that same banishment unnecessary. What Governor
of Hong-Kong, what Minister to Bogota, what General of the Forces at
the Gold Coast, ever left the scene of his official or military
labours without a hope, which was almost an expectation, that a
grateful country would do something better for him before the period
of his return should have arrived? But a grateful country was doing
nothing better for Sir Marmaduke, and an ungrateful Secretary of
State at the Colonial Office would not extend the term during which
he could regard himself as absent on special service. How thankful he
had been when first the tidings reached him that he was to come home
at the expense of the Crown, and without diminution of his official
income! He had now been in England for five months, with a per diem
allowance, with his very cabs paid for him, and he was discontented,
sullen, and with nothing to comfort him but his official grievance,
because he could not be allowed to extend his period of special
service more than two months beyond the time at which those special
services were in truth ended! There had been a change of Ministry in
the last month, and he had thought that a Conservative Secretary of
State would have been kinder to him. "The Duke says I can stay three
months with leave of absence;—and have half my pay stopped. I wonder
whether it ever enters into his august mind that even a Colonial
Governor must eat and drink." It was thus he expressed his great
grievance to his wife. "The Duke," however, had been as inexorable as
his predecessor, and Sir Rowley, with his large family, was too wise
to remain to the detriment of his pocket. In the meantime the clerks
in the office, who had groaned in spirit over the ignorance displayed
in his evidence before the committee, were whispering among
themselves that he ought not to be sent back to his seat of
government at all.</p>
<p>Lady Rowley also was disappointed and unhappy. She had expected so
much pleasure from her visit to her daughter, and she had received so
little! Emily's condition was very sad, but in her heart of hearts
perhaps she groaned more bitterly over all that Nora had lost, than
she did over the real sorrows of her elder child. To have had the cup
at her lip, and then not to have tasted it! And she had the solace of
no communion in this sorrow. She had accepted Hugh Stanbury as her
son-in-law, and not for worlds would she now say a word against him
to any one. She had already taken him to her heart, and she loved
him. But to have had it almost within her grasp to have had a lord,
the owner of Monkhams, for her son-in-law! Poor Lady Rowley!</p>
<p>Sophie and Lucy, too, were returning to their distant and dull
banishment without any realisation of their probable but unexpressed
ambition. They made no complaint, but yet it was hard on them that
their sister's misfortune should have prevented them from
going,—almost to a single dance. Poor Sophie and poor Lucy! They
must go, and we shall hear no more about them. It was thought well
that Nora should not go down with them to Southampton. What good
would her going do? "God bless you, my darling," said the mother, as
she held her child in her arms.</p>
<p>"Good-bye, dear mamma."</p>
<p>"Give my best love to Hugh, and tell him that I pray him with my last
word to be good to you." Even then she was thinking of Lord
Peterborough, but the memory of what might have been was buried deep
in her mind.</p>
<p>"Nora, tell me all about it," said Lucy.</p>
<p>"There will be nothing to tell," said Nora.</p>
<p>"Tell it all the same," said Lucy. "And bring Hugh out to write a
book of travels about the Mandarins. Nobody has ever written a book
about the Mandarins." So they parted; and when Sir Marmaduke and his
party were taken off in two cabs to the Waterloo Station, Nora was
taken in one cab to Eccleston Square.</p>
<p>It may be doubted whether any old lady since the world began ever did
a more thoroughly Christian and friendly act than this which was now
being done by Lady Milborough. It was the end of July, and she would
already have been down in Dorsetshire, but for her devotion to this
good deed. For, in truth, what she was doing was not occasioned by
any express love for Nora Rowley. Nora Rowley was all very well, but
Nora Rowley towards her had been flippant, impatient, and, indeed,
not always so civil as a young lady should be to the elderly friends
of her married sister. But to Lady Milborough it had seemed to be
quite terrible that a young girl should be left alone in the world,
without anybody to take care of her. Young ladies, according to her
views of life, were fragile plants that wanted much nursing before
they could be allowed to be planted out in the gardens of the world
as married women. When she heard from Lady Rowley that Nora was
engaged to marry Hugh Stanbury,—"You know all about Lord
Peterborough, Lady Milborough; but it is no use going back to that
now,—is it? And Mr. Stanbury has behaved so exceedingly well in
regard to poor Louis,"—when Lady Milborough heard this, and heard
also that Nora was talking of going to live by herself—in
lodgings—she swore to herself, like a goodly Christian woman, as she
was, that such a thing must not be. Eccleston Square in July and
August is not pleasant, unless it be to an inhabitant who is
interested in the fag-end of the parliamentary session. Lady
Milborough had no interest in politics,—had not much interest even
in seeing the social season out to its dregs. She ordinarily remained
in London till the beginning or middle of July, because the people
with whom she lived were in the habit of doing so;—but as soon as
ever she had fixed the date of her departure, that day to her was a
day of release. On this occasion the day had been fixed,—and it was
unfixed, and changed, and postponed, because it was manifest to Lady
Milborough that she could do good by remaining for another fortnight.
When she made the offer she said nothing of her previous
arrangements. "Lady Rowley, let her come to me. As soon as her friend
Lady Peterborough is at Monkhams, she can go there."</p>
<p>Thus it was that Nora found herself established in Eccleston Square.
As she took her place in Lady Milborough's drawing-rooms, she
remembered well a certain day, now two years ago, when she had first
heard of the glories of Monkhams in that very house. Lady Milborough,
as good-natured then as she was now, had brought Mr. Glascock and
Nora together, simply because she had heard that the gentleman
admired the young lady. Nora, in her pride, had resented this as
interference,—had felt that the thing had been done, and, though she
had valued the admiration of the man, had ridiculed the action of the
woman. As she thought of it now she was softened by gratitude. She
had not on that occasion been suited with a husband, but she had
gained a friend. "My dear," said Lady Milborough, as at her request
Nora took off her hat, "I am afraid that the parties are mostly
over,—that is, those I go to; but we will drive out every day, and
the time won't be so very long."</p>
<p>"It won't be long for me, Lady Milborough;—but I cannot but know how
terribly I am putting you out."</p>
<p>"I am never put out, Miss Rowley," said the old lady, "as long as I
am made to think that what I do is taken in good part."</p>
<p>"Indeed, indeed it shall be taken in good part," said Nora,—"indeed
it shall." And she swore a solemn silent vow of friendship for the
dear old woman.</p>
<p>Then there came letters and telegrams from Chambery, Dijon, and
Paris, and the joint expedition in search of the cottage was made to
Twickenham. It was astonishing how enthusiastic and how loving the
elder and the younger lady were together before the party from Italy
had arrived in England. Nora had explained everything about
herself,—how impossible it had been for her not to love Hugh
Stanbury; how essential it had been for her happiness and self-esteem
that she should refuse Mr. Glascock; how terrible had been the
tragedy of her sister's marriage. Lady Milborough spoke of the former
subject with none of Lady Rowley's enthusiasm, but still with an
evident partiality for her own rank, which almost aroused Nora to
indignant eloquence. Lady Milborough was contented to acknowledge
that Nora might be right, seeing that her heart was so firmly fixed;
but she was clearly of opinion that Mr. Glascock, being Mr. Glascock,
had possessed a better right to the prize in question than could have
belonged to any man who had no recognised position in the world.
Seeing that her heart had been given away, Nora was no doubt right
not to separate her hand from her heart; but Lady Milborough was of
opinion that young ladies ought to have their hearts under better
control, so that the men entitled to the prizes should get them. It
was for the welfare of England at large that the eldest sons of good
families should marry the sweetest, prettiest, brightest, and most
lovable girls of their age. It is a doctrine on behalf of which very
much may be said.</p>
<p>On that other matter, touching Emily Trevelyan, Lady Milborough
frankly owned that she had seen early in the day that he was the one
most in fault. "I must say, my dear," she said, "that I very greatly
dislike your friend, Colonel Osborne."</p>
<p>"I am sure that he meant not the slightest harm,—no more than she
did."</p>
<p>"He was old enough, and ought to have known better. And when the
first hint of an uneasiness in the mind of Louis was suggested to
him, his feelings as a gentleman should have prompted him to remove
himself. Let the suspicion have been ever so absurd, he should have
removed himself. Instead of that, he went after her,—into
Devonshire."</p>
<p>"He went to see other friends, Lady Milborough."</p>
<p>"I hope it may have been so;—I hope it may have been so. But he
should have cut off his hand before he rang at the door of the house
in which she was living. You will understand, my dear, that I acquit
your sister altogether. I did so all through, and said the same to
poor Louis when he came to me. But Colonel Osborne should have known
better. Why did he write to her? Why did he go to St. Diddulph's? Why
did he let it be thought that,—that she was especially his friend.
Oh dear; oh dear; oh dear! I am afraid he is a very bad man."</p>
<p>"We had known him so long, Lady Milborough."</p>
<p>"I wish you had never known him at all. Poor Louis! If he had only
done what I told him at first, all might have been well. 'Go to
Naples, with your wife,' I said. 'Go to Naples.' If he had gone to
Naples, there would have been no journeys to Siena, no living at
Casalunga, no separation. But he didn't seem to see it in the same
light. Poor dear Louis. I wish he had gone to Naples when I told
him."</p>
<p>While they were going backwards and forwards, looking at the cottage
at Twickenham and trying to make things comfortable there for the
sick man, Lady Milborough hinted to Nora that it might be distasteful
to Trevelyan, in his present condition, to have even a sister-in-law
staying in the house with him. There was a little chamber which Nora
had appropriated to herself, and at first it seemed to be taken for
granted that she should remain there at least till the 10th of
August, on which day Lady Peterborough had signified that she and her
husband would be ready to receive their visitor. But Lady Milborough
slept on the suggestion, and on the next morning hinted her
disapprobation. "You shall take them down in the carriage, and their
luggage can follow in a cab;—but the carriage can bring you back.
You will see how things are then."</p>
<p>"Dear Lady Milborough, you would go out of town at once if I left
you."</p>
<p>"And I shall not go out of town if you don't leave me. What
difference does it make to an old woman like me? I have got no lover
coming to look for me, and all I have to do is to tell my
daughter-in-law that I shall not be there for another week or so.
Augusta is very glad to have me, but she is the wisest woman in the
world, and can get on very well without me."</p>
<p>"And as I am the silliest, I cannot."</p>
<p>"You shall put it in that way if you like it, my dear. Girls in your
position often do want assistance. I dare say you think me very
straight-laced, but I am quite sure Mr. Stanbury will be grateful to
me. As you are to be married from Monkhams, it will be quite well
that you should pass thither through my house as an intermediate
resting-place, after leaving your father and mother." By all which
Lady Milborough intended to express an opinion that the value of the
article which Hugh Stanbury would receive at the altar would be
enhanced by the distinguished purity of the hands through which it
had passed before it came into his possession;—in which opinion she
was probably right as regarded the price put upon the article by the
world at large, though it may perhaps be doubted whether the
recipient himself would be of the same opinion.</p>
<p>"I hope you know that I am grateful, whatever he may be," said Nora,
after a pause.</p>
<p>"I think that you take it as it is meant, and that makes me quite
comfortable."</p>
<p>"Lady Milborough, I shall love you for ever and ever. I don't think I
ever knew anybody so good as you are,—or so nice."</p>
<p>"Then I shall be more than comfortable," said Lady Milborough. After
that there was an embrace, and the thing was settled.</p>
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