<p><SPAN name="c91" id="c91"></SPAN> </p>
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<h3>CHAPTER XCI.</h3>
<h4>FOUR O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING.<br/> </h4>
<p>Another week went by and Sir Marmaduke had even yet not surrendered.
He quite understood that Nora was not to go back to the Islands. And
had visited Mr. and Mrs. Outhouse at St. Diddulph's in order to
secure a home for her there, if it might be possible. Mr. Outhouse
did not refuse, but gave the permission in such a fashion as to make
it almost equal to a refusal. "He was," he said, "much attached to
his niece Nora, but he had heard that there was a love affair." Sir
Marmaduke, of course, could not deny the love affair. There was
certainly a love affair of which he did not personally approve, as
the gentleman had no fixed income and as far as he could understand
no fixed profession. "Such a love affair," thought Mr. Outhouse, "was
a sort of thing that he didn't know how to manage at all. If Nora
came to him, was the young man to visit at the house, or was he not?"
Then Mrs. Outhouse said something as to the necessity of an
anti-Stanbury pledge on Nora's part, and Sir Marmaduke found that
that scheme must be abandoned. Mrs. Trevelyan had written from
Florence more than once or twice, and in her last letter had said
that she would prefer not to have Nora with her. She was at that time
living in lodgings at Siena and had her boy there also. She saw her
husband every other day; but nevertheless,—according to her
statements,—her visits to Casalunga were made in opposition to his
wishes. He had even expressed a desire that she should leave Siena
and return to England. He had once gone so far as to say that if she
would do so, he would follow her. But she clearly did not believe
him, and in all her letters spoke of him as one whom she could not
regard as being under the guidance of reason. She had taken her child
with her once or twice to the house, and on the first occasion
Trevelyan had made much of his son, had wept over him, and professed
that in losing him he had lost his only treasure; but after that he
had not noticed the boy, and latterly she had gone alone. She thought
that perhaps her visits cheered him, breaking the intensity of his
solitude; but he never expressed himself gratified by them, never
asked her to remain at the house, never returned with her into Siena,
and continually spoke of her return to England as a step which must
be taken soon,—and the sooner the better. He intended to follow her,
he said; and she explained very fully how manifest was his wish that
she should go, by the temptation to do so which he thought that he
held out by this promise. He had spoken, on every occasion of her
presence with him, of Sir Marmaduke's attempt to prove him to be a
madman; but declared that he was afraid of no one in England, and
would face all the lawyers in Chancery Lane and all the doctors in
Savile Row. Nevertheless, so said Mrs. Trevelyan, he would
undoubtedly remain at Casalunga till after Sir Marmaduke should have
sailed. He was not so mad but that he knew that no one else would be
so keen to take steps against him as would Sir Marmaduke. As for his
health, her account of him was very sad. "He seemed," she said, "to
be withering away." His hand was mere skin and bone. His hair and
beard so covered his thin long cheeks, that there was nothing left of
his face but his bright, large, melancholy eyes. His legs had become
so frail and weak that they would hardly bear his weight as he
walked; and his clothes, though he had taken a fancy to throw aside
all that he had brought with him from England, hung so loose about
him that they seemed as though they would fall from him. Once she had
ventured to send out to him from Siena a doctor to whom she had been
recommended in Florence; but he had taken the visit in very bad part,
had told the gentleman that he had no need for any medical services,
and had been furious with her, because of her offence in having sent
such a visitor. He had told her that if ever she ventured to take
such a liberty again, he would demand the child back, and refuse her
permission inside the gates of Casalunga. "Don't come, at any rate,
till I send for you," Mrs. Trevelyan said in her last letter to her
sister. "Your being here would do no good, and would, I think, make
him feel that he was being watched. My hope is, at last, to get him
to return with me. If you were here, I think this would be less
likely. And then why should you be mixed up with such unutterable
sadness and distress more than is essentially necessary? My health
stands wonderfully well, though the heat here is very great. It is
cooler at Casalunga than in the town,—of which I am glad for his
sake. He perspires so profusely that it seems to me he cannot stand
the waste much longer. I know he will not go to England as long as
papa is there;—but I hope that he may be induced to do so by slow
stages as soon as he knows that papa has gone. Mind you send me a
newspaper, so that he may see it stated in print that papa has
sailed."</p>
<p>It followed as one consequence of these letters from Florence that
Nora was debarred from the Italian scheme as a mode of passing her
time till some house should be open for her reception. She had
suggested to Hugh that she might go for a few weeks to Nuncombe
Putney, but he had explained to her the nature of his mother's
cottage, and had told her that there was no hole there in which she
could lay her head. "There never was such a forlorn young woman," she
said. "When papa goes I shall literally be without shelter." There
had come a letter from Mrs. Glascock,—at least it was signed
Caroline Glascock, though another name might have been used,—dated
from Milan, saying that they were hurrying back to Naples even at
that season of the year, because Lord Peterborough was dead. "And she
is Lady Peterborough!" said Lady Rowley, unable to repress the
expression of the old regrets. "Of course she is Lady Peterborough,
mamma; what else should she be?—though she does not so sign
herself." "We think," said the American peeress, "that we shall be at
Monkhams before the end of August, and Charles says that you are to
come just the same. There will be nobody else there, of course,
because of Lord Peterborough's death." "I saw it in the paper," said
Sir Marmaduke, "and quite forgot to mention it."</p>
<p>That same evening there was a long family discussion about Nora's
prospects. They were all together in the gloomy sitting-room at
Gregg's Hotel, and Sir Marmaduke had not yielded. The ladies had
begun to feel that it would be well not to press him to yield.
Practically he had yielded. There was now no question of cursing and
of so-called disinheritance. Nora was to remain in England, of course
with the intention of being married to Hugh Stanbury; and the
difficulty consisted in the need of an immediate home for her. It
wanted now but twelve days to that on which the family were to sail
from Southampton, and nothing had been settled. "If papa will allow
me something ever so small, and will trust me, I will live alone in
lodgings," said Nora.</p>
<p>"It is the maddest thing I ever heard," said Sir Marmaduke.</p>
<p>"Who would take care of you, Nora?" asked Lady Rowley.</p>
<p>"And who would walk about with you?" said Lucy.</p>
<p>"I don't see how it would be possible to live alone like that," said
Sophie.</p>
<p>"Nobody would take care of me, and nobody would walk about with me,
and I could live alone very well," said Nora. "I don't see why a
young woman is to be supposed to be so absolutely helpless as all
that comes to. Of course it won't be very nice,—but it need not be
for long."</p>
<p>"Why not for long?" asked Sir Marmaduke.</p>
<p>"Not for very long," said Nora.</p>
<p>"It does not seem to me," said Sir Marmaduke, after a considerable
pause, "that this gentleman himself is so particularly anxious for
the match. I have heard no day named, and no rational proposition
made."</p>
<p>"Papa, that is unfair, most unfair,—and ungenerous."</p>
<p>"Nora," said her mother, "do not speak in that way to your father."</p>
<p>"Mamma, it is unfair. Papa accuses Mr. Stanbury of being,—being
lukewarm and untrue,—of not being in earnest."</p>
<p>"I would rather that he were not in earnest," said Sir Marmaduke.</p>
<p>"Mr. Stanbury is ready at any time," continued Nora. "He would have
the banns at once read, and marry me in three weeks,—if I would let
him."</p>
<p>"Good gracious, Nora!" exclaimed Lady Rowley.</p>
<p>"But I have refused to name any day, or to make any arrangement,
because I did not wish to do so before papa had given his consent.
That is why things are in this way. If papa will but let me take a
room till I can go to Monkhams, I will have everything arranged from
there. You can trust Mr. Glascock for that, and you can trust her."</p>
<p>"I suppose your papa will make you some allowance," said Lady Rowley.</p>
<p>"She is entitled to nothing, as she has refused to go to her proper
home," said Sir Marmaduke.</p>
<p>The conversation, which had now become very disagreeable, was not
allowed to go any further. And it was well that it should be
interrupted. They all knew that Sir Marmaduke must be brought round
by degrees, and that both Nora and Lady Rowley had gone as far as was
prudent at present. But all trouble on this head was suddenly ended
for this evening by the entrance of the waiter with a telegram. It
was addressed to Lady Rowley, and she opened it with trembling
hands,—as ladies always do open telegrams. It was from Emily
Trevelyan. "Louis is much worse. Let somebody come to me. Hugh
Stanbury would be the best."</p>
<p>In a few minutes they were so much disturbed that no one quite knew
what should be done at once. Lady Rowley began by declaring that she
would go herself. Sir Marmaduke of course pointed out that this was
impossible, and suggested that he would send a lawyer. Nora professed
herself ready to start immediately on the journey, but was stopped by
a proposition from her sister Lucy that in that case Hugh Stanbury
would of course go with her. Lady Rowley asked whether Hugh would go,
and Nora asserted that he would go immediately as a matter of course.
She was sure he would go, let the people at the D. R. say what they
might. According to her there was always somebody at the call of the
editor of the D. R. to do the work of anybody else, when anybody else
wanted to go away. Sir Marmaduke shook his head, and was very uneasy.
He still thought that a lawyer would be best, feeling, no doubt, that
if Stanbury's services were used on such an occasion, there must be
an end of all opposition to the marriage. But before half-an-hour was
over Stanbury was sent for. The boots of the hotel went off in a cab
to the office of the D. R. with a note from Lady Rowley. "Dear Mr.
Stanbury,—We have had a telegram from Emily, and want to see you,
<span class="u">at once</span>. Please come. We shall
sit up and wait for you till you do come.—E. R."</p>
<p>It was very distressing to them because, let the result be what it
might, it was all but impossible that Mrs. Trevelyan should be with
them before they had sailed, and it was quite out of the question
that they should now postpone their journey. Were Stanbury to start
by the morning train on the following day, he could not reach Siena
till the afternoon of the fourth day; and let the result be what it
might when he arrived there, it would be out of the question that
Emily Trevelyan should come back quite at once, or that she should
travel at the same speed. Of course they might hear again by
telegram, and also by letter; but they could not see her, or have any
hand in her plans. "If anything were to happen, she might have come
with us," said Lady Rowley.</p>
<p>"It is out of the question," said Sir Marmaduke gloomily. "I could
not give up the places I have taken."</p>
<p>"A few days more would have done it."</p>
<p>"I don't suppose she would wish to go," said Nora. "Of course she
would not take Louey there. Why should she? And then I don't suppose
he is so ill as that."</p>
<p>"There is no saying," said Sir Marmaduke. It was very evident that,
whatever might be Sir Marmaduke's opinion, he had no
strongly-developed wish for his son-in-law's recovery.</p>
<p>They all sat up waiting for Hugh Stanbury till eleven, twelve, one,
and two o'clock at night. The "boots" had returned, saying that Mr.
Stanbury had not been at the office of the newspaper, but that,
according to information received, he certainly would be there that
night. No other address had been given to the man, and the note had
therefore of necessity been left at the office. Sir Marmaduke became
very fretful, and was evidently desirous of being liberated from his
night watch. But he could not go himself, and shewed his impatience
by endeavouring to send the others away. Lady Rowley replied for
herself that she should certainly remain in her corner on the sofa
all night, if it were necessary; and as she slept very soundly in her
corner, her comfort was not much impaired. Nora was pertinacious in
refusing to go to bed. "I should only go to my own room, papa, and
remain there," she said. "Of course I must speak to him before he
goes." Sophie and Lucy considered that they had as much right to sit
up as Nora, and submitted to be called geese and idiots by their
father.</p>
<p>Sir Marmaduke had arisen with a snort from a short slumber, and had
just sworn that he and everybody else should go to bed, when there
came a ring at the front-door bell. The trusty boots had also
remained up, and in two minutes Hugh Stanbury was in the room. He had
to make his excuses before anything else could be said. When he
reached the D. R. office between ten and eleven, it was absolutely
incumbent on him to write a leading article before he left it. He had
been in the reporter's gallery of the House all the evening, and he
had come away laden with his article. "It was certainly better that
we should remain up, than that the whole town should be
disappointed," said Sir Marmaduke, with something of a sneer.</p>
<p>"It is so very, very good of you to come," said Nora.</p>
<p>"Indeed, it is," said Lady Rowley; "but we were quite sure you would
come." Having kissed and blessed him as her son-in-law, Lady Rowley
was now prepared to love him almost as well as though he had been
Lord Peterborough.</p>
<p>"Perhaps, Mr. Stanbury, we had better show you this telegram," said
Sir Marmaduke, who had been standing with the scrap of paper in his
hand since the ring of the bell had been heard. Hugh took the message
and read it. "I do not know what should have made my daughter mention
your name," continued Sir Marmaduke;—"but as she has done so, and as
perhaps the unfortunate invalid himself may have alluded to you, we
thought it best to send for you."</p>
<p>"No doubt it was best, Sir Marmaduke."</p>
<p>"We are so situated that I cannot go. It is absolutely necessary that
we should leave town for Southampton on Friday week. The ship sails
on Saturday."</p>
<p>"I will go as a matter of course," said Hugh. "I will start at
once,—at any time. To tell the truth, when I got Lady Rowley's note,
I thought that it was to be so. Trevelyan and I were very intimate at
one time, and it may be that he will receive me without displeasure."</p>
<p>There was much to be discussed, and considerable difficulty in the
discussion. This was enhanced, too, by the feeling in the minds of
all of them that Hugh and Sir Marmaduke would not meet
again,—probably for many years. Were they to part now on terms of
close affection, or were they to part almost as strangers? Had Lucy
and Sophie not persistently remained up, Nora would have faced the
difficulty, and taken the bull by the horns, and asked her father to
sanction her engagement in the presence of her lover. But she could
not do it before so many persons, even though the persons were her
own nearest relatives. And then there arose another embarrassment.
Sir Marmaduke, who had taught himself to believe that Stanbury was so
poor as hardly to have the price of a dinner in his
pocket,—although, in fact, our friend Hugh was probably the richer
man of the two,—said something about defraying the cost of the
journey. "It is taken altogether on our behalf," said Sir Marmaduke.
Hugh became red in the face, looked angry, and muttered a word or two
about Trevelyan being the oldest friend he had in the world,—"even
if there were nothing else." Sir Marmaduke felt ashamed of
himself,—without cause, indeed, for the offer was natural,—said
nothing further about it; but appeared to be more stiff and ungainly
than ever.</p>
<p>The Bradshaw was had out and consulted, and nearly half an hour was
spent in poring over that wondrous volume. It is the fashion to abuse
Bradshaw,—we speak now especially of Bradshaw the
Continental,—because all the minutest details of the autumn tour,
just as the tourist thinks that it may be made, cannot be made patent
to him at once without close research amidst crowded figures. After
much experience we make bold to say that Bradshaw knows more, and
will divulge more in a quarter of an hour, of the properest mode of
getting from any city in Europe to any other city more than fifty
miles distant, than can be learned in that first city in a single
morning with the aid of a courier, a carriage, a pair of horses, and
all the temper that any ordinary tourist possesses. The Bradshaw was
had out, and it was at last discovered that nothing could be gained
in the journey from London to Siena by starting in the morning.
Intending as he did to travel through without sleeping on the road,
Stanbury could not do better than leave London by the night mail
train, and this he determined to do. But when that was arranged, then
came the nature of his commission. What was he to do? No commission
could be given to him. A telegram should be sent to Emily the next
morning to say that he was coming; and then he would hurry on and
take his orders from her.</p>
<p>They were all in doubt, terribly in doubt, whether the aggravated
malady of which the telegram spoke was malady of the mind or of the
body. If of the former nature then the difficulty might be very great
indeed; and it would be highly expedient that Stanbury should have
some one in Italy to assist him. It was Nora who suggested that he
should carry a letter of introduction to Mr. Spalding, and it was she
who wrote it. Sir Marmaduke had not foregathered very closely with
the English Minister, and nothing was said of assistance that should
be peculiarly British. Then, at last, about three or four in the
morning came the moment for parting. Sir Marmaduke had suggested that
Stanbury should dine with them on the next day before he started, but
Hugh had declined, alleging that as the day was at his command it
must be devoted to the work of providing for his absence. In truth,
Sir Marmaduke had given the invitation with a surly voice, and Hugh,
though he was ready to go to the North Pole for any others of the
family, was at the moment in an aggressive mood of mind towards Sir
Marmaduke.</p>
<p>"I will send a message directly I get there," he said, holding Lady
Rowley by the hand, "and will write fully,—to you,—immediately."</p>
<p>"God bless you, my dear friend!" said Lady Rowley, crying.</p>
<p>"Good night, Sir Marmaduke," said Hugh.</p>
<p>"Good night, Mr. Stanbury."</p>
<p>Then he gave a hand to the two girls, each of whom, as she took it,
sobbed, and looked away from Nora. Nora was standing away from them,
by herself, and away from the door, holding on to her chair, and with
her hands clasped together. She had prepared nothing,—not a word, or
an attitude, not a thought, for his farewell. But she had felt that
it was coming, and had known that she must trust to him for a cue for
her own demeanour. If he could say adieu with a quiet voice, and
simply with a touch of the hand, then would she do the same,—and
endeavour to think no worse of him. Nor had he prepared anything; but
when the moment came he could not leave her after that fashion. He
stood a moment hesitating, not approaching her, and merely called her
by her name,—"Nora!" For a moment she was still; for a moment she
held by her chair; and then she rushed into his arms. He did not much
care for her father now, but kissed her hair and her forehead, and
held her closely to his bosom. "My own, own Nora!"</p>
<p>It was necessary that Sir Marmaduke should say something. There was
at first a little scene between all the women, during which he
arranged his deportment. "Mr. Stanbury," he said, "let it be so. I
could wish for my child's sake, and also for your own, that your
means of living were less precarious." Hugh accepted this simply as
an authority for another embrace, and then he allowed them all to go
to bed.</p>
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