is a woman not to have a headache, when she carries a thing on the back of her poll as big as a gardener’s wheelbarrow? Come, it’s a fine evening, and we’ll go out and look at the towers. You’ve never even seen them yet, I suppose?”
So they went out, and finding the verger at the Cathedral door, he being a great friend of Miss Stanbury’s, they walked up and down the aisles, and Dorothy was instructed as to what would be expected from her in regard to the outward forms of religion. She was to go to the Cathedral service on the morning of every weekday, and on Sundays in the afternoon. On Sunday mornings she was to attend the little church of St. Margaret. On Sunday evenings it was the practice of Miss Stanbury to read a sermon in the dining-room to all of whom her household consisted. Did Dorothy like daily services? Dorothy, who was more patient than her brother, and whose life had been much less energetic, said that she had no objection to going to church every day when there was not too much to do.
“There never need be too much to do to attend the Lord’s house,” said Miss Stanbury, somewhat angrily.
“Only if you’ve got to make the beds,” said Dorothy.
“My dear, I beg your pardon,” said Miss Stanbury. “I beg your pardon, heartily. I’m a thoughtless old woman, I know. Never mind. Now, we’ll go in.”
Later in the evening, when she gave her niece a candlestick to go to bed, she repeated what she had said before.
“It’ll do very well, my dear. I’m sure it’ll do. But if you read in bed either night or morning, I’ll never forgive you.”
This last caution was uttered with so much energy, that Dorothy gave a little jump as she promised obedience.
Chapter IX.
Shewing How the Quarrel Progressed Again
On one Sunday morning, when the month of May was nearly over, Hugh Stanbury met Colonel Osborne in Curzon Street, not many yards from Trevelyan’s door. Colonel Osborne had just come from the house, and Stanbury was going to it. Hugh had not spoken to Osborne since the day, now a fortnight since, on which both of them had witnessed the scene in the park; but on that occasion they had been left together, and it had been impossible for them not to say a few words about their mutual friends. Osborne had expressed his sorrow that there should be any misunderstanding, and had called Trevelyan a “confounded fool.” Stanbury had suggested that there was something in it which they two probably did not understand, and that matters would be sure to come all right. “The truth is Trevelyan bullies her,” said Osborne; “and if he goes on with that he’ll be sure to get the worst of it.” Now,—on this present occasion,—Stanbury asked whether he would find the ladies at home. “Yes, they are both there,” said Osborne. “Trevelyan has just gone out in a huff. She’ll never be able to go on living with him. Anybody can see that with half an eye.” Then he had passed on, and Hugh Stanbury knocked at the door.
He was shown up into the drawing-room, and found both the sisters there; but he could see that Mrs. Trevelyan had been in tears. The avowed purpose of his visit,—that is, the purpose which he had avowed to himself,—was to talk about his sister Dorothy. He had told Miss Rowley, while walking in the park with her, how Dorothy had been invited over to Exeter by her aunt, and how he had counselled his sister to accept the invitation. Nora had expressed herself very interested as to Dorothy’s fate, and had said how much she wished that she knew Dorothy. We all understand how sweet it is, when two such persons as Hugh Stanbury and Nora Rowley cannot speak of their love for each other, to say these tender things in regard to some one else. Nora had been quite anxious to know how Dorothy had been received by that old conservative warrior, as Hugh Stanbury had called his aunt, and Hugh had now come to Curzon Street with a letter from Dorothy in his pocket. But when he saw that there had been some cause for trouble, he hardly knew how to introduce his subject.
“Trevelyan is not at home?” he asked.
“No,” said Emily, with her face turned away. “He went out and left us a quarter of an hour since. Did you meet Colonel Osborne?”
“I was speaking to him in the street not a moment since.” As he answered he could see that Nora was making some sign to her sister. Nora was most anxious that Emily should not speak of what had just occurred, but her signs were all thrown away. “Somebody must tell him,” said Mrs. Trevelyan, “and I don’t know who can do so better than so old a friend as Mr. Stanbury.”
“Tell what, and to whom?” he asked.
“No, no, no,” said Nora.
“Then I must tell him myself,” said she, “that is all. As for standing this kind of life, it is out of the question. I should either destroy myself or go mad.”
“If I could do any good I should be so happy,” said Stanbury.
“Nobody can do any good between a man and his wife,” said Nora.
Then Mrs. Trevelyan began to tell her story, putting aside, with an impatient motion of her hands, the efforts which her sister made to stop her. She was very angry, and as she told it, standing up, all trace of sobbing soon disappeared from her voice. “The fact is,” she said, “he does not know his own mind, or what to fear or what not to fear. He told me that I was never to see Colonel Osborne again.”
“What is the use, Emily, of your repeating that to Mr. Stanbury?”
“Why should I not repeat it? Colonel Osborne is papa’s oldest friend, and mine too. He is a man I like very much,—who is a real friend to me. As he is old enough to be my father, one would have thought that my husband could have found no objection.”
“I don’t know much about his age,” said Stanbury.
“It does make a difference. It must make a difference. I should not think of becoming so intimate with a younger man. But, however, when my husband told me that I was to see him no more,—though the insult nearly killed me, I determined to obey him. An order was given that Colonel Osborne should not be admitted. You may imagine how painful it was; but it was given, and I was prepared to bear it.”
“But he had been lunching with you on that Sunday.”
“Yes; that is just it. As soon as it was given Louis would rescind it, because he was ashamed of what he had done. He was so jealous that he did not want me to see the man; and yet he was so afraid that it should be known that he ordered me to see him. He ordered him into the house at last, and I,—I went away upstairs.”
“That was on the Sunday that we met you in the park?” asked Stanbury.
“What is the use of going back to all that?” said Nora.
“Then I met him by chance in the park,” continued Mrs. Trevelyan, “and because he said a word which I knew would anger my husband, I left him abruptly. Since that my husband has begged that things might go on as they were before. He could not bear that Colonel Osborne himself should think that he was jealous. Well; I gave way, and the man has been here as before. And now there has been a scene which has been disgraceful to us all. I cannot stand it, and I won’t. If he does not behave himself with more manliness,—I will leave him.”
“But what can I do?”
“Nothing,
