The Marriage of Elinor Part 23

"He wants you to do him credit, Elinor."

"Well, mamma, there is no harm in that. But more than that--he wants me to look nice, for myself. He thinks me still a little shy--though I never was shy, was I?--and he thinks nothing gives you courage like feeling yourself well dressed--but he takes the greatest interest in everything I wear."

"And where do you go after Goodwood, Elinor?"

"Oh, mamma, on such a round of visits!--here and there and everywhere. I don't know," and the tears sprang into Elinor's eyes, "when I may see you again."

"You are not coming back to London," said the mother, with the heart sinking in her breast.

"Not now--they all say London is insupportable--it is one of the things that everybody says, and I believe that Phil will not set foot in it again for many months. Perhaps I might get a moment, when he is shooting, or something, to run back to you; but it is a long way from Scotland--and he must be there, you know, for the 12th. He would think the world was coming to an end if he did not get a shot at the grouse on that day."

"But I thought he was looking for an appointment, Elinor?"

A cloud pa.s.sed over Elinor's face. "The season is over," she said, "and all the opportunities are exhausted--and we don't speak of that any more."

She gave her mother a very close hug at the railway, and sat with her head partly out of the window watching her as she stood on the platform, until the train turned round the corner. No relief on her dear face now, but an anxious strain in her eyes to see her mother as long as possible.

Mrs. Dennistoun, as she walked again slowly up the hills that the pony might not suffer, said to herself, with a chill at her heart, that she would rather have seen her child sinking back in the corner, pleased that it was over, as on the first day.

CHAPTER XIX.

The next winter was more dreary still and solitary than the first at Windyhill. The first had been, though it looked so long and dreary as it pa.s.sed, full of hope of the coming summer, which must, it seemed, bring Elinor back. But now Mrs. Dennistoun knew exactly what Elinor's coming back meant, and the prospect was less cheering. Three days in the whole long season--three little escapades, giving so very little hope of more sustained intercourse to come. Mrs. Dennistoun, going over all the circ.u.mstances--she had so little else to do but to go over them in her long solitary evenings--came to the conclusion that whatever might happen, she herself would go to town when summer came again. She amused herself with thinking how she would find a little house--quite a small house, as there are so many--in a good situation, where even the most fashionable need not be ashamed to come, and where there would be room enough for Elinor and her husband if they chose to establish themselves there. Mrs. Dennistoun was of opinion, already expressed, that if mothers-in-law are obnoxious to men, sons-in-law are very frequently so to women, which is a point of view not popularly perceived. And Philip Compton was not sympathetic to her in any point of view. But still she made up her mind to endure him, and even his family, for the sake of Elinor. She planned it all out--it gave a little occupation to the vacant time--how they should have their separate rooms and even meals if that turned out most convenient; how she would interfere with none of their ways: only to have her Elinor under her roof, to have her when the husband was occupied--in the evenings, if there were any evenings that she spent alone; in the mornings, when perhaps Phil got up late, or had engagements of his own; for the moment's freedom when her child should be free. She made up her mind that she would ask no questions, would never interfere with any of their habits, or oppose or put herself between them--only just to have a little of Elinor every day.

"For it will not be the same thing this year," she said to John, apologetically. "They have quite settled down into each other's ways.

Philip must see I have no intention of interfering. For the most obdurate opponent of mothers-in-law could not think--could he, John?--that I had any desire to put myself between them, or make myself troublesome now."

"There is no telling," said John, "what such a.s.ses might think."

"But Philip is not an a.s.s; and don't you think I have behaved very well, and may give myself this indulgence the second year?"

"I certainly think you will be quite right to come to town: but I should not have them to live with you, if I were you."

"Shouldn't you? It might be a risk: but then I shouldn't do it unless there was room enough to leave them quite free. The thing I am afraid of is that they wouldn't accept."

"Oh, Phil Compton will accept," said John, hurriedly.

"Why are you so sure? I think often you know more about him than you ever say."

"I don't know much about him, but I know that a man of uncertain income and not very delicate feelings is generally glad enough to have the expenses of the season taken off him: and even get all the more pleasure out of it when he has his living free."

"That's not a very elevated view to take of the transaction, John."

"My dear aunt, I did not think you expected anything very elevated from the Comptons. They are not the sort of family from which one expects----"

"And yet it is the family that my Elinor belongs to: she is a Compton."

"I did not think of that," said John, a little disconcerted. Then he added, "There is no very elevated standard in such matters. Want of money has no law: and of course there are better things involved, for he might be very glad that Elinor should have her mother to go out with her, to stand by when--a man might have other engagements."

Mrs. Dennistoun looked at him closely and shook her head. She was not very much rea.s.sured by this view of the case. "At all events I shall try it," she said.

Quite early in the year, when she was expecting no such pleasure, she was rewarded for her patience by another flying visit from her child, who this time telegraphed to say she was coming, so that her mother could go and meet her at the station, and thus lose no moment of her visit. Elinor, however, was not in good spirits on this occasion, nor was she in good looks. She told her mother hurriedly that Phil had come up upon business; that he was very much engaged with the new company, getting far more into it than satisfied her. "I am terrified that another catastrophe may come, and that he might share the blame if things were to go wrong"--which was by no means a good preface for the mission with which it afterwards appeared Elinor herself was charged.

"Phil told me to say to you, mamma, that if you were not satisfied with any of your investments, he could help you to a good six or seven per cent.----"

She said this with her head turned away, gazing out of the window, contemplating the wintry aspect of the combe with a countenance as cloudy and as little cheerful as itself.

There was an outcry on Mrs. Dennistoun's lips, but fortunately her sympathy with her child was so strong that she felt Elinor's sentiments almost more forcibly than her own, and she managed to answer in a quiet, untroubled voice.

"Philip is very kind, my dear: but you know my investments are all settled for me and I have no will of my own. I get less interest, but then I have less responsibility. Don't you know I belong to the time in which women were not supposed to be good for anything, and consequently I am in the hands of my trustees."

"I think he foresaw that, mother," said Elinor, still with her head averted and her eyes far away; "but he thought you might represent to the trustees that not only would it give you more money, but it would be better in the end for me. Oh, how I hate to have to say this to you, mamma!"

How steadily Mrs. Dennistoun kept her countenance, though her daughter now flung herself upon her shoulder with uncontrollable tears!

"My darling, it is quite natural you should say it. You must tell Philip that I fear I am powerless. I will try, but I don't think anything will come of it. I have been glad to be free of responsibility, and I have never attempted to interfere."

"Mother, I am so thankful. I oughtn't to go against him, ought I? But I would not have you take his advice. It is so dreadful not to appear----"

"My dear, you must try to think that he understands better than you do: men generally do: you are only a girl, and they are trained more or less to business."

"Not Phil! not Phil!"

"Well, he must have some capacity for it, some understanding, or they would not want him on those boards; and you cannot have, Elinor, for you know nothing about it. To hear you speak of per cents. makes me laugh."

It was a somewhat forlorn kind of laugh, yet the mother executed it finely: and by and by the subject dropped, and Elinor was turned to talk of other things--other things of which there was a great deal to say, and over which they cried and laughed together as nature bade.

In the same evening, the precious evening of which she did not like to waste a moment, Mrs. Dennistoun unfolded her plan for the season. "I feel that I know exactly the kind of house I want; it will probably be in some quiet insignificant place, a Chapel Street, or a Queen Street, or a Park Street somewhere, but in a good situation. You shall have the first floor all to yourself to receive your visitors, and if you think that Philip would prefer a separate table----"

"Oh, mamma, mamma!" cried Elinor, clinging to her, kissing pa.s.sionately her mother's cheek, which was still as soft as a child's.

"It is not anything you have told me now that has put this into my head, my darling. I had made it all up in my own mind. Then, you know, when your husband is engaged with those business affairs--in the city--or with his own friends--you would have your mother to fall back upon, Elinor. I should have just the _moments perdus_, don't you see, when you were doing nothing else, when you were wanted for nothing else. I promise you, my darling, I should never be _de trop_, and would never interfere."

"Oh, mamma, mamma!" Elinor cried again as if words failed her; and so they did, for she said scarcely anything more, and evaded any answer. It went to her mother's heart, yet she made her usual excuses for it. Poor child, once so ready to decide, accepting or rejecting with the certainty that no opposition would be made to her will, but now afraid to commit herself, to say anything that her husband would not approve!

Well! Mrs. Dennistoun said to herself, many a young wife is like that, and yet is happy enough. It depends so much on the man. Many a man adores his wife and is very good to her, and yet cannot bear that she should seem to settle anything without consulting his whim. And Philip Compton had never been what might be called an easy-going man. It was right of Elinor to give no answer till she knew what he would like. The dreadful thing was that she expressed no pleasure in her mother's proposal, scarcely looked as if she herself would like it, which was a thing which did give an unquestionable wound.

"Mamma," she said, as they were driving to the station, not in the pony carriage this time, but in the fly, for the weather was bad, "don't be vexed that I don't say more about your wonderful, your more than kind offer."

"Kind is scarcely a word to use, Elinor, between you and me."

"I know, I know, mamma--and I as good as refuse it, saying nothing. Oh, if I could tell you without telling you! I am so frightened--how can I say it?--that you should see things you would not approve!"

"My dear, I am of one generation and you are of another. I am an old woman, and your husband is a young man. But what does that matter? We can agree to differ. I will never thrust myself into his private affairs, and he----"

"Oh, mother, mother darling, it is not that," Elinor said. And she went away without any decision. But in a few days there came to Mrs.

Dennistoun a letter from Philip himself, most n.o.bly expressed, saying that Elinor had told him of her mother's kind offer, and that he hastened to accept it with the utmost grat.i.tude and devotion. He had just been wondering, he wrote, how he was to muster all things necessary for Elinor, with the business engagements which were growing upon himself. n.o.body could understand better than Nell's good mother how necessary it was that he should neglect no means of securing their position, and he had found that often he would have to leave his darling by herself: but this magnificent, this magnanimous offer on her part would make everything right. Need he say how gratefully he accepted it?

Nell and he being on the spot would immediately begin looking out for the house, and when they had a list of three or four to look at he hoped she would come up to their rooms and select what she liked best. This response took away Mrs. Dennistoun's breath, for, to tell the truth, she had her own notions as to the house she wanted and as to the time to be spent in town, and would certainly have preferred to manage everything herself. But in this she had to yield, with thankfulness that in the main point she was to have her way.