The Reflections of Ambrosine Part 17

"Yes," I said. I felt sorry for her, she was so agitated. All the veneer knowledge of grammar had left her, and she spoke with a broad, natural accent.

"The next one that came--and never a word from him made me sure--so, I thought to myself, I'll make certain, and I opened the bag myself with my key for a few mornings--I came down early before him on purpose--and soon I sees another gold crown and great, sprawly writin'. The kettle was singing. It took me no time to get the gum unstuck, and--well there! My dear, you never did! I blush to think of it. The hussy! She was thankin' him for a diamond bracelet. Now I know my son Gussie well enough to know he did not give her that bracelet for nothing. Then she said as how he might come on Tuesday to see her, as she would be pa.s.sin' through London and would be at her town-house for the day."

"But please don't tell me--it--oh, one ought never to read other people's letters!" I exclaimed.

Mrs. Gurrage flushed scarlet.

"There! That's just you--your high and mighty sentiments! And why, pray, shouldn't a mother watch over her son, even if his wife has not the spirit to?"

I did not answer.

"There! It's been so from the first. I thought you'd have been proud and glad to marry my Gussie--you, as poor as a rat! I don't set no store by our wealth--the Lord's doin', and Mr. Gurrage takin'

advantage of the opportunities, his partener dyin' youngish--but I liked the idea of your bein' high-born, and I was frightened about Gussie's lookin' at that girl at the Ledstone Arms. And you seemed good and quiet and well-brought-up. And Gussie just doted on you. You ought to have jumped at him, but you and your grandma were that proud!

All the time you were engaged you were as haughty as if you were honorin' _him_, instead of his honorin' you! Since you've been my daughter-in-law, I have no cause to complain of you, only it's the feelin', and your settin' quiet and far away, when a flesh-and-blood woman would have clawed that viscountess's hair! Gussie'd never have been after her if you'd show'd a little more affection. You're not a bad-lookin' woman yourself if you wasn't so white."

"Do let us understand each other," I said. "I told your son from the first that I did not care for him. My grandmother was old and dying.

We had no relations to depend upon. I should have been left, as Augustus was unchivalrous enough to tell me this morning, 'in the gutter.' These reasons seemed strong enough to my grandmother to make her deem it expedient that I should marry some one. There was no time to choose--I had never dreamed in my life of disobeying her. She told me to marry Augustus. This situation was fully explained to him, and he understood and kept us to the bargain. I have endeavored in every way to fulfil my side, but in it I never contemplated a supervision of his letters."

"Oh, indeed! And why couldn't you love him, pray? A finer young man doesn't live for miles round," Mrs. Gurrage said, with great offence.

The other questions seemed in abeyance for the moment.

"We cannot force our likes and dislikes," I said.

"Well, you are married now, and part and parcel of him, and a wife's duty is to keep her own husband from hussies--viscountesses or no they can call themselves."

"What do you wish me to do?"

"Why, tax him with it when he comes home to-night. Let him see you know and won't stand it. It's all your fault for not lovin' him, and your duty now's to keep him in the path of virtue."

"May I say you informed me of his behavior? Because how otherwise could I account for my knowledge? He would know I should never have thought of opening or looking at his letters myself."

Mrs. Gurrage was not the least ashamed of having done this, to me, most dishonorable thing. She could not see the matter from my point of view.

I remember grandmamma once told me that servants and people of the lower cla.s.ses always think it is their right to read any one's letters they come across, so I suppose my mother-in-law cannot help her standard of honor being different to ours.

"You mustn't make mischief between my boy and me," she said. "You must invent something--think of some other way."

"But I cannot tell a lie about it. I shall say you have received disquieting information; I will not say how. Otherwise, I will not speak to him at all about it."

Mrs. Gurrage burst into tears.

"There--it's breakin' my heart!" she sobbed, "and you don't care a bra.s.s farthing!"

"Of course I care," I said, feebly.

Oh, grandmamma! For once you must have been wrong, and it would have been better for me to have worked in the gutter! I wonder if you felt that at the end. But we had given our word. Augustus held us to it, and no Calincourt had ever broken his word.

By the afternoon post came a letter from Sir Antony Thornhirst. He had returned from Scotland, he said, and hoped we would soon pay him our promised visit.

It was a short note, dry and to the point, with nothing in it unnecessary in the way of words. I do not know why I read it over several times. His writing gave me comfort. I felt as if there was some one human who would understand things.

When I was dressing for dinner, Augustus returned. He shuffled into the room without knocking, while McGreggor was brushing my hair.

He seemed to have forgotten the scene of the morning, and was in a most amiable mood. He had brought me a new m.u.f.f chain, in wonderfully good taste; he could never have chosen it himself. It is so difficult to thank people for things when you would like to throw them in the fire rather than receive them.

However, I did my best.

McGreggor felt it her duty to leave the room. Would this be a good opportunity to get over what I had promised my mother-in-law to say to Augustus? Oh, it was an ugly moment.

I told him, as simply as I could, that his mother was worried about him, fearing he had contracted a dangerous friendship with Lady Grenellen, and that I hoped he would make her mind at ease upon the subject.

He came over to me and seized my wrists. There was an air of conscious pride in his face. He was not displeased that this gallantry could be attributed to him.

"It's all your fault if I do look at any one else," he bl.u.s.tered; "and, anyway, a man of the world must have a little amus.e.m.e.nt, with such a dull, stuck-up wife at home as I have got. Cordelia is a darned sight higher rank than you are, and yet she does not give herself your mighty airs."

"Oh, do not think it matters to me," I said, as calmly as I could, "only it worries your mother, who spoke to me about it."

"If I thought you cared it would be different," Augustus said, delighted to grasp at this excuse.

"No, it would be just the same, only in that case it would grieve me, and I should suffer, whereas now--" I left the sentence unfinished, I do not know why.

"Now you don't care what I do or whether I am dead or alive--that is what you mean, I see," he said, dropping my wrists and walking towards the door.

"Augustus!" I called to him, and he came back. "Listen. You swore at me this morning. You were very rude to me, and you spend the day in London with another woman, and return bringing me a present. I have done my best not to resent these insults, but I warn you I will not stand any more."

He became cringing.

"Who's been telling the mater these stories about me?" he asked.

"There's not a word of truth in them. It is a queer thing if a man may not speak to a woman without people making mischief about it!"

"That is between you and your mother. All I would like to know is that you will not swear at me in future and will treat me with more civility."

I felt I could not continue the subject of his "friendship" with Lady Grenellen. The whole matter seemed so low.

"Well, you are a brick, after all, not to kick up a row," Augustus said. "So let us kiss and be friends again, and I am sorry if I was nasty this morning. There! little woman, you need not be jealous," and he patted my hand, and then began twisting the long waves of my hair in and out of his thick fingers.

"What is a fellow to do when a woman falls in love with him?" he continued, with self-conscious complacency. "He can't be a bear to her, even though he is married, eh?"

"No, it is only to his wife he can be the bear," I said.

Of course, I ought to have been very jealous and angry, I am sure, but I could not feel the least emotion. I only longed to wrench my hair out of his hands, and to tell him that he might speak to and make love to whom he pleased so long as he left me alone and in peace.

He then became more affectionate, telling me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and that I had "stunning hair" and various other charms, and if only I would not be a lump of ice he would never leave me!