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RALPH THE HEIR
It was, however, quite understood that they were engaged;
and, though he did not see Clarissa again, he received the congratulations both of Patience and Mary Bonner before he left
the house; and that very night succeeded in hunting down Sir
Thomas, so that he might tell the father that the daughter had
at last consented to become his wife.
CHAPTER LVIII
CONCLUSION
Clarissa had found it hard to change the object of her love,
so hard, that for a time she had been unwilling even to make
the effort; — and she had been ashamed that those around
her should think that she would make it; but when the thing
was done, her second hero was dearer to her than ever had
been the first. He at least was true. With him there was no
need of doubt. His assurances were not conveyed in words
so light that they might mean much or little. This second
lover was a lover, indeed, who thought no pains too great to
show her that she was ever growing in his heart of hearts. For
a while, — for a week or two, — she restrained her tongue; but
when once she had accustomed herself to the coaxing kindness of her sister and her cousin, then her eloquence was loosened, and Gregory Newton was a god indeed. In the course of
time she got a very pretty note from Ralph, congratulating
her, as he also had congratulated Polly, and expressing a fear
that he might not be home in time to be present at the wedding. Augusta was so fond of Rome that they did not mean to
leave it till the late spring. Then, after a while, there came to
her, also, a watch and chain, twice as costly as those given to
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RALPH THE HEIR
Polly, — which, however, no persuasion from Gregory would
ever induce Clarissa to wear. In after time Ralph never noticed
that the trinkets were not worn.
The winter at Popham Villa went on very much as other winters had gone, except that two of the girls living there
were full of future hopes, and preparing for future cares,
while the third occupied her heart and mind with the cares
and hopes of the other two. Patience, however, had one other
task in hand, a task upon the performance of which her future happiness much depended, and in respect to which she
now ventured to hope for success. Wherever her future home
might be, it would be terrible to her if her father would not
consent to occupy it with her. It had been settled that both
the marriages should take place early in April, — both on
the same day, and, as a matter of course, the weddings would
be celebrated at Fulham. Christmas had come and gone, and
winter was going, before Sir Thomas had absolutely promised to renew that order for the making of the packing-cases
for his books. “You won’t go back, papa, after they are married,” Patience said to her father, early in March.
“If I do it shall not be for long.”
“Not for a day, papa! Surely you will not leave me alone?
There will be plenty of room now. The air of Fulham will be
better for your work than those stuffy, dark, dingy lawyers’
chambers.”
“My dear, all the work of my life that was worth doing was
done in those stuffy, dingy rooms.” That was all that Sir Thomas said, but the accusation conveyed to him by his daughter’s
words was very heavy. For years past he had sat intending to
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
work, purposing to achieve a great task which he set for himself, and had done — almost nothing. Might it be yet possible
that that purer air of which Patty spoke should produce new
energy, and lead to better results? The promise of it did at least
produce new resolutions. It was impossible, as Patience had
said, that his child should be left to dwell alone, while yet she
had a father living.
“Stemm,” he said, “I told you to get some packing-cases
made.”
“Packing-cases, Sir Thomas?”
“Yes; — packing-cases for the books. It was months ago.
Are they ready?”
“No, Sir Thomas. They ain’t ready.”
“Why not?”
“Well, Sir Thomas; — they ain’t; that’s all.” Then the order
was repeated in a manner so formal, as to make Stemm understand that it was intended for a fact. “You are going away from
this; are you, Sir Thomas?”
“I believe that I shall give the chambers up altogether
at midsummer. At any rate, I mean to have the books packed
at once.”
“Very well, Sir Thomas.” Then there was a pause, during
which Stemm did not leave the room. Nor did Sir Thomas dismiss him, feeling that there might well be other things which
would require discussion. “And about me, Sir Thomas?” said
Stemm.
“I have been thinking about that, Stemm.”
“So have I, Sir Thomas, — more nor once.”
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RALPH THE HEIR
“You can come to Fulham if you like, — only you must not
scold the maids.”
“Very well, Sir Thomas,” said Stemm, with hardly any variation in his voice, but still with less of care upon his brow.
“Mind, I will not have you scolding them at the villa.”
“Not unless they deserve it, Sir Thomas,” said Stemm. Sir
Thomas could say nothing further. For our own part we fear
that the maidens at the villa will not be the better in conduct,
as they certainly will not be more comfortable in their lives, in
consequence of this change.
And the books were moved in large packing-cases, not
one of which had yet been opened when the two brides returned to Popham Villa after their wedding tours, to see Patience just for a day before they were taken to their new homes.
Nevertheless, let us hope that the change of air and of scene
may tend to future diligence, and that the magnus opus may
yet be achieved. We have heard of editions of Aristophanes, of
Polybius, of the Iliad, of Ovid, and what not, which have ever
been forthcoming under the hands of notable scholars, who
have grown grey amidst the renewed promises which have
been given. And some of these works have come forth, belying the prophecies of incredulous friends. Let us hope that
the great Life of Bacon may yet be written.
Литературно-художественное издание
Anthony Trollope
Ralph the Heir · II
Выпускающий редактор: H. Головлева
Компьютерная верстка: А. Дятлов
Художественное оформление: М. Соколова
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