Chapter 113
"I began to suspect it after the accident, but I was not sure; nor am I now."
"I am," said Jock, quietly.
"She is a stupid girl!" burst out his mother.
"No! there's no blame to either of them. That's one comfort. She gave me full warning, and he knew nothing about it, nor ever shall."
"He is just as much a medical student as you! That vexes me."
"Yes, but he did not give up the service for it, when she implored him."
"A silly girl! O Jock, if you had but come down to Fordham."
"It might have made no odds. Friar was so aggressively jolly after his Christmas visit, that I fancy it was done then. Besides, just look at us together!"
"He will never get your air of the Guards."
"Which is preposterously ridiculous in the hospital," said Jock, endeavouring to smile. "Never mind, mother. It was all up with me two years ago, as I very well knew. Good-night. You've only got me the more whole and undivided, for the extinction of my will-of-the-wisp."
She saw he had rather say no more, and only returned his fervent embrace with interest; but Babie knew she was restless and unhappy all night, and would not ask why, being afraid to hear that it was about Fordham, who coughed more, and looked frailer.
He never went out in the evening now, and only twice to the House, when his vote was more than usually important; but Mrs. Evelyn was taking Sydney into society, and the shrinking Esther needed a chaperon much more, being so little aware of her own beauty, that she was wont to think something amiss with her hair or her dress when she saw people looking at her.
Sydney had no love for the gaieties, and especially tried to avoid their own county member, who showed signs of pursuing her. Her real delight and enthusiasm were for the surprise parties, to which she always inveigled her mother when it was possible. Mrs. Evelyn was not by any means unwilling, but Cecil and Esther loved them not, and much preferred seeing the Collingwood Street cousins without the throng of clever people, who were formidable to Esther, and wearisome to Cecil.
Jock seldom appeared on these evenings. He was working harder than ever.
He was studying a new branch of his profession, which he had meant to delay for another year, and had an appointment at the hospital which occupied him a great deal. He had offered himself for another night-school cla.s.s, and spent his remaining leisure on Dr. and Mrs.
Lucas, who needed his attention greatly, though Mrs. Lucas had her scruples, feared that he was overdoing himself, and begged his mother to prohibit some of his exertions. Dr. Medlicott himself said something of the same kind to Mrs. Brownlow. "Young men will get into a rush, and suffer for it afterwards," he said, "and Jock is looking ill and overstrained. I want him to remember that such an illness as he had in Switzerland does not leave a man's heart quite as sound as before, and he must not overwork himself."
"And yet I don't know how to interfere," said his mother. "There are hearts and hearts, you know," she added.
"Ah! Work may sometimes be the least of two evils," and the doctor said no more.
"So Jock will not come," said Mrs. Evelyn, opening a note declining a dinner in Cavendish Square.
"His time is very much taken up," said his mother. "It is one of his cla.s.s-nights."
"So he says. It is a strange question to ask, but I cannot help it. Do you think he fully enters into the situation?"
"I say in return, Do you remember my telling you that the two cousins always avoided rivalry?"
"Then he acts deliberately. Forgive me; I felt that unless I was certain of this virtual resignation of the unspoken hope, I was not acting fairly in allowing--I cannot say encouraging--what I cannot help seeing."
"Dear Mrs. Evelyn! you understand that it is no slight to Sydney, but you know why he held back;
"Well! what can I say? You are generous people, you and your son; but young folks' hearts will go their own way. I had made up my mind to a struggle with the prejudices of all the family, and I had rather it had been for Jock; but it can't be helped, and there is not a shadow of objection to the other John."
"No, indeed! He is only not Jock--"
"And I do not think my Sydney was knowingly fickle, but she thought she had utterly disgusted and offended Jock by her folly about the selling out, and that it was a failure of influence. Poor child! it was all a cloud of shame and grief to her. I think he would have dispelled it if he had come to the wedding, but as he did not--"
"The Adriatic was free," said Caroline, trying to smile. "I see it all, dear Mrs. Evelyn. I neither blame you nor Sydney; and I trust all will turn out right for my poor boy."
"He deserves it!" said Mrs. Evelyn with a sigh.
There was a good deal more intercourse between Cavendish Square and Collingwood Street than Mother Carey had expected. Mrs. Evelyn and her son and daughter fell into the habit of coming, when they went out for a drive, to see whether Mrs. Brownlow or Barbara would come with them; and as it was almost avowed that Babie was the object, she almost always went, and kept Fordham company in the carriage, whilst his mother and sister were shopping or making calls. He had certainly lost much ground in these few weeks; he had ceased to ride, and never went out in the evening; but the doctors still said he might live for months or years if he avoided another English winter. His mother was taking Sydney into society, and Esther was always happier when under their wing, being rather frightened by the admiration of which Cecil was so proud. When they went out much before Fordham's bed time, he was thankful for the companions.h.i.+p of Allen or Armine, generally the former, for Armine was reading hard, and working after lectures for a tutor; while Allen, unfortunately, had nothing to prevent him from looking in whenever Mrs.
Evelyn was out, to play chess, read aloud, or a.s.sist in that re-editing of the cream of the "Traveller's Joy," which seemed the invalid's great amus.e.m.e.nt. Fordham had a few scruples at first, and when Allen had undertaken to come to him for the whole afternoon of a garden-party, he consulted Barbara whether it was not permitting too great a sacrifice of valuable time.
"You don't mean that for irony?" said Babie. "It is only so much time subtracted from tobacco."
"Will you let me say something to you, Infanta?" returned Fordham, with all his gentleness. "It seems to me that you are not always quite kind in your way of speaking of Allen."
"If you knew how provoking he is!"
"I have a great fellow-feeling for him, having grown up the same sort of helpless being as he has been. I should be much worse in his place."
"Never!" cried Babie. "You would never hang about the house, worrying mother about eating and fiddle-faddles, instead of doing any one useful thing!"
"But if one can't?"
"I don't believe in can't."
"Happy person!"
"Oh, Duke, you know I never meant health; you know I did not," and then a pang shot across her as she remembered her past contempt of him whom she now reverenced.
"There are other incapacities," he said.
"But," said Babie, half-pleading, half-meditating, "Allen is not stupid.
He used to be considered just as clever as Bobus; and he is so now to talk to. Can there be any reason but laziness, and want of application, that makes him never succeed in anything, except in answering riddles and acrostics in the papers? He generally just begins things, and makes mother or Armie finish them for him. He really did set to work and finish up an article on Count Ugolino since we came home from Fordham, and he has tried all the periodicals round, and they won't have it, not even the editors that know mother!"
"Poor fellow! And you have no pity!"
"Don't you think it is his own fault?"
"It is quite possible that he would have done much better if he had always had to work for his livelihood. I grant you that even as a rich man he ought to have avoided the desultory ways, which, as you say, are more likely to have caused his failures than want of native ability. But I don't like to see you hard upon him. You hardly realise how cruelly he has been treated in return for a very deep and generous attachment, or how such a grief must make it more difficult for him to exert his powers."
"I don't like you to think me hard and unkind," said Babie, sadly.
"Only a little over just," said Fordham. "I am sure you could do a great deal to help and brighten Allen; and," he added, smiling, "in the name of spoilt and s.h.i.+ftless heirs, I hope you will try."
"Indeed I will," said Babie earnestly, as the footman at the shop door signalled to the coachman that his ladies were ready.
She found it the less difficult to remember what he had said, because Allen himself was much less provoking to her. Something was due to the influence and example of the strenuous endeavour that Fordham made to keep up to such duties as he had undertaken, not indeed onerous in themselves, but a severe labour to a man in his state. It had been intimated to him also that his saturation with tobacco was distressing to his friend, and he was fond enough of him to abstain from his solace, except when walking home at night.
Perhaps this had cleared his senses to perceive habits of consideration for the family, which he had never thought inc.u.mbent on himself, whatever they might be in his brothers; and his eyes were open, as they had never yet been, to his mother's straits. It was chiefly indeed through his fastidiousness. His mother and Babie had existed most of this time upon their Belforest wardrobe; indeed, the former, always wearing black, was still fairly provided; but Babie, who had not in those days been out, was less extensively or permanently provided; and Allen objected to the style in which she appeared in the enamelled carriage, "like a nursery governess out for an airing."
"Or not so smart," said Babie, merrily putting on her little black hat with the heron's plume, and running down stairs.