He Knew He Was Right. Anthony Trollope

say?”

      “He is coming here.”

      “Coming here?” almost shouted Nora.

      “Yes; absolutely here. Does it sound to you as if Lucifer himself were about to show his face? The fact is, he happens to have a friend in the neighbourhood whom he has long promised to visit; and as he must be at Lessboro’, he does not choose to go away without the compliment of a call. It will be as much to you as to me.”

      “I don’t want to see him in the least,” said Nora.

      “There is his letter. As you seem to be so suspicious, you had better read it.”

      Then Nora read it.

      “And there is a copy of my answer,” said Mrs. Trevelyan. “I shall keep both, because I know so well what illnatured things people will say.”

      “Dear Emily, do not send it,” said Nora.

      “Indeed I shall. I will not be frightened by bugbears. And I will not be driven to confess to any man on earth that I am afraid to see him. Why should I be afraid of Colonel Osborne? I will not submit to acknowledge that there can be any danger in Colonel Osborne. Were I to do so I should be repeating the insult against myself. If my husband wished to guide me in such matters, why did he not stay with me?”

      Then she went out into the village and posted the letter. Nora meanwhile was thinking whether she would call in the assistance of Priscilla Stanbury; but she did not like to take any such a step in opposition to her sister.

Chapter XXI.

       Shewing How Colonel Osborne Went to Nuncombe Putney

       Table of Contents

      Colonel Osborne was expected at Nuncombe Putney on the Friday, and it was Thursday evening before either Mrs. Stanbury or Priscilla was told of his coming. Emily had argued the matter with Nora, declaring that she would make the communication herself, and that she would make it when she pleased and how she pleased. “If Mrs. Stanbury thinks,” said she, “that I am going to be treated as a prisoner, or that I will not judge myself as to whom I may see, or whom I may not see, she is very much mistaken.” Nora felt that were she to give information to those ladies in opposition to her sister’s wishes, she would express suspicion on her own part by doing so; and she was silent. On that same Thursday Priscilla had written her last defiant letter to her aunt,—that letter in which she had cautioned her aunt to make no further accusations without being sure of her facts. To Priscilla’s imagination that coming of Lucifer in person, of which Mrs. Trevelyan had spoken, would hardly have been worse than the coming of Colonel Osborne. When, therefore, Mrs. Trevelyan declared the fact on the Thursday evening, vainly endeavouring to speak of the threatened visit in an ordinary voice, and as of an ordinary circumstance, it was as though a thunderbolt had fallen upon them.

      “Colonel Osborne coming here!” said Priscilla, mindful of the Stanbury correspondence,—mindful of the evil tongues of the world.

      “And why not?” demanded Mrs. Trevelyan, who had heard nothing of the Stanbury correspondence.

      “Oh dear, oh dear!” ejaculated Mrs. Stanbury, who, of course, was aware of all that had passed between the Clock House and the house in the Close, though the letters had been written by her daughter.

      Nora was determined to stand up for her sister, whatever might be the circumstances of the case. “I wish Colonel Osborne were not coming,” said she, “because it makes a foolish fuss; but I cannot understand how anybody can suppose it to be wrong that Emily should see papa’s very oldest friend in the world.”

      “But why is he coming?” demanded Priscilla.

      “Because he wants to see an acquaintance at Cockchaffington,” said Mrs. Trevelyan; “and there is a wonderful church-door there.”

      “A church-fiddlestick!” said Priscilla.

      The matter was debated throughout all the evening. At one time there was a great quarrel between the ladies, and then there was a reconciliation. The point on which Mrs. Trevelyan stood with the greatest firmness was this,—that it did not become her, as a married woman whose conduct had always been good and who was more careful as to that than she was even of her name, to be ashamed to meet any man. “Why should I not see Colonel Osborne, or Colonel anybody else who might call here with the same justification for calling which his old friendship gives him?” Priscilla endeavoured to explain to her that her husband’s known wishes ought to hinder her from doing so. “My husband should have remained with me to express his wishes,” Mrs. Trevelyan replied.

      Neither could Mrs. Stanbury nor could Priscilla bring herself to say that the man should not be admitted into the house. In the course of the debate, in the heat of her anger, Mrs. Trevelyan declared that were any such threat held out to her, she would leave the house and see Colonel Osborne in the street, or at the inn.

      “No, Emily; no,” said Nora.

      “But I will. I will not submit to be treated as a guilty woman, or as a prisoner. They may say what they like; but I won’t be shut up.”

      “No one has tried to shut you up,” said Priscilla.

      “You are afraid of that old woman at Exeter,” said Mrs. Trevelyan; for by this time the facts of the Stanbury correspondence had all been elicited in general conversation; “and yet you know how uncharitable and malicious she is.”

      “We are not afraid of her,” said Priscilla. “We are afraid of nothing but of doing wrong.”

      “And will it be wrong to let an old gentleman come into the house,” said Nora, “who is nearly sixty, and who has known us ever since we were born?”

      “If he is nearly sixty, Priscilla,” said Mrs. Stanbury, “that does seem to make a difference.” Mrs. Stanbury herself was only just sixty, and she felt herself to be quite an old woman.

      “They may be devils at eighty,” said Priscilla.

      “Colonel Osborne is not a devil at all,” said Nora.

      “But mamma is so foolish,” said Priscilla. “The man’s age does not matter in the least.”

      “I beg your pardon, my dear,” said Mrs. Stanbury, very humbly.

      At that time the quarrel was raging, but afterwards came the reconciliation. Had it not been for the Stanbury correspondence the fact of Colonel Osborne’s threatened visit would have been admitted as a thing necessary—as a disagreeable necessity; but how was the visit to be admitted and passed over in the teeth of that correspondence? Priscilla felt very keenly the peculiar cruelty of her position. Of course Aunt Stanbury would hear of the visit. Indeed, any secrecy in the matter was not compatible with Priscilla’s ideas of honesty. Her aunt had apologised humbly for having said that Colonel Osborne had been at Nuncombe. That apology, doubtless, had been due. Colonel Osborne had not been at Nuncombe when the accusation had been made, and the accusation had been unjust and false. But his coming had been spoken of by Priscilla in her own letters as an occurrence which was quite out of the question. Her anger against her aunt had been for saying that the man had come, not for objecting to such a visit. And now the man was coming, and Aunt Stanbury would know all about it. How great, how terrible, how crushing would be Aunt Stanbury’s triumph!

      “I must write and tell her,” said Priscilla.

      “I am sure I shall not object,” said Mrs. Trevelyan.

      “And Hugh must be told,” said Mrs. Stanbury.

      “You may tell all the world, if you like,” said Mrs. Trevelyan.

      In this way it was settled among them that Colonel Osborne was to be received. On the next morning, Friday morning, Colonel Osborne, doubtless having heard something of Mrs. Crocket from his friend at Cockchaffington, was up early, and had himself driven