Ralph the Heir. Anthony Trollope

and down to Fulham;—and there certainly had come to be a tacit understanding that he would stay at home on the following Sunday. On the Friday evening the girls were alone at the villa; but there was nothing in this, as it was the life to which they were accustomed. They habitually dined at two, calling the meal lunch—then had a five or six o'clock tea—and omitted altogether the ceremony of dinner. They had local acquaintances, with whom occasionally they would spend their evenings; and now and then an old maid or two—now and then also a young maid or two would drop in on them. But it was their habit to be alone. During these days of which we are speaking Clarissa would take her "Faery Queen," and would work hard perhaps for half an hour. Then the "Faery Queen" would be changed for a novel, and she would look up from her book to see whether Patience had turned upon her any glance of reprobation. Patience, in the meantime, would sit with unsullied conscience at her work. And so the evenings would glide by; and in these soft summer days the girls would sit out upon the lawn, and would watch the boats of London watermen as they passed up and down below the bridge. On this very evening, the last on which they were to be together before the arrival of their cousin—Patience came out upon the lawn with her hat and gloves. "I am going across to Miss Spooner's," she said; "will you come?" But Clarissa was idle, and making some little joke, not very much to the honour of Miss Spooner, declared that she was hot and tired, and had a headache, and would stay at home. "Don't be long, Patty," she said; "it is such a bore to be alone." Patience promised a speedy return, and, making her way to the gate, crossed the road to Miss Spooner's abode. She was hardly out of sight when the nose of a wager boat was driven up against the bank, and there was Ralph Newton, sitting in a blue Jersey shirt, with a straw hat and the perspiration running from his handsome brow. Clarissa did not see him till he whistled to her, and then she started, and laughed, and ran down to the boat, and hardly remembered that she was quite alone till she had taken his hand. "I don't think I'll come out, but you must get me some soda-water and brandy," said Ralph. "Where's Patience?"

      "Patience has gone out to see an old maid; and we haven't got any brandy."

      "I am so hot," said Ralph, carefully extricating himself from the boat. "You have got sherry?"

      "Yes, we've got sherry, and port wine, and Gladstone;" and away she went to get him such refreshment as the villa possessed.

      He drank his sherry and soda-water, and lit his pipe, and lay there on the lawn, as though he were quite at home; and Clarissa ministered to him—unconscious of any evil. He had been brought up with them on terms of such close intimacy that she was entitled to regard him as a brother—almost as a brother—if only she were able so to regard him. It was her practice to call him Ralph, and her own name was as common to him as though she were in truth his sister. "And what do you think of this new cousin?" he asked.

He drank his sherry and soda-water, and lit his pipe, and lay there on the lawn, as though he were quite at home … Click to ENLARGE

      "I can think nothing as yet;—but I mean to like her."

      "I mean to hate her furiously," said Ralph.

      "That is nonsense. She will be nothing to you. You needn't even see her unless you please. But, Ralph, do put your jacket on. I'm sure you'll catch cold." And she went down, and hooked his jacket for him out of the boat, and put it over his shoulders. "I won't have you throw it off," she said; "if you come here you must do as you're told."

      "You needn't have knocked the pipe out of my mouth all the same. What is she like, I wonder?"

      "Very—very beautiful, I'm told."

      "A kind of tropical Venus—all eyes, and dark skin, and black hair, and strong passions, and apt to murder people;—but at the same time so lazy that she is never to do anything either for herself or anybody else;—wouldn't fetch a fellow's jacket for him, let him be catching cold ever so fast."

      "She wouldn't fetch yours, I dare say."

      "And why shouldn't she?"

      "Because she doesn't know you."

      "They soon get to know one—girls of that sort. I'm told that in the West Indies you become as thick as thieves in half a morning's flirtation, and are expected to propose at the second meeting."

      "That is not to be your way with our cousin, I can assure you."

      "But these proposals out there never mean much. You may be engaged to half a dozen girls at the same time, and be sure that each of them will be engaged to half-a-dozen men. There's some comfort in that, you know."

      "Oh, Ralph!"

      "That's what they tell me. I haven't been there. I shall come and look at her, you know."

      "Of course you will."

      "And if she is very lovely—"

      "What then?"

      "I do like pretty girls, you know."

      "I don't know anything about it."

      "I wonder what uncle Gregory would say if I were to marry a West Indian! He wouldn't say much to me, because we never speak, but he'd lead poor Greg a horrid life. He'd be sure to think she was a nigger, or at least a Creole. But I shan't do that."

      "You might do worse, Ralph."

      "But I might do much better." As he said this, he looked up into her face, with all the power of his eyes, and poor Clarissa could only blush. She knew what he meant, and knew that she was showing him that she was conscious. She would have given much not to blush, and not to have been so manifestly conscious, but she had no power to control herself. "I might do much better," he said. "Don't you think so?"

      As far as she could judge of her own feelings at this moment, in the absolute absence of any previous accurate thought on the subject, she fancied that a real, undoubted, undoubting, trustworthy engagement with Ralph Newton would make her the happiest girl in England. She had never told herself that she was in love with him; she had never flattered herself that he was in love with her;—she had never balanced the matter in her mind as a contingency likely to occur; but now, at this moment, as he lay there smoking his pipe and looking full into her blushing face, she did think that to have him for her own lover would be joy enough for her whole life. She knew that he was idle, extravagant, fond of pleasure, and—unsteady, as she in her vocabulary would be disposed to describe the character which she believed to be his. But in her heart of hearts she liked unsteadiness in men, if it were not carried too far. Ralph's brother, the parson, as to whom she was informed that he possessed every virtue incident to humanity, and who was quite as good-looking as his brother, had utterly failed to touch her heart. A black coat and a white cravat were antipathetic to her. Ralph, as he lay on the green sward, hot, with linen trousers and a coloured flannel shirt, with a small straw hat stuck on the edge of his head, with nothing round his throat, and his jacket over his shoulder, with a pipe in his mouth and an empty glass beside him, was to her, in externals, the beau-ideal of a young man. And then, though he was unsteady, extravagant, and idle, his sins were not so deep as to exclude him from her father's and her sister's favour. He was there, on the villa lawn, not as an interloper, but by implied permission. Though she made for herself no argument on the matter—not having much time just now for arguing—she felt that it was her undoubted privilege to be made love to by Ralph Newton, if he and she pleased so to amuse themselves. She had never been told not to be made love to by him. Of course she would not engage herself without her father's permission. Of course she would tell Patience if Ralph should say anything very special to her. But she had a right to be made love to if she liked it;—and in this case she would like it. But when Ralph looked at her, and asked her whether he might not do better than marry her West Indian cousin, she had not a word with which to answer him. He smoked on for some seconds in silence still looking at her, while she stood over him blushing. Then he spoke again. "I think I might do a great