margaret had carried out what she knew would be the first part of the new programme of her life. during their short honeymoon, geoffrey had talked so much of his mother and sister, and of his anxiety that they should be favourably impressed with her, that she had determined to put forth all the strength and tact she had to make that first meeting an agreeable one to them. that she had done so, that she had succeeded in her self-imposed task, was evident. mrs. ludlow, in her parting words, had expressed herself delighted with her new daughter-in-law; but by her manner, much more than by any thing she had said, geoff knew that his mother's strong sympathies had been enlisted, if her heart had not been entirely won. for though the old lady so far gave in to the prejudices of the world as to observe a decent reticence towards objects of her displeasure--though she never compromised herself by outraging social decency in verbal attacks or disparaging remarks--a long experience had given her son a thorough appreciation of, and power of translating, certain bits of facial pantomime of a depreciatory nature, which never varied; notably among them, the uplifted eyebrow of astonishment, the prolonged stare of "wonder at her insolence," the shoulder-shrug of "i don't understand such things," and the sniff of unmitigated disgust. all these geoff had seen brought to bear on various subjects quite often enough to rate them at their exact value; and it was, therefore, with genuine pleasure that he found them conspicuous by their absence on the occasion of his mother's first visit to elm lodge.
for although geoff was not particularly apt as a student of human nature,--his want of self-confidence, and the quiet life he had pursued, being great obstacles to any such study,--he must, nevertheless, have had something of the faculty originally implanted in him, inasmuch as he had contrived completely, and almost without knowing it himself, to make himself master of the key to the characters of the two people with whom his life had been passed. it was this knowledge of his mother that made him originally propose that the first meeting between her and margaret should take place at brompton, where he could take his wife over as a visitor. he thought that very likely any little latent jealousy which the old lady might feel by reason of her deposition, not merely from the foremost place in her son's affections, but from the head of his table and the rulership of his house,--and it is undeniable that with the very best women these latter items jar quite as unpleasantly as the former,--whatever little jealousy mrs. ludlow may have felt on these accounts would be heightened by the sight of the new house and furniture in which it had pleased geoff to have his new divinity enshrined. there is a point at which the female nature rebels; and though geoff neither knew, nor professed to know, much about female nature, he was perfectly certain that as a young woman is naturally more likely to "take up with" another who is her inferior in personal attractions, so mrs. ludlow would undoubtedly be more likely to look favourably on a daughter-in-law whose _status_, artificially or otherwise, should not appear greater than her own. it was margaret who dissuaded geoff from his original intention, pitting against her husband's special acquaintance with his mother's foibles her ordinary woman's cleverness, which told her that, properly managed, the new house and furniture, and all their little luxury, could be utilised for, instead of against, them with the old lady, making her part and parcel of themselves, and speaking of all the surroundings as component parts of a common stock, in which with them she had a common interest. this scheme, talked over in a long desultory lovers' ramble over the green cliffs at niton in the ever-lovely isle of wight, resulted in the letter requesting mrs. ludlow to superintend the furniture-people, of which mention has already been made, and in the meeting taking place at elm lodge, as just described.
this first successful stroke, which geoff perhaps unduly appreciated (but any thing in which his mother was involved had great weight with him), originated by margaret and carried out by her aid, had great effect on geoffrey ludlow, and brought the woman whom he had married before him in quite a new light. the phrase "the woman he had married" is purposely chosen, because the fact of having a wife, in its largest and most legitimate sense, had not yet dawned upon him. we read in works of fiction of how men weigh and balance before committing matrimony,--carefully calculate this recommendation, calmly dissect that defect; we have essay-writers, political economists, and others, who are good enough to explain these calculations, and to show us why it ought to be, and how it is to be done; but, spite of certain of my brother-fictionists and these last-named social teachers, i maintain that, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, a man who is a man, "with blood, bones, passion, marrow, feeling," as byron says, marries a girl because he is smitten with the charms either of her person or her manner--because there is something _simpatico_, as the italians call it, between them--because he is "in love with her," as the good old english phrase runs; but without having paid any thing but the most cursory attention to her disposition and idiosyncrasy. is it so, or is it not? such a state of things leads, i am perfectly aware, to the acceptance of stone for bread and scorpions for fish; but it exists, hath existed, and will continue to exist. brown now helplessly acknowledges mrs. b.'s "devil of a temper;" but even if he had had proof positive of it, he would have laughed it away merrily enough that summer at margate, when mrs. b. was emily clark, and he was under the thrall of her black eyes. jones suffers under his wife's "low fits," and robinson under mrs. robinson's religion, which she takes very hot and strong, with a great deal of groaning and anathematising; but though these peculiarities of both ladies might have been learned "on application" to any of the various swains who had been rejected by them, no inquiry was ever made by the more fortunate men who took them honestly on trust, and on account of their visible personal attractions: and though these instances seem drawn from a lower class of life, i contend that the axiom holds good in all states of society, save, of course, in the case of purely mercenary marriages, which, however, are by no means so common in occurrence, or at all events so fatal in their results, as many of our novel-writers wish us to believe.
it was undoubtedly the case with geoffrey ludlow. he was a man as free from gross passions, as unlikely to take a sudden caprice, or to give the reins to his will, as any of his kind. his intimates would as soon have thought of the bronze statue of achilles "committing" itself as geoff ludlow; and yet it was for the dead-gold hair, the deep-violet eyes, and the pallid face, that he had married margaret dacre; and on her mental attributes he had not bestowed one single thought. he had not had much time, certainly; but however long his courtship might have been, i doubt whether he would have penetrated very far into the mysteries of her idiosyncrasy. he had a certain theory that she was "artistic;" a word which, with him, took the place of "romantic" with other people, as opposed to "practical." geoff hated "practical" people; perhaps because he had suffered from an over-dose of practicality in his own home. he would far sooner that his wife should _not_ have been able to make pies and puddings, and cut-out baby-linen, than that she should have excelled in those notable domestic virtues. but none of these things had entered his head when he asked margaret dacre to join her lot with his,--save, perhaps, an undefined notion that no woman with such hair and such eyes could be so constituted. you would have looked in vain in guinevere for the characteristics of mrs. rundell, or miss acton.
he had thought of her as his peerless beauty, as his realisation of a thousand waking dreams; and that for the time was enough. but when he found her entering into and giving shape and colour to his schemes, he regarded her with worship increased a hundredfold. constitutionally inert and adverse to thinking and deciding for himself,--with a wholesome doubt, moreover, of the efficacy of his own powers of judgment,--it was only the wide diversity of opinion which on nearly every subject existed between his mother and himself that had prevented him from long ago giving himself up entirely to the old lady's direction. but he now saw, readily enough, that he had found one whose guiding hand he could accept, who satisfied both his inclinations and his judgment; and he surrendered himself with more than resignation--with delight, to margaret's control.
and she? it is paying her no great compliment to say that she was equal to the task; it is making no strong accusation against her to say that she had expected and accepted the position from the first. i am at a loss how exactly to set forth this woman's character as i feel it, fearful of enlarging on defects without showing something in their palliation--more fearful of omitting some mental ingredient which might serve to explain the twofold workings of her mind. when she left her home it was under the influence of love and pride; wild girlish adoration of the "swell:" the man with the thick moustache, the white hands, the soft voice, the well-made boots; the man so different in every respect from any thing she had previously known; and girlish pride in enslaving one in social rank far beyond the railway-clerks, merchants' book-keepers, and custom-house agents, who were marked down as game by her friends and compeers. the step once taken, she was a girl no more; her own natural hardihood came to her aid, and enabled her to hold her own wherever she went. the man her companion,--a man of society simply from mixing with society, but naturally sheepish and stupid,--was amazed at her wondrous calmness and self-possession under all sorts of circumstances. it was an odd sort of _camaraderie_ in which they mixed, both at home and abroad; one where the _laissez-aller_ spirit was always predominant, and where those who said and did as they liked were generally most appreciated; but there was a something in margaret dacre which compelled a kind of respect even from the wildest. where she was, the drink never degenerated into an orgie; and though the _cancans_ and _doubles entendres_ might ring round the room, all outward signs of decency were preserved. in the wild crew with which she was mixed she stood apart, sometimes riding the whirlwind with them, but always directing the storm; and while invariably showing herself the superior, so tempering her superiority as to gain the obedience and respect, if not the regard, of all those among whom she was thrown. how did this come about? hear it in one sentence--that she was as cold as ice, and as heartless as a stone. she loved the man who had betrayed her with all the passion which had been vouchsafed to her. she loved him, as i have said, at first, from his difference to all her hitherto surroundings; then she loved him for having made her love him and yield to him. she had not sufficient mental power to analyse her own feelings; but she recognised that she had not much heart, was not easily moved; and therefore she gave extraordinary credit, which he did not deserve, to him who had had the power to turn her as he listed.
but still, on him, her whole powers of loving stopped--spent, used-up. her devotion to him--inexplicable to herself--was spaniel-like in its nature. she took his reproaches, his threats, at the last his desertion, and loved him still. during the time they were together she had temptation on every side; but not merely did she continue faithful, but her fidelity was never shaken even in thought. although in that shady _demi-monde_ there is a queer kind of honour-code extant among the lovelaces and the juans, far stricter than they think themselves called upon to exercise when out of their own territory, there are of course exceptions, who hold the temptation of their friend's mistress but little less _piquante_ than the seduction of their friend's wife; but none of these had the smallest chance with margaret. what in such circles is systematically known by the name of a _caprice_ never entered her mind. even at the last, when she found herself deserted, penniless, she knew that a word would restore her to a position equivalent, apparently, to that she had occupied; but she would not have spoken that word to have saved her from the death which she was so nearly meeting.
in those very jaws of death, from which she had just been rescued, a new feeling dawned upon her. as she lay back in the arm-chair in flexor's parlour, dimly sounding in her ears, at first like the monotonous surging of the waves, afterwards shaping itself into words, but always calm and grave and kind, came geoff's voice. she could scarcely make out what was said, but she knew what was meant from the modulation and the tone. then, when mr. potts had gone to fetch dr. rollit, she knew that she was left alone with the owner of the voice, and she brought all her strength together to raise her eyelids and look at him. she saw the quiet earnest face, she marked the intense gaze, and she let her light fingers fall on the outstretched hand, and muttered her "bless you!--saved me!" with a gratitude which was not merely an expression of grateful feeling for his rescuing her from death, but partook more of the cynic's definition of the word--a recognition of benefits to come.
it sprung up in her mind like a flame. it did more towards effecting her cure, even in the outset, than all the stimulants and nourishment which dr. rollit administered. it was with her while consciousness remained, and flashed across her the instant consciousness returned. a home, the chances of a home--nothing but that--somewhere, with walls, and a fire, and a roof to keep off the pelting of the bitter rain. walls with pictures and a floor with carpets; not a workhouse, not such places as she had spent the night in on her weary desolate tramp; but such as she had been accustomed to. and some one to care for her--no low whisperings, and pressed hands, and averted glances, and flight; but a shoulder to rest her head against, a strong arm round her to save her from--o god!--those awful black pitiless streets. rest, only rest,--that was her craving. let her once more be restored to ordinary strength, and then let her rest until she died. ah, had she not had more than the ordinary share of trouble and disquietude, and could not a haven be found for her at last? she recollected how, in the first flush of her wildness, she had pitied all her old companions soberly settling down in life; and now how gladly would she change lots with them! was it come? was the chance at hand? had she drifted through the storm long enough, and was the sun now breaking through the clouds? she thought so, even as she lay nearer death than life, and through the shimmering of her eyelids caught a fleeting glimpse of geoff ludlow's face, and heard his voice as in a dream; she knew so after the second time of his calling on her in her convalescence; knew she might tell him the story of her life, which would only bind a man of his disposition more strongly to her; knew that such a feeling engendered in such a man at his time of life was deep and true and lasting, and that once taken to his heart, her position was secure for ever.
and what was her feeling for him who thus rose up out of the darkness, and was to give her all for which her soul had been pining? love? not one particle. she had no love left. she had not been by any means bounteously provided with that article at the outset, and all that she had she had expended on one person. of love, of what we know by love, of love as he himself understood it, she had not one particle for geoffrey. but there was a feeling which she could hardly explain to herself. it would have been respect, respect for his noble heart, his thorough uprightness, and strict sense of honour; but this respect was diluted by an appreciation of his dubiety, his vacillation, his utter impotency of saying a harsh word or doing a harsh thing; and diluted in a way which invested the cold feeling of respect with a warmer hue, and rendered him, if less perfect, certainly more interesting in her eyes. never, even for an instant, had she thought of him with love-passion; not when she gazed dreamily at him out of the voluptuous depths of her deep-violet eyes; not when, on that night when all had been arranged between them, she had lain on his breast in the steel-blue rays of the spring moon. she had--well, feigned it, if you like,--though she would scarcely avow that, deeming rather that she had accepted the devotion which he had offered her without repelling it. _il y a toujours l'un qui baise, l'autre qui tend la joue_. that axiom, unromantic, but true in most cases, was strictly fulfilled in the present instance. margaret proffered no love, but accepted, if not willingly, at least with a thorough show of graciousness, all that was proffered to her. and in the heartfelt worship of geoffrey ludlow there was something inexplicably attractive to her. attractive, probably, because of its entire novelty and utter unselfishness. she could compare it with nothing she had ever seen or known. to her first lover there had been the attraction of enchaining the first love of a very young girl, the romance of stolen meetings and secret interviews, the enchantment of an elopement, which was looked upon as a great sin by those whom he scorned, and a great triumph by those whose applause he envied; the gratification of creating the jealousy of his compeers, and of being talked about as an example to be shunned by those whom he despised. he had the satisfaction of flaunting her beauty through the world, and of gaining that world's applause for his success in having made it succumb to him. but how was it with geoffrey? the very opposite, in every way. at the very best her early history must be shrouded in doubt and obscurity. if known it might act prejudicially against her husband with his patrons, and those on whom he was dependent for his livelihood. even her beauty could not afford him much source of gratification, save to himself; he could seldom or never enjoy that reflected pleasure which a sensible man feels at the world's admiration of his wife; for had he not himself told her that their life would be of the quietest, and that they would mix with very few people?
no! if ever earnest, true, and unselfish love existed in the world, it was now, she felt, bestowed upon her. what in the depths of her despair she had faintly hoped for, had come to her with treble measure. her course lay plain and straight before her. it was not a very brilliant course, but it was quiet and peaceful and safe. so away all thoughts of the past! drop the curtain on the feverish excitement, the wild dream of hectic pleasure! shut it out; and with it the dead dull heartache, the keen sense of wrong, the desperate struggle for bare life.
so margaret dropped that curtain on her wedding-day, with the full intention of never raising it again.
