XXIII Plan of Campaign
The Princess was seen no more that night, and I got away till dinner time. Then I said that she was not coming down, and anxious looks were exchanged, and dark ones cast on me. In return I winked at Jane, and frowned severely on Herbert, who intercepted the signal and began to grin. Mabel, who had seen it too, reproved me for setting the boy a bad example; and thus a diversion was effected. While she was seeing after the children, my sister carried me off to the library: I made her kiss me before I would tell her anything.
“Jane, you may scold me as much as you like after this, and I will never say a cross word to you again. Hartman was right: he said you had more penetration than any of us, and all sorts of virtues. O, you needn’t mind about blushing; we are alone. It’s true, and I shall hold you in honor accordingly.”
“Brother, I hope you have not spoiled your work with careless handling. I always distrust you when you begin your fine speeches.”
“That was in the past, which we have put behind us: they come now from the abundance of the heart. We are one, you know, and I am to tell you everything. Jane, I’ve done exactly as you told me, and given you all credit. She knows it was your move; and it’s all right.”
“Then you found that your imagination had created, or greatly magnified, the difficulties, and that your fears were unnecessary?”
“Far from it. It was a terrible job for both of us: the mere recollection of it is harrowing. Clarice is laid up, and only my superior physical strength and fortitude, with an hour’s recuperation, enabled me to face you all at table.”
“Then you must have been rough with her. Brother, how could you?”
“What did I tell you? You drive me, with all your sharp-pointed feminine weapons, to a painful task, and then you blame me because you fancy I’ve not discharged it as neatly as the angel Gabriel might. She thinks I did, however. Was I rough with you last night? Is it my habit to go around trampling on the finer feelings of our nature? In the hour of woe, when your heartstrings are torn asunder, you will find me a first-class comforter. I thought you knew that already.”
“I doubt if Clarice knows it, if you took this tone with her. Can you never be serious, Robert?”
“Good heavens, Jane, what would you have? Have I not been serious through two weary months, and eminently so all this afternoon? I had to be. Let the overstrung bow be relaxed a little now. You remember the Prime Minister, who after an exciting debate used to go home and play with his children?
“As exciting debates are usually conducted in the small hours, it was cruel to disturb their infant slumbers. If you want to do that here you will have to get Mabel’s consent; it is out of my province. Best play with your children before they go to bed.”
“Children of a larger growth will serve. Bear with me, sister. My faculties have been sorely tasked: I am spent and weary—”
“And you must have somebody to play with. Was that why you were so fond of Clarice, because she sometimes humored you? She could hardly serve your turn now: the poor child is in no jesting mood. Nor am I; nor ought you to be.”
“Sister, you wrong me. It is my warmth of heart, my fraternal affection, which you have so oft-repulsed. Mine is a poet’s nature. You stare, but it is so: it is only lately that I discovered the fact myself. Like the elder Bulwer, I pine for appreciation, for sympathy—”
“You will continue to pine if you go on like this. I never saw such a man for beating about the bush and talking nonsense. What have you accomplished?—I don’t want to pry into her secrets, or ask her to share her confidences, but—”
“Now, Jane, if you have any heart left, I will bring the tear of contrition to your eye. I asked and obtained her permission to tell you all I know, and all we have just arranged.”
“Don’t be so long about it, then. What are the arrangements?”
So I imparted them with but little modification or reservation; and Mabel coming in presently, I went over the main outlines again. It is not every man who could thus communicate state secrets to his family; but mine never talk about home affairs to outsiders. One point is, they do not attend the Sewing Society: if they did, I should feel less safe. They approved in the main.
“It hardly seems fair to Mr. Hartman,” said Jane; “but no doubt it’s as much as you can expect from her.”
“I should say it was: why, she is acting nobly. If it were any other man, he should, and would, have all the making up to do, instead of putting it on us. You see, you—that is, we—don’t exactly know what the quarrel was. He must have been in the wrong, of course.”
“O yes, because you are a man. Now suppose I, being a woman, say, ‘She must have been in the wrong, of course.’”
“My dears,” said Mabel, “let us compromise. They are both human beings; probably they were both in the wrong.”
“Happy thought,” said I. “We’ll fix it that way: then they have only to kiss and be friends. But still, the man is generally expected to open the ball.”
“That is,” said Jane, “if all does not go smoothly from the start, which can hardly be expected, poor Mr. Hartman is to be sacrificed.”
“I would not put it just that way; though he, or any man, ought to be glad to be sacrificed for Clarice. She is naturally first with me, as I should suppose she would be with you—except that, as you pertinently observe, you also are a woman. But never fear, Jane; I’ll attend to Hartman’s case too. I hope to act as attorney for both plaintiff and defendant, and speedily to reconcile their conflicting interests. It is true I am on a prospecting tour: I have no retainer from him yet. But I shall soon pocket that, and master his side of the suit. O, I’ll take him up tenderly, and handle with care.”
“Of course you will, Robert,” said Mabel. “If there is any quality for which you are distinguished, it is the even-tempered justice of your mind. You can argue on both sides of a case with equal fluency and force, and that quite independent of your personal predilections.”
“Just so. But I fear Jane has not the same confidence in my fairness and ability with you, my dear. You will have to talk to her privately, and bring her to a proper frame of mind. She is my only and much loved sister, and I can’t go till she has faith in me.”
“It is you who are not in a proper frame of mind as to Mr. Hartman’s side of this affair, brother. A man has no sympathy, no charity, for another man. You can be all tenderness, and consideration, and faith, and loyalty, to a woman—when she has Clarice’s looks; but when it is only an old friend who trusts you, you will laugh, and sneer, and amuse yourself at his expense, and either delude him or hopelessly estrange him.”
“Did you ever hear the like? Yesterday, and the day before, she insisted on my going; and now, when I am all on fire to go, she throws cold water on my zeal, and—”
Here my wife interrupted me. “Jane, it is you who show undue levity. You forget that Clarice is my cousin; that is why Robert is so fond of her, and espouses her cause so warmly. I think it is very good of him, and very generous.”
“Now you have hit it: Jane, hide your diminished head. Mabel, if Hartman can prove affinity with you, I will take just as much pains for him as for Clarice. But, sister, you and I must be one. I tell you what I will do: I will stay at home all next Sunday, and let you preach to me: then, if you can’t fill me to the nozzle with your views, whose fault will it be? Or you might go along, as you wanted to in May. Then you could personally superintend the campaign.”
“My only hope is that you will sober down before you get there. In this mood you could do no good at all.”
“That’s where you are mistaken. Jim expects me to brighten him up: he is not wholly without a sense of humor. But if you think I am going there for amusement, you are out again. I shall take Young’s Night Thoughts, and Hervey’s Meditations among the Tombs, and a volume or two of sermons, to read on the way, and get my mind attuned to the atmosphere of the place. My jokes there will be solemn and elaborate offerings, prompted solely by a humane sense of necessity. But, Jane, you are in a minority of one. Clarice has confidence in me: you ask her. And so has Mabel: haven’t you, my love?”
“Yes, certainly. Why, Jane, Robert is the only person who can possibly manage this affair, since you and I can’t well go, and Clarice does not like to speak out herself. We could not commit it to a stranger, you know. Robert knew Mr. Hartman before any of us did; they were old friends at college. He is the natural link between them, you might say. If he will only remember not to laugh in the wrong places, as he did that time we took him to church, when the minister thumped his sermon off the pulpit, and not to tell the wrong stories, as he so often does at table, and not to yawn when Mr. Hartman explains how badly he has been feeling since he left us, he will do very well. You can’t expect him to take the same interest in Mr. Hartman as in Clarice: would he care for us as he does, if we were men? Jane, he is pointed out by Providence as the means of reconciling them. You must see that he is to be trusted entirely. Under his supervision it will all come right: I said so from the beginning.”
After this, there seemed no need of further remarks. Mabel withdrew early, and I went out to smoke. When I came back, I found Jane again in tears.
“Brother, tell me that you were only playing with me, and that you are really in earnest about this matter, and will do your best to set it straight.”
“My dear sister, I will tell you anything you like, if you will only believe me; what is the use, if you won’t? Do you suppose I care less for Clarice’s happiness than you do—or for Jim’s either? I wish you would talk to her, and let her clarify your ideas. Faith, as you may have heard in church, is a saving grace, and essential to peace of mind. Within a month or two you will see whether I fail my friends or not, and then perhaps you will learn to trust me. Jane, I believe in you now, even if you don’t believe in me; I would do almost anything to please you. You want me to change my nature: I would do even that, but it is so expensive, and then the new one might not fit as well as what I have now. You are very exacting, but you can’t quarrel with me, because I will be no party to such proceedings.”
“Brother, it all rests with you. If you will bring them together, I will never doubt you again.”
“No, my dear, I’ll not hold you to that. You shall doubt me as often as you like; but I will keep my promises all the same.”
You see, I am trying new tactics with Jane now. Magnanimity, patient forgiveness of injuries, disinterested and persistent affection, will in time soften the most obdurate. After Clarice goes off, there will be so few of us left that I can’t afford to be on any but the best terms with such as remain. And then my sister, when she is willing to do herself—and me—justice, has some quite creditable traits.