Nobody

<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN> <p id="id00007" style="margin-top: 4em">Produced by Daniel Fromont</p> <p id="id00008" style="margin-top: 8em">[Transcriber's note: Susan Warner (1819-1885), <i>Nobody</i> (1883), Nisbet edition]</p> <h1 id="id00009" style="margin-top: 5em">NOBODY</h1> <h1 id="id00010" style="margin-top: 5em">BY</h1> <h3 id="id00011" style="margin-top: 3em">SUSAN WARNER</h3> <h3 id="id00012" style="margin-top: 3em">AUTHOR OF "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD" "QUEECHY" ETC. ETC.</h3> <p id="id00013" style="margin-top: 5em">"Let me see; What think you of falling in love?"</p> <p id="id00014">—<i>As You Like It</i></p> <h1 id="id00015" style="margin-top: 5em">LONDON</h1> <p id="id00016">JAMES NISBET &amp; C° LIMITED</p> <h5 id="id00017">31 BERNERS STREET</h5> <h1 id="id00018" style="margin-top: 7em">NOTICE TO READER.</h1> <p id="id00019" style="margin-top: 3em">The following is again a true story of real life. For character and colouring, no doubt, I am responsible; but the facts are facts.</p> <h3 id="id00020" style="margin-top: 3em">MARTLAER'S ROCK,</h3> <p id="id00021"><i>Aug</i>. 9, 1882.</p> <h1 id="id00022" style="margin-top: 7em">CONTENTS.</h1> <h1 id="id00023" style="margin-top: 7em">CHAPTER</h1> <h3 id="id00024" style="margin-top: 3em">I. WHO IS SHE?</h3> <h5 id="id00025">II. AT BREAKFAST</h5> <h5 id="id00026">III. A LUNCHEON PARTY</h5> <h5 id="id00027">IV. ANOTHER LUNCHEON PARTY</h5> <h5 id="id00028">V. IN COUNCIL</h5> <h5 id="id00029">VI. HAPPINESS</h5> <h5 id="id00030">VII. THE WORTH OF THINGS</h5> <h5 id="id00031">VIII. MRS. ARMADALE</h5> <h5 id="id00032">IX. THE FAMILY</h5> <h5 id="id00033">X. LOIS'S GARDEN</h5> <h5 id="id00034">XI. SUMMER MOVEMENTS</h5> <h5 id="id00035">XII. APPLEDORE</h5> <h5 id="id00036">XIII. A SUMMER HOTEL</h5> <h5 id="id00037">XIV. WATCHED</h5> <h5 id="id00038">XV. TACTICS</h5> <h5 id="id00039">XVI. MRS. MARX'S OPINION</h5> <h5 id="id00040">XVII. TOM'S DECISION</h5> <h5 id="id00041">XVIII. MR. DILLWYN'S PLAN</h5> <h5 id="id00042">XIX. NEWS</h5> <h5 id="id00043">XX. SHAMPUASHUH</h5> <h5 id="id00044">XXI. GREVILLE'S MEMOIRS</h5> <h5 id="id00045">XXII. LEARNING</h5> <h5 id="id00046">XXIII. A BREAKFAST TABLE</h5> <h5 id="id00047">XXIV. THE CARPENTER</h5> <h5 id="id00048">XXV. ROAST PIG</h5> <h5 id="id00049">XXVI. SCRUPLES</h5> <h5 id="id00050">XXVII. PEAS AND RADISHES</h5> <h5 id="id00051">XXVIII. THE LAGOON OF VENICE</h5> <h5 id="id00052">XXIX. AN OX CART</h5> <h5 id="id00053">XXX. POETRY</h5> <h5 id="id00054">XXXI. LONG CLAMS</h5> <h5 id="id00055">XXXII. A VISITOR</h5> <h5 id="id00056">XXXIII. THE VALUE OF MONEY</h5> <h5 id="id00057">XXXIV. UNDER AN UMBRELLA</h5> <h5 id="id00058">XXXV. OPINIONS</h5> <h5 id="id00059">XXXVI. TWO SUNDAY SCHOOLS</h5> <h5 id="id00060">XXXVII. AN OYSTER SUPPER</h5> <h5 id="id00061">XXXVIII. BREAKING UP</h5> <h5 id="id00062">XXXIX. LUXURY</h5> <h5 id="id00063">XL. ATTENTIONS</h5> <h5 id="id00064">XLI. CHESS</h5> <h5 id="id00065">XLII. RULES</h5> <h5 id="id00066">XLIII. ABOUT WORK</h5> <h5 id="id00067">XLIV. CHOOSING A WIFE</h5> <h5 id="id00068">XLV. DUTY</h5> <h5 id="id00069">XLVI. OFF AND ON</h5> <h5 id="id00070">XLVII. PLANS</h5> <h5 id="id00071">XLVIII. ANNOUNCEMENTS</h5> <h5 id="id00072">XLIX. ON THE PASS</h5> <h1 id="id00073" style="margin-top: 7em">NOBODY.</h1> <h3 id="id00074" style="margin-top: 3em">CHAPTER I.</h3> <h3 id="id00075" style="margin-top: 3em">WHO IS SHE?</h3> <p id="id00076" style="margin-top: 3em">"Tom, who was that girl you were so taken with last night?"</p> <p id="id00077">"Wasn't particularly taken last night with anybody."</p> <p id="id00078">Which practical falsehood the gentleman escaped from by a mental reservation, saying to himself that it was not <i>last night</i> that he was "taken."</p> <p id="id00079">"I mean the girl you had so much to do with. Come, Tom!"</p> <p id="id00080">"I hadn't much to do with her. I had to be civil to somebody. She was the easiest."</p> <p id="id00081">"Who is she, Tom?"</p> <p id="id00082">"Her name is Lothrop."</p> <p id="id00083">"O you tedious boy! I know what her name is, for I was introduced to her, and Mrs. Wishart spoke so I could not help but understand her; but I mean something else, and you know I do. Who is she? And where does she come from?"</p> <p id="id00084">"She is a cousin of Mrs. Wishart; and she comes from the country somewhere."</p> <p id="id00085">"One can see <i>that</i>."</p> <p id="id00086">"How can you?" the brother asked rather fiercely.</p> <p id="id00087">"You see it as well as I do," the sister returned coolly. "Her dress shows it."</p> <p id="id00088">"I didn't notice anything about her dress."</p> <p id="id00089">"You are a man."</p> <p id="id00090">"Well, you women dress for the men. If you only knew a thing or two, you would dress differently."</p> <p id="id00091">"That will do! You would not take me anywhere, if I dressed like Miss<br/> Lothrop."<br/></p> <p id="id00092">"I'll tell you what," said the young man, stopping short in his walk up and down the floor;—"she can afford to do without your advantages!"</p> <p id="id00093">"Mamma!" appealed the sister now to a third member of the party,—"do you hear? Tom has lost his head."</p> <p id="id00094">The lady addressed sat busy with newspapers, at a table a little withdrawn from the fire; a lady in fresh middle age, and comely to look at. The daughter, not comely, but sensible-looking, sat in the glow of the fireshine, doing nothing. Both were extremely well dressed, if "well" means in the fashion and in rich stuffs, and with no sparing of money or care. The elder woman looked up from her studies now for a moment, with the remark, that she did not care about Tom's head, if he would keep his heart.</p> <p id="id00095">"But that is just precisely what he will not do, mamma. Tom can't keep anything, his heart least of all. And this girl mamma, I tell you he is in danger. Tom, how many times have you been to see her?"</p> <p id="id00096">"I don't go to see <i>her;</i> I go to see Mrs. Wishart."</p> <p id="id00097">"Oh!—and you see Miss Lothrop by accident! Well, how many times, Tom?<br/> Three—four—five."<br/></p> <p id="id00098">"Don't be ridiculous!" the brother struck in. "Of course a fellow goes where he can amuse himself and have the best time; and Mrs. Wishart keeps a pleasant house."</p> <p id="id00099">"Especially lately. Well, Tom, take care! it won't do. I warn you."</p> <p id="id00100">"What won't do?"—angrily.</p> <p id="id00101">"This girl; not for <i>our</i> family. Not for you, Tom. She hasn't anything,—and she isn't anybody; and it will not do for you to marry in that way. If your fortune was ready made to your hand, or if you were established in your profession and at the top of it,—why, perhaps you might be justified in pleasing yourself; but as it is, <i>don't</i>, Tom! Be a good boy, and <i>don't!</i>"</p> <p id="id00102">"My dear, he will not," said the elder lady here. "Tom is wiser than you give him credit for."</p> <p id="id00103">"I don't give any man credit for being wise, mamma, when a pretty face is in question. And this girl has a pretty face; she is very pretty. But she has no style; she' is as poor as a mouse; she knows nothing of the world; and to crown all, Tom, she's one of the religious sort.—Think of that! One of the real religious sort, you know. Think how that would fit."</p> <p id="id00104">"What sort are you?" asked her brother.</p> <p id="id00105">"Not that sort, Tom, and you aren't either."</p> <p id="id00106">"How do you know she is?"</p> <p id="id00107">"Very easy," said the girl coolly. "She told me herself."</p> <p id="id00108">"She told you!"</p> <p id="id00109">"Yes."</p> <p id="id00110">"How?"</p> <p id="id00111">"O, simply enough. I was confessing that Sunday is such a fearfully long day to me, and I did not know what to do with it; and she looked at me as if I were a poor heathen—which I suppose she thought me—and said, 'But there is always the Bible!' Fancy!—'always the Bible.' So I knew in a moment where to place her."</p> <p id="id00112">"I don't think religion hurts a woman," said the young man.</p> <p id="id00113">"But you do not want her to have too much of it—" the mother remarked, without looking up from her paper.</p> <p id="id00114">"I don't know what you mean by too much, mother. I'd as lief she found<br/> Sunday short as long. By her own showing, Julia has the worst of it."<br/></p> <p id="id00115">"Mamma! speak to him," urged the girl.</p> <p id="id00116">"No need, my dear, I think. Tom isn't a fool."</p> <p id="id00117">"Any man is, when he is in love, mamma."</p> <p id="id00118">Tom came and stood by the mantelpiece, confronting them. He was a remarkably handsome young man; tall, well formed, very well dressed, hair and moustaches carefully trimmed, and features of regular though manly beauty, with an expression of genial kindness and courtesy.</p> <p id="id00119">"I am not in love," he said, half laughing. "But I will tell you,—I never saw a nicer girl than Lois Lothrop. And I think all that you say about her being poor, and all that, is just—bosh."</p> <p id="id00120">The newspapers went down.</p> <p id="id00121">"My dear boy, Julia is right. I should be very sorry to see you hurt your career and injure your chances by choosing a girl who would give you no sort of help. And you would regret it yourself, when it was too late. You would be certain to regret it. You could not help but regret it."</p> <p id="id00122">"I am not going to do it. But why should I regret it?"</p> <p id="id00123">"You know why, as well as I do. Such a girl would not be a good wife for you. She would be a millstone round your neck."</p> <p id="id00124">Perhaps Mr. Tom thought she would be a pleasant millstone in those circumstances; but he only remarked that he believed the lady in question would be a good wife for whoever could get her.</p> <p id="id00125">"Well, not for you. You can have anybody you want to, Tom; and you may just as well have money and family as well as beauty. It is a very bad thing for a girl not to have family. That deprives her husband of a great advantage; and besides, saddles upon him often most undesirable burdens in the shape of brothers and sisters, and nephews perhaps. What is this girl's family, do you know?"</p> <p id="id00126">"Respectable," said Tom, "or she would not be a cousin of Mrs. Wishart.<br/> And that makes her a cousin of Edward's wife."<br/></p> <p id="id00127">"My dear, everybody has cousins; and people are not responsible for them. She is a poor relation, whom Mrs. Wishart has here for the purpose of befriending her; she'll marry her off if she can; and you would do as well as another. Indeed you would do splendidly; but the advantage would be all on their side; and that is what I do not wish for you."</p> <p id="id00128">Tom was silent. His sister remarked that Mrs. Wishart really was not a match-maker.</p> <p id="id00129">"No more than everybody is; it is no harm; of course she would like to see this little girl well married. Is she educated? Accomplished?"</p> <p id="id00130">"Tom can tell," said the daughter. "I never saw her do anything. What can she do, Tom?"</p> <p id="id00131">"<i>Do?</i>" said Tom, flaring up. "What do you mean?"</p> <p id="id00132">"Can she play?"</p> <p id="id00133">"No, and I am glad she can't. If ever there was a bore, it is the performances of you young ladies on the piano. It's just to show what you can do. Who cares, except the music master?"</p> <p id="id00134">"Does she sing?"</p> <p id="id00135">"I don't know!"</p> <p id="id00136">"Can she speak French?"</p> <p id="id00137">"French!" cried Tom. "Who wants her to speak French? We talk English in this country."</p> <p id="id00138">"But, my dear boy, we often have to use French or some other language, there are so many foreigners that one meets in society. And a lady <i>must</i> know French at least. Does she know anything?"</p> <p id="id00139">"I don't know," said Tom. "I have no doubt she does. I haven't tried her. How much, do you suppose, do girls in general know? girls with ever so much money and family? And who cares how much they know? One does not seek a lady's society for the purpose of being instructed."</p> <p id="id00140">"One might, and get no harm," said the sister softly; but Tom flung out of the room. "Mamma, it is serious."</p> <p id="id00141">"Do you think so?" asked the elder lady, now thrusting aside all her papers.</p> <p id="id00142">"I am sure of it. And if we do not do something—we shall all be sorry for it."</p> <p id="id00143">"What is this girl, Julia? Is she pretty?"</p> <p id="id00144">Julia hesitated. "Yes," she said. "I suppose the men would call her so."</p> <p id="id00145">"You don't?"</p> <p id="id00146">"Well, yes, mamma; she is pretty, handsome, in a way; though she has not the least bit of style; not the least bit! She is rather peculiar; and I suppose with the men that is one of her attractions."</p> <p id="id00147">"Peculiar how?" said the mother, looking anxious.</p> <p id="id00148">"I cannot tell; it is indefinable. And yet it is very marked. Just that want of style makes her peculiar."</p> <p id="id00149">"Awkward?"</p> <p id="id00150">"No."</p> <p id="id00151">"Not awkward. How then? Shy?"</p> <p id="id00152">"No."</p> <p id="id00153">"How then, Julia? What is she like?"</p> <p id="id00154">"It is hard to tell in words what people are like. She is plainly dressed, but not badly; Mrs. Wishart would see to that; so it isn't exactly her dress that makes her want of style. She has a very good figure; uncommonly good. Then she has most beautiful hair, mamma; a full head of bright brown hair, that would be auburn if it were a shade or two darker; and it is somewhat wavy and curly, and heaps itself around her head in a way that is like a picture. She don't dress it in the fashion; I don't believe there is a hairpin in it, and I am sure there isn't a cushion, or anything; only this bright brown hair puffing and waving and curling itself together in some inexplicable way, that would be very pretty if it were not so altogether out of the way that everybody else wears. Then there <i>is</i> a sweet, pretty face under it; but you can see at the first look that she was never born or brought up in New York or any other city, and knows just nothing about the world."</p> <p id="id00155">"Dangerous!" said the mother, knitting her brows.</p> <p id="id00156">"Yes; for just that sort of thing is taking to the men; and they don't look any further. And Tom above all. I tell you, he is smitten, mamma. And he goes to Mrs. Wishart's with a regularity which is appalling."</p> <p id="id00157">"Tom takes things hard, too," said the mother.</p> <p id="id00158">"Foolish boy!" was the sister's comment.</p> <p id="id00159">"What can be done?"</p> <p id="id00160">"I'll tell you, mamma. I've been thinking. Your health will never stand the March winds in New York. You must go somewhere."</p> <p id="id00161">"Where?"</p> <p id="id00162">"Florida, for instance?"</p> <p id="id00163">"I should like it very well."</p> <p id="id00164">"It would be better anyhow than to let Tom get hopelessly entangled."</p> <p id="id00165">"Anything would be better than that."</p> <p id="id00166">"And prevention is better than cure. You can't apply a cure, besides. When a man like Tom, or any man, once gets a thing of this sort in his head, it is hopeless. He'll go through thick and thin, and take time to repent afterwards. Men are so stupid!"</p> <p id="id00167" style="margin-top: 4em">"Women sometimes."</p> <p id="id00168">"Not I, mamma; if you mean me. I hope for the credit of your discernment you don't."</p> <p id="id00169">"Lent will begin soon," observed the elder lady presently.</p> <p id="id00170">"Lent will not make any difference with Tom," returned the daughter.<br/> "And little parties are more dangerous than big ones."<br/></p> <p id="id00171">"What shall I do about the party we were going to give? I should be obliged to ask Mrs. Wishart."</p> <p id="id00172">"I'll tell you, mamma," Julia said after a little thinking. "Let it be a luncheon party; and get Tom to go down into the country that day. And then go off to Florida, both of you."</p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />