Miss Mackenzie - Anthony Trollope

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about Miss Trotter which were not altogether good-natured.

      Miss Mackenzie, as soon as she was at home, got down her Bible and puzzled herself for an hour over that riddle of Mr. Stumfold's; but with all her trouble she could not find why St. Peter in prison was like a little boy with his shoes off.

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      A full week had passed by after Mrs. Stumfold's tea-party before Mr. Rubb called again at the Paragon; and in the meantime Miss Mackenzie had been informed by her lawyer that there did not appear to be any objection to the mortgage, if she liked the investment for her money.

      "You couldn't do better with your money—you couldn't indeed," said Mr. Rubb, when Miss Mackenzie, meaning to be cautious, started the conversation at once upon matters of business.

      Mr. Rubb had not been in any great hurry to repeat his call, and Miss Mackenzie had resolved that if he did come again she would treat him simply as a member of the firm with whom she had to transact certain monetary arrangements. Beyond that she would not go; and as she so resolved, she repented herself of the sherry and biscuit.

      The people whom she had met at Mr. Stumfold's had been all ladies and gentlemen; she, at least, had supposed them to be so, not having as yet received any special information respecting the wife of the retired coachbuilder. Mr. Rubb was not a gentleman; and though she was by no means inclined to give herself airs—though, as she assured herself, she believed Mr. Rubb to be quite as good as herself—yet there was, and must always be, a difference among people. She had no inclination to be proud; but if Providence had been pleased to place her in one position, it did not behove her to degrade herself by assuming a position that was lower. Therefore, on this account, and by no means moved by any personal contempt towards Mr. Rubb, or the Rubbs of the world in general, she was resolved that she would not ask him to take any more sherry and biscuits.

      Poor Miss Mackenzie! I fear that they who read this chronicle of her life will already have allowed themselves to think worse of her than she deserved. Many of them, I know, will think far worse of her than they should think. Of what faults, even if we analyse her faults, has she been guilty? Where she has been weak, who among us is not, in that, weak also? Of what vanity has she been guilty with which the least vain among us might not justly tax himself? Having been left alone in the world, she has looked to make friends for herself; and in seeking for new friends she has wished to find the best that might come in her way.

      Mr. Rubb was very good-looking; Mr. Maguire was afflicted by a terrible squint. Mr. Rubb's mode of speaking was pleasant to her; whereas she was by no means sure that she liked Mr. Maguire's speech. But Mr. Maguire was by profession a gentleman. As the discreet young man, who is desirous of rising in the world, will eschew skittles, and in preference go out to tea at his aunt's house—much more delectable as skittles are to his own heart—so did Miss Mackenzie resolve that it would become her to select Messrs Stumfold and Maguire as her male friends, and to treat Mr. Rubb simply as a man of business. She was denying herself skittles and beer, and putting up with tea and an old aunt, because she preferred the proprieties of life to its pleasures. Is it right that she should be blamed for such self-denial? But now the skittles and beer had come after her, as those delights will sometimes pursue the prudent youth who would fain avoid them. Mr. Rubb was there, in her drawing-room, looking extremely well, shaking hands with her very comfortably, and soon abandoning his conversation on that matter of business to which she had determined to confine herself. She was angry with him, thinking him to be very free and easy; but, nevertheless, she could not keep herself from talking to him.

      "You can't do better than five per cent," he had said to her, "not with first-class security, such as this is."

      All that had been well enough. Five per cent and first-class security were, she knew, matters of business; and though Mr. Rubb had winked his eye at her as he spoke of them, leaning forward in his chair and looking at her not at all as a man of business, but quite in a friendly way, yet she had felt that she was so far safe. She nodded her head also, merely intending him to understand thereby that she herself understood something about business. But when he suddenly changed the subject, and asked her how she liked Mr. Stumfold's set, she drew herself up suddenly and placed herself at once upon her guard.

      "I have heard a great deal about Mr. Stumfold," continued Mr. Rubb, not appearing to observe the lady's altered manner, "not only here and where I have been for the last few days, but up in London also. He is quite a public character, you know."

      "Clergymen in towns, who have large congregations, always must so be, I suppose."

      "Well, yes; more or less. But Mr. Stumfold is decidedly more, and not less. People say he is going in for a bishopric."

      "I had not heard it," said Miss Mackenzie, who did not quite understand what was meant by going in for a bishopric.

      "Oh, yes, and a very likely man he would have been a year or two ago. But they say the prime minister has changed his tap lately."

      "Changed his tap!" said Miss Mackenzie.

      "He used to draw his bishops very bitter, but now he draws them mild and creamy. I dare say Stumfold did his best, but he didn't quite get his hay in while the sun shone."

      "He seems to me to be very comfortable where he is," said Miss Mackenzie.

      "I dare say. It must be rather a bore for him having to live in the house with old Peters. How Peters scraped his money together, nobody ever knew yet; and you are aware, Miss Mackenzie, that old as he is, he keeps it all in his own hands. That house, and everything that is in it, belongs to him; you know that, I dare say."

      Miss Mackenzie, who could not keep herself from being a little interested in these matters, said that she had not known it.

      "Oh dear, yes! and the carriage too. I've no doubt Stumfold will be all right when the old fellow dies. Such men as Stumfold don't often make mistakes about their money. But as long as old Peters lasts I shouldn't think it can be quite serene. They say that she is always cutting up rough with the old man."

      "She seemed to me to behave very well to him," said Miss Mackenzie, remembering the carriage of the tea-cup.

      "I dare say it is so before company, and of course that's all right; it's much better that the dirty linen should be washed in private. Stumfold is a clever man, there's no doubt about that. If you've been much to his house, you've probably met his curate, Mr. Maguire."

      "I've only been there once, but I did meet Mr. Maguire."

      "A man that squints fearfully. They say he's looking out for a wife too, only she must not have a father living, as Mrs. Stumfold has. It's astonishing how these parsons pick up all the good things that are going in the way of money." Miss Mackenzie, as she heard this, could not but remember that she might be regarded as a good thing going in the way of money, and became painfully aware that her face betrayed her consciousness.

      "You'll have to keep a sharp look out," continued Mr. Rubb, giving her a kind caution, as though he were an old familiar friend.

      "I don't think there's any fear of that kind," said Miss Mackenzie, blushing.

      "I don't know about fear, but I should say that there is great probability; of course I am only joking about Mr. Maguire. Like the rest of them, of course, he wishes to feather his own nest; and why shouldn't he? But you may be sure of this, Miss Mackenzie, a lady with your fortune, and, if I may be allowed to say so, with your personal attractions, will not want for admirers."

      Miss Mackenzie was very strongly of opinion that Mr. Rubb might not be allowed to say so. She thought that he was behaving with an unwarrantable degree of freedom

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