Montague family

“ At this moment he could not but remember Lady Carbury's great anxiety to be closely connected with Melmotte, but he was too generous to say a word on that head. "I will see him, Lady Carbury, and then I will come to you again."
Lady Carbury did not dare to tell him that she did not wish him to see Paul Montague. She knew that if he really threw himself into the scale against her, her opposition would weigh nothing. He was too powerful in his honesty and greatness of character,—and had been too often admitted by herself to be the guardian angel of the family,—for her to stand against him. ”

“ Montague had gradually moved up, until, as one of the oldest boarders in the house, he occupied a seat next to the Windlespin family. A fine opportunity was now offered for those civilities which cost so little and are often productive of so many pleasant results. By degrees the abstraction of the melancholy gentleman was beguiled by the charms of his fair neighbors, and the ladies noticed, with no small degree of satisfaction, that they could induce him, not only to prolong his stay at table, but also to exchange his frugal fare for the dainties which they so much enjoyed. ”

“ Your opinions, your career, your associates, are not such as to recommend you to the favorable consideration of a jury. Is your case strong enough to oppose all these? Sir Montague will make liberal terms; he has no desire to expose the calamities of a family.”
“Sir Montague!—of whom do you speak?”
“Sir Montague Crofts,” said Basset, reddening, for he had unwittingly suffered the name to escape his lips. “Are you ignorant that he is your relative? a distant one, it is true, but your nearest of kin notwithstanding.” ”

“ Here is a gentleman's family, consisting of an old bachelor and his sister, who have fortune enough to live with great elegance, though without any magnificence, possessed of the esteem of all their acquaintance, he being distinguished by his probity, and she by her virtue. They are not only suffered but sought by all the best company, and indeed are the most conversable, reasonable people in the place. ”

“ A man not only scorned to marry a woman of family less illustrious than his own, but even to make love to her—"the pedigree is much more considered by them than either the complexion or features of their mistresses. Happy are the shes that can number among their ancestors Counts of the Empire; they have neither occasion for beauty, money, or good conduct to get them husbands." How far this passion for rank and precedence went is indicated by an amusing incident related by Lady Mary. ”

“ Marriage made Lady Mary more human. She no longer dwelt upon the various points that in her maidenhood days she had thought would be conducive to happiness in matrimonial life; she was now, anyhow for the moment, in love with her husband, or at least persuaded herself that this was the case, and was at pains to inform him of the fact.
"I have not been very long in this family; and I fancy myself in that described in the 'Spectator,'" the letter of October 22 continues. "The good people here look upon their children with a fondness that more than recompenses their care of them. ”

“ In the new Commission of the Treasury Montagu's name did not appear. Why Montagu was removed has not transpired; it may, indeed, be that he resigned, for he had a strong dislike for the new Minister. There may also have been some family sentiment in the matter, for while Lady Mary was an intimate friend of Walpole's harum-scarum sister, "Dolly," who was now Lady Townshend, Lady Walpole was very decidedly her enemy. Lady Mary presently had her tit-for-tat with Lady Walpole by "taking up" Walpole's mistress, Molly Skerritt. ”

“ Mr. Palmer answered, with a slight twinge of embarrassment. "I knew Mr. Dinsmore, however, and it seems a very sad thing that his niece should be deprived of both home and fortune, as well as her only friend, especially when he was so fond of her and intended that she would inherit his property. I would give a great deal to know where she is; she would not long be without a home if I could find her."
"Does the man want to marry the girl?" was Mrs. Montague's mental query, as she glanced keenly at her companion. "I begin to believe I should like to see this wonderful creature." ”

“ Perhaps, if I could find that woman—Uncle Walter's wife—she might be able to tell me something; but I do not know where to find her. Possibly Mrs. Montague would know whether this Mona Forester is a relative, if I dare ask her; but I do not—I could not—without betraying myself and perhaps spoil all my other plans. Oh, dear, it is so dreadful to be alone in the world and not really know who you are!" she concluded, with a sigh.
About the middle of the next forenoon Mrs. Montague asked her if she would come with her to look over a trunk of clothing preparatory to beginning upon spring sewing. ”

“ I entreat you to do all you can to discourage his design. Remind him that his sister’s marriage has in some degree removed the cause of his coming hither; that he can have now no motive for fixing here, but his tenderness for me; that I shall be justly blamed by all who love him for keeping him here. Tell him, I will not marry him in Canada; that his stay makes the best mother in the world wretched; that he owes his return to himself, nay to his Emily, whose whole heart is set on seeing him in a situation worthy of him: though without ambition as to myself, I am proud, I am ambitious for him ”

“ Without a friend, almost without an acquaintance, Montacute sought refuge in love. She who shed over his mournful life the divine ray of feminine sympathy was his cousin, the daughter of his mother's brother, an English peer, but resident in the north of Ireland, where he had vast possessions. It was a family otherwise little calculated to dissipate the reserve and gloom of a depressed and melancholy youth ”

“ Montague and the girls became fast friends from the outset, and when Reg and her husband left for a smoke they became quite confidential. She told them all her experiences and how Reg had come to her rescue.
"You see, here I am with a husband who worships me; a successful career; my sisters at school and well cared-for, and wherever I go I am so well received; and all this I owe to Mr. Morris." ”

“ The words were constrained and inadequate, spoken in obedience to her mother’s command; but as she stood there with the pink folds of the frock caught close to her and her pinched face flushed with happiness, she was a little point of color and joy that lighted up the discouraged room and made her mother’s eyes linger upon her fondly a moment, then turn for sympathetic understanding to Julie. ”

“ My father did my mother no willful wrong, although in his morbid grief and sensitiveness he imputed such wrong to himself, and never ceased to reproach himself for it. You alone," Mona continued, with stern denunciation, "are guilty of the ruin of their happiness and lives; you alone will have to answer for it. You have been a very wicked woman, Mrs. Montague, not only in connection with your schemes regarding them, but in your corruption of the morals of your nephew. I should suppose your conscience would never cease to reproach you for having reared him to such a life of crime. ”

“ You mean to say you didn’t know right from the first that it was wrong to go off with another woman’s husband—an’ him a draft dodger, too? Oh, you needn’t come back to Hart’s Run an’ tell a tale like that, an’ expect decent folks to go right along an’ treat you like nothing had happened. They won’t do it, I tell you!”
“I don’t expect them to,” Julie said.
“Well, it’s lucky you don’t. Folks won’t stand for any such carryings on. You’ll be put [280] out of the church. Brother Seabrook’ll put you right out—I know he will. ”

“ He’s about the right age for you, an’ maybe marrying a widower like that wouldn’t scare you s’ much.”
Julie quickened her pace nervously, walking with averted eyes.
“Widowers, now,” Mrs. Anderson pursued, “They’re broke to double harness already—they ain’t so hard to drive as a colt.”
She suddenly collapsed in mirth. “’Magine you drivin’ a colt husband, Julie!” she giggled. “Don’t walk so fast, dearie; you put me all out er breath. Well, anyhow, I think widowers are real nice. I ain’t got one thing against ’em. I just believe I’ll make the match between you and Brother Seabrook. ”

“ I would even be willing to marry her without a dollar in prospect, and then go to work to support her. Now come, do not let us quarrel over imaginary troubles, but unite our forces for our mutual benefit. It will be far safer for you if she becomes my wife, for then you will have nothing to fear, and I shall have won the desire of my heart."
"Well, it will have to be, I suppose," said Mrs. Montague, moodily. "I wonder how I was ever so deceived though, when she looks so like Mona Forester. I can understand now why Ray Palmer was so attentive to her at Hazeldean. ”

“ I was scared.”
“Well,” he went on. “That night when they showed our boys goin’ up to the front, there was one little feller on the screen—a runty kind of a little feller like me—an’ as he went by he turned so’s you saw his full face. Julie, he looked straight at me; an’ something jumped in me an’ sez, ‘That’s your brother. Why ain’t you with him?’”
“I know, I know,” she cried poignantly. [256] “Your brother! My sister! We thought when we found ourselves we was all, but now we’ve caught a sight of the other folks.”
“So I got to go now,” he ended. “I’ll give myself up—”
“Oh, honey! ”

“ When he did he took Jonadab and me by the arm and led us out back of the barn.
“Fellers,” he says, sad and mournful, “that—that plaster cast in a crazy-quilt,” he says, referring to Montague, “is a cousin of mine. That's the living truth,” says he, “and the only excuse I can make is that 'tain't my fault. He's my cousin, all right, and his name's Hank Schmults, but the sooner you box that fact up in your forgetory, the smoother 'twill be for yours drearily, Peter T. Brown. He's to be Mr. Booth Montague, the celebrated English poet, so long's he hangs out at the Old Home ”

“ The late afternoon post brought a letter for Montague from his son Harold. This told his father that a supreme happiness had come in his life; that, by great good fortune, he had met and quietly married Mavis Keeves; that, by her wish, the marriage had been kept a secret for three weeks; it ended by saying how he hoped to bring his wife to his father's house early in the following week. Montague Devitt stared stupidly at the paper on which this information was conveyed; then he leaned against the mantelpiece for support. ”

“ He had made up his mind to marry Mrs. Montague; he had indeed been almost upon the point of offering himself to her, just as Ray and Mona had passed through the drawing-room, when he had suddenly resolved to wait and consult his son, before taking the irrevocable step. He felt that he owed it to him to do so, for they had been good friends and confidants for so many years.
"I must be looking out for number one, you know," he added, trying to speak playfully; "for you will be getting married yourself one of these days, and the old home would be very lonely without you." ”

“ He went on again: “‘An’ now the law’s lookin’ for him. My poor little baby child! All I had. I can’t stand up against this trouble—disgrace. People talk, always peeking and spying at you, an’ talk. I ain’t got no more to live for now, an’ I don’t want to live—’”
He hesitated.
“All, Tim, all!” she cried out again.
“‘Don’t want to live if there’s bad people in the world like what took my baby’s husband. She was all I had to set my heart on. You understand. You been good—good to me.’ (She’s got ‘good’ written twice over, Julie.) ”

“ Mrs. Anderson went on. “Big men like him are mighty apt to take to little scary women like you. An’ you’d make him a real good wife, Julie. I will say for you, you’re ’bout the best cook in town. You get that from your mother; she always set the prettiest table—you recollect, Julie?”
Again Julie was silent. The remembrance of her mother informed all her life, but it was not possible for her to speak of it to Mrs. Anderson.
“Well, of course Brother Seabrook would rather have you keepin’ his house an’ raisin’ his children for him than that soured-faced old aunt he’s got now. ”

“ As Julie came forth from the Sunday-School room, breathless and trembling, she paused a moment upon the steps, and there the deep serenity of the night received her. She drew a long breath. Her heart still pounded violently, but she had escaped: she was delivered. Inside, Sister Humphries continued to pray, Brother Seabrook speeding the petition upon its way with ejaculations of “Lord, grant it!” “Amen! Amen!” Outside, the sweep of a starlighted sky covered the world. Julie lingered upon the steps, her tense nerves relaxing gradually, as the safety and reassurance outside wrapped her about. ”

“ Montague had denied all knowledge of Mona. "I have met the lady—is she a relative of yours?"
"No; at least, I never saw her until I entered her house to serve her."
"My poor child! to think that you should have to go out to do such work," said Ray, with tender regret. "But of course, as you say, I can understand all about it, for that, too, was in the papers; but it was very heartless, very cruel in that Mrs. Dinsmore not to make you any allowance, when she could not fail to know that your uncle wished you to inherit his property. She must be a very obnoxious sort of person, isn't she?" ”

“ In case she should not be living, her heirs are to inherit the money. I have made every effort to find her—have been to the place where she was born—but can get no trace of her—no one remembered such a person, and I could not even learn whether she had ever married. I am afraid that the case will prove to be a very complicated and vexatious one."
"I should think so," responded Mrs. Montague, who appeared to be deeply interested in the story. "What was the girl's name?"
"Mona Forester."
"Mona Forester!" repeated the woman, in a startled tone, and growing as white as her handkerchief. ”