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 1. Introduction 62

1. 3.1 Using Built-In Functions 62

2. 3.2 Using the Help Feature 64

3. 3.3 Elementary Math Functions 67

4. 3.4 Trigonometric Functions 75

5. 3.5 Data Analysis Functions 79

6. 3.6 Random Numbers 98

7. 3.7 Complex Numbers 103

8. 3.8 Computational Limitations 106

9. 3.9 Special Values and Miscellaneous Functions 108

1. Summary 110

2. MATLAB® Summary 110

3. Key Terms 112

4. Problems 112

4. 4 Manipulating MATLAB® Matrices 119

1. 4.1 Manipulating Matrices 119

2. 4.2 Problems with Two Variables—Using Meshgrid 126

3. 4.3 Special Matrices 133

1. Summary 139

2. MATLAB® Summary 139

 3. Key Terms 140

4. Problems 140

5. 5 Plotting 146

1. Introduction 146

1. 5.1 Two-Dimensional Plots 146

2. 5.2 Subplots 163

3. 5.3 Other Types of Two-Dimensional Plots 165

4. 5.4 Three-Dimensional Plotting 182

5. 5.5 Editing Plots From the Menu Bar 189

6. 5.6 Creating Plots From the Workspace Window 191

7. 5.7 Saving Your Plots 192

1. Summary 193

2. MATLAB® Summary 193

3. Problems 195

6. 6 User-Defined Functions 206

1. Introduction 206

1. 6.1 Creating Function Files 206

2. 6.2 Creating Your Own Toolbox of Functions 225

3. 6.3 Anonymous Functions and Function Handles 226

4. 6.4 Function Functions 228

 5. 6.5 Subfunctions 229

1. Summary 235

2. MATLAB® Summary 236

3. Key Terms 236

4. Problems 236

7. 7 User-Controlled Input and Output 243

1. Introduction 243

1. 7.1 User-Defined Input 243

2. 7.2 Output Options 248

3. 7.3 Graphical Input 259

4. 7.4 More Features Using Section Dividers 260

5. 7.5 Reading and Writing Data from Files 262

6. 7.6 Debugging Your Code 265

1. Summary 269

2. MATLAB® Summary 270

3. Key Terms 271

4. Problems 271

8. 8 Logical Functions and Selection Structures 276

1. Introduction 276

1. 8.1 Relational and Logical Operators 277

 2. 8.2 Flowcharts and Pseudocode 279

3. 8.3 Logical Functions 281

4. 8.4 Selection Structures 287

5. 8.5 Debugging 304

1. Summary 304

2. MATLAB® Summary 305

3. Key Terms 305

4. Problems 306

9. 9 Repetition Structures 318

1. Introduction 318

1. 9.1 For Loops 319

2. 9.2 While Loops 327

3. 9.3 Break and Continue 335

4. 9.4 Midpoint Break Loops 336

5. 9.5 Nested Loops 340

6. 9.6 Improving the Efficiency of Loops 341

1. Summary 344

2. MATLAB® Summary 345

3. Key Terms 345

4. Problems 345
10. 10 Matrix Algebra 351

1. Introduction 351

1. 10.1 Matrix Operations and Functions 351

2. 10.2 Solutions of Systems of Linear Equations 371

3. 10.3 Special Matrices 385

1. Summary 388

2. MATLAB® Summary 390

3. Key Terms 390

4. Problems 390

11. 11 Other Kinds of Arrays 398

1. Introduction 398

1. 11.1 Data Types 399

2. 11.2 Numeric Data Types 399

3. 11.3 Character and String Data 405

4. 11.4 Symbolic Data 413

5. 11.5 Logical Data 413

6. 11.6 Sparse Arrays 414

7. 11.7 Categorical Arrays 415

8. 11.8 Time Arrays 415

9. 11.9 Multidimensional Arrays 420

 10. 11.10 Cell Arrays 421

11. 11.11 Structure Arrays 423

12. 11.12 Table Arrays 430

1. Summary 431

2. MATLAB® Summary 432

3. Key Terms 433

4. Problems 433

12. 12 Symbolic Mathematics 441

1. Introduction 441

1. 12.1 Symbolic Algebra 442

2. 12.2 Solving Expressions and Equations 448

3. 12.3 Symbolic Plotting 459

4. 12.4 Calculus 467

5. 12.5 Differential Equations 481

6. 12.6 Converting Symbolic Expressions to Anonymous Functions

485

1. Summary 486

2. MATLAB® Summary 487

3. Problems 488

13. 13 Numerical Techniques 497

 1. 13.1 Interpolation 497

2. 13.2 Curve Fitting 507

3. 13.3 Using the Interactive Fitting Tools 520

4. 13.4 Differences and Numerical Differentiation 523

5. 13.5 Numerical Integration 532

6. 13.6 Solving Differential Equations Numerically 538

1. Summary 545

2. MATLAB® Summary 547

3. Key Terms 547

4. Problems 548

14. 14 Advanced Graphics 557

1. Introduction 557

1. 14.1 Images 557

2. 14.2 Graphics Objects 572

3. 14.3 Animation 578

4. 14.4 Other Visualization Techniques 585

5. 14.5 Introduction to Volume Visualization 587

1. Summary 590

2. MATLAB® Summary 591

3. Key Terms 592

 4. Problems 592

15. 15 Creating Graphical User Interfaces 595

1. Introduction 595

1. 15.1 A Simple Gui with One User Interaction 596

2. 15.2 A Graphical User Interface with Multiple User Interactions

—ready_aim_fire 604

3. 15.3 An Improved ready_aim_fire Program 607

4. 15.4 A Much Better ready_aim_fire Program 609

5. 15.5 Built-In Gui Templates 613

1. Summary 616

2. Key Terms 616

3. Problems 616

16. 16 Simulink®—A Brief Introduction 618

1. Introduction 618

1. 16.1 Applications 618

2. 16.2 Getting Started 619

3. 16.3 Solving Differential Equations with Simulink® 627

1. Summary 633

2. Key Terms 634

3. Problems 634
1. Appendix A Special Characters, Commands, and Functions 638

2. Appendix B Scaling Techniques 653

3. Appendix C The Ready_Aim_Fire Gui 656

4. Appendix D 661

5. Index 663
About This Book
This book grew out of my experience teaching MATLAB® and other
computing languages to freshmen engineering students at Salt Lake
Community College. I was frustrated by the lack of a text that “started at the
beginning.” Although there were many comprehensive reference books, they
assumed a level of both mathematical and computer sophistication that my
students did not possess. Also, because MATLAB® was originally adopted
by practitioners in the fields of signal processing and electrical engineering,
most of these texts provided examples primarily from those areas, an
approach that didn’t fit with a general engineering curriculum. This text starts
with basic algebra and shows how MATLAB® can be used to solve
engineering problems from a wide range of disciplines. The examples are
drawn from concepts introduced in early chemistry and physics classes and
freshman and sophomore engineering classes. A standard problem-solving
methodology is used consistently.

The text assumes that the student has a basic understanding of college algebra
and has been introduced to trigonometric concepts; students who are
mathematically more advanced generally progress through the material more
rapidly. Although the text is not intended to teach subjects such as statistics
or matrix algebra, when the MATLAB® techniques related to these subjects
are introduced, a brief background is included. In addition, sections
describing MATLAB® techniques for solving problems by means of calculus
and differential equations are introduced near the end of appropriate chapters.
These sections can be assigned for additional study to students with a more
advanced mathematics background, or they may be useful as reference
material as students progress through an engineering curriculum.

The book is intended to be a “hands-on” manual. My students have been

most successful when they read the book while sitting beside a computer and
typing in the examples as they go. Numerous examples are embedded in the
text, with more complicated numbered examples included in each chapter to
reinforce the concepts introduced. Practice exercises are included in each
chapter to give students an immediate opportunity to use their new skills.

The material is grouped into three sections. The first, An Introduction to

Basic MATLAB® Skills, gets the student started and contains the following
chapters:

Chapter 1 shows how MATLAB® is used in engineering and introduces

a standard problem-solving methodology.

Chapter 2 introduces the MATLAB® environment and the skills

required to perform basic computations. It also introduces MATLAB
program files (​sometimes called M-files) , and the concept of organizing
code into sections. Doing so early in the text makes it easier for students
to save their work and develop a consistent programming strategy.

Chapter 3 details the wide variety of problems that can be solved with
built-in MATLAB® functions. Background material on many of the
functions is provided to help the student understand how they might be
used. For example, the difference between Gaussian random numbers
and uniform random numbers is described, and examples of each are
presented.

Chapter 4 demonstrates the power of formulating problems by using

matrices in MATLAB® and expanding on the techniques employed to
define those matrices. The meshgrid function is introduced in this
chapter and is used to solve problems with two variables. The difficult
concept of meshing variables is revisited in Chapter 5 when surface
plots are introduced.

Chapter 5 describes the wide variety of both two-dimensional and

three-​dimensional plotting techniques available in MATLAB®. Creating
plots via MATLAB® commands, either from the command window or
from within a MATLAB ​program, is emphasized. However, the
extremely valuable techniques of interactively editing plots and creating
plots directly from the workspace window are also introduced.

MATLAB® is a powerful programming language that includes the basic

 constructs common to most programming languages. Because it is a
scripting language, creating programs and debugging them in
MATLAB® is often easier than in traditional programming languages
such as C++. This makes MATLAB® a valuable tool for introductory
programming classes. The second section of the text, Programming in
MATLAB®, introduces students to programming and consists of the
following chapters:

Chapter 6 describes how to create and use user-defined functions. It also

teaches students how to create a “toolbox” of functions to use in their
own programming projects.

Chapter 7 introduces functions that interact with the program user,

including user-defined input, formatted output, and graphical input
techniques. The use of MATLAB®’s debugging tools is also introduced.

Chapter 8 describes logical functions such as find and demonstrates how

they vary from the if and if/else structures. The switch/case structure is
also introduced. The use of logical functions over control structures is
emphasized, partly because students (and teachers) who have previous
programming experience often overlook the advantages of using
MATLAB®’s built-in matrix functionality.

Chapter 9 introduces repetition structures, including for loops, while

loops, and midpoint break loops that utilize the break command.
Numerous examples are included because students find these concepts
particularly challenging.

Chapters 1 through 9 should be taught sequentially, but the chapters in

Section 3, Advanced MATLAB® Concepts, do not depend upon each other.
Any or all of these chapters could be used in an introductory course or could
serve as reference material for self-study. Most of the material is appropriate
for freshmen. A two-credit course might include Chapters 1 through 9 plus
Chapter 10, while a three-credit course might include Chapters 1 through 14,
but eliminate Sections 12.4, 12.5, 13.4, 13.5, and 13.6, which describe
differentiation techniques, integration techniques, and solution techniques for
differential equations. Chapters 15 and 16 will be interesting to more
advanced students, and might be included in a course delivered to sophomore
or junior students instead of to freshmen. The skills developed in these
chapters will be especially useful as students become more involved in
solving engineering problems:

Chapter 10 discusses problem solving with matrix algebra, including dot

products, cross products, and the solution of linear systems of equations.
Although matrix algebra is widely used in all engineering fields, it finds
early application in the statics and dynamics classes taken by most
engineering majors.

Chapter 11 is an introduction to the wide variety of data types available

in MATLAB®. This chapter is especially useful for electrical
engineering and computer engineering students.

Chapter 12 introduces MATLAB®’s symbolic mathematics package,

built on the MuPad engine. Students will find this material especially
valuable in mathematics classes. My students tell me that the package is
one of the most valuable sets of techniques introduced in the course. It is
something they start using immediately.

Chapter 13 presents numerical techniques used in a wide variety of

applications, especially curve fitting and statistics. Students value these
techniques when they take laboratory classes such as chemistry or
physics or when they take the labs associated with engineering classes
such as heat transfer, fluid dynamics, or strengths of materials.

Chapter 14 examines graphical techniques used to visualize data. These

techniques are especially useful for analyzing the results of numerical
analysis calculations, including results from structural analysis, fluid
dynamics, and heat transfer codes.

Chapter 15 introduces MATLAB®’s graphical user interface capability,

using the GUIDE application. Creating their own graphical user
interfaces gives students insight into how the graphical user interfaces
they use daily on other computer platforms are created.

Chapter 16 introduces Simulink®, which is a simulation package built on

 top of the MATLAB® platform. Simulink® uses a graphical user
interface that allows programmers to build models of dynamic systems.
It has found significant acceptance in the field of electrical engineering
but has wide application across the engineering spectrum.

Appendix A lists all of the functions and special symbols (or characters)
introduced in the text. Appendix B describes strategies for scaling data, so
that the resulting plots are linear. Appendix C includes the complete
MATLAB® code to create the Ready_Aim_Fire graphical user interface
described in Chapter 15. Appendix D includes the Asheville, North Carolina
weather data used in a number of the example problems.

An instructor web site includes the following material:

M-files and Live Scripts containing solutions to practice exercises

(These files are also available on the student version of the website.)

M-files containing solutions to example problems

M-files and Live Scripts containing solutions to homework problems

PowerPoint slides for each chapter

All of the figures used in the text, suitable for inclusion in your own
PowerPoint presentations

A series of lectures (including narration) suitable for use with online

classes or as reviews

Appendix E Solutions to Practice Exercises can be found at the following

website:

www.pearsonhighered.com/moore

What’S New In This Edition

New versions of MATLAB® are rolled out every six months, which makes
keeping any text up-to-date a challenge. Significant changes were introduced
in version 2014b to the graphics package. Another major change occurred in
2016 with the addition of Live Scripts and major changes to the symbolic
algebra functionality. Multiple new data types were introduced in both the
2016 updates. The changes in this edition reflect these software updates up
through R2016b, which include the following:

Screen shots shown in the book were updated to reflect the 2016b
release.

The use of subfunctions in MATLAB programs was updated, since

functions no longer need to be stored in separate files.

Live Scripts were introduced.

New functionality and behavior associated with the 2014 graphics

update is included.

The behavior of the symbolic algebra package in MATLAB has changed

dramatically, and the impacts are reflected in changes to Chapter 12.
The use of implicit symbolic variables, designated with single quotes
has largely been eliminated as an acceptable programming technique.
Symbolic plotting functions have been replaced with newer functions
that will accept both symbolic and function input.

New data types, such as table, datetime and strings are introduced.

A number of new functions were introduced throughout the book,

largely related to the new data types introduced in 2016.

Additional problems were added and some problems were modified,

based on the feedback from both instructors and students who have used
the book. Historic data used in the problems has been updated to current
values – for example ACE hurricane information now includes data
through 2016.
Dedication and Acknowledgments
This project would not have been possible without the support of both my
family and colleagues. Thanks to Mike, Heidi, Meagan, and David, and to my
husband, Dr. Steven Purcell. I also benefited greatly from the suggestions for
problems related to electricity from Lee Brinton and Gene Riggs of the SLCC
Electrical Engineering Department. Their cheerful efforts to educate me on
the mysteries of electricity are much appreciated. I’d also like to thank
Quentin McRae, also at SLCC, who made numerous suggestions that
improved the homework problems. And finally, Art Fox has been my tireless
colleague and collaborator for almost 20 years and is responsible in large part
for the success of our MATLAB computing courses at SLCC – especially the
online versions.

This book is dedicated to my father, Professor George E. Moore, who taught

in the Department of Electrical Engineering at the South Dakota School of
Mines and Technology for almost 20 years. Professor Moore earned his
college degree at the age of 54 after a successful career as a pilot in the
United States Air Force and was a living reminder that you are never too old
to learn. My mother, Jean Moore, encouraged both him and her two
daughters to explore outside the box. Her loving support made it possible for
both my sister and I to enjoy careers in engineering—something few women
attempted in the early 1970s. I hope that readers of this text will take a minute
to thank those people in their lives who’ve helped them make their dreams
come true. Thanks Mom and Dad!
CHAPTER 1 About MATLAB®
Objectives
After reading this chapter, you should be able to:

Understand what ​MATLAB® is and why it is widely used in engineering

and science.

Understand the advantages and limitations of the student edition of

MATLAB®.

Formulate problems using a structured problem-​solving approach.

1.1 What is MATLAB®?
MATLAB® is one of a number of commercially available mathematical
computation tools, which also include Maple, Mathematica, and MathCad.
Despite what proponents may claim, no single one of these tools is “the best.”
Each has strengths and weaknesses. Each allows you to perform basic
mathematical computations. They differ in the way they handle symbolic
calculations and more complicated mathematical processes, such as matrix
manipulation. For example, MATLAB® (short for Matrix L ​ aboratory)
excels at computations involving matrices, whereas Maple excels at symbolic
calculations. At a fundamental level, you can think of these applications as
sophisticated computer-based calculators. They can perform the same
functions as your scientific calculator—and many more. If you have a
computer on your desk, you may find yourself using MATLAB® instead of
your calculator for even the simplest mathematical applications such as
balancing your checkbook. In many engineering classes, the use of
applications such as MATLAB® to perform computations is replacing more
traditional computer programming. Although applications such as
MATLAB® have become standards tool for engineers and scientists, this
doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t learn a high-level language such as C++,
Java, or Fortran.

Because MATLAB® is so easy to use, you can perform many programming

tasks with it, but it isn’t always the best tool for a programming task. It excels
at numerical calculations—especially matrix calculations—and graphics, but
you wouldn’t want to use it to write a word-processing program. For large
applications, such as operating systems or design software, C++ Java, or
Fortran would be the applications of choice. (In fact, MATLAB®, which is a
large application, was originally written in Fortran and later rewritten in C, a
precursor of C++) Usually, high-level applications do not offer easy access to
graphing—a task at which MATLAB® excels. The primary area of overlap
between MATLAB® and high-level applications is “number crunching”—
repetitive calculations or the processing of large quantities of data. Both
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spare for her papa's comforts at that special moment. But Lucilla's
larger mind embraced everything. She sat with her very fingers
itching to cut the bread-and-butter for him, and give him a cup of
tea as he liked it; and asked herself, with indignation, what was the
use of that great creature, with her level eyebrows and her crimson
bloom, who could not take the trouble to remember that three
lumps was what Mr Lake liked. Miss Marjoribanks had never taken
tea with him before; but his second cup, had she dispensed it, would
have been exactly to his taste—which was a thing Barbara had not
learned to make it in all these years. No wonder that a certain sense
of contemptuous indignation arose for one moment, even in the
calm and impartial bosom of genius. Perhaps Rose would not have
done much better; but then Rose was good for something else,
which was always a set-off on the other side. Thus it will be seen
that Lucilla had a respect for use, even of a kind which in her own
person she did not much appreciate, as became a person of a truly
enlightened mind; but a creature who was of no earthly good
irritated her well-regulated spirit; for, to be sure, the possession of a
fine contralto (which is, at the same time, not fine enough to be
made use of professionally) is not a matter of sufficient moment in
this world to excuse a young woman for not knowing how to give
her father a comfortable cup of tea.
It was nearly nine o'clock before Mr Lake went out for his walk, and
by that time it was almost dark, and the lamp outside was lighted,
which was not far from the door. Lucilla had taken a seat near the
window, with the view of witnessing everything; and it cannot be
denied that she felt a little excited when Barbara went out of the
room after her father, leaving Rose alone with her guest. Miss
Marjoribanks's heart gave a beat or two the more in the first minute,
though before the next had passed it had fallen into its usual
measure. There were no candles as yet in the parlour, and Grove
Street—or at least the bit of it which lay before the window, lighted
by the lamp outside, and relieved against a little square of bluish-
green sky which intervened between Miss Hemmings's house and
that of old Mr Wrangle on the opposite side—was very clear to the
interested spectator. There was nobody visible but an organ-man,
who was grinding a popular melody very dolorously out of his box, in
what Rose would have called the middle distance; and beyond, Miss
Jane Hemmings looking out of the long staircase window, and three
little boys in different attitudes below,—that is, if one did not count a
tall figure which, perhaps with the view of listening to the music of
the organ, was coming and going in a limited circuit round the light
of the lamp.
"How convenient it is to have the lamp so near," said Lucilla. "Oh,
don't light any candles, please; it is so nice to sit in the dark. Where
is Barbara, I wonder? Let us have some music, and put down that
dreadful organ. I hope she has not gone out. And where are you,
you sulky little Rose?"
"She has gone upstairs," said Rose, who began to feel all the
enormity of her conduct in thus betraying her sister. "I hate sitting in
the dark. I hate being a spy; come in from the window, Lucilla, now
you are here——"
"My dear Rose," said Miss Marjoribanks, "I think you forget a little.
For my part I do not understand what being a spy means. Barbara
knows very well I am here. I should scorn to take an advantage of
anybody, for my part. If she does not bring him past the very
window, and under my eyes—Ah, yes, that is just what I thought,"
said Lucilla, with gentle satisfaction. But by this time poor little Rose
had roused herself into an innocent fury.
"What is just as you thought?" said Rose, laying an impatient grasp
on Miss Marjoribanks's arm. "Come in from the window, Lucilla, this
moment—this moment! Oh, me, to think it should be my doing! Oh,
Lucilla, don't be so mean and shabby and wretched. I tell you to
come in—come in directly! If you do not shut the window, and come
and sit here in the corner, I will never, never speak to you again!"
Miss Marjoribanks, as was natural, took no notice of this childish
fury. She was sitting just where she had been sitting all the evening,
within sight of the street lamp and the organ-grinder, and Miss Jane
Hemmings at the staircase window;—just where Barbara had placed
her, and where that young woman calculated on finding her, when
she made a promenade of triumph up the partially lighted street by
the side of her clandestine suitor. Perhaps Barbara had seen Miss
Jane as well, and knew that public opinion was thus watching over
her; but at all events she was not at all ashamed of herself, or
indignant at being spied upon. On the contrary, it was a kind of
apotheosis for Barbara, only second to the grand and crowning
triumph which would be accomplished in Carlingford Church under
the shadow of that veil of real Brussels, which grew more and more
real every day. Thus neither the actors in the drama, nor the
principal spectator, were in the smallest degree disturbed by horror
or shame or sense of guilt, excepting always the fanciful little Rose,
who suffered for everybody; who could have wished that the earth
would open and swallow up Barbara and her lover; who could have
slaughtered Lucilla on the spot, and given herself over to any kind of
torture for her treachery. Naturally nobody paid any sort of attention
to Rose. Barbara, for her part, took her admirer's arm in the twilight
with a swelling of exultation, which the gaining of the very highest
prize in the department of ornamental art could scarcely have
conveyed to the bosom of the little artist; and Lucilla put back her
small assailant softly with her hand, and smoothed down her ruffled
plumes.
"My dear, it is Miss Hemmings that is spying," said Lucilla; "and poor
Barbara would be so disappointed if I were to go away from the
window. Have patience just a little longer—there's a dear. It is all
exactly as I thought."
And then there followed a pause, which was a terrible pause for
Rose. The organ-grinder stopped his doleful ditty, and there was
scarcely any sound to be heard in the street except the footsteps
approaching and retiring, the measured tread of two people
occupied with each other, going now more slowly, now more quickly,
as the humour seized them, or as their conversation grew in
interest; even the sound of their voices came by times to the
auditors—Barbara's with an occasional laugh or tone of triumph, and
the other deeper, with which Rose had but little acquaintance, but
which was perfectly known to Lucilla. All this time, while her
companion sat panting in the dark corner, Miss Marjoribanks was
looking to the joints of her harness, and feeling the edge of her
weapons. For, after all, it was no small enterprise upon which she
was going forth. She was going to denounce the faithless knight to
his face, and take him out of the hands of the enchantress; but then
she herself meant to take him in hand, and show him his true
dangers, and vindicate his honour. A more disinterested enterprise
was never undertaken by any knight-errant. Yet, at the same time,
Lucilla could not help entertaining a certain involuntary contempt for
the man who had deserted her own standard to put himself under
that of Barbara Lake, and who was being paraded up and down here
without knowing it, to gratify the vanity of his new sovereign, and
make an exhibition of his weakness. Lucilla would have been more
than mortal if she had not felt the difference between her own rule,
which would have been all to his good, and the purely egotistical
sway of Barbara; and even in her magnanimous mind, it was
impossible that pity itself should not be mingled with a certain
disdain.
She sat quite still for so long that Barbara grew intoxicated with her
triumph. "It is perhaps the last time," Lucilla said to herself, with a
movement of compassion; and the breadth of her human sympathy
was such that she waited till the very latest moment, and let the
deluded young woman have the full enjoyment of her imaginary
victory. Then Miss Marjoribanks rose with a certain solemnity, and
put on her hat, and gave an unappreciated kiss to Rose, who kept in
her corner. "Good-night; I am going," said Lucilla. The words were
simple enough, but yet they rang in Rose's ears like the signal of a
conspiracy. When the calm leader of the expedition went forth,
sensible of the importance of her mission, but tranquil as great
minds always are in a moment of danger, Rose got up too and
followed, trembling in every limb. She was capable of having thrown
herself upon the spears in her own person in a sudden élan of
indignation and passion; but she was not capable of waiting till the
right moment, and meeting her antagonists in reasonable combat.
Miss Marjoribanks went out deliberately, without any unnecessary
haste, sweeping into the dusky twilight with her virginal white
draperies. It was a very ordinary scene, and yet, even in the midst
of her excitement, Rose could not help observing involuntarily its
pictorial qualities—if only any painter could have transferred to his
canvas the subdued musical hum of surrounding life, the fragrance
of the mignonette, and the peaceful stillness of the summer night.
The sky shone out green-blue, lambent and wistful, from the vacant
space between Miss Hemmings's and Mr Wrangle's, and there were
the dusky twilight shadows below, and the yellow gleam of the lamp,
and Barbara's exulting, triumphant figure, and the white robes of the
avenging angel. Rose could not have observed all this if she had not
been stilled into a kind of breathless awe by the solemn character of
the situation, which struck her as being somehow like one of Millais's
pictures. As for the lovers, they had just turned at the moment that
Miss Marjoribanks came out, and consequently met her straight in
the face, as she stood suave and smiling at the little garden door.
"It is Mr Cavendish," said Lucilla; "I am so glad; I have been hoping
and trying to see you for ever so long; and as soon as ever I heard
you talking I felt sure it was your voice."
This was the greeting she addressed to Barbara Lake's lover. For his
part he stood before her, growing red and growing pale, struck
dumb by the unlooked-for meeting, and with such a sense of being
ashamed of himself as never before had entered his mind, though,
no doubt, he had done worse actions in his day. Even Barbara had
not calculated upon this open encounter; and instead of giving him
any assistance, as was a woman's duty in such a case, she only
tossed her head, and giggled with an embarrassment which was
more pride than shame. As for Mr Cavendish, he would have liked to
disappear under the pavement, if it had been possible. For once he
and Rose were agreed. If a gulf had opened before him, he would
have jumped into it without ever pausing to ask himself why. And
yet all the time Miss Marjoribanks was looking as placid as if she had
been in her own drawing-room, and expecting his reply to her
friendly observations. When he realised that he ought to say
something, Mr Cavendish felt that he had as much need to wipe his
forehead as ever the Archdeacon had. He turned hot and cold, and
felt his mind and his tongue frozen, and could not find a word to say.
With a sudden horror he woke up, like one of Comus's revellers, and
found himself changed into the likeness of the creature he consorted
with. If he had found an ass's head on his shoulders, he could not
have felt more startled and horrified than when he heard himself, in
the imbecility of the moment, giggle like Barbara, and answer to
Lucilla's remark, "Oh! yes, it was my voice."
"I am very sorry to separate you from Barbara," said Miss
Marjoribanks; "but she is at home, you know, and I want so much to
talk to you. Barbara, good-night; I want Mr Cavendish to walk home
with me. Rose, don't stand in the garden and catch cold; thank you,
dear, for such a pleasant evening," said Lucilla, pressing another kiss
upon her little friend's unwilling cheek. When she had done this, she
put out her hand to Barbara, and passed her, sweeping her white
garments through the narrow gateway. She took Mr Cavendish's arm
as if he had been a young brother come to fetch her. "Let us go
round by the chapel," said Miss Marjoribanks, "I have so much to
say to you. Be sure to practise for Thursday, Barbara, and bid your
papa good-night for me." This was how she carried off Mr Cavendish
finally out of Barbara's very fingers, and under her very eyes.
When the two sisters were left standing together at the door, they
could do nothing but stare at each other in the extremity of their
amazement. Rose, for her part, remained but a moment, and then,
feeling by far the guiltiest and most miserable of the whole party,
ran upstairs to her own room and cried as if her heart would break.
Barbara, on the contrary, who was past crying, stood still at the
door, and watched Lucilla's white dress disappearing on the way to
Grange Lane with indescribable emotions. A young woman cannot
call the police, or appeal to the crier, when it is her lover whom she
has lost: but to see him carried off by the strong hand—to watch
him gradually going away and disappearing from her eyes—to hear
his steps withdrawing into the distance—was such a trial as few are
called upon to bear. She stood and looked after him, and could not
believe her eyes. And then it was all so sudden—an affair of a
moment. Barbara could not realise how the world had turned round,
and this revolution had been effected;—one minute she had been
leaning on his arm triumphant, making a show and exhibition of him
in the pride of her heart, though he did not know it; and the next
was not she standing here watching him with a blank countenance
and a despairing heart, while Lucilla had pounced upon him and
carried him off in her cruel grasp? The blow was so sudden, that
Barbara stood speechless and motionless till the two departing
figures had vanished in the darkness. Would he come back again to-
morrow, or was he gone for ever and ever? Such were the thoughts
of the forsaken maiden, as she stood paralysed under this sudden
change of fortune, at her father's door. If some cruel spectator had
thrown into the fire that Brussels veil with which her imagination had
so long played, and Barbara had stood heart-struck, watching the
filmy tissue dissolve into ashes before her eyes, her sense of sudden
anguish could not have been more acute. Yet, after all, Barbara's
pangs were nothing to those of Mr Cavendish, as he felt Miss
Marjoribanks's light touch on his arm, and felt his doomed feet turn
in spite of himself in the most dangerous direction, and became
conscious that he was being led beyond all possibility of resistance,
back to Grange Lane and to his fate.
To be sure it was dark, which was one consolation; but it was not
dark enough to conceal Lucilla's white dress, nor the well-known
form and lineaments of the young monarch of Grange Lane, in
whose company nobody could pass unobserved. Mr Cavendish could
have faced danger by sea and land with the average amount of
courage; but the danger of the walk down the little street, which
afterwards led to St Roque's, and up the embowered stillness of
Grange Lane, was more than he was equal to. He could not be sure
of making a single step by these garden-walls without meeting
somebody who knew him—somebody whose curiosity might ruin him
in Carlingford; or even without the risk of encountering in the face of
that arch-enemy, who would not go away, and whose presence had
banished him from the place. It may be supposed that, under these
terrible circumstances, Mr Cavendish's thoughts of Barbara, who had
got him into this scrape, were far from lover-like. He was a man
universally popular among ladies, and who owed a great deal of the
social consideration which he prized so highly to this fact; and yet
the most gentle sentiment in his mind at that moment, was a
"Confound these women!" which he breathed to himself, all low and
deep, as he went slowly along by Lucilla's side. As for Miss
Marjoribanks, her thoughts were of a very much more serious
description than anything her unlucky escort was thinking of, and a
minute or two passed in silence before she could make up her mind
to speak.
"I have been thinking a great deal about you lately, and wishing very
much to see you," said Lucilla. "Did not Mrs Woodburn tell you?—I
think I should have written to you had I known your address."
"And I am sure you would have made me the happiest of men," said
the victim, with rueful politeness. "What had I done to deserve such
a privilege? But my sister did not tell me; she left me to hear it from
your own——"
"Yes," said Miss Marjoribanks, with a certain solemnity, interrupting
him; "I have been thinking a great deal—and hearing a great deal
about you, Mr Cavendish." When she had said this Lucilla sighed,
and her sigh found a terrible echo in her hearer's bosom. She knew
that he turned green in the darkness as he gave an anxious look at
her. But he was too much alarmed to give her an opportunity of
studying his face.
"Hearing of me," he said, and tried to laugh; "what have my kind
friends been saying?" and for one moment the sufferer tried to
delude himself that it was some innocent gossip about Barbara
which might be circulating in Grange Lane.
"Hush," said Lucilla, "don't laugh, please; for I want to have a very
serious talk. I have been hearing about you from some very, very old
friends, Mr Cavendish—not anything about this, you know," Miss
Marjoribanks added, waving her hand in the direction of Grove
Street. And then Barbara Lake and everything connected with her
vanished like a shadow from the unfortunate man's mind. It was
horribly ungrateful on his part, but it was, as Miss Marjoribanks
would have said, just what might have been expected, and how
They always behave. He had no longer any time or patience for the
object which had been giving occupation and interest to his solitude.
He woke up in a moment, and gave a passing curse to his folly, and
faced the real danger as he best could.
"You must be making a mistake, Miss Marjoribanks," he said, with
some bitterness; "it should have been, very, very old enemy. I know
who it is. It is that Archdeacon you ladies make such a fuss about. It
is he who has been telling lies about me," said Mr Cavendish. He
breathed a deep hard breath as he spoke, and the blood came back
to his face. Perhaps for the first moment he felt satisfied, and
breathed freer after it was over; but at the same time it was very
dreadful to him to feel that he was found out, and that henceforth
Grange Lane would shut its doors and avert its countenance. "If you
take his word for it, I may give in at once," he continued, bitterly. "A
parson will say anything; they are as bad as—as women." This the
poor man said in his despair, because he did not know what he was
saying; for in reality he knew that women had been his best friends,
and that he had still a chance, if the judgment was to rest with
them.
"You are very ungrateful to say so," said Miss Marjoribanks, "but it is
only because you are excited, I suppose. No, Mr Cavendish, it was
not the Archdeacon; on the contrary, it was a lady, and she said
nothing but good of you," said Lucilla; and then there was a pause.
As for Mr Cavendish, it would be altogether impossible to describe
the state of his mind. He was like a man suddenly reprieved, but
giddy with the shock, and feeling the halter still round his neck, and
knowing that he had himself undermined the ground on which he
was standing. It was Lucilla who supported him in the shock of the
moment, for all his self-command could not keep him from a
momentary shiver and stagger when he found that things were not
so bad as he thought.
"A lady, and she said nothing but good!" he muttered, under his
breath; and then he made an effort to recover himself. "Pardon me,
I cannot guess who my unknown friend may be. It is very soothing
to one's feelings to be spoken well of by a lady," said Mr Cavendish,
and he laughed again in a discordant unsteady way. Lucilla regarded
him through all these fluctuations with natural pity, and at the same
time with the calmness of a knowledge which was aware of all and
had nothing more to discover; and at the end Mr Cavendish
perceived her calm, and the absence of wonder and curiosity in her
face, and began to perceive that he had something very serious to
deal with—more serious even than he had at first supposed.
"I am going to tell you all about it," said Miss Marjoribanks, "but in
the meantime wait a minute and let me speak to you. I have
something very serious to say."
It was for this they stopped short at the foot of Grange Lane just
where the land was already parcelled out for St Roque's. What
Lucilla was going to say was too important to be spoken while
walking, and she withdrew her hand from Mr Cavendish's arm. They
were both so much absorbed that they did not see anybody coming,
nor indeed had any attention to spare for external affairs. The blood
had deserted Mr Cavendish's face, and he was once more green with
anxiety and inquietude. He stood facing her, feeling that the crisis of
his fate had come, and not knowing whether it was absolute despair
or a faint dawning of hope that possessed him. If he had been the
most passionate of lovers, and if she had held in her hands the
dreadful alternative between rapture and misery, there could not
have been a more rapt and absorbing attention in Mr Cavendish's
face.
"I want to tell you, first of all, that you must have confidence in me,"
said Lucilla; "you—must—have confidence in me. We can do nothing
without that. I know everything, Mr Cavendish," Miss Marjoribanks
added compassionately—"everything; but nobody else knows it. I
hope I can arrange everything if it is left in my hands. This is what I
wanted to tell you first of all. Before everything, you must have
confidence in me."
What Mr Cavendish might have answered to this solemn appeal it
would be vain to imagine; for the truth was, he was stopped before
he could utter a word. He was stopped and seized by the hand, and
greeted with a frankness which was, perhaps, all the more loud and
cordial from what appeared to the new-comer the comic character of
the situation. "It is Cavendish, by Jove!" the intruder exclaimed,
waving his hand to some people who were coming on behind him. "I
beg a thousand pardons for disturbing you, my dear fellow; but they
all talk about you so, that I was determined to make sure it was you.
Good heavens, Miss Marjoribanks!" General Travers added, taking off
his hat. It was Mr and Mrs Centum who were coming down behind
him—she with a light shawl thrown over her head, tempted out by
the beauty of the evening; and Lucilla saw in a moment the
consequences of this encounter, and how it would be over all
Carlingford before to-morrow morning that she and Mr Cavendish
were betrothed at the very least. Miss Marjoribanks had all her wits
about her, as ever, fortunately for both.
"Yes, it is me," she said calmly; "I have been taking tea with the
Lakes, and I made Mr Cavendish give me his arm home. He did not
like being found out, to be sure, but he could not help himself; and
we all know about that," Lucilla added, with a smile, taking once
more the unfortunate man's arm. "Oh, yes, we all know," said Mrs
Centum, with a laugh; but yet, notwithstanding, everybody felt sure
that it was all Lucilla's cleverness, and that Barbara Lake was a myth
and fiction. And it was thus, with Miss Marjoribanks leaning on his
arm, and General Travers, in all the warmth of renewed friendship,
guarding him on the other side, that Mr Cavendish, whose head was
in a whirl of excitement, and who did not know what he was doing,
was led back in triumph past Colonel Chiley's very door, where the
Archdeacon was lying in wait to crunch his bones, back from all his
aberrations into the very heart of Grange Lane.
 Chapter XXIX
Mr Cavendish was led back to his own house that evening by
General Travers, whose claim of acquaintance was too decided to be
rejected. He never knew very well what passed between the
moment when Miss Marjoribanks began to expound to him the
urgent necessity that he should confide in her, and the moment in
which he found himself in his own house, admitted eagerly by the
surprised and anxious servants, and conducted by the energetic
soldier. That he had taken leave of Lucilla at her own door, that he
had watched her white dress sweep away into the dark garden with
a faint sense that it was his only remaining protector who thus left
him, and that after that he had smoked a horrible cigar with Mr
Centum, and been accompanied home by the old acquaintance, who
had turned up at so unlucky a moment,—was all that the poor man
was aware of. And yet it is to be supposed that on the whole he
behaved himself very much like other people, since General Travers
had no distinct idea that his company was undesirable, or that his
cordial recognition was anything but welcome. The General, indeed,
took it as quite natural, under the circumstances, that Cavendish
should be a little confused. A man who is no longer a very young
man, and has a character to support, does not care to be found
mooning with the object of his affections on a summer evening, like
a boy of twenty; and General Travers was perfectly aware that he
had thus a very good joke against Cavendish. "It is worth a man's
while to set up a bachelor establishment in the country," the General
said. "By Jove! I wish I could do it. It makes a fellow feel Arcadian,
and ready for anything;" and for his own part he was very ready to
seize upon his former acquaintance, a man who belonged to his
club, and had a chance to know what he was talking about. "As for
Charlie Centum," the soldier said, "what between business and
matrimony, he has grown the greatest guy imaginable; and I can't
go off directly, you know; and then there's always this business
about the depot. It's immense luck to find you here, Cavendish,"
General Travers added, with flattering cordiality; and if poor Mr
Cavendish was not grateful, it certainly was not his friend's fault. He
led the way into his house with a glum countenance and a sinking
heart, though fortunately the latter was not visible. It was a very
nice house, fitted up with all that luxury of comfort which a man
who has, as Mrs Centum said, "only himself to look to," can afford to
collect around him. Mr Cavendish had only himself, and he had made
his habitation perfect, though, on the whole, he did not pass a very
great deal of his time at home. He had some nice pictures and a
good library, though he was not particularly given to the arts; and he
had an admirable cellar, as all the gentlemen owned in Carlingford,
though, for his own part, he was very moderate in that point, and
did not give himself any airs on the subject. Mr Centum, on the
contrary, was one of the men who talk about vintages, and raise
expectations never to be carried out. And General Travers could not
but feel the force of the contrast as he sat deep into the night, and
"talked over everything," with the man who by that time he felt
convinced was one of his best friends.
As for Mr Cavendish, it would be very difficult to describe his
feelings. He had been knocking about in all sorts of poor places,
making clandestine visits to his sister, and hovering round the more
than suburban simplicity of Grove Street, and the sense of being
once more enveloped and surrounded by all that was pleasant to the
eye and comfortable to the outer man was wonderfully consolatory
and agreeable. But his mind was in a dreadfully harassed condition
all the same. He was preoccupied to the last degree, wondering
what Miss Marjoribanks really knew, and how far he had betrayed
himself, and to what extent it would be safe, as she herself said, to
confide in Lucilla; and at the same time he was obliged to listen to
and show a certain interest in the General's stories, and to make
now and then a painful effort of mind to recall some of the mutual
friends referred to, whose names and persons had in the meantime
slipped out of his memory. All the babble of the club, which General
Travers felt must be so refreshing to the ears of a rusticated
member, fell as flat upon Mr Cavendish, whose mind was full of
other matters, as if it had been the merest old woman's gossip,
which, to be sure, it slightly resembled in some points. The gallant
General made himself so agreeable that he nearly drove the
unfortunate man out of his senses, and, when he had exhausted all
other means of aggravation, returned with fresh zest to the
sentimental circumstances in which, as he supposed, he had found
his companion out.
"Very sensible I call it," said General Travers. "To be candid, I don't
call her strictly handsome, you know; she's too big for that—and I
don't suppose she's of any family to speak of; though perhaps you
don't mind that trifling circumstance; but a woman that will dress
well and light up well, and knows how to give a man a capital dinner,
by Jove! and no doubt has a pretty little bit of money into the
bargain—I respect your taste, Cavendish," said the friendly critic,
with effusion; and somehow this applause irritated its recipient more
than all that had gone before.
"I am sure I am much obliged to you," said Mr Cavendish, "though,
unfortunately, I don't merit your approbation. Miss Marjoribanks is a
great friend of mine, but she wouldn't have me, and I don't mean to
ask her. At the same time, she has very good connections; and that
is not the way to talk of a girl of twenty. She is worth a dozen of
your fast young ladies," said the sufferer, with some heat. He was
not in the least in love with Lucilla, and indeed had a certain dread
of her at this present moment; but he could not forget that she had
once stood by him in his need—and, besides, he was glad of any
subject on which he could contradict his visitor. "I dare say her
family is better than either yours or mine. Scotch, you know," said
Mr Cavendish, trying to laugh. As for the General, he leaned back on
his chair with an indulgent air, and stroked his mustache.
"Beg your pardon—meant no offence," he said. "For my part, I don't
see that it matters, if a woman is good-looking and has something,
you know. For instance, there was a pretty little thing—a charming
little thing—Lake, or something like that——"
"Ah!" said Mr Cavendish. It was a frightful want of self-control; but
he had been a long time at full strain, and he could not help it. It did
not occur to him, for the moment, that nobody in his senses would
have applied the term "little thing" to Barbara; and, after all the slow
aggravation that he had been submitting to, the idea of this insolent
soldier interfering in Grove Street was beyond his power of
endurance. As for the General, the tone of this exclamation was such
that he too turned round on his chair, and said, "Yes?" with equally
unmistakable meaning, startled, but ready for the emergency,
whatever it might be.
Thus the two looked at each other for a second, friends in the
ordinary acceptation of the word, and yet, perhaps, on the eve of
becoming enemies. Mr Cavendish had, up to that moment, pretty
nearly forgotten Barbara Lake. It was a piquant sort of occupation
when he had nothing else to do, and when the world, according to
his morbid fancy, was on the eve of turning its back upon him—but
from the moment when he had said between his teeth "Confound
these women!" and had felt the excitement of the approaching
crisis, Barbara, and her crimson cheeks, and her level eyebrows, and
her contralto, had gone altogether out of his mind. At the same
time, it is quite true that a man may feel himself at liberty to forget a
woman when other matters of more immediate interest are
absorbing his attention, and yet be driven furious by the idea
suddenly presented to him that somebody else, who has nothing
earthly to do with it, is about to interfere. Mr Cavendish, however,
recovered himself while the General sat staring at him, and began to
see how ridiculous his defiance was.
"Well?—go on. I did not say anything," he said, and lighted another
cigar. Yet he did not face his companion as a friendly listener should,
but began to beat measure to an irritating imaginary air on the
table, with a certain savage energy by moments, as if he were
beating time on the General's head.
"Then why do you stop a fellow short like that?" said General
Travers; "I was going to tell you of some one I saw the other day in
the house of your—your friend, you know. She was under Miss
Marjoribanks's wing, that was how I saw her—and I hope you are
not playing the gay deceiver, my friend;—a little thing, round-faced,
hazel-eyed—a little soft rosebud sort of creature," said the General,
growing eloquent. "By Jove! Cavendish, I hope you don't mean to
make yourself disagreeable. These sort of looks, you know——"
"It was Rose, I suppose," said Mr Cavendish, relieved in a moment;
and, to tell the truth, he could not help laughing. The more eloquent
and angry the General grew, the more amused and contemptuous
grew his entertainer. He was so tickled by the position of affairs, that
he actually forgot his anxieties for the moment. "No doubt it was
Rose," he repeated, and laughed; Rose! what anybody could see in
that little dragon! And then the contrast between the soldier, who
prided himself on his knowledge of the world, and liked to talk of his
family and position, to the annoyance of those who had none, and
the amusement of those who happen to possess these valuable
qualifications—and the mistress of the Female School of Design,
filled Mr Cavendish with amusement: perhaps all the more because
he himself was in a similar scrape. As for General Travers, he was as
much disposed to be angry as, a moment before, Mr Cavendish had
been.
"It might be Rose," he said, "or Lily either, for anything I can tell;
but there is nothing laughable in it that I can see. You seem to be
perfectly au courant, at all events—which I hope is quite satisfactory
to Miss Marjoribanks," said the soldier; and then he resumed, after a
disagreeable little pause, "they tell me that everybody meets at the
Doctor's on Thursdays. I suppose I shall see you there. Thursday,
ain't it? to-morrow?" He looked as he spoke, with what seemed to
his victim an insulting consciousness, in poor Cavendish's face. But,
in reality, the General did not mean to be insulting, and knew
nothing whatever of the horrible internal pang which rent his
companion when it was thus recalled to him that it was to-morrow—
a fact which, up to this moment, had not occurred to the
unfortunate. To-morrow; and not even to-morrow—to-day—for by
this time it was two o'clock in the morning, and the unwelcome
intruder was wasting the little time he had for deciding what he
should do. Once more his own personal anxieties, which he had put
aside for a moment at the sudden dictate of jealousy, surged over
everything, and swallowed up all lesser sensations. To-morrow!—and
by this time everybody knew that he was in Carlingford, and he
could not stay away from the weekly assembly without attracting
general attention to himself, and throwing open the flood-gates of
suspicion. What was he to do? should he turn his back on the enemy
once for all, and run away and break off his connection with
Carlingford? or should he dare everything and face the Archdeacon,
and put his trust in Lucilla, as that high-minded young woman had
invited him to do? With these thoughts in his mind, it may be
supposed that Mr Cavendish gave but a very mingled attention to
the babble of his visitor, who found the wine and the cigars so good,
and perhaps had begun to be a little moved out of his ordinary
lucidity by their effect.
"You've got a nice little house, Cavendish," said the General, "but it's
too small for a married man, my boy. These women are the very
deuce for turning a man out of his comfortable quarters. You'll have
to go in for boudoirs and those sort of things; and, by George! you'll
be an ass if you do, with a snug little box like this to retire into," said
the philosophical warrior; and poor Cavendish smiled a ghastly smile,
with the strongest inclination all the time to take him by the collar
and turn him out of doors. But then he was a warrior and a general
officer, and a member of the same club, and six feet high—all which
particulars, not to speak of the sacred rights of hospitality, made it
somewhat difficult to carry this idea out.
"Don't you think Centum will be sitting up for you?" he said mildly;
"it's past two o'clock; and it's Thursday morning," the victim added,
with a sigh. The last words were an involuntary utterance of his own
despair, but fortunately they struck General Travers's vein of humour,
which happened to be lively at the moment, and worked the desired
but unexpected result. The General laughed loud and long, and
declared that he respected a man who was above-board, and meant
to look respectable for Miss Marjoribanks's sake; and then he poured
a mighty libation to Lucilla, and took an affectionate leave of her
supposed lover. The General made a great commotion in the
decorous quiet of Grange Lane when he knocked at Mr Centum's
door. Though it was nearly three o'clock in the morning, nothing but
his inherent dread of a woman would have prevented him from
knocking up the banker to share his hilarity; but Mrs Centum, in her
nightcap, peaceably asleep as she was at the moment, daunted the
soul of the gallant soldier; and naturally his recollection was not very
perfect next day. "I had something very funny to tell you; but, by
Jove! I forget what it was!" General Travers said next morning when
he met his host at breakfast; and thus one bad joke at least was
spared. But Mr Cavendish shut his door upon his departing guest,
without any sense, poor fellow, of having done or said anything in
the least funny. He said, "Thank Heaven!" with a kind of groan of
relief when his troublesome visitor was gone. And then he went back
again into his library, where they had been sitting. Perhaps he had
never fully appreciated before the comfort of everything, the
handsome house which he had enjoyed so long without thinking
anything of it, and all the pleasant luxurious accessories of life. He
had been doing without them for a week or two, and he had not
liked it; and yet at that moment it seemed to Mr Cavendish that he
could rather be content to lose them all at a stroke, to make it
known in Carlingford that he was ruined and had lost his fortune,
than that Carlingford should find out that he was not, after all, one
of the Cavendishes, nor the person it took him for. But, alas! all his
fortune could not bring reality to these pretensions, nor hinder the
exposure to which he looked forward with such horror. It is true that
he was an adventurer, but he was not a base one; nor had he done
anything dishonourable either to gain his fortune or to captivate the
good opinion of society, which had become so important to him. But
there are actual crimes that would be sooner forgiven to a man than
the folly of having permitted himself to be considered one of the
Cavendishes, and having set his heart on making a figure in that
mild provincial world. Mr Cavendish knew enough of human nature
to know that a duchess or a lord-chamberlain would forgive more
readily than Mr and Mrs Centum any such imposition upon them,
and intrusion into their exclusive circle. And then his sister, who
could not run away! For her sake it seemed to him that he had
better rush off at once, and sell his house and furniture and horses,
and give up Carlingford. As he thought of that, all the advantages of
Carlingford came upon him stronger than ever. Perhaps a man who
has always been used to be recognised as one of the members of a
local aristocracy, would not have seen anything half so precious as
Mr Cavendish saw in the fact of being everywhere known and
acknowledged as a constituent part of Grange Lane;—recognised by
the county people, and by the poor people, and pointed out as he
passed by one and another to any stranger who might happen to be
so ignorant as not to know Mr Cavendish. To people who are not
used to it, there is a charm in this universal acknowledgment. And
then he had more need of it than most men have; and, when
Carlingford signed his patent of gentility, and acknowledged and
prized him, it did an infinite deal more than it had any intention of
doing. To keep its regard and recognition he would have done
anything, given up the half or three parts, or even, on emergency,
all he had. Perhaps he had an undue confidence in the magnanimity
of society, and was too sure that in such a case it would behave with
a grandeur worthy of the occasion; but still he was quite right in
thinking that it could forgive the loss of his fortune sooner than his
real offence. And now it was Thursday morning, the day upon which
he must either fight or flee. He too had laughed at Miss
Marjoribanks's evenings in his time, and thought of Thursday lightly
as Lucilla's day; but there was nothing in the least amusing in the
prospect of that assembly now.
When a man has thoughts like these to entertain him, nothing can
be more useless than to go to bed, although in ordinary
circumstances, at three o'clock in the morning, that is about the only
thing one can do. Poor Mr Cavendish, however, was not quite free to
act as he thought proper. He had been a long time away from home,
and he did not feel himself in a position to shock his servants'
feelings with impunity. He went to his room, accordingly, like a
martyr, carrying all his difficulties with him, and these unpleasant
companions naturally made a night of it when they had him all to
themselves. When sheer fatigue and exhaustion procured him a
moment's sleep, it was only getting deeper and deeper into trouble:
for then it was the Archdeacon who had planted a heavy foot on his
neck, or General Travers, who, with still more fatal force, had found
out the way to Grove Street. When Mr Cavendish awoke, he said to
himself, "Confound these women!" with more fervour than ever; but,
at the same time, he swore a mighty oath to himself that he would
horsewhip the fellow who ventured to come in his way. Barbara Lake
might be no great things, but at least it was to him, and no one else,
that she belonged. Such was the complication that afforded him a
little outlet for his temper in the midst of the dreadful difficulties of
his position, and the question which was constantly renewing itself
in his thoughts, as to whether he should go or stay. The idea of
presenting himself in the centre of society in Miss Marjoribanks's
drawing-room, and being met by the Archdeacon, and held up to
public contempt there and then, with all the world looking on, and
even Travers, who would carry the narrative out of Carlingford, was
something too horrible to be contemplated; and yet how was he to
escape? He was still in this state of mind, driven backwards and
forwards by every new wind, when the morning came, and when
Miss Marjoribanks's note was put into his hand.
For the truth was, that, after long consideration, Lucilla had
determined that the matter was one which could not be permitted to
stand over. She was of too energetic a temperament to let things
linger on in an uncertain way when they could be made an end of,
and brought to a conclusion; and then, as nobody can predict what
sudden and unexpected turn human affairs may take, it was always
possible that, if Miss Marjoribanks did not make an end of the
business dramatically, and to the satisfaction of everybody
concerned, it might be found some fine day to have resolved itself
by means of some one of those illegitimate and incomplete
expedients which abound in ordinary life. It was with this view that
Miss Marjoribanks took the step of writing to Mr Cavendish. She had
written in the sacred retirement of her own maiden chamber, when
all the world was still; perhaps at the moment when General Travers
was, as he would himself have vulgarly called it, "chaffing"
Cavendish about the beautiful and disinterested friendship which
united him to the young sovereign of Grange Lane. But naturally
such poor raillery was far from the virginal thoughts of Lucilla at that
retired and sacred hour; and we may venture to add that the
elevating influence of the maiden's bower in which she composed it,
and of that tranquil moment of meditation and solitude, breathed in
every line, and gave force to every sentiment of the letter which Mr
Cavendish tore open with an excited hand. Perhaps he was too
anxious and curious to give it the solemn perusal which it ought to
have received.

"My dear Mr Cavendish,—It was very unlucky that we should have

been interrupted this evening at such an important moment,
when I had so much to say to you. But I think the best thing I
can do is to write, feeling quite sure that when you know all,
you cannot possibly mistake my motives. Everybody has retired,
and I am quite alone, and the silence[2] seems to me full of
meaning when I think that the fate of a person for whom I have
so great a regard may be hanging upon it. I might be afraid of
writing to you so frankly, if I did not feel quite sure that you
would appreciate my intention.
"Dear Mr Cavendish, it is not the Archdeacon who has said
anything. He does not know it is you; therefore, of course, he
could not say anything directly bearing upon you. But then, you
know, if he were to meet you by hazard, as he is sure to do
some day—and for my part I rather think he is fond of Grove
Street—you would be exposed at once, and everything would be
lost, for we all know the prejudices that exist in Carlingford. I
have another plan of operations to propose to you, which I feel
 quite sure is for your good, and also naturally for the good of
anybody to whom you may intend to unite your fortunes. I feel
quite sure that it is far safer to adopt a bold resolution, and to
have it over at once. Come to dinner to-morrow. If you may
happen to find an enemy, you will find also an unlooked-for
friend; and, so far as I am concerned, you know that you may
calculate on my support. I do not wonder at your being anxious
about it; but if you will only have full confidence in me and a
little in yourself, believe me it will be all over in a night. If there
had ever been anything between you and me, as these stupid
people suppose, I might have felt hesitation in writing to you
like this; but when I know a thing to be right, I hope I will never
be afraid to do it. I have been called upon to do many things
that are not common for girls of my age, and perhaps that is
why I made up my mind at once to set this all straight for you.
Once more I repeat, dear Mr Cavendish, have confidence in me.
Come to-morrow evening as if nothing had happened; and take
my word for it that all will go well.—Your friend,
"Lucilla Marjoribanks.
"P.S.—If you would like to come and talk it over with me to-
morrow, I shall be at home till twelve o'clock; but unless it will
be a satisfaction to your own mind, it is not necessary for me,
for I have all my plans laid."

It would be quite out of the question to attempt any explanation of

Mr Cavendish's feelings when he read this letter. His utter
bewilderment, his terror, his rage, his final helpless sense that it
would be utterly hopeless for him, or half a dozen men, to enter the
field against this curious complication of unknown friends and open
enemies and generous protectors, took away from him the last
remnant of courage. He did not know what to do or to think. He
swallowed his coffee with a sense of despair, and sent the rest of his
breakfast away untasted; thus betraying, without intending it, his
emotions to his kitchen. "It stands to reason as there's a cause for
it," Mr Cavendish's domestics concluded in committee of the whole
house; and surely, if ever man had good reason for not eating his
breakfast, it was he. When he had gone over it all again till his head
had grown utterly confused and his thoughts were all topsy-turvy, Mr
Cavendish took a sudden resolution. He went upstairs and changed
his dress with a certain solemnity. He made a toilette more careful
than if he were going, as he once had gone, to propose. It was like
Nelson going into gala uniform for a battle. And then he went out to
discover, if possible, what was coming to him. The difference was,
that in this battle no honour, but only a possible salvage of
reputation and fortunate escape, was to be gained.
 Chapter XXX
It is possible that some people may think Mr Cavendish's emotions
too acute for all the danger to which he was exposed; but no doubt
every alarm gets intensified when a man broods on it, and thinks of
nothing else for weeks at a time. All that he had to do at the present
moment was to walk into Carlingford by the most frequented way,
and to go up Grange Lane, where every house was open to him, and
where nobody was so great a favourite as he. There were as many
chances in his favour that he would not in that friendly
neighbourhood encounter his one enemy, as there is for every man
who goes into action that the bullet which is predestined to strike
somebody will not be directed to him; but then Mr Cavendish had
not the excitement of personal conflict, nor the kind of security
which is given by sharing a risk with a great many other people. And
to see everything smiling and serene around, and yet to know that
the most deadly danger may arrive to you at any innocent opening,
or round the first street-corner, is a kind of risk which naturally tells
upon the nerves more than a more open peril. Mr Cavendish met Dr
Marjoribanks, and the Doctor was good enough to stop his
brougham and keep him in conversation for five minutes with his
back to the foe, if foe there was approaching; and then he met Mrs
Chiley, who all but kissed him, and was so glad to see him again,
and so pleased that he was in time to make acquaintance with the
Archdeacon, and so sure that Lucilla would be quite happy now he
had come back. "Perhaps I ought not to say so, but I know she has
missed you," said the injudicious old lady; and she took both his
hands and held the miserable man in a kind of pillory, from whence
he gazed with despairing eyes over her shoulder, feeling sure that
now was the fatal moment, and that his enemy must be coming. But
fortune still favoured him, as it happened. He had the presence of
mind to say, "I am going to call on Miss Marjoribanks;" and Mrs
Chiley dropped his hands on the instant as if they burned her, and
patted him on the arm and sent him away. "She is sure to be in just
now, and I am so glad; and, my dear, you need not mind me, for I
am both your friends," Mrs Chiley said. But when he was delivered
from that danger, something still more formidable awaited the
unfortunate man. He could not believe his eyes at first, nor conceive
it possible that Fate would have such a spite against him; but there
was no mistaking the crumpled dress, any more than the straight
eyebrows and flashing oblique glances that had already found him
out. Of all the horrible chances in the world, it was Barbara—
Barbara, who had a right to think he had deserted her on the
previous night, and with whom his next interview could not be
otherwise than stormy—who thus appeared like a lion in his way.
When he saw what awaited him, Mr Cavendish lost courage. His
heart sank down into unfathomable depths. He did not know what
he could say to her to shorten the inevitable interview, nor how he
could escape, nor how hinder her from discovering that it was Lucilla
he was going to see; and he had no longer any doubt in his mind
that while he was thus engaged the Archdeacon must inevitably
appear. If he had had time to think of ordinary subjects, he would
have been sufficiently annoyed at the idea of an interview with
Barbara in broad daylight on the sacred soil of Grange Lane, where
all the world could or might be spectators; but such a merely
prudential sentiment was entirely swallowed up to-day in much more
urgent considerations. He would have been content just now, in the
horror of the moment, to plight his troth to Barbara by way of
getting rid of her, and leaving his path clear; but he could not stop
her or himself from advancing, and dared not give any vent to the
panic which was consuming his soul.
"Oh, I am sure I never thought of seeing you here, Mr Cavendish,"
said Barbara, with a toss of her head. She would have done a great
deal to secure her wavering lover, but she could not be amiable at a
moment when she had him at a disadvantage. "Perhaps you are
going to see Miss Marjoribanks," said the foolish young woman. To
tell the truth, she did not suspect him of any such treachery; but her
heart was beating louder than usual, and she had the best position
of the two, or thought she had, and chose what she supposed the
most aggravating thing to say.
But it is always hard to tell what a man may do when he is in a state
of despair. Mr Cavendish looked her in the face with the composure
of desperation, though she did not know that. All that he was able to
think of was how to get rid of her soonest, and to be able to
continue his way. "Yes, I am going to see Miss Marjoribanks," he
said, with a face which extremity rendered stolid and impassible. As
for poor Barbara, her colour changed in a moment. The very least
that she had a right to expect was that he should have asked her
pardon, put himself at her feet; and her mingled spite and
humiliation and mortification at this response were beyond telling.
Her cheeks blazed with sudden rage, her passion was so furious that
she actually did what he wanted and stood out of his way, and made
him an imperious sign to pass on and leave her. But even then she
did not expect to be taken at her word. When Mr Cavendish took off
his hat in that heartless way and passed on, Barbara stood aghast,
not able to believe her senses. Had he really passed and left her, she
who had done so much for him? Had he actually gone over to her
adversary before her very eyes? She stood stock-still when he left
her, gazing after him, blazing with rage and despite, and scarcely
able to keep herself from shrieking out the torrent of reproaches and
vituperations that were in her mind. She made no attempt whatever
to hide her wrath or jealous curiosity from any eyes that might be
there to see; but to be sure she had, as her sister said, no proper
pride. If Mr Cavendish had carried out his intentions, the chances
are that Barbara, driven desperate, would have rushed after him,
and found some means of breaking in upon his interview with
Lucilla; but after all this badgering, he had not the courage to carry
out his intentions. He looked down the long sunshiny line of Grange
Lane with a sickening sense that any of these doors might open at
any moment, and his fate rush out upon him. There was not a soul
to be seen, but that only made it all the more likely to poor Mr
Cavendish's distempered fancy that somebody was coming. He had
not even a single thought at leisure to give to Barbara, and never
asked himself whether or not she was standing watching him. All his
senses and faculties were engaged forecasting what might happen
to him before he could reach Dr Marjoribanks's house. He was
approaching it from the lower end of Grange Lane, and consequently
had everything to risk; and when Mr Centum's door opened, and all
the nurses and all the children poured out, the unfortunate man felt
his heart jump, and drop again, if possible, lower than ever. It was
this that drove him, instead of going on to Lucilla, to take refuge in
his sister's house, where the door happened to be open. He rushed
in there, and took breath, and was safe for the instant. But Barbara,
for her part, watching him, divined none of Mr Cavendish's reasons.
Her heart too gave a jump, and her wrath cooled down miraculously.
No doubt it was a little impatience at being questioned which had
made him answer as he did. He had not gone to Lucilla—he had not
deserted her standard, who had always met him half-way, and done
so much for him. Barbara calmed down as she saw him enter at Mrs
Woodburn's door. After having thus witnessed his safe exit, she felt
at liberty to go back and return to her own affairs, and prepare her
toilette for the evening; for it moved her very little less than Mr
Cavendish to know that it was Thursday, and that there was no
telling what might happen that night.
As for the hero of all this commotion, he went and buried himself in
Mrs Woodburn's back drawing-room, and threw himself on the sofa
in the dark corner, and wiped his forehead like the Archdeacon. It
was not his fault if events had overwhelmed him. If he had not met
in succession Dr Marjoribanks and Mrs Chiley and Barbara, he would
have gone right to Lucilla without stopping to question himself
further—but he could not bear all this accumulation. Panic had
seized upon him, and this panic wrought more effectually than all
argument. It was so terrible to live under such a shadow, that he felt
it must be put an end to. If only he were left at rest for this
moment, he felt that he could make up his mind to take the perilous
leap at night, and dare everything. "It can't be worse than ruin," he
said to himself, and tried not to think that for his sister it might be
something even worse than ruin. But the first thing of all was to get
a little rest in the meantime, and hide himself, and forget the
nightmare that was seated on his shoulders. When Mrs Woodburn
came to him in haste, and saw his careful dress and pale looks, she
was frightened for the moment. She thought it possible for one
second that despair had driven him out of his wits, and that there
might be, for anything she could tell, a little bottle of prussic acid in
his waistcoat pocket. That was her first idea, and her second was
that he was going to carry out at last his most wise and laudable
resolution of proposing to Miss Marjoribanks, and that it was this—
naturally a serious and hazardous enterprise—which made him look
so pale.
"Harry, if you are going to Lucilla——!" said Mrs Woodburn; "wait
and rest yourself a little, and I will get you a glass of wine. Keep
still; there's some Tokay," said the anxious sister. "Don't you go and
worry yourself. You shall see nobody. I'll bring it you with my own
hand."
"Oh, confound the Tokay!" said Mr Cavendish. "I know what
Woodburn's Tokay is—if that mattered. Look here, I want to speak to
you. I was going to Lucilla, but I'm not up to it. Oh, not in the way
you think! Don't be a fool like everybody. I tell you she wouldn't
have me, and I won't ask her. Read this, which is much more to the
purpose," Mr Cavendish added, taking out Miss Marjoribanks's letter.
He watched her, while she read it, with that sense of contempt and
superiority which a man naturally feels who has advanced much
beyond the point in any special matter at which his interlocutor is
still stationary. He even smiled at her cry of horror and amazement,
and found the agitation she showed ridiculous. "Don't make a row
about it," he said, regaining his colour as his sister lost hers. "It's all
right. I can't ask Lucilla Marjoribanks to have me after that, but I
mean to put my trust in her, as she says. I was going to ask her to
explain; but after all, on thinking of it, I don't see the good of
explanations," said Mr Cavendish, with lofty tranquillity. "The fact is,
she is right, Nelly, and, stand or fall, we'll have it out to-night."
But Mrs Woodburn was scarcely in a condition to reply, much less to
give any advice. "Oh, good heavens! what does she know?" cried
the trembling woman. "What do you suppose she can know? She
gave me a dreadful fright, coming and asking about you and your
name. And then she never was a great friend of mine—and if she
should say anything to Woodburn! Oh, Harry, go away, go away, and
don't face her. You know you slighted her, and she is laying a snare
for us. Oh, Harry, go away! She can't do you much harm, but she
could ruin me, and any little peace I have! Woodburn would never—
never forgive—he would be frantic, you know. It has always been he
that made a fuss about the Cavendishes—and, good heavens! to be
in a girl's power, and she one that you have slighted, Harry! Oh, for
Heaven's sake, for pity's sake, if you care anything for me——"
"Hold your tongue, Nelly," said Mr Cavendish. "Don't make a row.
What on earth is the use of Heaven's-saking? I tell you I am going to
make an end of it. If I were to run away now, it would turn up again
at some other corner, and some other moment. Give me a pen and a
bit of paper. I will write a note, and say I am coming. I don't want
any explanations. If it's all a mistake, so much the better; but I'm
going to face it out to-night."
It was some time before Mrs Woodburn recovered her senses; but in
the meantime her brother wrote Lucilla his note, and in sight of his
sister's agitation felt himself perfectly composed and serene and
manful. It even made him complaisant to feel the difference that
there was, when the emergency really arrived at last, between his
own manly calm and her womanish panic. But then it was for herself
that she was afraid, lest her husband should find out that she was
not one of the Cavendishes. "You must have been giving yourself
airs on the subject," Mr Cavendish said, as he fastened up his note.
"I never was so foolish as that, for my part;" and naturally the more
he admired his own steadiness and courage, the steadier and more
courageous he grew—or at least so he felt for the moment, with her
terror before his eyes.
"If you do go," said Mrs Woodburn at last, "oh, Harry, for goodness'
sake, mind that you deny everything. If you confess to anything, it
will all be proved against you; don't allow a single thing that's said to
you. It is a mistaken identity, you know—that is what it is; there was
a case in the papers just the other day. Oh, Harry, for Heaven's sake
don't be weak!—deny everything; you don't know anything about it
—you don't know what they mean—you can't understand——"
"It is I that have to do it, Nelly," said Mr Cavendish, more and more
tranquil and superior. "You must let me do it my way;" and he was
very kind and reassuring to her in his composure. This was how
things ought to be; and it was astonishing how much he gained in
his own mind and estimation by Mrs Woodburn's panic. Being the
stronger vessel, he was of course superior to all that. But somehow
when he had got back to his own house again, and had no longer
the spectacle of his sister's terror before him, the courage began to
ooze out of Mr Cavendish's finger-points; he tried hard to stimulate
himself up to the same point, and to regain that lofty and assured
position; but as the evening approached, matters grew rather worse
than better. He did not turn and flee, because flight, in the present
alarmed and touchy state of public opinion, would have equally been
destruction; and nobody could answer for it how far, if he failed to
obey her, Miss Marjoribanks's discretion might go. And thus the
eventful evening fell, and the sun went down, which was to Mr
Cavendish as if it might be the last sun he should ever
(metaphorically) see—while, in the meantime, all the other people
dressed for dinner as if nothing was going to happen, and as if it
was merely a Thursday like other Thursdays, which was coming to
Grange Lane.
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