The Ladies and Gentlemen resume Conversation in the Drawing-room.
"Dives, my boy," said the Baronet, taking his stand beside his brother
on the hearthrug, when the gentlemen had followed the ladies into the
drawing-room, and addressing him comfortably over his shoulder, "the
Bishop's coming to-morrow."
"Ho!" exclaimed Dives, bringing his right shoulder forward, so as nearly
to confront his brother. They had both been standing side by side, with
their backs, according to the good old graceful English fashion, to the
fire.
"Here's his note--came to-night. He'll be here to dinner, I suppose, by
the six o'clock fast train to Slowton."
"Thanks," said Dives, taking the note and devouring it energetically.
"Just half a dozen lines of three words each--always so, you know. Poor
old Sammy! I always liked old Sammy--a good old cock at school he
was--great fun, you know, but always a gentleman."
Sir Jekyl delivered these recollections standing with his hands behind
his back, and looking upwards with a smile to the ceiling, as the Rev.
Dives Marlowe read carefully every word of the letter.
"Sorry to see his hand begins to shake a little," said Dives, returning
the interesting manuscript.
"Time for it, egad! He's pretty well on, you know. We'll all be shaky a
bit before long, Dives."
"How long does he stay?"
"I think only a day or two. I have his first note up-stairs, if I did
not burn it," answered the Baronet.
"I'm glad I'm to meet him--_very_ glad indeed. I think it's five years
since I met his lordship at the consecration of the new church of
Clopton Friars. I always found him very kind--very. He likes the
school-house fellows."
"You'd better get up your parochial experiences a little, and your
theology, eh? They say he expects his people to be alive. You used to be
rather good at theology--usen't you?"
Dives smiled.
"Pretty well, Jekyl."
"And what do you want of him, Dives?"
"Oh! he could be useful to me in fifty ways. I was thinking--you know
there's that archdeaconry of Priors." Dives replied pretty nearly in a
whisper.
"By Jove! yes--a capital thing--I forgot it;" and Sir Jekyl laughed
heartily.
"Why do you laugh, Jekyl?" he asked, a little drily.
"I--I really don't know," said the Baronet, laughing on.
"I don't see anything absurd or unreasonable in it. That archdeaconry
has always been held by some one connected with the county families.
Whoever holds it must be fit to associate with the people of that
neighbourhood, who won't be intimate, you know, with everybody; and the
thing really is little more than a feather, the house and place are
expensive, and no one that has not something more than the archdeaconry
itself can afford it."
The conversation was here arrested by a voice which inquired--
"Pray, can you tell me what day General Lennox returns?"
The question was Lady Alice's. She had seemed to be asleep--probably
was--and opening her eyes suddenly, had asked it in a hard, dry tone.
"_I?_" said Sir Jekyl. "I don't know, I protest--maybe to-night--maybe
to-morrow. Come when he may, he's very welcome."
"You have not heard?" she persisted.
"No, I have not," he answered, rather tartly, with a smile.
Lady Alice nodded, and raised her voice--
"Lady Jane Lennox, you've heard, no doubt--pray, when does the General
return?"
If the scene had not been quite so public, I dare say this innocent
little inquiry would have been the signal for one of those keen
encounters to which these two fiery spirits were prone.
"He has been detained unexpectedly," drawled Lady Jane.
"You hear from him constantly?" pursued the old lady.
"Every day."
"It's odd he does not say when you may look for him," said Lady Alice.
"Egad, you want to make her jealous, I think," interposed Sir Jekyl.
"Jealous? Well, I think a young wife may very reasonably be jealous,
though not exactly in the vulgar sense, when she is left without a clue
to her husband's movements."
"You said you were going to write to him. I wish you would, Lady Alice,"
said the young lady, with an air of some contempt.
"I can't believe he has not said how soon his return may be looked for,"
observed the old lady.
"I suppose he'll say whenever he can, and in the meantime I don't intend
plaguing him with inquiries he can't answer." And with these words she
leaned back fatigued, and with a fierce glance at Sir Jekyl, who was
close by, she added, so loud that I wonder Lady Alice did not hear
her--"Why don't you stop that odious old woman?"
"Stop an odious old woman!--why, who ever did? Upon my honour, I know no
way but to kill her," chuckled the Baronet.
Lady Jane deigned no reply.
"Come here, Dives, and sit by me," croaked the old lady, beckoning him
with her thin, long finger. "I've hardly seen you since I came."
"Very happy, indeed--very much obliged to you, Lady Alice, for wishing
it."
And the natty but somewhat forbidding-looking Churchman sat himself down
in a prie-dieu chair vis-à-vis to the old gentlewoman, and folded his
hands, expecting her exordium.
"Do you remember, Sir Harry, your father?"
"Oh, dear, yes. I recollect my poor father very well. We were at Oxford
then or just going. How old was I?--pretty well out of my teens."
It must be observed that they sat in a confidential proximity--nobody
listened--nobody cared to approach.
"You remember when he died, poor man?"
"Yes--poor father!--we were at home--Jekyl and I--for the holidays--I
believe it _was_--a month or so. The Bishop, you know, was with him."
"I know. He's coming to-morrow."
"Yes; so my brother here just told me--an excellent, exemplary, pious
prelate, and a true friend to my poor father. He posted fifty
miles--from Doncaster--in four hours and a half, to be with him. And a
great comfort he was. I shall never forget it to him."
"I don't think you cared for your father, Dives; and Jekyl positively
disliked him," interposed Lady Alice agreeably.
"I trust there was no feeling so unchristian and monstrous ever
harboured in my brother's breast," replied Dives, loftily, and with a
little flush in his cheeks.
"You can't believe any such thing, my dear Dives; and you know you did
not care if he was at the bottom of the Red Sea, and I don't wonder."
"Pray don't, Lady Alice. If you think such things, I should prefer not
hearing them," murmured Dives, with clerical dignity.
"And what I want to ask you now is this," continued Lady Alice; "you are
of course aware that he told the Bishop that he wanted that green
chamber, for some reason or another, pulled down?"
Dives coughed, and said--
"Well, yes, I _have_ heard."
"What was his reason, have you any notion?"
"He expressed none. My father gave, I believe, no reason. I never heard
any," replied the Reverend Dives Marlowe.
"You may be very sure he had a reason," continued Lady Alice.
"Yes, very likely."
"And why is it not done?" persisted Lady Alice.
"I can no more say why, than you can," replied Dives.
"But why don't you see to it?" demanded she.
"See to it! Why, my dear Lady Alice, you must know I have no more power
in the matter than Doocey there, or the man in the moon. The house
belongs to Jekyl. Suppose you speak to him."
"You've a tongue in your head, Dives, when you've an object of your
own."
Dives flushed again, and looked, for an apostle, rather forbidding.
"I have not the faintest notion, Lady Alice, to what you allude."
"Whatever else he may have been, Dives, he was your father," continued
Lady Alice, not diverted by this collateral issue; "and as his son, it
was and is your business to give Jekyl no rest till he complies with
that dying injunction."
"Jekyl's his own master; what can I do?"
"Do as you do where your profit's concerned; tease him as you would for
a good living, if he had it to give."
"I don't press my interests much upon Jekyl. I've never teased him or
anybody else, for anything," answered Dives, grandly.
"Come, come, Dives Marlowe; you have duties on earth, and something to
think of besides yourself."
"I trust I don't need to be reminded of that, Lady Alice," said the
cleric, with a bow and a repulsive meekness.
"Well, speak to your brother."
"I _have_ alluded to the subject, and an opportunity _may_ occur again."
"_Make_ one--make an opportunity, Dives."
"There are rules, Lady Alice, which we must all observe."
"Come, come, Dives Marlowe," said the lady, very tartly, "remember
you're a clergyman."
"I hope I _do_, madam; and I trust _you_ will too."
And the Rector rose, and with an offended bow, and before she could
reply, made a second as stiff, and turned away to the table, where he
took up a volume and pretended to read the title.
"Dives," said the old lady, making no account of his huff, "please to
tell Monsieur Varbarriere that I should be very much obliged if he would
afford me a few minutes here, if he is not better engaged; that is, it
seems to me he has nothing to do there."
M. Varbarriere was leaning back in his chair, his hands folded, and the
points of his thumbs together; his eyes closed, and his bronzed and
heavy features composed, as it seemed, to deep thought; and one of his
large shining shoes beating time slowly to the cadences of his
ruminations.
The Reverend Dives Marlowe was in no mood just at that moment to be
trotted about on that offensive old lady's messages. But it is not
permitted to gentlemen, even of his sacred calling, to refuse, in this
wise, to make themselves the obedient humble servants of the fair sex,
and to tell them to go on their own errands.
Silently he made her a slight bow, secretly resolving to avail himself
sparingly of his opportunities of cultivating her society for the
future.
Perhaps it was owing to some mesmeric reciprocity, but exactly at this
moment M. Varbarriere opened his eyes, arose, and walked towards the
fireplace, as if his object had been to contemplate the ornaments over
the chimneypiece; and arriving at the hearthrug, and beholding Lady
Alice, he courteously drew near, and accosted her with a deferential
gallantry, saving the Reverend Dives Marlowe, who was skirting the other
side of the round table, the remainder of his tour.