|Pushing aside the attorney's clerk, whom he found on the landing, he
hurried downstairs, and had just snatched up his hat in the hall, when
he perceived the old butler eyeing him wistfully.
He had a great regard for this faithful old servant, whom he had known
since he was a boy, so he went up to him, and patting him kindly on the
shoulder, said--
“Good-bye, dear old Norris. I don't mean to remain a minute longer in my
father's house, and I may never return to it. Farewell, old friend!”
“You shan't go out thus, sir, unless you knock me down,” rejoined
Norris, detaining him. “You'll do yourself a mischief. No one is in the
dining-room. Please to go in there. I want to have a few words with
you--to reason with you.”
And he tried to draw him towards the room in question; but Chetwynd
resisted.
“Reason with me!” he exclaimed. “I know what you'll say, Norris.
You'll advise me to make it up with my father, and bow the knee to my
stepmother; but I'll die rather!”
“Mr. Chetwynd, it's a chance if your father is alive to-morrow morning.
Think of that, and what your feelings will be when he's gone. You'll
reproach yourself then, sir, for I know you've a good heart. I've
got you out of many a scrape when you were a boy, and I'm persuaded
something may be done now, if you'll only condescend to listen to me.”
“Well, I'll stay a few minutes on purpose to talk to you. But I hear
Carteret coming downstairs. I don't want to meet him. I don't want to
meet anybody--not even my sister.”
“Then I'll tell you what to do, sir. Go up the back staircase to your
own room. It's just as you left it. No one will know you're here. I'll
come to you as soon as I can.”
And he almost forced him through a folding-door into a passage
communicating with the back staircase.
Chetwynd had disappeared before the attorney and his clerk reached the
hall; but Mr. Carteret stopped for a moment to speak to the old butler.
“Ah, we've had a frightful scene, Norris!” he said. “It will surprise me
if the old gentleman survives it. I suppose Mr. Chetwynd is gone?”
“I really can't say, sir. He was here a few minutes ago.”
“Looking rather wild, eh?”
“I'm sure he looked wild enough when he passed me just now,” observed
the clerk. “I thought he'd have thrown me over the banisters.”
“Serve you right, too!” muttered Norris.
“Nothing could be more injudicious, and, I may add, more unfeeling, than
his conduct to his father,” remarked Carteret.
“I'm sorry to hear it,” said the butler; “but you must make some
allowance for him.”
“I can make every allowance,” rejoined the attorney. “But no good purpose
can be answered by such violence as he gave way to. On the contrary,
irreparable harm is done.”
“Not irreparable harm, I hope, sir?”
“I very much fear so. He used language towards Mrs. Calverley that I
don't think she will ever forgive It's of the last importance that he
should be set right with her. Should you see him before he goes, tell
him so.”
“I will, sir--if I _do_ see him. There's master's bell. Excuse me; I
must go upstairs.”
“Don't mind me, Norris. I can let myself out. As I drive back, at Mrs.
Calverley's request, I shall call on Doctor Spencer, and send him to see
Mr. Calverley at once. That will save time.”
“Very good, sir,” replied the butler.
And he flew upstairs; while Mr. Carteret and his clerk went out at the
front door.
“Has anybody just left the house, Edward?” inquired Mr. Carteret of his
groom, who was waiting with the phaeton near the door.
“No, sir,” replied the man.
“I fancied he was not gone,” thought the attorney. “I am glad I spoke to
Norris.”