LADY ASCOT'S LITTLE NAP.
There was a very dull dinner at Ranford that day, Lord Ascot scarcely
spoke a word; he was kind and polite--he always was that--but he was
very different from his usual self. The party missed his jokes; which,
though feeble and sometimes possibly "rather close to the wind," served
their purpose, served to show that the maker of them was desirous to
make himself agreeable to the best of his ability. He never once laughed
during dinner, which was very unusual. It was evident that Lord Saltire
had performed his commission, and Charles was afraid that he was
furiously angry with Welter; but, on one occasion, when the latter
looked up suddenly and asked him some question, his father answered him
kindly in his usual tone of voice, and spoke to him so for some time.
Lady Ascot was a host in herself. With a noble self-sacrifice, she, at
the risk of being laughed at, resolved to attract attention by airing
some of her most remarkable opinions. She accordingly attacked Lord
Saltire on the subject of the end of the world, putting its total
destruction by fire at about nine months from that time. Lord Saltire
had no opinion to offer on the probability of Dr. Going's theory, but
sincerely hoped that it might last his time, and that he might be
allowed to get out of the way in the ordinary manner. He did not for a
moment doubt the correctness of her calculations; but he put it to her
as a woman of the world, whether or no such an occurrence as she
described would not be in the last degree awkward and disconcerting?
Adelaide said she didn't believe a word of it, and nothing should induce
her to do so until it took place. This brought the old lady's wrath down
upon her and helped the flagging conversation on a little. But, after
dinner, it got so dull in spite of every one's efforts, that Lord
Saltire confided to his young friend, as they went upstairs, that he had
an idea that something was wrong; but at all events, that the house was
getting so insufferably dull that he must rat, pardieu, for he couldn't
stand it. He should rat into Devon to his friend Lord Segur.
Welter took occasion to tell Charles that Lord Ascot had sent for him,
and told him that he knew all about what had happened, and his debts.
That he did not wish the subject mentioned (as if I were likely to talk
about it!); that his debts should, if possible, be paid. That he had
then gone on to say, that he did not wish to say anything harsh to
Welter on the subject--that he doubted whether he retained the right of
reproving his son. That they both needed forgiveness one from the other,
and that he hoped in what was to follow they would display that courtesy
and mutual forbearance to one another which gentlemen should. "And what
the deuce does he mean, eh? He never spoke like this before. Is he going
to marry again? Ay, that's what it is, depend upon it," said this
penetrating young gentleman; "that will be rather a shame of him, you
know, particularly if he has two or three cubs to cut into my fortune;"
and so from that time Lord Welter began to treat his father with a
slight coolness, and an air of injured innocence most amusing, though
painful, to Charles and Adelaide, who knew the truth.
As for Adelaide, she seemed to treat Charles like a brother once more.
She kept no secret from him; she walked with him, rode with him, just as
of old. She did not seem to like Lord Welter's society, though she was
very kind to him; and he seemed too much taken up with his dogs and
horses to care much for her. So Charles and she were thrown together,
and Charles's love for her grew stronger day by day, until that studied
indifferent air which he had assumed on his arrival became almost
impossible to sustain. He sustained it, nevertheless, treating Adelaide
almost with rudeness, and flinging about his words so carelessly, that
sometimes she would look suddenly up indignant, and make some passionate
reply, and sometimes she would rise and leave the room--for aught I
know, in tears.
It was a sad house to stay in; and his heart began to yearn for his
western home in spite of Adelaide. After a short time came a long letter
from his father, a scolding loving letter, in which Densil showed
plainly that he was trying to be angry, and could not, for joy at
having his son home with him--and concluded by saying that he should
never allude to the circumstance again, and by praying him to come back
at once from that wicked, cock-fighting, horse-racing, Ranford. There
was an inclosure for Lord Saltire, the reading of which caused his
lordship to take a great deal of snuff, in which he begged him, for old
friendship's sake, to send his boy home to him, as he had once sent him
home to his father. And so Lord Saltire appeared in Charles's
dressing-room before dinner one day, and, sitting down, said that he was
come to take a great liberty, and, in fact, was rather presuming on his
being an old man, but he hoped that his young friend would not take it
amiss from a man old enough to be his grandfather, if he recommended him
to leave that house, and go home to his father's. Ranford was a most
desirable house in every way, but, at the same time, it was what he
believed the young men of the day called a fast house; and he would not
conceal from his young friend that his father had requested him to use
his influence to make him return home; and he did beg his old friend's
son to believe that he was actuated by the best of motives.
"Dear Lord Saltire," said Charles, taking the old man's hand; "I am
going home to-morrow; and you don't know how heartily I thank you for
the interest you always take in me."
"I know nothing," said Lord Saltire, "more pleasing to a battered old
fellow like myself than to contemplate the ingenuousness of youth, and
you must allow me to say that your ingenuousness sits uncommonly well
upon you--in fact, is very becoming. I conceived a considerable interest
in you the first time I saw you, on that very account. I should like to
have had a son like you, but it was not to be. I had a son, who was all
that could be desired by the most fastidious person, brought up in a far
better school than mine; but he got shot in his first duel, at
one-and-twenty. I remember to have been considerably annoyed at the
time," continued the old gentleman, taking a pinch of snuff, and looking
steadily at Charles without moving a muscle, "but I dare say it was all
for the best; he might have run in debt, or married a woman with red
hair, or fifty things. Well, I wish you good day, and beg your
forgiveness once more for the liberty I have taken."
Charles slipped away from the dinner-table early that evening, and,
while Lady Ascot was having her after-dinner nap, had a long
conversation with Adelaide in the dark, which was very pleasant to one
of the parties concerned, at any rate.
"Adelaide, I am going home to-morrow."
"Are you really? Are you going so suddenly?"
"I am, positively. I got a letter from home to-day. Are you very sorry
or very glad?"
"I am very sorry, Charles. You are the only friend I have in the world
to whom I can speak as I like. Make me a promise."
"Well?"
"This is the last night we shall be together. Promise that you won't be
rude and sarcastic as you are sometimes--almost always, now, to poor
me--but talk kindly, as we used to do."
"Very well," said Charles. "And you promise you won't be taking such a
black view of the state of affairs as you do in general. Do you remember
the conversation we had the day the colt was tried?"
"I remember."
"Well, don't talk like that, you know."
"I won't promise that. The time will come very soon when we shall have
no more pleasant talks together."
"When will that be?"
"When I am gone out for a governess."
"What wages will you get? You will not get so much as some girls,
because you are so pretty and so wilful, and you will lead them such a
deuce of a life."
"Charles, you said you wouldn't be rude."
"I choose to be rude. I have been drinking wine, and we are in the dark,
and aunt is asleep and snoring, and I shall say just what I like."
"I'll wake her."
"I should like to see you. What shall we talk about? What an old Roman
Lord Saltire is. He talked about his son who was killed, to me to-day,
just as I should talk about a pointer dog."
"Then he thought he had been showing some signs of weakness. He always
speaks of his son like that when he thinks he has been betraying some
feeling."
"I admire him for it," said Charles.--"So you are going to be a
governess, eh?"
"I suppose so."
"Why don't you try being barmaid at a public-house? Welter would get you
a place directly; he has great influence in the licensed victualling
way. You might come to marry a commercial traveller, for anything you
know."
"I would not have believed this," she said, in a fierce, low voice. "You
have turned against me and insult me, because----Unkind, unjust,
ungentlemanlike."
He heard her passionately sobbing in the dark, and the next moment he
had her in his arms, and was covering her face with kisses.
"Lie there, my love," he said; "that is your place. All the world can't
harm or insult my Adelaide while she is there. Why did you fly from me
and repulse me, my darling, when I told you I was your own true love?"
"Oh, let me go, Charles," she said, trying, ever so feebly, to repulse
him. "Dear Charles, pray do; I am frightened."
"Not till you tell me you love me, false one."
"I love you more than all the world."
"Traitress! And why did you repulse me and laugh at me?"
"I did not think you were in earnest."
"Another kiss for that wicked, wicked falsehood. Do you know that this
rustication business has all come from the despair consequent on your
wicked behaviour the other day?"
"You said Welter caused it, Charles. But oh, please let me go."
"Will you go as a governess now?"
"I will do nothing but what you tell me."
"Then give me one, your own, own self, and I will let you go."
Have the reader's feelings of horror, indignation, astonishment,
outraged modesty, or ridicule, given him time to remember that all this
went on in the dark, within six feet of an unconscious old lady? Such,
however, was the case. And scarcely had Adelaide determined that it was
time to wake her, and barely had she bent over her for that purpose,
when the door was thrown open, and--enter attendants with lights. Now,
if the reader will reflect a moment, he will see what an awful escape
they had; for the chances were about a thousand to one in favour of two
things having happened: 1st, the groom of the chambers might have come
into the room half a minute sooner; and 2nd, they might have sat as they
were half a minute longer; in either of which cases, Charles would have
been discovered with his arm round Adelaide's waist, and a fearful
scandal would have been the consequence. And I mention this as a caution
to young persons in general, and to remind them that, if they happen to
be sitting hand in hand, it is no use to jump apart and look very red
just as the door opens, because the incomer can see what they have been
about as plain as if he had been there. On this occasion, also, Charles
and Adelaide set down as usual to their own sagacity what was the result
of pure accident.
Adelaide was very glad to get away after tea, for she felt rather guilty
and confused. On Charles's offering to go, however, Lady Ascot, who had
been very silent and glum all tea-time, requested him to stay, as she
had something serious to say to him. Which set the young gentleman
speculating whether she could possibly have been awake before the
advent of candles, and caused him to await her pleasure with no small
amount of trepidation.
Her ladyship began by remarking that digitalis was invaluable for
palpitation, and that she had also found camomile, combined with gentle
purgatives, efficient for the same thing, when suspected to proceed from
the stomach. She opined that, if this weather continued, there would be
heavy running for the Cambridgeshire, and Commissioner would probably
stand as well as any horse. And then, having, like a pigeon, taken a few
airy circles through stable-management, theology, and agriculture, she
descended on her subject, and frightened Charles out of his five wits by
asking him if he didn't think Adelaide a very nice girl.
Charles decidedly thought she was a very nice girl; but he rather
hesitated, and said--"Yes, that she was charming."
"Now, tell me, my dear," said Lady Ascot, manoeuvring a great old fan,
"for young eyes are quicker than old ones. Did you ever remark anything
between her and Welter?"
Charles caught up one of his legs, and exclaimed, "The devil!"
"What a shocking expression, my dear! Well, I agree with you. I fancy I
have noticed that they have entertained a decided preference for one
another. Of course, Welter will be throwing himself away, and all that
sort of thing, but he is pretty sure to do that. I expect, every time he
comes home, that he will bring a wife from behind the bar of a
public-house. Now, Adelaide--"
"Aunt! Lady Ascot! Surely you are under a mistake. I never saw anything
between them."
"H'm."
"I assure you I never did. I never heard Welter speak of her in that
sort of way, and I don't think she cares for him."
"What reason have you for thinking _that_?"
"Well--why, you know it's hard to say. The fact is, I have rather a
partiality for Adelaide myself, and I have watched her in the presence
of other men."
"Oho! Do you think she cares for you? Do you know she won't have a
sixpence?"
"We shall have enough to last till next year, aunt; and then the world
is to come to an end, you know, and we shan't want anything."
"Never you mind about the world, sir. Don't you be flippant and
impertinent, sir. Don't evade my question, sir. Do you think Adelaide
cares for you, sir?"
"Charles looked steadily and defiantly at his aunt, and asked her
whether she didn't think it was very difficult to find out what a
girl's mind really was--whereby we may conclude that he was profiting by
Lord Saltire's lesson on the command of feature."
"This is too bad, Charles," broke out Lady Ascot, "to put me off like
this, after your infamous and audacious conduct of this evening--after
kissing and hugging that girl under my very nose--"
"I thought it!" said Charles, with a shout of laughter. "I thought it,
you were awake all the time!"
"I was not awake all the time, sir--"
"You were awake quite long enough, it appears, aunty. Now, what do you
think of it?"
At first Lady Ascot would think nothing of it, but that the iniquity of
Charles's conduct was only to be equalled by the baseness and
ingratitude of Adelaide's; but by degrees she was brought to think that
it was possible that some good might come of an engagement; and, at
length, becoming garrulous on this point, it leaked out by degrees, that
she had set her heart on it for years, that she had noticed for some
time Charles's partiality for her with the greatest pleasure, and
recently had feared that something had disturbed it. In short, that it
was her pet scheme, and that she had been coming to an explanation that
very night, but had been anticipated.