About Lady Jane.
The General was walking up and down the jolty pavement with a speed that
seemed to have no object but to tire himself, his walking-stick very
tightly grasped, his lips occasionally contracting, and his hat now and
then making a vicious wag as he traversed his beat.
"Hollo!" said the General, drawing up suddenly, as the man stood before
him with the letter, accosting him with his hand to his cap. "Hey!
_well_, sir?"
"Letter, please, sir."
The General took it, stared at the man, I think, without seeing him, for
a while, and then resumed his march, with his cane, sword-fashion, over
his shoulder. The messenger waited, a little perplexed. It was not until
he had made a third turn that the General, again observing the letter in
his hand, looked at it, and again at the messenger, who was touching his
cap, and stopping short, said--
"Well--ay! _This?_--aw--you _brought_ it, didn't you?"
So the General broke it open--he had not his glasses with him--and,
holding it far away, read a few lines with a dreadful glare, and then
bursting all on a sudden into such a storm of oaths and curses as
scared the sober walls of that unmilitary hostelry, he whirled his
walking-stick in the air, with the fluttering letter extended toward the
face of the astounded messenger, as if in another second he would sweep
his head off.
At the sound of this hoarse screech the kitchen-wench looked
open-mouthed out of the scullery-window with a plate dripping in her
hand. "Boots," with his fist in a "Wellington," held his blacking-brush
poised in air, and gazed also; and the hostler held the horse he was
leading into the stable by the halter, and stood at the door gaping over
his shoulder.
"Tell your master I said he may go to _hell_, sir," said the General,
scrunching the letter like a snowball in his fist, and stamping in his
fury.
What more he said I know not. The man withdrew, and, once or twice,
turned about, sulkily, half puzzled and half angered, perhaps not quite
sure whether he ought not to "lick" him.
"What'll be the matter now?" demanded the proprietress, looking from
under her balustrade of brown ringlets from the back door.
"'Drat me if I know; he's a rum un, that he be," replied the man with
the Marlowe button. "When master hears it he'll lay his whip across that
old cove's shouthers, I'm thinking."
"I doubt he's not right in his head; he's bin a-walkin' up an' down the
same way ever since he ordered the chaise, like a man beside himself.
_Will_ ye put _them_ horses to?" she continued, raising her voice; "why,
the 'arniss is on 'em this half-hour. Will ye put 'em to or _no_?" and
so, in something of an angry panic, she urged on the preparations, and
in a few minutes more General Lennox was clattering through the long
street of the town, on his way to Slowton, and the London horrors of
legal consultations, and the torture of the slow processes by which
those whom God hath joined together are sundered.
"Send Donica Gwynn to me," said Lady Alice to the servant whom her bell
had summoned to Lady Mary's boudoir.
When Donica arrived--
"Shut the door, Donica Gwynn," said she, "and listen. Come a little
nearer, please. Sir Jekyl Marlowe is ill, and, of course, we cannot all
stay here." Lady Alice looked at her dubiously.
"Fit o' the gout, my lady, I'm told."
"Yes, an attack of gout."
"It does not hold long with him, not like his poor father, Sir Harry,
that would lie six months at a time in flannel. Sir Jekyl, law bless
you, my lady! He's often 'ad his toe as red as fire overnight, and
before supper to-morrow walking about the house. He says, Tomlinson
tells me, this will be nothink at all; an' it might fret him sore, my
lady, and bring on a worse fit, to see you all go away."
"Yes, very true, Gwynn; but there's something more at present," observed
Lady Alice, demurely.
Donica folded her hands, and with curious eyes awaited her mistress's
pleasure.
Lady Alice continued in a slightly altered tone--
"It's not altogether _that_. In fact, Gwynn, there has been--you're not
to talk, d'ye see,--I know you _don't_ talk; but there has been--there
has been a _something_--a _quarrel_--between Lady Jane and her husband,
the General; and for a time, at least, she will remain with me at
Wardlock, and I may possibly go abroad with her for a little."
Donica Gwynn's pale sharp face grew paler and sharper, as during this
announcement she eyed her mistress askance from her place near the door;
and as Lady Alice concluded, Donica dropped her eyes to the Turkey
carpet, and seemed to read uncomfortable mysteries in its blurred
pattern. Then Donica looked up sharply, and asked--
"And, please, my lady, what is your ladyship's orders?"
"Well, Gwynn, you must get a 'fly' now from the town, and go on before
us to Wardlock. We shall leave this probably in little more than an
hour, in the carriage. Tell Lady Jane, with my compliments, that I hope
she will be ready by that time--or no, you may give her my love--don't
say compliments--and say, I will either go and see her in her room, or
if she prefer, I will see her here, or anywhere else; and you can ask
her what room at Wardlock she would like best--do you mind? Whatever
room she would like best she shall have, except _mine_, of course, and
the moment you get there you'll set about it."
"Yes, ma'am, please, my lady."
Donica looked at her mistress as if expecting something more; and her
mistress looked away darkly, and said nothing.
"I'll return, my lady, I suppose, and tell you what Miss Jane says,
ma'am?"
"Do," answered Lady Alice, and, closing her eyes, she made a sharp nod,
which Donica knew was a signal of dismissal.
Old Gwynn, mounting the stairs, met Mrs. Sinnott with those keys of
office which she had herself borne for so many years.
"Well, Mrs. Sinnott, ma'am, how's the master now?" she inquired.
"Doctor's not bin yet from Slowton, Mrs. Gwynn; we don't know nothink
only just what you heard this morning from Mr. Tomlinson."
"Old Pratt, baint _he_ here neither?"
"No, but the nurse be come."
"Oh! _respeckable_, I hope? But no ways, Mrs. Sinnott, ma'am, take my
advice, and on no account don't you give her her will o' the bottle;
there's none o' them hospital people but likes it--jest what's enough,
and no more, I would say."
"Oh! no! no!" answered Mrs. Sinnott, scornfully. "I knows somethink o'
them sort, too--leave 'em to me."
"Lady Alice going away this afternoon."
"And what for, Mrs. Gwynn?" asked the housekeeper.
"Sir Jekyl's gout."
"Fidgets! Tiresome old lass, baint she? law," said Mrs. Sinnott, who
loved her not.
"She don't know Sir Jekyl's constitution like I does. Them little
attacks o' gout, why he makes nothink o' them, and they goes and comes
quite 'armless. I'm a-going back to Wardlock, Mrs. Sinnott, this
morning, and many thanks for all civilities while 'ere, lest I should
not see you when a-leavin'."
So with the housekeeper's smiles, and conventional courtesies, and
shaking of hands, these ladies parted, and Mrs. Gwynn went on to the
green chamber.
As she passed through the Window dressing-room her heart sank. She knew,
as we are aware, a good deal about that green chamber, more than she had
fancied Lady Jane suspected. She blamed herself for not having talked
frankly of it last night. But Lady Jane's _éclat_ of passion at one
period of their interview had checked her upon any such theme; and after
all, what could the green chamber have to do with it? Had not the
General arrived express very late last night? It was some London story
that sent him down from town in that hurry, and Sir Jekyl laid up in
gout too. Some o' them jealous stories, and a quarrel over it. It will
sure be made up again--ay, ay.
And so thinking, she knocked, and receiving no answer, she opened the
door and peeped in. There was but a narrow strip of one shutter open.
"Miss Jennie, dear," she called. Still no answer. "Miss Jennie,
darling." No answer still. She understood those sulky taciturnities
well, in which feminine tempest sometimes subsides, and was not at all
uneasy. On the floor, near the foot of the bed, lay the General's felt
hat and travelling coat. Standing, there, she drew the curtain and saw
Lady Jane, her face buried in the pillow, and her long hair lying
wildly on the coverlet and hanging over the bedside.
"Miss Jennie, dear--Miss Jennie, darling; it's me--old Donnie, miss.
Won't you speak to me?"
Still no answer, and Donica went round, beginning to feel uneasy, to the
side where she lay.