"Sure you are not well, old boy? Try the bitters."
"I have had enough," said I. "I must begone."
"Don't hurry, old fellow. Can't ask you again. Go to town to-morrow.
Meet General Travis to-morrow night. Him sewed up. 'Gustus neber desert
him."
"The general will not return then?"
"Him too good judge!"
"And Mr Sinclair and the lady?"
"They married by this time. I say, old boy, let's drink their health."
"No, no, no. Tell me whither do they go!"
"No, no, no!--I say yes, yes, yes," roared the intoxicated monster.
"Drink it, you rascal," he added, "or I'll kick you down stairs."
My blood was boiling in a moment. The nigger staggered to me, and
touched the collar of my coat. His hand was scarcely there, before I
took him by the neck, and flung him like a loathsome reptile from me. He
fell at the foot of the table, but in his passage to the ground he
grasped a decanter of wine, which he hurled at my head. It passed me,
met the door, and flew in a thousand pieces about the room. Sick at
heart, I took the opportunity to retire.
Never shall I forget the morning upon which I stood in Grosvenor Square,
knocker in hand, about to present myself before the father of Rupert
Sinclair, and to acquaint him with the disgrace that had come to his
family, by the alliance of the previous day. The feelings of the hour
return with all their painful vividness as I recall the time. A lazy
porter, richly attired, opened the door, and rang a bell in the hall,
which brought to me his lordship's valet. The latter received my card,
and after a quarter of an hour's absence, returned with the information,
that his lordship was particularly busy with the Director of the Opera,
and could not be seen by any one that morning. Every little circumstance
is indelibly imprinted on my memory, stamped there by the peculiar
anxiety under which I laboured. I respectfully submitted that my
business was even more important than that of the Director, and
requested the valet to return with my urgent request to his lordship for
one short interview.
"His lordship doesn't know you," said the valet.
"Not know me!" I exclaimed, forgetting at the moment how little it was
to his lordship's interest to remember me. "There," I exclaimed "take
this card to him." I had written upon it--_Late tutor to the Hon. Rupert
Sinclair._
Another quarter of an hour, and I was admitted. His lordship was
evidently angry at the interruption. My heart was fluttering. He
extended to me one finger, by way of compromise, which I reverently
touched, offered me no seat, but asked me my business.
I began--continued--and ended without the least hinderance on his
lordship's part. I spoke without reserve of my own share in the
unfortunate business, taking particular care, however, not to say one
word to the disparagement of Elinor, or that might unneccessarily excite
Lord Railton against his erring son. I told him of Rupert's illness, of
our having proceeded to Bath in company--of his recovery--his meeting
with Elinor--her beauty--his devotion. I pleaded his youth, his ardent
nature--referred to the past as irretrievable, to the future as full of
happiness for Mr Sinclair, provided his lordship would look with
forgiving kindness upon his act; and used all the eloquence I could
command to move what I conceived to be at least a heart of flesh to pity
and sympathy for its own blood and offspring.
Lord Railton heard me to the end, with a knitted brow and closed lips.
When I had finished, he asked me sternly if I had any thing more to say.
"Nothing," I replied.
Whereupon his lordship rang the bell.
The valet again appeared.
Lord Railton again held out his finger, as at our meeting. I was about
to take it, when his lordship moved it quickly--pointed to the door--and
said--"Show that person out!"
For a second I stood astounded and confused. In another second I found
myself breathing on the sunny side of Grosvenor Square. How I reached
it, I no longer remember.