"And now, child, what's the town talk?" said Mistress Bellairs.
The nights were chilly, and a log crackled on the hearth. Kitty, in
the most charming _déshabillé_, stretched a pink slippered foot airily
towards the blaze.
"La, ma'am," said Miss Lydia, as with nervous fingers she uncoiled one
powdered roll and curl after another, "all the morning the gossip was
upon Sir Jasper's meeting with Colonel Villiers at Hammer's Fields.
And all the afternoon----" she paused and poised a brush.
"All the afternoon? Speak, child. You know," said her mistress
piously, "that I had to spend my evening by the side of a dear sick
friend."
"Well, ma'am," said the maid, "the talk is all about your own marriage
with the young Lord Verney."
"Mercy, girl," cried the lady with a little scream, "you needn't hit my
head so hard with those bristles! What's taken you? And what do
people think of that?"
"Why, ma'am," said the Abigail, wielding her brush more tenderly, and
permitting her irritation to betray itself only in the sharp snap of
her voice, "my Lord Verney's man says he pities anyone that will have
to go and live with her old la'ship at Verney Hall."
"Ha!" said Kitty, and gave herself a congratulatory smile in the
handglass.
"And Mr. Burrell, ma'am, that's Lady Maria's butler, and a wise old
gentleman he is, he says the marriage'll never take place, ma'am, for
neither his own la'ship, nor the lady at Verney Hall, would allow of
it, ma'am."
"Oh, indeed?" exclaimed Mistress Bellairs, stiffening herself, "that's
all they know about it! Lydia, you untruthful, impertinent girl, how
dare you tell me such a story?"
"I'm sure I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Lydia, sniffing. "I'm sure I
up and told Mr. Burrell that if you'd set your heart on wedding such a
poor ninny as Lord Verney--I beg pardon, ma'am, I'm sure he'll be a
very nice young nobleman, when his beard begins to grow--'twas not
likely a deaf old cat like his mistress could prevent him. And I told
Lord Verney's man, ma'am--and an impudent fellow he is--that you'd soon
teach the dowager her place, once you were mistress in Verney Hall."
"Well, well," said the lady, mollified, "and what says the rest of your
Bath acquaintance?"
"Squire Juniper's head coachman says his master'll drink himself to
death, as sure as eggs, on the day that sees you another's, ma'am.
He's been taking on terrible with Madeira ever since he's heard the
news. And the Marquis' running footman, he says 'that Lady Flyte'll
have it all her own way with his lordship now, and mores the pity,
for,' says he, 'her la'ship's not fit to hold a candle to the widow';
excuse the language, he knows no better, his strength is mostly in his
legs, ma'am. And Mr. Stafford's jockey says, ma'am, that in his
opinion you're a lady as will never be drove again in double harness."
"Did he say so, indeed!" said Mistress Bellairs, reflectively. "Well,
my good creature, and what say you?"
"La!" said the maid, and the brush trembled over her mistress's curls,
"I say, ma'am, that if you was to make such a sacrifice, you so young,
and lovely, and so much admired, I humbly hopes you might pick out
someone livelier than my Lord Verney."
"Now, whom," said Mistress Bellairs, in a tone of good-humoured banter,
"would you choose, I wonder? What would you say to the Marquis, Lydia?"
"Oh, ma'am! His lordship is a real nobleman--as the prize-fighters all
say--and a better judge in the cockpit, Mr. Bantam, the trainer, says,
never breathed, drunk or sober; and no doubt when he's sober, ma'am,
he'd make as good a husband as most."
"Well, well, girl, enough of him. What of Mr. Stafford, now?"
"Oh, Mr. Stafford, ma'am, that's a comely gentleman; not one bit of
padding under his stockings, and an eye 'twould wheedle the very heart
out of one's bosom! And, no doubt, if you ever thought of him, ma'am,
you'd see that he paid off the little French milliner handsome. He's a
very constant gentleman," said Miss Lydia, with a suspicion of spite.
"Pooh," cried the lady, and pushed her chair away from the fire, "what
nonsense you do talk! And pray what thinks your wisdom of Mr. O'Hara?"
"Lud! ma'am," cried the guileless maiden, "that's the gentleman as was
found behind Lady Standish's curtains."
"If you were not a perfect idiot," cried the widow, "you would not
repeat _that_ absurd tale, much less expect me to believe it. Mr.
O'Hara has never even spoken to Lady Standish."
The unusual warmth in her mistress's tone struck the girl's sharp wits.
She glanced quickly at the lady's reflection in the glass, and made no
reply.
"Come," said Mistress Bellairs, "what else have you against him? Is he
not handsome, child?"
"Why, ma'am, handsome enough for such as like red hair."
"And merry, and good company?"
"Oh, ma'am, none better, as half the rogues in Bath know."
"Tush--you mean he is good-natured, I suppose?"
"He never said 'no' in his life, ma'am, I do believe, to man or woman."
"Well, then?" cried her mistress testily.
"And generous," gabbled Lydia, charmed by the cloud she beheld
gathering on the brow reflected in the glass, "open-handed, ma'am. Mr.
Mahoney--that queer peculiar servant of his--many a time he's told me,
ma'am, that his only way to keep his wages for himself, and seldom he
sees the sight of them, is to spend them at once, for his good master
is that free-handed, ma'am, he'd give the coat off his servant's back."
"I'm quite aware," said the lady loftily, "that Mr. O'Hara's estates in
Ireland are slightly embarrassed."
"I don't know what they call it, ma'am," cried Lydia shrilly. "It's
not a ha'porth of rent the old lord's seen these twelve months. Last
year they lived on the pictures. And now it's the plate, I'm told.
But, indeed, ma'am, as Mr. Mahoney says, what does it matter to a gay
gentleman like Mr. O'Hara? Sure, he's the sort, as he says to me only
yesterday, that would come to a fortune on Monday and be sending to the
pawnshop on Saturday."
"You may go to bed, Lydia," cried Mistress Bellairs, rising hastily;
"you've half deafened me with your chatter."
Left alone the little lady sat down by the fire in a melancholy mood.
"The sort that would come to a fortune on Monday, and be sending to the
pawnshop on Saturday.... I'm afraid it's true. Yet, I believe, he
loves me, poor Denis! I vow," she said to herself, "'tis the only one
of them all that I could _endure_. Yes, I could endure Denis, vastly
well ... for a while at least. And now," said she, "what's to be done!
Oh, I'd be loath to baulk him of the pleasure of running away with me!
'tis the only decent way indeed of breaking with my Lord Verney. And
it certainly struck me that Master Stafford was mighty cool upon the
matter. I've been too quiet of late, and that odious Bab Flyte thinks
she can have everything her own way.... But, I'll be rescued," she
said, "at Devizes--I shall have to be rescued at Devizes. My poor
dear; he may be happy at least for an hour or two ... as far as
Devizes!"
Her brow cleared; the dimples began to play.
"We shall see," she smiled more broadly, "if we cannot prod his
Calfship into a night trot. 'Twill do his education a vastness of
service.... But the poor creature," she reflected further, "is scarce
to be depended on. Who knows whether his mother would approve of his
breathing the night air.... I must," Mistress Kitty's pretty forehead
became once more corrugated under the stress of profound thought--"I
must," she murmured, "have another string to my bow, or my sweet O'Hara
will marry me after all. Dear fellow, how happy we should be from
Monday ... till Saturday! Who? Who, shall it be? ... My Lord Marquis
might take the _rôle_ in earnest and spoil my pretty fellow's beauty.
Squire Juniper? He would sure be drunk. And Master Stafford? Oh,
_he_ may stay with the French milliner for me!"
Suddenly the lady's perplexed countenance became illumined. "Sir
Jasper?" she said. "Sir Jasper--the very man! The good Julia--I owe
it to her to bring matters to an _éclaircissement_. And, Sir
Jasper--oh, he richly deserves a midnight jolt, for 'tis owing to his
monstrous jealousy that I am put to all this trouble. 'Twill be a fine
thing indeed," thought Mistress Bellairs with a burst of self-satisfied
benevolence, "if I can demonstrate to Sir Jasper, once for all, the
folly into which this evil passion may lead a man."