The livelong day Lady Standish had not beheld the light of her lord's
countenance.
Upon their last meeting, his behaviour to the Bishop having roused in
her gentle bosom a feeling as nearly akin to resentment as it was
capable of harbouring, she would not be (she had resolved) the one to
seek him first. She had, therefore, passed the day in her own
apartment in writing to her mother, and in practising her last song to
the harp--a piece of audacity and independence which she expected would
have goaded Sir Jasper into an instant interview with herself.
When the dusk rose, however, and the candles were brought in by the
round-eyed handmaid, whose ministrations replaced those of Megrim (the
latter was still packing, and seemed like to take some weeks in the
process), and the said round-eyed damsel immediately began to inform
her mistress that Sir Jasper had set forth in his coach, Lady
Standish's small flame of courage began to flicker woefully.
"Alone?" she asked in white dismay.
"Please, my lady, Mr. Bowles was driving, and there was Mr. Thomas
behind, my lady."
"Pshaw, girl! Did Sir Jasper take any luggage?"
"Oh yes, my lady; there was his yellow bag, Mr. Toombs says, and a
small wooden case."
"Heavens!" cried Lady Standish, with increasing alarm. "And whither
went they?"
"Please, my lady, Mr. Toombs says they took the London Road."
Fain would the round-eyed maid have lingered and told more, but Lady
Standish waved her hand faintly, and so dismissed her.
An hour later, Lydia, brisk with importance, and sparkling with
conscious power, found the much-tried soul sunk in a sort of apathetic
weariness of misery.
"Mistress Bellairs' love, my lady, and will you read this letter at
once?"
Lady Standish took the letter from the black-mittened hand.
"Please my lady, 'tis of the utmost importance," said Lydia, "and I was
to wait and see if I could not be of use to you."
Something magnetic in the girl's lively tone gave impetus to Lady
Standish's suspended energies. She broke the seal.
"My sweet child," wrote Mistress Kitty. "If you want to know what
has become of your husband, you will instantly take a chaise and
start off for the Black Bear at Devizes.
"Your true friend,
"K. B.
"Postscriptum.--Do not go alone. Get some old hag (if possible
Lady Maria Prideaux) to accompany you. You will find her in the
Assembly Rooms. She's as curious as our first mother--you can
easily persuade her. _This is good advice!_"
"I am much too ill," cried Lady Standish, upon a moan. "Tell your
mistress," said she, looking vaguely in Lydia's direction, "that indeed
'tis quite impossible I should do as she suggests."
"Very well, my lady," said Lydia cheerfully. "I'm sure I shouldn't
trouble myself if I was you. Gentlemen _must_ have their diversions, I
always say. If ladies would but shut their eyes a little more, 'twould
be for the peace of all parties. Indeed, my lady, though my mistress
would be angry to hear me say so, I'd go to bed, for you look sorely
tired, and Sir Jasper'll be glad enough to come home bye-and-bye."
"Wretched girl," cried Julia, and her eyes flashed, "what dost thou
mean?"
"La, now!" said Lydia, all innocence, "how my tongue do run away with
me, to be sure! Why, my lady, what can a poor servant-maid like me
know of the goings on of gentles? 'Tis but a few words of gossip here
and there."
"Oh, merciful heavens, _what_ gossip mean you?"
"My lady, have a sip of _volatile_, do! Oh, my mistress would be like
to kill me if she knew what I've been saying! 'Poor Julia,' she cried
when she got the news. 'Poor Julia, my poor confiding Julia! Oh, the
villain, the monster!'"
"Good God, and whom did she refer to?"
"Lud, madam, how can I tell? '_It shall not be!_' cries my mistress,
and down she sits and writes off to you, as if for bare life."
Lady Standish, rising from her seat, rushed to the light, and with
starting eyes and bristling hair began to read afresh her fond Kitty's
missive.
"La, my lady," cried the guileless Lydia, "you're all of a shake! I'd
never be that upset about Sir Jasper. Why, if your la'ship'll allow me
to say so, all Bath knows how jealous he is of your la'ship; and,
certain that shows a husband's affection."
"True," cried Julia, "that's true, girl!"
"And as for those who say, my lady, that some men are so artful that
they put on a deal of jealousy to cover a deal of fickleness, I'd
despise myself if I was to pay heed to such mean suspiciousness."
"My cloak!" cried Lady Standish. "Megrim, Susan!" She flew to the
hall. "My cloak, let a post-chaise be ordered immediately!"
"If I may make so bold, my lady," said Lydia, retiring gracefully upon
the conviction of a well-accomplished errand, "don't forget to take
Lady Maria with you, if you can. The gentlemen have such a way of
turning tables on us poor women--at least," said the damsel demurely,
"so I've heard said. And 'tis a long lonely road, my lady!"