CHAPTER III.

CUT ADRIFT.

Burgo Brabazon had many pleasant recollections associated in his mind

with his uncle's house in Great Mornington Street. He had nearly

always spent his holidays there when a lad, and very jolly times

they had generally been. But, on the present occasion, when once the

front door was shut behind him, he found himself in an unknown

country. Everything was changed. The sober, substantial, thoroughly

English-looking furniture, which seemed to match so well with the

dingy Georgian mansion, had all been swept away and the art

upholsterer, with his latest fads, had had full scope given him to

work his own bizarre will.

Burgo was ushered into the back drawing-room--a pleasant, home-like

room it had been in the old days, where he and his uncle had played

many a game of backgammon; but now it was transmogrified out of all

recognition, and a chill came over the young fellow's spirits as he

looked around. It had been more like home to him than any other place

in the world, and now he knew it no longer.

Presently the door opened and a tall, dark, handsome woman, whose age

might be anything between thirty and forty, came slowly forward.

"Mr. Brabazon, I presume."

"At your service, Lady Clinton," answered Burgo, as for a moment he

bent over the rather large, but beautifully shaped hand which was

extended for his acceptance.

"I have heard much of you, and am glad to see you. Pray be seated."

Her tones were clear and incisive, like those of a person in the habit

of giving orders and of having them obeyed.

When he had sat down, Burgo was enabled to observe her more at his

leisure.

Notwithstanding that the bloom and freshness of youth had left her for

ever, she was still a very handsome and presentable woman, and had

nothing of the typical adventuress in her appearance, as Burgo was

fain at once to concede.

Her complexion was dark--a clear, dark olive--without being in the

least degree sallow. (Burgo called to mind that Cusden had said

something about her being of semi-Italian parentage, and he could well

believe it) She had a plentiful mass of jet black silky hair, and

rather thick but finely-curved eyebrows. But the eyes themselves,

which in colour matched her hair, Burgo did not like. They seemed to

him cold, watchful, almost cruel. Her mouth was rather large and her

lips were ripe and full--a little too ripe and full some people deemed

them, while there were others who counted them as one of the most

attractive features of a more than ordinarily attractive physiognomy.

For so do opinions differ.

She looked best when she smiled and displayed her splendid teeth, and

she was quite aware of the fact.

There was a little pause after they had seated themselves, which Burgo

was the first to break.

"I trust that my uncle is quite well, Lady Clinton?" he said.

"I am sorry to say that dear Sir Everard is far from well. We had a

rough passage across, and it seems to have upset him considerably."

"When may I hope to have the pleasure of paying my respects to him?"

"That is more than I can say, in the present state of his health."

"But surely----" began Burgo, and then he stopped. He had been about

to say, "But surely he will see _me_, even although he may not be able

to see any one else," when he suddenly remembered that between himself

and his uncle there now interposed a barrier which all his wishes

might perchance prove powerless to overpass.

"It will, I trust, Mr. Brabazon, be sufficient if I state that at the

present time my husband is not in a condition to see any one--any one

at all." She laid a marked emphasis on the words "my husband."

The young man bent his head gravely. "I am sorry to hear you say that,

madam--very sorry indeed. I trust, however, that you will not fail to

convey my love and dutiful respects to my uncle, who has, indeed, been

both father and uncle to me for the last eighteen years." In Burgo's

voice there was an unwonted tremor.

"I will not fail to give your message to Sir Everard," said Lady

Clinton, with a half-smile which just showed the pearly line of her

teeth.

Burgo, watching her, said to himself, "This woman is my enemy."

He was at a loss to know whether he was now expected to rise and take

his leave. Had he been summoned to Great Mornington Street simply to

be told that his uncle was ill and declined to receive him?

But Lady Clinton did not leave him long in doubt.

"Pardon me, Mr. Brabazon," she went on after a momentary pause, "but

did you really come here to-day with the expectation that your uncle

would receive you with the same degree of cordiality and affection

which he has accorded you on so many previous occasions?"

"I certainly did, and I fail to see in what way such an expectation

was unreasonable."

"Excuse me again; but for the moment you seem to have forgotten the

sacrifice--for I can call it by no other term--which, only a few weeks

ago, Sir Everard was called upon to make for you."

"I presume your ladyship refers to the payment of my debts?"

Her ladyship gravely inclined her head.

"My uncle was not called upon by me to make any such sacrifice, as you

term it. I was asked to supply a list of my debts, and I did so."

"May I ask whether you were in a position to have paid them yourself?"

For the life of him, Burgo could not help colouring up to the very

roots of his hair. "That I certainly was not," he replied

unhesitatingly.

"Then it was perhaps as well that your uncle should pay them for you,

were it only to save the family credit."

"Confound this woman! I begin to hate her as much as she hates me,"

muttered poor Burgo under his breath.

"This is not the first occasion, I believe, on which Sir Everard has

had to relieve you from the burden of your extravagances."

Burgo writhed helplessly on his chair.

"Twice previously my uncle has had the melancholy satisfaction of

discharging my liabilities."

"Just so. And yet you come here to-day, and tell me coolly that you

expected to be received on precisely the same terms as if nothing had

happened!"

"Oh, madam!" cried the young man, a fine flame of indignation burning

in his eyes; "I have known my uncle all my life, and I judge him by a

different--a very different--standard from that which you seem to

judge him by. That he would have grumbled, that he would have scolded

me a little, as most fathers and uncles have a way of doing under such

circumstances, I was quite prepared to expect; but that he would

refuse to see me I would never have believed--never!" His voice broke

a little as he finished, and he turned away his head for a moment,

ashamed to think that he should have been so moved.

Lady Clinton sat regarding him with her coldly-critical half-smile.

She was one of those people who seem to derive a sort of semi-sensuous

enjoyment from witnessing the mental tortures and anguished

heart-throbs of their more susceptible fellow mortals. Such people

have keen powers for analysing in others a certain class of emotions

of the existence of which in themselves they have no cognisance.

Lady Clinton gave Burgo a few moments to recover himself, and then she

said in her clear, incisive tones: "May I ask, Mr. Brabazon, what your

plans for the future are?"

"My plans for the future!" he echoed, looking at her with unmitigated

astonishment. "Upon my word, madam, I am not aware that I have any."

"That is rather sad, is it not? And rather singular, too, if I may

venture to say so--considering your age."

"I fail to understand why your ladyship should see anything either sad

or singular in such a state of things. I have always left my fortunes,

both present and to come, in the hands of my uncle--as it has been his

invariable wish that I should do."

"Such being the case, may I assume that any wishes or desires your

uncle may choose to give expression to will be regarded as obligatory

by you?"

Burgo paused before answering. Then he said: "If my uncle himself had

put such a question to me three months ago, I should have answered

'Yes' unhesitatingly; but, seeing that it is your ladyship who puts

the question to me to-day, I am somewhat at a loss what to reply."

Burgo's barb pricked her. Her eyes dilated a little; two red-hot spots

flamed out for a moment on her cheeks and then vanished.

"If I have taken upon myself, Mr. Brabazon, to question you with

regard to your plans for the future, I have done so at your uncle's

special request. He presumes that, at your age, your future career

cannot be altogether a matter of indifference to you, and he is

desirous of knowing what views and wishes you may have formed with

regard to it."

"It seems somewhat strange, madam, that my uncle should all at once

profess to be so anxious about my future. On more than one occasion,

some four or five years ago, I acquainted him with my wishes in the

matter, but he chose quietly to set them aside as of no moment, and

since that time I have never troubled myself in the affair?"

"Even granting that such may have been the case at the period you

speak of," said her ladyship, "you can readily understand, Mr.

Brabazon, that certain circumstances which have happened since then

may have modified Sir Everard's views in many matters, and in the

particular one under consideration among the rest."

"Oh yes, I can quite understand that," answered Burgo, not without a

spice of bitterness.

"While fully aware that, in all probability, such would be the case,

you have not, to quote your own words, troubled yourself further in

the affair?"

"I have not--as I said before. When I left college, as I did not fail

to impress upon my uncle at the time, I was desirous of entering the

army, but it is too late to think of that now. Then it was that my

uncle took the responsibility of my future into his own hands, and in

his hands it still remains."

Lady Clinton did not at once reply, but sat gazing through the window

like one deep in thought.

Presently Burgo spoke again.

"Your ladyship will pardon me, but, from what you have already said, I

can only presume that when you asked me to come here to-day, it was

because you were in a position to impart to me some information, or to

put before me some definite proposition on my uncle's part with

respect to my future. If such be the case, I shall be glad to listen

to whatever message you may be charged with, with as little further

preface as may be."

It was an audacious speech, and her ladyship felt it to be such;

indeed, to her it seemed nothing less than a piece of consummate

impertinence. She stared at him for a moment in icy surprise, but he

met her gaze unflinchingly. Evidently there was more in this young man

than she had given him credit for.

"When you were requested to call here to-day, Mr. Brabazon, it was not

in order to obtain your assent to some proposition which I had been

commissioned to lay before you (_that_ would have been too

ridiculous), but to inform you of the decision which your uncle has

come to in respect of matters between yourself and him."

"That is the point, madam, about which I am anxious to be

enlightened."

"Very well. Here is Sir Everard's decision in a nutshell. The

allowance which his lawyer has been in the habit of paying you

quarterly will cease from to-day, and in lieu thereof, and further, as

a quittance in full of any imaginary claim which you may have assumed

yourself to have on your uncle's pecuniary resources, he requests your

acceptance of this cheque for one thousand guineas."

As her ladyship ceased speaking, she opened her _porte-monnaie_, which

she had held clasped in one hand all this time, and extracted

therefrom a narrow folded slip of paper, and rising, laid it on the

table close by where Burgo was sitting. Then she resumed her seat.

It is not too much to say that Burgo was literally stunned. He

repeated her ladyship's words automatically to himself before he could

feel sure that he had heard aright. For a moment or two he saw

everything through a haze, as one sees things in a half-dream, and

when the film had cleared away it was to leave him conscious that Lady

Clinton's eyes were fixed on him with a cynical and, as he fancied,

somewhat contemptuous smile. The sight acted on him like an ice-cold

douche, and brought him at once to himself.

"So," he said, speaking not without an effort, "the statement I have

just heard from your ladyship's lips embodied my uncle's ultimatum, so

far as I am concerned?"

"It is Sir Everard's ultimatum--the word is your own, Mr. Brabazon."

"And it is you, madam, whom I have to thank for it."

Lady Clinton set her lips tight, but did not reply.

Burgo rose, and taking up the cheque opened it, and let his eyes rest

for a moment or two on the familiar signature.

"This is my answer to the offer of which you are the bearer," he said,

looking her straight in the face; and with that he deliberately tore

the cheque in four, and dropped the pieces on the table. "Never will I

touch another shilling of my uncle's money as long as I live."

He turned and took up his hat. "I need not detain you further, Lady

Clinton," he said. "But I cannot go without complimenting you on the

thoroughly businesslike way in which you have carried out the task you

set yourself to do. Madam, I have the honour to wish you a very good

day."

He swept her a low bow, and as he did so his eyes crossed fire with

hers. There was no flinching on either side. They both felt that

henceforth it was a duel _à outrance_ between them. But already Lady

Clinton had drawn "first blood."

She rose as the door closed behind Burgo, and drew a deep breath. "So

far the day is mine," she said, "but I shall be greatly surprised if I

have seen the last of Mr. Burgo Brabazon. If I ever read mischief in

anybody's eyes, I read it in his. I would give something to know what

step he meditates first. In any case, it will be nothing dastardly,

nothing underhand. Any one not a gentleman would have taken that

cheque and have remained my enemy just the same. I am glad I have seen

him; under other circumstances I feel that I could both like and

admire him--and yet I must brush him from my path. He is the one great

obstacle I have to contend against, and he _must_ be sacrificed. If

only he would have contented himself with the thousand guineas, and

have given no further trouble! And now to give Sir Everard my own

version of the interview," she added, as she took up the portions of

the cheque and tore them into still smaller fragments.

Burgo's Romance · 第 3 / 22 章