THE BED-CHAMBER.
Black M'Guinness and Mistress Martha had listened in vain to catch the
purport of Mr. Audley's communication. Unfortunately for them, their
master's chamber was guarded by a double door, and his companion had
taken especial pains to close both of them before detailing the subject
of his visit. They were, however a good deal astonished by Mr. French's
insisting upon rising forthwith, and having himself clothed and shaved.
This huge, good-natured lump of gout was, accordingly, arrayed in full
suit--one of the handsomest which his wardrobe commanded--his velvet
cap replaced by a flowing peruke--his gouty feet smothered in endless
flannels, and himself deposited in his great easy chair by the fire,
and his lower extremities propped up upon stools and pillows. These
preparations, along with a complete re-arrangement of the furniture,
and other contents of the room, effectually perplexed and somewhat
alarmed his disinterested dependents.
Mr. Audley returned ere the preparations were well completed, and
handed Mary Ashwoode and her attendant from the chaise. It needs not to
say how the old bachelor of Ardgillagh received her--with, perhaps, the
more warmth and tenderness that, as he protested, with tears in his
eyes, she was so like her poor mother, that he felt as if old times had
come again, and that she stood once more before him, clothed in the
melancholy beauty of her early and ill-fated youth. It were idle to
describe the overflowing kindness of the old man's greeting, and the
depth of gratitude with which his affectionate and hearty welcome was
accepted by the poor grieved girl. He would scarcely, for the whole
evening, allow her to leave him for one moment; and every now and again
renewed his pressing invitation to her and to Mr. Audley to take some
more wine or some new delicacy; he himself enforcing his solicitations
by eating and drinking in almost unbroken continuity during the whole
time. All his habits were those of the most unlimited self-indulgence;
and his chief, if not his sole recreation for years, had consisted in
compounding, during the whole day long, those astounding gastronomic
combinations, which embraced every possible variety of wine and
liqueur, of vegetable, meat, and confection; so that the fact of his
existing at all, under the extraordinary regimen which he had adopted,
was a triumph of the genius of digestion over the demon of dyspepsia,
such as this miserable world has seldom witnessed. Nevertheless, that
he did exist, and that too, apparently, in robust though unwieldy
health, with the exception of his one malady, his constitutional gout,
was a fact which nobody could look upon and dispute. With an
imperiousness which brooked no contradiction, he compelled Mr. Audley
to eat and drink very greatly more than he could conveniently
contain--browbeating the poor little gentleman into submission, and
swearing, in the most impressive manner, that he had not eaten one
ounce weight of food of any kind since his entrance into the house;
although the unhappy little gentleman felt at that moment like a boa
constrictor who has just bolted a buffalo, and pleaded in stifled
accents for quarter; but it would not do. Oliver French, Esq., had not
had his humour crossed, nor one of his fancies contradicted, for the
last forty years, and he was not now to be thwarted or put down by a
little "hop-o'-my-thumb," who, though ravenously hungry, pretended,
through mere perverseness, to be bursting with repletion. Mr. Audley's
labours were every now and again pleasingly relieved by such
applications as these from his merciless entertainer.
"Now, my good friend--my worthy friend--will you think it too great a
liberty, sir, if I ask you to move the pillow a _leetle_ under this
foot?"
"None in the world, sir--quite the contrary--I shall have the very
greatest possible pleasure," would poor Mr. Audley reply, preparing for
the task.
"You are very good, sir, very kind, sir. Just draw it quietly to the
right--a little, a very little--you are very good, indeed, sir. Oh--oh,
O--oh, you--you booby--you'll excuse me, sir--gently--there,
there--gently, gently. O--oh, you d----d handless idiot--pray pardon
me, sir; that will do."
Such passages as these were of frequent occurrence; but though Mr.
Audley was as choleric as most men at his time of life, yet the
incongruous terms of abuse were so obviously the result of inveterate
and almost unconscious habit, stimulated by the momentary twinges of
acute pain, that he did not suffer this for an instant to disturb the
serenity and goodwill with which he regarded his host, spite of all his
oddities and self-indulgence.
In the course of the evening Oliver French ordered Mistress Martha to
have beds prepared for the party, and that lady, with rather a vicious
look, withdrew. She soon returned, and asked in her usual low, dulcet
tone, whether the young lady could spare her maid to assist in
arranging the room, and forthwith Flora Guy consigned herself to the
guidance of the sinister-looking Abigail.
"This is a fine country, isn't it?" inquired Mistress Martha, softly,
when they were quite alone.
"A very fine country, indeed, ma'am," rejoined Flora, who had heard
enough to inspire her with a certain awe of her conductress, which
inclined her as much as possible to assent to whatever proposition she
might be inclined to advance, without herself hazarding much original
matter.
"It's a pity you can't see it in the summer time; this is a very fine
place indeed when all the leaves are on the trees," repeated Mistress
Martha.
"Indeed, so I'd take it to be, ma'am," rejoined the maid.
"Just passing through this way--hurried like, you can't notice much
about it though," remarked the elderly lady, carelessly.
"No, ma'am," replied Flora, becoming more reserved, as she detected in
her companion a wish to draw from her all she knew of her mistress's
plans.
"There are some views that are greatly admired in the
neighbourhood--the glen and the falls of Glashangower. If she could
stay a week she might see everything."
"Oh! indeed, it's a lovely place," observed Flora, evasively.
"That old gentleman, that Mr. Audley, your young mistress's father,
or--or uncle, or whatever he is"--Mistress Martha here made a
considerable pause, but Flora did not enlighten her, and she
continued--"whatever he is to her, it's no matter, he seems a very
good-humoured nice old gentleman--he's in a great hurry back to Dublin,
where he came from, I suppose."
"Well, I really don't know," replied the girl.
"He looks very comfortable, and everything handsome and nice about
him," observed Mistress Martha again. "I suppose he's well off--plenty
of money--not in want at all."
"Indeed he seems all that," rejoined the maid.
"He's cousin, or something or another, to the master, Mr. French;
didn't you tell me so?" asked the painted Abigail.
"No, ma'am; I didn't tell you; I don't know," replied she.
"This is a very damp old house, and full of rats; I wish I had known a
week ago that beds would be wanting; but I suppose it was a sudden
thing," said the housekeeper.
"Indeed, I suppose it just was, ma'am," responded the attendant.
"Are you going to stay here long?" asked the old lady, more briskly
than she had yet spoken.
"Raly, ma'am, I don't know," replied Flora.
The old painted termagant shot a glance at her of no pleasant meaning;
but for the present checked the impulse in which it had its birth, and
repeated softly--"You don't know; why, you are a very innocent, simple
little girl."
"Pray, ma'am, if it's not making too bold, which is the room, ma'am?"
asked Flora.
"What's your young lady's name?" asked the matron, directly, and
disregarding the question of the girl.
Flora Guy hesitated.
"Do you hear me--what's your young lady's name?" repeated the woman,
softly, but deliberately.
"Her name, to be sure; her name is Miss Mary," replied she.
"Mary _what_?" asked Martha.
"Miss Mary Ashwoode," replied Flora, half afraid as she uttered it.
Spite of all her efforts, the woman's face exhibited disagreeable
symptoms of emotion at this announcement; she bit her lips and dropped
her eyelids lower than usual, to conceal the expression which gleamed
to her eyes, while her colour shifted even through her rouge. At
length, with a smile infinitely more unpleasant than any expression
which her face had yet worn, she observed,--
"Ashwoode, Ashwoode. Oh! dear, to be sure; some of Sir Richard's
family; well, I did not expect to see them darken these doors again.
Dear me! who'd have thought of the Ashwoodes looking after him again?
well, well, but they're a very forgiving family," and she uttered an
ill-omened tittering.
"Which is the room, ma'am, if you please?" repeated Flora.
"That's the room," cried the stalwart dame, with astounding vehemence,
and at the same time opening a door and exhibiting a large neglected
bed-chamber, with its bed-clothes and other furniture lying about in
entire disorder, and no vestige of a fire in the grate; "that's the
room, miss, and make the best of it yourself, for you've nothing else
to do."
In this very uncomfortable predicament Flora Guy applied herself
energetically to reduce the room to something like order, and although
it was very cold and not a little damp, she succeeded, nevertheless, in
giving it an air of tolerable comfort by the time her young mistress
was prepared to retire to it.
As soon as Mary Ashwoode had entered this chamber her maid proceeded to
narrate the occurrences which had just taken place.
"Well, Flora," said she, smiling, "I hope the old lady will resume her
good temper by to-morrow, for one night I can easily contrive to rest
with such appliances as we have. I am more sorry, for your sake, my
poor girl, than for mine, however, and wherever I lay me down, my rest
will be, I fear me, very nearly alike."
"She's the darkest, ill-lookingest old woman, God bless us, that ever I
set my two good-looking eyes upon, my lady," said Flora. "I'll put a
table to the door; for, to tell God's truth, I'm half afeard of her.
She has a nasty look in her, my lady--a bad look entirely."
Flora had hardly spoken when the door opened, and the subject of their
conversation entered.
"Good evening to you, Miss Ashwoode," said she, advancing close to the
young lady, and speaking in her usual low soft tone. "I hope you find
everything to your liking. I suppose your own maid has settled
everything according to your fancy. Of course, she knows best how to
please you. I'm very delighted to see you here in Ardgillagh, as I was
telling your innocent maid there--very glad, indeed; because, as I
said, it shows how forgiving you are, after all the master has said and
done, and the way he has always spit on every one of your family that
ever came here looking after his money--though, indeed, I'm sure you're
a great deal too good and too religious to care about money; and I'm
sure and certain it's only for the sake of Christian charity, and out
of a forgiving disposition, and to show that there isn't a bit of pride
of any sort, or kind, or description in your carcase--that you're come
here to make yourself at home in this house, that never belonged to
you, and that never will, and to beg favours of the gentleman that
hates, and despises, and insults everyone that carries your name--so
that the very dogs in the streets would not lick their blood. I like
that, Miss Ashwoode--I _do_ like it," she continued, advancing a little
nearer; "for it shows you don't care what bad people may say or think,
provided you do your Christian duty. They may say you're come here to
try and get the old gentleman's money; they may say that you're eaten
up to the very backbone with meanness, and that you'd bear to be kicked
and spit upon from one year's end to the other for the sake of a few
pounds--they'll call you a sycophant and a schemer--but you don't mind
that--and I admire you for it--they'll say, miss--for they don't
scruple at anything--they'll say you lost your character and fortune in
Dublin, and came down here in the hope of finding them again; but I
tell you what it is," she continued, giving full vent to her fury, and
raising her accents to a tone more resembling the scream of a
screech-owl than the voice of a human being, "I know what you're at,
and I'll blow your schemes, Miss Innocence. I'll make the house too hot
to hold you. Do you think I mind the old bed-ridden cripple, or anyone
else within its four walls? Hoo! I'd make no more of them or of you
than that old glass there;" and so saying, she hurled the candlestick,
with all her force, against the large mirror which depended from the
wall, and dashed it to atoms.
"Hoo! hoo!" she screamed, "you think I am afraid to do what I
threatened; but wait--wait, I say; and now good-night to you, Miss
Ashwoode, for the first time, and pleasant dreams to you."
So saying, the fiendish hag, actually quivering with fury, quitted the
room, drawing the door after her with a stunning crash, and leaving
Mary Ashwoode and her servant breathless with astonishment and
consternation.