It was late at night when Sewell reached town. An accidental delay to
the train deferred the arrival for upwards of an hour after the usual
time; and when he reached the Priory, the house was all closed for the
night, and not a light to be seen.
He knocked, however, and rang boldly; and after a brief delay, and
considerable noise of unbolting and unbarring, was admitted. “We gave
you up, sir, after twelve o'clock,” said the butler, half reproachfully,
“and his Lordship ordered the servants to bed. Miss Lendrick, however,
is in her drawing-room still.”
“Is there anything to eat, my good friend? That is what I stand most in
need of just now.”
“There's a cold rib of beef, sir, and a grouse pie; but if you 'd like
something hot, I 'll call the cook.”
“No, no, never mind the cook; you can give me some sherry, I 'm sure?”
“Any wine you please, sir. We have excellent Madeira, which ain't to be
had everywhere nowadays.”
“Madeira be it, then; and order a fire in my room. I take it you have a
room for me?”
“Yes, sir, all is ready; the bath was hot about an hour ago, and I 'll
have it refreshed in a minute.”
“Now for the grouse pie. By the way, Fenton, what is the matter with his
Lordship? He was n't ill, was he, when he sent off that despatch to me?”
“No, sir; he was in court to-day, and he dined at the Castle, and was in
excellent spirits before he went out.”
“Has anything gone wrong, then, that he wanted me up so hurriedly?”
“Well, sir, it ain't so easy to say, his Lordship excites himself so
readily; and mayhap he had words with some of the judges,--mayhap with
his Excellency, for they 're always at him about resigning, little
knowing that if they 'd only let him alone he 'd go of himself, but if
they press him he 'll stay on these twenty years.”
“I don't suspect he has got so many as twenty years before him.”
“If he wants to live, sir, he 'll do it. Ah, you may laugh, sir, but I
have known him all my life, and I never saw the man like him to do the
thing he wishes to do.”
“Cut me some of that beef, Fenton, and fetch me some draught beer. How
these old tyrants make slaves of their servants,” said he, aloud, as the
man left the room,--“a slavery that enthralls mind as well as body.”
A gentle tap came to the door, and before Sewell could question the
summons, Miss Lendrick entered. She greeted him cordially, and said how
anxiously her grandfather had waited for him till midnight. “I don't
know when I saw him so eager or so impatient,” she said.
“Have you any clew to his reason for sending for me?” said he, as he
continued to eat, and assumed an air of perfect unconcern.
“None whatever. He came into my room about two o'clock, and told me to
write his message in a good bold hand; he seemed in his usual health,
and his manner displayed nothing extraordinary. He questioned me about
the time it would take to transmit the message from the town to your
house, and seemed satisfied when I said about half an hour.”
“It's just as likely, perhaps, to be some caprice,--some passing fancy.”
She shook her head dissentingly, but made no reply.
“I believe the theory of this house is, 'he can do no wrong,'” said
Sewell, with a laugh.
“He is so much more able in mind than all around him, such a theory
might prevail; but I 'll not go so far as to say that it does.”
“It's not his mind gives him his pre-eminence, Miss Lucy,--it's his
temper; it's that same strong will that overcomes weaker natures by dint
of sheer force. The people who assert their own way in life are not the
most intellectual, they are only the best bullies.”
“You know very little of grandpapa, Colonel Sewell, that's clear.”
“Are you so sure of that?” asked he, with a dubious-smile.
“I _am_ sure of it, or in speaking of him you would never have used such
a word as bully.”
“You mistake me,--mistake me altogether, young lady. I spoke of a class
of people who employ certain defects of temper to supply the place of
certain gifts of intellect; and if your grandfather, who has no occasion
for it, chooses to take a weapon out of their armory, the worse taste
his.”
Lucy turned fiercely round, her face flushed, and her lip trembling.
An angry reply darted through her mind, but she repressed it by a great
effort, and in a faint voice she said, “I hope you left Mrs. Sewell
well?”
“Yes, perfectly well, amusing herself vastly. When I saw her last, she
had about half a dozen young fellows cantering on either side of her,
saying, doubtless, all those pleasant things that you ladies like to
hear.”
Lucy shrugged her shoulders, without answering.
“Telling you,” continued he, in the same strain, “that if you are
unmarried you are angels, and that if married you are angels and martyrs
too; and it is really a subject that requires investigation, how
the best of wives is not averse to hearing her husband does not half
estimate her. Don't toss your head so impatiently, my dear Miss Lucy; I
am giving you the wise precepts of a very thoughtful life.”
“I had hoped, Colonel Sewell, that a very thoughtful life might have
brought forth pleasanter reflections.” “No, that is precisely what it
does not do. To live as long as I have, is to arrive at a point when all
the shams have been seen through, and the world exhibits itself pretty
much as a stage during a day rehearsal.”
“Well, sir, I am too young to profit by such experiences, and I will
wish you a very good-night,--that is, if I can give no orders for
anything you wish.”
“I have had everything. I will finish this Madeira--to your health--and
hope to meet you in the morning, as beautiful and as trustful as I see
you now,--_felice notte_.” He bowed as he opened the door for her to
pass out, and she went, with a slight bend of the head and a faint
smile, and left him.
“How I could make you beat your wings against your cage, for all your
bravery, if I had only three days here, and cared to do it,” said he, as
he poured the rest of the wine into his glass. “How weary I could make
you of this old house and its old owner. Within one month--one short
month--I 'd have you repeating as wise saws every sneer and every
sarcasm that you just now took fire at. And if I am to pass three days
in this dreary old dungeon, I don't see how I could do better. What can
he possibly want with me?” All the imaginable contingencies he could
conjure up now passed before his mind. That the old man was sick
of solitude, and wanted him to come and live with them; that he was
desirous of adopting one of the children, and which of them? then,
that he had held some correspondence with Fossbrooke, and wanted some
explanations,--a bitter pang, that racked and tortured him while he
revolved it; and, last of all, he came back to his first guess,--it was
about his will he had sent for him. He had been struck by the beauty
of the children, and asked their names and ages twice or thrice over;
doubtless he was bent on making some provision for them. “I wish I could
tell him that I'd rather have ten thousand down, than thrice the sum
settled on Reginald and the girls. I wish I could explain to him that
mine is a ready-money business, and that cash is the secret of success;
and I wish I could show him that no profits will stand the reverses of
loans raised at two hundred per cent! I wonder how the match went off
to-day; I'd like to have the odds that there were three men down at
the double rail and bank.” Who got first over the brook, was his next
speculation, and where was Trafford? “If he punished Crescy, I think I
could tell _that_,” muttered he, with a grin of malice. “I only wish I
was there to see it;” and in the delight this thought afforded he tossed
off his last glass of wine, and rang for his bedroom candle.
“At what time shall I call you, sir?” asked the butler.
“When are you stirring here,--I mean, at what hour does Sir William
breakfast?”
“He breakfasts at eight, sir, during term; but he does not expect to see
any one but Miss Lucy so early.”
“I should think not. Call me at eleven, then, and bring me some coffee
and a glass of rum when you come. Do you mean to tell me,” said he, in a
somewhat stern tone, “that the Chief Baron gets up at seven o'clock?”
“In term-time, sir, he does every day.”
“Egad! I 'm well pleased that I have not a seat on the Bench. I 'd not
be Lord Chancellor at that price.”
“It 's very hard on the servants, sir,--very hard indeed.”
“I suppose it is,” said Sewell, with a treacherous twinkle of the eye.
“If it was n't that I'm expecting the usher's place in the Court, I 'd
have resigned long ago.”
“His Lordship's pleasant temper, however, makes up for everything,
Fenton, eh?”
“Yes, sir, that's true;” and they both laughed heartily at the pleasant
conceit; and in this merry humor they went their several ways to bed.