Colonel Sewell stood at the window of a small drawing-room he
called “his own,” watching the details of loading a very cumbrous
travelling-carriage which was drawn up before the door. Though the
postilions were in the saddle, and all ready for a start, the process of
putting up the luggage went on but slowly,--now a heavy imperial
would be carried out, and after a while taken in again; dressing-boxes
carefully stowed away would be disinterred to be searched for some
missing article; bags, baskets, and boxes of every shape and sort came
and went and came again; and although the two footmen who assisted these
operations showed in various ways what length of training had taught
them to submit to in the way of worry and caprice, the smart “maid,” who
now and then appeared to give some order, displayed most unmistakable
signs of ill-humor on her face. “Drat those dogs! I wish they were down
the river!” cried she, of two yelping, barking Maltese terriers, which,
with small bells jingling on their collars, made an uproar that was
perfectly deafening.
“Well, Miss Morris, if it would oblige _you_--” said one of the tall
footmen, as he caressed his whisker, and gave a very languishing
look, more than enough, he thought, to supply the words wanting to his
sentence.
“It would oblige _me_ very much, Mr. George, to get away out of this
horrid place. I never did--no, never--in all my life pass such a ten
days.”
“We ain't a-going just yet, after all,” said footman number two, with a
faint yawn.
“It's so like you, Mr. Breggis, to say something disagreeable,” said
she, with a toss of her head.
“It's because it's true I say it, not because it's onpleasant, Miss
Caroline.”
“I'm not Miss Caroline, at least from you, Mr. Breggis.”
“Ain't she haughty,--ain't she fierce?” But his colleague would not
assent to this judgment, and looked at her with a longing admiration.
“There's her bell again,” cried the girl; “as sure as I live, she's rung
forty times this morning;” and she hurried back to the house.
“Why do you think we're not off yet?” asked George.
“It's the way I heerd her talking that shows me,” replied the other.
“Whenever she 's really about to leave a place she goes into them fits
of laughing and crying and screaming one minute, and a-whimpering the
next; and then she tells the people--as it were, unknownst to her--how
she hated them all,--how stingy they was,--the shameful way they starved
the servants, and such-like. There's some as won't let her into their
houses by reason of them fits, for she'll plump out everything she knows
of a family,--who ran away with the Misses, and why the second daughter
went over to France.”
“You know her better than me, Breggis.”
“I do think I does; it's eight years I 've had of it. Eh, what's
that,--was n't that a screech?” and as he spoke a wild shrill scream
resounded through the house, followed by a rapid succession of notes
that might either have been laughter or crying.
Sewell drew the curtain; and wheeling an arm-chair to the fireside, lit
his cigar, and began to smoke.
The house was so small that the noises could be heard easily in every
part of it; and for a time the rapid passage of persons overhead, and
the voices of many speaking together, could be detected, and, above
these, a wild shriek would now and then rise above all, and ring through
the house. Sewell smoked on undisturbed; it was not easy to say that he
so much as heard these sounds. His indolent attitude, and his seeming
enjoyment of his cigar, indicated perfect composure; nor even when the
door opened, and his wife entered the room, did he turn his head to see
who it was.
“Can William have the pony to go into town?” asked she, in a
half-submissive voice.
“For what?”
“To tell Dr. Tobin to come out; Lady Trafford is taken ill.”
“He can go on foot; I may want the pony.”
“She is alarmingly ill, I fear,--very violent spasms; and I don't think
there is any time to be lost.”
“Nobody that makes such a row as that can be in any real danger.”
“She is in great pain, at all events.”
“Send one of her own people,--despatch one of the postboys,--do what you
like, only don't bore _me_.”
She was turning to leave the room, when he called out, “I say, when the
attack came on did she take the opportunity to tell you any pleasant
little facts about yourself or your family?” She smiled faintly, and
moved towards the door. “Can't you tell me, ma'am? Has this woman been
condoling with you over your hard fate and your bad husband? or has she
discovered how that 'dear boy' upstairs broke his head as well as his
heart in your service?”
“She did ask me certainly if there was n't a great friendship between
you and her son,” said she, with a tone of quiet disdain.
“And what did you reply?” said he, throwing one leg over the arm of the
chair as he swung round to face her.
“I don't well remember. I may have said _you_ liked _him_, or that _he_
liked _you_. It was such a commonplace reply I made, I forget it.”
“And was that all that passed on the subject?”
“I think I'd better send for the doctor,” said she, and left the room
before he could stop her, though that such was his intention was evident
from the way he arose from his chair with a sudden spring.
“You shall hear more of this, Madam,--by Heaven, you shall!” muttered
he, as he paced the room with rapid steps. “Who's that? Come in,” cried
he, as a knock came to the door. “Oh, Balfour! is it you?”
“Yes; what the deuce is going on upstairs? Lady Trafford appears to have
gone mad.”
“Indeed! how unpleasant!”
“Very unpleasant for your wife, I take it. She has been saying all sorts
of unmannerly things to her this last hour,--things that, if she were
n't out of her reason, she ought to be thrown out of the window for.”
“And why didn't you do so?”
“It was a liberty I couldn't think of taking in another man's house.”
“Lord love you, I'd have thought nothing of it! I'm the best-natured
fellow breathing. What was it she said?”
“I don't know how I can repeat them.”
“Oh, I see, they reflect on me. My dear young friend, when you live to
my age you will learn that anything can be said to anybody, provided it
only be done by 'the third party.' Whatever the law rejects as evidence,
assumes in social life the value of friendly admonition. Go on, and tell
me who it is is in love with my wife.”
Cool as Mr. Cholmondely Balfour was, the tone of this demand staggered
him.
“Art thou the man, Balfour?” said Sewell at last, staring at him with a
mock frown.
“No, by Jove! I never presumed that far.”
“It's the sick fellow, then, is the culprit?”
“So his mother opines. She is an awful woman! I was sitting with your
wife in the small drawing-room when she burst into the room and cried
out, 'Mrs. Sewell, is your name Lucy? for, if so, my son has been
rambling on about you this last hour in a wonderful way: he has told me
about fifty times that he wants to see you before he dies; and now that
the doctor says he is out of danger he never ceases talking of dying.
I suppose you have no objection to the interview; at least they tell me
you were constantly in his room before my arrival.”
“How did my wife take this?--what did she say?” asked Sewell, with an
easy smile as he spoke.
“She said something about agitation or anxiety serving to excuse conduct
which otherwise would be unpardonable; and she asked me to send her maid
to her,--as I think, to get me away.”
“Of course you rang the bell and sat down again.”
“No; she gave me a look that said, I don't want you here, and I went;
but the storm broke out again as I closed the door, and I heard Lady
Trafford's voice raised to a scream as I came downstairs.”
“It all shows what I have said over and over again,” said Sewell,
slowly, “that whenever a man has a grudge or a grievance against a
woman, he ought always to get another woman to torture her. I 'll lay
you fifty pounds Lady Traf-ford cut deeper into my wife's flesh by
her two or three impertinences than if I had stormed myself into an
apoplexy.”
“And don't you mean to turn her out of the house?”
“Turn whom out?”
“Lady Trafford, of course.”
“It's not so easily done, I suspect. I'll take to the long-boat myself
one of these days, and leave her in command of the ship.”
“I tell you she's a dangerous, a very dangerous woman; she has
been ransacking her son's desk, and has come upon all sorts of ugly
memoranda,--sums lost at play, and reminders to meet bills, and
such-like.”
“Yes; he was very unlucky of late,” said Sewell, coldly.
“And there was something like a will, too; at least there was a packet
of trinkets tied up in a paper, which purported to be a will, but only
bore the name Lucy.”
“How delicate! there's something touching in that, Balfour; isn't
there?” said Sewell, with a grin. “How wonderfully you seem to have got
up the case! You know the whole story. How did you manage it?”
“My fellow Paxley had it from Lady Trafford's maid. She told him that
her mistress was determined to show all her son's papers to the Chief
Baron, and blow you sky high.”
“That's awkward, certainly,” said Sewell, in deep thought. “It would be
a devil of a conflagration if two such combustibles came together. I 'd
rather she 'd fight it out with my mother.”
“Have you sent in your papers to the Horse Guards?”
“Yes; it's all finished. I am gazetted out, or I shall be on Tuesday.”
“I'm sorry for it. Not that it signifies much as to this registrarship.
We never intended to relinquish our right to it, we mean to throw the
case into Chancery, and we have one issue already to submit to trial at
bar.”
“Who are _we_ that are going to do all this?”
“The Crown,” said Balfour, haughtily.
“_Ego et rex meus_; that's the style, is it? Come now, Balfy, if you 're
for a bet, I 'll back my horse, the Chief Baron, against the field. Give
me sporting odds, for he 's aged, and must run in bandages besides.”
“That woman's coming here at this moment was most unlucky.”
“Of course it was; it would n't be _my_ lot if it were anything else.
I say,” cried he, starting up, and approaching the window, “what's up
now?”
“She's going at last, I really believe.”
The sound of many and heavy footsteps was now heard descending the
stairs slowly, and immediately after two men issued from the door,
carrying young Trafford on a chair; his arms hung listlessly at his
side, and his head was supported by his servant.
“I wonder whose doing is this? Has the doctor given his concurrence to
it? How are they to get him into the coach, and what are they to do with
him when he is there?” Such was the running commentary Balfour kept
up all the time they were engaged in depositing the sick man in the
carriage. Again a long pause of inaction ensued, and at last a tap came
to the door of the room, and a servant inquired for Mr. Balfour.
“There!” cried Sewell, “it's _your_ turn now. I only hope she 'll insist
on your accompanying her to town.”
Balfour hurried out, and was seen soon afterwards escorting Lady
Trafford to the carriage. Whether it was that she was not yet decided
as to her departure, or that she had so many injunctions to give before
going, the eventful moment was long delayed. She twice tried the seat in
the carriage, once with cushions and then without. She next made Balfour
try whether it might not be possible to have a sort of inclined plane to
lie upon. At length she seemed overcome with her exertions, sent for
a chair, and had a glass of water given her, to which her maid added
certain drops from a phial.
“You will tell Colonel Sewell all I have said, Mr. Balfour,” said she,
aloud, as she prepared to enter the carriage. “It would have been more
agreeable to me had he given me the opportunity of saying it to himself,
but his peculiar notions on the duties of a host have prevented this. As
to Mrs. Sewell, I hope and believe I have sufficiently explained myself.
She at least knows my sentiments as to what goes on in this house. Of
course, sir, it is very agreeable to _you_. Men of pleasure are not
persons to be overburdened with scruples,--least of all such scruples as
interfere with self-indulgence. This sort of life is therefore charming;
I leave you to all its delights, sir, and do not even warn you against
its dangers. I will not promise the same discretion, however, when I go
hence. I owe it to all mothers who have sons, Mr. Balfour,--I owe it to
every family in which there is a name to be transmitted, and a fortune
to be handed down, to declare what I have witnessed under this roof. No,
Lionel,--no, my dear boy; nothing shall prevent my speaking out.” This
was addressed to her son, who by a deep sigh seemed to protest against
the sentiments he was not able to oppose. “It may suit Mr. Balfour's
habits, or his tastes, to remain here,--with these I have nothing to do.
The Duke of Bayswater might possibly think his heir could keep better
company,--with that I have no concern; though when the matter comes to
be discussed before me,--as it one day will, I have no doubt,--I shall
hold myself free to state my opinion. Good-bye, sir; you will, perhaps,
do me the favor to call at the Bilton; I shall remain till Saturday
there; I have resolved not to leave Ireland till I see the Viceroy; and
also have a meeting with this Judge, I forget his name, Lam--Lena--what
is it? He is the Chief something, and easily found.”
A few very energetic words, uttered so low as to be inaudible to all but
Balfour himself, closed this address.
“On my word of honor,--on my sacred word of honor,--Mr. Balfour,” said
she, aloud as she placed one foot on the step, “Caroline saw it,--saw
it with her own eyes. Don't forget all I have said; don't drop that
envelope; be sure you come to see me.” And she was gone.
“Give me five minutes to recover myself,” said Balfour, as he entered Se
well's room, and threw himself on a sofa; “such a 'breather' as that I
have not had for many a day.”
“I heard a good deal of it,” said Sewell, coolly. “She screams,
particularly when she means to be confidential; and all that about my
wife must have reached the gardener in the shrubbery. Where is she off
to?”
“To Dublin. She means to see his Excellency and the Chief Baron; she
says she can't leave Ireland till she has unmasked all your wickedness.”
“She had better take a house on a lease then; did you tell her so?”
“I did nothing but listen,--I never interposed a word. Indeed, she won't
let one speak.”
“I 'd give ten pounds to see her with the Chief Baron. It would be such
a 'close thing.' All his neat sparring would go for nothing against her;
for though she hits wide, she can stand a deal of punishment without
feeling it.”
“She 'll do you mischief there.”
“She might,” said he, more thoughtfully. “I think I 'll set my mother at
her; not that she 'll have a chance, but just for the fun of the thing.
What 's the letter in your hand?”
“Oh, a commission she gave me. I was to distribute this amongst your
household;” and he drew forth a banknote. “Twenty pounds! you have no
objection to it, have you?”
“I know nothing about it; of course you never hinted such a thing to
me;” and with this he arose and left the room.