“Thorpe Ambrose, July 20th, 1851.
“DEAR MADAM--I received yesterday, by private messenger, your obliging
note, in which you direct me to communicate with you through the post
only, as long as there is reason to believe that any visitors who may
come to you are likely to be observed. May I be permitted to say that
I look forward with respectful anxiety to the time when I shall again
enjoy the only real happiness I have ever experienced--the happiness of
personally addressing you?
“In compliance with your desire that I should not allow this day (the
Sunday) to pass without privately noticing what went on at the great
house, I took the keys, and went this morning to the steward’s office. I
accounted for my appearance to the servants by informing them that I had
work to do which it was important to complete in the shortest possible
time. The same excuse would have done for Mr. Armadale if we had met,
but no such meeting happened.
“Although I was at Thorpe Ambrose in what I thought good time, I was too
late to see or hear anything myself of a serious quarrel which appeared
to have taken place, just before I arrived, between Mr. Armadale and Mr.
Midwinter.
“All the little information I can give you in this matter is derived
from one of the servants. The man told me that he heard the voices of
the two gentlemen loud in Mr. Armadale’s sitting-room. He went in to
announce breakfast shortly afterward, and found Mr. Midwinter in such
a dreadful state of agitation that he had to be helped out of the room.
The servant tried to take him upstairs to lie down and compose himself.
He declined, saying he would wait a little first in one of the lower
rooms, and begging that he might be left alone. The man had hardly got
downstairs again when he heard the front door opened and closed. He ran
back, and found that Mr. Midwinter was gone. The rain was pouring at the
time, and thunder and lightning came soon afterward. Dreadful weather
certainly to go out in. The servant thinks Mr. Midwinter’s mind was
unsettled. I sincerely hope not. Mr. Midwinter is one of the few people
I have met with in the course of my life who have treated me kindly.
“Hearing that Mr. Armadale still remained in the sitting-room, I went
into the steward’s office (which, as you may remember, is on the same
side of the house), and left the door ajar, and set the window open,
waiting and listening for anything that might happen. Dear madam, there
was a time when I might have thought such a position in the house of my
employer not a very becoming one. Let me hasten to assure you that this
is far from being my feeling now. I glory in any position which makes me
serviceable to you.
“The state of the weather seemed hopelessly adverse to that renewal
of intercourse between Mr. Armadale and Miss Milroy which you so
confidently anticipate, and of which you are so anxious to be made
aware. Strangely enough, however, it is actually in consequence of the
state of the weather that I am now in a position to give you the very
information you require. Mr. Armadale and Miss Milroy met about an hour
since. The circumstances were as follows:
“Just at the beginning of the thunder-storm, I saw one of the grooms run
across from the stables, and heard him tap at his master’s window. Mr.
Armadale opened the window and asked what was the matter. The groom said
he came with a message from the coachman’s wife. She had seen from her
room over the stables (which looks on to the park) Miss Milroy quite
alone, standing for shelter under one of the trees. As that part of the
park was at some distance from the major’s cottage, she had thought
that her master might wish to send and ask the young lady into the
house--especially as she had placed herself, with a thunder-storm coming
on, in what might turn out to be a very dangerous position.
“The moment Mr. Armadale understood the man’s message, he called for the
water-proof things and the umbrellas, and ran out himself, instead of
leaving it to the servants. In a little time he and the groom came back
with Miss Milroy between them, as well protected as could be from the
rain.
“I ascertained from one of the women-servants, who had taken the young
lady into a bedroom, and had supplied her with such dry things as she
wanted, that Miss Milroy had been afterward shown into the drawing-room,
and that Mr. Armadale was there with her. The only way of following your
instructions, and finding out what passed between them, was to go round
the house in the pelting rain, and get into the conservatory (which
opens into the drawing-room) by the outer door. I hesitate at nothing,
dear madam, in your service; I would cheerfully get wet every day, to
please you. Besides, though I may at first sight be thought rather an
elderly man, a wetting is of no very serious consequence to me. I assure
you I am not so old as I look, and I am of a stronger constitution than
appears.
“It was impossible for me to get near enough in the conservatory to see
what went on in the drawing-room, without the risk of being discovered.
But most of the conversation reached me, except when they dropped their
voices. This is the substance of what I heard:
“I gathered that Miss Milroy had been prevailed on, against her will, to
take refuge from the thunder-storm in Mr. Armadale’s house. She said so,
at least, and she gave two reasons. The first was that her father had
forbidden all intercourse between the cottage and the great house. Mr.
Armadale met this objection by declaring that her father had issued his
orders under a total misconception of the truth, and by entreating her
not to treat him as cruelly as the major had treated him. He entered,
I suspect, into some explanations at this point, but as he dropped his
voice I am unable to say what they were. His language, when I did hear
it, was confused and ungrammatical. It seemed, however, to be quite
intelligible enough to persuade Miss Milroy that her father had been
acting under a mistaken impression of the circumstances. At least, I
infer this; for, when I next heard the conversation, the young lady was
driven back to her second objection to being in the house--which was,
that Mr. Armadale had behaved very badly to her, and that he richly
deserved that she should never speak to him again.
“In this latter case, Mr. Armadale attempted no defense of any kind. He
agreed with her that he had behaved badly; he agreed with her that he
richly deserved she should never speak to him again. At the same time he
implored her to remember that he had suffered his punishment already.
He was disgraced in the neighborhood; and his dearest friend, his one
intimate friend in the world, had that very morning turned against him
like the rest. Far or near, there was not a living creature whom he was
fond of to comfort him, or to say a friendly word to him. He was lonely
and miserable, and his heart ached for a little kindness--and that was
his only excuse for asking Miss Milroy to forget and forgive the past.
“I must leave you, I fear, to judge for yourself of the effect of this
on the young lady; for, though I tried hard, I failed to catch what
she said. I am almost certain I heard her crying, and Mr. Armadale
entreating her not to break his heart. They whispered a great deal,
which aggravated me. I was afterward alarmed by Mr. Armadale coming
out into the conservatory to pick some flowers. He did not come as far,
fortunately, as the place where I was hidden; and he went in again
into the drawing-room, and there was more talking (I suspect at close
quarters), which to my great regret I again failed to catch. Pray
forgive me for having so little to tell you. I can only add that, when
the storm cleared off, Miss Milroy went away with the flowers in her
hand, and with Mr. Armadale escorting her from the house. My own humble
opinion is that he had a powerful friend at court, all through the
interview, in the young lady’s own liking for him.
“This is all I can say at present, with the exception of one other thing
I heard, which I blush to mention. But your word is law, and you have
ordered me to have no concealments from you.
“Their talk turned once, dear madam, on yourself. I think I heard the
word ‘creature’ from Miss Milroy; and I am certain that Mr. Armadale,
while acknowledging that he had once admired you, added that
circumstances had since satisfied him of ‘his folly.’ I quote his own
expression; it made me quite tremble with indignation. If I may be
permitted to say so, the man who admires Miss Gwilt lives in Paradise.
Respect, if nothing else, ought to have closed Mr. Armadale’s lips.
He is my employer, I know; but after his calling it an act of folly to
admire you (though I _am_ his deputy-steward), I utterly despise him.
“Trusting that I may have been so happy as to give you satisfaction
thus far, and earnestly desirous to deserve the honor of your continued
confidence in me, I remain, dear madam,
“Your grateful and devoted servant,
“FELIX BASHWOOD.”