A NEGLECTED WIFE.
He saw proud Clara’s face more fair,
He knew her of broad lands the heir,
Forgot his vows, his faith foreswore,
And Constance was beloved no more.—SCOTT.
The day and night described in the last chapter were the types of many,
too many days and nights that followed them. Alexander Lyon had placed
himself in a false position and had a very difficult part to play
between his wife and his betrothed.
On the morning after that little supper the young couple slept late;
because on the previous evening they had found their bright fireside so
delightful that they had remained there billing and cooing like a pair
of lovers, as they still were, until the small hours, when at length
they went to rest.
She was the first of the two to rise in the morning; for she was an
ardent little housewife, and she liked to have everything about her
small home in perfect order.
He slept on until noon, and then awoke with a weight upon his mind,
though a very vague idea of what it meant. But presently, as his brain
grew clearer, he remembered all the perplexing events of the preceding
day and cursed his fate for bringing him into such an embarrassing
position.
As he made his morning toilet he reflected that his uncle, an “early
bird,” like most old country gentlemen, had probably some hours before
this called at his room at the Blank House and found him absent, and
perhaps had been told by the servants there that he had not been in all
night.
What could the old gentleman think of such irregularity on the part of
his nephew and intended son-in-law?
Alexander scarcely dared to answer that question. But full of anxious
and perplexing thoughts, he finished his toilet and went below stairs.
In the breakfast room he found a fine fire, a neat table, and his lovely
young wife in her pretty morning dress of white merino with black
trimmings.
She put aside the book she had been reading and arose to receive him. He
kissed her in silence and then dropped heavily into his chair.
She rang the bell and ordered breakfast served.
“I hope you have not waited for me, dear?” he languidly remarked.
“No; I had a cup of tea and a bit of dry toast when I first came down;
but that was nine o’clock, and it is after one now; so I am quite ready
to take breakfast with you. It will be my lunch.”
Fragrant Mocha coffee, fresh eggs, smoked salmon, broiled chicken and
light muffins were soon placed upon the table; and the two sat down to
breakfast.
But tempting as the viands were that stood, before him, Alexander could
eat but little.
Drusilla noticed his want of appetite and said:
“You are not well, dear. Have you a head-ache? Shall I order some strong
green tea made for you?”
“No, Drusa; I never drink tea in the morning unless I am really sick.
And I am quite well now; except that I am a little disturbed in regard
to—to that business connected with my late father’s will,” said
Alexander, evasively.
“Oh, then it wasn’t settled yesterday?”
“Oh, no; and I fear it will not be for many days yet.”
“I am sorry, Alick. But never mind. Everybody must have some little
thing to vex them; but it can’t last forever, you know. Try a little bit
of this smoked salmon. It is very nice.”
To please her he tried the salmon, and found that it gave him an
appetite; and he made a better breakfast than he had expected to do.
When he had finished, he rang the bell, which summoned Leo to the room.
“Have my horse saddled and brought around here directly,” he said to the
boy. Then, turning to his wife, he added:
“I shall have to ride into town to-day to look after that business; but
I will try to be back before night. I hope you won’t be very lonesome,
dear?”
An involuntary expression of surprise and disappointment clouded her
face for an instant; but she chased the clouds away, and smilingly
replied:
“Oh, no, I shall be very busy. But if you will tell me at what hour you
will be back, I will have dinner ready for you.”
“Have dinner at the usual hour, my dear. I will be back in time for it
if I possibly can. But do not wait for me beyond five o’clock, do you
hear?”
“Yes, Alick,” she answered, and again she had to chase away a rising
cloud of disappointment by a sunny smile.
He went out to prepare for his ride, and as soon as he was ready he
kissed his young wife and begged her not to mope; and then he mounted
his horse, that stood saddled at the door, and rode briskly away.
She looked after him until he was out of sight, and then with a sigh
turned into the house.
Meanwhile Alexander rode rapidly into the city, and, after leaving his
horse at the livery stable, hurried anxiously off to the hotel where his
uncle and cousin were stopping, and sent up his card.
They were both in, and he was soon ushered up into their private
sitting-room.
General Lyon, reclining in his resting chair, was reading the morning
papers; and Miss Lyon, lolling on the sofa, was turning over the leaves
of the libretto of the opera of the evening.
Alexander felt a little guilty as he walked into their presence.
But he was instantly consoled and reassured by the manners of both old
gentleman and young lady.
“Oh, is that you, Alick? Good morning. Sit down. Excuse me for not
rising. This is a shocking version of Il Trovatore,” said Anna, without
moving, or lifting her eyes from the pages she was studying.
“Ah! how do you do? Glad to see you. Intended to walk around your way
this morning and see how you were getting on. But really, in such sharp
weather as this, it seems to require an effort to leave the chimney
corner. Hope you’ll excuse my not calling.”
“With all my heart, sir,” said Alexander, feeling immensely relieved,
and blessing his stars that his uncle had not called on him and
discovered his absence after all. “With all my heart, sir! I could not
indeed expect, and would not wish you to take the trouble. It is rather
my duty always to wait upon you—a duty that I shall always be most happy
to perform.”
“You’re a good lad, Alick, a good lad,” said the old soldier, frankly
holding out his hand to his nephew.
“I hope I shall always be so happy as to deserve your good opinion,
sir,” said Alexander, taking the offered hand and bowing deeply over it.
But as he lifted himself up again he encountered the laughing eyes of
Anna, who was regarding him with a mocking smile.
“Now, really, Alick, you know you are growing so Joseph Surfacish, that
I am beginning to doubt your sincerity,” she said.
Alexander’s countenance fell. But the old gentleman came to the rescue.
“Never mind her, Alick. Who ever does mind Anna? But listen to me. I
have made an engagement for you this evening.”
Alexander started, with an unpleasant sensation about his heart; but the
old gentleman, without noticing him, went on:
“There have been several parties calling here this morning, to invite
Anna to go and hear this celebrated Italian Opera Troupe. But I excused
her to one and all, telling them she was engaged to go with you, and
also giving them to understand that she was also engaged for life to
you, so that they might not waste any attentions upon her. And I sent
and took a private box for you both, for this evening. Come! no thanks.
I don’t desire any. It was perfectly convenient for me to make these
arrangements, to save you the trouble.”
Alexander was dumb-foundered; he could not have returned thanks if he
had tried. He dropped into the nearest seat, and wiped his face with his
handkerchief, while the old gentleman went on to describe the
attractions of the Italian Opera, and while Anna silently, with an
amused expression of countenance, watched both.
“I—I fear, sir, that I cannot have the honor intended for me. I—”
—“Cannot have the honor intended for you? What the mischief do you mean
by that, sir?” demanded the old gentleman, in surprise and displeasure.
“A previous engagement, I regret to say, sir, stands in the way.”
“What sort of an engagement, boy? What sort of an engagement?”
“I had promised to dine with a friend—” began Alexander, speaking truly
as to the letter, and falsely as to the spirit. But the old gentleman
stopped him.
“Oh, a friend! a gentleman, of course, for it isn’t possible that you
should have promised to dine with any lady. Bosh, boy! Send the man an
excuse; tell him here is a lady in the case; and take an early dinner
with us, and be ready to attend Anna.”
“Really, my dear grandfather, I wish you would not press this matter
upon Mr. Lyon. You know that Dick is most anxious to be my escort,” said
Miss Lyon, in very justifiable displeasure.
Mr. Lyon and Dick. She called Alexander “Mr. Lyon,” and Richard Hammond
“Dick.” Alexander noticed the distinction, and his blood fired; but
before he could say a word, the old gentleman, with a flushed brow,
struck in:
“Dick? What the deuce do you mean, Anna? Do you suppose I am going to
allow you to be gallanted about by Dick or any other man, for that
matter, to set people gossipping? You an engaged young lady! And you,
sir!” he exclaimed, turning angrily to Alexander—“Thunder and lightning!
what do _you_ mean, sir, by your excuses and your hesitations? Do you
mean to slight your betrothed, sir?”
“Heaven forbid!” answered Alexander, earnestly. “I told you the reason
why I hesitated—that I had an engagement to dinner, but that
engagement—every lighter engagement—shall give way to your will, sir,
and my dear cousin’s service.”
And so saying he bowed to his uncle, and would have lifted his cousin’s
hand to his lips, but that she drew it away with a mocking smile as she
said:
“Thanks, Mr. ‘Joseph Surface.’ As I am resolved to see the opera, and as
I cannot do so without your escort, I suppose I must accept it. Though I
tell you plainly that I would much rather have Dick’s company.”
“Anna!” exclaimed the general, again breaking in before Alexander could
reply; “Anna, this is unbearable! to tell your betrothed husband that
you would rather have another man’s company than his!—But Alick, my boy,
I must say that you brought it all on yourself by your tardiness and
seeming indifference.”
“I am very sorry if I have seemed to be indifferent, when in fact I was
very far from _really_ being so. I hope my dear cousin will forgive me,”
bowed Alexander.
“Oh, of course she will. She spoke only from petulance—nothing else,”
smiled the old gentleman.
But Anna said nothing.
At this most unpropitious moment Mr. Richard Hammond was announced and
entered the room.