"How well Marion looks," said Ada Norton to her husband, as, seated in
one of the brilliantly-lighted drawing-rooms at the Castle, they watched
her receiving fresh guests, on the night of the party. The Nortons had
dined there, and all had gone off, so far, most successfully; people
coming from a great distance just for an hour in the evening,--an
invitation to the Castle being something not to be slighted.
"Yes, she looks well," said Norton, calmly. "The old weary air seems to
have passed away entirely. I used to think that Gernon did not use her
well, but, thank Heaven, I believe I misjudged him."
"Oh yes, I think so," said Mrs Norton, hastily. "I am so much in her
confidence that I think something of the kind would have oozed out, if
such had been the case. And yet I don't know," she continued in a tone
of reproach; "Marion has, like other people, her secrets."
Norton turned sharply round; but Lady Gernon approaching, the
conversation ceased.
"Mamma says you have not spoken to her to-night, Ada," said Lady Gernon,
whose face was flushed with excitement; and never had Norton thought her
beauty more regal than now, as she stood before him with a brilliant
tiara of sapphires and diamonds in her hair, while the large cross of
pure and costly gems rose and fell with the soft heaving of her bosom.
"You extravagant woman!" laughed Ada, in reference to her cousin's
jewels. "If I had those sapphires I should never dare to wear them."
"Murray always likes me to wear them on these particular occasions,"
said Lady Gernon, carelessly; and, after exchanging a pleasant smile
with Norton, she moved away towards where Mrs Elstree was seated.
In spite of himself, Sir Murray Gernon frowned at the sight of that
smile; but he turned away the next moment, to encounter his butler, at
whom he gazed for a moment, and then, walking close up to him, he said,
severely, "I told you I should not look over the next occasion, sir.
Come to the library for your wages at ten to-morrow morning."
John Gurdon's face broke out into a profuse perspiration as he heard
that sentence--one from which he knew there was no appeal--and he darted
a scowling look of hatred at his master as he turned away. For Gurdon
knew the justice of the decree: he had been drinking again. He had
fought with the temptation, but the fine old wines, constantly to his
hand, had been too much for him; and he had again succumbed, so that, as
he stood there that moment beneath one of the brilliant chandeliers, in
the midst of wealth and splendour, he saw himself beggared and
wretched--a poor, out-of-place servant, whom no one would employ on
account of his potent vice.
But a feeling of rage and hatred filled his breast the next instant, as
he turned to single out his master; but he had disappeared, and with
lowering brow the butler left the room to attend to some call.
Sir Murray Gernon had entered the blue-room, one of the handsome suite
of drawing-rooms at the Castle, where he came upon a knot of his male
friends, amongst whom stood Mr Elstree. He would have avoided them,
but for some earnest mention of Norton's name, that was made in a low
tone, and in spite of himself he said hastily:
"What's that about Captain Norton?"
"Ruined, I fear," said Mr Elstree. "Those mines have collapsed--
perfect crash--heavy calls on the shareholders, I'm told. We were
remarking how calmly the poor fellow takes it. Poor Ada cannot know,
for she is laughing happily with my wife."
"These things are better kept from the ladies, I think," said a friend.
"I'm sorry for them, though."
"Unworldly man!"--"foolish speculation!"--"perfect madness!" were
amongst the remarks Sir Murray then heard made, when he turned to gaze
at his stricken guest, who, apparently quite calm and untroubled by a
care, had risen from his seat and crossed to where Lady Gernon was
standing. A minute after, she had left Mrs Norton with her mother,
placed her arm in Captain Norton's, and with him crossed towards the
conservatory, where, amidst the golden-fruited oranges, the
heavily-scented exotics, and the soft light diffused from
flower-encircled and shaded lamp, a few of the guests were seated, or
wandering in what seemed to be a fragment of some tropic land.
It was hard work for Sir Murray to preserve his calm and smiling aspect
amidst his guests when such thoughts as troubled him were struggling in
his breast. But he was determined to show no anger, and, with the
intention of walking quietly into the conservatory, he passed through
the drawing-room, where Gurdon was handing tea to the party conversing
at one of the tables.
Just then a gentleman arrested him, and kept him in conversation upon
some political matter for quite a quarter of an hour, his courtly
politeness even now preventing him from hurrying away; but at length,
with a sinking at his heart, he stepped into the conservatory to see
several friends enjoying the soft coolness of the flower-scented place;
but those whom he sought were not there.
He turned to leave--a strange feeling of excitement making his breast to
throb, and the blood to flush giddily to his head. He passed through
the different well-lit rooms, but without seeing the pair of whom he was
in quest; and, scarcely in command of his actions, he was about to make
some eager inquiry, when Gurdon approached, bearing a small tray with
tea.
"Looking for my lady, Sir Murray?" he said. "She's at the back of the
orangery with Captain Norton."
John Gurdon's eyes glittered as he spoke, for he was sobered now by the
former meeting with his master, and the excitement of what was in his
mind. Sir Murray knew that the man saw his emotion, but he could not
hide it then; and with a muttered oath he once more entered the
conservatory, but had not advanced more than a few paces when he became
aware that he was followed.
Turning upon the instant, he found that Gurdon was close behind him with
the tray.
"Go back into the drawing-room!" he said, sternly, though he repented
his speech the next minute, for, with a meaning smile, the man met his
eye, and then stopped short, but made no movement to return.
Gurdon was right; for on turning a corner, Sir Murray came suddenly upon
Lady Gernon seated by Captain Norton's side. Her head was bent, and the
tears were falling fast, while he was speaking to her earnestly. There
was no one near: the voices from the crowded rooms came only in a
murmur. They, too, were speaking in soft and subdued tones. But one
word fell upon Sir Murray's ear, and that word was "love!" He heard
neither the preceding nor the concluding spread over the brightly-tiled
floor--he was standing by their side before they were aware of his
approach, when, with a start of dread, Lady Gernon half rose from her
seat, but only to sink back, gazing at her husband.
For a few moments Sir Murray stood, unable to speak in the calm tones he
desired; for even then he dreaded a scene and the comments of his
guests, when--approaching quite unheard, so that he, too, was in the
midst of the group before his presence was noticed--Gurdon appeared, to
look full in his master's face as he handed the tray he bore.
"Tea, sir?" he said.
"Stand back!" exclaimed Sir Murray, fiercely, and with his raised hand
he struck the man heavily across the chest, causing him to stagger back,
and the tray fell with a crash upon the floor.
"You shall pay for this!" muttered the man, rising, but only to drop on
one knee, napkin in hand, the next moment, and commence gathering up the
fragments.
"Leave this place, sir, this instant!" exclaimed Sir Murray, fiercely;
and muttering still, but with a supercilious leer at all present, Gurdon
slouched off, passing between the assembled guests, who, alarmed by the
crash and loud, angry words, were now inquiring the cause.
"Nothing--nothing wrong," exclaimed Sir Murray, with a ghastly show of
being at ease. "A drunken servant, that is all. Lady Gernon, let me
take you into the drawing-room."
Glances were exchanged; but the sullen countenance of Gurdon, the
spilled tea, and the broken cups and saucers, afforded sufficient
explanation, and the visitors slowly filtered back into the different
rooms, in one of which another accident had taken place.
As Sir Murray, trembling with suppressed anger, entered the inner
drawing-room, known as the blue-room, he saw Gurdon, napkin and tray in
hand, standing as if waiting his coming, his face breaking into a
mocking smile upon his master's entrance, closely followed by Captain
Norton, who, so far, had not spoken a word.
"Go to your mother, Marion," said Sir Murray. "I must have a few more
words with this man."
"With whom?" exclaimed Lady Gernon. "With my servant, madam," said Sir
Murray, loudly. "Not with Captain Norton now. But where is your
cross?"
"My cross!" stammered Lady Gernon; and her hand involuntarily sought the
place where it had hung. "I had it when I--when--"
"Yes, when you entered the conservatory," said Sir Murray, a suspicion
crossing his breast; "but where is it now?"
"I do not know!" exclaimed Lady Gernon, whose agitation became extreme.
The rumour of the failing mines; Captain Norton's poverty; his own
jealousy; thought after thought flashed across Sir Murray Gernon's brain
in an instant of time.
"Go to your guests," he said sternly. "There are people coming this
way, and I wish to avoid a scene. James," he said, beckoning to a
footman, "see that man, Gurdon, into the little garden-room, lock him
up, and then fetch a constable."
"What for--what for?" said Gurdon, loudly. "You don't think, do you,
that I've got the cross?"
"Silence, sir! Take him away!" exclaimed Sir Murray, sternly. Then,
turning to Captain Norton, he said in a whisper, "There are two things
in this world, Philip Norton, that I value: my honour and those old
family jewels."
"I am attending to your words," said Norton, coldly; for he had just met
an imploring look from Marion.
"I told you, Lady Gernon, to go to your guests!" said Sir Murray, in an
angry whisper.
"No, Murray," she said. "I shall stay!"
"In Heaven's name, then, stay!" he said, angrily, "and hear what I would
say. I value my honour and those family jewels, Captain Norton," he
continued, facing his guest; "and the man who filches from me one or the
other does so at the risk of his life!"
"What!" exclaimed Lady Gernon, with a horrified aspect, "do you for a
moment suppose, Murray, that Captain Norton--"
"Where is that sapphire cross?" exclaimed Sir Murray.
"Indeed--indeed--"
"Silence, madam! I will have no scene!" hissed Sir Murray, angrily.
"You, as my wife, hold those jewels in trust for me; and I should hold
him who took them, even as a gift, as a robber of what is mine."
"Sir Murray Gernon, you are mad!" exclaimed Norton--"you know not what
you say, and--Hush! sir, no words. Lady Gernon has fainted!"
Book 1, Chapter XVI.