Part 57 (1/2)
”Won't you, by Gad?” roared my father; then turning to his two native servants, he spoke to them in Hindostanee. They immediately walked to the door, threw it wide open, and then coming back to me, were about to take me by the arms. I certainly felt my blood boil, but I recollected how necessary it was to keep my temper. I rose from my chair, and advancing to the side of the sofa I said--
”My dear father, as I perceive that you do not require your crutches at this moment, you will not perhaps object to my taking one. These foreign scoundrels must not be permitted to insult you through the person of your only son.”
”Turn him out,” roared my father.
The natives advanced, but I whirled the crutch round my head, and in a moment they were both prostrate. As soon as they gained their feet, I attacked them again, until they made their escape out of the room; I then shut the door and turned the key.
”Thank you, my dear sir,” said I, returning the crutch to where it was before. ”Many thanks for thus permitting me to chastise the insolence of these black scoundrels, whom, I take it for granted, you will immediately discharge;” and I again took my seat in the chair, bringing it closer to him.
The rage of the general was now beyond all bounds; the white foam was spluttered out of his mouth, as he in vain endeavoured to find words.
Once he actually rose from the sofa, to take the law in his own hands, but the effort seriously injured his leg, and he threw himself down in pain and disappointment.
”My dear father, I am afraid that, in your anxiety to help me, you have hurt your leg again,” said I, in a soothing voice.
”Sirrah, sirrah,” exclaimed he at last, ”if you think that this will do, you are very much mistaken. You don't know me. You may turn out a couple of cowardly blacks, but now I'll show you that I am not to be played with. I discard you for ever--I disinherit--I disacknowledge you. You may take your choice, either to quit this room, or be put into the hands of the police.”
”The police, my dear sir! What can the police do? I may call in the police for the a.s.sault just committed by your servants, and have them up to Bow Street, but you cannot charge me with an a.s.sault.”
”But I will, by Gad, sir, true or not true.”
”Indeed you would not, my dear father. A De Benyon would never be guilty of a lie. Besides, if you were to call in the police;--I wish to argue this matter coolly, because I ascribe your present little burst of ill-humour to your sufferings from your unfortunate accident. Allowing, then, my dear father, that you were to charge me with an a.s.sault, I should immediately be under the necessity of charging you also, and then we must both go to Bow Street together. Were you ever at Bow Street, general?” The general made no reply, and I proceeded. ”Besides, my dear sir, only imagine how very awkward it would be when the magistrate put you on your oath, and asked you to make your charge. What would you be obliged to declare? That you had married when young, and finding that your wife had no fortune, had deserted her the second day after your marriage. That you, an officer in the army, and the Honourable Captain De Benyon, had hung up your child at the gates of the Foundling Hospital--that you had again met your wife, married to another, and had been an accomplice in concealing her capital offence of bigamy, and had had meetings with her, although she belonged to another. I say meetings, for you did meet her, to receive her directions about me. I am charitable, and suspect nothing--others will not be so. Then, after her death, you come home and inquire about your son. His ident.i.ty is established,--and what then? not only you do not take him by the hand, in common civility, I might say, but you first try to turn him out of the house, and to give him in charge of the police; and then you will have to state for what. Perhaps you will answer me that question, for I really do not know.”
By this time, my honoured father's wrath had, to a certain degree, subsided: he heard all I had to say, and he felt how very ridiculous would have been his intended proceedings, and, as his wrath subsided, so did his pain increase: he had seriously injured his leg, and it was swelling rapidly--the bandages tightened in consequence, and he was suffering under the acutest pain. ”Oh, oh!” groaned he.
”My dear father, can I a.s.sist you?”
”Ring the bell, sir.”
”There is no occasion to summon a.s.sistance while I am here, my dear general. I can attend you professionally, and if you will allow me, will soon relieve your pain. Your leg has swollen from exertion, and the bandages must be loosened.”
He made no reply, but his features were distorted with extreme pain. I went to him, and proceeded to unloose the bandages, which gave him considerable relief. I then replaced them, _secundum artem_, and with great tenderness, and going to the sideboard, took the lotion which was standing there with the other bottles, and wetted the bandages. In a few minutes he was quite relieved. ”Perhaps, sir,” said I, ”you had better try to sleep a little. I will take a book, and shall have great pleasure in watching by your side.”
Exhausted with pain and violence, the general made no reply; he fell back on the sofa, and, in a short time, he snored most comfortably. ”I have conquered you,” thought I, as I watched him as he lay asleep. ”If I have not yet, I will, that I am resolved.” I walked gently to the door, unlocked it, and opening it without waking him, ordered some broth to be brought up immediately, saying that the general was asleep, and that I would wait for it outside. I accomplished this little manoeuvre, and reclosed the door without waking my father, and then I took my seat in the chair, and resumed my book, having placed the broth on the side of the fire grate to keep it warm. In about an hour he awoke, and looked around him.
”Do you want anything, my dearest father?” inquired I.
The general appeared undecided as to whether to recommence hostilities; but at last he said, ”I wish the attendance of my servants, sir.”
”The attendance of a servant can never be equal to that of your own son, general,” replied I, going to the fire, and taking the basin of broth, which I replaced upon the tray containing the _et cetera_ on a napkin.
”I expected you would require your broth, and I have had it ready for you.”
”It was what I did require, sir, I must acknowledge,” replied my father, and without further remark he finished the broth.
I removed the tray, and then went for the lotion, and again wetted the bandages on his leg. ”Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”
said I.
”Nothing--I am very comfortable.”
”Then, sir,” replied I, ”I will now take my leave. You have desired me to quit your presence for ever; and you attempted force. I resisted that, because I would not allow you to have the painful remembrance that you had injured one who had strong claims upon you, and had never injured you. I resented it also, because I wished to prove to you that I was a De Benyon, and had spirit to resist an insult. But, general, if you imagine that I have come here with a determination of forcing myself upon you, you are much mistaken. I am too proud, and happily am independent by my own exertions, so as not to require your a.s.sistance.