Volume I Part 50 (1/2)
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 cus.h.i.+ons 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 gla.s.s 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 Sat.u.r.day 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.
CHAPTER x.x.xVII. A STORMY MOMENT
Within a week after the first letter came a second from Cagliari. It was but half a dozen lines from Tom himself.
”They are sending me off to a place called Maddalena, dearest Lucy, for change of air The priest has given me his house, and I am to be Robinson Crusoe there, with an old hag for Friday,--how I wish for you! Sir Brook can only come over to me occasionally. Look out for three rocks--they call them islands--off the N. E. of Sardinia; one of them is mine.--Ever your own,
”Tom L.”
Lucy hastened down with this letter in her hand to her grandfather's room, but met Mr. Haire on the stairs, who whispered in her ear, ”Don't go in just yet, my dear; he is out of sorts this morning; Lady Lendrick has been here, and a number of unpleasant letters have arrived, and it is better not to disturb him further.”
”Will you take this note,” said she, ”and give it to him at any fitting moment? I want to know what I shall reply,--I mean, I 'd like to hear if grandpapa has any kind message to send the poor fellow.”
”Leave it with me. I 'll take charge of it, and come up to tell you when you can see the Judge.” Thus saying, he pa.s.sed on, and entered the room where the Chief Baron was sitting. The curtains were closely drawn, and in one of the windows the shutters were closed,--so sensitive to light was the old man in his periods of excitement. He lay back in a deep chair, his eyes closed, his face slightly flushed, breathing heavily, and the fingers of one hand twitching slightly at moments; the other was held by Beattie, as he counted the pulse. ”Dip that handkerchief in the cold lotion, and lay it over his forehead,” whispered Beattie to Haire.