Volume I Part 57 (2/2)
”My partridges! my partridges! which are my partridges? Oh, to be sure!
I want to talk to you about Sewell. He has told you perhaps how ill we have behaved to him,--grossly, shamefully ill, I call it.”
”He has told me that the Government object to his having this appointment, but he has not explained on what ground.”
”Neither can I. Official life has its mysteries, and, hate them as one may, they must be respected; he ought n't to have sold out,--it was rank folly to sell out. What could he have in the world better than a continued succession of young fellows fresh from home, and knowing positively nothing of horse-flesh or billiards?”
”I don't understand you, sir,--that is, I hope I misunderstand you,”
said she, haughtily.
”I mean simply this, that I'd rather be a lieutenant-colonel with such opportunities than I 'd be Chairman of the Great Overland.”
”Opportunities--and for what?”
”For everything,--for everything; for game off the b.a.l.l.s, on every race in the kingdom, and as snug a thing every night over a devilled kidney as any man could wish for. Don't look shocked,--it's all on the square; that old hag that was here last week would have given her diamond ear-rings to find out something against Sewell, and she could n't.”
”You mean Lady Trafford?”
”I do. She stayed a week here just to blacken his character, and she never could get beyond that story of her son and Mrs. Sewell.”
”What story? I never heard of it.”
”A lie, of course, from beginning to end; and it's hard to imagine that she herself believed it.”
”But what was it?”
”Oh, a trumpery tale of young Trafford having made love to Mrs. Sewell, and proposed to run off with her, and Sewell having played a game at ecarte on it, and lost,--the whole thing being knocked up by Trafford's fall. But you must have heard it! The town talked of nothing else for a fortnight.”
”The town never had the insolence to talk of it to _me_.”
”What a stupid town! If there be anything really that can be said to be established in the code of society, it is that you may say anything to anybody about their relations. But for such a rule how could conversation go on?--who travels about with his friend's family-tree in his pocket? And as to Sewell,--I suppose I may say it,--he has not a truer friend in the world than myself.”
She bowed a very stiff acknowledgment of the speech, and he went on: ”I 'm not going to say he gets on well with his wife,--but who does? Did you ever hear of him who did? The fact I take to be this, that every one has a certain capital of good-nature and kindliness to trade on, and he who expends this abroad can't have so much of it for home consumption; that's how your insufferable husbands are such charming fellows for the world! Don't you agree with me?”
A very chilling smile, that might mean anything, was all her reply.
”I was there all the time,” continued he, with unabated fluency. ”I saw everything that went on: Sewell's policy was what our people call non-intervention; he saw nothing, heard nothing, believed nothing; and I will say there 's a great deal of dignity in that line; and when your servant comes to wake you in the morning, with the tidings that your wife has run away, you have established a right before the world to be distracted, injured, overwhelmed, and outraged to any extent you may feel disposed to appear.”
”Your thoughts upon morals are, I must say, very edifying, sir.”
”They 're always practical, so much I will say. This world is a composite sort of thing, with such currents of mixed motives running through it, if a man tries to be logical he is sure to make an a.s.s of himself, and one learns at last to become as flexible in his opinions and as elastic as the great British const.i.tution.
”I am delighted with your liberality, sir, and charmed with your candor; and as you have expressed your opinion so freely upon my husband and my son, would it appear too great a favor if I were to ask what you would say of myself?”
”That you are charming, Lady Lendrick,--positively charming,”
replied he, rapturously. ”That there is not a grace of manner, nor a captivation, of which you are not mistress; that you possess that attraction which excels all others in its influence; you render all who come within the sphere of your fascination so much your slaves that the cold grow enthusiastic, the distrustful become credulous, and even the cautious reserve of office gives way, and the well-trained private secretary of a Viceroy betrays himself into indiscretions that would half ruin an aide-de-camp.”
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