Part 45 (1/2)
”Of course it does.”
”I suppose he is right in saying that you should not be out in the heat.”
”I do not know. It is not worth while to think about that. He sends me in, and so of course I must go. And he tells you to take me, and so of course you must take me.”
”Would you wish that I should let you go alone?”
”Yes, I would. Only he will be sure to find it out; and you must not tell him that you left me at my request.”
”Do you think that I am afraid of him?” said Phineas.
”Yes;--I think you are. I know that I am, and that papa is; and that his mother hardly dares to call her soul her own. I do not know why you should escape.”
”Mr. Kennedy is nothing to me.”
”He is something to me, and so I suppose I had better go on. And now I shall have that horrid man from the little town pawing me and covering everything with snuff, and bidding me take Scotch physic,--which seems to increase in quant.i.ty and nastiness as doses in England decrease. And he will stand over me to see that I take it.”
”What;--the doctor from Callender?”
”No;--but Mr. Kennedy will. If he advised me to have a hole in my glove mended, he would ask me before he went to bed whether it was done. He never forgot anything in his life, and was never unmindful of anything. That I think will do, Mr. Finn. You have brought me out from the trees, and that may be taken as bringing me home. We shall hardly get scolded if we part here. Remember what I told you up above. And remember also that it is in your power to do nothing else for me. Good-bye.” So he turned away towards the lake, and let Lady Laura go across the wide lawn to the house by herself.
He had failed altogether in his intention of telling his friend of his love for Violet, and had come to perceive that he could not for the present carry out that intention. After what had pa.s.sed it would be impossible for him to go to Lady Laura with a pa.s.sionate tale of his longing for Violet Effingham. If he were even to speak to her of love at all, it must be quite of another love than that. But he never would speak to her of love; nor,--as he felt quite sure,--would she allow him to do so. But what astounded him most as he thought of the interview which had just pa.s.sed, was the fact that the Lady Laura whom he had known,--whom he had thought he had known,--should have become so subject to such a man as Mr. Kennedy, a man whom he had despised as being weak, irresolute, and without a purpose! For the day or two that he remained at Loughlinter, he watched the family closely, and became aware that Lady Laura had been right when she declared that her father was afraid of Mr. Kennedy.
”I shall follow you almost immediately,” said the Earl confidentially to Phineas, when the candidate for the borough took his departure from Loughlinter. ”I don't like to be there just when the election is going on, but I'll be at Saulsby to receive you the day afterwards.”
Phineas took his leave from Mr. Kennedy, with a warm expression of friends.h.i.+p on the part of his host, and from Lady Laura with a mere touch of the hand. He tried to say a word; but she was sullen, or, if not, she put on some mood like to sullenness, and said never a word to him.
On the day after the departure of Phineas Finn for Loughton Lady Laura Kennedy still had a headache. She had complained of a headache ever since she had been at Loughlinter, and Dr. Mac.n.u.thrie had been over more than once. ”I wonder what it is that ails you,” said her husband, standing over her in her own sitting-room up-stairs. It was a pretty room, looking away to the mountains, with just a glimpse of the lake to be caught from the window, and it had been prepared for her with all the skill and taste of an accomplished upholsterer. She had selected the room for herself soon after her engagement, and had thanked her future husband with her sweetest smile for giving her the choice. She had thanked him and told him that she always meant to be happy,--so happy in that room! He was a man not much given to romance, but he thought of this promise as he stood over her and asked after her health. As far as he could see she had never been even comfortable since she had been at Loughlinter. A shadow of the truth came across his mind. Perhaps his wife was bored. If so, what was to be the future of his life and of hers? He went up to London every year, and to Parliament, as a duty; and then, during some period of the recess, would have his house full of guests,--as another duty. But his happiness was to consist in such hours as these which seemed to inflict upon his wife the penalty of a continual headache. A shadow of the truth came upon him. What if his wife did not like living quietly at home as the mistress of her husband's house? What if a headache was always to be the result of a simple performance of domestic duties?
More than a shadow of truth had come upon Lady Laura herself.
The dark cloud created by the entire truth was upon her, making everything black and wretched around her. She had asked herself a question or two, and had discovered that she had no love for her husband, that the kind of life which he intended to exact from her was insupportable to her, and that she had blundered and fallen in her entrance upon life. She perceived that her father had already become weary of Mr. Kennedy, and that, lonely and sad as he would be at Saulsby by himself, it was his intention to repudiate the idea of making a home at Loughlinter. Yes;--she would be deserted by everyone, except of course by her husband; and then-- Then she would throw herself on some early morning into the lake, for life would be insupportable.
”I wonder what it is that ails you,” said Mr. Kennedy.
”Nothing serious. One can't always help having a headache, you know.”
”I don't think you take enough exercise, Laura. I would propose that you should walk four miles every day after breakfast. I will always be ready to accompany you. I have spoken to Dr. Mac.n.u.thrie--”
”I hate Dr. Mac.n.u.thrie.”
”Why should you hate Dr. Mac.n.u.thrie, Laura?”
”How can I tell why? I do. That is quite reason enough why you should not send for him to me.”
”You are unreasonable, Laura. One chooses a doctor on account of his reputation in his profession, and that of Dr. Mac.n.u.thrie stands high.”
”I do not want any doctor.”