Volume Ii Part 14 (2/2)
She could n't speak with pa.s.sion; she was struck dumb with rage, and so, finding the enemy's artillery spiked, I opened a brisk fire at musket-range; in other words, I told her that all we had been hitherto doing abroad rarely went beyond making ourselves ridiculous, but that, though I liked fun, I could n't push a joke as far as a felony. And, finally, I declared, in a loud and very unmistakable manner, that as I had n't a sixpence to settle on James, I 'd not go through the mockery of engrossing a lie on parchment; that I thought very meanly of the whole farce we were carrying on; and that if I was only sure I could make myself intelligible in my French, I 'd just go straight to the Countess and say,--I 'm afraid to write the words as I spoke them, lest my spelling should be even worse than my p.r.o.nunciation, for they were in French, but the meaning was,--”I 'm no more a Prince than I 'm Primate of Ireland. I 'm a small country gentleman, with an embarra.s.sed estate and a rascally tenantry. I came abroad for economy, and it has almost ruined me. If you like my son, there he is for you; but don't flatter yourself that we possess either n.o.bility or fortune.”
”You 've done it now, you old--------.” The epithet was lost in a scream, Tom, for she went off in strong hysterics; so I just rang the bell for Mary Anne, and slipped quietly away to my own room. I trust it is a good conscience does it for me, but I find that I can almost always sleep soundly when I go to bed; and it is a great blessing, Tom,--for let me tell you, that after five or six and fifty, one's waking hours have more annoyances than pleasures about them; but the world is just like a man's mistress: he cares most for it when it is least fond of him!
I slept like a humming-top, and, indeed, there 's no saying when I should have awoke, if it had n't been for the knocking they kept up at my door.
It was Cary at last got admittance, and I had only to look in her face to see that a misfortune had befallen us.
”What is it, my dear?” said I.
”All kinds of worry and confusion, pappy,” said she, taking my hand in both of hers. ”The Countess is gone.”
”Gone?--how?--where?”
”Gone. Started this morning,--indeed, before daybreak,--I believe for Genoa; but there 's no knowing, for the people have been evidently bribed to secrecy.”
”What for?--with what object?”
”The short of the matter is this, pappy. She appears to have overheard some conversation--evidently intended to be of a private nature--that pa.s.sed between you and mamma last night. How she understood it does not appear, for, of course, you did n't talk French.”
”Let that pa.s.s. Proceed.”
”Whatever it was that she gathered, or fancied she gathered, one thing is certain: she immediately summoned her maid, and gave orders to pack up; post-horses were also ordered, but all with the greatest secrecy.
Meanwhile she indited a short note to Mary Anne, in which, after apologizing for a very unceremonious departure, she refers her to you and to mamma for the explanation, with a half-sarcastic remark 'that family confidences had much better be conducted in a measured tone of voice, and confined to the vernacular of the speakers.' With a very formal adieu to James, whom she styles 'votre estimable frre,' the letter concludes with an a.s.surance of deep and sincere consideration on the part of Josephine de St. A.”
”What does all this mean?” exclaimed I, with a terrible misgiving, Tom, that I knew only too well how the mischief originated.
”That is exactly what I want you to explain, pappy,” said she, ”for the letter distinctly refers to something within your knowledge.”
”I must see the doc.u.ment itself,” said I, cautiously; ”fetch me the letter.”
”James carried it off with him.”
”Off with him,--why, is he gone too?”
”Yes, pappy, he started with post-horses after her,--at least, so far as he could make out the road she travelled. Poor fellow! he seemed almost out of his mind when he left this.”
”And your mother, how is she?”
Cary shook her head mournfully.
Ah, Tom, I needed but the gesture to show me what was in store for me.
My fertile imagination daguerreotyped a great family picture, in which I was shortly to fill a most lamentable part. My prophetic soul--as a novelist would call it--depicted me once more in the dock, arraigned for the ruin of my children, the wreck of their prospects, and the downfall of the Dodds. I fancied that even Cary would turn against me, and almost thought I could hear her muttering, ”Ah, it was papa did it all!”
While I was thus communing with myself, I received a message from Mrs.
D. that she wished to see me. I take shame to myself for the confession, Tom, but I own that I felt it like an order to come up for sentence.
There could be no longer any question of my guilt,--my trial was over; there remained nothing but to hear the last words of the law, which seemed to say, ”Kenny Dodd, you have been convicted of a great offence.
By your blundering stupidity--your unbridled temper, and your gratuitous folly--you have destroyed your son's chance of worldly fortune, blasted his affections, and--and lost him four thousand a year. But your iniquity does not end even here. You have also--” As I reached this, the door opened, and Mrs. D., in her ”buff coat,” as I used to call a certain flannel dressing-gown that she usually donned for battle, slowly entered, followed by Mary Anne, with a whole pharmacopoeia of restoratives,--an ”ambulance” that plainly predicted hot work before us.
<script>