Part 62 (2/2)

OUTWITTED.

SIR PATRICK found his sister-in-law immersed in domestic business. Her ladys.h.i.+p's correspondence and visiting list, her ladys.h.i.+p's household bills and ledgers; her ladys.h.i.+p's Diary and Memorandum-book (bound in scarlet morocco); her ladys.h.i.+p's desk, envelope-case, match-box, and taper candlestick (all in ebony and silver); her ladys.h.i.+p herself, presiding over her responsibilities, and wielding her materials, equal to any calls of emergency, beautifully dressed in correct morning costume, blessed with perfect health both of the secretions and the principles; absolutely void of vice, and formidably full of virtue, presented, to every properly-const.i.tuted mind, the most imposing spectacle known to humanity--the British Matron on her throne, asking the world in general, When will you produce the like of Me?

”I am afraid I disturb you,” said Sir Patrick. ”I am a perfectly idle person. Shall I look in a little later?”

Lady Lundie put her hand to her head, and smiled faintly.

”A little pressure _here,_ Sir Patrick. Pray sit down. Duty finds me earnest; Duty finds me cheerful; Duty finds me accessible. From a poor, weak woman, Duty must expect no more. Now what is it?” (Her ladys.h.i.+p consulted her scarlet memorandum-book.) ”I have got it here, under its proper head, distinguished by initial letters. P.--the poor.

No. H.M.--heathen missions. No. V.T.A.--Visitors to arrive. No. P. I.

P.--Here it is: private interview with Patrick. Will you forgive me the little harmless familiarity of omitting your t.i.tle? Thank you! You are always so good. I am quite at your service when you like to begin. If it's any thing painful, pray don't hesitate. I am quite prepared.”

With that intimation her ladys.h.i.+p threw herself back in her chair, with her elbows on the arms, and her fingers joined at the tips, as if she was receiving a deputation. ”Yes?” she said, interrogatively. Sir Patrick paid a private tribute of pity to his late brother's memory, and entered on his business.

”We won't call it a painful matter,” he began. ”Let us say it's a matter of domestic anxiety. Blanche--”

Lady Lundie emitted a faint scream, and put her hand over her eyes.

”_Must_ you?” cried her ladys.h.i.+p, in a tone of touching remonstrance.

”Oh, Sir Patrick, _must_ you?”

”Yes. I must.”

Lady Lundie's magnificent eyes looked up at that hidden court of human appeal which is lodged in the ceiling. The hidden court looked down at Lady Lundie, and saw--Duty advertising itself in the largest capital letters.

”Go on, Sir Patrick. The motto of woman is Self-sacrifice. You sha'n't see how you distress me. Go on.”

Sir Patrick went on impenetrably--without betraying the slightest expression of sympathy or surprise.

”I was about to refer to the nervous attack from which Blanche has suffered this morning,” he said. ”May I ask whether you have been informed of the cause to which the attack is attributable?”

”There!” exclaimed Lady Lundie with a sudden bound in her chair, and a sudden development of vocal power to correspond. ”The one thing I shrank from speaking of! the cruel, cruel, cruel behavior I was prepared to pa.s.s over! And Sir Patrick hints on it! Innocently--don't let me do an injustice--innocently hints on it!”

”Hints on what, my dear Madam?”

”Blanche's conduct to me this morning. Blanche's heartless secrecy.

Blanche's undutiful silence. I repeat the words: Heartless secrecy.

Undutiful silence.”

”Allow me for one moment, Lady Lundie--”

”Allow _me,_ Sir Patrick! Heaven knows how unwilling I am to speak of it. Heaven knows that not a word of reference to it escaped _my_ lips.

But you leave me no choice now. As mistress of the household, as a Christian woman, as the widow of your dear brother, as a mother to this misguided girl, I must state the facts. I know you mean well; I know you wish to spare me. Quite useless! I must state the facts.”

Sir Patrick bowed, and submitted. (If he had only been a bricklayer! and if Lady Lundie had not been, what her ladys.h.i.+p unquestionably was, the strongest person of the two!)

”Permit me to draw a veil, for your sake,” said Lady Lundie, ”over the horrors--I can not, with the best wish to spare you, conscientiously call them by any other name--the horrors that took place up stairs. The moment I heard that Blanche was ill I was at my post. Duty will always find me ready, Sir Patrick, to my dying day. Shocking as the whole thing was, I presided calmly over the screams and sobs of my step-daughter.

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