Part 63 (1/2)

I closed my ears to the profane violence of her language. I set the necessary example, as an English gentlewoman at the head of her household. It was only when I distinctly heard the name of a person, never to be mentioned again in my family circle, issue (if I may use the expression) from Blanche's lips that I began to be really alarmed. I said to my maid: 'Hopkins, this is not Hysteria. This is a possession of the devil. Fetch the chloroform.'”

Chloroform, applied in the capacity of an exorcism, was entirely new to Sir Patrick. He preserved his gravity with considerable difficulty. Lady Lundie went on:

”Hopkins is an excellent person--but Hopkins has a tongue. She met our distinguished medical guest in the corridor, and told him. He was so good as to come to the door. I was shocked to trouble him to act in his professional capacity while he was a visitor, an honored visitor, in my house. Besides, I considered it more a case for a clergyman than for a medical man. However, there was no help for it after Hopkins's tongue.

I requested our eminent friend to favor us with--I think the exact scientific term is--a Prognosis. He took the purely material view which was only to be expected from a person in his profession. He prognosed--_am_ I right? Did he prognose? or did he diagnose? A habit of speaking correctly is _so_ important, Sir Patrick! and I should be _so_ grieved to mislead you!”

”Never mind, Lady Lundie! I have heard the medical report. Don't trouble yourself to repeat it.”

”Don't trouble myself to repeat it?” echoed Lady Lundie--with her dignity up in arms at the bare prospect of finding her remarks abridged.

”Ah, Sir Patrick! that little const.i.tutional impatience of yours!--Oh, dear me! how often you must have given way to it, and how often you must have regretted it, in your time!”

”My dear lady! if you wish to repeat the report, why not say so, in plain words? Don't let me hurry you. Let us have the prognosis, by all means.”

Lady Lundie shook her head compa.s.sionately, and smiled with angelic sadness. ”Our little besetting sins!” she said. ”What slaves we are to our little besetting sins! Take a turn in the room--do!”

Any ordinary man would have lost his temper. But the law (as Sir Patrick had told his niece) has a special temper of its own. Without exhibiting the smallest irritation, Sir Patrick dextrously applied his sister-in-law's blister to his sister-in-law herself.

”What an eye you have!” he said. ”I was impatient. I _am_ impatient. I am dying to know what Blanche said to you when she got better?”

The British Matron froze up into a matron of stone on the spot.

”Nothing!” answered her ladys.h.i.+p, with a vicious snap of her teeth, as if she had tried to bite the word before it escaped her.

”Nothing!” exclaimed Sir Patrick.

”Nothing,” repeated Lady Lundie, with her most formidable emphasis of look and tone. ”I applied all the remedies with my own hands; I cut her laces with my own scissors, I completely wetted her head through with cold water; I remained with her until she was quite exhausted--I took her in my arms, and folded her to my bosom; I sent every body out of the room; I said, 'Dear child, confide in me.' And how were my advances--my motherly advances--met? I have already told you. By heartless secrecy.

By undutiful silence.”

Sir Patrick pressed the blister a little closer to the skin. ”She was probably afraid to speak,” he said.

”Afraid? Oh!” cried Lady Lundie, distrusting the evidence of her own senses. ”You can't have said that? I have evidently misapprehended you.

You didn't really say, afraid?”

”I said she was probably afraid--”

”Stop! I can't be told to my face that I have failed to do my duty by Blanche. No, Sir Patrick! I can bear a great deal; but I can't bear that. After having been more than a mother to your dear brother's child; after having been an elder sister to Blanche; after having toiled--I say _toiled,_ Sir Patrick!--to cultivate her intelligence (with the sweet lines of the poet ever present to my memory: 'Delightful task to rear the tender mind, and teach the young idea how to shoot!'); after having done all I have done--a place in the carriage only yesterday, and a visit to the most interesting relic of feudal times in Perths.h.i.+re--after having sacrificed all I have sacrificed, to be told that I have behaved in such a manner to Blanche as to frighten her when I ask her to confide in me, is a little too cruel. I have a sensitive--an unduly sensitive nature, dear Sir Patrick. Forgive me for wincing when I am wounded.

Forgive me for feeling it when the wound is dealt me by a person whom I revere.”

Her ladys.h.i.+p put her handkerchief to her eyes. Any other man would have taken off the blister. Sir Patrick pressed it harder than ever.

”You quite mistake me,” he replied. ”I meant that Blanche was afraid to tell you the true cause of her illness. The true cause is anxiety about Miss Silvester.”

Lady Lundie emitted another scream--a loud scream this time--and closed her eyes in horror.

”I can run out of the house,” cried her ladys.h.i.+p, wildly. ”I can fly to the uttermost corners of the earth; but I can _not_ hear that person's name mentioned! No, Sir Patrick! not in my presence! not in my room!

not while I am mistress at Windygates House!”

”I am sorry to say any thing that is disagreeable to you, Lady Lundie.