Part 55 (1/2)
”Ye've taken such a liberty, sir 'deed ye've forgotten yourself!”
While she was speaking; she grew confused with the thought that Braintop had mightily altered both his voice and shape. When on the doorstep he said; ”Come out of the darkness or, upon my honour, I shall behave worse,” she recognized Wilfrid, and understood by his yachting costume in what manner he had come. He gave her no time to think of her dignity or her wrath. ”Lady Charlotte is with me. I sleep at the hotel; but you have no objection to receive her, have you?” This set her mind upon her best bedroom, her linen, and the fitness of her roof to receive a t.i.tle. Then, in a partial fit of grat.i.tude for the honour, and immense thankfulness at being spared the task of the letter, she fell on Wilfrid's shoulder, beginning to sob--till he, in alarm at his absurd position, suggested that Lady Charlotte awaited a welcome. Mrs. Chump immediately flew to her drawing-room and rang bells, appearing presently with a lamp, which she set on a garden-pillar. Together they stood by the lamp, a spectacle to ocean: but no Lady Charlotte drew near.
CHAPTER, x.x.xVI
Though Mrs. Chump and Wilfrid, as they stood by the light of the lamp, saw no one, they themselves were seen. Lady Charlotte had arranged to give him a moment in advance to make his peace. She had settled it with that air of practical sense which her t.i.tle made graceful to him. ”I will follow; and I dare say I can complete what you leave unfinished,”
she said. Her humorous sense of the aristocratic prestige was conveyed to him in a very taking smile. He scarcely understood why she should have planned so decisively to bring about a reconciliation between Mrs.
Chump and his family; still, as it now chimed perfectly with his own views and wishes, he acquiesced in her scheme, giving her at the same time credit for more than common wisdom.
While Lady Charlotte lingered on the beach, she became aware of a figure that hung about her; as she was moving away, a voice of one she knew well enough asked to be directed to the house inhabited by Mrs. Chump.
The lady was more startled than it pleased her to admit to herself.
”Don't you know me?” she said, bluntly.
”You!” went Emilia's voice.
”Why on earth are you here? What brings you here? Are you alone?”
returned the lady.
Emilia did not answer.
”What extraordinary expedition are you making? But, tell me one thing: are you here of your own accord, or at somebody else's bidding?”
Impatient at the prospect of a continuation of silences, Lady Charlotte added, ”Come with me.”
Emilia seemed to be refusing.
”The appointment was made at that house, I know,” said the lady; ”but if you come with me, you will see him just as readily.”
At this instant, the lamp was placed on the pillar, showing Wilfrid, in his sailor's hat and overcoat, beside the fluttering Irishwoman.
”Come, I must speak to you first,” said Lady Charlotte hurriedly, thinking that she saw Emilia's hands stretch out. ”Pray, don't go into att.i.tudes. There he is, as you perceive; and I don't use witchcraft.
Come with me; I will send for him. Haven't you learnt by this time that there's nothing he detests so much as a public display of the kind you're trying to provoke?”
Emilia half comprehended her.
”He changes when he's away from me,” she said, low toneless voice.
”Less than I fancied,” the lady thought.
Then she told Emilia that there was really no necessity for her to whine and be miserable; she was among friends, and so forth. The simplicity of her manner of speech found its way to Emilia's reason quicker than her arguments; and, in the belief that Wilfrid was speaking to Mrs. Chump on urgent private matters (she had great awe of the word 'business'), Emilia suffered herself to be led away. She uttered twice a little exclamation, as she looked back, that sounded exceedingly comical to Lady Charlotte's ears. They were the repressions of a poignant outcry.
”Doggies make that noise,” thought the lady, and succeeded in feeling contemptuous.
Wilfrid, when he found that Lady Charlotte was not coming, bestowed a remark upon her s.e.x, and went indoors for his letter. He considered it politic not to read it there, Mrs. Chump having grown so friendly, and even motherly, that she might desire, out of pure affection, to share the contents. He put it by and talked gaily, till Mrs. Chump, partly to account for the defection of the lady, observed that she knew they had a quarrel. She was confirmed in this idea on a note being brought in to him, over which, before opening it, he frowned and flushed. Aware of the treachery of his countenance, he continued doing so after his eyes had taken in the words, though there was no special ground furnished by them for any such exhibition. Mrs. Chump immediately, with a gaze of mightiest tribulation, burst out: ”I'll help ye; 'pon my honour, I'll help ye. Oh! the arr'stocracy! Oh, their pride! But if I say, my dear, when I die (which it's so horrud to think of), you'll have a share, and the biggest--this vary cottage, and a good parrt o' the Bank property--she'll come down at that. And if ye marry a lady of t.i.tle, I'll be 's good as my word, I will.”
Wilfrid pressed her fingers. ”Can you ever believe that, I have called you a 'simmering pot of Emerald broth'?”
”My dear! annything that's lots o' words, Ye may call me,” returned Mrs.