Part 7 (2/2)
”Emily--Emily, poor dear Julian--”
”What the devil, ma'am, of Julian?” The general turned white as a sheet, and rang the bell, in singular calmness; probably for a dram of brandy.
Saunders answered it so instantly, that I rather suspect he was waiting just outside.
The moment Mrs. Tracy saw the gray-headed butler, antic.i.p.ating all that he might say, she brushed past him, and hurriedly ran up-stairs.
”What's all this, Mr. Saunders? where's Miss Warren?” And the poor old guardian seemed ready to faint at his reply: but he heard it out patiently.
”I am very sorry to say, general, that Miss Emily has been forced to take refuge at Sir Abraham Tamworth's: but she's well, sir, and safe, sir; quite well and safe,” the good man hastened to say, ”only I'm afraid that Mr. Julian had been taking liberties with--”
I dare not write the general's imprecation: then, as he clenched the arms of his easy-chair, as with the grasp of the dying, he asked, in a quick wild way--
”But what was it?--what happened?”
”Nothing to fear, sir--nothing at all, general;--I am thankful to say, that all I saw, and all we all saw, was Miss Emily pulling at the bell-rope with blood upon her face, and Mr. Julian on the floor: but I took the young lady to Sir Abraham's immediately, general, at her own desire.”
The father arose sternly; his first feeling was to kill Julian; but the second, a far better one, predominated--he must go and see Emily at once.
So, faintly leaning on the butler's arm, the poor old man (whom a moiety of ten minutes, with its crowding fears, had made to look some ten years older,) proceeded to the square, and knocked up Sir Abraham at midnight, and the admiral came down, half asleep, in dressing-gown and slippers, vexed at having been knocked up from his warm berth so uncomfortably: it put him sorely in remembrance of his hards.h.i.+ps as a middy.
”Kind neighbour, thank you, thank you; where's Emmy? take me to my Emmy;” and the iron-hearted veteran wept like a driveller.
Sir Abraham looked at him queerly: and then, in a cheerful, friendly way, replied--
”Dear general, do not be so moved: the girl's quite safe with us; you'll see her to-morrow morning. All's right; she was only frightened, and George has given the fellow a proper good licking: and the girl's a-bed, you know; and, eh? what?”--
For the poor old man, like one bereaved, said, supplicatingly--
”In mercy take me to her--precious child!”
”My dear sir--pray consider--it's impossible; fine girl, you know;--Lady Tamworth, too--can't be, can't be, you know, general.”
And the mystified Sir Abraham looked to Saunders for an explanation--
”Was his master drunk?”
”I must speak to her, neighbour; I must, must, and will--dear, dear child: come up with me, sir, come; do not trifle with a breaking heart, neighbour!”
There was a heart still in that hard-baked old East Indian.
It was impossible to resist such an appeal: so the two elders crept up stairs, and knocked softly at her chamber-door. Clearly, the girl was asleep: she had sobbed herself to sleep; the general had been looked for all day long, and she was worn with watching; he could hardly come at midnight; so the dear affectionate child had sobbed herself to sleep.
”Allow me, Sir Abraham.” And General Tracy whispered something at the key-hole in a strange tongue.
Not Aladdin's ”open Sesame” could have been more magical. In a moment, roused up suddenly from sleep, and forgetting every thing but those tender recollections of gentle care in infancy, and kindness all through life, the child of nature startled out of bed, drew the bolt, and in beauteous disarray, fell into that old man's arms!
It was enough; he had seen her eye to eye--she lived: and the white-haired veteran, suffered himself to be led away directly from the landing, like a child, by his sympathizing neighbour.
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