Volume I Part 3 (1/2)
”And how are you, dear Mrs. Dobbs?” asked Mrs. Simpson, taking her hostess's hand between both her own. ”And dear May--where's May?”
”May has been away from home on a visit since yesterday morning. She won't come back before Monday.”
”And may one ask where she is? It is not, I presume, a Mystery of Udolpho!”
”She is at the Hadlows'.”
”The Hadlows'? Canon Hadlow's?” cried Mrs. Simpson, clasping her hands with a gesture of amazement. Then she added rather inconsistently, ”Well, I'm not surprised. I know they have lately taken a great deal of notice of her. Miss Hadlow and she having been at school together, of course created an intimacy which--ah, the friends.h.i.+ps of early youth, where they _are_ genuine, have a warmth, a charm----”
”_Now_, Amelia!” interposed her husband's rasping voice. (This e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n was his habitual manner of recalling Mrs. Simpson's attention to the matter in hand, whatever it might be; for the good lady's mind was discursive.) ”If you'll be kind enough to leave off your nonsense, we can begin our game. Come and cut for partners.”
An earnest whist player would have been outraged by the performances of the four persons who met weekly in Mrs. Dobbs's parlour. They chatted, they misdealt, they even revoked sometimes; and they overlooked each other's misdemeanours with unscrupulous laxity. In a word, they regarded the n.o.ble game of whist merely as a means and not as an end, and were scandalously bent on amusing themselves regardless of Hoyle. The only one of the party who had any pretensions to play tolerably was Mr.
Weatherhead. But even his attention was always to be diverted from his cards by a new piece of gossip. And perhaps, it was as well that he did not take the game too much to heart--especially on the present occasion; for the fair Amelia fell to his lot as a partner, and her performances with the cards were calculated to drive a zealous player into a nervous fever.
The first hand or two proceeded in decorous silence. But by degrees the players began to talk, throwing out first detached sentences, and at last boldly entering into general conversation.
”Ba.s.sy had a great deal of trouble with the choir this evening,” said Mrs. Simpson plaintively. ”The sopranos were _so_ inattentive! And inattention is so particularly--oh dear, I beg pardon, I _have_ a diamond! Well, it does not much matter, for we couldn't have made the odd trick in any case.”
”A nice business at Sheffield with those Trades Unions,” said Mr.
Weatherhead. ”Some severe measures ought to be taken; but they won't be.
That's what your precious Liberalism comes to!--Your lead, Simpson.”
”Nonsense about Liberalism, Jo Weatherhead,” replied Mrs. Dobbs. ”I believe you'd like to accuse the Liberals of the bad weather.
There!--Did you ever see such a hand? One trump! and that fell. Mrs.
Simpson playing out her knave misled me.”
”Oh, if you reckon on Amelia's having any sufficient motive for playing one card more than another----” exclaimed Amelia's husband. ”Have you heard, Mrs. Dobbs, that Mr. Bransby is getting better?”
”What Bransby is that?” asked Mr. Weatherhead, thrusting his head forward inquiringly.
”Cadell and Bransby, Solicitors to the Dean and Chapter.”
”Oh-o! He has been ill, then?”
”Very ill. But I hear he was p.r.o.nounced out of danger on Wednesday.”
”Is it not good news?” cried Mrs. Simpson. ”Such a misfortune for his young family! I mean if he had died, you know.”
”But I suppose he's a warm man, isn't he? Cadell and Bransby--it's a fine business, isn't it?” asked Mr. Weatherhead.
”It had need be,” rejoined the organist, ”to maintain that tribe of boys and girls, and an extravagant young wife into the bargain.”
”Oh, Ba.s.sy, but they are such pretty children! And Mrs. Bransby is so truly elegant and interesting. All her bonnets come from Paris, I am told. And indeed there is a certain style----Eh? You _don't_ mean to say that spades are trumps? What a disappointment! I thought I had all four honours.”
This ingenuous speech might have called forth some remonstrance from Mrs. Simpson's partner, but that the latter was too much interested in the subject of the Bransbys to attend to it.
”The eldest son is provided for by his mother's fortune, isn't he?” he inquired.
”Well--'provided for;' I don't know that it is very much. But it was all tightly settled. Otherwise Bransby's second marriage would have been a greater misfortune for the young man than it is,” replied the organist.
”I don't see that it is any misfortune at all,” observed Mrs. Dobbs.
”Theodore Bransby is quite well enough off for a young fellow. And why shouldn't his father marry again if he liked it?”