The Daltons Volume I Part 38

"I 've taken to h.o.m.oe-h.o.m.oe-h.o.m.oe-h.o.m.o--" Here he opened his mouth wide, and gasped till he grew black in the face.

"What's the word? Give it him, Haggy. It's all up with him," said the Viscount.

"h.o.m.oeopathy, eh?"

"Just so. Homeo-hom--"

"Confound it, man, can't you be satisfied? when you're once over the fence, you need n't go back to leap it. And how is the dear what's her name Agathe? no, Zoe, how is she?"

"Quite well, my Lord, and would be cha-cha-cha-rmed to see you."

"Living in that queer humbug still, eh?"

"In the Vill-ino, my Lord, you mean?"

"Egad! she seems the only thing left; like the dog on the wreck, eh, Haggy?"

"Just so, my Lord," said the other, with a complacent laugh.

"What a ma.s.s of old crockery she must have got together by this time!" said the Viscount, yawning with a terrible recollection of her tiresomeness.

"You came out with a yacht, my Lord?" asked Haggerstone.

"Pretty well, for a man that they call ru-ru-ruined," said Purvis, laughing.

Norwood turned a look of angry indignation at him, and then, as if seeing the unworthiness of the object, merely said,

"A yacht is the only real economy nowadays. You get rid at once of all trains of servants, household, stable people; even the bores of your acquaintance you cut off. By-by, Purvis." And, with a significant wink at Haggerstone, he pa.s.sed across the street, in time to overtake Onslow, who was just pa.s.sing.

"I think I ga-ga-gave it him there," cried Purvis, with an hysteric giggle of delight; who, provided that he was permitted to fire his shot, never cared how severely he was himself riddled by the enemy's fire.

Meanwhile, the Viscount and his friend were hastening forward to the Mazzarini Palace, as totally forgetful of Purvis as though that valuable individual had never existed.

We may take this opportunity to mention, that when the rumors which attributed a grand breach of honorable conduct to Lord Norwood had arrived at Florence, Sir Stafford, who never had any peculiar affection for the Viscount, declared himself in the very strongest terms on the subject of his offending, and took especial pains to show the marked distinction between occasions of mere wasteful extravagance and instances of fraudulent and dishonest debt.

It was in vain he was told that the rigid rule of English morality is always relaxed abroad, and that the moral lat.i.tude is very different in London and Naples. He was old-fas.h.i.+oned enough to believe that honor is the same in all climates; and having received from England a very detailed and specific history of the n.o.ble Lord's misdoings, he firmly resolved not to receive him.

With all George Onslow's affection and respect for his father, he could not help feeling that this was a mere prejudice, one of the lingering remnants of a past age; a sentiment very respectable, perhaps, but totally inapplicable to present civilization, and quite impracticable in society. In fact, as he said himself, "Who is to be known, if this rule be acted on? What man or, further still, what woman of fas.h.i.+onable life will stand this scrutiny? To attempt such exclusiveness, one should retire to some remote provincial town, some fis.h.i.+ng-village of patriarchal simplicity; and, even there, what security was there against ign.o.ble offendings? How should, he stand the ridicule of his club and his acquaintance if he attempted to a.s.sume such a standard?" These arguments were strengthened by his disbelief, or rather his repugnance to believe the worst of Norwood; and furthermore, supported by Lady Hester's open scorn for all such "hypocritical trumpery," and her avowal that the Viscount should be received, by her, at least. Exactly as of old, George Onslow's mind was in a state of oscillation and doubt now leaning to this side, now inclining to that when the question was decided for him, as it so often is in like cases, by a mere accident; for, as he loitered along the street, he suddenly felt an arm introduced within his own. He turned hastily round and saw Norwood, who, with, all his customary coolness, asked after each member of the family, and at once proposed to pay them a visit.

Of all men living, none were less suited than Onslow for a.s.suming any part, or taking any decisive line, which could possibly be avoided, or even postponed. He hated, besides, to do an ungracious thing anywhere, or to any one. It might be, thought he, that Norwood's sc.r.a.pe could all be explained away. Perhaps, after all, the thing is a mere trifle; and if he were to take the decided line of cutting a man without due cause, the consequences might be most injurious. These, and fifty such-like scruples, warred within him, and so engaged his attention that he actually heard not one word of all that "town gossip" which Norwood was retailing for his amus.e.m.e.nt. At last, while following out his own thoughts, George came to the resolution of finding out at once the precise position in which Norwood stood, and to this end asked the last news from Newmarket.

Norwood's coolness never forsook him at a question whose very suddenness was somewhat awkward.

"Bad enough," said he, with an easy laugh. "We have all of us been 'hit hard.' Knolesby has lost heavily. Burchester, too, has had a smasher; and I myself have not escaped. In fact, George, the 'Legs' have had it all their own way. I suppose you heard something about it out here?"

"Why, yes; there were reports--"

"Oh, hang reports, man! Never trust to old women's tales. And that confounded fellow, Haggerstone, I 'm certain, has been spreading all kinds of stories. But the facts are simple enough."

"I 'm heartily glad you say so; for, to tell you the truth, Norwood, my father is one of the prejudiced about this affair, and I 'm dying to be able to give him a full explanation of the whole."

"Ah, Sir Stafford, too, among the credulous!" said Norwood, slowly. "I could scarcely have supposed so. No matter; only I did fancy that he was not exactly the person to form hasty conclusions against any man's character. However, you may tell him for, as for myself, I 'll not condescend to explain to any one but you the thing is a very simple one. There was a mare of Hopeton's, a Brockdon filly, entered for the Slingsby, and a number of us agreed to 'go a heavy thing' upon her against the field. A bold coup always, George, that backing against the field. Never do it, my boy, and particularly when you 've a set of rascally foreign Legs banded against you, Poles and Hungarian fellows, George; the downiest coves ever you met, and who, in their confounded jargon, can sell you before your own face. Nothing like John Bull, my boy. Straight, frank, and open John forever! Hit him hard and he 'll hit you again; but no treachery, no stab in the dark. Oh, no, no! The turf in England was another thing before these Continental rascals came amongst us. I was always against admitting them within the ring. I black-balled a dozen of them at the Club. But see what perseverance does; they're all in now. There's no John-Bull feeling among our set, and we 're paying a smart price for it. Never trust those German fellows, George. Out of England there is no truth, no honor. But, above all, don't back against the field; there are so many dodges against you; so many 'dark horses' come out fair. That 's it, you see; that 's the way I got it so heavily; for when Ruxton came and told me that 'Help-me-Over' was dead lame, I believed him. A fetlock lameness is no trifle, you know; and there was a swelling as large as my hand around the coronet. The foreign fellows can manage that in the morning, and the horse will run to win the same day. I saw it myself. Ah, John Bull forever! No guile, no deceit in him. Mind me, George, I make this confession for you alone. I 'll not stoop to repeat it. If any man dare to insinuate anything to my discredit, I 'll never give myself the trouble of one word of explanation, but nail him to it, twelve paces, and no mistake. I don't think my right hand has forgot its cunning. Have him out at once, George; parade him on the spot, my boy; that 's the only plan. What! is this your quarter?" asked he, as they stopped at the entrance of the s.p.a.cious palace. "I used to know this house well of old.

It was the Emba.s.sy in Templeton's time. Very snug it used to be. Glad to see you 've banished all those maimed old deities that used to line the staircase, and got rid of that tiresome tapestry, too. Pretty vases those; fresh-looking that conservatory, they 're always strong in camellias in Florence. This used to be the billiard-room. I think you've made a good alteration; it looks better as a salon. Ah, I like this, excellent taste that chintz furniture; just the thing for Italy, and exactly what n.o.body thought of before!"

"I'll see if my Lady be visible," said George, as he threw the "Morning Post" to his friend, and hastily quitted the chamber.

Norwood was no sooner left alone than he proceeded to take a leisurely survey of the apartment, in the course of which his attention was arrested by a water-color drawing, representing a young girl leaning over a balcony, and which he had no difficulty in at once guessing to be Kate Dalton. There was something in the character of her beauty an air of almost daring haughtiness that seemed to strike his fancy; for, as he gazed, he drew himself up to his full height, and seemed to a.s.sume in his own features the proud expression of the portrait.

"With a hundred thousand and that face one might make you a viscountess, and yet not do badly, either," said he to himself; and then, as if satisfied that he had given time enough to a mere speculative thought, he turned over the visiting-cards to see the names of the current acquaintance: "Midchekoff, Estrolenka, Janini, Tiverton, Latrobe, the old set; the Ricketts, too, and Haggerstone. What can have brought them here? Oh, there must have been a ball, for here are shoals of outsiders, the great Smith-Brown-and-Thompson community; and here, on the very smallest of pasteboards, in the very meekest of literals, have we our dear friend 'Albert Jekyl.' He 'll tell me all I want to know,"

said Norwood, as he threw himself back on the comfortable depth of a well-cus.h.i.+oned chair, and gave way to a pleasant revery.

When George Ouslow had informed Lady Hester of Norwood's arrival, he hastened to Sir Stafford's apartment to tell him how completely the Viscount had exonerated himself from any charge that might be made to his discredit; not, indeed, that George understood one syllable of the explanation, nor could trace anything like connection between the disjointed links of the narrative. He could only affirm his own perfect conviction in Norwood's honor, and hoped an equal degree of faith from his father. Fortunately for his powers of persuasiveness, they were not destined to be so sorely tried; for Sir Stafford had just walked out, and George, too eager to set all right about Norwood, took his hat and followed, in the hope of overtaking him.

Lady Hester was already dressed, and about to enter the drawing-room, when George told her that Norwood was there; and yet she returned to her room and made some changes in her toilet, slight, and perhaps too insignificant to record, but yet of importance enough to occupy some time, and afford her an interval for thoughts which, whatever their nature, served to flush her cheek and agitate her deeply.

It is an awkward thing, at any time, to meet with the person to whom you once believed you should have been married; to see, on the terms of mere common acquaintance, the individual with whose fate and fortune you at one time fancied your own was indissolubly bound up, for weal or woe, for better or for worse. To exchange the vapid commonplaces of the world; to barter the poor counters of that petty game called society, with her or him with whom you have walked in all the unbounded confidence of affection, speculating on a golden future, or glorying in a delicious dream of present bliss; to touch with ceremonious respect that hand you have so often held fast within your own; to behold with respectful distance that form beside which you have sat for hours, lost in happy fancies; to stand, as it were, and trace out with the eye some path in life we might have followed, wondering whither it would have led us, if to some higher pinnacle of gratified ambition, if to disappointments darker than those we have ever known, speculating on a future which is already become a past, and canva.s.sing within our hearts the follies that have misled and the faults that have wrecked us! Such are among the inevitable reminiscences of meeting; and they are full of a soft and touching sorrow, not all unpleasing, either, as they remind us of our youth and its buoyancy. Far otherwise was the present case.

Whatever might have been the bold confidence with which Lady Hester protested her belief in Norwood's honor, her own heartfelt knowledge of the man refuted the a.s.sertion. She knew thoroughly that he was perfectly devoid of all principle, and merely possessed that conventional degree of fair dealing indispensable to a.s.sociation with his equals. That he would do anything short of what would subject him to disgrace she had long seen; and perhaps the unhappy moment had come when even this restraint was no longer a barrier. And yet, with all this depreciating sense of the man, would it be believed she had once loved him! ay, with as sincere an affection as she was capable of feeling for anything.

'T is true, time and its consequences had effaced much of this feeling.

His own indifference had done something, her new relations with the world had done more; and if she ever thought of him now, it was with a degree of half terror that there lived one man who had so thoroughly read all the secrets of her heart, and knew every sentiment of her nature.

Norwood was sitting in a chair as she entered, amusing himself with the gambols of a little Blenheim spaniel, whose silver collar bore the coronet of the Russian prince. He never perceived Lady Hester until she was close beside him, and in an easy, half-indifferent tone, said,

"How d' ye do, my Lord?"

"What, Hester!" said he, starting up, and taking her hand in both his own.

She withdrew it languidly, and seating herself, not upon the sofa to which he wished to lead her, but in a chair, asked when he had arrived, and by what route.

"I came out in a yacht; stopping a few days at Gibraltar, and a week at Malta."

"Had you pleasant weather?"

"After we got clear of the Channel, excellent weather."

"You came alone, I suppose?"

"Quite alone."

"How do you get on without your dear friend Effingdale, or your 'familiar,' Upton?"

Norwood colored a little at a question the drift of which he felt thoroughly, but tried with a laugh to evade an answer.

"Are they in England? I thought I read their names at the Newmarket meeting?" asked she, after waiting in vain for a reply.

"Yes; they were both at Newmarket," replied he, shortly.

"Was it a good meeting?"