Isabel Leicester Part 21

"Say no more, just tell your master I want to see him immediately, stop, take my card, here, now be quick."

Poor Thomas was quite bewildered by the old gentleman's manner. I'm blest he murmured if I know what we're coming to next, Lord Barrington, what does he want I should like to know.

"Why Ada, it is Lord Barrington," exclaimed Charles.

"How very fortunate," returned Ada "of course he will take charge of the baby, I confess I was in a quandary for I do not relish the idea of having the care of it, poor little thing."

"Nor I either, but I am not so sure that he will take it, it is much more likely he has come to row me about the whole affair."

"You! Why, what had you to do with it?"

"No more than you had; but I must see him at once, I suppose."

"Shall I go, too?" asked Ada, timidly.

"Not at present: if there is to be a storm, I do not see why you should be in it."

"He is such a dreadful old man, is he not?"

"Not usually; he was always very, very kind to Arthur."

"Not to his wife," she replied, vainly endeavoring to repress her tears.

"No, very cruel; but you must not grieve so much about it, dearest Ada."

"I cannot help it, it is so terribly shocking."

"But it is past, now: she is at rest, she is happy; even her lifeless remains look calm--the weary, weary look exchanged for one of peace."

"True, but it is so dreadful; if we had only known before," she sobbed.

"I wish we had, with all my soul," returned Charles, "but you really must not distress yourself so, or I shall have to keep the poor old gent waiting."

"Go to him, Charley; I shall feel better presently."

He found his Lords.h.i.+p impatiently pacing the room. "I am seeking my daughter-in-law; she is here, I believe," he said, after the first salutations were over.

"She is here," Charles answered gravely, "at least her remains; she died last night."

"Dead! dead!" repeated Lord Barrington, putting his hand to his head.

"Then I have nothing left."

"But the child," interposed Charles.

"The child--what child?"

"The babe born last night."

"He did not heed the answer, but seemed overpowered by the news of Louisa's death. "Let me see Arthur's wife," he said, after a few minutes had elapsed. Charles conducted him to the darkened apartment, where he gazed in agony upon the worn, but calm features of poor Louisa. And as he thought of his harshness, and Arthur's words, "make not her coming alone harder by one word or look," his grief became so violent and excessive that Charles was quite nonplussed, and went to consult Ada as to what should be done. In accordance with their plan, Ada took the frail little piece of humanity, and, approaching Lord Barrington, as he bent in sorrow over the corpse, said softly, "You have lost Arthur, and Arthur's wife, but you still have Arthur's child," and she laid the babe in his arms.

His tears fell on its tiny face, but the sight of it, and its helplessness, did him good. "Oh, Arthur! Arthur!" he moaned, why did you doubt your old father? how would I have welcomed your wife if you had brought her home at first! aye, as I now welcome this child--Arthur's child," he added, looking at it fondly.

He had the corpse conveyed to Barrington, and placed in the family vault, and erected a monument--very beautiful, indeed--beside the one he had already placed there in memory of his son, inscribed:

To LOUISA, the beloved wife of Arthur, only son of LORD BARRINGTON OF BARRINGTON, Aged 16 years.

He also placed another in the little burying-place at Z----:

In memory of ARTHUR, only son of LORD BARRINGTON, of Barrington Park, England, aged 23 years, who was suddenly attacked with a fatal fever, in a foreign land, when on his way home.

When Lady Ashton arrived, shortly afterwards, and heard what had taken place, she was in a terrible fume. "Oh! my dear, what a misfortune. How unlucky for her to come here: why did you let her stay, Charles?"

"Why did I let her stay? Say, rather, why did you send her away?"

"Yes, why did you let her stay?" she repeated, angrily. "Why did you not let her go to the hospital?"

"Or die in the street," added Charles, scarcely able to keep his temper, for he was angry and hurt to think how Louisa had been treated.

"Goodness knows what people will say: no doubt all kinds of strange stories will be circulated. I feel for you, Ada, my dear; I do, indeed."

"Don't be alarmed, my dear mother, as to rumors and strange stories,"

said Charles, handing her a newspaper, and pointing out the following:

DIED.--At the residence of Charles Ashton, Esq. LOUISA, wife of the late Hon. Arthur Barrington, and grand-daughter of Sir Edward Ashton of Brierley.

"Charles, how dared you?" cried his mother, reddening with anger, "your father will be excessively angry."

"I cannot help that: it is the truth, is it not?"

"True? of course you know it is; but, for all that, you need not have published it in that absurd manner."

"I thought it best."

"And you are simple enough to think that that notice will prevent absurd stories getting abroad."

"As to who she might be, yes; and, as to the circ.u.mstances that brought her here, I presume you would prefer any, rather than the right ones, should be a.s.signed."

Lady Ashton was for once abashed, and her eye dropped beneath the severity of her son's gaze; but, recovering quickly, she answered, "you, at least, have nothing to do with that."

"I am thankful to say I have not," he returned, "I cannot forget it, it makes me perfectly wretched; and, but that I know that Ada has her own home to go to, if anything happened to me I don't know what I should do.

I shall insure my life this very day, that she may be independent. If a daughter's child could be so treated, why not a son's wife."

For goodness' sake stop, Charles!" cried his mother, "don't talk so dreadfully."

"I feel it bitterly, mother; indeed I do," he replied, and hastily left the room. He would not have done so, however, had he known the storm he had left Ada to be the unhappy recipient of. She was perfectly terrified at the violence of Lady Ashton's wrath, and Lady Ashton was, too, when she saw Ada lay back in her chair, pale as marble and panting for breath. "What is the matter?--speak, child," she cried, shaking her violently; but this only alarmed her the more, and she called loudly for Charles, and then remained gazing at Lady Ashton in speechless terror.

"Ada! dearest Ada! what is the matter?" asked Charles, coming to the rescue; but Ada had fainted.