Sir Brook Fossbrooke Volume I Part 54

"So he told me," said she, with perfect calm.

"By Jove! that was a great fluke of mine," cried he, aloud. "That was a hazard I never so much as tried. So that this fellow had made some sort of a declaration to you?"

"I never said so."

"What was it then that you _did_ say, Madam? Let us understand each other clearly."

"Oh, I am sure we need no explanations for that," said she, rising, and moving towards the door.

"I want to hear about this before you go," said he, standing between her and the door.

"You are not going to pretend jealousy, are you?" said she, with an easy laugh.

"I should think not," said he, insolently. "That is about one of the last cares will ever rob me of my rest at night. I 'd like to know, however, what pretext I have to send a ball through your young friend."

"Oh, as to that peril, it will not rob _me_ of a night's rest," said she, with such a look of scorn and contempt as seemed actually to sicken him, for he staggered back as though about to fall and she pa.s.sed out ere he could recover himself.

"It is to be no quarter between us then! Well, be it so," cried he, as he sank heavily into a seat. "She's playing a bold game when she goes thus far." He leaned his head on the table, and sat thus so long that he appeared to have fallen asleep; indeed, the servant who came to tell him that tea was served, feared to disturb him, and retired without speaking. Far from sleeping, however, his head was racked with a maddening pain, and he kept on muttering to himself, "This is the second time--the second time she has taunted me with cowardice. Let her beware!

Is there no one will warn her against what she is doing?"

"Missis says, please, sir, won't you have a cup of tea?" said the maid timidly at the door.

"No; I'll not take any."

"Missis says too, sir, that Miss Blanche is tuk poorly, and has a s.h.i.+verin' over her, and a bad headache, and she hopes you 'll send in for Dr. Tobin."

"Is she in bed?"

"Yes, sir, please."

"I'll go up and see her;" and with this he arose and pa.s.sed up the little stair that led to the nursery. In one bed a little dark-haired girl of about three years old lay fast asleep; in the adjoining bed a bright blue-eyed child of two years or less lay wide awake, her cheeks crimson, and the expression of her features anxious and excited. Her mother was bathing her temples with cold water as Sewell entered, and was talking in a voice of kind and gentle meaning to the child.

"That stupid woman of yours said it was Blanche," said Sewell, pettishly, as he gazed at the little girl.

"I told her it was Cary; she has been heavy all day, and eaten nothing.

No, pet,--no, darling," said she, stooping over the sick child, "pa is not angry; he is only sorry that little Cary is ill."

"I suppose you'd better have Tobin to see her," said he, coldly. "I 'll tell George to take the tax-cart and fetch him out. It's well it was n't Blanche," muttered he, as he sauntered out of the room. His wife's eyes followed him as he went, and never did a human face exhibit a stronger show of repressed pa.s.sion than hers, as, with closely compressed lips and staring eyes, she watched him as he pa.s.sed out.

"The fool frightened me,--she said it was Blanche," were the words he continued to mutter as he went down the stairs.

Tobin arrived in due time, and p.r.o.nounced the case not serious,--a mere feverish attack that only required a day or two of care and treatment.

"Have you seen Colonel Sewell?" said Mrs. Sewell, as she accompanied the doctor downstairs.

"Yes; I told him just what I 've said to you."

"And what reply did he make?"

"He said, 'All right! I have business in town, and must start to-morrow.

My wife and the chicks can follow by the end of the week.'"

"It's so like him!--so like him!" said she, as though the pent-up pa.s.sion could no longer be restrained.

CHAPTER XL. MR. BALFOUR'S OFFICE

On arriving in Dublin, Sewell repaired at once to Balfour's office in the Castle yard; he wanted to "hear the news," and it was here that every one went who wanted to "hear the news." There are in all cities, but more especially in cities of the second order, certain haunts where the men about town repair; where, like the changing-houses of bankers, people exchange their "credits,"--take up their own notes, and give up those of their neighbors.

Sewell arrived before the usual time when people dropped in, and found Balfour alone and at breakfast. The Under-Secretary's manner was dry, so much Sewell saw as he entered; he met him as though he had seen him the day before, and this, when men have not seen each other for some time, has a certain significance. Nor did he ask when he had come up, nor in any way recognize that his appearance was matter of surprise or pleasure.

"Well, what's going on here?" said Sewell, as he flung himself into an easy-chair, and turned towards the fire. "Anything new?"

"Nothing particular. I don't suppose you care for the Cattle Show or the Royal Irish Academy?"

"Not much,--at least, I can postpone my inquiries about them. How about my place here? Are you going to give me trouble about it?"

"Your place,--your place?" muttered the other, once or twice; and then, standing up with his back to the fire, and his skirts over his arms, he went on. "Do you want to hear the truth about this affair, or are we only to go on sparring with the gloves, eh?"

"The truth, of course, if such a novel proceeding should not be too much of a shock to you."

"No, I suspect not. I do a little of everything every day just to keep my hand in."

"Well, go on now, out with this truth."

"Well, the truth is,--I am now speaking confidentially,--if I were you I 'd not press my claim to that appointment,--do you perceive?"

"I do not; but perhaps I may when you have explained yourself a little more fully."

"And," continued he, in the same tone, and as though no interruption had occurred, "that's the opinion of Halkett, and Doyle, and Jocelyn, and the rest."

"Confidentially, of course," said Sewell, with a sneer so slight as not to be detected.

"I may say confidentially, because it was at dinner we talked it over, and we were only the household,--no guests but Byam Herries and Barrington."

"And you all agreed?"

"Yes, there was not a dissentient voice but Jocelyn's, who said, if he were in your place, he'd insist on having all the papers and letters given up to him. His view is this: 'What security have I that the same charges are not to be renewed again and again? I submit now, but am I always to submit? Are my Indian'--(what shall I call them? I forget what he called them; I believe it was escapades)--'my Indian escapades to declare me unfit to hold anything under the Crown?' He said a good deal in that strain, but we did not see it. It was hard, to be sure, but we did not see it. As Halkett said, 'Sewell has had his innings already in India. If, with a pretty wife and a neat turn for billiards, he did not lay by enough to make his declining years comfortable, I must say that he was not provident.' Doyle, however, remarked that after that affair with Loftus up at Agra--wasn't it Agra?"--Sewell nodded--"it was n't so easy for you to get along as many might think, and that you were a devilish clever fellow to do what you had done. Doyle likes you, I think." Sewell nodded again, and, after a slight pause, Balfour proceeded: "And it was Doyle, too, said, 'Why not try for something in the colonies? There are lots of places a man can go and nothing be ever heard of him. If I was Sewell, I 'd say, Make me a barrackmaster in the Sandwich Islands, or a consul in the Caraccas.'

"They all concurred in one thing, that you never did so weak a thing in your whole life as to have any dealings with Trafford. It was his mother went to the Duke--ay, into the private office at the Horse Guards--and got Clifford's appointment cancelled, just for a miserable five hundred pounds Jack won off the elder brother,--that fellow who died last year at Madeira. She's the most dangerous woman in Europe. She does not care what she says, nor to whom she says it. She 'd go up to the Queen at a drawing-room and make a complaint as soon as she 'd speak to you or me. As it is, she told their Excellencies here all that went on in your house, and I suppose scores of things that did not go on either, and said, 'And are you going to permit this man to be'--she did not remember what, but she said--'a high official under the Crown? and are you going to receive his wife amongst your intimates?' What a woman she is! To hear her you 'd think her 'dear child,' instead of being a strapping fellow of six feet two, was a brat in knickerbockers, with a hat and feather. The fellow himself must be a consummate m.u.f.f to be bullied by her; but then the estate is not entailed, they say, and there's a younger brother may come into it all. His chances look well just now, for Lionel has got a relapse, and the doctors think very ill of him."

"I had not heard that," said Sewell, calmly.

"Oh, he was getting on most favorably,--was able to sit up at the window, and move a little about the room,--when, one morning Lady Trafford had driven over to the Lodge to luncheon, he stepped downstairs in his dressing-gown as he was, got into a cab, and drove off into the country. All the cabman could tell was that he ordered him to take the road to Rathfarnham, and said, 'I 'll tell you by and by where to;' and at last he said, 'Where does Sir William Lendrick live?' and though the man knew the Priory, he had taken a wrong turn and got down to ask the road. Just at this moment a carriage drove by with two grays and a postilion--A young lady was inside with an elderly gentleman, and the moment Trafford saw her he cried out, 'There she is,--that is she!' As hard as they could they hastened after; but they smashed a trace, and lost several minutes in repairing it, and as many more in finding out which way the carriage had taken. It was to Kingstown, and, as the cabman suspected, to catch the packet for Holyhead; for just as they drove up, the steamer edged away from the pier, and the carriage with the grays drove off with only the old man, Trafford fell back in a faint, and appeared to have continued so, for when they took him out of the cab at Bilton's he was insensible.

"Beattie says he'll come through it, but Maclin thinks he 'll never be the same man again; he 'll have a hardening or a softening--which is it?--of the brain, and that he'll be fit for nothing."

"Except a place in the viceregal household, perhaps. I don't imagine you want gold-medallists for your gentlemen-in-waiting?"