Sir Brook Fossbrooke Volume I Part 49

"He can go on foot; I may want the pony."

"She is alarmingly ill, I fear,--very violent spasms; and I don't think there is any time to be lost."

"n.o.body that makes such a row as that can be in any real danger."

"She is in great pain, at all events."

"Send one of her own people,--despatch one of the postboys,--do what you like, only don't bore _me_."

She was turning to leave the room, when he called out, "I say, when the attack came on did she take the opportunity to tell you any pleasant little facts about yourself or your family?" She smiled faintly, and moved towards the door. "Can't you tell me, ma'am? Has this woman been condoling with you over your hard fate and your bad husband? or has she discovered how that 'dear boy' upstairs broke his head as well as his heart in your service?"

"She did ask me certainly if there was n't a great friendship between you and her son," said she, with a tone of quiet disdain.

"And what did you reply?" said he, throwing one leg over the arm of the chair as he swung round to face her.

"I don't well remember. I may have said _you_ liked _him_, or that _he_ liked _you_. It was such a commonplace reply I made, I forget it."

"And was that all that pa.s.sed on the subject?"

"I think I'd better send for the doctor," said she, and left the room before he could stop her, though that such was his intention was evident from the way he arose from his chair with a sudden spring.

"You shall hear more of this, Madam,--by Heaven, you shall!" muttered he, as he paced the room with rapid steps. "Who's that? Come in," cried he, as a knock came to the door. "Oh, Balfour! is it you?"

"Yes; what the deuce is going on upstairs? Lady Trafford appears to have gone mad."

"Indeed! how unpleasant!"

"Very unpleasant for your wife, I take it. She has been saying all sorts of unmannerly things to her this last hour,--things that, if she were n't out of her reason, she ought to be thrown out of the window for."

"And why didn't you do so?"

"It was a liberty I couldn't think of taking in another man's house."

"Lord love you, I'd have thought nothing of it! I'm the best-natured fellow breathing. What was it she said?"

"I don't know how I can repeat them."

"Oh, I see, they reflect on me. My dear young friend, when you live to my age you will learn that anything can be said to anybody, provided it only be done by 'the third party.' Whatever the law rejects as evidence, a.s.sumes in social life the value of friendly admonition. Go on, and tell me who it is is in love with my wife."

Cool as Mr. Cholmondely Balfour was, the tone of this demand staggered him.

"Art thou the man, Balfour?" said Sewell at last, staring at him with a mock frown.

"No, by Jove! I never presumed that far."

"It's the sick fellow, then, is the culprit?"

"So his mother opines. She is an awful woman! I was sitting with your wife in the small drawing-room when she burst into the room and cried out, 'Mrs. Sewell, is your name Lucy? for, if so, my son has been rambling on about you this last hour in a wonderful way: he has told me about fifty times that he wants to see you before he dies; and now that the doctor says he is out of danger he never ceases talking of dying.

I suppose you have no objection to the interview; at least they tell me you were constantly in his room before my arrival."

"How did my wife take this?--what did she say?" asked Sewell, with an easy smile as he spoke.

"She said something about agitation or anxiety serving to excuse conduct which otherwise would be unpardonable; and she asked me to send her maid to her,--as I think, to get me away."

"Of course you rang the bell and sat down again."

"No; she gave me a look that said, I don't want you here, and I went; but the storm broke out again as I closed the door, and I heard Lady Trafford's voice raised to a scream as I came downstairs."

"It all shows what I have said over and over again," said Sewell, slowly, "that whenever a man has a grudge or a grievance against a woman, he ought always to get another woman to torture her. I 'll lay you fifty pounds Lady Traf-ford cut deeper into my wife's flesh by her two or three impertinences than if I had stormed myself into an apoplexy."

"And don't you mean to turn her out of the house?"

"Turn whom out?"

"Lady Trafford, of course."

"It's not so easily done, I suspect. I'll take to the long-boat myself one of these days, and leave her in command of the ship."

"I tell you she's a dangerous, a very dangerous woman; she has been ransacking her son's desk, and has come upon all sorts of ugly memoranda,--sums lost at play, and reminders to meet bills, and such-like."

"Yes; he was very unlucky of late," said Sewell, coldly.

"And there was something like a will, too; at least there was a packet of trinkets tied up in a paper, which purported to be a will, but only bore the name Lucy."

"How delicate! there's something touching in that, Balfour; isn't there?" said Sewell, with a grin. "How wonderfully you seem to have got up the case! You know the whole story. How did you manage it?"

"My fellow Paxley had it from Lady Trafford's maid. She told him that her mistress was determined to show all her son's papers to the Chief Baron, and blow you sky high."

"That's awkward, certainly," said Sewell, in deep thought. "It would be a devil of a conflagration if two such combustibles came together. I 'd rather she 'd fight it out with my mother."

"Have you sent in your papers to the Horse Guards?"

"Yes; it's all finished. I am gazetted out, or I shall be on Tuesday."

"I'm sorry for it. Not that it signifies much as to this registrarship.

We never intended to relinquish our right to it, we mean to throw the case into Chancery, and we have one issue already to submit to trial at bar."

"Who are _we_ that are going to do all this?"

"The Crown," said Balfour, haughtily.

"_Ego et rex meus_; that's the style, is it? Come now, Balfy, if you 're for a bet, I 'll back my horse, the Chief Baron, against the field. Give me sporting odds, for he 's aged, and must run in bandages besides."

"That woman's coming here at this moment was most unlucky."

"Of course it was; it would n't be _my_ lot if it were anything else.

I say," cried he, starting up, and approaching the window, "what's up now?"

"She's going at last, I really believe."