Sir Brook Fossbrooke Volume Ii Part 27

"I saw her at the Cape. She was nicely mannered, and, if I remember aright, handsome," said Lendrick, in his half-abstracted way.

"She was beautiful--perfectly beautiful--as a girl: except your own Lucy, I never saw any one so lovely," said Fossbrooke, whose voice shook with emotion as he spoke.

"I wish she had better luck in a husband," said Beattie. "For all his graceful address and insinuating ways, I 'm full sure he's a bad fellow."

Fossbrooke checked himself with a great effort, and merely nodded an a.s.sent to the other's words.

"How came it, Sir Brook," asked Beattie, suddenly, "that you should have been in Dublin so long without once coming to see me?"

"Are you very discreet?--may I be sure that neither of you will ever accidentally let drop a word of what I shall tell you?"

"You may rely upon my secrecy, and upon Tom Lendrick's ignorance, for there he is now in one of his reveries, thinking of his children in all probability; and I 'll guarantee you to any amount, that he 'll not hear one word you say for the next half-hour."

"The fact is, they took me up for a rebel,--some one with more zeal than discrimination fancied I looked like a 'Celt,' as these fellows call themselves; and my mode of life, and my packet of lead ore, and some other things of little value, completed the case against me, and they sent me to jail."

"To jail!"

"Yes; to a place called Richmond Bridewell, where I pa.s.sed some seven or eight days, by no means unpleasantly. It was very quiet, very secure against intrusion. I had a capital room, and very fair food. Indeed I 'm not sure that I did not leave it with a certain regret; but as I had written to my old friend Lord Wilmington, to apprise him of the mistake, and to warn him against the consequences such a blunder might occasion if it befell one less well disposed towards him than myself, I had nothing for it but to take a friendly farewell of my jailer and go."

"I declare few men would have treated the incident so temperately."

"Wilmington's father was my f.a.g at Eton, let me see--no, I 'll not see--how long ago; and Wilmington himself used to come and spend his summer vacations with me when I had that Wiltshire place; and I was very fond of the boy, and as he liked my partridge-shooting, we grew to be fast friends; but why are we talking of these old histories when it is the present that should engage us? I would only caution you once again against letting the story get abroad: there are fellows would like to make a House of Commons row out of it, and I 'd not stand it. Is the doctor sleeping?" added he, in a whisper, as Lendrick sat with closed eyes and clasped hands, mute and motionless.

"No," said Beattie; "it is his way when he is very happy. He is going over to himself all you have been telling him of his children, and he neither sees nor hears aught around him."

"I was going to tell him another piece of news that would probably please him," said Sir Brook, in the same low tone. "I have nearly completed arrangements for the purchase of the Nest; by this day week I hope it will be Lucy's."

"Oh! do tell him that. I know of nothing that would delight him as much.

Lendrick," said he, touching his arm, "here is something you would like to hear."

"No, no!" muttered he, softly. "Life is too short for these things. No more separations,--no more; we must live together, come what may;" and he stretched out his hands on either side of him, as though to grasp his children.

"It is a pity to awaken him from such a dream," said Fossbrooke, cautiously; "let us steal over to the window and not disturb him."

They crept cautiously away to a window-bench, and talked till late into the night.

CHAPTER XIX. MAN TO MAN

As Sewell awoke, it was already evening. Fatigue and anxiety together had so overcome him that he slept like one drugged by a narcotic; nor did he very quickly recall on awakening how and wherefore he had not been to bed. His servant had left two letters on his table while he slept, and these served to remind him of some at least of the troubles that last oppressed him. One was from his law-agent, regretting that he could not obtain for him the loan he solicited on any terms whatever, and mildly suggesting that he trusted the Colonel would be prepared to meet certain acceptances which would fall due in the coming week.

The other was from a friend whom he had often a.s.sisted in moments of difficulty, and ran:--

"Dear S.,--I lost two hundred last night at pool, and, what's worse, can't pay it. That infernal rule of yours about prompt payment will smash us both,--but it's so like you! You never had a run of luck yet that you didn't do something that turned against you afterwards. Your clever rule about the selling-stakes cost me the best mare I ever had; and now this blessed stroke of your genius leaves me in doubt whether to blow my brains out or start for Boulogne. As Tom Beecher said, you are a 'deuced deal too 'cute to prosper.' If I have to cross the water, I suspect you might as well come with me.--Yours,

"d.i.c.k Vaughan."

Sewell tore the note up into the smallest fragments, muttering savagely to himself the while. "I'll be bound," said he, "the cur is half consoled for his mishap by seeing how much worse ruin has befallen _me_,--What is it, Watkin? What do you want?" cried he to his servant, who came hastily into the room.

"His Lordship has taken a bad turn, sir, and Mrs. Sewell wants to see you immediately."

"All right! Say I'm coming. Who knows," muttered he, "but there's a chance for me yet?" He turned into his dressing-room and bathed his temples and his head with cold water, and, refreshed at once, he ascended the stairs.

"Another attack has come on. He was sleeping calmly," said Mrs. Sewell as she met him, "when he awoke with a start, and broke out into wild raving. I have sent for Beattie; but what is to be done meanwhile?"

"I 'm no doctor; I can't tell you."

"Haire thinks the ice ought to be applied; the nurse says-a blister or mustard to the back of the neck."

"Is he really in danger?--that's the question."

"I believe so. I never saw him so ill."

"You think he's dying?" said he, fiercely, as though he would not brook any sort of equivocation; but the coa.r.s.eness of his manner revolted her, and she turned away without reply. "There's no time to be lost,"

muttered Sewell, as he hastened downstairs. "Tell George I want the carriage to the door immediately," said he; and then, entering his own room, he opened his writing-desk, and, after some search, came upon a packet, which he sealed and addressed.

"Are you going for Beattie?" asked Mrs. Sewell, as she appeared at the door; "for Haire says it would be better to fetch some one--any one--at once."

"I have ordered the carriage. I 'll get Lysaght or Adams-if I should not find Beattie; and mind, if Beattie come while I am away, detain him, and don't let him leave this till I return. Do you mind me?"

"Yes; I 'll tell him what you say."

"Ay, but you must insist upon his doing it. There will be all sorts of stories if he should die--"

"Stories? what do you mean by stories?" cried she, in alarm.

"Rumors of neglect, of want of proper care of him, and such-like, which would be most insulting. At all events, I am resolved Beattie should be here at the last; and take care that he does not leave. I 'll call at my mother's too; she ought to come back with me. We have to deal with a scandal-loving world, and let us leave them as little to fall foul of as may be." All this was said hurriedly, as he bustled about the room, fussy and impatient, and with an eagerness to be off which certainly surprised her.

"You know where to find these doctors,--you have their addresses?" asked she.

"George knows all about them."

"And William does, at all events."

"I'm not taking William. I don't want a footman with a brougham. It is a light carriage and speedy cattle that are needed at this moment; and here they come. Now, mind that you keep Beattie till I come back; and if there be any inquiries, simply say the Chief Baron is the same as yesterday."

"Had I not better consult Dr. Beattie?"

"You will do as I tell you, Madam," said he, sternly. "You have heard my directions; take care that you follow them. To Mr. Lysaght's, George--no, first to Dr. Beattie's, Merrion Square," cried he, as he stepped into the carriage, "and drive fast."

"Yes, sir," said the coachman, and started at once. He had not proceeded more than half-way down the avenue, however, when Sewell, leaning out of the window, said, "Don't go into town, George; make for the Park by the shortest cut you can, the Secretary's Lodge."

"All right, sir; the beasts are fresh. We 'll be there in thirty minutes." True to his word, within the half-hour the horses, white with sweat and flanking like racero, stood at the door of the Secretary's Lodge. Four or five private carriages and some cabs were also at the door, signs of a dinner-party which had not yet broken up.

"Take this card in to Mr. Balfour, Mr. Wells," said he to the butler, who was an old acquaintance, "and say I want one minute in private with him,--strictly private, mind. I 'll step into the library here and wait."

"What's up, Sewell? Are you in a new sc.r.a.pe, eh?" said Balfour, entering, slightly flushed with wine and conversation, and half put out by the interruption.