The Last Chronicle of Barset Part 130

This would naturally have been flattering to Johnny had it not been that he was in truth absorbed by the story which he had heard.

"Do you mean to tell me," he said, "that Broughton has--committed suicide?" She could not speak of it again, but nodded her head at him thrice, while her eyes were still closed. "And how was the manner of it?" said he, asking the question in a low voice. He could not even as yet quite bring himself to believe it. Madalina was so fond of a little playful intrigue, that even this story might have something in it of the nature of fiction. He was not quite sure of the facts, and yet he was shocked by what he had heard.

"Would you have me repeat to you all the b.l.o.o.d.y details of that terrible scene?" she said. "It is impossible. Go to your friend Dalrymple. He will tell you. He knows it all. He has been with Maria all through. I wish,--I wish it had not been so." But nevertheless she did bring herself to narrate all the details with something more of circ.u.mstance than Eames desired. She soon succeeded in making him understand that the tragedy of Hook Court was a reality, and that poor Dobbs Broughton had brought his career to an untimely end. She had heard everything,--having indeed gone to Musselboro in the City, and having penetrated even to the sanctum of Mr. Bangles. To Mr.

Bangles she had explained that she was bosom-friend of the widow of the unfortunate man, and that it was her miserable duty to make herself the mistress of all the circ.u.mstances. Mr. Bangles,--the reader may remember him, Burton and Bangles, who kept the stores for Himalaya wines at 22_s._ 6_d._ the dozen, in Hook Court,--was a bachelor, and rather liked the visit, and told Miss Demolines very freely all he had seen. And when she suggested that it might be expedient for the sake of the family that she should come back to Mr. Bangles for further information at a subsequent period, he very politely a.s.sured her that she would "do him proud," whenever she might please to call in Hook Court. And then he saw her into Lombard Street, and put her into an omnibus. She was therefore well qualified to tell Johnny all the particulars of the tragedy,--and she did so far overcome her horror as to tell them all. She told her tale somewhat after the manner of aeneas, not forgetting the "quorum pars magna fui." "I feel that it almost makes an old woman of me," said she, when she had finished.

"No," said Johnny, remonstrating;--"not that."

"But it does. To have been concerned in so terrible a tragedy takes more of life out of one than years of tranquil existence." As she had told him nothing of her intercourse with Bangles,--with Bangles who had literally picked the poor wretch up,--he did not see how she herself had been concerned in the matter; but he said nothing about that, knowing the character of his Madalina. "I shall see--that--body, floating before my eyes while I live," she said, "and the gory wound, and,--and--" "Don't," said Johnny, recoiling in truth from the picture, by which he was revolted. "Never again," she said; "never again! But you forced it from me, and now I shall not close my eyes for a week."

She then became very comfortably confidential, and discussed the affairs of poor Mrs. Dobbs Broughton with a great deal of satisfaction. "I went to see her, of course, but she sent me down word to say that the shock would be too much for her. I do not wonder that she should not see me. Poor Maria! She came to me for advice, you know, when Dobbs Broughton first proposed to her; and I was obliged to tell her what I really thought. I knew her character so well! 'Dear Maria,' I said, 'if you think that you can love him, take him!' 'I think I can,' she replied. 'But,' said I, 'make yourself quite sure about the business.' And how has it turned out? She never loved him. What heart she has she has given to that wretched Dalrymple."

"I don't see that he is particularly wretched," said Johnny, pleading for his friend.

"He is wretched, and so you'll find. She gave him her heart after giving her hand to poor Dobbs; and as for the business, there isn't as much left as will pay for her mourning. I don't wonder that she could not bring herself to see me."

"And what has become of the business?"

"It belongs to Mrs. Van Siever,--to her and Musselboro. Poor Broughton had some little money, and it has gone among them.

Musselboro, who never had a penny, will be a rich man. Of course you know that he is going to marry Clara?"

"Nonsense!"

"I always told you that it would be so. And now you may perhaps acknowledge that Conway Dalrymple's prospects are not very brilliant.

I hope he likes being cut out by Mr. Musselboro! Of course he will have to marry Maria. I do not see how he can escape. Indeed, she is too good for him;--only after such a marriage as that, there would be an end to all his prospects as an artist. The best thing for them would be to go to New Zealand."

John Eames certainly liked these evenings with Miss Demolines. He sat at his ease in a comfortable chair, and amused himself by watching her different little plots. And then she had bright eyes, and she flattered him, and allowed him to scold her occasionally. And now and again there might be some more potent attraction, when she would admit him to take her hand,--or the like. It was better than to sit smoking with men at the club. But he could not sit all night even with Madalina Demolines, and at eleven he got up to take his leave.

"When shall you see Miss Dale?" she asked him suddenly.

"I do not know," he answered, frowning at her. He always frowned at her when she spoke to him of Miss Dale.

"I do not in the least care for your frowns," she said playfully, putting up her hands to smooth his brows. "I think I know you intimately enough to name your G.o.ddess to you."

"She isn't my G.o.ddess."

"A very cold G.o.ddess, I should think, from what I hear. I wish to ask you for a promise respecting her."

"What promise?"

"Will you grant it me?"

"How can I tell till I hear?"

"You must promise me not to speak of me to her when you see her."

"But why must I promise that?"

"Promise me."

"Not unless you tell me why." Johnny had already a.s.sured himself that nothing could be more improbable than that he should mention the name of Miss Demolines to Lily Dale.

"Very well, sir. Then you may go. And I must say that unless you can comply with so slight a request as that, I shall not care to see you here again. Mr. Eames, why should you want to speak evil of me to Miss Dale?"

"I do not want to speak evil of you."

"I know that you could not speak of me to her without at least ridicule. Come, promise me. You shall come here on Thursday evening, and I will tell you why I have asked you."

"Tell me now."

She hesitated a moment, and then shook her head. "No. I cannot tell you now. My heart is still bleeding with the memory of that poor man's fate. I will not tell you now. And yet it is now that you must give me the promise. Will you not trust me so far as that?"

"I will not speak of you to Miss Dale."

"There is my own friend! And now, John, mind you are here at half-past eight on Thursday. Punctually at half-past eight. There is a thing I have to tell you, which I will tell you then if you will come. I had thought to have told you to-day."

"And why not now?"

"I cannot. My feelings are too many for me. I should never go through with it after all that has pa.s.sed between us about poor Broughton.

I should break down; indeed I should. Go now, for I am tired." Then, having probably taken a momentary advantage of that more potent attraction to which we have before alluded, he left the room very suddenly.

He left the room very suddenly because Madalina's movements had been so sudden, and her words so full of impulse. He had become aware that in this little game which he was playing in Porchester Terrace everything ought to be done after some unaccustomed and special fashion. So,--having clasped Madalina for one moment in his arms,--he made a rush at the room door, and was out on the landing in a second.

He was a little too quick for old Lady Demolines, the skirt of whose night-dress,--as it seemed to Johnny,--he saw whisking away, in at another door. It was nothing, however, to him if old Lady Demolines, who was always too ill to be seen, chose to roam about her own house in her night-dress.

When he found himself alone in the street, his mind reverted to Dobbs Broughton and the fate of the wretched man, and he sauntered slowly down Palace Gardens, that he might look at the house in which he had dined with a man who had destroyed himself by his own hands. He stood for a moment looking up at the windows, in which there was now no light, thinking of the poor woman whom he had seen in the midst of luxury, and who was now left a widow in such miserable circ.u.mstances!

As for the suggestion that his friend Conway would marry her, he did not believe it for a moment. He knew too well what the suggestions of his Madalina were worth, and the motives from which they sprung. But he thought it might be true that Mrs. Van Siever had absorbed all there was of property, and possibly, also, that Musselboro was to marry her daughter. At any rate, he would go to Dalrymple's rooms, and if he could find him, would learn the truth. He knew enough of Dalrymple's ways of life, and of the ways of his friend's chambers and studio, to care nothing for the lateness of the hour, and in a very few minutes he was sitting in Dalrymple's arm-chair. He found Siph Dunn there, smoking in unperturbed tranquillity, and as long as that lasted he could ask no questions about Mrs. Broughton. He told them, therefore, of his adventures abroad, and of Crawley's escape.

But at last, having finished his third pipe, Siph Dunn took his leave.

"Tell me," said John, as soon as Dunn had closed the door, "what is this I hear about Dobbs Broughton?"

"He has blown his brains out. That is all."

"How terribly shocking!"

"Yes; it shocked us all at first. We are used to it now."

"And the business?"

"That had gone to the dogs. They say at least that his share of it had done so."

"And he was ruined?"

"They say so. That is, Musselboro says so, and Mrs. Van Siever."

"And what do you say, Conway?"

"The less I say the better. I have my hopes,--only you're such a talkative fellow, one can't trust you."

"I never told any secret of yours, old fellow."