The Reflections of Ambrosine Part 27

"Mr. Gurrage is asleep, ma'am," he said, "and does not seem inclined to wake, ma'am," and he held the door open for me to pa.s.s into the room.

Augustus was lying in his big chair, before the fire, his face crimson, his mouth wide open, and snoring and breathing very heavily.

He was still in his shooting-things.

An indescribable smell of scorching tweed and spirit pervaded the room.

By his side was an almost finished gla.s.s of whiskey. The bottle stood on the tray and another bottle lay, broken, on the floor.

Atkinson began clearing up this _debris_.

"Augustus!" I called, but he did not awake. "Augustus, it is time for dinner!"

"If you please, ma'am," said the valet, coughing respectfully, "if I might say so, you had better let Mr. Gurrage sleep, ma'am. I'll see after him. He is--very angry when he is like this and woke suddenly, ma'am."

I looked at the whiskey bottles and the flushed face. A sickening disgust overwhelmed me. And there would be no Lady Tilchester to save me to-night!

"Open the window," I said to Atkinson, "and persuade Mr. Gurrage to go to bed when he wakes." And I left the room.

All my guests were a.s.sembled when I got into the first drawing-room.

Indeed, it was twenty minutes to nine.

Mrs. Dodd had the air of an aggrieved turkey-gobbler. I felt she would fly at some one.

"We thought we should not get any dinner, Mrs. Gussie," she said, huffily. "Folks are generally down in their own houses!"

I took no notice of this remark.

"I am so sorry to be late, Lady Wakely," I said, addressing her and the other women, "but my husband is not well, and, I fear, will not be able to come in to dinner. He must have caught a chill out shooting."

"Have you sent for the doctor? Because, if not, I know all about chills with Wullie, who never changes his socks," interrupted Mrs.

Dodd. "Let me go to him, Mrs. Gussie."

"No, thank you. Do not trouble," I said. "His servant and I have done all that is necessary, and he wishes to sleep. Let us go in to dinner."

I told them each whom they were to take in, and put my own hand on Antony's arm. It seemed as if he held it closely to his side, but he said nothing, and we walked into the dining-room.

I do not know at all what we talked about. Certainly for three courses everything was a blank to me. But I heard myself laughing, and Mr. Dodd, who sat on my other hand, seemed mightily amused at my conversation.

"Why, the open air and a little walking has done you all the good in the world, Mrs. Gussie!" I was conscious, at last, that he was saying.

"Your cheeks are quite rosy and your eyes as bright as stars."

"Yes, it was a delightful day," I said.

"Talk about chills, Mr. McCormack"--Mrs. Dodd's voice carried across the table-"I know Gussie Gurrage, and I don't believe he ever had a chill in his life!"

Antony now began to talk to me quietly. He said very little. His voice was particularly cool and collected. He never once looked at me. I was grateful for that. I felt as if I could not bear to see sympathy in his eyes. He also talked to Lady Wakely, on his other hand, and chaffed beyond to Miss Springle.

And so the dinner pa.s.sed, and the ladies rose to leave the dining-room, Mr. McCormack holding the door for us.

As it was wide open, and all could see into the hall, an apparition appeared upon the scene, coming from the pa.s.sage that leads to the "den"--Augustus, being supported by Atkinson and one of the footmen, and singing s.n.a.t.c.hes of some low music-hall song.

In an instant Antony had sprung forward and closed the door, Mr.

McCormack and the others standing open-mouthed and inert.

"There, I knew it was no chill!" exclaimed Mrs. Dodd.

"Hush, madam!" said Antony, sternly, his eyes flashing green-blue fire. "We were very comfortable at the table. Shall we not all sit down again?"

Lady Wakely at once returned to her chair. The meek Mrs. Broun put her hand on my arm in sympathy, but I annihilated her with a look as I swept back to my seat, and soon my guests were once more in their places.

Then it was that Antony exerted himself to amuse this company. With the most admirable tact and self-composure, he kept the whole party entertained for half an hour. And when we again left the room it was _en bande_, without ceremony, the men accompanying us.

Lady Wakely kindly said good-night in quite a few minutes, and the other women followed her example. I spoke no word of thanks to Antony.

I did not even look into his face.

When I got to my boudoir I could hear Augustus's drunken snores from the room beyond. He had mercifully fallen asleep.

I did not ring for McGreggor. I would stay in my sitting-room all night. Roy came up to me and licked my hand. Then suddenly something seemed to give way in my will, and I dropped on the rug beside my dog and cried as I have never cried in my life, my head buried in his soft, black coat.

Oh, grandmamma, forgive me for such weakness! But surely, if we had known of this horror, even the Calincourts need not have kept their word to a drunken man!

I did not hear the door open, but suddenly was conscious of Antony's voice.

"Ambrosine, for G.o.d's sake don't cry so!" he whispered, hoa.r.s.ely.

I did not look up.

"Oh, I want to thank you for your kindness," I sobbed, "but if you would continue it you will leave me now."

He knelt on the rug beside me, but he did not even touch my hair.

"I cannot leave you--miserable like this," he said, brokenly, as if the words were dragged from him. "Ambrosine, my dearest! Little Comtesse, please, please do not cry!"

Joy ran through me at his words. My sobs ceased.

The drunken voice of Augustus began the song again from the next room.

I started up in terror. Oh, if he should burst into this room!

"Antony," I implored, "if you want to serve me, go!" And I opened the pa.s.sage door.

He drew me into the corridor with him.

"I tell you, you shall not stay here alone with that brute!" he said, fiercely. "Promise me you will go to your maid's room and not come into this part of the house to-night. I will see his valet and arrange things safely for him."

"Very well," I said, and then I ran. If I had stayed another moment--ah, well!