Guy Deverell. Volume 1 of 2

"Oh! he could be useful to me in fifty ways. I was thinking – you know there's that archdeaconry of Priors." Dives replied pretty nearly in a whisper.

"By Jove! yes – a capital thing – I forgot it;" and Sir Jekyl laughed heartily.

"Why do you laugh, Jekyl?" he asked, a little drily.

"I – I really don't know," said the Baronet, laughing on.

"I don't see anything absurd or unreasonable in it. That archdeaconry has always been held by some one connected with the county families. Whoever holds it must be fit to associate with the people of that neighbourhood, who won't be intimate, you know, with everybody; and the thing really is little more than a feather, the house and place are expensive, and no one that has not something more than the archdeaconry itself can afford it."

The conversation was here arrested by a voice which inquired —

"Pray, can you tell me what day General Lennox returns?"

The question was Lady Alice's. She had seemed to be asleep – probably was – and opening her eyes suddenly, had asked it in a hard, dry tone.

"I?" said Sir Jekyl. "I don't know, I protest – maybe to-night – maybe to-morrow. Come when he may, he's very welcome."

"You have not heard?" she persisted.

"No, I have not," he answered, rather tartly, with a smile.

Lady Alice nodded, and raised her voice —

"Lady Jane Lennox, you've heard, no doubt – pray, when does the General return?"

If the scene had not been quite so public, I dare say this innocent little inquiry would have been the signal for one of those keen encounters to which these two fiery spirits were prone.

"He has been detained unexpectedly," drawled Lady Jane.

"You hear from him constantly?" pursued the old lady.

"Every day."

"It's odd he does not say when you may look for him," said Lady Alice.

"Egad, you want to make her jealous, I think," interposed Sir Jekyl.

"Jealous? Well, I think a young wife may very reasonably be jealous, though not exactly in the vulgar sense, when she is left without a clue to her husband's movements."

"You said you were going to write to him. I wish you would, Lady Alice," said the young lady, with an air of some contempt.

"I can't believe he has not said how soon his return may be looked for," observed the old lady.

"I suppose he'll say whenever he can, and in the meantime I don't intend plaguing him with inquiries he can't answer." And with these words she leaned back fatigued, and with a fierce glance at Sir Jekyl, who was close by, she added, so loud that I wonder Lady Alice did not hear her – "Why don't you stop that odious old woman?"

"Stop an odious old woman! – why, who ever did? Upon my honour, I know no way but to kill her," chuckled the Baronet.

Lady Jane deigned no reply.

"Come here, Dives, and sit by me," croaked the old lady, beckoning him with her thin, long finger. "I've hardly seen you since I came."

"Very happy, indeed – very much obliged to you, Lady Alice, for wishing it."

And the natty but somewhat forbidding-looking Churchman sat himself down in a prie-dieu chair vis-à-vis to the old gentlewoman, and folded his hands, expecting her exordium.

"Do you remember, Sir Harry, your father?"

"Oh, dear, yes. I recollect my poor father very well. We were at Oxford then or just going. How old was I? – pretty well out of my teens."

It must be observed that they sat in a confidential proximity – nobody listened – nobody cared to approach.

"You remember when he died, poor man?"

"Yes – poor father! – we were at home – Jekyl and I – for the holidays – I believe it was– a month or so. The Bishop, you know, was with him."

"I know. He's coming to-morrow."

"Yes; so my brother here just told me – an excellent, exemplary, pious prelate, and a true friend to my poor father. He posted fifty miles – from Doncaster – in four hours and a half, to be with him. And a great comfort he was. I shall never forget it to him."

"I don't think you cared for your father, Dives; and Jekyl positively disliked him," interposed Lady Alice agreeably.

"I trust there was no feeling so unchristian and monstrous ever harboured in my brother's breast," replied Dives, loftily, and with a little flush in his cheeks.

"You can't believe any such thing, my dear Dives; and you know you did not care if he was at the bottom of the Red Sea, and I don't wonder."

"Pray don't, Lady Alice. If you think such things, I should prefer not hearing them," murmured Dives, with clerical dignity.

"And what I want to ask you now is this," continued Lady Alice; "you are of course aware that he told the Bishop that he wanted that green chamber, for some reason or another, pulled down?"

Dives coughed, and said —

"Well, yes, I have heard."

"What was his reason, have you any notion?"

"He expressed none. My father gave, I believe, no reason. I never heard any," replied the Reverend Dives Marlowe.

"You may be very sure he had a reason," continued Lady Alice.

"Yes, very likely."

"And why is it not done?" persisted Lady Alice.

"I can no more say why, than you can," replied Dives.

"But why don't you see to it?" demanded she.

"See to it! Why, my dear Lady Alice, you must know I have no more power in the matter than Doocey there, or the man in the moon. The house belongs to Jekyl. Suppose you speak to him."