The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume I

“What’s the use of all this fencing, man?” said Norwood, half angrily, “I know better how matters stand. Do you remember the night you lost so heavily at Macao? Well, I was lying stretched on the sofa, yonder, by the light of the fire only, when the door opened, and she stepped gently in.”

“What, Kate Dalton?”

“Yes, Kate Dalton. Oh! impossible, if you like deny it as much as you please, but she has not equal hardihood, that I can tell you; and if she had, here is the proof that could condemn her, this fragment of her lace flounce was caught in the door as she banged it in her escape; and this very evening I compared it with the dress in question; ay, and showed her the rent from which it came.”

Twice did George compel Norwood to repeat over this story; and then sat down, overwhelmed with sorrow and shame.

“You swear to me, then, Onslow, that you never saw her here, never knew of her coming?” said he, after a long silence between them.

“Never, I swear!” said the other, solemnly.

“Then, some other is the fortunate man, that’s all. How good if it should turn out to be Jekyl!” And he laughed heartily at the absurdity of the conceit.

“No more of this,” said Onslow, passionately. “The tone of the society we live in here would seem to warrant any or every imputation, even on those whose lives are spotless; and I know of no greater degradation than the facility of our belief in them. In this instance, however, my conscience is at ease; and I reject, with contempt, the possibility of a stain upon that girl’s honor.”

“The sentiment does more credit to your chivalry than your shrewdness, George,” said the Viscount, sarcastically.

“But as you are about to stake your life on the issue, I cannot impugn your sincerity.”

A hasty movement of George towards the window here alarmed Grounsell, and he noiselessly withdrew, and descended the stairs again.

“A precious mess of trouble do I find ready for me,” muttered he, as he passed across the courtyard. “Debt, duelling, and sickness, such are the pleasures that welcome me; and these not the worst, perhaps, if the causes of them were to be made known!”

“My Lady has just heard of your arrival, doctor, and begs you will have the kindness to step up to her room,” said Proctor, coming to meet him.

“I ‘m tired, I ‘m fatigued. Say I ‘m in bed,” said Grounsell, angrily.

“Her maid has just seen you, sir,” suggested Proctor, mildly.

“No matter; give the answer I tell you; or stay perhaps it would be better to see her. Yes, Proctor, show me the way.” And muttering to himself, “The meeting will not be a whit pleasanter for her than me,” he followed the servant up the stairs.

Well habituated to Lady Hester’s extravagant and costly tastes, Grounsell was yet unprepared for the gorgeous decorations and splendid ornaments of the chambers through which he passed, and he stopped from time to time in amazement to contemplate a magnificence which was probably rather heightened than diminished by the uncertain light of the candles the servant carried. He peered at the china vases; he passed his hand across the malachite and jasper tables; he narrowly inspected the rich mosaics, as though doubtful of their being genuine; and then, with a deep sigh, almost deep enough to be a groan, he moved on in sadness. A bust of Kate Dalton the work of a great sculptor, and an admirable likeness caught his eye, and he gazed at it with signs of strong emotion. There was much beauty in it, and of a character all her own; but still the cold marble had caught up, in traits sterner than those of life, the ambitious bearing of the head and the proud elevation of the brow.

“And she has become this already!” said he, half aloud. “Oh, how unlike poor Nelly’s model! how different from the simple and beauteous innocence of those saint-like features!”

“My Lady will see you, sir,” said Celestine, breaking in upon his musings. And he followed her into the chamber, where, seated in a deeply cushioned chair, Lady Hester reclined, dressed in all the perfection of an elegant deshabille.

Grounsell was, assuredly, not the man to be most taken by such attractions, yet he could not remain entirely insensible to them; and he felt a most awkward sense of admiration as he surveyed her. With all a woman’s quickness, her Ladyship saw the effect she had produced, and languidly extending her hand, she vouchsafed the nearest approach to a smile with which she had ever favored him. As if suddenly recalling all his old antipathies and prejudices, Grounsell was himself in a moment, and, scarcely touching the taper and jewelled fingers, he bowed ceremoniously and took his seat at a little distance off.

“This is a very unexpected pleasure indeed,” sighed Lady Hester; “you only arrived to-night?”

“Half an hour ago, madam; and but for your Ladyship’s summons I should have been in bed.”

“How do you find Sir Stafford looking poorly, I fear?”

“I haven’t yet seen him, madam, but I am prepared for a great change.”

“I fear so,” sighed she, plaintively; “George says, quite a break up; and Buccellini calls it ‘Gotta Affievolita,’ and says it is very fatal with elderly people.”

“The vulgar phrase of a ‘broken heart’ is more expressive, madam, and perhaps quite as pathological.”

Lady Hester drew proudly up, and seemed preparing herself for a coming encounter. They were old antagonists, and well knew each other’s mode of attack. On the present occasion, however, Grounsell did not seek a contest, and was satisfied by a single shot at the enemy, as if trying the range of his gun.

“You will probably advise a change of air and scene, Dr. Grounsell,” said she, calmly, and as though inviting pacific intercourse.

“It is precisely what I have come for, madam,” answered he, in a short, dry voice. “Sir Stafford’s affairs require his immediate return to England. The vicissitudes that attend on great commercial enterprises threaten him with large very large losses.”

Lady Hester fell back in her chair, and this time, at least, her pale cheek and her powerless attitude were not feigned nor counterfeited; but Grounsell merely handed her a smelling-bottle from the table, and went on:

“The exact extent of his liabilities cannot be ascertained at once, but they must be considerable. He will be fortunate if there remain to him one fourth of his property.”

Lady Hester’s head fell heavily back, and she fainted away.

The doctor rose, and sprinkled her forehead with water, and then patiently sat down with his finger on her wrist to watch the returning tide of circulation. Assured at length of her restored consciousness, he went on:

“A small establishment, strict economy, a watchful supervision of every domestic arrangement, together with the proceeds of the sale of all the useless trumpery by which he is at present surrounded, will do much; but he must be seconded, madam, seconded and aided, not thwarted and opposed. George can exchange into a regiment in India; the proper steps have been already taken for that purpose.”

“Have you been thoughtful enough, sir, in your general care of this family, to engage a small house for us at Brighton?”

“I have seen one at Ramsgate, madam,” replied he, dryly; “but the rent is more than we ought to give.”

“Are we so very poor as that, sir?” said she, sarcastically, laying emphasis on the pronoun.

“Many excellent and worthy persons, madam, contrive to live respectably on less.”

“Is Miss Onslow to go out as a governess, doctor? I am afraid you have forgotten her share in these transactions?”

“I have a letter from her in my pocket, madam, which would show that she herself is not guilty of this forgetfulness, wherein she makes the very proposition you allude to.”

“And me? Have you no sphere of self-denial and duty have you no degrading station, nor menial servitude, adapted to my habits?”

“I know of none, madam,” said Grounsell, sternly. “Varnish will no more make a picture than fine manners prove a substitute for skill or industry.”

“This is really too much, sir,” said she, rising, her face now crimson with anger; “and even if all you have said prove true, reverse of fortune can bring no heavier infliction than the prospect of your intimacy and obtrusive counsels.”

“You may not need them, madam. In adversity,” said Grounsell, with a smile, “healthy stomachs get on very well without bitters.” And so saying, he bowed and left the room.

For a few moments Lady Hester sat overwhelmed by the tidings she had just heard, and then, suddenly rising, she rang the bell for her maid.

“Send Miss Dalton to me, Celestine; say I wish to speak to her immediately,” said she. “This may be the last time we shall speak to each other ere we invert our positions,” muttered she to herself. And in the working of her features might be read all the agony of the reflection.

CHAPTER XXXIX. PRATOLINO

How like the great world is every little section of it! How full of all its passions and interests, its warring jealousies and its selfish struggles! Within the Mazzarini Palace that night were at work every emotion and sentiment which sway the wide communities of men; and hope and fear, the yearnings of ambition, and the gloomy forebodings of despair, sat beside the pillows of those who, in vain, sought sleep and forgetfulness.

Before that long night ended, Sir Stafford had learned his ruin, for it was little less. Kate had yielded, to the pressing entreaties of Lady Hester, her consent to accept Midchekoff; and, just as day was breaking, George Onslow stole to his father’s bedside to see him once more, perhaps for the last time. It would be difficult to say in which of those three hearts the darkest sorrow brooded. With noiseless step and cautious gesture, George crossed the little sitting-room, and entered his father’s chamber; and, without awaking the servant, who kept watch habitually without, but now had dropped off to sleep, he gained the bedside, and sat down.

The terrible tidings he had just heard were evidently working on Sir Stafford’s brain, and, despite all the influence of his opiate, still engaged his faculties; for his lips continued to move rapidly, and short broken sentences fell from him incessantly. “Poor George! poor George!” he muttered from time to time, and the tears rolled down the young man’s cheek as he heard them.