Guy Deverell Volume Ii Part 32

"He showed them to me, though. It's not any harm to tell, is it? and they really _are_--Well, I won't say all I think of them."

"I was just telling Monsieur Varbarriere, it is not everyone I'd show those drawings to. Was not I, Monsieur?" said Drayton, with a fine irony.

"So he was, upon my honour," said Varbarriere, gravely.

"He did not mean it, though," simpered Miss Blunket, "if _you_ can't--_I_'ll try to induce him to show them to you; they are----Oh!

here is Beatrix."

"How is your papa now, Mademoiselle?" asked Varbarriere, anxious to escape.

"Just as he was, I think, a little low, the Doctor says."

"Ah!" said Varbarriere, and still his dark eyes looked on hers with grave inquiry.

"He always _is_ low for a day or two; but he says this will be nothing.

He almost hopes to be down this evening."

"Ah! Yes. That's very well," commented Varbarriere, with pauses between, and his steady, clouded gaze unchanged.

"We are going to the garden; are you ready, darling?" said she to Miss Blunket.

"Oh, quite," and she skipped to the door, smiling this way and that, as she stood in the sun on the step. "Sweet day," and she looked back on Beatrix and the invitation, glanced slightly on Drayton, who looked loweringly after them unmoved, and thought--

"Why the plague does she spoil her walks with that frightful old humbug?

There's no escaping that creature."

We have only conjecture as to which of the young ladies, now running down the steps, Mr. Drayton's p.r.o.nouns referred to.

"You fish to-day?" asked Varbarriere, on whose hands time dragged strangely.

"We were thinking of going down to that pretty place Gryston. Linnett was there on Sat.u.r.day morning. It was Linnett's trout you thought so good at luncheon."

And with such agreeable conversation they loitered a little at the door, and suddenly, with quick steps, there approached, and pa.s.sed them by, an apparition.

It was old General Lennox. He had been walking in the park--about the grounds--he knew not where, since daybreak. Awfully stern he looked, fatigued, draggled he well might be, gloveless, one hand in his pocket, the other clenched on his thumb like a child's in a convulsion. His thoughts were set on something remote, for he brushed by the gentlemen, and not till he had pa.s.sed did he seem to hear Drayton's cheery salutation, and stopping and turning towards them suddenly, he said, very grimly--

"Beg your pardon--"

"Nothing, General, only wis.h.i.+ng you good-morning," answered Drayton.

"Yes, charming morning. I've been walking. I've been out--a--thank you,"

and that lead-coloured and white General vanished like a wicked ghost.

"'Gad, he looks as if he'd got a licking. Did you ever see a fellow look so queer?"

"He's been overworking his mind--business, you know--wants rest, I suspect," said Varbarriere, with a solemn nod.

"They say fellows make themselves mad that way. I wonder has he had any breakfast; did you see his trowsers all over mud?"

"I half envy your walk to Gryston," said Varbarriere, glancing up towards the fleecy clouds and blue sky, and down again to the breezy landscape. "It's worth looking at, a very pretty bit, that steep bridge and glen."

"No notion of coming; maybe you will?"

Varbarriere smiled and shook his head.

"No angler, sir, never was," he said.

"A bad day, rather, at all events," said Drayton; "a grey day is the thing for us."

"Ah, yes, a grey day; so my nephew tells me; a pretty good angler, I believe."

Varbarriere did not hear Drayton's answer, whatever it was; he was thinking of quite other things, and more and more feverishly every minute. The situation was for him all in darkness. But there remained on his mind the impression that something worse even than a guilty discovery had occurred last night, and the spectre that had just crossed them in the hall was not a sight to dissipate those awful shadows.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Lady Alice Redcliffe makes General Lennox's Acquaintance.

Old General Lennox stopped a servant on the stairs, and learned from the staring domestic where Lady Alice Redcliffe then was.

That sad and somewhat virulent old martyr was at that moment in her accustomed haunt, Lady Mary's boudoir, and in her wonted att.i.tude over the fire, pondering in drowsy discontent over her many miseries, when a sharp knock at the door startled her nerves and awakened her temper.

Her "come in" sounded sharply, and she beheld for the first time in her life the General, a tall lean old man, with white bristles on brow and cheek, with his toilet disordered by long and rather rapid exercise, and grim and livid with no transient agitation.

"Lady Alice Redcliffe?" inquired he, with a stiff bow, remaining still inclined, his eyes still fixed on her.

"_I_ am Lady Alice Redcliffe," returned that lady, haughtily, having quite forgotten General Lennox and all about him.

"My name is Lennox," he said.

"Oh, _General_ Lennox? I was told you were here last night," said the old lady, scrutinising him with a sort of surprised frown; his dress and appearance were a little wild, and not in accordance with her ideas on military precision. "I am happy, General Lennox, to make your acquaintance. You've just arrived, I dare say?"

"I arrived yesterday--last night--last night late. I--I'm much obliged.

May I say a word?"

"Certainly, General Lennox," acquiesced the old lady, looking harder at him--"certainly, but I must remind you that I have been a sad invalid, and therefore very little qualified to discuss or advise;" and she leaned back with a fatigued air, but a curious look nevertheless.

"I--I--it's about my wife, ma'am. We can--we can't live any longer together." He was twirling his gold eyegla.s.s with trembling fingers as he spoke.

"You have been quarrelling--h'm?" said Lady Alice, still staring hard at him, and rising with more agility than one might have expected; and shutting the door, which the old General had left open, she said, "Sit down, sir--quarrelling, eh?"

"A quarrel, madam, that can never be made up--by ----, _never_." The General smote his gouty hand furiously on the chimneypiece as he thus spake.

"Don't, General Lennox, _don't_, pray. If you can't command yourself, how can you hope to bear with one another's infirmities? A quarrel?

H'm."