CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SEVENTH
The Brothers change Places
I VAINLY believed I had prepared myself for any misfortune that couldfall on us. The man's last words dispelled my delusion. My gloomiestforebodings had never contemplated such a disaster as had now happened. Istood petrified, thinking of Lucilla, and looking helplessly at theservant. Try as I might, I was perfectly incapable of speaking to him.
He felt no such difficulty on his side. One of the strangestpeculiarities in the humbler ranks of the English people, is the sort ofsolemn relish which they have for talking of their own misfortunes. To bethe objects of a calamity of any kind, seems to raise them in their ownestimations. With a dreary enjoyment of his miserable theme, the servantexpatiated on his position as a man deprived of the best of masters;turned adrift again in the world to seek another service; hopeless ofever again finding himself in such a situation as he had lost. He rousedme at last into speaking to him, by sheer dint of irritating my nervesuntil I could endure him no longer.
"Has Mr. Oscar gone away alone?" I asked.
"Yes, ma'am, quite alone."
(What had become of Nugent? I was too much interested in Oscar to be ableto put the question, at that moment.)
"When did your master go?" I went on.
"Better than two hours since."
"Why didn't I hear of it before?"
"I had Mr. Oscar's orders not to tell you, ma'am, till this time in theevening."
Wretched as I was already, my spirits sank lower still when I heard that.The order given to the servant looked like a premeditated design, notonly to leave Dimchurch, but also to keep us in ignorance of hiswhereabouts afterwards.
"Has Mr. Oscar gone to London?" I inquired.
"He hired Gootheridge's chaise, ma'am, to take him to Brighton. And hetold me with his own lips that he had left Browndown never to come back.I know no more of it than that."
He had left Browndown, never to come back! For Lucilla's sake, I declinedto believe that. The servant was exaggerating, or the servant hadmisunderstood what had been said to him. The letter in my hand remindedme that I had perhaps needlessly questioned him on matters which hismaster had confided to my own knowledge only. Before I dismissed him forthe night, I made my deferred inquiry on the hateful subject of the otherbrother.
"Where is Mr. Nugent?"
"At Browndown."
"Do you mean to say that he is going to stay at Browndown?"
"I don't know, ma'am, for certain. I see no signs of his meaning toleave; and he has said nothing to that effect."
I had the greatest difficulty to keep myself from breaking out before theservant. My indignation almost choked me. The best way was to wish himgood night. I took the best way--only calling him back (as a measure ofcaution) to say one last word.
"Have you told anybody at the rectory of Mr. Oscar's departure?" I asked.
"No, ma'am."
"Say nothing, about it then, as you go out. Thank you for bringing me theletter. Good night."
Having thus provided against any whisper of what had happened reachingLucilla's ears that evening, I returned to Herr Grosse to make myexcuses, and to tell him (as I honestly could) that I was in sore need ofbeing permitted to retire privately to my own room. I found myillustrious guest putting a plate over the final dish of the dinner, fullof the tenderest anxiety to keep it warm on my account.
"Here is a lofely cheese-omelets," said Grosse. "Two-thirds of him I haveeaten my own self. The odder third I sweat with anxiety to keep warm foryou. Sit down! sit down! Every moment he is getting cold."
"I am much obliged to you, Herr Grosse. I have just heard some miserablenews----"
"Ach, Gott! don't tell it to me!" the wretch burst out with a look ofconsternation. "No miserable news, I pray you, after such a dinner as Ihave eaten. Let me do my digestions! My goot-dear-creature, if you lofeme let me do my digestions!"
"Will you excuse me, if I leave you to your digestion, and retire to myown room?"
He rose in a violent hurry, and opened the door for me.
"Yes! yes! From the deep bottoms of my heart I excuse you. Goot MadamePratolungo, retire! retire!"
I had barely passed the threshold, before the door was closed behind me.I heard the selfish old brute rub his hands, and chuckle over his successin shutting me and my sorrow both out of the room together.
Just as my hand was on my own door, it occurred to me that I should dowell to make sure of not being surprised by Lucilla over the reading ofOscar's letter. The truth is that I shrank from reading it. In spite ofmy resolution to disbelieve the servant, the dread was now growing on methat the letter would confirm his statement, and would force it on me asthe truth that Oscar had left us never to return. I retraced my steps,and entered Lucilla's room.
I could just see her, by the dim night-light burning in a cornet toenable the surgeon or the nurse to find their way to her. She was alonein her favorite little wicker-work chair, with the doleful white bandageover her eyes--to all appearance quite content, busily knitting!
"Don't you feel lonely, Lucilla?"
She turned her head towards me, and answered in her gayest tones.
"Not in the least. I am quite happy as I am.
"Why is Zillah not with you?"
"I sent her away."
"You sent her away?"
"Yes! I couldn't enjoy myself thoroughly to-night, unless I felt that Iwas quite alone. I have seen him, my dear--I have seen him! How could youpossibly think I felt lonely? I am so inordinately happy that I amobliged to knit to keep myself quiet. If you say much more, I shall getup and dance--I know I shall! Where is Oscar? That odious Grosse--no! itis too bad to talk of the dear old man in that way, after he has given meback my sight. Still it _is_ cruel of him to say that I am overexcited,and to forbid Oscar to come and see me to-night. Is Oscar with you, inthe next room? Is he very much disappointed at being parted from me inthis way? Say I am thinking of him--since I have seen him--with such newthoughts!"
"Oscar is not here to-night, my dear."
"No? then he is at Browndown of course with that poor wretched disfiguredbrother of his. I have got over my terror of Nugent's hideous face. I ameven beginning (though I never liked him, as you know) to pity him, withsuch a dreadful complexion as that. Don't let us talk about it! Don't letus talk at all! I want to go on thinking of Oscar."
She resumed her knitting, and shut herself up luxuriously in her ownhappy thoughts. Knowing what I knew, it was nothing less thanheart-breaking to see her and hear her. Afraid to trust myself to sayanother word, I softly closed the door, and charged Zillah (when hermistress rang her bell) to say for me that I was weary after the eventsof the day, and had gone to rest in my bed-room.
At last, I was alone. At last I was at the end of my maneuvers to sparemyself the miserable necessity of opening Oscar's letter. After firstlocking my door, I broke the seal, and read the lines which follow.