CHAPTER VI
A FISH OUT OF WATER
Sir George spent a long day in his own company, and heedless that on thesurgeon's authority he passed abroad for a hard man and a dashedunfeeling fellow, dined on Lord Lyttelton's 'Life of King Henry theSecond,' which was a new book in those days, and the fashion; and suppedon gloom and good resolutions. He proposed to call and inquire after hisantagonist at a decent hour in the morning, and if the report provedfavourable, to go on to Lord----'s in the afternoon.
But his suspense was curtailed, and his inquiries were converted into amatter of courtesy, by a visit which he received after breakfast fromMr. Thomasson. A glance at the tutor's smiling, unctuous face wasenough. Mr. Thomasson also had had his dark hour--since to be mixed upwith, a fashionable fracas was one thing, and to lose a valuable andinfluential pupil, the apple of his mother's eye, was another; but itwas past, and he gushed over with gratulations.
'My dear Sir George,' he cried, running forward and extending his hands,'how can I express my thankfulness for your escape? I am told that thepoor dear fellow fought with a fury perfectly superhuman, and had yougiven ground must have ran you through a dozen times. Let us be thankfulthat the result was otherwise.' And he cast up his eyes.
'I am,' Sir George said, regarding him rather grimly. 'I do not knowthat Mr. Dunborough shares the feeling.'
'The dear man!' the tutor answered, not a whit abashed. 'But he isbetter. The surgeon has extracted the ball and pronounces him outof danger.'
'I am glad to hear it,' Soane answered heartily. 'Then, now I can getaway.'
'_A volonte_!' cried Mr. Thomasson in his happiest vein. And then with aroguish air, which some very young men found captivating, but which hispresent companion stomached with difficulty, 'I will not say that youhave come off the better, after all, Sir George,' he continued.
'Ah!'
'No,' said the tutor roguishly. 'Tut-tut. These young men! They will ata woman by hook or crook.'
'So?' Sir George said coldly. 'And the latest instance?'
'His Chloe--and a very obdurate, disdainful Chloe at that--has come tonurse him,' the tutor answered, grinning. 'The prettiest high-steppingpiece you ever saw, Sir George--that I will swear!--and would do you nodiscredit in London. It would make your mouth water to see her. But hecould never move her; never was such a prude. Two days ago he thought hehad lost her for good and all--there was that accident, you understand.And now a little blood lost--and she is at his pillow!'
Sir George reddened at a sudden thought he had. 'And her fatherunburied!' he cried, rising to his feet. This Macaroni was human,after all.
Mr. Thomasson stared in astonishment. 'You know?' he said. 'Oh fie, SirGeorge, have you been hunting already? Fie! Fie! And all London tochoose from!'
But Sir George simply repeated, 'And her father not buried, man?'
'Yes,' Mr. Thomasson answered with simplicity. 'He was buried thismorning. Oh, that is all right.'
'This morning? And the girl went from that--to Dunborough's bedside?'Sir George exclaimed in indignation.
'It was a piece of the oddest luck,' Mr. Thomasson answered, smirking,and not in the least comprehending the other's feeling. 'He was lodgedin Magdalen yesterday; this morning a messenger was despatched toPembroke for clothes and such-like for him. The girl's mother has alwaysnursed in Pembroke, and they sent for her to help. But she was thatminute home from the burial, and would not go. Then up steps the girland "I'll go," says she--heaven knows why or what took her, except thecontrariness of woman. However, there she is! D'ye see?' And Mr.Thomasson winked.
'Tommy,' said Sir George, staring at him, 'I see that you're a d--drascal!'
The tutor, easy and smiling, protested. 'Fie, Sir George,' he said.'What harm is in it? To tend the sick, my dear sir, is a holy office.And if in this case harm come of it--' and he spread out his handsand paused.
'As you know it will,' Sir George cried impulsively.
But Mr. Thomasson shrugged his shoulders. 'On the contrary, I knownothing,' he answered. 'But--if it does, Mr. Dunborough's position issuch that--hem! Well, we are men of the world, Sir George, and the girlmight do worse.'
Sir George had heard the sentiment before, and without debate orprotest. Now it disgusted him. 'Faugh, man!' he said, rising. 'Havedone! You sicken me. Go and bore Lord Almeric--if he has not gone toParis to save his ridiculous skin!'
But Mr. Thomasson, who had borne abuse of himself with Christianmeekness, could not hear that unmoved. 'My dear Sir George, my dearfriend,' he urged very seriously, and with a shocked face, 'you shouldnot say things like that of his lordship. You really should not! My lordis a most excellent and--'
'Pure ass!' said Soane with irritation. 'And I wish you would go anddivert him instead of boring me.'
'Dear, dear, Sir George!' Mr. Thomasson wailed. 'But you do not mean it?And I brought you such good news, as I thought. One might--one reallymight suppose that you wished our poor friend the worst.'
'I wish him no worse a friend!' Sir George responded sharply; and then,heedless of his visitor's protestations and excuses and offers ofassistance, would see him to the door.
It was more easy, however, to be rid of him--the fine gentleman of thetime standing on scant ceremony with his inferiors--than of theannoyance, the smart, the vexation, his news left behind him. Sir Georgewas not in love. He would have laughed at the notion. The girl wasabsolutely and immeasurably below him; a girl of the people. He had seenher once only. In reason, therefore--and polite good breeding enforcedthe demand--he should have viewed Mr. Dunborough's conquest with easyindifference, and complimented him with a jest founded on the prowess ofMars and the smiles of Venus.
But the girl's rare beauty had caught Sir George's fancy; the scene inwhich he had taken part with her had captivated an imagination noteasily inveigled. On the top of these impressions had come a period ofgood resolutions prescribed by imminent danger; and on the top of thattwenty-four hours of solitude--a thing rare in the life he led. Result,that Sir George, picturing the girl's fate, her proud, passionate face,and her future, felt a sting at once selfish and unselfish, a pang atonce generous and vicious. Perhaps at the bottom of his irritation laythe feeling that if she was to be any man's prey she might be his. Buton the whole his feelings were surprisingly honest; they had their rootin a better nature, that, deep sunk under the surface of breeding andhabit, had been wholesomely stirred by the events of the last few days.
Still, the good and the evil in the man were so far in conflict that,had he been asked as he walked to Magdalen what he proposed to do shouldhe get speech with the girl, it is probable he would not have known whatto answer. Courtesy, nay, decency required that he should, inquire afterhis antagonist. If he saw the girl--and he had a sneaking desire to seeher--well. If he did not see her--still well; there was an end of afoolish imbroglio, which had occupied him too long already. In an hourhe could be in his post-chaise, and a mile out of town.
As it chanced, the surgeons in attendance on Dunborough had enjoinedquiet, and forbidden visitors. The staircase on which the rooms lay--abare, dusty, unfurnished place--was deserted; and the girl herselfopened the door to him, her finger on her lips. He looked for a blushand a glance of meaning, a little play of conscious eyes and hands, asomething of remembrance and coquetry; and had his hat ready in his handand a smile on his lips. But she had neither smile nor blush for him; onthe contrary, when the dim light that entered the dingy staircasedisclosed who awaited her, she drew back a pace with a look of dislikeand embarrassment.
'My good girl,' he said, speaking on the spur of the moment--for thereception took him aback--'what is it? What is the matter?'
She did not answer, but looked at him with solemn eyes, condemning him.
Even so Sir George was not blind to the whiteness of her throat, to theheavy coils of her dark hair, and the smooth beauty of her brow. Andsuddenly he thought he understood; and a chill ran through him. 'MyG--d!' he said, startled; 'he is not dead?'
She cl
osed the door behind her, and stood, her hand on the latch. 'No,he is not dead,' she said stiffly, voice and look alike repellent. 'Buthe has not you to thank for that.'
'Eh?'
'How can you come here with that face,' she continued with suddenpassion--and he began to find her eyes intolerable--'and ask for him?You who--fie, sir! Go home! Go home and thank God that you have not hisblood upon your hands--you--who might to-day be Cain!'
He gasped. 'Good Lord!' he said unaffectedly. And then, 'Why, you arethe girl who yesterday would have me kill him!' he cried withindignation; 'who came out of town to meet me, brought me in, and wouldhave matched me with him as coolly as ever sportsman set cock in pit!Ay, you! And now you blame me! My girl, blame yourself! Call yourselfCain, if you please!'
'I do,' she said unblenching. 'But I have my excuse. God forgive me nonethe less!' Her eyes filled as she said it. 'I had and have my excuse.But you--a gentleman! What part had you in this? Who were you to killyour fellow-creature--at the word of a distraught girl?'
Sir George saw his opening and jumped for it viciously. 'I fear youhonour me too much,' he said, in the tone of elaborate politeness, whichwas most likely to embarrass a woman in her position. 'Most certainlyyou do, if you are really under the impression that I fought Mr.Dunborough on your account, my girl!'
'Did you not?' she stammered; and the new-born doubt in her eyesbetrayed her trouble.
'Mr. Dunborough struck me, because I would not let him fire on thecrowd,' Sir George explained, blandly raising his quizzing glass, butnot using it. 'That was why I fought him. And that is my excuse. Yousee, my dear,' he continued familiarly, 'we have each an excuse. But Iam not a hypocrite.'
'Why do you call me that?' she exclaimed; distress and shame at themistake she had made contending with her anger.
'Because, my pretty Methodist,' he answered coolly, 'your hate and yourlove are too near neighbours. Cursing and nursing, killing and billing,come not so nigh one another in my vocabulary. But with women--somewomen--it is different.'
Her cheeks burned with shame, but her eyes flashed passion. 'If I were alady,' she cried, her voice low but intense, 'you would not dare toinsult me.'
'If you were a lady,' he retorted with easy insolence, 'I would kiss youand make you my wife, my dear. In the meantime, and as you are not--giveup nursing young sparks and go home to your mother. Don't roam the roadsat night, and avoid travelling-chariots as you would the devil. Or thenext knight-errant you light upon may prove something ruderthan--Captain Berkeley!'
'You are not Captain Berkeley?'
'No.'
She stared at him, breathing hard. Then, 'I was a fool, and I pay for itin insult,' she said.
'Be a fool no longer then,' he retorted, his good-humour restored by thesuccess of his badinage; 'and no man will have the right to insult you,_ma belle_.'
'I will never give _you_ the right!' she cried with intention.
'It is rather a question of Mr. Dunborough,' he answered, smilingsuperior, and flirting his spy-glass to and fro with his fingers. 'Saythe same to him, and--but are you going, my queen? What, withoutceremony?'
'I am not a lady, and _noblesse oblige_ does not apply to me,' shecried. And she closed the door in his face--sharply, yet without noise.
He went down the stairs a step at a time--thinking. 'Now, I wonder whereshe got that!' he muttered. '_Noblesse oblige_! And well applied too!'Again, 'Lord, what beasts we men are!' he thought. 'Insult? I suppose Idid insult her; but I had to do that or kiss her. And she earned it, thelittle firebrand!' Then standing and looking along the High--he hadreached the College gates--'D--n Dunborough! She is too good for him!For a very little--it would be mean, it would be low, it would be cursedlow--but for two pence I would speak to her mother and cheat him. She istoo good to be ruined by that coarse-tongued boaster! Though I supposeshe fancies him. I suppose he is an Adonis to her! Faugh! Tommy, mylord, and Dunborough! What a crew!'
The good and evil, spleen and patience, which he had displayed in hisinterview with the girl rode him still; for at the door of the Mitre hepaused, went in, came out, and paused again. He seemed to be unable todecide what he would do; but in the end he pursued his way along thestreet with a clouded brow, and in five minutes found himself at thedoor of the mean house in the court, whence the porter of Pembroke hadgone out night and morning. Here he knocked, and stood. In a moment thedoor was opened, but to his astonishment by Mr. Fishwick.
Either the attorney shared his surprise, or had another and more seriouscause for emotion; for his perky face turned red, and his manner as hestood holding the door half-open, and gaping at the visitor, was that ofa man taken in the act, and thoroughly ashamed of himself. Sir Georgemight have wondered what was afoot, if he had not espied over thelawyer's shoulder a round wooden table littered with papers, andguessed that Mr. Fishwick was doing the widow's business--a theory whichMr. Fishwick's first words, on recovering himself, bore out.
'I am here--on business,' he said, cringing and rubbing his hands. 'Idon't--I don't think that you can object, Sir George.'
'I?' said Soane, staring at him in astonishment and some contempt. 'Mygood man, what has it to do with me? You got my letter?'
'And the draft, Sir George!' Mr. Fishwick bowed low. 'Certainly,certainly, sir. Too much honoured. Which, as I understood, put an end toany--I mean it not offensively, honoured sir--to any connectionbetween us?'
Sir George nodded. 'I have my own lawyers in London,' he said stiffly.'I thought I made it clear that I did not need your services further.'
Mr. Fishwick rubbed his hands. 'I have that from your own lips, SirGeorge,' he said. 'Mrs. Masterson, my good woman, you heard that?'
Sir George glowered at him. 'Lord, man?' he said. 'Why so much aboutnothing? What on earth has this woman to do with it?'
Mr. Fishwick trembled with excitement. 'Mrs. Masterson, you will notanswer,' he stammered.
Sir George first stared, then cursed his impudence; then, rememberingthat after all this was not his business, or that on which he had come,and being one of those obstinates whom opposition but precipitates totheir ends, 'Hark ye, man, stand aside,' he said. 'I did not come hereto talk to you. And do you, my good woman, attend to me a moment. I havea word to say about your daughter.'
'Not a word! Mrs. Masterson,' the attorney cried his eyes almostbursting from his head with excitement.
Sir George was thunderstruck. "Is the man an idiot?" he exclaimed,staring at him. And then, "I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Fishwick, orwhatever your name is--a little more of this, and I shall lay my caneacross your back."
"I am in my duty," the attorney answered, dancing on his feet.
"Then you will suffer in it!" Sir George retorted. "With better men. Sodo not try me too far. I am here to say a word to this woman which Iwould rather say alone."
"Never," said the attorney, bubbling, "with my good will!"
Soane lost patience at that. "D--n you!" he cried. "Will you be quiet?"And made a cut at him with his cane. Fortunately the lawyer evaded itwith nimbleness; and having escaped to a safe distance hastened to cry,"No malice! I bear you no malice, sir!" with so little breath and somuch good-nature that Sir George recovered his balance. "Confound you,man!" he continued. "Why am I not to speak? I came here to tell thisgood woman that if she has a care for this girl the sooner she takes herfrom where she is the better! And you cannot let me put a word in."
"You came for that, sir?"
"For what else, fool?"
"I was wrong," said the attorney humbly. "I did not understand. Allow meto say, sir, that I am entirely of your opinion. The young lady--I meanshe shall be removed to-morrow. It--the whole arrangement isimproper--highly improper."
"Why, you go as fast now as you went slowly before," Sir George said,observing him curiously.
Mr. Fishwick smiled after a sickly fashion. "I did not understand, sir,"he said. "But it is most unsuitable, most unsuitable. She shall returnto-morrow at the latest."
Sir George, who had
said what he had to say, nodded, grunted, and wentaway; feeling that he had performed an unpleasant--and somewhatdoubtful--duty under most adverse circumstances. He could not in theleast comprehend the attorney's strange behaviour; but after somecontemptuous reflection, of which nothing came, he dismissed it as oneof the low things to which he had exposed himself by venturing out ofthe charmed circle in which he lived. He hoped that the painful serieswas now at an end, stepped into his post-chaise, amid the reverentsalaams of the Mitre, the landlord holding the door; and in a fewminutes had rattled over Folly Bridge, and left Oxford behind him.