When the young catechist yawns over his reverence's discourse, who knows
but it is the doctor's vanity which is enraged, and not Heaven which is
offended? It may have been, in the differences which took place between
her son and her, the good Lady Walham never could comprehend the lad's
side of the argument; or how his Protestantism against her doctrines
should exhibit itself on the turf, the gaming-table, or the stage of the
opera-house; and thus but for the misfortune under which poor Kew now lay
bleeding, these two loving hearts might have remained through life
asunder. But by the boy's bedside; in the paroxysms of his fever; in the
wild talk of his delirium; in the sweet patience and kindness with which
he received his dear nurse's attentions; the gratefulness with which he
thanked the servants who waited on him; the fortitude with which he
suffered the surgeon's dealings with his wounds;--the widowed woman had
an opportunity to admire with an exquisite thankfulness the generous
goodness of her son; and in those hours, those sacred hours passed in her
own chamber, of prayers, fears, hopes, recollections, and passionate
maternal love, wrestling with fate for her darling's life;--no doubt the
humbled creature came to acknowledge that her own course regarding him
had been wrong; and, even more for herself than for him, implored
forgiveness.
For some time George Barnes had to send but doubtful and melancholy
bulletins to Lady Kew and the Newcome family at Baden, who were all
greatly moved and affected by the accident which had befallen poor Kew.
Lady Kew broke out in wrath, and indignation. We may be sure the Duchesse
d'Ivry offered to condole with her upon Kew's mishap the day after the
news arrived at Baden; and, indeed, came to visit her. The old lady had
just received other disquieting intelligence. She was just going out, but
she bade her servant to inform the Duchess that she was never more at
home to the Duchesse d'Ivry. The message was not delivered properly, or
the person for whom it was intended did not choose to understand it, for
presently, as the Countess was hobbling across the walk on her way to her
daughter's residence, she met the Duchesse d'Ivry, who saluted her with a
demure curtsey and a commonplace expression of condolence. The Queen of
Scots was surrounded by the chief part of her court, saving of course MM.
Castillonnes and Punter absent on service. "We were speaking of this
deplorable affair," said Madame d'Ivry (which indeed was the truth,
although she said it). "How we pity you, madame!" Blackball and Loder,
Cruchecassee and Schlangenbad, assumed sympathetic countenances.
Trembling on her cane, the old Countess glared out upon Madame d'Ivry. "I
pray you, madame," she said in French, "never again to address me the
word. If I had, like you, assassins in my pay, I would have you killed;
do you hear me?" and she hobbled on her way. The household to which she
went was in terrible agitation; the kind Lady Anne frightened beyond
measure, poor Ethel full of dread, and feeling guilty almost as if she
had been the cause, as indeed she was the occasion, of Kew's misfortune.
And the family had further cause of alarm from the shock which the news
had given to Sir Brian. It has been said that he had had illnesses of
late which caused his friends much anxiety. He had passed two months at
Aix-la-Chapelle, his physicians dreading a paralytic attack; and Madame
d'Ivry's party still sauntering on the walk, the men smoking their
cigars, the women breathing their scandal, now beheld Dr. Finck issuing
from Lady Anne's apartments, and wearing such a face of anxiety, that the
Duchesse asked with some emotion, "Had there been a fresh bulletin from
Kehl?"
"No, there had been no fresh bulletin from Kehl; but two hours since Sir
Brian Newcome had had a paralytic seizure."
"Is he very bad?"
"No," says Dr. Finck, "he is not very bad."
"How inconsolable M. Barnes will be!" said the Duchesse, shrugging her
haggard shoulders. Whereas the fact was that Mr. Barnes retained perfect
presence of mind under both of the misfortunes which had befallen his
family. Two days afterwards the Duchesse's husband arrived himself, when
we may presume that exemplary woman was too much engaged with her own
affairs to be able to be interested about the doings of other people.
With the Duke's arrival the court of Mary Queen of Scots was broken up.
Her Majesty was conducted to Lochleven, where her tyrant soon dismissed
her very last lady-in-waiting, the confidential Irish secretary, whose
performance had produced such a fine effect amongst the Newcomes.
Had poor Sir Brian Newcome's seizure occurred at an earlier period of the
autumn, his illness no doubt would have kept him for some months confined
at Baden; but as he was pretty nearly the last of Dr. Von Finck's bath
patients, and that eminent physician longed to be off to the Residenz, he
was pronounced in a fit condition for easy travelling in rather a brief
period after his attack, and it was determined to transport him to
Mannheim, and thence by water to London and Newcome.
During all this period of their father's misfortune no sister of charity
could have been more tender, active, cheerful, and watchful than Miss
Ethel. She had to wear a kind face, and exhibit no anxiety when
occasionally the feeble invalid made inquiries regarding poor Kew at
Baden; to catch the phrases as they came from him; to acquiesce, or not
to deny, when Sir Brian talked of the marriages--both marriages--taking
place at Christmas. Sir Brian was especially eager for his daughter's,
and repeatedly, with his broken words, and smiles, and caresses, which
were now quite senile, declared that his Ethel would make the prettiest
countess in England. There came a letter or two from Clive, no doubt, to
the young nurse in her sick-room. Manly and generous, full of tenderness
and affection, as those letters surely were, they could give but little
pleasure to the young lady--indeed, only add to her doubts and pain.
She had told none of her friends as yet of those last words of Kew's,
which she interpreted as a farewell on the young nobleman's part. Had she
told them they were likely would not have understood Kew's meaning as she
did, and persisted in thinking that the two were reconciled. At any rate,
whilst he and her father were still lying stricken by the blows which had
prostrated them both, all questions of love and marriage had been put
aside. Did she love him? She felt such a kind pity for his misfortune,
such an admiration for his generous gallantry, such a remorse for her own
wayward conduct and cruel behaviour towards this most honest, and kindly,
and affectionate gentleman, that the sum of regard which she could bestow
upon him might surely be said to amount to love. For such a union as that
contemplated between them, perhaps for any marriage, no greater degree of
attachment was necessary as the common cement. Warm friendship and
thorough esteem and confidence (I do not say that our young lady
calculated in this matter-of-fact wa
y) are safe properties invested in
the prudent marriage stock, multiplying and bearing an increasing value
with every year. Many a young couple of spendthrifts get through their
capital of passion in the first twelve months, and have no love left for
the daily demands of after life. O me! for the day when the bank account
is closed, and the cupboard is empty, and the firm of Damon and Phyllis
insolvent!
Miss Newcome, we say, without doubt, did not make her calculations in
this debtor and creditor fashion; it was only the gentlemen of that
family who went to Lombard Street. But suppose she thought that regard,
and esteem, and, affection being sufficient, she could joyfully, and with
almost all her heart bring such a portion to Lord Kew; that her harshness
towards him as contrasted with his own generosity, and above all with his
present pain, infinitely touched her; and suppose she fancied that there
was another person in the world to whom, did fates permit, she could
offer not esteem, affection, pity only, but something ten thousand times
more precious? We are not in the young lady's secrets, but if she has
some as she sits by her father's chair and bed, who day or night will
have no other attendant; and, as she busies herself to interpret his
wants, silently moves on his errands, administers his potions, and
watches his sleep, thinks of Clive absent and unhappy, of Kew wounded and
in danger, she must have subject enough of thought and pain. Little
wonder that her cheeks are pale and her eyes look red; she has her cares
to endure now in the world, and her burden to bear in it, and somehow she
feels she is alone, since that day when poor Clive's carriage drove away.
In a mood of more than ordinary depression and weakness Lady Kew must
have found her granddaughter, upon one of the few occasions after the
double mishap when Ethel and her elder were together. Sir Brian's
illness, as it may be imagined, affected a lady very slightly, who was of
an age when these calamities occasion but small disquiet, and who, having
survived her own father, her husband, her son, and witnessed their
lordships' respective demises with perfect composure, could not
reasonably be called upon to feel any particular dismay at the probable
departure from this life of a Lombard Street banker, who happened to be
her daughter's husband. In fact, not Barnes Newcome himself could await
that event more philosophically. So, finding Ethel in this melancholy
mood, Lady Kew thought a drive in the fresh air would be of service to
her, and Sir Brian happening to be asleep, carried the young girl away in
her barouche.
They talked about Lord Kew, of whom the accounts were encouraging, and
who is mending in spite of his silly mother and her medicines, "and as
soon as he is able to move we must go and fetch him, my dear," Lady Kew
graciously said, "before that foolish woman has made a methodist of him.
He is always led by the woman who is nearest him, and I know one who will
make of him just the best little husband in England." Before they had
come to this delicate point the lady and her grandchild had talked Kew's
character over, the girl, you may be sure, having spoken feelingly and
eloquently about his kindness and courage, and many admirable qualities.
She kindled when she heard the report of his behaviour at the
commencement of the fracas with M. de Castillonnes, his great forbearance
and good-nature, and his resolution and magnanimity when the moment of
collision came.
But when Lady Kew arrived at that period of her discourse in which she
stated that Kew would make the best little husband in England, poor
Ethel's eyes filled with tears; we must remember that her high spirit was
worn down by watching and much varied anxiety, and then she confessed
that there had been no reconciliation, as all the family fancied, between
Frank and herself--on the contrary, a parting, which she understood to be
final; and she owned that her conduct towards her cousin had been most
captious and cruel, and that she could not expect they should ever again
come together. Lady Kew, who hated sick-beds and surgeons except for
herself, who hated her daughter-in-law above all, was greatly annoyed at
the news which Ethel gave her; made light of if, however, and was quite
confident that a very few words from her would place matters on their old
footing, and determined on forthwith setting out for Kehl. She would have
carried Ethel with her, but that the poor Baronet with cries and moans
insisted on retaining his nurse, and Ethel's grandmother was left to
undertake this mission by herself, the girl remaining behind acquiescent,
not unwilling, owning openly a great regard and esteem for Kew, and the
wrong which she had done him, feeling secretly a sentiment which she had
best smother. She had received a letter from that other person, and
answered it with her mother's cognisance, but about this little affair
neither Lady Anne nor her daughter happened to say a word to the manager
of the whole family.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
In which Lady Kew leaves his Lordship quite convalescent
Immediately after Lord Kew's wound, and as it was necessary to apprise
the Newcome family of the accident which had occurred, the good-natured
young Kew had himself written a brief note to acquaint his relatives with
his mishap, and had even taken the precaution to antedate a couple of
billets to be despatched on future days; kindly forgeries, which told the
Newcome family and the Countess of Kew, that Lord Kew was progressing
very favourably, and that his hurt was trifling. The fever had set in,
and the young patient was lying in great danger, as most of the laggards
at Baden knew, when his friends there were set at ease by this fallacious
bulletin. On the third day after the accident, Lady Walham arrived with
her younger son, to find Lord Kew in the fever which ensued after the
wound. As the terrible anxiety during the illness had been Lady Walham's,
so was hers the delight of the recovery. The commander-in-chief of the
family, the old lady at Baden, showed her sympathy by sending couriers,
and repeatedly issuing orders to have news of Kew. Sick-beds scared her
away invariably. When illness befell a member of her family she hastily
retreated from before the sufferer, showing her agitation of mind,
however, by excessive ill-humour to all the others within her reach.
A fortnight passed, a ball had been found and extracted, the fever was
over, the wound was progressing favourably, the patient advancing towards
convalescence, and the mother, with her child once more under her wing,
happier than she had been for seven years past, during which her young
prodigal had been running the thoughtless career of which he himself was
weary, and which had occasioned the fond lady such anguish. Those doubts
which perplex many a thinking man, and, when formed and uttered, give
many a fond and faithful woman pain so exquisite, had most fortunately
never crossed Kew's mind. His early impressions were such as his mother
had left the
m, and he came back to her, as she would have him, as a
little child; owning his faults with a hearty humble repentance, and with
a thousand simple confessions, lamenting the errors of his past days. We
have seen him tired and ashamed of the pleasures which he was pursuing,
of the companions who surrounded him, of the brawls and dissipations
which amused him no more; in those hours of danger and doubt, when he had
lain, with death perhaps before him, making up his account of the vain
life which probably he would be called upon to surrender, no wonder this
simple, kindly, modest, and courageous soul thought seriously of the past
and of the future; and prayed, and resolved, if a future were awarded to
him, it should make amends for the days gone by; and surely as the mother
and son read together the beloved assurance of the divine forgiveness,
and of that joy which angels feel in heaven for a sinner repentant, we
may fancy in the happy mother's breast a feeling somewhat akin to that
angelic felicity, a gratitude and joy of all others the loftiest, the
purest, the keenest. Lady Walham might shrink with terror at the
Frenchman's name, but her son could forgive him, with all his heart, and
kiss his mother's hand, and thank him as the best friend of his life.
During all the days of his illness, Kew had never once mentioned Ethel's
name, and once or twice as his recovery progressed, when with doubt and
tremor his mother alluded to it, he turned from the subject as one that
was disagreeable and painful. Had she thought seriously on certain
things? Lady Walham asked. Kew thought not, "but those who are bred up as
you would have them, mother, are often none the better," the humble young
fellow said. "I believe she is a very good girl. She is very clever, she
is exceedingly handsome, she is very good to her parents and her brothers
and sisters; but--" he did not finish the sentence. Perhaps he thought,
as he told Ethel afterwards, that she would have agreed with Lady Walham
even worse than with her imperious old grandmother.
Lady Walham then fell to deplore Sir Brian's condition, accounts of whose
seizure of course had been despatched to the Kehl party, and to lament
that a worldly man as he was should have such an affliction, so near the
grave and so little prepared for it. Here honest Kew, however, held out.
"Every man for himself, mother," says he. "Sir Brian was bred up very
strictly, perhaps too strictly as a young man. Don't you know that that
good Colonel, his elder brother, who seems to me about the most honest
and good old gentleman I ever met in my life, was driven into rebellion
and all sorts of wild courses by old Mrs. Newcome's tyranny over him? As
for Sir Brian, he goes to church every Sunday: has prayers in the family
every day: I'm sure has led a hundred times better life than I have, poor
old Sir Brian. I often have thought, mother, that though our side was
wrong, you could not be altogether right, because I remember how my
tutor, and Mr. Bonner, and Dr. Laud, when they used to come down to us at
Kewbury, used to make themselves so unhappy about other people." So the
widow withdrew her unhappiness about Sir Brian; she was quite glad to
hope for the best regarding that invalid.
With some fears yet regarding her son,--for many of the books with which
the good lady travelled could not be got to interest him; at some he
would laugh outright,--with fear mixed with the maternal joy that he was
returned to her, and had quitted his old ways; with keen feminine
triumph, perhaps, that she had won him back, and happiness at his daily
mending health, all Lady Walham's hours were passed in thankful and
delighted occupation. George Barnes kept the Newcomes acquainted with the
state of his brother's health. The skilful surgeon from Strasbourg
reported daily better and better of him, and the little family were
living in great peace and contentment, with one subject of dread,