Sir Brook Fossbrooke, Volume I.. Lever Charles James
this morning to come up here. I suppose my combative spirit was high in me, and I wanted a round with the gloves, – or, indeed, without them; at all events, I sent the challenge. But now, doctor, I have to own myself a craven. I dread the visit Could you manage to interpose? Could you suggest that it is by your order I am not permitted to receive her? Could you hint” – here he smiled half maliciously – “that you do not think the time has come for anodynes, – eh, doctor?”
“Leave it to me. I ‘ll speak to Lady Lendrick.”
“There ‘s another thing: not that it much matters; but it might perhaps be as well to send a few lines to the morning papers, to say the accounts of the Chief Baron are more favorable to-day; he passed a tranquil night, and so on. Pemberton won’t like it, nor Hayes; but it will calm the fears of a very attached friend who calls here twice daily. You’d never guess him. He is the agent of the Globe Office, where I ‘m insured. Ah, doctor, it was a bright thought of Philanthropy to establish an industrial enterprise that is bound, under heavy recognizances, to be grieved at our death.”
“I must not make you talk, Sir William. I must not encourage you to exert yourself. I ‘ll say good-bye, and look in upon you this afternoon.”
“Am I to have a book? Well; be it so. I I ‘ll sit and muse over the Attorney-General and his hopes.”
“I have got two very interesting miniatures here. I ‘ll leave them with you; you might like to look at them.”
“Miniatures! whose portraits are they?” asked the other, hastily, as he almost snatched them from his hand. “What a miserable juggler! what a stale trick this!” said he, as he opened the case which contained the young man’s picture. “So, sir, you lend yourself to such attempts as these.”
“I don’t understand you,” said Beattie, indignantly.
“Yes, sir, you understand me perfectly. You would do, by a piece of legerdemain, what you have not the courage to attempt openly. These are Tom Lendrick’s children.”
“They are.”
“And this simpering young lady is her mother’s image; pretty, pretty, no doubt; and a little – a shade, perhaps – of espièglerie above what her mother possessed. She was the silliest woman that ever turned a fool’s head. She had the ineffable folly, sir, to believe she could persuade me to forgive my son for having married her; and when I handed her to a seat, – for she was at my knees, – she fainted.”
“Well. It is time to forgive him now. As for her, she is beyond forgiveness, or favor, either,” said Beattie, with more energy than before.
“There is no such trial to a man in a high calling as the temptation it offers him to step beyond it. Take care, sir, that with all your acknowledged ability, this temptation be not too much for you.” The tone and manner in which the old judge delivered these words recalled the justice-seat. “It is an honor to me to have you as my doctor, sir. It would be to disparage my own intelligence to accept you as my confessor.”
“A doctor but discharges half his trust when he fails to warn his patient against the effects of irritability.”
“The man who would presume to minister to my temper or to my nature should be no longer medico of mine. With what intention, sir, did you bring me these miniatures?”
“That you might see two bright and beautiful faces whose owners are bound to you by the strongest ties of blood.”
“Do you know, sir, – have you ever heard, – how their father, by his wilfulness, by his folly, by his heartless denial of my right to influence him, ruined the fortune that cost my life of struggle and labor to create?”
The doctor shook his head, and the other continued: “Then I will tell it to you, sir. It is more than seventeen years to-day when the then Viceroy sent for me, and said, ‘Baron Lendrick, there is no man, after Plunkett, to whom we owe more than to yourself.’ I bowed, and said, ‘I do not accept the qualification, my Lord, even in favor of the distinguished Chancellor. I will not believe myself second to any.’ I need not relate what ensued; the discussion was a long one, – it was also a warm one; but he came back at last to the object of the interview, which was to say that the Prime Minister was willing to recommend my name to her Majesty for the Peerage, – an honor, he was pleased to say, the public would see conferred upon me with approval; and I refused! Yes, sir, I refused what for thirty-odd years had formed the pride and the prize of my existence! I refused it, because I would not that her Majesty’s favor should descend to one so unworthy of it as this fellow, or that his low-born children should inherit a high name of my procuring. I refused, sir, and I told the noble Marquess my reasons. He tried – pretty much as you have tried – to bring me to a more forgiving spirit; but I stopped him by saying, ‘When I hear that your Excellency has invited to your table the scurrilous author of the lampoon against you in the “Satirist,” I will begin to listen to the claims that may be urged on the score of forgiveness; not till then.’”
“I am wrong – very wrong – to let you talk on themes like this; we must keep them for calmer moments.” Beattie laid his finger on the pulse as he spoke, and counted the beats by his watch.
“Well, sir, what says Death? Will he consent to a ‘nolle prosequi,’ or must the cause go on?”
“You are not worse; and even that, after all this excitement, is something. Good-bye now till evening. No books, – no newspapers, remember. Doze; dream; do anything but excite yourself.”
“You are cruel, sir; you cut off all my enjoyments together. You deny me the resources of reading, and you deny me the solace of my wife’s society.” The cutting sarcasm of the last words was shown in the spiteful sparkle of his eye, and the insolent curl of his mouth; and as the doctor retired, the memory of that wicked look haunted him throughout the day.
CHAPTER IV. HOME DIPLOMACIES
“Well, it ‘s done now, Lucy, and it can’t be helped,” said young Lendrick to his sister, as, with an unlighted cigar between his lips, and his hands in the pockets of his shooting-jacket, he walked impatiently up and down the drawing-room. “I ‘m sure if I only suspected you were so strongly against it, I ‘d not have done it.”
“My dear Tom, I’m only against it because I think papa would be so. You know we never see any one here when he is at home, and why should we now, because he is absent?”
“Just for that reason. It’s our only chance, girl.”
“Oh, Tom!”
“Well, I don’t mean that exactly, but I said it to startle you. No, Lucy; but, you see, here’s how the matter stands. I have been three whole days in their company. On Tuesday the young fellow gave me that book of flies and the top-joint of my rod. Yesterday I lunched with them. To-day they pressed me so hard to dine with them that I felt almost rude in persisting to refuse; and it was as much to avoid the awkwardness of the situation as anything else that I asked them up to tea this evening.”
“I’m sure, Tom, if it would give you any pleasure – ”
“Of course it gives me pleasure,” broke he in; “I don’t suspect that fellows of my age like to live like hermits. And whom do I ever see down here? Old Mills and old Tobin, and Larry Day, the dog-breaker. I ask his pardon for putting him last, for he is the best of the three. Girls can stand this sort of nun’s life, but I ‘ll be hanged if it will do for us.”
“And then, Tom,” resumed she, in the same tone, “remember they are both perfect strangers. I doubt if you even know their names.”
“That I do, – the old fellow is Sir Brook something or other. It ‘s not Fogey, but it begins like it; and the other is called Trafford, – Lionel, I think, is his Christian name. A glorious fellow, too; was in the 9th Lancers and in the blues, and is now here with the fifty – th because he went it too hard in the cavalry. He had a horse for the Derby two years ago.” The tone of proud triumph in which he made this announcement seemed to say, Now, all discussion about him may cease. “Not but,” added he, after a pause, “you might like the old fellow best; he has such