by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XV.
A TEA-PARTY.
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round; And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each, Thus let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Cowper's _Task_.
The approach of the cold and rainy season had now so far thinned thecompany at the Well, that, in order to secure the necessary degree ofcrowd upon her tea-nights, Lady Penelope was obliged to employ somecoaxing towards those whom she had considered as much under par insociety. Even the Doctor and Mrs. Blower were graciously smiledupon--for their marriage was now an arranged affair; and the event wasof a nature likely to spread the reputation of the Spa among wealthywidows, and medical gentlemen of more skill than practice. So in theycame, the Doctor smirking, gallanting, and performing all the bustlingparade of settled and arranged courtship, with much of that gracewherewith a turkey-cock goes through the same ceremony. Old Touchwoodhad also attended her ladyship's summons, chiefly, it may be supposed,from his restless fidgety disposition, which seldom suffered him toremain absent even from those places of resort of which he usuallyprofessed his detestation. There was, besides, Mr. Winterblossom, who,in his usual spirit of quiet epicurism and self-indulgence, was, underthe fire of a volley of compliments to Lady Penelope, scheming to securefor himself an early cup of tea. There was Lady Binks also, with thewonted degree of sullenness in her beautiful face, angry at her husbandas usual, and not disposed to be pleased with Lord Etherington for beingabsent, when she desired to excite Sir Bingo's jealousy. This she haddiscovered to be the most effectual way of tormenting the Baronet, andshe rejoiced in it with the savage glee of a hackney coachman, who hasfound a _raw_, where he can make his poor jade feel the whip. The restof the company were also in attendance as usual. MacTurk himself waspresent, notwithstanding that he thought it an egregious waste of hotwater, to bestow it upon compounding any mixture saving punch. He had oflate associated himself a good deal with the traveller; not that they byany means resembled each other in temper or opinions, but rather becausethere was that degree of difference betwixt them which furnishedperpetual subject for dispute and discussion. They were not long, on thepresent occasion, ere they lighted on a fertile source of controversy.
"Never tell me of your points of honour," said Touchwood, raising hisvoice altogether above the general tone of polite conversation--"allhumbug, Captain MacTurk--mere hair-traps to springe woodcocks--men ofsense break through them."
"Upon my word, sir," said the Captain, "and myself is surprised to hearyou--for, look you, sir, every man's honour is the breath of hisnostrils--Cot tamn!"
"Then, let men breathe through their mouths, and be d--d," returned thecontroversialist. "I tell you, sir, that, besides its being forbidden,both by law and gospel, it's an idiotical and totally absurd practice,that of duelling. An honest savage has more sense than to practiseit--he takes his bow or his gun, as the thing may be, and shoots hisenemy from behind a bush. And a very good way; for you see there can, inthat case, be only one man's death between them."
"Saul of my body, sir," said the Captain, "gin ye promulgate sicdoctrines amang the good company, it's my belief you will bring somebodyto the gallows."
"Thank ye, Captain, with all my heart; but I stir up no quarrels--Ileave war to them that live by it. I only say, that, except our old,stupid ancestors in the north-west here, I know no country so silly asto harbour this custom of duelling. It is unknown in Africa, among thenegroes--in America."
"Don't tell me that," said the Captain; "a Yankee will fight withmuskets and buck-shot, rather than sit still with an affront. I shouldknow Jonathan, I think."
"Altogether unknown among the thousand tribes of India."
"I'll be tamned, then!" said Captain MacTurk. "Was I not in Tippoo'sprison at Bangalore? and, when the joyful day of our liberation came,did we not solemnize it with fourteen little affairs, whereof we hadbeen laying the foundation in our house of captivity, as holy writ hasit, and never went farther to settle them than the glacis of the fort?By my soul, you would have thought there was a smart skirmish, thefiring was so close; and did not I, Captain MacTurk, fight three of themmyself, without moving my foot from the place I set it on?"
"And pray, sir, what might be the result of this Christian mode ofgiving thanks for your deliverance?" demanded Mr. Touchwood.
"A small list of casualties, after all," said the Captain; "one killedon the spot, one died of his wounds--two wounded severely--three dittoslightly, and little Duncan Macphail reported missing. We were out ofpractice, after such long confinement. So you see how we manage mattersin India, my dear friend."
"You are to understand," replied Touchwood, "that I spoke only of theheathen natives, who, heathen as they are, live in the light of theirown moral reason, and among whom ye shall therefore see better examplesof practical morality than among such as yourselves; who, though callingyourselves Christians, have no more knowledge of the true acceptationand meaning of your religion, than if you had left your Christianity atthe Cape of Good Hope, as they say of you, and forgot to take it up whenyou come back again."
"Py Cot! and I can tell you, sir," said the Captain, elevating at oncehis voice and his nostrils, and snuffing the air with a truculent andindignant visage, "that I will not permit you or any man to throw anysuch scandal on my character.--I thank Cot, I can bring good witnessthat I am as good a Christian as another, for a poor sinner, as the bestof us are; and I am ready to justify my religion with my sword--Cottamn!--Compare my own self with a parcel of black heathen bodies andnatives, that were never in the inner side of a kirk whilst they lived,but go about worshipping stocks and stones, and swinging themselves uponbamboos, like peasts, as they are!"
An indignant growling in his throat, which sounded like theacquiescence of his inward man in the indignant proposition which hisexternal organs thus expressed, concluded this haughty speech, which,however, made not the least impression on Touchwood, who cared as littlefor angry tones and looks as he did for fine speeches. So that it islikely a quarrel between the Christian preceptor and the peacemakermight have occurred for the amusement of the company, had not theattention of both, but particularly that of Touchwood, been divertedfrom the topic of debate by the entrance of Lord Etherington andMowbray.
The former was, as usual, all grace, smiles, and gentleness. Yet,contrary to his wonted custom, which usually was, after a few generalcompliments, to attach himself particularly to Lady Binks, the Earl, onthe present occasion, avoided the side of the room on which thatbeautiful but sullen idol held her station, and attached himselfexclusively to Lady Penelope Penfeather, enduring, without flinching,the strange variety of conceited _bavardage_, which that lady's naturalparts and acquired information enabled her to pour forth withunparalleled profusion.
An honest heathen, one of Plutarch's heroes, if I mistake not,[II-E]dreamed once upon a night, that the figure of Proserpina, whom he hadlong worshipped, visited his slumbers with an angry and vindictivecountenance, and menaced him with vengeance, in resentment of his havingneglected her altars, with the usual fickleness of a polytheist, forthose of some more fashionable divinity. Not that goddess of theinfernal regions herself could assume a more haughty or more displeasedcountenance than that with which Lady Binks looked from time to timeupon Lord Etherington, as if to warn him of the consequence of thisdeparture from the allegiance which the young Earl had hithertomanifested towards her, and which seemed now, she knew not why, unlessit were for the purpose of public insult, to be transferred to herrival. Perilous as her eye-glances were, and much as they menaced, LordEtherington felt at this moment the importance of soothing Lady Penelopeto silence on the subject of the invalid's confession of that morning,to be more pressing than that of appeasing the indignation of LadyBinks. The former was a case of the most urgent necessity--the latter,if he was at all anxious on the subject, might, he perhaps thought, betrusted to time. Had the ladies continued on a tolerable foot
ingtogether, he might have endeavoured to conciliate both. But thebitterness of their long-suppressed feud had greatly increased, now thatit was probable the end of the season was to separate them, in alllikelihood for ever; so that Lady Penelope had no longer any motive forcountenancing Lady Binks, or the lady of Sir Bingo for desiring LadyPenelope's countenance. The wealth and lavish expense of the one was nolonger to render more illustrious the suit of her right honourablefriend, nor was the society of Lady Penelope likely to be soon againuseful or necessary to Lady Binks. So that neither were any longerdesirous to suppress symptoms of the mutual contempt and dislike whichthey had long nourished for each other; and whoever should, in thisdecisive hour, take part with one, had little henceforward to expectfrom her rival. What farther and more private reasons Lady Binks mighthave to resent the defection of Lord Etherington, have never come withcertainty to our knowledge; but it was said there had been high wordsbetween them on the floating report that his lordship's visits toShaws-Castle were dictated by the wish to find a bride there.
Women's wits are said to be quick in spying the surest means of avenginga real or supposed slight. After biting her pretty lips, and revolvingin her mind the readiest means of vengeance, fate threw in her way youngMowbray of St. Ronan's. She looked at him, and endeavoured to fix hisattention with a nod and gracious smile, such as in an ordinary moodwould have instantly drawn him to her side. On receiving in answer onlya vacant glance and a bow, she was led to observe him more attentively,and was induced to believe, from his wavering look, varying complexion,and unsteady step, that he had been drinking unusually deep. Still hiseye was less that of an intoxicated than of a disturbed and desperateman, one whose faculties were engrossed by deep and turbid reflection,which withdrew him from the passing scene.
"Do you observe how ill Mr. Mowbray looks?" said she, in a loudwhisper; "I hope he has not heard what Lady Penelope was just now sayingof his family?"
"Unless he hears it from you, my lady," answered Mr. Touchwood, who,upon Mowbray's entrance, had broken off his discourse with MacTurk, "Ithink there is little chance of his learning it from any other person."
"What is the matter?" said Mowbray, sharply, addressing Chatterly andWinterblossom; but the one shrunk nervously from the question,protesting, he indeed had not been precisely attending to what had beenpassing among the ladies, and Winterblossom bowed out of the scrape withquiet and cautious politeness--"he really had not given particularattention to what was passing--I was negotiating with Mrs. Jones for anadditional lump of sugar to my coffee.--Egad, it was so difficult apiece of diplomacy," he added, sinking his voice, "that I have an ideaher ladyship calculates the West India produce by grains andpennyweights."
The innuendo, if designed to make Mowbray smile, was far fromsucceeding. He stepped forward, with more than usual stiffness in hisair, which was never entirely free from self-consequence, and said toLady Binks, "May I request to know of your ladyship what particularrespecting my family had the honour to engage the attention of thecompany?"
"I was only a listener, Mr. Mowbray," returned Lady Binks, with evidentenjoyment of the rising indignation which she read in his countenance;"not being queen of the night, I am not at all disposed to be answerablefor the turn of the conversation."
Mowbray, in no humour to bear jesting, yet afraid to expose himself byfarther enquiry in a company so public, darted a fierce look at LadyPenelope, then in close conversation with Lord Etherington,--advanced astep or two towards them,--then, as if checking himself, turned on hisheel, and left the room. A few minutes afterwards, and when certainsatirical nods and winks were circulating among the assembly, a waiterslid a piece of paper into Mrs. Jones's hand, who, on looking at thecontents, seemed about to leave the room.
"Jones--Jones!" exclaimed Lady Penelope, in surprise and displeasure.
"Only the key of the tea-caddie, your ladyship," answered Jones; "I willbe back in an instant."
"Jones--Jones!" again exclaimed her mistress, "here is enough"--of tea,she would have said; but Lord Etherington was so near her, that she wasashamed to complete the sentence, and had only hope in Jones's quicknessof apprehension, and the prospect that she would be unable to find thekey which she went in search of.
Jones, meanwhile, tripped off to a sort of housekeeper's apartment, ofwhich she was _locum tenens_ for the evening, for the more ready supplyof whatever might be wanted on Lady Penelope's night, as it was called.Here she found Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's, whom she instantly began toassail with, "La! now, Mr. Mowbray, you are such another gentleman!--Iam sure you will make me lose my place--I'll swear you will--what canyou have to say, that you could not as well put off for an hour?"
"I want to know, Jones," answered Mowbray, in a different tone, perhaps,from what the damsel expected, "what your lady was just now saying aboutmy family."
"Pshaw!--was that all?" answered Mrs. Jones. "What should she besaying?--nonsense--Who minds what she says?--I am sure I never do, forone."
"Nay, but, my dear Jones," said Mowbray, "I insist upon knowing--I mustknow, and I _will_ know."
"La! Mr. Mowbray, why should I make mischief?--As I live, I hear someone coming! and if you were found speaking with me here--indeed, indeed,some one is coming!"
"The devil may come, if he will!" said Mowbray, "but we do not part,pretty mistress, till you tell me what I wish to know."
"Lord, sir, you frighten me!" answered Jones; "but all the room heard itas well as I--it was about Miss Mowbray--and that my lady would be shyof her company hereafter--for that she was--she was"----
"For that my sister was _what_?" said Mowbray, fiercely, seizing herarm.
"Lord, sir, you terrify me!" said Jones, beginning to cry; "at any rate,it was not I that said it--it was Lady Penelope."
"And what was it the old, adder-tongued madwoman dared to say of ClaraMowbray?--Speak out plainly, and directly, or, by Heaven, I'll makeyou!"
"Hold, sir--hold, for God's sake!--you will break my arm," answered theterrified handmaiden. "I am sure I know no harm of Miss Mowbray; only,my lady spoke as if she was no better than she ought to be.--Lord, sir,there is some one listening at the door!"--and making a spring out ofhis grasp, she hastened back to the room in which the company wereassembled.
Mowbray stood petrified at the news he had heard, ignorant alike whatcould be the motive for a calumny so atrocious, and uncertain what hewere best do to put a stop to the scandal. To his farther confusion, hewas presently convinced of the truth of Mrs. Jones's belief that theyhad been watched, for, as he went to the door of the apartment, he wasmet by Mr. Touchwood.
"What has brought you here, sir?" said Mowbray, sternly.
"Hoitie toitie," answered the traveller, "why, how came _you_ here, ifyou go to that, squire?--Egad, Lady Penelope is trembling for hersouchong, so I just took a step here to save her ladyship the trouble oflooking after Mrs. Jones in person, which, I think, might have been aworse interruption than mine, Mr. Mowbray."
"Pshaw, sir, you talk nonsense," said Mowbray; "the tea-room is soinfernally hot, that I had sat down here a moment to draw breath, whenthe young woman came in."
"And you are going to run away, now the old gentleman is come in?" saidTouchwood--"Come, sir, I am more your friend than you may think."
"Sir, you are intrusive--I want nothing that you can give me," saidMowbray.
"That is a mistake," answered the senior; "for I can supply you withwhat most young men want--money and wisdom."
"You will do well to keep both till they are wanted," said Mowbray.
"Why, so I would, squire, only that I have taken something of a fancyfor your family; and they are supposed to have wanted cash and goodcounsel for two generations, if not for three."
"Sir," said Mowbray, angrily, "you are too old either to play thebuffoon, or to get buffoon's payment."
"Which is like monkey's allowance, I suppose," said the traveller, "morekicks than halfpence.--Well--at least I am not young enough to quarrelwith boys for bullying. I'll convince you, h
owever, Mr. Mowbray, that Iknow some more of your affairs than what you give me credit for."
"It may be," answered Mowbray, "but you will oblige me more by mindingyour own."
"Very like; meantime, your losses to-night to my Lord Etherington are notrifle, and no secret neither."
"Mr. Touchwood, I desire to know where you had your information?" saidMowbray.
"A matter of very little consequence compared to its truth or falsehood,Mr. Mowbray," answered the old gentleman.
"But of the last importance to me, sir," said Mowbray. "In a word, hadyou such information by or through means of Lord Etherington?--Answer methis single question, and then I shall know better what to think on thesubject."
"Upon my honour," said Touchwood, "I neither had my information fromLord Etherington directly nor indirectly. I say thus much to give yousatisfaction, and I now expect you will hear me with patience."
"Forgive me, sir," interrupted Mowbray, "one farther question. Iunderstand something was said in disparagement of my sister just as Ientered the tea-room?"
"Hem--hem--hem!" said Touchwood, hesitating. "I am sorry your ears haveserved you so well--something there _was_ said lightly, something thatcan be easily explained, I dare say;--And now, Mr. Mowbray, let me speaka few serious words with you."
"And now, Mr. Touchwood, we have no more to say to each other--goodevening to you."
He brushed past the old man, who in vain endeavoured to stop him, and,hurrying to the stable, demanded his horse. It was ready saddled, andwaited his orders; but even the short time that was necessary to bringit to the door of the stable was exasperating to Mowbray's impatience.Not less exasperating was the constant interceding voice of Touchwood,who, in tones alternately plaintive and snappish, kept on a string ofexpostulations.
"Mr. Mowbray, only five words with you--Mr. Mowbray, you will repentthis--Is this a night to ride in, Mr. Mowbray?--My stars, sir, if youwould but have five minutes' patience!"
Curses, not loud but deep, muttered in the throat of the impatientlaird, were the only reply, until his horse was brought out, when,staying no farther question, he sprung into the saddle. The poor horsepaid for the delay, which could not be laid to his charge. Mowbraystruck him hard with his spurs so soon as he was in his seat--the nobleanimal reared, bolted, and sprung forward like a deer, over stock andstone, the nearest road--and we are aware it was a rough one--toShaws-Castle. There is a sort of instinct by which horses perceive thehumour of their riders, and are furious and impetuous, or dull andsluggish, as if to correspond with it; and Mowbray's gallant steedseemed on this occasion to feel all the stings of his master's internalferment, although not again urged with the spur. The ostler stoodlistening to the clash of the hoofs, succeeding each other in thick andclose gallop, until they died away in the distant woodland.
"If St. Ronan's reach home this night, with his neck unbroken," mutteredthe fellow, "the devil must have it in keeping."
"Mercy on us!" said the traveller, "he rides like a Bedouin Arab! but inthe desert there are neither trees to cross the road, nor cleughs, norlinns, nor floods, nor fords. Well, I must set to work myself, or thisgear will get worse than even I can mend.--Here you, ostler, let me haveyour best pair of horses instantly to Shaws-Castle."
"To Shaws-Castle, sir?" said the man, with some surprise.
"Yes--do you not know such a place?"
"In troth, sir, sae few company go there, except on the great ball day,that we have had time to forget the road to it--but St. Ronan's washere even now, sir."
"Ay, what of that?--he has ridden on to get supper ready--so, turn outwithout loss of time."
"At your pleasure, sir," said the fellow, and called to the postilionaccordingly.
