He had, it seemed, no thought of himself as pledged to the task. ‘Himself’ should be a fair one-man’s burden.
“He is very right to be attached to Miss Tregarthen,” muttered Le Shore dryly, and a little sullenly.
“He is very right indeed,” answered his host; “righter (pardon the solecism) than you might think. In this excellent rogue is provided such an illustration of the ‘harmony not understood’ of discords, as circumstance has ever given to an ennuyé world. The dear creature has decided to stultify his every instinct for a sentiment. It is the most interesting psychological phenomenon you can imagine. He has conceded nothing of his nature but the means to its practical achievement. Conceive a wolf of his own determination forgoing blood. Such is this dear, admirable brute. Perfossor parietum nascitur. He cannot change his spots. To this day, I think, he will always of choice enter by a window rather than a door; to this day he regards plate with a most melting look. But for all that, I think I may swear that at the present moment the tally of my spoons is to an ounce what it was when he took service with me eighteen years ago.”
“Your servant for eighteen years!”
“My servant—titularly: in reality, my mentor, my vizier. Dog Trust is a rather sweetly demoralizing acquisition. He takes the burden of conscience from one—steals it, in this case, I may say. But then, after all, he may use his vicegerency to ends so far beyond the moral grasp of the master he represents, as more than to vindicate that master in his withdrawal from the vexatious problems of duty. Through sheer force of affection this admirable George has mastered himself, and bettered his master in the parental ethics.”
“Indeed, sir?” (Mr. Dicky spoke very dryly.) “And how does Miss Tregarthen approve the viziership?”
“As she loves and respects the vizier, Richard. I do not think she would willingly run counter to his dictates, which, by the way, he never imposes in a manner to alarm one’s pride. Ah! did you catch that whiff of scabious? There is a bush of it under the window there. It always seems to me to embody in itself the whole warmth and fragrance of summer. My dear fellow, your eyes are relentless inquisitors. No more wine? Well, I suppose I shall have to tell you how it came about.”
He sighed, drained his glass, laughed slightly, and smoothed a stray wisp of hair from his forehead.
“Once,” he said—“it was particularly disagreeable to a person of my temperament—I was called upon by Fate to suffer the ugly and sordid experience of a conflagration in my house. You, who are also a little inclined, I believe, to create for yourself an atmosphere of romance, to regard the great world only as a quarry, from which to gather materials most exquisite and most apt to the enrichment of the hermitage, which it is your design and your delight to build apart for your soul, will appreciate what were my feelings upon seeing my fairy fabric doomed to destruction, to positive annihilation, by the flames. I have never spoken to you of the disaster before. You will know that I do so now under the mere stress of fitness, as a means to your proper understanding of George Hissey’s conduct. The recollection is painful and horrible to a degree.
“The alarm, the escape, the catastrophe were all accomplished in the dark hours of a winter’s morning. My dear wife (she sleeps, awaiting my coming, in Elysium) followed me down the stairs and out of the house at a short interval. She found me devoted to a frantic endeavour to secure from destruction such of my poor treasures as were accessible—few enough, alas! though the tears I shed should have quenched the hate of a Hecla. What had I done with her child? she cried to me—with our sweet Molly, our little three-year-old babe? Richard, I felt as stunned as if she, the pretty, gentle mother, had struck me across the mouth. I could only stare and gasp. She uttered a heart-shaking scream, and turned to where the servants stood huddled together in the garden. They were all there, and the two nurses were crying and moaning and accusing one another. My God! mad with terror, they had deserted their charge to perish by itself in the burning house!”