CHAPTER XII.
IN ST. JOHN'S WOOD.
Lord Hetton was certainly a long-suffering man. It has been stated that the temper of the mistress of Azalea Lodge was almost diabolical; there was nothing the pair didn't quarrel over. I believe, originally, their quarrels were about nothing at all, the mere disagreements of lovers that are but a renewal of love; the best-tempered and most virtuous have been known to fight even during their honey-moons: but it is a dangerous practice, for use is second nature, and quarrelling, like dram-drinking, grows upon one, and after a while becomes a necessity. I verily believe had the inhabitants of Azalea Lodge not both been members of the cultured classes that murder would have been done. But just as they quarrelled, abused each other, and hurt each other's feelings as much as possible, so they were each in the habit after a pitched battle of leaving the field in possession of the victor.
On the very day that Mr. Parsons had left Matilda Street to proceed on business to the Swiss Cottage, one of these numerous pitched battles had taken place; the lady had been vanquished, and she, her maid, and her jewel-case had left for Brighton by the evening train. Lord Hetton sat alone and tried to do justice to a recherché little dinner, but he failed, for Hetton was jealous and unhappy; and as he looked at the vacant chair opposite him, the triumphs of his undeniable cook turned to Dead Sea apples in his mouth, for, in his mind's eye, he saw the mistress of Azalea Lodge dining in solitary grandeur in the coffee-room of a fashionable Brighton hotel, the cynosure of many an admiring eye. Lord Hetton did not enjoy his dinner.
These two unfortunate people, if the truth be told, really did love each other very sincerely. As has been said the lady was Lord Hetton's only friend; of this she had given him very tangible proof in the hour of his need, and on her part she owed everything she had in the world to his lordship; but each of the pair was haunted by a special terror—the lady by the fear that Lord Hetton might marry, his lordship by the dread that the lady might actually carry out her frequent threat that the next time she left him it would be never to return. Poor wretch, he would only have been too glad to have married her, but that outraged society would have been instantly vindicated by the stoppage of his allowance from the old earl.
Lord Hetton sat and meditated by his study fire. "By Jove!" thought he, "it would serve her right if I really did pay her off and married. I ought to, if it were only to keep out that fellow Haggard and his brats."
It was ten o'clock. Azalea Lodge was a well-regulated household. The parlourmaid placed the spirit stand upon the table, and asked his lordship if he had any further orders. Within half-an-hour the four women servants of Azalea Lodge were fast asleep, and the thick baize-covered door, which separated the servants' quarters from the rest of the house, was securely fastened. And now Lord Hetton sat down to his writing-table, and he wrote a letter to the solicitor of the mistress of Azalea Lodge. This was the letter, which was short and to the point:
"Azalea Lodge.
"Sir,
"I shall be glad if you will call upon me here, as I am desirous of washing my hands of your client and of all the associations of this place.
"Yours faithfully,
"Hetton."
Now Lord Hetton when he wrote this letter had not the slightest idea of carrying out the threat contained in it; it was merely his way of expressing his displeasure—the quickest means he knew of causing the return of the fugitive from the seaside. It was upon the lines of this letter that he composed a second epistle full of indignant recrimination, in which he announced that this, the last rupture, must be final. "I have long determined," he said, and he chuckled as he wrote the words, "to shake myself free from what was after all but a boyish infatuation at the commencement, an entanglement which I feel we both have been anxious to terminate for some time. Your solicitor will inform you that I have requested him to take the necessary steps." And as he folded the letter and placed it in its envelope he smiled. "She'll get it by the mid-day delivery to-morrow, if they post it the first thing in the morning, and she'll probably come back in a towering passion by the four express. I wish she was here now," he continued with a sigh. Lord Hetton yawned, he looked at his watch, and then he stamped the letters and laid them out for posting, but circumstances intervened which caused those two letters not to leave Azalea Lodge.