As we had at this period eighty-four servants in the house, sixteen horses in the stables, and a staff of thirty-two gardeners and boatmen, not to speak of runners, commissionaires, and general loungers, I was not amazed when a telegram came, in these words: “Close the house, place Deechworth in charge, and come over to London.” To this I replied, “Telegram received; compliance most undesirable. Autumn season just opening. Place in full beauty.—P. G.” I will not weary the reader with a mere commercial wrangle,—how the Committee reproached me, and how I rejoined; how they called names, and I hinted at defamation; how they issued an order for my dismissal, and I demurred, and demanded due notice. We abused each other all September, and opened October in full cry of mutual attack and defence. By this time, too, we were at law. They applied for a “mandamus” to get rid of me, and my counsel argued that I was without the four seas of the realm, and could not be attacked. They tried to reach me by the statute of frauds; but there was no treaty with Nassau, and I could not be touched. All this contention and quarrelling was like sulphate of quinine to me,—I grew robust and strong under the excitement, and discovered a lightness of heart and a buoyancy of nature I had believed had long left me forever; and though they stopped my salary and dishonored my drafts, I lived on fruit and vegetables, and put the garrison on the same diet, with a liberal allowance of wine, which more than reconciled them to the system.
So matters went on till the ninth of October,—a memorable day to me, which I am not like to forget. It was near sunset, and I sat on the terrace, enjoying the delicious softness of the evening air, and watching the varying tints on the river, as the golden and green light came slanting through the trees and fell upon the water, when I heard the sound of wheels approaching. There had been a time when such sounds would have awakened no attention, when arrivals poured in incessantly, and the coming or the departing guest evoked nothing beyond the courtesy of a greeting. Now, however, a visitor was an event; and as the post-horses swept round the angle of the wood, and disappeared behind a wing of the castle, I felt a strange sensation through my heart, and a soft voice seemed to say, “Paul, Fate is dealing with you now.” I fell into a revery, however, and soon forgot all about the arrival, till Mr. Deech-worth came up with a card in his hand. “Do you know this name, sir,—Mrs. Pultney Dacre? She has only her maid with her, but seems a person of condition.” I shook my head in ignorance of the name, and he went on: “She wants rooms on the ground floor, where she can walk out into the garden; and I have thought of No. 4.”
“No. 4, Deechworth? that apartment costs sixty francs a day.”
“Well, sir, as there are few people now in the house,”—this was an euphemism for none,—“I have said she might have the rooms for forty.”
“It may be done for one week,” said I, “but take care to caution her not to mention it to her friends. We have trouble enough with those tiresome people in London without this. What is she like?”
“A very handsome figure, sir; evidently young; but had a double veil down, and I could n't see her face.”
“How long does she talk of staying?”
“A month, sir. A husband is expected back from India early in November, and she is to wait for him here.”
“So,” said I, thoughtfully, and I am sure I cannot say why thoughtfully, “she is waiting for her husband's arrival.”
“Those young women whose husbands are in India are always pretty; haven't you remarked that, sir?”