Sewell could not restrain himself any longer, but laughed out at this sudden outburst. The old Judge was, however, pleased to accept the emotion as complimentary; he smiled and went on: “I recognized her aptitude, and resolved to train her, and to this end I made it a practice to detain her every morning after prayers, and read to her certain passages from approved authors on cookery, making her experiment on the receipts for the servants' hall. We had at first some slight cases of illness, but not more serious than colic and violent cramps. In the end she was successful, sir, and has become what you see her.”
“She would be a cordon bleu in Paris.”
“I will take care, sir, that she hears of your approval. Would you not like a glass of Maraschino to finish with?”
“I have just tasted your brandy, and it is exquisite.”
“I cannot offer you a cigar, Colonel; but you are at liberty to smoke if you have one.”
“If I might have a stroll in that delicious garden that I see there, I could ask nothing better. Ah, my Lord,” said he, as they sauntered down a richly scented alley, “India has nothing like this,—I doubt if Paradise has any better.”
“You mean to return to the East?”
“Not if I can help it,—not if an exchange is possible. The fact is, my Lord, my dear wife's health makes India impossible so far as she is concerned; the children, too, are of the age that requires removal to Europe; so that, if I go back, I go back alone.” He said this with a voice of deep depression, and intending to inspire the sorrow that overwhelmed him. The old Judge, however, fancied he had heard of heavier calamities in life than living separated from the wife of his bosom; he imagined, at least, that with courage and fortitude the deprivation might be endured; so he merely twitched the corners of his mouth in silence.
The Colonel misread his meaning, and went on: “Aspiring to nothing in life beyond a home and home-happiness, it is, of course, a heavy blow to me to sacrifice either my career or my comfort. I cannot possibly anticipate a return earlier than eight or ten years; and who is to count upon eight or ten years in that pestilent climate? Assuredly not a man already broken down by wounds and jungle fever!”
The justice of the remark was, perhaps, sufficient for the Chief Baron. He paid no attention to its pathetic side, and so did not reply.