"Not half cured yet," said he to himself, "not half; and yet so savage at his slight, that she'd do him any bad turn on the spur of the moment, and repent of it instantly. She was telling truth about Prescott, I know; but it was best to break up that instantly. How lovely she looked! a little flushed, a little excited; but that only added to her charm. I didn't like that Madeira being so handy, by the way; I must look after that. By Jove, what a fairy it is! where's there one to compare to her? so round and plump and well put together! And if I can only square this family history--uncle, eh? who the deuce can that have been? That's an important link in the chain. And somebody she loves, too; what the deuce does that mean? Ah, well, it's coming to a head now: another month ought to enable me to pull up the curtain on the last act of the drama."
And Kate returned to her garden-chair as the sound of the horse's hoofs died away in the distance; and throwing herself back, and drumming with her fingers upon the little table, went off into a reverie. She thought of her devotion to Beresford; how the passion had first grown when he first knew her; how she had given way to it; and how the nourishment of it was one of the brightest phases in her strange odd life. She remembered the first time she saw him, the first compliment he paid her; the way in which his easy jolly behaviour struck her as compared with the dreary vapidity, or, what was worse, the slangy fastness of the other men of her acquaintance. And then she thought of that eventful evening when she had knelt at his feet and--she dashed her clenched fist upon the table as she remembered that, and shuddered and bit her lips when she thought that a description of that scene had been given amid ribald shouts. Mr. Simnel had not so much share of her thoughts as probably he would have wished; but she pondered for a few moments on his eagerness to obtain particulars of her early life, and wondered what scheme he had in hand. She had a very high opinion of his intellect, and felt sure he was using it just then in her service; but she could not conceive to what end his labours were tending. And then she remembered what he had said about Mr. Prescott; and her face grew a little sad.
"Poor Jim!" she said to herself; "poor fellow! going to grief, is he? in debt and dropping his money, like a young fool as he is. And that nice girl, too, so fresh and jolly and countrified and innocent! Lord help us! What are you at, Kitty, you idiot why should those things give you a twinge? Steady, now; it's not often your heart buck-jumps like that. They'll go all right, those though, if Jim can only be put square. And that he shall be! What's the use of my hoarding in my old stocking; it'll never be any good to me; and so I may as well have the pleasure of helping somebody else. Scadgers, that was the name; I'll get that put right at once. Scadgers! I wonder where he lives. However, that'll be easily found out. Poor Jim! what a good husband he'll make that rosy-faced girl!"
What was it that made Kate Mellon's head drop on her hands, and the tears ooze through the fingers covering her eyes? Not the thought of Mr. Prescott's marrying some one else surely, for had she not resolutely snubbed his proposals? Certain it is that she remained with her head bowed for full ten minutes, and that when she looked up, her face was tear-dabbled and her eyes red and swollen. She took no heed of her appearance, however, but walked into the house, and pulling out her gaudy blotting-book, she scrawled a long letter, which, when finished, she addressed to "E. Churchill, Esq., Statesman Office, E.C."
[CHAPTER XXVIII.]
TIGHTENING THE CURB.
The garden-party at Uplands had a serious effect on the household in Great Adullam Street. Of course the actual disturbance, the state of warfare engendered by what Frank Churchill imagined he had seen take place between his wife and Captain Lyster in the shrubbery, did not last long. When Barbara swept up to her bedroom from the hired brougham, Frank retreated into his little snuggery and lit his old meerschaum-pipe, and sat gazing vacantly through the smoke-wreaths, and pondering on the occurrences of the day. He could scarcely realise to himself what had passed; he could scarcely imagine that the woman to whom, twelve months since, he had sworn fealty, whose lightest whisper caused his pulse to throb, and who, on her part, had changed the whole style and current of her life for the sake of fulfilling her determination to be his and his alone, could have so far repented of that great crisis in her career as to listen to the compliments of another man, to receive, with evident satisfaction, his unqualified admiration, and to fly off in a rage, with fire in her eyes and bitter words on her lips, when her husband remonstrated with her on her conduct. Here were they, that "twain one flesh," that mysterious two-in-oner sitting under the same roof indeed, but in separate rooms; each thinking hard thoughts of the other, each with anger rife against the other, and with harsh words applied to each other yet ringing in their ears. Great Heavens! thought Frank, was this what he had fondly pictured to himself? Was this the quiet haven of repose, the lodge in the vast wilderness of Mesopotamia, with one fair spirit for his minister, on which he had so rashly reckoned? Was the lodge to be a divided territory? and was the fair spirit to be equally fair to some other man, and to be a minister of the blatant, reviling, Boanerges class? Instead of the quiet and rest on which he had calculated, and which were so necessary to him after his exciting hard work, was his mind to be racked by petty jealousies, his peace invaded by wretched squabbles, the sunshine of his existence overclouded with gloom and doubt? Was his wife to be an adversary instead of a helpmate? were her-- And then abruptly he stopped in his self-torturing, as he thought of her,--how friendless and unprotected she was, how he alone was her prop and stay in the world; and then he turned the whole matter in his mind, and it occurred to him that that horribly irritable temper of his might have led him again into mischief, causing him to see things that really might not have happened, and to use language far stronger than there was any necessity for, and to render him violent and undignified and absurd, and so completely to do away with the force accruing from his right position. For undoubtedly he was in the right position; for had he not seen with his own eyes--what? They were walking together, certainly; but there was no reason why that should not be: fifty other couples were promenading the same grounds at the same time, and--no! on reflection, he did not see Lyster kiss her hand; it was that young idiot who was gabbling to him the whole time, and who said something about it. Perhaps nothing of the kind had occurred. Barbara had denied it instantly; and when had she ever breathed a falsehood to him? She was not the style of woman to equivocate; her pride would save her from that; and--it must have been all fancy! some horrible mistake, out of which had arisen this wretched scene and his worse than wretched rage. And now there was something between them, some horrible misunderstanding which must be at once set right. If--if any thing were to happen to either of them, and one were to die while there was enmity, or something like it, existing between them! and this thought caused the meerschaum to be laid aside unfinished, and sent Frank striding up, four stairs at a time, to his bedroom.
He found Barbara sitting in her white dressing-gown, arranging her hair before the looking-glass. Her face was very white, her eyelids a little red and puffed, and her lips were tightly pressed together. She took no notice of the opening of the door, but went calmly on with her toilet. Frank was a little disconcerted by this; he had calculated on a tender look of recognition, a few smothered words of explanation, and a final tableau in each other's arms. But as Barbara, with the greatest serenity, still appeared completely immersed in the intricate plaiting evolutions she was performing with a piece of her hair and a stalwart hair-pin, Frank advanced gently, and standing behind her chair, touched her shoulder, and said softly, "Darling!"
There was no reply; but the hands occupied in the plaiting manoeuvre perhaps shook a little.
"My darling," repeated Frank, "won't you notice me?"