“One word, sir,” interjected Trevelyan, annoyed with himself for having made any allusion to his friend’s connexion with Mrs. Sefton: “your brother has undertaken no sudden journey—of that I am well assured. Would he quit his residence without leaving even a message behind him? Would he depart without even so much as a change of raiment—without the necessaries of the toilette?”
“Pooh! pooh!” ejaculated the lawyer, now throwing an expression of sovereign contempt into his tone. “A man with money can purchase a carpetbag or a portmanteau at the first town he stops at, and can stock it well, too, with linen and hairbrushes for a few shillings. Really, my lord, you compel me to treat you as an inexperienced child, who, having got some wild or romantic notion into his head, is determined to maintain it by any argument, no matter how preposterous or far-fetched.”
Trevelyan bit his lip again: for he saw that the lawyer had really the advantage of him now; and he more than ever blamed his own indiscretion in having alluded to the affair of Mrs. Sefton.
“Come, my lord, be reasonable,” proceeded Heathcote, in a conciliatory tone; “and I will pardon you the rudeness—or I will rather call it the brusquerie, of your first proceedings with regard to me. You cannot deny that there is a lady in the case: I am far-sighted enough to have made that discovery. Well, my brother is tired of her, or has quarrelled with her—or something of that sort; and he has therefore taken a sudden trip, heaven only knows where. Do you really imagine that if I had any serious fears, I would refuse to co-operate with you in instituting the necessary inquiries? Depend upon it, Sir Gilbert will re-appear again shortly amongst his friends; and he would not be over-well pleased if he found on his return, or if the newspapers wafted to him the fact, that a terrible hubbub had taken place in consequence of his sudden departure. I am a much older man than you, my lord,—and I look at these matters more calmly—more deliberately.”
Trevelyan knew not how to reply to these observations. Though they did not dissipate the alarm which he experienced at the absence of Sir Gilbert, yet he began to think that the lawyer was really sincere in giving utterance to them. He, on one side, was disposed to view the affair seriously: Heathcote, on the other, put his own interpretation on it;—and, in the same way that Trevelyan could not resist the impressions made upon himself, he felt bound to allow the merit of equal conscientiousness on the part of the attorney.
At all events, there was no utility in protracting the discourse; and the young nobleman accordingly resolved to take his leave, suspending for the present any opinion relative to the conduct of Mr. James Heathcote.
“I am sorry, sir,” said he, “that I should have intruded so long upon your valuable time: I am likewise sorry if, at the commencement of our interview, I should have been hurried by the excitement of my feelings into anything uncourteous or rude.”
“Now that you speak in the manner that best becomes a nobleman and a gentleman,” observed Heathcote, adopting the part of one who has something to forgive and overlook, “I am most anxious to welcome you as my brother’s friend. Will you step up into the drawing-room, and honour my humble abode so far as to partake of such refreshment as at the moment I can offer you?”
This proposal was only made with a view to gain as much time as possible: for the lawyer in his heart had cordially hated the young nobleman from the instant that he had read his name upon the card.
“I return you my best thanks, sir,” said Trevelyan; “but I am compelled to decline your hospitality on the present occasion.”