“Good heavens, John, what an age you have been!” she cried. “Pray shut the door! The most dreadful thing has happened, and you must go immediately to Bedford.”
Mr. Marling replied reasonably: “I fear it will be most inconvenient for me to leave London to-day, mamma, as I am invited by Mr. Hope to accompany him to a meeting of the Royal Society. I understand there will be a discussion on the Phlogistic Theory, in which I am interested.”
Lady Fanny stamped her foot. “Pray what is the use of a stupid theory when Vidal is about to shame us all with a dreadful scandal? You can’t go to any society! You must go to Bedford.”
“When you ask, mamma, what is the use of the Phlogistic Theory, and apparently compare it with Vidal’s exploits, I can only reply that the comparison is ridiculous, and renders the behaviour of my cousin completely insignificant,” said Mr. Marling with heavy sarcasm.
“I do not want to hear another word about your tiresome theory,” declared her ladyship. “When our name is dragged in the mud we shall see whether Vidal’s conduct is insignificant or no.”
“I am thankful to say, ma’am, that my name is not Alastair. What has Vidal done now?”
“The most appalling thing! I must write at once to your aunt. I always said he would go too far one of these days. Poor, poor Léonie! I vow my heart quite aches for her.”
Mr. Marling watched her seat herself at her writing-table, and once more inquired: “What has Vidal done now?”
“He has abducted an innocent girl — not that I believe a word of it, for the mother’s a harpy, and I’ve little doubt the girl went with him willingly enough. If she didn’t, I shudder to think what may happen.”
“If you could contrive to be more coherent, mamma, I might understand better.”