"He has indeed, mamma; the creature is insatiable."
Mrs. Lamotte arose with one of her cold smiles.
"For the present let us ignore him, Sybil," she said. "Make an elaborate driving toilet, we want the admiration of W——, not its pity." And having thus uttered one article of her creed, Mrs. Lamotte swept away to prepare for the ordeal, for such that drive would be to those two proud women.
No one could have guessed it, however, when an hour later, the elegant barouche, drawn by two superb grays, rolled through the streets of W——. Two richly dressed, handsome, high-bred, smiling women; that is what W—— saw, and all it saw; and light-hearted poverty looked, and envied; little knowing the sorrow hidden underneath the silk and lace, and the misery that was masked in smiles.
Meantime John Burrill, left to his own devices, found time drag heavily. Frank had abandoned him, as soon as it became known that Constance was gone; and had abandoned himself to a fit of rage, when he became aware that his black mare was also gone. Mr. Lamotte had driven to town with his own light buggy; Sybil was gone, Evan was gone; even his stately mother-in-law was beyond the reach of his obnoxious pleasantries.
He ordered up a bottle of wine, and drank it in the spirit of an ill used man. Always, in his perfectly sober moments, John Burrill felt oppressed with a sense of the difference existing between himself and the people among whom he had chosen to cast his lot.
Not that he recognized, or admitted, his inferiority; had he not demonstrated to the world, that he, John Burrill, sometime mill worker, and overseer, was a man of parts, a self-made man.
When he had quaffed a bottle of wine, he began to feel oppressed in a different way. He was overburdened with a sense of his own genius, and in a very amiable frame of mind, altogether. In this mood, he joined the family at dinner; after which meal, a few glasses of brandy added fire to the smouldering element within him, and straightway he blazed forth: a gallant, a coxcomb. In this frame of mind, he always admired himself excessively, took stock of his burly legs and brawny shoulders, and smiled sentimentally before the mirror, at his reflected face.
There were people who called John Burrill a handsome man; and if one had a fancy for a round head, with depressions where bumps are desirable, and vice versa, and an animal sort of attractiveness of feature, consisting of a low, flat forehead, straight nose, large, full red lipped mouth, fair florid complexion, set off by a pair of dark blue eyes, that were devoid of any kindly expression, and hair, full beard, and moustache, of a reddish brown hue, coarse in quality, but plentiful in quantity, and curling closely; then we will admit that John Burrill was handsome. Why not? We can see handsome bovines at any fat cattle show.
After this elation, came the fourth stage; a mixture of liquors as the evening advanced, and then John Burrill became jealous of his rights, careful of his dignity, crafty, quarrelsome, and difficult to manage. Next he became uproarious, then maudlin; then blind, beastly drunk, and utterly regardless where he laid him down, or fell down, to finish the night, for his last stage usually dragged itself far into the small hours.