“The sum matters—nothing. I would have made a coat of thousand pounds, like old Jacob in the Bible. Ay, that and more. But never mind, it’s all passed and over, Evelyn. My dear, you have behaved through it all like an angel. God bless you for it. Now go away and leave me to my business, and we will never mention it again.”
“I do not consent to that, James. I will mention him many times again.”
“Then you will force me to keep out of your reach, my dear,” her husband cried. And yet he was thankful to her for what she said, thankful to the bottom of his heart.
Thus Archie disappeared, and the waters closed over his head—but not silently or without commotion. The men went out to the hill and made tolerable but not very good bags; the ladies took them their luncheon, and there was a very merry party among the heather, but when two came together they asked each other, “What has become of the son?” or “What have they done with Archie?” and the incident was as far from being ended as human incident ever was.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
If any one thinks that such events can come to pass in a house, and the servants remain unaware of the movement and commotion, I can only say that these persons are little acquainted either with human nature, or the peculiar emotions and interests called forth by domestic service. As certain members are kept in exercise by certain kinds of action, so there are certain sets of mental and moral fibres that are moved by the differing conditions of existence, and no one is more completely and continuously in operation than those of interest, curiosity, and that mixture of liking and opposition which naturally actuate one set of human creatures towards the other set of human creatures who are immediately over them, and control and occupy all their movements. It gives something of the interest of a continual drama to life, to watch the complicated play of human fate going on so near, in circumstances so intimate that it is scarcely possible not to enter into a certain partizanship, and take sides. Thus there were some of the servants who were all for Mr. Archie, and had an instinctive certainty that he was being unjustly treated and ill-used, and some who held for the master, with a conviction that a young son was never to be trusted, and was apt to go astray, as the sparks fly upward, by force of nature. Singularly enough, though Mrs. Rowland was a considerate and kind mistress, good to everybody, and taking a much greater interest in the members of her household than either father or son, nobody took her side: partly because she was, more or less, like themselves, a sort of spectator, not one of the first actors in the drama; and still more because she was the stepmother, and naturally, according to all traditions, a malignant element doing harm to both. The items of fresh information which were brought to the upper servants by Saunders, and which percolated through the house by means of an observant footman, were eagerly seized by the attendant crowd, and rapidly classified under fact or guess, according to its kind, until the superstructure was very remarkable. Naturally, the servants’ hall knew far better what Mr. Rowland was going to do than he himself did, and had settled the career of Archie in every particular before he had more than the most rudimentary idea of it himself.
It is a very poor and shabby thing to gossip with servants as to the habits and peculiarities of their masters: nothing can be more true than this. But it is very difficult for a lady not to hear, as she can scarcely help hearing, the word dropt by her maid—or for a man to arrest in time the revelation that falls from his attendant in respect to the disturbed condition of a house. “How could there be much comfort in the house, my lady, when there was a terrible scene in the middle of the night, and poor Mr. Archie never in his bed at all, but gone out of the house by break of day.” You have to be quick indeed, and very much on your guard, to prevent the woman, as she stands behind you, from letting loose such an expression as this before you can stop her. And still less is a man able to check the valet who thinks it so very queer that a gentleman should have arrived late on business, and come scared-like into the ball-room all in his travelling things. “And they do say, sir, that that’s why young Mr. Rowland has disappeared this morning, though the house is full of company.” How can you restrain or ignore these communications from the back-stairs? Consequent upon a number of such communications was the resolution taken by everybody at Rosmore to arrange their departure as early as possible on the second day. All felt confused and troubled in the dreary rooms in the evening, where there was nobody to lead the revels, and where the master of the house scarcely took any pains to conceal the preoccupation of his mind. Nobody could have known, except by the anxious glance she threw now and then at her husband, by Mrs. Rowland’s bearing that anything was wrong, and Marion was in her usual spirits, ready to do a little solid flirtation (for the young men complained of Marion that she was far from being light in hand) with any candidate: but Rowland gave so broken an attention to what was going on, mingled in the conversation so abruptly, and fell into such silences between, that it was easy to see how little accomplished he was in the art of living, according to its highest social sense. Whether it was that, or the hints from below stairs, which had reached more or less every member of the party, it was certain that it was a party very little at its ease. One or two of the bolder guests asked directly for Archie, if he was expected home that evening, if he was likely to be long detained by his business, etc.; the more timid did not mention his name. “What is the best thing to do,” they asked each other privately, “when there is trouble of that kind in a house?” Lady Marchbanks, who was not generally supposed to be a very wise woman, here spoke with authority out of the depths of a great experience, being a woman with many brothers, sons, and nephews, and full of knowledge on such points. “I always ask,” she said, “just as if I were sensible of nothing—just as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a young man to be suddenly called away on business, when it is well known he has no business, and his father’s house full of guests. It’s the kindest way,” Lady Marchbanks said, and she had occasion to know. But they were all unanimous in finding reasons why they must depart next morning after their delightful visit. Interesting as human complications are to all spectators, there are few people who think it right to stay on in manifest presence of trouble in the house.
There was one, however, who excelled himself in friendly devotion to his hosts, and that was Eddy Saumarez, who took upon himself, only with far greater ability than Archie could have shown, the work of the son of the house. There was every appearance that it would have been a very dull and embarrassing evening but for Eddy, who flung himself into the middle of affairs like a hero. He sang, he talked, he arranged a rubber in one corner, a game in another, of that semi-intellectual kind which is such a blessed resource in a country-house, and has the happy effect of making dull people think themselves clever. Eddy himself was too clever not to be infinitely bored by such contrivances, but he forgot himself and stood up like a hero, asking the most amusing questions and giving the wittiest answers when it was his turn to be badgered, and keeping the company in such a state of stimulation that even the heaviest grew venturesome, and made themselves ridiculous with delight, for the amusement of the rest. He even drew a smile from Rowland, who was too restless for whist, but who came more than once within Eddy’s wilder circle of merriment, and was cheated into a momentary forgetfulness. When the party dispersed, having passed, instead of the dull hours they had most of them anticipated, an unusually animated evening, Rowland came up and laid his heavy hand on Eddy’s shoulder. The young man started like a criminal, grew red and grew pale, and for once in his life was so disconcerted that he had not a word to say. And yet Rowland’s address was of the most flattering kind. “I can’t tell how much I’m obliged to you,” his host said. “You’ve been the life of the house since ever you came, Eddy, my man. And to-night I don’t know what we should have done without you. My wife will tell you the same thing. You’ve been the saving of us to-night. If ever I can serve you in anything—Lord! I would have done that for her, on account of her interest in you. But remember now, that on your own account, if I ever can be of any service——”
Eddy shrank back from that touch. He would not meet Rowland’s eye. He faltered in his answer, he that was always so ready. “I don’t deserve that you should speak to me so,” he stammered out. “I—I’ve done nothing, sir. All that I can ask is your forgiveness for—for—inflicting so long a visit upon you.”
“Is that all?” said Rowland, with a laugh. “Then I hope you’ll make your offence double, and give me twice as much to forgive you. Are you bound for the smoking-room now?”