CHAPTER XXXVII
SOME ANSWER TO IT
Hasty indignation did not drive me to hot action. A quiet talk with Mrs. Price, as soon as my cousin's bad hour arrived, was quite enough to bring me back to a sense of my own misgovernment. Moreover, the evening clouds were darkening for a night of thunder, while the silver Thames looked nothing more than a leaden pipe down the valleys. Calm words fall at such times on quick temper like the drip of trees on people who have been dancing. I shivered, as my spirit fell, to think of my weak excitement, and poor petulance to a kind, wise friend, a man of many sorrows and perpetual affliction. And then I recalled what I had observed, but in my haste forgotten—Lord Castlewood was greatly changed even in the short time since I had left his house for Shoxford. Pale he had always been, and his features (calm as they were, and finely cut) seemed almost bleached by in-door life and continual endurance. But now they showed worse sign than this—a delicate transparence of faint color, and a waxen surface, such as I had seen at a time I can not bear to think of. Also he had tottered forward, while he tried for steadfast footing, quite as if his worried members were almost worn out at last.
Mrs. Price took me up quite sharply—at least for one of her well-trained style—when I ventured to ask if she had noticed this, which made me feel uneasy. “Oh dear, no!” she said, looking up from the lace-frilled pockets of her silk apron, which appeared to my mind perhaps a little too smart, and almost of a vulgar tincture; and I think that she saw in my eyes that much, and was vexed with herself for not changing it—“oh dear, no, Miss Castlewood! We who know and watch him should detect any difference of that nature at the moment of its occurrence. His lordship's health goes vacillating; a little up now, and then a little down, like a needle that is mounted to show the dip of compass; and it varies according to the electricity, as well as the magnetic influence.”
“What doctor told you that?” I asked, seeing in a moment that this housekeeper was dealing in quotation.
“You are very”—she was going to say “rude,” but knew better when she saw me waiting for it—“well, you are rather brusque, as we used to call it abroad, Miss Castlewood; but am I incapable of observing for myself?”
“I never implied that,” was my answer. “I believe that you are most intelligent, and fit to nurse my cousin, as you are to keep his house. And what you have said shows the clearness of your memory and expression.”
“You are very good to speak so,” she answered, recovering her temper beautifully, but, like a true woman, resolved not to let me know any thing more about it. “Oh, what a clap of thunder! Are you timid? This house has been struck three times, they say. It stands so prominently. It is this that has made my lord look so.”
“Let us hope, then to see him much better to-morrow,” I said, very bravely, though frightened at heart, being always a coward of thunder. “What are these storms you get in England compared to the tropical outbursts? Let us open the window, if you please, and watch it.”
“I hear myself called,” Mrs. Price exclaimed. “I am sorry to leave you, miss. You know best. But please not to sit by an open window; nothing is more dangerous.”