“I am not sure that she will ever be all right,” said his sister, desiring to frighten him; “I have never seen her quite so bad as this.”
But he only answered, “What a funk you are! She shall not beat me, with all this stuff.”
He had very little conscience, and that little—to use a stock-word now in fashion—particularly reticent. And the still small voice, if there were any, could not find much to say this time. In nothing but the rudeness of his manner had he offended against strict right, and he never even knew when his manner was rude, because it was his nature. He could not help having a passionate mother, who flew into a fury when her plans were crossed. So he smoked his cigar, and considered his next step.
It was plain to him now, without need of thought—for he was not good enough to be a fool—that something decisive might be done at once. He knew what his mother was too well, to suppose that any arguments of his, or any regard for his feelings, would ever induce her to consent to his marriage with Kitty Fairthorn. And he knew that Kitty did not like him (although he had never ill-used her), and in her old-fashioned way would regard the relation of their parents towards one another as a bar to any marriage between them. And he knew that her money, through her father’s neglect, had been placed out of her disposal. But in spite of all obstacles, he meant to have her, and her money afterwards.
Up to the present time, he had feigned to be the ally of Sir Cumberleigh Hotchpot, and to forward his suit very warmly. At the same time he had contrived to earn some gratitude from Kitty, and to make her look upon him as her friend in need, by flying to her rescue now and then, and sometimes even carrying off her too insistent suitor. This he had been doing more and more, as his passion increased, and jealousy combined with pity on her behalf. Thoroughly despising the older villain, for his shallowness more than his villainy, he began to hate him also for his insolence to the fair one. Having now declared his own intentions, he must put a stop to all that stuff.
While he was thinking much more of these things than of his injured mother, he heard a gentle but hurried knock at his door, and in came Kitty. She was trembling and flushed, with some excitement, and her beautiful hair was disarranged.
“Oh, Donovan,” she cried, for she never called him “Downy.” “I have heard that your mother is very ill, and they are quite alarmed about her. Sarah came in such a hurry for some bottle of my father’s; but I was afraid to let her have it, for they have no idea how to use it. Don’t you think you had better run for Doctor Yallop? They won’t let me in to ask them, and I am afraid to go for him without orders.”
“No, Kitty, no. It is nothing more than usual. She would never see the doctor, if he came; and it would only set her off again. Frizzy knows best how to manage her. She has been in a great wax, even for her; and she is just a bit frightened, as she ought to be. It will do her a world of good, when she comes round, and teach her to take things easier. But you look quite startled, my dear child. Give me a kiss, and I will tell you all about it.”