"What! in the papers already? Is it about that wretch Titmouse?" she inquired with a languid air of disgust.
"No, indeed, Lady Cecilia, Mr. Titmouse has nothing to do with it," replied Gammon, with a slight inward spasm; and, just as he had succeeded in giving her to understand the cause to which he chose to refer the earl's illness, carriage-wheels were heard, followed in a second or two by a tremendous thundering at the door, which made even Gammon almost start from his chair, and threw Lady Cecilia into a second swoon. It was providential, perhaps, that it had that effect; for had she gone to the windows, and seen her insensible father, with care and difficulty, lifted out of his carriage—his shirt-collar, and a white neck-handkerchief, thrown round his shoulders, partially crimsoned; and in that way, amid a little crowd which had suddenly gathered round, carried into the house, and borne up-stairs to his bed-chamber—it might have had a very serious effect, indeed, upon her Ladyship. Gammon stepped for an instant to the window—he saw the poor old peer in the state I have described, and the sight blanched his cheeks. Leaving her Ladyship in the hands of Miss Macspleuchan, and her attendants, he followed into the earl's bedroom; and was a little relieved, some quarter of an hour afterwards, at finding, that, though the earl was much exhausted with the fatigue of removal, he was in a much more satisfactory state than could have been anticipated. As his Lordship's own physician (who had been summoned instantly on the earl's arrival home) intimated that a little repose was essential to his Lordship, and that no one should remain in the room whose services were not indispensable, Gammon took his departure, after an anxious inquiry as to Lady Cecilia—intending to return before night, personally to ascertain the state of the earl and her Ladyship.
A mighty sigh escaped from the oppressed bosom of Gammon, as soon as, having quitted the house, he found himself in the street alone. He walked for some minutes straight on, irresolute as to whether he should direct his steps—to his own chambers, to the office in Hatton Garden, or to Mr. Titmouse's residence in Park Lane. At length he determined on returning, in the first instance, to his own chambers, and bent his steps accordingly; his mind so absorbed in thought, that he scarcely saw any one he met or passed. Here was a state of things, thought he, which he had brought about! And what must be his own course now? For a moment or two he was in a state of feeling which we may compare to that of a person who, with ignorant curiosity, has set into motion the machinery of some prodigious engine, which it required but a touch to effect—and then stands suddenly paralyzed—bewildered—confounded at the complicated movements going on all around him, and perhaps the alarming noises accompanying them—not daring to move a hair's-breadth in any direction for fear of destruction. He soon, however, recovered himself, and began very seriously to contemplate the perilous position in which he now found himself placed.
Here was Lord Dreddlington, in the first place, involved to a most alarming extent of liability in respect of his connection with one of the bubble companies, into an alliance with which it was Gammon alone who had seduced him. But he quickly lost sight of that, as a very light matter compared with what had subsequently happened, and the prodigious consequences to which it might possibly lead—and that, too, immediately.
This crisis had been precipitated by an accident—an occurrence which he felt that no man could have foreseen or calculated upon. Certainly it might all be traced to his own oversight in leaving the conveyance of his rent-charge—so all-important a document—upon his table, though for only a minute or two's absence; for he had not quitted his chambers more than five minutes before he had re-entered them, finding the Earl of Dreddlington there—of all persons in the world the very last whom Gammon would have wished to be aware of the existence of such an instrument. Who could have imagined—calculated on such an occurrence? Never before had the earl visited him at his own private residence; and to have come just precisely at the very moment—and yet, thought Gammon, almost starting back a step or two—when one came to think of it—what was more likely than that, on seeing the paragraph in the morning paper, his Lordship should have done the very thing he had, and driven down to Mr. Gammon for an explanation? Bah! thought Mr. Gammon, and stamped his foot on the pavement.
[Ay, Satan, it was a very slippery trick indeed, which you had played this acute friend of yours.]
"But the thing is done; and what am I now to do? What can I do? First of all, there's Titmouse—where is that little miscreant at this moment? Will he follow his wife to Grosvenor Square? Will the earl have recovered, before I can see Titmouse, sufficiently to recollect what has happened? Will they allow him to be admitted into the sick-chamber? Suppose his presence should remind the earl of what he has this day heard? Suppose he should recover his senses—what course will he take? Will he acquaint his daughter that she is married to a vulgar bastard—oh, frightful!—she and he the two proudest persons, perhaps, living! Will they spurn him from them with loathing and horror?—expose the little impostor to the world?—and take God knows what steps against me, for the share I have had in the matter?—Oh, impossible!—inconceivable! They can never blazon their own degradation to the world! Or will Lord Dreddlington have discretion and self-command sufficient to keep the blighting secret to himself? Will he rest satisfied with my statement, or insist on conclusive proof and corroboration? Will he call for vouchers—ah!" here he ground his teeth together, for he recollected the trick which Titmouse had played him in destroying the precious documents already spoken of. "If the little wretch do not hear of what has happened from any one else, shall I tell him that I have communicated his secret to Lord Dreddlington? Fancy him and his wife meeting after they know all!—or him and the earl! Suppose the earl should die—and without having disclosed this secret to any one? Oh, oh! what a godsend would that be! All straight then, to the end of the chapter!—How near it was this morning!—If I had but suffered those two boobies to wrangle together till it was too late!"—A little color came into Mr. Gammon's cheek at this point—as if he felt that perhaps he was then going a trifle too far in entertaining such very—decisive—wishes and regrets: still he could not dismiss the reflection; nay, what was more probable than that so desperate a shock, suffered by a man of his advanced years, might be only the precursor of a second and fatal fit of apoplexy?—Dr. Bailey had expressed some fears of that sort to-day, recollected Gammon!
If Mr. Gammon had seen the watchful eyes at that moment settled upon him, by two persons who were approaching him, and who passed him unobserved; and could have dreamed of the errand which had brought those two persons into that part of the town—it might have set his busy brain upon quite a new track of harassing conjecture and apprehension. But he was far too intently occupied with his thoughts to notice any one, as he walked slowly down Holborn; and some five minutes afterwards, having got to within a hundred yards of Saffron Hill, he was startled out of his meditations by hearing a voice calling out his name—and looking towards the middle of the street, whence the sound came, beheld Mr. Titmouse, beckoning to him eagerly, out of a hackney-coach, which was slowly driving up Holborn, and at Titmouse's bidding drew up to the curb-stone.
"Oh—I say! Mr. Gammon!—'pon my life—here's a precious mess!—Such a devil of a row!"—commenced Titmouse, alarmedly, speaking in a low voice through the coach window.