‘But, my dear, don’t you see that he is taking the consequences?—and infernally unpleasant ones they are. I tell you there is nothing in it; and if he had only said it was all a joke, I should have been satisfied.’
‘But he said it was not a joke, and told you that if you prosecuted him, it would result in a grave family scandal. How can you answer that?’
‘I can’t, and he wouldn’t; so we must wait for the person who will.’
There was a kind of armed truce declared in this way between the husband and wife—she feeling guiltily conscious that she was somehow making a mountain of a molehill; and he feeling perfectly sure of it.
The Major went straight to his room, resolved that he would hold no intercourse with the family until Mrs John’s brother, Matt Willis, arrived. Had there been a train that evening to town, he would have taken it and brought his friend down; and if there had been a hotel in the village, he would have left the house forthwith. But there was no train and there was no hotel—not even a beershop, for the country folk thereabout mostly brewed their own ale. There was, however, a post and telegraph office in the village, and Hollis was despatched with a message for Willis, entreating him, for his sister’s sake, to come down by the first train on the following morning. That done, he endeavoured to compose himself and to take a calm survey of his position. He had upset everybody, and most of all himself, by his good-natured anxiety to save others from the consequences of their own folly. The thing ought to have resulted in a laugh and a shake-hands all round; but instead of that, it threatened to become a serious affair for the law-courts to deal with; and the Major had no means to enable him to indulge in the luxury of a lawsuit.
What was he to do? Nothing but what he had determined upon—to get Willis to speak out, since John Elliott would not. There was of course the possibility that Willis would refuse, as it was his intense repugnance to interfering with family squabbles which had prompted him to call for the Major’s assistance as mediator between his sister and her husband.
Major Dawkins felt indignant with John Elliott for shrinking from speaking the few words which would have put everything right. But the truth flashed upon him—perhaps the man was so blinded by his jealousy, that he really did not understand what was required of him, when asked to explain the position. Although the Major could only surmise that this was the case, the surmise was correct; but the true reason why John Elliott did not understand him was that he had no idea of his conversation with Willis having been repeated to any one. If that were so, the Major felt that it was his duty to prevent the threatened publicity by every means in his power. Apart from his consideration for the feelings of Mrs John and Nellie, there was his own plight to be taken into account. Publicity would expose him to ridicule, if not contempt, and would inevitably put an end to all hope of winning the hand of Miss Euphemia Panton. He resolved to see the Squire the moment dinner was over, and make another effort to get him to understand the real state of the unfortunate business.
Servants have a special instinct for discovering the ill-luck of the family they serve, and invariably they accept it in a distorted form. Then they sympathise with the master and mistress, or rejoice in their fallen state, according to the perquisites which have been allowed them or withheld from them. Hollis having heard that his master was in disgrace with the family they had come to visit, felt that his own dignity was at stake; therefore, in the housekeeper’s room and in the butler’s pantry he valiantly defended the honour of his chief. He was a little crest-fallen when he found that his master was not to join the family at dinner, for this circumstance appeared to confirm the gossip of the servants’ hall that the Major had been guilty of some grave offence, the nature of which was too dreadful to be mentioned. Hollis was equal to the occasion, and by taking the position as one of great injustice to his master, succeeded, by cautious suggestions of forthcoming revelations, in impressing the housekeeper and butler with the idea that they would reap a large reward in the future by careful attention to the Major’s present needs. The diplomacy of Hollis was used as much on his own account as on that of his master; for he managed to secure command of the dishes which were most favoured by the Major—and himself, as well as a sufficient supply of Clos de Vougeot and Heidsieck.