“I hope the devil gets used to it, too,” said M. Léopold. “If he doesn’t, the poor wretch must find it very uncomfortable.”
“The wonder is that he has any tail left, considering how half the world is engaged in pulling at it.”
The colonel laughed, and so did everybody else. The deputy’s little joke proved rather a relief. Colonel Redacre had a way of airing his pecuniary grievances in public that was sometimes embarrassing to people; it was difficult to know what to say. French people especially were at a non-plus on these occasions; but they mostly set down the colonel’s grumbling to the evil behavior of Balaklava. If Balaklava was making him miserable, then there was no pleasure to be got out of life. When a man had only one leg he should at least have had ten thousand a year as a set-off to the accident; this would enable him to travel about in the wake of the sun with his household gods around him. He could not do this with three thousand a year—not as an English gentleman understands travelling.
You have already discovered that Pearl’s father was the last man to mislead any one intentionally as to her fortune. If Mme. Léopold or anybody else assumed that she was to have a large fortune because the colonel lived like a gentleman, that was no fault of his; it was absurd and unreasonable to imagine that he could do otherwise. Nobody expected a man to pinch and screw for the sake of saving dots for his daughters out of an income that was barely sufficient for his wants. Least of all did the daughters expect it. They preferred infinitely that their father should give them a carriage and a couple of riding horses than economize for the sake of leaving or giving them a fortune on their marriage. Besides, there was Broom Hollow and the dean’s money, which they were safe to inherit some day.
CHAPTER II.
MRS. MONTEAGLE.
“Heaven knows I wish Darrell a long life and a happy one,” said Colonel Redacre, heaving a sigh from the bottom of his heart; “but when one sees how he suffers from this terrible rheumatism, one can’t help feeling that death would be a blessed release to him, poor fellow!”
“It is dreadful! I wonder if he has ever tried homœopathy?” said Mrs. Redacre.
“Not he! He is too out-and-out a conservative to go in for any of those new-fangled systems,” replied the colonel.
“That is so foolish! I really think I will write and urge him to call in a homœopathist.”
“It would not be of the slightest use,” said her husband.