Man and Wife Read online

exhibited by the doctor when he wrote her prescription (without

  the slightest necessity also).

  "Here it is," she said, recovering the lost remembrance. "Not the

  gardener, but the gardener's wife. A memorandum to speak to her

  about Mrs. Inchbare. Observe, Hopkins, the association of ideas.

  Mrs. Inchbare is associated with the poultry; the poultry are

  associated with the gardener's wife; the gardener's wife is

  associated with the gardener--and so the gardener gets into my

  head. Do you see it? I am always trying to improve your mind. You

  do see it? Very well. Now about Mrs. Inchbare? Has she been here

  again?"

  "No, my lady."

  "I am not at all sure, Hopkins, that I was right in declining to

  consider the message Mrs. Inchbare sent to me about the poultry.

  Why shouldn't she offer to take any fowls that I can spare off my

  hands? She is a respectable woman; and it is important to me to

  live on good terms with al my neighbors, great and small. Has she

  got a poultry-yard of her own at Craig Fernie?"

  "Yes, my lady. And beautifully kept, I am told."

  "I really don't see--on reflection, Hopkins--why I should

  hesitate to deal with Mrs. Inchbare. (I don't think it beneath me

  to sell the game killed on my estate to the poulterer.) What was

  it she wanted to buy? Some of my black Spanish fowls?"

  "Yes, my lady. Your ladyship's black Spaniards are famous all

  round the neighborhood. Nobody has got the breed. And Mrs.

  Inchbare--"

  "Wants to share the distinction of having the breed with me,"

  said Lady Lundie. "I won't appear ungracious. I will see her

  myself, as soon as I am a little better, and tell her that I have

  changed my mind. Send one of the men to Craig Fernie with a

  message. I can't keep a trifling matter of this sort in my

  memory--send him at once, or I may forget it. He is to say I am

  willing to see Mrs. Inchbare, about the fowls, the first time she

  finds it convenient to come this way."

  "I am afraid, my lady--Mrs. Inchbare's heart is so set on the

  black Spaniards--she will find it convenient to come this way at

  once as fast as her feet can carry her."

  "In that case, you must take her to the gardener's wife. Say she

  is to have some eggs--on condition, of course, of paying the

  price for them. If she does come, mind I hear of it."

  Hopkins withdrew. Hopkins's mistress reclined on her comfortable

  pillows and fanned herself gently. The vindictive smile

  reappeared on her face. "I fancy I shall be well enough to see

  Mrs. Inchbare," she thought to herself. "And it is just possible

  that the conversation may get beyond the relative merits of her

  poultry-yard and mine."

  A lapse of little more than two hours proved Hopkins's estimate

  of the latent enthusiasm in Mrs. Inchbare's character to have

  been correctly formed. The eager landlady appeared at Windygates

  on the heels of the returning servant. Among the long list of

  human weaknesses, a passion for poultry seems to have its

  practical advantages (in the shape of eggs) as compared with the

  more occult frenzies for collecting snuff-boxes and fiddles, and

  amassing autographs and old postage-stamps. When the mistress of

  Craig Fernie was duly announced to the mistress of Windygates,

  Lady Lundie developed a sense of humor for the first time in her

  life. Her ladyship was feebly merry (the result, no doubt, of the

  exhilarating properties of the red lavender draught) on the

  subject of Mrs. Inchbare and the Spanish fowls.

  "Most ridiculous, Hopkins! This poor woman must be suffering from

  a determination of poultry to the brain. Ill as I am, I should

  have thought that nothing could amuse me. But, really, this good

  creature starting up, and rushing here, as you say, as fast as

  her feet can carry her--it's impossible to resist it! I

  positively think I must see Mrs. Inchbare. With my active habits,

  this imprisonment to my room is dreadful. I can neither sleep nor

  read. Any thing, Hopkins, to divert my mind from myself: It's

  easy to get rid of her if she is too much for me. Send her up."

  Mrs. Inchbare made her appearance, courtesying deferentially;

  amazed at the condescension which admitted her within the

  hallowed precincts of Lady Lundie's room.

  "Take a chair," said her ladyship, graciously. "I am suffering

  from illness, as you perceive."

  "My certie! sick or well, yer leddyship's a braw sight to see!"

  returned Mrs. Inchbare profoundly impressed by the elegant

  costume which illness assumes when illness appears in the regions

  of high life.

  "I am far from being in a fit state to receive any body,"

  proceeded Lady Lundie. "But I had a motive for wishing to speak

  to you when you next came to my house. I failed to treat a

  proposal you made to me, a short time since, in a friendly and

  neighborly way. I beg you to understand that I regret having

  forgotten the consideration due from a person in my position to a

  person in yours. I am obliged to say this under very unusual

  circumstances," added her ladyship, with a glance round her

  magnificent bedroom, "through your unexpected promptitude in

  favoring me with a call. You have lost no time, Mrs. Inchbare, in

  profiting by the message which I had the pleasure of sending to

  you."

  "Eh, my leddy, I wasna' that sure (yer leddyship having ance

  changed yer mind) but that ye might e'en change again if I failed

  to strike, as they say, while the iron's het. I crave yer pardon,

  I'm sure, if I ha' been ower hasty. The pride o' my hairt's in my

  powltry--and the black Spaniards' (as they ca' them) are a sair

  temptation to me to break the tenth commandment, sae lang as

  they're a' in yer leddyship's possession, and nane o' them in

  mine."

  "I am shocked to hear that I have been the innocent cause of your

  falling into temptation, Mrs. Inchbare! Make your proposal--and I

  shall be happy to meet it, if I can."

  "I must e'en be content wi' what yer leddyship will condescend

  on. A haitch o' eggs if I can come by naething else."

  "There is something else you would prefer to a hatch of eggs?"

  "I wad prefer," said Mrs. Inchbare, modestly, "a cock and twa

  pullets."

  "Open the case on the table behind you," said Lady Lundie, "and

  you will find some writing paper inside. Give me a sheet of

  it--and the pencil out of the tray."

  Eagerly watched by Mrs. Inchbare, she wrote an order to the

  poultry-woman, and held it out with a gracious smile.

  "Take that to the gardener's wife. If you agree with her about

  the price, you can have the cock and the two pullets."

  Mrs. Inchbare opened her lips--no doubt to express the utmost

  extremity of human gratitude. Before she had said three words,

  Lady Lundie's impatience to reach the end which she had kept in

  view from the time when Mrs. Glenarm had left the house burst the

  bounds which had successfully restrained it thus far. Stopping

  the landlady without ceremony, she fairly forced the conversation
<
br />   to the subject of Anne Silvester's proceedings at the Craig

  Fernie inn.

  "How are you getting on at the hotel, Mrs. Inchbare? Plenty of

  tourists, I suppose, at this time of year?"

  "Full, my leddy (praise Providence), frae the basement to the

  ceiling."

  "You had a visitor, I think, some time since of whom I know

  something? A person--" She paused, and put a strong constraint on

  herself. There was no alternative but to yield to the hard

  necessity of making her inquiry intelligible. "A lady," she

  added, "who came to you about the middle of last month."

  "Could yer leddyship condescend on her name?"

  Lady Lundie put a still stronger constraint on herself.

  "Silvester," she said, sharply.

  "Presairve us a'!" cried Mrs. Inchbare. "It will never be the

  same that cam' driftin' in by hersel'--wi' a bit bag in her hand,

  and a husband left daidling an hour or mair on the road behind

  her?"

  "I have no doubt it is the same."

  "Will she be a freend o' yer leddyship's?" asked Mrs. Inchbare,

  feeling her ground cautiously.

  "Certainly not!" said Lady Lundie. "I felt a passing curiosity

  about her--nothing more."

  Mrs. Inchbare looked relieved. "To tell ye truth, my leddy, there

  was nae love lost between us. She had a maisterfu' temper o' her

  ain--and I was weel pleased when I'd seen the last of her."

  "I can quite understand that, Mrs. Inchbare--I know something of

  her temper myself. Did I understand you to say that she came to

  your hotel alone, and that her husband joined her shortly

  afterward?"

  "E'en sae, yer leddyship. I was no' free to gi' her house-room in

  the hottle till her husband daidled in at her heels and answered

  for her."

  "I fancy I must have seen her husband," said Lady Lundie. "What

  sort of a man was he?"

  Mrs. Inchbare replied in much the same words which she had used

  in answering the similar question put by Sir Patrick.

  "Eh! he was ower young for the like o' _her._ A pratty man, my

  leddy--betwixt tall and short; wi' bonny brown eyes and cheeks,

  and fine coal-blaik hair. A nice douce-spoken lad. I hae naething

  to say against him--except that he cam' late one day, and took

  leg-bail betimes the next morning, and left madam behind, a load

  on my hands."

  The answer produced precisely the same effect on Lady Lundie

  which it had produced on Sir Patrick. She, also, felt that it was

  too vaguely like too many young men of no uncommon humor and

  complexion to be relied on. But her ladyship possessed one

  immense advantage over her brother-in-law in attempting to arrive

  at the truth. _She_ suspected Arnold--and it was possible, in her

  case, to assist Mrs. Inchbare's memory by hints contributed from

  her own superior resources of experience and observation.

  "Had he any thing about him of the look and way of a sailor?" she

  asked. "And did you notice, when you spoke to him, that he had a

  habit of playing with a locket on his watch-chain?"

  There he is, het aff to a T!" cried Mrs. Inchbare. "Yer

  leddyship's weel acquented wi' him--there's nae doot o' that."

  "I thought I had seen him," said Lady Lundie. "A modest,

  well-behaved young man, Mrs. Inchbare, as you say. Don't let me

  keep you any longer from the poultry-yard. I am transgressing the

  doctor's orders in seeing any body. We quite understand each

  other now, don't we? Very glad to have seen you. Good-evening."

  So she dismissed Mrs. Inchbare, when Mrs. Inchbare had served her

  purpose.

  Most women, in her position, would have been content with the

  information which she had now obtained. But Lady Lundie--having a

  man like Sir Patrick to deal with--determined to be doubly sure

  of her facts before she ventured on interfering at Ham Farm. She

  had learned from Mrs. Inchbare that the so-called husband of Anne

  Silvester had joined her at Craig Fernie on the day when she

  arrived at the inn, and had left her again the next morning. Anne

  had made her escape from Windygates on the occasion of the

  lawn-party--that is to say, on the fourteenth of August. On the

  same day Arnold Brinkworth had taken his departure for the

  purpose of visiting the Scotch property left to him by his aunt.

  If Mrs. Inchbare was to be depended on, he must have gone to

  Craig Fernie instead of going to his appointed destination--and

  must, therefore, have arrived to visit his house and lands one

  day later than the day which he had originally set apart for that

  purpose. If this fact could be proved, on the testimony of a

  disinterested witness, the case against Arnold would be

  strengthened tenfold; and Lady Lundie might act on her discovery

  with something like a certainty that her information was to be

  relied on.

  After a little consideration she decided on sending a messenger

  with a note of inquiry addressed to Arnold's steward. The apology

  she invented to excuse and account for the strangeness of the

  proposed question, referred it to a little family discussion as

  to the exact date of Arnold's arrival at his estate, and to a

  friendly wager in which the difference of opinion had ended. If

  the steward could state whether his employer had arrived on the

  fourteenth or on the fifteenth of August, that was all that would

  be wanted to decide the question in dispute.

  Having written in those terms, Lady Lundie gave the necessary

  directions for having the note delivered at the earliest possible

  hour on the next morning; the messenger being ordered to make his

  way back to Windygates by the first return train on the same day.

  This arranged, her ladyship was free to refresh herself with

  another dose of the red lavender draught, and to sleep the sleep

  of the just who close their eyes with the composing conviction

  that they have done their duty.

  The events of the next day at Windygates succeeded each other in

  due course, as follows:

  The post arrived, and brought no reply from Sir Patrick. Lady

  Lundie entered that incident on her mental register of debts owed

  by her brother-in-law--to be paid, with interest, when the day of

  reckoning came.

  Next in order occurred the return of the messenger with the

  steward's answer.

  He had referred to his Diary; and he had discovered that Mr.

  Brinkworth had written beforehand to announce his arrival at his

  estate for the fourteenth of August--but that he had not actually

  appeared until the fifteenth. The one discovery needed to

  substantiate Mrs. Inchbare's evidence being now in Lady Lundie's

  possession, she decided to allow another day to pass--on the

  chance that Sir Patrick might al ter his mind, and write to her.

  If no letter arrived, and if nothing more was received from

  Blanche, she resolved to leave Windygates by the next morning's

  train, and to try the bold experiment of personal interference at

  Ham Farm.

  The third in the succession of events was the appearance of the

  doctor to pay h
is professional visit.

  A severe shock awaited him. He found his patient cured by the

  draught! It was contrary to all rule and precedent; it savored of

  quackery--the red lavender had no business to do what the red

  lavender had done--but there she was, nevertheless, up and

  dressed, and contemplating a journey to London on the next day

  but one. "An act of duty, doctor, is involved in this--whatever

  the sacrifice, I must go!" No other explanation could be

  obtained. The patient was plainly determined--nothing remained

  for the physician but to retreat with unimpaired dignity and a

  paid fee. He did it. "Our art," he explained to Lady Lundie in

  confidence, "is nothing, after all, but a choice between

  alternatives. For instance. I see you--not cured, as you

  think--but sustained by abnormal excitement. I have to ask which

  is the least of the two evils--to risk letting you travel, or to

  irritate you by keeping you at home. With your constitution, we

  must risk the journey. Be careful to keep the window of the

  carriage up on the side on which the wind blows. Let the

  extremities be moderately warm, and the mind easy--and pray don't

  omit to provide yourself with a second bottle of the Mixture

  before you start." He made his bow, as before--he slipped two

  guineas into his pocket, as before--and he went his way, as

  before, with an approving conscience, in the character of a

  physician who had done his duty. (What an enviable profession is

  Medicine! And why don't we all belong to it?)

  The last of the events was the arrival of Mrs. Glenarm.

  "Well?" she began, eagerly, "what news?"

  The narrative of her ladyship's discoveries--recited at full

  length; and the announcement of her ladyship's

  resolution--declared in the most uncompromising terms--raised

  Mrs. Glenarm's excitement to the highest pitch.

  "You go to town on Saturday?" she said. "I will go with you. Ever

  since that woman declared she should be in London before me, I

  have been dying to hasten my journey--and it is such an

  opportunity to go with you! I can easily manage it. My uncle and

  I were to have met in London, early next week, for the foot-race.

  I have only to write and tell him of my change of

  plans.--By-the-by, talking of my uncle, I have heard, since I saw

  you, from the lawyers at Perth."

  "More anonymous letters?"

  "One more--received by the lawyers this time. My unknown

  correspondent has written to them to withdraw his proposal, and

  to announce that he has left Perth. The lawyers recommended me to

  stop my uncle from spending money uselessly in employing the

  London police. I have forwarded their letter to the captain; and

  he will probably be in town to see his solicitors as soon as I

  get there with you. So much for what _I_ have done in this

  matter. Dear Lady Lundie--when we are at our journey's end, what

  do _you_ mean to do?"

  "My course is plain," answered her ladyship, calmly. "Sir Patrick

  will hear from me, on Sunday morning next, at Ham Farm."

  "Telling him what you have found out?"

  "Certainly not! Telling him that I find myself called to London

  by business, and that I propose paying him a short visit on

  Monday next."

  "Of course, he must receive you?"

  "I think there is no doubt of that. Even _his_ hatred of his

  brother's widow can hardly go to the length--after leaving my

  letter unanswered--of closing his doors against me next."

  "How will you manage it when you get there?"

  "When I get there, my dear, I shall be breathing an atmosphere of

  treachery and deceit; and, for my poor child's sake (abhorrent as

  all dissimulation is to me), I must be careful what I do. Not a

  word will escape my lips until I have first seen Blanche in

  private. However painful it may be, I shall not shrink from my

  duty, if my duty compels me to open her eyes to the truth. Sir

  Patrick and Mr. Brinkworth will have somebody else besides an