"It seems to be a dead lock," he said.
"No slang!" retorted Sir Patrick.
"For Heaven"s sake, Sir, consider my anxiety, and tell me what you propose to do!"
"I propose to take you to London with me to-morrow, on this condition--that you promise me, on your word of honor, not to attempt to see your wife before Sat.u.r.day next."
"I shall see her then?"
"If you give me your promise."
"I do! I do!"
The next course came in. Sir Patrick entered on the question of the merits of the partridge, viewed as an eatable bird, "By himself, Arnold--plainly roasted, and tested on his own merits--an overrated bird. Being too fond of shooting him in this country, we become too fond of eating him next. Properly understood, he is a vehicle for sauce and truffles--nothing more. Or no--that is hardly doing him justice. I am bound to add that he is honorably a.s.sociated with the famous French receipt for cooking an olive. Do you know it?"
There was an end of the bird; there was an end of the jelly. Arnold got his next chance--and took it.
"What is to be done in London to-morrow?" he asked.
"To-morrow," answered Sir Patrick, "is a memorable day in our calendar.
To-morrow is Tuesday--the day on which I am to see Miss Silvester."
Arnold set down the gla.s.s of wine which he was just raising to his lips.
"After what has happened," he said, "I can hardly bear to hear her name mentioned. Miss Silvester has parted me from my wife."
"Miss Silvester may atone for that, Arnold, by uniting you again."
"She has been the ruin of me so far."
"She may be the salvation of you yet."
The cheese came in; and Sir Patrick returned to the Art of Cookery.
"Do you know the receipt for cooking an olive, Arnold?"
"No."
"What _does_ the new generation know? It knows how to row, how to shoot, how to play at cricket, and how to bat. When it has lost its muscle and lost its money--that is to say, when it has grown old--what a generation it will be! It doesn"t matter: I sha"n"t live to see it. Are you listening, Arnold?"
"Yes, Sir."
"How to cook an olive! Put an olive into a lark, put a lark into a quail; put a quail into a plover; put a plover into a partridge; put a partridge into a pheasant; put a pheasant into a turkey. Good. First, partially roast, then carefully stew--until all is thoroughly done down to the olive. Good again. Next, open the window. Throw out the turkey, the pheasant, the partridge, the plover, the quail, and the lark. _Then, eat the olive._ The dish is expensive, but (we have it on the highest authority) well worth the sacrifice. The quintessence of the flavor of six birds, concentrated in one olive. Grand idea! Try another gla.s.s of the white Burgundy, Arnold."
At last the servants left them--with the wine and dessert on the table.
"I have borne it as long as I can, Sir," said Arnold. "Add to all your kindness to me by telling me at once what happened at Lady Lundie"s."
It was a chilly evening. A bright wood fire was burning in the room. Sir Patrick drew his chair to the fire.
"This is exactly what happened," he said. "I found company at Lady Lundie"s, to begin with. Two perfect strangers to me. Captain Newenden, and his niece, Mrs. Glenarm. Lady Lundie offered to see me in another room; the two strangers offered to withdraw. I declined both proposals.
First check to her ladyship! She has reckoned throughout, Arnold, on our being afraid to face public opinion. I showed her at starting that we were as ready to face it as she was. "I always accept what the French call accomplished facts," I said. "You have brought matters to a crisis, Lady Lundie. So let it be. I have a word to say to my niece (in your presence, if you like); and I have another word to say to you afterward--without presuming to disturb your guests." The guests sat down again (both naturally devoured by curiosity). Could her ladyship decently refuse me an interview with my own niece, while two witnesses were looking on? Impossible. I saw Blanche (Lady Lundie being present, it is needless to say) in the back drawing-room. I gave her your letter; I said a good word for you; I saw that she was sorry, though she wouldn"t own it--and that was enough. We went back into the front drawing-room. I had not spoken five words on our side of the question before it appeared, to my astonishment and delight, that Captain Newenden was in the house on the very question that had brought me into the house--the question of you and Miss Silvester. My business, in the interests of _my_ niece, was to deny your marriage to the lady. His business, in the interests of _his_ niece, was to a.s.sert your marriage to the lady. To the unutterable disgust of the two women, we joined issue, in the most friendly manner, on the spot. "Charmed to have the pleasure of meeting you, Captain Newenden."--"Delighted to have the honor of making your acquaintance, Sir Patrick."--"I think we can settle this in two minutes?"--"My own idea perfectly expressed."--"State your position, Captain."--"With the greatest pleasure. Here is my niece, Mrs. Glenarm, engaged to marry Mr. Geoffrey Delamayn. All very well, but there happens to be an obstacle--in the shape of a lady. Do I put it plainly?"--"You put it admirably, Captain; but for the loss to the British navy, you ought to have been a lawyer. Pray, go on."--"You are too good, Sir Patrick. I resume. Mr. Delamayn a.s.serts that this person in the back-ground has no claim on him, and backs his a.s.sertion by declaring that she is married already to Mr. Arnold Brinkworth. Lady Lundie and my niece a.s.sure me, on evidence which satisfies _them,_ that the a.s.sertion is true. The evidence does not satisfy _me._ "I hope, Sir Patrick, I don"t strike you as being an excessively obstinate man?"--"My dear Sir, you impress me with the highest opinion of your capacity for sifting human testimony! May I ask, next, what course you mean to take?"--"The very thing I was going to mention, Sir Patrick! This is my course. I refuse to sanction my niece"s engagement to Mr. Delamayn, until Mr. Delamayn has actually proved his statement by appeal to witnesses of the lady"s marriage. He refers me to two witnesses; but declines acting at once in the matter for himself, on the ground that he is in training for a foot-race. I admit that that is an obstacle, and consent to arrange for bringing the two witnesses to London myself. By this post I have written to my lawyers in Perth to look the witnesses up; to offer them the necessary terms (at Mr. Delamayn"s expense) for the use of their time; and to produce them by the end of the week. The footrace is on Thursday next. Mr. Delamayn will be able to attend after that, and establish his own a.s.sertion by his own witnesses. What do you say, Sir Patrick, to Sat.u.r.day next (with Lady Lundie"s permission) in this room?"--There is the substance of the captain"s statement. He is as old as I am and is dressed to look like thirty; but a very pleasant fellow for all that. I struck my sister-in-law dumb by accepting the proposal without a moment"s hesitation. Mrs. Glenarm and Lady Lundie looked at each other in mute amazement. Here was a difference about which two women would have mortally quarreled; and here were two men settling it in the friendliest possible manner. I wish you had seen Lady Lundie"s face, when I declared myself deeply indebted to Captain Newenden for rendering any prolonged interview with her ladyship quite unnecessary. "Thanks to the captain," I said to her, in the most cordial manner, "we have absolutely nothing to discuss. I shall catch the next train, and set Arnold Brinkworth"s mind quite at ease." To come back to serious things, I have engaged to produce you, in the presence of every body--your wife included--on Sat.u.r.day next. I put a bold face on it before the others. But I am bound to tell _you_ that it is by no means easy to say--situated as we are now--what the result of Sat.u.r.day"s inquiry will be. Every thing depends on the issue of my interview with Miss Silvester to-morrow. It is no exaggeration to say, Arnold, that your fate is in her hands."
"I wish to heaven I had never set eyes on her!" said Arnold.
"Lay the saddle on the right horse," returned Sir Patrick. "Wish you had never set eyes on Geoffrey Delamayn."
Arnold hung his head. Sir Patrick"s sharp tongue had got the better of him once more.
TWELFTH SCENE.--DRURY LANE.
CHAPTER THE FORTY-FOURTH.
THE LETTER AND THE LAW.
THE many-toned murmur of the current of London life--flowing through the murky channel of Drury Lane--found its m.u.f.fled way from the front room to the back. Piles of old music lumbered the dusty floor. Stage masks and weapons, and portraits of singers and dancers, hung round the walls.
An empty violin case in one corner faced a broken bust of Rossini in another. A frameless print, representing the Trial of Queen Caroline, was pasted over the fireplace. The chairs were genuine specimens of ancient carving in oak. The table was an equally excellent example of dirty modern deal. A small morsel of drugget was on the floor; and a large deposit of soot was on the ceiling. The scene thus presented, revealed itself in the back drawing-room of a house in Drury Lane, devoted to the transaction of musical and theatrical business of the humbler sort. It was late in the afternoon, on Michaelmas-day. Two persons were seated together in the room: they were Anne Silvester and Sir Patrick Lundie.
The opening conversation between them--comprising, on one side, the narrative of what had happened at Perth and at Swanhaven; and, on the other, a statement of the circ.u.mstances attending the separation of Arnold and Blanche--had come to an end. It rested with Sir Patrick to lead the way to the next topic. He looked at his companion, and hesitated.
"Do you feel strong enough to go on?" he asked. "If you would prefer to rest a little, pray say so."
"Thank you, Sir Patrick. I am more than ready, I am eager to go on. No words can say how anxious I feel to be of some use to you, if I can. It rests entirely with your experience to show me how."
"I can only do that, Miss Silvester, by asking you without ceremony for all the information that I want. Had you any object in traveling to London, which you have not mentioned to me yet? I mean, of course, any object with which I have a claim (as Arnold Brinkworth"s representative) to be acquainted?"
"I had an object, Sir Patrick. And I have failed to accomplish it."
"May I ask what it was?"
"It was to see Geoffrey Delamayn."
Sir Patrick started. "You have attempted to see _him!_ When?"
"This morning."
"Why, you only arrived in London last night!"
"I only arrived," said Anne, "after waiting many days on the journey. I was obliged to rest at Edinburgh, and again at York--and I was afraid I had given Mrs. Glenarm time enough to get to Geoffrey Delamayn before me."
"Afraid?" repeated Sir Patrick. "I understood that you had no serious intention of disputing the scoundrel with Mrs. Glenarm. What motive could possibly have taken you _his_ way?"
"The same motive which took me to Swanhaven."