She went swiftly on; and passing through the few stragglers in the hall, entered the dining-room, where the chief mass had congregated, and the hubbub was loudest. All anger, at least external anger, was hushed at her sight. She looked so young, so innocent, so childlike in her pretty morning dress of peach-colored muslin, her fair face shaded by its falling curls, so little fit to combat with, or understand /their/ business, that instead of pouring forth complaints, they hushed them into silence.
"I heard some one calling out that I ought to see you," she began, her agitation causing the words to come forth in a jerking manner. "What did you want with me?"
Then they poured forth their complaints, but not angrily, and she listened till she grew sick. There were many and formidable claims; promissory notes and I O Us, overdue bills and underdue bills; heavy outstanding debts of all sorts, and trifles, comparatively speaking, for housekeeping, servants' liveries, out-door servants' wages, bread and meat.
What was Isabel Vane to answer? What excuse to offer? What hope or promise to give? She stood in bewilderment, unable to speak, turning from one to the other, her sweet eyes full of pity and contrition.
"The fact is, young lady," spoke up one who bore the exterior of a gentleman, "we should not have come down troubling you--at least, I can answer for myself--but his lordship's men of business, Warburton & Ware, to whom many of us hastened last evening, told us there would not be a shilling for anybody unless it could be got from furniture.
When it comes to that, it is 'first come, first served,' and I got down by morning light, and levied an execution."
"Which was levied before you came," put in a man who might be brother to the two upstairs, to judge by his nose. "But what's such furniture as this to our claims--if you come to combine 'em? No more than a bucket of water is to the Thames."
"What can I do?" shivered Lady Isabel. "What is it you wish me to do?
I have no money to give you, I--"
"No, miss," broke in a quiet, pale man; "if report tells me, you are worse wronged than we are, for you won't have a roof to put your head under, or a guinea to call your own."
"He has been a scoundrel to everybody," interrupted an intemperate voice; "he has ruined thousands."
The speech was hissed down; even they were not men gratuitously to insult a delicate young lady.
"Perhaps you'll just answer us a question, miss," persisted the voice, in spite of the hisses. "Is there any ready money that can--"
But another person had entered the room--Mr. Carlyle. He caught sight of the white face and trembling hands of Isabel, and interrupted the last speaker with scant ceremony.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, in a tone of authority.
"What do you want?"
"If you are a friend of the late peer's, you ought to know what we want," was the response. "We want our debts paid."
"But this is not the place to come to," returned Mr. Carlyle; "your coming here flocking in this extraordinary manner, will do no good.
You must go to Warburton & Ware."
"We have been to them and received their answer--a cool assurance that there'll be nothing for anybody."
"At any rate, you'll get nothing here," observed Mr. Carlyle, to the assembly, collectively. "Allow me to request that you leave the house at once."
It was little likely that they would for him, and they said it.
"Then I warn you of the consequences of a refusal," quietly said Mr. Carlyle; "you are trespassing upon a stranger's property. This house is not Lord Mount Severn's; he sold it some time back."
They knew better. Some laughed, and said these tricks were stale.
"Listen, gentlemen," rejoined Mr. Carlyle, in the plain, straightforward manner that carried its own truth. "To make an assertion that could be disproved when the earl's affairs come to be investigated, would be simply foolish. I give you my word of honor as a gentleman--nay, as a fellow-man--that this estate, with the house and all it contains, passed months ago, from the hands of Lord Mount Severn; and, during his recent sojourn here, he was a visitor in it.
Go and ask his men of business."
"Who purchased it?" was the inquiry.
"Mr. Carlyle, of West Lynne. Some of you may possibly know him by reputation."
Some of them did.
"A cute young lawyer," observed a voice; "as his father was before him."
"I am he," proceeded Mr. Carlyle; "and, being a 'cute lawyer,' as you do me the honor to decide, you cannot suppose I should risk my money upon any sale not perfectly safe and legal. I was not an agent in the affair; I employed agents; for it was my own money that I invested, and East Lynne is mine."
"Is the purchase money paid over?" inquired more than one.
"It was paid over at the time--last June."
"What did Lord Mount Severn do with the money?"
"I do not know," replied Mr. Carlyle. "I am not cognizant of Lord Mount Severn's private affairs."
Significant murmurs arose. "Strange that the earl should stop two or three months at a place that wasn't his."
"It may appear so to you, but allow me to explain," returned Mr. Carlyle. "The earl expressed a wish to pay East Lynne a few days' visit, by way of farewell, and I acceded. Before the few days were over, he was taken ill, and remained, from that time, too ill to quit it. This very day--this day, gentlemen, as we stand here, was at length fixed for his departure."
"And you tell us you bought the furniture?"
"Everything as it stands. You need not doubt my word, for the proofs will be forthcoming. East Lynne was in the market for sale; I heard of it, and became the purchaser--just as I might have bought an estate from any of you. And now, as this is my house, and you have no claim upon me, I shall be obliged to you to withdraw."
"Perhaps you'll claim the horses and carriages next, sir," cried the man with the hooked nose.
Mr. Carlyle raised his head haughtily. "What is mine is mine, legally purchased and paid for--a fair, just price. The carriages and horses I have nothing to do with; Lord Mount Severn brought them down with him."
