"Codso!" she shrilled. "You have come back! And for what have you come back? Am I to live in the same house with you, you shameless madam - that have no more thought for your reputation than a slut in a smock-race?"Hortensia raised indignant eyes from out of a face that was very pale. Her lips were tightly pressed - in resolution, thought Mr. Caryll, who was very observant of her - not to answer her ladyship; for Mr. Caryll had little doubt as to the identity of this dragon.
"My love - my dear - " began his lordship, advancing a step, his tone a very salve. Then, seeking to create a diversion, he waved a hand towards Mr. Caryll. "Let me present - ""Did I speak to you?" she turned to bombard him. "Have you not done harm enough? Had you been aught but a fool - had you respected me as a husband should - you had left well alone and let her go her ways.""There was my duty to her father, to say aught of - ""And what of your duty to me?" she blazed, her eyes puckering most malignantly. She reminded Mr. Caryll of nothing so much as a vulture. "Had ye forgotten that? Have ye no thought for decency - no respect for your wife?"Her strident voice was echoing through the house and drawing a little crowd of gaping servants to the hall. To spare Mistress Winthrop, Mr. Caryll took it upon himself to close the door. The countess turned at the sound.
"Who is this?" she asked, measuring the elegant figure with an evil eye. And Mr. Caryll felt it in his bones that she had done him the honor to dislike him at sight.
"It is a gentleman who - who -" His lordship thought it better, apparently, not to explain the exact circumstances under which he had met the gentleman. He shifted ground. "Iwas about to present him, my love. It is Mr. Caryll - Mr. Justin Caryll. This, sir, is my Lady Ostermore."Mr. Caryll made her a profound bow. Her ladyship retorted with a sniff.
"Is it a kinsman of yours, my lord?" and the contempt of the question was laden with a suggestion that smote Mr. Caryll hard. What she implied in wanton offensive mockery was no more than he alone present knew to be the exact and hideous truth.
"Some remote kinsman, I make no doubt," the earl explained.
"Until yesterday I had not the honor of his acquaintance. Mr. Caryll is from France."
"Ye'll be a Jacobite, no doubt, then," were her first, uncompromising words to the guest.
Mr. Caryll made her another bow. "If I were, I should make no secret of it with your ladyship," he answered with that irritating suavity in which he clothed his most obvious sarcasms.
Her ladyship opened her eyes a little wider. Here was a tone she was unused to. "And what may your business with his lordship be?""His lordship's business, I think," answered Mr. Caryll in a tone of such exquisite politeness and deference that the words seemed purged of all their rudeness.
"Will you answer me so, sir?" she demanded, nevertheless, her voice quivering.
"My love!" interpolated his lordship hurriedly, his florid face aflush. "We are vastly indebted to Mr. Caryll, as you shall learn. It was he who saved Hortensia.""Saved the drab, did he? And from what, pray?""Madam!" It was Hortensia who spoke. She had risen, pale with anger, and she made appeal now to her guardian. "My lord, I'll not remain to be so spoken of. Suffer me to go.
That her ladyship should so speak of me to my face - and to a stranger!""Stranger!" crowed her ladyship. "Lard! And what d'ye suppose will happen? Are you so nice about a stranger hearing what I may have to say of you - you that will be the talk of the whole lewd town for this fine escapade? And what'll the town say of you ?""My love!" his lordship sought again to soothe her. "Sylvia, let me implore you! A little moderation! A little charity!
Hortensia has been foolish. She confesses so much, herself.
Yet, when all is said, 'tis not she is to blame.""Am I?"
"My love! Was it suggested?"
"I marvel it was not. Indeed, I marvel! Oh, Hortensia is not to blame, the sweet, pure dove! What is she, then?""To be pitied, ma'am," said his lordship, stirred to sudden anger, "that she should have lent an ear to your disreputable son.""My son? My son?" cried her ladyship, her voice more and more strident, her face flushing till the rouge upon it was put to shame, revealed in all its unnatural hideousness. "And is he not your son, my lord?""There are moments," he answered hardily, "when I find it difficult to believe."It was much for him to say, and to her ladyship, of all people. It was pure mutiny. She gasped for air; pumped her brain for words. Meantime, his lordship continued with an eloquence entirely unusual in him and prompted entirely by his strong feelings in the matter of his son. "He is a disgrace to his name! He always has been. When a boy, he was a liar and a thief, and had he had his deserts he had been lodged in Newgate long ago - or worse. Now that he's a man, he's an abandoned profligate, a brawler, a drunkard, a rakehell. So much I have long known him for; but to-day he has shown himself for something even worse. I had thought that my ward, at least, had been sacred from his villainy. That is the last drop. I'll not condone it. Damn me! I can't condone it.
