"Out on you!" he said testily, "to chide the poor child so!""Poor child!" sneered her ladyship, eyes raised to heaven to invoke its testimony to this absurdity. "Poor child.""Let there be an end to it, madam," he said with attempted sternness. "It is unjust and unreasonable in you.""If it were that - which it is not - it would be but following the example that you set me. What are you but unreasonable and unjust - to treat your son as you are treating him?"His lordship crimsoned. On the subject of his son he could be angry in earnest, even with her ladyship, as already we have seen.
"I have no son," he declared, "there is a lewd, drunken, bullying profligate who bears my name, and who will be Lord Ostermore some day. I can't strip him of that. But I'll strip him of all else that's mine, God helping me. I beg, my lady, that you'll let me hear no more of this, I beg it. Lord Rotherby leaves my house to-day - now that Mr. Caryll is restored to health. Indeed, he has stayed longer than was necessary. He leaves to-day. He has my orders, and my servants have orders to see that he obeys them. I do not wish to see him again - never. Let him go, and let him be thankful - and be your ladyship thankful, too, since it seems you must have a kindness for him in spite of all he has done to disgrace and discredit us - that he goes not by way of Holborn Hill and Tyburn."She looked at him, very white from suppressed fury. "I do believe you had been glad had it been so.""Nay," he answered, "I had been sorry for Mr. Caryll's sake.""And for his own?"
"Pshaw!"
"Are you a father?" she wondered contemptuously.
"To my eternal shame, ma'am!" he flung back at her. He seemed, indeed, a changed man in more than body since Mr. Caryll's duel with Lord Rotherby. "No more, ma'am - no more!"he cried, seeming suddenly to remember the presence of Mr. Caryll, who sat languidly drawing figures on the ground with the ferrule of his cane. He turned to ask the convalescent how he did. Her ladyship rose to withdraw, and at that moment Leduc made his appearance with a salver, on which was a bowl of soup, a flask of Hock, and a letter. Setting this down in such a manner that the letter was immediately under his master's eyes, he further proceeded to draw Mr. Caryll's attention to it. It was addressed in Sir Richard Everard's hand. Mr. Caryll took it, and slipped it into his pocket.
Her ladyship's eyebrows went up.
"Will you not read your letter, Mr. Caryll?" she invited him, with an amazingly sudden change to amiability.
"It will keep, ma'am, to while away an hour that is less pleasantly engaged." And he took the napkin Leduc was proffering.
"You pay your correspondent a poor compliment," said she.
"My correspondent is not one to look for them or need them,"he answered lightly, and dipped his spoon in the broth.
"Is she not?" quoth her ladyship.
Mr. Caryll laughed. "So feminine!" said he. "Ha, ha! So very feminine - to assume the sex so readily.""'Tis an easy assumption when the superscription is writ in a woman's hand."Mr. Caryll, the picture of amiability, smiled between spoonfuls. "Your ladyship's eyes preserve not only their beauty but a keenness beyond belief.""How could you have seen it from that distance, Sylvia?"inquired his practical lordship.
"Then again," said her ladyship, ignoring both remarks, "there is the assiduity of this fair writer since Mr. Caryll has been in case to receive letters. Five billets in six days! Deny it if you can, Mr. Caryll."Her playfulness, so ill-assumed, sat more awkwardly upon her than her usual and more overt malice towards him.
"To what end should I deny it?" he replied, and added in his most ingratiating manner another of his two-edged compliments.
"Your ladyship is the model chatelaine. No happening in your household can escape your knowledge. His lordship is greatly to be envied.""Yet, you see," she cried, appealing to her husband, and even to Hortensia, who sat apart, scarce heeding this trivial matter of which so much was being made, "you see that he evades the point, avoids a direct answer to the question that is raised.""Since your ladyship perceives it, it were more merciful to spare my invention the labor of fashioning further subterfuges. I am a sick man still, and my wits are far from brisk." He took up the glass of wine Leduc had poured for him.
The countess looked at him again through narrowing eyelids, the playfulness all vanished. "You do yourself injustice, sir, as I am a woman. Your wits want nothing more in briskness." She rose, and looked down upon him engrossed in his broth. "For a dissembler, sir," she pronounced upon him acidly, "I think it would be difficult to meet your match."He dropped his spoon into the bowl with a clatter. He looked up, the very picture of amazement and consternation.
"A dissembler, I?" quoth he in earnest protest; then laughed and quoted, adapting "'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts Or carry smiles and sunshine in my face Should discontent sit heavy at my heart"She looked him over, pursing her lips. "I've often thought you might have been a player," said she contemptuously.
"I'faith," he laughed, "I'd sooner play than toil.""Ay; but you make a toil of play, sir."
"Compassionate me, ma'am," he implored in the best of humors.
"I am but a sick man. Your ladyship's too keen for me."She moved across to the exit without answering him. "Come, child," she said to Hortensia. "We are tiring Mr. Caryll, Ifear. Let us leave him to his letter, ere it sets his pocket afire."Hortensia rose. Loath though she might be to depart, there was no reason she could urge for lingering.
"Is not your lordship coming?" said she.
"Of course he is," her ladyship commanded. "I need to speak with you yet concerning Rotherby," she informed him.
"Hem!" His lordship coughed. Plainly he was not at his ease.
"I will follow soon. Do not stay for me. I have a word to say to Mr. Caryll.""Will it not keep? What can you have to say to him that is so pressing?""But a word - no more."
