"And what is the latest morceau?" inquired Mr Aylett, indulgently,
when Mabel had gone.
He was standing by his wife's chair, and she leaned her head against
him, her bright eyes uplifted to his, her hair falling in a long,
burnished fringe over his arm--a fond, sparkling siren, whom no man,
with living blood in his veins, could help stooping to kiss before
her lips had shaped a reply.
"You wouldn't think it an appetizing morsel! But I listened with
interest to our unsophisticated Mabel's account of her Quixotic
expedition to what will, I foresee, be the haunted chamber of
Ridgeley in the next generation. Her penchant for adventure has, I
suspect, embellished her portrait of the hapless house-breaker."
"A common-looking tramp!" returned Winston, disdainfully. "As
villanous a dog in physiognomy and dress as I ever saw! Such an one
as generally draws his last breath where he drew the first--in a
ditch or jail; and too seldom, for the peace and safety of society,
finds his noblest earthly elevation upon a gallows. It is a
nuisance, though, having him pay this trifling debt of
Nature--nobody but Nature would trust him--in my house. There must
be an inquest and a commotion. The whole thing is an insufferable
bore. Ritchie has given him up, and gone to bed, leaving old Phillis
on the watch, with unlimited rations of whiskey, and a pile of
fire-wood higher than herself. But I did not mean that you should
hear anything about this dirty business. It is not fit for my
darling's ears. Mabel showed even less than her usual discretion in
detailing the incidents of her adventure to you."
Flattery of his sister had never been a failing with him, but, since
his marriage, the occasions were manifold in which her inferiority
to his wife was so glaring as to elicit a verbal expression of
disapproval. It was remarkable that Clara's advocacy of Mabel's
cause, at these times, so frequently failed to alter his purpose of
censure or to mitigate it, since, in all other respects, her
influence over him was more firmly established each day and hour.
Old Phillis, Mabel's nurse and the doctress of the
plantation--albeit a less zealous devotee than her master had
intimated of the potent beverages left within her reach, ostensibly
for the use of her patient should he revive sufficiently to swallow
a few drops--was yet too drowsy from the fatigues of the day,
sundry cups of Christmas egg-nogg, and the obesity of age, to
maintain alert vigil over one she, in common with her
fellow-servitors, scorned as an aggravated specimen of the always
and ever-to-be despicable genus, "poor white folks." There was next
to nothing for her to do when the fire had been replenished, the
bottles of hot water renewed at the feet and heart, and fresh
mustard draughts wound about the almost pulseless limbs of the dying
stranger. She did contrive to keep Somnus at arm's length for a
while longer, by a minute examination of his upper clothing, which,
by Dr. Ritchie's directions, had been removed, that the remedies
might be more conveniently applied, and the heated blankets the
sooner infuse a vital glow through the storm-beaten frame. The
ancient crone took them up with the tips of her fingers--ragged
coat, vest, and pantaloons--rummaged in the same contemptuous
fashion every pocket, and kicked over the worn, soaked boots with
the toe of her leather brogan, sniffing her disappointment at the
worthlessness of the habiliments and the result of her search.