The Castle Inn - Page 81/559

'But--but Mr. Dunborough,' the tutor pleaded, 'may like to see you

alone. Yes, I am sure I had better go.' 'No,' said my lady more decisively; and she laid her hand on the hapless

tutor's arm.

'But--but if your ladyship is afraid of--of his violence,' Mr. Thomasson

stuttered, 'it will be better, surely, for me to call some--some of the

servants.' 'Afraid?' Lady Dunborough cried, supremely contemptuous. 'Do you think I

am afraid of my own son? And such a son! A poor puppet,' she continued,

purposely raising her voice as a step sounded outside, and Mr.

Dunborough, flinging open the door, appeared like an angry Jove on the

threshold, 'who is fooled by every ruddled woman he meets! Ay, sir, I

mean you! You! Oh, I am not to be browbeaten, Dunborough!' she went on;

'and I will trouble you not to kick my furniture, you unmannerly puppy.

And out or in's no matter, but shut the door after you.' Mr. Dunborough was understood to curse everybody; after which he fell

into the chair that stood next the door, and, sticking his hands into

his breeches-pockets, glared at my lady, his face flushed and sombre.

'Hoity-toity! are these manners?' said she. 'Do you see this reverend

gentleman?' 'Ay, and G--d--him!' cried Mr. Dunborough, with a very strong

expletive; 'but I'll make him smart for it by-and-by. You have ruined me

among you.' 'Saved you, you mean,' said Lady Dunborough with complacency, 'if you

are worth saving--which, mind you, I very much doubt, Dunborough.' 'If I had seen her last night,' he answered, drawing a long breath, 'it

would have been different. For that I have to thank you two. You sent me

to lie at Bath and thought you had got rid of me. But I am back, and

I'll remember it, my lady! I'll remember you too, you lying sneak!' 'You common, low fellow!' said my lady.

'Ay, talk away!' said he; and then no more, but stared at the floor

before him, his jaw set, and his brow as black as a thunder-cloud. He

was a powerful man, and, with that face, a dangerous man. For he was

honestly in love; the love was coarse, brutal, headlong, a passion to

curse the woman who accepted it; but it was not the less love for that.

On the contrary, it was such a fever as fills the veins with fire and

drives a man to desperate things; as was proved by his next words.

'You have ruined me among you,' he said, his tone dull and thick, like

that of a man in drink. 'If I had seen her last night, there is no

knowing but what she would have had me. She would have jumped at it. You

tell me why not! But she is different this morning. There is a change in

her. Gad, my lady,' with a bitter laugh, 'she is as good a lady as you,

and better! And I'd have used her gently. Now I shall carry her off. And

if she crosses me I will wring her handsome neck!' It is noticeable that he did not adduce any reason why the night had

changed her. Only he had got it firmly into his head that, but for the

delay they had caused, all would be well. Nothing could move him

from this.