'It's God's mercy and her madness,' quoth the viscountess piously. 'She
may yet. And I would rather give you a bit of a living to marry her--ay,
I would, Thomasson--than be saddled with such a besom!' Mr. Thomasson cast a sickly glance at her ladyship. The evening before,
when the danger seemed imminent, she had named two thousand pounds and a
living. Tonight, the living. To-morrow--what? For the living had been
promised all along and in any case. Whereas now, a remote and impossible
contingency was attached to it. Alas! the tutor saw very clearly that my
lady's promises were pie-crust, made to be broken.
She caught the look, but attributed it to another cause. 'What do you
fear, man?' she said. 'Sho! he is out of the house by this time.' Mr. Thomasson would not have ventured far on that assurance, but he had
himself seen Mr. Dunborough leave the house and pass to the stables; and
anxious to escape for a time from his terrible patroness, he professed
himself ready. Knowing where the rooms, which the girl's party occupied,
lay, in the west wing, he did not call a servant, but went through the
house to them and knocked at the door.
He got no answer, so gently opened the door and peeped in. He discovered
a pleasant airy apartment, looking by two windows over a little grass
plot that flanked the house on that side, and lay under the shadow of
the great Druid mound. The room showed signs of occupancy--a lady's
cloak cast over a chair, a great litter of papers on the table. But for
the moment it was empty.
He was drawing back, satisfied with his survey, when he caught the sound
of a heavy tread in the corridor behind him. He turned; to his horror he
discerned Mr. Dunborough striding towards him, a whip in one hand, and
in the other a note; probably the note was for this very room. At the
same moment Mr. Dunborough caught sight of the tutor, and bore down on
him with a view halloa. Mr. Thomasson's hair rose, his knees shook under
him, he all but sank down where he was. Fortunately at the last moment
his better angel came to his assistance. His hand was still on the latch
of the door; to open it, to dart inside, and to shoot the bolt were the
work of a second. Trembling he heard Mr. Dunborough come up and slash
the door with his whip, and then, contented with this demonstration,
pass on, after shouting through the panels that the tutor need not
flatter himself--he would catch him by-and-by.
Mr. Thomasson devoutly hoped he would not; and, sweating at every pore,
sat down to recover himself. Though all was quiet, he suspected the
enemy of lying in wait; and rather than run into his arms was prepared
to stay where he was, at any risk of discovery by the occupants. Or
there might be another exit. Going to one of the windows to ascertain
this, he found that there was; an outside staircase of stone affording
egress to the grass plot. He might go that way; but no!--at the base of
the Druid mound he perceived a group of townsfolk and rustics staring at
the flank of the building--staring apparently at him. He recoiled; then
he remembered that Lord Chatham's rooms lay in that wing, and also
looked over the gardens. Doubtless the countryfolk were watching in the
hope that the great man would show himself at a window, or that, at the
worst, they might see the crumbs shaken from a tablecloth he had used.