Sir Brook Fossbrooke, Volume I.. Lever Charles James

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ accepting the mitre,” said Sir Brook, laughing. “Bishops, like belles, say ‘No’ when they mean ‘Yes.’”

      “And who told you that belles did?” broke in Lucy. “I am in a sad minority here, but I stand up for my sex.”

      “I repeat a popular prejudice, fair lady.”

      “And Lucy will not have it that belles are as illogical as bishops? I see I was right in refusing the bench,” said the vicar.

      “What bright boon of Fortune is Trafford meditating the rejection of?” said Sir Brook; and the young fellow’s cheek grew crimson as he tried to laugh off the reply.

      “Who made this salad?” cried Tom.

      “It was I; who dares to question it?” said Lucy. “The doctor has helped himself twice to it, and that test I take to be a certificate to character.”

      “I used to have some skill in dressing a salad, but I have foregone the practice for many a day; my culinary gift got me sent out of Austria in twenty-four hours. Oh, it ‘s nothing that deserves the name of a story,” said Sir Brook, as the others looked at him for an explanation. “It was as long ago as the year 1806. Sir Robert Adair had been our minister at Vienna, when, a rupture taking place between the two Governments, he was recalled. He did not, however, return to England, but continued to live as a private citizen at Vienna. Strangely enough, from the moment that our embassy ceased to be recognized by the Government, our countrymen became objects of especial civility. I myself, amongst the rest, was the bien-venu in some of the great houses, and even invited by Count Cobourg Cohari to those déjeuners which he gave with such splendor at Maria Hülfe.

      “At one of these, as a dish of salad was handed round, instead of eating it, like the others, I proceeded to make a very complicated dressing for it on my plate, calling for various condiments, and seasoning my mess in a most refined and ingenious manner. No sooner had I given the finishing touch to my great achievement than the Grand-Duchess Sophia, who it seems had watched the whole performance, sent a servant round to beg that I would send her my plate. She accompanied the request with a little bow and a smile whose charm I can still recall. Whatever the reason, before I awoke next morning, an agent of the police entered my room and informed me my passports were made out for Dresden, and that his orders were to give me the pleasure of his society till I crossed the frontier. There was no minister, no envoy to appeal to, and nothing left but to comply. They said ‘Go,’ and I went.”

      “And all for a dish of salad!” cried the vicar.

      “All for the bright eyes of an archduchess, rather,” broke in Lucy, laughing.

      The old man’s grateful smile at the compliment to his gallantry showed how, even in a heart so world-worn, the vanity of youth survived.

      “I declare it was very hard,” said Tom, – “precious hard.”

      “If you mean to give up the salad, so think I too,” cried the vicar.

      “I ‘ll be shot if I ‘d have gone,” broke in Trafford.

      “You’d probably have been shot if you had stayed,” replied Tom.

      “There are things we submit to in life, not because the penalty of resistance affrights us, but because we half acquiesce in their justice. You, for instance, Trafford, are well pleased to be here on leave, and enjoy yourself, as I take it, considerably; and yet the call of duty – some very commonplace duty, perhaps – would make you return tomorrow in all haste.”

      “Of course it would,” said Lucy.

      “I ‘m not so sure of it,” murmured Trafford, sullenly; “I ‘d rather go into close arrest for a week than I ‘d lose this day here.”

      “Bravo! here’s your health, Lionel,” cried Tom. “I do like to hear a fellow say he is willing to pay the cost of what pleases him.”

      “I must preach wholesome doctrine, my young friends,” broke in the vicar. “Now that we have dined well, I would like to say aword on abstinence.”

      “You mean to take no coffee, doctor, then?” asked Lucy, laughing.

      “That I do, my sweet child, – coffee and a pipe, too, for I know you are tolerant of tobacco.”

      “I hope she is,” said Tom, “or she ‘d have a poor time of it in the house with me.”

      “I ‘ll put no coercion upon my tastes on this occasion, for I ‘ll take a stroll through the ruins, and leave you to your wine,” said she, rising.

      They protested, in a mass, against her going. “We cannot lock the door, Lucy, de facto,” said Sir Brook, “but we do it figuratively.”

      “And in that case I make my escape by the window,” said she, springing through an old lancet-shaped orifice in the Abbey wall.

      “There goes down the sun and leaves us but a gray twilight,” said Sir Brook, mournfully, as he looked after her. “If there were only enough beauty on earth, I verily believe we might dispense with parsons.”

      “Push me over the bird’s-eye, and let me nourish myself till your millennium comes,” said the vicar.

      “What a charming girl she is! her very beauty fades away before the graceful attraction of her manner!” whispered Sir Brook to the doctor.

      “Oh, if you but knew her as I do! If you but knew how, sacrificing all the springtime of her bright youth, she has never had a thought save to make herself the companion of her poor father, – a sad, depressed, sorrow-struck man, only rescued from despair by that companionship! I tell you, sir, there is more courage in submitting one’s self to the nature of another than in facing a battery.”

      Sir Brook grasped the parson’s hand and shook it cordially. The action spoke more than any words. “And the brother, doctor, – what say you of the brother?” whispered he.

      “One of those that the old adage says ‘either makes a spoon or spoils the horn.’ That ‘s Master Tom there.”

      Low as the words were uttered, they caught the sharp ears of him they spoke of, and with a laughing eye he cried out, “What ‘s that evil prediction you ‘re uttering about me, doctor?”

      “I am just telling Sir Brook here that it’s pure head or tail how you turn out. There’s stuff in you to make a hero, but it’s just as likely you ‘ll stop short at a highwayman.”

      “I think I could guess which of the two would best suit the age we live in,” said Tom, gayly. “Are we to have another bottle of that Madeira, for I suspect I see the doctor putting up the corkscrew?”

      “You are to have no more wine than what’s before you till you land me at the quay of Killaloe. When temperance means safety as well as forbearance, it’s one of the first of virtues.”

      The vicar, indeed, soon grew impatient to depart. Fine as the evening was then, it might change. There was a feeling, too, not of damp, but chilliness; at all events, he was averse to being on the water late; and as he was the great promoter of these little convivial gatherings, his word was law.

      It is not easy to explain how it happened that Trafford sat beside Lucy. Perhaps the trim of the boat required it; certainly, however, nothing required that the vicar, who sat next Lucy on the other side, should fall fast asleep almost as soon as he set СКАЧАТЬ