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The Story of Wild Will Enderby

Chapter VIII. Cast Forth

page 111

Chapter VIII. Cast Forth.

"Going away, Mrs Melmoth? Why, bless my soul!—what is the meaning of this?"

"It is by Mrs. Grey's desire, sir. You must ask her the reason."

"But I don't understand it. What's it all about? There's Tom, and Nelly and—and the rest to be educated. Why are you leaving us?"

"I am not responsible for Mrs. Grey's caprices, sir."

"Caprices?—Oh! come—come. There's no caprice about my wife, you know. A more sensible woman never lived. I must look into this, Mrs. Melmoth. I think that you know, but you don't care to tell me. I really must look into it."

And John Grey did "look into it," but took nothing by his motion. For Mrs. Grey, influenced by Mabel—who in her heart secretly treasured the hope that her lover would return to her when her rival was removed—would not divulge Will's infidelity. Florence Melmoth had her own reasons for remaining silent on that topic. So that the matter might have remained an unfathomable mystery but for Will's reckless impetuosity.

Travel-stained and haggard, that young gentleman one day burst into his uncle's office.

page 112

"What is this you have done?" he panted forth. "You have cast her out—driven her out into the cold world to perish, for all you care. This is your Christian charity, is it?—And all because she loves me."

"Chut! chut! Dear me! Why, Will! Will!" cried the merchant, "what on earth is the matter with you? Are you mad? Bless my heart! I believe you've been drinking."

"I am neither mad nor drunk, sir. I've not tasted bite or sup since I heard of it. I've been in the saddle all night, and I want to know what you have done with her."

"Her! Who do you mean?"

"The divinest creature of her sex," cried poor Will. "You know very well who I mean. Don't pretend you don't know. Where is she—Mrs. Melmoth?"

"Whew!"—and John Grey's eyebrows became hugely elevated.—"So that's the little game, is it? Why you young rascal! you are engaged to your cousin Mabel, my daughter, sir—my daughter. And you've chosen to make an ass of yourself with Mrs. Melmoth. Eh! get out of the office, sir, before I kick you out."

And in the plentitude of his paternal wrath honest John ordered his sister's son to depart for a region, the atmosphere of which is popularly supposed to be excessively sultry.

I think there must have been a little "scene" in John's usually peaceful household that night. "For," said Lizzie Housemaid to her kitchen crony, "when I went in with the things, there were master a-walkin' up and down and a-ravin' as I never seed the like a-fore. And Missus she were a-sobbin' with her handkercher page 113up to her eyes, quite pitiful. And when I ast her what were the matter, she never said nothin', but just shook her head; and Master he spoke out angry to me and told me to mind my own business; as I'm sure I don't want to be meddlin' with nobody's business, only I can't a-bear to see folk in trouble. Poor Missie! she never come down to dinner at all; and when I went up to her room to call her, she had the door locked, and never give me any answer; and then Missus comes, and says as how I mustn't disturb her. But I know what it's all about. It's that nasty Jezebul mischief-making Madam's doings—I'll lay my life on it."

"A'weel, Lizzie," quoth Janet, "the hizzie's awa' the noo, deil speed her! Sae we'll just let that flea stick in the wa' ye ken.'