第145章

A strange rising of the throat in her wild despair, a meek courtesy, as she turned from him, his last words ringing in her ears: "I shall call in further advice for him, Madame Vine."

William was clinging round Mrs. Carlyle, in a coaxing attitude, when she re-entered the gray parlor. "I know what I could eat, mamma, if you'd let me have it," cried he, in answer to her remonstrance that he must eat something.

"What could you eat?"

"Some cheese."

"Cheese! Cheese with tea!" laughed Mrs. Carlyle.

"For the last week or two he has fancied strange things, the effect of a diseased appetite," exclaimed Madame Vine; "but if I allow them to be brought in he barely tastes them."

"I am sure, mamma, I could eat some cheese now," said William.

"You may have it," answered Mrs. Carlyle.

As she turned to leave the room, the impatient knock and ring of a visitor was heard. Barbara wondered who could be arriving at that, their dinner hour. Sailing majestically into the hall, her lips compressed, her aspect threatening, came Miss Carlyle.

Now it turned out that Miss Corny had been standing at her own window, grimly eyeing the ill doings of the street, from the fine housemaid opposite, who was enjoying a flirting interview with the baker, to the ragged urchins, pitch-polling in the gutter and the dust. And there she caught sight of the string, justices and others, who came flowing out of the office of Mr. Carlyle. So many of them were they that Miss Corny involuntarily thought of a conjuror flinging flowers out of a hat--the faster they come, the more it seems there are to come. "What on earth is up?" cried Miss Corny, pressing her nose flat against the pane, that she might see better.

They filed off, some one way, some another. Miss Carlyle's curiosity was keener than her appetite, for she stayed on the watch, although just informed that her dinner was served. Presently Mr. Carlyle appeared and she knocked at the window with her knuckles. He did not hear it; he had turned off at a quick pace toward home. Miss Corny's temper rose.

The clerks came out next, one after another; and the last was Mr. Dill. He was less hurried than Mr. Carlyle had been, and heard Miss Corny's signal.

"What in the name of wonder, did all that stream of people want at the office?" began she, when Mr. Dill had entered in obedience to it.

"That was the deputation, Miss Cornelia."

"What deputation?"

"The deputation to Mr. Archibald. They want him to become their new member."

"Member of what?" cried she, not guessing at the actual meaning.

"Of parliament, Miss Corny; to replace Mr. Attley. The gentlemen came to solicit him to be put in nomination."

"Solicit a donkey!" irascibly uttered Miss Corny, for the tidings did not meet her approbation. "Did Archibald turn them out again?"

"He gave them no direct answer, ma'am. He will consider of it between now and to-morrow morning."

"/Consider/ of it!" shrieked she. "Why, he'd never, never be such a flat as to comply. He go into parliament! What next?"

"Why should he not, Miss Corny? I'm sure I should be proud to see him there."

Miss Corny gave a sniff. "You are proud of things more odd than even John Dill. Remember that fine shirt front! What has become of it? Is it laid up in lavender?"

"Not exactly in lavender, Miss Corny. It lies in the drawer; for I have never liked to put it on since, after what you said."

"Why don't you sell it at half-price, and buy a couple of good useful ones with the money?" returned she, tartly. "Better that than keep the foppish thing as a witness of your folly. Perhaps he'll be buying embroidered fronts next, if he goes into that idle, do-nothing House of Commons. I'd rather enter myself for six months at the treadmill."

"Oh, Miss Corny! I don't think you have well considered it. It's a great honor, and worthy of him. He will be elevated above us all, as it were, and he deserves to be."

"Elevate him on a weathercock!" raged Miss Corny. "There, you may go.

I've heard quite enough."

Brushing past the old gentleman, leaving him to depart or not, as he might please, Miss Carlyle strode upstairs, flung on her shawl and bonnet, and strode down again. Her servant looked considerably surprised, and addressed her as she crossed the hall.

"Your dinner, ma'am?" he ventured to say.

"What's my dinner to you?" returned Miss Corny, in her wrath. "You have had yours."

Away she strode. And thus it happened that she was at East Lynne almost as soon as Mr. Carlyle.

"Where's Archibald?" began she, without ceremony, the moment she saw Barbara.

"He is here. Is anything the matter?"

Mr. Carlyle, hearing the voice, came out and she pounced upon him with her tongue.

"What's this about your becoming the new member for West Lynne?"

"West Lynne wishes it," said Mr. Carlyle. "Sit down, Cornelia."

"Sit down yourself," retorted she, keeping on her feet. "I want my question answered. /Of course/ you will decline?"

"On the contrary, I have made up my mind to accept."

Miss Corny untied the strings of her bonnet, and flung them behind her.

"Have you counted the cost?" she asked, and there was something quite sepulchral in her solemn tone.

"I have given it consideration, Cornelia; both as regards money and time. The expenses are not worth naming, should there be no opposition. And if there is any--"

"Ay!" groaned Miss Corny. "If there is?"

"Well? I am not without a few hundred to spare for the playing," he said, turning upon her the good-humored light of his fine countenance.

Miss Carlyle emitted some dismal groans.

"That ever I should have lived to see this day! To hear money talked of as though it were dirt. And what's to become of your business?" she sharply added. "Is that to be let run to rack and ruin, while you are kicking up your heels in that wicked London, under plea of being at the House night after night?"