Sympathy which expressed itself in this way was new to Syd. Her eyes opened wide in childish wonder--and suddenly closed again in childish terror, when her good friend the servant passed Mrs.
Westerfield's door on the way downstairs. "If mamma bounces out on us," she whispered, "pretend we don't see her." The nice warm room received them in safety. Under no stress of circumstances had Mrs. Westerfield ever been known to dress herself in a hurry.
A good half-hour more had passed before the house door was heard to bang--and the pleasant landlady, peeping through the window, said: "There she goes. Now, we'll enjoy ourselves!"
5.--The Landlord.
Mrs. Westerfield's destination was the public-house in which she had been once employed as a barmaid. Entering the place without hesitation, she sent in her card to the landlord. He opened the parlor door himself and invited her to walk in.
"You wear well," he said, admiring her. "Have you come back here to be my barmaid again?"
"Do you think I am reduced to that?" she answered.
"Well, my dear, more unlikely things have happened. They tell me you depend for your income on Lord Le Basque--and his lordship's death was in the newspapers last week."
"And his lordship's lawyers continue my allowance."
Having smartly set the landlord right in those words, she had not thought it necessary to add that Lady Le Basque, continuing the allowance at her husband's request, had also notified that it would cease if Mrs. Westerfield married again.
"You're a lucky woman," the landlord remarked. "Well, I'm glad to see you. What will you take to drink?"
"Nothing, thank you. I want to know if you have heard anything lately of James Bellbridge?"
The landlord was a popular person in his own circle--not accustomed to restrain himself when he saw his way to a joke.
"Here's constancy!" he said. "She's sweet on James, after having jilted him twelve years ago!"
Mrs. Westerfield replied with dignity. "I am accustomed to be treated respectfully," she replied. "I wish you good-morning."
The easy landlord pressed her back into her chair. "Don't be a fool," he said; "James is in London--James is staying in my house. What do you think of that?"
Mrs. Westerfield's bold gray eyes expressed eager curiosity and interest. "You don't mean that he is going to be barman here again?"
"No such luck, my dear; he is a gentleman at large, who patronizes my house."
Mrs. Westerfield went on with her questions.
"Has he left America for good?"
"Not he! James Bellbridge is going back to New York, to open a saloon (as they call it) in partnership with another man. He's in England, he says, on business. It's my belief that he wants money for this new venture on bad security. They're smart people in New York. His only chance of getting his bills discounted is to humbug his relations, down in the country."
"When does he go to the country?"
"He's there now."
"When does he come back?"
"You're determined to see him, it appears. He comes back to-morrow."
"Is he married?"
"Aha! now we're coming to the point. Make your mind easy. Plenty of women have set the trap for him, but he has not walked into it yet. Shall I give him your love?"
"Yes," she said, coolly. "As much love as you please."
"Meaning marriage?" the landlord inquired.
"And money," Mrs. Westerfield added.
"Lord Le Basque's money."
"Lord Le Basque's money may go to the Devil!"
"Hullo! Your language reminds me of the time when you were a barmaid. You don't mean to say you have had a fortune left you?"
"I do! Will you give a message to James?"
"I'll do anything for a lady with a fortune."
"Tell him to come and drink tea with his old sweetheart tomorrow, at six o'clock."
"He won't do it."
"He will."
With that difference of opinion, they parted.
6.--The Brute.
To-morrow came--and Mrs. Westerfield's faithful James justified her confidence in him.
"Oh, Jemmy, how glad I am to see you! You dear, dear fellow. I'm yours at last."
"That depends, my lady, on whether I want you. Let go of my neck."
The man who entered this protest against imprisonment in the arms of a fine woman, was one of the human beings who are grown to perfection on English soil He had the fat face, the pink complexion, the hard blue eyes, the scanty yellow hair, the smile with no meaning in it, the tremendous neck and shoulders, the mighty fists and feet, which are seen in complete combination in England only. Men of this breed possess a nervous system without being aware of it; suffer affliction without feeling it; exercise courage without a sense of danger; marry without love; eat and drink without limit; and sink (big as they are), when disease attacks them, without an effort to live.
Mrs. Westerfield released her guest's bull-neck at the word of command. It was impossible not to submit to him--he was so brutal. Impossible not to admire him--he was so big.
"Have you no love left for me?" was all she ventured to say.
He took the reproof good-humoredly. "Love?" he repeated. "Come! I like that--after throwing me over for a man with a handle to his name. Which am I to call you: 'Mrs?' or 'My Lady'?"
"Call me your own. What is there to laugh at, Jemmy? You used to be fond of me; you would never have gone to America, when I married Westerfield, if I hadn't been dear to you. Oh, if I'm sure of anything, I'm sure of that! You wouldn't bear malice, dear, if you only knew how cruelly I have been disappointed."
He suddenly showed an interest in what she was saying: the brute became cheery and confidential. "So he made you a bad husband, did he? Up with his fist and knocked you down, I daresay, if the truth was known?"
"You're all in the wrong, dear. He would have been a good husband if I had cared about him. I never cared about anybody but you. It wasn't Westerfield who tempted me to say Yes."
"That's a lie."
"No, indeed it isn't."
"Then why did you marry him?"
"When I married him, Jemmy, there was a prospect--oh, how could I resist it? Think of being one of the Le Basques! Held in honor, to the end of my life, by that noble family, whether my husband lived or died!"
