“Gracious heaven! Is it possible?” exclaimed Stanley, with a deep groan.
Mildred made no reply — her senses forsook her, and she fell back, utterly unconscious, on the bench.
Stanley did not call for assistance, nor did he attempt to restore her, but watched by her side for nearly half an hour, when she revived.
At first she was greatly confused, but she soon recovered sufficiently to be able to re-enter the house with her husband’s support, and was delivered over by him to Sister Aline’s tender care.
CHAPTER XXII.
ANOTHER MEDICAL CONSULTATION.
ACCORDING to appointment, on the second day after their visit, Dr. Baguley and Mr. Newton came again to Beaucliffe, and were received by Stanley in the library.
After the butler had left the room Stanley, who had not answered their inquiries as to his wife’s health very satisfactorily, said, “I have now an explanation to give you, gentlemen, in reference to her case, with which I could not furnish you on the previous occasion, as I was wholly unacquainted with it myself. As I am sure you will not desire me to enter into any needless details I will only remind you that my wife eloped with Captain Darcy, and being subsequently struck with remorse at the step taken, returned to her father’s house, and was most kindly received by him. Subsequently, a meeting took place at Dieppe between Darcy and myself, whereat my injured honour was fully avenged, and I learned at the same time that my unhappy wife was not so guilty as I supposed.”
No remark was made by the medical men, and after a momentary pause Stanley went on.
“Ever since her return the fugitive had been suffering in her health and was almost in a dying state, but this seemed accounted for by the severe mental anguish she endured, and she positively refused all medical aid. At one time, I confess, I suspected she had taken poison, but I afterwards changed my opinion.”
“You were right, nevertheless,” remarked Dr. Baguley. “Mr. Newton and myself are agreed in opinion on that point; and we fear that although the drug was not potent enough to kill, it has produced a permanently injurious effect upon the system.”
“After your departure the other day,” said Stanley, “my former suspicions revived, and I resolved to ascertain the truth. I therefore questioned her directly as to the point, and she confessed that goaded by remorse at her conduct, she had taken poison, but the dose was not sufficient to do its work effectually.”
“I felt sure I could not be mistaken,” said Dr. Baguley. “The moment I looked at her, I saw the effects of a slow poison in her countenance. I am afraid, Mr. Brereton, she will never be cured.”
“She does not expect it herself, sir,” replied Stanley. “Her sole anxiety is that her secret should not become known to her father, as she would not inflict further pain upon him. I must therefore beg you to be careful.”
Both gave him an assurance to that effect.
“I sincerely pity you, Mr. Brereton,” said Dr. Baguley, “but I pity your excellent father-in-law still more. Never was man prouder of his daughter. Deeming her perfection, he must have been dreadfully mortified by her elopement, and were he now to learn that she had finished the affair by taking poison, I know not what would not happen to him. But we must hear the truth from her own lips, in order to certify it if needful.”
“You shall,” replied Stanley. “I will bring her to you presently.”
On quitting the room, his first step was to direct Glossop to prevent the Squire from coming in till the examination was over.
He then went in search of Mildred, and returned with her immediately.
Both medical men regarded her compassionately as she entered the library.
She had now quite recovered her self-possession, and declared that at a time of great excitement she had swallowed the contents of a small phial, which had been procured for her as poison, but which had failed in its effect, though it had gradually destroyed her health.
A memorandum of this confession was made by Dr. Baguley, which she signed.
As soon as this was done, the doctors said they felt very greatly for her distress, and would not detain her a moment longer than necessary.
Thanking them deeply for their consideration, she withdrew immediately with her husband.
CHAPTER XXIII.
NICE.
THE party did not travel very expeditiously, and more than a week elapsed before they arrived at Nice.
A complete suite of rooms had been ordered for them at the Victoria — a large, modern hotel, charmingly situated on the beach, at the west end of the town, and commanding a superb view of the blue and sparkling Mediterranean.
Enchanted with the place, which, with its parades, public buildings, gardens and gay shops, more than realised any notions she had formed of it, Mildred felt quite exhilarated; and tried to persuade herself that her journey South had already done her a world of good. She told Sister Aline and Georgette, who were constantly with her, that she felt certain she should be quite well in a month. Whatever they thought they did not contradict her.
The heat was greater than she expected, it is true; but the sun’s fiercest rays were carefully excluded, and towards evening there was a cool and most refreshing sea-breeze, which was allowed full admittance.
The whole suite of rooms belonging to the party looked upon the Mediterranean, and comprehended a charming saloon, where all could meet.
Georgette, who was required to be always at hand, had a small room, communicating with her mistress’s chamber, and Sister Aline was placed in an adjoining apartment. Lady Talmash and Rose had most agreeable rooms. They dined with Stanley at the table d’hote, which was admirably served, but the others preferred the privacy of their own salon.
The arrival of the party had caused somewhat of a sensation among the guests, and much curiosity was manifested to see them at the dinner.
Both ladies were greatly admired, and several young men contrived to be presented to them; but they retired early.
Next day, Dr. Travis, an eminent physician of Nice, called on Mildred, in compliance with an appointment made by Stanley, and seemed to take a hopeful view of her case, but recommended great care.
Subsequently she walked out with Stanley, attended by Sister Aline and Georgette, and visited the Jardin Public and the Corso.
While they were thus occupied, Lady Talmash and Rose sought the parade leading to the port, and were joined by some of the acquaintances they had formed overnight.
Rose was a good deal annoyed by the pertinacity with which these idlers followed them about, but Lady Talmash — to the surprise of her companion — seemed to give them great encouragement.
Later on, the two parties met at the Cafe Américain on the Corso, where capital ices were served, and where all the visitors were anxious to obtain a glimpse of Mildred and Sister Aline, about whom there seemed something extremely mysterious.
Gladly would Stanley have shaken off the crowd of admirers that Lady Talmash had gathered round her, but he found it impossible. However he privately counselled Rose to join his wife, and she did so.
Though she could not enter into its gaieties, Mildred was enchanted with Nice, and congratulated herself on having come there. The climate seemed to suit her, and her spirits were decidedly better. She could not take sea-baths, she could inhale sea-breezes, and they did her an immense deal of good. She rejected everything she had heard to the disadvantage of Nice, and thought only of its charms.
She had now been there more than a fortnight, and had discovered some new beauty every day. No mistral had blown since she had been there, only the softest breezes, that scarcely ruffled the surface of the placid sea. She could look out for ever upon it, and on the bustling port that afforded her endless amusement, and was only compelled by the unsupportable heat to shut out the view.
She could not have had a better attendant than Georgette, who enjoyed Nice as much as herself — even more, perhaps — for she not only gazed at the blue Mediterranean, but plunged into it every morni
ng. The devoted soubrette declared that she had never known the real pleasure of bathing till she came to Nice.
Sister Aline did not bathe, but she was charmed by the sea view, and the climate suited her, so that she had no complaint to make. She constantly spoke to Dr. Travis about his patient, but could elicit no decided opinion from him, except that he seemed to think her slightly improving.
All the ladies, including Georgette, had been to the Place St. Dominique to provide themselves with the straw hats for which Tori et fils are famous, and which enabled them to resist the sun’s rays.
During the period we have referred to, Lady Talmash and Rose had familiarised themselves with all the attractions of the place. Each morn, at a very early hour, they dipped in the Mediterranean, to the great improvement of their health and complexion, and Stanley followed their example.
But there is plenty to be seen at Nice, and it was not neglected.
The Cathedral was visited, the Passeggiata degli Inglesi, the Ponchettes, the quay near the Croix de Marbre, the promenades, the squares, the shops, the gardens. Nothing was omitted.
Stanley, and the ladies under his charge, dined regularly at the table d’hote. Rose formed as few new acquaintances as she could help, but still their number constantly increased, and she now seemed to know a great many pleasant people.
Lady Talmash had a particular friend, whose attention to her became so marked and exclusive that he had driven all other suitors away.
Influenced by some report he had heard, Stanley thought it necessary to caution her ladyship against her admirer, but she turned a deaf ear to his warnings.
The gentleman in question, Mr. Charles Kynaston, belonged to a very good Yorkshire family, being the younger brother of a baronet, and was reported to have a thousand a year, if not more. Remarkably handsome, with very gentleman-like and prepossessing manners, about thirty, he had many good points in his favour.
But he had one fault, that counterbalanced all his merits — he was strongly addicted to play. Moreover, it was asserted that he had lost considerably.
Under these circumstances, Stanley had deemed it his duty to caution Lady Talmash — but his counsel, as we have said, was not very well received.
It is quite certain that Charles Kynaston was informed of Stanley’s officious conduct, but instead of resenting it he became more friendly with him than before.
He complained of his ill-luck, frankly confessed that he had gone further than he ought and declared he would never play so deeply again.
What could he do more? Stanley fully believed him and they became great friends.
Another week went by, during which Charles Kynaston became more devoted than ever to Lady Talmash, but Stanley began to fear — from stories that were told him that he did not keep his promise to abstain from play so strictly as he ought to have done.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHARLES KYNASTON.
THE next thing Stanley heard was that Charles Kynaston, who seemed to have been meditating some coup, had gone to Mentone. Lady Talmash was visibly depressed by his departure, though he had positively assured her he should return in a few days.
Stanley was told that the real motive of his visit to Mentone was to repair his fortunes at the gaming tables there, and on receiving this information he immediately sought an interview with her ladyship.
She looked dreadfully depressed? and scarcely answered Stanley’s enquiries.
“I don’t understand why he should go to Mentone,” observed Stanley. “If he must play why couldn’t he remain here?”
“Because he wished to meet a fresh set,” replied Lady Talmash. “Besides, I dare say he had other motives.”
“I quite relied upon his promise to play no more,” said Stanley, “but I believe he has broken it, and now I find he has moved off to new ground. Dear Lady Talmash, you really must give him up. He is an incorrigible gambler.”
“I know it,” she replied, in an agony of distress. “But I cannot give him up.”
“Cannot give him up! — why not?” said Stanley, regarding her in astonishment.
“I know you will blame me when I tell you — very properly so—”
“Never mind. What have you done?”
“I have lent him a large sum of money — a very large sum of money — and I cannot get rid of him till he pays me.”
“Great heavens! Did I hear aright?” cried Stanley, in increased surprise. “How much have you lent him?”
After some hesitation, she said “Two thousand pounds.”
“What!” exclaimed Stanley, “you have lent this gambler and adventurer two thousand pounds? I would not have believed you capable of such imprudence, unless your ladyship had told me so yourself. You will never get back a shilling of the money.”
“I fear not,” she gasped. “As soon as the money arrived from my London bankers, I handed it over to Charles, and he swore to repay me within three days. This is the third day. I fear it will all be lost at the gaming tables at Mentone.”
“I fear so too. I wish your ladyship had consulted me. I would have advised you to act very differently. Still there may be a hope of recovery. You are not certain he has lost the money?”
“No, but I have a strong presentiment of it. Had he been lucky, he would assuredly have let me know.”
“But there is a possibility that he might have won.”
“Yes, there is just a chance. But it is so slight that I have no belief in it.”
“Dear Lady Talmash,” said Stanley, “would you like me to go to Mentone as your representative, and try and force him to give up the money? If you desire it, I will.”
Lady Talmash, however, did not seem inclined to resort to this extreme measure, and declined to give Stanley sufficient authority to demand the money, so that he hesitated to undertake the errand.
While they were giving the matter further consideration, Charles Kynaston himself entered the room, his joyous aspect showing he had been lucky.
Rushing up to Lady Talmash, he threw himself at her feet, and offering her a small portefeuille, said, “In that pocket-book your ladyship will find bills and notes to the amount you have lent me. Never was I happier than I am in being able to return the money to you. Take it, pray, take it!”
But Lady Talmash was quite overcome by emotion, and could not comply.
“Don’t disappoint him!” said Stanley. “Sir, I applaud your honourable purpose,” he added to Charles Kynaston.
“Open the pocket-book, I beg of you, Mr. Brereton,” said Kynaston, rising and turning to him, “and satisfy yourself that it really contains the amount I have stated.”
“I will take your word for it, Mr. Kynaston,” replied Stanley. “I am quite sure it does.”
“Give it me, then,” cried Lady Talmash, taking the portefeuille; “and accept my very best thanks.”
“Nay, thanks are due from me,” said Kynaston, earnestly. “You have indeed greatly served me and obliged me in a manner I shall never forget.”
“And you have behaved in a most honourable manner, Charles,” said Lady Talmash, “and have quite restored yourself to my good opinion.”
“And mine,” added Stanley.
“I am rejoiced to hear it,” said Kynaston. “I always meant to act honourably. Fortune, at last, has favoured me. I have won three thousand pounds — two-thirds of which I have returned to you. And now hear what I have to say further. Never again will I touch card or dice — never! This I solemnly swear!”
Both looked at him as he uttered the vow, and felt sure he was earnest.
“Keep that vow, and you will do well,” said Stanley.
“You make me feel quite happy,” said Lady Talmash.
Reports of Charles Kynaston’s extraordinary good luck soon reached the salons at Nice, and warm congratulations were offered him, for he was generally liked; ‘but persons thought he would not keep the money long, and told him so.
“Oh! yes, I shall,” he replied. “I have given up play.”
“Since my return from Mentone,” he replied.
People laughed at this assertion, and nobody believed it. But it proved correct.
CHAPTER XXV.
SIR RANDAL DE BLUNDEVILLE AND MARSTON MALPAS ARRIVE AT NICE.
ABOUT this time, two of our former acquaintances, Sir Randal de Blundeville and Mr. Marston Malpas, arrived at Nice and took up their quarters at the Victoria.
They had been making a tour in Switzerland and the North of Italy, and hearing that Stanley and his party were staying at Nice, they resolved to make a halt there.
Owing to a variety of circumstances, Stanley had not seen so much of Sir Randal as he desired, and was very glad to meet him again.
Sir Randal’s stately manner was well calculated to produce an impression upon the visitors at the hotel, and his appearance at the table d’hote caused many inquiries to be made about him and his gay friend, which were answered in a very satisfactory manner by Stanley. As an old friend of Lady Talmash, he sat near her on the day of his arrival, and paid her a great deal of attention, while Marston Malpas, who beheld Rose for the first time, was quite captivated by her.
Sir Randal made many anxious inquiries about Mrs. Stanley Brereton, and was much concerned to learn the precarious state of her health from Lady Talmash.
“She is certainly better than when we left Beaucliffe,” said her ladyship; “but I do not think her entirely out of danger. However, you will, no doubt, see her to-morrow, and will be able to judge for yourself.”
“I sincerely pity my worthy friend, Mr. Warburton,” said Sir Randal. “The daughter, whom he doated on, has been nothing but a source of the greatest anxiety to him.”
“Quite true, Sir Randal,” replied her ladyship; “and no one knows what he has gone through better than myself.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 818