CHAPTER XVII.THE NEXT DAY.
How much or how soundly the judge slept after that stormy interview with his son, or whether there came to him any twinges of regret for all the bitter things he had said, none ever knew. He prided himself upon seldom changing his mind, when once it was made up; and so, perhaps, his temper was still at a boiling pitch when promptly at his usual hour he descended to the breakfast-room,and bade John bring in the coffee and eggs. His face was very red, and his eyes were blood-shot and watery, and his hands, which held the morning paper, trembled so, that John glanced curiously at him as he brought in the breakfast and arranged it upon the table.
“Where’s Miss Rosamond and my son? Are they not ready?” the judge asked a little irritably, for he required every one to be prompt where he was concerned.
His questions were partly answered by the appearance of Rosamond, who looked as fresh and bright as usual, as she took her seat at the table and began to pour the coffee. She had slept soundly, and did not feel the effects of last night’s excitement, except in a little tremor of fear and anxiety with regard to Everard. Whatever happened, she was not to interfere or plead for him. He had said so expressly, and she must obey, and as she looked furtively at the inflamed face opposite her, she felt for the first time in her life a great fear of the man, who, as Everard did not appear, said angrily, “Go to my son’s room and see what is keeping him; and tell him I sent you,” he added, as if that message would necessarily hasten the laggard young man.
Then Rossie dropped her spoon and sat shaking in her chair until the servant came swiftly back, with wonder and alarm upon his face, saying that his young master was not there and his bed had not been slept in.
“Not there! and his bed not slept in! What does it mean? Where is he, then?” the judge asked, in a voice that made Rossie tremble even more than the announcement that Everard was gone.
“I dunno, mass’r, where he can be. I know he’s not thar, an’ I disremember seen’ him since he went out last night after dinner. Maybe he didn’t come back.”
“Blockhead, he did come back, and he’s here now, most likely. I’ll see for myself,” said the judge, as he started for his son’s room, followed by Rossie and John, the latter of whom said:
“Very well, mass’r, you see for yourself; he gone sure, an’ left the bed as Axie fix it for him, an’ lemme see, yes, shoo nuff, his big satchel gone wid him, and his odder suit. I shouldn’t wonder if he’s gone away,” the loquacious negro continued, as he investigated the closet and room.
“You black hound,” roared the infuriated judge, “why should he run away? What had he to run from? Leave the chamber instantly, before I kick you down stairs, for giving your opinion.”
“Yes, mass’r, I’s gwine,” was John’s reply as he disappeared from the scene, leaving the judge and Rossie alone.
The latter was white as a sheet, and leaned against the mantel, for she knew now that Everard was really gone. Her paleness and agitation escaped the judge’s attention, for just then he picked up from the dressing-table the few lines that Everard had left for him, and which read as follows:
“Father:—You have always said your yea was yea, and your nay nay, and I know you meant it when you bade me leave your house and never come back again; so I have taken you at your word, and when you read this I shall be many miles away from Rothsay. After what you said to me I cannot even pass the night under this roof, and shall stay in the carriage-house until time to take the train. I am sorry for all that has passed, very sorry, and wish I could undo my part of it, but cannot, and so it is better for me to go. Good-by, father.
Your son,Everard.”
Your son,Everard.”
Your son,Everard.”
Your son,Everard.”
Notwithstanding the judge’s favorite assertion that his yea was yea, and his nay nay, it is very possible that if Everard had not taken him so promptly at his word,—if he had staid and gone to breakfast as usual and about his daily avocations, his father would have cooled down gradually, and come in time to look the matter over soberly and make the best of it. But Everard had gone, and the irascible old man broke forth afresh into invectives against him, denouncing him as a dog, to sleep in carriage-houses, and then run away as if there was anything to run from.
“I’ll never forgive him,” he said to Rossie, who had stood silently by, appalled at the storm of passion such as she had never seen before, until at last, forgetful of Everard’s charge not to interfere, she roused in his defense.
“Yes, you will forgive him,” she said. “You must.He is your son, and though I don’t know what he has done to make you so angry, I am sure it is not sufficient for you to treat him so, and you will send for him to come back. I know where he’s gone. He came and told me he was going, though I did not think it would be till this morning, when I hoped you might make it up.”
“And so he asked you to intercede for him as you have been in the habit of doing, and maybe told you the nice thing he had done?” the judge said, forgetting her assertion that she did not know.
“No, sir. Oh, no,” Rossie cried. “He did not ask me to intercede; he said, on the contrary, that I was on no account to mention him, and he did not tell me what it was about, except that it happened long ago; and he is so sorry and has tried to be good since. You know he was trying, Judge Forrest, and you will forgive him, won’t you?”
“By the lord Harry, no! and you would not ask it if you knew the disgrace he has brought upon me. I’ll fix him!” was the judge’s angry reply, as he broke away from her, and striding down the stairs took his hat from the hall-stand, and hurried to his office.
Great was the consternation among the servants in the Forrest household when it was known that Mr. Everard had left the house, and gone no one knew whither, and many were the whispered surmises as to the cause of his going.
“Some row between him and old mass’r,” John said, and his solution of the mystery was taken as the correct one, the negroes all siding with Mr. Everard, who was very popular with them.
Old Axie, the cook, ventured to question Rosamond a little; but Rossie kept her own counsel, and, returning to her room, was crying herself sick, when a message came that Beatrice was asking for her. Immediately after reading Everard’s note, Beatrice had driven over to the Forrest House, where she was admitted at once to Rossie’s room, and heard all that Rossie knew of the events of the previous night.
“Oh, Miss Beatrice,” Rossie said, “why did you refuse him? He told me about it, and I ’most know if you had said yes it would all have been so different.”
Bee’s face was scarlet as she replied:
“He told you that, and nothing more?”
“Yes, he said something about wouldn’t and couldn’t,—I don’t know what, for it is all confused to me. I thought you liked him and he liked you. He said he did, and he bade me tell you that you were the purest and sweetest woman in the world, and the best, or something like that, and I think you ought to marry him, I do,” and Rossie looked reproachfully at poor Bee, who was very pale, and whose voice was sad and low as she said:
“Rossie, I could not marry Everard if I wished to. There is an insuperable barrier, and if he did not explain, I must not. Did he give you any hint as to the cause of his quarrel with his father?”
“No,” Rossie replied, “only that it dated far back, and had something to do with Joe Fleming. I wish Joe was in Guinea; he is always doing harm to Mr. Everard.”
Beatrice could not forbear a smile at this ludicrous mistake of sex, and for a moment was tempted to tell the girl the truth; but remembering that Everard had said Rossie was not to know, she held her peace, and Rossie was left in ignorance of Joe’s real identity.
After leaving the Forrest House Beatrice drove past the judge’s office, with a faint hope that she might see him, and perhaps be of some service to Everard by speaking for him, should the opportunity occur. It was years since the judge, who once stood high in his profession, had done much business, and his office was occupied by Mr. Russell, his legal adviser; but he was frequently there, and as Bee drove down the street she saw him standing outside the door, glancing up and down as if looking for some one. Something in his attitude or manner induced her to rein her ponies up to the curbstone, where she could speak to him.
“Good morning, Judge Forrest,” she said, as naturally as if in her heart she did not think him a monster of cruelty. “Were you waiting for me?”
“No, not exactly,” and a faint smile appeared on the dark face. “I was looking for Parker, but maybe you’ll do as well if you choose to step in and witness my will.”
“Your will!” Bee replied, and all the blood in her body seemed surging into her face as she felt intuitivelythat a will made just now would be disastrous to Everard. “Have you never made your will before?” she asked, and he replied:
“Never; but it’s high time I did. Yes, high time!” and he shook his head defiantly at something invisible. “Can you go in as well as not?” he continued; and, summoning all her courage for the conflict, Beatrice said to him:
“I am willing to go in, but not to witness any will which is in any way adverse to Everard.”
“Who said it was adverse to him, the dog? Do you know how he has disgraced me? but yes, you do; he said he told you all, and insulted you with an offer, and now he has run away as a crowning feat. If you can forgive him, I can’t;” and the judge trembled from head to foot as he talked of his son to Beatrice, who came bravely to the rescue, and standing nobly for Everard, tried to bring his father to reason, and make him say he would forgive his son and endure the wife because she was his wife.
But she might as well have given her words to the winds, for any effect they had. The judge was past all reason, and only grew more and more angry as he talked of the disgrace which Everard’s marriage had brought upon his name. Finding that what she said was of no avail in the judge’s present mood, Beatrice bade him good morning and drove away, resolving to see him again as soon as his temper had cooled, and try what she could do by way of a reconciliation.
The next morning breakfast was much later than usual at Elm Park, for Beatrice had slept but little, and she was still in bed when her maid brought a message to her from Rosamond to the effect that she must come at once to the Forrest House, as the judge had been smitten suddenly with apoplexy, and was lying in a half unconscious condition, nearly resembling death. Terrified beyond measure, Beatrice dressed herself hurriedly, and was soon on her way to the house, where she found matters even worse than she feared.