Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 68: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a ee ee ee ee hE CE gl A A A EL a SE TS te eS ST OS JOSEPH WILMOT ; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. 55 eeived that gentleman seated at a table with his countenance buried in his hands; and at the mo- ment I opened the door, a convulsive sob met my ear. it is even a sadder thing to behold a man than a@ woman weeping. Women are more inclined to tears for slight causes than members of the sterner sex; and it must always be some potent cause of bitter anguish indeed, which can plunge a man into such woe as that wherein I now saw my young master immersed. “O my God, what a sacrifice! what a sacrifice he ejaculated, suddenly springing up to his feet. “ Anything were preferable anything! aye, even suicide !” These words were uttered with a vehement ex- citement; and as Walter Ravenshill turned round, he beheld me quickly retiring: for { did not of course like to intrude upon such a sacred scene as that of the unfortunate young gentleman’s excru- ciating anguish. “Stop, Joseph—stop! come hither!” he ex- claimed, rushing after me: and as in my confusion and bewilderment, I did not at once show signs of obeying—but, on the contrary, was continuing my retreat, he seized me by the arm, and dragged me into the room. Then, shutting the door and placing his back against it, he demanded in a low hoarse voice, and with a very pale face,—* How long had you been standing there ?” “Only a few instants, sir,’ was my answer. “Only a few instants?” he said, repeating my words. “ But you heard what fell from my lips? Now, Joseph, shall you not mention every parti- cular of this scene to your fellow-servants ?” “ Certainly not, sir,” I responded energetically. “Tn order to avoid hearing or seeing more, I was hastening away “ “True!” he observed. “ But why did you not knock at the door ?” “T did, sir; and as no answer was returned, i concluded that no one was here.” “And you are sure that you will not mention what ycu beheld or heard ?” “Not for the world, sir :’—and then I added with a certain flaming-up of my natural spirit, “7 am no spy upon your actions.” 3 “Well, Joseph, I know you are a good boy,” continued Mr. Ravenshill, after a brief pause, during which he contemplated me earnestly, * And now tell me the truth—do not the servants talk amongst themselves about the—the—approach- ing marriage ?’—and a ghastly expression of anguish swept over his countenance as he with difficulty brought himself to give utterance to these words. “T hope, sir,” was my answer, “that you will not induce me to become a tell-tale—especially as if I were, you would no longer have the full con- fidence that I should forbear speaking of your own concerns.” “Ah!” he ejaculated, pressing one of his hands to his brow, “I understand but too well that it is so! Yes—yes—I am laughed at and ridiculed behind my back! By heaven, it is intolerable !” —then, as if suddenly repenting, or rather vexed with himself that he should thus have given way {?? to lis feelings in my presence, he caught me by the shoulder, saying in an excited manner, “Do not think any more, Joseph, of what you have heard fall from my lips: blot it out from your memory !” With these words he abruptly quitted the room ; and I had no longer any doubt that the unfortu- nate young gentleman regarded with loathing and abhorrence the marriage into which family cir- cumstances were about to force him. That very same evening the Bousteads were to dine at Charlton Hall. They came, a little before seven o’clock, in their gaudy equipage; and din- ner was almost immediately served up. I had to assist in waiting at table; and it struck me that Mrs. Boustead spoke in a hoarser voice than usual, and with a certain degree of incoherency. I could not help looking at her; and I likewise observed that she was drinking a great deal of wine. Pre- sently I saw Euphemia making signs to her mother, when the young lady fancied herself un- perceived by any one else: but Mrs. Boustead paid no attention to them, and actually helped herself to wine—a proceeding of which no well-bred lacy is ever guilty. Lord Ravenshill looked uncom- monly grave: her ladyship exchanged with him a rapidly significant glance: Mr. Ravenshill ap- peared downright distressed. As I went out into the hall to fetch something that was needed, I heard one of the footmen say to another, “ The old lady is getting quite jolly, and will be blazing drunk presently.” The scene of the morning with Mr. Walter came vividly back to my mind; and I could scarcely wonder at his utter repugnance to form a matrimonial alliance with such afamily. When I went back into the dining-room, I heard Huphemia saying, “ My dear ma, I am sure you are unwell: you had much better retire and lie down a little. You know when you do have these dreadful head- aches = “ Lawk-a-daisy, Phemy, dear!” interrupted Mrs. Boustead, speaking very thick with her hoarse bassoon-like voice; “I hav’n’t got never a head- ach: Tam quite right. Dear me! what a pretty young page you have got, my lord. When the event comes off,” she added, looking with a sort of half-vacant significancy towards her daughter and the Hon. Mr. Ravenshill, “we must manage to get the young couple just such another likely-looking boy, and stick him into a nice livery like that.” I felt myself blushing up to the very hair of my head at thus being made the object of Mrs. Bou- stead’s remarks; and turning away towards the side-board, affected to be very busily engaged in arranging the dessert dishes. “ By the bye,’ said My. Boustead, most pro- bably catching at the first subject that came mto his head, in order to put a stop to his wife’s gar- rulity,—“has your ludship heard of Sir Malcolm Wavenham’'s precious exploit ?” “T cannot say that I have,” answered Lord Ravenshill; and now I was all attention—but painfully and nervously so; for I was not ata loss to conjecture the subject about to be introduced. “Why, he’s took away that dancing gal,” con- tinued Mr. Boustead,—* Violet Mortimer I mean which we saw t’other night at the theatre. I wonder you hay’n’t heard tell of it: it was the talk of the whole town when I was there this morning. And such a shindy as there was at the theatre last night my eyes, such a shindy !” I felt that my emotions were overpowerlmg me Gioo “iS (0)