Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 69: what you’re looking at

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56 —so keenly were they re-awakened by the turn which the discourse had thus taken; and I hurried from the room. My duties however compelled me to go back again in about ten minutes; and then I found to my infinite relief and satisfaction, that the conversation was progressing on some other topic. Mrs. Boustead was now swaying from side to side on her chair in a visible state of inebriety. I should observe that no other guests were present—which circumstance was doubtless a matter of ineffable self-congratulation on the part of the Ravenshill family. The cloth had been taken off the table—the dessert was about to be placed on—when all of a sudden Mrs. Boustead, losing her equilibrium, plumped down upon the carpet. Euphemia screamed—and either fainted in reality, or else thought it requisite to simulate a swoon. The utmost confusion prevailed—the lady’s-maids were summoned — and the men- servants hastened to quit the room on a signal from his lordship. But before crossing the thres- hold, I could not help casting a look back upon that deplorable scene. Lady Ravenshill sat as if trans- fixed in her chair: his lordship, who had risen up, looked cold and stern: Mr. Boustead had hurried to the assistance of his wife, whose turban and false front had fallen off with the tumble: Mr. Walter was conveying Euphemia to a sofa, In the hall the butler and the footmen who had wit- messed the scene, hesitated not to express their disgust in no measured terms: but I did not hear a single syllable of pity vouchsafed for their young master. On the contrary, the butler emphatically declared that it served him right for thinking of throwing himself away on the vulgar daughter of such upstart persons. About half-an-hour after- wards the Bousteads’ carriage was ordered; and they took their departure,—Mr. Boustead talking very loud, as he traversed the hall, about “his good lady having fallen into an apoplectic fit, to which she was subject.” In the servants’ hall nothing was spoken of all the rest of the evening but the incident just re- lated. I myself was much excited by the varied feelings that were agitating within me. The image of Annabel haunted me like the pale ghost of her own former pure self; and I was moved with an illimitable compassion for the unfortunate Walter Ravenshill. The discourse of my fellow- domestics increased the painful nature of my feel- ings: my blood was hot and feverish in my veins —my brows throbbed with racking pains. I went forth into the garden to woo the cold night air of February. There was an arbour formed by evergreens ;—and into the darkness of this em- bowering retreat I plunged, as if feeling it neces- sary to seek the completest solitude and seclusion for my torturing reflections. I had not been there many moments, when I suddenly became aware that footsteps were approaching along the gravel-walk; and almost immediately afterwards, other footsteps—more hurried—came from behind the individual who was thus advancing. Then I heard voices. “'Walter—my dear Walter, do not afflict your- gelf thus!’ said Lord Ravenshill, who had thus evidently hastened after his son. “ Afflict myself, father?” ejaculated my young qaaster, in tones full of bitterness: “how would you have me be consoled ?” JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. They had both stopped short exactly in front of the arbour in which I had plunged myself ;—but hoping that they would speedily pass on, I did not choose to issue forth at once and thus make them aware that I had overheard a single syllable of what was being said. But there they remained; and as the impassioned dialogue went on, I felt that it was too late to emerge thence—as they would naturally be angry that I should haye tarried even for a single moment. I was thus against my will rendered a listener of all that | took place. | “ How would you have me be consoled, father ?” repeated Walter Ravenshill, with a degree of anguished bitterness that it was very sad to associate with one who was thus in the spring- time of his existence. “ Look at the fearful sacrifice I am called upon to consummate! Even if the girl were the loveliest of her sex, and her- self a model of gentle breeding and polished courtesy, it would still be a horror to enter that family! . No, father—I cannot doit! Ruin may overtake us—your creditors may seize upon every- thing—we may be driven forth from the home of our ancestors—but even this would be a less painful degradation than the necessity of my taking such a wife, and calling such a man my father-in-law—such a woman my mother-in-law !” “ Walter, do not speak thus!” said Lord Ra- venshill, in a tone of the most earnest entreaty. “Think you not that I feel it all as much as youP think you not that my heart bleeds at the idea of this alliance? Yes—indeed it does! But what is to be done? The alternatives are before you. On the one hand immediate ruin for us all—on the other hand marriage with this girl.” “ Marriage with that girl!” exclaimed Walter, with augmenting vehemence. “No—I tell you, father, it is impossible! And now hear me. I am young—and the world is before me. You have interest, and can procure for me a Govern- ment, situation—a diplomatic post—or at least a commission in the Army. I would sooner remain poor, than marry that girl as the condition of becoming rich. I am decided—nothing shall change me; and to-morrow you can write to Mr. Boustead to inform him of my resolve.” “ And to-morrow, when this shall be known,” answered Lord Ravenshill, in a low deep voice, “there will be an execution put into the house. The creditors are merely holding back under the promise of having their demands liquidated when this marriage takes place.” | “Then let the creditors come !’’ ejaculated Wal- ter passionately—almost fiercely. ‘“ Why am I to be sacrificed to stave them off? Look you, father ! —the ruin which is about to fall upon our house, if not commenced by you, will at least have been consummated by you. The very day that I came of age, you asked me to sign certain papers, with the assurance that they were mere formalities necessary on the part of your heir. Ididso. I troubled myself not to read their contents—I did not think that my own father would rob, and plunder, and defraud me !” “Walter!” exclaimed the nobleman: words Fe “Oh, they may be harsh—but they are true!” exclaimed the young gentleman, with a still in- creasing storm of anguished passion. “ Yes—they these NOOLKS AA