Part 47 (1/2)
”When you saw him last?”
”I bring sad news, ma'am. There's a break-up at Browndown.”
”What do you mean? Where is Mr. Oscar?”
”Mr. Oscar has left Dimchurch.”
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SEVENTH
The Brothers change Places
I VAINLY believed I had prepared myself for any misfortune that could fall on us. The man's last words dispelled my delusion. My gloomiest forebodings had never contemplated such a disaster as had now happened. I stood petrified, thinking of Lucilla, and looking helplessly at the servant. Try as I might, I was perfectly incapable of speaking to him.
He felt no such difficulty on his side. One of the strangest peculiarities in the humbler ranks of the English people, is the sort of solemn relish which they have for talking of their own misfortunes. To be the objects of a calamity of any kind, seems to raise them in their own estimations. With a dreary enjoyment of his miserable theme, the servant expatiated on his position as a man deprived of the best of masters; turned adrift again in the world to seek another service; hopeless of ever again finding himself in such a situation as he had lost. He roused me at last into speaking to him, by sheer dint of irritating my nerves until I could endure him no longer.
”Has Mr. Oscar gone away alone?” I asked.
”Yes, ma'am, quite alone.”
(What had become of Nugent? I was too much interested in Oscar to be able to put the question, at that moment.)
”When did your master go?” I went on.
”Better than two hours since.”
”Why didn't I hear of it before?”
”I had Mr. Oscar's orders not to tell you, ma'am, till this time in the evening.”
Wretched as I was already, my spirits sank lower still when I heard that.
The order given to the servant looked like a premeditated design, not only to leave Dimchurch, but also to keep us in ignorance of his whereabouts afterwards.
”Has Mr. Oscar gone to London?” I inquired.
”He hired Gootheridge's chaise, ma'am, to take him to Brighton. And he told me with his own lips that he had left Browndown never to come back.
I know no more of it than that.”
He had left Browndown, never to come back! For Lucilla's sake, I declined to believe that. The servant was exaggerating, or the servant had misunderstood what had been said to him. The letter in my hand reminded me that I had perhaps needlessly questioned him on matters which his master had confided to my own knowledge only. Before I dismissed him for the night, I made my deferred inquiry on the hateful subject of the other brother.
”Where is Mr. Nugent?”
”At Browndown.”
”Do you mean to say that he is going to stay at Browndown?”
”I don't know, ma'am, for certain. I see no signs of his meaning to leave; and he has said nothing to that effect.”
I had the greatest difficulty to keep myself from breaking out before the servant. My indignation almost choked me. The best way was to wish him good night. I took the best way--only calling him back (as a measure of caution) to say one last word.