While the topic of the Countess's marriage was still the one topic of conversation, a member of the club entered the smoking-room whose appearance instantly produced a dead silence.
Doctor Wybrow's next neighbour whispered to him, 'Montbarry's brother--Henry Westwick!'
The new-comer looked round him slowly, with a bitter smile.
'You are all talking of my brother,'he said. 'Don't mind me.
Not one of you can despise him more heartily than I do.
Go on, gentlemen--go on!'
But one man present took the speaker at his word. That man was the lawyer who had already undertaken the defence of the Countess.
'I stand alone in my opinion,' he said, 'and I am not ashamed of repeating it in anybody's hearing. I consider the Countess Narona to be a cruelly-treated woman. Why shouldn't she be Lord Montbarry's wife?
Who can say she has a mercenary motive in marrying him?'
Montbarry's brother turned sharply on the speaker. 'I say it!' he answered.
The reply might have shaken some men. The lawyer stood on his ground as firmly as ever.
'I believe I am right,' he rejoined, 'in stating that his lordship's income is not more than sufficient to support his station in life;also that it is an income derived almost entirely from landed property in Ireland, every acre of which is entailed.'
Montbarry's brother made a sign, admitting that he had no objection to offer so far.
'If his lordship dies first,' the lawyer proceeded, 'I have been informed that the only provision he can make for his widow consists in a rent-charge on the property of no more than four hundred a year.
His retiring pension and allowances, it is well known, die with him.
Four hundred a year is therefore all that he can leave to the Countess, if he leaves her a widow.'
'Four hundred a year is not all,' was the reply to this.
'My brother has insured his life for ten thousand pounds;and he has settled the whole of it on the Countess, in the event of his death.'
This announcement produced a strong sensation. Men looked at each other, and repeated the three startling words, 'Ten thousand pounds!'
Driven fairly to the wall, the lawyer made a last effort to defend his position.
'May I ask who made that settlement a condition of the marriage?' he said. 'Surely it was not the Countess herself?.'
Henry Westwick answered, 'it was the Countess's brother'; and added, 'which comes to the same thing.'
After that, there was no more to be said--so long, at least, as Montbarry's brother was present. The talk flowed into other channels;and the Doctor went home.
But his morbid curiosity about the Countess was not set at rest yet.
In his leisure moments he found himself wondering whether Lord Montbarry's family would succeed in stopping the marriage after all.
And more than this, he was conscious of a growing desire to see the infatuated man himself. Every day during the brief interval before the wedding, he looked in at the club, on the chance of hearing some news.
Nothing had happened, so far as the club knew. The Countess's position was secure; Montbarry's resolution to be her husband was unshaken.
They were both Roman Catholics, and they were to be married at the chapel in Spanish Place. So much the Doctor discovered about them--and no more.
On the day of the wedding, after a feeble struggle with himself, he actually sacrificed his patients and their guineas, and slipped away secretly to see the marriage. To the end of his life, he was angry with anybody who reminded him of what he had done on that day!
The wedding was strictly private. A close carriage stood at the church door; a few people, mostly of the lower class, and mostly old women, were scattered about the interior of the building.
Here and there Doctor Wybrow detected the faces of some of his brethren of the club, attracted by curiosity, like himself.
