AT MERLE PARK. NO. 2
Has any irascible reader -- any reader who thoroughly enjoys the pleasure of being in a rage -- encountered suddenly some grievance which, heavy as it may be, has been more than compensated by the privilege it has afforded of blowing-up the offender?
Such was the feeling of Sir Thomas as he quickly followed his coachman out of the room. He had been very proud of his Phoebe mare, who could trot with him from the station to the house at the rate of twelve miles an hour. But in his present frame of mind he had liked the mare less than he disliked his son-in-law.
Mr Traffick had done him this injury, and he now had Mr Traffick on the hip. There are some injuries for which a host cannot abuse his guest. If your best Venetian decanter be broken at table you are bound to look as though you liked it. But if a horse be damaged a similar amount of courtesy is hardly required. The well-nurtured gentleman, even in that case, will only look unhappy and not say a word. Sir Thomas was hardly to be called a well-nurtured gentleman; and then it must be remembered that the offender was his son-in-law. "Good heavens!" he exclaimed, hurrying into the yard. "What is this?"The mare was standing out on the pavement with three men around her, of whom one was holding her head, another was down on his knees washing her wounds, and the third was describing the fatal nature of the wounds which she had received. Traffick was standing at a little distance, listening in silence to the implied rebukes of the groom. "Good heavens, what is this?" repeated Sir Thomas, as he joined the conclave.
"There are a lot of loose stones on that hill," said Traffick, "and she tripped on one and came down, all in a lump, before you could look at her. I'm awfully sorry, but it might have happened to anyone."Sir Thomas knew how to fix his darts better than by throwing them direct at his enemy. "She has utterly destroyed herself,"said he, addressing himself to the head groom, who was busily employed with the sponge in his hand.
"I'm afraid she has, Sir Thomas. The joint-oil will be sure to run on both knees; the gashes is so mortal deep.""I've driven that mare hundreds of times down that hill," said Sir Thomas, "and I never knew her to trip before.""Never, Sir Thomas," said the groom.
"She'd have come down with you today," said Mr Traffick, defending himself.
"It was my own fault, Bunsum. That's all that can be said about it." Bunsum the groom, kneeling as he was, expressed, by his grimaces, his complete agreement with this last opinion of his master. "Of course I ought to have known that he couldn't drive,"said Sir Thomas.
"A horse may fall down with anybody," said Mr Traffick.
"You'd better take her and shoot her," said Sir Thomas, still addressing the groom. "She was the best thing we had in the stable, but now she is done for." With that he turned away from the yard without having as yet addressed a word to his son-in-law.
This was so intolerable that even Mr Traffick could not bear it in silence. "I have told you that I am very sorry," said he, following Sir Thomas closely, "and I don't know what a man can do more.""Nothing -- unless it be not to borrow a horse again.""You may be sure I will never do that."
"I'm not sure of it at all. If you wanted another tomorrow you'd ask for him if you thought you could get him.""I call that very uncivil, Sir Thomas -- and very unkind.""Bother!" said Sir Thomas. "It is no good in being kind to a fellow like you. Did you ever hear what the cabman did who had a sovereign given to him for driving a mile? He asked the fool who gave it him to make it a guinea. I am the fool, and, by George, you are the cabman!" With this Sir Thomas turned into the house by a small door, leaving his son-in-law to wander round to the front by himself.
"Your father has insulted me horribly," he said to his wife, whom he found up in her bedroom.
"What is the matter now, Septimus?"
"That little mare of his, which I have no doubt has come down half a score of times before, fell with me and cut her knees.""That's Phoebe," said Augusta. "She was his favourite.""It's a kind of thing that might happen to anyone, and no gentleman thinks of mentioning it. He said such things to me that upon my word I don't think I can stop in the house any longer.""Oh, yes, you will," said the wife.
"Of course, it is a difference coming from one's father-in-law.
It's almost the same as from one's father.""He didn't mean it, Septimus."
"I suppose not. If he had, I really couldn't have borne it. He does become very rough sometimes, but I know that at bottom he has a thorough respect for me. It is only that induces me to bear it." Then it was settled between husband and wife that they should remain in their present quarters, and that not a word further should be said, at any rate by them, about the Phoebe mare. Nor did Sir Thomas say another word about the mare, but he added a note to those already written in the tablets of his memory as to his son-in-law, and the note declared that no hint, let it be ever so broad, would be effectual with Mr Traffick.
The next day was a Sunday, and then another trouble awaited Sir Thomas. At this time it was not customary with Tom to come often to Merle Park. He had his own lodgings in London and his own club, and did not care much for the rural charms of Merle Park.
But on this occasion he had condescended to appear, and on the Sunday afternoon informed his father that there was a matter which he desired to discuss with him. "Father," said he, "I am getting confoundedly sick of all this.""Confounded", said Sir Thomas, "is a stupid foolish word, and it means nothing.""There is a sort of comfort in it, Sir," said Tom; "but if it's objectionable I'll drop it.""It is objectionable."
"I'll drop it, Sir. But nevertheless I am very sick of it.""What are you sick of, Tom?"
"All this affair with my cousin."
"Then, if you take my advice, you'll drop that too.""I couldn't do that, father. A word is all very well. A man can drop a word; but a girl is a different sort of thing. One can't drop a girl, even if one tries.""Have you tried, Tom?"
