"Poor man!" they sighed; and "Willoughby," said one, and the other said: "There is a strange misconception you will do well to correct."
They were about to murmur what it was. He swept his hand round, and excusing themselves to their guests, obediently they retired.
Lady Busshe at his entreaty remained, and took a seat beside Lady Culmer and Mrs. Mountstuart.
She said to the latter: "You have tried scholars. What do you think?"
"Excellent, but hard to mix," was the reply.
"I never make experiments," said Lady Culmer.
"Some one must!" Mrs. Mountstuart groaned over her dull dinner-party.
Lady Busshe consoled her. "At any rate, the loss of a scholar is no loss to the county."
"They are well enough in towns," Lady Culmer said.
"And then I am sure you must have them by themselves."
"We have nothing to regret."
"My opinion."
The voice of Dr. Middleton in colloquy with Mr. Dale swelled on a melodious thunder: "For whom else should I plead as the passionate advocate I proclaimed myself to you, sir? There is but one man known to me who would move me to back him upon such an adventure. Willoughby, join me. I am informing Mr. Dale…"
Willoughby stretched his hands out to Mr. Dale to support him on his legs, though he had shown no sign of a wish to rise.
"You are feeling unwell, Mr. Dale."
"Do I look very ill, Sir Willoughby?"
"It will pass. Lætitia will be with us in twenty minutes." Mr. Dale struck his hands in a clasp. He looked alarmingly ill, and satisfactorily revealed to his host how he could be made to look so.
"I was informing Mr. Dale that the petitioner enjoys our concurrent good wishes: and mine in no degree less than yours, Willoughby," observed Dr. Middleton, whose billows grew the bigger for a check. He supposed himself speaking confidentially. "Ladies have the trick, they have, I may say, the natural disposition for playing enigma now and again. Pressure is often a sovereign specific. Let it be tried upon her all round from every radiating line of the circle. You she refuses. Then I venture to propose myself to appeal to her. My daughter has assuredly an esteem for the applicant that will animate a woman's tongue in such a case. The ladies of the house will not be backward. Lastly, if necessary, we trust the lady's father to add his instances. My prescription is, to fatigue her negatives; and where no rooted objection exists, I maintain it to be the unfailing receipt for the conduct of the siege. No woman can say No forever. The defence has not such resources against even a single assailant, and we shall have solved the problem of continuous motion before she will have learned to deny in perpetuity. That I stand on."
Willoughby glanced at Mrs. Mountstuart.
"What is that?" she said. "Treason to our sex, Dr. Middleton?"
"I think I heard that no woman can say No forever!" remarked Lady Busshe.
"To a loyal gentleman, ma'am: assuming the field of the recurring request to be not unholy ground; consecrated to affirmatives rather."
Dr Middleton was attacked by three angry bees. They made him say yes and no alternately so many times that he had to admit in men a shiftier yieldingness than women were charged with.
Willoughby gesticulated as mute chorus on the side of the ladies; and a little show of party spirit like that, coming upon their excitement under the topic, inclined them to him genially. He drew Mr. Dale away while the conflict subsided in sharp snaps of rifles and an interval rejoinder of a cannon. Mr. Dale had shown by signs that he was growing fretfully restive under his burden of doubt.
"Sir Willoughby, I have a question. I beg you to lead me where I may ask it. I know my head is weak."
"Mr. Dale, it is answered when I say that my house is your home, and that Lætitia will soon be with us."
"Then this report is true?"
"I know nothing of reports. You are answered."
"Can my daughter be accused of any shadow of falseness, dishonourable dealing?"
"As little as I."
Mr. Dale scanned his face. He saw no shadow.
"For I should go to my grave bankrupt if that could be said of her; and I have never yet felt poor, though you know the extent of a pensioner's income. Then this tale of a refusal…?"
"Is nonsense."
"She has accepted?"
"There are situations, Mr. Dale, too delicate to be clothed in positive definitions."
"Ah, Sir Willoughby, but it becomes a father to see that his daughter is not forced into delicate situations. I hope all is well. I am confused. It may be my head. She puzzles me. You are not… Can I ask it here? You are quite…? Will you moderate my anxiety? My infirmities must excuse me."
Sir Willoughby conveyed by a shake of the head and a pressure of Mr. Dale's hand, that he was not, and that he was quite.
"Dr Middleton?" said Mr. Dale.
"He leaves us to-morrow."
"Really!" The invalid wore a look as if wine had been poured into him. He routed his host's calculations by calling to the Rev. Doctor. "We are to lose you, sir?"
Willoughby attempted an interposition, but Dr. Middleton crashed through it like the lordly organ swallowing a flute.
"Not before I score my victory, Mr. Dale, and establish my friend upon his rightful throne."
"You do not leave to-morrow, sir?"
"Have you heard, sir, that I leave to-morrow?"
Mr. Dale turned to Sir Willoughby.
The latter said: "Clara named to-day. To-morrow I thought preferable."
"Ah!" Dr. Middleton towered on the swelling exclamation, but with no dark light. He radiated splendidly. "Yes, then, to-morrow. That is, if we subdue the lady."
He advanced to Willoughby, seized his hand, squeezed it, thanked him, praised him. He spoke under his breath, for a wonder; but: "We are in your debt lastingly, my friend", was heard, and he was impressive, he seemed subdued, and saying aloud: "Though I should wish to aid in the reduction of that fortress", he let it be seen that his mind was rid of a load.
Dr. Middleton partly stupefied Willoughby by his way of taking it, but his conduct was too serviceable to allow of speculation on his readiness to break the match. It was the turning-point of the engagement.
Lady Busshe made a stir.
"I cannot keep my horses waiting any longer," she said, and beckoned.
Sir Willoughby was beside her immediately.
"You are admirable! perfect! Don't ask me to hold my tongue. I retract, I recant. It is a fatality. I have resolved upon that view. You could stand the shot of beauty, not of brains. That is our report. There! And it's delicious to feel that the county wins you. No tea. I cannot possibly wait. And, oh! here she is. I must have a look at her. My dear Lætitia Dale!"
Willoughby hurried to Mr. Dale.
"You are not to be excited, sir: compose yourself. You will recover and be strong to-morrow: you are at home; you are in your own house; you are in Lætitia's drawing-room. All will be clear to-morrow. Till to-morrow we talk riddles by consent. Sit, I beg. You stay with us."
He met Lætitia and rescued her from Lady Busshe, murmuring, with the air of a lover who says, "my love! my sweet!" that she had done rightly to come and come at once. Her father had been thrown into the proper condition of clammy nervousness to create the impression. Lætitia's anxiety sat prettily on her long eyelashes as she bent over him in his chair.
Hereupon Dr. Corney appeared; and his name had a bracing effect on Mr. Dale. "Corney has come to drive me to the cottage," he said. "I am ashamed of this public exhibition of myself, my dear. Let us go. My head is a poor one."
Dr. Corney had been intercepted. He broke from Sir Willoughby with a dozen little nods of accurate understanding of him, even to beyond the mark of the communications. He touched his patient's pulse lightly, briefly sighed with professional composure, and pronounced: "Rest. Must not be moved. No, no, nothing serious," he quieted Lætitia's fears, "but rest, rest. A change of residence for a night will tone him. I will bring him a draught in the course of the evening. Yes, yes, I'll fetch everything wanted from the cottage for you and for him. Repose on Corney's forethought."