East Lynne Part 18

"I don't know; I don't know. I think they are going to stop there; they say they have taken papa."

After a pause of bewildered astonishment, the housekeeper left her standing where she was, and went to the earl's chamber, to see if she could fathom the mystery of the words. Isabel leaned against the bal.u.s.trades; partly for support, partly that she seemed afraid to stir from them; and the ominous disturbances downstairs reached her ears.

Strangers, interlopers, appeared to be in the hall, talking vehemently, and complaining in bitter tones. More and more terrified, she held her breath to listen.

"Where's the good of your seeing the young lady?" cried the butler, in a tone of remonstrance. "She knows nothing about the earl's affairs; she is in grief enough just now, without any other worry."

"I will see her," returned a dogged voice. "If she's too start-up and mighty to come down and answer a question or two, why I'll find my way on to her. Here we are a shameful crowd of us, swindled out of our own, told there's n.o.body we can speak to; n.o.body here but the young lady, and she must not be troubled. She didn't find it trouble to help to spend our money. She has got no honor and feelings of a lady, if she don't come and speak to us. There."

Repressing her rebellious emotions, Lady Isabel glided partly down the staircase, and softy called to the butler. "What is all this?" she asked. "I must know."

"Oh, my lady, don't go amongst those rough men! You can't do any good; pray go back before they see you. I have sent for Mr. Carlyle, and expect him here momentarily."

"Did Papa owe them all money?" she said, s.h.i.+vering.

"I'm afraid he did, my lady."

She went swiftly on; and pa.s.sing through the few stragglers in the hall, entered the dining-room, where the chief ma.s.s had congregated, and the hubbub was loudest. All anger, at least external anger, was hushed at her sight. She looked so young, so innocent, so childlike in her pretty morning dress of peach-colored muslin, her fair face shaded by its falling curls, so little fit to combat with, or understand their business, that instead of pouring forth complaints, they hushed them into silence.

"I heard some one calling out that I ought to see you," she began, her agitation causing the words to come forth in a jerking manner. "What did you want with me?"

Then they poured forth their complaints, but not angrily, and she listened till she grew sick. There were many and formidable claims; promissory notes and I O Us, overdue bills and underdue bills; heavy outstanding debts of all sorts, and trifles, comparatively speaking, for housekeeping, servants' liveries, out-door servants' wages, bread and meat.

What was Isabel Vane to answer? What excuse to offer? What hope or promise to give? She stood in bewilderment, unable to speak, turning from one to the other, her sweet eyes full of pity and contrition.

"The fact is, young lady," spoke up one who bore the exterior of a gentleman, "we should not have come down troubling you--at least, I can answer for myself--but his lords.h.i.+p's men of business, Warburton & Ware, to whom many of us hastened last evening, told us there would not be a s.h.i.+lling for anybody unless it could be got from furniture. When it comes to that, it is 'first come, first served,' and I got down by morning light, and levied an execution."

"Which was levied before you came," put in a man who might be brother to the two upstairs, to judge by his nose. "But what's such furniture as this to our claims--if you come to combine 'em? No more than a bucket of water is to the Thames."

"What can I do?" s.h.i.+vered Lady Isabel. "What is it you wish me to do? I have no money to give you, I--"

"No, miss," broke in a quiet, pale man; "if report tells me, you are worse wronged than we are, for you won't have a roof to put your head under, or a guinea to call your own."

"He has been a scoundrel to everybody," interrupted an intemperate voice; "he has ruined thousands."

The speech was hissed down; even they were not men gratuitously to insult a delicate young lady.

"Perhaps you'll just answer us a question, miss," persisted the voice, in spite of the hisses. "Is there any ready money that can--"

But another person had entered the room--Mr. Carlyle. He caught sight of the white face and trembling hands of Isabel, and interrupted the last speaker with scant ceremony.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, in a tone of authority.

"What do you want?"

"If you are a friend of the late peer's, you ought to know what we want," was the response. "We want our debts paid."

"But this is not the place to come to," returned Mr. Carlyle; "your coming here flocking in this extraordinary manner, will do no good. You must go to Warburton & Ware."

"We have been to them and received their answer--a cool a.s.surance that there'll be nothing for anybody."

"At any rate, you'll get nothing here," observed Mr. Carlyle, to the a.s.sembly, collectively. "Allow me to request that you leave the house at once."

It was little likely that they would for him, and they said it.

"Then I warn you of the consequences of a refusal," quietly said Mr.

Carlyle; "you are trespa.s.sing upon a stranger's property. This house is not Lord Mount Severn's; he sold it some time back."

They knew better. Some laughed, and said these tricks were stale.

"Listen, gentlemen," rejoined Mr. Carlyle, in the plain, straightforward manner that carried its own truth. "To make an a.s.sertion that could be disproved when the earl's affairs come to be investigated, would be simply foolish. I give you my word of honor as a gentleman--nay, as a fellow-man--that this estate, with the house and all it contains, pa.s.sed months ago, from the hands of Lord Mount Severn; and, during his recent sojourn here, he was a visitor in it. Go and ask his men of business."

"Who purchased it?" was the inquiry.

"Mr. Carlyle, of West Lynne. Some of you may possibly know him by reputation."

Some of them did.

"A cute young lawyer," observed a voice; "as his father was before him."

"I am he," proceeded Mr. Carlyle; "and, being a 'cute lawyer,' as you do me the honor to decide, you cannot suppose I should risk my money upon any sale not perfectly safe and legal. I was not an agent in the affair; I employed agents; for it was my own money that I invested, and East Lynne is mine."

"Is the purchase money paid over?" inquired more than one.

"It was paid over at the time--last June."

"What did Lord Mount Severn do with the money?"

"I do not know," replied Mr. Carlyle. "I am not cognizant of Lord Mount Severn's private affairs."

Significant murmurs arose. "Strange that the earl should stop two or three months at a place that wasn't his."

"It may appear so to you, but allow me to explain," returned Mr.

Carlyle. "The earl expressed a wish to pay East Lynne a few days' visit, by way of farewell, and I acceded. Before the few days were over, he was taken ill, and remained, from that time, too ill to quit it. This very day--this day, gentlemen, as we stand here, was at length fixed for his departure."

"And you tell us you bought the furniture?"

"Everything as it stands. You need not doubt my word, for the proofs will be forthcoming. East Lynne was in the market for sale; I heard of it, and became the purchaser--just as I might have bought an estate from any of you. And now, as this is my house, and you have no claim upon me, I shall be obliged to you to withdraw."

"Perhaps you'll claim the horses and carriages next, sir," cried the man with the hooked nose.

Mr. Carlyle raised his head haughtily. "What is mine is mine, legally purchased and paid for--a fair, just price. The carriages and horses I have nothing to do with; Lord Mount Severn brought them down with him."

"And I have got a safe watcher over them in the out premises, to see as they don't run away," nodded the man, complacently; "and if I don't mistake, there's a safe watcher over something else upstairs."

"What a cursed scoundrel Mount Severn was."

"Whatever he may have been, it does not give you the right to outrage the feelings of his daughter," warmly interrupted Mr. Carlyle; "and I should have thought that men, calling themselves Englishmen, would have disdained the shame. Allow me, Lady Isabel," he added, imperatively taking her hand to lead her from the room. "I will remain and deal with this business."

But she hesitated and stopped. The injury her father had done these men was telling painfully on her sense of right, and she essayed to speak a word of apology, of sorrow; she thought she ought to do so; she did not like them to deem her quite heartless. But it was a painful task, and the color went and came in her pale face, and her breath was labored with the excess of her tribulation.