East Lynne [168]
"When--when--I knew them, there was only one daughter; the other two were boys; I remember quite well that she was called Isabel."
"Stay," said Afy; "now you speak of it, what was it that I heard? It was Wilson told me, I recollect--she's the nurse. Why, the very night that his wife went away Mr. Carlyle gave orders that the child in future should be called Lucy, her second name. No wonder," added Afy, violently indignant, "that he could no lager endure the sound of her mother's or suffer the child to bear it."
"No wonder," murmured Lady Isabel. "Which child is it that's ill?"
"It's William, the eldest boy. He is not to say ill, but he is as thin as a herring, with an unnaturally bright look on his cheek, and a glaze upon his eye. Joyce says that his cheeks are no brighter than his mother's were, but I know better. Folks in health don't have those brilliant colors."
"Did you ever see Lady Isabel?" she asked, in a low tone.
"Not I," returned Afy; "I should have thought it demeaning. One does not care to be brought into contact with that sort of misdoing lot, you know, Madame Vine."
"There as another one, a little boy--Archibald, I think, his name was. Is he well?"
"Oh, the troublesome youngster! He is as sturdy as a Turk. No fear of his going into consumption. He is the very image of Mr. Carlyle, is that child. I say though, madame," continued Afy, changing the subject unceremoniously, "if you were stopping at West Lynne, perhaps you heard some wicked mischief-making stories concerning me?"
"I believe I did hear your name mentioned. I cannot charge my memory now with the particulars."
"My father was murdered--you must have heard of that?"
"Yes, I recollect so far."
"He was murdered by a chap called Richard Hare, who decamped instanter. Perhaps you know the Hares also? Well, directly after the funeral I left West Lynne; I could not bear the place, and I stopped away. And what do you suppose they said of me? That I had gone after Richard Hare. Not that I knew they were saying it, or I should pretty soon have been back and given them the length of my tongue. But now I just ask you, as a lady, Madame Vine, whether a more infamous accusation was ever pitched upon?"
"And you had not gone after him?"
"No; that I swear," passionately returned Afy. "Make myself a companion of my father's murderer! If Mr. Calcraft, the hangman, finished off a few of those West Lynne scandalmongers, it might be a warning to the others. I said so to Mr. Carlyle.
"To Mr. Carlyle?" repeated Lady Isabel, hardly conscious that she did repeat it.
"He laughed, I remember, and said that would not stop the scandal. The only one who did not misjudge me was himself; he did not believe that I was with Richard Hare, but he was ever noble-judging was Mr. Carlyle."
"I suppose you were in a situation?"
Afy coughed.
"To be sure. More than one. I lived as companion with an old lady, who so valued me that she left me a handsome legacy in her will. I lived two years with the Countess of Mount Severn."
"With the Countess of Mount Severn!" echoed Lady Isabel, surprised into the remark. "Why, she--she--was related to Mr. Carlyle's wife. At least Lord Mount Severn was."
"Of course; everybody knows that. I was living there at the time the business happened. Didn't the countess pull Lady Isabel to pieces! She and Miss Levison used to sit, cant, cant all day over it. Oh, I assure you I know all about it, just as much as Joyce did. Have you got that headache, that you are leaning on your hand?"
"Headache and heartache both," she might have answered.
Miss Afy resumed.
"So, after the flattering compliment West Lynne had paid to me, you may judge I was in no hurry to go back to it, Madame Vine. And if I had not found that Mrs. Latimer's promised to be an excellent place, I should have left it, rather than be marshaled there. But I have lived it down; I should like to hear any of them fibbing against me now. Do you know that blessed Miss Corny?"
"I have seen her."
"She shakes her head and makes eyes at me