East Lynne [38]
and encounter the sight. Then she started, for there sat two strange-looking men--and not attractive men either.
It darted through her mind that they must be people from the neighborhood, come to gratify an idle and unpardonable curiosity. Her first impulse was to summon the butler; her second, to speak to them herself.
"Do you want anything here?" she quietly said.
"Much obleeged for the inquiry, miss. We are all right."
The words and tone struck her as being singular in the extreme; and they kept their seats, too, as though they had a right to be there.
"Why are you here?" she repeated. "What are you doing?"
"Well, miss, I don't mind telling you, for I suppose you are his daughter"--pointing his left thumb over his shoulder at the late peer --"and we hear he have got no other relative anigh him. We have been obleeged, miss, to perform an unpleasant dooty and secure him."
The words were like Greek to her, and the men saw that they were.
"He unfortunately owed a slight amount of money, miss--as you, perhaps, be aware on, and our employers is in, deep. So, as soon as they heard what had happened, they sent us down to arrest the dead corpse, and we have done it."
Amazement, horror, fear, struggled together in the shocked mind of Lady Isabel. Arrest the dead. She had never heard of a like calamity: nor could she have believed in such. Arrest it for what purpose? What to do? To disfigure it?--to sell it? With a panting heart and ashy lips, she turned from the room. Mrs. Mason happened to be passing near the stairs, and Isabel flew to her, laying hold of her with both hands, in her terror, as she burst into a fit of nervous tears.
"Those men--in there!" she gasped.
"What men, my lady?" returned Mrs. Mason, surprised.
"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 balustrades; 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 nobody we can speak to; nobody 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, shivering.
"I'm afraid he did, my lady."
She went swiftly on; and passing through the few stragglers in the hall, entered the dining-room, where the chief mass 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
It darted through her mind that they must be people from the neighborhood, come to gratify an idle and unpardonable curiosity. Her first impulse was to summon the butler; her second, to speak to them herself.
"Do you want anything here?" she quietly said.
"Much obleeged for the inquiry, miss. We are all right."
The words and tone struck her as being singular in the extreme; and they kept their seats, too, as though they had a right to be there.
"Why are you here?" she repeated. "What are you doing?"
"Well, miss, I don't mind telling you, for I suppose you are his daughter"--pointing his left thumb over his shoulder at the late peer --"and we hear he have got no other relative anigh him. We have been obleeged, miss, to perform an unpleasant dooty and secure him."
The words were like Greek to her, and the men saw that they were.
"He unfortunately owed a slight amount of money, miss--as you, perhaps, be aware on, and our employers is in, deep. So, as soon as they heard what had happened, they sent us down to arrest the dead corpse, and we have done it."
Amazement, horror, fear, struggled together in the shocked mind of Lady Isabel. Arrest the dead. She had never heard of a like calamity: nor could she have believed in such. Arrest it for what purpose? What to do? To disfigure it?--to sell it? With a panting heart and ashy lips, she turned from the room. Mrs. Mason happened to be passing near the stairs, and Isabel flew to her, laying hold of her with both hands, in her terror, as she burst into a fit of nervous tears.
"Those men--in there!" she gasped.
"What men, my lady?" returned Mrs. Mason, surprised.
"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 balustrades; 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 nobody we can speak to; nobody 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, shivering.
"I'm afraid he did, my lady."
She went swiftly on; and passing through the few stragglers in the hall, entered the dining-room, where the chief mass 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