Piccadilly: A Fragment of Contemporary BiographyOliphant, Laurence
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Piccadilly: A Fragment of Contemporary Biography
Oliphant, Laurence
Piccadilly (London, England) -- Fiction
"Why not? What do you mean?" she said, sharply. "Who do you suppose is
to dictate to me upon such a subject? Ursula will be very well off, and
I shall take care that she marries suitably."
"I don't know where she is to get her money from," I said, calmly.
"You need give yourself no anxiety about her for the future, I assure
you. Mr Chundango has been most liberal in his arrangements about both
my girls."
"But, unfortunately, it is not in Mr Chundango's power to make any such
arrangements," I retorted. "I am sure nothing will alter your feelings
towards a man you really love, and that your own personal conduct will
not be influenced by the fact that Mr Chundango is a beggar. You could
go back to India with him, you know, and make a home for him in a
bungalow in the Bombay Ghauts."
Lady Broadhem's face had become rigid and stony; so had my whole nature.
I did not feel a particle of compassion or of triumph. I was cold, hard,
and judicial. Her hour was come, and I had to pass the sentence. "Yes,"
I said, "there is no doubt about it. I got it from Bodwinkle this
moment. The Bombay mail arrived last night, and you know the way
everything has been crashing there through speculations in Back Bay
shares, cotton, &c. Well, the great Parsee house of Burstupjee Cockabhoy
has come down with a grand crash, and all our friend Chundango's jewels
in the back verandah, added to everything else he possesses in the
world, will fail to meet his liabilities. Terrible thing, isn't it? but
we must bear up, you know."
But Lady Broadhem had done bearing up some time ago, and had sunk gently
back on the couch, in a dead faint. As there was not the slightest sham
about it, I rang the bell for Jenkins, and felt under the pillow for the
"pick-me-up," which I failed to make her swallow; so I slapped the soles
of her feet with her shoes, till her maid arrived, followed by
Drippings, who, I suspect, had spent some portion of his time in the
neighbourhood of the keyhole.
"I will go and look for Lady Ursula," I said; "where shall I find her?"
"In her own 'boudwore,'" said Jenkins--"first door on the right, at the
top of the stairs," and I left Lady Broadhem being ministered to with
sal-volatile, and went in search of her daughter.
Lady Ursula was writing, and as she looked up I saw the traces of tears
upon her cheeks, though she smiled as she frankly gave me her hand. "I
half expected you, Lord Frank, as I knew you were to call on mamma
to-day, and I thought you would not leave without seeing me; but I
expected to have been sent for. Don't you know that this is very sacred
ground, and that the privilege of treading upon it is accorded to very
few?"
"I have that to tell you," I said, gravely, "which I can only talk of
privately. I have left Lady Broadhem down-stairs, and it is the result
of my interview with her that I want to communicate to you. Do you know
that she contemplated taking a very serious step?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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