The House by the Church-Yard eBook

him.  The fact is, he had lost a good many side teeth, and it was a hollow and sinister disclosure.  He would laugh, too, occasionally; but his laugh was not rich and joyous, like General Chattesworth’s, or even Tom Toole’s cozy chuckle, or old Doctor Walsingham’s hilarious ha-ha-ha!  He did not know it; but there was a cold hard ring in it, like the crash and jingle of broken glass.  Then his spectacles, shining like ice in the light, never removed for a moment—­never even pushed up to his forehead—­he eat in them, drank in them, fished in them, joked in them—­he prayed in them, and, no doubt, slept in them, and would, it was believed, be buried in them—­heightened that sense of mystery and mask which seemed to challenge curiosity and defy scrutiny with a scornful chuckle.

In the meantime, the mirth, and frolic, and flirtation were drawing to a close.  The dowager, in high good humour, was conveyed down stairs to her carriage, by Colonel Stafford and Lord Castlemallard, and rolled away, with blazing flambeaux, like a meteor, into town.  There was a breaking-up and leave-taking, and parting jokes on the door-steps; and as the ladies, old and young, were popping on their mantles in the little room off the hall, and Aunt Becky and Mrs. Colonel Strafford were exchanging a little bit of eager farewell gossip beside the cabinet, Gertrude Chattesworth—­by some chance she and Lilias had not had an opportunity of speaking that evening—­drew close to her, and she took her hand and said ‘Good-night, dear Lily,’ and glanced over her shoulder, still holding Lily’s hand; and she looked very pale and earnest, and said quickly, in a whisper: 

’Lily, darling, if you knew what I could tell you, if I dare, about Mr. Mervyn, you would cut your hand off rather than allow him to talk to you, as, I confess, he has talked to me, as an admirer, and knowing what I know, and with my eye upon him—­Lily—­Lily—­I’ve been amazed by him to-night.  I can only warn you now, darling, to beware of a great danger.’

‘’Tis no danger, however, to me, Gertrude, dear,’ said Lily, with a pleasant little smile.  ’And though he’s handsome, there’s something, is there not, funeste in his deep eyes and black hair; and the dear old man knows something strange about him, too; I suppose ’tis all the same story.’

‘And he has not told you,’ said Gertrude, looking down with a gloomy face at her fan.

’No; but I’m so curious, I know he will, though he does not like to speak of it; but you know, Gerty, I love a horror, and I know the story’s fearful, and I feel uncertain whether he’s a man or a ghost; but see, Aunt Rebecca and Mistress Strafford are kissing.’

‘Good-night, dear Lily, and remember!’ said pale Gertrude without a smile, looking at her, for a moment, with a steadfast gaze, and then kissing her with a hasty and earnest pressure.  And Lily kissed her again, and so they parted.

CHAPTER XXVI.