Sir George reddened at a sudden thought he had. 'And her father
unburied!' he cried, rising to his feet. This Macaroni was human,
after all.
Mr. Thomasson stared in astonishment. 'You know?' he said. 'Oh fie, Sir
George, have you been hunting already? Fie! Fie! And all London to
choose from!' But Sir George simply repeated, 'And her father not buried, man?'
'Yes,' Mr. Thomasson answered with simplicity. 'He was buried this
morning. Oh, that is all right.'
'This morning? And the girl went from that--to Dunborough's bedside?'
Sir George exclaimed in indignation.
'It was a piece of the oddest luck,' Mr. Thomasson answered, smirking,
and not in the least comprehending the other's feeling. 'He was lodged
in Magdalen yesterday; this morning a messenger was despatched to
Pembroke for clothes and such-like for him. The girl's mother has always
nursed in Pembroke, and they sent for her to help. But she was that
minute home from the burial, and would not go. Then up steps the girl
and "I'll go," says she--heaven knows why or what took her, except the
contrariness of woman. However, there she is! D'ye see?' And Mr.
Thomasson winked.
'Tommy,' said Sir George, staring at him, 'I see that you're a d--d
rascal!' The tutor, easy and smiling, protested. 'Fie, Sir George,' he said.
'What harm is in it? To tend the sick, my dear sir, is a holy office.
And if in this case harm come of it--' and he spread out his hands
and paused.
'As you know it will,' Sir George cried impulsively.
But Mr. Thomasson shrugged his shoulders. 'On the contrary, I know
nothing,' he answered. 'But--if it does, Mr. Dunborough's position is
such that--hem! Well, we are men of the world, Sir George, and the girl
might do worse.' Sir George had heard the sentiment before, and without debate or
protest. Now it disgusted him. 'Faugh, man!' he said, rising. 'Have
done! You sicken me. Go and bore Lord Almeric--if he has not gone to
Paris to save his ridiculous skin!'
But Mr. Thomasson, who had borne abuse of himself with Christian
meekness, could not hear that unmoved. 'My dear Sir George, my dear
friend,' he urged very seriously, and with a shocked face, 'you should
not say things like that of his lordship. You really should not! My lord
is a most excellent and--' 'Pure ass!' said Soane with irritation. 'And I wish you would go and
divert him instead of boring me.'
'Dear, dear, Sir George!' Mr. Thomasson wailed. 'But you do not mean it?
And I brought you such good news, as I thought. One might--one really
might suppose that you wished our poor friend the worst.' 'I wish him no worse a friend!' Sir George responded sharply; and then,
heedless of his visitor's protestations and excuses and offers of
assistance, would see him to the door.