Meantime, Mr. Grimsby seated himself by me, in the chair vacated by Hargrave as they entered, and gravely stated that he would thank me for a cup of tea: and Arthur placed himself beside poor Milicent, confidentially pushing his head into her face, and drawing in closer to her as she shrunk away from him. He was not so noisy as Hattersley, but his face was exceedingly flushed, he laughed incessantly, and while I blushed for all I saw and heard of him, I was glad that he chose to talk to his companion in so low a tone that no one could hear what he said but herself. It must have been intolerable nonsense at best, for she looked excessively annoyed, and first went red in the face, then indignantly pushed back her chair, and finally took refuge behind me on the sofa. Arthur's sole intention seemed to have been to produce some such disagreeable effects: he laughed immoderately on finding he had driven her away--drawing in his chair to the table, he leant his folded arms upon it, and delivered himself up to a paroxysm of weak, low, foolish laughter. When he was tired of this exercise he lifted his head and called aloud to Hattersley, and there ensued a clamorous contest between them about I know not what.
`What fools they are!' drawled Mr. Grimsby, who had been talking away, at my elbow, with sententious gravity all the time; but I had been too much absorbed in contemplating the deplorable state of the other two--specially Arthur--to attend to him.
`Did you ever hear such nonsense as they talk, Mrs. Huntingdon?' he continued. `I'm quite ashamed of them for my part: they can't take so much as a bottle between them without its getting into their heads--'
`You are pouring the cream into your saucer, Mr. Grimsby.'
`Ah! yes, I see, but we're almost in darkness here. Hargrave, snuff those candles, will you?'
`They're wax; they don't require snuffing,' said I.
`"The light of the body is the eye,"' observed Hargrave, with a sarcastic smile. `"If thine eye be single thy whole body shall be full of light."'
Grimsby repulsed him with a solemn wave of the hand, and then, turning to me, continued, with the same drawling tones, and strange uncertainty of utterance and heavy gravity of aspect as before, `But as I was saying, Mrs. Huntingdon,--they have no head at all: they can't take half a bottle without being affected some way; whereas I--well, I've taken three times as much as they have to-night, and you see I'm perfectly steady. Now that may strike you as very singular, but I think I can explain it:--you see their brains--I mention no names, but you'll understand to whom I allude--their brains are light to begin with, and the fumes of the fermented liquor render them lighter still, and produce an entire light-headedness, or giddiness, resulting in intoxication; whereas my brains being composed of more solid materials will absorb a considerable quantity of this alcoholic vapour without the production of any sensible result--'
`I think you will find a sensible result produced on that tea,' interrupted Mr. Hargrave, `by the quantity of sugar you have put into it.
Instead of your usual complement of one lump you have put in six.'
`Have I so?' replied the philosopher, diving with his spoon into the cup and bringing up several half-dissolved pieces in confirmation of the assertion. `Um! I perceive. Thus, Madam, you see the evil of absence of mind--of thinking too much while engaged in the common concerns of life.
Now if I had my wits about me, like ordinary men, instead of within me like a philosopher, I should not have spoiled this cup of tea, and been constrained to trouble you for another.--With your permission, I'll turn this into the slop-basin.'
`That is the sugar-basin, Mr. Grimsby. Now you have spoiled the sugar too; and I'll thank you to ring for some more--for here is Lord Lowborough, at last; and I hope his lordship will condescend to sit down with us, such as we are, and allow me to give him some tea.
His lordship gravely bowed in answer to my appeal, but said nothing.
Meantime, Hargrave volunteered to ring for the sugar, while Grimsby lamented his mistake, and attempted to prove that it was owing to the shadow of the urn and the badness of the lights.
Lord Lowborough had entered a minute or two before, unobserved by any one but me, and been standing before the door, grimly surveying the company. He now stepped up to Annabella, who sat with her back towards him, with Hattersley still beside her, though not now attending to her, being occupied in vociferously abusing and bullying his host.
`Well, Annabella,' said her husband, as he leant over the back of her chair, `which of these three "bold, manly spirits" would you have me to resemble?'
`By Heaven and earth, you shall resemble us all!' cried Hattersley, starting up and rudely seizing him by the arm. `Hallo Huntingdon!' he shouted--`I've got him! Come, man, and help me! And d--n me body and soul if I don't make him blind drunk before I let him go! He shall make up for all past delinquencies as sure as I'm a living soul!'
There followed a disgraceful contest; Lord Lowborough, in desperate earnest, and pale with anger, silently struggling to release himself from the powerful madman that was striving to drag him from the room. I attempted to urge Arthur to interfere in behalf of his outraged guest, but he could do nothing but laugh.
`Huntingdon, you fool, come and help me, can't you!' cried Hattersley, himself somewhat weakened by his excesses.
`I'm wishing you God-speed, Hattersley,' cried Arthur, `and aiding you with my prayers: I can't do anything else if my life depended on it!
I'm quite used up. Oh, ho!' and leaning back in his seat, he clapped his hands on his sides and groaned aloud.
`Annabella, give me a candle!' said Lowborough whose antagonist had now got him round the waist and was endeavouring to root him from the door-post to which he madly clung with all the energy of desperation.
` I shall take no part in your rude sports!' replied the lady, coldly drawing back, `I wonder you can expect it.'