Cashel Byron's Profession
Page 153Lydia leaned back in her chair and looked at Mrs. Skene with a
curious expression which soon brightened into an irrepressible
smile. Mrs. Skene smiled very slightly in complaisance, but conveyed
by her serious brow that what she had said was no laughing matter.
"I must take some time to consider all that you have so eloquently
urged," said Lydia. "I am in earnest, Mrs. Skene; you have produced
a great effect upon me. Now let us talk of something else for the
present. Your daughter is quite well, I hope."
"Thank you kindly, ma'am, she enjoys her health."
"And you also?"
"I am as well as can be expected," said Mrs. Skene, too fond of
"You must have a rare sense of security," said Lydia, watching her,
"being happily married to so celebrated a--a professor of boxing as
Mr. Skene. Is it not pleasant to have a powerful protector?"
"Ah, miss, you little know," exclaimed Mrs. Skene, falling into the
trap baited by her own grievances, and losing sight of Cashel's
interests. "The fear of his getting into trouble is never off my
mind. Ned is quietness itself until he has a drop of drink in him;
and then he is like the rest--ready to fight the first that provokes
him. And if the police get hold of him he has no chance. There's no
justice for a fighting man. Just let it be said that he's a
prison, and good-by to his pupils and his respectability at once.
That's what I live in terror of. And as to being protected, I'd let
myself be robbed fifty times over sooner than say a word to him that
might bring on a quarrel. Many a time when we were driving home of a
night have I overpaid the cabman on the sly, afraid he would grumble
and provoke Ned. It's the drink that does it all. Gentlemen are
proud to be seen speaking with him in public; and they come up one
after another asking what he'll have, until the next thing he knows
is that he's in bed with his boots on, his wrist sprained, and maybe
his eye black, trying to remember what he was doing the night
can tell. Then he took the pledge, and ever since that he's been
very good--I haven't seen him what you could fairly call drunk, not
more than three times a year. It was the blessing of God, and a
beating he got from a milkman in Westminster, that made him ashamed
of himself. I kept him to it and made him emigrate out of the way of
his old friends. Since that, there has been a blessing on him; and
we've prospered."