On the afternoon of the next day Mr. Torkingham, who occasionally dropped
in to see St. Cleeve, called again as usual; after duly remarking on the
state of the weather, congratulating him on his sure though slow
improvement, and answering his inquiries about the comet, he said, 'You
have heard, I suppose, of what has happened to Lady Constantine?' 'No! Nothing serious?' 'Yes, it is serious.' The parson informed him of the death of Sir
Blount, and of the accidents which had hindered all knowledge of the
same,--accidents favoured by the estrangement of the pair and the
cessation of correspondence between them for some time.
His listener received the news with the concern of a friend, Lady
Constantine's aspect in his eyes depending but little on her condition
matrimonially.
'There was no attempt to bring him home when he died?' 'O no. The climate necessitates instant burial. We shall have more
particulars in a day or two, doubtless.' 'Poor Lady Constantine,--so good and so sensitive as she is! I suppose
she is quite prostrated by the bad news.' 'Well, she is rather serious,--not prostrated. The household is going
into mourning.' 'Ah, no, she would not be quite prostrated,' murmured Swithin,
recollecting himself. 'He was unkind to her in many ways. Do you think
she will go away from Welland?' That the vicar could not tell. But he feared that Sir Blount's affairs
had been in a seriously involved condition, which might necessitate many
and unexpected changes.
Time showed that Mr. Torkingham's surmises were correct.
During the long weeks of early summer, through which the young man still
lay imprisoned, if not within his own chamber, within the limits of the
house and garden, news reached him that Sir Blount's mismanagement and
eccentric behaviour were resulting in serious consequences to Lady
Constantine; nothing less, indeed, than her almost complete
impoverishment. His personalty was swallowed up in paying his debts, and
the Welland estate was so heavily charged with annuities to his distant
relatives that only a mere pittance was left for her. She was reducing
the establishment to the narrowest compass compatible with decent
gentility. The horses were sold one by one; the carriages also; the
greater part of the house was shut up, and she resided in the smallest
rooms. All that was allowed to remain of her former contingent of male
servants were an odd man and a boy. Instead of using a carriage she now
drove about in a donkey-chair, the said boy walking in front to clear the
way and keep the animal in motion; while she wore, so his informants
reported, not an ordinary widow's cap or bonnet, but something even
plainer, the black material being drawn tightly round her face, giving
her features a small, demure, devout cast, very pleasing to the eye.