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Page 37
He was always going up to London now, and people who had met him there
hinted that the country gentleman had become a man about town. Still, you
must not believe the half of what you hear; and supposing there was some
truth in the report, why, what could you expect with a wife like that?
By March it was settled that they were to leave Thorneytoft and make
London their headquarters. Tyson had taken a flat in Ridgmount Gardens.
This, he said, was a good central position and handy for the theatres.
At any rate, he could not afford a better one so long as that infernal
estate swallowed up two-thirds of his income.
It looked as if they meant to make a clean sweep of their past. They
began by making a clean sweep of the servants, from the kitchen-maid
upwards. Here they were forestalled. Before it could come to his turn the
thoughtful Pinker gave notice. His example was followed by Swinny the
virtuous. Swinny, as it happened, was a niece of Farmer Ashby's, the same
who saw Stanistreet driving with his arm round Mrs. Nevill Tyson's waist;
she was first cousin to the landlord of "The Cross-Roads," where the
Captain retired on the night of the quarrel, and she was sister to Miss
Batchelor's maid. The scandal was all in the family. It was this
circumstance, no doubt, that had given such color and consistency to
the floating rumor.
Swinny, having regard to her testimonials, was not openly offensive.
She told Tyson that she was sorry to leave a good master and mistress,
but she never could abide the town. No more could Pinker. And she must
go where there was a baby. Then Swinny, having shaken the dust of
Thorneytoft from her virtuous feet, called on every member of her family,
and told to each the same unvarying tale. She wasn't going to stay in a
place where there were such goings on; it was as much as her character
was worth. The gentlemen were after Mrs. Nevill Tyson from morning till
night, you couldn't keep 'em off--not that lot. She hadn't much to say to
them, but she fair ran after the Captain--it was perfectly disgraceful.
When Mr. Tyson sent him to the right-about, she waited till her husband's
back was turned, then she wrote to him to come. And, as if nothing else
would serve her, she had him up in the nursery when her little baby was
dying. They were actually whispering the two of them, and making eyes
at each other over the child's coffin. Why, Pinker, he caught 'em in the
library the very day of the funeral. Oh, it wasn't the Captain's fault.
She whistled and he came, that was all. So far Swinny.
_Was_ that all?
On every face there was a tremendous query. But upon the whole it was
concluded that Stanistreet at any rate had had regard to his friend's
honor.
It is the last stone that kills; so, you see, there was a certain
hesitation about hurling it. No educated person believes the evidence
of servants. Besides, when it came to the point, one felt too sorry for
Nevill Tyson to make up one's mind to the worst. So far Miss Batchelor.
Ah, well, he took her away. The last that was seen of Mrs. Nevill Tyson
in Leicestershire was a sad little figure, shrinking away in the corner
of a railway carriage, nursing her guilty secret.
CHAPTER XII
A FLAT IN TOWN
Though they had cut them dead lately, it must be confessed that some
people found Drayton Parva a very dull place without Mr. and Mrs. Nevill
Tyson. They heard about them sometimes from Sir Peter, who was now in
Parliament; and from Miss Batchelor, after her flying visits to the
Morleys' house in town. Stanistreet, by the way, had his headquarters
somewhere in London; and in London Mrs. Nevill Tyson revived. She had
begun all over again. She had got new clothes, new servants, and a new
drawing-room. An absurd little drawing-room it was, too--all white paint,
muslin draperies, and frivolous gim-crack furniture. A place, said Miss
Batchelor, that it would have been dangerous to smoke a cigarette in. And
if you would believe it, she had hung up Tyson's sword over the couch in
the dining-room, as a memorial of his deeds in the Soudan. So ridiculous,
when everybody knew that he was nothing but a sort of volunteer (Miss
Batchelor had had a brother in "the Service").
Having furnished her drawing-room, and hung up her husband's sword, Mrs.
Nevill Tyson seems to have done nothing noteworthy, but to have sat down
and waited for events.
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