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Updated: July 21, 2025
Caldwell came hurrying home from Lady Benyon's a few nights later with the queerest expression of countenance Beth had ever seen; it was something between laughing and crying. "Beth," she began in an agitated manner, "I am told that you went with two of Mr. Richardson's sons to the menagerie on Tuesday night, dressed as a boy."
She had been reading a letter and laid it down on a table by her; Marchmont could not help his eye catching the large printed address at the head of the sheet of paper, "Ashwood." Ashwood was Dick Benyon's country place. A moment later May explained the letter. "I've had a wail from Amy Benyon," she said. "She wants me to go to them for Easter and comfort her.
"Not to the detriment of truth; I assure you I don't sacrifice that," he replied, with renewed gravity and an apparently perfect sincerity. May was sorry when he took his leave, partly for the temporary loss of a study which amused her, more because his departure brought the time for telling Quisanté of Dick Benyon's visit.
They would probably have wasted the money in foolishness. And, anyway, a bank which couldn't take care of its money deserved to lose it. Mr Birdsey felt almost a righteous glow of indignation against the New Asiatic Bank. He broke the silence which had followed Benyon's words with a peculiarly immoral remark: 'Well, it's lucky it's only us that's recognized you, he said. Waterall stared.
Yet side by side with this feeling there was a great and a growing expectancy with regard to him in his public aspect. He began to be a figure, somebody of whom account would have to be taken; Dick Benyon's infatuation was less often mentioned, his sagacity more often praised.
Crowds constantly collected at the little house in Orchard Street in those days. When Mrs. Caldwell had to go out alone she was always anxious, not knowing what might be happening in her absence. Coming home from Lady Benyon's one summer evening, she found the whole street blocked with people, and the roadway in front of her own house packed so tight she could not get past.
Kate Theory felt rather weary and mystified, all the more for knowing that henceforth Captain Benyon's variations would be the most important thing in life for her. This officer, on his ship in the bay, lingered very late on deck that night, lingered there, indeed, under the warm southern sky, in which the stars glittered with a hot, red light, until the early dawn began to show.
Benyon's heart beat faster, as he felt that it was indeed a chance; but half his emotion came from the spectacle magnificent in its way of her unparalleled impudence. A sense of all that he had escaped in not having had to live with her rolled over him like a wave, while he looked strangely at Mr. Roy, to whom this privilege had been vouchsafed.
"He's got some brains," Marchmont went on, "though of rather a flashy sort, I think. Dick Benyon's been caught by them. But a more impossible person I never met. You don't like him?" "Yes, I do," she answered defiantly. "At least I do every now and then."
The formalities attendant on the change of government, the composition of the new Cabinet, the prospects of the election these alone would have supplied many hours, and besides them, indeed supplanting them temporarily by virtue of an intenser interest, there was the account of the inquest on Benyon's body.
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