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Thomasson's highest ambitions at this time to have the young Marquis of Carmarthen entrusted to him; and Lady Dunborough was connected with the family, and, it was said, had interest there. He was silent. 'You see, Mr. Dunborough continued, marking with a chuckle the effect his words had produced, 'you have got to get her. Mr.
Then the draught of air extinguished it, and looking over the servant's shoulder he was short and squat Mr. Thomasson's anxious eyes had a glimpse of a spacious old-fashioned hall, panelled and furnished in oak, with here a blazon, and there antlers or a stuffed head.
Thomasson's intervention went some way to weaken the theory she had built up with so much joy and impatience for night to come and put an end to her suspense. She was now as much concerned to escape the ordeal of Mr. Pomeroy's visit as she had been earlier in the day to see him. And she had her wish.
Dunborough to go first, but he would not, and Soane, shrugging his shoulders, preceded him. The room into which they all crowded was no more than a closet, containing a dusty bureau propped on three legs, a few books, and Mr. Thomasson's robes, boots, and wig-stand.
The streets were dark; only an oil lamp or two burned at distant points. But the darkness of the town was noon-day light in comparison of the gloom which reigned in Mr. Thomasson's mind. In the grasp of this headstrong man, whose temper rendered him blind to obstacles and heedless of danger, the tutor felt himself swept along, as incapable of resistance as the leaf that is borne upon the stream.
Pomeroy's complaisance and so easy his mood, he must needs have up three or four bottles of Brooks and Hellier that had lain in the cellar half a century the last of a batch and give her a third time in bumpers and no heel-taps. But that opened Mr. Thomasson's eyes.
Pomeroy saw nothing and heard nothing, and for a time suspected nothing. The servant was a crafty fellow, a London rascal, deft at whipping away full bottles. He was an age finding a clean glass, and slow in drawing the next cork. He filled the host's bumper, and Mr. Thomasson's, and had but half a glass for his master.
He had scarcely done this when the door was opened, and the masked man, who had threatened them before, thrust in his head. 'Come out! he said curtly, addressing the tutor, who was the nearer. 'And be sharp about it! But Mr. Thomasson's eyes, peering through the doorway, sought in vain the least sign of house or village.
'I don't know, my lord answered, passing his fingers tenderly through his wig. 'I I don't commit myself to that. 'Well, at any rate, we cannot all have the money! Pomeroy replied, with sufficient impatience. 'But we can all try! Can't we, Tommy? Mr. Thomasson's face, when the question was put to him in that form, was a curious study. Mr.
Thomasson's epistolary style, she felt no surprise when she found the initials F.T. appended to the message. 'Madam, it ran. 'You are in danger here, and I in no less of being held to account for acts which my heart abhors. Openly to oppose myself to Mr. P. the course my soul dictates were dangerous for us both, and another must be found.
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