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Palford nor Burrill understood them, but a young footman who was said to have once paid a visit to New York, and who chanced to be in the picture-gallery when his new master was looking at the portraits of his ancestors, over-hearing one observation, was guilty of a convulsive snort, and immediately made his way into the corridor, coughing violently. From this Mr.
Burrill, it was believed, knew much more than he deigned to make public. The entire truth was that Captain Palliser himself, in one of his hasty appearances in the neighborhood of Temple Barholm, had bestowed a few words of cold caution on him. "Don't talk too much," he had said. "Proof is required before talk is safe. The American was sharp enough to say that to me himself.
"Burrill towd as he heard thee say tha'd swear in court as it was th' one as was killed as tha'd seen." "That's Burrill's story, not mine. And Burrill had better keep his mouth shut," said Palliser. "If it were true, how would you like it? I've heard you were interested in 'th' one as was killed." Tummas's eyes burned troublously. "I've got reet down taken wi' th' other un," he answered.
"Push that thing in the middle on one side, Burrill," he said. "It's too high. I can't see Miss Alicia." Burrill found it difficult to believe the evidence of his hearing. "The epergne, sir? " he inquired. "Is that what it's called, an apern? That's a new one on me. Yes, that's what I mean. Push the apern over." "Shall I remove it from the table, sir?" Burrill steeled himself to exact civility.
As they crossed the threshold, the sight of Miss Alicia's small form enthroned in their employer's chair was one so obviously unanticipated that Burrill made a step backward and the footman almost lost the firmness of his hold on the smaller tray.
Before Burrill left the room, however, and he left it under the impression that he had said no more than civility demanded, Captain Palliser had reached the point of being able to deduce a number of things from what he, like Pearson, had not said. The man who in all England was most deeply submerged in deadly boredom was, the old Duke of Stone said with wearied finality, himself.
In September of the same year they were joined by Charles A. Dana, now of the New York Sun. Hawthorne's residence at the Farm, commemorated in the Blithedale Romance, had terminated before Mr. Dana's began. The Curtis brothers, Burrill and George William, were there when Isaac Hecker came. Emerson was an occasional visitor; so was Margaret Fuller.
Burrill himself passing through the corridors on some errand and hearing master and valet shouting together in unseemly and wholly incomprehensible mirth. And the next remark was worse than ever. "No, you won't, Pearson," Mr. Temple Barholm asserted. "There's where you're wrong. I've got no more use for a valet than I have for a pair of straight-front corsets."
Burrill was monumental in the unconsciousness of his outward bearing. Miss Alicia, sitting waiting on Fate in the library, wore precisely the aspect he had known she would wear.
Palliser took one of the good cigars, and in taking it exchanged a glance with Burrill which distantly conveyed the suggestion that perhaps he had better remain for a moment or so. Captain Palliser's knowledge of interesting detail was obtained "by chance here and there," he sometimes explained, but it was always obtained with a light and casual air.
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