They were staying at this time at Sir Nash Bohun's. In passing through London after the Continental wedding trip on their way to Whitborough, Sir Nash had invited them to make his house their resting-place. Not until the day following his conversation at the dinner-table had Mr. North an opportunity of questioning his wife; but, that some false representation, intentionally or otherwise, had been made to him on the subject of her late husband's death, he felt certain. They were alone in her dressing-room. Mrs. North, who had a great deal of beautiful black hair, was standing before the glass, doing something to a portion of it, when her husband suddenly accosted her. He called her by her Christian name in those first married days. It was a very fine one.
"Amanda, you told me, I think, that Major Bohun died of sunstroke."
"Well?" she returned carelessly, occupied with her hair.
"But he did not die of sunstroke. He died of--of something else."
Mr. North had watched women's faces turn to pallor, but never in his whole life had he seen so livid a look of terror as now overspread his wife's. Her hair dropped from her nerveless hands.
"Why, what is the matter?" he exclaimed.
She murmured something about a spasm of the heart, to which she was subject: an excuse, as he saw. Another moment, and she had recovered her composure, and was busy with her hair again.
"You were asking me something, were you not, Mr. North?"
"About Major Bohun: what was it he died of---if it was not sunstroke?"
"But it was of sunstroke," she said, in a sharp, ringing accent, that would have required only a little more to be a scream. "What else should he die of suddenly in India's burning climate? He went out in the blazing midday sun, and was brought home dead!"
And nothing more, then or afterwards, did Mr. North learn. Her manner rendered it impossible to press the subject. He might have applied to Sir Nash for information, but an instinct prevented his doing so. After all, it did not matter to him what Major Bohun had died of, Mr. North said to himself and determined to forget the incident. But that some mystery must have attended Major Bohun's death, some painful circumstances which could blanch his wife's face with sickly terror, remained on Mr. North's mind as a fact not to be disputed.
Mrs. North effected changes. Almost the very day she was taken home to Whitborough, she let it be known that she should rule with an imperious will. Her husband became a very reed in her hands; yielding passively to her sway, as if all the spirit he had ever owned had gone out of him. Mrs. North professed to hate the very name of trade; that any one with whom she was so nearly connected should be in business, brought her a sense of degradation and a great deal of talk about it. The quiet, modest, comfortable home at Whitborough was at once given up for the more pretentious Manor Hall at Dallory Ham, which happened to be in the market. And they set up there in a style that might have more properly belonged to the lord-lieutenant of the county. Perhaps it was her assumption of grandeur indoors and out, combined with the imperious manner, the like of which had never before been seen in the simple neighbourhood, that caused people to call her "Madam." Or, it might have been to distinguish her from the first Mrs. North.
In proportion as Mrs. North made herself hated and feared by her husband, his children, and the household, so did she become popular with society. It sometimes happens that the more fascination a woman displays to the world, the more unbearable is she in her own house. It was the case here. Madam put on all her attractions when out-of-doors; she visited and dressed and dined; and gave fêtes again at Dallory Hall utterly regardless of expense. Little wonder that she swayed the neighbourhood.
Not the immediate neighbourhood. With the exception of the Dallory family (and they did not live there always), there was not a single person she would have visited. A few gentle-people resided at Dallory Ham; Mrs. North did not condescend to know any of them. People living at a greater distance she made friends with, but not those around her; and with as many of the county families as would make friends with her. The pleasantest times were those when she would betake herself off on long visits, to London or elsewhere: they grew to be looked forward to.
But the most decided raid made by Mrs. North was on her husband's business connections. Had Thomas Gass been a chimney-sweeper, she could not have treated him with more intense contempt. Thomas Gass had his share of sense, and pitied his partner far more than he would have done had that gentleman gone in for hanging instead of second marriage. Mr. Gass was a very wealthy man now; and had built himself a handsome and comfortable residence in Dallory.
But, as the years went on, he was doomed to furnish food himself to all the gossips within miles. Dallory rose from its couch one fine morning, to hear that Thomas Gass, the confirmed old bachelor, had married his housekeeper. Not one of your "lady-housekeepers," but a useful, good, hard-working damsel, who had passed the first bloom of youth, and had not much beauty to recommend her. It was a nine days' wonder. Of course, however much the neighbours might solace their feelings by ridiculing him and abusing her, they could not undo the marriage. All that remained to them was, to make the best of it; and by degrees they wisely did so. The new Mrs. Gass glided easily into her honours. She made an excellent wife to her ailing husband--for Thomas Gass's health had begun to fail before his marriage--she put on no airs of being superior to what she was; she turned out to be a thoroughly capable woman of business, giving much judicious advice to those about her: she was very good to the sick and suffering, caring for the poor, ready to give a helping hand wherever and whenever it might be needed. In spite of her fine dresses, which sat ludicrously upon her, and of her manner of talking, which she did not attempt to improve; above all, in spite of their own prejudices, Dallory grew to like and respect Mrs. Gass, and its small gentle-people admitted her to their houses on an equality.
And so time and years went on, Mr. North withdrawing himself more and more from personal attendance on the business, which seemed to have grown utterly distasteful to him. His sons had become young men. Edmund was a civil engineer: by profession at least, not much by practice. Never in strong health, given to expensive and idle habits, Edmund North was generally either in trouble abroad, or leading a lazy life at home, his time being much divided between going into needless passions and writing poetry. Richard was at the works, the mainspring of the business. Mr. Gass had become a confirmed invalid, and could not personally attend to it; Mr. North did not do so. There was only Richard--Dick, as they all called him; but he was a host in himself. Of far higher powers than Mr. North had ever possessed, cultivated in mind, he was a thorough man of business, and at the same time a finished gentleman. Energetic, persevering, firm in controlling, yet courteous and considerate to the very lowest, Richard North was loved and respected. He walked through life doing his duty by his fellow-men: striving to do it to God. He had been tried at home in many ways since his father's second marriage, and borne all with patient endurance: how much he was tried out of home, he alone knew.
For a long time past there had been trouble in the firm, ill-feeling between the two old partners; chiefly because Mr. North put no limit to the sums he drew out for his private account. Poor Mr. North at length confessed that he could not help it: the money was wanted by his wife: though how on earth she contrived to get rid of so much, even with all her extravagance, he could not conceive. Mr. Gass insisted on a separation: John North must withdraw from the firm; Richard might take his