Mrs. Luttrell

“ Luttrell. Please sit down—no, not that chair. Come a little closer to the fire, it is so bitterly cold," and here she shivered a little.
"I do not mind the cold as much as some people," replied Olivia, sturdily. "I am very strong and take plenty of exercise. Perhaps you have not been out; it is so difficult to keep warm indoors."
"No, I have not been out," returned Miss Williams, and then she looked at Olivia. "It is very kind of you to come and see me—Mrs. Luttrell." ”

“ Luttrell's shoulder. "He must not feel that he has lost a home, must he, mother?" She pronounced the title which Mrs. Luttrell had begged her to bestow, still with a certain diffidence and hesitancy; but Mrs. Luttrell's brow smoothed when she heard it.
"We will do what we can for him," she said.
"He has not been very steady of late," Brian went on slowly, wondering whether he was right to conceal Hugo's misdeeds and evil tendencies. "I hope he will improve; you will have patience with him if he is not very wise. And now, will you let me say good-bye to you? I shall leave Netherglen to-morrow." ”

“ Luttrell, whose loving ardour seemed to have given way to the most unmitigated resentment.
"Tell the servants to find him and bring him here."
"They would not have far to go," said Dino, coolly. "He is close to hand. Hugo Luttrell, come here and answer for yourself."
"What do you mean? Where is he?" exclaimed Mrs. Luttrell, struck with his tone of command. "He is not in this room!"
"No, but he is in the next, hiding behind that screen. He has been there for the last half-hour. You need play the spy no longer, sir. Have the goodness to step forward and show yourself." ”

“ It was six weeks after the events in which we last saw Kate Luttrell that she was sufficiently able to rise from her sick-bed, and sit at the little window of her room. She was wan, and worn, and wasted, her eyes deep sunken, and her cheeks hollow. Beautiful was she still in all the delicate outline of her features, the finely-rounded nostril and gracefully-turned chin almost gaining by the absence of the brilliant colouring which had at one time, in a measure, absorbed all the admiration of her loveliness. ”

“ My dear young lady," laying his hand heavily on her arm, "Mrs. Broderick must be a wonderful woman, and I hope to see her some day; and I am not above caring for a good woman's prayers, but our cases are not exactly similar."
"I daresay not," returned Olivia, hesitatingly.
"No, indeed"—and Mr. Gaythorne's heavy eyebrows drew together—"look here, Mrs. Luttrell, what sort of comfort do you suppose a man can have in thinking of his wife, when he knows he has acted contrary to her desires, when he has failed to carry out even the wishes expressed on her deathbed. ”

“ It was late for town, but I—I had business."
"This house is no longer a cheerful one," continued Mrs. Luttrell, in a cold, monotonous voice. "There are no attractions for young men now. It has been a house of mourning. I could not expect you to visit me."
"Indeed, Aunt Margaret, I would have come if I had known that you wanted me," said Hugo, wondering whether his tardiness would entail the loss of Mrs. Luttrell's money.
He recovered his self-possession and his fluency at this thought; if danger were near, it behoved him to be on the alert.
"I have wanted you," said Mrs. Luttrell. ”

“ He is so vehement that she fears to provoke him further; yet nothing but a decided refusal can be given. She raises her head and regards him with a carefully-concealed shudder, and as she does so Luttrell's fair, beautiful face—even more true than beautiful, his eyes so blue and earnest, his firm but tender mouth—rises before her. ”

“ In front of each nation rolled a grey vapour, which gradually took shape before Luttrell's eyes; and there was made visible to him a shadowy legion of men marching in the van, the men who had left ease and women and all the grace of life behind them and had gone out to die in the harness of service—one in this, one in that corner of the untravelled world, and now all reunited in a strong fellowship. The vision remained with him after the last strains of music had died away, and faded slowly. He waked to the lights and clamour of the restaurant and turned to Stella Croyle. ”

“ Luttrell talks of making him her heir," said Vivian. "She asked him down last winter but he wouldn't go."
"I don't wonder at it. She must be a very tough old lady if she thinks that he could shoot there with much pleasure after his cousin's accident."
"I don't suppose that Mrs. Luttrell asked him with any such notion," returned Rupert. "She merely wanted him to spend a few days with her at Netherglen."
"Has she much to leave? I thought the estates were entailed," said Percival.
"She has a rather large private fortune. I expected to find that you knew all about it," said Rupert, with a smile. ”

“ Elizabeth was trembling from head to foot. "Don't be afraid, child," he said, with more of an approach to his old tones and looks than she had yet heard or seen; "nobody will hurt you. Here he is—and I think I may fairly say that I have kept my word."
Brian Luttrell had been collecting the possessions which he thought that his comrades might wish to take with them as mementoes of their stay upon the island. He sprang up quickly at the first sound of Percival's voice, and then stood, as if turned to stone, looking at Elizabeth. ”

“ And Robert Barton's smile was so winning that Dot crawled to him at once, and hauled herself up by the help of one finger.
Olivia gave her husband a quick glance which he quite understood; "there cannot be much harm in him if he likes children," this was what her look meant, and even Marcus was touched and surprised when he saw his little daughter put up her round face to be kissed, and then make playful dabs at him.
"What a darling she is—rather like you, Mrs. Luttrell, but she has a look of the doctor too. ”

“ Luttrell made no reply, but stood waiting for the other to continue.
“I have come on a gloomy errand, Mr. Luttrell, and wish you would prepare yourself to hear very, very sad news.”
“What do you call prepare?” cried Luttrell, in a voice almost a shriek. “I know of nothing that prepares a man for misfortune except its frequency,” muttered he, in a low tone. “What is it? Is it of Harry—of my boy?”
Grenfell nodded.
“Wait,” said Luttrell, pressing his hand over his brow. “Let me go in. No, Sir; I can walk without help.” ”

“ The barren glory of calling myself a Luttrell may be a sorry price for forfeited luxury and splendour; but I have it, and I will hold it. I am a Luttrell now, and one day, perhaps, these dreary hills shall own me their mistress.”
In some such thoughts as these, crossed and recrossed by regrets and half-shadowed hopes, she was returning one night to the Abbey, when Molly met her. There was such evident anxiety and eagerness in the woman’s face, that Kate quickly asked her:
“What is it? What has happened?”
“Nothing, Miss, nothing at all. ‘Tis only a man is come. ”

“ And Brian Luttrell? What reason was it that made him fling prudence to the winds, and follow the Herons to the neighbourhood of a place where he had resolved never to show his face again?
There was one great, overmastering reason—so great that it made him attempt what was well-nigh impossible. His love for Elizabeth Murray had taken full possession of him: he dreamed of her, he worshipped the very ground she trod upon; he would have sacrificed life itself for the chance of a gentle word from her.
Life, but not honour. ”

“ She has no thought for all the gay crowd that stays entranced upon her tones. She looks far above them, her serene face—pale, but full of gentle self-possession—more sweet than any poem. She is singing with all her heart for her beloved,—for Letitia, and Lovat, and the children, and John in heaven.
A passionate longing to be near her—to touch her—to speak—to be answered back again—seizes Luttrell. He takes in hungrily all the minutiæ of her clothing, her manner, her expression. He sees the soft, gleaming bunches of snow-drops at her bosom and in her hair. ”

“ He pictured her a coarse, masculine, determined woman; active, courageous, and full of expedients, with some ability, but far more of self-confidence, the great quality of those who have been their own teachers. From what Mr. Cane had told him, she was one who could take a proud view of life and its duties. That very resolve to cede the property, when she heard that there was yet a Luttrell alive to inherit it, showed that there was stuff of no mean order in her nature. ”

“ Luttrell should have been asked to dine at the White House on a Saturday evening. Mrs. Luttrell, however, came off triumphant. She could not have her own dinner that night, but in the very nick of time she heard of the death of a seventeenth cousin in Maryland. Mrs. Luttrell immediately asked to be excused from the White House on the ground of the death of a relative, and clapped herself, her coachman, and footman in mourning for a seventeenth cousin she had not seen in thirty years and had always cordially detested. ”

“ The party separated into three portions after luncheon. Mrs. Luttrell and a lady of her own age agreed to remain indoors, or to stroll quietly round the garden. Angela and two or three other young people meant to get out the boat and fish the loch for pike. Richard and a couple of his friends were going to shoot in the neighbouring woods. And, while these arrangements were making, and everybody was standing about the hall, or in the wide porch which opened out into the garden, Hugo's name was again mentioned.
"What has become of that boy?" said Mrs. Luttrell. "He is not generally so late. ”

“ Brian winced. He could make no reply to such a question. Mrs. Luttrell scored a triumph, and continued in her hard, incisive way:—
"She is probably as well as she can hope to be under the circumstances. Her health has suffered—as mine also has suffered—under the painful dispensation which has been meted out to us. We do not repine. Hearts that are broken, that have no hopes, no joys, no pleasures in store for them in this life, are not eager to exhibit their sufferings. If I speak as I speak now, it is for the last and only time. ”

“ On gaining the beach where he had appointed to meet Harry Luttrell, Mr. M’Kinlay discovered that his young friend had gone off already, taking Ada with him. He could, indeed, detect the form of a lady in the stern of the boat, as she slipped along over the calm sea, and mark that Luttrell was seated at her side.
Here was imprudence, rashness, wilful rashness, all the more reprehensible in a man like Vyner, who knew, or ought to know, the world by this time. “How is that sailor there to remember that he is only a sailor? and how is that young heiress to call to mind that she is an heiress? ”

“ I am, faithfully yours,
“John H. Luttrell.”
“Well, did I guess aright?” cried Grenfell, as Vyner stood reading the letter over for the third time; “is his answer what I predicted?”
“Very nearly so,” said the other, as he handed him the letter to read.
“It is even stronger than I looked for; and he begins ‘Dear Sir.’”
“Yes, and I addressed him ‘My dear Luttrell!’”
“Well; all the good sense of the correspondence is on his side; he sees naturally enough the worse than uselessness of a meeting. How could it be other than painful?” ”

“ As he thus mused, he was sorry that he had written that note to Luttrell. He had no right to obtrude himself upon one, who, in withdrawing from the world, declared that he deserved to be unknown. He was half angry with himself for a step which now appeared so unjustifiable. “After all,” thought he, “the man who makes this his home should not fear to have his door forced; he ought to be able to sleep with his latch ajar, and never dread an intruder.” Again and again he wished that he had gone his way without even letting Luttrell know that he had been his neighbour. ”

“ Luttrell, would have opened to a starving outcast that Christmas night?" and then his blue eyes flashed with an expression of intense feeling that became him well.
"I shall never be able to repay either of you. I shall never try," he went on. "Do you know, as I lay on that doorstep too weak and stiff to move, and the doctor bent over me, it seemed to me, in my dazed condition, as though it were the face of a beneficent angel. God bless you both, for you have made a man of me." ”

“ Luttrell was the last one to be suspected of a sentiment so profound as the lifelong mourning for a lost love. But it was perhaps just this touch of passionate regret, this fidelity to an ideal, which constituted half her charm to men. At an age when most are content to sink into grandmotherhood, Mrs. Luttrell was surrounded by men of all ages in a manner to make a débutante envious. Other hostesses might have to rack their brains for dinner men ”

“ Luttrell? If he is foolish enough to believe you, think what a dreadful opinion he will have of me!" With a lovely smile at Luttrell across the bowl of flowers that ornaments the breakfast-table. "And with such a man, too! A terrible old person who has forgotten his native language and can only mumble, and who has not got one tooth in his mouth or one hair on his head, and no flesh at all to speak of."
"What a fetching description!" says Luttrell. "You excite my curiosity. He is not 'on view,' is he?"
"Not yet," says Molly, with an airy laugh. ”

“ So intensely interested was M’Kinlay in the boy’s narrative, that he never noticed Luttrell, who entered the kitchen, and made his way towards him. Luttrell himself was so preoccupied with one thought, that he hardly acknowledged the salutations of the people who made way for him to pass. The thought that engaged him was this: that the man before him was the bearer of a writ against him. ”