"Would have died rather than appeal to the meanest instincts of his fellow-creatures. Just so! There was his mistake. That's why he never could make anything of the republic. That's why the republic is the ricketty child of the political family. _Quod erat demonstrandum,_" said Nugent Dubourg, finishing me off with a pleasant smile, and an easy indicative gesture of the hand which said, "Now I have settled these three people in succession, I am equally well satisfied with myself and with them!"
His smile was irresistible. Bent as I was on disputing the degrading conclusions at which he had arrived, I really had not fire enough in me, at the moment, to feed my own indignation. As to Reverend Finch, he sat silently swelling in a corner; digesting, as he best might, the discovery that there was another man in the world, besides the Rector of Dimchurch, with an excellent opinion of himself, and with perfectly unassailable confidence and fluency in expressing it. In the momentary silence that now followed, Oscar got his first opportunity of speaking. He had, thus far, been quite content to admire his clever brother. He now advanced to me, and asked what had become of Lucilla.
"The servant told me she was here," he said. "I am so anxious to introduce her to Nugent."
Nugent put his arm affectionately round his brother's neck, and gave him a hug. "Dear old boy! I am just as anxious as you are."
"Lucilla went out a little while since," I said, "to take a turn in the garden."
"I'll go and find her," said Oscar. "Wait here, Nugent. I'll bring her in."
He left the room. Before he could close the door one of the servants appeared, to claim Mrs. Finch's private ear, on some mysterious domestic emergency. Nugent facetiously entreated her, as she passed him, to clear her mind of prejudice, and consider the question of infant petticoats on its own merits. Mr. Finch took offense at this second reference to the subject. He rose to follow his wife.
"When you are a married man, Mr. Dubourg," said the rector severely, "you will learn to leave the management of an infant in its mother's hands."
"There's another mistake!" remarked Nugent, following him with unabated good humour, to the door. "A married man's idea of another man as a husband, always begins and ends with his idea of himself." He turned to me, as the door closed on Mr. Finch. "Now we are alone, Madame Pratolungo," he said, "I want to speak to you about Miss Finch. There is an opportunity, before she comes in. Oscar's letter only told me that she was blind. I am naturally interested in everything that relates to my brother's future wife. I am particularly interested about this affliction of hers. May I ask how long she has been blind?"
"Since she was a year old," I replied.
"Through an accident?"
"No."
"After a fever? or a disease of any other sort?"
I began to feel a little surprised at his entering into these medical details.
"I never heard that it was through a fever, or other illness," I said.
"So far as I know, the blindness came on unexpectedly, from some cause that did not express itself to the people about her, at the time."
He drew his chair confidentially nearer to mine. "How old is she?" he asked.
I began to feel more than a little surprised; and I showed it, I suppose, on telling him Lucilla's age.
"As things are now," he explained, "there are reasons which make me hesitate to enter on the question of Miss Finch's blindness either with my brother, or with any members of the family. I must wait to speak about it to _them,_ until I can speak to good practical purpose. There is no harm in my starting the subject with _you._ When she first lost her sight, no means of restoring it were left untried, of course?"
"I should suppose not," I replied. "It's so long since, I have never asked."
"So long since," he repeated--and then considered for a moment.
His reflections ended in a last question.
"She is resigned, I suppose--and everybody about her is resigned--to the idea of her being hopelessly blind for life."
Instead of answering him, I put a question on my side. My heart was beginning to beat rapidly--without my knowing why.
"Mr. Nugent Dubourg," I said, "what have you got in your mind about Lucilla?"
"Madame Pratolungo," he replied, "I have got something in my mind which was put into it by a friend of mine whom I met in America."
"The friend you mentioned in your letter to your brother?"
"The same."
"The German gentleman whom you propose to introduce to Oscar and Lucilla?"
"Yes."
"May I ask who he is?"
Nugent Dubourg looked at me attentively; considered with himself for the second time; and answered in these words:
"He is the greatest living authority, and the greatest living operator, in diseases of the eye."
The idea in his mind burst its way into my mind in a moment.
"Gracious God!" I exclaimed, "are you mad enough to suppose that Lucilla's sight can be restored, after a blindness of one-and-twenty years?"
He suddenly held up his hand, in sign to me to be silent.
At the same moment the door opened; and Lucilla (followed by Oscar) entered the room.
