Robert Buchanan - Foxglove Manor, Volume II (of III)

As Haldane sat in his study, the evening previous to the morning fixed for his journey to London, Baptisto entered quickly and stood before the desk at which his master was busily writing.

“Can I speak to you, senor?” Haldane looked and nodded.

“What is it, Baptisto?”

“You have arranged that I shall go with you to-morrow, but I have had during the last few days an attack of my old vertigo. Can you possibly dispense with my attendance, senor?” Haldane stared in surprise at the Spaniards face, which was inscrutable as usual.

“Do you mean to say you wish to remain at home?”

“Certainly, senor.”

“Why? because you are ill? On the contrary, you look in excellent health. No; it is impossible. I cannot get along without you.”

And Haldane returned to his papers as if the matter was ended.

Baptisto, however, did not budge, but remained in the same position, with his dark eyes fixed upon his master.

“Do me this favour, senor. I am really indisposed, and must beg to remain.”

Haldane laughed, for an idea suddenly occurred to him which seemed to explain the mystery of his servant’s request.

“My good Baptisto, I think I understand the cause of your complaint, and I am sure a little travel will do you good. It is that dark-eyed widow of the lodge-keeper who attaches you so much to the Manor. The warm blood of Spain still burns in your veins, and, despite your sad experience of women, you are still impressionable. Eh? am I right?”

Baptisto quickly shook his head, with the least suspicion of a smile upon his swarthy face.

“I am not impressionable, senor, and I do not admire your English women; but I wish to remain all the same.”

“Nonsense!”

“Nonsense! In serious lament, senor, I beseech you to allow me to remain.”

But Haldane was not to be persuaded at what he conceived to be a mere whim of his servant. He still believed that Baptisto had fallen a captive to the charms of Mrs. Feme, a little plump, dark-eyed woman, with a large family. He had frequently of late seen the Spaniard hanging about the lodge – on one occasion nursing and dandling the youngest child – and he had smiled to himself, thinking that the poor fellow’s misanthropy, or rather his misogynism, was in a fair way of coming to an end.

Finding his master indisposed to take his request seriously, Baptisto retired; and presently Haldane strolled into the drawing-room, where he found his wife.

“Have you heard of the last freak of Baptisto? He actually wants to remain at ease, instead of accompanying me in my journey.”

Ellen looked up from some embroidery, in which she was busily engaged.

“On no account!” she exclaimed. “If you don’t take him with you, I. shall not stay in the place.”

“Dear me! said the philosopher. Surely you are not afraid of poor Baptisto!”

“Not afraid of him exactly, but he makes me shiver. He comes and goes like a ghost, and when you least expect him, he is at your elbow. Then, of course, I cannot help remembering he has committed a murder!”

“Nothing of the kind,” said Haldane, laughing and throwing himself into a chair. “My dear Ellen, you don’t believe the whole truth of that affair. True, he surprised that Spanish wife of his with her gallant, whom he stabbed; but I have it on excellent authority that it was a kind of duello; the other man was armed, and so it was a fair fight.” Ellen shuddered, and showed more nervous agitation than her husband could quite account for.

“Take him away with you,” she cried; “take him away. If you never bring him back, I shall rejoice. If I had been consulted, he would never have been brought to England.”

A little later in the evening, when Haldane had returned to his papers, which he was diligently finishing to take away with him, he rang and summoned the Spaniard to his presence.

“Well, it is all settled. I have consulted your mistress, and she insists in your accompanying me to-morrow.”

A sharp flash came upon Baptisto’s dark eyes. He made an angry gesture; then controlling himself, he said in a low, emphatic voice —

“The senora means it? She does not wish me to remain?”

“Just so.”

“May I ask why?

“Only because she does not want you, and I do. Between ourselves, she is not quite so certain of you as I am. She has never forgotten that little affair in Spain.”

Again the dark eyes flashed, and again there was the same angry gesture, instantly checked.

Haldane continued.

“You are violent sometimes, my Baptisto, and madame is a little afraid of you. When she knows you better, as I know you, she will be aware that you are rational; at present – ”

“At present, senor,” said Baptisto, “she would rather not have me so near. Ah, I can understand! Perhaps she has reason to be afraid.”

Something in the man’s manner, which was sinister and almost threatening, jarred upon his master’s mind. Rising from his chair, Haldane stood with his back to the fire, and, with a frown, regarded the Spaniard, as, he said —

“Listen to me, Baptisto. I have noticed with great annoyance, especially of late, that your manner to madame has been strange, not to say sullen. You are whimsical still, and apt to take offence. If this goes on, if you fail in respect to your mistress, and make your presence uncomfortable in this house, we shall have to part.”

To Haldane’s astonishment, Baptisto asked an explanation, and, falling on his knees, seized his master’s hand and kissed it eagerly, “Senor! Senor! you don’t comprehend. You don’t think I am ungrateful, that I do not remember? But you are wrong. I would die to save you – yes, I would die; and I would kill with my own hand any one who did you an injury. I am your servant, your slave – ah yes, till death.”

“Come, get up, and go and finish packing my things.”

“But, senor – ”

“Get up, I say.”

The Spaniard rose, and with folded hands and bent head stood waiting.

“Get ready like a sensible fellow, and let us have no more of this foolery. There, there, I understand. You are exciting yourself for nothing.”

“Then, I am to go, senor?”

“Certainly.”

Early the next morning Baptisto entered the carriage with his master, and was driven to the railway station, some seven miles away. As they went along, Haldane noticed that the man looked very ill, and that from time to time he put his hand to his head as if in pain. At the railway station, while they were waiting for the train, matters looked most serious. Suddenly the Spaniard fell forward on the platform as if in strong convulsions, his eyes starting out of his head, his mouth foaming. They sprinkled water on his face, chafed his hands, and with some difficulty brought him round.

“The devil!” muttered Haldane to himself. “It looks like epilepsy!” Baptisto was placed on a seat, and lay back ghastly pale, as if utterly exhausted.

“Are you better now?” asked Haldane, bending over him.

“A little better, senor.”

But seeing him so utterly helpless, and likely to have other seizure, Haldane rapidly calculated in his own mind the inexpediency of taking him away on a long railway journey. After all, the poor fellow had not exaggerated his condition, when he had pleaded illness as an excuse for remaining at home.

“After all,” said Haldane, “I think you will have to remain behind.”

Baptisto opened his eyes feebly, and stretched out his hands.

“No, senor; since you wish it, I will go.”

“You shall remain,” answered Haldane, just as the whistle of the coming train was heard in the distance. “Perhaps, if you are better in a day or two, you can follow; but you will go away now in the carriage, and send over to Dr. Spruce, and he will prescribe for you.”