Ai Ai mmmmm^mmm^mmmmmmm^mM 4 o 1 7 4 2 y |HH r-, P P^H -ii < 1 : ■ issassfls^^ :;'*MSSyt»!«S«il^^^ LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SANTA BARBARA PRESENTED BY MRS. DONALD KELLOGG •^ LUTTEELL OF AERAN. T ^i ^ '^/^e/'^^u?^€>^l€i7''t^tuz^^^. r H A r-fin aV &: H A l u 1 q'-> P i dCA d i u LUTTRELL OF ARRAN. BY CHARLES LEVER AUTHOR OP "THE KNIGHT OF GWYNNE," "DODD FAMILY ABROAD," "DAVENPORT DUNN," "HARRINGTON," ETC. WITH 32 ILLUSTRATIONS BY "PHIZ," NEW EDITION LONDON : CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 1873. 4^H , <7 L-.O I : r CONTENTS. OHAPTBB I. — A WILD LANDSCAPE II. — A YACHTING FAJBTY. III. — AN OLD STORY IV. — ON BOAKD .... V. — HOW THE SPOIL WAS DIVIDED VI. — ON THE SEA-SHORE AT NIGHT VII. — A COTTAGE IN WALES . VIII. — AN OLD bachelor's HOUSE . IX. — MR. M'KINLAY'S trials X. — THE SHEBEEN ... * XI. — THE LEGEND OP LUTTRELL AND THE XII. — THE WALK IN THE MOUNTAINS Xni. — THE PROJECT XIV. — A DISCUSSION XV. — MR. M'KINLAY's MISSION XVI. — THE OLD LEAVEN , XVII. — THE nor'-wester . XVIII. — A SKIPPER .... XIX. — THE LAWYER " ABROAD " XX. — THE SUPPER AT ARRAN. XXI. — A WELCOME HOME XXII. — SOME WORDS AT PARTING XXIII. — MALONE IN GOOD COMPANY . XXIV. — A QUIET TALK IN A GARDEN XXV. — THE TWO PUPILS . XXVI. — THE DINNER IN THE SCHOOLROOM XXVII. — KITTY XXVIII. — SIR WITHIN "at HOME " XXIX. — MR. M'kINLAY IS PUZZLED . XXX. — SCANDAL .... XXXI. — DERRYVARAGL XXXII. — MR. m'KINLAY IN ITAxY 1 7 15 22 30 37 48 51 60 65 72 78 85 90 95 100 105 114 120 129 137 146 150 156 161 168 173 181 188 194 205 212 IT. CONTENTS. XXXin. — SIR WITHIN AND HIS WAKD XXXIV. — SIR witiiin's guests . XXXV. — A WALK UKFOKE DINNER XXXVI. — A NEW FRIENDSHIP XXXVII. — A WOODLAND RIDE XXXVIII. — SCHEMING . XXXIX. — WITH DOCTORS . XL. — A SUDDEN REVERSE XLI. — THE DARK TIDINGS XLII. — THE SANDS AT SUNSET XLIII. — THE INSULT XLIV. — THE FLIGHT XLV. — ON ARRAN . XLVI. — THE STRANGER AT THE WELL XLVII. — HOW KATE WAS TASILED XLVIII. — HOW THE TASK TRIED HER XLIX. — MR. O'RORKE ABROAD. L. — TWO OF A TRADE LI. — THE boar's HEAD LII. — THE NIGHT AT SEA LIII. — THE GAOL PARLOUR LIV. — IN CONCLAVE LV. — STILL CONSPIRING LVI. — A HEAVY BLOW . LVII. — THE HOME OF SORROW LVIII. — SIR WITHIN ABROAD . LIX. — MR. GRENFELL's ROOM LX. — MR. M'KINLAY IN THE TOILS LXI. — MR. M'KINLAY's "INSTRUCTIONS" LXII. — FISHING IN TROUBLED WATERS LXIII. — WITH LAWYERS LXIV. — ON THE ISLAND LXV. — THE LUTTRELL BLOOD LXVI.— A CHRISTMAS AT ARRAN LXVII. — A CIIR1STM.\S ABROAD LXVIII. — TRUSTFULNESS LXIX. — THE END . PAOB 224 229 234 243 249 255 261 273 282 289 293 297 303 310 317 321 329 334 345 350 356 3G5 372 380 388 395 402 407 414 418 426 434 449 457 400 468 474 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PASS Feontispiece The Wake ... ... 13 The Kecluse ... ... ... ... ... 15 The Necklace ... ... ... ... ... ... % The Man of Law and the Tourists ... ... ... 46 Luttrell and the Little Black Gentleman ... ... ... 75 Company on the Road ... ... ... ... 80 Molly Praying for Young Harry's Safety ... ... ... 108 Mr. Dodge Examing the Gimcracks ... ... ... 115 Mr. M'Kinlay Repairing Damages after the Storm ... ... 120 Parting Words ... ... ... ... ... 135 Nature, Art and Criticism ... ... ... .. 150 The Little Red Man ... ... ... ... 171 Golden Dreams ... ... ... ... ... ... 184 The Letter ... ... ... .. ... 208 On the Brink ... ... ... ... ... ... 216 The Hen Pheasant ... ... ... ... ... 228 TheFaU ... ... ... ... ... ... 251 The Legacy ... ... .. ... ... 272 The Sands at Sunset ... ... ... ... ... 289 Vengeful Thoughts ... ... ... ... ... 294 The Stranger at the Well ... ... ... ... 312 New Occiipations ... ... ... ... ... 333 Mr. O'Rorke Sups in State ... ... ... ... 337 Molly's Entreaties ... ... ... ... ... 353 A Heavy Blow ... ... ... ... ... ... 383 The Will ... ... ... ... ... ... 394 A Consultation ... ... ... ... ... ... 404 Mr. M'Kinlay Making Signals ... ... ... 418 MoUy Sees the Ghost of "the Master " ... ... .. 439 "ToBeornottoBel" ... ... ... ... 479 LUTIIIELL OF A.mM. .^- CHAPTER I A WILD LANDSCAPE. " One half the world knows not how the other half lives," says the adage ; and there is a peculiar force iii the maxim when applied to certain remote and little-visited districts in these islands, where the people are abont as unknown to us as though they inhabited some lonely rock in the South Pacific. While the great world, not very far off, busies itself with all the appliances of state and science, amusing its leisure by problems which, once on a time, would have been reserved for the studies of philosophers and sages, these poor creatures drag on an existence rather beneath than above the habits of savage life. Their dwellings, their food, their clothes, such as generations of their fathers pos- sessed; and neither in their culture, their aspirations, nor their ways, advanced beyond what centmies back had seen them. Of that group of islands off the north-west coast of Ireland called the Arrans, Luiishmore is a striking instance of this neglect and desolattefir'" Probably within the wide sweep of the British islands there could not be found a spot more irretrievably given up to poverty and barbarism. Some circular mud hovels, shaped like beehives, and with a central aperture for the escape of the smoke, are the dwellings of an almast naked, famine-stricken people, whose looks, language, and gestures mark tliem out for foreigners if they chance to come over to the mauiland. Deriving their scanty sub- sistence almost entirely from fishing and kelp-burning, they depend for hfc upon the chances of the seasons, in a spot where storms are all but perpetual, and where a day of comparative calm is a rara event. 2 LL'TTHELL OF An^^A:^f. Curious enough it is to mark that iji this wild, uugenial spot civilisation had once set foot, and some Christian pilgrims found a restmg-plaec. There is no certain record of whence or how they first came, but the Abbey of St. Finbar dates from an early century, and the strong walls yet attest the size and proportions of the ancient monastery. Something like forty years ago the islanders learned that the owner of the island, of whose existence they then heard for the fust time, proposed to come over and live there, and soon afterwards a few workmen arrived, and, in some weeks, con- verted the old crypt of the Abbey into something habitable, adding two small chambers to it, and building a chimney — a work of art — which, whether meant for defence or some religious object, Avas, during its construction, a much-debated question by the people. The intention to resume a sovereignty which had laui so long in abeyance would have been a bold measure in such a spot if it had not been preceded by the assurance that the chief meant to disturb nothing, dispute nothing of vested interests. They were told that he who was coming was a man weary of the world and its ways, who desired simply a spot of earth where he might live in peace, and where, dyiug, he might leave his bones with the Lut trells, whose graves for generations back thronged the narrow aisle of the church. These tacts, and that he had a sickly wife and one child, a boy of a few years oid, were all that they knew of him. If the bare idea of a superior was distasteful in a community where common misery had taught brotherhood, the notion was dispelled at sight of the' sad, sorrow-stricken man who landed on an evening of September, and walked from the boat through the surf beside his wife, as two sailors carried her to shore. He held his little boy's hand, refusing the many offers that were made to carry him, though the foaming water surged at times above the little fellow's waist, and made him plunge with childish glee and laughter; that infant courage ani light-heartedness going farther into the hearts of the wild people than if the father had come to greet them with costly presents! John Luttrcll was not above six-and-thirty, but he looked fifty ; liis hair was perfectly white, his blue eyes dimmed and circled with dark wrinkles, his shoulders stooped, and his look downcast. Of his wife it could be seen that she had once been handsome, but her wasted figure and incessant cough showed she was in the last stage of consumption. The child was a picture of infantile beauty, and that daring boldness which sits so gracefully on childhood. If he \v:us dressed in the very cheapest and least costly fashion, to the islanders he seemed attired in very splendour, and his jacket of dark crimson cloth and a little feather that he wore in his cap sufficed to win for liim the name of the Prince, which he never lost afterward. It could not be supposed that sueh an advent would not create a great stir and connuotion in the little colony; the ways, the looks, tlic demeanour, and the requirements of the" new comers, fumishiug A ■^ILD LANDSCAPE. 3 for weeks, and even montlis, topics for conversation ; but gradually this wore itself out. Molly Kyau, the one sole domestic servant who accompanied the Luttrells, being of an uncommunicative temper, contributed no anecdotic details of m-door life to stimulate interest and keep curiosity alive. All that they knew of Luttrell was to meet him in his walks, and receive the short, not over- courteous nod with which lie acknowledged their salutations. Of his wife, they only saw the wasted form that half lay, half sat at a window; so that all their thoughts were centred in the child — the Prince — who came famiharly amongst them, micared for and unheeded by his own, and free to pass his days with the other children as they heaped wood upon the kelp fires, or helped the fishermen to dry their nets upon the shore. In the uuiocence of their primitive life this familiarity did not trench upon the respect they felt they owed him. They did not regard his presence as anything like condescension, they could not think of it as derogation, but they felt throughout that he was not one of them, and his golden hair and his tiny hands and feet were as unmistakable marks of station as though he wore a coronet or carried a sceptre. The unbroken melancholy that seemed to mark Luttrell's life, his uneommunicativeness, his want of interest or sympathy in all that went on aroimd Ihm, would have inspired, by themselves, a sense of fear amongst the people ; but to these traits were added others that seemed to augment this terror. His days were passed in search of rehcs and antiquarian objects, of which the Abbey possessed a rich store, and to their simple intelligence these things smacked of magic. To hear the chnk of his spade within the walls of the old church by day, and to see the lone Ught m his chamber, where it was rmnoured he sat sleej^less throughout the night, were always enough to exact a paternoster and a benediction from the peasant, whose whole rehgions training began and ended with these olBces. Nor was the chUd destined to escape the hifluence of this popular impression. He was rarely at home, and, when there, scarcely noticed or spoken to. His poor sick mother would draw him to her heart, and as she pressed his golden locks close to her, her tears would fall fast upon them, but dreaduig lest her sorrow should throw a shade over his sunny happiness, she would try to engage him in some out-of-door pursuit again — send liim off to ask if the fishermen had taken a full haul, or when some one's new boat would be ready for launehmg. Of the room m which the recluse sat, and wherein he alone ever entered, a chance peep through the ivy-covered casement oifered nothing very reassuring. It was a narrow, lofty cliambcr, with a groined roof and a flagged floor, formed of ancient gravestones, the sculptured sides downwards. Two large stufl^d seals sat guardwise on either side of the fireplace, over which, on a bracket, was an ous human skull, an inscription being attached to it, with the 1—2 4 LUTTEELL OF ARIIA>J, reasons for believing its size to be gigantic ratlier than the con- seqviences of diseased growth. Strange-shaped bones, and arrow- heads, and stone spears and javehns decorated the walls, with amber ornaments and clasps of metal. A massive font served as a wash- staud, and a broken stone cross formed a coat-rack. In one corner, enclosed by two planks, stood an humble bed, and opposite the tire was the oiily chair in the chamber — a rude contrivance, fasliioncd from a root of bog-oak, black with centuries of interment. It was late at night that Luttrcll sat here, reading an old volume, whose parchment cover was stained and discoloured by time. The window was open, and offered a wide view over the sea, on which a fault moonlight shone out at times, and whose didl siu'ging plash broke with a uniform measure on the shore beneath. Twice had he laid down his book, and, opening the door, stood to listen for a moment, and then resumed liis reading ; l)at it was easy to see that the pages did not engage his attention, nor was he able, as he sought, to find occupation in their contents. At last there came a gentie tap to tlie door ; he arose and opened it. It was the woman-servant who formed his household, who stood tearful and trembling before him. "Well?" said he, in some emotion. "Father Lowric is come," said she, timidly. He only nodded, as though to say, " Go on." "And he'll give her the rights," continued she ; "but he says he hopes that you'll come over to Behnullet on Snnday, and declare at the altar how it was." "Declare what?" cried he; and his voice rose to a key of passionate eagerness that was almost a shriek. " Declare what?" " He means, that you'll tell the people " " Send him here to mc," broke in Luttrcll, angrily. " I'm not , gouig to discuss this with you." "Sure isn't he giving her the blessed Sacrament!" said she, indignantly. " Leave me, then — leave me in peace," said he, as he turned away and leaned his head on the chimney-piece ; and then, without raising it, added, " and tell the priest to come to me before he goes away." Tlie woman had not gone many minutes, when a heavy step ap- proaclied the door, and a strong knock was heard. " Come in ! " cried Luttrcll, and there entered a short, shghtly-madc man, middle- aged and active-looking, M'ith bright black eyes, and a tall, straight forehead, to whom Luttrcll motioned the only chair as he came forward. " It'.s all over, Sir. She's in glory ! " said he, reverently. " Without pain ? " asked LuttrelL " A parting pang — no more. She was calm to the last. Indeed, :icr last words were to repeat what she had pressed so often upoa me." A M"ILD LAXDSCArE. 5 "Ikiiow — I know!" broke iu Luttrell, impatiently. "I never denied it." "True, Sir; but you never aclvnovrledged it," said the priest, hardily. " When you bad tbe courage to make a peasant girl your wife, you ought to have had the courage to declare it also." " To have taken her to the Coui't, I hope — to have presented her to Royalty — to have paraded my shame and my folly before the world whose best kindness was that it forgot me ! Look here, Sir ; my wife was brought up a Cathohc ; I never mterfercd with her con- victions. If I never spoke to her on the subject of her faith, it was no small concession from a man who felt on the matter as I did. I sent for you to administer to her the rights of her Cluirch, but not to lecture me on my duties or my obligations. What I ought to do, and when, I have not to learn from a Roman Catholic priest." " And yet. Sir, it is a Catholic priest will force you to do it. There was no staui on your wife's fame, and there shall be none upon her memory." " What is the amount of my debt to you, Father Lowiie ? " asked Luttrell, calmly and even courteously. " Nothing, Sir ; not a farthing. Her father was a good friend to me and mine before ruin overtook him. It wasn't for money I came here to-night." " Then you leave me your debtor, Sir, and against my will." " But you needn't be, Mr. Luttrell," said the priest, with eagerness. " She that has just gone, begged and prayed me with her last breath to look after her httle boy, and to see and watch that he was not brought up in darkness." " I understand you. You were to brmg him into your ovra fold. If you hope for success for such a scheme, take a likelier moment^ father ; this is not your tune. Leave me now, I pray you. I have much to attend to." " May I hope to have an early opportmiity to see and ta^k with you, Mr. Luttrell." "You shall hear from me. Sir, on the matter, and early," said Luttrell. " Your own good feelmg will show this is not the moment to press me." Abashed by the manner in which these last words were spoken, the father bowed low and withdi'ew. " Well ? " cried the ser\'ant-womau, as he passed out, " wiU he do it, your reverence ? " " Not to-day, anyhow, Molly," said he, with a sigh. How Luttrell sorrowed for the loss of his wife was not known. It was beheved that he never passed the tln-eshold of the door where she lay — never went to take one farewell look of her. He sat moodily in his room, going out at times to give certaia orders about the iiuicral, which was to take place on the third day. A messenger had been despatched to his wife's relatives, who Uved about seventy C LtJTTRELL OF ARBAN. mfles off, doMm the coast of Mayo, and to mvite their, to attend. Of lier iniinediate family none remained. Her fatlier was in banishment, the commutation of" a sentence of death. Of her two In-others, one had died on the scaffokl, and another had csea])ed to America, whither lier three sisters had followed him ; so that except her uncle, Peter Hogan, and his family, and a half-brother of her mother's, a certain Joe Rafter, who kept a shop at Laliiiich, there were few to follow her to the grave as mourners. Peter had foiu- sons and several daughters, three of them married. They were of the class of small farmers, very little above the condition of the cottier; but they were, as a family a determined, resolute, hard-headed race, not a little dreaded in the neighbourhood where they lived, and well known to be knit together l)y ties that made an injury to any one of them a feud that the whole family would avenge. For years and years Luttrell had not seen or even heard of them. He had a vague recollection of having seen Peter Hogan at Ins mar- riage, and once or twice afterwards, Init preserved no i-ecoUcction of hiiii. Nothing short of an absolute necessity — for as such he felt it — would have induced him to send for them now ; but he knew well how riirid were popular prejudices, and how impossible it would have been for him to Uve amongst a people whose most cherished feelings be would have outraged, had he omitted the accustomed honours to the dead. He told his seiTant !Molly to do all that was needful on the occasion — to provide for those melancholy festivities which the lower Irish adhere to with a devotion that at once blends their religious ardour with their intensely strong imaginative power. " There is but one thing 1 will not bear," said lie. " They must not come in upon me. I will see them when they come, and take leave of (hem when they go; but they arc not to expect me to take any i)art in their proceedings. Into this room I will suffer none to enter." " And Master Harry," said the woman, wiping her eyes with her apron — "whafs to be done with him? 'Tis two days that he's tlicrc, aiul he won't leave the corpse." " It's a child's sorrow, and will soon wear itself out." " Ay, but it's killing him ! " said she, tenderly — it's killing liim in the mean while." "He belongs to a tougii race," said he, with a bitter smile, "that Tieither sorrow tor shame ever killed. Leave the boy alone, and he'll come to himself the sooner." The peasant woman felt almost sick in her horror at such a senti- ment, and she moved towards the door to pass out. "Have you thought of everything, Molljf" asked he, oiore mildly. " 1 think so, Sir. Tiiere's to be twenty -eight at the wake — twenty- A YACHTING VAKTY. 7 nine, if Mr. Eaftei- comes ; but we don't expect him— and Father Lowrie would make thu-ty ; but we've plenty for them all." "And when will this — this feasting — take place?" " The night before the funeral, by coorse/' said the woman. " And they wUl all leave this the next morning, Molly ? " " Indeed I suppose they will. Sir," said she, no less offended at the doubt than at the inhospitable meanness of the question. " So be it, then !" said he, with a sigh. " I have nothing more to say. " You know. Sir," said she, with a great effort at corn-age, " that they'll expect your Honour will go in for a minute or two — to drink their healths, and say a few words to them ? " He shook his head in dissent, but said nothing. " The Hogans is as proud a stock as any ui Mayo, Sii-," said she, eagerly, " and if they thought it was any clisrespect to her that was gone " " Hold your tongue, woman," cried he, impatiently. " She was my wife, and / know better what becomes her memory than these ignorant peasants. Let there be no more of this ; " and he closed the door after her as she went out, and turned the key in it, in token that he would not brook more disturbance. CHAPTER II. A YACHTING P A K T Y. In a beautiful little bay on the north-east of Imiislimore, land- locked on all sides but the entrance, a handsome schooner yacht dropped her anchor just as the sun was setting. Amidst the desolate grandeur of those wild cliffs, against which the sea surged and plashed tUl the very rocks were smooth worn, that graceful little craft, with her tall and taper spars, and all her trim acljimcts, seemed a strange vision. It was the contrast of civilisation with barbarism ; they were the two poles of what are most separated in life — wealth and poverty. The owner was a Baronet, a certain Sir Gervais Vyner — one of those spoiled chikken of Fortune which England alone rears ; for while in other lands high birth and large fortune confer their dis- tinctive advantages, they do not tend, as they do with us, to great 8 LUITRELL OF ARR.VX. social eminence, and even political influence. Vyner liad got almost every prize in tliis -world's lottery ; all, indeed, but one ; his only child was a daughter, and this was tlie drop that suITiccd to turn to bitterness much of that cupfid of enjoyment Fate had offered to his Ups. He liad seen a good deal of life — done a little of everything — on the tiu-f — in the hunting-field — on the floor of tlie House he had •what was called " held lus own." He was, in fact, one of those accomplished, well-mannered, weU-lookmg people, who, so long as not pushed by any inordinate ambition mto a position of imdue importance, invariably get full credit for all the abilities they possess, ana, wliat is better still, attract no ill will for the possessuig them. As well as having done everything, he liad Idccu everywhere : up the Mediterranean, up the Baltic, into the Black Sea, up the St. Lawi-ence — everywhere but to L'cland — and now, in a duU autumn, when too late for a distant tour, he had induced his friend Grenfell to accompany him in a short cruise, with a distinct pledge that they were not to visit Dublin, or any otlicr of those cognate cities of which Irishmen are vain, but which to Mr. George Grenfell repre- sented all that was an outrage on good taste, and an insult to civili- sation. Mr. Grenfell, in one word, entertained for Ireland and the Irish sentiments tliat wouldn't have been thought very complimentary if applied to Fcjee islanders, with certain hopeless foreboduigs as to the future than even Pejee itself might have resented as unfau-. Nobody knew why tlicse two men were friends, but they were so. They seemed utterly unsuited in every way. Vyner loved travel, nici- dent, adventure, strange lands, and strange people ; he hkcd the very emergencies, the rougliings of the road. Grenfell was a Londoner, who only tolerated,- aiul not very patiently, whatever was beyond an easy drive of Hyde Park Corner. Vyner was a man of good Inrtli, and had higli connections on every side — advantages of which he no more di'camcd of being vain, than of the air he breathed. Mr. Grenfell was a nobody, with the additional disparagement of being a nol)ody that every one knew. GrenfeU's Italian warehouse, Greni'cll's potted meats, his pickled salmon, his caviare, his shrimps, his olives, and his patent maccaroni, being European iii cclcl)rity, and, though the means by which his father made an enormous fortmie, were miseries which poisoned life, rising sped re-like before him on every dinner- table, and staring at him in great capitals in every sup])lcmcnt of the Times. He would have changed his name, but he knew well that it would lave availed him nothing. The disguise would only have invited discovcrj', and the very mention of him exacted the explan- ation, " No more a Seymour nor a Villiers than you are ; the fellow is old GrenfeU's son ; ' Grenfeirs Game Sauce,' aiid the rest of it." A chance resemblance to a fashional)lc Earl suggested another expedient, and !Mr. George Grenfell got it about— how, it is not easy to say — that the noble Lord had greatly admired his mother, aad paid her marked attention at Scarborough. Whatever pleasiu-e A YACHTING PARTY. 9 Mr. George Grenfell felt in this theory is not easy to explain ; nor have we to explam what we simply narrate as a fact, v>'ithout the shghtest pretension to account for. Such were the two men who travelled together, and the yacht also contaiiied Vyner's daughter Ada, a little girl of eight, and her gover- ness. Mademoiselle Heinzleman, a Hanoverian lady, who claimed a descent fi-om the HohenzoUerns, and had pride enough for a Hapsburg. If Vyner and Grenfell were not very much alilvc in tastes, temperament, and condition, Grenfell and the German governess were positively antipathies ; nor was their war a secret or a smoiddering fire, but a blaze, to which each brought fuel every day, aiding the combustion by every appliance of skUl and ingenuity. Vyner loved his daughter passionately — not even the cbsappoiut- ment that she had not been a boy threw any cloud over Ins affection — and he took her with him when and wherever he coidd ; and, indeed, the pleasure of having her for a companion now made this little home torn- one of the most charming of all his excursions, and in her childish delight at new scenes and new people he renewed all his own memories of early travel. " Here you are, Sir," said Mr. Crab, late a saihng-master ui the Royal Navy, but now in command of The Meteor — " here you are ; " and he pointed with his finger to a little bay on the outspread chart that covered the cabin table. "Tliis is about it ! It may be either of these two ; each of them looks north — north by east — and each has this large mountain to the south'ard and west'ard." '"The north islands of Ai-ran,' read out Vyner, slowly, from a little MS. note-book. ' Innishmore, the largest of them, has several good anchorages, especially on the eastern side, few inhabitants, and all miserably poor. There is the ruhi of an Abbey, and a holy well of great reputed antiquity, and a strange relic of ancient superstition called the Judgment-stone, on which he who lays his hand while denoimcing a wrong done him bj another, brings down divine vengeance on either his enemy or hunself, according as his allegation is just or unjust. There is something similar to be found in the Brehon laws ' " " For mercy's sake don't give us more of that tiresome little book, which, from the day we sailed, has never contributed one single hint as to where we could find anything to cat, or even water fit to drmk," said GrenfeU. "Do you mean to go on shore in this barbarous place?" " Of course I do. Crab intends us to pass two days here ; we have sprung our foretopmast, and must look to it." " Blessed invention a yacht ! As a means of locomotion, there's not a cripple but could beat it ; and as a place to hve in, to eat, sleep, wash, and exercise, there's not a cell in Brixton is not a palace in compaiison." " Marlemoiselle wish to say good-night, Sare Vvner," said the go- 10 lUTTRELL OF AERAX. Tcraess, a tall, fair-liaii-ecl lady, with very light eyes, thick lips, aud an immense lower jaw, a type, but not a flattermg type, of German physiognomy. '"Let her come by all means;" and in an instant the door burst open, and with the spring of a young fa^Ti the httle girl was fast locked hi her father's arms. " Oil, is it not very soon to go to bed, papa dearest ? " cried she ; " and it woidd be so nice to wait a httle and see the moon shiumg on these big rocks here." "What does Mademoiselle Heinzleman say?" asked V\i\er, smiling at the eager face of the child. The lady appealed to made no other reply than by the production of a great silver watch with an enormous dial. " That is a real cimosity," cried Grenfcll. " Is it permissible to ask a nearer view of that remarkable clock. Miss Hemzleman ? " " Freihch ! " said she, not suspecting the slightest trace of raillery in the request. " It was made at Wurtzl)urg, by Jacob Schmelliug, year time 1730." "And intended probably, for the Town-hall?" " No, Saar," replied she, detecting the covert sneer ; " mtended for him whose arms it bear, Gottfried von Hemzleman, Burgomeistcr of Wurtzburg, a German noble, who neither made sausages nor sold Swiss cheeses." " Good-night ! good-night ! my own darling ! " said Vyner, kissing his child afl'cetionately. "You shall have a late evening to-morro^y, and a walk in the moonlight, too;" and after a hearty embrace from the little girl, and a respectful curtsey from the governess, returned with a not less respectful deference on his own part, Vjnicr closed the door after them, and resumed his seat. ""Wliat cursed tempers those Germans have," said Grcnfell, trying to seem careless and easy ; " even that good-natured joke about her watch she must take amiss." " Don't forget, George," said Vyner, good humourcdly, " that in any little passage of arms between you, you have the strong position, and hci-s is tlie weak one." "I wish, s/ie would have the kindness to remember that fact, but she is an aggressive old damsel, and never looks so satisfied as mIicu she imagines she has said an im))crtincnce." " She is an excellent governess, and Ada is very fond of her." " So mucli the worse for Ada." " ^Vliat do you mean by that ? " cried Vyner, with an energy that surprised the other. " Simply this ; that by a man who professes to believe that objects of beauty are almost as essential to be presented to the eyes of child- hood as maxims of morality, such a choice in a companion for his daughter is inexplicable. The woman is ugly, her voice discordant and jarring, her carriage and bearing atrocious — and will you tell me A YACIITIKG rARTY. 11 tliat all these -vrill fail to make their impression ■« hen associated with every tone and every incident of childhood ? " "You are not m your happiest mood to-night, George. "Was the claret bad ? " " I dranlc none of it. I took some of that Moselle cup, and it was tolerably good. By the way, when and how are we to get some ice ? Carter says we have very Uttle left." " Perhaps there may be glaciers in the wild region besides us. Ireland and Iceland have only a consonant between them. What if we go ashore and have a look at the place ? " A careless shrug of assent w'as the answer, and soon afterwards the trim yawl, manned by four stout fellows, skimmed across the smooth bay, and landed Vyner and his friend on a Uttle rocky promontory that formed a natural pier. It was complete desolation on every side of them : the mountain which rose from the sea was brown and blue with moss and heather, but not a human habitation, not an animal marked its side ; a few sea-bii'ds skimmed fearlessly across the water, or stood perched on peaks of rock close to the travellers, and a large seal heavily plunged into the depth as they landed ; save these, not a sign of anything livmg could be seen. "There is somethuig very depressing in this solitude," said Grenfell; "I detest these places where a man is thrown back upon himself." " Do you know, then, that at this very moment I was speculating on buying a patch of land here to build a cottage ; a cabui of three or iowr rooms, wdiere one might house himself if ever he came this way." " But why should he come this way ? What on earth should turn any man's steps twice in this direction ? " " Come, come, George ! You'll not deny that all this is very fine : that great mountain rising abruptly from the sea, w'ith narrow belt of yellow beach below it; those wild fantastic rocks, w-ith their drooping seaweed; those solemn caves, wherein the rumblmg sea rushes to issue forth again in some distant cleft, are all objects of grandeur and beauty, and, for myself, I feel as if I could linger for days amongst them imwearied." "What w-as that ? " cried Grenfell, as they now gained a crest of the ridge, and could see a wild irregidar valley that lay beneath, the shades of evenmg deepening mto very blackness the lower portions of the landscape. " Was that tlumder or the roar of the sea ? There it is again ! " They Ustened for a few moments, and again there came, borne on the fault land-breeze, a sound that swelled from a feeble wail to a wild sustained cry, rising and falhng till it died away just as it had begun. It was indescribably touchmg, and conveyed a sense of deep sorrow, ahnost of despair. It might have been the last cry of a smk- 12 LrTTRELL OF AKRAN. ing crew as tlie ■waves closed above tlicm ; and so indeed did it seem to Vvner as lie said, " if there had been a storm at sea, I'd have swoni that sound came from a sliipwreek." " I suppose it is only some other pleasant adjunct of the charm- ing spot you would select for a villa," said Grcnfell; "perhaps the seals or the grampuses are musical." *•' Listen to that ! " cried Vyner, laying a hand on his arm ; " and see ! yonder — far away to the left — there is a light ! " " Well, if there be inhabitants here, I'm not astonished that they cry over it." "Let us find out what it can mean, George." " Have yon any arms about you ? I have left my revolver behind, and have nothmg but this sword-cane." " I have not as much, and feel pretty sui'e we shall not need it. Every traveller in Ireland, even in the remotest tracts, bear witness to the kiudness wliieh is extended to the stranger." "They who come back from the Rocky Momitains are invariably ui love witii the Sioux Indians. The testimony that one wants is from the fellows who have been scalped." "AVhat an intense prejudice you have against all that is Irish!" " Say, if you like, that I have a prejudice against all mock cor- diality, mock frankness, mock hospitality, and mock intrepidity." "Stay, George! you can't impugn their courage." " I don't want to ijnpugn anythuig beyond the inordinate preten- sions to be something better, braver, more amiable, and more gifted than all the rest of the world. I say, Vyner, I liave had quite enough of this sort of walking; my feet are cut to pieces with these sharp stones, and every second step is into a puddle. Do you mean to go on ? " " Certauily ; I am determined to sec what that light means." "Then I turn back. I'll send the boat in again, and tell them to hoist a lantern, which, if the natives have not done for you in the meanwhile, you'll see on the beach." " Come along ; don't be lazy." " It's not laziness. I could walk a Parisian Boulevard for these three hours; what I object to is, tlie certainty of a cold, and the casualty of a sjiraincd ankle. A pleasant journey to you ; " and as he spoke, lie tunied abruptly round, and began to retrace liis steps. Vyner looked after him ; he called after him too, for a moment, but, as the other never heeded, he Ughted a fresh cigar and continued his way. The light, which seemed to tremble and flicker at first, shone steadily and hriglitly as he drew nearer, and at length he hit upon a Bort of pathway which greatly assisted his advance. The way, too, led gradually downwards, showmg that the glen or valley was far ?^ A YACHTING PARTY. 13 deeper tlian he at first supposed it. As he went on, the moon, a faint crescent, came out, and showed him the gable of an old ruhi rising above some stunted trees, through whose fohage, at times, he fancied he saw tlie glitter of a light. These lay in a little cleft that opened to the sea, and on the shore, drawn up, were two boats, on whose sides the cold moonlight shone clearly. "So, there are people who live here!" thought he; "perhaps Grenfell was right. It might have been as well to have come armed ! " He hesitated to go on. Stories of wreckers, tales of wild and lawless men in remote untravelled lands, rose to his mind, and he half doubted if it were prudent to proceed farther. Half ashamed of his fears, half dreading the bantering he was sure to meet from Grenfell, he M ent forward. The path led to a small river where stepping-stones 'Vere ])laced, and crossing this, the foot track became broader, and ('.vidcutly had been more travelled. The night was now perfectly i'iill and calm, the moonlight touched the moimtaui towards its peak, b it all beneath was in sombre blackness, more especially near the old church, whose ruined gable his eyes, as they grew familiarised with the darkness, could clearly distingmsh. Not a sound of that strange unearthly dirge that he first heard was audible; all was silent ; so silent, indeed, that he was startled by the sliarp cracklmg of the tall reeds which grew close to the path, and which he occa- sionally broke as he pressed forward. The path stopped abruptly at a stone stile, over which he clambered, and found himself iii a httle enclosiu'e planted vvith potatoes, beyond which was a dense copse of thorns and hazel, so tangled that the path became very tortuous and winding. Ou issiring from this, he found himself in front of a strong glare of light, which issued from a circular window of the gable several feet above his head, at the same time that he heard a sort of low monotonous moaning sound, broken at intervals by a swell of chorus, which he at length detected was the response of people engaged in prayer. Creeping stealthily around through dock- weeds and nettles, he at last fomid a narrow loopholed wmdow to which his hands could just reach, and to which, after a brief efibrt, he succeeded in Ufting himself. The scene on which he now looked never faded from his memory. In the long narrow aisle of the old Abbey a company of men and women sat two deep round the walls, the space in the centre being occcupied by a coffin placed on trestles ; rude torches of bog-pine stuck m the walls threw a red and lurid glare over the faces, and lit up their expressions with a vivid dis- tinctness. At the head of the coffin sat an old grey-headed man of stern and formidable look, and an air of savage determination, which CTen grief had not softened; and close beside him on a low stool, sat 8 child, who, overcome by sleep as it seemed, had laid his head on the old man's knee, and slept profoundly. From this old man pro- ceeded the low muttering words which the others answered by a sort of chant, the only mterruption to which was when any one of the li LUTTRELL OF ARRAN. surrovuiders would rise from his place to deposit some small piece of money on a plate wliich stood on the coffin, and was meant to contain the offeruiffs for the priest. If the language tliey spoke in was strange and nnuitcUigible to Vvner's cars, it did not the less convey, as the sound of Irish unfaihndy does to all unaccustomed cars, a sometliing terribly energetic and passionate — every accent was strik- mg, and every tone full of power — but far more still was he struck by the faces on every side. He had but scon the Irish of St. Giles's ; the ])hysiognomy he alone knew was that blended one of sycophancy and dissipation that a degraded and demoralised class wear. He had never before seen that fierce vigour and concentrated earnestness wliich mark the native face. Still less had he any idea what its ex- pression could become when heightened by religious fervour. There were fine features, noble foreheads wide and spacious, calm brows, and deeply-set eyes, in many around, but in all were the lower jaw and moutli coarse and depraved-looking. There was no lack of power, it is true, but it was a power that could easily adapt it self to violence and cruelty, and when they spoke, so overmastering seemed this impulse of their uatui-e, that the eyes lost the gentleness they had worn, and flashed with an angry and vindictive brilliancy. Drhik was served round at intervals, and freely partaken of, and from the gestui-es and vehemence of the old man, Vyner conjectured that something Uke toasts were responded to. At moments, too, the prayers for the dead would seem to be forgotten, and brief snatches of conversation would occur, and even joke and laughter were heard; when suddenly, as though to recall thcni to the solemn rites of the hour, a voice, always a woman's, would burst in with a cry, at first fault, but gradually rising till it became a wild yell, at one particular cadence of which — just as one has seen a spaniel howl at a certaia note — the rest would seem unable to control themselves, and break in with a rush of sound that made the old walls ring again. Dread- ful as it had seemed before, it was far more fearful now, as he stood close by, and could mark, besides, the highly-wrought expres- sions, the terribly passionate faces around. So fascmated was he by the scene — so completely had its terrible reality impressed him — that Vyner could not leave the spot, and he gazed till he knew, and for many a long year after could remember, every face that was there. More than once was he disposed to venture ill amongst them, and ask, as a stranger the privilege of joining the solemnity, l)ut fear withcld him; and as the first pinkish streak of dawn appeared, he crept cautiously down and alighted on the grass. By the gi-ey half-liglit he could now see objects around him, and perceive that the Abbey was a small structure with little architectural pretensions though from the character of the masonry of vciy great age. At one end, v.-Iici-c a square tower of evidently later date stood AN OLD STORY. 15 something like an attempt at a dwelling-house existed — at least, two windows of unequal size api^eaved, and a low doorway, the timbers of ■wlu'eh had once formed part of a ship. Passing round the angle of this humble home, he saw a fauit streak of light issue from an open casement, over which a wUd honeysuckle had grown, attaching itself to the iron bars that guarded the window, and almost succeeded in shutting out the day. Curious for a glance withui this strange dwelluig-place, Vyner stole near and peeped in. A tiny oil-lamp on a table was the only light, but it threw its glare on the face of a man asleep ui a deep arm-chair — a pale, careworn, melancholy face it was, with a mass of white hair unkempt hangmg partly across it. Vyner passed his hands across his eyes as though to satisfy himself that he was awake. He looked agaui ; he even parted the twigs of the honeysuckle to give liim more space, and as he gazed, the sleeper tiu'ued slightly, so that the full features came to view. " Good God ! It is Luttrell ! " muttered Vyner, as he quietly stole away and set out for the beach. Anxious at his long absence, two of his crew had come in search of him, and ia their company he retui'ued to the shore and went on board. CHAPTEll III. AN OLD STOKY. It was late in the day when Vyner awoke and got up. Late as it was, he found Grenfell at breakfast. Seated imder an awning on the deck, before a table spread with every luxm-y, that much-to-be-pitied individual was, if not watering his bread with tears, sipping his chocolate with chagrui. " He had no newspaper ! " — uo broad sheet of gossip, with debates, divorces, banlvruptcies and defalcations — no moral lessons adminstered to foreign Kings and Kaisers, to show them how the Press of England had its eye on them, and would not fail to expose their short-comings to that great nation, which in the suc- ceeding leader was the text for a grand pgean over increased revenue juid augmented exports. Grenfell had a very nattu'al taste for this sort of readiu^. It sup- IG LrXTllELL OF AURAX. plied to liim, as to many others, a sort of patent patriotism, "which, like his father's potted meats, could be carried to any climate, and be ahvays fresh. "Is not this a glorious day, George?" said Vyner, as he came on deck. " There is something positively exhilaratuig in the fresh and heath-scented air of tliat great mountain." " I'd rather follow a watering-cart down Piccadilly, if I was on the look-out for a sensation. How long are we to be moored in this dreary spot ? " " Not very long. Don't be impatient, and listen while I recount to you my adventure of last night." " Let me fill my pipe, then. Carter, fetch me my meerschaum. Now for it," said he, as he disposed his legs on an additional chair. "I only hope the story has no beautiful traits of Irish peasant life, for I own to no very generous dispositions with regard to these interesting people, when I see the place they live in." Not in the slightest degi'ee moved by tlie other's irritabiUty, Vyner began a narrative of his ramble, witli all the poM'cr that a recent imjiression could impart of the scene of the wake, and pic- tured grapliicaUy enough the passion-wrought faces and wild looks of the moui'uers. "I was comuig away at last," said he, "when, on turning an angle of the old churcli, I found myself directly in front of a little window, fi-om whieli a light issued. I crept close and peeped in, and there, asleep in a large arm-chair, was a man I once knew wcl! — as well, or even better, than I know you — a man I had chummed with at Christ Church, and lived for years with on terms of close affection. If it were not that his features were such as never can be forgotten, I might surely have failed to recognise him, for though my own con- temporary, he looked fuUy fifty." "A\Tio was he?" abruptly broke in GrcnfelL "You sliall hear. Luttrcll!" " Luttrcll ! Luttrcll ! You don't mean the fellow who was to have married your sistor-in-law?" "The same; the first man of his day at Christ Church, the great prizeman and medallist, ' the double first,' and, what many thought more of, the best-looking fellow in Oxford." "I forget the story. He wanted to marry some one, and she wouldn't have hiin. What was it ? " " He wanted to marry my wife," said Vyner, rather nettled at the cool carelessness of the other. " She was, however, engaged to me, and she said, ' I have a sister so very like me, that we are constantly taken for each other ; come here next week, and you'll meet her.' They met, liked each other, and were contracted to be married. I want to be very brief, so I shall skip over all but the principal points." "Do so," said the other, dryly. AN OLD SIOEY. 17 " Everythmg went well for a time. All iaqiiiiies as to bis fortiine, position, connexions, and so forth, were found satisfactory by the Com-tenays, when some busybody whispered to Georgina that there was an ugly story about bun in Ireland, and suggested that she should ask under what circumstances he had quitted the Lish University and come over to take his degree at Oxford. Luttrell was considerably agitated when the question was put to him, though they were alone at the time ; and, after a brief pause with himself, he said, " I'd rather you had not ask me about this, but I meant to have told you of it myself, one day. The thing is very simple, and not very serious. The only thuig, however, I exact is, that the confession is to and for yourself alone. You have a right to know the fact ; I have a right, that it be kept a secret.' " She gave the pledge he required, and he went on to say that there existed in Ireland a secret society known by the name of United Irishmen, whose designs were, time and place suiting, to tlu'ow oif then- allegiance to England, and declare for Irish independence. This association was so far formidable, that it embraced men of all classes and conditions, and men of all religious professions, the majority being Presbyterians. He was one of these, and a very foremost one ; drawn into the league, in reality, rather by the warm enthusiasm of a generous natui-e than by any mature consideration of the object of its consequences. In some contest for a prize at College, a gold medal in science, I believe — Luttrell's closest competitor was the son of the Provost of the University; but, after a thi-ee days' conflict, Luttrell presented himself at the Hall to receive his lam-els, but what was his astonishment to hear, as he entered, that he would be fii-st required to subscribe a declaration that he was not a member of any secret or treasonable society. " ' If you mean,' cried he, to the Proctor, who recited the terms of the declaration — ' if you mean me to say that I am not an United Irishman, I will not do so. Give youi- gold medal to that gentleman yonder,' added he, pointing to the sou of the Provost; 'his father's loyalty deserves every testhnony you can confer on it.' He left the Hall, took liis name off the books, and quitted Ireland the next day. It was gravely debated whether an expulsion should not be passed upon him ; but, in consideration of his great collegiate distinction and his youth, the extreme rigour was spared liinij and he was suffered to leave imceusured. " Either the confession was not what she had expected, or that she fancied it might cover something far more serious beneath it, but Georgina was not satisfied with the story. She again and again, reverted to it. Not a day that they walked out alone that she would not turn the conversation on this theme, which, by frequent discussion, Luttrell came at length to talk of, without any of the reserve he at first maintained. Indeed, some of this was, m a measure, forced upon him, for she questioned Imn closely as to the details of the 2 18 LUTTEELL OF AEBAN. association, how far it involved him, and to what extent he was yet bound by its obligations. " It was in a sort of defence of himself, one day, that he so far forgot prudence as to declare that the society numbered amongst its members many men not only high m station, but actually regarded as strong adherents of the English party. He told how this, that, and the otlier, who were seen at every levee of the Castle, and not imfi-e- Siently quoted as guests of the Viceroy's table, were brothers of is league; and he indeed mentioned names of distinction and eminence. " In her eagerness to confute all her father's opinions on this matter — for she had told him the whole story from the fu-st — Georgma has- tened off to enumerate the great men who were engaged in this treason. Two were ui Parhamcnt, one was a Law Adviser of the Crown, another was a Commissioner of Customs, and generally regarded as an active partisan of the Government. I remember these, but there were many others of equal note. Mr. Courtenay, who besides beuig a ministerial supporter, had once been private secretary to Lord Castlereagh, divulged the whole to the Home Secretary. Investigations were instituted, and, although United Irishism had lost its stmg after Emractt's failure, all who had once belonged to it were marked men, and black-hstcd in consequence. "I have been told that the consternation which the disclosure created in Ireland was terrific. Men resigned thcii" commissions of the peace, pretended ill health, went abroad ; lawyers and physicians of eminence were asliamed to show theii" faces; and a well-known editor of a violently 'English' newspaper disposed of his journal and went to America. ' Who is the traitor? ' was now the universal demand ; and, indeed, in the patriotic papers the question stood forth every morning in great capitals. "'Who was the traitor?' none coidd positively assert; but the controversy was carried on without any squeamish delicacy, and if the papers did not fix on the man, they very freely discussed the probabiUty or improbability of this or that one. " ' Why not Luttrell? ' said one wi-iter in a famous print. 'His father betrayed us before.' Tliis was an allusion to liis havmg voted for the Union. ' Why not Luttrell ? ' They entered thereupon mto some curious family details, to show how these Luttrells had never been ' true blue ' to any cause. Tliat, with good abilities and fair prospects, they were not successful men, just because they couldn't he lioncst to their party, or even to themselves. They were always half way between two opuiions, ' and,' as the writer said, ' far more cai'cr to have two roads open to them than to travel either of them.' whether excited by a theme which had engrossed much of public attention, or ijicitcd by some personal animosity, this editor devoted a portion of each day's paper to Luttrell. The result was a hostile message. Tliey met and exchanged shots, when the ncM'spaper writer AN OLD STORY. 19 at once declared, ' If M.:. Luttrell will now disown any comiexiou with this act of betrayal, I am ready to beg liis pardon for all that I have said of him.' Luttrell for a moment made no reply, and then, said ' Take yom- pistol, Sir ; I have no explanations to make you.' At the next fire, Luttrell fell wounded. He was upwards of two months laid in his bed. I saw him frequently during that time ; and though we talked every day of the Coui'tenays, I had not the courage to tell Imn that they were determined the match should be broken off. Georgina herself — how, I cannot well say, nor ever clearly understood — beuig brought to believe that Luttrell had done what would for ever exclude him from the society of his equals. I cannot dwell on a period so full of miserable recollections. I never passed so many hours of torture as when sittmg by that poor fellow's bed- side. I listened to aU liis bright projects for a future which in my heart I knew was closed to him for ever. As his convalescence ad- vanced, my task grew more difficult. He used to ask every day when he would be permitted to write to her ; he wondered, too, why she had not sent him a few lines, or some token — as a book, or a flower. He questioned and cross-questioned me about her daily life ; how she felt his misfortiuie ; had she received a correct account of the incident of the duel ; what her family thought and said; and, last of aU, why Mr. Courtenay liimself had only called once or twice, and never asked to come up and see him ? " My own marriage was to take place early in May. It was now April ; and at one time there had been some talk of the two sisters being married on the same day. It was late in the month ; I am not clear about the date, but I remember it was on a Sunday morning. I was sitting with him, and he lay propped up on the sofa, to enable him to take his breakfast with me. ' I was thinking aU last night, Vyuer,' said he — 'and nothing but a sick man's selfishness could have prevented my thinking it long ago — how you must hate " ' Hate you, and why ? ' " ' Because but for me and my misfortune you'd have been married by the sixth or seventh, and now, who knows how long you must v/ait ? ' "I saw at once that the double marriage was rmming m his- mind, and though my own was fixed for the following Thui'sday or Friday, I had not nerve to say so ; nor was my embarrassment the less that Mr. Coui'tenay had charged me with the task of teUiug Luttrell that all should be considered as at an end, and every day used to question me if I had yet done so. " ' Now or never,' thought I, as Luttrell said this ; but when I turned and saw his wasted cheek, still pmk with hectic, and bis glassy, feverish eye, I shrunk agaui from the attempt. " ' Why did you look at me so pitifully, Vyner ? ' said he, eagerly ; ' has the doctor told you that I shall not rub through ? ' 2—2 20 LtiTTRELL OF ARKAN. '"Xoniing of the kind, man; he says he'll have you dovm at Hastinci^s beibre a fortnight is over.' " ' AVhat was it, then ? Do I look very fearfully ? ' "'Not even that. You are pulled down, of course. No man looks tlie better for eight or ten weeks on a sick-bed.' "'Then it is somethmg else,' said he, thoughtfully; and I made no answer. " ' Well,' said he, with a deep sigh, ' I have had my forebodings of — I don't know what — but of something that was over me all this time back; and M-hen I lay awake at night, wondcrmg in what shape this disaster would come, I have ever consoled myself by saymg, "Well, Vyner certainly does not know it; Vyner has no suspicion of it. If now, however, I were to be wrong in this ; if, in reality, Vyner did know that a calamity impended me ; and if ' — here he Hxed his bright staring eyes with their wide pupils fuU upon me — ' if Vyner knew somethmg, and only forbore to break it to me because he saw me a poor sickly wasted creature, whose courage he doubted, aU I can say is, he does not know the stuff the Luttrells are made of.' "I tried to answer this, but all I could do was to take liis hand and press it between my own. 'Out with it, Uke a good fellow,' cried he, with an effort to seem gay — ' out with it, and you'll see whether I am too vain of my pluck ! ' " I turned partly away — at least so far that I could not see his face nor he mmc — and I told him everything. I camiot remember how I began or ended. I cannot tell what miserable attempts I made to excuse or to palliate, nor what poor ingenuity I practised to make him beheve that all was for tlie oest. I only know that I would have given worlds that he should have internipted me or questioned me ; iiut he never spoke a word, and when I had concluded he sat there still in silence. " ' You arc a man of honour, Vyner,' said he, in a low but un- shaken voice that thrilled through my heart. ' Tell me one thing. On your word as a gentleman, has — has — she ' I saw that he was going to say the name, but stopped himself. ' Has she been coerced in this anair ? ' " ' I believe not. I smcerely believe not. In discussing the matter before her, she has gradually come to see, or at least to suppose ' " ' There, there ; that will do ! ' cried he aloud, and with a fidl toue that resembled his voice in health. ' Let us talk of it no more. I take it you'll go abroad after your wedding ? ' " I muttered out some stupid common-place, I talked away at random for some minutes, and at last I said good-bye. "\Mien I came back the next morning he was gone. He had been carried on board of a steam-vessel for some port in the south of Ireland, and left not a line nor a message behind liim. From that hour until last night I never set eyes on him." a:)? O1.D STOKT. 21 "You have heard of him, I suppose ? " asked Greufell. "Vaguely and at loug iutervals. He would seem to have mixed himself up with the lowest poUtical party iu Ireland — men who represent, m a certain shape, the revolutionary section in France — and though the very haughtiest aristocrat I thmk I ever knew, and at one time the most fastidious ' fine gentleman,' there were stories of his havuig uttered the most violent denunciations of rank, and mveighed hi all the set terms of the old Erench Convention agauist the distmctions of class. Last of all, I heard that he had married a peasant girl, the daughter of one of his cottier tenants, and that, lost to all sense of his former condition, had become a cou- fii'med di'imkard." " The moral of all which is, that your accomplished sister-in-law had a most fortunate escape." " I'm not so sure of that. I think Luttrell was a man to have made a great figure iu the world. He swept college of its prizes, he could do anything he tried, and, milike many other clever men, he had great powers of application. He had, too, high ability as a public speaker, and in an age like ours, where oratory does so much, he might have had a most brilliant career in Parliament." "There is notliing more delusive than arguing from a fellow's school or collegiate successes to his triumphs in after life. The fii'st are purely intellectual struggles ; but the real battle of life is fought out by tact, and temper, and courage, and readmess, and fifty other things, that have no distinct bearmg on mind. Your man there would have failed just as egregiously amongst gentlemen as he has done amongst the ' canaille ' that he descended to. He had failure written on his passport when he started in Ufe." " I don't believe it ; I can't beheve it." " Your sister-in-law, I thmk, never married ? " "No. She has refused some excellent offers, and has declared she never will marry." " How hke a woman all that ! She fh'st mars a man's fortime, and, by way of reparation she destroys her own. That is such feminine logic ! " " Is that a dog they have got in the bow of the launch, yonder ? " said Vyner, du-ecting the captain's attention to one of the boats of the yacht that was now pulling briskly out from the land. " Well, Sh*, as weD as I can make out, it's a child," said he, as he drew the telescope from the slings and began to adjust it. " Yes, Sir, it's a native they have caught, and a wild-lookioig specimen too; " and he handed the glass to Vyner. " Poor little fellow ! He seems dressed in rabbit-skins. Where is Ada ? She must see him." 22 LTJTTREIiL OF ARUAM, CHAPTER IV. ON BOAM). " It was not an easy matter to get Lira to come, Sli-," said the sailor in a wliisper to Vyner, as he assisted the boy to get on the deck. " Wliere did you find him ? " " Sittmg all alone on that rocky point yonder, Sir ; he seemed to have been crying, and we suspect he has run away from home." Vyner now turned to look at the child, who all this while stood cabn and composed, amazed, it is true, by idl he saw around him, yet never sulTering his curiosity to surprise him into a word of astonish- ment. In age from ten to twelve, he was slightly though strongly built, and carried himself erect as a soldier. The dress which Vyner at first thought was entirely made of skins was only m reality trimmed with these, being an attempt to make the clothes he had long worn sufficiently large for him. His cap alone was of true island make, and was a conical contrivance of imdressed seal-skin, which really had as savage a look as need be. " Do you live on this island, my little fellow ? " asked Vyner, with a kindly accent. " Yes," said he, calmly, as he looked up fuU into his face. " And have you always lived here ? " " So long as I remember." "Where do you live ? " "On the other side of the mountain — at St. Finbar's Abbey." " May I ask your name ? " "My name," said the boy, proudly, "is Harry Grenville Luttrell." " Ai-c you ?. Luttrell ? " cried Vyner, as he laid his hand affection- ately on the boy's shoulder; but the little fellow seemed not to like the familiarity, and stcjiped back to escape it. "Are you the son of John Hamilton Luttrell?" " Yes. Wiat is your name 'i " "Mine," said the other, repressing a smile — "mine is Gervais Vyner." " And do you own this ship ? " " Yes." "And why have you come here?" "Partly by chance — partly through curiosity." " And when will you go away ? " " Something will depend on the weather — something on whether ON BOARD. 23 we like the pla^e and find it agreeable to us ; but wliy do you ask? Do you wish we should go away ? " " The people do ! I do not care ! " It is not easy to give an idea of the haughty dignity with which he spoke the last words. They were like the declaration of one who felt Imnself so secui-e in station, that he could treat the accidents of the day as mere trifles. " But why should the people wish it ? We are not very likely to molest or uijure them." "That much you may leave to themselves," said the boy, insolently. "They'll not let you do it." " You seem very proud of your island, my httle man. Have you any brothers or sisters ? " "" No— none." " None belonging to you but father and mother ? " " I have no mother now," said he, with an effort to utter the words unmoved ; but the struggle was too much, and he had to tm'n away his head as he tried to suppress the sobbing that over- came him. " I am very, very sorry to have pained you, my boy," said Vyner, with kmdness. " Come down with me here, and see a Uttle daughter of mine, who is nearly your own age." "I don't want to see her. I want to go ashore." " So you shall, my boy ; but you will eat something with us first, and see the strange place we live in. Come along ; " and he took his hand to lead him forward. " I could swim to the laud if I liked," said the boy, as he gazed down at the blue water. " But you'll not have to swim, Harry." " Why do you call me Harry ? I never knew you" " I have a better claim than you suspect. At least, I used to call joui' father John long ago." " Don't do it any more, then," said he, defiantly. "And why?" " He wouldn't bear it — that is the why ! Stand clear, there ! " cried he to one of the sailors on the gangway. " I'm off ! " and he prepared himself for a run ere he jumped overboard, but just at this moment Ada tripped up the cabin ladder and stood before him. The long yellow ringlets fell on her shoulders and her neck, and her lustrous blue eyes were wide in astonishment at the figure in front of her. As for the boy, he gazed at her as at something of un- earthly beauty. It was to his eyes that Queen of the Eairies who might have soared on a hght cloud or tripped daintily on the crest of the wide sea waves. " Here is a playfellow for you, Ada," said her father, as he led her towards liim. "It is Robinson Crusoe, papa," said she, m a whisper. 2i LUXTRELL OF ARU.VX. The boy's quick ear had, however, caught the words, aud he said quickly, "I wish I was Robinson!" The speech seemed to strike some chord iu the little girl's heart, for she went freely towards him at once, and said, " Oh, wasn't it nice to live iu that pretty island, aud have everything one's own ? " "This island here is mine ! " said the boy, proudly. '•Yes, Ada," said Vyner, "what he says is quite correct: his father owns the whole of these islands. But come along into the cabm, Harry; I want you to see our home, though it is a very narrow one." "With the gravity of a North American Indian, and with a self- possession that never broke down under every trial to which curiosity exposed it, the boy looked at all around him. If Aladdin himself was not more wonder-struck at the splendours of the cave, he never for a moment betrayed his amazement. He ate aud dj-ank, too, with the same air of composure, and bore himself throughout with a quiet dignity that was remarkable. Ada displayed before him her prettiest toys, her games, and her picture-books, and was half piqued at the little evidences of astonishment they created. No suspicion crossed her mind how the colour that came and went and came agam, how the hurried breathing, how the clammy fingers that trembled as they touched an object, were signs of emotion far deeper and more intense than all that a cry of wonderment could evidence. "I suppose," said she, at last when impatience mastered hei", "you have got such masses of these yourself, that you don't care for them ? " " I — I have nothing — notlimg but a crossbow to shoot the sea- gulls, and a hatchet, and the hatchet is too heavy for me." " But what can you do with a hatchet ? " asked she, smiling. " Split logs, and cut a way through the thicket hkc fellows on an uninhabited island ; or sometimes I think I'm flghting a bear. I'd like to fight a young bear ! — wouldn't you ? " "I suspect not. Girls do not fight bears." " Ah, I forgot ! " said he, blushing deeply ; and, ashamed of his blunder, he bent his head over a picture. Meanwhile, Vyner and Grenfcil were walking the deck and con- versing in a low tone. " It would be a mistake, V>nier, a great mistake, take my word. for it," said the other. " To the man who assumes the incognito, all attempt at recognition is offensive. Besides, what is it to lead to? You can't imagine he'll want to talk over the past, and fo( such a man there is no speculation in the future." "But the idea of being on the very island with him, knowing that lie was within a mile of me, and that I never went to see him ! It sounds very heartless, and I feel it would be so." " I liave nothiu" to say when you put the question on the ground of a seutuncnt. I can only discuss it as a matter of expediency, or ON BOARD. 25 the reverse. You don't charge a man with the opmions you find iu au auouyraous book, because, even supjiosmg they are his, he has not thought proper to avow them ; well, you owe exactly the same deference to hmi who lives under an incognito, or retii-es to some secluded, mifrequented spot. His object is to escape notice; under what plea do you drag him forth into the broad noonday ? " " I am certain my wife wouldn't forgive me if I left without even an effort to see him." '•' As to that I can say nothing. I never was married, and I do not pretend to know what are the ' cases of conscience ' discussed connubially." " You see, GrenfeU," said the other, confidentiaUy, " we aU feel, as we have a right to feel, that we have done this man a great wrong. There has not been one single calamity of his life, from the day we broke with him, that is not traceable to us. His unfortunate line in pohtics, his low, poUtical associates, the depraved life some assert that he lives, and, worse than all, his wretched marriage with a poor uneducated peasant gM." " And do you fancy that a morning call from you is the reparation for all this?" " Come, come, that is not the fair way to put it. Luttrell and I were once great friends. I was, I weU know, very much his mferior in knowledge and power, but in worldliuess and tact I was more than his match, and he gave way to me on every question of this sort. It may be — I'd like to think it might prove the case — that this old sentiment has not died out of his heart, that, as he used to say long ago, and people laughed when he said it, ' Let us hear what Vyner says.' Now, if this were so, I might even yet do something, if not for him, for that fine boy there." " Leave that fhie boy alone, Vyner, that's my advice to you. I never saw a fellow of his years with such an overweening self-con- fidence. There is, I don't deny it, a certaui ' gentleman' element in him, but it is dashed with something which I neither understand, nor coukl venture to say what it may lead to ; but I repeat leave him alone." Vyner shook his head dissentuigly, but did not speak. " Besides, let us be practical. What could you do for hhn ? You'd not adopt him, I take it ? " Vyner was silent, and he continued : " Well, then, you'd cut off the one tie he has ui hfe, and not sub- stitute another. Besides, don't you remember what old Scott said at the Huxleigh steeple-chase : ' I never back the half bred 'ims, nc matter liow well they look in trauung.' " "What a stickler for blood you have become," said Viner, laugh- ing ; and it was only as he saw the crimson flush in the other's cheek that he bethought liim how the remark might have offended. " Take your own liue then," said Grenfell, angrily ; " it doesn't signify to me personally a brass farthing ! Our dinner company with 2(3 LUTTEELL OF AREAX. old Crab and the German Trau can scarcely but be improved, even t]iiouj?li it be by the admixture of a little rebellion through it." " For all that, you'd Uke Luttrell unmenscly if you met him." " I like none but men of the world — men who know the people, the places and the things one is daily connected with — who can take up tiie game of society where it left off last night, and have not to read themselves up in daily life the way fellows read theii- history out of {\\c Amnial Refjister." " "Well, I'll write him a note," said Vyner, following out his own thoughts ; " I'll tell him, ui a few words, how T chanced to come here, and I'll ask if he will receive me, or, better still, if he'll come and dine with us to-morrow." " I know the answer vou'll get as well as if I had written it." " WeU, what will it be ? " " See you hanged first ! " " Wliat is all this gomg on below? Are you quarrelling, children?" cried Vyner, as a great uproar burst forth from the cabin. " Oh^ no, papa ; but Eobiuson is so droll ; he put baby-doll mto a boat and had her shipwrecked, and saved by the little negro ; and now they are going to be married. Just come and sec it all." " Tell me, Ilarry," said Vyner, " what would papa say if I were to write him a note and say tliat I have detained you here to dinner, and wouldn't let you go ? " " Ilc'd say I could have jumped overboard," said the boy redden- ing at what he thought was an imputation on his personal prowess. " I don't exactly mean by force, my dear boy ; I urtendcd to say, by persuasion." Either the view now submitted to him was not very clear, or that it was combined with other elements, but he made no reply. " I will put it in this wise: I'll say I have made Harry's acquaint- ance this mornmg by a lucky accident, and I hope you will not be displeased if he sliould stay and dine with us. I have a little girl of his own age who is delighted to have his company, and I feel certain you will not deprive her of so agreeable a playfellow." " Papa V. ill not know," said tlie boy, moodily. " Kot know what, my little man ?" " Papa will not care," said he ; and a slight tremor shook his voice. " Not care for what ? " " I mean," said he, resolutely, "that I often go away at daybreak and never come back till late at night, and papa does not mind it — he never asks for me." As lie spoke, Ada drew nigh her father, and clasped his hand in her own, wliile her tearful eyes turned alternately from her father to the child, tlic sense of her own ha])py lot, loved and cherished as she was, blending with a deep pity for one so desolate and friendless. "That's tlie way boys are made independent and bold-hearted," ON BOAKD. 27 said Vyner, hastily. " Men like their sons to be trained up in the free habits they enjoyed themselves. So, then, my note is not ne- cessary — you can remain without it ? " " Would you like it ? " said he, tui'ning to Ada. " Oh, how much ! " cried she, eagerly. " Then I'll stay ! " As he spoke, he leaned back in his chair, and, •who knows with what thoughts, sighed faintly, while two heavy tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. Vyner saw it, but turned away and went on deck. " I can gather from what that boy has just said," said he to Gren- fell, "that his father is ahnost indifferent about him; he never knows of his coming or going, nor ever looks for him at meal-tunes." " I should be surprised if it were otherwise," said Grenfell. " De- moralisation never works by halves. When a man begins to go down hill, he never takes any other road. What could remaui of your great scholar and double first man after years of association with brutal companionship and a peasant for a wife ! How could it be possible for him to retam any one of the habits of his own class amidst the daily frictions of that vulgar existence ! " " I iDegin to fear as much myself," said Vyner, sorrowfully. As he spoke, he felt Ada's hand ui his own ; she drew him to one side, and whispered, "Harry is crying, papa. He says he must go home, but he won't tell me why." " Perhaps I can guess, darling. Let me speak with hun alone. Vyner went down into the cabin by himself, but whatever passed between him and the boy, the result, so far as persuading him to stay, was not successful, and young LuttreU came on deck along with him. " Man a boat, there," said Vyner, " and take this young gentle- man ashore. I will write one line to your father, Harry." The two children stood hand in hand while Vyner wrote. They wore each of them a look of sorrow at parting ; but the boy's face had a flush of shame as well as sorrow. They never uttered a word, however. Vyner's note was in these words : " My dear Ltjttrell, — Will you allow an old friend to see you, when he calls himself ? " Affectionately yours, " Geevais Vyneb." He did not show this note to Grenfell, but handed it to the boy at once. " He won't take the books, papa," whispered Ada, "nor anything else I offered him." " He'U know us aU better later on, dearest. Do not embarrass him now by attention ; he is ashamed to refuse, and does not care to 2S LUTTRELL OF AREAX. accept. If papa will let you come out to breakfast with us to- morrow, ll;u-ry, we shall be glad to see you ; and remember, I look to you to show me where we are to catch the lobsters." '"' I'll tell you that now," said the boy. " You see that great rock yonder. Well, a little more inland, where the water is about four fathoms, and perfectly clear, that's the spot." ^Yhen the boat was announced as ready, the boy took his leave of each m turn, shakmg hands with V_>aicr, and Ada, and the governess ; and then, advaucmg towards Grenfell, he stopped, and suuply said good-bye. " Good day. Sir," said Grenfell, stiffly, for he was one of those men whose ogotism even a cliild could wound. _" Is that boy like his falhcr i* " asked he, as Harry passed over the sidc._ " Wonderfully like, smcc his face took that expression of serious- ness." " Then it is not a good face." " Not a good face ? " " Mmd, "l didn't say not a handsome face, for it is strikmgly regular and well proportioned, but the expression is furtive and secret." " Nothing of the kind. Luttrell was as franlc a fellow as ever In-eathed. I thuik, after what I told you, you can see that it was trustfulness proved his ruin." " Isn't he what your coiuitrymen would call a ' Wunderkind,' Mademoiselle ? " asked Grenfell of the governess. " No, Saar, he is a much-to-be-piticd, and not the less-for-that- very dignified youth." " How Homeric it makes language to thmk in German. There he is, Ada, wavbig a rag of some sort, in farewell to you." Ada kissed her hand several times to him, and then hastened belo\< into the cabhi. " I have asked Luttrell's leave to call on him," said Vyner. " I thought you would," was the dry reply. " I only wrote one hue, and made my request in the name of our old friendship." " Well, oi course, you are the best judge of your own duties ; only, for my own part, I beg, if I ever should turn )iermit, that you'll not thhik yourself bound to have me shaved and trimmed for the honour of dining some one day at your table." " Upon my word, I thhik it would be a pity to take you out of your cave, or whatever you call it," said the governess, with a spiteful laugh. " Tlicre, don't fight any more tiU tea-tune," said Vyner, laughingly. " Wiio'll come on shore with me? I'm for a ramble over that pui'ple mountain yonder." " I liave the music-lesson." "And I liave the remamder of that article in the Q/iarlerly," ON BOAl^D. 29 said Gvenfell, " which proves iucontestahly the utter hopelessness of Ireland. The writer knows the people well, and describes their faults of character perfectly." A low faint sob caught Vyner's ear, and, on hurrymg below, he found Ada seated at the table, with her head leaning on her arms. " Wliat's the matter, Ada darling ? " asked he, gently. " Oh, papa, it was for his mother he was crying, for though she seldom spoke to him or noticed him, he used to see her at the window, and now he'll never see her more." "We must try and comfort liim, Ada; the poor boy has a very dreary lot in Hfe." " He says he is happy, papa ! and that he only hopes he'U never have to leave this lonely island all his life." " Did he speak of his father at all ? " "No, papa; only to say that he'd never remember whether he was at home or abroad, and that it was so pleasant not to have any one who cared what became of one." " And you — did you agree with hiai ? " " Oh no, no ! " cried she, as her eyes swam in tears. " I could have told him how much better it was to be loved." Vyuer turned away to hide his own emotion, and then, with an affected carelessness, said, "Get over this music-lesson now, and whenever you are free tell Mr. Crab to hoist a bit of white bimting to the peak, and I'll come back to fetch you for a walk with me." "Is Mr. Greufell going, papa?" "No, darling; but why do you ask?" " Because — because — I'd rather go with you alone. It is always so much nicer and happier." " How is it that Grenfell, with all his smartness, can never hit it off with any one, yomig or old, rich or poor ? " thought Vyner, as he walked the deck, deep in thought. " He reads everything, has a smattermg of all subjects, with a good memory and a ghb tongue, and yet I believe I am the only man about town who could tolerate hun." If this were a reflection that had more than once occuiTcd to his mind, it usually ended by impressing the conviction that he, Yyuer, must have rare qualities of head and heart, not merely to endure, but actually to almost like, a companionship for which none other would have had taste or temper but himself. Now, however — not easy is it to say why — a doubt flashed across him that his doubting, distrustful, scofiing nature might prove in the end an evil, just as a certaia malaria, not strong enough to give fever, will ultimately impregnate the blood and undermine the constitution. " I don't think he has done me any mischief as yet," said he to himself, with a smile ; " but shall I always be able to say as much ? " " You must read this paper — positively you must," cried Grenfell fc'om the sofa, where he lay under a luxurious awning. "Tlus 30 LUXTRELL OF ARRAN, fellow writes well ; he shows that the Irish never had any civilisa- tion, uor, except where it crept in through EngUsh iniiucuce, ha? there ever been a vestige of such in the island." " I don't see I shall 1)e anj^hmg the better for believuig him ! " " It may save you from that blessed purchase of an Irish property that brought you down to all this savagery. It may rescue you from the regret of having a gentleman shot loecause he was intrepid cnoudi to collect your rents. That surely is something." " But I have determuied on the purchase of Derryvaragh," said Vyner, " if it only be what descriptions make it." " To live here, I hope — to turn Carib — cross yourself when you meet a priest, and wear a landlord's scalp at your waist-belt." " Nay, nay ! I hope for better things, and that the English in- fluences you spoke of so feelingly will not entii'cly desert me in my banishment." " Don't imagine that any one will come over here to see you, Vyner, if you mean that." " Not even the trusty GrenfcU? " said he, with a half-smile. "Not if you were to give me the fee-simple of the barbarous tract you covet." " I'll not believe it, George. I'll back your friendship against all the bogs that ever eugulpiied an oak forest. But what is that yonder ? Is it a boat ? It seems only a few feet long." " It is one of those naval constructions of your charming islanders; and comin" this way, too." " The fellow has got a letter, Sir ; he has stuck it m his hatband," said Mr. Crab. " An answer from Luttrell," muttered Vyner. " I wonder will he receive me ? " CHAPTER V. HOW TUB SPOIL WAS DIVIDED. The letter, wliich was handed on board by a very wild-looking native, was written on coarse paper, and scaled with the commonest wax. It was brief, and ran thus : " Dear Sir,— I cannot imagine that such a meeting as you pro- pose would be agreeable to cither of us ; certainly tl'ic impressioa my memory retains of you, forbids mc to bcUeve that you would HOW THE SPOIL WAS DIVIDED. 31 like to see me as I am, aud where I am. If your desire be, however, prompted by any kind thought of serving me, let me frankly tell yoK that I am as much beyond the reach of such kindness as any man can be who Hves and breathes in this weary world. Leave me, there- fore, to myself, aud forget me. " I am grateful for your attentions to my boy, bnt you will under- stand why I cannot permit him to revisit you. I am, faitlifully youi-s, "John H. Lutteell." " 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 hun 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 ? " " Still I am very sony that he should refuse me." " Of course you are ; it is just the way a fellow in all the vigour of health walks down the ward of an hospital, and, as he glances at the hollow cheeks aud sunken eyes on either side, fancies how philanthropic and good he is to come there and look at them. You wanted to go and stare at this poor devU out of that sentimental egotism. I'm certain you never suspected it, but there is the secret of your motive, stripped of its iine illusions." " How ill you think of every one, and with what pleasure you think it ! " " Not a bit. I never suffer myself to be cheated ; but it does not amuse me in the least to unmask the knavery." " Now, havmg read me so truthfully, will you interpret Luttrell a Uttle?;' " His note does not want a comment. The man has no wish to have his poverty and degraded condition spied out. He feels some- thing too low for friendship, and too high for pity ; and he shrinks, and very naturally shrinks, from a scene in which every look he gave, every word he uttered, every sigh that he could Imt half smother, would be recalled to amuse your wife aud your sister-in-law when you reached home again." " He never imputed anythmg of the kind to me," said Vyner, angrily. "And why not ? Ai-e we in our gossiping moments intent upon anything but bemg agreeable, not very rnmdful of private confidences or mdiscreet avowals? We are oiily bent upon bemg good re- counters, sensation novelists, always flattering ourselves the' while a^ 32 LUTTEELL OF ARKAJ7. to the purify of our motives and tl:c generosity of our judgments, ulieu M'c throw into the narrative such words as the ' poor fellow,* the ' dear creature.' ^Ve forget the while that the description of the prisoner never affects the body of the indictment." "I declare you are downright intolerable, GrenfeU, and if the world were only half as bad as you'd make it, I'd say Luttrell was the wisest fellow going to have taken his leave of it." "I'd rather sit the comedy out than go home and fret over its vapidncss." " Well, Mr. Crab," said Vyner, turning suddenly to where his captain was waiting to speak with Imn, " what news of our spar?" " Nothmg very good, Sir. There's not a bit of thnber on th& island would serve our puri)ose." " I suppose we must shift as well as we can till we make the mauiland ! " " This fellow here in the boat. Sir," said a sailor, touching his cap as he came aft, " says that his master has three or four larch-trees about the length we want." "No, no, Crab," whispered Vyner; "I don't think we can do anything in that rjuartcr." " Woxdd he sell us one of them, my man ? " cried Crab, to the peasant. " He'd give it to you," said the man, half doggedly. " Yes, but we'd rather make a deal for it. Look here, my good fellow; do you go back and fetch us the longest and stoutest of those poles, and here's a guinea for your own trouble. Do you understand me i' " The man eyed the coin curiously, but made no motion to touch it. It was a metal he had never seen ijefore, nor had he the faintest clue to its value. 'MVould you rather have these, then?" said Crab, taking a handful of silver from his pocket and offering it to him. The man drew the back of his hand across his eyes, as if the sight had dazzled him, and muttered somcthuig in Irish. " Come, say you'll do it," said Crab, encom'agingly. " Is there any answer for my master, to his letter, I mean? " said the man, looking at Vyner. " No, I think not ; wait a moment. No, none," said Vyner, after a moment of struggle; and the words were not well uttered, when the fellow pushed olf Ids boat, and struck out M'ith all his vigour for the shore. " TVIiat a suspicious creature your savage is ; that man evidently behcved you meant to bribe him to some deep treachery agauist his master," said GrenfeU. " Do let the ])oor peasant escape," cried Vyner, laughingly, while he hastened below to avoid any further display ot the other's now THE SPOIL WAS DIVIDED. 33 malevolence, calling out to Mr. Crab to follow him. " Let us get under weigh with the land breeze this evening," said he. " There's a strong current sets in here, Su\ I'd as soon have dayhght for it, if it's the same to you." '" Ee it so. To-morrow mornmg, then. Crab ; " and, so saying, he took up a book, and tried to interest himself with it. The peasant meanwhile gained the land, and made the best of his way homeward. " Tell the master there's no answer, Molly," said he, as she stood wiping the perspiration from her face with her apron at the door of a long, low-roofed building, into which all the assembled guests were congregated. " Indeed, and I won't, Tim Henuesy," said she, tartly. " 'Tis enough is on my bones to-day, not to be thinking of letters and writings. Go in and help Dan Neven with that long trunk there, and then bring a hatchet and a hammer." The man obeyed without a word ; and, havmg assisted to deposit a heavy deal box like a sea-chest m the place assigned it, perceived that several others of various sizes and shapes lay aroimd; all of which formed objects of intense curiosity to the visitors, if one were to judge fi-om the close scrutiny they vuiderwent, as well as the frequent tapping by knuckles and sticks, to assist the explorer to a guess at what was contained within. A word or two will explain the scene. When Molly Ryan came to inform her master that the relatives of his late wife intended to sail by the evening's tide, and wished to pay their respects to him personally, before departure, he excused himself ou some pretext of ilhiess ; but to cover his want of courtesy, he directed her to tell them that they were free to take, each of them, some memorial of her that was gone, and ordered Molly to have all the boxes that con- tained her effects conveyed mto the long storehouse. "Let them take Avhat they like, Molly," said he, abruptly, as though not wishing to discuss the matter at more length. " And as much as they like ? " asked she. " Yes, as much as they like," said he, motioning that he would ' be left in peace and undistuvlDcd. Loud and full were the utterances of praise that this munificence evoked. " Wasn't he the real gentleman ? " " Wasn't it the heart's blood of a good stock T " " Wasn't it lilce one of the ' onld race,' that could thinlv of an act at once so graceful and liberal ? " " After all, it wasn't proud he was. It was just a way he had ; and ' poor Shusy, that was gone,' was the lucky woman to have been his wife." "To be sure, it was a solitary kind of life she led, and v/itliout friends or companions ; but she had the best of everything." Such were the first commentaries. Later on, gratitude cooled down to a quiet rationalism, and they agreed that he was only giving away what was of no use to him. He'll surely not marry again, and what could 8 34 LUTTKELL OF AKBAN. he do \vitli cloaks, and shawls, and gowns, that would only be mothoatcn if he kept them." "These two liere is linen," said Molly, ^rith an air of decision, "and I suppose you don't want to sec them." A murmur of disapproval ran through the meeting. They wanted to see everything. His Honour's niunillccncc was not limited. It included all that was once hers ; and a very animated discussion ensued as to what constituted personal properties. " Maybe you'd like the crockery too," said Molly, mdignantly, for she began to feel ashamed of the covetousuess. " We'll see everything," said old Peter Hogan, " and we'll begin with this." So saying, lie inserted a chisel beneath one of the pine filanks, and soon displayed to the company a large chest full of house ineu. Tiie articles were neither costly or remarkable, but they seemed both to the beholders ; and sheets, and napkins, and pillow- cases, and table-cloths were all scrutuiised closely, and unanimously declared to be perfection. The crockery and glass were next examined, and even more enthu- siastically approved of. Some curious china and some specimens of old Venetian glass, family relics, that even connoisscurship might have valued, really amazed them, and many an epithet in Irish went romul as a cup or a goblet was passed from hand to hand to be admired. The clothes were the last to be examined, and with all their heightened expectations the reality surpassed what they looked for. Hats, and shawls, and silk gowns, scarfs, and bonnets, and ribbons, soon covered every box and bench aroiuid, and covetous eyes sparkled as each longed for some special prize in this vast lottery. " I remember the day she M-orft that brown silk at chajicl," said one. " Tliat's the blue tabinet she had on at the cliristening." " There's the elegant shawl she had on at tlie fair at Enuis." " But look at this — isn't this a real beauty " cried one, who drew forth a bright dress of yellow sathi, which seemed never to have been worn. "Don't you think you could ))ick and clioosc something to i)lazc ye, now?" said Molly, who was in reality not a little frightened by all this enthusiasm. " It is true for you, IMolly Ryan," said Peter. " There's some- thing for everybody, and since tiic company trusts it to me to m;ikc the division, this is what I do. The crockery and glass for Mr. Rafter, the linen for myself, and the clothes to be divided among the women when we get home." " So tliat you'll take everything," cried IMolly. " With the blessm' of Providence 'tis what 1 mean," said he; and a full chorus of approving voices closed the speech. " The master said you were to choose what plazcd you " " And it's what we're doing. We are plazcd with everythmjj, ' and why woulcUi't wc ? Wasn't she that's gone our own blood, now TUB SPOIL AVAS DIVIDED. 35 aiid didn't she own them ? The pillow she lay on and tlie cup she dhrunk out of is more to us than their weight in goold." Anotliei' and fuller murmur approved these sentiments. " And who is to have this ? " cried one of the women, as she drew forth from a small pasteboard box an amber necklace and cross, the one solitary trinket that belonged to her that was gone. If not in itself an object of much value, it was priceless to the eyes that now gazed on it, and each would gladly have relmquished her share to possess it. " Maybe you'd have the dacency to leave that for his Honour," said MoUy, reprovingly. Less, perhaps, in accordance with the sentiment than in jealous dread lest another should obtain it, each seemed to concur with this recommendation. " There's something in what MoUy says," said old Peter, with the air of a judge delivering a charge. " If his Honour houkls to a thing of the kind, it would be hard to I'efuse to him ; but if he doesn't, or if it would only be more grief to be reminduig him of what's gone ■ Let me finish what 1 have to say, MoUy," added he, with some irritation, as a sneering laugh from her interrupted his speech. " There's an old pair of shoes of hers in the room within. I'll go for them, and then you'll have everythmg," said she ; and she darted an angry glance aroimd and left the spot. " I'U wear this — this is for me ! " cried a little girl taking the amber necklace from the case and putting it on. And a buzz of astonishment at the audacity ran around. She was about eleveu years of age, but her dark blue eyes and long lashes made her seem older. It was one of those beautiful faces which appear to suggest that with years the delicate loveliness must be lost, so perfect the accordance between the expression and the feature. She had a mass of golden-brown-hah", which fell in long curls over a neck of perfect whiteness ; but even these traits were less striking than the air of gracefidness that really implied a condition far above that of her rank in life ; and, as she stood in the midst to be admired, there was a haughty consciousness of her claim for admiration that was as triumphant m that assembly as ever was the proud assertion of beauty in a court. " It becomes you well, Kitty O'liara, and you shall have it, too," cried old Hogan, who was her grandfather, and whose pride in her look the shape of the boldest aspirations for her future. " Ain't I right ? " cried he, appealing to those aroimd hun. " Look at her, and say if she isn't a picture ! " With a full burst of assent all broke in at this appeal, and still she stood there unabashed, almost umnoved, indeed, by the admiring looks and enthusiastic words around her. " Isn't that the makmg of a lady, ay, and as elegant a lady as ever stepped ? " cried the old man, as his eyes ran over with proud 3—2 30 LUTTRELL OF ARRAN. • emolion. "And as sure as my name is Peter Hogan, it's diamonds will be round the same neck yet ! Yes, my darling, ycr ould grand- father won't be to tlic fore to see it, but there's some here that will. Mark the words I'm saying now ; lay them up in your hearts, and sec if I'm not telling the truth. There she stands before you that'll raise her family, and make a name for them far and wide." "While he deUvcred this boastful speech, the girl turned her eyes from him, a slight flush deepened the colour of her cheek, and a scarcely perceptible caa:crncss showed itself on the parted lips, but her attitude was unchau.gea, and a slight nod of the head, in token of assent, was the only notice she took of his words. " Yes, come in, my dear," cried Hogan at this moment — " come in. Master Harry ; there's none here but your own kith and kin, and lierc's a nice little wife, or a sweetheart, for you." As he said this, he drew from the doorway, where he lingered, the boy, who now came forward with a shamefaced and reluctant look. " There they stand," said the old man, as he placed them side by side, "and I defy the world to show me a purticr couple." The boy turned a long and steady look at the girl — something for the beauty, and something, too, doubtless, there vi-as for the orna- ments that heightened it — and she bore the scrutiny without a shadow of constraint ; but there was even more, for, as he contmued to stare at her, she smiled superciliously, and said at last, with a faint smile, " I hope I'm not so ugly that I frighten you ! " There was just that pertness in the speech that stood for wit with the company, and they laughed loud and heartily at what they fancied to be a repartee. "Did yc ever see a purtier — did ye ever see as purty?" cried old Hogan. " Yes I did, this very evening, on board of that schooner there. There's one ten times as handsome, and she is a lady, too." Insolent as were the words, the look and manner with which he gave them were far more so. It was like the speech of a proud iioljle to his vassals, who actually derived a sense of pleasure ni the measure of outrage he could dare to mete out to them. The boy turn- ed his haughty stare around at each in turn, as though to say, " Who is there to gainsay me ? " and then left the place. " Isn't that a worthy twig of the ould tree?" cried old Hogan, iassionately. " The M-orld hasn't done with the Luttrells yet ! But know well who puts these thoughts in the child's head. It's IMolly Ryan, and no other. Taching him, as she calls it, to remember he's a gentleman." The company endorsed all the indignation of the speakcri', but, soon recalled 1o more |)raetieal thouglits i)roeccdcd to nail down fhe trunks and boxes, and prepared to carry them down to the seaboai'd. ON THE SEA-SIIOKE AT NIGHT. 8? CHAPTER VI. OK THE SEA-SHOEE AT NIGHT. Towards llie evening of the same day a light breeze from the west- ward sprang up, and j\Ir. Crab argued that there was little use iu waiting any longer to refit, and proiiosed to sail with the tide. By keeping along close to shore he learned that the ebb would take him well out to sea before midnight. Vyner, therefore, gave orders that the yacht should lie-to after she rounded the extreme pro- montory of the island, and send ui a boat there to take him off, thus giving him one last ramble over a spot it was scarcely possible he would ever revisit. He landed early in the evening, and amused hmiself strolling at will along the desolate shore. There were objects enough on every hand to excite mterest, whether the visitor had been man of science or man of taste. Strange sea-plants and shells aboimded; lichens ot coloiu- the most novel and varied; rocks, whose layers defied all theories of stratification, and were convoluted and enclosed one withm another inextricably. Caves, whose stalactites gUttered with the gorgeous tints of Bohemian glass. The very cries of the sea- fowl had a wild unearthly shriek in them that seemed to suit the sohtude, and their fearlessness showed how little they knew of molestation. "How peaceful at first, how dreary at last, must be life in such a spot!" thought Vyner; who, like all men, would pronoimce upon the problem as it addi'essed itself to him. He could understand the repose of coming suddenly there out of the din and tuiinoil of the world, and he could picture to his mind how the soft teaching of that fii-st sentiment would darken into the impenetrable blackness of un- broken gloom. As lie thus mused, he was sorry that he had written that note to LuttreU. He had no right to obtrude himself upon one, who, in withdrawing from the world, declared that he deserved to be imknown. 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 di-ead an intruder." Again and again he wished that he had gone his way without even letting Luttrell know that he had been his neighbour. As he mused he rambled onward, now, from some rocky point obtairiing a view of the jagged coast line, broken into innumer- able bays, some small enough to be mere fissures, now turning 38 lUTTKELL OF ARKAN. his glance inward, wlicrc a succession of valleys, brown and purple in the evening light, darkened and deepened beneath him. He could, besides, in the far distance, make out the copse of trees that sheltered the Abbey, and at last detect the twinkle of a light through the fohage, and tlicn turning seaward, he could descry the light and airy spars of his little vessel as she slowly crept along, a liglit from a stern window showing where he, too, for the nonce, owned a home on the blue waters of the Atlantic. What a difference between these two homes ! what blissful thoughts, and liudding hopes, and present enjoyments m the one, what imbroken gloom in the other! "I was wrong to have written, but I wish he had not repulsed me," said he ; and still there lingered in his heart a half hope that, if he were to present himself boldly before Luttrell, he would not reject him. The dread of Grenfell was too great to make him risk defeat ; that scofiing, sneering spirit, who on the mere fact of thinking ill of every one, took credit for detecting all individual short-coming, ■would be so unforgivmg if he had to come and o\ra that he had been twice repulsed ! " No," thought he, " I'll accept my defeat as it is, and try to think no more of it ; " and then he endeavoured to think of the scene and the objects around him. From the spur of the mountain, a long, low, shingly promontory stretched into the sea, at the ex- tremity of which were some rocks, forming an arm of a large bay that swept boldly inwards, and this was the spot which on the map he had pointed out as a suitable place for the yacht to lie-to, and wait for him. He now saw, however, that in following out the spit of laud, he had diverged largely from the way, and must retrace nis steps for above a mile ere he could reach the strand, and at the same time, in the half-fading twilight, he could make out the schooner, under easy sail, heading still farther to the southward. Crab had evidently mistaken the headland, and was making for one still more distant. What was to be done ? In coming down to the coast line he had subjected himself to following out all the jagged and irregular course of the shore, and yet to venture inland without a guide would have been the extreme of rashness. There was nothing for it but to make a signal, if perchance it could be seen; the Meteor was not more than a mile oil", and the project seemed not hopeless. He tied his handkerchief to his cane, and hastened on towards one of the rocks before him ; as he drew nighcr, he saw something which at last he made out to be the figure of a man, seated witii his head supported between his hands, and gazmg stcdfastly seaward. Vyner mounted the rock and waved his signal several times, but in vain; the dark background of the moun- tain probably obscured the flag, and prevented its being observed. "I want to signal the schooner yonder, my good man," cried he to a poor-looking creature who sat crouched down close to the wfclcrs edge; "could you get me some dry leaves or chips together ON THE SEA-SIIORE AT NIGHT. o9 to make a fire ? " The other looked up with a startled air, for be had thought himself alone, and then risuig to his feet, they stood face to face. " My dear old friend ! " cried Vyuer, " have we met at last ? How glad I am to see you again." " Not this way, surely not this way," muttered Luttrell, in a fault and broken voice. "To be sure I am, Luttrell. I'll call the chance that led me here one of the happiest of my life, if it brmgs you back to any of your old feeling for me." ' " You got my note ? " asked the other in a hoarse voice. " Yes ; and it was no part of my intention to molest you, Luttrell. This meeting is, I assure you, the merest accident." " Let me go, then, Vyner ; the shame is killmg me ; I wouldn't that you had seen me thus — in these rags, in all tliis misery. These are not the memories I wanted you to carry away with you ; but what would you have ? I came here to live like the others." " My dear old friend, I wanted to talk of long ago with you ; it is not to reproach you I've come. Take m_y wordfor it, I feel too acutely all the wrong you have suffered from mine. I know too well at whose door your heaviest injuries lie." " If I had attempted to be more or better than my neighbours, I couldn't have lived here," cried he, eagerly reverting to his self- defence. " But why live here, Luttrell ? It is not at your age, or with your abihties, a man retires from the game of life." _ "I have played all my cards, Gervais," said he, with a wild laugh, "and never scored a point with them." " How many a fellow has had a long run of ill-luck, to be repaid by as great a share of fortime after." ' " Ay, but I'll not try it ! I don't ask, I don't wish it. If I were to will now, I have nothing to do with my winnings." "Think of your boy — your fine boy, Luttrell ! " "Ah, Robuison!" cried he, laughmg; and Vyner blushed deeply as he fancied how the child had repeated the nickname. " There's only one way he could want such assistance, and if he but live here, he'll never need it." " Live here ! but you cannot mean that he should ? " " Why not ? Wliat need is there that he should know of all those fine prizes that his father strove for and never won, any more than of fine food, or fine clothes, or fine equipages ? " Vyner shook his head in dissent, and the other went on with increase of energy. " My own mistake was, to have borne the thing so long ; I might have come here before my health was broken, my hand unsteady, my foot weak, and my nerves shattered. I'd have gone out to see you, Vyner," said he, suddenly ; " but Harry told me you were not alone ; you had a friend. Who is he ? " 4'j LUTTRELL Ol" AUUAN. '=Gi-en!'oll; you rcmombcr a Greufell at CIiriNt Cimvcli?" "Only Cox "and Grcnfcirs son, tlic potted-shrimp man; of course it's not lie ? " " Yes it is, and a very clever fellow loo." "There's what I couldn't do, Vyner; there you beat me," cried he, aloud; "with the peasant, with the mountaineer, with the fisher- man, yes, I can live in daily, hourly companionship. I can eat as coarse food, M'car as coarse clothes, lie down on as mean a bed, talk as penuriously, and think as humbly, but I couldn't endure tlie continual refinement of your follow of new-made wealth, nor tlie pretensions of one who feels that by money he is to be any one's equal." "How your old pride of family stirs you still, Luttrell." " Not so ; it is not for myself I am pleading. I am not come of a stock so distinguished that I can arrogate to myself the defence of my order. The first of my name who came over here was a Dutch pedlar; some generations of thrift and industry made us gentlemen. For time does for family what it does for wine, and just merely by age your poor light Medoc mellows into very drinkable claret. But how have you made me rattle on in my old guise ! See, they arc signalling to you, yonder ; that lantern at the peak has been run up now." "I must manage to let them know I'm here; how to make a fire is the question." "There's al)undance of broken wood along here. The fishermen's boats fare ill along this coast ; we'll soon gatlier enough for your purpose." As they strayed about collecting the fragments of broken timber, Vyner pondered over the absence of all move on Luttrell's part to invite him to liis home. Indeed, in his alaerily to make the signal, he only showed his eagerness to aid his departure. He wondered, too, how much external change, and how little real alteration, liad taken place in LuHrcll. His old conversational turn was there, thoudi he seemed half ashamed wlien he found he had fallen into it. "I told you wc should not be long making a respectable pile," said Luttrell. "The wreck furnishing the bonfire is tlic law of nature. If my eyes do not deceive me, they have lowered a boat ; " as he spoke, he knelt down to kindle Ihe wood, by using his hat to fan the flame, which, after smouldering for a moment, sprang up into a clear tongue of fire. "There, Vyner, they see it; they have tlirice lowered Ihe light from the peak." " The boat can come in here safely ? " "There's water for a large ship in this bay. Great facilities exist ii\ these Islands of Arran, and if trade were ever to turn its steps hither, I'd direct my attention to wrecking to-morrow. The man wlio has so successfully achieved his own rum, ought to be able to assist others." ON THE SEA-SIIOKE AT XIGUT. 41 A shout from tlie beach was now replied to by Vyuer, and the stout rowers pulled in vigorously to the shore. "I have not shocked you, Vyner," said Luttrell, "by asking you to see what would have shocked you — the place I live in. If you were one of those men to whom mere curiosity affords some pleasure, I'd liave shelved my pride, or my shame, or whatever be the name of it, and said, ' Come and look at my den ; see to what poor con- clusions a life of blunders leads ; ' but you are made of other stuff, and would hud no happiness m my humiliation." " WUl you not come on board with me, Luttrell, and let us have one long sunnner's night gossip together ? " " I'd scarce refuse if you had been alone ; I can't face your dis- tinguished friend." "You are unjust, quite unjust to him; besides, knowing our old ties, hell leave us to ourselves, and we shall have our talk un- molested. Is there not in the past something to buQd on for the futm-e— Well, for Harry ? " " I think not. It is not necessary to plot out the the life of one bred and trained as he is. Let the world treat him as it may, he'li scarcely meet any hardships he has not had a foretaste of." "But what do you intend by him ? " "If he Ukes idleness, the elegant leisure of my own life, for instance," said he, with a mockmg laugh, "he'U have about the amomit of fortune such a mode of living requires. If he be ambi- tious, or prefer a course of activity, he can go on board some of these American traders, or sail with a fishing lugger. Frankly, Vyner, it's a matter I have not given much tliought to. There is but one part of it, indeed, on which I can declare I have made up my mind. He is to have no protectors, no patrons. We are a hard race to deal with, and we often seem ungrateful when we are merely self-willed." "How I wish you'd let me talk aU these things over with you," said Vyner, in a friendly tone, "not to say that I want your advice on my own accomit." " Advice, and from me ! " "Even so, Luttrell. I have a project about purchasmg some pro- perty on the coast here. Not a very profitable investment, perhaps, but certainly cheap, and at some long future to become possibly remunerative." " Derryvaragh, I suppose ? " "Yes, that's the name." " The most picturesque spot in the island ; finer than the boasted Killarney itself, and far and away beyond Windermere and the Scotch Lakes. I know it well. I have walked the mountains grouse- shooting, and fished every mile of the. river ; but what would you do with it when you called it yours ? You dare not assert one siiigle right of properly; the people who live tliere, and whose fathers have 42 LUTTllELL OF AIUIAN. lived there for centuries, have never acknowledged lord or master. You'll stock it with sheep, and send an agent. They'll eat your mutton, and shoot your agent. You'll appeal to the law, and you might as well threaten a New Zcalander with a bill in Chancery. Leave such specula! ions alone ; there arc uo fortunes to be made here, nor even fame for having reformed us. All the privilege your purchase will confer, wiU be to feed us in times of famine, and be shot at when prices rise and the nights grow longer." " Why, you arc more discouraging than Grenfell ! " •' I don't know about Grenfell, but I know that Ireland is not to be bettered by men like you. It is out of our own rough energies must come the cure for our own coarse maladies. Go back and build model cottages in Norfolk, give prizes to your oldest farm labourer, or the mother of the largest family. Here's your yawl ; good-bye." " Do step ill and come on board with me, Luttrell, if only for an hour or two." " No, I camiot. I'd not stand your friend's impertinences about Ireland, besides, and I'd be led into rudenesses, which I'd not tbrgive myself. Lady Vyner is not with you ? " "No, she's' in Wales, at Llantlannoeh, where I wish you'd let me tell her you were coming to see her." " Who knows ! " "My dear Luttrell, is this a promise ?'* "No, not exactly." "AVill you write to me." "I think not." " May I write to you ? " " I'd rather you would not. You cannot suspect, Vyner, how painful even these few minutes we have passed together will render the Hfe I go back to; do not add to that bitterness by what would become a ceaseless sorrow." "But Harry. Let Harry come to us ; there is an excellent school at Wrexham." "There's a school on that promontory yonder, where the master, besides reading and writing, instructs in net -mending, sad-making, caulkhig, and fish salting. " Your Wrexham fellow couldn't compete with that. Good-bye." With a hurried shake of the hand, and as though nervously irri- table at being stared at by the sailors, Luttrell moved away, and Vyner gazed after him for a moment, and stepped into the boat. '";Mr. Crab says. Sir, that the weather looks dirty outside," said llic coxswain ; but Vyner did not heed the remark, and sat deeply buried iu his own thoughts." l COTTAGE IN WALES. 43 CHAPTER YIL A COTTAGE IN "WALES, Xf we wanled a contrast to the wild desolation of Arran, it would he in the lovely valley of North Wales, where Vyner's cottage stood. It was a purchase he had made purely from its picturesque beauty ; a spot chanced upon in a summer's ramble, and bought at once with that zest which leads a rich man to secure the gem that has cap- tivated his fancy. It stood on a little rocky platform that projected from a mountain, and looked downwards and upwards, through one of those charming valleys which now widen into luxuriance, and now contract again tUl they resume the features of a deep ravine. A river of some size foamed and tumbled over a rocky bed beneath, and occasionally deepened into some waveless pool, over which the red-berried ash-trees drooped gracefully, and the dark copper beeches threw their bronzed shadows. Deep woods clothed the mountain in front, and over them all rose the rugged summit of Cader Idris, with its amphitheatre of rock half lost in the clouds. If as regards loveliness of position, tranqviillity, and beauty in all its details, the cottage of Dinasllyn could scarcely be surpassed, There was one detracting element which certainly impaired its charm, the " Quid amarum," amid all its excellence. It was a show place. It had been the scene of some romantic attachment, some half- remembered Abelard and Heloise, whose pictures yet survived, and of whom there were traditions of rustic benches where they vised to sit ; of trees whereon their initials were carved ; of cedars that they had planted. Vyner and his wife did not at first know, nor estimate, to what a heritage they had succeeded, nor in the least suspect what an infliction mere pvu-poseless curiosity, united to plenty of leisure, may become. The old gardener whom they had taken on with the cottage was not at all disposed to surrender that perquisite of black mail he had for years long levied from visitors, nor perhaps did he fancy to abdicate those functions of " Cicerone " which elevated him in the eyes of his fellows. If his love-story was not as affectmg as Paul and Vu'ginia, it had its realisms that compensated for some pathos. He could show the dairy where Chloe made the butter, and the kitchen-garden where Daphnis hoed his cabbages. There, were the steps cut in the solid rock that led down to her bath in the river ; *' here the bower she loved so well ; here the tree she planted." To be obliged to devote a day of every week, or even certain hours of a day, to the invasion of a set of strangers, induced by mnui, by 44- LUTTRELL OP AKRAN. curiosity, or, as it may be, hy mere imitation, to wander about your house and stroll through your garden, free tolounge in voiir easy- chair, or dispose themselves on your sofas, critieising your pictures, your prints, your books, and your music, hazarding speculations as to your tastes and dispositions from the titles of the volumes on your table, and the names of your newspapers — to feel that, as the clock strikes a certain hour on a certain morning, all the cherished privacy which constitutes what we call home, is fled, and that your hall is a public street, aud your drawing-room a piazza, so that you are driven to hide yourself in your own house, at the peril of being classified among "the curiosities, and perhaps sent off to press M'ith the other details, satisfactory or the reverse, of the visitors' experience. These are no slight evils. They are a heavy tax on all the benefits of possession, and we have our doubts if even Kaboth's vineyard would be enviable, if luiked with the condition of showing the grounds and displaying the grapes to vulgar visitors. When the Vyners purchased the cottage they had been told of the ciistom, just as you are told of a certain pathway across the lawn, which was a mere usurpation, a Uiing "without a shadow of legality," that you have only to cline to-morrow, but of whose actual torments when you do come to suppress, no one has ever given the measure. They heard that the former owner usually set an hour or two apart on a Wednesday or a Thursday to gratify tourist curiosity; in fact, the celebrity of the spot had been ingeniously introduced as an element of value — ;ii are so bent ujion it. But I must go and tell my sister this distressing news. I don't know how she'll bear it ! By the MMy," added she, as she reached the door, "I shall hud you here when I come back — you arc not going away ? " " Certainly not without seeing Lady Vyner, if she will accord me that honour," said he, stiffly. " Of course she'll see you," cried she, and left the room. Left alone with his reflections, Mr. !M'Kuday had not the pleasantest company. Had he mistaken all the relations between jMiss Courtenay and himself, or was she changed to him — totally changed? "Was it thus that they met last ? He knew that she always had a certain flippant manner, and that she was eminently what the French call iiiconscfjiteiit ; but she was more, far more, now. The allusion to Bickard's age was a direct impertinence, and the question as to Ids yachting tastes was a palpaole sneer at the habits of his daily life. "The case does not look well — certainly not well," murmured he, as he walked the room with his hands belund Ids back. " Many would throw up the brief, and say, 'Take a nonsuit.' Yes, most men would; but I'll do nolhing rashly ! " And with this wise resolve he took up a book, and began to road; but stdl the hours rolled on, and no one f'ume. Jiy the clock over the mantlepiecc it was now four. Could it possibly be Uiat it was two hours and a half since -since she had left \iiax ? AN OLD BACHELOU'S HOUSE. SI CHAPTER VIII. AN OLr BACIIELOK's HOUSE. It is quite true Gcorgiua forgot all about Mr. M'Kiiilay. Tlie gardener luid met her on her way, and presented her with a bouquet of Japanese roses — the real purple roses it Avas supposed never could be reared out of a Tyeoou's garden ; and so she hastened up to her sister's room, as totally oblivious of the man of law as though he had been hundreds of miles away. They talked pleasantly of fioMers — flowers for the china vase, and flowers for the hair— they laughed at the incongruous blimders of the people who wore " wrong colours," and that " drab bonnet " they had seen last Sunday in chui'ch. They next discussed dress, and the impossibility of wearing anything " decent " on the dusty roads ; and, lastly they ordered the ponies and the phaeton, and drove out. How charmmgly pleasant are these lives of little cares and of little duties : where conscience has no burden that would be too weighty for the strength of ehildhood — where no torturing anxieties invade, no tormenting ambitious pursue — where the morning's stroll through the garden is the very type of existence, a ramble amidst fragrance, and fruit, and flowers, with no other call upon exertion than to enjoy ! And what a teachal^le faculty is that same one of enjoyment. How it develops itself xmdcr good trainmg and favourable oppor- tunities. These sisters had a very pleasant life, and they knew it ; that is, they no more overlooked the stones in their ]:)ath than their neigh- bours ; but they thoroughly imderstood that Fate had accorded them a very smooth road, and one right easy to travel. They chatted gaily as they ckove along the side of a brightly eddying river, through a glen of some miles in extent. The day was one of those mello\v- ones of August, tempered with a slight breeze, that gently moved the cloud-shadows on the mountauis, adduig at each change some new effect of light and colour. "Let us go and call on Sir AVithin," said Lady Vyner ; " it would be a glorious day to see the old castle, and the mountain behind it." Her sister agreed at once ; for though the drive was full eight miles, the road was beautiful all the way, and at its end was a grand old keep, Dalradern Castle, with a charm- ing old bachelor for its owner, than whom none better understood Low to do the honours of his house. While the sisters push their smart ponies to a brisk trot., we shall take the opportunity to say a word of Sii' Withm Wardle. He was* 4—2 52 LUTTRELL OF ARR,VN. the last of a ereat Welsh family of large fortune and aneient name, but ■n'ho had lived all his hfe aM'ay fron England. He had been ni diplomacy since his boyhood; he had joined an embassy in the Low Coiuitries at the age of sixteen, and lived long enougli to sec the whole map of Europe new coloured. It had been the dream of his existence to "come home" — to re- turn to the temperate climate and genial air of England — to get back where the trees were really trees, and where grass was veritably green, and where people told the truth, and tradesmen were honest. "Well, he did get back, but it was not to find everything as he had l^icturcd it. The temperate climate rained a good deal. The genial air had a marked tendency to give bronchitis. The grass was un- questionably green, but so were they who walked in it, for wet feet were invariable. As to truthfulness in his o-mi class, he had nothing to complain of ; but he thought servants were pretty much as else- where, and as to his tradespeople, there was little to choose between Pleet Street and the " Graben," and Piccadilly was not a whit above the Rue de la Paix ! In fact, there were many things as he had hoped, and not a few that disappouitcd him. People, generally, were what he deemed more narrow-minded ; they sat more in judgment over their neigh- bours than he liked ; they were more inquisitive and less charitable. In his world, where he had passed fifty odd years, the charming people were admitted to be charmmg, though certain delinquencies chargeable to them might have disparaged their claims to character. It was not held to the disadvantage of Beauty that discretion should not have united itself to loveliness, and Wit was just as highly ap- preciated as though its possessor had not been more than lucky with the dice-box. Sir Within, be it remarked, wanted none of these im- munities on his own behalf. He had never been what is called a man of gallantry, never gambled. His great passion was a splendid house and grand receptions. He Ukccl great people, crowned heads, and after them coroneted ones. He revered Grand-Dukes and Serene Highnesses ; and it was not by any TnTians improl)able that in his homage to the great lay the secret of that tolerance on the score of morals that marked hmi ; for, be it said with respect, Kings and Kaisers have a habit of showing the world that they soar in a sphere above common proprieties, and can afford to do in ethics what they can do with the Bourse — go in for a rise or fall, as the whim seizes them. To "comeback" witli tastes like these was a mistake, but to attempt to justify tliem was infinitely worse. Sir Within began to lecture his country neighbours on their hard-heartedness and un- generosity. He enumerated scores of people who had taken little scampers into vice, and come back to live more gorgeously on virtue. Whiit anecdotes lie had of ministers who had clicateci at cards ! Great men, cxccUeut men in all other respects, unimpeachable in all AN OLD bachelor's UOUSE. 53 their public acts, aud pillars of the State tlioy pertained to. He told of a society whose very laxity saved all friction, and which went on smootlily — for it always went downwards. The consequence may be anticipated. His neighbours — at least their wives — voted him an old monster of vice, corrupted by half a century of foreign iniqui- ties. They refused his mvitations, and neglected his advances. His presents of fruit — such fruit too ! — were declined, and his society strictly avoided. The Vyuers, who only came to the neighbourhood for a few weeks in the year, scarcely knew anything of local feehngs, and only heard that he never went out, aud saw Uttle company at home — facts wliich, when they came to be acquamted with him, struck them as strange, for he was emuiently one made for society, and seemed to feel the raciest enjoyment hi it. He had aU that peculiar go and eagerness m liim which pertains to men who talk well, and feel that they have this power. Perhaps my reader may have met such a character — not that they exist as a class — but if he has done so, he wUl acknowledge that it is a very charming form of selfishness, and gifted with marvellous powers of pleasmg. At all events. Lady Vyner and her sister dehghted in lum — most ungrateful had they been if they had not — for never was courtesy more pohshed, never homage more devoted or more respectful, lloyalty could not have been received by him with a greater deference, and now as they drove up to the massive entrance of the castle, and the sharp clatter of the ponies' feet awoke the echoes of the solemn court-yard. Sir Within was promptly at his post to help them to descend ; aud as the wind blew his long white hair backwards, he stooped to kiss their hands with all the reverence of a coiu'tier. " Do you know, dear ladies," said he, " that I had a vision of this visit ? It was revealed to me — I camiot say how — that you would come over here to-day, and I told Bernais to prepare the orangery : for," said I, " Bernais, I will offer ces dames no luncheon, but will msist on their taking an early dhiner." " What a tempting proposal ! " said Lady Vyner, looking at Georgiua, whose fiat was always needed to every project. "I vote for being tempted," said Georgtna, gaily; "but what do I see there — something new ? " " No, something old, but restored. Don't you remember the last day you were here saying that the silence of this old court wanted the pleasant plash of a fomitain ? and so I got these disabled nymphs and hamadryads remounted, and set them to blow their conchs and spout the cataracts as of yore." "How beautiful it all is!" " Curious enough, the figures are really good. Some worthy ancestor of mme had purchased this group at Urbino from some ruined Italian mansion ; and, as a work of art, it is almost equal to 51 LXJTTRELL OF AREAX. a Luca della Kobbia. The mistake is the era. It Is not suited to this old dimgcou. Here we are in the tenth century, and this group is cuique cento. Let me send it to the cottage. It would be perfect in your garden." " Kot^tbr worlds. I couldn't tliiuk of it ! " " Don't think of it, but say ' Yes.' Remember, that in villa ornamentation nothing comes amiss ; there are no incongruities." " It is impossible, Sir "Within — quite impossible." "Don't unagine we have come here as brigands," said Miss Coiu-tcnay, smiling. " "Wlien you carry away my heart, what matters what is left me ! " said he, sigliing. Miss Courtenay looked down — it was a bashful look, but not a displeased one — and, somehow, more conscious than the compliment of so old a gentleman might seem to wan-ant. " And. so Sir Gervais likes Ireland ? " said he, as he introduced them into the drawing-room. " So much so, that I fear he has made a purchase of some pro- perty there." " That is only a mistake when one feels that he must live on the spot he owns. Some witty Frenchman says : ' I used to fancy that I owned my furniture, but I found that it owned me. I was the bondsman of an old ann-chair, and the actual slave of a chest of drawers ! ' You laugh, ladies, but just sec whether this old house or I be the master here." " Well, it's not a veiy severe bondage after all," said Georgina, smiling. " How pleasantly one discusses another's captivity ! By the way, when are you all to come and pay me this long-promised visit ? Ke- member the longer you defer payment, the larger grows the debt ; your week is now a month." " AVhen Sir Gervais comes home, we shall be delighted." " Why not be here when he arrives ? How much pleasauter he'd find the house where your presence had imparted that chann that comes of female influence. You cannot guess how this old room, that I thought so dreary a while ago, looks positively beautiful now. Yes, Bemais, bring it in." This was said to the servant, who, after appealing at the door, made a hasty retreat. "It is the menn oi our dimier, ladies, and my cook, M. Piquard, wishes to acquit him- self with distiuctiou. See, here is a query. 'Is tlie pheasant to be " aux huitres," or aux nointes d'asperges r* ' Decide." " I should say with tlic asparagus," said !Miss Courtenay. "And your judmicut is correct; the other is a mere compromise to a supposed English taste. A summer day's dimier is to the full banquet of mid-wmtcr what a light 'aquarelle' is to an oil picture. You want grace, deUcacy ; you require elegance, transparency, soft- ness; not depth, nor force, nor strong effect." AN OLD BACHELORS HOUSE. 55 *' What Sybarites you must deem us ! " said Lady Vyncr, loaghing. " I am repeating for you to-day a little dinner I once gave tlic Duclicsse de Sagance. She was much admired at the time by the Archduke Charles of Austria ; but forgive me if I am talkmg of for- bidden themes." " Oh, go on, Sir Within ! "VYe must implicitly bow to your discretion." " Ah, if you do that, I am ruined, i'ou silence me at once ! " " You siirely wouldn't have us say, ' Be indiscreet ? ' " "No; but I'd have you say, 'Talk to us as if we were all at Vienna, at Milan, or at Naples.' " " Neither my sister nor myself 'pose' for prudery, Sir Yuthin; but the world says that you are — what shall 1 call it? — too — too — do help me to the word." " How can I, when it is to my own blame ? Who ever called ou a prisoner to fill up his own indictment ? " " What the vi-orld means is, perhaps," broke in Georgina, " that Sir Within occasionally forgets his geography, and fancies at the foot of Suowdon that he is close to Yesuvius." "I apprehend you," said he, smilmg; "but confess, that di-ess is not more a question of climate than conversation ; both one and the other are lighter in the south of Europe, and what is of more moment, with perfect safety, too ; mark that, Mesdames, with perfect safety." " It may be all very well for you, who are acclimatised, to say so," said Lady Vyner ; " Ijut bear in mind that we only passed one Miuter at Rome." " And did you not Uke it ? What a furious cataract of all manner of sensations is a first whiter at Eome ! Grandeur and httlcness, Sublhnity and absurdity — the s])lendid St. Peter's and the slijishod priesthood — and, more ridicidous than all, our cockney population wandering over the Coliseum and Qunmal, not fully certain that thcy^ are gettmg the real article for their money, or whether Nero and Tiberius are not dear at the price jiaid for them. I often wish it were right for an ex-Envoy to give his note-book, or some extracts from it, to the world. Impressions of the B. S. — the British Sub- ject, I mean — by a late Eoreign Minister." " Very amusing, doubtless ; but very spiteful," said Miss Courteuay. "Here comes Bwnais to announce dinner, and rescue you from my tartness ; " and, giving an arm to each of the ladies, he led them forward. Valued reader, is it amongst the number of your experiences to have "assisted" at a dmner — usually a Russian one — where, without having found anything pre-eminently good to eat, you are given to understand they all cost fabulous sums — that the fricassee you scai'cely tasted was brought from the frontier of China, and the fish. 56 LUTTRELL OP AKBAN. that seemed flavourless, came by estafettc from the Caspian P Such, in a certaui way, was Sir Withm's conversation ; it sparkled with great people — Kings glittered, and Queens bespangled it ; it was evidently a dear article to have acquired, but, beyond that, it pos- sessed little value. Yet, "for all that and all that," his guests liked it. To be sure, it was admirably aided ; his " little dinner," as he modestly styled it, was a banquet, not in ponderous detail or duration, but in the perfect selection and the exquisite delicacy of all that composed it. And did he not relish the success he achieved — the double success of his cook and of himself! If there be a time when egotism is less odious than at others, it is when a host expatiates on the pams he has taken to feed you. Tlie little selfish vauigloriousness of the moment is so readily pardoned, M-hile the truffle is on your fork, or the ruby claret half way to your Ups. It was towards the close of the dinner that Sir Within, adroitly turning the topic from the meats to the guests, was discussing, with some knowledge of the subject, the people who made the pleasantest dinner company, and showing how an accompHshed host makes the light talkers do duty at the first course, using them as mere skirmishers, who are to fall back and be ignored as the great engagement comes on. " I flatter myself," said he, " that I cau manage most classes of men, though I own there is one that totally defies me — that is to say, he is so obstinately self-willed, and so pro- fessionally trained to persistence, that he deems it a triumph. I mean your lawyer ! " "Oh, Laura! what have I done! " exclaimed Georgiua, laying her hand on her sister's arm, and staring half wildly at her. " What is it ? What is the matter ? " "Was there ever such a blunder — how shall wc get over it?" "What is it tlien? tell it ! " cried Lady Vyner, eagerly. " I forgot all about him — utterly — completely forgot ! " "About whom ?" "Mr. M'K inlay, the lawyer. He arrived this morning, came to the cottage very early, saying he Avas on his way to Ireland to meet Gcrvais, and only ran over from Crewe to see us; I left him to tell you that he was there. I had it in my head when I quitted the room, but what drove it out agaui, or what occurred to make me forget it, I cannot now imagine." ill spite of all the annoyance of the incident. Lady Vyner laughed immoderately, and so did Sir Within, and so, at last, did Miss Courtenay, and the mirth was kept up by all sorts of fanciful con- ceits as to what the lawyer must have thought, said, or done. " He has driven away in a towering passion; he's hot-tempered at times, I know," said Lady Vyner. "No, no! you'll find him very comfortably installed when you get back," said Sii' Within. " He'll be vexed, lio'U be angry, doubtless; AN OLD BACIIELOES HOUSE. 57 but as a minister plenipotentiary vents liis ill-temper in a despatch; your man of law consigns all his indignation, more practically, to his aill of costs. What an avalanche of six-and-eightpenccs will fall on your forgetfulness." " We must hasten to repair the disaster. Sir Within, woidd you ohhge me by ordering our ponies. ? I know you'll forgive our abrupt leave-takmg." " I shall never forgive the cause of it. Why not let me send a messenger over to ask him, saying I had insisted on detaining you?" " Oh, on no account ! Besides, he's a touchy person, and my husband is most tenacious regarding him. I must hasten back and make my explanations in person." " I don't know how I am to face him at all ! " cried Georgiua. " I'd certainly not try," said Sir Within. Vague as the mere words were, they were uttered with a signifi- cance that plainly said, "You might stay where you are; " and Miss Courtenay evidently so read them, for her cheek reddened as she turned away. Lady Vyner, however, went on : " I don't think we shall have any difficulty about it— at least, I hope not — though what I'm to say, and how to say it, I cannot imaguie." " Throw me into the breach," said Sii- Within ; " say that, hearmg of Ills arrival, I begged a visit from you — that I wanted some legal advice — I required a draft of — what shall I say ? — I can scarcely be going to be married. Let it be a will, then." " Oh no, not a will. Sir Within ! " said Georgina, with a very soft smile. " It shall be whatever you decide for it," said he, assisting hei with her shawl as he spoke. " Do you ever mean to come over to breakfast with us ? " asked Lady Vyner. " The promise has been made and renewed, I think, a dozen times." " May I say next Sunday, then ? " " And you'll promise to come to church with us afterwards ? " cried Lady Vyner. He muttered something with a smUe to Miss Courtenay, and she turned away abruptly, but ere she drew down her veil her face be- tokened the reverse of displeasure. Though as they drove homeward, the unpleasant explanation that lay before them engaged much of their thoughts, taxmg all their addi'ess how to encounter its difficiLlty, yet, from time to time, Georgina would return to talk of the house they had just quitted, and the host. " It is easy enough to see why oiu- straightlaced neighbours do not take to him," said she ; " he is too much a man of the world — too tolerant and forgiving for their notions." 58 LUTTllELL OF AURAN. "A little too lax, also, for the proprieties of Euglisli life," added Lady Vyncr. "For its hypocrisies, if you like, Laura. I'm certain people are pretty mueh the same everywhere, though the way they talk about themselves uiny be very dilfcrcut." "I suspect he has made a conquest, Georgy," said her sister, laughing; " or rather, that his magnificent old castle, and his Van- dykes, and his ])ineries, and his conservatory have " " No ! that I protest against. His ' accessories,' as the French ■n-ould call them, are undeniable. It is a house absolutely princely in all its details; but I think he himself is tlic gem of the collection. He is courteous and so pleasant, so anecdotic, and fnll of all manner of a jjrojjos, and then so utterly unlike every one else that one knows." " I suppose there lies liis chief attraction. "We have to measure liim with people all whose thoughts and ideas arc so essentially homely, and who must of necessity be eternally talking of them- selves — that is, of their own turnpike, their own turnips, and their own cock pheasants." "Is it uot strange that he never married?" said Georgina, after a silence. " I don't think so. He's not a man that would be likely to marry, and very far from being one that a woman would like to take as a husband." " Do you thuik so — do you really think so ? " "I'm certaui of it. All those channing liUlc schemes for our entertainment that captivated us a while ago, show a degree of care and attention bestowed on little tilings whicli would make life a perfect servitmle. Cannot you imagine him spending his mornings giving auchence to his cook, and listening to tlie report of his gardener ? I fancy I see him m the midst of a levee of domestics, gravely listcuing to the narrative of the last twenty-four hours of his household." " So far from that," said Georgina, warmly, " he told me Bernais did everything — engaged and discharged seiTants, changed furniture, reaiTanged rooms, and, in fact, managed little daily 'surprises' for him, that he said, compensated for much of the solitude in which he Uvcd." " But why docs he live in solif lule ? Wliy uot go back to the life and the places that liabit has endeared to him ? " " He told me to-day that he hitcnded to do so ; and that he is only waiting for the visit of a certain relative, ]Mr. Ladarclle ; after which he means to set out for Italy." "Ladarclle is the great banker, and, if I mistake not, his heir." "Yes. Sir AVithin says that they scarcely know eaeli other, and have all that dislike and distrust tliat usually separate the man in possession and the man in expectancy." AN OLD BACIIELOll's HOUSE. 59 "One can fancy how clistastcfiil his heir must be to a niau like Sir Within Wardle," said Lady Vyner. " To any man, sister," broke in Geor^-ina — " to any man who only knows the person as the inheritor of his fortune. I declare I think Sir Within spoke of the Ladarelles with much forbearance, aware, ffs he is, that they are coming down here to see in what state of repair the castle is, and whether the oaks are being thinned more actively than a mere regard for tlicir welfare woiild exact." "Did Sir Within say that ? " asked Lady Vyner, with a laugh. " No ; but / guessed it 1 " " Well, he supplied the text for your theory ? " " Li a measure, perhaps. It was when you went with Groves to look at the large cactus he told me this, and mentioned that, by a singular provision, though the estate is strictly entailed, he could charge the property to any event with jointiu-e if he married ; and perhaps, said he, my worthy relatives were anxious to satisfy them- selves that this event has not, nor is very hkely to occur." "Not now, certainly?" said Lady Vyner, witli a saucy laugh. " I don't know. There arc many women well to do, and well off, ■would marry liim." " That is to say, there are a considerable number of women who would sacrifice much for money." Miss Courtenay was silent ; when she next spoke, it was about the evening — the air was growing fresh, and the twihght deepening. " I wonder in what mood we are to find Mr. M'lvinlay — if we are to fmd him at all." " I own it would be very awkward ; bvit I am such a coward about meeting him, that I half wish he had gone away, and that we were left to make our lame excuses in a letter." " I have to confess that the matter sits very lightly on mjf con- science," said Georgina, "tbuagh I am the real delmcpient. I don't like him, and I shall not be very unhappy if he knows it." " Possibly enough, but such a breach of all politeness '* " My dear Laura, he has met tliis mcident, or somethmg very like it, a hundred times. Earls and Viscounts have made appointments with him and forgotten him ; he has been left standuig on that terrace, or pacing moodily up that street, for hoiu-s long, and, as Sir Within said very smartly, consoled by the item that woidd record it in the bill of costs." "Yes, I remember the remark: it struck me as the oidy bit of vulgarity about him." " Vulgarity ! Sir Within Wardle vulgar ! " " Well, I have no other word for it, Georgy. It was the observa- tion that might readily have come from any ordinary and common- place person, and sounded unsuitably from the lips of a very polished gentleman." "Poor Sir Witliin ! if in a gloomy moment you may be wondering 60 LUTTRELL OF ABKAN. to yourself what liarsii or envious tilings your wealth, your splendour, ana your taste may have provoked from us, I am certain that you never imagined that the imputation of being vulgar was one of them ! " Fortunately there was no time to continue a theme so threatening to he unpleasant, for already they M'ere at the gate lodge, and a loud summons with the bell had annomiced their arrival. CHAPTER IX. MR. M'kinlay's trials. !Mr M'Kinlay was awakened from a pleasant nap over the " Man of Feelmg," which he had persuaded himself he was reading with all the enjoyment it had once afforded him, by the French clock over the mantelpiece performing a lively waltz, and then striking five ! He started, rubbed his eyes, and looked about hun, not very certain for some minutes where he was. The hum of the bees, the oppres- sive perfume of the sweetbriar and the jessamine, and the gentle drip-drip of a little trickling rivulet over some rock-work, seemed still to steep his senses ui a pleasant dreamy languor, and a sort of terror seized him that the ladies might possibly have come in, and found him there asleep. He rang the bell and summoned llickards at once. " "Wlicre are the ladies ? " asked he, eagerly. " Not come back yet, Sir. It's very seldom they stay out so long. I can make nothing of it." " You told her Ladyship I was here, didn't you ? " " I told Miss Georgina, Sir, and of course slic told my Lady." " What's your dinner-hour ? " "Always early, Sir, when Sir Gervais is from home. My Lady likes four, or half-past." " And it's five now ! " "Yes, Sir; a quarter-past five. It's the strangest thing I ever knew," said he, going tu the window, which commanded a view of the road at several of its wuiduigs through the valley. " We have MR. M'KINLAY's TJIIALS. 61 an excellent lake trout for dinner ; but by good luck it's to be grilled, not boiled, or it would be ruined utterly." " Capital tlimgs, those red trout," said M'Kinlay, to whom, like most of his craft and way of life, the pleasures of the table offered great temptations. " Is your cook a good one, Rickards ? " " Only a woman. Sir ; but by no means bad. Sir Gervais always takes M. Honore ^vith him on board the yacht ; but you'll see, Sir, that she knows how to roast, and we have a sweet saddle of Welsh mutton to-day, if it's not over-done." "That's what I'm afraid of, Rickards," said the lawyer; and if a sigh ever denoted sorrow, his did as he spoke. " Is the mutton smaU?" " Very small, Sir. Mountain mutton." " And of course it will be done to rags ! She serves it with currant- jelly, I suppose ? " *' No, Sir, With Guava. Sir Gervais prefers it." " And what else was there on your bill of fare for to-day ? " " A very simple diamer, Sir. Partridges on toast, a salad of white truffles, and a roast hare." "Quite enough, quite enough. Do you bring your wine down with you ! " *' Only the Madeira, Sir. Sir Gervais gets some claret over froiii an Irish house called Sneyd's, which he calles very drinkable." " So do I, too ; very drinkable, indeed ; and your Madeira, you say, you bring with you. I say, Richards, I think a glass of it and a biscuit wouldn't be amiss, if I'm to wait much longer." "I was just thinking the same, Sir; and if you'll step into *he dining-room and take a morsel of game-pie, I'll fetch the Madeira out of the sun. It's fine and mellow by this time." " Is this your woman cook's performance ? " said Mr. M'Kinlay, as he helped himself for the second time to the pie. " Yes, Sir ; and she'd do better, too, if it wasn't that the ladies don't Uke so much jelly. Here's a fine whole trufile. Sir! " " She's a valuable woman — a very valuable woman. Tell her, Rickards, that I drank her health in a bumper. Yes, up to the brim with it. She shall have all the honours." " Something sweet. Sir ? A little cherry tart ? " " Well, a httle cherry tart I'll not object to. No, no, Rickards, don't open champagne for me." " It's in the ice. Sir, and quite ready." " Let it stay there. I'm very simple about both eating and drink- ing. I'd not have made a bad hermit, if I hadn't been a lawyer." " No, indeed. Sir ! I never saw a gentleman so easily pleased. You're not Uke Mr. Grenfell, Sir, that has the biU of fare brought up every morning to his dressing-room ; ay, and M. Honore himself, too, summoned, just as if it was before a magistrate, to explain what's the meamng of this, and why he doesn't do the other." C2 LUTTRELL OF AREAN. " Your maslcr permits this ? " "He likes it, Sir; ho hiughs hearlily at it." "And tlie hulies, do tlicy like it? " "Oil, Mr. Groutell only comes over to Beau Park when the ladies is away, Sir, \ip hi town ur at the sea-side." "He's no favourite of theirs, then?" "I don't believe they ever saw him. Sir. At all events, he was never down with us when we were all at home." "I suspcet 1 know why," said i\I'Kinlay, knowingly. "Yes, Sir," replied llickards, as knowingly, while he took up a jar of piekled onions from the sideboard, and held it ostentatiously forward. " You're right, Rickards, you've hit it eorrectly. One glass more of that admirable wine. AVhal's that great ringing at the gatci' Is that your mistress ? " "iS'o, Sir. The lodge people have orders never to keep her wait- ing ; they always have a look-out when she's coming. There it is again. If you'll excuse mc a moment, Sir, I'd better step out and see what it means ! " The permission was graciously accorded, and Mr. M'Kinlay emptied the last of the Madeira into his glass, discussing with himself whether the world had anything really more eiijoyablc to otfer than a simple cottage life, with a good cook, and a capital cellar ! Little heed did he give to the absence of Rickards, nor was he in the least aware that the bland butler had been above a quarter of an hour away, when he entered ilushcd and excited. "It's tlie same as a burglary, Sir, there's no difference; and it's by- good luck you are here to declare the law of it ! " "What is the matter — what has happened, Rickards?" "They're in the drawing-room. Sir; they walked in by the opcu ■windows; there was no keeping them out." "Who are in the drawhig-room ? " "The tourists, Sir," exclaimed Rickards. "The tourists! The peojile that would force their way into "Windsor Castle and go through it, if the King was at his dinner there ! " Strong in a high ]uirpose, and bold with the stout courage of that glorious" Madeira, Mr. INI'KuiIay arose. "This is an unparalleled outrage," cried he ; " follow nu',' Itiekards ; " and he took his way to the drawing-room. Though the noise and tumult bespoke the ])res- cnce of several peo])le, there were not al)ove half a dozen in the room. One, however, a pale, sickly-looking young man, Mitli long hair, whic.'i required everlasting tosshig of his liead to keep out of his eyes, sat at the piano, phiying the most vigorousihords, while over his shoulder leaned a l)luc-ey'ed, fair, ringlet ted lady, whose years — past the fortir,«i — ratlici- damaged the evident determination she evinced to be youth- ful and volatile. "Do, Manny, do dearest, there's a love," said she. with the faintest yrR. il'KIKLAY'S TKIALS. 6'j imaginahle lisp, "do compolhc somclhing. A FantliasI;!, on vkithig Dinasllyn. A dhrcain " "Pray be qiiiet, Celcstina!" said lie, with a Viave of his liaud. " You derange me ! " "Have they got a 'catalog' of the gimcracks ? " exclaimed a nasal voice that there was no mistaking. "I a'n't posted in brass idols and boxwood saints, but I'd like to have 'em booked and ticketed." "Are you aware, gentlemen and ladies," said Mr. M'Kinlay, with a voice meant to awaken the very dullest sense of decorum — '"'are you aware that you are in the house of a private gentleman, without any permission or sanction on his part ? " " Oh, don't, don't disturb him, Sir," broke m the ringlctted lady. " You'll never forgive yourself if you spoil it ; " and she pointed to the artist, who had now let all his hair fall forward, after the fashion of a Skye terrier, and sat with his head di'ooped over the piano, and his hands suspended above the keys. " Say what for the whole bilen," cried the Yankee. " It aui"t much of a show; but I'll take it over to Xew York, and charge oulj twenty-five cents for the reserved seats ! " "I repeat, Sh-," exclaimed M'Kinlay, "your presence here, and. that of all yoiu- companions, is a most unreasonable intrusion — a breach of all propriety — one of those violations of decency, which, however practised, popidai", and approved of in a certain country, neither distinguished for the civilisation of its inhabitants, nor for their sense of refinement " " Is it Ireland you mane. Sir — is it Ireland ? " said a short, ear- bmicled-nosed Uttle man, with a pan- of fiery red eyes. " Say the word if it is." "It is not Ireland, Sir. I respect the Irish. I esteem tlicm." "Could you get them to be qiuet, Celestina?" said the artist, faintly ; " could you persuade the creatures to be stdl ? " "Hush, hush ! " said she, motioning with botli her hands. A tremendous crash now resounded through the room. It was Mr. Herodotus M. Dodge, who, hi experimenting v»"ith his mnbrella on a Sevres jar, to detect if it were cracked, had smashed it to atoms, coveruig the whole floor with the fragments. " Send for the police ! Tell the porter to lock the gate and fetch the poUce ! " shouted M'Kinlay. " I trust to show you. Sir, that you're not in Fifteenth-street, or Forty-sixth Avenue. I hope to prove to you that you're in a land of law and order." Overcome by his rage, he followed Rickards out of the room, declaring that he'd make aU England ruig with the narrative of this outrage. The legal muid, overbalanced for an uistant, suddcidy recovered its equanimity, and he began t(> reflect how far he was justified in a forcible delcnliou. ^Vould "a claim lie" for false iiapvlsoujncnli P 61 LIITTKELL OF AKRAM. Were lie to detain them, too, wliat should be his charge ? Was it a trespass ? Had they been warned oil"? " Wait a moment, Rickards," said he; "I must think a minute or two. Tliere's a dilficultj here. Where a person, passing in the street, smashes accidentally — it must be accidentally — a pane of plate-glass, of the value of, let us say five-and-twenty or thirty guineas, the law only holds him responsible for the damage of an ordinary window-pane ; so that here it will be quite o])en to the defence to show that this man imagined he was breakmg a common jug, a mere earthenware pipkin. It is, then, to the trespass we must look. Call the lodge-keeper ; say I wish to have a word with him." Wliile Kickards hastened on his errand, IVIr. M'Kinlay sat down to ponder carefully over the case. Your men conversant with great causes in equity and weighty trials at bar, are nervously fearful of mcddluig with the small cases which come before petty tribunals. They really know little about them, and are almost certain to fail in them ; and they feel — very naturally — ashamed at the sorry figui-e they must exhibit in such failures. " They are all gone, Sir — they've made s> regular retreat of it — not one left." " Who — who are gone ? " "Them tourists. Sir. They overtook me as I went down tlie avenue, and made George open the gate; and away they are, the whole of 'em." "I'm not sorry for it, Rickards. I declare I'm not sorry. It ■would cost more time and more trouble to follow them up than they're ■worth ; and I am certain, besides. Sir Gervais wouldn't have the affair in the newspapers for ten times the amount of the damage they have done him. What's the noise without — who's coming now? " " My Lady ! " exclaimed Itickards, and hastened out to receive her. Mr. M'Kinlay could notice that a short dialogue took place between the ladies and the butler before they entered the door, and that they both laughed at something he was telling them. Was the story that amused them of him, or of the invasion ? He had not time to con- sider when they entered. "How d'ye do, Mr. M'Kinlay?" said Lady Vyner, quietly. " We've kept you very long waiting, I fear. You may serve duiner at once, Kickards. Mr. M'Kinlay will excuse our dining in Morning dress, Georghia." " I should hope so," said lier sister, with a very saucy toss of the head. " Your Ladyship will excuse my not remaining to dinner," said he, with a marked coldness. " I only wanted to see you, and ask if you had any commissions for Sir Gervais." "No, there's notliing, I fancy. I wrote yesterday — I thmk it waa yesterday." THE SHEBEEN. 65 "Tell liim not to meddle with Irish property, and come away from that country as soon as he can," said Georgiua. " Say the garden is looking beautiful smce the ram," said Lady Vyiier, rising. " Good-bye, and a pleasant journey ! " " Good-bye ! " said Georgina, giving him the tips of her fiugers. And Mr. M'Kinlay bowed and took his leave, carrying away as he went very different thoughts of cottage life and its enjoyments from those he might have felt had he gone when he had finished the last glass of Madeira. CHAPTER X. THE SHEBEEN. Just as we see on the confines of some vast savage territory one solitary settlement that seems to say, " Here civihsation ends, beyond this the tracts of cultivated men are unknown," so three stood on the borders of a solitary lake m Donegal — Lough Anare — a small thatched house, over whose door an mscription amiounced " Entertamment for Man and Beast," the more pretentious letters of the latter seeming to indicate that the accommodation for Beast was far more likely to prove a success than that intended for humanity. What imaginable spirit of enterprise could have induced Mr O'Rorke to have established an inn in such a region is not easy to guess. To the north of Lough Anare lay a vast untraveUed, almost roadless district. Great mountains and deep valleys, wild plains ot heather, enclosing lakes, with islands, sometimes mere rocks, some-., times covered with an oak srsrub — last remnants of primeval forests — succeeded each other apparently without end. A miserable shoal- ing, usually padlocked on the outside, was aU that betokened habita- tion, and a living bemg was very rarely met with. It is true there was scenery which for grandeur and beauty might have vied with the most vaunted spots on the island. Momitam gorges far finer than Dunluce, lakes more varied in shape, and with margins bolder in outline and richer in colour than Killarney, and coast-line with wliich the boasted Glengariff could not for a moment compete, all destined to remain as unknown as if they lay thousands of miles away in some Indian sea. 66 LUTTRELL OF ABBAN. A great proportion of tliis territory was the property of the Univer- sity of Dublin — endowment made in tlie time of Queen Elizabeth, when probably all lands without the pale had about the same value ; some of it pertained to a wealthy Englisli noble, who, until the ac- cident of a governmental survey, had never so much as cared to ascertaui its limits, and who made the first use of his knowledge by annomicmg for sa'.e the lands of Mac-na-Morroch, Knochlifty, Kil- macooran, and Derryvaragh ; in all, nigh lil'ty thousand acres of mountain, bog, callow, and lake, whose great capabilities, whether for sheep -farming, fishing, for the quarries of marble, or the immense muieral resoiu'ccs, were vouched for by a roll of scientific names, whose very titular letters enforced conviction. If the pen of an imagmative ^vl•iter might have been employed in depicting the stores of wealth and fortune that lay here entombed, no fancy coiJd have exaggerated the natural lovehness of the landscape. All that was wild and grotesque in outline, with all that was most glowing in colour-, were there ; and when on the nameless lakes the settmg sun added his glory to the golden pui'ple of their reflecthig hght, the scene became one of such gorgeous splendour as Art would not have dared' to imitate. The little inn we have just mentioned stood on a rocky eminence which projected from the mountain-side, and could be seen for miles off, more conspicuous, besides, by a large green flag, with a harp in the centre, which by the patriotism of Mr. O'Rorke flaunted its folds to the wild mountain breezes, as though enjoying in the soUtude an immunity which the Saxon might have resented elsewhere. Tim O'Rorke was mdeed one who had "suffered for L-eland." Four several times had he figured in Crown Prosecutions, and both fiue and imprisonment had been his portion. On the hist occasion, how- ever, either that national enthusiasm was cooUng down, or that suspicions of Tim's honesty were getting abroad, the subscription for his defence was almost a failure. No imposhig names headed the list, and the sums inscribed were mean and contemptible. Unable to fee the great bar, to retain which, perhaps, formed the grandest trmmph of his life, O'Rorke decided to defend himself, and m the course of his defence launched forth into a severe and insulting castigation of his party, who, after using up his youtli and manhood in their cause, left him, when old and broken and dispirited, to the merciless cruelty of his enemies. He read aloud in open court the names of the powerfid and wealthy men who at first stood by him, and then, with a shameless insolence, contrasted them with the ignoble friends who remained to him. lie recited the proud sums once contributed, and, amidst the laughter of the court, ridiculed the beggarly half-crowns that now represented Irish patriotism. The verdict was agamst liim, and once more he was sent oack to Kilaaiu- ham, to serve out a two years' sentence, this time unalleviated by the sympathy of any friends, or the kuid wishes of any partisans. His THE SHEBEEN. 67 sentence completed, he made two or three eiforts to reinstate hirnselt in pubUc esteem ; he established an eatmg-house called " The Ivebel's Home," he instituted an evening paper entitled the Pike, he invented a coat-button marked '98, but somehow friends and enemies had become wearied of him. It was seen that he was one of those who neither have the power of good nor evil, that he could be of no use to his own, no injury to others, and the world dropped him — dropped him as it does its poor and disreputable relatives, taking no heed of his gaunt looks nor his tattered raunent, and by his tacit indiflerence showed that the mass of mankind can behave on certam occasions pretty much as would an mdividual man. Tim threatened, stormed, and reviled; he vowed vengeance and menaced disclosures; he swore that his revelations would impeach some of the highest in the land, and he intimated that up to a certam day he was yet appeasable. Threats however were not more successful than entreaties, and Tim, gathering together a few poimds, under the plea of departure for Austraha, quitted the scene he had so long troubled, and was heard of no more. For years he had continued to exist in some fashion or other — poaching the chief source — in the wild spot we have just described ; and it was on the rock in front of his door, with a short pipe in his mouth, that he now lay stretched, on a fine autmnn morning, lazily gazing down the valley, where at a great distance off he could detect a small speck upon the road, intimating that rarest of all events, the approach of a jaunting-car. He threw his glance upwards to see that his flag disported its folds to the an-, and to the sign over his door — " The Vinegar HiU, by T. 0'K,orke, Entertainment for Man or Beast " — to be sure that all was in order, and he then smoked quietly on and watched the road. By a landslip which had occurred several years before, and whose effects had never been remedied, the road was blocked up about a mile from the little inn, and travellers desu-ous of its accommodation were obliged to continue their journey on foot. Whether from the apathy of hope deferred, or calculatuig on the delay that must thus intervene, Mr. O'Rorke saw two persons descend from the car, and, each taking his carpet-bag, set out to walk, without the shghtest movement on his part to provide for their reception ; and this, though he was himself cook, waiter, and housemaid — aU that the iim possessed of master or attendant. ]\L'. O'Rorke's experience of travellers included but two categories, each of them rare enough in their visitations. They either came to shoot grouse or convert the natives. All who were not sportsmen were missionaries. A certain amount of peril attended both pui-svdts. The people were a wild semi-civihsed set, who saw with jealousy a stranger amongst them, and certam liints palpable enough not to be mistaken, intimated to the lovers of sport, as well as the distributers of tracts, that their pui'suits were dangerous ones ; and thus, in time, 5—2 68 LUTTRELL OF ARItAN. the numbers decreased year by year, till at last the advent of a traveller was a rare event. The two who now ascended the rocky path had neither guns nor fishmg-tackle — as Uttle had they of missionaries in their aspect — and he watched them with a lazy curiosity as they approached. "Are you Mr. O'Rorkc?" cried the first who came forward, who was our acquaintance Sir Gervais Vyncr. " Yes, my name is O'Rorke." "And the owner of this inn, I take it ? " asked Grenfell, somewhat haughtilv- "The 'same." " Is this your usual way of receiving strangers, my friend, or is your present manner an especial politeness to ourselves ? " " Can you let us have a dinner, and make up a couple of rooms ? " broke in Vyner hastily. "We should hke to stop here a few days." " You can see the rooms, whether they'U do for you or not ; such as they are, you can have them, but I can't make them better." " And for catmg what can you give us ? " " Mutton always — fish and game when there's the season for them — and poteen to wash them down." " That is the illicit spirit, isn't it ? " asked Grenfell. " Just as illicit as auytliing else a man makes of his own produce for his own use ; just as illicit as the bread that is made of his own com." " You're a politician, I see," said Grenfell, with a sneering laugh. " I half suspected it when I saw your green flag there." " If I hachi't been one, and an honest one too, I'd not be here to- day," said he, with an energy greater than he had shown before. " Have you anythmg to say against that flag ? " "Of course he has not. Neither he nor 1 ever saw it before," said Vyner. " Maybe you'll be more familiar with it yet ; maybe the time isn't far off when you'll see it waving over the towers of Dublui Castle ! " "I am not aware that there are any towers for it to wave over," said Grenfeil, mockingly. " I'll tell you what there are ! There are hills and mountains, that our fathers had as their own ; there arc plains and valleys, that sup- ported a race braver and better than the crafty Saxons that overcame them ; there are holy churches, whci'c your faith was taught before we ever heard of Harry the Ei^^hth and his ten wives ! " " You are giving him more than the Church did," said Grenfell. " I don't care whether they were ten or ten thousand. He is your St. Peter, and you can't deny him ! " " I wish I could deny that I don't Hke this conversation," said Vyner. " My friend and I never came here to discuss questions of politics or polemics. And now about dinner. Could you let us have it at three o'clock ; it is just eleveu now ? " THE SHEBEEN. 69 "Yes, it will be ready by three," said O'Rorke, gravely. " The place is clean enough inside," whispered GrenfeU, as he came from within, " but miserably poor. The fellow seems to have ex- pended aU his spare cash in rebeUious pictures and disloyal en- gravings." "He is an insupportable bore," muttered Vyner; "but let us avoid discussion with him, and keep him at a distance." "I like his rabid Irishism, I own," said GrenfeU, "and I intend to {)0st myself up, as the Yankees say, in rebellious matters before we eave this." " Is that Lough Anare, that sheet of water I see yonder ? " "Yes," said O'Rorke. "There's a rmiied tower and the remains of seven churches, I think, on an island there ? " "You'd like to draw it, perhaps?" asked O'Rorke, with a cunning curiosity in his eye. "For the present, I'd rather have a bathe, if I could find a suitable spot." " Keep round to the westward there. It is all rock along that side, and deep water close to the edge. You'll find the water cold, if you mind that." " I like it all the better. Of course, George, you'll not come ? You'll lie down on the sward here, and doze or dream tiU I come back." " Too happy, if I can make sleep do duty for books or newspapers," yawned out GrenfeU. " Do you want a book ? " asked O'Rorke. "Yes, of all things. What can you give me ? " He retiumed to the house and brought out about a dozen books. There were odd volumes of the press, O'Callaghan's "Celts and Saxons," and the Milesian Magazine, profusely illustrated with wood- cuts of EngUsh cruelty in every imaginable shape that human ingenuity could impart to torture. " That will show you how we were civUised, and why it takes so long to do it," said O'Rorke, pomting to an infamous print, where a celebrated di-ummer named HempenstaU, a man of gigantic stature, was represented in the act of hanging another over his shoulder, the artist having given to the suffering wretch an expression of such agony as no mere words would convey. " This fellow is intolerable," muttered Vyner, as he turned away, and descended the rocky path. GrenfeU, too, appeared to have had enough of his patriotic host, for he stretched himself out on the green sward, drawing his hat over his eyes, and giving it to be seen that he would not be disturbed. O'Rorke now retreated to the kitchen to prepare for his guest's entertainment, but he started with astonishment as he entered. " What, Kitty, is this you ? " cried he ; " when did you come ? " 70 LTTTTKELL OP ABHAN. The quesilon was addressed to a little girl of some ten or eleven J ears old, who, with her long golden hair loose on her shoulders, and er checks flushed with exercise, looked even handsomer than wheu first we saw her in the ruined Abbey at Arran, for it was the same child who had stood forward to claim the amber necklace as her right. " My grandfather sent me home," said she, calmly, as she threw the long locks back from her forehead, "for he had to stay a day at Murranmorc, and if he's not here to-morraw morning I'm to go on by myself." " And was that all you got by your grand relation, Kitty ? " said he, pointing to the necklace that she still wore. " And isn't it enough ? " answered she, ]iroudly ; " they said at the funeral that it was worth a king's ransom." " Then they told you a lie, child, that's all ; it wouldn't brin^ forty shillLngs — if it would thirty — to-morrow." "I don't believe you, Tim 0'E.orke," said she, boldly; "but it's just like you to make little of what's another's." "You have the family tongue if you haven't their fortune," said he, with a laugh. " Are you tired, coming so far ? " " Not a bit ; I took the short cut by Lisnacare, and came down where the waterfall comes in winter, and it saved more than four miles of the road." " Ay, but you might have broken your neck." " My neck was safe enough," said she, saucily. "Perhaps you could trust your feet if you couldn't your head," said he, mockingly. " I could trust them both, Tim O'Rorke ; and maybe they'd botk bring me farther and higher than yours ever did you." " There it is again ; it runs in your blood ; and there never was one of your name that hadn't a saucy answer." "Then don't provoke what you don't like," said she, with a quivering lip, for though quick at reply she was not the less sensi- tive to rebuke. " Take a knife and scrape those carrots, and, when you've done, wash those radishes well." The girl obeyed without a word, seeming well pleased to be em- ployed. " Did she leave any money behind her ? " asked he, after a pause. "No, none." " And how did he treat you ? — was he civil to you all ? " " Wc never saw him." " Not see him ! — how was that ? Sure he went to the wake ? " "He did not. He sent us 'lashins' of everything. There was pork and potatoes, and roast hens and ducks, and eggs and tea, and sugar and wliisky, and cakes of every kind." "But why didn't he come in amongst you to sav that you THE SHEBEEK. 71 were Tvelcome, to ■wish you a good liealtli, and the time of the year?" "I don't know." " And yoiu- grandfather bore that ? " She made no answer, but her face became crimson. " I suppose it was all right ; he wanted to show you that it was aU over between him and you, and that when she was gone you didn't belong to him any more." Two heavy tears roUed along the hot and burning cheeks of the child, but she never spoke. " Your old grandfather's well changed, Kitty, from what I knew him once, or he woiddn't have borne it so quietly. And what did you get for your journey ? " " We got all her clothes — elegant flue clothes — and luien — two big boxes full, and knives and forks, and spoons and plates, tliat would fiU two dressers as big as that. And this," and she hfted the amber beads as she spoke, with a flashmg eye — "and this besides." " He knew you well ; he treated you just the way they treat the wild Indians in the Rocky Mountains, where they buy all that they have in the world for an old brass button or a few spangles. In his eyes you were all poor savages, and no more." " I wish I never set foot in your house, Tim O'Eorke," said she, throwmg down the knife, and stamping her bare foot with anger. "'Tis never a good word for man or woman comes out of your mouth, and if it wasn't so far to go I'd set off now." "You're the makmg of a nice one," said he, with a sneering laugh. " I'm the makmg of what wHI be far above you one day," said she, and her large blue eyes dilated, and her nostrils expanded with passion. " Go down to the well and fill that pitcher," said he, cahnly. And she took the vessel, and trip]3ed as lightly on the errand as though she had not come seventeen long mUes that same morning. 72 LUTTRELL OF AKKAN. CHAPTER XI. THE LEGEND OF LUTTKELL AND THE . Doubtless the fresh free mouiitaui air had its influence, and some- thing, too, Liy in the surprise at the gooduess of the fare, but Vyner andtireufell sat at the open door after their diiuier in the pleasant frame of mmd of those who have dined to their satisfaction, and like to reflect on it. " I can almost look M'ith complacency on your idea of an Irish property, Vyner, when I think of that mutton," said GrenfeU, as he lazily puffed his cigar, while he lay fuU stretched on the grass. " With what consummate tact, too, the fellow avoided all attempts at fine cookery, and sent us up those trouts plainly fried." "This is the only thuig I cannot reUsh — this vde, semi-sweet and smoky compound. It is detestable ! " And he held the whisky to his nose, and laid it down again. Are we sure that he cannot com- mand somethmg better ? " " Here goes to see," said GrenfeU, starting up. " What a crown- ing pleasure would a glass of sherry — that Amontillado of yours — be m such a spot." " Fetch me out that map you'll find on my table," said Vyner, as the otlier moved away, and he lay half dreamily gazing out at the long valley with its moimtain barrier in the distance. It was the thought of space, of a splendid territory princely in extent, that captivated his mind with regard to this purchase. AU told him that such acquisitions are seldom profitable, and very often perilous ; that whatever changes are to be wrought must be carried out with patience and inlinite caution, and that the people — the wild natives, who consider the soil as more than half their own — must be con- ciliated. But was there ever a man — at least an imaginative, im- pulsive man — who did not fancy he was the person to deal with such difficulties ? That by his tact and skill, and delicate treatment, the obstacles which had closed the way for others would be removed ; that with an instinctive appreciation of the people, of their moods of thought, their passions, and their prejudices, lie would discover the road to their hearts, and teach them to trust and confide ia him? It was ui -a sort of fool's paradise of this kind that Vyner lay. He was a prince in Ids own wild momitain territory, his sway undis- Euted, his rule absolute. He had spread benefits innumerable around im, and the recipients were happy, and, what is more, were grate- THE LEGEND OF LUTTRELL AND THE . 73 fol. Some terrible crime — agrarian outrage, as newspaper literature lias it — had come before the House, and led to a discussion on the question of Irish landlordism, and he imagmed himself rising in his place to declare his own experiences — " very different, indeed, fi-om those of the Eight Honourable Gentleman who had just sat down." What a glowing picture of a country he di-ew; what happiness, what peace, what prosperity. It was Ai'cadia, with a Uttle more rain and a pohce force. There was no disturbance, no scarcity, very little sickness, religious differences were unknown, a universal brotherhood bound man to man, and imparted to the success of each all the sentiment of a general triumph. "And where. Sir, wUl you say, h this happy region — in what favom-ed coimtry blessed by nature is this Elysium ? and my reply is, in the wild and almost trackless mountains of Donegal, amidst scenery whose desolate grandeur almost appals the benolder ; where but a few years back the traveller dared not penetrate above a mUe or two from the coast, and where m comparison the bush in Newfomidland or the thicket in New Zealand had been safe. It is my proud privilege to declare, Sn, and this I do, not alone before this House, but in face of the country " "That you never saw a prettier face than that," said Grenfell, leading forward the little girl by the hand, and placing her before him. "She is pretty; she is downi-ight beantifol," said Vyner, warmly. " Where did you find this queen of the fairies ? " " At the well yonder, trying to place on her head a pitcher not much smaller than herself. She tells me she is a stranger here, only waitmg for her grandfather to come and fetch her away." " And where to ? " asked Vyner. "To Glenvallah." And she pointed hi the dnection of the moun- tains. " And where have you come from now ? " "From Arran — from the island." ""What took you to the island, child ? " " I was at my aunt's wake. It was there I got this." And she lifted one of the beads of her necklace with a conscious pride. "Amber and gold; they become you admirably." The child seemed to feel the praise in her inmost heart. It was a eulogy that took in what she prized most, and she shook back the luxuriant masses of her han, the better to display the ornaments she wore. " And it was your aunt left this to you ? " asked Grenfell. " No ; but we had everything amongst us. Grandfather took this, and Tom Noonan took that, and Mark Tracey got the other, and this — this was mine." "Were you sorry for your aunt? " asked Vyner. "No, I didn't care."' 71 LTJTTRELL 07 ABRAN. "Not care for j-ouy father's or your motlier's sister? " " She was my motlier's sister, but wc never saw her. She couldn't come to us, and lie wouldn't let us come to her." " He, I suppose, means her husband ? " The child nodded assent. "And what was the reason of this ; was there a family quarrel ? " " No. It was because he was a gentleman." "Indeed ! " broke in Greufell. '" How did you know that ? " " Because he never worked, nor did anything for his living. lie could stay all day out on the sea-shore gathering shells, and go home when he pleased to his meals or his bed." " And that is being a gentleman ? " " I think it is ; and I wish I was a lady." "What was this gentleman's name? " "John Hamilton Luttrell — Luttrell of Arran we called him." " John Luttrell ! And was your aunt his wife, child ? " asked Vyncr, eagerly ; " And are you the cousin of Hany Luttrell ? " " Yes ; but he would uot let me say so ; he is as proud as his father." " He need not be ashamed of such a cousin, I think," said Vyner, as he surveyed her ; and the child again raised her fingers to her necklace, as though it was there that lay all her claim to admiration. " Keep her in talk, George, while I make a sketch of her ; she is the very brightest thing I ever saw in nature." " Tell me the names of all these mountams," said Grenfell ; " but first of all, your o\\ti." " My name is Kitty ; but I like them to call me Katherine — as the priest does." "It is statelier to be Katherine," said Grenfell, gravely. And she gave a nod of haughty acknowledgment that almost pro- voked a smile from him. " That mountain is Caub na D'haoul, the Devil's Nightcap ; whenever he takes it off, there's a storm at sea ; and there's Kil- macrcenon, where the Bradleys was killed ; and that's Strathmore, where the gold mines is." " And are there really gold mines there ? " " Ay, if one had leave from the devil to work them ; but it was only old Luttrell ever got that, and he paid for it." "Tell me the story, child; I never heard it." The girl here seated herself on a knoll directly in front of them, and, with a demure air, and some of that assumed importance she had possibly seen adopted by story-tellers, she began, in a tone and with a fluency that showed she was repeating an oft-told tale : " There was one of the Luttrclls once that was very rich, and a great man every way, but he spent all Ids money trying to be greater than the Kmg, for whatever the King did Luttrell would do twice i^JfU/y^a^/z^^^y^i^^'^^ THE LEGEND OF LUTXEELL AKD THE , 75 as grand, and for one great feast the King wovJd give, Luttrell would give two, and lie came at last to be ruined entirely' ; and of all his fme houses and lands nothing was left to him but a Little cabin on Strathmore, where his herd used to live. And there he went and lived as poor as a labourui' man ; indeed, except that he'd maybe catch ft few fish or shoot something, he had nothing but potatoes all the year round. Well, one day, as he was wanderin' about very low and sorrowfiJ, he came to a great cave on the hill-side, with a little well of clear water inside it ; and he sat down for the sake of the shelter, and began to thiiiTc over old times, when he had houses, and horses, and fine clothes, and jewels. ' Who'd ever have thought,' says he, 'that it would come to this with me ; that I'd be sittin' upon a rock, with nothing to drink but water ? ' And he took some up in the hollow of his hand and tasted it ; but when he finished, he saw there was some fiiie little grams, like dust, in his hand, and they were bright yellow besides, because they were gold. '"If I had plenty of you, I'd be happy yet,' says he, looking at the grains. " ' And what's easier in life, Mr. Luttrell ? ' says a voice ; and he starts and turns round, and there, m a cleft of the rock, was sittin' a little dark man, with the brightest eyes that ever was seen, smoking a pipe. ' "Wliat's easier in life,' says he, ' Mr. Luttrell ? ' "'How do you know my name ? ' says he. " ' Why wouldn't I ? ' says the other. ' Sure it isn't because one is a nttle down in the world that he wouldn't have the right to his own name ? I have had some troubles myself,' says he, ' but I don't forget my name for all that.' " ' And what may it be, if it's pleasin' to you ? ' says Luttrell. " ' Maybe I'll tell it to you,' says he, ' when we're better ac- quainted.' " ' Maybe I could guess it now,' says Luttrell. " ' Come over and whisper it, then,' says he, ' and I'll tell you if you're right.' And Luttrell did and the other called out, ' You guessed well ; that's just it ! ' " ' Well,' says Luttrell, ' there's many a change come over me, but the strangest of all is to think that here I am, sittin' up and talkuig to the ' The other held up his hand to warn him not to say it, and went on : ' And I'm no more afeard of him than if he was an old friend.' " ' And why would you, Mr. Luttrell ? — and why wouldn't you think him an old friend ? Can you remember one pleasant day in all your life that I wasn't with you some part of it ? ' " " Give up that drawing, Vyner, and listen to this," said Grenfell. " I'll make her begm it again for you." " I am listening. I've heard every word of it/' said Vyner. " Go on. dear," 76 LUTTRELL OF AURIN. " 'I know Mfhat you mean well enough, " said Luttrell. *I know llic sort, of bargain you make, but what would be the good of all my riches to me M'heu I'd lose my soule ? ' " Isn't it much trouble you take about your soule, Mr. Luttrell ? " says he. Doesn't it keep you awake at night, thinking how you're to save it ? Ain't you always correctm' and chastisin' yourself for the good of your soule, not lettui' youi'self drink this or eat that, and warnin' you, besides, about many a thing I won't speak of, eh? Tell me that.' " ' There's something ui what you say, no doubt of it,' says Luttrell ; ' but, after all,' says he, with a wink, ' I'm not going to give it up as a bad job, for aU that.' '"And who asks you?' says the other. 'Do you think that a soule more or less signifies to me ? It don't : I've hishins and lavins of them.' " ' Maybe you have,' said Luttrell. " ' Have you any doubt of it, Mr. Luttrell ? ' says he. ' Will you just mention the name of any one of your friends or family that I can't give you some particulars of ? ' " ' I'd rather you'd not talk that way,' says Luttrell ; ' it makes me feel unpleasant.' " ' I'm sure,' says the other, ' nobody ever said I wasn't polite, or that I ever talked of what was not pleasing to the company.' "'Well,' says Luttrell, 'supposin' that I wanted to be rich, and supposin' that I would'nt agree to anything that would injure my soule, and supposin' that there was, maybe, something tliat you'd like me to do, and that wouldn't hurt me for doin' it; what would that be ? ' " ' If you always was as cute about a bargain, ]\Ir. Luttrell,' says the other, 'you'd not be the poor man you are to-day.' " ' That's true, perhaps,' says he ; ' but, you sec, the fellows I made them with wasn't as cute as the ' " Don't,' says the other, holding up his hand to stop him ; ' it's never polite. I told you I didn't want your soid, for I'm never impa- tient about anything ; all I want is to give you a good lesson — some- tlung that your family will be long the better of — and you want it much, for you have, all of you, one great sui.' " ' We're fond of drink ? ' says Luttrell. " * Ko,' says he ; 'I don't mean that.' "'It'sgamblm'?' " ' Nor that.' " ' It's a liking for the ladies ? ' said Luttrell, slyly. " 'I've nothing to say agauist that, for they're always well disposed to me,' says he. " ' If it's eatin' or spcndin' money, or gom' in debt, or cursin' or swcarin', or being fond of fightin' ' '"It is not,' says he ; ' them is all natural. It's your pride,' says THE LEGEND OF LTJTTEELL AND THE . 77 he — 'your upsettiii' family pride, that won't let you do this, or say that. There's what's destroyiu' you.' " ' It's pretty well out of me now,' says Luttrell, M-ith a sigh. " ' It is not,' says the other. ' If you had a good diuner of beef, And a tumbler of strong punch in you, you'd be as impudent this minute as ever you were.' " 'Maybe you're right,' says Luttrell. " ' I know I am, Mr. Luttrell. You're not the fii'st of your family I was intimate with. You're an ould stock, and I know ye well.' '"And how are we to be cured ? ' says Luttrell. " ' Easy enough,' says he. ' "V^Tien three generations of ye marry peasants, it wiU take the pride out of your bones, and you'll behave like other people.' " ' We couldn't do it,' says Luttrell. "'Try,' says the other. " ' Impossible ! ' " ' So you'd say about livin' on potatoes, and drhikin' weU water.' " ' That's true,' says Luttrell. " ' So you'd say about ragged clothes and no shoes to your feet.' LuttreU nodded. " ' So you'd say about settin' in a cave and talking over family matters to — to a stranger,' says he, with a laugh. " ' I beHeve there's sometliiug in it,' said LuttreU ; ' but sm-e some of us might like to tm-n bachelors.' " ' Let them, and welcome,' says he. ' I don't want them to do it one after the other. I'm in no huiTy. Take a hundred years — take two, if you Hke, for it.' " ' Done,' says Luttrell. ' When a man shows a fair spirit, I'll always meet him in the same. Give me your hand; it's a bargain.' " ' I hui't my thumb,' says he ; ' but take my tail, 'twill do all the same.' And though Mr. Luttrell didn't like it, he shook it stoutly, and only let it go when it began to burn his fingers. And from that day he was rich, even till he died ; but after his death nobody ever knew where to find the gold, nor ever will tiE the devil tells them." " And did his family keep the bargaua ; did they marry the peasants ? " asked Grenfell. " Two of them. One before John Luttrell of Ai-ran ; and another must do it, and soon too, for they say the two hundred years is near out now." " And is it said that the remedy succeeded ? " asked Vyner ; " are the Luttrells cured of their family pride ? " " They can't be till the third marriage takes place ; indeed, my grandfather says they'll be worse than ever just before they're cured ; ' for,' says he, ' every one that makes a bargain with the devil thinks he has the best of it.' " "And that, I suspect, is a mistake, Katherine," said Vyuer. 78 L'JXlBELL OF ARRAN. Slie threw down ber eyes, and seemed lost in tliouglit, making no reply whatever to his remark. " I'd have had no deaUngs with him at all," said Vyner. " You are rich, and you don't need him," said she, almost fiercely, as tliough his words had conveyed a sneer. "That's just it, Kitty," said Grenfell; "or if he did want him it would be for sometlmig different from money." She gave a saucy toss of her head, as though to show she agreed with him, and turned to the table where Vyner was at work with his chalks. " That's me," said she, gravely. " I hke your own face better," said Vyner. " So would the little fellow with the pipe that you were telling us of," said GreufeU. " Let him say so," said she, ^ilh a rmgmg laugh ; and she bounded from the spot, and skipping from crag to crag iiew down the rock, and hurried down the little path at speed. " There's a man commg up the road; don't you see him waving his hat ? " " It's an old man," said Vyner, as he looked through his telescope. " I suppose her grandfather." CHAPTER XII. THE WALK IN THE MOUNTAINS. When Vyner went to sleep that night, it was to dream of all that the last few days had presented before him. The wild and rocky Arran, with its ruined Abbey and its lonely occupant ; the bright- eyed but overthoughtful-lookmg boy, with all the freshness of cliild- hood and all the contemplative temperament of a man; then the iron-bound shore and the semi-savage natives ; and last of all the mountain region where he then was, with that fairy figure more deeply impressed than he had drawn her, and whom he now fancied to be tripping lightly before liim up the rocky sides of Strathmore. As he opened his eyes, the view that met them startled Mm. It was one of those vast stretches of landscape which painters cannot convey. They are too wide, too boundless for pioturc. The plain IHE TVALK IN THE M0UKTAIM8. 79 which lay outstretched before him, rising and faUing Hke a vast prairie, was unmarked by habitation — not a Iiovel, not a liut to be seen. Vast groups of rocks stood out here aud there abruptly, grotesque and strange in outhne, as though giants had been petrified in the act of some great conflict, the stunted trees that crowned the siunmits seiTiug as feathers on the helmets. A great amphitheatre of mountain girded the plain, save at one spot, the Gap of Glenvallah, through which, as his map told him, his road on that mornmg lay. His object was to see with his own eye the so much vaunted scenery oi' this region, to visit the lonely spot, and talk himself with its wUd natives ; he doubted, indeed, if both the solemnity and the savagery had not been exaggerated. To acquire the property was, after all, only one of those caprices which rich men can afford them- selves. They can buy some rare and costly relic — some curious manuscript, some singular specunen of a contested species, a shell, a stone, a fragment of scidptured marble — to show which once or twice to some critical eye is all its value ; why not then possess hi nature what, had it been reduced to art and signed Poussui or Salvator, would have been priceless ? It was thus he reasoned : " If this place be but what they have described it, I shall own a landscape that all the galleries of Europe camiot rival. A landscape, too, whose vary- ing effects of sun aud shadow, of dayln'cak and twihght, shall be endless. The greatest of all painters, the sun, shall throw over the scene his own lights, and the storm shall wash the canvas and bring out afresh all the most lovely tints of colour." Grenfell had }n-omised him overnight to be up and stirring by an early horn-, but when called he refused to rise ; he had his lazy fit on him, he said; he might have caUcd it rather a malady than a paroxysm, for it was chronic. He declared that the view from the rock before the door fully satisfied hun ; he v/as no glutton about scenery ; a httle did for him, aud here was a feast. " Besides," said he, " I have been reading those atrocious magazines all night, and I mean to devote my day to some rebel colloquies with my host." Perhaps after all, Vyner was scarcely sorry to set out alone ; Gren- fell's compauiousliip was of so essentially worldly a character, his quahties were best exercised when they discussed the men, the things, and the topics of his day : such a man saw in the ^vild sublimity of u moimtam scene Httle else than its desolation, and Vyner bethought him how often this town-bred gentleman had jarred upon him m moments of peaceful reverie and errant fancy. O'Rorke served his breakfast in sdence ; either he \vas not in com- municative mood, or he mistrusted his guest. He answered with brevity the few questions about the road, oidy adding " that it was a pity the gentleman had not mentioned before where he was going, for there was an old man aud hia granddaughter had just set out on that very road." 80 LITTTEELL OF ARKAN. " Tlie child I saw here yesterday ? " " The same." "Have they been long gone? Could I overtake them, think you ? " " Easy enough ; they've taken some liread and a bottle of milk for their breakfast, and you'll come up with them, if you walk briskly, before they reach the Gap." He lost no further time, but strapping on a light knapsack, and armed with a stout stick, set out at once. " If it's a gauger you are, you'd wish yourself back in the place you came from before night," said O'Rorke as he looked after him. Vyner was a good walker, and trained to the mountains, so that his eye quickly detected any available short cut, and enabled him at a glance to choose his path. If there M"as not actual peril in his position — thus alone and companionless in a wild region, where any suspicion may attach to the stranger — there was that amount of adventure that summons a man's courage to its post, and tells him that he must look to his own safety ; and who that has felt this sensation, this proud sense of self-dependence, does not know its ecstasy ! Who has not tasted the small heroism of being alone on the mountain, on the wild heath at midnight, on the rolling sea with a gather- ing storm in the distance, and who, having felt, has not gloried in it ? But to the man who leaves behind a home of every comfort, where all that can adorn and embellish existence are to be found, the con- trast of present privation with past indulgence has something wonder- fully exciting. He pictures the present drawing-room with its cheerful fire, and the happy faces around the hearth ; he fancies he hears the merry laugh, the melodious chords of the piano, the swell of some sweet voice, and then he bends his ear to the rugged plash of the breaking sea, or the whistling wind as it sweeps through some Alpine "crevasse." If no sense of such daugcrs arose to Vyner's mind, yet there was enough to make him feel how different was his present position from anythiug that his daily life exacted. The chances that wc voluntarily confront have a wondrous fas- cination. From his map he learned that the estate which he wished to pur- chase began at the Gap of Inchegora, a solemn gorge visible for many a mile off! It was indeed a grand portal that same Gap not fully fifty feet in width, and more than nine hundred in height — a mere fissure, in fact, as complete as though made by the stroke of a giant's scimitar. With his eyes directed constantly to this spot, he went onward, and came at length fo a little stream, at the margin of which, and under the shelter of a solitary ash, sat the old peasant and his granddaughter at their breakfast. "1 have walked hard to come up with you," said Vyner. "I wanted to have your company to the Gap." The old man touched ^v^> C'y^lfZ ^ DEBErVAKAGH. 209 strange to you as if you were walking on a diffeicut earth from this." " Read that again." *' I will not. 'Tis as much as I can to say it once. Listen : *' You ask, Am I happy ? and I answer. If I am not, is it in your power to make me so ? You want to know, Do I like the life I lead ? and I ask you, If it should be that I did not like it, do you think I'd Uke to go back to rags, misery, and starvation ? Do you believe that I can forget the cold, cutttag wind, and the rain, and the snow-dril't of Stratlimore, or that I don't remember the long days I shivered on the cliffs of Kilmacreeuon ? They all come back to me, grandfather, in my dreams, and many a morning I awake, sobbing over miseries, that, no matter what may be my fortune, have left a dark spot on my heart for life." " The darlin' jewel ! I hope not," muttered Malone, as his lips trembled with emotion. " Kead on, O'Horke." "'Take it for granted, that you need never fret about me.' That's true, anyliow, Peter ; and she means it to say, ' Don't bother yourself about one that will never trouble her head about voti!'" " Go on with the readiu'," grumbled out Malone. " ' Though I cannot answer one-fourth of your questions, I will tell you so much ; I am better off here than at Sir G. V.'s. I am my own mistress ; and, better still, the mistress of all here. Sir Within leaves everything at my orders. I drive out, and dress, and ride, and walk, just as I please. We see no company whatever, but there is so much to do, I am never lonely. I have masters if I wish for them — sometimes I do — and I learn many things, such as riding, driving, &c., which people never do well if they only have picked uj) by chance opportunity. You ask. What is to be the end of all Ihisi* or, as Mr. O'Rorke says, Wliat will ye make of it ? I reply, I don't know, and I don't much trouble my head about it ; because I do know, Peter Malone, that if I am not interrupted and interfered with, all will go well with me, though certainly I can neither tell how, or wliere, or why. Another thing is equally clear : neither of us, dear grandfather, can be of much use to the other.' " "What's that?" cried the old man; "read it again." " ' Neither of us can be of much use to the other.' That's plain talking, anyhow, Peter. She's a young lady that makes herself understood, I must say that ! " "I never 'dragged' on her for a farthin'," said Malone, with a ■«aournful sigh. "Lucky for you, Peter ; lucky for you ! " "Nor I wouldn't, if I was starvin'," said hcj with a fierce energy. " Lucky for you, I say again ! " 14 210 LUXTKELL OJ? AllKAN. "i'ou mane, that she wouldn't help me, Tim O'Rorkc. You mane, that she'd tuDi her back ou her ould grandfather. That's as it may be. God knows best what's iji people's hearts. I can't tell, nor you either; but this I can tell, and I can swear to it: That for all the good she could do me — ten, ay, fifty times told — I'd not dis- grace her, nor bring her to the sliame of saying, ' That ould man there in the ragged frieze coat and the patched shoes, that's my mother's father.' " " If it's to your humility you're trusting, Peter, my man," said the other, scoffingly, " you've made a great mistake in your grand- daughter; but let us finish the reading. Where was it I left off? Yes, here, 'Neither of us of much use to the other. You want to know what intercourse exists between the Vyners and myself ' The Vyners ! Ain't we grand ! " cried O'Rorke. " The Vyners ! I wonder she don't say, ' between the Vyners and the O'Haras. '" " Go on, will you? " said Malone, impatiently. " ' — it is soon told — there is none ; and what's more. Sir Within no longer hears from or writes to them. Although, therefore, my 6wn connection with this family has ceased, there is no reason why this should influence yours ; and I would, above all things, avoid, if I were you, letting mij fortunes interfere with your own. You can, and with truth, declare that you had nothing whatever to do with any step I have taken ; that I went my own waj^ and never asked you for the road. My guardian, Sir Within, wrote, it is true, to Mr. Luttrell, of Arrau, but received no answer. It will be my duty to write to hun in a few days, and not improbably with the same result. " ' You seem anxious to know if I have grown tall, and whether I am still like what I was as a child. I believe I may say, Yes, to both questions ; but I shall send you, one of these days, a sketch from a picture of me, wnich the painter will this year exhibit at the Academy. It is called a great likeness. And last of all, you ask after my soul. I am sorry, dear grandfather, that I cannot be as certain of giving you as precise intelligence on this point as I Lave done on some others. It may satisfy you, however, perhaps, if I say I have not become a Protestant ' " " God bless her for that ! " said Malone, fervently. "' — although our excellent housekeeper here, Mrs. Simcox, assui-es me that such a change would be greatly to my advan- tage, in this world and in that to come; but if her know- ledge of the former is the measure of what she knows of the latter, I shall require other counsel before I read my recanta- tion.' " " What docs she mean by that ? " asked Malone. "'Tis another way of saying 'I won't play a card till I see the money down on the table.' " aERRYVAKAGII. 211 " How can that be ? Which of us kuows what's going to bappeu here or in the next world ? " " Maybe the Protestants does ! Perhaps that's the reason they're always so dark and downcast now." Malone shook his head in despair ; the problem was too much for him, and he said, "Read on." " ' That I am not without the consolations of the Church you will be glad to hear, as I tell you that a French priest, the Abbe Gerard, dines here every Sunday, and sings with me in the evenmg.' " " Sings with her. Wliat makes them sing ? " " Religion, of coorse," said O'Rorke, with a grin of derision. " Listen to me, Peter Malone," cried he, in a stern voice ; " when people is well off in the world, they no more thuik of going to heaven the way you and I do, than they'd think of travellin' a journey on a low-backed car." " Go on with the reading," muttered Malone. "I have read enough of it, Peter Malone. You are cute enough to see by this time what a fine-hearted, generous, loving creature you have for a granddaughter. At all events, the dose you've taken now, ought to be enough for a day. So put up the physic " — here he handed him the letter — " and whenever you feel in want of a little more, come back, and I'll measure it out for you ! " " You're a hard man, you're a hard ri-iau, Mr. O'Rorke," said tlic old fellow, as he kissed the letter twice fervently, and tlien placed it in his bosom. " I'm a hard man because I read you out her own words, just as she wrote them." " You're a hard man, or you'd not want to crush one as old and feeble as me." And so saying, he went his way. 319 LUTTBELL OF AB.RAN. CHAPTER XXXII. MK. M'KINLAY in ITALY. As there arc periods in life, quiet and tranq ail periods, in whicli the mijid reverts to the past, and dwells on bygones, so in story- teUiug there are little intervals in which a brief retrospect is pardonable, and it is to one of these I would now ask my reader's attention. There was not anything very eventful in Mr. M'Kmlay's journey across Europe with Ada and her governess. They met with no other adventures than occur to all travellers by land or by water ; but on arriving at Marseilles, a letter from Lady Vyner apprised them that Sir Gervais was slightly indisposed, and requested Mr. M'Kuilay would complete his kindness by giving them his company and protection as far as Genoa, at a short distance from which city, and m one of those little sheltered nooks of the Riviera, they had now established themselves in a villa. It is but truthful to own, that the lawyer did not comply wdth this request either wilhngly or gracefully. He never liked the Contment, he was an indifferent linguist, he detested the cookery, and fancied that the wines poisoned him. Mademoiselle Heinzleman, too, was fussy, meddling, and officious, presummg, at least he thought so, ou being in an element more her own. And as for Ada, grief at sepa- ratmg from Kate had made her so indiiferent and apathetic, that she neither enjoyed the journey or took any interest in the new scenes and objects around her. Mr. M'Kinlay, therefore, was in no mood to proceed farther ; he was tired of it all. But, besides this, he was not quite certain that he had done the right thing by placing Kate O'Hara at Dalradern ; or that in so domg he had carried out the very vague instructions of Miss Courtenay. Not that the lawyer saw his way at all in the whole affair. The absurd suspicion of the old envoy about some secret contract, or marriage, or some mys- terious bo)id, he could afford to deride ; but, unhappily, he could not as easily forgot, and some doubts — very ungenerous aud ungallant doubts they were — would cross his mind, that Miss Georgina Courtenay's favour to himself, in some way or other, depended ou the chaugeful fortunes of some other " issue," of which he knew nothing. "She means to accept me if she can get nothing better," was the phrase that he found on his lips when he awoke, and heard himself muttering as he dropped off' asleep at night ; and, after all, the consideration was not cither reassuring cr flattering. Middle- MR. M*KINLAY IN ITALY. 813 aged geutlemeu, even with incipient baldness and indolent " pro- clivities," do not fancy being consigned to the category of last re- sorts. They fancy — Heaven help them! — that they have their claims on regard, esteem, and something strongi^r too; and doubt- less the delusion has its influence in fightmg off, for a year or two, the inevitable admission that they have dropped out of the " van " into that veteran battalion which furnishes no more guards of honour at the Temple of Venus, nor even a sentinel at the gate. Very un- gallant Httle sums in arithmetic, too, used he to work about Georgina's age ; and it would seem strange to younger men the anxiety he felt to give her a year or two more than she had a right to. " I'm not sure she's not nearer thirty-five than thirty-two," muttered he, ill naturedly, to himself. "Rickards said one night she was older than her sister, though the old rascal took care to come and tell me in the morning that it M-as a mistake." And then, by subtracting this thirty-five from another arbitrary sum, he obtained a result apparently satisfactory, beuig, as he termed it, the proper difference of age between man and wife. Why will not men, in their zeal for truth, take " evidence for the defence " occasionally, and ask a woman's ophiion on this subject ? They arrived at last at the Villa Balbi, a grand old palace on the sea-side, where ruin and splendour were blended up together, and statues, and fountains, and frescoes struggled for the mastery over a rank growth of vegetation, that seemed to threaten enclosing the whole place in a leafy embrace. Into the deep arches that supported the terrace, the blue Mediterranean flowed with that noiseless motion of this all but tideless sea. All was silent as they drove up to the gate, for they had not been expected before the morrow. Scarcely was the door opened than Ada sprung out and disappeared up the stairs, followed as well as she might by the governess. Mr. M'I\.inlay was then left alone, or, at least, with no other companion- ship than some three or four servants, whose attempts at English were by no means successful. " All, Miller, I'm glad to see your face at last," said the lawyer, as Sir Gervais's valet pushed his way through the crowd; "how are all here ? " " Sir Gervais has had a bad night. Sir, and we were expecting the doctor every moment. Indeed, when I heard your carriage, I thought it was he had come." " Not seriously ill, I hope ? " "Not that, perhaps, Sir ; but the doctor calls it a very slow fever, aiid requiring great care and perfect quiet. He is not to knoM' when Miss Ada arrives." " And the ladies, are they well ? " " My lady's greatly tired and fatigued, Sir, of course ; but Miss Ceurtcuay is well. She was just givmg directions about your room. Sir. She said, ' If Mr. M'Kuilay should be afraid of this fever, you 214 LUTXRELL OF AUKAW. can take him down to tlie fattore's house, and make him up a room there.' " "Is it a fever then, Miller, a real fever ? " " They caU it so, Sir." *' This is all that's wanting," muttered M'Kiulay to himself. " I only need to catch some confounded disorder, now, to make this the most happy exploit of my whole life ! Where is this house you speak of '( " " At the foot of the hill, Sir, where you saw the clump of ever- green oaks." " Why, it was a dirty-looking hovel, with Lidian corn hung all over it." " Well, Sir, it aint very clean to look at, but it's not so bad inside, and you can be sure of a comfortable bed." "I don't see why I am to stop at all. I have seen Miss Ada safe to her own door ; I really camiot perceive that anything more is required of me," said he to himself, as he walked up and down the terrace. " You'd like to eat something, perhaps. Sir ? Supper is ready whenever you wish it." " Yes, I'll cat a morsel ; I was very hungry half an hour ago, but all this tidmgs of illness and infection has driven away my appetite. A vast roomy old place this appears," said he, as he followed the servant across a hall spacious as a public square, into a salon large enough to be a church. " We have five like this. Sir; and on the other floor there is one still larger and loftier." " How long are you here ? " said the lawyer, abruptly, for he was not at all in love with the mansion. " We shall be two months here on Tuesday, and her Ladyship likes it so much, Sir Gcrvais means to buy it." " ^\'ell, 1 hope I shall not be much more than two hours in it. Let me have something to cat, and order fresh horses at the post." " You'll see my Lady, I suppose, Su- ? " " Of cou>-sc, if she can receive me ; but I will just scud up ;* line on my card to say that my departure at once is imperatively necessary."' Tew as the words were that were required to convey this message, Mr. M'Kinlay could scarcely write them in a legible way. He was nervously afraid of an illness ; but the thought of a foreign malady — a fever of some outlandish type — was a terror as great as the attack of a savage animal, of whose instmet and ways he knew nothing. All the speculations which had liUcd his head as he came along the road, were routed at once. Love-making and marriage were all very well, but they might be purchased too dearly. A dowry that was onlj to be won by facing a fever, was a sorry speculation. No I jvm. m'kinlay in italy. 215 Le would liave none of such dangerous ambitions. He bad gone through enough ah-eady — he had braved shipwreck — and if needs were that he must resign the agency, better that than resign life itself. Not even the appetising supper that was now spread before him, could dispel these gloomy thoughts. He was half afraid to eat, and he could not be sure that wine was safe under the present cir- cumstances. " My Lady hopes to see you in the morning, Sir," said the valet, " She has just lain down, having been up last uiglit with Sir Gervais." "I am extremely sorry. I am greatly distressed ! But it is im- possible for me to defer my departure. I will explain it all by a letter. Just unstrap that writing-desk, and I will write a few lines. You ordered the horses, I hope ? " "Yes, Sir; they will be at the door by ten o'clock." "Miss Courtenay knows I am here, I suppose ? " said M'Kinlay, in a tone of well put-on indifference, as he opened his v.'riting-desk and arranged his papers. " I don't know, indeed, Sir ; but she has the governess m her room with her, and perhaps she has heard it from her." Mr. M'Kmlay bit his hp M'ith impatience; he was vexed, and he was angry. Nor altogether was it unreasonable ; he had come u long journey, at considerable inconvenience, and at a time he could be ill-spared from his chents ; he had undergone fatigue and annoy- ance — the sort of annoyance which, to men who dislike the Conti- nent, is not a trifhng matter — and here he was now, about to set out again without so much as a word of thanks, not even a word of acknowledgment. What were they, or what was he, to justify such treatment ? This was the somewLat instating query to which all his self-examination reverted. "Am I a lackey!" cried he, as he threw down his pen in a passionate outburst that completely over- came him. " I suppose they think I am a lackey ! " and he pushed back from the table in disgust. " Miss Courtenay, Sir, would be pleased to see you in the drawing- room. Sir, whenever it was convenient," said a thin-looking damsel of unmistakably EngUsh mould. " I will wait upon her now," said Mr. M'Kinlay, with the severe accents of an injured and indignant man. In fact, he spoke like one whose coming might be supposed to evoke sentiments of trepidation, if not of awe ; and yet, after he had uttered the words, he fussed and pottered amongst his papers, arranging and settling, and undoing, in a way that to any shrewder observer than the Abigail, would have discovered a mind not by any means so bent upon peremptory action as he had assumed to bespeak. " Will you slaow me the way ? " said he, at last, as he locked up the writmg-desk, and now followed her through room after room^ 216 LUITEELL OF AiLEUN. till the girl stopped at a door and knocked gently. No answer was returned, and she repeated the summons, on which the maid opened the door, saying, " If you'll step inside. Sir, I'll tell my mistress you are here ; " and Mr. M'Kiulay entered into what his first footstep informed him was a lady's boudoir. It was a small room, opening on a terrace by two windows, which were thrown wide, filling the chamber with the odour of orange-flowers to a degree positively oppressive. An alabaster lamp M'as the only light, and served merely to throw a sort of faint sunset-glow over the room, which seemed filled with cabinet pictures and statuettes, and had an easel in one corner with an unfinished sketch in oils upon it. The pei'- fume of orange and magnolia was so overcoming that the lawyer moved out upon the terrace, which descended by a flight of marble steps into the sea. He sat down on these to inhale the fresh night air, for already his head was beginning to feel confused and addled by the strong odours. He had not been many minutes there, when he heard the rustle of K lady's dress close to him, and before he could arise. Miss Courte- nay moved forward and sat down beside hira. "How are you, Mr. M'Kinlay ? " said she, givmg him her hand cordially. " I have come to thank you for all your care of Ada, and your kindness to us all." These very simple words were delivered with a most M'inning grace of look and manner. No wonder if he forgot all his irritation of a few moments before ; no wonder if in the very unexpectedness of this pleasure, he felt somewhat confused ; and it but needed that starlight hour, that perfumed air, that murmuring sea, and the ligiit gauzy veil, which in Genoese mode Georgina wore m her hair, and which now floated carelessly half across his arm, to make Mr. M'Kiulay think this one of the happiest moments of his life. After a few queslions about the journey and its incidents, she went on to tell him of themselves, in that tone of easy confidence people use with their nearest friends. " It was a somewhat sad house," she said, " he liad come to. Gervais " — she called him Gervais — "had caught one of those low fevers of the country, and her mother was still very poorly. Her sister, however, had bcuelited by the climate, and this it Mas that decided them on remaining abroad. You knew, of course, that Gervais intends to buy this villa? " " No ; he had not heard of it." "Nor that he had given up his scat in the House, and retired from public life ? " "^.or that cither had he heard." " Well, of course he means to tell you all now that he has got you out liere. You will be such a comfort to him, Mr. M'Kinhiy ; he was loi:ging to see an old friend again." Mr. M'Kinlay's cars tingled with deliirht, and his heart throbbed C^z^ .^^, 90-t&n^ MR. M'KINLAY in ITALY. 217 nigh with hope, but he could only mutter out something that sounded like aorcnowlcdgnieut. "He has so much to ask you about besides," she went on. "Mamma wants him to let his Wiltshire house for some years, and so retrench a httle, for you know he has been rather extravagant lately." "I have ventured on an occasional remonstrance myself, though not without feehng what a liberty I was taking." " A liberty ! Surely, my dear Mr. M'Kinlay, the kind solici- tude of friendship is not a liberty. Then there have been some mines — lead or copper, I forget which, and I don't well remember wliether in South Wales or Sardinia — but they have not turned out well." " Very badly, indeed. Miss Courtenay ; the shares are at thirty- two, and falling still." " Yes ; he will have to talk over all these things with you ; but not for some days, of course, for he is very weak and low." " You don't seem to know, then," said he, with a smile, " that I am going off to-night ; my horses are ordered for ten o'clock." "Impossible! Why, we have not seen you yet; surelj'', Mr. M'Kinlay, you couldn't leave this without seeing Gervais and my sister ? " There was a reproachful tenderness in her look, and mingled expression of wounded sensibility and shame at its being confessed, that gave some trouble to the lawyer's heart ; for there rankled in that crafty old heart some memories of the conversation at Dalradern; and, in his distrustfulness, he would ask himself, " "What does this mean ? " " Come, Mr. M'Kinlay, say this is only a threat ; do confess it was only meant to terrify." " Oh, Miss Georgina, you camiot attach such interest to my presence here, as to speak of my departure in terms like these ! " " I don't know how others think of these things," said she, with a sort of pouting air, " but, for my own part, I cling very closely to eld friendships." Had Mr. M'Kinlay been some twenty years younger, he would, doubtless, have seized on the moment to make a declaration. The conjuncture promised well, and he would not have lost it ; but Mr M'Kinlay had arrived at tlic time of life in which men are more prone to speculate on the consequences of failure than on the results of success, and when they never address them to jump over the narrowest ditch without a thought of the terrible splashing they shall get if they fall in, and, worse even than the wetting, the lui- sympathising comments of a malicious public. " What is Mr. il'Kuday pondering over so deeply ? " said Georgma, as she turned her eyes full upon him ; and very effective eye» they were at such a range. 218 LUTTRELL OF ABRAN. " I cau scarcely tell ; chat is, I dou't well know how to tell," said he, trying to screw up his courage. "Mr. M'Kiiilay has a secret, I'm certaui," said she, with a win' uing coquetry she was quite mistress of. That look she gave — it was a long- dwelling look, as though she Lad half forgotten to take away her eyes, for ladies will sometimes fire after the enemy has struck — was too much for Mr. M'Kialay ; he forgot all his prudential reserves, and said, " Has not every one his secret, Miss Courtenay ? " *' I suppose so," said she, carelessly. " Has not Miss Courtenay got one ? " said he, leaning forward, and trying to catch her eyes ; but she had dropped them too sud- denly for him. " Not that I'm aware of," said she ; and if he had been gifted with a nice ear, he would have perceived that a slight vibration marked the words as they fell. " J3y the way," said M'Kinlay — a most unlucky a propos — " have I your perfect approval ia my arrangement for that young Irish lady — or girl — Miss O'Hara ? " Now the words " by the way," had so completely touched her to the quick, that for an instant her face became crimson. " If you will first of all tell me what the arrangements are," said she, with a forced calm, " perhaps I may be able to say if I like them." " Has Mademoiselle not told you anything ? " " Mademoiselle has told me, simply, that Mr. M'Kinlay assumed the whole responsibility of the case, and neither counselled with her nor divulged his intentions." " Ah, that was not quite fair ; I really must say that Mademoiselle did not represent me as I think I merit. It was a sort of case per- fectly new to me. It was not very easy to see one's way. I could not make out Avhether you would all be better pleased by some costly arrangement for the girl, or by having her sent straight back tc where she came from. The mystery that hung over •" he paused and stammered; he had said what he had not intended, and he blundered in his attempt to recal it. " I mean," added he, " that mystery that the old diplomatist insists on connecting with her." " As how ? " said Georgina, in a low, soft voice, uitensely in- sinuating in its cadence — " as how ? " "It's not very easy to say how, so much of fl'hat he said was vague, so much hypocritical ; and, indeed, so much that seemed " He stopped, confused, and puzzled how to go on. " So that you had a long conversation together on this topic ? " " An entire evening. I dined with him alone, and we spoke of very little else as we sat over our wine." SIR. M'KINLAY in ITALY. 31 *' I wisli you could remember what he said. Dou't you tlihik you could rccal some at least of it ? " " I can't say that I could, aud for this reason : that he kept always interpolating little traits of what he knew of life, and all his vast aud varied experiences of human nature. These sort of men are rather given to this." " Are they ? " asked she ; aud it was not easy to say wliether her accents implied a simple curiosity, or a dreamy indilfercuce. Mr. M'Kinlay accepted them iu the former sense, and with some pomposity continued : "Yes; I have frequently remarked this tone in them, as well as the tendency to see twice as much iu everything as it really contains." " Indeed ! " said she, and now her voice unmistakably indicated one who listened M'ith eager attention to the words of wisdom. " Did he show this tendency on the occasion you speak of ? " "Markedly, most markedly. It is very strange that I caunot give you a more accurate account of our interview; but he addled my head about pictures and early art; aud then, though always temperate, his wine was exquisite. In fact, I carried away a most confused impression of all that took place between us." " You remember, however, the arrangements that were settled on. What were they ? " " The great point of all, the one you msisted on, I was, I may say, peremptory upon." " Which was that ? " " That she should not come abroad ; as I said to Sir Within : ' We must negotiate on this basis ; here is Miss Courtenay's letter, these are her words ; ' and I showed him the turn-down, only the turn- down, of your note." Had there been light enough to remark it, Mr. M'Kinlay would have seen that Miss Courtenay's face became deadly pale, aud her lips trembled with repressed anger. "Well, and then? " said she, with a faint voice. "He cut the Gordian knot at once, my dear Miss Courtenay," continued he, iu a sort of sprightly tone; "he said, 'There need be no difficulty in the matter. I can act here ex-officio ; ' he meant by that he was her guardian. ' I wdi write to her,' said he, ' aud if she prefers to remam here ' " " Remain where ? " gasped she out, with a great effort to seem calm and composed. " At Dalradern Castle, at his own house ; if she likes this better than a Paris pension, or an Irish cabin, it is quite at her service." " But, of course, you replied the thing was impossible ; such an arrangement coukln't be. It would be indeUcate, improper, hide cent r " 220 LUTTRELL OF ARRAN. " I didn't say all that ; but I hinted that as Sir Withiu was a bacheloi", there were difficulties " " Difficulties, Sir ! What do you meau by difficulties ? Is it pos- sible that one evening's companionship with a person hardened by a long life of ' libcrtinage ' can have so warped your moral sense as to render you blind to so obvious a shame as this ? " " He said his housekeeper " " His housekeeper ! Am I to believe, Sir, that you listened to all this with the patience with which you repeat it now, and that no feeling of propriety roused you to an indignant rejection of such a scheme ? Was his claret or his Burgundy so in- sinuating as this ? " "When he said housekeeper " " Pray, Sir, do not push my endurance beyond all hraits. I have given a very wide margin for the influence of Sir Within's machina- tions ; but,' bear in mind, that the magnetism of his wit and his wine has not extended to me." " If you want to imply. Miss Courtenay, that I M'as not in a con- dition to judge of " " Mr. M'Kinlay, I say nothing at any time by implication. People are prone to call me too outspoken. What I say and what I mean to say is this, that I cannot imagine a person of your intelligence calmly listening to and concurring in such a pro- ject." " I am free to own I disliked it, and I distrusted it ; the few words that your brother's butler, lliekards, said about this girl's craft and subtlety, the artful way she got round people, the study she made of the tempers and tastes of those about her " "And with all this before you, with this knowledge fresh as it was in your mind, you quietly sit down to agree to a ])lan which opens to these very qualities a most dangerous field of exercise. What do you mean by it ? What do you intend ? I can't sup- pose," said she, with a sneer, "you contemplated her being Lady Wardle?" "I certainly did not," said he, with a sickly smile. " Well, Sir, you have placed yourself in a position for malevolent people to impute worse to you. Will you just tell me, who ever heard of sueii a thing ? Is there any covuitry, any society ever tole- Kited it? This girl is close on sixteen." " He asked particularly about her age," said M'Kinlay, who was now so confused that he knew not well what he said. And, simple as the words were, they seemed to pierce to her very heart, for she sprang to her feet, and in a voice trembling with passion, said : " I sincerely trust that you manage the material questions cou- fidcd to you with more abihty and tact than you do matters of social interest, and I can only say, Sir, it is the last occasion of MR. M'KINLAY IX llALY. 221 tliis kind on 'whicli you will be troubled with any commission from me." " I bclicTed I was strictly carrying out your intentions. You said she must not come abroad." "But I never said " she stopped, and the crimson flush rose on her face and covered her whole forehead. "JSow mind me, Mr. M'Kiiday, and remember, I do not intend that you should twice mistake my meaning; my wish was, and is, that this girl should go back to the place, the people, and the condition from which my brother, in a very ill-judging hour, took her. I believed, and I believe, that her presence in any, the most remote, connexion with our family, is fraught with inconvenience, or M'orse — do you under- stand me so far ? " " I do," said he, slowly. "Well, with this strong conviction on my mind, I desire that she should be sent home again ; and I tell Mr. M'Kinlay now, that any favour he cares for or values at my hands, depends on the success with which he carries out this wish." " But how is this possible ? What can I do ? " " That is for your consideration, Su- ; you entangled the skein, you must try if you cannot undo it. Lawyers, I have always heard, have resources at their command common mortals never have dreamed of. You may discover that Sir Within has no right to exercise this guar- dianship. You might find out," she smiled dubiously as she uttered the words, " that the girl's friends disapproved of this protection, — very hmnble people occasionally are right-minded on these points, — you might find — how can I tell what your ingenuity could not find — excellent reasons that she should go back to Ireland and to the obscurity she should never have quitted. I don't doubt it may be hard to do this ; but until I learn that it is impossible, I will never consent to withdraw from Mr. M'Kinlay that confidence with which his character and his abilities have ever inspired me." " If the desire to win your favour Miss Courtenay " " No, no, Mr. M'Kinlay, that is not enough ! We women are very practical, if we are not very logical ; we ask for success from those who aspire to our good esteem." "To meet a difficulty, the first thing is to see where is the hitch 1 " said he, thoughtfully. " I don't believe that I apprehend you here. What is it that you mean ? " " I mean. Miss Courtenay, that it is only by learning very ac- curately what are the reasons for this girl's removal — what urgent necessity, in fact, requires it — that I shall be hkely to hit upon the means to elfeet it." " Suppose it to be a caprice — a mere caprice I '* " lu that casCj I should be powerless." 332 LUTTllELL OF ARKAN. "I (lou't mean an actual caprice," said she, hurriedly, for she saw her error ; " but a sort of apprehension that this initial mistake of my brother's would lead to worse. Great unliappiuess has been caused to families by these connexions ; the Irish are a very vindic- tive people, Sir, if they thought, as they might tliink, some years hence, that we should have discovered our blunder before. In short, Sir, I will not turn special pleader to show what I wish and I insist on." " Do you thiuk, if I were to remaiu here to-morrow, Sir Gervais would be able to see me ? " " It is most improbable ; I am certain the doctors would not consent to it." " Nor even the next day, perhaps ? " " Just as unlikely ; everything Ukc busuiess is strictly forbidden to liim." " Then I do not sec why I should not start at once — now ! " " If I am to accept this as zeal to serve me," said she, in a very sweet accent, "I thank you sincerely." " Ah, Miss Courtenay, could you only guess with what ardour I would apply myself to win your favour ! If you had known how the very faintest promise of that favour " " Mr. M'Kinlay," said she, stopping him, and bestowhig a very captivating smile on him, " Mr. M'Kiulay belongs to a profession that never stipulates for its reward ! " "Enough, my dear Miss Courtenay," said he, and, in his enthu- siasm, he actually seized her iiand and kissed it. " Good-bye," said she, witli a sort of maidenly impatience ; " let me hear from you soon." And she left him. That same night saw Mr. M'Kinlay wearily rumbling along the same way he had lately travelled, very tired aud very road-sick ; but still there burned in his heart a small ilame of hope, a tiny light in- deed, not unlike one of the little lamps which froni time to time he saw on the wayside, throwing their sickly glare over some humble shrine. Ah, M'Kinlay ! if you could but have seen the hurried impa- tience with which a cambric handkerchief was employed to elfaec, as it were, all trace of that rapturous embrace, it might have rescued you from some vain fancies, even though it made the road all the wearier and drearier. A very few words more will complete om- account of a retrospect that has already grown longer than wo wished. Mr. JM'Kinlay's first care on reaeliiug town was to address a very carefully-worded and respectful letter to Sir "Within Wardle, stating that as the Vyner family had not fully approved of what he, M'K., had done wiih re- gard to the arrangements for Miss O'llara, he hoped Sir AVithiu would graciously mune an early day to receive him, and cxplaiu MR. M'KINLAY in ITALY. 223 what were the plaus which they had fixed on for this young person, and by what means they pnrposed to relieve him from a charge whicli could not be other than embarrassing. The following was the reply he received by return of post : " Dear Sir, — Sir Within Wardle has handed me your note, and directed me to answer it. Perhaps this fact alone, and of itself, will be a sufficient reply. It will at least serve to show that while I am honoured by his entire confidence, I am not the cause of any such embarrassment as you feelingly deplore. " Sir Within sees nothing in his present arrangements which call for the advice you are so kind as to offer, nor does he feel warranted in giving you the inconvenience of a journey, whose results would be unprofitable. Apart from this discussion, a visit from you would be always acceptable. " Believe me, dear Sir, with every sense of esteem and respect, yours, "Kate O'Hara." This short epistle, written in a bold but well-formed handwriting, and sealed with the initials of the writer, M'Kinlay forwarded by the night-mail to Miss Courtenay, and in due coui'se received the follow- ing three lines : "Dear Sir, — It will not be necessary in future to impose any further trouble on you in this matter. Sir Within Wardle, the young lady, and yourself, are all admirable I'epreseutatives of the orders you severally pertain to. " And I am, your faithful servant, " Georgina Courtenay." 224 lUTXEELL OF ABEAN. CHAPTER XXXin. SIR WITHIX AND HIb WARD. How time lias slipped over since we wert, last here, in the midst of the Welsh mountains ! It is more than a year, but still wonder- fully little has gone on in that interval. The larch-trees at Dalraderu have addctl some palms to their stature, but the venerable oaks and elms disdain to show by change the influence of so brief a period, and, in the same way, it is in Kate alone — that plant of rapid growth — ■ that we have much alteration to mark. What a change has been wrought in her ! It is not merely that she has grown into a tall and graceful girl, but that one by one the little traits of her peasant origin have faded away, and she looks, and seems, and carries herself with all the air of a high-born beauty- In her lofty brow, her calm features, her manner, in which a quiet dignity blends with a girlish grace, and, above all, in her voice, sin- gularly sweet-toned as it was, might be read every sign of that sta- tion men distinctively call the " best." Masters and professors of every kind had surrounded her, but she had a sort of indolent activity in her disposition, which tended little to the work of learning, while her quickness enabled her to pick up smatterings of many things. But, as sli.e said herself. Sir Within was her best teacher. The old minister's tact, his social readmess, his instinctive seizure of the nice points of every situation, — these were the gifts that had a special attraction for her ; and while she was envymg him the charm of a manner that could captivate all, from the highest to the humblest, she had actually acquired the gift and made it her own. To recognise in her the traits on which he most prided himself, to see in that lovely girl his pupil in the arts of society, to mark in her a copyist of himself in the little tricks of manner and effect, was the greatest of all flatteries; and he never wearied of watching her re- peating himself before him in a form so captivating and so graceful. Although he iiad lost — and it was a loss he deplored — the friendly intercourse of the Vyiicrs, and although the neighbourhood more strictly than ever quarantined him now, no representations nor re- monstrances could prevail upon him to send Kate to a school, or to place her under other protection than his ov/n. Iimumerable were ihe governesses who had come down to take cliargc of her ; none, however, remained long. Some alleged it was the solitude that op- pressed them ; others averred that their pupil would submit to no SIR WITHIN AND HIS WARD. 225 discipline but suck as she liked, and that not alone the studies she would pursue, but even the hours she would devote to them, should be at her own choosing. And one or two took higher ground, and declared that the estab- lishment which contained, an old bachelor and a very beautiful ward, was not in a position to confront the criticisms of the world. To such as have not known, or met mth the class Sir Within pertained to, it will perhaps seeir incredible that the old rake actu- ally felt flattered by this attack on his reputation. All that he had ever known of life was passed amongst people of admii-able manners and very lax morals. They were the best bred, the best informed, the best dressed, and the pleasantest in the universe. Nowhere was life so easy and agreeable as in their company ; every one was kind, considerate, and obliging ; not a hard word was ever dropped. Who could be uncharitable where all was tolerated ? Who could be se- vere where everything was pardoned ? It was by a very easy induction that he was led to believe that a certain laxity on the score of morals was an essential element of good breeding, and that nothmg was so low in tone as that "eternal scru- tiny," as he called it, into one's neighbours' habits, which would make of a gentleman very little other than a detective. WTien he heard, therefore, that a certain Mademoiselle La Grange had taken her departure on these exceptional grounds, he actually chuckled witli delighted vanity. " So ' Ma Mie ' " — this was his pet name for Kate — " they tell me that Mademoiselle has gone off this morning," said he, " no longer able to tolerate a house where there is no mistress." " The note she left behind her went fully into the matter," said Kate. " It was not alone that you were unmarried, but that you were a very well-known monster of vice." " Vrai ! vrai ! " cried he, with ecstasy ; " monstre epouvantable ! " " And, to confirm it, she added, that no one came here ; that the neighbours avoided the house, as the abode of a plague ; and even sight-seers would not gratify the craving of their curiosity at the cost of their propriety." " Did she say all that ? " " Yes ; she said it very neatly, too ; as prettily and as tersely as such impertmeuce can be put in nice French." " And this is the nintl: departm-e, is it not. Ma IVIie, on these high grounds of morality ? " "No, Sir; only the fifth. Two alleged loneliness, one accused the damp, and one protested agaiust mj/ temper ! " " What had you done, then ? " "Everything that was cross and ill-natured. It was the unlucky week that Cid Hamet staked himself." "I remember ; there were two days you would not come down to 15 226 LUTTRELL OF AKRAN. dinner on pretence of headache, and you told me afterwards it was all ill humour." " Because I always tell you everything," said she, with a smile so captivatingly beautiful, that it lit up her face as the sun lights up » landscape. " I am sorry, too," said he, after a short silence, " that Mademoi- selle should have gone away at this moment, for I am expecting visitors." "Visitors, Sir?" " Yes, child ; two distant, very distant relatives of mine are coming to-day ; less, indeed, to see me than the place I live in. They are my heirs. Ma Mie ; and the world says, no sort of people are less palatable to the man in possession, and, I take it, the world is right in the matter. When one thinks how he dislikes the man who keeps the newspaper too long at the club, it may be imagined how he is hated who keeps another out of an estate ; and the sense of being so hated engenders somethuig that is not friendship ! " "I think I can understand that feelmg!" said she, thoughtfully. " Every one knows," continued he, "that when he is gone, the objects which he has loved and cherished — I mean the material ob- jects, for I am talking as an old bachelor — will survive to give plea- sui'e to others ; but somehow he fancies — at least, / fancy — that the new incumbent will not know the fuU luxury of the shade under that sycamore where we sat yesterday to watch the fish in the pond ; that he'll never appreciate that Claude as I do, when I let a fresh blaze of sunlight on the opposite wall, and see it in a soft reflected light ; and as to the delight of riduig through these old wooded alleys as I feel it, he'll not have you for a companion — eh, ma belle et bonne ? " She turned away her head. Was it shame, or sorrow, or both ? Who knows ? " What are your friends like ? " asked she, suddenly. " They are very like each other, and not like anything or any one else I ever met. They are, first of all, descendants of au old Hugue- not family of excellent blood. Their ancestors settled here, and, like most others, they prospered. One became a Peer, but died without an heir, and the title became extinct. The present head of the house is this person I expect here to-day, with his son. He is a banker, as his son is. They are very rich, and very eager to be richer. Re- port says that they are not very generous or free-handed. My own experience can neither refute nor confirm the rumour. Their London house was very handsome when I saw it, and when I dined there everything bespoke the habits of wealth ; but they had a sort of air of business in their reception, a look of doing somethuig that ■was to redound to the bank, that I didn't like. The company, too, was of that mixed character that showed they were less familliars than clients." " How intensely acute to detect all this at once ! " "1 am nothiii;j, Ma Mie, positively notliing, if I am not 'fin.' It 8IK "VriTHIN AND HIS WAKD. 22? ia the spirit of my old calling that survives in me. Nay, I evea thou^lit, in the distributions of the host's attentions to his friends, I could name the men who stood with a goodly balance to their ac- count, aad poiut out those who were being, what is called, accomo- dated." " Oh, this is too much ! " said she, laughing ; but there was nothing in her tone or look that implied a shade of incredulity. " Well, you are to see them both to-day; they will be here to din- ner." He said this with a half-suppressed sigh, for the visit promised him very little that was agreeable. He was essentially a man of conventionalities, and there were some difficulties iu the present case that embarrassed him. First, lie should be uuable to have any dinuer company to meet his visitors. He had long ceased to have intercourse with his country neighbours, and, of course, noue would think of " calling " on his friends. This was provoking enough, but a greater trouble remained behind it. Kate's presence ! How was he to account for that ? Who was she ? Why was she there ? Who, and what, and where were her friends ? Would not the Ladarelles at once connect the estrangement in which he lived from all society with the fact of this girl being beneath his roof ? Would they not at once jump to the conclusion, It is this scandal has deterred all from visiting him ? Now, it is just possible that something in this allegation against his morality might have tickled the morbid vanity of the old rake, who loved to think that youth and vice were convertible terms, and he even smirked as he imagmed himself called on for his defence. Still, in his element of gentleman, there survived the shame of the part that would be assigned to Kate by such an imputation, and it is but justice to him to say that he felt this acutely. Had there been time for such au arrangement, he would have procured a governess, and sent her away to some sea-side spot. As it was, he thought of taking the Vyners's Cottage, and placing her there under the charge of Mrs. Simcox. This would have been easy, as the Cottage had been advertised to let for some time back ; but, as ill luck would have it, some one had j us arrived there, whether as friend or tenant, noue knew. It was true, he might keep her unseen for the few days the visit would last. The Castle was ample enough to secure a retreat which should be inviolable ; but there were difficulties, too, about this, not easily to be met. He could not implicitly rely on the discretion of servants, especially of servants who found themselves in the presence of the coming heir, of him who should be " king hereafter ; " and again, he ^vas not quite sure how she herself would meet a proposition that assigned her to so equivocal a position. She was very proud, and on one or two occasions he had seen her display a spirit that no old gentleman of his stamp would possibly expose himself to from a young girl, if ne could help it. There was, then, nothing left but to present her 15—2 338 LUTTKELL OF AJtRAN. as liis ward, a word so wide in acceptance, that he trusted it might defy scrutiny, and with this resolve, though not without misgivings, he went about giving his orders, and directing the arrangements to receive his guests. Even this office had its shade of sadness, pleasant as it is at ordi- nary times to prepare for those who come to enUven solitude or break a monotony, which even of itself savours of gloom ; the task is not so agreeable if undertaken for those who come to inspect what will be their own hereafter ; what, even as they survey, they seem half inclined to grasp ; what, while they look at, they speculate on the changes they will effect in, thinking of that day when he, who now does the honou.rs, shall have left the stage, and they themselves become the actors. Kate, however, accompanied him everywhere, aiding by her coun- sels and assisting by her suggestions, and servmg in this way to dis- pel much of that depression which the task imposed. It was as they both were returning from one of the gardens, that a keeper came forward with a dead pheasant in his hand. " A hen ! Michael, a hen ! " cried Sir Within, with displeasure. " Yes, Sir, and a very fine one. It was the gentleman who has just come to Dinasllyu shot her this morning. I met him commg up here to excuse himself to you, and say how sorry he was. He gave me this card and hoped you'd not be displeased at it." " What's the name ? I've not got my glass, Kate." " Mr. George Grenfell, Sir, Dover-street." " Grenfell, Grenfell — never heard of any Grenfells, but Cox and Grenfell, the Piccadilly people, eh ? " Kate gave no answei-, but still held the card, with her eyes fixed upon it." " Sad thing to shoot a hen — very sad thing — and a remarkably fine bird ; quite young, quite young," muttered Sir Within to him- self. " Could hardly be the game sauce Grenfell, I think, eli, Kate ? This apology smacks of the gentlemara. What was he like, Michael?" " A flne-lookmg man, Sir, standing as tall as me ; and about thirty- six or thirty-eight, perhaps. He had a nice spaniel with him. Sir, one of the Woburn breed ; I know 'em well." " I'm sorry he shot that hen. Ain't you, Kate ? " But Kate was deep in thought, and did not hear hiiu. -f-S^"-'^^ '^■^zy-^'Asa^^izZ^z/^ . sLa within's guests. 229 CHAPTER XXXIV. SI 11 within's guests. A SHOKT, somewhat plump, dark-eyed youug mau, witli a low but wide foreliead, aud a well-formed but rather thick-Hpped mouth, lay in his dressing-gowu ou the sofa smoking, aud at intervals conversiug with a smart-lookmg valet. These were Mr. Adolphus Ladarelle, and his man Fisk. The time — a httle past midnight ; the place — a bed-room in Dalradern Castle. " The governor goue to bed yet, Fisk ? " " No, Sir ; he's still talking with the old geut. They seemed to have had high words of it awhile ago, but they've got quiet again." " The governor came down expressly for that ! He Ukes a bit of a breeze, too, and I believe it does him good." " Well, indeed I think you're right. Sir ! I never seed him in such health as after that trial where Mr. Hythe, the cashier, was sentenced to fourteen years. It was just like putting so much to the master's own life." "Whether the prospect of such longevity was so agreeable to the young gentleman, I cannot say, but he winced a little under the re- mark, aud said, half moodily : " This old cove here ought to be thmking of that same journey. It's slow work waiting for the death of a man, after he passes seventy-four or five. The assurance offices know that much." " It's to be all yours, Master Dolly, ain't it ? " asked the man, ia a coaxing sort of tone. "Every stone of it, and every stick that the old boy doesn't manage to cut down in the mean while." " You'll never live here, Master Dolly ? You'd not stand this lonesome place a week ! " " I don't think I should, Tom. I might come down for the shooting, and bring some fellows with me, or I might run down for a few weeks * on the sly.' By the way, have you found out who she is ? " " No, Sir ; they're as close as wax. Mrs. Simcox, I see, knows all about it, but she won't say a word beyond the ' young lady as is my master's ward.' " "Is she French or English ? " " Can't say. Sir ; but I suspect she's French." " Is she his daughter ? " 230 LTJTTRELL OP ASRaN. " At times I do think she is ; but she ain't like him, Sir, not a hit ! " " But why cau't you find out where she came from when she came here, wlio and what her friends, if she has any ? " " It's clear impossible. Sir. They has all got orders to know no- thing, and it's nothing they know." " Did you try them with a ' tip,' Tom ? " " No use, Sir. In a town-house you can always do that, but these savages — they are just savages — in the country think they are bound to tlieir masters, body and soul." " What a mistake, Tom," said the other, with a twinkle of the eye. "Well, Sir, it's a mistake when a man does not love his master ; " and Mr. Pisk turned away and drew his hand across his eyes. The grin upon young Mr. Ladarelle's face was not a very flatter- ing commentary on this show of feeling, but he did not speak for some minutes. At last he said : " He presented her to my governor as Mademoiselle O'Hara, saying, ' My ward ; ' and she received us as calmly as if she owned the place. That's what puzzles me, Tom — her cool self-possession." " It ain't nat'ral. Sir ; it ain't, indeed ! " " It's the sort of manner a man's wife might have, and not even that if she were very young. It was as good as a play to see how she treated the governor as if he had never been here before, and that everything was new to him ! " Mr. Fisk rubbed his hands and laughed heartily at this joke. "And as for myself, she scarcely condescended to acknowledge me." " TVam't that too imperent. Sir ? " " It was not gracious, at all events, but we'll know more of each other before the week is over. You'll see." " That's pretty sartain. Sir." " Not but I'd rather you could have found out something like a clue to her first of all." "Well, indeed, Sir, there wasn't no way of doin' it. I even went down to the stable-yard and saw her own boxes. She has two as neat nags as ever you'd see in the Park, and I tried it on with her groom — Bill Richey they call him — and there was nothing to be done, Sir. He had just one answer for everything ; and when I said, ' Can she ride ? ' ' Ride ! why wouldn't she ? ' ' Has she these two for her own use ? ' says I. ' Why wouldn't she ? ' says the fellow again. ' So I suppose,' says I, ' she's got lots of tin ? ' ' Why wouldn't she have lots of it ? ' said he, in the same voice. I don't know whether he was more rogue or fool, Sir, but it was no good saying any more to him." Young Ladarelle arose, and with his hands thrust low in liia SIR witiiin's guests. 231 pockets, and his head slightly beut forward, walked the room m deep thought. " Cool as he is, he'd scarcely have presented her to the governor if there was a screw loose," muttered he ; " he's too much a man of the world for that. And yet, what can it be ? " " There must be something in it, that's certain. Sir ; for none of the neighbours visit here, and Sir Withui don't go out anywhere." " How did you learn that ? " " From the gardener. Sir. He was saying what a cruel shame it was to see the fruit rotting under the trees ; and that last September he gave a basketful of pine-apples to the pigs, for that none of the people round would take presents when Sir VVithin sent tliem. ' That's all on account of her,' says I, with a wink, for I thought I had him landed. ' I don't well know,' says he, ' what it's on account of, but here's the master comin' up, and maybe he'll tell you ! ' And I had just time to cut away before he seen me." "All that we know, then, is, that there's a mystery in it. Well, muttered he, I couldn't ask a prettier skein to unravel. Slie is very beautiful ! Are they late or early here, Tom ? " asked he, after a pause. " They be just as they please. Sir. The housekeeper told me there's breakfast from ten to one every morning, and dinner is served for six people every day, though only them two selves sits down to it ; but the old gent says, perhaps some one might drop in. He says that every day of the year, Sir ; but they never drop in. Maybe he knows why ! " " CaU me at eleven or twelve. I don't care if it be one ; for the day will be long enough here, after that." " They tell me it's a very pretty place. Sir, and plenty to see." " I know every inch of it. I used to be here after my Tlugby half, and I don't want to recal those days, I promise you." " They've got some nice saddle-horses, too. Sir." " So they may ; and they may ride them, too." " And the lake is alive with carp, I hear." "I'll not diminish their number ; I'll promise them so much. I must stay here as long as the governor does, which, fortunately for me, cannot be many days ; but tobacco and patience will see me through it." " I always said it. Sir : ' When Master Dolly comes to his fortune, it's not an old gaol he'll sit down to pass his life in ! ' " " It's one of the finest and oldest places m the kingdom," said the young man, angrily, " though perhaps a London cad might prefer Charmg Cross to it." " No other orders, Sir ? " said Mr. Tisk, curtly. " No ; you may go. Call me at ume — d'ye hear — at nine ; and I'll breakfast at ten." And now was Mr. Adolphus Ladarelle alone with his own thoughts. Though he had rebuked so promptly and so sharply the flippant 232 LUTTRELL OF AJIUAV. iio pertinence ol his servant, tlie young gentleman was by no means persuaded that a sojourn at Dalradern was lilcely to prove lively or agreeable. He thought Sir Withui a bore, and he felt — very unmis- takably felt — that the old Baronet regarded himself as a snob. The very way in which the old diplomatist seasoned his talk for his guests, the mode in which he brought all things to the meridian of Piccadilly, showed clearly the estimation in which he held them ; and though the elder Ladarelle, whose head carried weightier cares, had no room for such thoughts, the young man brooded over and disliked them. " By what reprisals should he resent this covert impertinence ? " was the question that very often recurred to him. Should he affect to undervalue the place, and all the art treasures ? Should he throw out dark hints of how much these tasteful toys might realise at a sale ? Should he speculate vaguely on what the Castle would be- come, if, instead of a show-house, it were to be made what he would call habitable ? Or, last of all, what tone should he assume towards Mademoiselle — should he slight her, or make love to her ? In these self-discussions he fell asleep at last. Long before any of his guests were awake the next morning. Sir Within had called for his writing-desk. It was a passion of his to ask for his writing materials before he was up. It smacked of old times, when, remembering something that might very well have been forgotten, he would dash off a few smart lines to a minister or a secretary, " with reference to the brief conversation with which your Excellency honoured me yesterday." He was an adept in little notes ; he knew how to throw off those small evasive terms which pass for epigrams, and give a sort of glitter to a style that was about as real as a theatrical costume. He had suddenly bethought him of a case for the exercise of his high gift. It was to address a few neat lines to his recently-arrived neighbour at the Cottage, and ask him that day to dinner. To con- vert that gentleman's polite attention in sending up to the Castle the pheasant he had shot by mistake, into an excuse for the liberty of invitmg him without a previous exchange of visits, constituted exactly the amount of difficulty he could surmount. It was a low wall, and he could leap it splendidly. It must be owned that he succeeded. His note was courteous without famiUarity. It was a faint foreshadowing of the pleasure the writer had promised himself in the acquaintance of one so thoroughly imbued with the nicest notions of good breeding. " I hope," he wrote in conclusion, " you will not, by refusing me this honour, rebuke the liberty by which I have presumed to aspire to it ; " and with this he signed himself, with every sense of his most distinguished consideration, " Within Wildrington Wardle." The reply was prompt — a most cordial acceptance. Sir Within scanned the terms of the note, the handwriting, the paper, the signa- ture, and the seal. He was satislied with everythmg. Tlie writer SIK WITHIN 'S GUESTS. 233 was unquestionably a man of tlie world, and, iu the old envoy's esti- matioji, that meant all, or nearly all, that one could desire iu friend or acquaintance ; one, in short, who knew how to subordinate passions, feelings, emotions, all selfis-hness, and all personal objects to the laws of a well-regulated conventionality ; and who neither did, nor at- tempted to do anything but what Society had done already, and de- clared might be done again. How far Mr. George Grenfell realised this high estimate, it is not our purpose to inquire ; we turn rather to what we are far more sure of, the delight with which he read Sir Within's invita- tion. Grenfell was well known about town to members of two or three good clubs, where he had a certain amount of influence with very young men. He was an excellent whist-player, and very useful on a wine committee ; an admirable judge of a horse, though not remark- able as a rider. He knew everybody, but, somehow, he went nowhere. Thei'e were people — very good people, too, as the world calls them — would gladly have had his society at their tables in town, or iu their houses at Christmas ; but Grenfell saw that, if once launched amongst these, he must abandon all ambition of everythiug higher ; extrication would be impossible ; aud so, with a self-denial which only a high purpose ever inspires, he refused invitations here, and rejected advances there, waiting on for the time when the great world would awaken to the conviction of his merits, and say. This is the very man we wanted ! Now, the great M'orld was not so prompt in making this discovery as it might have been, and Mr. Grenfell was getting on in years, and not fully as hopeful as when his hair had been thicker and his beard bushier. He had begun, not exactly to sulk, but what the French call to "bonder," — a sort of male pouting — and he thought of going abroad, or going into Parliament, or doing somethmg or other which which would give him a new start in life ; and it was to ruminate over these plans he had written to his friend Vyner, to say, " Let me, or lend me — I don't care which — your Welsh Cottage for a month or two ; " and by return of post came the answer, sayuig, " It is yours as long as you like it ; " and thus was he there. Sir Within's note pleased him much. The old envoy was, it is ti'ue, a bygone, and a thing of the past ; still he was one of those Brahmins whose priesthood always is accredited, and Grenfell knew, that to walk into the Travellers' arm in arm with him, would be a great step in advance ; for there was no set or knot of men so unap- proachable by the outsiders, as that small clique of religionists who scourge themselves with red tape, and worship the great god " E. O. ! " " In askmg for the Cottage," Grenfell had said, " I should like to have an introduction of some sort to your quondam neighbour, Wardle, who, though too profligate for his neighbours, will not, I S34 LriTBisui 01 ART^Ay.' apprehend, endanger my morals. Let me iiave, therefore, a few Imes to accredit me, as one likely to suit his humour." To this Vyner replied, not very clearly : " The intimacy they had used to have with Sir Within had ceased ; they held no correspondence now. It was a long story, and would not be worth tlie teUing, nor very intelligible, perhaps, when told ; but it was enough to say, that even should they meet now personally, it was by no means sure if they would recognise or address each other. You Mill use this knowledge for your guidance in case you ever come to know him, and which I hope you may, for he is a very delightful acquaintance, and full of those attentions which render a ueigiibourhood pleasant. I do not say so that you may repeat it ; but simply as an admission of what is due — that I deeply regret our estrangement, though I am not cer- tain that it was avoidable." This, which Grenfell deemed somewhat contradictory, served, at all events, to show that he could not make Sir Wilhiu's acquaintance through this channel, and he was overjoyed when another and a more direct openuig presented itself. " The hen pheasant I thought would do it," muttered Grenfell, as he read the note. " A punster would say, I had shot up into his acquaintance." CHAPTEll XXXV. A W A LK UEFOKK DINNEll. Poor Sir "Within ! "VVliat a change is all this for you ! Instead of tliat pleasant little pottering about from terrace to garden, and from garden to gallery ; now in ecstacy over some grand effect of light on afavonrite picture, some ricli promise of beauty in an open- ing flower, or, better than either, a chance peep at the fair " ward " as sbe llitted past, a vision of beauty she well knew how to ex- aggerate by infrequency — for it was her especial habit to be rarely, if ever seen of a morning — now, he had to devote himself to his guest, the elder Ladarello, and not even in the office of cicerone or guide over the grounds and the woods, but as the apologist of this, and the explainer of that. It had been settled by law that a cer- tain sum &ho\ild be expended each year on the demesne at the wise discretion of the life tenant, and now came the moment in which this same wisdom was to be arraigned, and all its tasteful exercise brought to the cold and terrible test of what is called permanency. The rock-work grottoes, the temples, the rustic bridges, and cane A WALK BEFOKE DINNEK. 235 oagodas — all that Horace Walpoleism in fact, by which tlie area of domesticity can be so enlarged as to embrace the field, the gar- den, and the shrubbery — all this, with its varied luxury, and ele- gance, and beauty, and bad taste, was so repugnant to the mmd of the old banker, that he regarded the whole as a tawdry and tasteless extravagance. Structures in stone and iron he could understand. He wanted permanency ; and though the old envoy, with a little faint jest, begged to insinuate that he asked more than was supposed to be accorded by the laws of nature, the stern intelli- gence of the other rejected the pleasantry, and vaguely hinted at a " bill in equity." "None of these, Sir, not oue of them would be 'allowed,' " was the phrase he repeated again and again. " The discretionary power vested in jiou to-day, or in me, as it might be, to-morrow " " I ask pardon," broke m the miuister ; "it is not my present in- tention to nnpose the burden upon you so soon. I hope stUl to live a little longer, with the kind permission of my friends and suc- cessors." " Humph ! " muttered the other, and turned away his head. " There was an arrangement, however, which I submitted to you four years ago. I am ready — not very wiUingly, perhaps — but still ready to return to it." " You mean, to commute the life-interest into a sum for immediate surrender of the estate ? I remember, we did discuss it formerly. Your demand was, I think, sixty thousand pounds — equal to very close on six years' income." " Yes ; that was the sum fixed on." " Well, suppose we were to entertain the question now. What proposal are you prepared to make. Sir Within? " " I am ready to repeat my former offer, Sir." " Made four years and five months ago ? " "Precisely," said Sir Within, colourmg deeply. " Pour years and a half, Sir Within, at your age or at mine, are a very considerable space of time." " I do not deny it, Sir ; but I feel in tlie enjoyment of excellent health. I rise at the same hour, and eat my meals as heartily as I did then ; with every regret for the inconvenience I'm occasioning, I still profess to believe that my chances of life are pretty much as they were." " Actuaries are the only people to entertain these points. Indeed, friends should not discuss them." " Our friendship has stood the test of very delicate details so beau- tifully this morning, that I see no reason why we should not take all the benefit we can get out of it." The fine sarcasm with which he spoke was thoroughly understood, though unnoticed, by the other, who went on : " When I mentioned actuaries, I merely meant to say that demands 236 LUTTRELL OF ARRAN. of this kind are not arbiti-ary or capricious — that they are based on laws established by long aud abstruse calculations." " Perhaps it is my fancy to imagine myself an exceptional case," said Sir Within, witli a faint smile. " They would take little count of this. They would say, ' Here is a man aged ' " he paused for the other to fill up the blank. " Let us say one hundred," said Sir Within, bowmg. " Who has lived long in warm climates " " Participating freely in the dissipations of his class and order," said Sir Within, throwing back his head, aud looking as though, with all the daring of this avowal, he defied scrutiny. " They'd not say forty thousand. I have my doubts if they'd give you five-and-thirty," said the banker, curtly. " And under these circumstances, I should consider it my duty to break off the negotiation, and retire from the conference." "Let us suppose, for talk sake, the arrangement possible. I con- clude you would not insist upon that other matter— the settlement clause, I mean. You remember that Sir Hugh Rivers decided it was not to be maintained in law ? " " The Attorney-General, with due submission. Sir, never saw the origmal document ; he saw the draft, which was subsequently can- celled, and if there be any point upon which I will waive nothing — positively nothing — it is this." " When a man insists so positively on his right to make a settle- ment, it is no unfair presumption to infer that he means to marry." " The supposition might certainly be entertained," said the old envoy, bowing with the courtesy he would have observed in a muiis- terial conference. " For (//a( " — and the banker laid a most marked and peculiar emphasis on the word — " for that, most assuredly, I was not pre- pared." " Nor can I say," contuiucd the other, "that I deemed it any part of my duty to submit such a possibility to your consideration." " Perhaps not. Sir Within ; there was no absolute reason why you should. You are, of course, the only judge of what concerns your own interests, or — or " " Or happmess ? " " I didn't say happiness, simply because I thought it was the very consideration that you were about to omit." Sir Within smiled very blandly ; he arranged the frill of his shirt — he wore a frilled shirt — and, taking forth a splendidly jewelled box, he offered a pinch to his comjjanion. It was the diplomatic mode of saying that a conference was closed ; but Mr. Ladarelle did not un- derstand tliis nicety. " After all, Sir Within, neither you nor I are men who can affect to defy the world. Wliat the world thinks and says of us, we cannot undervalue." A WALK BEFORE DINNER. 237 "The world, at my age, is the six, perhaps eight, people I could get to dine with me." " No, no. Sir, don't say that — you can't say that. The world is to you, as to all men who have taken a large part in pubHc affairs, the wide circle of those who bring to their judgment on their fellow- men a vast acquaintance with motives, and interests, and reasons ; and, besides all these, with conventionalities and decorums. They form the jury who decide on, not alone the good morals of their con- temporaries, but on their good taste." " Perhaps it might be my fortune to offer them a most undeniable )roof of mine," said the old man, intentionally mistaking what the other had said. " Take care. Sir Within ! Take care. You might be like that case at Guildford t'other day, where the judge said, 'There is nothmg so serious in the indictment against you as your own defence.' " " I beUeve you said you never took snuff," said the envoy, tapping the gorgeous box he still held in his fingers. " That clump of oaks you see yonder," continued he, pointmg with his finger, " shuts out one of the most beautiful bits of landscape I ever saw, and I have only waited for your presence here, to decide on cutting them down." "I will not consent to fell timber. Sir, for the sake of landscape. I am certain Adolphus would agree with me." They now walked on, side by side in silence. How beautiful that wood alley was ! How calmly sweet the leafy shade, how de- liciously the blackbird carolled from its depths, and how soft the smooth turf beneath their feet, and yet how Uttle they heeded or cared for it all ! The banker spoke first : " If you had been pre- pared to propose terms on which it was possible to treat. Sir Within, my son, I know — as for myself, the plan has no attractions for me — but my son, I know, woiild have felt disposed to meet you ; but when you start on the basis that an interval of five years, or some- thing akin to it, makes no inroad whatever on a man's hfe, and then, possibly aided by that theory, hint at the UkeUhood of having to charge the estate with settlement " "My dear Mr. Ladarelle, forgive my interrupting you. All this is very pauiful, and what is worse, unprofitable. I remember a remark of the charming old Duke of Anhalt to his neighbouring sovereign, the Prince of Hohen Alttingen : ' My dear Prince,' said he, ' whatever our ministers can and ought to discuss together, wiU always prove a most unseemly topic for us ; ' so be assui'ed, Sir, that what our lawyers can wrangle orer, we will do much better if we leave to them." " You know best, I am certain. Sir. I feel it is your proyince to tinderstand these cases ; but I own it would never have occurred to me to take a stupid old German potentate as an authority on a 238 I.UTTRELL OF AUKAN. matter of business. May I ask what is that ediflce youder, like a piece of confectionery ? " "It is my aviary, wliicli I sliall be proud to show you." " Excuse me, I know nothing about birds." "I shall not insist, for it is the season when they lose their plumage." " By Jove ! Sir, if this system of expense be carried on, I suspect that some of ourselves will be just as devoid of feathers. That gimcrack cost, I should say, seven or eight hundred pounds ? " " You have guessed too low ! It will, when finished — for the frescos are not completed — amount to very close on two thou- sand." " For liimets and piping bullfinches 1 " " Pardon me, Sir ; for nothing of the kind. For the blue sparrows of Java, for the crimson owl of Ceylon, for the azure-winged mock- mg-bird, and the scarlet bustard." "Let us see what the master will say to this fine catalogue, when it is presented to him as part of works of permanent value — that's uhe phrase. Sir, permanent and substantial improvements — which scarcely contemplated cockatoos and canaries. And what do I see yonder ? Is that the Lord Mayor's state barge, that you have bought in at second hand ? " " That is a little gondola — a caprice of my ward's, Sir, and not to be questioned in any way." It was the first time since they met that any allusion to Kate had been dropped between them, and already the old envoy's voice showed by its vibration that the theme M-as one not to be lightly adverted to. " The young lady's tastes, it would seem, incline to splendour, but possibly her fortune warrants it." "I am certain that her tastes befit her condition," said.ihe other, with a tone of open defiance. " I have no doubt of it, not the least doubt of it ; I would only observe, that a person so very attractive " " Well, Sir, go on ; finish what you were about to say." " Certamly not, Sir Within, when the expression with which you Lear me declares that I am taking too great a liberty." "It is too late for apology. Sir. You have already trans- gressed." " I never intended an apology, Sir Within, for I took care not to incur what might require one. When I saw, or fancied I saw, that my remarks, well meant as they were, might not be as acceptable as I desired, I forbore fi'om completing them ; that is all." " And you did well, Sir ! " said the other haughtily, while with a T)roud wave of his hand, he sec;r.cd to say the subject must be dropped. A. WALK EEFORE DINNEK. 230 * I mean to return to town to-morrow," said Mr. Ladarelle, after a pause ; "but my son, with your kind permission, will be a burden on your hospitality for a few days longer. " I am proud to have his company," said the old minister, with a courteous bow ; but the other, not noticing it, went on : " He wants to see that mill. Hoare says, that without some arrangement about the supply of water, he must insist upon an abatement ; that your Neptunes, and Dryads, and river-gods, consume far more than goes over his v.heel ; and though, perhaps, it's a little premature on our part to enter upon this matter, yet, as the man has a lease renewable at his pleasure " " With your gracious leave, it is on a question of wine, and not of water, I will ask your opuiion. I have got some very old Stein- berger, which I propose to have your judgment on, and as I hear the first bell ringing, probably we have not much time to lose. Tliis is the shortest way back to the house." The banker made no reply ; he plodded on moodOy towards the Castle, and mounted the stairs to liis dressing-room, neither pleased with his host nor himself, nor, indeed, with the rest of the Torld. It is very probable that Sir Within retired to dress for dinner far more deeply wounded and far more irritated by this interview than his guest. With persons as plam spoken as Mr. Ladarelle, Sir Within had held very little intercourse in life. He had always played the game with those of the most refined and the most sus- ceptible politeness. Men who would no more have committed a rudeness than a murder, and it was no mean trial of his nerves to be told, not merely that he was old, but that he was of that age in which life was something more than precarious. The ex-envoy felt, in fact, as he might have felt had some one ordered his carriage before the time he himself had told his coachman to come ; ihnt iutiniatiug, it is possible, from reasons not enteredupon or discussed, that he might think proper to leave earlier than he had contemplated. He changed colour so often, that he had to supply a little extra rouge to his cheek ; and his nerves were so shaken, that he could not descend to the drawuig-room without a little dram of Marascliino and ether. He found Kate alone in the drawing-room as he entered. She was most becomingly di-essed, and wore a sprig of lily of the valley in her hair, which became her vastly. "How well you look, Ma Mie," said he, as he surveyed her through his glass ; " and how glad I shovild be if our guests were more deserving of us both. Voii, however, cannot help being beautiful." "And you will be witty, whether you like it or not, my dea/* guardian," said she with a bewitching smile. ** C'est plus fort que moi! Kate. The old Due do Ncvers said to ^0 LUTTRELL OF ARRAN, me, ■wleu I was a very youug man, *Mon cher Wardle, always talk your very best, no matter what the theme, or with whom. Never give yourself the indolent habit of careless expression. There is na such thing in conversation as dishabille.' " " Indeed, Sir ! " " Yes, ma chere ; to be epigrammatic, your faculties must be always in exercise. To let off those brilliant fireworks which astonish the world as wit, the match must be kept ever a-light, the hand ready." " Mr. George Grenfell ! " said the servant, throwing wide the door, and after about two seconds' interval, that former acquaint- ance of our reader entered the room, and was met by Sir Within with a blended polish and cordiality. "This is a kindness, Mr. Grenfell, that promises well for oui" future neighbourhood. I am most grateful to you for accepting my short time invitation. My wa'-d, Mademoiselle O'Hara." He introduced her as he had done to the Ladarelles the day before, as Mademoiselle ; why, it would not have been so easy to say; pei'haps to mystify, perhaps to avoid a difficulty, perhaps to create one; for Sir Within was a diplomatist, aud one of these reasons to such a man is own brother of the other. Grenfell was evidently struck by her beauty ; but there was some- thing besides admiration in his gaze ; he was surprised and more than surprised; the traits were not altogether new to him, though the expression, lofty — haughty, even — unquestionably was. As for Kate, she had seen too few faces in life to have forgotten any one of them. They were like the books she had read, too remarkable not to be remembered. She knew him, and knew well the very hour aud the very spot in which first she saw him. Either Grenfell had not heard the name O'Hara well, or had not comiected it with the past ; very possibly he had not heard it ever before, for it suggested nothing to him ; still her features continued 10 puzzle him ; through all, however, was he enough man of the world to conceal any show of this ; and, as he sat down beside the sofa where she sat, opened the usual commonplaces of first acquaint- ."iuce. He spoke of the country and its charming scenery, especially around Dalradern, which was all new to him ; " for I am ashamed," added he, "to own I know more of Switzerland than I do of Wales. Perhaps in this, Mademroiselle is a defaulter like myself?" Here was a question adroitly insinuated, to induce what might lead to some disclosure as to whence she came, or where she had been. " I am very fond of mountains," said she, as if mistaking his question. "Ladies are the less selfish in tiieir love of scenery," resumed he, with a Mttle smile, "that they do not connect mouutauis with grouse A -WALK BEFORE DINNER. 241 shooting. Now, I'm afraid a man in liis admiration for tlie hill-side and the heather, has some lurking dreams about deerstalking, and in the highland 'tarn' his thoughts tavariably run on tenTjouud trout." " That is the practical side by which men assert their superiority, I beheve ; but perhaps they mistake occasionally ; I suspect they do, at least." " You mean that women have the quaUty also ? " " I fancy that women are not so prone to parade this egotism," said she, with a slight flashing of the eye. " That may mean something very severe," said he laughing. *' In which case I could not have said what I intended." Though this was said apologetically, there was a saucy defiance in her look that declared anything rather than apology. "Your remark," said he, "reminds me of an Irish squire I heard of, who, wanting to get rid of the charge m his pistol, fired it out of the window mto a crowd, saying, ' I hope it won't hurt any of you ! ' Have you been in Ireland, Mademoiselle ? " " I have seen next to nothing of Ireland ; far too Httle to have caught up, as you infer, any traits of her uationaUty." There was not the slightest tremor in her voice, nor change in her colour as she spoke, though Grenfell waiched her with more — far a.ore — intentness than he was awaro of, or would liave permitted himself to bestow, if he had known it. "I know very little of the green island myself," said Le. "I once made a yatching excursion with a friend to the west— the same friend to whom I am now indebted for the honour of knowuig Kate's cheek grew crimson ; she had mistaken the meaning of his words, and fancied that they referred to his meeting her first in Vyner's company, and not to his possession of Vyner's Cottage. "Will you let me present my friends — Mr. Ladarelle, Mr. Adolphus Ladarelle, Mr. Grenfell ? " said Sir Within, at this critical moment, " and then, if you will give Mademoiselle your arm, we will go to dinner." It required all the practised tact and consummate skill in such matters of Sir Within's to carry through that day's dmner. Kate scarcely spoke at all, the elder Ladarelle very Uttle ; the younger was evidently bent on finding out who Grenfell was, what were his clubs, his houses, and his associates ; and Grenfell, not at all unused to such assaults of curiosity, repelled them by a cold and distant politeness, which gave little aid to table-talk. So that on the old envoy was thrown all the burden of the entertain- ment. Where men imagine that in supplying the material wants of hu- manity they have amply fulfilled the part between host and guest, and that when the viands are good, and the wine exquisite, the whole 16 242 LUTTRELL OF AKEAJf. responsibility is satisfied, it wUl seem that Sir "VVitliin's fears and anxieties were not all reasonable ; but this was not his theory. At a grand dinner, a state occasion, a certain duhiess was a part of the solemnity, and full-dress liveries and gold dishes were the natuial accompaniments of dreariness and display ; but a httle dinner meant a choice party, a selected few, bound to bring with them their faculties at the brightest ; not sharpening their wits at the moment of exercise, like an unruly orchestra tuning their instruments when they should be playing, but ready to start off at score. What a blank disappointment was here ! The few saUies that relieved the duluess came from the younger Ladarelle, and were neither attic in themselves, or quite unquestionable in point of taste ; and when they arose to take their coffee, the feeling was rather gratification that so much of weariness had been got over, and a hope that there was not much more to come. " I shall want you to smg. Ma Mie ; I see you won't talk," whispered Sir Within to Kate, as he drew near her. " No, Sir, I have a headache. I shall go and lie down." "That is about as much of her company as she has vouchsafed us since we have been here," said Ladarelle the younger to Grenfell, as they stood together in a window. " Is she haughty ? " "I don't know." " Vain I should take her to be, eh ? " " I don't know." "Who is she?" whispered Grenfell, in the confidential tone he knew how to assume with yomiger men. " I don't knoM' that, either," said Ladarelle. " The old fellow says his ward ; but I'd not be surprised if one of these days he should say his wife." "TVliy, he's seventy." " Seventy-six — seventy-six ! but he'd Uke to fancy he was eight- and-thirty." "A natural sort of self-delusion in its way," said Grenfell, care- lessly. " He'd be wrong to marry, tliough." " I believe you ; and very hard on me, too." " How do you mean on you ! " " Because the estate comes to me ; but he can charge it with a siettlement if he marries ; that's what I call liard. Don't you ? " Grenfell had no time to resolve the question, for Su- VVithin had already come over to propose a rubber a*» whist, a party to which, as an old member of Graliaia's, his appetite was not whetted as young Ladarelle whispered, " I Mish you joy of your whist ; old Wardle revokes, and my father never pays if he lo.'ies ! " " Come over and dine with me to-morrow " said Grenfell ; " it ■will not be more dreary than this." NEW FKIENDSHIP. ^43 JUAi'TEE XXX^T A NEW PEIENDSniP. "WeaT a snug place you have here ; it's as pretty as paint, too," said Mr. Adolphus Ladtarelle, as he lounged into the Cottage, a few mmutes after the time named for dinner. " It is not mine ; I am only !iere on sufferance. It belongs to Sir Gervais Vyner," said Grenfell. " Not the Vyner who sat for Holstead ? " "The same." " And the man who bought Cloudsley's yacht Carinthia, and then exchanged her for the Meteor, that won the Cowcs cup two years ago," continued Grenfell, who was watching the altered expression of the other's face, as he learned that he was the guest of one so closely alUed in intimacy with one of the leaders of fashion ; for though the Ladarelles were rich people and well placed in society, Vyner moved in a set, and associated with a class, quite apart from and above them. "I never met Vyner," said Ladarelle, carelessly. " He is the man I am most intimate with in the world. We chummed together at Cambridge, travelled together, and would have stood side by side in pubHc hfe together, ii' I had not been too indolent to fag at official drudgery. But here comes dinner : " and taking his guest's arm, he led him away hterally captive — so com- pletely was he overcome by the news that he was dining with the great Sir Gervais Vyner's dearest friend and oldest companion. Now, though the Ladarelles were not in that class to which Grenfell aspired, and with whom he hoped one day to see himself, they were on the direct road to it. They occupied what represented an inter- mediate territory, through which he must pass ; and he set himself patiently to cultivate then- good opinion — secretly cherishing the hope that a time woidd come when he could afford to be indifferent to it. The dinner was exquisite ; and young Ladarelle enjoyed, not alone the good cheer, but the freedom of being alone with one to whom he could talk without any reserve. " You don't half know what a charity you've done," said he, "in asking me here to-day. That dreary old place was kilhng me. My governor is not what people call jolly. Old Sir Within is about tha greatest prig I ever met ; and as for the ward, she is either insuffer- ably impertinent, or downright under bred." 16—2 244 LUTTKELL OF ABRAJf. " She is exceedingly beautiful, however," said Greiifell, smiling. " At times — yes ; I'll not dispute that. But she has a something half supercilious, half silly, occasionally, that I don't hke. Do you think her clever ? " I have no means of knowing. I never met her till yesterday. Old Wardle declares that there never was her equal — that she learns whatever she likes, without any labour ; but it's easy enough to understand infatuation at his age, and he does seem to admire her vastly," said Grenfell, slowly. " I'd say the old fellow was madly in love with her, if the idea was not too absurd ; not that it would be a laughing matter for me, though — vei'y far from it." " How do you mean ? " " I told you last night, that if he were to marry, he can charge the estate with a settlement. But that's not the whole of it. Sir Hugh Rivers says that, if he should have a direct heir ! O, yes — it's all very fine laughing; but the world has seen some such cases." " Very true," said Grenfell ; " and wc all know what Lord Stowell said of them." " I know nothing about Lord Stowell ; but I know this, that it's no pleasant thing to think there's a flaw in what one was once sure of. I used to fancy myself as much the owner of Dalradern as though Sir Within Wardle was only a tenant." " I scarcely think, if I was in your place, I'd fret myself about the contingency you speak of," said Grenfell. "I'll not go so far as to say I fret about it. I don't exactly do that ; but it worries me in certain ways." " I understand," said Grenfell ; " it makes the Jews more difScuIt to deal with — more captious about post obits." " You have it exactly. That fellow Joel — I can't imagme how he came at it — said to me t'other day, ' I don't like my security, Mr. Dolly ; it ain't what I used to think it was.' And what do you think I am paying him all the time ? " " Ten — perhaps fifteen — per cent." " Guess again." " Twenty ? — surely not more than twenty -five ? " " Forty — ay, forty per cent. ! And when I was let in so heavily last May on ' Grampus,' I stood for the whole of Cloudsley's lot, old Joel refused to renew under sixty per cent. ! He even threatened he'd go up to Leadenhall-street and have a talk with my governor." "Which might not have been pleasant." "I believe you. The governor has only to know that I've been betting in the rmg to scratch my name out of the bank to-morrow, and cut me off root and branch. You haven't an idea what these old * dons ' in the l>^nkiug world think of what they call ' the house.' A NEW FRIENDSHIP. 245 Wlien my father speaks of 'the house,' he means something that represents the honour of all the Ladarelles — not alone since Adam, but the unborn partners that are to discount and keep deposits for centuries to come. Maybe you have not mixed with these sort of people ? " "Very little; but I have heard tell of their prejudices," said GrenfeU, with the very faintest tinge of colour in his cheek as he spoke. " That's just what my governor is. After the bank comes the monarchy with him ; so that you see I must be cautious." " I know something of Master Joel. It is rather his interest to stand well with me ; and, if you like, I will just give him a gentle hint to keep quiet, and not create any disturbance." " Oh, would you ? By Jove ! I'll take it as a great service to me. The fact is, I've been going it rather fast. Hawkshaw ' let me in ' pretty heavily on ' Caithness,' and then Bluuden, as you know, levanted ; so that our last settling day was rather a dark morning to me." " Have you any other creditors than Joel ? " " Nothing very heavy. I owe Davis " "Grog?" " Yes — Grog Davis. I owe him about two thousand ; but he never presses. Grog's a gentleman m that respect. It's only when a fellow ' hums ' and 'hahs ' about whether the thing was all square or not ; that's what Grog won't stand a moment. He'll insist on his money then ; and, what's more, he'll have a shot at you too, if he can get it." " Yes, but he'll have his money first. I never heard of Grog Davis shooting at a solvent debtor yet." " You know him, that's plain enough," said Dolly, laughing. " Who could have been about town the last ten or fifteen years and not known him ? I rather like hun, too." " So do I," cried Ladarelle, eagerly, and as though it relieved his heart of a weight to make the confession. " Say what they will of Grog Davis, he's a fellow to do a right good-natuied thing ; and as for advice, there's not a man in the clubs I'd as soon go to as to him." " He has a deal of worldly wit, that's certain." " Ay, and he has more. He knows the exact way to treat every one. I've seen him go up and take the Duke of Dullworth by the arm just as familiarly as you'd take me." " Yes, when the Duke wanted him ; he might do that." Dolly paused for some minutes, and seemed to reflect. He was^ indeed, reflecting and considering with himself whether he would make a clean breast of it, and tell Grenfell all — everthing that he had on his mind, and everything that he had done in consequence. At length he appeared to have formed his decision ; and pushing hia 246 LUTXKELL OF AURAN. glass from before him, he leaned his arm on the table, and addressed Grenfell iu a voice of most confidential meaning. " I wrote to Grog since I came here," said he, significantly. " I told him all about old Wardle, and as much as I could make out about his ward. It wasn't much ; but I added whatever I suspected, and I asked what he thought of it. He answered me by the same post." " And what did he say ? " asked Grenfell, for the other had come to a dead stop. " I only got the letter as I stepped into the carriage, and glanced my eye over it. Shall I read it for you ? It's very short." " Kead it, then, by all means." " Here it is," said he, producing a very square-shaped sheet of paper, with a large seal of coarse wax attached, evidence that it had not been encased iu an envelope : " ' Dear Dol ! ' That's his way, he'd be intimate with his Royal Highness. ' Dear Dol, your note was writ like one of the queries to Bell's Life, and in the same spirit I answer it. The old cove means to marry her ' Eh, what ? " " I did not speak ; go on." " ' The old cove means to marry her, and cut you out of the estate, just aa Tom Barkely was done by Ilixley Drummoud — only that Tom was offered the girl first, and wouldn't have her.' " *' He's all right there. Tom Barkely's obstinacy cost him about sixteen thousand a year, and sent him out to India as a major iu a marching regiment," said Grenfell. " Go on." " ' This is my opinion,' he puts two n's to opinion, and it makes it read all the more stubborn, ' and as for the remedy. Master Dolly, all I can say is, there ain't two ways about it — there ain't two ways about it, ' " repeated Ladarelle, slowly, and as though weighing each word as he uttered it. " Now, wiU you tell me, what does he mean by that ? " "Head it over again." " ' This is my opinion ; and as for the remedy. Master Dolly, there ain't two ways about it. — Yours, C. D.' " Grenfell took the letter from the other's hand, and pored over it in silence for several minutes ; then, leisurely folding it, he laid it down on the table. " How do you understand him ? " asked Ladarelle again. " It's not very easy to understand what he says here ; though, if the words had been spoken instead of wiitten, I suspect I could have come at the meaning." " ' There ain't two ways about it,' " repeated Dolly, moodily, " and why not say which is the one way ? That would be more to the purpose." "It's one of two things, evidently; either you are to get rid of Sir Within, or his ward. Grog is not a very scrupulous fellow ; but A NEW fBIENDSUIP, 247 though he would poisou a horse he had laid heavily against for the Derby, I don't think he'd go so far in the case of an old diplomatist. It remainsj then, to be seen what is to be done with the ward ; he probably means you should carry her off yourself." " Perhaps she wouldn't come ; if she has designs on Sir Within, it's almost certain she would not." Grenfell made no answer, but sat lost in thought for some minutes, when he said : "Yes; that's what Grog advises; his calculation is, that this old man's infatuation, which, uninterfered with, would have led him into a foolish marriage, will, if it be crossed and thwarted, as certainly break him down and kUl him." " Men don't die of these things ! " " Not men Hke you and me, certainly ; but there is a time of life when existence is held on a very frail tenure ; aud, at that time, a mere hope extinguished serves to crush a vitahty." "Aud do you really think he'd take it so much to heart ? " " I know too little of him to give an opmion. When I have seen nim some hah-dozen times more, and seen, besides, somethmg of his manner towards her, I might risk a guess, perhaps." " If I was quite sure that I ' stood in ' for the double event — that is, to stop her marriage and succeed to the estate at once — I almost think I'd do it." "Yes," said Grenfell, after another pause, "this must be what Grog alludes to, as the one way of dealing with the matter." " She'd insist on marriage, I suppose ? " said Dolly, in a sulky tone. _ " Of course she would." " That's a bit of a bore. I had not calculated on such a step for these six or eight years yet. Then there's another thing to be thought of: my governor, who naturally will not see the necessity of the step, is sure to be outrageous at it. All that he will recognise will be the very thing he most despises in the world — a love match." " Could he not be brought to see a much more vahd reason for this match ? Don't you think the matter could be placed before him in such a light that he must accept that view ? " "No. I know him better. I could teU you at once what he'd say." " And what would it be ? " " He'd say : If she must be got out of the way and married off, get some hard-up Sub who cau't pay his mess debts, or wants to lodge a few hundreds for the next vacancy ; or find some Irish squire. My governor always thinks an Irishman is ready for any- thing but paying his debts. He'd marry her for a couple of thousand down. That's what my governor would hit on, without taking five mmutes to think of it." " What if she would not consent to such an arrangement ? " 2i8 LUTTRELL OP ARR.U'f. "That's as it might be. You'll not find nij governor giving any one credit for a strong will but himself. He reasons out every question his own way, and never suspects the mere possibihty of opposition." "That may do in the bank, perhaps, where none can gainsay him." " He'll tell you, it does just as well in the world at large ; and ae'll point to himself as the best proof of the system." "1 should like to hear your father discuss the question whh the young lady herself; she, I take it, has a will of her own, also; and the mattter would probably be well debated." " She'd have no chanee with my governor." " I'm not so sure of that. I have a suspicion that she could hold her own in an argument that touched her interest." "You know more of her than I do. She spoke to you, to me she barely condescended a few words. No more wine : thanks. I must be thinking of the road. I have got old Sir Within's horses, and the coachman tells me they have never been out after sunset for the last four years, and if they get cold now it may cost him his place." " Why not come over and stop here, it might bore you less than yonder ? " " I should be delighted ; I could ask nothing better ; but I am supposed to be down here on business. My governor is not at all satisfied with the way things are going on. He says Sir Within has cut down too much limber, and he has taken renewals for leases he had no right to grant, and what with his tanks, and fish-ponds, and river-gods, he has left two mills without a drop of water." " Tell him, with my compliments. Sir Within Wardle will do worse than all these." " You mean about that girl ? " "Yes." " That's what Grog says, but I dare not quote lam to the governor. Tell me, would you have any objection to my telling him that this was your opinion ? " " I have not the honour of being known to your father, and a mere surmise of mine would carry no weight with it." "I don't know that, i fancy he rather took a hkmg to you last night. What did you do at \vhist ? " " Lost a few half-crowns." "Ah, that accounts for it all. He said at brcakf;ist this morning, that though you held only mdilfercnt cards, you played with perfect composure, and it was cjuite a pleasure to play with you. With a few nights' ill luck you'll stand high in his favour, 1 promistt you." " It is a cheap friendship after all," said Greufell, laughing. A -WOODLAND KIDI. 249 " Yes. You may liave it for five pounds, but I doubt greatly if vQu could re-sell it for as many sliilliugs." " Make use of my favour, therefore, while it lasts, and if no- thing prevent, come and dine here the day aft«r to-morrow," said Grenfell. "Agreed. Here come the fat coach-horses; see how they heave their Hanks, only coming round from the stable-yard. I tell you, Greufell," said he in a whisper, " there will be a great sale of stock at Dalradern one of these days ; and there's a lot I'll certainly not give orders to have bought in. Good-night — good-night." CHAPTER XXXVIL A WOODLAND HIDE. It was only at intervals that the sun's rays pierced the leafy shade of a long valley in the woods at Dalradern, where Sir Within and his ward were riding. The tall beech-trees, which stood like the columns of a gigantic cathedral, were met and interwoven above so densely, that the light struggled with difficulty through the foliage, and fell in fanciful patches on the smooth turf beneath. "With noiseless tread the horses moved over that even turf, so that, when the riders were not speaking, not a sound broke the stillness, except the rich carol of the blackbird, or the deep-voiced cooing of the wood-pigeon. Sir Within rode his strong dark-brown short-legged cob, a beast of grave and dignified deportment, never startled nor surprised by the fretful and uneasy performances of the mettlesome animal at his side, and whose natural hot temper was alternately chafed and caressed at the fancy of his rider; for it was her pleasure to be eternally correcting some imaginary fault, or teaching some new ac- complishment. Now, it was his neck that wanted plasticity ; now, lie bore a little too heavily on the hand ; now, the otf-shoulder was a thought too prominent in his canter ; or, more vexatious than these, he would respond to a touch of the spur by a sharp switch of the tail — a breach of good breeding she could not tolerate. 250 LTJTTRELL OF ARRAN. Firmly seated on an animal tliat defied aU sympathy in tliese mettle- some feats, Sir Within had ample time to admire the exquisite grace with which she rode. It was iiidced the very perfection of the accord between horse and rider, which makes the spectator unable to say to which of the two he yields the palm of excellence. No bound nor spring ever took her unawares ; and when the animal seemed half mad with excitement, the graceful caress she stooped to bestow appeared to subdue him like a charm. " Why are you so grave, my dear Gardy ? You told me you should be yourself again when that tiresome man was gone, and now he's off — thank Heaven for it ! — but you look so depressed and. dispirited as if you had not yet tasted the relief." " True, Ma Mie, quite true. I have not quite convinced myself that we are free of him. His sou, however, remains, and is to stay tiU next week." " Yes, but how little we see of him. Your kmd neighbour, Mr. Grenfell, has him almost every day at dinner." " Tor which I owe him all my gratitude." " I take it, Mr. GrenfeU invites him to please himself. He is very lonely yonder at the Cottage. He says he has made no acquaint- ances, and I suppose that even Mr. Adolphus Ladarelle is better than solitude — not that I should thmk so myself." "But jou show that too plainly. Ma Mie. There are no feelings we ought so strictly to control, so far as the manifestations go, as :ur distastes to people in society." " I think he hates me!'' " That would be impossible, child. He may be afraid of your wit ; Le may not like to encounter your repartee ; he may feel, and not unreasonably, that he does not stand high in your favour, and this may impart a degree of constraint to his manner." " I have not seen the constraint, Sir, but I have the dislike, and it was so perfectly mutual, I was glad of it." " Another mistake. Ma Chere, and a great mistake. The people ivho really like us need no caressing. The blandishments should be all reserved for the doubtful — ^just as we administer cordials to the weak." " I do my best. Sir, but I own I do not approach it with a good grace. Do you really wish me to become a favourite with this young gentleman ? " " Nay, Ma Mie, you go too far. Your nature is like a pendulum, that swings if it be but breathed on. I did not say so much as that. I simply meant, that I should prefer if he were to carry away from us a pleasant impression of his visit. His father and I have had some discussions of a kind I cannot easily forget. In a long life of affairs, I have not met one, no, not one, who carries the virtue ot candour to the pitch of my respected relative, or who imparts home truths with a more telling smcerity." A WOODLAND RIDE. 251 "Well, Sir, if I understand you aright, I am to captivate Mr. IiadareUe, but not to fall iu love with him." "Mademoiselle," said he, gravely, "there was not such a word as love dropped in the entire discussion. I have told you that with the relations which subsist between the elder Mr. Ladarelle and myself it would be as well if a kindlier sentiment connected me with the young man. We shall probably have matters to discuss to which each of us ought to bring aU the courtesy in his pov/er." " Who cut down the large elm, Gardy ? ** cried she, suddenly pointing to a clearing in the wood, where a gigantic trunk had just Been felled. "It was I, Ma Chere. I ordered it; intending to make a vista yonder, so that we should see the great tower; but Mr. Ladarelle lias stopped me with a protest, and as I abhor a lawsuit, I think I shall submit." " Just watch how the Cid wiU take the timber ; he's glorious over a stump." " Kate — my dear Kate — it's too high ; don't do it. Come back, I entreat ; I order you to come back ! " cried he, as she dashed into the open, and with her horse beautifully iu baud, cantered him at the tree. Perhaps it was in the seeming carelessness of her hand — for horses have an instinct rarely deceptive as to the intention of the rider — perhaps a mere caprice, but the Cid swerved as he came up and refused the leap. The bare thought of such rebellion raised the girl's temper at ouce. She wheeled him suddenly round, and rode back about fifty yards, and then facing him ouce more in the direction of the tree, she dashed towards it in speed. " I command you — I order you to come back ! " screamed Sir Withm ; but she heeded nothing, heard nothing. The horse, now irritated and snorting with passion, came too close before he rose to the leap, and though he sprung madly into the air, he touched — a mere touch with his fore-leg — and came tumbling over, headfore- most, to the opposite side, with his rider beneath him. Sir Within had covered his eyes with one hand, not to see her take the leap, and he remained thus for a few seconds, waiting to hear her voice and the tramp of her horse as she joined him. At last he removed his hand and looked around. She was not to be seen. He cried her name — he screamed it in his agony. " This way ! " cried she ; " I'm not hurt— don't be frightened — come and help me." Dismounting, he made through the tall ferns and the felled branches and soon gained the spot, from which the horse had only now arisen, and stood trembling over the fallen figure of the girl. " Oh, my life — ray darling — my heart's dearest," cried he, kneeling down beside herj "tell me you are not crushed — not injured." 252 LUTTRELL OF ABBAN. " Ouly stunned, Gardy, nothing more. It was all my own faulL I rode him at speed; he had no thne to gather himself, and the martingale " As she spoke, her voice grew weak, she leaned her head on his shoulder and fainted. How did the deep woods resound to that poor old man's prayers and cries for help. He shouted — he screamed — he implored ; he offered untold gold to him who should come to his aid. He pledged to give half of all he had ui the world to any who should succour her. It was by a caprice of Kate's that they rode without a groom, and he inveighed against his own folly now for the comphance. Madly mingling self-reproaches with his cries for assistance, he grew at length hoarse and so faint with his efforts, that he could with diffi- culty sustain her weight. Just then was it that she ralhed, and with a playful smile said, "Dear Gardy, just pass your hand over Cid's knee. I hope it is not touched." " What do I care for the horse ! are you safe, my own darling — are you not hurt ? " " Not in the least — I think not ; my ankle is a Uttle stiif — a mere sprain, no more. This shoulder too There, don't touch it, ouly help me up. Yes, of course, I mean to mount again — do tell me u his knee is all right ? " "Only think — without help — without a servant — not a creature near us," muttered he. " A'"ery dreadful," said she, with an arch smile ; " quite com.pro- mising, I declare." " Oh, I have no heart for a jest now ! " said he, with a heavy sigh, as he assisted her to rise. " My sweet little horse," said she, patting him and throwing her arm round his neck. " I did treat you very ill — very ill indeed. It was soft spongy ground, too, and not fair in any way, and you were not in the least to blame. Do you know, Gardy, it was a mere bit of bark that caught his foot ; for, after all, it is not above four feet high, is it ? " "I don't know — I don't care how high it is. It very nigh cost you your life, and cost me more than I wish to tell ; " and he nmttered these last words beneath his breath. " You have never helped me to mount, I thuik, Gardy ! Mhida now, don't touch Cid's bridle; he won't bear it. Just give me a slight lift — that's it ; thanks. Oh, how nice to be on the saddle again. If you wouldn't think very ill of me, I'd ask a favour ? " " Anythmg in the whole world. Ma Mie ; what is it ? " " Then, like a dear kind Gardy, let me ride him at it again ; I'll do it so quietly " " Not for a dukedom — not if you went on your knees to beg it. I declare you have but httle feeling in your heart to ask it. Nay, I didn't mean to say that, my sweet child ; my head is wandering, and. I know not what I say." A WOODLAND RIDE. 2')3 "I hope you'll not tell of my disaster, Gardy," said she, as they rode slowly along towards home. " A fall brings one down at once to the level of all the people who do nothiug but fall. Don't smile ; I mean simply what I say as appHed to matters of horseflesh, not morals, and promise you'll not tell of me." " The doctor must hear of it, certainly." " No, Gardy, I'll have no doctor." " I insist upon it — you shall — and you must, Kate. Surely, when I say it is for my happiness, you will not refuse me." She made no answer, but passing her reins to her right hand, she laid her left hand over his, and so they rode on without a word oil either side. "Is it not strange that a crush and a tumble over a big tree should make one so very — very happy ; but I declare to you, Gardy, I never knew my heart so full of delight as at this moment. Tell me, what's the meaning of it ? " " Gratitude for your escape, Ma Mie : the thankfubiess that even the most thoughtless feel for preservation through danger." " No, it's not that ; the sort of ecstacy I feel is something quite diiferent from all this. It has nothing to do with peril, and just as Httle with gratitude. It has more in it of pride — that's not the word, but it will do — of pride, then, that you made so much account of me." " Eor a moment I thought I had lost you ! " said he, and his voice trembled, and his very cheek shook with emotion as he spoke. "And would the loss have been a deep sorrow — a very deep sorrow ? " He pressed her hand to his heart, and said, in a low voice, " The deepest — the heaviest that could befal me ! " " Was it not worth a fall to learn this ? " said she, laughingly. " Nay, rather, will it not teach you to take more care of a life of such consequence to others ? " "Don't say others, Gardy — say one other, and I am content." As she said this, she drew her hand hui'riedly away, for they were already approaching the great entrance, on the terrace of which Grenfell and young Ladarelle were talkmg and laughmg. "IMuid, Sir, not a word of my accident ! " And with this she sprang to the ground before he could offer his hand, and hurrymg up the steps, disappeared within the buildmg. " Won't you ask Grenfell to stop to dmner. Sir ? " whispered Dolly, as Sir Within, after a few cold commonplaces, was about to pass on. " Not to-day." " But I have half done it already, Sir. It was a great liberty ou my part, but I blundered into it." "Will you give us your company at diuner to-morrow, 2fil LUlTaF.U. OF ABHAN. Mr. Greufcll ? " said Sir Within, ■without the hcjgitation of a moment. Grentell accepted, and, as Sir Within moved on, turmng to Dolly, he said, "Did you remark his agitation — did you notice the embar- rassment of his look aud manner? Take my word for it, he has made her an offer." " Do you know it was passing through my mind tlie very same thought ; for as they turned the augle of the copse yonder, I saw her snatch her hand from him." " Come back aud dine with me. Common delicacy forbids you to spoil a tete-a-iete." " I can't take the thing as coolly as you do, Greufcll. It's no iaughiug matter to me." " Don't laugh, then, that's all. There can be no reason, however, that you should not diue ; so step in, and let's be off." " I suspect you are right," said Dolly, as they drove away. " The old fool has capped his folly. I whispered to him to ask you to dme." "I heard you, and I marked the eager way he put it off till to-morrow. His confusion got the better of all his tact, and. showed me plainly enough that something had occurred to excite him greatly." " She passed in, too, without ever looking up ; she never bowed to us — did you notice that ? " " I saw it all, aud I said to myself that Master Dolly's uexfc dealings with Joel will eutail heavy sacrifices." " It's not done, yet," said Ladarelle, with an affected boldness. " No, nor need be for some weeks to come ; but let us talk no more of it till we have dined. Vyner sent me his cellai"-key this morning, and we'll see if his old wine cannot suggest some good counsel." ecHsuncB. iss CHAPTER XXXVni. SCHEMING. They sat late over their wine, and telling the servants to go to bed, GrenfeU ordered that he should not be called before noon on the next day. Aecording to custom, his servant had left his letters by his bed- side, and then retired noiselessly, and without disturbing him. It was already late in the afternoon when Grenfell awoke. The first note he opened was a short one from Sir WithiiT, begging to excuse himself from the expected happiness of receiving Mr. Grenfell that day at dinner, as a sudden attack of his old enemy the gout had just laid him up in bed. " If I have only my usual fortune," added he, " my seizure wiU be a brief one, and I may soon again reckon on the pleasure of seeing you here." The tiduigs of the illness was corroborated by Grenfell's valet, who saw the doctor travelling to Dalradern with all the speed of post-horses. The thought of a courtship that ushered in a fit of the gout was just the sort of droUery that suited Grenfell's taste, and as he lay he laughed in derision of the old man and his schemes of future happi- ness. He fancied himself telling the story at his club, and he dwelt on tlie opportunity it would afford to talk of " Wardle " as his friend — one whose eccentricities he had therefore a perfect right to dish- up for the amusement of all others. " Take this," said he, giving the note to his servant, " to Mr. Ladarelle's room ; " and, fancying to himself the various moods with which that young gentleman would con over the intelligence, he lay back again in his bed. There was no friendship — there was no reason for any — in the apparent interest he had taken in Ladarelle. It was not of the slightest moment to him which of the two, if either, should marry Kate O'Hara, save as to with whom he should stand best, and be most likely to be well received by in the future. Were she to marry Sir Within, the house would, in all hkelihood, be closed to him. The old minister was too well versed in worldly matters not to cut off aU the traditions of the past. He's sure either to introduce her into life under the auspices of some of his own high connections, or to live totally estranged from all society. In either case they are lost to me. Should she be married to Ladarelle, I — as the depositary of 2oS LUTTRELL OF ARRAK. ail that was secret in the transactiou — I must needs have my influ- ence. The house will of necessity be open to me, and I shall make of it what I please." Ey this last reflection GrenfcU summed up what his experience of life had largely supplied him with — that is, an inordinate liking for those estabhshuients in which a large fortune is alhed with somethiug wliich disqualilies the possessors from taking their rightful position in society. In his estimation, there were no such pleasant houses as those where there was a " screw loose," either in the conduct, the character, or the antecedents of the owners. These houses were a sort of asylum for that large nomade popu- lation of highly amusing qualities and no characters, the men who had not "done" everything, but "done" everybody, and of womeu still more dubious. In these houses the style of living was usually splendid. Wit has a sort of natural affinity for good cookery, and Eeauty knows all the value of the "costly setting" which splendour confers. Last of all, there was that perfect liberty — the freedom from all the discipline of correcter establishments — which gave to every guest some prerogative of a master. You came as you liked, went as you liked, and very often, too, introduced whom you liked. What more could a man do if he were the rightful owner ? Now, Grenfell was free of many such houses, but in none was he supreme. There was not one wherein his authority was dominant and his word a law. This he ambitioned ; he craved impatiently for the time he could say to the men in his club, " I'll take you down with me to Ladarelle's — I'll show you some real cock shooting — I'll give you a day or two at Dalradern." Woidd not that be fame — distmction — triumph ? Ladarelle, too, was a man made by nature for such a part — careless, extravagant, sensual, fond of amvisement, without caring in the least for the characters of those who contributed to- wards it, and inherently vain and open to the coarsest flattery. With him, therefore, Grenfell anticipated little trouble ; with her he was by no means so sure. She puzzled him, and she seemed de- termined not to afford him any opportimity of knowuig more of her. Her avoidance of him was plain and unmistakable. " Perhaps she fears, perhaps she distrusts me," thought he. " I'll take the earliest moment to assure her she need do neither, but may make me her friend imphcitly." He understood a good deal by that same word, which in ordinary hfe is not imputed to friendship. In fact, by friendship, he — as a great many others do — simply meant conspiracy. Thinking and reflecting in this vein, he lay, when the door opened, and young Ladarelle, in dressmg-gown and shppers, entered. "What's the meaning of all this, Grenfell?" said he. "My fellow, risk, who is just come over, says that Sir Within is perfectly well ; he was in the stable-yard this morning at seven o'clock, and that it is the ward, Mademoiselle herself, is ill," SCHEMING. 257 "He won't have us at dinner, that's all I Know," said Greiik-il jawning carelessly. " He says nothing whatever about me ; scaroely civil, I thiu'k. consid-eriug I am supposed to be his guest." "I'll give you a dinner. You'll pay me -nith interest one oi these days, when you come to that estate." " That I will." " Do you know, as I lay here this last hour, I have been plotting out the sort of life a man could cut out for himself in a place like this. You are the sort of fellow to have the very plcasantest house in England." "I should like to try." "If you try, you'll win. Shall I tell you. Master Dolly, the quality which iirst attracted me towards you? " " What was it ? " " It was this. You are one of the very few young fellows I ever met M^ho was not infected with a slavish worship of the titled classes. How, being a Cambridge man, you escaped it, I don't know ; but you have escaped it." " You're right there," said Dolly ; but the colour that mounted so suddenly to his cheek, seemed to imply a certain confusion in making the assertion. " You know we had a peerage once in the family, and it is a hobby of my governor's to try and revive it. He offered the present people to contest any two of the Opposition seats, and pro- posed to myself to go into the house ; but I told him flatly I'd rather get into Graham's than into Parliament." " A much harder thing to cb ! " " You're in Graham's, ain't you ? " "Yes; and so shall you be next ballot, if you really wish for it 1 " " Wliat a trump you are. Do you know, Grenfell, I can't make it out at all that I never have met you before ? " " I'm some twelve or fifteen years your senior," said the other, and a sliglit twitching of the mouth showed a certain ii-ritation as he spoke ; " a few years separates men as essentially as a whole hemi- sj)here." " I suppose so." "Town life, too, moves in such a routine, that when a man comes to my age, he no more makes a new acquaintance than he acquires a new sensation." "And, stranger still," continued Dolly, with that persistence that pertains to ill breeding, " I never so much as heard of you." "I feel ashamed of my obscurity!" said Grenfell, and his pale check became mottled with red. " No, it ain't that. I meant only to say that I never heard of any Grenfells but the Piccadilly fellows. Cox and Grenlells ! ' None genuine but signed by us.' Ha, ha, ha ! " and Dolly iauglied at liis 17 S68 LUTTRELL OF AKEAN. drollery, and tlie other joined in the mirth quite sufficiently not to attract any especial attention. " Not relatives, I presume ? " addeal Dolly, still laughing. " DeUghted if they were ! " said Greufell with a sickly smile. *' I don't think the dividends would smell of curry powder ! " " That's what CecU St. John says : 'Let the greatest scoundrel in England only leave me his money, and I'U honour his memory.' Do you know St. John?" " One of my most intimate friends." " I am dying to know him. Grog Davis says he's the only man that ever took the wind out of his sails." " I'll have him to dinner when I go up to town, and get you to meet him," said Grenfell. " It must be on a Sunday, though, for Cecil shuns all others, winch he calls dun-days, to distinguish from Sundays." " I'd like to wipe off every shilling he owes. I'd like to set a fellow like that clear with the world." " I'll tell him you said so. It m ill go a very long way towards acquiring his esteem." " Well, I declare it's a thing I'd do, if I had my property. I've heard wonderful stories about him." "And he could tell you still more wonderful ones himself. He's one of those men" — here GrenfeU's voice became authoritative and collected — "one of those men who, if he saw himself in such a position as yours, would no more doubt as to what he would do, than he M'ould hesitate taking a fair fence in a fox-hunt." " And what would he do in my place ? " " He'd reason out the thing somewhat in this way : 'If I suffer the old cove to marry this girl, he'll cither hamper the estate with a heavy settlement, or, mayhap, alienate it altogether. I'll marry her myself, or, if she'll not consent, I'll carry her off. Abduction looks very big in the law-books, but it's a light offence, except where the woman is intractable.' " " And, Mould you carry her off? " " St. Jolai would, I'll take my oath on it ! " "And not marry her ? " " That's as it might be, and if she insisted ; for he has three other wives still living." " But, is the tlimg possible ? " " Possible ! Why, it's done every week of the year in Ireland." " Ay, but we're not in Ireland, unfortunately." "That's true; neither are we in France; but it was a French cook dressed that ' supreme ' we ate yesterday." " I sec what you mean," said he, pondering slowly over the other's words. " You think one might get fellows who understand how this sort of thing is to be done ? " " If 1 don't niistuke greatly, I know M'bere to go for the very SCHEMING. 959 Bttan you want. In an excursion I once made with Vyuer in the west of Irehmd, we rambled into a wild district of Donegal, where iu a lonely region we chanced on a little urn. It is a flattery to call it an imi. It was a small thatched cabin standing by itself iu the midst of the mountauis; there was not another habitation, I'm certain, within ten miles of it. The fellow who kept it was as rank a rebel as ever graced the gallows ; and made no secret of his treason either, but owned it boldly and impudently. I had more than one discussion with him, and learned that the rascal had all the shrewdness and low cunning that pertains to that class of his countrymen. lie had not, however, been well treated by his party, and he was not at all indisposed to betray them if he could see his Avay to secure his own advantage by it. At all events, it was clear to me, that for a case which required craft, daring, and no inter- ference of scruples of any kind, this fellow was eminently suited ; and I have often thought, if I needed a man for an enterprise where the law must be broken, and the penalty incurred a gaol and a long imprisonment, I'd go and look up my frieud iu Donegal as the man for the occasion — not to say that his house would be the very place to afford a refuge beyond all risk of discovery." Ladarelle listened with deep attention throughout, and when Grenfell had finished, said : " What do you mean by a refuge beyond all discovery ? " " Simply, that for some short time, marry or not, you must be able to baffle pursuit, and for such a purpose I'd back this spot in the wilds of Donegal against the kingdom." " Suppose we were to fail ? " " We can't fail ; she goes willingly — or, if not, unwillingly ; but failure is out of the question. Your object is, that she should not be Lady Wardle, is it not so ? " " Yes, undoubtedly." " And to secure this, it is worth while incurring some risk ? " " Certainly ; but I should like to know the extent of that risk." " I'm no lawyer, and can't tell you what class of misdemeanor the law makes it ; not to say that the offence is 0)ie which diilcrs ac- cording to the judge who tries it ; but the question to which you will have to look is this : If the girl be satisfied that she is really married, however grieved the old man may be, he will never disturb that fact. He'll shut himself up in his castle, and let his beard grow. A great shock at his age lasts for the remainder of life, and Ee'U nurse his grief till it lays him in the grave." " Then there must be a marriage ? " "Some sort of marriage, Irish or Scotch, they have them of all sorts and complexions ; but English law smashes them, just to show these poor Celts in what a barbarism they arc living, and that even their most solemn contracts are a farce, if not ratified by ua acre." 17— S 260 LUTTKELL OP AIIEAN. " So ihut I could marry again if I wished it ? " " Of course you could. Why, scores of fellows about tovrn have gone through that sort of humbug. Dou't you kuow Lawson — Jim Lawson ? Well, he married his sister's governess before he married Lady Lucy King ; and they wanted to make a fuss about it ; but it was proved that it was only a lark on his part, though s//e was quite serious about it ; and the priest, too, was only in deacon's orders, or it was after canonical hours, and it was all irregular, even to the ring on her linger, which Harry Bushe said was copper, and so the Lords smashed it, as they always do these Irish things, and Jimmy married the other woman." " I wish there was to be no marriage at all." " Perhaps you do ; perhaps you'd like it better if old Sir Withm would have the pohteuess to die off and give you no further trouble ? " " Ah, if he would ! " " But, as he won't — as he is firmly bent not merely on living longer, but actually taking measures to make himself au unpleasant memory when he does go, I suspect you ought to look sharp to your own interests. Master Dolly. But, after all, I find myself pressing like au advocate iu a case where the very utmost I ought to do should be to advise as a friend. You know by this time all I thuik on this matter. It is for you to follow the advice or reject it. Meanwhile, I mean to get up and have a walk before dinner." "Just one thing more — as to this Lish fellow you speak of. Would he take all the risks — the legal risks — if he were well paid for it?" " I think it's very Ukely he would. I don't thmk he'll bind him- self to go to the drop exactly ; but I take it he'll not boggle about a reasonable term of imprisonment, and perhaps 'hard labour.' " " Will you write for him, then ? * " Not without you are fuUy determmed to employ him. If you pledge me your word to this, I will write." " If I pay him " " No, no, I'll have none of that ! These Irish fellows, even in their most questionable deahngs, have a pomt-of-honour sense about them, that makes them very dangerous men to treat with. Let them only suspect any intention of a slight, and their old Spanish blood, I suppose it is, takes fli-e at once." "Let me have a night to tliink it over." "Take a week, take a month, if Sir Within will give it to you. You are your own master, and need not ask for time from any one." " I'd like to reflect well on it. It is too serious a tmivg to io without good consideration," WITH DOCXOKS. 261 "D« so by all means, aud begin at ouce, for I want to ring for my servant and have my bath." " I wish you'd have a little more patience ; one can't decide on a thing of this sort in five minutes." " Who asks you, my dear fellow ? — who presses you ? I only beg to be allowed to get up aud dress myself, and a not very unreasonable request, seeing that it is close on five o'clock, aud you have been here since three." " Well, I'll do it, come what may of it, I'll do it." " Take the night to consider it." " No, I am resolved on it. I'll do it." " Vci"j well ; we are too late for the post to-night, but I'll write to this man after dinner, and by that time you will have fully made up your mind. Now go, or I'll begin to regret the day and the hour I ever thought of giving you counsel." " You are the most impatient fellow I ever met in my hfe," said Ladarelle, as he arose reluctantly, and with iinwilling steps sauntered out of the room. CHAPTER XXXrX. WITH DOCTOBS. On the evening of the same day, Sir Within sat alone in his grand old dining-room. The servants had Mithdrawn and left him in solitary splendour, for the massive plate ghttered on the sideboard, and the blaze of many wax-lights illuminated the three or four great pictures of Eubens' on the walls, aud sparkled over the richly-cut glass that figured amongst the dessert, and there, amidst all, sat that old man — pale, wan, aud careworn — to all seeming several years older than one short week ago. A small table at his side was littered with letters and law papers ; but though he had gone for them to his study, he never noticed them, so deeply was his mind bent on other thoughts. At last he looked at his watch, and then arisLug, he rang the bell. " Doctor Price is still above staiis ? " said he, in a tone of inquiry. 26:2 LUITEELL OP AKEAN. "Yes, Sir Within" " And you are quite certain you told liim to come to me before he left the Castle ? " " Yes, Sir Within." " That will do," said he, with a sigh. Scarcely had the servant closed the door than he re-opened it to announce Doctor Price, a small pock-marked sharp-featured man, "with an intensely keen eye, and a thin compressed mouth. " Well, Doctoi', well ? " said Sir Within, as he came forward to- wards him with a manner of great anxiety. "Well, Sir Within Wardle, it is as I suspected, a case of con- cussion ; there's no organic mischief — no lesion." "What's a lesion?" "There is no fracture, nor any pressure, so far as I can detect; but there is very grave injury of another sort. There is concussion of the brain." " And is there danger — be frank. Doctor, is there danger ? " " Certainly there is danger ; but I would not pronounce it to be imminent danger." " London has some men of great eminence ; which of them all would you select to consult with on such a case ? I am certain that you would wish a consultation." " I have no objection to one. Sir Within, and I would name Sir Henry Morland, as the first man in his profession." "Then write for him, Sir — write at once. Here, in this room, here" — and he opened a door into a small cabmet — "you will find everythmg you want." "Certainly; I obey your instructions. I will write immediately; but say in what terms. The young lady is your ward — am I to style her by that title or by her name ? " Sir Within blushed, but it was more in anger than shame ; the barest approach to any question of Kate's position jarred upon his feelings like an insinuation, and he fixed a steadfast stare on the Doctor before he replied, to assure himself that there was no covert impertinence in the request. Apparently he was satisfied, for in a calm voice he said, " It will be unnecessary to say more than that his presence is requested by Sir Within Wildrington Wardle at Dalra- dern Castle, and with all the speed possible." While the Doctor was writuig, Sir Within walked to and fro with short and hurried steps, his mouth twitched from time to time, and a nervous motion of his fingers betrayed the immense agitation that possessed him, and against which he struggled hard to subdue all outward signs. Had the occasion been a ministerial conference — had the event been one in which a bold front was called for, to cover a weak position, or affront a commg peril— the old envoy would have borne himself well and bravely ; no one could have worn an easier look in a trymg emergency, or better baffled the searching that WITH DOCXOBS. 263 would try to detect a secret misgiving. But where was all this subtlety now ? Of what did it avail him ? He bent before this blow as humbly as a school-girl, and soon even abandoned the attempt to dissimulate, and wrung his hands in passionate sorrow as he went. " Will that do, then, Sir Within ? " asked the Doctor, as he Landed him the note he had just written. " I have not my glass," said he, hurriedly, while his fingers held it; "but of course it is all right. You will instruct me as to the fee — you will do whatever is necessary, and you will, also, I trust, remain here. I wish you not to leave the Castle." " Impossible, Sir Witnin. Sir Godfrey Wynne is very ill, and I have a very anxious case at Glassnwyd." " But none of them, I will venture to say, so needful of watching as this. You have just told me how precarious these cases are. Remember, Sii', I have some claims upon you." " The very greatest. Sir Within. But for your munificent dona- tion, I should uever have beeu physician to the Wrexham Hospital." "I did not mean that," said Sir Within, blushing scarlet ; "I did not allude to that. I spoke of old family claims in your father's time. Dalradern was always his staunch supporter." " I know it well, Sir ; but a doctor owes allegiance to the very humblest of those who need him." "a doctor, I presume, is bound to accord the patient whatever of his time he can pay for ? " • _ " Not to the detriment of others who are ill, Sir Withiu." "I know of no other than those under this roof, Doctor Price. 1 insist, therefore, that you remain here." " I will return before evening. Sir Withui." " If you leave this now. Sir, you need not return." "Let me entreat you to moderate your warmth, and hear me." " Sir, I accept no lessons on the mode in which 1 should com- port myself. My education is not, I would hope, yet to be made in this respect. You stay now, or you never re-cross this threshold." " Then I most respectfully take my leave, Sir." As he moved towards the door. Sir Within placed himself against it. " This is conduct. Sir," cried he, passionately, " for which I was in no way prepared. It is the first time in my life I have seen a physician refuse his services to those who had the right to call for, and the ability to requite them. I will not suffer it." The doctor" moved his head mournfully, and muttered a few low and indistinct words. "No, Sir, I want no apologies. I will not listen to excuses!" cried Sir Within, whose cheek was in a flame, and his eye flashing 264 LUTTEELL OF AKllAN. with anger. "I have done my best — my very best — to misuuder- stand your meaning; I have tried my utmost to persuade myself that this was not intentional sHglit ; but, apparently, Sir, you insist ihat I should know it, and feel it.'' " You distress me greatly, Sir Within — and all the more, that I really cannot follow you in what you imply." " I never hnply, Sir — I declare — 1 assert ! " and his voice was now shrill with passion. "It is no insinuation I make — it is an open declaration — that it is in what scandalous tongues have dared to allege against this young lady's residence under my roof is the sole pretext you have to rel'use your services here. Don't deny it. Sir ; I read it in your confusion half an hour ago. You intend to build a character'for high morality on this event. You know this county better than I do, and you are a better judge how far your strict virtue will be remunerative ; or perhaps you fancy that I will condescend to an explanation with you." " No, no, Sir Within. You are too unjust — quite too unjust iu all this." The old baronet never heard the interruption, but went on : "But, Sir, if I have scorned to make explanations to tlie first gentry of my neighbourhood, it is not likely I will descend to them for the satisfaction of a village doctor. Go, Sir — go! but at your peril one word to gratify the slanderous temper of your clients ; for if I hear that you have dared to insinuate, however faintly " The Doctor did not wait for him to finish, but hurried down the stairs, crossed the hall, and hastened to the stable-yard ; and in a very few minutes the sharp sound of his horse's feet on the ground declared that he was off at speed. Sir Within had sunk into the chair beside the door from which the Doctor had just issued, powerless and overcome. The outburst of passion, what had been but one exit of an overwhelming sorrow, had run its course, and now he sat there M'retched and forlorn. Of nis late altercation he remembered positively nothing. Somethhig nad occurred — something that excited and agitated him. The Doctor had said, or somebody had said, he knew not what ; but it shadowed forth a sort of reflection on him — for Heaven knows what ; and he wiped the cold perspiration from his brow, and tried to collect himself. At last he arose and rang the bell. " Will you tell Doctor Price I should Tike to speak to him," said he, in his usual bland tone. " The Doctor is gone, Sir Within ; he left the Castle haK an hour ago." He nodded; and the servant retired. After a little while he rang again. "Let Doctor Price know I wish to see him before he goes away,' said lie, in a faint voice. WITH DOCTORS. 265 "The Doctor left the Castle some tune back, Sii' Withm," said the mau, iu some astonishment. " Ah ! — very true — I remember : that will do." Once more alone, he tried to remember what had just occurred — but he could not ; and, with weary steps, he mounted the stairs slowly towards the corridor where the sick chamber stood. " She is sleeping. Sir Withm," said the nurse, who sat outside the door to enforce silence — " sleeping, but dreaming and waudcring ou coutiuually ; and such strange things, too, she says." "What does she tallc of, nurse?" said he, scarcely conscious of what he asked. " She be talkmg, Sir, of being a-gatheriug seaweed ou tlie rocks, and cryuig out to some one to take care — that the tide is gaining fast. ' It will be soon in ou us ! ' she cries every moment ; 'make haste, Patsey, or we'U lose it all! ' And then slie'U wring her liair, as if there was water m it, and tie it up short afterwards on the back of her head. I never see a young lady go ou the same way before ! " " Wandering, — mere wauderiug," said Sir Withiu, faiutlJ^ "Of course it be. Sir Within; but ain't it a strange sort of wauderiug for one bred and brought up as she was ? " " When people rave, they rave," said Sir Withiu, curtly. "Yes, Sir, so they does; but people boru to every comfort and the like seldom talks of going out to look for firewood, or to brhig home tlie goats from the mountains ; and that poor sweet dear there won't tliLuk of anything else." " You are a fool, ma'am, or you would never think of attaching importance to what a patient raves about in a fever. I wonder Doc- tor Price could not have found a more competent person." And with this rebuke he retraced his steps, and sought his own room. As he sat there, a servant entered with a note Doctor Price's ser- vant had just brought. He tore it open impatiently, and read : " Deiu Sir, — I have accidentally heard that Sir Henry j\f orland will be at Wrexham this evem'ng. If it be your M'lsh to see him at Dalradern, ])ray inform me by the bearer. " Very respectfully your Servant, "Pkitchaed Price." Sir Within at once addressed a most curt and conciliatory note to Doctor Price, requesting to see him and iiis colleague as soon as would suit his convenience. That there was something for whie^ an apology was needed, he knew ; but what it was, how it occurred, or why it occurred, was totally beyond hun ; his note, however, was po- lite iu every respect, and its conclusiou actually friendly. Doctor Price, however, did not make his appearance, but towards midnight a post-chaise drove into the coui't-yard, and the great town physician 266 tUTTRELL OF ARRAN. entered the castle. He was a short, stout-built, heavy-browed man, stern, and almost peremptory in his manner, reserving all his mind for his patient, and scarcely condescendiug to notice the friends of the sick person. " Who is it ? " asked he bluntly of Sir Within, as the old envov politely handed him a chair. " My ward, Sir Henry, a young lady not fully seventeen." " Humph ! I did not know you were mari'ied." " I am not married. Sir. I was not aware that we were discussing that question." " Let me speak with your sister, then ? " " I have no sister. Sir." " I don't care what the relative is — cousin, aunt, grandmother — if not too old." " I repeat, Sir, I have no female relative here to whom I can refer you. I shall send for my housekeeper, however, who is a most intelli- gent person ; " and he rang the bell hurriedly. "And this ward — strange thing a ward in the house of an unmar- ried man — what's her name ? " "Miss O'Hara." " O'Hara ! O'Hara ! One of the Antrim family ? " " No, Sir ; no connection even." " Oh this is the housekeeper ! Show me your patient, and tell me about the case as we go along ; " and abruptly '•eturuing Sir Within's salutation, he left the room, and proceeded up stairs. " Yes, yes," he muttered, as the housekeeper recounted the symptoms. " Yes ; I know all that : but I want to hear how it began. Was there any shock — any accident ? None ? Mere fatigue — a long ride — over-exertion — a very hot day ! Yes, yes, quite common — answers at first collectively, and then goes off raving — that's enough ! " The rough, ungracious man, abrupt of speech, and actually rude in manner, became gentle as a woman as he stole up to the bedside and laid his hand on the hot and burning forehead. She raised her hand, tremulous with fever, and placed it upon his, and said : " Yes ; the pain is there ! " " Let us see if we cannot cure it," said he softly, as he sat down beside the bed. She turned her large lustrous eyes upon him — brightened as they were in the glow of fever — and stared at him steadfastly and long. He was counting her pulse, and she watched his lips as they faintly stirred, as though she could read her fate in their mo- tion. " Well ? " cried she—" well ? " " Well, you are about to get better, my dear child ; the fever is decreasing, and your head freer." " Yes," said she, hurriedly, " the horrid fancies that torment me WITH DOCTOHS. 267 are passing away, and I can think now. Wlio are you ? " asked she, after a pause. " I am your doctor." " But your name ? I never saw you before." " I know that ! This is my first visit to you. My name is Morland." " Morland — Morland — I have read that name in the newspapers. Sir William, or Sir something." " Sir Henry Morland." " Physician to the king, I declare," said she, raising herself on one arm to look at him ; " and you have come here, all this way, to see me!" " And very well worth my while it was. It is not every day I chance upon so interesting a patient." " How kind you are — how pleasant your voice is ; it soothes me to listen to it." " But we must not talk any more now, my child." "Oh yes, let us talk, it is so delightful ; tell me of all the fine people you see daily. Do you speak to them as kindly as to me, or are you more reserved and distant ? Do tell me." " I will tell you all about these things another time, when it will be safer to hear them. You must have perfect rest and quiet now." " It would quiet me far more to listen to you than to let me think on and on, as I have been dohig. You are going away akeady ! " " I cannot help it, my child ; I have many others waiting for me to see them." " But you wouldn't Imrry away from me in this fashion if I were a great person ? " "Pardon me; you are a very great person to me" "How so? Tell me what you mean; do tell me," cried she; and she started iTp and caught his hand with both her own. " I must know what that means." " Listen to me, my child," and he spoke in a graver, almost a stern manner ; " I can only do the work of my daily life by being very despotic. I have rephed to more questions of yours now, than I should have answered to a royal highness. Good-bye." " Good-bye ! " said she, and pressed ids hand to her hot lips. " Good-bye ; don't forget me." As the Doctor, followed by Mrs. Simcox, left the room, he stood for a moment in the corridor, deep in thought. " Her mind is col- lected now," said he, at last ; " there is only excitement ; there is no aberration." " She has those intervals every now and then. Sir, and she'll speak as sensibly as any one ; and, indeed, it's hard to say when she is not talkmg rational, for she is odd and strange when she's well." " Yes, I see that ; she is no ordinary person." 268 ijUTTRELL OF ARKAN. "And uo later thau last uight, Sir, whcu we imagined that she was talking a mere gibberish of her own, our second hoasemaid, that was in the room, went over and answered her, and there they talked together for more than a quarter of an hour, Sir ; and I asked Molly what it was, and she said it was Irish. So, when the girl came into the room this morning, I told her to talk it again ; but, would you believe it, Sir? our young lady began to laugh, and asked what the creature meant by that nonsense. She did not know one word, Sir, Molly was saying, any more than ourselves." The Doctor nodded assentingly, as though such a case was familiar to him, and passed on. At the foot of the stairs he found Sir Within waiting for him. "I will talk to Price," said Sir Henry; "I shall see him to-night, and to-monow I will take another opportunity of seeing her before I return to town." "Are you hopeful as to the result? " asked Sir "Within, with much anxiety in his look. " She has youth in her favour," said he, as he buttoned up his overcoat. " And you think well of her case, then ? " " I did not say so, Sir ; I don't think any man would go so far ; for it will be tedious, and consequently precarious. And there are uow and then recoveries that can scarcely be called benefits. How many miles do you call it to Wrexham ? " " You speak of the effects upon the brain — the permanent effects ? " said Sir Within, with trembling eagerness. " Brain or membranes, I don't think it signifies much which. And Wrexham — how far is it ? " " Your postboy will tell you, Sir ; this case is of much more moment to me." Sir Henry turned a fi.dl steady look on the old envoy, as though he were contemplating an order of being wholly new and strange to him ; and then turning to the housekeeper, who still stood at his side, said : " Stop the ice — ap))ly mere cold water; don't talk to her, and no more Irish — take care of that — no more Irish. Good-night, Sir Within ; " and stepping hastily down the steps, he entered his carri- age and drove away. "What did he mean by that last direction, no more Irish, Mrs. Simcox ? " asked Sir Within. " La, Sir, it was about a thing that happened last uight ; " and she recounted the incident, at somewhat greater length thau we have given it. " Scud the girl to me," said Sir Within, as she finished ; " let me speak to her in the library." Tlie interview lasted about half an hour, and at the end of it Molly was seen to hasten to her room, pack her clothes, and descend to tli-3 stable-yard, where a conveyance was in waiting for her. WITH DOCTOKS. 269 " This is a hasty way to leave us, Molly," said oiie of her felbw- servants, ai^ she mounted the cart. " It's my mother that was sick, aud sent for me," said the girl. " Drive on," added she to the groom, for Sir Withui was leauing on the window-sill, overhead, and watching the scene. Sir Henry arrived the next moi-ning to find Kate worse than he had left her ; and, though greatly pressed for time, he remained nigh an hour in consultation with Doctor Price, who had accompairicd aim. There was more fever, and far move of excitement than on the day before, and she talked incessantly to herself, occasionally giving way to bursts of laughter. " How grave you both look this morning," said she, with a derisive smile, as they arose to leave her bedside. " I think I can guess what's passing in your mind." Morlaud shook his head in dissent, and she went on : " Of course you would be reluctant to say it, but the simple truth is, Doctor, you think me very, very ill." " So far, you are right," said he, gently. " Yes, but you suspect more. You believe that I am dying." " You have many things in your favour, my dear child. You have youth, you have strength, and you have what is sometimes worth them both — good courage." "You do me justice. Doctor, I have plenty of courage, more even than you know of; and I have another thing," added she, while her eyes flashed wildly and her lip shook with agitation — " I have no great desire to live ! " " Come, come, young lady," broke in Price, " it is not at your age that one is weary of the world." " I never said I was," cried she, nnpatiently ; and then, turning from him as though he were not one to understand her aright, she addressed the other. " May I speak to you alone ? " " Certainly ; my friend here will have no objection, I'm sure." " None whatever," said Doctor Price, as he moved towards the door. " And you, Simcox, you must go too ; and take Nelly with you." "La, Miss " " Do as you are told," said the Doctor, peremptorily. " And now we are alone, child," said he, as having closed the door, he returned to the bedside. "Sit down, sit there," said she, pointing to the chair, "and wait a moment till I collect myself. I don't Uke that man ; his voice jars on me — there is so much in a voice. Yours, for instance, soothes me." He smiled kindly on her, and she continued ; " I was not always so captious, but illness makes one very fretful. Ain't it so ? " " Naturally." " I must be very ill, then, if irritability be the measure. Do you know" — and here she spoke with immense rapidity, and with a jar- ring vibration in her voice — " do you know there are times, mere 270 LUTTRELL OF AKRAK. niomeuts, ill which it needs all my self-control uot to scream aloud P Yes, J (eel as tliough I would give life itself to cry out — to fling this weary load oft' my poor heart, and tell all — all ! " " You must be calm, young lady, or I shall think I have done amiss in permit tLiig this interview." " Don't call me young lady. The other, that man I dislike, called me voung lady. You must call me Kate." He only smiled, and she took his hand, in her own burning hand, and said, in a coaxing, caressing tone, " Say Kate — Kate ! " " I am very proud that you let me call you Kate." "Yes, that's it ; and you say it softly, as it should be spoken. It's a jH'etty name, is it not ? No, don't look on me pitifully. If it be even as you fear, there is no cause for sorrow. Answer me one thing," said she, half sternly, " but answer truly. Shall I die of this ? There, there ! I do not want any more. You think I shall ; but I know better. Ay, Doctor, there's a keener instinct, stronger than all your skill, and it tells me I have years and years before me ; years of sucK trouble, too, it would be a mercy I were taken now ! " " Calm yourself, my child. I like your self-confidence; but be calm." " And am I uot calm ? Count my pulse," and she bared her arm and held it towards him. " It is a pretty arm ? then say so, frankly. What harm can flattery do me now ? " " I must leave you, my dear child. I have a long joui'ney before me, and much hard work at the end of it. I am sorry, very sorry to go. Don't shake your head, Kate, it is the simple truth." " Then why uot stay ? " " I have told you, child, that many others are expecting me." " Yes, great people, titled people, people of condition, as they are called ; as if m'c, too, had not our condition. Don't you hate that word ? Don't you hate every vulgar sneer at the low-born ? " " I like your generosity " " My generosity ! " cried she, with a wild hysteric laugh — " my generosity ! Oh, yes ; my generosity has a touch of genius in it. It reveals to mc the unseen, the untasted! For, what can I know of such people ? " Her brows were knitted fast as she uttered the last words, and her li))s were drawn tight, as though she spoke under the pressure of some intense constraint. " There, there ! " said he, rising. " I knew all this talking was in- jurious, and I am much to blame for having permitted it." " And you are going? " " I must ; I have no choice in the matter." "Well, give me a minute more. Sit down again, and I will not detain you more than a minute or two. AVlien I asked to speak with you alone, Doctor, it was to beg of you to make my will. You need uot be afraid that it will take long. I have only one legacy and one WITH DOCTORS. J71 heir. Now mind what I shall say to you. It may happen — I myself think it will happen — that I shall get better of this fever. Much of my raving — what they call my raving — was such wandering as passes through my head any day ; so that it may easily be I have never been so ill as I seemed to be, and all the wonderfid stories Mrs. Simeox told you in the window last night — my strange fancies about my bare feet bleedmg with the sharp stones — no matter, fact or fancy, it was in my head before this. You are attending to me ? " '•'i am." " I was afraid you thought that this explanation was only ' wander- ing ' of another sort ; but I see you do not. I see you follow me." He nodded. " If, however, your skill be better than my second sight — if I can call it so — I have a task for you to do. "\Vhen it shall be all over, before I am baried, you will take care but wait, let us do iu regularly." She raised herself on one arm as she spoke, and with the other hand she pointed to a small writing-table at the farther part of the room. "Open that desk, and take out an envelope. It ought to be black-edged for the occasion," said she, with a sad smile, " but I don't think it matters much. Yes, that one will do very well. Write now the address I shall give you : 'Mr. Peter Malone.' Show it to me — is it large and plain ? No ; take another. It must be clear, bold writing. I think I ought to write it myself — of course I ought, and I will." " All this excitement is wrong." " Then don't prolong it. Give me the pen and that book to write on. I declare it is you that are nervous. Doctor. What makes your hand shake ? " " If I am nervous, it is because I feel much self-reproach for all this — this " " This — what ? " asked she smiling. "Do give it a name. I am sure you are not angry at my detaining you. You are too kind and too considerate to reckon minutes against one who may have so few of them ; and then, as to this task I impose on you," and she smiled again — " do confess you never heard of so short a will. There, it is all written now. Read it out, that I may see if it be legible." " ' Mr. Peter Malone, to the care of Mr. T. O'Rorke, Vinegar Hill, Cush-ma-Creena, Ireland.' " " Your pronunciation is not quite faultless, Doctor ; but, luckily, you will not be the postman. Mind, now, this is to be posted so soon as all is over. No, no — not as it is. I have not yet enclosed my legacy. Take tluvl scissors you see youder. Open the shutter — a little more still — yes, that will do. Now come here. Cut off the longest and the brightest lock you can find here," and she unbound her golden hair, and sent it floating in heavy masses over her shoulders and her back, and even her face. " Don't spare it. I mean my last legacy to be munificent. There ! " said she, taking the long 272 LUTTllELL or AllllAN. tress from bis fuigers, '' liovr soft and silky it is — see, too, if it has not that golden radiance the Venetian painters raved about ! The old man to Avhom that envelope is addressed once asked me to give him a lock of my hair ; he begged for it very eagerly, as a parting gift, and I refused him. I can give it now — yes, I can give it now. Ask me nothing — I will tell nothing. I thought to have told you all — the whole long, dreary story — but I cannot. There, you are. im- patient to be away. I release you ; only remember, that if I do not die you are to return that paper to mo. Do you imderstand me ? " " Perfectly, and will obey you to the letter, my dear child, if yon Avill not give me this tress as my fee for having cured you. Per- haps I have as good a claim to it as that other to whom you would bequeath it." " No, no, no ! " cried she, impetuously. " You never cared for me, you never could care for me, as he does ; but keep it if you will. Good-bye, good-bye ! One instant more. There is another old man to whom I would send a message." " Your guardian ? " A scornful curl of her lip and an impatient gesture of her head stopped him. " Tell Sir Within that I was very grateful to him. He did much to make my life a very hapjiy one, and yet I am so glad to leave it J Speak kindly to him, and comfort him ; tell him, if you will, that if he would continue to love me, it were best I should die ; for if I were to live. Doctor " — and here her eyes grew full and wide, and her gaze steadfast — " if I were to live, I should lose that love." The wild look she gave, the strange vibration of her voice, and her words themselves, warned the Doctor that a period of excite- ment was approaching, and he drew the curtain and moved away. ^te ^^(i^^- A SUDDEN R'JVERSB. 273 CHAPTER XL. A SUDDEN K E V E E S E . ■■' You see it is as well I acted with more forethought, aud did not send for our Irisii friend," said Grenfeil, as he sat at breakfast with Ladarclle. " We shall probably not waut him." "I suspect not,'"' said the other; "the last news of her was un- favourable." GrenfeU stole a look at the speaker, aud, quick as the glauce was, it bespoke a mingled aversion and contempt. The men who have arrived at middle age, either to form a poor opinion of their fellows, or to feign it — it is hard exactly to say which — feel a sort of detesta- tion for younger men who entertain the same sentiments. Whether it be that to have reached that cynicism has cost years of patient study and endurance, and that they are indignant at the pretension that would assume to have acquired the knowledge without the Ialx)ur, or that, and this more probable, they do not fully trust their own heartlessness — whatever the cause, I can answer for the effect ; and that cold, ungenial man now looked upon his younger companion with a sense of little less than disgust. " So tiiat her deatli would not shock you ? " said Grenfeil, as he stirred his tea, \vitliout looking up. " I don't exactly say that. She's a fine girl, young, aud very good looking." "Beautiful." "" Well, beautiful, if you like, tliough I'll show scores just as hand- some any day in Rotten Row. But the question is. Does she, or does she not, stand between me and a fine estate ? You yourself thought that opinion of Palmer's went against me." " No doubt of it. Palmer concurs with the Attorney-General ; indeed, he seems astonished that any other view was ever taken, as he says, ' No provision of a will can override the law.'" " Which means, that the old cove may many ; and his heir, if he have one, may inherit the property ? " "Just so."' "And then, in the face of that, you ask me if her life is of such consequence to me ? " " No ; I asked if her death would shock you ? " " I don't well know what you mean by being shocked ! If there 18 274 LUTTRELL OF AlillAN. was a suspicion abroad that I had poisoned her, to get hor out of the way, then perhaps I niif^ht be shocked." " Shocked at the imputation, not the consequences ? " " I can't spht hairs — I never could. If you want subtle distinc- tions and fine-drawn differences, you must try elsewhere. "Wliat I want to say is simply this : I have no ill will to the girl ; I wish no harm to her; but I'd rather she wasn't there" " By there, you mean, alive ? " " Well, if there was no other alternative — yes, I do mean that. I'm certain old Wardle would never look out for another, and the great probability is, he'd not trouble us much longer ; and, as Tom Scott says, by ' nobbling ' one horse, you get rid of the whole stable. You look greatly disgusted, are you horrified at my wicked- ness, Grenfell ? " " No," said he, slowly. " I have met a fair number of young fel- lows like you, and who fancied that to know life they must begin at the lowest of it ; the great misfortune was that they never emerged from it after." "That's severe, I take it," said Ladarelle, as he lighted a cigarette and began to smoke. " Feigning virtue will never make a saiut," said Grenfell, risuig from the table ; " but mock wickedness will always end by making a man a rascal ! " He left the room as he spoke, and sauntered out to the lawn ; and now Ladarelle began to commune with himself — what notice he ought to take, if any, of these words. Were they to be considered as a moral sentiment of general application, or were they addressed specially to himself? The context favoured this latter supposition; but then he uttered them as a great truth; he had a trick of that sort of "preaching," and the moment the word preaehuig crossed him, his anger was dispelled, for who mmded preaching? Who was ever the better or the worse for it? Who ever deemed its denunciations personal ? The entrance of his mau, Mr. Eisk, cut short his reflections, for he had scut him over to Dalradern, with liis compliments, to ask after ^Mademoiselle O'llara. " Sir Within's respects. Sir, the young lady is better; passed a good night, and seems much refreshed." "Heie's news, Grenfell," cried Ladarelle, opening the window, and calling out to Grenfell — "here's news; she has had a good night, and is better." Grenfell, however, had iust received his letters from the post, and was already too deeply engrossed by one of them to mind him. " I say, come here, and listen to the buUetm," cried Ladarelle again; but Grenfell, without deigning the slightest Jiotice to his words, thrust his letters into his pocket and walked hastily away. A SUDDEN KEVERSE. 275 The letter he had opened was from Vyuer, aud even in the first few Hues had so far engaged his interest, that, to read it undisturbed, he set out to gain a little summer-house on a small island — a sjiot to which Ladarelle could not follow, as there was but one boat on the lake. Having reached his sanctuary, he took forth the epistle, which, from Vyner, was an unusually long one, and began to read. It is not necessary that I should ask the reader's attention to the whole of it. It opened by an apology for not having written before : " I am ashamed to think, my dear Grenfell, how many of your questions remain unanswered ; but as the Cardinal's private secre- tary wrote to express the grief his Eminence felt at being obliged to die instead of dine out, so I must ask your patience for not replying to you, as I was occupied in being ruined. It is a big word, George, but not too big for the fact. When I gave up politics, for want of something to do, I took up speculation. A very clever rascal — I only found out the rascaUty later — with whom I made acquaintance at Genoa, induced me to make some railroad ventures, which aU turned out successes. Erom these he led me on to others of a larger kind in Sardinia, and ultimately in Morocco. A great London banking firm was associated with the enterprise, which, of course, gave the air of stability to the operations, and as there was nothing unfair — nothmg gamblmg in the scheme — nothing, in fact, that passed the limits of legitimate commercial enterprise, at the same time that there was everything to interest and amuse, I entered into it with all that ardoui' for which more than once your prudent tem- perament has rebuked me. 1 have no patience to go over the story ; besides that the catastrophe tells it all. The original tempter — his name is Gennet — has fled, the great bankers have failed, and I am — I have ascertaiued — engaged to the fuU amount of all I have in the world — that is, nothing remauis to us but my wife's settlement to Uve on. A great blow this ; I am staggering under it still. It was pre- cisely the sort of misfortune I had thought myself exempt from, be- cause I never cared much about money-getting ; I was ridier than I reaUy needed to be ; but, as the Spanish proverb says, ' The devil never goes out to fish with only one sort of bait in his boat.' I imagined I was going to be a great philantlu-opist. If I was to get lead from the Moors, I was to give them civilisation, culture, Heaven knows what cravings after good things here and hereafter. Don't laugh, George ; I give you my word of honour I believed it. Mr. llidley Gennet was a great artist, and from the hour he waved his vv-aud over me, I never really awoke ' tiU I was beggared.' Now, I do beUeve that you yourself, with all the craft you boast of, would not have come scathless out of his hands. These fellows are con- samiaately clever, and in nothing more than in the quick reading of 18-2 276 LUTTBELL OP AKRAN. the characters they arc ])laced in contact with. You can answer for it that I never was a gambler. I have played, it is true ; but with no zest, no passion for play. That man, however, knew more of me than I did of myself; he detected a sort of combative spirit in my nature, which gives results very much Uke the love of play. It prompts to a rash self-coufideuce and a dogged resolution not to be teateu — no matter how heavy the odds against one. I say, he saw this, and he determined to make use of it. There was a time at which, at the loss of about twenty-eight or thirty thousand pounds, I might have freed myself of every Habdity ; and, indeed, I was more than half inclined to do it ; but the devil, m this fellow's shape, hmtcd something about being poor-spirited and craven-hearted ; said something about men who bore reverses ill, and only spread canvas when the wind was all astern; and that, in fact, the people who carried llie day in Ufe Avere exactly those who never woidd accept defeat. All he said met a ready concurrence from my own heart, and in I went after my thirty thousand, which soon became eighty. Even then I might have escaped — a heavy loser, of cou.rse, but not crushed — but he persuaded me that the concern was the finest enter- prise in Europe, if emancipated from the urfluence of two powerful shareholders — men who, since they had joined us, had gone deeply into other speculations, whose prospects would be severely damaged by our success. One of these was La Marque, the Parisian banker, and a great promoter of the ' Credit Mobiher ; ' the other an English contractor, whose name I may mention one of these days. They were, he said, to be bought out, and then I should stand the repre- sentative of four-sixths of the whole scheme. It reads like infatua- tion now that I go calmly over it ; but I acceded. I commissioned Gciniet to treat with these gentlemen, and gave him blank bills for the sums. For a while all seemed to go on admirably. La Marque himself wrote to me ; he owned that his other engagements had no 'eft him at hbcrty to develop the resources of our company to their full extent, and confessed that there were certain changes in the management that must lead to great advantage. AVith, however, what I thought at the time a most scrupulous honour — though t have come to regard it differently — he hinted to me that while Mr. G.'s position in the 'world of affairs' was above all reproach, the fact of his conducting a transaction with blank acce])tances was totally irregular and unbusincss-like ; and he begged that I would give him u regular assurance, in a form which he enclosed, that I authenti- tatcd G.'s position, and held myself responsible, not merely commer- cially, l)ut as a man of honour, for such engagements as he should coutract in my name. I made a few trifling alterations in the word- ing of tiiis document, and sent it back with my signature. On the third day after, the London firm smashed, and on the evening that brought the ne^vs, G. bolted, and has not since been heard of. "binco then, every post from England tells me of the steps at A EUDDEN REVERSE. 277 which my ruin advances. M'Kinlay, overwhelmed, I think, by the calamity, acts with less than his usual skill and cleverness, and con- tinues to insist that I must repudiate my pledge to La Marque, whom he calls a confederate of G.'s ; and, indeed, declares that if we could but secure that fellow's person, we should save a large rem- nant of the property. These are his views ; they are not mine. I cannot consent to remedy my folly at the cost of my character ; and though I have agreed to the despatch of detectives to hunt Gennet, I will not, by any act, dishonour my signature. " It is at this stage we are now arrived. Whether I am to be drowned by six inches over my head, or six fathoms, is not, I opine, a matter of much consequence. Lady Vyner knows it all, and bears it — as I knew she would — nobly. Her sister, too, has shown a fine spirit. Of course, we have kept so much as we can of the calamity from Mrs. Courtenay ; but she is more cast down than any of us. As for Ada, she sustains us all. I declare I never knew her be- fore ; and if it were not that the misfortune is to outUve me, I'd say it was worth being ruined to discover the boundless wealth of that dear girl's heart. _" I could fill pages with little traits of her thoughtful affection, evincing a nature, too, that actually seemed to need an opportunity to show it was made for higher and better thmgs than to float along in an existence of indulgence. " You are impatient to hear how practical we can be. Well, you shall. We have given up our grand palazzo, and retired to a little place about twenty miles off, near Chiavari, where we found a small house to suit us. We have sent off all the servants but three. I doubt if we shall keep old Morris ; but it would break his heart to discharge him with the others. I have despatched my horses to be sold at Turin. The yacht is already disposed of. Not bad this in four days, besides writing about a hundred and fifty letters, and giving solemn audience to Mr. Pengrove, of the detective foi'ce, come out specially to get from me a detailed de- scription of G.'s person, size, dress, accent, and manner. I vow, till I had the happiness of this gentleman's acquaintance, I never knew by how many traits a human creature could stamp his identity ; and the way in which he pushed his inquiries, as to matters utterly beyond the realms of all the disguises in use, perfectly amazed me. "It was not, perhaps, a very acute question of mine, but it dropped from me half unawares. I asked whether he thought G. nad fled to America or Australia? He replied, 'No, Sir; he never had any dealings in those parts. When men bolt, they always follow out some previously-formed train of circumstances ; he'll be somewhere on the African coast — I mean to try Tunis first.' "You know now, my dear George, more than I really meant 278 LUTTRELL OV AKRAN. to inflicf; on you of our sad story ; but I was. in a measure, forced into some details. First of all, one's fiicnds ought to be in a position to contradict false rumours, and I take it I shall have my share of them ; and, secondly, you may be dist"arbed in your present tenure, for the Cottage as ^yell as the Castle goes to the creditors, " There is, however, a small busmess matter in which I must have more tlian your advice — I want your assistance. You may remember that when, on our Irish tour " Tliere comes here a sudden stop iu the epistle, but, in a hur- ried and tremulous hand, it was continued in this wise : " Another great misfortune I Poor Luttrell's boy is drowned. My wife has just brought me the news. A despatch boat of the Italian navy has picked up at sea an English sailor on a spar, the last of the crew of the American barque Squash, commanded by a Captain Dodge. They were attacked by pirates when becalmed off the Riir coast, and the Yankee, rather than surrender, blew up the ship. This man remembers nothing beyond his having leaped over- board when he saw the captain make for the magazine. He was, in- deed, insensible when picked up, and even yet his mind wanders at times. So far as his memory would serve he has given the names of the crew, and Luttrell's was amongst them. He said, too, that he saw Luttrell leaning against the tiller-wheel, with his arms folded, and looking qidte calm, a moment or two before he jumped over. The Italian steamer returned to the place and cruised for an entire day, hi the hope of saving some others, but none were met with, and there is no doubt now that all have perished. I thought only an hour ago that there were few in the world as unfortunate as myself; but what is my loss compared to poor Luttrell's ? If I could pos- sibly leave home now, it would be to go over to L'cland and see him. What is to be done ? Can you suggest how the tidings could be best broken to him ? AYould you undertake the charge yourself? If not, M'Kinlay must do it, though, for every reason, I prefer you. I know, my dear Grenfell, that you shrmk from painful tasks, but it is mi/ load that you will bear on this occasion, and it will strengthen you to remember that you are helping a friend iu his great hour of need. " If you are not able to go, and if M'KiuIay should also be un- able, forward the enclosed note to Luttrell. " I have jusr seen Martin the sailor. He has told us much about young Luttrell, who seems to have been actually beloved on board the ship; his courage, his daring, his coolness, and his unfailing high spirits, made him the idol of the crew ; and this fellow declares, that if Luttrell's advice had been listened to, the ship might have been saved ; but the American lost his head ; and, swcaruig that the A SUDDEN REVERSE. 279 pirates should never have a timber of her, rushed below wi;h a port- fire, and blew her up. " I am ashamed to send off all the selfish details that fill the first part of this letter. In the presence of such a calamity as poor Lut- trell's, m;j sorrows are unworthy and contemptible ; but who knows when I could have the time or the temper to go over my dreary stoi-y again ? and so you shall have it as it is. " I am not able to read over again what I have written, so that I am not sure whether I have answered all your questions. You will, I am sure, however, forgive me much at such a season ; for, though I had screwed up my courage to meet my own disasters, I had no reserve of pluck to sustain me against this sad blow of Luttrell's. " Do not refuse me, George, this service ; beUeve me, the poor fellow is worthy of all the kindness you can show him. More than ever do I feel the wrong that we have done him, since every mis- fortune of his life has sprung from it. " I must finish to catch the post. I enclose you a copy of the deposition of the seaman made before the consul at Genoa, and an extract from the log of St. Genaro, the despatch-boat. If you do go — indeed, in any case — write to me at once, and believe me, mean- while, " Your faithful friend, "Gervais Vyner. " A hearty letter from Lord B. has just come. He says he has just heard of my smash, and offers me my choice of somethuig at home, or in the Colonies. Time enough to think of this ; for the present, we shall have to live on about what my guardian allowed me at Christchurch. Address, La Boschetta, Chiavari." With much attention, Grenfell read this letter to the end, and then re-read it, pondering over certain parts as he went. He was certainly grieved as much as he could well be for any misfortune not his own. He liked Vyner as well as it was in his nature to like any one ; not, indeed, for his fine and generous qualities, his manliness, and his rectitude — he liked him simply because Vyner had always stood by him. Vyner had sustained him in a set, which, but for sucli backing, would not have accepted him. Every real step he had made in life had been through Vyuer's assistance ; and he well knew that Vyner's fall would extend its influence to himself. Then came other thoudits : " He should have to leave the Cot- tage, where he had hoped to have remained for the cock shooting at least, perhaps a Little longer ; for this same "Welsh life was a great economy. He was livhig for ' half nothing ; ' no rent, no servants to pay ; horses, a fine garden, a capital cellar, all at his disposal. What, m the name of all foohshness, could make a man with double what he could spend, go and squander the whole in rottcH speculations? He says he did not want to be richer! Whab' 280 LDTTEELL OF ARRAN. did lie want, then? How can meu tell such lies tc 'heir own hearts ? Of course, he intended to be a Rothschild. It was some cursed thirsting after enormous M'calth — wealth, that was to be expressed by figures on paper — not felt, not enjoyed, not lived up to ; (hat was the whole sum and substance of the temptation. Why not have the honesty to say so ? As for Luttrell, I only wonder how he can think of him at such a time. I imagine if I were to awake some fine morning to hear I was a beggar, I should take all the other calamities of the world with a marvellous philosophy. It's a bore to be drowned, par- ticularly if there was no necessity for it; but the young fellow had the worst of it; and after all, I don't see that he had a great deal to live for. The island that formed his patrimony woidd certauily never have seduced me into any inordinate desire to prolong existence. Perhaps I must go there. It is a great annoyance. I hate the journey, and I hate the duty ; but to refuse would, in all probability, offend Vyuer. It is just the time men are uni-easouably tliin-skinned, fancying that all the world has turned its back on them, because they have sent off their French cook. Vulgar nonsense ! Perhaps Vyner would not take that view ; but his women would, I'm certain ! " Now, Mr. Grenfell knew nothing whatever of " the women " in question, and that was the precise reason that he included thein in his spiteful censure. " And then to fancy that his money-seeking was philanthropy ! Was there ever delusion like it ? Your virtuous people have such a habit of self-esteem ; they actually believe the thing must be right, because they do it." Grumbling sorely over that "Irish journey," he sauntered back to the house, in the porch of which Ladarelle was standing, with an open letter in his hand. " I say," cried he, " here's a go ! The house of Fletcher and Davis, one of the oldest in London, smashed ! " "I know it," said Grenfell, dryly. " Then you know, perhaps, how your friend, Sir Gervais Vyner, has let them in for nigh a quarter of a million ? " " I know more ; for I know that i/ou know nothing of the matter; but, to turn to something tliat concerns ourselves. I must start bj the mail train to-niglit for Ilolyhead." " Which means, that I must evacuate my quarters. I must say, you give your tenants short notice to quit." " Stay, by all means. All I have to say is, tliat I cannot keep you company. Rickards will take excellent care of you till I come back." "Which will be ?" " I can't name the day ; but I hope it will be an early one." " A mysterious jouruey — eh 'i " A SUDDEN KEYEKSE. 281 'No; but one wbicli it is not at all necessary to take an opinion upon." " By the way, you wrote the letter to that Irish fellow the other evening — what did you do with it ? " " It is on the writing-table." " And I suppose I may make use of it, if I need it ? " " Yes ; it's a matter that other things have driven out of my head ; but the letter is yours, if you wish." " And you wUl stand by me, I hope, if I get into a scrape ? " " Don't count on me. I'm a capricious fellow, and whenever a thing does not come off at once, I never can vouch for the spirit in which I may resume it." " That's hearty, at all events ! " " No ; but it is unmistakable. — Rickards, hurry the cook, if he will let you, and order the carriage for eight o'clock." " And posters for me at Dalradern at the same hour," said Ladarelle. " Grog is worth a score of such fellows ! " muttered he below his breath, as he strolled to his room. " Grog would never strike out a plan, and leave a man in the lurch afterwards." When they met at dinner, Grenfell took care that the conversa- tion should be as general as possible, never by a chance alluding to any subject of personal interest to either of them ; and, as the clock struck eight, and he heard the tramp of the horses on the gravel, he arose and said : " Don't forget to say all sorts of things to Sir Within for me, and to Mademoiselle, too, when she is visible. Good-bye, and ' bonne chance! ' " " Good-bye ! I wish I could have had a few words with you be- fore you started. I wish you would have told me something more definite about the plan. I wish -" What he continued to wish is not on record, for once more Grenfell uttered his good-bye, Kud the next moment he was gone. 282 LUTTRELL OF AliRia. CHAPTER XLI. THE DARK TIDINGS. It was a dull, lowering October day, sky and sea alike lead- coloured, when the boat that bore Grenfell rounded the southern point of Arran, and opened a view of the island in all its extent. His first visit there had not left any favourable impressions of the place, though then he saw it in sunshine, warm-tinted and softened ; now all was hard, bleak, and cold, and the ruined Abbey stood out amongst the leafless trees, like the ghost of a civilisation long dead and buried. " There he is biraself, Sir," said the steersman to Grenfell, as he pointed to a lone rock on the extreme point of a promontory. " You'd think he was paid for sitting there, to watch all the vessels that go north about to America. He can see every craft, big and little, from Belmullet to Craig's Creek." " And does he stay there in bad weather ? " " I never missed him any day I came bv, no matter how hard it blew." " It's a dreary look-out." " Indeed it is, your honour ! more by token, when a man has a comfortable house and a good fire to sit at, as Mr. Luttrell has, if he liked it." " Perhaps he thinks it less lonely to sit there than to mope over his hearth by himself. He lives all alone, I believe ? " "He does. Sir; and it's what he likes best. I took a party of gentlemen over from Westport last summer; they wanted to see the curiosities of the place, and look at the old Abbey, and they sent me up with a civil message, to say what they came for and who they were — one of them was a lord — and what d'ye think. Sir ? instead of being glad to see the face of a Christian, and having a bit of chat over what was doing beyond there, he says to me, ' Barny Moore,' says he, * you want to make a trade,' says he, ' of showing me like a wild baste ; but I know your landlord, Mr. Creagh, and as sure as my name's John Luttrell,' says he, ' I'll have you turned out of your holding ; so just take your friends and yourself ofl" the way you came 1 ' And when I told the gentle- men, they took it mighty good humoured, and only said, 'After all, if a man comes so far as this for quietness, it's rather hard if be wouldn't get it ; ' and we went otf that night. I am tcUin' THE DARK TIDINGS. 283 your honour this," added he, iu a low confidential tone, " because if he asks you what boat you came iu, you would say it was Tom M'Caffray's — that man there m the bow — he's from Kil- rush, and a stranger; for 1 wouldn't put it past John Luttrell to do me harm, if I crossed him." " But, is he not certain to see you ? " " No, Sir ; not if I don't put myself in his way. Look now. Sir, look, he's oif already ! " "Off! whereto?" " To the Abbey, Sir, to bar himself in. He saw that the yawl was coming in to anchor, and he'll not look back now till he's safe in liis own four walls." " But I want to speak with him — is it likely he'll refuse to see me?" Just as like as not. May I never ! But he's running, he's so afeard we'll be ou shoi-e before he gets in." At no time had Grenfell been much in love with his mission ; he was still less pleased with it as he stepped on the shingly shore, and turned to make his way over a pathless waste to the Abbey. He walked slowly along, conning over to himself what he had got to do, and how he should do it. " At all events," thought he, " the more boorish and uncivil the man may be, the less demand will be made on me for courtesy. If he be rude, I can be concise ; nor need I have any hesitation in showing him that I never volunteered for this expedition, and only came because Vyner begged me to come." He had seen no one since he left the boat, and even now, as he arrived close to the house, no living thing appeared. He walked round on one side. It was the side of the old aisle, and there was no door to be found. He turned to the other, and found his pro- gress interrupted by a low hedge, looking over which he fancied he saw an entrance. He stepped, therefore, over the enclosure ; but, by the noise of the smashing twigs a dog was aroused, a wild, wolfish-looking animal, that rushed fiercely at him with a yelping bark. Grenfell stood fast, and prepared to defend himself with a strong stick, when suddenly a harsh voice cried out, " Morrah ! come back, Morrah ! Don't strike the dog, Sir, or he'll tear you to pieces ! " And then a tall, thin man, much stooped in the shoulders, and miserably dressed, came forward, and motioned the dog to retire. " Is he savage ? " said Grenfell. "Not savage enough to keep off intruders, it seems," was the uncourteous reply. " Is your busmess with me, Sir ? " " If I speak to Mr. Luttrell, it is." " My name is Luttrell." " Mine is Grenfell ; but I may be better known as the friend of your old friend, Sir Gervais Vyner." 284 LUTTRELL OP AKRAN. " Grenfcll — Grenfell! to be sure. I know the name — we ali know it," said Luttrell, with a sort of sneer. " Is Vyner come — is he with you ? " " No, Sir," said Grenfcll, smarting under the sting of what he felt to be an insult. " It is because he could not come that he asked me to see you." Luttrell made no reply, but stood waiting for the other to continue. " I have come on a gloomy errand, Mr. Luttrell, and wish you vrould 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 .t of Harry — of my boy ?" Grenfell nodded. " ^Vait," said Luttrell, pressing his hand over his brow. " Let me go in. No, Sir ; I can walk without help." He grasped the door-post as he spoke, and stumbling onward, clutching the dif- ferent objects as he went, gained a chair and sank into it. " Tell me now," said he, in a faint whisper. "Be calm, Mr. Luttrell," said Grenfell, gently. "I have no need to say, take courage." Luttrell stared vacantly at liim, his lips parted, and his whole expression that of one who was stunned and overcome. " Go on," said he, in a hoarse v,iiisper — " go on." " Compose yourself first," said Grenfell. " Is Harry — is he dead i* " Grenfell made a faint motion of his head. "There — leave me — let me be alone!" said Luttrell, pointing to the door ; and his words were spoken in a stern and imperative tone. Grenfell waited for a few seconds, and then withdrew noiselessly, and strolled out into the open air. " A dreary mission and a drearier spot ! " said he, as he sauntered along, turning his eyes from the mountain, half hid in mist, to the lov,-eriug sea. " One would imagine that he who Hvcd here must have little love of life, or little care how others fared in it." After Avalking about a mile he sat down on a rock, and began to consider what further remained for him to do. To pass an entire day in such a place was more than he could endure ; and, perhaps, more than Luttrell himself would wish. Vyncr's letter and its enclosures would convey all the sorrowful details of the calamity ; and, doubt- less, Luttrell was a man who would not expose his grief, but give free course to it in secret. He resolved, therefore, that he would go back to the Abbey, and, with a few hncs from himself, enclose tiiesc papers to Luttrell, stating that he would not leave the island, which it was his intention THE DAKK TIDINGS. 285 to have done that night, if Luttrell desired to see him again, and at the same time adding, that he possessed no other information but such as these documents afforded. This he did, to avoid, if it could be, another interview. In a word, he wanted to finish ail that he had to do as speedily as might be, and yet omit nothing that decorum required. He knew how Vyner would question and cross-question him, besides ; and he desired, that as he had taken the trouble to come, he should appear to have acquitted himself weditably. " The room is ready for your honour," said Molly, as Greufell appeared again at the door; " and the master said that your honour would order dinner whenever you liked, and excuse himself to-day, by rayson he wasn't well." "Tbauk you," said GrenfeU; "I will step in and write a few words to your master, and you wUl bring me the answer here." Half a dozen lines sufiiced for aU he had to say, and, enclosing the other documents, he sat down to await the reply. In less time than he expected, the door opened. Luttrell him- self appeai'ed. "Wretched and careworn as he seemed before, a dozen years of suffering could scarcely have made more impress on him than that last hour: clammy sweat covered his brow and cheeks, and his white lips trembled unceasingly; but m nothing was the change greater than in his eye. AU its proud defiance was gone ; the fierce energy had passed away, and its look was now one of weariness and exhaustion. He sat down in front of Grenfell, and for a minute or so did not speak. At last he said : "You will wish to get back — to get away from this dreary place; do not remain on my account. Tell Vyner I will try and go over to him. He's in Wales, isn't he ? " " No ; he is in Italy." "In Italy ! I cannot go so far," said he, with a deep sigh. "I was not willing to obtrude other sorrows in the midst of your own heavier one ; but you will hear the news in a day or two, perhaps, that our poor friend Vyner has lost everything he had in the world." "Is his daughter dead?" gasped out Luttrell, eagerly. " No ; I spoke of his fortune ; his whole estate is gone." "That is sad, very sad," sighed Luttrell; "but not the saddest ! One may be poor and hope ; one may be sick, almost to the last, and hope ; one may be bereft of friends, and yet think that better days will come ; but to be childless — to be robbed of that which was to have treasured your memory when you passed away, and think lovingly on you years after you were dust — this is the great, the great afHetion ! " As he spoke, the large tears rolled down his face, and his lank cheeks trembled. " None wiU know this better than Vyner," said he, after a pause. 2SG iriTKELL OF ARKAN. '•' i'ou do him uo more than justice; he thought little of his own misfortune in preseuce of yours." " It was like him." " May I read you his own words ? " "No ; it is enough that I know his heart. Go bade, aud say I thauk him. It was thoughtful of him at such a time to remember me ; few but himself could have done it ! " He paused for a few seconds, aud then in a stronger, fuller voice continued : " Tell him to send tliis sailor to me ; he may live here, if he will. At all events, he shall not want, wherever he goes. Vyner will ask you how I bore this blow, Sir. 1 trust to you to say the strict truth, that I bore it well. Is that not so ? " Greufell bowed his head shglitly. " liore it," continued Luttrell, "as a man may, Mho now can defy Eortune, aud say, ' See, you have laid your heaviest load on me, and I do not even stagger under it ! ' llemember. Sir, that you tell Vyner that. That I hstened to the darkest 'lews a man can he-^r. and never so much as winced. There is no fever in that hand, Sir ; touch it ! " " I had rather that you would not make this eifort, Mr. Luttrell. I had far rather tell my friend that your grief was taking the course that nature meant for it." " Sir ! " said Luttrell, haughtily, " it is not to-day that misfortune and I have made acquaintance. Sorrow has sat at my hearth-stone — my one companion — for many a year ! I knew no other guest, and had any other come, I would not have known how to receive him ! Look around you and say, is it to such a place as tliis a man comes if the world has gone well with him 't " "It is not yet too late " "Yes, it is, Sir; far too late," broke m Luttrell, impatiently, " I know my own jiature better than you ever knew it. Forgive me, if I am rude. Misery has robbed me of all — even the manners of a gentleman. It would be only a mockery to ofl'er you such hospitality as I have here, but if, before leaving, you would eat something " Greufell made some hurried excuses ; he had eaten on board the boat — he was not hungry — aud he was impatient to get back in time for the morning mail. " Of course, no one could wish to tarry here," said Luttrell. "Tell Vyner I will try and write to him, if not soon, when I can. Good-bye, Sir ! You have been very kind to me, and I tliauk you." Grenfell shook Ids cold hand and turned away, more moved pcr- naps, than if he had witnessed a greater show of sorrow. Scarcely, however, had he closed the door after hiui, than a dull heavy souud .startled him. lie opened the door softly, and saw that Luttrell had fallen on the ground, and with his hands over his face lay soljbing iu all the bitterness of intense grief, Greufell retired noiselessly aud THK DAKK TIDINGS. 287 unseen. It was a sorrow that none should witness ; and, worldling as he was, he felt it. He stopped twice on his way down to the shore, uncertain whether he ought not to go back, and try to com- fort that desolate man. But how comfort him ? How speak of hope to one who mocked all hope, and actually seemed to cling to his misery ? " They cry out against the worldling, and rail at his egotism, and the rest of it," muttered he ; " but the selfishness that withdraws from all contact with others, is a hmidred times worse ! Had that man lived in town, and had his club to stroll down to, the morning papers would have shown him that he was not more un- ucky than his fellows, and that a large proportion of his acquaint- ances carried crape on their hats, whether tney had sorrow in their hearts or not." It was with a mind relieved that he reached Holyhead the next day, and set out for the Cottage. Vyner had begged him to secure certain papers and letters of his that were there ; and for this pur- pose he turned off on his way to town to visit Dinasllyu for the last time. " The young gentleman went away the night you left. Sir," said Kickards, without being questioned ; " but he came over this morning to ask if you had returned." " What news of the young lady who was so ill at Dalradern ? " " Out of danger. Sir. The London doctor was the saving of her Hie, Sir ; he has ordered her to the sea-side as soon as she is fit tc move, and Sir Within sent off Carter yesterday to j\Iilford Haven, to take the handsomest house he can find there, and never think of the cost." " Rich men can do these things, Rickards ! " " Yes, Sir. Sir Within and my master haven't to ask what's the price when an article strikes their fancy." Grenfell looked to see if the remark was intended to explode a mine, or a mere chance shot. The stolid face of the butler reassured him in an instant, and he said, "I shall want candles in the library, and you will call me to-morrow early — say seven." When Grenfell had covered the library table with papers and parchments innumerable, title-deeds of centuries old, and grants from the Crown to Vyuer's ancestors in different reigns, he could not restrain a passionate invective against the man who had, out of mere levity, forfeited a noble fortune. Contemptible as young Ladarelle was — mean, low-lived, and vulgar — the fellow's ambition to be rich, the desire to have the power that wealth confers, raised him in Grenfell's esteem above "that weak-minded enthusiast" — so he called him — who must needs beggar himself, because he had nothmg to do. He emptied drawer after drawer, burning, as Vyner had bade him, rolls of letters, parliamentary papers, and such-like, till, in tossui|? 288 LUTTRELL OF AURAN. over heaps of rubbish, he came upon a piece of stout card-board, and on turniug it about saw the sketch Vyuer had made of the Irish peasant child in Donegal. Who was it so like ? Surely he knew that expression, the peculiar look of the eyes, sad and thoughtful, and yet defiant ? He went over in his mind one after another of those town-bred beauties he had met in the season, when, suddenly, he exclaimed, " What a fool I have been all this time. It is the girl at Dalradern, the ' ward, ' " — here he laughed m derision — " the • ward ' of Sir Within Wardle. Ay, and she knew me, too, I could swear. AH her evasive answers about Ireland show it." He turned hastily to Vyner's letter, and surmised that it was to this very point he was coming, when the news of young Luttrell's death was brought him. " What can be her position now, and how came she beneath that old man's roof? With what craft and what boldness she played her game ! The girl who has head enough for that, has cleverness to know that I am not a man to be despised. She should have made me her friend at once. Who could counsel her so well, or tell her the shoals and quicksands before her ? She ought to have done this, and she shall, too. I will go over to-morrow to Dalradern ; I will take her this sketch ; we shall see if it will not be a bond of friendship between us." When, true to the pledge he had made with himself, ne went over to Dalradern the next morning, it was to discover that Sir Within and his ward had taken their departure two hours before. The servants were busily engaged in dismantling the rooms, and pre- paring to close the Castle against all visitors. To liis inquiries, mgeuious enough, he could get no satisfactory answer as to the direction they had gone, or to what time their absence might be protracted, and Grenfell, disappointed and baffled, returned to the Cottage to pass his last evening, ere he quitted it for ever. THE SAJfDS AT SUNSET. 289 CHAPTER XLII. THE SANDS AT SUNSET. To'WAKDS the close of a day iu the late autumn, when the cle- elining sun was throwing a long column of golden light over the sea, a little group was gathered on the shore at Ostend, the last, it seemed, of all the summer visitors who had repaired there for the season. The group consisted of a young girl, whose attitude, as she lay recHned in a bath-chair, bespoke extreme debihty, and an old man who stood at her side, directing her attention, as his gestures indicated, to different objects in the landscape. Two servants in livery, and a somewhat demurely-dressed maid, stood at a little distance off, in deferential attendance on the others. Greatly changed, indeed paler and thianer, with dark cu'cles round the eyes, and a faiat hectic spot on each cheek, Kate O'Hara looked even more beautiful than ever ; the extreme dcHcacy of every linea- ment, the faultless regularity of outline, were as conspicuous now, as before was that brightness which she derived from expression. If her eyes had no longer their look of haughty and defiant meaning, they seemed to have acquired a greater depth of colour and an ex- pression of uitense softness, and her lips, so ready once to curl into mockery at a moment, now appeared as if they faintly stirred with a smile, as some fancy crossed lier. She was dressed in deep mourning, which heightened still more the statue-Uke character of her features. What a contrast to this placid loveliness was the careworn, feverish look of the old man at her side ! Sir Within had aged by years within a few weeks, and in the anxious expression of his face, and his quick uneasy glances around him, might be read the fretful conflict of hope and fear within him. While he continued to speak, and describe the features of the scene before them, though she smiled at times, or assented by a slight gesture of the head, her mind was wandering — far, far away — to other thoughts and other places, and her fingers played feverishly with a letter, which she opened and closed up again time after time. " 1 am afraid. Ma Mie," said he, with a tone of half reproach, "that your letter there has usurped all your interest, and my elo- uence as cicerone gone quite for nothing." 19 590 li;ttrell of arrajc. " No, Gardy, I heard you with much pleasure. What did you say that rock was called ? "' " That rock, Mademoiselle," said he, drily, " is a wreck, and 1 was vain enough to have believed that my narrative of the incident had moved you." " I am so weak, Gardy, so very weak," said she, plaintively, as she laid her hand on the back of his, " that I follow anything with diffi- culty." " My sweet child, how cruel of me to forget it. Are we lingering too long on these sands ? " " Oh no ; let us stay here some time longer. I want to see the sun go down, it is so long since I saw a sunset." He drew her shawl around her carefully, and sheltered her with his umbrella against the scarcely breathing wind. " How kind you are, how good," said she, softly ; and then, with a playfnl lightness, added, "how courtier-like, too." "tVliy courtier-like. Ma Mie ? " said he. "Is it not like a courtier," said she, "to treat a peasant-girl as if she were a princess? You would not even ask me when I saw my last sunset, lest I should have to tell you that it was as 1 stood barefooted on the beach, the tangled seaweed drippmg over me." " How can you like to pain me by talking of these things ? " " But we must talk of them, Gardy. You know we think of them; and this letter — this letter," said she, tapping it with her finger impatiently, " must be answered one day." " And there is but one answer to give, Kate," said he, sharply. " I will not consent. He who now assumes the uncle •" " He is my uncle, Sir," said she, haughtily. " It is scarcely generous to deny me whatever good blood 1 can lay claim to." " My child, my dear child, if you but knew how I love whatever loves you, you would not have uttered this reproach." "My mother's sister's husband is surely my uncle," said she, coldly, and not heeding his protestation. " I never heard that a mesa Ilia lice could cancel the ties of kindred." "Kone ever said so, Kate." " You said as much, Sir; you said, 'assumes the uncle ! ' " " I meant in a difl'erent sense, my dear child. I meant, that he wanted to impose an authority which mere relationship would not give him." " Kcad liis letter again. Sir — pray read it." " No, my child ; it has given me too much pain already." " I think you are not just to him, Gardy," said she, caressmgly. " May I read it to you ? Well, a part of it ? " " Once more, no, Kate. His argument is, that as he is now childless, lie has the right to claim your love and affection, to replace what lie has lost ; that, as your nearest of kin, you THE SANDS AT SUNSET. 291 canaot refuse him; and that, if you do — mark the insinuatiou — the reasons will be, perhaps, based on considerations apart from aU affection." " I think he had the right to say that," said she, firmly. " There was one thing, however, he bad no right to say," said the old man, haughtily; "that to continue to reside under my roof was to challenge the opinion of a world never slow to be censorious." " And there, again, I think he was not wrong." " Then you love me no longer, Kate ! " said he, with intense emotion. " Not love you — not love you ! Then, what do I love ? Is it nothing to know that every happiness I have I owe to you — that aU the enjoyment of a life more bright than a fairy tale, comes from you ? That from your generous iudulgence I have learned to think mere existence something like ecstasy, and awake each day as to a fete ? " " Say on, dearest, say on ; your words thriU through me like a gentle music." " He does not offer me these ; but he says, ' Come to what you shall call your home, and never blush to say so.' " " It is too iasolent ! " " He says, ' As my daughter by adoption, you shall bear my name.* I am to be a Luttrell — Kate LuttreU, of Arran ! " " And for this poor name you would barter all my love, all my affection, all my hope ? " " It is a great and noble name, Sir ! There were Lords of Arrau called Luttrell ia the thirteenth century ! " " You have told me of them," said he, peevishly. " Too proud and too haughty to accept titles. Sir." " I have a name that the first in the land woxild not scorn," said he, in a voice of blended pride and anger ; " and my fortune is cer- tainly the equal of a barren rock in the Atlantic." " You are not my uncle, Sir," said she, softly. "No, Kate; but " He stopped, the colour fled from his cheek, and he seemed unable to continue. " Has any tender love for you equalled mine ? " " Stop there ! " said she, fiercely ; " my favour is not put up to auction, and to fall to the highest bidder. When you have said that my uncle is poor, you have said all that can be laid to his charge." She closed her eyes, and, seeming to speak to herself, murmured : " The poorer, the more need has he of affection." " I see it all — all ! " said he, bitterly. " You wish to leave me." She made no answer, but sat staring vacantly over the sea. " Better to say so, my child — better to own that this life has ceased to give you pleasure. But if you told me, Kate, that you 19—2 292 lUTTRELL OF AREAW, would like to travel, to see other countries, to mis with the world, and partake of the enjoyments " "How — as what?" said she, impatiently. "It was but a few mouths ago you received some strangers at your house, and have you forgotten how they treated me ? And do you believe, Sir, that the world M'ill have more reserve than the guests under your roof ? Who is she ? is not answered so easily as one may thmk. It would take blood to wash out the stain of ' What is she ? ' " The old man walked rapidly up and down ; he wiped the drops that stood on his brow, and muttered uneasily to himself: "And why not ? To whom have I to render an account ? Who shall dare to question me ? Am I to be turned from my path by a sneer and a sarcasm ? Is the ribald gossiping of a club to be of more weight with me than my whole happiness ? " She watched the conflict, and saw every struggle that shook him ; she could even mark the vacillating fortunes of the fight — when he conquered, and when he fell back, discomfited and beaten. "Tell me, Kate," said he, at last, as he approached her, "is there any condition you can propose by which I may secure myself against desertion ? " "There would be no desertion, Gardy. You could come and see me in my new home. I would do my utmost to hide its poverty. Who knows if my ingenious devices might not amuse you. My uncle, too, might permit me — no, perhaps not that " said she, stopping, in some confusion. " What is it he wouldn't permit, Kate ? " "I don't know; I was talking to myself, I believe, and I feel weary and feverish too. Gardy, let us not speak more of this now ; it oppresses me. And see ! there goes down the sun, and I have not enjoyed all its gorgeous colour over the waters." " I wish you would tell me what Mr. Luttrell might not permit." "He'd not permit me to stay out on the sea-shore tiU the evening dew had fallen," said she, laughing. " Tell them to take me back." '"Yes, darling, we have lingered here too long. It was my fault." And now the little procession moved slowly across the sands towards the town ; passing through small mean-looking streets, they gained the place where their hotel stood. Groups of idlers were about — townsfolk and a few strangers — who made way for them to pass. Some respectfully enough — the show of rank suffices at times to exact this — others, more venturesome, stared at the beauti- ful girl, and then looked at the worn and feeble figure who walked beside her. That they were English was plain enough, and was taken as a rrasou to comment on them without reserve. Sir Within turned Icjoks of anger and defiance around him; he THB INSULl. 293 gave tliem to understand that he could overhear their insolence, and he sought with his eye through the crowd to see one — even one — sufficiently like a gentleman, to hold him responsible for the impertinence. " Neither wife nor daughter, I'll wager a ' cent-sous ' piece," said one, as they passed under the arched doorway. Sir Within stepped back, when Kate said, sudderdy, " I mean to walk up stairs; give me your arm. Sir; " and as they moved slowly on, she whispered, " How can it be helped, Gardy ? " and then, with a laugh, added, " it is a maxim of your own, that it is the unman- nerly people take care of the public morals." It was a subtle flattery to quote himself, which Sir Within thoroughly appreciated, and as he took leave of her at the door of her room he was almost calm again. CHAPTER XLm. THE INSULT. When Kate had gained her room she locked the door, and tlu-owhig off her shawl and bonnet, sat down before the glass ; her iaair fell heavily down in the rude carelessness with which she flung ner bonnet from her, and now, with a faint tinge of colour in her cheek — the flush of a passing excitement — she looked very beautiful. " So," said she, smOuig at her image, " it is the old story, ' Qu'en dira le Monde ? ' The dear old man was very, very fond. He admired me very much ; I pleased him — I amused him — I made his life somewhat "brighter than he would have found it rambling amongst his Titians and Peruginos ; but, with all that, he couldn't face the terrible question. What will the world say ? Ma foi, Made- moiselle Kate, the confession is not flattering to you ! Most people would call me very inexpert that I had not made that grand old place my own before this. I had the field all to myself — no rivah-y, no interference — and certauily it was a great opportunity. Perhaps I was too much occupied in enjoying my happiness ; perhaps I took no note of time ; and, perhaps, if I ever thought at all, I thought 394 LUTTRELL OF ARRAN. I could ^vin the game whenever I liked, and now I awake to dis- cover that there is something that he fears more than he loves me ; and that the dear old dowager world, that shakes down reputations with a nod and blasts pretensions with a stare, will declare a strict blockade against the distinguished Sir Within Wardle and that girl — lucky if they do not say, ' that creature ' — he married. Ought he not to have had a spirit above this ? Ought he not to have been able to say, ' I am rich enough to buy this bauble, and if the weariug it gives me pleasure, I cau forget your sarcasms ? I like the life she can throw around me ; which of you all could give such colour to my existence ? ' He might have said this, but he did not. He heard me talk of a new home, and a new name, and he would not offer me his own. He saw and felt bitterly, too, how my position compro- mised me. I took care he should see it, but no thought of separa- tion crossed him, or, if it did, stronger than all was the dead query, ' Qu'en dira le Monde ? ' " There are things one cannot believe possible till they have happened; and, even then, some strange uncertainty pervades the mind that they have not been read aright. This is one of them. Ko one could have persuaded me this morning that this prize was not mine whenever I cared to claim it. What a fall to my pride ! How little must I feel myself, that after all these years of subtle flattery I might as well have been with the Vyners — living with creatures of my own nature — giving affection and getting it — culti- vating the heart in the rich soil of hopes and fears, and loves, and trials, and not wearing a mask till it had stiffened into my very features. And he refused me — yes, refused me ; for there was no maiden bashfulness in the terms of my offer. I said, I go back to be the niece, or I stay to be the wife ; and his reply yv&s, ' Qu'eu dira le Monde ? ' I suppose he was right — I am sure he was ; but I hate him for it — how I hate him ! " She arose and walked the room with long and measured steps for a while in silence, and then burst out : " What would I not give to be revenged for this ? Some vengeances there are he would feci bitterly. Should he meet me in the world — the great world, for instance — the wife of some one, his equal, see me courted, and feted, and flattered; hear of me at all times and all places, and learn that this ' Monde ' — that is his god — had adopted me amongst his spoiled children, I think I know the dark despair that would gather around him as he muttered to him- self, ' And she might have been mine — she had been mine for the asking — she offered herself;' ay, he might say so, if he wished to add insult to my memory; 'and I only rephed, "The world would not bear it ! " ' How I hate him ! How 1 hate him ! If I cannot be revenged as I wish, I will be revenged as I can. I shall leave him — go at once. He has passed his last of those blissful days, as he loves to call them ; and he shall awake to see his life in all the weariness of desertion. Not a look, not a sound ; not a laugh, not r^^^s/u/^' THE INSULT. 295 a song to cheer him. With every spot full of memories of me, he shall be haunted by a happiness that will never return to him. I know that in his misery he will ask me to forgive the past and be his wife ; and if the alternative were to be the wretchedness I sprung from, I'd go back to it ! " I do not know — in all likelihood I shall never know — what this heart of mine could feel of love, but I know its power of hatred, and so shall Sir Within, though it may cost me dear to buy it. " Your repentance may come as early as you please, it shall avail you nothing. It may be even now ; I almost thought I heard his foot on the stair ; and I know not whether I would not rather it came now, or after months of heart suffering and sorrow. I was slighted — he weighed the beauty that he admired, and the love he thought he had gained, against the mockeries of some score of people whose very faces he has forgotten, and ' Qu'en dira le Monde ' had more power over him than all my tenderness, all my wit, and all my beauty. "Is it not strange that, with all his boastiU keenness to read people's natures, he should know so little of mine ? To think that 1 could stand there and see the struggle between his pride of station and what he would call ' his passion ' — that I could tamely wait and see how I was weighed in the balance and found wanting — that 1 could bear all this unmoved, and then return to my daily life, with- out an attempt to resent it ? " It is true, till this letter came from my uncle, there was no pres- sure upon him. None in the wide world was more friendless than myself. His life might have gone on as heretofore, and if a tliought of me or of my fate invaded, he might have dismissed it with the excuse that he could mention me in his wiU ; he could have bequeathed me enough to make me a desirable match for the land-steward or the gardener ! " How I bless my uncle Luttrell for his remembrance of me ! It is like a reprieve arriving when the victim was on the scaffold. He shall see with what gladness I accept his offer. If tlie conditions had been ten times as hard, I would not quarrel with one of them. Now, then, to answer him, and that done. Sir Within, you run no danger of that scandal-loving world you dread so much ! For if you came with the offer of all your fortune at my feet, I'd spurn you! " She opened her writing-desk, and sat down before it. She then took out Luttrell's letter, and read it carefully over. " I must take care that my answer be as calm and as unimpassioned as his own note. He makes no protestation of affection — neither shall I. He says nothing of any pleasure that he anticipates from my companion- ship — I will be as guarded as himself." She paused for a moment or two, and then wrote : " My de.\r Uncle, — Though your letter found me weak and low 29b LUTTRELL OF AHRAN. after a severe illness, its purport has giveii me strength to answer you at once. I accept. " It would be agreeable to me if I could close this letter with these words, and not impose any further thouglit of myself upon you ; but it is better, perhaps, if I tell you now and for ever that you may discharge your mind of all fears as to what you call the sacrifices I shall have to make. I hope to show you that all the indulgeuces in which I have lived make no part of my real nature. You have one boon to confer on me worth all that wealth and splendour could offer — your name. By making me a Luttrell, you fill the full measure ot my ambition. " Eor whatever share of your confidence and affection you may vouchsafe me, I will try to be worthy ; but I will not importuue for either, but patiently endeavour to deserve them. ^ly Ufe has not hitherto taught many lessons of utility. I hope duty will be a better t?eaeher thau self-indidgence. Lastly, have no fears that my preseuce under your i-oof will draw closer arouud you the ties and the claims of those humble people with whom I am connected. I know as little of them as you do. They certaiuly fill no place in my affection ; nor have I the pretence to thmk I have any share iu theirs. One old man alone have I any recollection of — my mother's father — and if I may judge by the past, he will continue to be more influenced by what tends to my advantage, than what might minister to the indul- gence of his own pride. He neither came to see me at Sir Gervais Vyner's, nor Dalradern ; and though I have written to him ouce or twice, he never sought to impose himself as a burden upon me. Of coui'se, it will be for you to say if this correspondence should be dis- continued. " You will see in these pledges, that I give iu all frankness, how much it will be my ambition to be wortiiy of the noble name you allow me to bear. " There is no necessity to remit me any money. I have ample means to pay for my journey ; and as there arc circumstances which I can tell you of more easily than I can write, requiring that I should leave this at once, I will do so immediately after postuig the present letter. I will go direct to the hotel you speak of at Holyhead, and remain there till your messenger arrives to meet me. " You distress me, my dear uncle, when you suggest that I should mention any articles that I might require to be added to your house- hold for my comfort or convenience. Do not forget, I beg, that I ■was not born to these luxuries, and that they only attach to me as the accidents of a station which I rehnquish with delight, when I know that it gives me the right to sign myself, " Yoiu" loving Niece, "Kate Luttrell.'* THE FLIGHT. 297 CHAPTER XLIV. THE FLIGHT. The day was just breaking as Kate, carryiug a small bundle in her hand, issued noiselessly from the deep porch of the hotel, and hastened to the pier. The steam-boat was about to start, and she was the last to reach the deck, as the vessel moved off. It was a raw and gusty morning, and the passengers had all sought shelter below, so that she was free to seek a spot to herself unmolested and unobserved. As she turned her farewell look at the sands, where she had walked on the evening befoi-e, she could not beheve that one night — one short night had merely filled the interval. Why, it seemed as if half a hfe-time had been crowded into the space. Withm those few hours how much had happened ! A grand dream of ambition scattered to the winds — a dream that for many a day had filled her whole thoughts, working its way iuto every crevice of her mind, and so colouring all her fancies that she had not even a caprice uutiuged by it. To be the mistress of that old feudal castle — to own its vast halls and its tall towers — to gaze on the deep-bosomed woods that stretched for miles away, and feel that they were her own ! To know that at last she had gained a station and a position that none dared dispute; "For," as she would say, "the world may say its worst of that old man's folly ; they may ridicule and deride him. Of me they can but say that I played boldly, and won the great stake I played for." And now the game was over, and she had lost ! What a reverse was this ! " Yesterday, surrounded with wealth, cared for, courted, my slightest wish consulted, how fair the prospect looked ! And now, alone, and more friendless than the meanest aromid me ! And was the fault mine ? How hard to tell. Was it that I gave him too much of my confidence, or too little ? Was my mistake to let him dwell too much on the ways and opinions of that great world that he loved so well ? Should I not have tried rather to disparage than exalt it ? And should I not have sought to inspire him with a desire for a quiet, tranquil existence — such a life as he might have dreamed to lead in those deep old woods around his home ? To the last," cried she, to herself — " to the last, I never could believe that he would consent to lose me ! Perhaps he never thought it would come to this; perhaps he fancied that I could not face that wretchedness from which I came; cerhaps he might have 29S LTJTTRELL OF ARKAN. thought that I myself was not cue to relmquish so good a game, aud rise from the table at the first reverse. But what a reverse ! To be so near the winnmg-post aud yet lose the race ! And how will he bear it ? "Will he sink under the blow, or will that old pride of blood of which he boasts so much come to his aid and carry him through it ? How I wish — oh, what would I not give to see him, as he tears open my last letter, and sees all his presents re- turned to liim ! Ah, if he could but feel with what a pang I parted with them. If he but knew the tears the leave-taking cost mc. If he but saw me as I took off that necklace I was never to wear again, feeling like one who was laying down her beauty to go forth into the world without a charm, he might, perchance, hope to win me back again. And would that be possible ? My heart says no. My heart tells me, that before I can thmk of a fortune to achieve, there is an insult to avenge. He slighted me — yes, he slighted me ! There was a price too high for all my love, aud he let me see it. There was his fault — he let me see it ! It was my dream for many a year to show the humble folk from whom I came what my ambition and my capacity could make me ; and I thought of myself as the proud mistress of Dalradern without a pang for all the misery the victory would cost me. Now the victory has escaped me, and I go back, so far as my own efforts are concerned, defeated ! What next — ay, what next ? " As the day wore on, every incident of her ordinary life rose before her. Nine o'clock. It was the hour the carriage came to take her to her bath. She bethought her of all the obsequious attention of her maid, that quiet watchfulness of cunning service, the mindful observance that supplies a want and yet obtnides no thought of it The very bustle of her arrival at the bathing-place had its own flattery. The eager attention, tlic zealous anxiety of the servants, that showed how, in her presence, all others M-ei-e for the time for- gotten. She knew well — is beauty ever deficient in the knowledge ? that many came each morning only to catch a glimpse of her. Her practised eye had taught her, even as she passed, to note what amount of tribute each rendered to her loveliness ; aud she could mark the wondering veneration here, the almost rapturous gaze of this one, and not unfrequently the jealous depreciation of that other. Eleven o'clock. She was at breakfast with Sir Withhi, and he was asking her for all the little events of the morning. Aud what were these ? A bantering narrative of her own triumphs — liow well she had looked — how tastefully she was dressed — how spitefully the women had criticised the lovely hat she swam in, and which she gave to some poor girl as she came out of tlie water — a trifle that had cost some "louis " a few days before. It was noon — the houi" the mail arrived from Brussels — and Sir Within would come to present her with the rich bouquet of rare THE FLIGHT. 299 flowers, despatched each morning from the capital. It was a piece of homage he delighted to pay, and she was wont to accept it with a queen-like condescension. " Wliat a strange life of dreary indulgence — of enjoyments multiplied too fast to taste — of luxuries so lavished as almost to be a burden — and how unreal it was all ! " so thought she, as they drew near the tall chalk cliffs of the English coast, and the deck grew crowded with those who were eagerly impatient to quit their prison-house. For the first time for a long while did she find herself unnoticed and unattended to ; none of that watchful, obsequious attention tliat used to track her steps was there. Now people hurried hither and thither, collecting their scattered effects, and preparing to land. Not one to care for her, who only yesterday was waited on Uke royalty ! " Is this your trunk. Miss ? " asked a porter. " No ; this is mine," said she, pointing to a bundle. " Shall I carry it for you, my dear ? " said a vulgar-looking and over-dressed young fellow, who had put his glass in his eye to stare &t her. She muttered but one word, but that it was enough seemed clear, as his companion said, "I declare I think you deserved it ! " " It has begun already," said she to herself, as she walked slowly along towards the town. "The bitter conflict with the world, of which I have only heard hitherto, I now must face. By this time he knows it ; he knows that he is desolate, and that he shall never see me more. All the misery is not, therefore, mine ; nor is mine the greater. I have youth, and can hope ; he caunot hope ; he can but grieve on to the last. Well, let him go to that world he loves so dearly, and ask it to console him. It will say by its thousand tongues, * You have done well. Sir Within. Why should you have aUied yourself with a low-born peasant-girl ? How could her beauty have reconciled you to her want of refinement, her ignorance, her coarse breeding ? ' Ah, what an answer could his heart give, if he but dared to utter it ; for he could tell them I was their equal in all their vaunted captivations ! Will he have the courage to do this ? Or will he seek comfort in the falsehood that belies me ? " In thoughts like these, ever revolving around herself and her altered fortunes, she journeyed on, and by the third day arrived at Holy- head. The rendezvous was given at a small inn outside the town called "The Kid," and directions for her reception had been already forwarded there. Two days elapsed before her uncle's messenger arrived — two days that seemed to extend to as many years ! How did her ever-active mind go over in that space all her past life, from the cruel sorrows of her early days, to the pampered existence she had led at Dalradern ? She fancied what she might have been, if she bad never left her lowly station, but grown up amongst the hardships and privations of her humble condition. She canvassed in her mind 300 LUTTEELL OF ARHAN. tLe way in which she might liavc either coiifonned to that life, or struggled against it. "' i cannot beheve," said she, witli a saucy laugh, as she stood aud looked at herself in the glass, " that thesa arms were meaut to carry sea-wrack, or that these feet were fashioned to clainbcr shoeless up the rocks ! Aud yet if dcstmy had fixed me there, liow should I have escaped ? I cannot tell, any more than I can tell what is yet before me ! And what a fasciuation there is in this uncertainty ! What a wondrous influence has the un- known ! How eventful does the shghtest action become, when it may lead to that which can determine a life's fortune ! Even now, how much is in my power ! I might go back, throw myself at that old man's feet, aud tell him that it was in vain I tried it — I could not leave him. I might kneel there till he raised me, and when he did so, I should be his wife, a titled lady, aud mistress of that grand old castle ! Could I do this ? No : no more than I could go and beg the Yyners to have pity on me and take me back ; that my heart clung to the happiness 1 had learned to feel amongst them ; aud that I would rather serve them as a menial than live away from them. Better to die than this. And, what will this life at Arran be ? This uncle, too, I dread him ; and yet I long to see him. I want to hear him call me by his own name, and acknowledge me as a Luttrell. Oh, if he had but done this before — before I had travelled this weary road of deception and falsehood ! Who knows ? Who knows ? " " Are you the young lady. Miss, that's expecting an elderly gentle- man ? " said the housemaid, entering hastily. "Where from? How did he come?" cried Kate, eagerly; for her fu'st thought was, it might be Sir Within. " He came by the Irish packet. Miss." " Yes, that is quite right. If he asks for Miss Luttrell, you may say I am ready to see him." In a minute or two after she had given this order, the girl again opened the door, saymg : " Mr. Coles, Miss ; " and introduced a florid, fussy-looking little man, with a maimer compounded of courtesy and command. "You may leave the room, young woman," said he to the maid; and then approachuig Kate, added, " I have the honour to speak to Miss Luttrell? " She bowed a quiet assent, and he went on : " I'm chief managing-clerk of Cane and Co., Miss Luttrell, from whom I received instructions to wait on you here, and accompany you to Westport, where Mr. John Luttrell will have a boat ready for you-" He delivered this speech with a something half-peremptory, as thougli he either suspected some amount of resistance to liis authority, or imagined that his credentials might be questioned. THE FLIGHT, 301 " Have you no letter for me, Sir ? " asked she, calmly. " Tliere was a letter from Mr. Luttrell to Mr. George Cane, Miss Luttrell, explaining why he was not himself able to come over and meet you." "Was he ill, Sir?'; " No, not exactly ill, Miss Luttrell, though he is never what oue can call well." " I am astonished he did not write to me," said she, in a low, thoughtful tone. " He is not much given to writing, Miss Luttrell, at any time, and of late we have rarely heard of him beyond a line or two. Indeed, with respect to my present journey, all he says is, ' Send some oue in your confidence over to Holyhead by the first packet to inquire for Miss Luttrell, or Miss O'Hara — she may be known by either name — and conduct her to Eldridge's Hotel, Westport. The young lady is to be treated with all consideration.' These are his words, Miss, and I hope to follow them." "It is very kind," said she slowly, and half to herself. " It's a Prenehified sort of phrase, ' all consideration,' but I take its meaning to be, with every deference to your wishes — how you would like to travel, and where to stop. Mr. George, however, told me to add, 'If Miss Luttrell desires to make any purchases, or requires anything in town, she is to have full liberty to obtain it.' He did not mention to what amount, but of course he intended the exercise of a certain discretion." "1 want nothing, Sir." "That is what Mrs. Coles remarked to me: If the young lady only saw the place she was going to, she'd not thmk of shopphig." Kate made no answer. " Not but, as Mrs. Coles observed, some good substantial winter clothing — that capital stuff they make now for lower Canada — would be an excellent thing to take. You are aware, Miss, it is a perpetual winter there ? " A short nod, that might mean, anything, was all her reply. "And above all, Miss Luttrell," continued he, unabashed by her cold manner — "above all, a few books ! Mr. L., from what I hear, has none that would suit a young lady's reading. His studies, it seems, are of an antiquarian order ; some say — of course people :'jill say so — he dips a httie into magic and the black art." Perhaps after all it was the study most appropriate to the place. " I suppose it is a lonesome spot ? " said she with a faint sigh, and not well heeding what she said. " Desolate is the name for it — desolate and deserted ! I only know- it by the map ; but I declare to you, I'd not pass a week on it to own the fee simple." " And yet I am going there of my own free will. Sir," said she, with a strangely meaning smile. 302 LUITBELL OF ABRA.N. "That's exactly wliat puzzles Mrs. C. and myself," said he, bluntly ; " and, indeed, my wife went so far as to say, ' Has the dear young creature noDody to tell her what the place is like ? Has she no friend to warn her agamst the life she is going to ? ' " " Tell her from me, Sir, that I know it aU. I saw it when I was a child, and my memory is a tenacious one. And tell her, too, that bleak and dreary as it is, I look forward to it with a longing desire, as an escape from a world of which, even the very little 1 have seen, has not enamoured me. And now, Sir, enough of me and my fortunes ; let us talk of the road. Whenever you are sufficiently rested to begm your journey, you will find me ready." " You'll stop probably a day in Dublin ? " "Not an hour, Sir, if I can get on. Can we leave this to- night?" " Yes ; I have ordered the carriages to take us to the pier at nine, and a cart for your luggage." "My luggage is there. Sir," said she, pointing to the bundle, and smiling at the astonishment his face betrayed ; " and when you tell your wife that, Sir, she will, perhaps, see I am better fitted for Arrau than she suspected." Albeit the daily life of Mr. Coles gave Uttle scope to the faculty, he was by nature of an inquiring disposition, not to add that he well knew to what a rigid cross-examination he would be subjected on his return to his wife, not merely as to the look, manner, and mien of the young lady, but as to what account she gave of herself, where she came from, and more important still, why she came. It was his fancy, too, to imagine that he was especially adroit in extracting confidences ; a behef, be it observed, very generally held by people whose palpable and pushing curiosity invariably revolts a stranger, and disposes him to extreme reserve. As they walked the deck of the steamer together, then, with a calm sea and a stilly night, he deemed the moment favourable to open his investigations. " Ah, yes ! " said he, as though addressing some uiterlocutor M'ithin his own bosom — " ah, yes ! she will indeed feel it a terrible contrast. None of the pleasures, none of the habits of her former life ; none of the joys of the family, and none of the endearments of a home ! " " Of whom were you speaking, Sir ? " asked she, with a faint smile. " Dear me ! dear me ! what a man I am ! That's a habit my wife has been trying to break me of these fifteen years. Miss Luttrell ; as she says : ' Coles, take care that you never commit a murder, or you're sure to tell it to the first person you meet.' And so is it when anything occurs to engage my deepest interest — my strongest sympathy; it's no use; do what 1 will, out it will come in spite of me." ON ARRAN. 303 " And I, Sir," said she, with a slow and measured utterance, " am exactly the reverse. I no more think of speaking my thoughts aloud, than I should dream of imparting my family secrets, if I had any, to the first stranger whose impertinent curiosity might dispose him to penetrate them." " Indeed ! " cried he, reddening with shame. " Quite true, I assure you. Sir ; and now I will wish you a good- night, for it grows chilly here." CHAPTER XLV. ON ARRAN. Kate was awoke from a deep sleep by the noise of the boat coming to anchor. She started up, and looked around her, unable for several seconds to recal where she was. Behind the little land-locked bay the tall mountains rose, wild and fanciful on every side ; the dark sky studded with stars above, and the still darker sea beneath, stUl and waveless ; and then the shore, where lights moved rapidly hither and thither ; making up a picture strangely interesting to one to whom that lone rock was to be a home, that dreary spot in the wild ocean her whole world. There were a great many people on the shore awaiting her, partly out of curiosity, in part out of respect, and Molly Ryan had come down to say that his honour was not well enough to meet her, but he hoped in the morning he would be able. "You're to be the same as himself here," he says ; " and every word you say is to be minded as if it was his own." " I almost thmk I remember you ; your face, and your voice too, seem to me as though I knew them before." " So you may. Miss. You saw me here at the mistress's wake, but don't let on to the master, for he doesn't like that any of us should think you was ever here afore. This is the path here. Miss ; it's a rough bit for your tender feet." " Have we much farther to go, Molly ? I am rather tired to-day." " No, Miss ; a few minutes more will bring us to the Abbey ; but ure we'd send for a chair and carry you " 304 LUTTKELL OF AKRAJT. " No, no ; Oil no account. It is only to-night I feel fatigued. My uncle's illness is nothing serious, I hope ? " " 'Tis more grief than sickness. Miss. It's sorrow is killin' him. Any one that saw him last year wouldn't know him now ; his hair is white as snow, and his voice is weak as a child's. Here we are now — here's the gate. It isn't much of a garden, nobody minds it ; and yonder, where you see the light, that's his honour's room, beside the big tower there, and you are to have the two rooms that my mistress hved in." And, still speaking, she led the way through a low, arclicd passage into a small clean-looking chamber, withm which lay another with a neatly-arranged bed, and a few attempts at comfortable furni- ture. " We did our best, ]\Iiss, Sam and myself," said Molly ; " but we hadn't much time, for we only knew you was coming on Tuesday night." " It is all very nice and clean, Molly. Your name is Molly, isn't it?" " Yes, Miss," said she, curtseyuig, and deeply gratified. " I want notliing better ! " said Kate, as she sat down on the bed and took off her bonnet. " If you don't need me now. Miss, I'U go and brbig you your tea ; it's all ready in the kitchen." " Very well, Molly ; leave it for me in the outer room, and I'U take it when I am inclmed." Molly saw that she desired to be alone, and withdrew without a word ; and Kate, now free of all restraint, buried her face in the pil- low and wept bitterly. Never, till the very spot was before her — till the dark sliadows of the rugged rocks crossed her path, and the wild sohtude of the dreary island appealed to her, by the poor appear- ance of the people, their savage looks, and their destitution — never till then had she fully realised to her mind all the force of the step she had taken. " What have I done ? What have I done ? " sobbed she, hysterically, over and over. " Why have I left all that makes .ife an ecstasy to come and drag out an existence of misery and gloom ? Is this the fruit of all my ambition ? Is this the prize for M^hich I have left myself, without one affection or one sentiment, sacrificing all to that station I had set before me as a goal ? I'll not bear it. I'll not endure it. Time enough to come here when my hopes are bankrupt, and my fortune shipwrecked. I have youth — and, better, I have beauty. Shall I stay here till a blight has fallen on both ? Why, the very misery I came from as a child was less dreary and desolate than this ! There was at least companionship there ! There was sympathy, for there was fellow-suffering. But here ! what is there here, but a tomb in which life is to waste out, and the creature feel himself the corpse before he dies ? " She started up and looked around her, turning her eyes from one object to the other in the room. " And it is for this splendour, for all this costly magnificence, I am to surrender the love of those humble people. ON AKRAX. 205 wuo, after all, loved me for myself ! It was of me tliej tliought, for me they prayed, for my success they implored the saints ; and it is for this " — and she gazed contemptuously on the lowly decorations of the chamber — " I am to give them up for ever, aud refuse even to see them ! The proud old Sir Within never proposed so hard a bar- gain ! He did not dare to tell me I should deny my own. To be sure," cried she, with a scornful laugh, " I was forgettmg a material part of the price. I am a Luttrell — Kate Luttrell of Arran — aud I shall be one day, perhaps, mistress of this grand ancesti-al seat, the Abbey of St. Fiubar ! Would that I could share the grandeur with them at once, and lie down there in that old aisle, as dreamless as my uoble kinsfolk ! " Li alternate bursts of sorrow over the past, and scornful ridicule of the present, she passed the greater part of the night ; aud at last, exhausted and weary with the conflict, she leaned her head on the side of her bed, aud, kueeUng as she was, fell off to sleep. When she awoke, it was blight day, the sea-breeze playing softly through a honeysuckle that covered the open window, tilled the room with a pleasant perfume, aud cooled her heated brow. She looked out ou the scarcely ruffled bay, and saw the fishing-boats standing out to sea, while ou the shore aU were busy launching or stowing away tackle ; the very children aiding where they could, carrying down baskets, or such small gear as theii- strength could master. It was Hfe, and movement, and cheerfulness too — for so the voices souuded in the thin morning air — not a tone of complaint, noi one utterance that indicated discontent, and the very cheer which accompanied the sliding craft as she rushed down to the sea seemed to come from hearts that were above repining. The scene was better to her than all her self-arguiugs. There they were, the very class she sprang from ; the men aud women like her own nearest kindred ; the very children recalling the days when she played barefooted on the beach, and chased the retiring waves back into the sea. They were there, toiling ever on, no hope of any day of better fortune, no thought of any other rest than the last long sleep of all, and why should she complain ? That late life of luxury and splendour was not without its drawbacks. The incessant watchfulness it exacted, lest in some unguarded moment she should forget the part she was playing — aud part it was — the ever-present need of that insidious flattery by which she maintained her influence over Sir Within, aud, above all, the dread of her humble origin being discovered, and becoming the table- talk of the servants'-hall. These were a heavy price to pay for a life of luxurious mdulgeuce. " Here, at least," cried she, " I shall be real. I am the niece aud the adopted daughter of the lord of the soil ; none can gainsay or deny me ; a Luttrell of Arran, I can assert myself against the world ; poverty is only an infliction when side by side with affluence ; we are the great and the rich here. Let me only forget the past, and 20 306 LUTTKELL OF ARRAX. this life can be eujoyable enough. I used to faucy, long ago, as I walked the garden alone at Dinasllyn, that no condition ot" life would ever find me unprepared to meet it. Here is a case to prove my theory ; and now to be an Arrau islander." As she said, she began to arrange her room, and place the different articles in it more to her own taste. Her care was to make her little chamber as comfortable as she could. She was rather an adept in this sort of achievement — at least she tiiought she could impart to a room a character distinctly her own, givmg it its " cachet " of home- liness, or comfort, or elegance, or simplicity, as she wished it. The noise of her preparations brought Molly to her aid, and she despatched the amazed countrywoman to bring her an armful of the purple heath that covered the mountain near, and as many wild flowers as she could find. "To-morrow, Molly," said she, "I will go in search of them myself, but to-day I must put things to rights here. Now, Molly," said she, as they both were busied in filling two large jugs with the best flowers they could find, " remember that I'm an old maid." " Lawk, Miss, indeed you arn't ! " "Well, never mind, I mean to be just as particular, just as severe as one ; and remember, that wherever I put a table, a chest of drawers, or even a cup with a flower in it, you must never displace it. No matter how careless I may seem, leave everything here as you fuid it." " That's the master's own way. Miss ; his honour would go mad if I touched a book he was readin'." It was a very pleasant flattery that the i)Oor woman thus uncon- sciously insinuated, nor could anything have been more in time, for Kate was longing to identify herself with the Luttrells, to be one of them in their ways, and their very prejudices. Scarcely had Molly left the room than a light tap came to the door, and a weak voice asked : " May I come in ? " Kate hastened to open it, but she was anticipated, and her uncle slowly entered, and stood before her. " My dear, dear uncle," cried she, takmg his hand, and pressing it to her lij)s. He pressed her in his arms, and kissed her forehead twice, and (hen, wil h a hand on either shoulder, held her for a moment at arms' length, while he looked at her. Hers was not a nature to fiiiieh under such a scrutiny, and yet she blushetl at last under the steadiness of his gase. " Let us sit down," said ho, at length ; and he handed her to a scat with much courtesy. " Had 1 seen you, Miss Luttrcll " " Oh, Sir, say Kate — call me Kate," cried she, eagerly. "Had I seen you before, Kate," continued he — and there was a ON AURAN. 307 touch of feeling as he spoke the name — " I do not think I could have dared to ask you to come here ! " " Oh, dear uncle ! have I so disappointed you ? " " You have amazed me, Kate. I was not prepared to see you as you are. I speak not of your beauty, my child ; I was prepared for that. It is your air, yoar bearing, that look, that reminds me of long, long ago. It is years since I saw a lady, my dear Kate, and the sight of you has brought up memories I had believed were dead and buried." " Then I do not displease you, uncle ? " " I am angry with myself, child. 1 should never have brought you to this barbarism." " You have given me a home. Sir," said she fondly ; but he only sighed, and she went on : "A home and a name ! " "A name ! Yes," said he, proudly ; " a name that well befits you, but a home — how unworthy of you ! What ignorance in me not to know that you would be like this ! " And again he gazed at her with intense admii-ation. " But see, my child, to what this Hfe of grovel- ling monotony conduces. Because I had not seen you and heard your voice, I could not picture to my poor besotted muid that, besides beauty, you should have that gracefulness the world deems higher than even beauty. Nay, Kate, I am no flatterer ; and, moreover, I will not speak of this again." " I will try to make you satisfied that you did well to send for me. Sir," said slie, meekly ; and her heart felt almost bursting with de- light at the words of praise she had just heard. " How did you induce them to part with you ? " asked he, calmly. " I gave no choice in the matter, Sh*. I jghowed your letter to Sir Within Wardle, and he would not hear of my leaving. I tried to discuss the matter, and he only grew impatient. I hinted at what your letter had vaguely insinuated — a certain awkwardness iu my position — and this made him downright angry. We parted, and I went to my room. Once alone, I took counsel with myself. The result was, that I wrote that letter which you received ; and I came away the same morning I wrote it." "Alone?"' " Yes, Sir, alone." " And without a leave-taking ? " " Even so, Sir. It was the only way in which I coidd have come, and I had made up my mmd to it." " There was something of the Luttrell there ! " said he, turning his eyes full upon her features, which now had caught an expres- sion of calm and resolute meaning. " You wiU. become the name, Kate ! " " It shall be my endeavour, Sii\" " And yet," added he, after a pause, "you were very happy there. Tell me the sort of life you used to lead," 20—2 308 LUTTRELL OF AKRAN. " Ouc day will serve for all, uncle ; they were exactly alike. My mornings were all my own. If my masters came, I studied, or I dismissed them as I pleased ; if I felt indisposed to read, I sung ; if I did not like music, I drew ; if I did not care for drawmg landscape, I caricatured my master, and made a doggrcl poem on his indigna- tion. In a word, I trifled over the day till luncheon. After that I rode in the woods, alone if I could, sometimes with Sir Withm ; often I had time to do both. Then came dressmg — a long affair — for I was expected to be fine enough for company each day, though we saw no one. After that, most wearisome of all the day, came dinner — two hours and a half — services of which we never ate ; wines we did not care to drmk, but all repeated regulai-ly ; a solemn mock banquet, my guardian — so I called him — loved immensely, and would have prolonged, if he but knew how, till midnight. Evening brought our one guest, a French Abbe, with whom I sung or played chess till I could engage Sir Within and himself in a discussion about Mirabeau or St. Just, when I would slip away and be free. Then, if the night were moonlit, I woidd drive out in the park, or have a row on the lake ; if dark, I would have the conservatory lighted, set the fountains a-playing, and drive the gardener distracted by ' awakening ' all his drowsy plants. In a word, I could do what I pleased, and I pleased to do whatever struck me at the moment. I ordered all that I liked from town — books, dress, objects of art, prints — and was just as weary of them all before I saw them as after they had palled upon me. It was a life of intense indulgence, and I'm not sure, if one could but fight off occasional ennui, that it wasn't the happiest thing could be made of existence, for it was very dreamy withal, very full of innumerable futures, all rose-coloured, all beau- tiful." "And what are you to make of this?" asked Luttrell, almost sternly, as he moved his arm around to indicate the new reahn about her. " Here there is no luxury, no wealth, none of the refinement that comes of wealth, not one of the resources that fill the time of cultivated leisure; all is hardship, privation, self-denial. Go abroad, too, beyond the walls of this poor old rum, and it will be to witness misery and destitution greater still." " I am going to try if I shall not like the real conflict better than the mock combat," said she, calmly. " "What a change will be your life here, my poor child — what a change ! Let it not, however, be worse than it need be. So far as this poor place will permit, be your own mistress — live in your own fashion — keep your own hours — come to me only when you like, never from any sense of duty. I am too inured to solitude to want companionship, though I can be grateful when it is offered mc. I have a few books — some of them may inte- rest you ; my pursuits, too — what once were my pursuits ! " said he, with a sigh, " might amuse you. At all events," added he, rising. ON ARRAN. 309 try — try if you cau bear it ; it need uot be your prison if you cannot." He again kissed her forehead, and, motioning a good-bye with his hand, moved slowly away. " Perhaps I shall acquit myself better than he thinks," said she to herself. " Perhaps — who knows if I may not find some place or thing to interest me here ? It is very grand ' savagery,' and if one wanted to test their powers of defying the world in every shape, this is the spot. What is this you have brought me to eat, Molly?" " It's a bit of fried skate, Miss, and I'm sorry it's no better, but the potatoes is beautiful." " Then let me have them, and some milk. No mUk — is that so ? " " There's only one cow. Miss, on the island, and she's only milked in the evening ; but St. Piubar's Well is the finest water ever was tasted." " To your good health, then, and St. Pinbar's ! " said she, liftmg a goblet to her lips. "You are right, Molly; it is ice-cold and deli- cious ! " And now, as she began her meal, she went on inquiring which of the men about the place would be most likely as a gardener, what things could be got to grow, on which side came the worst winds, and where any shelter could be found. " Perhaps I shall have to take to fishing, Molly," said she, laughing, " for something I must do." " You could make the nets, anyhow. Miss," said Molly, in admira- tion of the white and graceful hands, and thinking what ought to be their most congenial labour. " I can row a boat well, Molly," said Kate, proudly. "Whatever you'd do, you'd do it well, God bless you! " cried the other ; for in that hearty delight in beauty, so natural to the Irish peasant nature, she imagined her to be perfection, and the honest creature turned, ere she left the room, to give her a look of admira- tion little short of rapture. 310 LUTTRELL OF AHaAIl, CHAPTER XLVL THE STRANGER AT THE W^ELL. Before a couple of weeks passed over, Kate had contrived to divide her days so regularly, to establish for herself a certaia routine of little duties, that the time slipped by — as time ever will do in monotony — unfelt. The season was the autumn, and the wild hills and mountains were gorgeous in all the brilliant colours of the ever varied heaths. In the little clefts and valleys, too, where shelter favoured, foxgloves and purple mallows grew with a rare luxuriance, while on every side was met the arbutus, its crimson berries hanging in festoons over rock and crag. The sudden, unexpected sight of the sea, penetrating by many a fissure, as it were, between the moim- tains, gave unceasing interest to the wild landscape, and over the pathless moors that she strayed, not a living thing to be seen, was the sense of being the first wayfarer who had ever trod these wastes. As Kate wandered whole days alone, over and over again came the doubt across her, which M^as it — the brilliant past, with all its splendour and luxury, or the solitary present — was the dream ? Surely they could not both be real ! Was the bygone a fancy built out of some gorgeous fragments of things read, heard, or imagined, or was this — this actual scene around her — a vision that was to move past, and leave her to awake to all her former splendour ? Great as the revulsion was to her former life, it was in nothing greater than in the diflerence between her uncle's cold, sad, distant manner, for so after the first meeting had it become, and the ever wateliful anxiety, the courteous attention to her slightest wish, of Sir "Within. She never ceased canvassing with herself how he had borne her de- sertion ; whether he had sunk under it into a hopeless despondency, or called upon his pride to sustain him above any show of indignation. Evading it as tlie world must read it, there never was such ingrati- tude; but then the world could never know the provocation, nor ever know by what personal sacrifice she had avenged the slight passed upon her. " My story," said she, " can never be told ; his, he may tell how it suits him." At moments, a sort of romantic exaltation and a sense of freedom would make her believe that she had done well to exchange the splendid bondage of the past for the untranmielled Hberty of the present ; and then, at other times, the terrible contrast would so THE STRANGER AT THE AVELL. 311 overcome lier, that slie would sit and cry as if her heart was breaking. " Would my ' old Gardy ' pity or exult over me if he saw me now ? What would he, who would not suffer me to tread on an uncar- peted step, say if he saw me alone, and poorly clad, clambering up these rugged cliffs to reach some point, where, for an instant, I may forget myself ? Sorely he would not triumph over my faU ! " Such a life as this is meant to expiate great crimes. Men are sent to wild and desolate islands in the ocean, to wear out days of hopeless misery, because they have warred against their fellows. But what have I done ? whom have I injured ? Others had friends to love and to guide them ; I had none. The very worst that can be alleged against me is, that I was rash and headstrong — too prone to resent ; and what has it cost me ! " My imcle said, indeed, this need not be my prison if I could not endure its privations. But what did that mean — what alternative did he point to ? Was it that I was to go lower stdl, and fall back upon all the wretchedness I sprang from ? That, never ! Tlie bar- ren glory of calling myself a LuttreU may be a sorry price for for- feited 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. He's down at the Holy Well, and wants to speak to vou." "Who is he? What is he?" " I never seen him before. Miss, but he comes from beyant there" — she motioned towards the mam-land of Ireland — " and says that YOU know him well." " Have you told my uncle of him ? " " No, Miss, for the man said I was to tell no livmg soul but your- self, and to tell you quick, too, for he was in a hurry, and wanted to get away with the evening's tide, and his boat was more than a mile off." " Molly Ryan," said the girl, ealnily, almost sternly, " you heard the orders that my uncle gave. You heard him tell me that I was uot to see, nor speak to, nor hold any intercourse with any of those belonging to my mother's family. Is this man one of them ? " " No, Miss. 'Tis what I asked him. 'Tis the very first question I put to him. And he said, ' I'm no more to them than you are, Mrs. Ryan,' says he ; ' and what's more,' says he, ' if it's any com- fort to you to know it, I don't even come from this part of Ireland ; 312 LUTTKELIi OF AERAN. SO you may make yourself easy about that,' says he. I was puttin* more qucslious to hiin, and lie stopped me, and said, ' You're just wastiuj^ precious time,' says he, ' and if she comes back aud finds it too late' — he meant yourself. Miss — ' she won't forgive you in a iuirry for what you've done, for I cau't come here again.' " " You are sure aud certain that he was not one of those I spoke of ?" " I know them all well, Miss — barriu' the three that was trans- ported — and he's not any of them I ever saw before." " But he might exactly be one of those who was transported, aud certainly if I knew that I'd not sec him." " lie swore to me he wasn't. Miss ; and, what's more, he said that what he came about wasn't his own business at all, but concerued 9/011. That's his whistle now — he gave oue a while ago — aud he said, ' When I give three,' says he, ' I'm gone, for I'll not lose the tide, whether she comes or not.' " " Go back to the house, !Molly. I'll go down and speak to him." " ^Vouldn't you let me follow you. Miss, to be near iu case of anything ? " " No, Molly. I'm no coward ; and I know, besides, that no man who meant harm to me would ever come over here to at- tempt it." "At any rate, he'd never go back again ; " said the woman fiercely. " Don't be loug, Miss, or I'll be uneasy." Kate now turned aside, and hastened down a little steep path which led to the Holy Well. The well itself was a sort of shrine built over a little spring, and shaded by a clump of dwindled oak-trees — almost the only ones iu the island. As Kate drew nigh, she saw a man walking up and down beneath the trees, with the quick short step that implied impatience. It was her gift never to forget a face, and in oue glance she recognised one she had not seen for years — O'Rorke of Vinegar Hill. "1 thought you'd never come," cried he, as she descended the steps that led down to the well. " I have been waiting here about an hour ! " He held out his hand to shake hands with her, but she drew back, and crossing her shawl in front of her, showed that she declined this greeting. " Are you too proud to shake hands with me ? " asked he, insolently. " ^Vhatever you Lave to say to me can be said just as well witli- cut." " "^^Hiat if I wouldn't say it, then, Kitty O'Hara ? Wiiat if I was to go back the way I came, aud leave you to rue the day you in- sulted nu: ? Do you know, young woman, that it wasn't on my own account I came here, — tiiat it was to serve others ? " " Tiiey chose a bad messenger if they thought you'd be a welcome one." TUE STRANGER AT THE WELL. 313 " May I never sec glory if I'm uot tempted to turn away and leave you without telling one word I came for. Where's John Luttrell ? for I think I'll tell itto himself." "My uncle is at the Abbey, if you want him." " Your uncle ! " said he, jeeringly. " Why wasn't he your uncle when you were up at Cush-ma-Creena, without a shoe to your foot, or enough rags to cover you well? You were bare up to this, when I saw you last." Aud he put his hand to his knee. " It was a national costume ! " said she, with a quiet laugh, " and a patriot like' Mr. O'Rorke should not find fault with it." " Be gorra, it was your own self said that ! and it was a lie they tould when they said you were altered ! " And almost as if by magic the fellow's ill temper gave way, and he laughed heartily. " Listen to me now, Miss O'Hara, or Miss Luttrell, or whatever you call yourself." " My name is Luttrell," said she, calmly. " Well, Luttrell, then ; it's the same to me. As I told you already, I came here more on yom- account than my own ; aud here's what brought me. You know that lodge, or cottage, or whatever they call it, that Vyuer built up here in the glen ? Well, there's creditors of his now wanting to get possession of it." " Creditors of Sir Gervais Vyner ? Impossible ! " " Possible, or impossible, it's true, that I can vouch for, for I saw the bailiffs that came down with the notices. At any rate, your old grandfather tliought that after Vyuer himself he had the best right to the house and the bit of laud, for Vyuer told him one day that he'd settle it on you for a marriage portion, aud there was others by when he said it, so your grandfather went up and told Tom Crowe, the at- torney, how it was, and Tom said, ' Keep it open, Malone,' says he — * keep it open till we see what's to be done in it. Don't let the other creditors get a hold of the place till I get an opinion for you.' And on that, old Peter goes back and gets a few boys together, and they go down to the glen just in time to see the sub-sheriif, Barty Lambert, riding up the lawn, with six or eight men after him. The minute Lambert saw your grandfather, he cried out, ' Here's Peter, " the Smasher ; " save yourselves, boys ! ' And he rode his horse at a wall, jumped it, and made off as hard as he could. Two of the others followed, but the rest stood their ground. Old Peter then stepped out, and ordered them to lay down their arms, and give up the writ, and whatever other papers they had. Some were for this, and some against ; and Peter, wantmg to finish the business at once, stepped up to Joe Maher, the sub-sheriff's man, aud said : ' Joe,' Bays he, ' I made you ate a process once before, wax and all, and majbe I'd have to do the same now. Give it u^ this minute, or ^ Just then Maher drew out a pistol, but before he could level it, old Peter was in on him, and they grappled each other, aud a terrible 314 LUTTRELL OF ARllAX. struggle it was, for the others never interfered, but left them to fight it out fair ! At last tlie pistol went otf, and the ball passed through old Peter's cheek ; but if it did, it didn't prevent him getting over Joe's breast as he fell, and beating his head against the ground, till lie rolled over him himself out of weakness and fatigue ; and when Peter came to himself — Maher didn't, for he was dead ! " " Dead ! " exclaimed she — " murdered ! " " Not a bit murdered, but killed fair ! Anyhow, the others ran away, and old Peter, as soon as he was able, made off too, and got into the mountains, and now the police is after him, and a reward of fifty pounds offered for him, as if he was a wild beast. British law and justice, my darhng ; the beautiful code of laws that was made to civilise Ireland four centuries ago, and hasn't done much to talk about up to this ! " "This is a very dreadful story,", said she, after some time of silence. " And what is to become of this poor old man ? " "That depends on you. Miss Kate — Luttrell," added he, after a brief struggle with himself. " On me ? How can it depend upon me ? " " Here's how it is, then. If they catch Peter, what between the character he has already, and what's known of his sons, they'll make short work of it. He'll ' swing,' as sure as you are there this minute. So there's nothing for it but to get him away to America by any of the ships coming round from the north, and it would be easy enough for him to get on board ; but what's not so easy. Miss Kate, is to pay his passage. He hasn't one shilling in the world. The boys got together last night, and all they could make up was eleven and fourpence ; there it is, and a pawn ticket for an old pistol that nobody woidd give half-a-cro\vn for " " But what can I do ? " broke she in, passionately. " What can I do ? " " Help him witli a few pounds. Give it or lend it ; but let him have enough to make his escape, and not go to the ' drop ' for want of a little help." " There's not one belonging to him poorer than me," began she. " Why do you shake your head ? Do you disbelieve me r- " "I do; that's just it." " Shall I swear it — shall I take my oath to you, that except the irifle that remains to me of what I had to pay my journey here, I have not one farthing in the world y " "Then what's the fine story of the great castle where you were living, and the grand clothes and the jewels you used to wear ? Do you mean to tell me tliat you left them all behind, when you came away ? " "It is true. I did so." THE STRANGER AT THE WELL, 31S " And came off with nothing ? " She nodded, and he stared at her, partly in astonishment, and partly with some show of admiration ; for even to his nature this conduct of hers displayed a degree of character that might be capable of great sacrifices. " And so," said he, after a pause, " you can do nothing for him ? " "What can I do ? " asked she, almost imploringly. " rU tell you," said he, calmly. " Go up to John Luttrell, and say, ' My grandfather is hiding from the poHce ; they have a warrant out against him, and if he's taken he's sure to be condemned ; and we know what mercy a Malone will meet at the assizes of Donegal.* Tell him — it's just the one thing he'll care for — that it M'ouldn't be pleasant for him to be summoned as a witness to character, and have to declare in open court that he married the prisoner's daughtei". Say a ten-pound note, or even five, is a cheap price to pay for escaping all this disgrace and shame ; and tell him, besides, when old ]?eter goes, you've seen the last of the family. He'll think a good deal of that, I promise you " " Stop," said she, boldly. " You know nothing of the temper of the man you talk of; but it is enough that I tell you he has got no money. Listen to me, O'E-orke. It was but yesterday he sent off a little ornament his wife used to wear to have it sold, to pay a county rate they were threatening to distrain for ■" "Where did you get all your law? " said he, jeeringly; but, not heeding the gibe, she went on, " I would have offered him the few shillings I had, but I was ashamed and afraid." " How much is it ? " " A little more than two pounds. You shall have it ; but remem- oer, I can do no more. I have nothing I could sell — not a ring, nor a brooch ; not even a pin." " It's better than nothing," muttered he, sui'lily, below his breath. " Let me have it." " It's up at the Abbey. Wait, and I'll fetch it. I'll not be an instant." And before he could answer she was gone. lu less time than seemed possible she was back again, bi'eathless and agitated. "Here it is," said she, placing the money in his hand. "If you should see him, tell him how grieved I am to be of such Httle ser- vice to him, and give him this silk handkerchief; tell him I used to wear it round my neck, and that I sent a kiss to him in it — poor fellow ! I almost wish I was with him," muttered she, as she turned away her head, for the hot tears filled her eyes — she felt weak and sick. "I'm afraid this will do little good," said O'Rorke, looking at the money in his open palm. " And yet I can do no more ! " said she, with deep sorrow 316 LUTTRELL OF ARRAN. " Wouldn't you venture to tell your uncle how it is ? Sure he might see that the disgrace, if this old man is caught and brought to trial, will spread to himself? " " I dare not — I will not," said she, firmly. " Then I suppose the story is true, though old Peter wouldn't be- lieve it, that John Luttrell made you sign a paper never to see uor speak to one of your own again ? " " I signed no paper. Sir, nor ever was asked to sign any. What pledges I have given my uncle are not to be discussed with you." " Well, you don't deny it, that's clear." " Have you anything more that you wish to say to me ? " asked she, controlling every show of temper. " No — not a word," said he, turning to go away. " Only, if I see old Peter — it's not unlike that I may — he'll be asking me how tall you are, and how you're looking. WUl you just come out froia under the shade of that tree and let me have a fair look at you ? " Kate took off her bonnet and threw her shawl from her, and stood forward with an air as composed and assured as might be. " Shall I tell you what I'll say to him ? " said O'Rorke, with an impudent half grin on has face. "You need not. Sir. It has uo interest whatever for me. Good-bye 1 " She took up her shawl as she spoke, and walked slowly away. O'ilorke looked after her ; the mocking expression of his features changed to a look of almost hatred, and he muttered some angry words between his teeth. " I read you right. Miss Katty, when you weren't much higher than my knee. I read you right ! You may have plenty in love with you, but by my conscience you'll never have Tim O'ilorke." HOW KATS AVAS TASKED. 8J7 CHAPTER XLVn. HOW KATE WAS TASKED. FoK several clays after this scene, Kate thought of nothing but her old grandfather, whether he still wandered an outcast through the wild mountains of Donegal, or had succeeded iu making his escape to America. At moments her anxieties became so intense, from fears lest she herself might prove blamable if his escape coukl not be effected, that she was almost resolved to go to her uncle and reveal all to him. Luttrell's manner had, however, been unusually cold and reserved for some time back, and she had not courage to take this step. Indeed, whole days would now pass with nothing b:\t a mere greeting between them, and at length, one entire day went over without her seeing him at all. It was said that he was very busy, had received a number of letters by the post, and was engaged a great part of the night in answering them. On the morn- ing that followed this day, Kate was preparing the little basket iu which she carried her luncheon with her to the hills, whenever she meditated a longer excursion than usual, when her uncle entered hastily, and with evident signs of agitation iu his face. "I have had disagreeable tidings, Kate," said he, with a forced calm of manner and voice. " I would have kept them from you if I could, but it is not possible. Some weeks ago there was a resist- ance to the sheriff by a party of country people, led on by that old man — no stranger to such conflicts — Malone. There was a light, and a man, the sheriff's bailiff, was kUled. There was no doubt who killed him. It was Malone. He made his escape, however, into West Donegal, waiting, as it was supposed, till by some ship passmg — north about — he could reach America. The police, however, got possession of his plan, secured a revenue-cutter, and, lying in wait, arrested him in the very act of getting on board. Another struggle ensued here, and Malone fought with such desperation, that one of the men is badly wounded, and another drowned, for the small boat was upset in the conflict, and it is said that, had not Maloue's arm been broken by a pistol-shot, he might yet have escaped by swimming around the ship, which was iu full trim to have made sail when he should get on board. They captured him, however, aud he is now in gaol ; he will be tried at the next assizes, and of his fate there can be no doubt." 318 LUTTRELL OF AHBAN, " Condemned ? " said slie, in a low voice. " Yes," he continued, "that lie must be executed is also clear. The very name he bears is an indictment against him. The fellow, however, is full of the impression that everything he has done was ia self-defence ; he maintains that he merely resisted a personal attack, and he has the madness, in the face of all the convictions that have befallen his family, to declare that he belongs to a most irreproach- able set of people, long known and respected in this neighbourhood, and he has the daring elfrontery — here in my hand is the letter that conveys it — to require tliat I sliould come forward to vouch for his character and acknowledge the relationship between us. Nor is this all," added he, ui a voice husky with passion ; "he demands — it is uo prayer, no entreaty — he demands from me a sum sufficient to de- fray the costs of his defence. He asserts that though he himself is ready to take his chance, and, if need be, brave the worst the law can do to him, it might not suit Luttrell of Arran to sit under a two hours' cross-examination, and have his whole life laid bare for the amusement of the world. You cannot, without knowing the man, believe how seriously these threats are uttered ; he is the most reck- lessly daring fellow I ever knew, and I can well conceive what ques- tions he will suggest to his counsel to put to me if I once appear on the table. To-night I am to give my answer. The man he sends over here to receive it is the most offensive messenger he could have found had he searched Europe from oue end to the other. He is a fellow named O'Rorke, who once before placed me in a position almost similar to what I am now threatened with, and drove me to seek the shelter of this desolate spot. On that occasion, however, I escaped the indignity of personal exposure, and of that open shame that rise now before me. The demand is precise and clear. Twenty pounds down, fifty on the day before the trial comes on, and my name to a bill for fifty more if the jury bring in a ver- dict of not guilty. For this he pledges himself — these are his words — 'never to be any longer a charge to me nor miue.' I am well aware that the letter I hold here is not his own, for he cannot write, but I can trace through certain expressions — and, above all, certain repetitions — phrases inserted at his in- stance." " Am I spoken of, Sir ? Does he allude to me at all ? " " Never ; not once. Indeed, he even says, ' I hope that what- ever you decide to do in this business will be your honour's own mind and nobody else's, for I write this in couQdence ijctween man and man, and only want Yes or No between us.' " " And what will you do, Sir ? Have you come to any re- solve ? " " Yes, I Iiave made up my mind as to what is to be done iijiincdiatcly. I have examined my agent's accounts, and I find HOW KATE AVAS TASKED. 319 that by the eighth of next mouth I shall have to rny credit about seventy pounds. The assizes ai'e fixed for the twelfth. I will give an order for half of this sura at once. Caue will pay it, I have no doubt, when he sees my necessity. I will also engage to pay the remainder on the eighth, the day I shall receive it ; but on one condition, Kate — only one condition — which is, that no matter what course the defence may take, I am not to be summoned as a witness. No one knows better than Malone himself how value- less would any testimony of mine be to hira ; he knows, besides, what detriment it would be to him if I should be cross-examined ; the man's character will not bear sifting, and he is insane to provoke it. If, however, he should persist — and such is the fellow's nature that it is likely he will — in his own plan, we must leave this." " Leave this ! And for where. Sir ? " " How can I tell ? I only know that I mean to save myself from this shame at any cost. A few days would carry us over to Holland or to France. In either of these I should be safe. I have written to my agent, and consented to all his conditions as to the sale of a certain small estate I possess in Mayo. "VVe must seek out a new banishment, Kate. You will say it can scarcely be drearier than the old one; but you dou't know, you could not know how sorrow en- dears a spot, and ties it to the heart of him who lives only to mourn ! These rugged cliffs, these pathless moors, these barren hills, and sea-lashed promontories, have been my friends for years — the only friends who have never changed to me. Let me now, how- ever, think only of the present. This man is to be here to-night. It is more than lilcely he will be able to answer me at once, and declare wnether Malone will accept my conditions." " What think you, uncle, if I were to speak with him ? Might it not be possible I could make some terms which you wouldn't have patience to treat about ? " "I thought of that, too, Kate, but the man is one of a class you have not met for many a year. It is not that he is not a gcutlcraau, but he is not a peasant. You cannot appeal to him ou the claim of lionour, and as little on the plea of generosity. He is a cold, harsh, unfeeling fellow, distrustful and false. How could you deal with such a man ? " " A woman will always deal better with a man like this than a fcllow-mau, if only from the fact tJiat he will be less on his guard be- fore lier, aud more disposed to think little of her intelligence. Let me try it, imcle." " You have half persuaded me ; but still, Kate, what terms could you propose that I cannot offer myself r* " " True, Sir ; but I could press them in a way that your pride might not stoop to, and so let mc try." He paused to consider, and she went ou : 320 LUTTRELL OF AlUUN. " Yes, dear uncle, trust the whole of this negotiation to me ; it ■will be a task far too painful for you. Let me speak to him. lie- member that the links that bind me to the class he belongs to have only been loosened a year or two back. I have a closer view of such men's natures thau you could ever have, and in recognising this he ■will be franker with me." " If you really think " " I think and I know it, uncle." " Take this then, Kate," said he, handing her bis purse. It is all the ready money I have. It may help you to deal with him, Kate. I have told you everything. Do the best you can for us." These words he muttered as if to himself, and theu turned away and left the room. Kate spread the money on the table before her, and sat down, supporting her head between her hands, and gazing steadfastly at the pieces. " To think," said she, bitterly — " to think that a few more or a few less of these shall tilt the scale of our fortune, and de- cide not alone whether we be happy or wretched, but whether we hold a high head in life or stand in a felon's dock ! And what scores of them have I not squandered in foolish wastefulness ! — sums that any one of theni now might rescue this poor old man from a dreadful fate, and set him at liberty. Has not ray whole life been just as spendthrift — have I not wasted every gift I possessed, and ended just where I begun?" " The master sent me," cried Molly, entering, " to say that there's a boat corain' in now, and, maybe, one you know would be aboord of her." ''Very well, Molly. If a stranger should laud and ask for his honour or myself, show liim iu here." HOW THE TASK lEIED HEft. 3^1 CHAPTER XLVIIL HOW THE TASK TRIED H E tt . Kate dressed herself with more thau usual care — simply, ia- deed, but with a degree of attention to becominguess tliat was truly remarkable. Twice did she alter the arrangement of her hair, and more than once did she try what coloured ribbon would best suit the style she had chosen. A man might have passed without notice the little details by which she heightened the charms that were natural to her, but a woman would quickly have detected small traits of coquetry in the loose falling curls that fell upon her neck, and the open sleeve that displayed her finely turned arm ; nor would the sprig of dark purple heath she wore in her bosom have escaped the critical eye, well knowing how its sombre colouring " brought out " the transparent briUiancy of the fair skin beneath it. She had but completed her studied but simple toilet, when Molly ushered into the room "The strange man, Miss, that wants to see the master." "And that is only to see the mistress, I'm told," added Mr. O'Rorke, as he seated himself, and laid his hat on the floor beside him. It was then that Kate entered, and as the fellow arose to greet her, his looks of admiring wonder sufficiently told what success had waited on her efforts. " My uncle is not well enough to see you," said she, as she sat down, " but he has told me everything that he would say, and I have ventured to assure him that, as you and I are somewhat old friends we should soon come to an understanding together ; the more as we can have but the same wish in the object before us." " May I never ! but you're grown an elegant woman," cried O'Rorke. " 'Tisn't out of flattery I say it, but I don't thmk there's your equal in Dublin." " I'm very proud of your approval," said she, with a faint smile, but with the most perfect composure. " And it's honest — all honest," added he. " It isn't as if you was made up with paint, and false hair, and fine lace, and stiff silk. There you are, as simple as the turnpike man's daughter, and, by the harp of old Ireland, I'll back you against any beauty in St. James's this day." 9i S92 LUTTRELL OF AKBAN, " My dear Mr. O'Eorke, it's uot quite fair to turn my liead in this fashion. Dou't forget that these arc the sort of things I'm not ac- customed to hear iu this place." " By my conscience, then, you'll hear them iu many another place before you die. Listen to me now, Miss Luttrell. It's a shame and a scandal to them that could help it that you're uot at the court of France this day. I'm talking good sense when I say you'd make a sensation there such as they never knew since that old blackguard Louis the Fourteenth gathered all the beauties in the world round him instead of pictures and statues. More by token, he wasn't wrong; flesh and blood beats white marble and canvas easily." " 1 suspect I see what sort of a king Mr. O'Rorke would have been ! " said she, archly. " Liberty, first of all, darling," said he, recalled by the personal appeal to the stock theme of his life ; " 'tis the birthright of the man as he steps on his native earth ; 'tis the first whisper of the human heart, whether in the frozen regions of eternal snow, or the sun-scorched plains of the tropics. 'Tis for sacred liberty our fathers fought for seven centuries, and we'll fight for seven more. Erin go Bragh is a nation's cry, 'Tis millions that sing it in chorus, And to that tune, before we die, We'll chase the Saxon before us. Oh dear ! oh dear ! " cried he, wiping his brow. " Why did you set me off so ? I took an oath on Saturday last that I'd think of no- thing but old Peter till the trial was over, and here I am talking of Erin's woes just as if I was at Burgh Quay, and O'Connell in the chair." " Let us talk of Peter, then. I am longing to hear of him." " It's a short story. They caught him at sea, iu an open boat ; lie was making for a brig bound for Newfoundland. They caught him, but they had a fight for it, and they got the M-orst of it, too. Old Peter wasn't a man to be taken with his arms crossed. But it was all the worse, for Tom Crowe says the last business will go Larder with him than the first, and Tom says what's true. They'd ratiier hung Peter Malone than any other ten men in the west of Ireland. This is the fifth time they've had him in the dock ; but to be sure he had a fine bar the last trial. He had Daniel O'Connell and Dick Shcii." "And who will defend him now? " asked she, eagerly. "Tliat's what your uncle Luttrell must answer, ^Miss Kate; he is the only one can reply to that question." "Listen to me now attentively, and I will explaui to you my uncle's position ; a very few words will suffice, and you arc not a HOW TH£ lASK TKIED HEK. 323 man to require more than are necessary. He has by great effort and at heavy sacrifice got a small sum of money " " What do you call a small sum ? " broke he iu. " Is it a hundred ? " " No ; not fifty ! " A long whistle was O'E-orke's reply, as he arose and took up his hat. "You had better hear me out," said she, calmly. "This sum I have here — it is thirty-five pounds ; he empowers me to place it iu your hands to-day, with the promise of as much more the day before the assizes open." " And why not at ouce ? Why not now ? " " You shall hear. He desires and demands, in return for this aid, that he be not summoned as a witness on the trial. To call him would be a needless exposure — a mere valueless cruelty." " It would not," cried the other, fiercely. " It's not at this time of day any one has to know the efi'ect of putting a gentleman iu the witness-box, when it is a poor labouring man is iu the dock. Let John LuttreU come into court, and after sitting beside the Chief Baron on the Bench, get up on the table and take his oath that he has known Peter Malone, the prisoner, for more than twenty years, as a hard-working, quiet, decent man, trying to bring up his family respectably, and, indeed, with such a desire to better their condition in life, that he, John Luttrell of AiTau, was not ashamed to make one of that same Peter Malone's daughters his wife, so well brought up, so well educated were they " " Stop ! this caunot be. I tell you it is impossible." " And why is it impossible ? It is true what I am saying ? Was Peter Malone's daughter John Hamilton LuttreU's wife or not ? There's the whole question. And what sort of a man or gentleman is he that is ashamed to own his wife ! " " Do not speak so loud ; and now listen to me. My uncle, for his own good reasons, will not face the exposure of a public trial and the insolence of the Crown lawyers, who would not hesitate to rake up long buried accusations against him, and revive sorrows which even in their decay embitter his life. He will not endure this, and he is right.'; " Bight to deny a man his chauce of life ! " " You know well — none better — how little my imcle's testimony could serve this poor man. His case is too serious for that." "I won't go over that again," said he, impatiently. "I haven't any time to throw away in arguments. If you put the whole seventy pounds down on the table it wouldn't do ! No, it would not. It will take thirty to begin with, to get Billy Sloane out of the country, and he it is the Crown relies on for the first charge ; he saw old Peter strike the bailiif first. M'Nulty is the cheapest of the ' silk gowns,' and he won't come under fifty, and a retainer of ten more. 21—2 32i LUTTRELL OF ARRAN, The Westport Star wants ten pounds to put iu the article threateniu* the jury, if they don't bring in a verdict of 'Not Guilty,' because, as Mr. Potter says, ' Word it as carefully as you like, it's a contempt of court, and may send me for a year to gaol.' Make money of that. Miss Kitty. Thirty and fifty is eighty, and ten more, ninety, and ten to the newspaper is a hundred ; and after that there is the cost to Tom Crowe, and the expenses of the case, not to speak of the daily liviu' iu the gaol, that's something terrible. There's not a pint of sperits doesn't cost three shillings ! " " JBut if we have no more ? — if we have given every farthing we can raise ? " "'Tis a nice confession for an estated gentleman, for the man that writes himself Luttrell of Arran, that, to save his father, or father-in- law, from the death of a felon, he could only scrape together seventy pounds ! " " You have only to look around you, and see how we are living, to see that it is the truth." " Many a miser that won't give himself bread passes the night counting over his guineas." " He is no miser, Sir," said she, indignantly, for all her self-control failed her at this point. " If he were not a generous gentleman, he would never have made the proposal I have now told you of." " Tell the generous gentleman, then, to keep his money, young lady" and he laid a sarcastic emphasis on the word. " Tell him I'll not touch a shilling of it. And I'll tell you more that you may tell him ; say that he'll want it all, to buy himself a new suit of clothes to make a decent appearance when he's summoned to come forward at the trial." " You'd no more dare to utter this insolence to his face, than you'd brave the auger of his people here when liicy heard he was insulted ; and take my word for it, Tim O'Rorkc, I'm only hesitatuig this moment whether I'll not tell them." As she spoke, she fiuug wide the window, and looked out upon the shore beneath, where some thirty wild islanders were listlessly loung- ing and wiutiug for the tide to ebb. (J'llorke grew lividly pale at a threat so significant. If there was anything that had a greater terror for him than another, it was a popular vengeance. " Well, Sir, do you like the prospect from this window ? " asked she. " Come here, and tell me if it is not interesting." . " It's wild enough, if you mean that," said he, with a forced effort to seem calm. " Tim O'Jlorke," said she, laying her hand on his arm, and looking at him with an expression of kindly meaning, " it is not in their trouble that friends should fall out. I know what affection you have for my poor old grandfather " " So, tbeii, you own him? " cried he, scoffingly. HOW THE lASK TRIED HEK. 33jS " Wlieu did I disown him ? " "Maybe uot; but it's the first time since I entered this room that you called him by that name." She flushed up ; but after a moment, repressing her anger, she said : " Let us think only of him whose life is in peril. What do you advise ? — what do you wish ? " "I have no more to say, Miss Kate. / have told you what the defence will cost, I have told you that we have nobody to look to but yourselves, and you have just told me that it's a broken reed we're leaning on, and now I don't think there's much more to be said by either of us." She leaned her forehead agamst the wall and seemed deeply lost in thought. " I mustn't lose the tide, any way," said he, taking up his hat and stick, and laying them on the table. " I may as well put old Peter out of pain, for anxiety is the greatest of all pain, and tell him that John Luttrell won't help him." " Not will not — say that he cannot help him ! " " 'Tis Uttle difference it makes whether it's the will or the way is wanting when a drowning man cries out, and nobody gives him a hand. And yet," added he, " it will be hard to persuade old Peter that his daughter's husband could be so cold hearted. I'm thinking you ought to write a luie or to with your own hand, and say that it was no fault of mine that I didn't bring better news back with me." She made him no answer, and, after a pause, he went on : " There's his money. Miss — give it back to him ; much good may it do him. He has the comfort of thinking, that if he didn't get a fortune with his wife, her relations never cost him much, either." He moved away towards the door. " Good-bye, Miss Kate. TeU. your uncle that Peter's case is the third on the list, and he'll be time enough if he leaves home on the 9th — that will be Tuesday week." She tiu-ned hastily round, and overtook him as he laid his hand on the lock of the door : " One word — only one word more, O'Rorke ! " cried she, impas- sionedly. " I have told you faithfully what my uncle charged me with. I swear to you, before Heaven, I do not know of any help he can offer except this. Now, if there is any way that you can think of to serve this poor old man, say so, and I swear to you again, if it depends on me, PU do it ! " " Would it be too late to write to Vyuer ? " asked he, half doggedly. " Utterly. He is m Italy. Besides, my uncle tells me he is m some great trouble himself about money. " What of that other — I forget his name — where you were living last?" 326 LUXTKELL OF AHEAW. " Sir Within Wardle ? Impossible ! — impossible ! " "Audwhy?" " I camiot tell you. But I may say this, that I'd rather beg in the street than I'd stoop to ask him." " Isn't he rich ? " " Immensely rich." " And he is generous and free of his money, you always said ? " "I never heard of one more so." "There's the two tilings we want — money, and the man that will give it. Sit down there, and write these hues to him : ' My grand- father is to be tried this assizes on a charge of wilful murder. 1 have no money to pay for his defence. Will you help me ? '" " Oh, no, no ! I could not ! — I could not ! " cried she, covering Lcr face with both her hands. " Why, it's only this minute you were ready to swear to me that you'd do anything in the world to save him, and now that I've hit on this, you cry out, ' No — no ! ' as if I was proposuig something to shame and disgrace you." " Shame and disgrace, indeed ! " burst she out, as a sickly colour came over her, and she looked like one recovering after a fainting- fit. " Well, I'm no judge of these thiugs," muttered he, " but I'd like to know what it is that would be harder to feel than the sight of an old man of eighty-two going to the gallows ! " She gave a sharp cry, and held her head with both hands, as if some sudden sharp pang shot through her : " Do not — do not, Tim O'Rorke ! I can't bear it ! " she screamed out, in a voice of wild, harsh meaning. " I'll never ask you again," said he, slowly ; " but maybe the day will come when you'll be sorry that I did not ! Good-bye." She made no answer, but sat with her face hid in her hands, and turned towards the wall. " Good-bye, Miss Kate," repeated he once more ; and opening the door slowly, he went out, and closed it after him. She never stirred nor raised her head, till, by a rustling sound of the branches at the window, she was startled and looked up. It ■was O'Korke, who was leaning on the sill of the window, and looking in. " Would you give me a scrap of something you were wearing — a bit of ribbon, or the Hke, I know you are not fond of cutting off your hair — to give the old man ? He'd rather have it than a crown jewel " " Take this ! " cried she, snatching up a scissors, and cutting off the long and silky lock that fell in a curl upon lier neck ; and turn- ing to the table, she folded it neatly in a piece of paper. She took up her pen, too, but the thought that he could not read deterred her; for what she would have written she covdd not bear that other eyes HOW THE TASK TRIED HEK. 337 than, his own should trace, and she sat thinking for some minutes, when suddenly, through what train of thought impelled it is not easy to say, she cried out, "Yes, I will do it! Come back — wait a moment — or, better still, leave me to myself an instant, and I shall be ready." He left the wuidow, and she sat down at the table. Without a moment's hesitation or reflection she wrote thus : " St. Finbar's, Arran. " SiE, — I make no attempt to deprecate your anger, or palliate the wrong I have done you. My offence is one that only a free pardon could cover, and I do not dare to entreat for this. It is for some- thing more, and less than forgiveness, I have now to ask you. " My grandfather, a man of eighty, is in gaol, about to be tried ou a charge of felony ; he declares his innocence, but having no means to pay counsel, despairs of establishmg the fact. My uncle cannot help him ; -will you ? " When I think of the time that I had not to speak a wish till I saw it gratified, I sicken over the ingratitude which drives me to approach you as a suppliant, while I promise never again to address you. "The bearer of the present note will take charge of your answer, should you deign to reply to your unhappy, because un- worthy, "Kate Luttkell." " Are you ready with the letter ? " asked O'Rorke, as he leanea his arms on the wmdow-sill and looked into the room. " Yes," said she, folding and addressing it. " You will set out immediately, and deliver this into the hands of Sir Within Wardle, at Dalradern Castle. It is about fourteen miles from Wrexham. Mind ! into his own hands, for I am not sure how or by whom he may now be surrounded. As little can I guess what sort of a reply he may give ; he may reject my entreaty ; he may even refuse to answer it. He would have every right to do either. Let it be your care to note him closely as he reads my letter, and mark what effect it produces. I shall question you, when you come back, on the minutest details of your meeting — of all that he says, of his manner, of his looks ; whether he speaks of me, and how. You know well, few better, how to acquit yourself in such a scene, and be sure that you address your sharpest wits to it. If he be ill and cannot write, tell him that he may trust you with a verbal answer. I have not said so in my note but yoti may, and he will believe you ; he reads men quickly, and he wUl see that you are in my confidence. If he lusks you about me and my life here, answer freely whatever your 32S LUTTHELL OF AUBAN. own judi^ment prompts ; he may questiou you about the place I ive in; tell him what it is like." " Dou't give me auy more directions, if you don't \yaut me to forget some of them ; only tell me one thing. If he asks me as to what, amount might be required for the defence, am I to say the highest figure or the lowest ? " "You are to adhere to the strict truth, O'llorke, and for this reason, if for no other, that you will be in the presence of a man well accustomed to deal with craftier men than yourself, and that all your attempts at deception would go for nothuig." ''And if he says, '^Vhy don't Mr. Luttrell come forward to help cue of his own near relations ? ' " "He will not ask this." "And why wouldn't he ? " " Because he is a gentleman, Sir." "Oh, that's ihe reason," said O'Rorke, sneeringly. "Well, I thmk by this time I know as much about him as I am likely to do till I see him, so I'll be going." " Have you auy money for this journey ? " " Of course I haven't. I suppose I'll need five pounds to come and go." " Take ten," said she, pushuig the notes towards him. " I will try and settle matters with my uncle later." " By St. Peter ! you ought to have been born a lady with a fine estate," cried he, rapturously. "You have a grand way of doing thhigs, anyhow ! " She smiled at the ilattery ; it was not at all displeasing to her, and she held out her hand at him as she said " Good-bye." " You'll see me here by Saturday next, if I'm alive." " May it be with gcod news," said she, waving a good-bye. " My love to old grandfather." Scarcely was the last word uttered, when Luttrell opened the door stealthily, and peeped in. " How long this interview has lasted, Kate," said he ; " what have you done 't " " You must wait till next Saturday, uncle, for my answer, and I hope it will content you." " Why not tell me now ? " " Because I could not tell you enough, Sir." " I am not wont to be treated as a child whose fortunes are to be in the keeping of others i " said he, sternly. " When Saturday comes, it may be to hear that which I cannot approve of— which I will not accept." "Yes, Sir, you will," said she, calmly. "You charged me to do my best, and when I shall have done so you will not discredit me." MK. O'RORKE ABROAD. CHAPTER XLIX. MR, o'RORKE abroad. Albeit Mr. O'Rorke had uo partiality for the Saxon, he did not disUke his EngHsh tour. It was an occasion for much enjoyment in the present, with a prospect of considerable expatiation over in the future. He travelled — and it is a mode which occasionally enhances the enjoyment of travel — at another's expense; and he indulged in many little luxuries not known to his daily life. It was towards the close of a glorious day, mellow in all the rich- ness of autumn, that he first caught sight of the great massive towers and battlemented walls of Dalradern Castle. The setting sun had just fallen on the windows, and the vast frontage was illuminated with a golden glory that reUeved the stern severity of the heavy masonry, and gave warmth and colour to its cold and stately feudalism. " And she left this for that rock — that miserable rock ui the ocean," cried he. " What could possess her to do it ? She was no fool, that was clear enough. It was no fool could have made herself what she was ; and what else but folly could make any one exchange that princely place for the wild and dreary desolation of Arran ? There's more in this than one sees on the surface," thought O'Rorke. " It's not in human nature to believe that she did not enjoy the grand life siAch a house must supply — the very aspect of it suggested every- thmg that wealth could compass, and it could not be that she did not attach herself to its enjoyments. No ; there must have been a reason, or something that she thought was a reason, for it. Ay, and that same reason, whatever it was, must have been the source of her great unwillingness to address Sir Within. She left him in anger, that's plain enough ; and about what could it be ? Had she wearied him ? Had her temper, or her capi'ice, or her extravagance, tired out his patience ? Was it that the self-indulgence of the spoiled child had at last revolted the very spirit that had spoiled her ? or was it " — and, to O'Rorke's thinking, this seemed not improbable — " Sir Within had made her some proposals, not merely offensive to her dignity, but an outrage to her ambition? If I know you. Miss Katty," said he, aloud, you never lived in that grand house without dreaming of the time you'd be the mistress of it. And what made you give up the game ? That's what I'd like to know, and it's what I'll try to find out before I leave this." S30 LUTTKELL OF AURAN. As be drew near the castle, the stately grandeur of the place iui- pressed lum still more. Never had he seen such maguificeut timber — never before had he witnessed that marvellous order and propriety which give even to a vast park all the elegance of a garden. The clumps of flowery shrubs, in spots that few would probably ever visit — rare trees in out-of-the-way places— seemed to show what immense resources existed where so much that was valuable could be squandered uncared for. One of the keepers, by whom he was accompanied from the gate- lodge, discoursed to him freely as they went along, telling of the hundreds of acres enclosed within the demesne, the extensive gardens and pleasure-grounds, to keep which in order required quite a regi- ment of labourers, "and all," as the man added, "for an old man that sits all day at a window, and only comes out of an evening to take the air on a terrace. Never sees any one, nor goes anywhere ; and won't even dine with his young relation, Mr. Ladarelle, who is down here for the shooting." 0'E.orke skirmished cautiously, of course, to ascertain whether the man could tell him anything of Kate, but he found that he had only lately entered the service, and never heard of her. He had heard, however, that Sir Within was greatly changed of late ; some heavy blow, of what sort he knew not, had befallen him, and he now neither rode out nor drove, did not care to enter the garden, and, in fact, seemed weary of his life, and indifferent to everything. " There he is now on the terrace, taking his evening walk. I mustn't go any farther with you ; but when you pass the two large oaks yonder, you'll see the great entrance, ring the bell, and some one will come to you." O'Rorke went on his way, but had not gone far when he was over- taken by a servant in livery, who, bare-headed and almost breathless, from running, demanded angrily " What he was doing there ? " "I have a letter for your master that I wish to deliver a't once," repHed he, firmly. " Give it here, and wait for your answer round there, by the stables." " No such thing, my smart fellow ; I am to deliver my letter into your master's hand, and I will give it to no other." " You're more likely, then, to take it back with you," said the other, jceringly, and turned away. " Tell your master that my letter comes from Ireland," cried O'Rorke after him, " and that it is one won't brook delay." But whether the fellow heard him or not, he could not say. In less time, however, than he believed it possible for the man to nave given his message, came a demure-lookmg man in black from the castle, who beckoned liim to come forward. " Are you tlie bearer of a letter from Ireland ? " asked he. " Yes. It is to be given to Sir Within Wardle's own baud." HK. o'rorke abroad. 331 " Come along with me, then." O'Rorke was too much excited by the thought of the presence he was about to stand in, to note more than generally the spacious haU and the immense marble stairs that led from it. The lofty corridor, whose windows of stained glass threw a rose-coloured glow over walls and pavement, together with the rich perfume of Howers, made his head feel confused and addled. As the servant ushered him on the terrace, he whispered, " Go forward," and then retired. O'Rorke advanced to where Sir Within was now seated, one arm leaning on the table beside him. " You said you came from Ireland," asked he, in a weak voice ; " is it from Arran ? " "It is. Sir." " Thank Heaven ! " muttered he to himself. " Give me your letter. Go down yonder " — and he pointed to the extreme end of the ter- race — " 1 shall call you when I want you." When O'Rorke reached the end of the terrace, he turned a cautious, furtive look towards the old man, who still sat with the unopened letter in his hand, and did not move. At last he broke the seal, but such seemed the agitation of his feelings that he could scarcely read it, for he twice laid it on the table and hid his face between his hands. Suddenly he looked up and beckoned O'Rorke towards him, and said : "Tell me, my good man, do you know the contents of this letter ? » "I know what it is about. Sir." " Were you with her when she wrote it ? " "I was." "Was it of her own will — at the suggestion of her own thoughts ? I mean, did she write this willingly, and without a struggle ? " " That she didn't ! She wrote it just because that without it her old grandfather wouldn't have even a chance for his life ! She wrote it, crying bitterly all the time, and sobbing as if her heart was breaking." The old man turned away his head, but with his hand motioned to the other to cease speaking. Either O'Rorke, however, did not understand the gesture, or he unheeded it. He went on: " ' I'd rather,' says she, ' see my right hand cut off, than see it write these lines,' says she." " There ! there ! " burst in Sir Within, " that will do— that is enough — say no more of this ! " But O'Rorke, intent on finding out what had been the relations between them, and why they had been severed, in spite of all admo- nition, continued : " ' Sure, Miss Kate,' says I, * it is not one that was once so kind 338 LtJTTRKLL OF ABEi.N. and so generous to you will sec you in trouble for a trifle like this, for of course it would be a tritle to your honour ! ' " " And yet she felt it a humiliation to ask rae," said he, dc- spondingly. " She did, indeed ! ' For,' says she, ' he may refuse me.' " " No, no ; she never thought that ; she knew me better than to believe it." " Well, indeed. Sir, it was what I thought myself, and I said iu my own mind, ' It's more ashamed she is than afeard.' " " Ashamed of what ? " cried Sir Within, passionately. " What has shame to do with it ? " The subtle peasant saw through what a channel the misconception. came, and, still bent on tracmg out the mysterious tie between them, said: " After all. Sir, for a young lady, and a handsome one, too, to ask a great favour of a gentleman not belongizig to her, kith or kin, is a thmg that bad tongues would make the worst of if they got hold of it." Sir Withm's sallow cheek flushed up, and in a broken voice he said: " Bad tongues are only tyrants to those who cannot brave them. Miss Kate Luttrell is not of their number. You shall soon see if these same bad tongues have any terrors for me." " I'm a poor man, but I wasn't so always," said O'Rorke, " and I know well that it was slander and lying crushed me." The diversion mms intended to have awakened some curiosity as to his former condition, but Sir Within was perfectly indiiferent on the subject. All the interest the messenger had iu /lis eyes came from the fact that he came from //er, that lie had seen /ler, and was near her when she wrote. "This island — I only know it by the map," said Sir Withni, trying to talk in an easy, uucouccrued strain — " it's very poor, I believe ? " " You might say wretched, and be nearer the mark." " Is it celebrated for sport ? Is the shootmg or the fishing the great attraction ? " " There's no shooting, nor any fishing but the deep sea fishery ; and more men are lost in that than there are fortunes made of it." "And what could have induced Mr. Luttrell to take up his abode in sucli a spot ? " " The same thing tliat sends men oil" to America, and Australia, and New Zcalaud ; tlic same tiling that makes a man cat black bread when he can't get white ; the same thing that But what's tlie use of telling you about the symptoms, when you never so much as heard of the disease r " " Miss Luttrell's life must be a very lonely one," said Sir Within, with every effort to talk in a tone of unconcern. mm^i^f i I MK. o'kokke abroad. 333 "'Tis the wonder of wouders how she bears it. 1 asked the womau that lives with them how she passed her time and what she did, and she said, ' She takes up everything for a week or ten days, and goes at it as if her life depended on it.' One time it was gathering plants, and sprigs of heath, and moss, and the like — even seaweed she'd bring home — going after them up crags and cliifs that a goat couldn't climb. Then she'd give up that and take to garden- ing, and work all day long ; then it was making fishing-nets ; theu it was keeping a school, and teaching the fishermen's children ; she even tried to teach them to sing, till a sudden thought struck her that they ought to have a lifeboat on the island, and she sat to writing to all the people that she could think of to send a plan of one, meaning, I suppose " — here he grinned — " to make it herself afterwards." Sir Within listened eagerly to all this, and then asked : " And her uncle — does he aid her in these projects ? " " He ! It's little he troubles himself about her. Why, it's often three days that they don't even meet. They never take their meals together. It's a wonder of kindness from him the day that he'll tap the window of her room with his knuckles and say ' Good morning,' and when she'd get up to open the window to answer him, he'd be gone." "How desolate — how dreary!" muttered the old man. "Does this wearisome life prey upon her ? Is she altered in appearance — thinner or paler ? " " I'll tell you how she looks, and there's not a man in Ireland understands a woman's face better than him before you, and here's what it means in three words. It means scorn for a world that could let the like of her wither and waste on that lonely rock, for it's not alone beauty she has, but she has grace and elegance, and a way of charming about her that's more than beauty, and there's a something in her voice — what it is I don't know, but it goes ou thrilling into you after she has done speaking, till you just feel that a spell was working in you, and making you a slave." "Audyo« have felt this?" said the old man, as though involun- tarily demanding au avowal that would have set the seal of confirma- tion on her magic. And the cunning Celt felt all tlie force of the sarcasm, while it did not suit his purpose to confess it. And yet it needed great self-control to suppress his rising anger, and keep him from de- claring that in a matter of sentiment, or on a question of female captivation, he, Tim O'Rorke, Patriot, Martyr, and Paddy as he was, yielded to no man. " Would you kindly ring that bell beside you, Mr. — Mr. " " O'Rorke, Sir." "Mr. O'Rorke, I am diffident about my pronunciation of Irish names," added the old diplomatist, cautiously veiling the sin of hia 834 lUTTKELL OF AKRAJI. forgetfuluess. A seivaut speedily appeared, and Sir Within ordered Liin to take every care for " this geutlcuian's accommodation." "I shall be able to prepare my reply to this letter to-night, Mr. O'Eorke, and you will be free to leave this at any hour that may suit you in ihe nioniing." O'Korke retired from the presence, well satisfied with himself, and with the way he had acquitted himself. " Would you like to have the papers, Sir, or would you prefer seeuig the gallery, while supper is getting ready ? " asked the obsequious servant. " I'll take a look at your pictures. I have a few myself," said Mr. O'llorke; which was perfectly true, though they were not in the first taste as objects of art, bemg eertaui coloured prmts of Uem;i:^ustall, the walking gallows, the capture of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and a few similar subjects from the year '9S, in which, certes, the countenances bestowed on the Royalists essentially dis- tinguished them in the most crowded melees from all honest patriots. Leaving Mr. 0'E.orke, then, to examine at his leisure Sir Withiji's varied treasures, we make no excuse to our reader for not recording the criticism he passed upon them. CHAPTER L. TWO OF A TRADE. Whether an uneasy consciousness that he might not be able to display a pro])er spirit of connoisscurship before that bland, soft- spoken domestic who accomixinicd liiin through the picture-gallery, and who, doubtless, had enjoyed various opportunities of imbibing critical notions on art, disposed Mr. O'Rorke — or whether he deemed that his own enjoyment of the splendour would be higher if un- witnessed, is not given to us to pronounce ; but so it was, that he dismissed his guide very soon, and declared that he preferred to ramble about c|uite alone. The well-traiued servant bowed and withdrew, and Mr. O'Rorke was left to revel at will amidst the magoitJcence of Dalradcru. TWO or A TKADE. 335 There were art treasures there to have fixed the attention and captivated the gaze of more cultivated admirers ; but these attracted less of his notice than the splendid furniture, the inlaid tables, the richly-encrusted cabinets, the gorgeously gilded " consoles," which, as he surveyed, he appraised, till he actually lost himself in the arithmetic of his valuation. Nor was this mere unprofitable specu- lation ; far from it. Mr. O'Rorke was a most practical individual, and the point to which his calculation led him was this : How much depletion will all this plethora admit of? What amount of money may be a fair sum to extract from a man of such boundless wealth ? " I'd have let him oiF for a hundred pounds," said he to himself, " as I came up the avenue, and I wouldn't take three now, to give him a receipt in full ! " In the true spirit of a brigaud, he estimated that his prisoner's ransom should be assessed by the measure of his fortune. Wandering on from room to room, still amazed at the extent and splendour he surveyed, he opened a door, and suddenly found him- self in a large room brilliautly lighted, and with a table copiously covered with fruit and wine. As he stood, astonished at the sight, a voice cried out, "Holloa, who's that? What do you want ? " And though O'Rorke would willingly have retreated, he was so much embarrassed by his intrusion that he could not move. " Who the are you ? " cried out the voice again. And now O'Rorke perceived that a young man was half-sitting, half lying in the recess of a very deep chair, beside the fire, with his legs resting on another chair. " I say," cried he, again, " what brings you here ? " And as it was young Ladarelle that spoke, the reader may possibly imagine that the tone was not over conciliatory. Retreat was now out of the question, not to say that Mr. O'Rorke nad regained his self-possession, and was once more assured and collected. Advanemg, therefore, till he came in front of the other, he made his apologies for the accident of his intrusion, and explained how he happened to be there. " And wliere's th'e letter you say you brought ? " broke in Ladarelle, hurriedly. " I gave it to Sir Within Wardle ; he has it now." " Where did it come from ? Who wrote it ? " " It came from Ireland, and from a part of Ireland that, maybe, you never heard of." " And the writer — who was he ? " " That's no business of mine," said O'Rorke ; but he contrived to give the words the significance that would mean, " Nor of yours either." " I think I can guess without your help, my worthy friend ; and I have suspected it would come to tliis for many a day. Whr.t re- lation are you to her ? " 336 LUTTKELL OF AURAN, " Your honour must cxplaia yourself better, if you want a clear answer," replied he, in some confusion. " Don't fence witli me, my fine fellow. I'm more than your match at that game. I see the whole thing with half au eye. She wants to come back ! " As he said the last words he sat up straight in the chair, and darted a searchmg, stern look at the other. "Faix, this is all riddles to me^' said O'Rorke, folding his hands, and lookmg his very utmost to seem like one puzzled and confused. "What a fool you are," cried Ladarelle, passionately, "not to see that you may as well tell me now, what, before two hours are over, I shall know for nothing; out with it. What was in the letter ? " " How can I tell what's in a sealed letter ? " said O'Rorke, sulkily, for he was not very patient under this mode of interroga- tion. " You know who wrote it, at all events ? " " I'll tell you what I know ! " said O'Rorke, resolutely. " That I'll not answer any more questions, and that I'll leave this room now." As he turned towards the door, Ladarelle sprang up and said, " You mistake me, my good fellow, if you think I want aU this for nothing. If you knew a little more of me you'd see I was a pleasanter fellow to deal with than my old relation yonder. What is your name ? " " My name," said he, with a sort of dogged pride — " nvj name is O'Rorke." " Timothy O'Rorke ? Ain't I right ? " " You are indeed, however you knew it." " You shall soon see. I have had a letter for you in my writing- desk for many a long day. ' Timothy O'Rorke, Vinegar Hill, Cush something or other, Ireland.' " "And who wrote it. Sir?" said O'Rorke, approaching hun, and speaking in a low, anxious voice. " I'll be more frank with you than you are with me. I'll give you the letter, O'Rorke." " But tell me who wrote it ? " " One who was your well wisher, and who told me I might trust you." There was never a more puzzling reply than this, for Mr. O'Rorke vi-cU knew that there were few who thought well of him, and fewer who trusted him. " Sit down. Take a glass of wine. Drink this." And as he spoke lie filled a large goblet with sherry. O'Rorke drained it, and looked happier. "Take another," said Ladarelle, as he filled it out, and ^'r/yy-ay," said Fisk. "I don't think you'll iiiid liiiu iu a pleasant humour, though. You've tried his patience a bit." " Not so easy to get speech of you, Mr. 0'E.orkc," said Ladarclle, when they were alone. This is about the third or fourth time I have sent to say 1 wanted you." " The port, Sir, the port ! It was impossible to leave it. Indeed, I don't kuow how I tore myself away at last." " It will be your own fault if you haven't a bin of it in your cellar at home." "How so ?" " I mean that as this old place and all belonging to it must one day be mine, it will be no very difficult matter to me to recompense the man who has done me a service." "And are you the heir. Sir ? " asked O'llorkc, for the first time his voice indicating a tone of deference. " Yes, it all comes to me ; but my old relative is bent on trying my patience. What would you say his age was ? " " He's not far off eighty." " He wants six or seven years of it. Indeed, until the other day he did not look seventy. He broke down all at once." " That's the way they all do," said O'llorkc, sententiously. " Yes, but now and then they make a rally. Master O'Rorke, aud that's what I don't fancy ; do you understand me ': " In the piercing look that accompanied these words there seemed uo common signilicancc, and O'Rorke, drawing closer to the speaker, dropped his voice to a mere Vi hisper, and said, " Uo you want to get rid of him P " " I'd be much obUged to him if he would die," said the other, with a laugh. "Of course — of course — that's what I mean," said O'llorkc, v. i:.; uow began to suspect he m as going too fast. " I'll be frank with you, O'llorke, because I want you ; but, fust uf all, there's the letter 1 had for you." And he pitched the docu- ment across the table. O'llorkc drew the candle towards him, aud perused the paper slowly aud carefully. " Well !" said Ladarclle, when he had finished — "well! v.' hat do you say to that ? " " 1 say two things to it," said O'llorkc, calmly. " The first is, what ;;ui I to do? aud the second is, what am I to get for it r " " What you arc to do is this : you are to serve my interests, anJ. i.( ;p mc iu every v.'ay iu your power." TWO OP A TKaDK, 339 " Am I to break tlie law? " burst in O'liorke. " No — at least, uo very serious breach." "^Nothing against that old mau up there?" And he made a strauge and significant gesture, implying violence. " No, no, nothing of the kind. You don't think me such a fool as to risk a halter out of mere impatience. I'll run neither you nor myself mto such danger as that. When I said you were to serve me, it was in such ways as a man may help another by zeal, activity, ready-witteduess, and now and then, perhaps, throwing overboard a few scruples, and proving his friendship by straining his con- science." " Well, I won't haggle about that. My conscience is a mighty polite conscience, and never drops in on me without an invitation ! " " The man I want — the very man. Grenfell told me you were," said Ladarelle, taking his hand, and shaking it cordially. "Now let me see if you can be as frank with me as I have been with you, O'E-orke. What was this letter that you brought here this evening ? Was it from /^e;-.?"' " It was." " Trom lierself — by her own hand ? " " By her own hand ! " " Are you perfectly sure of that ? " " I saw her write it." Ladarelle took a turn up and down the room after this without speaking. At last he broke out : " And this is the high spirit and the pride they've been cramming me with ! This is the girl they affected to say would die of hunger rather than ask forgiveness ! " "And they knew her well that said it. It's just what she'd do ! " " How can you say that now ? Here she is bcgguig to be taken back again ! " " Who says so ? " " Was not that the meaning of the letter ? " " It was not — the devil a bit of it ! I know well what was in it, though I didn't read it. It was to ask Sir Within Wardle to send her some money to pay for the defence of !ier grandfather, that's to be tried for murder next Tuesday week. It nearly broke her heart to stoop to it, but I made her do it. She called it a shame and % disgrace, and the tears ran down her face ; and, by my soul, it's not a trifle would make the same young lady cry ! " " After all, the intention is to open a way to come back here ? '* " I don't believe it." " I suspect. Master O'Rorke, this is rather a pleasanter place to live in than the Arran Islands." "So it is; there's no doubt of that! But she is young, and thinks more about her pride than her profit — not to say that she 22—2 340 LUTTKELL OF AREAN. comes of a stock that's as hauglity m their own wild way as ever 9 peer in the land." " There never was a better bait to catch that old man there than this same pride. She has just hit upon the key to move him. What did he say when he read the letter ? " " He couldn't speak for a while, but kept wiping his eyes and trembling all over." " And then ? " "And then he said, ' Stop here to-night, Mr. O'Rorke, and I'll have your answer ready for you in the morning.' " " And shall 1 tell you what it will be ? It will be to implore her to come back here. She can have her own terms now ; she may be My Lady." " Do you mean his wife ? " "I do." O'ilorke gave a long whistle, and stood a perfect picture of amazement and wonder. " That teas playing for a big stake ! May I never ! it I tliought she was bowld enough for that." " That she was. And how she missed it, to this hour I never knew. But whatever happened between them was one evening, on the strand at a sea-side place abroad. That much I learned from her maid, who was in my pay ; and it must have been serious, for she left the house that night, and never retui'ned ; and, what is more, never wrote one line to him till this letter that you carried here yesterday." So astounded was O'Rorke by what he heard, that for some minutes he scarcely followed what Ladarclle was saying. " So that," continued Ladarelle, "it may not be impossible that he had the hardihood to make her some such proposal." " Do you mean without marriage ? " broke in O'Rorke, suddenly catching the clue. " Do you mean that ? " The other nodded. " No, by all that's holy ! " cried O'Rorke. " That he never did ! You might trick her, you might cheat her — and it wouldn't be so easy to do it, either — but, take my word for it, the man that would insult iier, and get off free, isn't yet born 1 " "■ What could she do, except go off ? " said Ladarclle, scof- ^ngly. "That's not the stuff they're made of where she comes from, young man." And, in his eagerness, he for a moment forgot all respect and deference ; nor did the other seem to resent the liberty, for he only smiled as he heard it, and then said: "All I have been telling you now is merely to prepare you for what I want you to do, and mind, if you stand by me faithfully and well, your fortune is made. I ask no man's help without TWO OF A TRADE. 311 being ready and willing to pay for it — to pay Laiidsoniely, too ! Is that intelligible ? " "Quite intelligible." *' Now the short and long of the story is this : If this old fool were to marry that girl, he could encumber my estate — for it is mine — with a jointure, and I have no fancy to pay some twelve or fifteen hundred a year — perhaps more — to Biddy some- body, and have, besides, a lawsuit for plate, or pictures, or china, or jewels, that she claimed as matter of gift — and all this, that an old worn-out rake should end his life with an act of absurdity ! " "And he could leave her fifteen hundred a year for ever," mut- tered O'Rorke, thoughtfully. " Nothing of the kind. For her life only ; and even that, I believe, we might bi'cak by law — at least, Palmer says so." All this Ladarelle said hastily, for he half suspected he had made a grievous blunder in pointing out the wealth to which she would succeed as Sir Within's widow. " I see — I see ! " muttered O'Rorke, thoughtfully : which simply meant that there was a great deal to be said for each side of the question. "What are you thinking of?" said Ladarelle at last, losing patience at his prolonged silence. " I'm just wondering to myself if she ever knew how near she was to being My Lady." " How near, or how far off, you mean ! " "No, I don't ! I just mean what I said — how near. You don't know her as well as I do, that's clear ! " Another long pause followed these words, and each followed out his own train of thought. At length, Ladarelle, not at all satisfied, as it seemed, with his own diplomacy, said, half-impatiently : " My friend Grenfell said, if there was any one who would understand how to deal with this matter, you were the man ; and it was with that view he gave me the letter you have just read." " Oh ! there's many a way to deal with it," said O'Rorke, who was not insensible to the flattery. "That is to say, if she was anything else but the girl she is, there would be no trouble at all in it." " You want me to believe that she is something very uncommon, and that she knows the world, like a woman of fashion." " I know nothing about women of fashion, but I never saw mau or woman yet was 'cuter than Katty O'Hara, or Luttrell, as she calls herself now." " She did not play her cards here so cunningly, that's plain," said Ladarelle. with a sneer. "Maybe I can guess why." "What is your guess, then? " " Something happened that wounded her pride ! If anything did 3-i2 XTiTTliELL OF /Xfi^y. thai, she'd forgot liersi-if and her advaiilo.'^e— aye, her very life— aud she'd think of nothing but bemg revenged. That's the blood that's iuher!" " So that her pride is lier weak point ? " " You have it now ! That's it. I think she'd rather have died than write that letter the other morning, and if the answer isn't what she expects, I don't tliink she'll get over it ! Without," added he, quickly, " it would drive her to some vengeance or other, if she was- te see the way to any." " I begin to understand hei"," said Ladarelle, thoughtfully. " The devil a bit of you ! And if you were to think of it for twenty years, you woukln't understand her ! She beats me, and I don't sus- pect that you do." This was one of those thrusts it was very hard to bear without wincing, but Ladarelle turned away, aud concealed the pain he felt. " It is evident, then, Mr. O'Rorke, that you don't feel yourself her match ? " " I didn't say that ; but it would be no disgrace if I did say it," was the cautious answer. •'' Mr. Grenfell assured me, that with a man like yourself to aid me, I need not be afraid of any diflicidty. Do you feel as if he said too much for you, or has he promised more than you like to fulfil ? You see, by what I have told you, that I should be very sorry to see that girl here agaiu, or know that she was hkely to regain any part of her old influence over my relative. Now, thougli her present letter does not touch cither of these points, it opens a correspondence ; don't you perceive that ? " " Go on," said O'Rorke, half sulkily, for a sort of doubt was creep- ing over him, that possibly his services ought to be retained by the other party. '•' And if they ouce begm writing letters, and if she only be as ready with her pen as you say she is with her tongue, there's nothing -, to prevent her beiug back here this day week, on any terms she pleases." " Faix, aud there are worse places ! May I never ! if I'd wonder that she'd like to be mistress of it." Tor the second time had Ladarelle blundered in his negotiation, aud he was vexed aud angry as he perceived it. " That's not all so plaui and easy, Mr. O'llorke, as you imagine. When old men make fools of themselves, the law occasionally takes them at their word, and pronounces them insane. So long as Sir AVithiu's eccentricities were harmless, we bore them, but I'll not promise our patience for serious injury." If O'Rorke was not couviuced by this threat, he was suflicieutly staggered by it to become more thoughtful, and at last be said : " And what is it you'd propose to do ? " TWO 07 A TRADE. 3*3 "I'd ratlicr put that question to j'O?;," said LadarcUe, softlj. " You have the case before you; what's your remedy ? " "If she was any other gii-l, I'd say give her a couple of hundred pounds, and get her married and out of the way." " And why not do so here ? " " Because it woiild be no use ; that's the why." " Is she not a peasant ? Are not all belonging to her people in the very humblest station, and not blessed with the best possible reputations ? " " They're poor enough, if that's what you mean ; and they're the very sort of men that would make mighty short work of you^ if you were to harm one belonging to them." " I promise you faithfully I'll not go to reside in the neighbour- hood," said Ladarelle, with a laugh. "I've known them track a man to America before now." " Come, come, Mr. O'Rorke, your countrymen may be as like Red Indians as you please, but they have no terrors for me." " So much the better ; but I've seen just as big men as yourseli afraid of them." The quiet coolness of this speech sent a far stronger sense of fear through the other's heart than any words of menace could have done, and it required a great effort on his part to seem collected. " You say she cannot be bought over, O'llorke ; now, what other line is open to us ? " O'Rorke made no reply, but seemed lost in thought. " What if she were to believe that Sir "Within wouldn't receive her letter, or read it, and sent back a cold, unfeeling answer ? " Still no answer passed his hps. " If," coniinued Ladarelle, " you were to return and say you had failed, what would she do then ? Slie'd never write to him agam, I suppose ? " "Never, that you may depend upon, but It wouldn't be so easy tt make her believe it." " That might be managed. First of all, tell me how she would take the tidings." " I don't know. I could not even guess." "At all events, she'd not write to him again? " " For that I'll answer. I believe I could take ray oath on it." "Now, then, the game is easy enough," said Ladarelle, with a more assured tone. "You are to have Sir Within's answer to-mor- row. When you get it, set out for Wrexham, where I'll meet you. We'll open it and read it. If it be a simple acceptance of her note, and a mere compliance with her request, I'll re-seal with his crest, and you shall take it on to her ; but if, as I suspect, the old maa will make an effort to renew their former relations, and throw out any bait to induce her to come back here " " Vfell, what then ? " asked O'llorke, after waiting a few seconds for the other to continus. ;U4 LUTTRELL OF ARRAX. '' 111 that case we must lay our heads together, O'Rorke, and see what's best to be done." "And the old man that's m gaol, and that's to be tried oa the 19th, what's to be done about him ? " " I'll think of that." " He hasn't a great chance anyway, but if there's uo defence, it's all up with him." " ril think of that." " Then there's myself," said 0'E.orkc, drawing his figure up to his full height, as though the subject was one that entailed no painful modesty. " Wliat about me ? " " I have thought of that already. Tut that in your pocket for the present " — and he pressed a note into his hand — " and when to- morrow comes you shall name your own conditions. Only stand by me to the end — mind that." O'ilorke opened the bank-note leisurely, and muttered the word " Twenty ; " and certainly nothing m the accent showed eutlmsi- astic gratitude. " 1 can give you an order on my banker to-morrow," said Ladarelle, hurriedly, " but I am rather low in cash here, just now ; and I re- peat it — your own terms, O'Rorke, your own terms." "I suppose so," was the dry rejoinder. " It's not everybody would make you the same proposal." "It's not everybody has so much need of me as you have." Ladarelle tried to laugh as he wished him good-night, but the at- tempt was a poor one, and all he could say, as they parted, was : " Wrexham — the Boar's Head — the um on the left hand as you enter the town. I'll be on the look-out for you myself." O'Rorke nodded and withdrew. " Vulgar scoundrel ! I wish I had never spoken to him ! " said Ladarelle, as soon as the door closed. " This is all Grenrcll's doing ; he has just shoved me into the hands of a fellow that will only serve me till he finds a higher bidder. What a fool I have been to open myself to him ; and he sees it well ! And as for the rcady-wittedness and expediency, I wonder where they are ! Why, the rascal had not a single suggestion to offer ; he kept on harping about the difficulties, and never a word did he drop as to how to meet lliem." And, with a hearty malediction ou him, Ladarelle coucluded his meditation, and went off to sleep. THE boar's head. 3A5 CHAPTER LI. THE boar's head. Ladarelle stood at a window of the Boar's Head which commanded a view of the roud into the town, and waited, watch ia hand, for 0'E,orkc's coming. The morning passed, and noon, and it M^as hxte in the day when a wearied horse, over-driven and steaming, drew up at the door, and the long looked-for traveller alighted. Though burning with impatience to learn his news, Ladarelle saw the necessity of concealing his anxiety, and, opening his writing-desk, he affected to be deeply engaged writing when, conducted by a waiter, O'Rorke appeared. A single glance as he passed the threshold told Ladarelle that his tidings were important. Already the fellow's swagger declared it, and in the easy confidence with which he sat down, and in the careless way he rather threw than laid his hat on the table, might be seen that he felt himself " master of the situation." '•' You are later than I expected," said Ladarelle, carelessly. " I didn't leave the place till after twelve. He made me go over the gardens, and the forcing-houses, and after that the stables, till at one time I thought I'd not get away till to-mor- row." " And what do you think of it all ? " •' Grand 1 — grand ! It's the finest place I ever saw, and well kept up, too ! There's eight men in the garden, and the head- gardener told me he might have as many more, if he wanted them." " The horses are over-fed ; they are like prize oxen." "They're fat, to be sure; but it's fine to see them standing there, with their glossy skins, and their names over them, and their tails hanging down like tassels, and no more call for them to work than if they were lords themselves." " I'll make a grand clearance of all that rubbish one day. I'll have none of those German elephants, I promise you, when I come to the property." " He isn't going to make room for you yet awhile, he says," said O'Rorke, with a grui. " Wh.at do you mean ? " " If what he said to me this morning is to be relied on, he means to marry." 3J-6 lUTTUELL OF AKiiAX. "And huvc a family, perhaps? " added Ladarelle, with a laugli. "He said uothiug- about that; he talked like a man that hoped to see many years, and happy ones." " No one ever lived the longer for wishing it, or else we heirs-ex- pectant would have a bad time of it. But this is not the question. What answer did he give you ? " " There it is." And, as lie spoke, he drew from his breast-pocket a large square- shaped letter, massively scaled, and after showing the address, " Miss Luttrell," on the cover, he replaced it in his pocket. " Do you know what's in it ? " asked Ladarelle, sharply. "Only that there's money, that's all, -for he said to me, 'Any hanker will cash it.' " Ladarelle took a couple of turns of the room without speaking ; then, coming directly in front of the other, he said : " Now, then, Mr. Ollorke, which horse do you back ? Where do you stand to M-in ? I mean, are you gomg to serve Sir Within or me ? " " He is the bird in the hand, anyway ! " said O'Rorkc, with a grm of malicious meaning. " Well, if you think so, I have no more to say, only that as shrewd a man as you are might see that an old fellow on the verge of the grave is not likely to be as lasting a friend as a man like myself. Li other words, which life would you prefer in your lease ? " O'Rorke made no answer, but seemed sunk in thought. " I'll put the case before you in three words. You might help this girl in her plans — you might aid her so far that she could come back here, and remain either as this old man's wife or mistress — I don't know that there would be much difference, in fact, as the law stands, between the two — but how long would you be a wel- come visitor here after that ? You speculate on being able to come and go, and stay here just as you please ; you'd like to have tiiis place as a home you could come to whenever you pleased, and be treated not merely with respect and attention, but with cordiality Now, I just ask you, from what you have yourself told me of this girl, is that what you would expect when she was the mis- tress ? Is she so staunch to her own people, that she would be true to ^ou ? " For some miuuics O'Rorke made no answer, and then, leaning both arms on the table before him, he said, in a slow, measured voice, " What do you offer me yourself ? " " I said last night, and I repeat it now, make your own terms." O'Rorke shook his head, and was silent. "I am willing," resumed Ladarelle, "to make you my land- steward, give you a house and a ])lot of ground rent free, and pay you eighty pounds a year. I'll make it a hiuidred if I see you stand well to me 1 " THE BOAIVS P.EAD. 0^7 "I've got some debts," muttered O'Rorkc, in a low rolcc. " What do they amount to ? " " Oh, they're heavy euough ; but I coidd settle them for a couple of hundreds." " I'll pay them, then." "And, after that, I'd rather go abroad. I'd like to go and settb in Australia." " How much money Tvould that require ? " " I M'ant to set up a newspaper, and I couldn't do it imdcr two thousand pounds." "That's a big sum, Master O'Rorke." " The devil a much the old man at the Castle there would think of it, if it helped him to what he wanted." " I mean, it's a big sum to raise at a moment, but I don't say it would be impossible." •' Will you give it then ? That's the short way to put it. Will you give it ? " " First, let me ask for what am I to give it ? Is it that you ■will stand by me in this business to the very end, doing what- ever I ask you, flinching at nothing, and taking every risk equally with myself ? " " And no risk that you don't share yourself ? " "None!" " It's worth thinking about, anyhow," said O'Rorke, as he arose and paced the room, -with his hands deep in his pockets ; " that is, if the money is paid down — down on the nail — for I won't take a bill, mind." " I'm afraid, O'Rorke, your experiences in life have not taught you to be very confiding." " I'll tell you what they've taught me ; they've taught me that wherever there's money in anything, a man ought not to trust his own mother." In a few hurried words, Ladarelle explained that till he came to his estate, all his dealings for ready money were of the most ruinous kind ; that to raise two thousand would cost him eventually nearly four ; and, as he phrased it, " I'd rather see the difference in the pocket of an honest fellow who stood to me, than a rascally Jew who rogued me." " I'll give you a post obit on Sir Within's estate for three thou sand, and so far as a hundred pounds goes to pay your voyage, you shall not want it." O'Rorke did not at first like the terms. Whenever he ventured Ms chances in life, things had turned out ill ; all his lottery tickets were blanks, and he shook his head doubtingly, and made no reply. " Five o'clock already ! I must be going," sa:d Ladarelle, suddenly looking at his watch. 318 LUTTRELL OE AKRAN. "That's a fine watch ! " said O'Rorkc, as he gazed at the richly- embossed crest oil the case. " If having my arms on the back is no objection to you, O'Rorke, take it. I make you a present of it." O'Rorkc peered into his face with an inquisitiveness so full of un- belief as almost to be laughable, but the expression changed to a look of delight as Ladarelle took the chain from off his neck and handed the whole to him. " May 1 never I " cried O'Rorke, " if I won't be your equal. There's the letter ! " And he drew forth Sir Within's despatch, and placed it in his hands. Concealing all the delight he felt at this unlooked-for success, Ladarelle retired to the window to read the letter ; nor did he at once break the seal. Some scruple — there were not many left him — did still luigcr amidst the wreck of his nature, and he felt that what he was about to do was a step lower in baseness than he had hitherto encountered. " After all," muttered he, " if I hesitate about this, how am I to meet what is before me ? " And so he broke the seal and tore open the envelope. " The old fool ! the infatuated old fool ! " broke from him, in an accent of bitter scorn, as he rau his eye over the three lines which a trembling hand had traced. " I knew it would come to this. I said so all along. Here's an order to pay Miss Luttrell or bearer two hundred pounds ! " said he, turning to O'llorke. " We must not cash this, or we should get into a precious scrape." " And what's in the letter ? " asked O'Rorke, carelessly. " Nothing beyond his readiness to be of use, and all that. He writes with difficulty, he says, and that's not hard to believe — an infernal scrawl it is — and he promises to send a long letter by the post to-morrow. By the way, how do they get the letters at Arran ? " " They send for them once a week to the mainland ; on Saturdays, if I remember aright." " Wc must arrest this correspondence, then, or we shall be dis- covered at once. How can we obtain her letters ? " " Easy enough. I know the boy that comes for them, and he can't read, though he can tell the number of letters that he should have. 1*11 have one ready to substitute for any that should be to her address." " Well thought of. I see, O'Rorkc, you are the man I wanted ; now listen to me attentively, and hear my plan. I must return to the Castle, and pretend that I have pressing business in town. Instead of taking the London mail, however, I shall proceed to Holyhead, where you must wait for me at the inn, the Watkins' Arms. I hope to be there to-morrow morning early, but it may be evening before I can arrive. Wait, at all events, for ray coming." TUE EOAK'S IIEAl',. 349 "Remember that I promised to be back in Arraii, with t.'ie answer to her letter, by Saturday." " So you shall. It is fully as importaut for me that you should keep your word." " Does he want her back again ? " said 0'E.orkc, not fully satisfied that he had uot seen Sir Withiu's note. " No, not exactly ; at least, it is evasive, and very short. It is simply to this purport : ' I conclude you have made a mistake by leaving me, and think you might have humility enough to acknow- ledge it ; meanwhile, I send you a cheque for two hundred. I shall write to-morrow more fully.' " O'Rorke was thoroughly aware, by the stammermg confusion oi the other's manner, that these were not the terms of the note ; but it was a matter which interested him very little, and he let it pass unchallenged. His calculation — and he had given a whole night to it — was briefly this : " If I serve Sir Within, I may possibly be well and handsomely rewarded, but I shall obtain no power of pressure upon him ; under no circumstances can I extort from him one shil- ling beyond what he may be disposed to give me. If, on the other hand, I stand by Ladarelle, his whole character is in my hands. He is too unscrupulous not to compromise himself, and though his ac- complice, I shall do everything in such a way that one day, if I need it, I may appear to have been his dupe. And such a position as this can be the source of untold money." Nor was it a small inducement to him to think that the side he adopted was adverse to Kate. Why he disliked her he knew not — that is, he would not have been well able to say why. Perhaps he might not readily have admitted the fact, though he well knew that to see her great, and prosperous, and high-placed, a winner in that great lottery of life where he had failed so egregiously, would be to him the most intense misery, and he would have done much to pre- vent it. Along with these thoughts were others, speculating on Ladarelle hunself, and whom he was sorely puzzled whether to regard more as a knave or fool, or an equal mixture of the two. " He'll soon see that whatever he does he mustn't try to cheat Tim O'Rorke," mut- tered he ; " and when he gets that far, I'll nut trouble myself more about his education." 350 LtllHEI.L Oi' ARlUJif. CHAPTER Lll. THE NIGUT AT SEA. The Saturday — tlic eventful day on wliicli Kate was to have her answer from Sir Within — came at hast. It was a dark, lowering morn- ing, and though there was scarcely an air of wind, the sea rolled heavily in, and broke in great showers of spray over the rocks, sure sign that a storm was raging at a distance. Prom an early hour slie had been down to the shore to watch if any boat could be seen, but not a sail could be descried, and the fishermen told her that though the wind had a famt sound in. it, there were few Westport men would like to venture out in suck a sea. " If you cannot see a boat Ijcfore noon, Tim Hennesy," said she to one of the boatmen, " you'll have to man the yawl, for I mean to go over myself." " It will be a hard beat against the wind. Miss," said the man. " It will take you an hour to get out of the bay here." " I suppose we shall reach Westport before morning ? " " it will be no bad job if we get in by this time to-morrow." She turned angrily away ; she hated opposition in every shape, and even the semblance of anything like discouragement chafed and iiTitated her. " No sign of your messenger ? " said Luttrcll, from the win- dow of the tower, whither hs had gone to have a look out over the sea. " It is early yet, Sir. If they ca'ffic out on the ebb we sliould not see them for at least another hour." He made no answer, but closed ili.; \.. ,i>v> , ll^ _ . iu,(...^»,'. " Get me a loaf of bread, Molly, and some hard eggs and a bottle of milk," said Kate, as she entered the house. " And sure, Miss, it's not off to the mountains you'll be going such a day as this. It will be a down-pour of ram before evening, and you have a bad cough on you already." " You must lend me your cloak, too, Molly," said she, not heed- ing the remonstrance, " it's much warmer than my own." " Ain't I proud that it would be on your back, the Heavens bless and protect you 1 But where are you gohig that you want ft cloak?" " Uo and ask my uncle if I may speak to him." Molly went, and came back at ouce to say that Mr. Luttreii THE NIGIi'i' AT SEA. 351 ■was iu his room, below, aud she might come there ■nheu she pleased. " I am thuikiug of goiug over to Westport, Su'," said Kate, as she passed the threshold. " My impatience is fevering me, and I wixnt to do something." " Listen to the sea, young woman ; it is no day to go out, and those drifting clouds tell that it will be worse by-and-bye." " All the better if it blows a little, it will take mc off thinking of other cares." "I'll not hear of it— there ! " And he waved his hand as though to dismiss her, but she never moved, but stood calm and collected where she was. "lou remember, Sir, to-day is Saturday, and very little tune is now left us for preparation. Ey going over to the mahilaiKl, I shall meet O'Rorke, and save his journey here and back again, and the chances are, that, seeing the day rough, he'd not like to leave West- port this morning." " I have told you my mind, that is enough," said he, with an im- patient gesture ; but she stood still, and never quitted the spot. " I don't suppose you have heard mc, Miss Luttrell," said he, with a tone of suppressed passion. " Yes, Sir, I have heard you, but you have not heard me. My poor old grandfather's case is imminent ; whatever measures are to be taicen for his defence cannot be deferred much longer. If the plan I adopted should turn out a failure, I must think of another, and that quickly." " What is this old peasant to me ? " broke out Luttrell, fiercely. " Is this low-lived family to persecute me to my last day ? You must not leave me — you shall not — I am not to be deserted for the sake of a felon ! — I'll not hear of it ! — Go ! Leave me ! " She moved gently tov/ards him, and laid her hand on the back of his chair. '■ . • luicle," said she, iu alow, soft voice, "it would grieve you o : - ' if aught befel this poor old man — aught, I mean, that we r .u. ' have prevented. Let me go and see if I cannot be of some use to him." "■ Go ? — go v/here ? — do you mean to the gaol ? " "Yes, Sir, I mean to see him." "The very thing I have forbidden. The express compact by Vvhich you came here was, no intercourse with this — this — family, and now that the contact has become a stain and a disgrace, now is the moment you take to draw closer to them." "I want to show I am worthy to be a Luttrell, Sir. It v/as their boast that they never deserted their wounded." " They never linked their fortunes to felons and murdo-ers, young woman. I will hear no more of this." " 1 Jiope to bo baek hero by to-morrow night, uncle," said she. 352 LlJTTKELL OF AKKAX. softly, and she bent down her head over him till the long silky curl« of her golden hair grazed his temple. He bruslied them rudely back, and in a stern tone said : " To such as leave this against my consent there is no road back. Do you hear me ? " " I do," said she, faintly. " Do you understand me ? " " Yes." "Enough, then. Leave me now, and let me have peace." " Uncle — dear imcle," she began ; but he stopped her at once. " None of this — none of this witli me, young woman. You are free to make your choice ; you are my adopted daughter, or, you are the grandchild of a man whose claim to be notorious will soon dispute with ours. It is an easy thing to make up your mind upon." " I have done so already. Sir." "Very well, so much the better. Leave me now. I wish to bo alone." " Let me say good-bye. Sir ; let me kiss your hand, and say, for the last time, how grateful I am for all your past kindness." He never spoke, but coutiuucd to stare at her with an expression of wonderment and surprise. " Would you leave me, then ? — would you leave me, Kate ? " muttered he, at last. " No, Sir, if the door be not closed against me — never ! " " None but yourself can close that door against you." "Dear, kind uncle, only hear me. It may be, that I have failed in the scheme I planned ; it may be, that some other road must be found to help this poor, forlorn, friendless old man. Let me at least see him ; let me give him what comfort a few kind words can give ; let him know that he has sympatliy in his hour of sadness." " Sympathy with the felon — sympathy with the murderer, I have none. 1 feel shame — bitter, bitter shame, that I cannot disclaim him — disavow him. My own miserable rashness and folly brought me to this, but when I descended to their poverty, I did not descend to tlicir crimes." " Well," said she, haughtily, " / have no such excuses to shelter mc. I am of them by blood, as I am in heart. I'll not desert him." "May your choice be fortvmate," said he, with mockery : "but remember, young woman, that when once you pass under the lintel of tlie gaol, yoii forfeit every right to enter here again. It is but fair tluit you know it." " 1 know it, Sir ; good-bye." She stooped to take his hand, but Le drew it ruch'ly from her, and she raised the skirt of his coat to iier lips and kis-sLd it- t^/zM^c/-6/'^i THE NIGHT AT SEA. 353 " Remember, young woman, if the time comes tliat you shall tell of Ibis desertion of me — this cold, unfeeling desertion — take care you tell the truth. No harping on Luttrell pride, or Luttrell stern- ness — no pretending that it was the man of birth could not accept companionship of misery with the plebeian; but the simple fact, than when the hour of a decided allegiance came, you stood by the criminal and abandoned the gentleman. There is the simple fact ; deny it if you dare ! " " There is not one will dare to question me. Sir, and your caution is unneeded." " Your present conduct is no guarantee for futui'e prudence." "Dear uncle " she began j but he stopped her hastily, and said: "It is useless to recal our relationship when you have dissolved its ties." " Oh, Sir, do not cast me off because I am unhappy." " Here is your home, Kate," said he, coldly. " WTienever you leave it, it is of your own free will, not of mine. Go now, if you wish, but, remember, you go at your peril." She darted a fierce look at him as he uttered the last word, as though it had pierced her like a dart, and for a moment she seemed as if her temper could no longer be kept under ; but with an eifort she conquered, and simply saying, " I accept the peril. Sir," she turned and left the room. She gave her orders to the crew of the launch to get ready at once, and sent down to the boat her little basket, and then, while Molly Ryan was absent, she packed her trunk with whatever she 'possessed, and prepared to leave Arran, if it might be, for ever. Her tears ran fast as she bent over her task, and they relieved her overwrought mind, for she was racked and torn by a conflict — a hard conflict — in which different hopes, and fears, and ambitions warred, and struggled for the mastery. " Here is the hour of destitution — the long dreaded hour come at last, and it finds me less prepared to brave it than I thought for. By this time to-morrow the sun will not shine on one more friend- less than myself. I used to fancy with what courage I could meet this fall, and even dare it. Where is all my bravery now ? " " 'Tis blowui' harder, IVIiss Kate; and Tim Hennesy says it's only the beginnin' of it, and that he's not easy at all about taking you out in such weather." " Tell Tim Hennesy, that if I hear any more of his fears I'll not take /lim. Let them carry that trunk down, Molly ; I shall be away some days, and those things there are for you." " Sure, ain't you coming back. Miss ? " cried the woman, whose cheeks became ashy pale with terror. " I have told you I am going for a few days ; and, Molly, tUi 1 do come, be more attentive than ever to my uncle ; he may miss 23 354 LUTTRELL OP A^KAN. aie, aud be is not well just now, and be sure you look to him. keep the key, too, of this room of mine, unless my nncle asks for it." " Oh, you're not comm^ back to us — you'll never come back ! " cried the poor creature, m an agony of sorrow. And she fell at Kate's feet aud grasped her dress, as though to detain her. " There, there, this is all childishness, Molly. You will displease me if you go on so. Was that thunder I heard ? " As she asked, a knock came to the door, and the captain of the boat's crew, Tim Heimesy, put in his head. "If you are bent on goui', Miss, the tide is on the turn, and there's no time to lose." " You're a hard man to ask her, Tim Hennesy," said the woman, rismg, and speaking with a fiery vehemence. " You're a hard man, after losing your own brother at sea, to take her out in weather like this." Kate gave a hurried look over the room, and then, as if not trusting her control over her feeUngs, she went quietly out, and hastened down to the shore. There was, indeed, no time to be lost, aud all the efforts of the sailors were barely enough to save the small boat that lay next the pier from being crushed agamst the rocks with each breakmg wave. " Get on board, Mss ; now's the moment ! " cried one of the men. And, just as he spoke, she made a bold spring and Ughted safely in the stern. The strong arms strained to the oars, and m a few seconds they were on board the yawl. The last few turns of the capstan were needed to raise the anchor, and now the jib was set to "pay her head round," and amidst a perfect shower of spray as the craft swung "about," the mamsail was hoisted, and they were *way. " 'VVTiat's the signal flymg from the tower for ? " said one of the ailors. And he pointed to a strip of dark-coloured bunting that now floated from the flagstaff. "Tliat's his honour's way of biddmg us good-bye," said Hennesy. " I've never seen it these twelve years." "IIow can we answer it, Tim?" said Kate, eagerly. " "We'll show him his own colours. Miss," said the man. And, knotting the Luttrell flag on the halyard, he hoisted it in a moment. " Ay, he sees it now. Down comes his own ensign now to tell us that we're answered." " Was it to say good-bye, or was it to recal her ? — was it a last greothig of love aud affection, or was it a word of scorn ? " Such were Kate's musings as the craft heaved aud worked in the strong sea, wlr'e the waves broke on the bow, and scattered great sheets of v&ter over them. lEE NIGHX AT SEA. 355 "■' I vnsii there was % dry spot to shelter you. Miss," said Tim, as he saw the poor girl shivering aud dripping from head to foot. "'But it's worse now than farther out; the squalls are stronger here under the land." "Ay; but we'll have a heavier sea outside," said another, who would wUhngly have seen her change her mind even now, and return to the island. " It's a fine wind for America, if that was where we were gomg," said a third, laughingly. Kate smiled ; she had almost said, " It matters little to me where ; " but she caught herself, and was silent. Hour after hour went over, and they seemed — to her, at least — to have made no way whatever, for there rose the great mountain-peaks ; the well- known cUifs of Arran frowned down dark and sullen, just as when they had left the harbour. She could count one by one the lights along the bay, and knew each cabin they belonged to : and there, high up, shone out a lonely star from the tower of St. Finbar, briuging back to her mind the solitary watcher who sat to sorrow over her desertion. The night at last fell, but the wind increased, and so rough was the sea that she was forced to take shelter in the bottom of the boat, where they made shift to cover her with a coarse canopy of tarpaulin. Like some dreadful di-eam di'awn out to the length of years, the iiours of that night went over. The howling storm, the thundering crash of the sea, and at times a quivering motion in the craft, as though her timbers were about to part, and more even than these, the wild voices of the men, obliged to shout that they might be heard amongst the din, made up a mass of horrors that appalled her. Sometimes the danger seemed imminent, for to the loud words and cries of the men a sudden silence would succeed, while floods of water would pour over the sides, and threaten them with instant drowning. The agony she pictured to herself of a last struggle for life was more terrible far than her fear of death ; and yet, through all these, came the thought : " Might it not be better thus ? Should I not have left to the lew who knew me dearer, fonder memories, than my life, if I am yet to live, will bequeath ? " Worn out by these anxieties, and exhausted too, she fell into a deep sleep — so deep, that all the warriug noises of the storm never awoke her; nor was she conscious that a new morning had dawned, and a bright noon followed it, as the launch entered the bay of Westport, aud beat up for the harbour. When Henuesy awoke her, to say that they were close in to shore, she neither could collect herself nor answer him ; benumbed with cold, and wet, she could barely muster strength to arise, and sit down iu the stern-sheets. " That's the spire of the town, Miss, under the hill there." " It was a wild night, Tim ? " said she, mquiruigly. 23—2 356 LTTTTRELL OF ARRAN. " I have seen as rough a sea, but I never was out in a stronger gale." " Mind that you tell my uncle so when you get back ; and be sure to s;iY that I bore it well." " miy wouldn't I ? The sorrow a word ever crossed your lips. No mau ever was braver." " That's true," muttered the others. " Get me a piece of bread out of that basket, Tim ; and don't forget to tell my uncle how T ate, and ate heartUy." CHAPTER LIII. THE GAOL PARLOUR. At the time of which our story treats, the old gaols of Ireland were very unlike those edifices which modern humanity has erected to be the safeguards of prisoners. They were small, confined, gene- rally ruinous in condition, and always ill ventilated and dirty. So limited was the space, that all classification of crime was impossible, and, worse still, the untried prisoners were confined indiscriminately along with those whom the law had already sentenced, and who only awaited the hour of execution. Tlie extent of favour shown to those who were waiting for trial consisted in tlie privilege of seeing their legal advisers, or their friends, in a small cell used for sucli colloquies, and to which they succeeded by rotation, and for half an hour at a time. They whose means were unequal to the cost of a legal defence, or whose friends took little trouble in their behalf, were occasionally not unwilling to sell this privilege to their luckier companions, and a gill of whisky, or a few ounces of tobacco, were gladly accepted in lieu of a right that would have been profitless to claim. As the day for trial grew nearer, the price of this privilege rose considerably. There were so many things the prisoner wanted to hear, or to tell, secrets he had kept for weeks long locked close in his breast, would now find vent ; details that he had determined should go with him to the grave, he could no longer abstam from cosimunicatiug. T'-io agomes of feverish expectation, the slccpleaa THE GAOL PASLOUn. 357 nights — or worse, far worse, those dreamful ones — would Lave begun to tell upon the strongest and boldest ; and spirits that a fe\f ■weeks back would have seemed to defy every terror, now became fidgety and fretful, eager to hear what men said without, and how the newspapers talked of them. While the assizes were distant, the prisoners gave themselves up, so far as their position permitted, to the habits and ways of their ordinary lives. Some brooded, some bulhed, some looked steeped in a sort of stupid indifference, not caring for anything, or minding anything; others gave way to a jollity which, whether real or feigned, affected those around, and disposed them to scenes of riot and uproar. When, however, the time for trial drew nigh, all these signs merged into one pervading sentiment of intense anxiety, and nothing was said, nothing heard, but questions as to who were to be the judges — a point to which immense importance was attached — some supposed tendency to mercy or severity being ascribed to each in turn, and the characters of the Crown lawyers were discussed with a shrewdness that indicated how far less the debaters thought of the law itself than of the traits and tempers of those who were to administer it. From the day that old Malone entered the gaol, his ascendancy was at once acknowledged. It was not merely that in the old man's character there were those features of steadfast determination and unswerving courage which the Irish of every class place at the top of aU virtues, but he was, so to say, a sort of patriarchal law- breaker; he had twice stood in the dock mider charge for the greatest of crimes, and five times had he bi-aved the risk of trans- portation. If ever there seemed a charmed hfe, it was his. And though the Crown prosecutors were wont to regard him as one whose successive escapes were a sort of reflection on theii* skill, the juries who tried hun could not divest theselves of a sympathy for the hardy old fellow, who, never daunted by danger, no sooner issued from one scrape than he was ready to involve himself in another. Dan Malone was not only the hero of the gaol, he was the law adviser. Around him they gathered to tell their several cases, and consult him as to their Ukely issue. It was not merely that he was quick in detecting where a flaw or break down of evidence might be looked for, but he knew — and it was wonderful how well — the sort of testimony that would tell well with a jury, and the class of wit- ness which it would be advisable to produce, or to withhold, ac- cording to the character of the judge that presided. It would have doubtless been very damagmg to this ascendancy of his if it got abroad that he himself, while distributing his counsels to this man, and his warnings to that, should be unprotected and undefended, and so the brave old fellow, locking up his sorrows in his own heart, never betrayed his friendlessuess. On the contrary, he scrupulously S58 LTJTTRELL 01 AltKAX. maintained his privilege to "the Pariour," as it was callci^, and would, when liis tui-u came, stalk away to the little coll, to sit down in his solitude, and think, with a swelling heart, over his comfortless fortune. The turnkey alone knew his secret, and kept it loyally. Malone had been in liis hands many times, and always conducted himself well, so that whenever the time came round for old Dan's visit to the Parlour, Mr. Meekins would call out from the door in an audible and imposing voice, " Here's Counsellor Pitzgibbon," or " Serjeant Taate," or some other equally well-known leader at the bar, " wants to speak to Dan Malone," and poor old Dan would get up from his seat, and smooth his hair, and adjust his neckcloth, and walk proudly away to hide his misery in the half-darkened cell, and rock him- self to and fro in all the sorrow of liis friendless and deserted fortune. Terrible as the mockery was, it sustained him, for though the straw will not support the drowning man, it will feed his hope even in death, and smooth the last agony of the heart, whose sharpest pang is desertion. ^Vlien, therefore, Mr. Meekins, instead of the usual pompous announcement, simply called out, "Dan Malone, to the Parlour," without any intimation of a leai-ned visitor awaiting him, the old man heard the words in amazement, and not without fear. Had his friend betrayed him ? Had he divulged the little fraud, and exposed liim to liis fellows ? Or had he — and this most probable — had he, as the real day of reckoning drew nigh, revolted at a deception which a few hours must unveil, and which, even to the heart that encouraged it, bore its own cruel punishment. " He knows that I'm only giving myself false hopes," muttered the old fellow, as with sunken head and downcast eyes he moved slowly away. As the door of the little cell clanked behind him, the turnkey with scrupulous tenacity bolting the small portal on the outside as rigorously as though it were the last protection of the criminal, Dan sat down on a small stool, and buried his face between his hands. Never before had his fate seemed so dark and gloomy. The little fiction he loved to maintain withdrawn, all the intensity of his lone- liness stood before him at once. " I may as well say it at once," muttered he, " when 1 go back, that Dan Malone has no friend in the wide world, not a man to speak a word for him, but must stand u]) in tlie dock and say, ' No counsel, my lord.' " As if the bitter moment of the humiliation had arrived, the old fellow rocked to and fro in his agony, and groaned bitterly. Wiiat was that which broke the stilhiess ? Was it a sigh, and then a sob ? Was his mind wandering ? Was the misery too much for his reason ? He rubbed his eyes and looked up. " Merciful Mother ! Blessed Virgin ! is it yourself is come to comfort me ? " cried he, as he dropped on his knees, while the tears TH£ GAOL PAKLOUfi. 359 streamed down his hard and wrinkled cheeks. " Oli, Holy Mother ! Tower of Ivory ! do I see you there, or is my ould eyes deceiviu* me ? " The heart-wrung prayer was addressed to a figure on which the sohtary pane of a small window high up in the wall threw a ray of sunlight, so that the braided hair glowed like burnished gold, and the pale cheeks caught a slightly warm tint, less like life than like a beautiful picture. "Don't you know me, grandfather? Don't you know your own dear Katey ? " said she, moving slowly forward ; and then, kneeling down in front of him, clasped him in her arms. It was more than he could bear, and he heaved a heavy sigh, and roUed back agamst the wall. It was long before he rallied ; old age stands so near the last threshold, there is but little space to recover breath in ; and when he did rally, he could not be sure that his mind was not astray, or that his sight was not deceiving him. " Tell me something of long ago, darliu' ! teU me something, that I'll know you are my own." " ShaU I t'cll you of the day I found the penny in the well, and you told me it was for good luck, and never to lose it ? Do you remember, grandfather, how you bored a hole in it, and I used to wear it around my neck with a string ? " " I do, I do," cried he, as the tears came fast and faster ; " and you lo^ it after all ; didn't you lose it ? " " Yes ; but, grandfather, I shall find others, and golden ones too." " Tell me more about them times, or I won't believe you," cried he, half peevishly. " I'll talk to you all the evening about them ; I remember them all, dear old grandaddy." " That's the word I wanted ; that's it, my darlin' ! the light of my ould eyes ! " And he fell on her neck and sobbed aloud. In his ecstasy and delight to weave the long past into the present, he forgot to ask her how she came there, and by what fortune she had remembered him. It was the old life in the mountains that filled his whole being. The wild cliffs and sohtary lakes, dear to him by the thougiit of her who never left him, trotting beside him as he went, or cowering at liis knee as he sat over the turf fire. So immersed was he in these memories, that though she talked on he heard nothing ; he would look at her, and smile, and say, " God bless her, and then go back again to his own dreamy thoughts. " I'm thinking we'll have to cut the oats, green as it is, Kitty," said he, after a long pause. " It's late iu the year now, and there'll be no fine days." 360 LUTTEELL OF AERAN. She could not speak, but her lips trembled, and her heart felt as if it would burst. " Tlierc's a lamb astray these two days," muttered he. "I hope the eagles hasu't got it; but I heard oue screeching last night. Light the fire, anyway, darlin', for it's cowld here." With what art and patience and gentle forbearance did she labour to bring those erring faculties back, and fl.x. them on the great reality that portended. It was long, indeed, before she succeeded. The old man loved to revel in the bygone life, wherein, with all its hardships, his fierce nature enjoyed such independence ; and every now and then, after she had, as she hoped, centred his thoughts upon the approaching trial, he would break out into some wild triumph over an act of lawless darmg, some insolent defiance he had hurled at the minions who were afraid to come and look for him in his mountain home. At last she did manage to get him to speak of his present con- dition, and to give a narrative — it was none of the clearest — of his encounter with the sheriif's people. He made no attempt to screen himself, nor did he even pretend that he had not been the aggressor, but he insisted, and he believed, too, that he was perfectly justified in all he had done. His notion was, that he was simply defending what was his own. The scrupulous regard the law observes towards him who is in possession, is not unfrequently translated by the impetuous intelligence of the Irish peasant into a bond fide and undeniable right. Malonc reasoned in this way, and with this addition : " It's just as good for me to die in a fair fight as be etarved and rumed." How hard was Kate's task, to eke out means for a defence from such materials as tliis ! Indeed, no indictment that ever was drawn could be more condemnatory than the man's own admissions. StiU, she persisted in sifting the whole story over and over, till she had at least such a knowledge of the details as would enable her to confer with a lawyer and obtain his opinion. *' And who is to defind mc, darlin' ? " asked he, in the cheerfui tone of a heart perfectly at ease. " We have not fixed upon that yet. We are not quite sure," murmured she, as her racked brain beat and throbbed with intense thinking. " I'd like to have Mr. O'Connell, Kate," said he, proudly. " It ■would warm my ould heart to hear how he'd give it to them, the scoundrels ! that would turn a poor man out of his own, and send him to sleep under a ditch. There's not his like in all Ireland to lash a landlord. It's there he's at home." "I must be goinfj now, grandaddy." " Going, acushla ! And will you leave me ? " "I must, there's no help for it; they wouldn't let me slay here." THE GAOL PAELOUE. 361 " Begorra ! " cried he, wildly, " I forgot I was in gaol ! May I never ! if I didn't think I was at home again, and that we were only waiting for the boys to have our supper ! " " My poor old grandaddy," said she, stooping and kissing his forehead, "I'll come back to-morrow, and stay a long time with you. I have a great deal to say to you that I can't think of to-day. Here's a little basket, with something to eat, aud some tobacco, too ; the gaoler gave me leave to bring it in. And you'll drink my health to- night, grandaddy, won't you r* " " My darUn' — my own darlin', that I will ! And where did you come from now — was it from England ? " "No, grandaddy. It was a long way off, but not from England." " And who are you living with ? Is it with that ould man in Wales ? » " No, not with him. I'll tell you all to-morrow." " They tell me he's mighty rich." She evidently had not heard his words, for she stood pressing her temples with both hands, aud as if endeavouring to repress some severe pain. " It's your head's aching, you darhn' ! " said he, compassionately. " Head and heart ! " muttered she, drearily. " Good-bye, my dear old grandaddy — good-bye ! " And, not able to control her emotion, she turned her face away. " You'll have to call out through that gratin' before they'll open the door," said he, half sulkily. " You'd think we was all sentenced and condimned, the way they lock us up here ! But I hear him coming now. You'll let her in to see me to-morrow, Mr. Meekins, won't you ? " said he, in an imploring tone. " She's my daughter's child, and nearly the last of us now." " By my conscience, she's a fine creature ! " said the turnkey, as she moved past. " It's mighty seldom the likes of her is seen in such a place as this 1 " "When Kate gained the street, the rain was falling heavily, aud as she stood uncertain which way to turn, for the town was strange to her, O'Rorke came up. " Haven't you as much as an umbrella. Miss Kate," said he, " or a cloak, in this dreadful weather ? " « " I was not thinking of either. Which way do we go towards the inn ? " " I'd advise you to take shelter in a shop here. Miss ; the shower is too heavy to last long." " I have no time for this ; I want to catch the post, and I believe it leaves at six o'clock." " You'll be drowned with tliis ram," muttered he. "But come along. I'll show you the way." As they went, neither spoke ; mdeed, the noise of the plashing 369 LUTTUELL OF ARRAN. rain, and the sliarp gusts of the sweeping mnd, would have made it almost impossible to converse, and they plodded onward through the dreary and deserted streets, for even the poorest had now sought shelter. The inn was at the very end of a long straggling street, and, when they reaehcd it, tliey were completely soaked through with rain. "You have ordered a room for me here, you said? " asked Kate, as they entered. " Yes, it's all ready, and youi* dinner too, whenever you like to eat it. — This is the young lady, ma'am," continued he, addressing .he landlady, " that's coming to stop here ; she's wet through, and I hope you'll take care of her, that she doesn't catch cold." " Will you show me my room ? " asked Kate, quietly. But the landlady never moved, but stood scrutinising her with an eye the very reverse of kindly. " She's asking you where's her room," broke in O'Rorke. " I hear her, and I think this isn't the house for her." " How do you mean ? — what are you saying ? " c-i-ied he, angrily. " She'll be better and more at home at Tom M'Cafferty's, that's what I mean," said she, sturdily. " But I took a room here." "And you'll not get it," rejoined she, setting her arms akimbo; " and if you want to know why, maybe you'd hear it, and hear more than you like." " Come away — come away ; let us find out this other place, wherever it be," said Kate, hurriedly. "The other place is down there, where you see the red sign," said the landlady, half pushing her, as slie spoke, into the street. Shivering with cold, and wot througli, Kate reached the little " shebeen," or carrier's inn, where, however, they received her with kindness and civility, the woman giving up to her her own room, and doing her very best to wait on her and assist her. As her trunk had been forgotten at the inn, however, Kate had to wait till O'Rorke fetched it, and as Mr. O'Rorke took the opportunity of the visit to enter on a very strong discussion with the landlady for her insolent refusal to admit them, it was nigh an hour before he got back again. By this time, what with the effects of cold and wet, and what with the intense anxieties of the morning, Kate's head began to ache violently, and frequent sliiverings gave warning of the approach of fever. Her impatience, too, to be in time for the post became ex- treme. She wanted to write to her uncle ; she w;i3 cnuildcut tliat, by a frank open statement of wliat she had done, and said, and seen, she could deprecate his anger. The few words in which she could THE GAOL PAKLOUR. 363 describe her old grandfather's condition, would, she felt certain, move her uncle to thoughts of forgiveness. "Is he coming? — can you see him with my trunk ? — why does he delay ? " cried she at every instant. " No, no, don't talk to me of change of clothes ; there is something else to be thought of first. What can it be that keeps him so long ? Surely it is only a few steps away. At last ! — at last! "exclaimed she, as she heard 0'K,orke's voice in the passage. " There — there, do not delay me any longer. Give me that desk ; I don't want the other. It is my desk, my writing-desk, I want. Leave me now, my good woman — leave me now to myself." " But your shoes. Miss ; let me just take off your shoes. It will kill you to sit that way, dripping and wet through." " I tell you I will not be dictated to ! " cried she, wildly, for her face was now crimson with excitement, and her brain burning. "By what right do you come here into my room, and order me to do this or that? Do you know to whom you speak? I am a Luttrell of Arran. Ask him — that man below — if I am not speaking the truth. Is it not honour enough for your poor house that a Luttrell should stop here, but that you must com- mand me, as if I were your servant ? There — there, don't cry ; I did not mean to be unkind ! Oh ! if you but knew how my poor head is aching, and what a heavy, heavy load I'm carrying here ! " And she pressed her hand to her heart. And, with this, she fell upon her bed, and sobbed long and bitterly. At last she arose, and, assuring the hostess that after she had written a few lines she would do all that she asked her, she persuaded the kind-hearted woman to leave her, and sat down to the table to write. What she wrote, how she wrote, she knew not, but the words followed fast, and page after page lay before her as the clock struck six. "What ! " cried she, opening her door, " is it too late for the post ? I hear it striking six ! " " I'll take it over myself to the office," said O'Rorke, " and by paying a trifle more they'll take it in." " Oh do ! Lose no time, and I'll bless you for it ! " said she, as she gave him the letter. " Come up here and sit vi'ith me," said Kate to the woman of the house ; and the honest creature gladly complied. " What a nice little place you have here," said Kate, speaking with intense rapidity. " It is all so clean and so neat, and you seena so liappy in it. Ain't you very happy ? " " Indeed, Miss, I have no reason to be anything else." " Yes ; I knew it — I knew it ! " broke in Kate, rapidly. " It is the striving to be something above their reach makes people unhappy. You never asked nor wished for better than this ? " " Never, Miss. Indeed, it's better than ever I thought to be. I 36i LUTTKELL OP AUKAN. was the dau^liter of a poor labouriii' man up at Bclraallet, when my husband took roe." " What a dreary place Belmullet is ! I saw it once," said Kate, half speaking to herself. " Ah ! you don't know how poor it is. Miss ! The like of you could never know what lives the people lead in them poor places, with only the fishin' to look to, God help them ! And when it's too rough to go to sea, as it often is for weeks long, there they are with nothing but one meal a day of wet potatoes, and nothing but water to drink." " And you think I know nothing about all that ! " cried Kate, wildly — " nothing of the rain pouring down through the wet thatch — nothing of the turf too wet to burn, and only smouldering and smoking, till it is better to creep under tiie boat that lies keel upper- most on the beach, than stay in the wretched hovel — nothing of the poor mother, with fever in one corner, and the child with small-pox m the other — notliiug of the two or three strong men huddled to- gether under the lee of the house, debating whether it wouldn't be better to go out to sea at auy risk, and meet the worst that could happeu, tha-a sit down there to die of starvation 'i " "In the name of the blessed Virgui, Miss, who towld you aU about that ? " " Oh, that I never knew worse ! Oh, that I had never left it ! " burst out Kate, as, kneeling down, she buried her head in the bed, and sobbed as if her heart were breaking. The poor woman did lier very best to console and comfort her, but Kate was unconscious of all her kindness, and only continued to mutter unceasuigly to herself, till at last, worn out and exhausted, she leaned her head on the other's shoulder and fell off into a sort of disturbed sleep, broken by incessant starts. IN COBrCLA-VM. 365 CHAPTER LIV. IN CONCLAVE. When O'Rorke left Kate, it was not the directiou of the post- office that he took ; he went straight to the head inn of the town, on the doorsteps of which he stationed himself, anxiously watching for the arrival of another traveller. Nor had he long to wait, for as the town clock struck the half-liour, a chaise and pair galloped up to the door, and young Ladarelle cried out from the window, " The last seven miles in forty-six minutes ! What do you say to that ? Is dinner ready ? " asked he, as he descended. " Everything's ready, Sir," said O'Rorke, obsequiously, as, push- ing the landlord aside, he assumed the office of showing the way up stairs himself. " Tell Morse to unpack some of that sherry," said LadareUe ; and then laughingly added, " Order your own tap. Master O'Rorke, for I'm not going to throw away Dalradeni wine upon your O'Rorke laughed too — perhaps not as genially, but he could afford to reHsh such a small joke even against himself — not to say that it conveyed an ass\irance he was well pleased with, that Lada- relle meant him to dine along with himself. As the dinner was served, Ladarelle talked away about everything. It was his first visit to Ireland, and, though it amused him, he said he hoped his last also. Everything was absui'd, laughable, and poverty-stricken to his eyes ; that is to say, pauperism was so ap- parent on all sides, the whole business of life seemed to be carried on by make-shifts. The patriot O'Rorke had need of much forbearance as he listened to the unfeeling comments and ignorant inferences of the " Saxon." He heard him, however, without one word of dis- claimer, and with a little grin on his face, that if Ladarelle had been an Irishman, and had one drop of Irish blood in his body, he would not have accepted as any evidence of pleasure or satis- faction. "Order whatever you mean to have," said LadareUe, as the meal was concluded, "and don't let us have that fellow coming into the room every moment." O'Rorke made his provision accordingly, and having secured a kettle, in case it should be his caprice to make punch, he bolted the door and resumed his place. S6C LUTTRSLL Of iLBHAIi. " There's your letter ! " said Ladarelle, throwmg u coarse-looking scrawl, sealed with green wax, on the table : " and I'll be shot if I imderstaud oue line of it ! " " And why not ? " asked the other, angrily. " Is it the writing's so bad ? " " No ; the writing can be made out. I don't complain of that. It's your blessed style that floors me ! Now, for instance, M^iat does this mean ? 'Impelled by the exuberant indignation that in the Celtic heart rises to the height of the grandest sacrifices, whether vn the altars ' " O'Rorke snatched the letter from his hand, crushed it into a ball, and threw it into the fire. " You'll not have it to laugh at another time," cried he, sternly, and with a stare so full of defiauce that Ladarelle looked at hiui for some seconds in amazement, without Bpeaki;.:,^ " My good friend," said he, at last, with a calm, measured voice, " it is something new to me to meet conduct like this." "Not a bit newer or stranger than for me to be laughed at. Bigger and stronger fellows than you never tried that game with me." " I certauily never suspected you would take it so ill. I thought if any one knew what a joke meant, it was an Irishman." " And so he does ; none better. The mistake was, you thought an Englishman knew how to make one." " Let there be an end of this," said Ladarelle, haughtily. " If I had kept you in your proper place, you would ueveu have forgotten yourself!" And as he spoke, he flung his cigar into the fire, and arose and walked up and down the room. O'Rorke hung his head for a moment, and then, in a tone of almost abject contrition, said, "I ask your pardon, Sir. It was just as you say ; my head was turned by good treatment." If Ladarelle had been a physiognomist he would not have liked the expression of the other's face, the hue of utter sickness in the check, while the eyes flashed with a fiery energy ; but he noted noue of thc.'^e, and merely said, as he resumed his place : " Don't let it happen again, that's all. Tell me now what occurred when you got back to Westport, for the only thing I know is that you met her there the morning you arrived." " I'll tell it in three words : She was on the quay, just come after a severe night at sea, when I was trying to make a bargain with a fisherman to take me over to the island. I didn't see her till her hand was on my arm and her lips close to my ear, as she whispered : " ' What news have you for me ? ' " ' Bad news,' says I ; ' the sorrow worse.' " She staggered back, and sat down on the stock of an anchor that was there, ziud drew the tail of her cloak over her face, and that's the way she remained for about a quarter of au hour. IN COXCLAVB. 367 " * Tell it to me now, Mr. O'Rorke,' said she ; ' and as you hope to see Glory, tell me the truth, and nothing more.' " • It's Uttle I have to tell,' says I, sitting down beside her. ' The ould man was out on a terrace when I gave him your letter. He took it this way, turning it all round, and then looking up at me, he says : " I know this handwriting," says he, " and I think I know what's inside of it, but you may tell her it's too late." He then muttered something about a sea-bathing place abroad that I couldn't catch, and he went on: "She didn't know when she was weU ." ' " ' No, no, that he never said ! ' says she, bursting in — ' that he never said ! ' " ' Not in them words,' says I, ' certainly not, but it came to the same, for he said she used to be as happy here as the days was long ! ' " ' True ; it was all true,' said she to herself. ' Go on.' " ' " Go back," says he, " and say, that sorry as I was at first, I'm getting over it now, and it wouldn't be better for either of us to hold any more correspondence." And with that he gave me the letter back, sealed as it was.' " " What made you say that ? " cried Ladarelle. " Because I biew slie'd never ask for it ; or if she did, I'd say, ' I had it in my trunk at home.' The first thing was to get her to beUeve me, at any cost." " Is that her way ? " asked the other, thoughtfully. " That's her way. She's not given to have suspicions, you can see that. If you talk to her straight ahead, and never break down in what you say, she'll look at you openly, and believe it all ; but if ever she sees you stop, or look confused, or if she catches you taking a sly look at her under the eyes, you're done — done entirely ! The devil a lawyer from this to Dublin would put you througli such a cross-examination ; and I defy the cleverest fellow that ever sat in the witness-box to baffle her. And she begins quite regular — quiet, soft, and smooth as a cat." " "What do 1 care for all this ? She may be as shrewd as she pleases this day fortnight, Master O'Rorke. Let us only have the balls our own, and we'll win the game before she gets a hazard." This illustration from the billiard-table was not fully intelligible to O'E-orke, but he saw its drift, and he assented. "Where was I? Oh, I remember. 'He gave me the letter back,' says I, ' and told the servants to see I had my supper, and everything I wanted. " ' He did tliis with his hand, as much as to say, " You may go away ; " but I made as if I didn't understand him, and I waited till the servant left the place, and then I drew near him, and said : " ' " I think," says I, " it would be better your honour read the 368 LTJTTRELL OF AKBAN. letter, anyhow. Maybe 1 here's sometliing m it that you don't suspect." " ' " Who are you," says he, " that's tcaehiug me manuers ? " ' " I didu't say them was his words, but somethiug tliat meaut the same. " ' " 1 know every line that's in it. I know far better than you — ay, or than she suspects — the game she would play." ' "She gave a hitle cry, as if something stung her. Indeed, I asked lier. What was it hurt her ? But she never answered me, but stood up straight, and, with a hand up this way, she said something to herself, as if she was making a vow or taking an oath. After that, it wasn't much she minded one word I said, and lucky for me it was, for I was coming to the hard part of my story — about your honour ; now you heard from the servants that I was in the house, and sent for me to your own room, and asked me hundreds of questions about her. Where she was, and who witli, and what she wrote about, and then how angry you grew with your uncle — I called him your uncle, I don't know why — and how you said he was an unfeel- ing old savage, that it was the same way he treated yourself, pam- pering you one day, turning you out of doors the next. 'And at last,' says I — ' I couldn't keep it in any longer — I up and told him what I came about, and that your letter was asking a trifle of money to defend your grandfather for his life.' " Sorrow matter what I said, she never listened to me. I told her you swore that her grandfather should have the first lawyer in the land, and tiiat you'd come over yourself to the assizes. I told her how you put twenty pounds into my hand, and said, ' Tim ' — no, not Tim — 'Mr. O'Rorke, there's a few pounds to begin. Go back aud tell Miss Kate she has a better and truer friend than the one she lost ; one that never forgot the first evening he seen her, and would give his heart's blood to save her.' "She gave a liltle smile — it was almost a laugh once — and I thought she was pleased at what I was telling her. Not a bit of it. It was somethiug at)out the ould man was in lier mind, and some- thing thar didn't mean any good to him cither, for she said, ' He shall rue it yet.' And after that, though I talked for an hour, she never minded me no more than them fireirons ! At last she clutched my arm in licr fingers, aud said : " ' Do you know that my uncle declares I am never to go back again ? I came away against his will, and he swore that if I crossed the threshold to come here, I should never re-cross it again. Do you know,' says she, ' I liave no home nor friend now in the whole world, and I don't know what's to become of me ? ' " 1 tried to comfort her, and say that your honour would never see her in any distress ; but she wasn't minding me, and oidy went on saying sometliing about being back agaui ; but whether it meant £t the Castle, or over in Arrau, or, as I once thought, back as a IK CONCLAVE. 369 Child, when she used to play in the caves along the sea-shore, I couldn't say, but she cried bitterly, and for the whole day never tasted bit or sup. We stopped at a small house outside the town, and I told them it was a young creature that lost her mother ; and the next day she looked so ill and wasted, I was getting afraid she was going to have a fever ; but she said she was strong enough, and asked me to bring her on here to the gaol, for she wanted to see her grandfather. " It was only this morning, however, I got the order from the sub-sheriff; and indeed he wouldn't have given it but that he seen her out of the window, for in all her distress, and with her clothes wet and draggled, she's as beautiful a creature as ever walked." " Why not marry her yourself, O'Rorke ? By Jove ! you're heacj and ears in love already. I'll make you a handsome settlement, on my oath I will." "There's two small objections, Sir. Pirst, there's another Mrs. O'Rorke, though I'm not quite sure where at the present sitting; and even if there wasn't, she wouldn't have me." " I don't see that ; and if it be only the bigamy you're afraid of, go ofi" to AustraUa or America, and your first wife will never trace you." O'Rorke shook his head, and, to strengthen his determination perhaps, he mixed himself a strong tumbler of punch. " And where are we now ? " asked Ladarelle. O'Rorke, perhaps, did not fully understand the question, for he looked at him inquiringly. "I ask you, where are we now? Don't you understand me?" *' We're pretty much where we were yesterday ; that is, we're "waiting to know what's to be done for the ould man in the gaol, and what your honour intends to do about " — he hesitated and stammered, and at last said — " about the other business." "Well, it's the other business, as you neatly call it, Mr. O'Rorke, that interests me at present. Sir Within has written twice to Mr. Luttrell since you left the Castle. One of his letters I stopped before it reached the office, the other I suppose has come to hand." " No fault of mine, if it has. Sir," broke in O'Rorke, hastily, for he saw the displeasure in the other's look. "I was twice at the office at Westport, and there wasn't a line there for Mr. Lut- trell. Did you read the other letter. Sir ? " added he, eagerly, after a moment's silence. " I know what's in it," muttered Ladarelle, in confusion, for he was not quite inured to the baseness he had sunk to. " And what is it. Sir ? " " Just what I expected ; that besotted old fool wants to marry her. He tells Mr. Luttrell, and tells it fairly enough, how the estate is seLtled, and he offers the largest settlement the entail will permit 21 370 LTJTTRELL OF AUfvAN. of; but lie forgets to add that the same day he takes out his license to marry, we'll move for a commissiou of lunacy. I have beeu eight weeks there lately, and not idle, I promise you. I have got plenty of evidence against him. How he goes into the room she occupied at the Castle, and has all her rings and bracelets laid out on the toilet-table, and candles lighted, as if she was coming to dress for dinner, and makes her maid wait there, telling her Madame is out on horseback, or she is in the garden, she'll be in presently. One day, too, he made us wait dimier for her till eight o'clock ; and when at last the real state of the case broke on him, he had to get up and go to his room, and Holmes, his man, told me that he sobbed the whole night through, like a child." "And do you think that all them will prove him mad? "asked O'llorkc, with a jceriug laugh. " Why not ? If a man cannot understand that a person who has not been under his roof for six or eight months, and is some hundred miles away, may want candles in her dressing-room, and may come down any minute to dinner in that very house " " Oddity— eccentricity — want of memory — nothing more ! There's never a jury in England would call a man mad for all tliat." " You are a great lawyer, Mr. O'Rorke, but it is right to say you differ here from the Attorney-General." "No great harm in that same — when he's in the wrong." " I might possibly be rash enough to question your knowledge ol law, but certainly I'll never dispute your modesty." " My modesty is like any other ])art of me, and I didn't make my- self; but I'll stick to this — that ould man is not mad, and nobody could make him out mad." " Mr. Grenfell will not agree witli you in that, lie was over at the Castle the night I came away, and he saw the gardener carrying up tlirce immense nosegays of flowers, for it was her birtiiday it seemed, however any one knew it, and [Sir Within had ordered the band from \yrcxham to play under licr window at nightfall ; and as Mr. Grenfell said, 'That old gcnl's brain seems about as soft as his heart ! ' Not bad, was it ? — his brain as soft as his heart ! " " He's no more mad than J am, and I don't care who says the contrary." " l'erha])s you s])eeulate on being called as a M'itness to his tanity ? " said Ladarelle, with a sneer. " 1 do not. Sir ! but if I was, I'd be a mighty troublesome one to the other side." "What (he deuce led us into ihis foolish discussion.^ As if it siguilied one rusli to me whetiicr he was to be IJiought the wisest sage or the greatest fool in Christendom. What /want, and what I am determined on, is that we are not to be dragged into Chancery, and made town talk of, because a cunning minx, has turned im old rake's head. I'd be hunted by a set of hungry rascals of creditors IN CONCLAVE. 371 to-morrow if the old man were to marry. There's not one of them that wouldn't believe that my chance o^ the estate was all ' up.' " " There's sense in ^/i«^ ; there is reason in what you say now," said O'Rorke. " And that's not the worst of it, either," continued Ladarelle, who, like all weak men, accepted any flattery, even at the expense of the object he souglit ; " but ray governor would soon know how deep I am, and he'd cast me adrift. Not a pleasant prospect. Master O'Rorke, to a fellow who ought to succeed to about twelve thousand a year." " Could he do it by law ? " " Some say one thing, some another ; but this I know, that if my creditors get hold of me now, as the fox said, there would be very little running left in me when they'd done with me. But here's the short and the long of it. We must not let Sir Within marry, that's the first thing ; and the second is, there would be no objection to any plau that will give him such a shock — he's just ready for a shock — that he wouldn't recover from. Do you see it now ? " " I see it all, only I don't see how it's to be done." " I wonder what you are here for, then ? " asked the other, angrily. " I took you into my pay thinking I had a fellow with expedients at his fingers' ends ; and, except to see you make ob- jections, and discover obstacles, I'll be hanged if I know what you're good for." " Go on. Sir, go on," said O'Rorke, with a malicious grin. " In one word, what do you propose ? " said Ladarelle, sternly. " Here's what I propose, then," said O'Rorke, ])ushiug the glasses and decanters from him, and planting his arms on the table iu a stui-dy fashion — " I propose, first of all, that you'll see ]\Ii-. Crowe, the attorney, and give him instructions to defend Malone, and get him the best bar on the circuit. She'll insist upon that, that's the first thing. The second is, that you come down to where she is, and tell her that when you heard of her trouble that you started off to help her and stand by her. I don't mean to say it will be an easy thing to get her to believe it, or even after she believes it to take advantage of it, for she is prouder than yon think. Well, toss your head if you like, but you don't know her, nor them she comes from! but if you know how to make her think that, by what she'll do, she'll spite the ould man that insulted her, if you could just persuade her that there wasn't another way in life so sure to break his heart, I think she'd comply, and agree to marry you." " Upon my soul, the condescension overcomes me ! You think — you actually think — she'd consent to be the wife of a man in such a position as mine ! " " Well, as I said a while ago, it wouldn't be easy." 24—2 372 LUTTRELL OF ARRAN. " You dou't seem to know, my good friend, that you are immeuaely impertinent ! " " I do not," was the reply, and he gave it calmly and slowly. At the same instant a knock came to the door, and the waiter motioned to O'Korke that a woman wanted to speak to him outside. " I'm wanted for a few minutes, Sir, down at the place she's stopping. The woman says she's very ill, and M'anderiug in her mind. I'll be back presently." " Well, don't delay too long. I'm between two minds already ■whether I'll not go back and give up the whole business." CHAPTER LV. STILL CONSPIRING. " She's worse, Sir," whispered the woman, as she crossed the threshold of her door, and exchanged a word with her daughter. " Biddy says she's clean out of her mind now — listen to that ! The Lord have mercy on us ! " It was a wild scream rang through the house, followed by a burst of fearful laughter. " Ask her if she'll see me," said O'Rorke, in a low voice. " That's O'Rorkc's voice ! " Kate cried out from the top of the stairs. " Let him come up. I want to see him. Come up ! " She leaned over the railing of the stairs as she spoke, and even O'Rorke was horror-struck at the ashy paleness of her face, and a fearful brilliancy that shone in her eyes. " It's a very humble place, Mr. O'Rorke, I am obliged to receive you in," said she, with a strange smile, as he entered ; " but I have ouly just arrived here, you see I have not even changed my dress ; pray sit down, if you can find a chair ; all is in disorder here — and, would you believe it 't " — here her manner became suddenly earnest, and her voice dropped to a whisper — " would you believe it ? my maid has never coiuc to me, never asked me if I wanted her since I came. It's get- ting dark, too, and must be late." " Listen to me, now. Miss Kate," said he, with a touch almost of pity in his voice, " listen to me. You're not well, you're tired and exhausted, so I'll send the woman of the house to you, and get to bed, and I'll find out a doctor to order you somethuig." " Yes, 1 should like to see a doctor ! that kind person I saw before. STILL CONSPIMNG. 373 Sir Henry something — what was it ? You will see it in the Court Guide — he attends the Queen." " To be sure, to be sure, we'll have the man that attends the Queen ! " said he, giving his concurrence to what he imagined to be the fancy of an erriug brain. " And if he should ask why I am here," added she, in a whisper, " make out some sort of excuse, but don't mention my grandfather ; these fashionable physicians are such snobs, they cannot abide visiting any but great folk. Isn't it true ? " " Yes, dear, it is true," said he, still humouring her. " The fact is," said she, in a low, confiding voice, " I may confess it to you, but the fact is, I don't well know why I am here myself ! I suppose Sir Within knows — perhaps my uncle may." And in her vague, meaningless look might now be seen how purposeless and un- guided were all her speculations. " There, go now, and send my maid to me. Tell Coles, as you pass down, he may put up the horses. I'll not ride this evening. Do you know, I feel — it is a silly fancy, I suppose — but I feel ill ; not actually ill so much as odd.'' He cast one glance, not without compassion, on her, and went out. " There's a young woman above stairs mighty Uke ' in ' for a fever," said he to the hostess. " Get a doctor to see her as soon as jou can, and I'll be back soon to hear what he says." , While the woman of the house, with all that kindliness which at- taches to her class and nation, busied herself in cares for Kate, O'Rorke hastily made his way back to the inn. " What is it"? What called you away ? " asked Ladarelle, as he entered the room. " She's out of her mind ! that's what it is," said O'Rorke, as he sat down, doggedly, and filled out a bumper of sherry to rally his courage. " What with anxiety, and fatigue, and fretting, she couldn't bear up any more, and there she is, struck down by fever and raving ! " "Poor thing ! " said Ladarelle ; but there was no pity m the tone, not a shade of feeling in his countenance ; he said the words merely that he might say something. " Yes, indeed ! Ye may well say ' Poor thing ! ' " chimed in O'Rorke ! " it wouldn't be easy to find a poorer ! " " Do you suspect the thing is serious ? " said Ladarelle, with a deep interest in his manner. " Do you think her life's in danger ? " "I do." " Do you really ? " And row, through the anxiety in which ke spoke, there pierced a trait of a most triumphant satisfaction ; so palpable was it, that O'Rorke laid down the glass he had half raised to his lips, and stared at the speaker. " Don't mistake — don't mis- understand me ! " blurted out Ladarelle, in confusion. " I wish the poor girl no ill. Why should I ? " 374 LUTTRELL OF AEHAX. " At any rate, you think it would be a good thing for you ! " saia O'Rorke, sternly. " Well, I must own I don't think it would be a bad one ; that is, I mean it would relieve me of a deal of anxiety, and save me no end of trouble." " Just so ! " said O'Rorke, who, leaning his head on his hand, ad- dressed his thoughts to the very serious question of how all these things would affect himself. Nor did it take him long to see that from the hour Ladarelle ceased to need him, all then- ties were broken, and that the fashionable yoimg gentleman who now sat at table with him in all familiarity would not deem him fit company for his valet. " This is the fifth time. Master O'Rorke, you have repeated the words, ' Just so ! ' Will you tell me what they refer to ? What ia it that is 'just so ? '" " I was thinking of something," said O'Rorke. "And what was it ? Let us have the benefit of your profound reflections." " Well, then, my profound reflections was telling me that if this girl was to die, your honour wouldn't be very long about cutting my acquaintance, and that, maybe, this is the last time I'd have the pleasure of saymg, ' Will you pass me the wine ? ' " " What are you drmkiug ? This is Madeira," said Ladarelle, as he pushed the decanter towards him, and affecting to mistake his meaning. " No, Sir ; I'm drinking port wine," was the curt reply, for he saw the evasion, and resented it. ** As to that other matter — I mean as to * cutting you ' O'Rorke — ■ I don't see it — don't sec it at all ! " " How do you mean, 'you don't see it? ' " " I mean it is not necessary." " Isn't it hkcly ? " " No ; certainly not." *' Isn't it possible, then ? " "Lverytliiiig is possible in this world of debts and difficulties, but no gentleman ever thinks of throwing off" the man that has stood to him in his hour of need. Is that enough ? " O'Rorke made no answer, and in the attitude of deep thought he assumed, and in his intense look of reflection, it was pretty plain that he did not deem the explanation all-sufficient. " Here's how it is. Sir ! " burst he out, suddenly. " If this girl dies, you won't want me ; and if you won't 7C(///( me, it's very unhkely the pleasure of my society will make you come after me ; so that I'd hke to understand how it's to be between us." " I must say, my worthy friend, everythmg I have seen of you goes Tery far to refute the popular notion abroad about Irish im- providence ; for a man so careful of himself under every contiugency STILL CONSPIKING. 375 — one who looke i to his own interests in all apsects and with all casualties — I never met before." " Well, Sir, you meet him now. He is here before you ; ami what do you say to him ? " said O'Rorke, with a cool audacity that was actually startling. It was very probably fortunate for both of them, so far as their present good relations were concerned, that an interruption took place to their colloquy in the shape of a sharp knock at the door. It was a person wanted to see Mr. O'Rorke. *' Mr. O'Rorke's in request to-uight," said Ladarelle, mockingly, as the other left the room. " Are you the friend of that young lady, Sir, that's down at M'Cafferty's?" " Yes, I'm her friend," was the dry answer. " Then I've come to tell you she's going fast into a fever — a brain fever, too." " That's bad ! " muttered O'Rorke below his breath. " One ought to know something about her — whence slie came, aud how she came. There are symptoms that ought to be traced to their causes, for she raves away about people and things the most opposite and unlike — :— " "Are you able to cure her? that's the question," saidO'Eorke. " No doctor could ever promise that much yet." " I thought as much," said O'llorke, with an insolent toss of his head. " I am willing to do my best," said the doctor, not noticing the offensive gesture ; " and if you want other advice, there's Doctor Rogan of Westport can be had easy enough." " Send for him, then, and hold a consultation ; her Ufe is of conse- quence, mind that ! " "I may as well tell you that Doctor Rogan will require to know what may lead him to a history of her case, and he won't treat her if there's to be any mystery about it." O'Rorke's eyes flashed, as if an insolent answer was on his lips, and then, as quickly controlling himself, said, " Go aud liave your consultation, and then come back here to me ; but mind you ask for me — Mr. O'Rorke — and don't speak to any one else than myself." The doctor took his leave, and O'Rorke, instead of returning to the room, slowly descended the stairs and strolled out into the street. It was night ; there were few about ; and he had ample oppor- tunity for a quiet commune with himself, and that species of " audit " in which a man strikes the balance of all that may be pro or contra in any line of action. He knew well he M"as on dangerous ground with Ladarelle. It needed not an intelligence sharp as his own to show that a deep mistrust existed between them, and that each only waited for an opportunity to shake himself free of the other. " If 376 LUTTREL OF AREAN. I was to go over to tlic old man and tell liim the whole plot, I wonder how it would be ?" muttered he to himself. "I wonder would he trust me ? and, if he was to trust me, how would he pay me ? that's the question — how would he pay me ? " The quick tread of feet behind him made him turn at this moment. It was the waiter of the inn coming to tell him that the post had just brought two letters to the gentleman he had dined with, and he wished to see him at once. " Shut the door — turn the key in it," said Ladarellc, as 0'E.orke entered. " Here's something has just come by the mail. I knew you'd blunder about those letters," added he angrily ; " one has reached Luttrcll already, and, for aught I know, another may have come to hand since this was written. There, there, what's the use of your excuses. You promised me the thing should be done, and it was not done. It does not signify a brass farthing to me to know why. You're very vain of your Irish craft and readiness, and yet I tell you, if I had entrusted this to my fellow Fisk, Cockney as he is, I'd not have been disappointed." "Very like," said O'Jlorkc, sullenly. "He's more used to dirty work than I am." Ladarelle had just Ijcguu to run his eyes over one of the letters when he heard these words, and the paper shook in his hand with passion, and the colour came and went in his face, but he still all'ected to read on, and never took his gaze from the letter. At last he said, in a shaken voice, which all his efforts could not render calm, "This is a lew lines from Fisk, cnclosmg a letter from Luttrcll for Sir Within. Fisk secured it before it reached its destination." To this insinuated rebuke O'Rorke made no rejoinder, and, after a pause, the other continued : " Fisk says little, but it is all to the purpose. He has reduced every day to a few lines in journal fashion, so that I know what goes on at Dalradern as if 1 were there myself." O'llorke kept an unbroken silence, and Ladarelle went on : " The day you left the Castle, Sir AVithin wrote to Calvert and Mills, his solicitors, and despatched by post a mass of documents and parch- ments. The next day he wrote to Mr. Luttrell of Arran, posting the letter himself as he drove through Wrexham." "That letter w'as the one i stopped at West port," broke in O'Tlorke. "I suppose it was. Fisk writes: 'The servants all remarked a wonderful change had come over Sir W. ; he gave orders through the house as if he expected company, and seemed in such spirits as he had not been for months. Kext morning very anxious for the j)0st to come in, and greatly disappointed at not seeing some letter lie expected. The late imst" brought a letter from Mills to say he would be down by the morning's mail — that the matlev presented no STILL CONSriKIKC. 377 difficulty wliatever, iuui was exactly as Sii* Williiu represented it.' risk managed to read ibis and re-seal it before it got to hand ; that's what I call a smart scoundrel ! " " So he is — every inch of one ! " was 0'E.orke's rejoinder. "Here he continues," said Ladarelle : "'Tliursday — No letter, uor auy tidings of Mills. Sir Within greatly agitated. Post horses ordered for Chester, and countermanded. AH sorts of contradictory commands given during the day. The upholsterers Lave arrived from town, but told not to take down the hangings, nor do anything till to-morrow. Mr. Grenfell called, but not admitted ; a message sent after him to ask him to dinner to-morrow ; he comes. Friday — Arrived at Wrexham. As the mad came in, saw Mr. Mills order horses for Dalraderu ; waited for the post dehvery, and secured the enclosed. No time for more, as the Irish mail leaves in an Lour." " Now for Luttrell. Let's see his side in the correspondence," said Ladarelle, breaking the seal ; " though perhaps I know it as well as if I read it." " You do not," said the other, sturdily. " What do you mean by ' I do not ? ' " " I suspect I know what you're thinking of ; and it's just this — that John Luttrell is out of himself with joy because that old fool's ill love M'ith his niece." " He might well be what you call out of himself with joy if he thought she was to be mistress of Dalradern." " It's much you know him," said 0'E.orke, with an insolent mockery in his voice and look. "A Luttrell of Arrau wouldn't think a Prince of the Plood too good for one belonging to him. Laugh away, laugh away ; it's safe to do it here, for John Luttrell's on the island beyaud." " You are about the most " " The most what ? Say it out. Surely you ain't afraid to finish your sentence, Sir ? " " I find it very hard, Mr. 0'E.orke, to conduct an affair to its end in conjunction with one who never omits an occasion to say, or at least insinuate, a rudeness." " Devil a bit of insinuation about me. Whatever I have to say, I say it out, in the first words that come to me ; and Pni generally pretty intelligible too. And now, if it's the same thing to you, what was it you were going to call me ? I was the most — something or ether — what was it ? " " I'll tell you what I am," said Ladarelle, with a bitter grin — *' about the most patient man that ever breathed." Neither spoke for some time, and then Ladarelle opened the letter Le still held in his hand, and began to read it. "Well," cried he, of aU the writing I ever encountered, this is the Eiost illegible ; and not merely that, but there are words erased and 378 LUTTIIELL or AllRAN. words omitted, aud seuteuces left uufiiiished, or finished witn a dasn of the pen." "Are you gomg to read it out?" asked O'Rorke ; and in his voice there rang sometliiug ahnost hke a command, for tlie man's native insolence grew stronger at every new conflict, and with the impression — well or ill-founded — that the other was afraid of him. " I'll try what I can do," said Ladarelle, repressing his irritation. " It is dated St. l^mbar's, 16th : " ' Sir, — I know nothing of your letter of the 12th instant. If I ever received, I have forgotten and mislaid it. I answered yours of the 9tl), aud hoped I had done M-ith this correspondence. I have seen your name in the newspapers, and have been ' — have been, I suppose it is — ' accustomed ' — yes, accustomed — ' to look on you as a person in high employ, aud worthy of the ' — here the word is left out — * who employed him. If, however, you be, as you state, in your' — this may be a nine or seven, I suppose it is seven—' in your seventy-fourth year, your proposal to a girl of twenty is little short of ' Another lapse ; I wish we had his word, it was evidently no compliment. ' That is, however, more your question than mine. Such follies as these ask for no comment ; they usually And well it is it should be so. " ' Fortune, however, befriends you, more than your own foresight. It is your good luck rescues you from this She has left this — gone away — deserted me, as she once deserted you, and would in all likelihood when sorry insolent airs of your connections to resent \inpardouable. Without you arc as bereft as myself, you must surely have relations, of whom choice and certamly more suitable than one whose age and decrepitude might in pity and compassion sentiment. " ' But she is gone ! Warnuig is, therefore, needless. You cannot if you would this folly. She is gone — and on a bed of sickness, to which the only hope and that speedily. " ' If by such hurt you.' " Line after hne had been here erased and re-writtcn, but all illegibly ; nor was it, till after long puzzling and exploring, the last words could be made out to be : " 'AH furtlicr interchange of letters is a task beyond my strength. It is all said when I write. She is gone, no more to nor would I now A few hours more — I pray not days. " ' Faithful servant, " ' J. 11. LUTTKELL.' " It's clear ^c'll have no more correspondence," said Ladarelle, with a half triumphant manner, as he closed the letter. "And the other ? What will the other do 't " STILL CONSPIRIKO. 379 " Do you mean Sir Within ? " "Yes!" "It's not easy to say. It seems plain we're not to expect any- thing very sensible from him. He is determined to make a fool of himself, and it ouiy remains to see how he is to do it." " And how do you think it will be ? " In spite of himself, O'Rorke threw into his question that amount of eagerness that showed how much interest he felt in the matter. Ladarelle was quick enough to see this, and turned his eyes full upon him, and thus they stood for nigh half a minute, each steadfastly staring at the other. " Well ! do you see anything very wonderful in my face that you look so hard at me ? " asked O'liorke. "I do." " And what is it, if I might make so bowld ? " " I see a man who doubts how far he'll go on the road he was paid to travel — that's what I see ! " " And do you know why ? " rejoined O'Rorke, defiantly. " Do you know why ? " " No." " Then I'll tell you ! It's because the man that was to show ^le the way hasn't the courage to do it ! There's the whole of it. You brought me over here, telling me one thing, and now you're bent on another ! and to-morrow, if anything cheaper turns up, you'll be for thai. Is it likely that I'd risk myself far with a man that does'n'; know his mind, or trust his own courage ? " " I suppose I imderstand my own affairs best ! " " Well ! that's what I thuik about tiiiue, too." Ladarelle took an impatient turn or two up and down the room before he spoke, and it was easy to see that he was exerting himself to the very utmost to be calm. " If this girl's flight from Arrau has served us in one way, her illness has just done us as much harm in another — I mean, of course, if she should not die — because my vene- rable relation is just as much determined to marry her as ever he was. Are you attending to me ? " " To every word. Sir," said O'Rorke, obsequiously ; and, indeed, it was strangely like magnetism the effect produced upon him, when Ladarelle assumed the tone and manner of a superior. " I want to have done with the business, then, at once," continued Ladarelle. Eiud out from the doctor — and find it out accurately — ■what are her chances of life. If she is likely to Hve, learn how soon she could be removed from this, and whither to, as Sir Within is sure to trace her to this place. As soon as possible, we must manage some sort of mock marriage, for I believe it is the only sure way of stopping this old man in his folly. Now, I leave it to yo« to contrive the plan for this. There's another demand for you. See who is at the door." " Mr. O'Rorke is wanted at M'Cafferty's," said a voice outside. 380 LUXXUELL OF AKRAN. " I'll be b?£k iu a few minutes, Sir." " Well, I shall go to bed, and don't disturb me if there be nothing impoitant to tell me. Order breakfast for ten to-morrow, and let me see you there." O'Korke bowed respectfully, and went out. " I'd give fifty pouuds to hear that you had broken your neck ou the staircase ! " muttered Ladarelle, as he saw the door close ; " and I'd give a hundred had 1 never seen you ! " CHAPTER LVI. A. HEAVY BLOW. In the grand old dining-room of Dakadern Castle, Sir 'Within was seated with his guest, Mr. Grenfell. The ample wood-lire on the hearth, the costly pictures on the walls, the table covered with deeautcrs and flasks of various forms, the ample old chairs in which they lounged, suggested luxurious ease and enjoyment ; and perhaps Grenfell, as lie smoked his cigar, in accordance with the gracious ncrmission of his host, did feel that it was a su])reme moment of life; while certainly he, to whom all the precious appUances be- longed, was ill at ease and uncomfortable, answering occasionally at random, and showing in many ways that his mind was deeply and far from pleasantly preoeeupied. Grenfell had been some days at the Castle, and liked his quarters. There were, it is true, many things he wished changed ; some of them, he fancied, could be altered by a little adroit diplomacy with the butler and the housekeeper, and other heads of departments ; others, of a more serious kind, he reserved to be dealt with wheu the time should come that he would be regarded in that house as little less than a master. He had weighed the matter carefully with Jiimself, aud determined that it was better to stand by Sir Within, old as he was, than to dejiend on the friendship of young Ladarelle, whose innate vulgarity would have made all companionship irksome, and whose hiveleratc obstinacy would have made guidance im« possible. A HEAVY BLOW. 58 J The House had, indeed, great capabilities, and, with Sir Wiihiu's nieaus, might be made all that one could wish for. With the smallest imaginable addition to the honsehold, thirty, ay, forty guests could be easily accommod- ed, and he, GreufoU, knew of such delightful people — such char>.txng people — who would be in ecstasies to stop at a house where was no mistress, where no return civilities were wanted, where each guest might be a law to himself as to his mode of hfe, and where the cellar was immaculate, and the cook better than at the Travellers'. "If I could only get him out of this stupid isolation — if I could persuade him that all England is not like a Welsh county, and that this demure neighbourhood, with its antiquated prudery, has no resemblance to the charmmg world of seductive sinners I could bring around him, what a victory it would be ! '"' To this end the first grand requisite was, that the old man should not marry. " If he marry," argued Grenfell, " he will be so deplorably in love, that what between his passion and his jealousy, he'll shut up the house, and nothing younger than the old rrench abbe will ever cross the threshold." Now Grenfell had not of late kept up any relations of intercourse with Ladarelle ; indeed, Lu his life in town, he had avoided intimacy with one all of whose associates were evidently taken from the lowest ranks of the turf, and the slang set of second-rate theatres. Gren- fell could not, consequently, know what plan of campaign this promising young gentleman was following out ; but when he learned that it was quite sudderdy he had quitted the Castle, and that his servant, Mr. Fisk, had been left behind, he very soon established such a watch on the accomplished valet's movements as satisfied him that he was there on duty as a spy, and that his daily visits to the post-oflice signified how industriously he despatched his intelli- gence. At first, Grenfell was disposed to make advances to Fisk, and win his confidence — a task not difiicult to one whose whole life had been a series of such seductions ; but he subsequently thought it might be better to hold himself qidte aloof from all intercourse with the younger branch, and stand firmly by the head of the dynasty. " If Ladarelle be really gone after this girl, to marry her, or to run off with her, it matters not which, he is playing viy game. All I ask is, that Sir Within be not the bridegroom, if the shock of the disaster should not overwhelm him, there is nothing else to be di'caded." There, indeed, lay the great peril ; nor was Grenfell a man to undervalue it. In his contempt for all emotions, he naturally ascribed their strongest influences to those whose age had weakened their faculties and impaired their judgments. Love was a foUy with the young ; but with the old, it was the stupidest of all infatuations, and the reckless way in which an old man woidd resign fortune, station, and the whole world's opinion on such an issue, was, to hii thinking, the strongest possible evidence of second childhood. 38iJ LUTTIIELL OF AERiN. " If I could make him feel the ridiculous part of tlie calamity, lie would gaiu courage to brave tlic disaster," thought he. And while he thus thought he smoked on iu silence, neither uttering a word. " Nine o'clock ! " said Sir Within, as he counted the strokes of the timepiece. " Nine, and the post not in ! " "How easily one takes the delay of the mail when 'the House' ie up," said Grcnfell, purposely saying what might possibly suggest some sort of dissent or opinion; but the old diplomatist had been too well schooled to fidl into sueli indiscretion, and simply said, " It is true, we all hibernate when the autumn begms." Greulell saw that his shell had not exploded, and began to talk at random about how much pleasanter it was to have one's post of a morning — that letters should always come in with the eggs at breakfast — that people exchanged their gossip more genially then than at any other time; and, at last, arrived at what he sought to portray, the tableau of a charming party in a delightful oountry- liouse, " The best thing we have in England ; and, indeed, the best thing the world has anywhere." " I quite agree with you," said Sii" Within, blandly. And he wiped the beautiful miniature of Marie Antoinette that adorned the Ud of his suuti-box, and gazed with admiration at the lovely featui'es. " I fancy they know very little abroad of what we call country- house hfe ? " half asked Greufell. "They have their gatherings at 'the chateau' in France; and iu Italy they have their villegiatura All, there he comes; I hear the clank of the post-bag 1 " He caught himself quickly, and re- sumed : " 1 rather like the villegiatura ; there is not much trouble taken to entertain you, but you arc free to dispose of yourself how you like. "What has kept hun so late. Fry ? " said he, as the butler entered with the bag ; " take it up to my room." " Oh, let us liear who has won llie Cantelupe ! " said Grcnfell. " I have backed Grimsby's horse, Black Ruin, at three to eight against the field." " Here's the key, then," said Sir Within, m ith w ell feigned indif- ference. As Grcnfell emptied the contents of the bag on the tabic, a square- shaped, somewhat-hoavy packet fell to the floor, at Sir Wit bin's feet. The old man lifted it up and laid it on the table, but, on doing so, his hand trembled, and his colour changed. " AVhat about your race — has your horse won ? " asked he, as Grcnfell turned over the jiaper to find the sporting intelligence. " Oil, here it is — a dead heat between Black Ruin and Attila. \\ liy, he's Grimsby's also. ' Second heat, Attila walked over.' What a 6cll ! i see there's a long letter about it from the correspondent; shall 1 read it for you ? " I 1/ ^^ A HEAVl BLOW. 383 "By all means," said Sir Within, not sorry to give him any occupation at the moment that might screen himself from all scrutiny. " ' The long-expected match between Lord St. Dunstan's well- known Carib Chief and IMr. Grimsby's Black Ruin — for, in reality, the large field of outsiders, fourteen in number, might as well have been cantering over an American savannah — took place yesterday.' " He read on and on — the fluent commonplaces — about the course crowded with rank and fashion, amongst whom were noticed the usual celebrities of the turf, and was getting to the description of the scene at the weighing stand, when a dull, heavy sound startled him. He looked down, aud saw that Sir Within had fallen from his chair to the floor, and lay stretched and motionless, with one arm across the fender. Lifting him up, Grenfell carried him to a sofa. His face aud fore- head were crimson, and a strange sound came from the half-open lips, like a faint whistle. " This is apoplexy," muttered Grenfell ; and he turned to ring the bell and summon aid, but, as he did so, he perceived that several papers lay on the floor, and the envelope of a recently-opened packet amongst them. " Ha, here is what has done it ! ■■' muttered he to himself; and he held a square-shaped piece of coarse paper to the light and read the following, written in a bold, irregular hand : " ' I, Paul O'Raiferty, P.P. of Drumcahill and Ardmorran, hereby certify that I have this day united in the bonds of holy matrimony, Adolphus Ladarelle, Esq., of Upper Portland Street, London, and the " Downs," in Herefordshire, to Kate Luttrell, niece aud sole heiress of John Hamilton Luttrell, Esq., of Arran ; and that the ceremony was duly performed according to the rights and usages of the Holy Catholic Church, and witnessed by those whose names arc attached to this document. " ' Jane M'CafPerty, her mark x- " ' Timothy O'Rorke, of Cush-ma-Crcena. " ' Given on this eighteenth of November, 18 — .' " Grenfell had not time to look at the other papers, for he heard a step in the corridor, aud, thrusting them hastily into his pocket, he rang the bell violently, nor desisted till the door opened, and Mr. Fisk appeared. " Call the people here— send for a doctor ! " cried Grenfell. " Sir Within has been taken with a fit." " A fit. Sir ! Indeed, how very dreadful," said Fisk ; but who, instead of hurrying off to obey tlie order, walked deliberately over and stared at the sick man. " He'll not come round. Sir, take my word for it, Mr. Grenfell. It's no use doing anytliing— it's all up." 3S4 LVTTRELL OF AUKAlf. " Go, send for a doctor at once," said Grenfell, angrilj. "I assure you, Sir, it's too late," said the impassive valet, as he left the room in the same slow and measured pace he had entered. Several servants, however, rushed now to answer the bell, which Grcni'ell rang unceasingly, and by them Sir Within was carried to his room, while messengers were despatched in all directions for medical aid. Once alone in his own room, and with the door locked, Grenfell re-read the document which had caused the disaster. He was not one of those men who sutler from the pangs of conscience on ordinary occasions, but he had his misgivings here that a certain piece of counsel he had once given might just as well have been withheld. If the shock should kill the old man, it would defeat all that policy to which he had been of late devoting himself. Young Ladarelle would have learned from Fisk enough about his, Grenfcll's, iulluence with Sir AVithin to shut the doors against him when he had succeeded to the estate. These were painful reflections, and made him thuik that very probablv he had " been backing the wrong stable." " Is the fellow really married ? " muttered he, as he sat exami- ning the paper. "This document does not seem to me very formal. It is not like the copy of a registry, and, if the mar- riage were duly solemnised, why is it not stated where it took place ? " He turned to the long letter which accompanied the certificate. It was from Ladarelle, half apologetically announcing his marriage, and stating that the intelligence could doubtless only prove gratify- ing to Sir Within, since the object of his choice had so long been the recipient of so many favours from Sir AVithin himself, and one whose gratitude had already cemented the ties of relationship which bound her to the f;unily. It was long and commonplace through- out, and bore to the keen eyes of him mIio read it the evidence of being written to sustain a fraud. " There has been no marriage," said Grenfell, as lie closed the letter. " She has been duped and tricked, but how, and to what extent, I know not. If I were to send for Tisk, and tell him that I had just received this letter from his master the fellow might accord me his conlidoncc, and tell me everything." He rang the bell at once, but, when the servant answered the summons, he baid that Mr. Fisk had left the Castle with post-horseo half an hour before, it was supposed for town. Ladarclle's letter finished by saying, " ^\c arc off to Paris, where we remain, Hotel Grammont, Kue Koyale, till the 30th; thence we siiall probably go south— not quite certain where." "No, no, there has been no marriage— not even a mock one. All these details are far too minute and circumstantial, and these messages of 'my dear wife' are all anreol- But what A DEA-VY BI.OW, 5ib5 call it matter ? If the old man should only rally, it is all for tlie best." A knock came to tie door. It was Doctor Price. " All is going on favourably. It was shock — only shock of the nervous system — nothing pai-alytic," said he; "and he is more concerned to know that his face was not bruised, nor his hands scratched, than anything else. He wishes to see you immediately." " Is it quite prudent to go and talk to him just yet ? " " Better than render him irritable by refusing to see him. You wUl, of course, use your discretion on the topic you discuss with him." Grenfell was soon at the sick man's bedside, none but themselves in the room. " We are alone, are we ? " asked Sir Within, faintly. " Quite alone." " Yates says there were no letters or papers to be found when lie entered the room " "I placed them all in my pocket," interrupted Grenfell. "There were so many people about, and that fellow of young Lada- relle's too, that I thought it best not to leave anythmg at their mercy." " It was very kind and very thoughtful. Where are they ? " " Here. I sealed them up hx their own envelope." The old man took the paper with a trembling hand, and placed it under his pillow. He had little doubt but that they had been read — his old experiences in diplomacy gave no credit to any sense of honour on this head — but he said not a word of this. " Adolphus has married the girl you saw here — my ward, he used to call her," said he, in a low whisper. " Indeed ! Is it a good match ? Has she fortune ? " " Not a shilling. Neither fortune nor famUy." " Then you are not pleased with the connection ? " Sir Within drew a long sigh, and said : " It is no affair of mine, His father will, perhaps, not hke it." " How did it come about ? Where did it take place ? " " Nothing — nothing but misery before her ! " muttered the old man, unheeding his question. " Do you thmk he will treat her ill ? " " A Me of sorrow — of sorrow and shame ! " mui-mui-ed he, still lower. " Poor girl ! — poor unhappy girl ! " Grenfell was silent, and the other, after a pause, went on : " His father is sure to be displeased ; he is a violent man, too, and one can't say to what lengths temper may carry him. And all this will fall upon her ! " " Do you think so ? " " I know him well ! " He mused for several minutes, and than 25 JP6 LUTTRELL OF AURAN. said to liimself : " I could not — I could not — not for worlds ! " Aud then aloud ; " But I could leave this — leave the Castle, and lei them come here. How she loved it once ! Oh, if you knew how happy she was here ! " He covered his face with his hands, and lay thus a considerable time. " And do you mean to invite them here ? " asked Grenfell at last. " You can write it for me," said he, still pursuing his own train of thought. " You can tell him that, not being well — havhig some difficulty in holding a pen — I have begged of you to say that the Castle is at their disposal — that I mean to leave this — where shall I say for ? — to leave this for the south of Trance, or Italy." " Are you equal to such a journey ? Have you strength for it?" " Far more than to stay here and meet her — tlicm — meet them" added he, almost peevishly. "I have not health nor spirits for seeing company, and of course people will call, aud there will be dinners and receptions — all things I am unfit for. Say this for me, dear Mr. Grenfell, aud tell Yates that I mean to go up to town to-morrow." Grenfell shook his head to imply dissent, but the other resumed: " If you knew me better. Sir, you would know that my energy never failed me when I called upon it. I have been tried pretty sorely once or twice in life, and yet no disaster has found me faint- hearted ! " As he spoke, a gleam of pride lighted up his features, and he looked all that he thought himself. " Will you take this key of the gem-room," said he, after a pause ; " and in the second drawer of the large ebony cabinet you will find a greeu moroceo- case ; it has my mother's name on it, Oliver Trevor. Do me the favour to bring it to mc. This was a wedding jircseut some eighty years ago, Mr. Grenfell," said he, as he unciabj)ed the casket that the other placed in his hands. " It was the fashion of those days to set gems on either side, and here you have emeralds, and here arc opals. Ladies were wont to turn their necklaces in the course of an entertainment ; they are content with less costly changes now : they merely change tlieir affections." He tried to smile, but his lips trembled, and his voice all but failed him. " It is very magnificent ! " exclaimed Grenfell, who was truly sm-prised at the splendour of the jewels. " The Margravine of Anhalt's present to my mother. Sir ! " As the glow of pride the recollection imparted to his face faded away, a sickly pallor succeeded, and, in a tone of broken and difficult utterance, he said : ' Be kind enough to place this in an envelope, seal it with my arms, aud address it, Mrs._ A. Ladarclle, do la part de W. W.' That will be quite Buflicient." k HEAVTi BLOW. 'HJ " They are splendid stones ! " said Greufell, who seemed never to weary of his admiration. " They will become her, Sir, and she will become ikem ! " said the old man, with an immense effort to seem calm and collected. '• I believe," said he at last, with a faint smile, " I am overtaxing this poor strength of mine. Price warned me to be careful. Will you forgive me if I ask you to leave me to my own sorry company ? "You'll come back in the evening, won't you? Thanks — my best thanks ! " And he smiled his most gracious smile, and made a Httle familiar gesture with his hand ; and then as the door closed, and he felt that none saw him, he turned his face to the pillow and sobbed — sobbed convulsively. Although Grenfell had acceded to Sir Within's request to write the invitation to Ladarelle, he secretly determined that he would not commit himself to the step without previously ascertaining if the marriage had really taken place, because, as he said to himself, this young fellow must never get it into his head that he has de- ceived such a man as me. He therefore wrote a short, half jocular note, addressed to Ladarelle at his club in town, saying that he had read his letter to Sir Within, and was not one-half so much over- come by the tidings as his respected relative. " In fact," said he, "I have arrived at that time of life in which men believe very little of what they hear, and attach even less of importance to that little. At all events. Sir Within will not remain here ; he means to go abroad at once, and Dah-adern will soon be at your disposal, either to pass your honeymoon, or rejoice over your bachelor freedom in, and I offer myself as your guest under either casualty." " The answer will show me," muttered he, " what are to be out mture relations towards each other. And now for a good sleep, as befits a man with an easv conscience." SS8 LUTTEELL OP .VRKAl*. CHAPTER LVIL TKE nOSIE OF SORROW. !« was six weeks after the events in wliich we last saw Kate Luttrell that she was sufiicieutly able to rise from lier sick-bed, aud sit at the little window of her room. She was wan, and worn, and wasted, her eyes deep sunken, and her clieeks hollow. Beautiful was she still in aU 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. Her long luxuriant hair — spared by a sort of pity by her doctor, who, in his despair of rescuing her from her fever, yielded to her raving entreaties not to cut it off — this now fell in wavy masses over her neck and shoulders, and in its golden riclmess rendering her pale face the semblance of marble. Each day had the doctor revealed to her some detail of what had happened during her illness : How she had been " given over," and received the last rites of the Church ; how, after this, one who called himself her brother had amved, and insisted on seeing her ; how he came with the man named O'Rorke and the priest O'Raffcrty, and remained a few seconds in her room, and left, never to return again; indeed, all three of them had left the town within an hour after their visit. She heard all this m mute amazement, nor even was she certaui that her faculties yet served her aright, so strange and incomprehen- sible was it all. Yet she rarely asked a question, or demanded any explanation, hearing all in silence, as though hoping that with time and patiL'iice her powers of mind would enable her to surmount the difficulties that now confronted and defied her. For days and days did she labour to remember what great event it was had first led her to this town of LilFord, the very name of which was strange to her. The same dislike to ask a question pur- sued lier here, and she poudcrod and pondered over the knotty point, till at last, of a sudden, just as though the light broke instan- taneously upon her, she cried out : "I remember it all! 1 know it now! Has the trial come off? What tidings of my grandfather ? " The poor woman to whom this was addressed imagined it was a return of her raving, and quietly brought the doctor to her side. " Ai-e the assizes over ? " whispered Kate in his ear. THE HOME OF SOKKOW, 389 " More than a month ago." " There was an old man^-Malone. Is he tried ? " " The murder case ? I was at it." " And the verdict ? " •' The verdict was guilty, with a recommendation to mercy for his great age, and the want of premeditation in the crime." " WeU, go on." "The judge concurred, and he will not be executed." " He will be banished, however — banished for life," said she, in a low, faltering voice. "To beUeve himself, he asks no better. He made a speech of nigh an houi* in his defence, and if it had not been that at the last he attempted a sort of justification of what he had done, the judge would not, in all probability, have charged against him ; but the old fellow insisted so strongly on the point that a poor man must always look to himself and not to the law for justice, that he destroyed his case." " And was there not one to advise him ? " " Apparently not ; and when the Chief Baron named a lawyer to defend him, the old fellow refused the aid, and said, ' The work that's done for nothmg is worth nothing. Til just speak for myself.' " " And this other man — O'Rorke, I mean — where was he ? — what did he do ? " " He left this the night before the trial came on, with that young gentleman that was here." " Ah, he left him ! Deserted him in his last need ! " cried she, faintly, but with an intense agony in the tone. " Had they been friends ? " asked the doctor ; but she never heard the question, and sat with her hands clasped before her, motionless and sUent. " Were you there throughout the whole trial ? " asked she, at last. " No ; I was present only on the last day, and I heard hia speech." " Tell me how he looked ; was he broken or depressed ? " " The very reverse. It would have been better for him if he had looked cast down or in grief. It was too bold and too defiant he was, and this grew on him as he spoke, tdl, towards the end of his speech, he all but said, ' I dare you to fuid me guilty ! ' " "The brave old man ! " muttered she below her breath. " When the crowd in the court cheered him, I knew what would happen. No judge in the land could have said a word for him after that." " The brave old man ! " muttered she again. " It seemed at one time he was going to call witnesses to character, and he had a list of them in his hand, but he suddenly 390 LUXTUELL or ARBAN. changed his rniud, and said, ' No, my Lord, whatever you're goaig to do with me this day, I'll do my best to meet it, but I won't make any one stand up here, and have the shame to say he knows a man that the mere turn of a straw might send to the gallows ! ' " " Did he say that ? " cried she, wildly. "He did; and he looked at the jury all the while, as though to say, ' Take care what you do ; it's a man's life is on it ! ' " " Did he ever mention my name ? Did he ask for any one in par- ticular, did you hear ? " asked she, faintly. " No ; but before he began his speech he looked all over the court for full five minutes or more, as if in search of some one, and even motioned some people in the gallery to stand aside that he might see better, and then he drew a long breath — either disappointment or reUef; it might bo cither." " IIow could tlicy have the heart to say guilty ? " said she. " There was no other word to say. Tiiey were on their oaths, and so the judge told tliem, and the whole country was lookmg at them." " And where is he now ? " asked she, eagerly. " All the prisoners for transportation have been sent on to Dublin. They'll not leave the country before spring." She hid her head between her hands, and sat for a long time with- out speakmg. At last she raised her face, and her eyes were red with weeping, and her cheeks furrowed. " Doctor," said she, plaintively, " have I strength enough to go ta him?" He shook his head mournfully, in token of dissent. "Am I too ill?" " You arc too weak, my poor child ; you have not strength for such a journey." " But I have great courage, doctor, and I can bear far more fatigue than you would think." He shook his head again. " You do not know," said she, in a low but earnest voice, " that I was reared in hardship, brought up hi want, and cold, and misery. Ay, and I have never forgotten it ! " He smiled ; it was hall in compassion, half in disbelief. " Do you know me ? — do you know who I am ? " asked she, eagerly. " I know it all, my poor child — I know it all," said he, sadly. " Know it all ? What does your phrase mean ? How all ? " He arose, but she grasped his hand with both hers, and held him fast. " You sliall not leave this till you have answered me ! " cried she. " Is it not enough that I am sick and friendless ? Why should you add the torture of doubt to such misery as mine ? Tell me, I be- THE HOME OF SORROW. 391 beech you — I entreat of you, tell me what you have heard of me ? I will deny nothing that is true ! " He pleaded warmly at first to be let off altogether, and then to be allowed further time — some period when she had grown to be stronger and better able to bear what he should have to tell her. Her entreaties only became more urgent, and she at last evinced such excitement, that in terror lest a return of her brain fever might be feared, he yielded, promising that the confidence reposed in hini was a trust nothing should induce him to break. There is no need that the reader should pass through the sad or- deal of Kate's suffering, even as a witness. No need is there h at her shame, her sorrow, her misery, and, last of all, her passionate indignation, should be displayed before him ; nor that he should see her as she sat there wrung with affliction, orhalf maddened with rage. Compressing the doctor's story into the fewest words, it was this : " Kate had met young Ladarelle at Dalradern Castle, where a passion had grown up between them. The young man, heir to a vast fortune, and sure of a high position, did not scruple to avaU himself of what advantages his brilliant station conferred — won her affections, and seduced her with the promise of a speedy marriage. Wearied out at the imfulfilment of this pledge, she had fled from Dalradern, and sought refuge at Arran, intending to reveal all to her uncle whose pride would inevitably have sought out her betrayer, and avenged her wrong, when she yielded to O'Rorke's per- suasion to meet her lover at Westport, where, as he assured her, every preparation for their marriage had been arranged. Thus induced, she had quitted her uncle's house, and met Ladarelle. A mock marriage, performed by a degraded priest, had united them, and they were about to set out for the continent, when she was struck down by brain fever. The fear of being recognised, as the town was then filUng for the assizes, determined Ladarelle and his friend to take their departure. There was deposited with the doctor a sum sufiicient to defray every charge of her illness, with strict injunc- tions to keep all secret, and induce her, if she recovered, to proceed to Paris, where, at a given address, she would be welcomed andM^ell received." This was the substance of a narrative that took long in the telling, not alone for the number of incidents it recorded, but that, as he proceeded, the unlucky doctor's difficulties increased as some point of unusual delicacy would intervene, or some revelation would be re- quired, which, in the presence of the principal actor in. it, became a matter of no small embarrassment to relate. " And how much of all this. Sir, do you believe ? " said she, calmly, as he concluded. He was silent, for the question impugned more than liis credulity, and he hesitated what to answer. " I ask you, Sir, how much of this story do you believe ? " 392 LUTTRELL OF AUKAN. " There is a colour to part of it," said he, diffidently. " Aiid what part ? " " The part which refers to the marriage here." " What do you mean. Sir ? " " AVhcn you lay on that bed youder, with fixed eyes, motionless, miconscious, and, as all believed, dymg, a priest muttered some words over you, and placed your hand m that of this young man I spoke of. The woman of tiie house saw this through tlie keyhole of tlic door ; she saw a ring produced, too, but it fell to the ground, and the priest laughingly said, ' It's just as good without the ring ; * and, after they had gone, the woman picked it up beneath the bed, and has it now. She saw them, besides, when they came down stairs, sit down at a table and draw up a paper, to which the priest ordered her to be a M'itncss by a mark, as she cannot write ; and this paper she believes to have had some reference to the scene she saw above. All this I believe, for she who told it to me is truthful and honest." Kate passed her hand across her forehead like one trying to clear her faculties for better reflection, and then said : " But this is no marriage ! " " Certainly not ; nor could it have been had recourse to to quiet scruples of yours, since you were unconscious of all that went on." " And with what object, then, was it done ? " This was what he could not answer, and he sat silent and thought- ful ; at last he said : " Were you not at this Castle in Wales I spoke of ? " " Yes." " ^Vnd left it for Arran ? " " Yes," said she again, " that also is true ; and I left it to come and see that old man whose trial you witnessed, lie was my grand- father." ^ ^ " " Your grandfather ! Surely I am speaking to Miss Luttrell ol Arran ? " She nodded, and, after a moment, said : " That old mau was my mother's father, and I journeyed here for no other end than to see him and comfort him. Of all these schemes and plots I know nothing, nor have 1 the strength now to attempt to think of thcni. Which of us will you believe. Sir — them or me ? " " I beUeve you — every word you have told me," said ho ; " but can you forgive me for the tale I have told you ? " " Enough, now, that you do not believe it. And yet what can it matter to me how I am thouglit of ? The opinion of the world is only of moment to those who have friends. / have not one ! " He did his best to comfort and to cheer her; he said all those kind things which even the humblest of his walk know how to pour inte THK HOME OF SORBOW. 393 the ear of alHictioD; and he urged her to go bacK at once to Arrau — to her uncle. The counsel came well timed, and she caught at it eagerly. " My wretchedness will plead for me if I cannot speak for myself," said she, half aloud ; and now all her thoughts were how to reach Westport, and take boat for the island. The doctor volunteered to see her so far on her journey, and they set out the same evening. Arrived at Westport, tired and fatigued as she was, she would not stay to rest, but embarked at once. The night was a bright and pleasant 04ie, with a light land breeze, and as she stepped into the boat, she said, " The sea has given me the feehng of health again. I begui to hope I shall live to see you and thank you for all your friendship. Good-bye."' And as she spoke, the craft was away, and she saw no more. The poor suffering frame was so overcome by fatigue, that they were already at anchor in the harbour of Arran before she awoke. When she did so, her sensations were so confused that she was almost afraid to speak or question the boatmen, lest her words should seem wild and unconnected. " Ai-e you commg back with us. Miss ? " asked one of the men, as she stepped on shore. " No — yes — I beUeve not ; it may be — but I hope not," said she, in a broken accent. " Are we to wait for you ? " repeated he. " I cannot say. No — no — this is my home." " A dreary home it is, then ! " said the man, turning away ; and the words fell heavily on her heart, and she sat down on a stone and gazed at the wild, bleak mountain, and the little group of stunted trees amidst which the Abbey stood ; and truly had he called it a dreary home. The dawn was just breaking as she reached the door, and ere she liad time to knock, Molly saw her from her window, and rushed out to meet her and welcome her home. Almost hysterical with joy and grief together, the poor creature clung to her wildly. " It's in time you're come, darlin'," she cried, amidst her sobs ; " he's goi)ig fast, sleeping away hke a child, but askmg for you every time he wakes up, and we have to tell him that you were tired, and were gone to lie down, and then he mutters some words and goes off again." It needed but this sorrow, Kate thought, to fill up the measure of her misery : and she tottered into the little room and sat down with- out uttering a word, while the woman went on with the story of her master's illness. " A mere cold at first, brought on by going down to the point of rocks at daybreak to watch the boats. He thought he'd see you coming back. At last, when he was so ill that he couldn't leave the 394 LUTTKELL OF AHllAN. aouse, he said that the man that brought him the first news yoa were coming, he'd give him hothouse and garden rent free for his life, and it didn't need that same to make us long to see you ! Thea came the fever, and for a while he forgot everything, but he talked away about poor Master Harry, and what a differ we'll feel when he was the master, raving, raving on, and never ceasing. After that he came back to his senses, and began to ask where you were, and why you didn't sit with him. There he is now ! Hear that ! that's your name he's trying to say. Come to him while it's time." Kate arose. She never spoke, but followed the woman through the ]5assage, and entered the little bed-room, where a faint lamp blended its hght with the breaking day. The sick man's eager eye saw her as she crossed the threshold, and in a vague, discordant voice he cried out, " I knew you'd come to me. Sit here — sit down here and hold my hand. Such stoiies as they told me ! " muttered he, as he caught her hand in his grasp. "They can't make that drink for me, Kate," said he, in a low, whining voice. " I'll make it, dearest uncle. I'll be your nurse now," said she, stooping and kissing his forehead. " No, no ; I'll not let you leave me again. You must sit there and speak to me. When you go away, I feel as if you had gone for weeks." " My dear, dear uncle ! " "Strange! how strange ! " whispered he. "I knew well you were there — there, in that room yonder, asleep, but my thoughts would wander away till 1 came to think you had left me — deserted me ! Don't cry, darhng. I felt that tear ; it fell on my cheek. I do believe," cried he, aloud, " tlicy wished me to thuik I was deserted — a Luttrell of Arrau dying without a friend or a kinsman to close his eyes. And the last Luttrell, too ! The haughty Luttrells, they called us once ! Look around you, girl, at this misery, this want, this destitution ! Ai-e these the signs that show wealth and power ? And it is all that is left to us ! All ! " "My own dear uncle, if you but get ■well, and be yourself once more, it is enough of wealth for us." " Are we alone, Kate ? " asked he, stealthily. " No, Sir ; poor Molly is here." " Tell her to go. 1 have something to say to you. Look in that top drawer for a paper tied with a string. No, not that — that is a direction for my funeral ; the other — yes, you have it now — is my will. Arran will be yours, Kate. "You will love it through ail its barrenness, and never part with it. Promise me that." She muttered somethmg through her sobs. " Be kind to these poor people. 1 have never been to them as I ought, but 1 brought them a broken heart as well as a broken for- SIB, WITHIN ABROAD. 395 tune. And wherever you live, come back sometimes to see these old rocks, and sit in that old chair ; for, solitary as it all is, it would grieve me bitterly if I thought it were to be deserted ! " She tried to speak, but could not. " If those on the mainland should try to encroach — if they should come upon your fishing grounds, girl — defend your rights. We have had these royalties for more than three hundred years. Be firm, be bold ! " He muttered on for some moments, and the last words his lips uttered were, " A Luttrell of Arran ! " His eyes closed as he said it, and he covered his face with his hand. Kate thought it was sleep, but it was the last sleep of all. CHAPTER LVIII. SIE WITHIN ABROAD. SiK Within, accompanied by Grenfe!!, who was now become an " indispensable " to him, left Dalradern for the continent. The old man neither knew nor cared what direction he should take. The con- sciousness that any avowal of his love for Kate would but expose him to bitter raillery and ridicule, debarred him from all the sympathy he so much needed. Such a passion at his age was exactly one of those follies that all concur to laugh at, and it is precisely in the class that this old man pertained to, these dowagers of the world of statecraft, that ridicule is most powerful. The man who deems a witty " mot " a triumph, is just as ready to accept a severe epigram as a death- wound. One would not have believed how a few days of sorrow could have aged him. It was not alone that a stern melancholy sat on his fea- tures, but that even his erect carriage and firm step had left him, and he walked now with bent-down head feebly and uncertainly. Arrived at Paris, Grenfell endeavoured to interest him by some of the pleasures of that marvellous capital. He induced him to dine at the " Rocher," and to drive in the Bois ; he narrated all the passing gossip of the day ; told him the scandals in vogue, and showed nim the actors in them as they drove by on the Boulevards ; but it seemed as though all the world of these vanities had closed for him, and he neither smiled nor vouchsafed a word as he listened. Once only did he betray the slightest animation of voice or mau- 396 LUTTRELL OF AERAN. ner ; it x^'as when Greiifell pointed out to liim iii a carriage one of the great beauties of the time. Tlie old mau looked fixedly for au instant at her, and then, tui'niug away his head, muttered, " Site is iufiuitely more beautiful." Paris he soon discovered to be too noisy and too bustling. For Switzerland, the season was already late, and the climate M-as severe. Spain or Italy remained, and he was yet hesitating which to take, when Greufell mentioned that he saw Mr. M'Kiulay's name amongst the arrivals at the hotel, and, on inquiry, learned that he was on his M'ay out to Italy to see Vyner, and was to leave Paris that night. " I think 1 should like to see Vyner too ; that is, if he would re- ceive me," said Sir Within, feebly. " Could you manage to catch this Mr. M'Kiulay ? " "Shall we have him to dinner to-day ? " " No ; I think not. I'm not equal to it." " Suppose you were to try. He's not a person to make much ceremony with. If he bores you, pretend mdisposition, and leave hun." The old man smiled — a strange, dubious sort of smile it was ; perhaps it amused him to receive a lesson in social craft or address from " a Mr. George Greufell." At all events, Grenfell read the smile as a partial concurrence with his suggestion, and went on : " M'Kinlay would be flattered by the invitation ; and, if you should want him in any other way, he will be all the more tractable." " That is certainly something," replied he, musing. " Not to say," added GrenfeU, laughing, " that we run no great risk in being tired of him, since the mail leaves at ten, and he'll scarcely remain after nme ! " " That is also something," said Sir Within again. " Here goes, then, for a note ; or stay, I'll just see if he be in the house. Wc shall say six o'clock dinner, and alone ; these men abhor the idea of dressing, if they can help it." Sir Within merely raised his eyebrows, half pitifully, that there were such people ; and GrenfeU hastened away on his mission. He was back in a moment. "Just caught him getting into a cab ; he'll be delighted — he icas delighted when I gave him your message. He goes ofl' to-night, as the waiter said, and a])parently lull of important news. Vyner, it would seem, has come all right. Ail he told me was : • Sir Gcrvais will be cjn his legs again ; ' but we'll have it all after dinner." Sir Within heard the tidings with far less interest than Grenfell looked for. He smiled benignly, indeed; he muttered something about being ".charmed to hear it;" and then heaved a heavy sigh and sat down with his back to the light. How heartless and unfeeling sill "VriTHIN ABROAD. S97 did it seem to him to have so much compassion for loss of mere for- tune, and not one word of sympathy for a broken and bereaved heart ! What a world it was ! What a world of perverted feeling and mis- applied generosity ! Grenfell said something about the epicurism of the lawyer class, and went off to give special directions about the dmuer ; and the old man dozed, and woke, and wandered on in thought over the past, and dozed again, till his servant came to apprise him it was time to dress. It was the first time he was to encounter the presence of a stran- ger after some months of seclusion, and he shrank from the effort, and would have retreated altogether if he could only have found a pretext. Conventionalities are, however, the tyrants of such men as himself, and the bare idea of anything unseemly in politeness was unendurable. He suffered his valet, therefore, to restore him to somethmg of liis former appearance. His eyebrows were newly tmted and well arched ; his furrowed cheeks were skilfully smoothed over and suffused with a soft, permanent blush ; and his whiskers were ingeniously brought into keeping with the vigorous darkness of his raven wig, imparting to him altogether a sort of surcharged vitality, that, to an acute observer, might have imparted a sense Little short of horror. The very brilliants of his rings caught a twiuklhig lustre from his tremulous hands, as though to impress the beholder with the contrast between splendour and decay. Nor was his manner less unreal than his appearance. With his darkened eyebrows and his diamond studs he had put on his old tone of soft insinuation, and all tliat was natural in the man was merged in the crafty devices of the minister. No wonder was it M'Kiulay was charmed with a tone and address that had done service in courts. Sir Withui thus " warmed to his work," and ac- tually at last began to feel pleasure in the success he had achieved ; and even Grenfell, long trained to the habits of the world, was as- tonished at conversational resources for which he had never given him credit. Thus happily did the dinner proceed ; and when the servants re- tired, M'Kinlay had arrived at that point of beatitude in which he regarded the company as something superlatively high, and himself fully worthy of it. " You are on your way to my old friend Vyner, I think ? " said Sir Within, with a heartiness that ignored all estrangement between them. " Yes, Sir ; on a pleasanter mission, I rejoice to say, than when I last travelled the same road." " He is all right again, I hear," said Grenfell, who meant, by an abrupt declaration, to disarm all the conventional reserve of the lavfjer. 398 LUTTKELL OF AUKAN. " Well, that would be saying too much, perhaps — too much ; but I hope, Mr. Greufell, he is on the way to it." " With M'Kiulay for his pilot, he'll make the harbour, I have no doubt whatever," said Sir Witliiu, smiliug graciously. " I shall certaiuly do my best, Sir," said the other, bowing. " Not aloue because it is my duty, but that Sir Gervais has beeu good enougli to regard me, for many years back, in the light of his friend as well as his lawyer." "Of that I am M-ell aware," said Sir "Within, liftuig his glass and appearing to be quietly pledging Mr. M'Kiulay to himself as a toast. " Has the scoundrel who ran away with his securities beeu caught ? " asked Grenfell, imjjatiently. " No, Sir; he is beyond being caught — he is dead." After a pause, which Sir Within and Grenfell saw all the importance of not break- ing, but leaving to M'Kiulay the task of continuing his narrative, that gentli nan went on : " It is quite a romance — positively a ro- mance in real life. I'm afraid," said he, looking at his watch, " I shall not have time to tell you the story in all its details. I must start by the ten-twenty train for Lyons." " We are only a few minutes after eight now," said Grenfell. " Let us hear the story." " Even in outline," chimed in Sir Within, blandly. "Pray help youi'self to the wine — it is beside you." " I can give you but a sketch — a mere sketch. Sir. It would seem, Sii", that ever since the French conquest of Algeria, a French com- pany has been engaged in the supply of munitions of war to the Arabs, and to this end had established agents at Tripoli, Tunis, and Morocco, who were thus enabled to transport these supplies into the interior of Africa. The director of this company was La Harpc, the Parisian banker, with whom Sir Gervais became acquainted through Mr. Germet, himself the owner of several shares in the undertaking." Grenfell sighed drearily at the long-windcdness which he sa\? awaited them ; but Sir Within looked intensely interested, and M'Kiulay went on, and, with a prolixity that I have no desire to imitate, entered upon the nature of this company, its operations, and its gains. With a painstaking minuteness he described the false trade-marks used to prevent discovery, and how the weapons, wliich were forged in France, bore the stamp of Sheffield or Birmmgham. " Giving ' La perfide Albion ' all the credit of the treachery," said Sir AVithin, smiling. " Precisely, Sir," said M'Kinlay, dchghted at the attention so gra- ciously vouchsafed him. " I see you understand it all. Indeed, I may remark here, that a very sharp interchauge of notes took place be- tween tlie two governments on the subject, the French alleging, and with apparent reason " SIB WITHI1\ AJ^rvOAD. 399 " Get on, in Heaven's name, to what concerns Vyuer," cried Gren- fell, " for it only wants a quarter to nine, otherwise you'll have to leave us without the catastrophe." " I obey. Sir," said M'Kinlay, with a certain irritation of voice at the same time. " I must observe, you will find it very difficult to fill up for yourselves the gaps you insist on my passing over. Mr. Gennet, then, for it is of him you wish me to speak, very soon perceiving that Sir Gervais Vyner was not a man to be drawn into such an illicit traffic, assumed to have obtained from the Bey of Tunis and others most valuable concessions to mines of various kinds, and by specimens of ore, reports of scientific mmeralogists, and such-hke, imposed on him so far as to induce him to enter largely into the speculation, not at all aware that every shilling he advanced was dkected to the great enterprise of La Harpe and Company. It was not a very difficult task for an accomplished sAviudler like Gennet to show that the mines, which had no existence, had proved a failure. Lideed, the disastrous issue of the enterprise was so plausibly described, and the afi'airs were wound up with such apparent fairness, that it was no wonder if poor Sir Gervais actually pitied Gennet, and went so far as to beg he might not be molested. I assure you, Sir, I have a letter in my desk that says " " Nine o'clock ! " solemnly ejaculated Grenfell, as the hour rang out from a neighbouring steeple. "I hear it, Sh-, and regret much that my time should be so limited; but to resume. So soon as Gennet had estabUshed the fact of the mock bankruptcy, he fled from Europe, and it was be- lieved took refuge in America, where he had Uved many years as partner in a mercantile house — the firm of Reay, Pate, and Brothers, Forty-sixth Street, New York, large shipowners, and importers on their own account. I feel I am proHx, Mr. Grenfell, even without the admonition of that pamful sigh. But really, gentlemen, I am merely selectmg the salient points of a very com- phcated incident, and not entering upon any but the strictly essential details." _ Sir Within assured him he felt an unbounded confidence in his discretion, and he resumed : "There chanced to be in the employ of that firm a merchant captain named Dodge, a man of remarkable energy of character and great daring ; and here I may mention, as a curious circum- stance, that I once happened by a singular coincidence to meet with this man, and be his fellow-traveller, under no common cir- cumstances." " I believe I can recal them," said Sir Within. " I was the guest of my friend Sir Gervais on the night you told a very remarkable story, m which this man's name occurred. The name was a strange one, and it held a place in my memory. If I mistake not, you crossed over to the Arran Islands in his company ? " 400 lUTTKELL OF ARRAN. " I am mucli ilaltercd to And, Sir Within, that you remember the incident, though I see how trying it proves to Mr. Grenfell's patience." " Not in the least, if you will only consent to start by the mornmg's train instead of to-night's. Do that, and you will find you never had a more patient nor more interested listener." " Perfectly impossible. Sir. I have tuned the whole journey by Bradshaw; and to catch the maU-boat — the Cluee?i Horie/ise — at Marseilles, on Saturday, I must arrive by the early train, and there is the half-hour now chiming. I trust Sir Within Wardle will forgive my abrupt leave-taking. One more glass of this excellent claret, and I am off." " Pray give my very kindest regards to Sir Gervais, and my most respectful homage to the ladies. Though I am not permitted to learn how the good fortune came, let me, I beg, be associated with every congratulation the event iuspires." And with this Prenchi- fied expression of his satisfaction, the old diplomatist drew him- self up like one who felt that he stood once more on his native heath. So wrapt up was he, indeed, in this revival of an old part he had so long played with success, that he never noticed how Gren- feU had left the room along with M'Kinlay, and he sat gazmg at the fire and thinkiug over bygones. Nor was he aware how time flitted past, when Grenfell returned and took his place opposite him. " I was determined to have all I could get out of him," said Grenfell. " I jumped into the cab with him, and went to the rail- road station. AVhat between his dreary tiresomeness and the street noises as we rattled along, I gained very Httle ; but this much I have learned : That the man Gennet, Mho had once, as the lawyers call it, 'compassed' the life of Dodge, by sending him to sea in a rotten vessel, immensely insured, and predestined to shipwreck, was re- cognised by this same skipper in the street of Tripoli. Dodge, it seems, had just been lauded with one other survivor of his crew, aaving blown up his vessel to prevent its faUing into the bauds of ^ome E,ilf pirates, and after imheard-of peril and sufferings was picked up at sea with his companion, both badly wounded by the explosion, though they had thrown themselves into the sea before the vessel blew up. All 1 could do would not hurry M'Kinlay over this part of the story, which 1 believe he imagined he told effec- tively, and I had only got him to Tripoli as we drove into the yard of the station. Wliile higgling with the cabmen and the porters, he stannncred out something about Dodge standing at his Consul's door as Gennet rode past wilh a large suite of Arab followers ; that the skipper sprang upon him like a tiger and tore him from his horse. A di-eadful struggle must have ensued, for Gemiet died of his wounds SIR WITHIN ABROAlJ. iOl that iiight, and Dodge was nearly cut to pieces by tiie guard, his life being saved by tlie desperate bravery of his friend, who was a6 last rescued by the members of the Consulate. The bell rang as ■we arrived at this critical moment, but I followed him to his com- partment, and, at the risk of being carried off, sat down beside him. The miserable proser wanted to involve me in an account of the criminal law of Tripoli when any one holding office under the Bey should have been the victim of attack, but I swore I knew it per- fectly, and asked what about Genuet ? He then began to narrate how the French Consul, having intervened to defend the interests of his countryman, discovered the whole plot against France, found all the details of the purchase of war materials, bills of lading, and such-like; and, besides these, masses of Vyner's acceptances, which had never been negotiated. Another — the last — bell now rang out, and as I sprang from my seat he leaned out of the window, and said: 'Dodge, it is thought, will recover; his friend is now with Sir Gervais, at Chiavari, and turns out to be Luttrell, the young fellow whom we picked up ' When, where, or how, I cannot say, for the train now moved on, and the tiresome old dog was carried off at a very ditferent pace from that of his narrative." Sir Within listened with all the semblance of interest and atten- tion. Once or twice he interjected an "Ah ! " or, "How strange ! '' But it is only truthful to own that tie paid very little real attention to the story, and could not well have said at the end whether Dodge was not the villain of the piece, and young Luttrell his guilty accomplice. Very grateful was he, however, when it ended, and when Grenfell said, " I suppose Vyner has had enough of speculation now to last liis lifetime." " I trust so sincerely," said Sir Within, with a smile. " It is such rank folly for a man to adventure into a career of vhich he knows nothing, and take up as his associates a set of men 'otally unlike any he has ever lived with." " I perfectly agree with you," said the other, with an urbane bow. " You have admirably expressed the sentiment I experience at this moment ; and even with my brief opportunity of arriving at a judgment, I am free to confess that 1 thought this gentleman who has just left us, Mr. M'Kinlay, I think he is called — a very dangerous man — a most dangerous man." Grenfell looked at him, and fortunate was it that Sir Within did not note that look, so full was it of pitiless contempt; and then rismg, he said, " It is later than I thought. You said something about Versailles for to-morrow, didn't you? " "I have not heard whether his Majesty will receive me." Grenfell started, and stared at him. Had it come to this already ' Was the mind gone and the intellect shattered ? 26 402 LUTTRELL OF ARRAN. " You spoke of a day iu the country somewhere," reiterated Greufell, " St. Gcrmaius, or Versailles." " Very true. I am most grateful for youi* remiader. It will be charming. I am quite iu a humour for a few pleasant people, aud I ope the weather wUl favour us." " Good-night," isaid Greufell, abruptly, and left the room. CHAPTER LIX. MR. GRENFELL's room. Mr. Grenfell sat in an easy-chair, wrapped iu a most comfort- able dressing-gown, and his feet encased iu the softest of slippers, before a cheery wood fire, smoking. His reflections were not depressing. The scene from which he had just come satisfied him as to a fact — which men like Greufell have a sort of greedy appetite to be daily assured of — that "Money is not everything iu tliis world." Simple as the proposition seems, it takes a long aud varied knowledge of hfe to briug home that conviction forcibly and ellec- lually. Men are much more prone to utter it than to believe it, and more ready to believe it than to act upon it. Now, though Grenfell was ready to admit that " Money was not everything." he coupled it with what he believed to be just as true — that it was a man's own fault that made it so. He instanced to his mind the old man he had just quitted, and who, except iu the quality of years, was surrounded with everything one could desire — name, fortune, station, more than average abilities, and good health — and yet he must needs fall in love ! By what fatality was it that a man always chose the worst road ? What malevolent ingenuity ever selected the precise path that led to ruin ? Were there no other vices he could have taken to ? Wine, gambling, gluttony, would Dave spared his intellect for a year- or two certainly. The brains of old people stand common wear and tear pretty well ; it is only when the affections come to bear upon the mind that the system givc& ■way. That a man should assume old age gracefully and becomingly, the heart ought to decay and grow callous, just as naturally as hair MR. grenpell's room. 403 wluteus and teeth fail. Nature never contemplated such a compact as that the blood at seventy should circulate as at thirty, and that the case-hardened, world-worn man should have a revival of hope, trustfulness, and self-delusiou. It was thus Grenfell regarded the question, and the view was not the less pleasing that he felt how safely he stood as regards all those seductions wiich fool other men and render their lives ridiculous. At all events, the world should not laugh at lilm. This is a philosophy that suffices for a large number of people in life ; and simple as the first element of it may seem, it involves more hard-hearteduess, more cruel indifference to others, and a more practical selfislmess, than any other code I know of. If he was well pleased that Vyner should " come all right again," it was because he liked a rich friend far better than a poor one ; but there mingled with his satisfaction a regret that he had not made overtures to tlie Vyuers — the " women, " he called them — in their hour of dark fortune, and established with them a position he could continue to maintain in their prosperity. " Yes," thought he, "I ought to have been taught by those people who always courted the Bourbons in their exile, and speculated on their re- storation. But the restoration of the Vyner dynasty was a thing he had never dreamed of. Had he only had the very faintest clue to it, what a game he might have played ! What generous proffers he might have made, how ready he might have been with his aid ! It is only just to him to own that he very rarely was wanting in such, prescience; he studied life pretty mucii as a physician studies disease, and argued from the presence of one symptom which was to follow it. His present speculations took this form. Vyner will at once return to England, and go back to "the House;" he'll want occupation, and he'll want, besides, to reinstate himself with the world. With his position and his abilities — fair abilities they were — he may aspire to office, and Grenfell liked official people. They were a sort of priesthood, who could slip a friend into the sanctuary occasionally, not to add, that all privileged classes have an immense attraction for the man whose birth has debarred him from their intimacy. Now, he could not present himself more auspiciously to the Vyuers than in the company of Sir Witliiu Wardle, who was most eager to renew all his former relations with them. Nor was it quite impos- sible but that Grenfell might seem to be the agency by which the reconciliation was brought about. A clever stroke of pohcy that, and one which would doubtless go far to render him acceptable to the " women." If we must invade the secrecy of a very secret nature, we must confess that Mr. Grenfell, in his gloomier hours, in his dark days at home, when dyspeptic and depressed, speculated on the possible event that he might at last be driven to marry. He thought of it the 26—2 404 LXITTEELL OF AERAN. way men tliiuk of the precautions instilled by a certain time of life, the necessity of more care in diet, more regular hours, and such- like. There would come a time, he suspected, when country- houses would be less eager for him, and the young fellows who now courted and surrounded him would have themselves slipped into " mediEevalty," and need him no more. It was sad enough to think of, but he saw it, he knew it. Nothmg, then, remained but a It was all-essential — indeed indispensable — that she should be a person of family and coimections ; one, m fact, that might be able to keep open the door of society— even half ajar— but still enough to let him slip in and mingle with those inside. Vyner's sister-in- law was pretty much what he wanted. She was no longer young, and consequently her market-value placed her nearer to his hopes ; and although Sir Gervais had never yet made him known to Lady Vyuer or Georguaa, things were constantly done abroad that could not have occurred at home. Men were dear friends on the Tiber who would not have been known to each other on the Thames. The result of all his meditations was, that he must persuade Sir Within to cross the Alps, and then, by some lucky chance or other, come unexpectedly upon the Vyners. Fortune should take care of the rest. Arrived at this conclusion, and his third cigar all but smoked out, he was thinking of bed, when a tap came to his door. Before he had well time to say "Come m," the door opened, and young LadarcUe's valet, Mr. Fisk, stood before him. "I hope you'll forgive me. Sir," said he, submissively, "for sbtruding upon you at such an hour, but I have been all over Paria, and only found out where you were this minute. I was at the station this evenuig when you drove up there, but I lost you in the crowd, and never could fuid you again." " All which zeal implies that you had some business with me," said Grenfell, slowly. " Yes, Sir, certainly. It is what I mean. Sir," said he, wiping his forehead, and betraymg by his maimer a considerable amount of agitation. " Now, then, what is it ? " "It is my master. Sir, Mr. Adolphus Ladarelle, has got mto trouble — very serious trouble, I'm afraid, too — and if you, can't help aim through it, there's nobody can, I'm sure." " A duel 't " " No, Sir, he don't fight." " Debt ? " " Not exactly debt. Sir, but he has been arrested within the lagd few hours." "Out with it. What's the story P " " You have heard about that Irish business, I suppose, Sii* — that I MR. guenfell's koom. 405 story of the young girl he pretended to have married to prevent Sir Within making her my Lady " " I know it all ; go on." " Well, Sir, the worst of all that affair was, that it brought my master into close intimacy with a very dangerous fellow called O'Rorke, and though Mr. Ladarelle paid him — and paid him hand- somely, too — for all he had done, and took his passage out to Mel- bourne, the fellow wouldn't go. No, Sir, he swore he'd sec Paris, and enjoy a httle of Paris life, before he'd sail. / was for getting him aboard when he was halt' drunk, and shipping him off before he was aware of it ; but my master was afraid of him, and declared that he was quite capable of coming back from the ikrthest end of the world to ' serve him out ' for anything like ' a cross.' " " Go on — come to the arrest — what was it for ? " broke in Greu- fell, impatiently. " Cheating at cards. Sir," plumped out the other, half vexed at being deemed prosy. " That's the charge. Sir ; false cards and cogged dice, and the pohce have them in then- hands this muiute. It was all this fellow's domg, Sir ; it was he persuaded Mr. Dolly to set up the rooms, and the tables, and here's what it's come to ! " " And there teas false play ? " " So they say, Sir. One of the ladies that was taken up is well known to the police ; she is an Itahan Marchioness — at least they call her so — and the story goes ' well protected,' as they say here." " I don't see that there's anything to be done in the matter, Pisk ; the law will deal wit'h them, and pretty sharply, too, and none can interfere with it. Are you compromised yourself ? " " No, Sir, not in the least. I was back and forward to town once or twice a week gettmg bills discounted and the like, but I never went near the rooms. I took good care of that." " Such being the case, I suspect your affection for your master will not prove fatal to you — eh 'i " " Perhaps not. Sir ; a strong constitution and reg'lar habit may help me over it, but there's another point I ain't so easy about. Mr. Dolly has got a matter of nigh four hundred pounds of mine. I lent it at twenty -five per cent, to him last year, and I begin to fear the security is not what it ought to be." "There's somethuig in that, certainly," said Grenfell, slowly. " Yes, Sir, there's a great deal in it, because they say here, if Mr. Dolly should be sent to the gaUeys ever so short a time, he loses civil rights, and when he loses i/iem, he needn't pay no debts to any one." " Blessed invention those galleys must be, if they could give the immunity you mention ! " said Grenfell, laughing ; " but I opine 406 LUTTllELL or ARRAX. your law is not quite accurate — at any rate, Fisk, there's nothing to DC done for liim. If he stood alone in the case, it is just possible there would be a chance of helping him, but here he must accept the lot of his associates. By the way, what did he mean by that mock marriage? What was the object of it?" This query of Grenfell's was thrown out in a sort of random carelessness, its real object being to see if Mr. Pisk was ou "the square" with him. " Don't you know, Sir, that he wanted to prevent the old gent at Dalradern from marrying her ? One of the great lawyers thinks that the estate doesn't go to the Ladarelles at all if Sir Within had an heir, and though it's not very likely, Sir, it might be possible. Master Dolly, at all events, was mortally afraid of it, and he always said that the mere chance cost him from fifteen to twenty per cent. in his deahngs with money-lenders." " Are you known to Sir Within, Fisk ? Has he seen you at the Castle ? " " Not to know me, Sir ; he never notices any of m at all. Yates, Lis man, knows me." " Yates is not with him. He has got a French valet who lived with him some years ago, and so I was thinkmg, perhaps, the best way to serve you would be to take you myself. What do you say to it ? " "I'm ever grateful. Sir, to you. I couldn't wish for anythmg better." " It will be pleasauter than ' Clichy,' at all events, Fisk, and there's no doubt the police here will look out for you when they dis- cover you were in Mr. Ladarelle's service." " And am I safe here, Sir ? " " You'll be safe, because we leave here to-morrow. So come over here after breakfast, and we'll settle everything. Ey the way, I'd not go near Mr. Ladarelle if I were you ; you can't be of use to him, and it's as well to take care of yourself." "I was just thinking that same. Sir; not to say that if that fellow O'Korke saw me, it's just as likely he'd say I was one of the gang-" "Quite so. Be here about twelve or one, not later." " VViiat do you think about my money. Sir — the loan to Mr. Dolly, I mean ? " "it's not a choice investment, Fisk — at least, there are securities 1 would certainly prefer to it." " Three years' wages and perquisites. Sir ! " cried he, mourn- fully. " Well, your master will probably have five years to rumuiate ever the wronfj lie has done you." " At the gahcys ? Do you really mean the galleys, Sir ? " "1 KJidly mean at the galleys, Fisk; and if he be not a more MR. M'KINLAY in the TOILS. 407 amusing companion there than I have found him in ordinary afe, 1 can only say I do not envy the man he will be chained to." Mr. risk grinned a very hearty concurrence with the sentiment, and took a respectful leave, and withdrew. CHAPTER LX. MB. M'KJNLAY in the TOILS. Mb. M'Kinlay was too acute an observer not to see that his arrival at the Boschetto was matter of general satisfaction, and his welcome pecuharly cordial. The Vyners had just escaped from a heavy calamity, and were profuse of grateful emotions to all who had assisted them in their troubles. Now, M'Kinlay had not been exti-avagant in his offices of friend- ship, but, with a sort of professional instinct, he had always contemplated the possibility of a restoration, and had never be- trayed by his manner any falling off from his old terms of loyalty and devotion. The Vyners, however, had their acute attack of gratitude, and they felt very warmly towards him, and even went so far as to designate by the word " delicacy " the cold reserve which he had once or twice manifested. Vyner gave him up his own room, and the little study adjoining it, and Georgina — the haughty Georgina — vouchsafed to look over its internal economies, and see that it was perfect in all its comforts. She went further; she actually avowed to him the part she had taken in his reception, and coquettishly engaged him to remember how much of his accommodation had de- pended on her foresight. Mr. M'Kinlay was delighted ; he had not been without certain misgivings, as he journeyed along over the Alps, that he might have shown himself a stronger, stauucher friend to Vyner in his hour of adversity. He had his doubts as to whether he had not been betrayed once or twice into a tone of rebuke or censure, and he knew he had assumed a manner of more freedom than 4-08 LUTTB.ELL OF ARRAK. consorted with their former relations. Would these lapses be re- incinbercd against him now ? Should he find them all colder, stiffer, haughtier than ever? "What a relief to him was the gracious, the more than gracious receplion he met with 1 How pleasant to be thanked most enthu- siaslically for the long journey he had come, with the consciousness he was to be paid for it as handsomely afterwards ! How lightly he took his fatigues, how cheerily he talked of everything, slyly insinuating now aud then that if they would look back to his letters they would see that he always pomted to this issue to the case, and fbrhis part never felt that the matter was so serious as they deemed X. "Not that I ever permitted myself to hold out hopes which might prove delusive," added he, "for I belong to a profession whose fir«t maxim is, ' Nothing is certain.' " Nor was it merely kind or complimentary they were; they were confidential. Vyner would sit down at the fire with him, and tell all the little family secrets that are usually reserved for the members themselves ; and Georghia would join him in the garden, to explain how she long foresaw the infatuation of her brother-in-law, but was powerless to arrest it ; and even Lady Vyner — the cold and distant Lady Vyner — informed him, in the strictest secrecy, that her dear mother had latterly taken a fondness for Malaga, and actually drank two full glasses of it every day more than the doctor permitted. What may not the man do in the household who is thus accepted and trusted? So, certainly, thought Mr. M'Kinlay, aud as he strolled in the garden, apparently deep in thought over the Vyner complications, his real cares were, How was he himself to derive the fullest advantages of " the situation ? " " It is wliile towing the wreck into harbour the best bargain can be made for salvage," muttered M'Kinlay. "I must employ the present moments well, since, once reinstated in their old prosperity, the old pride is sure to return." He hesitated long what course to take. Trudence suggested the slow, cautious, patient approach ; but then Miss Courtenay was one of those capricious natures whose sudden turns disconcert all regular siege. And, on the other hand, if he were to attempt a "surprise," and failed, he should never recover it. He had ascertained that her fortune was safe ; he had also learned that Mrs. Courtenay had made a will m her favour, tiiough to what precise amount he could not tell ; and he fancied — nor was it mere fancy — that she inclined far more to his society than heretofore, and seemed to encourage him to a greater frank- ness than he had yet dared to employ in his intercourse with her. Partly because of the arduous task of investigating Vyner's accounts, and partly that he was a man who required abundant time and quiet befoi-c he could make up his mind on any difliculty, he breakfasted alone in his own room, and rarely mixed with the familj MR. m'KINLAY in the TOILS. 409 before diiuier-liour. He knew well liow all this secmiug industry redounded to his credit ; the little entreaties to hini to take some fresh an-, or take a walk or a drive, were all so many assurances of friendly interest m his behalf ; and when Vyner would say, " Have a care, M'Kiulay ; remember what's to become of us if you knock up," Lady Vyners glance of gratitude, and Miss Courtenay's air of half confusion, were an incense that positively intoxicated him with ecstasy. A short stroll in the garden he at last permitted himself to take, and of tliis brief period of relaxation he made a little daily history — one of those small jokes great men weave out of some little personal detail, which they have a conscious sense, perhaps, history will yet deal with more pompously. '•' Five times from the orangery to the far summer-house to-day ! There's dissipation for you," would he say, as he entered the draw- ing-room before dinner. " Really I feel like a pedestrian training for a race." And how pleasantly would they laugh at his drollery, as we all do laugh every day at some stupid attempt at fun by those whose services we stand in need of, fiattermg oui'selves the while that our sycophancy is but politeness. Vyner was absent one day, and Mr. M'Kiulay took the head of the table, and did the honours with somewhat more pretension thau the position required, alluding jocularly to his high estate and its onerous responsibilities, but the ladies liked his pleasantry, and treasured up little details of it to tell Sir Gervais on his return. When they left him to his coffee and his cigar on the terrace his feeling M-as little less than triumphant. "Yes," thought he, "I have won the race ; I may claim tiie cup when I please." While he thus revelled, he saw, or fancied he saw, the flutter of a musHn dress in the garden beneath. Was it Georgina ? Could it be that she had gone there designedly to draw him on to a declaration ? If Mr. M'Kmlay appear to my fair readers less gallant than he might be, let them bear in muid that his years were not those which dispose to romance, and that he was only a "solicitor" by profession. " Now or never, then," said he, finishing a second hqueur-glass of brandy, and descending the steps into the garden. Though withm a few days of Christmas, the evening was mild and even genial, for Chiavari is one of those sheltered nooks where the orauges live out of doors through the winter, and enjoy a climate like that of Naples. It was some time before he could detect her he was in search of, and at last came suddenly to where she was gathering some fresh violets for a bouquet. " What a cUmate — what a heavenly climate this is. Miss Courte- nay ! " said he, in a tone purposely softened and subdued for the occasion ; and she started and exclanned : " Oh ! how you frightened me, my dear Mr. M'Kiulay. I never 410 LUTTKELIi Oi" ARRAN, heard you coming, I am in search of violets ; come and help me, but only take the deep blue ones." Now, it' Mr. M'Kinlay had been perfectly sure — which he was not — that her eyes were blue, he would have adventured on a pretty compliment, but, as a lawyer, he knew the consequences of " misde- scription," and he contented himself with expressing all the happiness he felt at being associated with her in any pur- suit. " Has my sister told you what Gervais has gone about ? " asked she, still stooping to cull the flowers. " Not a word of it." " Then I will, though certainly you scarcely deserve such a proof of my confidence, seemg how very guarded you are as to your own secrets." " I, my dear Miss Courtenay ? / guarded ! and towards you ? I pray you tell me what you allude to." " By-and-bye, perhaps ; for the present I want to speak of our own mysteries. Know, then, that my brother has gone to Genoa to bring back with him the young gentleman through whose means much of our late discovery has been made, and who turns out to be Mr. Luttrell. He was here for a couple of days already, but so overwlielmed by the news of his father's death that we scarcely saw anything of him. He then left us to go back and uurSe his wounded friend, the captain, who insists, it seems, on being treated in the public hospital." " Luttrell — Luttrell! You mean one of that family who lived on the rock off the Irish coast ? " " His son." " The boy I remembered having rescued at the peril of my own life ! I wonder will his memory recal it ? And why is Sir Gervais " He stopped ; he was about to ask what interest could attach to any one so devoid of fortune, friends, or station, and she saw the meaning of his question, and said, though not without a certaui confusion : " My brother-in-law and this young man's father were once on a time very intimate; he used to be a great deal with us — 1 am speaking of very long ago — and then we lost sight of him. A remote residence and an imprudent marriage estranged him from us, and the merest accident led my brother to where he lived — the barren island you spoke of — and renewed in some sort their old friendship — in so far, at least, that Gervais promised to be the guardian of his friend's son " "I remember it all; I took a part in the arrangement." " But it turns out there is nothuig to take charge of. In a letter that my brother got from Mr. Grenfell some time since we find that Mr. Luttrell has left everything he possessed MK. M'KINLAT in the TOILS. 41^ to a ceitaiu niece or daughter. Wiiicli was she, Mr. M'Kinlay ? " " Niece, I always understood." " Which did you always believe ? " said she, looking at liim with a steady, unflinching stare. " Niece, certainly." "Indeed?" " On my word of honour." " And all this wonderful story about her beauty and captivation, and the running away and the secret marriage, how much of that does Mr. M'Kiulay believe ? " "I don't know one word of what you allude to." " Oh, Mr. M'Kinlay, this is more than lawyer-like reserve ! " " I will swear it, if you desire." "But surely you'll not say that you did not dine with Sir Within Wardle at the Hotel Windsor, as you came through Paris ? " " I have not the slightest intention to deny it." " And is it possible, Mr. M'Kiulay, that nothing of what I have just mentioned was dropped during the dinner ? No allusion to the beautiful Miss Luttrell, or Mrs. Ladarelle ? Mr. Grenfell is in doubt which to call her." " Not a syllable; her name was never uttered." " And what did you talk of, in Heaven's name ! " cried she, im- patiently. " Was it town gossip and scandal ? " For a moment Mr. M'Kinlay was almost scared by her impe- tuosity, but he rallied, and assured her that Sir Within spoke with the warmest interest of Sir Gervais, and alluded in the most cordial way to their old relations of friendship, and with what pleasure he would renew them. " He charged me with innumerable kind mes- sages, and almost his last word was a hope that he should be fortu- nate enough to meet you again." " And through all this no mention of the ' beauty ' — I mean, of Miss Luttrell ? " " Not a word." " How strange — how incomprehensible ! " said she, pausing, and seeming to reflect. "Remember, my dear Miss Courtenay, it was a very hurried meeting altogether. We dined at half-past six, and at ten I was on the railroad." " Did Sir Within strike you as looking so very ill — so much cut up — as Mr. Grenfell phrases it ? " " I thought him looking remarkably well ; for a man of his age, wonderfully well. He must be — let me see — he must be not very far from eighty." " Not within ten years of it, Sir, I'm confident," broke she in, almost fiercely. " There's no error more common than to overrate 412 LUXTRELL OF AE.RAN. the age of distiuguished men. The public infers that familiarity with tlieir name implies long acquaintance, and it is a most absurd mis- take." Now, Mr. M'Klnlay thoroughly understood that he was typified under that same public, who only knew great men by report, and misrepresented them through ignorance. He was, however, so strong in "his brief" that he would not submit to be put down; he had taken pains to look over a record of Sir Within's services, and had seen that he was attached to the Russian embassy fifty-two years ago. " What do you say to that. Miss Courtenay ? Tifty-two years ago." "I say. Sir, that I don't care for arithmetic, and never settle any question by a reference to mere figures. When I last saw Sir "Within he was in the prime of life, and if great social talents and agreeability were to be any test, one of the youngest persons of the company." " 01), I'm tlie first to extol his conversational powers. He is a perfect mine of good stories." "I detest good stories. I Hke conversation, I like reply, re- joinder, even amplification at times; anecdote is almost always a mistake." Mr. M'Kinlay was aghast. How disagreeable he must have made himself, to render her so sharp and so incisive all at once. " I can say all this to you^'' said she, with a sweet tone, " for it is a fault you never commit. And so, you remark, that Sir Within showed no remarkable gloom or depression — nothing, in fact, that argued he had met with any great shock ? " " My impression was that I saw him in high spirits and in the best possible health." " I thought so 1 " cried she, almost triumphantly. " I declare I thought so ! " But why she thought so, or what she thought, or how it could be matter of such pleasure, she did not go on to exj)lain. After a moment she resumed : " And was there no- thing said about why he had left Dalradern, and what induced him to come abroad ? " " Nothing — ])ositively nothing." "Well," said she, with a haughty toss of her head, "it is very possible that the M'holc subject occupies a much larger space in Mr. Grenfell's letter than m Sir Within's mind ; and, for my own part, I only inquired about the matter as it was once tlie cause of a certain coldness, a half estrangement between L)alradern and ourselves, and which, as my brother takes much f)leasure in Sir Withm's society, I rejoice to perceive exists no ougcr." Ail this \\as a perfect riddle to ^L-. M'Kinlay, who had ao- MR. M'KINLAY IN THE TOILS. 413 tiling for it but to utter a wise seutimeut on the happiness of reconciliation. Even this was unfortunate, for she tartly told him that "there could be no reconciliation where there was no quarrel ; " and then drily added, " Is it not cold out here ? " "I protest I think it delightful," said he. "Well, then, it is damp, or it's something or other," said she, carelessly, and turned towards the house. M'Kinlay followed her ; gloomy enough was he. Here was the opportunity he had so long wished for, and what had he made of it? It had opened, too, favourably; their first meeting was cordial ; had he said anything that might have offended her ? or had he — this was his last thought as they reached the porch — had he not said what she expected he ought to have said ? That supposition would at once explain her chagrin and irrita- tion. "Miss Georgina," said he, with a sort of reckless daring, "I have an entreaty to make of you — I ask a favour at your hands." "It is granted, Mr. M'Khilay," said she, smiling. "I guess it already." " You guess it already, and you grant it ! " cried he, in ecstasy. "Yes," said she, still graciously, as she threw off her shawl. "You are impatient for your tea, and you shall have it at once." And with that she moved hurriedly forward, and left him over- whelmed with shame and anger. 414 LUTIRELL OF A&RAH. CILAPTER LXl. MR. m'kinlay's "instructions," The party at tlie Villa were seated at breakfast tiie following morning when Vyner arrived with his young guest — a fine, manly- looking, determined fellow, whose frank bearing and unaffected demeanour interested the ladies strongly in his favour at once ; nor did the tone of sorrow and sadness in his manner detract from the good impression he produced. The tiduigs of his father's death had met hun as he landed at Genoa, and overwhelmed him with affliction — such utter frieudlessuess was his — so bereft was he of all that meant kindred or relationship. His captain was, indeed, now all that remained to him, and he had nursed and tended him in his long illness with untiring devotion, insomuch, indeed, that it was with difficulty Vyner could persuade him to come down to the Bos- chetto for a few days to rally his strength and spirits by change of air and scene. Sir Gervais had very early observed that the young saUor pos- sessed the characteristic reserve of his family, and avoided, whenever possible, all reference to himself. Strauge and eventful as his last few years had been, he never referred to them, or did so in that careless, passing way that showed he would not wilUngly make them matter to dwell upon ; and yet, with all this, there was an openness when questioned, a frauk readiness to answer whatever was asked, that plainly proved his reserve was mere shyness — the modest dis- like to make himself or his story foreground objects. Lady Vyner, not usually attracted by new acquaintances, liked him much, and saw him, without any motherly misgivings, constantly in Ada's bociety. They walked together over the olive hills olding his handkerchief to his mouth, as though the temptation lo J^ugh. could not be repressed. " I assure you it tried me sorely when I heard him." " I have much control over my feelings, Sir. Go on." "You'll scarce believe me. Miss Courtenay. I'm certaui you'll think me romancing." " I hope I form a very different estimate of your character. Sir." " ' Well,' said he, ' I should like you to make a codicil, to include a bequest to Miss Luttrell ; because, in the event of my mai-rying * — don't laugh. Miss Courtenay ; on my honour he said it — ' in the event of my marrying, it would be more satisfactory that this matter were previously disposed of.' " " Well, Sir ! " said she ; and, short as that speech was, it banished every miithful emotion out of Mr. M'Kinlay's heart, and sent a cold thrill through him. " It was not the thought of providing for this young lady made me laugh. Miss Coui-teuay ; far from it. I thought it laudable, very laudable ; indeed, if ccrtaui stories were to be believed. Sir "\Vithiu was only just, not generous. What amused me was the pretext, the possible event of his marrying. It was that which overcame me completely." "And to which, as you say, you offered strenuous objection ? " "No, Miss Courtenay. No. Nothing of the kind. I objected to entertain the question of altering the will, accompanied as the request was by what I could not help regarding as symptoms of a wandering, incoherent intellect." " "What do you mean. Sir? Do you intend to insinuate that Sir Within Wardle is insane i' Is that your meanmg ? " " I should certainly say his mind is verging on imbecihty. I don't think the opinion will be disputed by any one who sat at table with him to-day." " I declare, Sir, you amaze me! " cried she, ui a voice of terror, " You amaze and you frighten me. Arc there any others of us in whom you detect incij)ieut madness ? Did you remark any wildness iu my sister's eyes, cr any traits of eccentricity iu my motlier's A CTIPJSTJrAS .VBKOAP. 467 manner ? To common, vidgar appreliensious — to my brother's and nw own — Sir Witliin was most agreeable to-day. We thought hhn charniing in those Uttle reminiscences of a life where, be it re- membered, the weapons are not the coarse armour of every-day society, but tbe polished courtesies that kings and princes deal in. I repeat, Sir, to our notions his anecdotes and illustrations were most interesting." Mr. M'K.inlay stood aghast. What could have brought down upon him this avalanche of indignation and eloquence ? Surely iu his remark on that old man's imbecility he could not be supposed to insinuate anything agauist the sanity of the others ! His first sensa- tion was that of terror ; his second was anger. He was offended — " sorely hurt," he would have called it — to be told that iu a matter of social usage, in what touched on conventionalities, he was not an efficient testimony. " I am aware, fully aware. Miss Courtenay," said he, gravely, "that Sir Withiu's society is not my society; that neither our associations, our topics, or our ways of life, are ahke; but, on a question which my professional opinion might determme— and such a question might well arise — I will say that there are few men at the English Bar would be listened to with more deference." " Fiddle-faddle, Sir 1 We have nothing to do with the Bar or barristers, here. I have a great esteem for you — we all have — and I assure you I can give no better proof of it than by pro- mising that I wUl entii'ely forget this conversation — every word of it." She waved her hand as she said " By-bye ! " and flitted rather than walked away, leaving Mr. M'Kinlay in a state of mingled shame and resentment that perfectly overwhelmed him. Tor the honour of his gallantry I will not record the expressions with which he coupled her name ; they were severe — they were even unprofessional ; but he walked the garden alone till a late hour of the evening, and when Sir Gervais went at last in search of him, he refused to come in to tea, alleging much preoccupation of mind, and hinting that an urgent demand for his presence m London might possibly — he was not yet quite certain — obhge him to take a very hurried leave of his kind hosts. In fact, Mr. M'Kinlay was in the act of determming with himself the propriety of a formal demand for Miss Courtenay in marriage, and endeavouring to make it appear that he " owed it to himself," but, in reality, was almost indifferent as to the upshot. There are such self delusions in the lives of very shrewd men when they come to deal with women, and in the toils of one of these we leave iiiin. 'iO— 2 468 LUTTEELL OF AKKAIT. CHAPTER LXVin. TRUSTFULNESS. Perhaps the iiiglit brought reflection ; at all events, Mr. M'Kinlay had so far recovered himselt', that he came down to breakfast with a smile on his face and a mass of fresh-opened letters in his hand, with whose contents he purposed to amuse the company. Miss Courtenaj's manner was so kind, so actually cordial, too, that he felt perfectly reassured on the score of their last interview ; and as Sir Within was not present — he never made his appearance till late in the afternoon — all M-ent on pleasantly and well. Giving the precedence to " fashionable intelligence," Mr. M'Kinlay related how certain great people were about to marry certain other great people, with intimations as to the settlements, and, in some cases, a minute account of the costly presents to the bride — all cir- cumstances which, somehow, seem to have their interest for every age, and class, and condition of humanity. Some of these were known to Vyner, and he asked about them with eagerness. Greu- fell knew none of them except by name, but he spoke of them with all the confidence of an old and intimate friend. Of the " men," without using their titles; of the "women," as dear Lady Fanny, or that charming little Lady Grace. So that hearing him was actually im- bibing an atmosphere of aristocracy, inhaling the peerage at every respiration. " What is the large packet with all the seals on it, Mr. M'Kinlay ? " asked Georgina. " it has been torturing my curiosity in the most painful manner these last ten minutes." "This, my dear Miss Courtenay," said he, laymg his hand on a somewhat bulky parcel, " is not for me, thought it came under cover to my address. It is for Sir "Within Wardle, in a lady's hand- writing." " I think I know the hand," said Miss Courtenay, as she bent her head over it. " Of course you do, Aunt Georgy. It is Kate's. Nobody ever made those dear little round symbols but herself. It is the very prettiest writing in the world." " By the way," said Mr. M'Kinlay, searching amongst the papers before him, " there is something here — I just glanced at it — from that young lady. Ay, here it is ! You know, Sir Gervais, that you instructed mc to write to the laud agents of the late Mr. LutUell, and inform them of your intention to confirm the deed of gift of TEUSTFULXESS. 4G9 the lodge iu Donegal ou Miss Luttrell ; in consequence of which I wrote to Messrs. Cane and Carter, and here is their reply. But perhaps 1 had better keep these business matters for another oppor- tunity ? " " Not at all. We are all friends here, and all about equally interested in these aifairs," said Sir Gervais. " Go ou." Mr. M'Kinlay mumbled over, in an indistinct tone, something that sounded like an apology for not having more promptly answered his late communication. " ' It was only yesterday,' " he read aloud, "'that we were iu receipt of Miss Luttrell's reply. The young lady refuses to accept of the property iu question. She declines to admit that it had been at any time in the possession of her family, and desires me, while expressmg her deep sense of gratitude, to explain that, associated as the spot is to her with a great calamity, it never could be an object of her desire or ambition.' " " She refers to that scrimmage where her old grandfather killed a man," said Grenfell, stirring his tea. " lleally, I fancied they took these things much easier in L-eland." "Don't you see that the young lady is of the exalted school? Not to say that, as she always gambled for a high stake, she can't abide low play." This bitter speech Georgina addressed directly to Grenfell, as the one person in the company adapted to comprehend it. He nodded and smiled a perfect acquiescence with her, and Mr. M'KuoJay read on: " ' Eor your own guidance, therefore, as well as Sir Gervais Vyner's — if you should desire to make the communication to him — I may remark, that any further insistance on this project would be perfectly ineffectual. Everything I have seen of Miss Luttrell has shown her to be a person of most inflexible will, and a determi- nation far beyond the common. This will be apparent to you when you hear that she is equally resolved to make over the Arran estate, bequeathed to her by her late uncle, to the present Mr. Luttrell, leaving herself, as I may say, totally penniless and unpro- vided for.' " " What a noble-hearted, generous gu-1 ! " cried Vyner. "The dear, high-hearted Kate ! " murmured Ada. " A most artful, designing minx ! " whispered Georgina to Gren- fell ; " but I suspect that her scheme will not have the success she anticipates." " ' Of course,' " read on M'Kinlay, " 'I mention the last in perfect confidence to you.' " " Oh, of course ! " broke in Georgina, " my dear Mr. M'Kinlay ; the very fii-st trait I discover in myself of angelic self-devotiou, I'll certainly impart it to you under the seal of inviolable secrecy. Mind, therefore, that you tell nobody what a mine of goodness, of charity, and self-denial I am." 470 LUTTRELI. OF AKKAN. Mr. M'Kmlay bowed au acquiescence, uot aware in the least to what he was acceding, so overcome was he by the astounding assurance that the world contained one creature who refused to accept a legacy or avail herself of a gift. " 1 am such a poor, weak-minded, vacillatory being myself," said Georgiua, still turning to Grenfell as most Ukely to appreciate her meaning, " that I really feel terrified in the presence of these great- souled creatures, who refuse to be stirred by the common motives of humanity." " The girl must be a fool ! " muttered M'Kirday, with his eyes fixed on a postscript of Cane's letter — " a perfect fool ! " But, without explaining why he thought so, he bundled up his papers, and hurried away. " What is the mysterious parcel ? I am dying to know the contents of it," said Georgina, as she stood at the window with Grenfell. "I thmk I could guess," said he, slowly. " You thmk you could guess ! And you have the coolness to tell me this, seeing all the tortures of my curiosity ! " " It is by the shape of the packet that I am disposed to believe I know what is in it." " Pray tell me ! Do tell me ! " said she, entreatingly. "I don't think I can. I don't think I ought. I mean," said he, in a more apologetic tone — " I mean, it is not my secret. It is another's — that is, if my guess be the right one." "And you have the courage to heighten my eagerness by all this preamble ! Why, my dear Mr. Grenfell, they told me, that of all the men about town, none knew women as you did 1 " " Who told you that ? " asked he, eagerly. " Scores of people." And she quoted at random the most dis- tinguished names of her acquaintance, every syllable of their high- sounding titles falling on Grenfell's ear with a cadence perfectly enthralling. " Come now," said she, with a look of entreaty, " don't worry me any longer. You see I know more than one half of the secret, if it be a secret, already ; from whom it comes, and to whom it is addressed." " I am in your hands," said he, in a tone of submission. " Come out into the garden, and I'll tell you all I know." Georgma accepted his arm as he spoke, and they passed out into a shady alley that led down to the sea. " If I be riglit," said he, " and I'd go the length of a wager that I am, the packet you saw on the breakfast-table contains one of the most costly ornaments a woman ever wore. It was a royal present on the wedding-day of Sir Within Wardle's mother, and sent by him to fulfil the same oiTico to Miss Luttrell on becoming Mrs. Ladarclle." " Yuu know this ! " said she, iii a slov.-, collected tone. TRUSTFULNESS. •*7l "I know it because he sent me to his gem-room at Dah-adern to fetch it. He opened the casket in my presence, he showed me the jewels, he explamed to me the peculiar setting. Emeralds on one side, opals on the other, so as to present two distinct suites of ornaments. I remember his words, and how his lips trembled as he said, ' Ladies in those times were wont to turn their necklaces, now they only change their affections 1 ' You'd scarcely believe it. Miss Courtenay, but it is fact, positive fact, the poor old man had been in love with her." " I certamly cannot stretch my creduhty to that extent, Mr. Gren- .*ell," said she, with a shade of vexation in her voice, "though 1 could readily believe how an artful, unprincipled girl, with a field all her own, could manage to ensnare a most gentle, confiding nature into a degree of interest for her, that she would speedily assume to be a more tender feeling. And was the casket sent to her, Mr. Grenfell ? " asked she, in a suddenly altered tone. "Yes, I enclosed it, with an inscription dictated by Su- Within himself." " And she sends it back to him ? " said she, pondermg over each word as though it were charged with a deep significance. " It would seem so." "I thmk you guess why. I am certam, if I have not takeu a very wrong measure of Mr. Grenfell's acuteness, that he reads this riddle pretty much as I do myself." " It is by no means improbable," said Grenfell, who quickly saw the line her suspicions had taken. "I think it very likely the same interpretation has occurred to each of us." " Give me yours," said she, eagerly. "My reading is this," replied he : "she has returned his present on the ground that, not being Mrs. Ladarelle, she has no claim to it. The restitution serving to show at the same moment a punctilious sense of honour, and, what she is fully as eager to estabhsh, the fact that, being still unmarried, there is nothing to prevent Sir Within himself from a renewal of his former pretensions." " How well you know her ! How thoroughly you appreciate her wily, subtle nature ! " cried she, in warm admiration. "Not that the game will succeed," added he; "the poor old man is now beyond such captivations as once enthralled hun. " How so ? What do you mean ? " asked she, sharply. " I mean simply what we all see. He is rapidly sinking into second childhood." " I declare, Mr. Grenfell, you astonish me ! " said she, with an almost impetuous force of manner. " At one moment you display a most remarkable acuteness in reading motives and deciphering intentions, and now you make an observation actually worthy of Mr. M'Kinlay." " And so you do not agree with me ? " asked he. 472 LUTTIUiLL OF AUKAN. " Agree with you ! certainly not. Sir Witliiu Wardle is an ola friend of ours. Certain peculiarities of manner he has. In a great measure they have been impressed upon him by the cii'cuui stances of his station. An ambassador, a great man himself, is constantly in the presence of a sovereign, who is still greater. The conllict of dignity with the respect due to royalty makes up a very intricate code of conduct and maimer of which the possessor cannot always disembarrass himseh, even in the society of his equals. Something of this you may have remarked in Sir Withiu's manner ; nothing beyond it, I am confident ! " " I only hope, my dear Miss Courtenay, that, if the day should come when my own faculties begin to fail me, I may be fortunate enough to secure you for my defender." " The way to ensure my advocacy will certauily not be by attack- ing an old and dear friend ! " said she, with deep resentment in tone : and she turned abruptly and entered the house. Mr. Grenfell looked after her for a moment in some astonishment. He was evidenlly unprepared for this sudden outburst of passion, but he quickly recovered himself, and, after a brief pause, resumed his widk, rnuttermg below his breath as he went : " So, then, this is the game ! What a stupid fool I have been not to have seen it before ! All happening under my very eyes, too ! I must say, she has done it cleverly — very cleverly." And with this cordial appre- ciation of female skill, he Ht his cigar, and seating himself on the sea-wall, smoked and ruminated during the morning. There were many aspects of the question that struck him, and he turned from the present to the future with all that ready-wittedness that had so long favoured him in life. He heard the bell ring for luncheon, but he never stirred ; he Wiis not hungry, neither particularly anxious to meet ]\liss Courtenay again. He preferred to have some few words with her alone ere they met in society. He thought he had tact enough to intimate that he saw her project, and was quite ready to abet it without any- thing which could ollcud her dignity. This done, they would be sworn friends ever after. As he sat thus thmking, he heard a quiet step approaching. It was doubtless a servant sent to tell him that luncheon Mas served, and while doubting M^hat reply to make, he heard M'Kinlay call out, " I have found you at last ! 1 have been all over the house in search of you." " What is the matter? AVhut has happened? Why are you so flurried — eh ? " "1 am not flurried. 1 am perfectly calm, perfectly collected — at least, as collected as a man can hope to be who has had to '.sten for half an hour- to such revelations as 1 have had made me ; out it is fJl over now, and J am thankful it is. All over and fuiished ! " " What is over ? What is finished V " TRUSTFULNESS. 473 " Everything, Sir — everything ! I leave this withiu au hour — earlier if I can. I have sent two messengers for the horses, and I'd leave on foot — ay, Sir, on foot — rather than pass another day under this roof ! " "Will you have the extreme kindness to tell me why you are going off in this fashion ? " Instead of complymg with this reasonable request, Mr. M'Kinlay burst out into a passionate torrent, iu which the words " Dupe ! " " Tool ! " and " Cajoled ! " were alone very audible, but his in- dignation subsided after a while sufficiently to enable him to state that he had been sent for by Sir Within, after breakfast, to confer with him on the subject of that codicil he had spoken of on the previous day. " He was more eager than ever about it. Sir," said he. " The girl had written him some very touching liues of adieu, and I found him in tears as I came to his bedside. I must own, too, that he talked more sensibly and more collectedly than before, and said, ia a tone of much meaning, ' When a man is so old aud so friendless as I am, he ought to be thankful to do all the good he can, and not speculate on any returns either ui feeling or affection.' I left him. Sir, to make a brief draft of what he had been intimating to me. It would take me, I told him, about a couple of hours, but I hoped I could complete it iu that time. Punctual to a minute, I was at his door at one o'clock ; but guess my surprise when Miss Courtenay's voice said, ' Come in ! ' Sir Within was in his dressing-gown, seated at the ffre, the table before him covered with gems and trinkets, with which he appeared to be intently occupied. 'Sit down, M'Eanlay,' said he, courteously. 'I want you to choose something here — something that Mrs. M'Kinlay would honour me by accepting.' She whispered a word or two hastily in his ear, and ne corrected himself at once, saying, ' I ask pardon ! I meant your respected mother. I remember you are a widower.' To withdraw his mind from this painful wandering, I opened my roll of papers, aud mentioned theu" contents. Again she whispered him something, but he was evidently unable to follow her meaning ; for he stared blankly at her, then at me, aud said, ' Yes, certainly, I acquiesce in everythmg.' 'It will be better, perhaps, to defer these Httle matters. Miss Courtenay,' said I, ' to some moment when Sir Within may feel more equal to the fatigue of business.' She stooped down and said something to him, and suddenly his eyes sparkled, his cheek flushed, and, laying his hand with emphasis on the table, he said, ' I have no need of law or lawyers, Sir ! This lady, in domg me the honour to accord me her hand, has made her gift to me more pre- cious by a boundless act of confidence ; she will accept of no settle- ments.' ' Great Heavens ! !Miss Courteuay,' whispered I, 'is he not wandering iu his mind ? Surely this is raving ! ' 'I think. Sir, you wlU find that the only person present whose faculties are at fault is 474 LUTTRELL OF ARRAN. Mr. M'Kiiilay. Certainly I claim exemptiou both for Sir Witliia Wardle and myself.' It was all true, Sir — true as I stand here ! She is to be his wife. As to her generosity about the settlements, I understood it at once. She had got the whole detail of the property from me only yesterday, and knew that provision was made — a splendid provision, too — for whomsoever he might marry. So much for the trustfulness ! " "But what does it signify to you, M'Kinlay? You are not a Lord Chancellor, with a function to look after deranged old men and fatherless young ladies, and I don't suppose the loss of a settle- aaent to draw will be a heart-break to you." " No, Sir ; but lawyer as I am, there are depths of perfidy I'm not prepared for." " Come in and wish them joy, M'Kinlay. Take my word for it, it might have been worse. Old Sir Within's misfortune might have befallen you or myself ! " CHAPTER LXIX. "You see, Sir, she is obstinate," said Mr. Cane to Harry Lut- trell, as they sat closeted together in his private ofiice. " She is determined to make over the Arran estate to you, and equally deter- mined to sail for Australia on the 8th of next mouth." " I can be obstinate too," said Harry, witli a bent brow and a dark frown — " I can be obstmate too, as you wiU see, perhaps, in a day or two." "After all, Sir, one must really respect her scniples. It is clear enough, if your father had not believed in your death, he never woiild have made the will in her favour." " It is not of that I am thinking," said Luttrell, with a tone of naif irritation ; and then, seeing by the blank look of astonishment In the other's face that some explanation M'as necessary, he added, " It was about this foolish journey, this voyage, my thoughts were ousy. Is there no way to ijut her off it 'i " THK END. (f75 *' T am afraid not. All I have said — all my wife has said — has gone for nothing. Some notion in her head about the gratitude she owes this old man overbears every other consideration, and she goes on repeating, ' I am the only living thing he trusts m. I must not let him die in disbelief of all humanity.' " Harry made a gesture of impatient meaning, but said nothing, and Cane went on : "I don't beheve it is possible to say more than my wife has said on the sub- ject, but all in vain ; and indeed, at last, Miss Luttrell closed the discussion by saying : ' I know you'd like that we should part good friends; well, then, let us not discuss this anymore. You 'may shake the courage I shall need to carry me through my project, b-ut you'll not change my determination to attempt it. These were her last words here." " They were all the same ! " muttered Harry, impatiently, as he walked up and down the room. " All the same ! " " It was what she hinted. Sir." " How do you mean — in what way did she hint it ? " " She said one morning — she was unusually excited that day — some- thing about the wilfulness of peasant natures, that all the gilding good fortune could lay on them never succeeded in hiding the base metal beneath ; and at last, as if carried away by passion, and unable to control herself, she exclaimed, ' I'll do it, if it was only to let me feel real for once ! I'm sick of shams ! — a sham position, a sham name, and a sham fortune 1 ' " " I offered her the share of mine, and she refused me," said Lut- trell, with a bitterness that revealed his feehng. " You offered to make her your wife. Sir ! " cried Cane, in astonishment. " What so surprises you in that ? " said Harry, hastily. "Except it be," added he, after a moment, " my presumption in aspiring to one so far superior to me." " I wish you would speak to Mrs. Cane, Mr. Luttrell. I really am very anxious you would speak to her." " I guftss your meaning — at least, I suspect I do. You intend that your wife should tell me that scandal about the secret marriage, ^hat dark story of her departure from Arran, and her repentant re- alm to it ; but I know it all, every word of it, already." " And from whom ? " " From herself — from her own lips ; confirmed, if I wanted con- firmation, by other testimony," " I think she did well to tell you," said Cane, in a half uncertain tone. " Of course she did right. It was for me to vmdicatc her, if she had been wronged, and I would have done so, too, if the law had not been before me. You know that the scoundrel is sentenced to the galleys ? " Cane did not know it, and heard the story with astonishment, and 4;76 LUTTKELL Of AIIEAX. SO much of wluit iudicated curiosity, tliat Harry repeated all Kate bad told liim from tlie begimiing to tne cud. " Would you do nie the great favour to repeat this to my wife ? Slie is .siucerely attached to Miss Luttrcll, aud this narrative will give her unspeakable pleasure." "Tell her from me, that her affection is uot misplaced — she de- serves it all ! " muttered Harry, as he laid his head moodily against the window, and stood lost in thought. " Here comes the postman. I am expectmg a letter from the cap- tain of the Australian packet-ship, in answer to some inquiries I had made in Miss Luttrell's behalf." The servant entered with a packet of letters as he spoke, from which Cane quickly selected one. " This is what 1 looked for. Let us see what it says : " ' Deak Sib, — I find that I shall be able to place the poop cabin at Miss L.'s disposal, as my owner's sister will not go out this spring. It is necessary she should come over here at once, if there be any trliling changes she would like made in its interior arrangement. The terms, 1 believe, are already well understood between us. By the Hamburg packet-ship, Drei Heilu/e, we learn that the last out- ward-bound vessels have met rough M-eather, aud a convict-ship, the Blast, was still more unfortunate. Cholera broke out on board, and carried off seventy-three of the prisoners in eleven days.' " There M-as a postscri])t marked confidential, but Cane read it aloud : " ' Can you tell me if a certain Harry Luttrell, v.lio has signed articles with me as second mate, is any relation of Miss L.'s ? He has given me a deposit of twenty pounds, but my men think he is no seaman, nor has ever been at sea. Do you know anything of him, and what ? ' " " Yes 1 " said Harry, boldly. " Tell him you know him M-ell ; that he was with you when you read aloud that passage in his letter ; assure him — as you may witli a safe conscience — that he is a good sailor, and add, on my part, that he has no right to make any other inquiries about him." " Aud do you really intend to make this voyage ? " " Of course I do 1 I told you a while ago i could be as obstinate as my cousin. You'll see if 1 don't keep my word. Mind nie, however ; no word of this to Miss Luttrell. I charge you that ! " " And the property. Sir ! AVhat are your views respecting the estate ? " " I shall write to you. I'll think of it," said Harry, carelessly. After a few words mure, they jiarted. Harry had some things to buy THE END. 477 in the city, some small preparations for the long voyage before him ; but promising Cane to come back and take a family dinner with him, he went his way. Por some hours he walked the streets half uncon- sciously, a vague impression over him that there was something he had to do, certain people to see, certain places to visit ; but so en- gaged was he with the thought of Kate and her fortunes, his mind had no room for more. " She shall see," muttered he to himself, that I am not to be shaken off. My Luttrell obstuiacy, if she will call it so, is as fixed as her own. Country has no tie for me. Where she is, there shall be my country." Some fears he had lest Cane should teU her of his determination to sail in the same ship with her. She was quite capable of outwitting him if she could only get a clue to this. Would Cane dare to disobey him ? Would he face the con- sequences of his betrayal ? Erom these thoughts he wandered on to others— as to how Kate would behave when she found he had fol- lowed her. Would this proof of attachment move her ? Would she resent it as a persecution ? Hers was so strange a nature, anything might come of it. " The same pride that made her refuse me, may urge her to do more. As she said so haughtily to me at Ai-ran, ' The peasant remedy has failed to cure the Luttrell malady ; another cm-e must be sought for ! ' " Harry had scarcely knocked at Cane's door, when it was opened by Cane himself, who hurriedly said, " I have been waiting for you. Come in here ; " and led him into his own room. " She's above stairs. She has just come," whispered he. " Who ? " asked Harry, eagerly. " Who ? " " Your cou^sin — Miss Luttrell. A letter from the surgeon of the convict-ship has conveyed news of old Malone's death, and she has come up to free herself from her arrangement with the captain. And " He stopped : nd hesitated with such evident confusion, that Harry said, " Go on. Sir; finish what you were about to say." " It is her secret, not mine, Mr. Luttrell ; and 1 know it only through my wife." " I insist on hearmg it. I am her nearest of kin, and I have a right to know whatever concerns her." *' I have already told you what I promised to keep secret. I was p'fx^jed not to say she was here. T came down to make some excuse for not receiving you to-day at dinner — some pretext of my wife's illness. I beg, I entreat you will not ask me for more." " I insist upon all you know," was Harry's stern reply. " How do I even know it," cried Cane, in despair, " from a few in- coherent words my wife whispered in my ear as she passed me ? Were I to tell, it may be only to mislead you." " Tell me, whatever may come of it." Cane took a turn or two up and down the room, and al kst, coming b front of Luttrell, said : " She is about to take back her old name, i7b LUTXXlJiLL Ci' AJiKAJf. aud witli it the hunible fortune that belonged to it. She says you aud yours hove suUered enough from the unha))py tie that Dound you to her family. She is resolved you shall never see, never liear of her again. She took her last look at Arran last night. To-morrow she declares she will go away from this, whei"e none shall ti-aee her. There's her secret ! I charge you not to betray how you came by it." " Let me see her ; let me speak with her." " How can I ? I have promised akeady that you should not bear she is here." " Send for your wife, and let me speak to her. I must — I will speak to her." " Go into that room for a moment, then, and I will advise with my wife what is to be done." Harry passed into the room and sat down. He heard Cane's bell ring, and soon afterwards coidd mark the tread of a foot on the stairs, and then the sound of voices talking eagerly in the adjoining room. His impatience nearly maddened him ; his heart beat so that he felt as if his chest could not contain it ; the vessels of his neck, too, throbbed powerfully. He opened the window for air, aud then, as though the space was too confined, flung wide a door at the side of the room. As he did this, he saw that it led to the stairs. Quicker than all thought his im- pulse urged liim. He dashed up and entered the drawing-room, where Kate sat alone, aud with her head buried between her hands. She looked up, startled by his sudden entrance, and then, re- suming her former attitude, said, in a low, muiiled voice, " You have heard what has befallen me. I am not fated to acquit the debt I owe." Harry sat down beside her hi silence, and she M'cnt on : "I was hopuig that this ])aiu might have been spared us — 1 mean, this meeting — it is only more sorrow. However, as we are once more together, let me thank you. I know all that you intended, all that you meant by me. I know that you w'ould have come with me, too. I know all ! Now, Harry," said she, in a more resolute voice, " listen to me calmly. What 1 say to you is no caprice, no passing thought, but the long-earned conviction of much relleetiou. I'rom mj/ people came every misfortune that has crushed yours. Your father's long life of sulfering — told in his own words — his diaries — revealed in the letters from his friends — 1 have read them over and over — was caused by this fatd connexion. Are these things to be forgotten ? or arc you cruel enough to ask mc to repeat the experi- ment that broke your mother's heart, and left your father friendless and forsaken ? Where is your pride, Sir ? And if yoii, have none, where would be mmc, if 1 were to listen to you ? " " There comes the truth ! '" cried he, wildly. " It Ls your pride ^■^^ O^^ ^TW^^-^y^ : THE END. 479 that rejects me. You who have lived iu great hou^A and mixed with great people, caimot see in me anything but the sailor." " Oh ! no, no, no ! " cried she, bitterly. " I know it — I feel it, Kate," continued he. " I feel ashamed when my coarse hand touches your taper fingers. I shriak bacK with misgiving at any Uttle familiarity that seems so inconsistent between us. Even my love for you — and God knows how I love you ! — cannot make me think myself your equal." " Oh, Harry, do not say such things as these ; do not — do not ! " " I say it — I swear it ; the highest ambition of my heart would be to think I could deserve you." She liid her face between her hands, and he went on, madly, wildly, incoherently ; now telling her what her love might make hun — now darkly hinting at the despair rejection might drive him to. He contrasted all the qualities of her gifted nature, so sure to attract friendship and interest, with the ruggedness of his charac- ter, as certain to render him friendless ; and on his knees at her feet, he implored her, if any gratitude for all his father's love could move her, to take pity on and hear him. There was a step on the stair as Harry seized her hand and said, "Let this be mine, Kate; give it to me, and make me happier than aU I ever dreamed of. One word — one word, dearest." And he drew her face towards him and kissed her. " The Luttrell spirit is low enough, I take it, now," said she, blushing. " If their pride can survive this, no peasant blood can be their remedy ."- 19 10 72, rSiKTED BX W. n. BlIIIH AND SON, 186, EIEAKD, LOJfDOlT. Pie THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Santa Barbara THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW. 50m-:j.'08(H"J'J42sS)94 82