“What a snug place you have here; it’s as pretty as paint, too,” said Mr. Adolphus Ladarelle, as he lounged into the Cottage, a few minutes after the time named for dinner.
“It is not mine; I am only here 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 yachtCarinthia, and then exchanged her for theMeteor, that won the Cowes 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 allied 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 public life together, if 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 literally captive—so completely 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 intermediate territory, through which he must pass; and he set himself patiently to cultivate their good opinion—secretly cherishing the hope that a time would 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 killing me. My governor is not what people call jolly. Old Sir Within is about the greatest prig I ever met; and as for the ward, she is either insufferably impertinent, or downright under bred.”
“She is exceedingly beautiful, however,” said Grenfell, smiling.
“At times—yes; I’ll not dispute that. But she has a something half supercilious, half silly, occasionally, that I don’t like. 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 hedoesseem 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—very 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 we 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 difficult to deal with—more captious about post obits.”
“You have it exactly. That fellow Joel—I can’t imagine 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’m 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 ring 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 banking world think of what they call ‘the house.’ When 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 Gren-fell, 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 Blunden, 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 in 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 him, 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-natured 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—everything 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 his glass from before him, he leaned his arm on the table, and addressed Grenfell in a voice of most confidential meaning.
“I wrote to Grog sinceIcame 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.”
“Read 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 in 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 toBell’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 as Tom Barkely wag done by Rixley Drummond—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 in 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, will you tell me, what does he mean by that?”
“Read it over again.”
“‘This is my opinion; and as for the remedy, Master Dolly, there ain’t too 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 written, 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 though he would poison 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 remains 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 kill him.”
“Men don’t die of these things!”
“Not men like you and me, certainly; but there is a time of life when existence is held on a very frail tenure; and, at that time, a mere hope extinguished serves to crush vitality.”
“And do you really think he’d take it so much to heart?”
“I know too little of him to give an opinion. When I have seen him some half-dozen times more, and seen, besides, something 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 sort of 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 valid 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 tell 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 can’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 anything 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 minutes to think of it.”
“What ifshewould not consent to such an arrangement?” “That’s as it might be. You’ll not find my governor giving any one credit for a strong will but himself. He reasons out every question his own way, and never suspects the mere possibility 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 he’ll point to himself as the best proof of the system.”
“I should like to hear your father discuss the question with the young lady herself; she, I take it, has a will of her own, also; and the matter would probably be well debated.” “She’d have no chance 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 toyou, tomeshe 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 timber, 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 quotehimto the governor. Tell me, would you have any objection to my telling him that this wasyouropinion?”
“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 liking to you last night. What did you do at whist?”
“Lost a few half-crowns.”
“Ah, that accounts for it all! He said at breakfast this morning, that though you held only indifferent cards, you played with perfect composure, and it was quite a pleasure to play with you. With a few nights’ ill luck you’ll stand high in his favour, I promise you.”
“It is a cheap friendship after all,” said Grenfell, laughing.
“Yes. You may have it for five pounds, but I doubt greatly if you could re-sell it for as many shillings.”
“Make use of my favour, therefore, while it lasts, and if nothing prevent, come and dine here the day after to-morrow,” said Grenfell.
“Agreed. Here come the fat coach-horses; see how they heave their flanks, only coming round from the stable-yard. I tell you, Grenfell,” said he in a whisper, “there will be a great sale of stock at Dahradern one of these days; and there’s a lot I’ll certainly not give orders to have bought in. Good night—good night.”
It was only at intervals that the sun’s rays pierced the leafy shade of a long valley in the woods of 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 accomplishment. Now, it was his neck that wanted plasticity; now, he bore a little too heavily on the hand; now, the off-shoulder was a thought too prominent in his canter; or, more vexatious than these, hewouldrespond to a touch of the spur by a sharp switch of the tail—a breach of good breeding she could not tolerate.
Firmly seated on an animal that defied all sympathy in these mettlesome feats, Sir Within had ample time to admire the exquisite grace with which she rode. It was indeed 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 son, however, remains, and is to stay till next week.”
“Yes, but how little we see of him. Your kind neighbour, Mr. Grenfell, has him almost every day at dinner.”
“For which I owe him all my gratitude.”
“I take it, Mr. Grenfell invites him to please himself. He is very lonely yonder at the Cottage. He says he has made no acquaintances, and I suppose that even Mr. Adolphus Ladarelle is better than solitude—not that I should think so myself.”
“But you show that too plainly, Ma Mie. There are no feelings we ought so strictly to control, so far as the manifestations go, as our distastes to people in society.”
“I think he hatesme.”
“That would be impossible, child. He may be afraid of your wit; he 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 who 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 of candour to the pitch of my respected relative, or who imparts home truths with a more telling sincerity.”
“Well, Sir, if I understand you aright, I am to captivate Mr. Ladarelle, but not to fall in 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 all the courtesy in his power.”
“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 has stopped me with a protest, and as I abhor a lawsuit, I think I shall submit.”
“Just watch how the Cid will take the timber; he’s glorious oyer 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 in hand, 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 once. She wheeled him suddenly round, and rode back about fifty yards, and then facing him once more in the direction of the tree, she dashed towards it in speed.
“I command you—I order you to come back!” screamed Sir Within; 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, headforemost, to the opposite side, with his rider beneath him.
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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—my darling—my heart’s dearest,” cried he, kneeling down beside her; “tell me you are not crushed—not injured!”
“Only stunned, Gardy, nothing more. It was all my own fault. I rode him at speed; he had no time 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 in 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 compliance. Madly mingling self-reproaches with his cries for assistance, he grew at length hoarse and so faint with his efforts, that he could with difficulty sustain her weight. Just then was it that she rallied, 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 little stiff—a mere sprain—no more. This shoulder too—— There, don’t touch it, only help me up. Yes, of course, I mean to mount again—do tell me if his knee is all right?”
“Only think—without help—without a servant—not a creature near us,” muttered he.
“Very dreadful,” said she, with an arch smile; “quite compromising, 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 costmemore than I wish to tell;” and he muttered these last words beneath his breath.
“You have never helped me to mount, I think, Gardy! Mind, 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?”
“Anything 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 can have but little 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.”
“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 nothing but fall. Don’t smile; I mean simply what I say as applied 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 on 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 thankfulness that even the most thoughtless feel for preservation through danger.”
“No, it’s not that; the sort of ecstacy I feel is something quite different from all this. It has nothing to do with peril, and just as little 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.”
“For 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 hurriedly away, for they were already approaching the great entrance, on the terrace of which Grenfell and young Ladarelle were talking and laughing. “Mind, Sir, not a word of my accident!” And with this she sprang to the ground before he could offer his hand, and, hurrying up the steps, disappeared within the building.
“Won’t you ask Grenfell to stop to dinner, Sir?” whispered Dolly, as Sir Within, after a few cold common-places, was about to pass on.
“Not to-day.”
“But I have half done it already, Sir. It was a great liberty on my part, but I blundered into it.”
“Will you give us your company at dinner to-morrow, Mr. Grenfell?” said Sir Within, without the hesitation of a moment.
Grenfell accepted, and, as Sir Within moved on, turning to Dolly, he said, “Did you remark his agitation—did you notice the embarrassment of his look and manner? Take my word for it, he has made her an offer.”
“Do you know it was passing through my mind the very same thought; for as they turned the angle of the copse yonder, I saw her snatch her hand from him.”
“Come back and dine with me. Common delicacy forbids you to spoil atête-à-tête.”
“I can’t take the thing as coolly as you do, Grenfell. It’s no laughing matter to me.”
“Don’t laugh then, that’s all. There can be no reason, however, that you should not dine; 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 dine.”
“I heard you, and I marked the eager way he put it off till tomorrow. 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, and I said to myself that Master Dolly’s next dealings with Joel will entail 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 cellar-key this morning, and we’ll see if his old wine cannot suggest some good counsel.”
They sat late over their wine, and telling the servants to go to bed, Grenfell ordered that he should not be called before noon on the next day.
According to custom, his serrant had left his letters by his bedside, 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 Within, 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 will be a brief one, and I may soon again reckon on the pleasure of seeing you here.”
The tidings 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 drollery that suited Grenfell’s taste, and as he lay he laughed in derision of the old man and his schemes of future happiness. He fancied himself telling the story at his club, and he dwelt on the 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 varied 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 likelihood, be closed to him. The old minister was too well versed in worldly matters not to cut off all the traditions of the past. He’s sure either to introduce her into life under the auspices of some of his own high connexions, 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 all that was secret in the transaction—I must needs have my influence. The house will of necessity be open to me, and I shall make of it what I please.” By this last reflection Grenfell summed up what his experience of life had largely supplied him with—that is, an inordinate liking for those establishments in which a large fortune is allied with something which disqualifies 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 population of highly amusing qualities and no characters, the men who had not “done” everything, but “done” everybody, and of women still more dubious. In these houses the style of living was usually splendid. Wit has a sort of natural affinity for good cookery, and Beauty 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.” Would not that be fame—distinction—triumph? Ladarelle, too, was a man made by nature for such a part—careless, extravagant, sensual, fond of amusement, without caring in the least for the characters of those who contributed towards 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 determined not to afford him any opportunity of knowing 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 implicitly.” He understood a good deal by that same word, which in ordinary life 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 dressing-gown and slippers, entered.
“What’s the meaning of all this, Grenfell?” said he. “My fellow, Fisk, 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.”
“He won’t have us at dinner, that’s all I know,” said Grenfell, yawning carelessly.
“He says nothing whatever about me; scarcely civil, I think, considering I am supposed to be his guest.”
“I’ll give you a dinner. You’ll pay me with interest one of 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 pleasantest house in England.”
“I should like to try.”
“If you try, you’ll win. Shall I tell you, Master Dolly, the quality which first attracted me towards you?”
“What was it?”
“It was this. You are one of the very few young fellows I ever met who 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 proposed 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 do!”
“You’re in Graham’s, ain’t you?”
“Yes; and so shall you be next ballot, if you really wish for it!”
“What a trump you are! Do you know, Grenfell, I can’t make it out at all that I never met you before?”
“I’m some twelve or fifteen years your senior,” said the other, and a slight twitching of the mouth showed a certain irritation as he spoke; “a few years separates men as essentially as a whole hemisphere.”
“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 cheek 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 Grenfells! ‘None genuine but signed by us.’ Ha, ha, ha!” and Dolly laughed at his drollery, and the other joined in the mirth quite sufficiently not to attract any especial attention. “Not relatives, I presume?” added Dolly, still laughing.
“Delighted if they were!” said Grenfell, with a sickly smile. “I don’t think the dividends would smell of curry powder!”
“That’s what Cecil St. John says: ‘Let the greatest scoundrel in England only leave me his money, and I’ll 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 ofhissails.”
“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, which 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 will 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 Grenfell’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 would hesitate taking a fair fence in a fox-hunt.”
“And what would he doin myplace?”
“He’d reason out the thing, somewhat in this way: ‘If I suffer the old cove to marry this girl, he’ll either 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, would you carry her off?”
“St. John 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 thing 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 see 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 I don’t mistake greatly, I know where to-go for the very man you want. In an excursion I once made with Vyner in the west of Ireland, we rambled into a wild district of Donegal, where in a lonely region we chanced on a little inn. It is a flattery to call it an inn. It was a small thatched cabin standing by itself in the midst of the mountains; 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. He had not, however, been well treated by his party, and he was not at all indisposed to betray them if he could see his way 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 interference 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 friend in 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 Gren-fell 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 one which differs according to the judge who tries it; but the question to which you will haye 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 he’ll 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 are living, and that even their most solemn contracts are a farce, if not ratified by us here.”
“So that I could marry again if I wished it?”
“Of course you could. Why, scores of fellows about town have gone through that sort of humbug. Don’t you know 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, thoughshewas 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 finger, 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 Within would have the politeness 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 an 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 an advocate in a case where the very utmost I ought to do should be to advise as a friend. You know by this time all I think 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 Irish 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 likely he would. I don’t think he’ll bind himself 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 fully determined 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 dealings, have a point of honour-sense about them, that makes them very dangerous men to deal with. Let them only suspect any intention of a slight, and their old Spanish blood, I suppose it is, takes fire at once.”
“Let me have a night to think 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 thing to do without good consideration.”
“Do so by all means, and begin at once, 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 and dress myself, and a not very unreasonable request, seeing that it is close on five o’clock, and 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.”
“Very 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 life,” said Ladarelle, as he arose reluctantly, and with unwilling steps sauntered out of the room.