The Knight Of Gwynne Volume I Part 21

hunting; and let the woodc.o.c.ks take care of themselves in the intervals, for we are bent on ma.s.sacre."

The postscript was brief, but it surprised Darcy more than all the rest.

"Only think of my spending four days last week down in Ess.e.x with a worthy kinsman of my mother's, Lord Netherby: a splendid place, glorious shooting, and the best greyhounds I ever saw run. He understands everything but horses; but I have taken on me to enlighten him a little, and have sent down four grays from Guildfords' yesterday,--better than any we have in the Prince's stables; he is a fine fellow, though I did n't like him at first; a great courtier in his way, but _au fond_ warm-hearted and generous. Keep my secret from my mother, but he intends coming over with us. Adieu! dear father. Look to Forester, don't let him run away before we arrive. Cut Dublin and its confounded politics.

Netherby says the ministers have an immense majority,--the less reason for swelling or decreasing it.

"Yours ever,

"Lionel Darcy."

"And so our trusty and well-beloved cousin of Netherby is coming to visit us," said the Knight, musing. "Well, Lionel, I confess myself half of your mind. I did not like him at first: the better impression is yet to come. In any case, let us receive him suitably; and, fortunately, here's Gleeson to help the arrangement--Well, Gleeson, I hope matters are making some progress. Are we to see the last of these parchments soon? Here's a letter from my son. Read it, and you 'll see I must get back to 'the West' at once."

Gleeson perused the letter, and when he had finished, returned it into the Knight's hand without speaking.

"Can we conclude this week?" asked Darcy.

"There are several points yet, sir, of great difficulty. Some I have already submitted for counsel's opinion; one in particular, as regards the serving the notice of repayment: there would appear to be a doubt on this head."

"There can be none in reality," said Darcy, hastily. "I have Hickman's letter, in his own handwriting, averring his readiness to release the mortgage at any day."

"Is the doc.u.ment witnessed, and on a stamp?" asked Gleeson, cautiously.

"Of course it is not. Those are scarcely the forms of a note between two private gentlemen."

"It might be of use in equity, no doubt," muttered Gleeson, "or before a jury; but we have no time for these considerations now. The Attorney-General thinks--"

"Never mind the Attorney-General. Have we the money to repay? Well, does Hickman refuse to accept it?"

"He has not been asked as yet, sir," said Gleeson, whose business notions were not a little ruffled by this abrupt mode of procedure.

"And, in Heaven's name, Gleeson! why pester yourself and me with overcoming obstacles that may never arise? Wait on Hickman at once,--to-day. Tell him we are prepared, and desirous of paying off these inc.u.mbrances. If he objects, hear his objection."

"He will refer me to his solicitor, sir,--Mr. Kennedy, of Hume Street,--a very respectable man, no higher in the profession, but I may remark, in confidence, one who has no objection to a suit in equity or a trial at bar. It is not money Hickman wants, sir. He is perfectly satisfied with his security."

"What the devil is it, then? He's not Shylock, is he?" said Darcy, laughing.

"Not very unlike, perhaps, sir; but in the present instance, it is your influence with the Government he desires."

"But I have none, Gleeson,--actually none. No man knows that better than you do. I could not make a gauger or a tide-waiter to-morrow."

"But you might, sir,--you might make a peer of the realm if you wished it. Hickman knows this; and whatever scruples _you_ might have in adopting the necessary steps, _his_ conscience could never recognize them as worthy a moment's consideration."

"This is a topic I 'll scarcely discuss with him," said the Knight, proudly. "I never, so far as I know, promised to pay a percentage in my principles as well as in my gold. Mr. Hickman has a fair claim on the one; on the other, neither he nor any other man shall make an unjust demand. I am not of Christie Ford's mind," added he, laughingly.

"He says, Gleeson, that if the English are bent on taking away _our_ Parliament, the only revenge we have left is to spoil _their_ peerage.

This is but a sorry theme to joke upon, after all; and, to come back, what say you to trying my plan? I am to meet the old fellow at dinner, on Wednesday next, at Lord Castlereagh's."

"Indeed, sir!" said Gleeson, with a mixture of surprise and agitation greatly disproportioned to the intelligence.

"Yes. Why does that astonish you? The Secretary is too shrewd to neglect such men as these; they are the rising influences of Ireland."

Gleeson muttered a half a.s.sent; but evidently too much occupied with his own reflections to pay due attention to the Knight's remark, continued to himself, "on Wednesday!" then added aloud, "On Monday he is to be in Kildare. He told me he would remain there to receive his rents, and on Wednesday return to town. I believe, sir, there may be good counsel in your words. I 'll try on Monday. I 'll follow him down to Kildare, and as the papers relative to the abbey property are all in readiness, I'll endeavor to conclude that at once. So you are to meet at dinner?"

"That same dinner-party seems to puzzle you," said the Knight, smiling.

"No, not at all, sir," replied Gleeson, hurriedly. "You were desirous of getting home next week to meet Mr. Lionel--Captain Darcy I must call him; if this arrangement can be made, there will be no difficulty in your return. But of course you will not leave town before it is completed."

The Knight pledged himself to be guided by his man of business in all respects; but when they parted, he could not conceal from himself that Gleeson's agitated and troubled manner, so very unlike his usual calm deportment, boded difficulties and embarra.s.sments which to his own eyes were invisible.

CHAPTER XVI. A HURRIED VISIT

It was on a severe night, with frequent gusts of stormy wind shaking the doors and window-frames, or carrying along the drifted flakes of snow with which the air was charged, that Lady Eleanor, her daughter, and Forester, were seated round the fire. All the appliances of indoor comfort by which they were surrounded seemed insufficient to dispel a sense of sadness that pervaded the little party. Conversation flowed not as it was wont, in its pleasant current, diverging here and there as fancy or caprice suggested; the sentences were few and brief, the pauses between them long and frequent; a feeling of awkwardness, too, mingled with the gloom, for, at intervals, each would make an endeavor to relieve the weariness of time, and in the effort show a consciousness of constraint.

Lady Eleanor lay back in her deep chair, and, with half-closed lids, seemed lost in thought. Helen was working at her embroidery, and, apparently, diligently too, although a shrewd observer might have remarked on the slow progress the work was making, and how inevitably her b.a.l.l.s of colored worsted seemed bent on entanglement; while Forester sat silently gazing on the wood fire, and watching the bright sparks as they flitted and danced above the red flame; his brow was clouded, and his look sorrowful; not without reason, perhaps: it was to be his last evening at the abbey; the last of those hours of happiness which seemed all the fairer when about to part with them forever.

Lady Eleanor seemed grieved at his approaching departure. From the habit of his mind, and the nature of his education, he was more companionable to her than Lionel.

She saw in him many qualities of high and sterling value, and even in his prejudices she could trace back several of those traits which marked her own youth, when, in the pride of her English breeding, she would tolerate no deviation from the habits of her own country. It was true, many of these notions had given way since his residence at the abbey; many of his opinions had undergone modification or change, but still he was distinctively English.

Helen, who possessed no standard by which to measure such prejudices, was far less indulgent towards them; her joyous, happy nature--the heirloom of her father's house--led her rather to jest than argue on these topics, and she contrasted the less apt and ready apprehension of Forester with the native quickness of her brother Lionel, disadvantageous to the former. She was sorry, too, that he was going; more so, because his society was so pleasing to her mother, and that before him, Lady Eleanor exerted herself in a way which eventually reacted favorably on her own health and spirits. Further than this, her interest in him was weak.

Not so Forester: he was hopelessly, inextricably, in love, not the less so that he would not acknowledge it to himself; far more so because he had made no impression on the object of his pa.s.sion. There is a period in every story of affection when the flame grows the brighter because unreflected, and seems the more concentrated because unreturned.

Forester was in this precise stage of the malady; he was as much piqued by the indifference as fascinated by the charms of Helen Darcy. The very exertions he made for victory stimulated his own pa.s.sion; while, in her efforts to interest or amuse him, he could not help feeling the evidence of her indifference to him.

We have said that the conversation was broken and interrupted; at length it almost ceased altogether, a stray remark of Lady Eleanor's, followed by a short reply from Forester, alone breaking the silence. Nor were these always very pertinent, inasmuch as the young aide-de-camp occasionally answered his own reflections, and not the queries of his hostess.

"An interesting time in Dublin, no doubt," said Lady Eleanor, half talking to herself; "for though the forces are unequal, and victory and defeat predestined, there will be a struggle still."

"Yes, madam, a brief one," answered Forester, dreamily, comprehending only a part of her remark.

"A brief and a vain one," echoed Lady Eleanor.

"Say, rather, a glorious one," interposed Helen; "the last cheer of a sinking crew!"

Forester looked up, startled into attention by the energy of these few words.

"I should say so too, Helen," remarked her mother, "if they were not accessory to their own misfortunes."

"Nay, nay, Mamma, you must not remember their failings in their hour of distress; there is a n.o.ble-hearted minority untainted yet."

"There will be a majority of eighteen," said Forester, whose thoughts were wandering away, while he endeavored to address himself to what he believed they were saying; nor was he aware of his error till aroused by the laughter of Lady Eleanor and her daughter.

"Eighteen!" reiterated he, solemnly.

"How few!" remarked Lady Eleanor, almost scornfully.