The Knight Of Gwynne Volume I Part 53

"I regret to say, sir," said O'Reilly, hastily, "that I cannot give my permission in this instance. Whatever the fate of the proposal I have made to you, I beg it to be understood as made under the seal of honorable secrecy."

Darcy bowed deeply, but made no reply.

"Confound me," cried Daly, "if I understand any compact between two such men as you to require all this privacy, unless you were hardy enough to renew your old father's proposal for my friend's daughter, and now had modesty enough to feel ashamed of your own impudence."

"I am no stranger, sir, to the indecent liberties you permit your tongue to take," said Hickman, moving towards the door; "but this is neither the time nor place to notice them."

"So then I was right," cried Daly; "I guessed well the game you would play--"

"Bagenal," interposed the Knight, "I must atop this. Mr. Hickman is now beneath my roof--"

"Is he, faith?--not in his own estimation then. Why, his fellows are taking an inventory of the furniture at this very moment."

"Is this true, sir?" said Darcy, turning a fierce look towards O'Reilly, whose face became suddenly of an ashy paleness.

"If so," muttered he, "I can only a.s.sure you that it is without any orders of mine."

"How good!" said Daly, bursting into an insolent laugh; "why, Darcy, when you meet with a fellow in your plantations with a gun in his hand and a lurcher at his heels, are you disposed to regard him as one in search of the picturesque, or a poacher? So, when a gentleman travels about the country with a sub-sheriff in his carriage and two bailiffs in the rumble, does it seem exactly the guise of one paying morning calls to his neighbors?"

"Mr. O'Reilly, I ask you to explain this proceeding."

"I confess, sir," stammered out the other, "I came accompanied by certain persons in authority, but who have acted in this matter entirely without my permission. The proposal I have made this day was the cause of my visit."

"It is a subject on which I can no longer hold any secrecy," said the Knight, haughtily. "Bagenal, you were quite correct in your surmise. Mr.

O'Reilly not only intended us the honor of an alliance, but offered to merge the ancient glories of his house by a.s.suming the more humble name and s.h.i.+eld of Darcy."

"What! eh! did I hear aright?" said Daly, with a broken voice; while, walking to the window, he looked down into the lawn beneath, as if calculating the height from the ground. "By Heaven, Darcy, you 're the best-tempered fellow in Europe--that 's all," he muttered, as he walked away.

The door opened at this moment, and the shock bullet head of a bailiff appeared.

"That's Mr. Daly! there he is!" cried out O'Reilly, who, pale with pa.s.sion and trembling all over, supported himself against the back of a chair with one hand, while with the other he pointed to where Daly stood.

"In that case," said the fellow, entering, while he drew a slip of paper from his breast, "I 'll take the opportunity of sarvin' him where he stands."

"One step nearer! one step!" said Daly, as he took a pistol from the pocket of his coat.

The man hesitated and looked at O'Reilly, as if for advice or encouragement; but terror and rage had now deprived him of all self-possession, and he neither spoke nor signed to him.

"Leave the room, sir," said the Knight, with a motion of his hand to the bailiff; and the ruffian, whose office had familiarized him long with scenes of outrage and violence, shrank back ashamed and abashed, and slipped from the room without a word.

"I believe, Mr. O'Reilly," continued Darcy, with an accent calm and unmoved,--"I believe our conference is now concluded. I will not insult your own acuteness by saying how unnecessary I feel any reply to your demand."

"In that case," said O'Reilly, "may I presume that there is no objection to proceed with those legal formalities which, although begun without my knowledge, may be effected now as well as at any other period?"

"Darcy, there is but one way of dealing with that gentleman--"

"Bagenal, I must insist upon your leaving this matter solely with me."

"Depend upon it, sir, your interests will not gain by your friend's counsels," said O'Reilly, with an insolent sneer.

"Such another remark from your lips," said Darcy, sternly, "would make me follow them, if they went so far as--"

"Throwing him neck and heels out of that window," broke in Daly; "for I own to you it's the course I 'd have taken half an hour ago."

"I wish you good morning, Mr. Darcy," said O'Reilly, addressing him for the first time by the name of his family instead of his usual designation; and without vouchsafing a word to Daly, he retired from the room.

It was not until O'Reilly's carriage drove past the window that either Darcy or his friend uttered a syllable; they stood apparently lost in thought up to that moment, when the noise of wheels and the tramp of horses aroused them.

"We must lose no time, Bagenal," said the Knight, hastily; "I cannot count very far on that gentleman's delicacy or forbearance. Lady Eleanor must not be exposed to the indignities the law will permit him to practise towards us; we must, if possible, leave this to-night;" and so saying, he left the room to make arrangements in accordance with his resolve.

Bagenal Daly looked after him for a moment. "Poor fellow!" muttered he, "how manfully he bears it!" When a sudden flush that covered his cheek bespoke a rapid change of sentiment, and at the same instant he left the room, and, crossing the hall and the courtyard, walked hastily towards the stables.

"Saddle a horse for me, Carney, and as fast as may be."

"Here's a mare ready this minute, sir; she was going out to take her gallop."

"I'll give it, then," said Daly, as he b.u.t.toned up his coat; and then, breaking off a branch of the old willow that hung over the fountain, sprang in the saddle with an alertness that would not have disgraced a youth of twenty.

"There he goes," muttered the old huntsman, as he looked after him, "and there is n't the man between this and Killy-begs can take as much out of a baste as himself. 'T is quiet enough the mare will be when he turns her head into this yard again."

Whatever Daly's purpose, it seemed one which brooked little delay, for no sooner was he on the sward than he pushed the mare to a fast gallop, and was seen sweeping along the lawn at a tremendous pace. In less than ten minutes he saw O'Reilly's carriage, as, in a rapid trot, the horses advanced along the level avenue, and almost the moment after, he had stationed himself in the road, so as to prevent their proceeding further. The coachman, who knew him well, came to a stop at his signal, and before his master could ask the reason, Daly was beside the window of the chariot.

"I would wish a word with you, Mr. O'Reilly," said he, in a low, subdued voice, so as to be inaudible to the sub-sheriff, who was seated beside him. "You made use of an expression a few moments ago, which, if I understood aright, convinces me I have unwittingly done you great injustice."

O'Reilly, whose ashy cheek and affrighted air bespoke a heart but ill at ease, made no reply, and Daly went on,--

"You said, sir, that neither the time nor the place suited the notice you felt called upon to take of my remarks on your conduct. May I ask, as a very great favor, what time and what place will be more convenient to you? And I cannot better express my own sense of regret for a hasty expression than by a.s.suring you that I shall hold myself bound to be at your service in both respects."

"A hostile meeting, sir, is that your proposition?" said O'Reilly, aloud.

"How admirably you read a riddle!" said Daly, laughing.

"There, Mr. Jones!" cried O'Reilly, turning to his companion, "I call on you to witness the words,--a provocation to a duel offered by this gentleman."

"Not at all," rejoined Daly; "the provocation came from yourself,--at least, you used a phrase which men with blood in their veins understand but one way. My error--and I 'll not forgive myself in haste for it--was the belief that an upstart need not of necessity be a poltroon.--Drive on," cried he to the coachman, with a sneering laugh; "your master is looking pale." And, with these words, he turned his horse's head, and cantered slowly back towards the abbey.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII. TATE SULLIVAN'S FAREWELL

The sorrows and sufferings of n.o.ble minds are melancholy themes to dwell upon; they may "point a moral," but they scarcely "adorn a tale," least of all such a tale as ours is intended to be. While, therefore, we would spare our readers and ourselves the pain of this narration, we cannot leave that old abbey, which we remember so full of happiness, without one parting look at it, in company with those about to quit it forever.

From the time of Mr. O'Reilly's leave-taking, the day, notwithstanding its gloomy presage, went over rapidly. The Knight busied himself with internal arrangements, while Lionel took into his charge all the preparations for their departure on the morrow, Bagenal Daly a.s.sisting each in turn, and displaying an amount of calm foresight and circ.u.mspection in details which few would have given him credit for.

Meanwhile, Lady Eleanor slept long and heavily, and awoke, not only refreshed in body, but with an appearance of quiet energy and determination she had not shown for years past. Great indeed was the Knight's astonishment on hearing that she intended joining them at dinner; in her usual habit she dined early, and with Helen alone for her companion, so that her present resolve created the more surprise.

Dinner was ordered in the library, and poor old Tate, by some strange motive of sympathy, took a more than common pains in all the decorations of the table. The flowers which Lady Eleanor was fondest of decked the centre--alas, there was no need to husband them now! on the morrow who was to care for them?--a little bouquet of fresh violets marked her place at the table, and more than a dozen times did the old man hesitate how the light should fall through the large window, and whether it would be more soothing to his mistress to look abroad upon that fair and swelling landscape so dear to her, or more painful to gaze upon the scenes she should never see more.