"I have not the slightest intention to deny it."
"And is it possible, Mr. M"Kinlay, 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, impatiently.
"Was it town gossip and scandal?"
For a moment Mr. M"Kinlay was almost scared by her impetuosity, but he rallied, and a.s.sured 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 messages, and almost his last word was a hope that he should be fortunate 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 upas 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.1"
"Not within ten years of it, Sir, I"m confident," broke she in, almost fiercely. "There is no error more common than to overrate the age of distinguished men. The public infers that familiarity with their name implies long acquaintance, and it is a most absurd mistake."
Now, Mr. M"Kinlay 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 emba.s.sy fifty-two years ago.
"What do you say to that, Miss Courtenay? Fifty-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."
"Oh, I"m the first to extol his conversational powers. He is a perfect mine of good stories."
"I detest good stories. I like conversation, I like reply, rejoinder, 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 sow him in high spirits and in the best possible health."
"I thought so!" 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 explain. After a moment, she resumed: "And was there nothing said about why he had left Dalradern, and what induced him to come abroad?"
"Nothing--positively nothing."
"Well," said she, with a haughty toss of her head, "it is very possible that the whole subject occupies a much larger s.p.a.ce in Mr. Grenfell"s letter than in Sir Within"s mind; and, for my own part, I only inquired about the matter as it was once the cause of a certain coldness, a half estrangement between Dalradern and ourselves, and which, as my brother takes much pleasure in Sir Within"s society, I rejoice to perceive exists no longer."
All this was a perfect riddle to Mr. M"Kinlay, who had nothing for it but to utter a wise sentiment 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 dryly 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 irritation.
"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"Kinlay," 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 overwhelmed with shame and anger.
CHAPTER LXI. MR. M"KINLAY"S "INSTRUCTIONS."
The party at the Villa were seated at breakfast the 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 tidings of his father"s death had met him as he landed at Genoa, and overwhelmed him with affliction--such utter friendlessness 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 Boschetto 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 sailor possessed the characteristic reserve of his family, and avoided, whenever possible, all reference to himself. Strange and eventful as his last few years had been, he never referred to them, or did so in that careless, pa.s.sing way that showed he would not willingly make them matter to dwell upon; and yet, with all this, there was an openness when questioned, a frank readiness to answer whatever was asked, that plainly proved his reserve was mere shyness--the modest dislike 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 society. They walked together over the olive hills and along the sea-sh.o.r.e every morning. Once or twice, too, they had taken out Vyner"s little sail-boat, and made excursions to Sestri or to Recco; and in the grave, respectful, almost distant manner of Harry Luttrell, there seemed that sort of security which the mammas of handsome heiresses deem sufficient. Ada, too, frankness and honesty itself, spoke of him to her mother as a sister might have spoken of a dear brother. If he had been more confidential with her than with the others--and his confessions were even marked with a sort of strange deference, as though made to one who could not well realise to her mind the humble fortunes of a mere adventurer like himself--there was also a kind of rugged pride in the way he presented himself even in his character of a sailor--one who had not the slightest pretension to rank or condition whatever--that showed how he regarded the gulf between them.
It was strange, inexplicably strange, what distance separated him from Miss Courtenay. Neither would, perhaps neither could, make any advances to the other. "She is so unlike your mother, Ada," blurted he out one day, ere he knew what he had said. "He is painfully like his father,"
was Georgina"s comment on himself.
"You have had a long visit from young Luttrell, Mr. M"Kinlay," said she, on the day after his arrival, when they had been closeted together for nigh two hours.
"Yes, Sir Gervais begged me to explain to him some of the circ.u.mstances which led his father to will away the Arran property, and to inform him that the present owner was his cousin. I suspect Sir Gervais shrank from the unpleasant task of entering upon the low connexions of the family, and which, of course, gave _me_ no manner of inconvenience. I told him who she was, and he remembered her at once. I was going on to speak of her having been adopted by your brother, and the other incidents of her childhood, but he stopped me by saying, "Would it be possible to make any barter of the Roscommon property, which goes to the heir-at-law, and who is now myself, for the Arran estate, for I hold much to it?" I explained to him that his being alive broke the will, and that Arran was as much his as the rest of the estate. But he would not hear of this, and kept on repeating, "My father gave it, and without she is disposed to part with it for a liberal equivalent, I"ll not disturb the possession.""
"The Luttrells were all so," said she; "half worldly, half romantic, and one never knew which side was uppermost."
"He means to go over to Arran; he wants to see the place where his father is buried. The pride of race is very strong in him, and the mere utterance of the word Luttrell brings it up in full force."
"What a pity she"s married!" said she, insolently, but in so faint a voice he could not catch the words, and asked her to repeat them. "I was only talking to myself, Mr. M"Kinlay," said she.
"I pressed him," continued the other, "to give me some instructions, for I can"t suppose he intends to let his fortune slip out of his hands altogether. I told him that it was as much as to impugn his legitimacy; and he gave me a look that frightened me, and, for a moment, I wished myself anywhere else than in the room with him. "He must be something younger, and bolder, and braver than you, Sir, that will ever dare to utter such a doubt as that," said he; and he was almost purple with pa.s.sion as he spoke."
"They are all violent; at least, they were!" said she, with a sneering smile. "I hope you encouraged the notion of going to Arran. I should be so glad if he were to do it at once."
"Indeed?"
"Can you doubt it, Mr. M"Kinlay? Is it a person so acute and observant as yourself need be told that my niece, Ada, should not be thrown into constant companionship with a young fellow whose very adventures impart a sort of interest to him?"
"But a sailor, Miss Courtenay!--a mere sailor!"