Daisy Burns Volume II Part 41

He seemed in a very bad temper, sat down with his hat on, and hunted for something amongst the books and papers on his table, grumbling all the time. A knock at the door disturbed him; he opened it himself.

"Miss Burns is engaged," he said sharply, in reply to something, then re- entered the room, slamming the door and muttering to himself.

In a few minutes, there was a sound of carriage wheels rolling down the avenue.

"A happy riddance!" grumbled Mr. Thornton. "Will you soon have done that transcribing?"

"By dinner-time, Sir."

He glanced over my shoulder at what I had done, signified his approbation, and told me, as the others had taken themselves off, I might stay and dine with him. Accordingly, in an hour's time, we had a frugal and silent meal on an end of the table cleared away for that purpose.

When the repast was over, Mr. Thornton went to a cupboard, opened it, and brought forth a bottle of old-looking wine, then laid it down and glanced at me significantly. I shook my head, and said I never took wine.

"Then you are a little fool," he replied good-humouredly, "for there is nothing better; and this is glorious old port, too."

He sat down, poured himself out a tumbler full, and, reclining back in his deep arm-chair, began enjoying slowly the only indulgence he granted to his solitary life. The genial influence of the generous vintage soon became apparent. The sternness of his mouth relaxed; his brow smoothed down; his piercing eyes softened into a sort of careless and jovial good- humour; and when he laid down his gla.s.s, it was to thrust his hands in his pockets, and chuckle to himself at the discomfiture of Mrs. Brand.

"Scientific madness, eh--and wanted to hook you into it, and that little bit of mineralogy, too--much the lawyers would have made of it! I am a lucky man; every creature I have to do with tries to cheat or outwit me; that Irish friend of yours, you--"

"Excuse me, Sir," I interrupted, reddening; "cheating implies trust, and you did not trust us. Mr. O'Reilly is the slave to his word. He kept his to you; I had none to keep. You never asked him if he liked to give me up; you never asked me if I liked being here. Do not wonder he did his best to get me back, and I to get away."

I spoke warmly; Mr. Thornton projected his nether lip, and shrugged his shoulders impa.s.sionately.

"You ridiculous little creature," he said, "why should I ask you if you liked the medicine which I your physician knew to be good for you? Don't you see that Irishman would have got tired of the young girl, as he once did of the little girl, and sent her off somewhere? I spared him the trouble."

"Indeed," I replied indignantly, "he would not have got tired of me! If I were his own child, Cornelius could not be fonder of me than he is."

Mr. Thornton looked deep into me, and at first said nothing.

"If you were his own child--eh!" he at length echoed. "Fudge!"

"Fudge, Sir! And why should he not like me? He reared me, he taught me, he watched by me when I was ill; he did everything for me. Why then should he not like me?"

I sat within a few paces of my grandfather; he stretched out bis arm, placed his hand under my chin, raised my face so as to meet his bended gaze, and again seemed to read me through.

"Silly thing!" he said, a little contemptuously, and dropped his hand, which I immediately caught, and imprisoned in both mine.

"Oh, Sir!" I exclaimed, "I have kept my word; I will keep it still; but pray let me go and see them--pray do. Where can the harm be in that? Oh!

pray, do let me!"

In my eagerness, I could scarcely speak, and the words trembled on my lips.

"So," he said, "that is what you have been getting pale about, is it?-- and fretting, eh?"

I could not deny the imputation. He took his hand from me, frowned, and looked displeased.

"Margaret Burns," he observed, sharply, "you are a fool, and I am a still greater fool not to let you rush on your fate. However, I am not going to do it; so just make up your mind to stay here."

With that he rose, took the paper for which he had come back, and left me, bidding me not to forget that "Chaos and Creation."

He did not come back for three days, which I spent alone in Thornton House. It rained from morning until night, and I felt dull and miserable.

I pa.s.sed the best part of my time in the study, reading; and there my grandfather found me on his return.

The afternoon was not far gone, and the weather seemed inclined to improve. The rain had ceased; yellow streaks of sunlight pierced the gray sky, and lit up the wet park. I sat by the window, through which streamed in a doubtful light; a book lay on my lap unread, and with my two hands clasped upon it, and my head low bent, I was absorbed in a waking dream, when the sound of the opening door roused me. I looked up, and saw Mr.

Thornton, in his travelling dress, standing on the threshold, his two hands resting on the head of his cane, his eyes attentively fixed upon me. I said something about his return, and rose. He did not answer, but came in slowly, and began taking off his great coat; then suddenly pausing in the operation, he turned to me, and said abruptly:

"What is it about?"

"What, Sir?" I asked, astonished.

"That you are crying for?"

I hung down my head, and did not reply.

"Has anything or any one annoyed you, whilst I was away?" he asked, in the same short way.

"No. Sir."

"Then what are you crying for?"

"Oh, Sir, you know!" 1 said, with involuntary emotion.

"The old story, eh?" He walked up and down the room with his coat hanging half off from one arm; then suddenly stopping before me, he said: "Since you will be a fool, why be one and have your way. That friend of yours has not yet left Leigh; if he will come here, and comply with a condition that I shall exact, he may take you with him when and for as long as he likes."

I could scarcely believe my senses. I gazed incredulously at Mr.

Thornton, who told me not to be bewildered, but see about it. I needed no second bidding, and ran out of the room at once. I met Charlotte on the staircase.

"Charlotte," I said, breathlessly, "can you take a letter for me to Leigh immediately?"

Before the girl could answer, Mrs. Marks, standing on the landing where I had first seen her, chose to interfere.

"Charlotte must get Mr Thornton's dinner ready," she said, majestically.

"Very well," I replied more quietly; "Richard can do it."

"Richard is out," she observed with evident satisfaction.

"Then I can do it myself," I said impatiently.

I ran up-stairs, got ready, and went off at once. It was only when I had pa.s.sed the lodge, that it occurred to me Mr. Thornton had not perhaps intended me to be my own messenger; but it was too late to retreat; besides I could not resist the temptation of seeing Cornelius again, so I cast thought behind me, and went on.

My heart beat fast as I reached Rock Cottage. The garden-gate stood ajar; the door was open too; I entered and looked into both the parlours, then pa.s.sed on to the garden, hurried along the gravel path, and caught a glimpse of him going down to the beach. I thought to call him back, but changed my mind, and followed him silently. The path wound away to the sands, sunk between sharp and rugged rocks. Down these, the gate and garden left behind me, I ran lightly. I soon outstripped him, and stood awaiting his approach on a point of rock that projected over the path. He walked with folded arms and eyes bent on the earth. When he was within a few paces of me, I dropped lightly down before him. If I had fallen from the sky, he could scarcely have looked more astonished. He did not speak, but took my hands in his, as if to make sure of my ident.i.ty.

"I am no spirit," I said, "but real flesh and blood."

The blood rushed up to his brow.

"You are come--come back to me after all!" he exclaimed ardently. "I knew you would." And stooping, he pressed me to his heart with a pa.s.sionate fondness that made me forget all save the joy of seeing him again. I know not what we said in that first moment. I felt one with him then, and his words of endearment and gladness are irrevocably blended with mine in memory. All I distinctly remember, is finding myself sitting with him in the back-parlour of Rock Cottage, my two bands clasped on his shoulder, my eyes raised up to his, and my ears drinking in with delight every word that fell from his lips. He called me by every fond name he could think of; blessed me over and over, and ended by saying eagerly: "Had we not better go at once, my darling?"