Luttrell Of Arran Part 32

"Last, but far from least of all, the family to which Harry's mother belonged contains many very bold, restless, and I might say dangerous, men. One of the reasons of my retirement to this lonely spot was the security I possessed in the midst of my own wild islanders against demands not always urged with moderation. They are not likely to forget the near relationship to my boy, if they can make it a source of profit; or, failing that, to convert it to a matter of menace. On every account, therefore, I entreat that he may not come back here, or, if so, but pa.s.singly.

"I hope he will never sell these islands; they would be a sorry commodity in the market, and they are the oldest possessions of our name in this kingdom. When Henry the Second sent John de Luttrell as Envoy to Rome but where am I straying to? The shouts that ring without tell me that all is ready for their departure, and in a few moments more I shall be alone in the world. Think of me sometimes, dear friend, even if the thought come in your happy hours to dash its joys with sadness; but do not speak of, last of all, do not write to,

"Yours, while he lives,

"John Hamilton Luttrell.

"I am half ashamed to add one other request; but if my cheeks grow red as I write, my heart will be the calmer when it is written. Be a friend to my boy in all ways that your kindness, your sympathy, your counsel can dictate. Guide, direct, encourage, or, if need be, reprove him; but never, whatever you do, aid him with your purse. It is on this condition alone I commit him to you. Remember!"

"They are growing impatient, papa," said the boy, entering the room half timidly. "It is nigh flood, and we shall want all the ebb to take us round the Caskets."

"And are _you_ so impatient to be off, Harry?" said he, in a low soft voice; "do you wish to leave me, Harry?"

"Not if you would have me stay, papa; but I thought, I used to think at least--that----"

"That we made but little companionship together, you would say," said Luttrell, mildly; "that we lived too much apart. Well, it is true," said he, with a deep sigh, "quite true." He paused for a moment, and then, with a sort of effort, and in a changed voice, continued: "If I should be no more here when you come back, Harry, do not let this old place fall to ruin. It has sheltered me during many a year of sorrow, and sorrow has a very attaching quality!"

"Papa, I will not go. I will not leave you!" said the boy, falling on his neck, and kissing him over and over.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 187]

"You must be manly, Sir," said Luttrell, rising and disengaging himself from the boy's embrace. "When men promise, they are bound to keep their word."

The tone, the look, the gesture, fully as much as the stern words themselves, recalled Harry to himself, and he drew his hand roughly across his eyes, and stepping back, stationed himself, as he was wont, to hear his father's commands.

"I have written to Sir Gervais Vyner the letter you see here, asking him to be your guardian in case I should die before your return. I have reason to hope he will not refuse me. If he accept, you will obey him in all things. You would obey me, at all events. Whenever you return to England, seek him out, and learn to know him as the last friend I had left me."

"I will, Sir."

The calm and resolute tone of the boy seemed for an instant almost to overcome the father, who stood and stared steadfastly at him.

"I have told Sir Gervais," he continued, "that he will find you honourable, truthful, and brave; see that my words be borne out. And I have besought him to give you all that his friendship can bestow; but on no account--mind this, boy--on no account a.s.sist you with money. You hear me, Harry?"

"I do, Sir. I will not forget your words."

"If you should have any immediate call for money, I have told your Captain I will repay him for what he will advance you; be thrifty, for I have but little to live on, as you will discover one of these days when it is all your own."

"My dear Sir," broke in Mr. M'Kinlay, as he bustled into the room, all coated and m.u.f.fled for the journey. "Will you pardon me if I say we shall lose the tide if we delay. This young gentleman's luggage is all onboard, and if there be no very urgent reason for deferring our departure, I should take it as a favour to say good-by."

"There is nothing unreasonable in your haste, Sir," said Luttrell, with a faint smile. "This is a place where few would care to dally. I have been saying a few words to my son, before he leaves me. This is the cause of your delay."

"My dear Sir, I offer a thousand apologies, and beg to retire at once."

"They are all said, Sir. Harry and I have nothing more of any consequence to talk over. If Sir Gervais had not been here himself, Mr.

M'Kinlay, I'd have asked you to paint us somewhat less savage than we are. Oh, here comes the Captain."

"I say, youngster," cried Dodge, entering, "if you ain't bent on kissin'

the ugliest population I ever saw since I left the Feejees, just step out by the back of the house, and make the best of your way down to the sh.o.r.e. Good day, Sir. You shall have news of us. Let me see; it will be a matter of six months, or so. But I'll have a sharp look out after the 'buoy,' and he'll do well, you'll see. Don't you be surprised if you see him a comin' in some fine morning with a green monkey or a far-caped baboon. Cheer up, Sir! Don't let the buoy see you down-hearted,"

whispered he. "Come along, Harry! Be lively, my lad; out of that window, and let me find you aboard when I get down."

"Be kind to him!" muttered Luttrell, as he drew his hand hastily across his eyes.

"Lord love ye! I'm the kindest critter that ever breathed. The whole time I was with the Choctaws, I never scalped an enemy. I couldn't bear it; and whenever I cut a fellow's head off, I turned him right round, so that I shouldn't see his face. Soft-hearted, warn't it? But that's my natur'. There, I hear them heaving short; so good-by, for the last time."

"Harry, Harry----one word----"

"He's gone, poor fellow; don't break down his courage. Good-by. Don't call him back."

"Be it so," said Luttrell, as he sunk down into his chair, and covered his face with his hands. For a while all was still; then suddenly a wild cheer, a cry, in which the wail of sorrow was blended with the swell of the deep voices crying out; and Luttrell arose, and flung open his window. The lugger was under weigh. The dark shadow of her full canvas moved slowly along, growing fainter and fainter, at least to eyes that were now dimmed with tears; and when he turned away to wipe them, she was gone.

CHAPTER XXI. A WELCOME HOME

To welcome Sir Gervais Vyner home, the ladies had invited Sir Within Wardle to dinner--one of those privileged little family meetings, to be of which one must be an honoured guest--and so, indeed, did the old Baronet with his fine tact understand it; for he was very skilful in comprehending all those situations which make the so-to-say diplomacy of daily life.

He knew that he was admitted to that very pleasant brevet rank, the friend of the family, before whom everything can be said and talked over; and he showed by innumerable little traits how he valued his promotion, and, with a subtlety all his own, talked of himself and his own affairs with an easy confidence that seemed to say, "Here we are, all in secret committee; we may speak as freely as we like."

The dinner was a very pleasant one. Vyner gave an amusing account of his Irish experiences, spoke of everything and every one but Luttrell, for his was a name that was never mentioned amongst them. Indeed, in the wrong the Courtenays had done him, was the seal that closed their lips; for, while we can talk, and talk fluently, of those who have injured us, of such as we have ourselves injured, we are dumb.

Sir Within saw, with the old craft of his trade, that there was a reserve; he smelt it like a secret treaty, but it did not touch him, and he was indifferent about it. He joined with the ladies warmly in their depreciation of Ireland as a residence, and laughingly concurred in their insistance that they were never to be asked to go there.

As to the project of adopting the little peasant-girl, they made it the subject of much pleasant banter; for, of course, Vyner was totally unable to reply to one-tenth of the questions which the matter suggested.

"We will suppose she is very pretty: and, what is still harder to believe, we will suppose that she'll grow up prettier, what is to come of it; what do you intend her to be?" said Georgina.

"Yes," said Sir Within, "let us look a little to what Italians call _e poi?_"

"When well brought up, and well educated, she might surely be a governess," said Lady Vyner, coming to her husband's rescue.

"And was it worth while to withdraw her from the drudgery she knew, to enter upon a slavery that she never heard of?" asked Georgina.

"To tell truth," said Vyner, "I must confess I was thinking more of the benefit to Ada, the advantage she would have in a joyous, high-spirited creature of her own age, that might make her hours of Lessons more full of emulation, and her play hours pleasanter."

Sir Within bowed a courteous a.s.sent to a speech princ.i.p.ally addressed to himself.

"And," continued Sir Gervais, bolder for this encouragement, "and, as to forecasting what is to happen to any of us, even if we be alive, some ten or twelve years hence, I really own I don't think it is called.

for."

"I'm not sure of that," said Sir Within. "I have made up my mind to live about five-and-thirty years more, and even speculated on the how I am to live it."

"Do let us hear your plan," said Georgina, with a slight flush of eagerness in her face.

"I have two," said he; "and as there is not a little to be said for each, I hesitate between them."

"We cannot pretend to be of any use in counselling you, unfortunately,"

said Lady Vyner; "but if there be anything which what you slightingly call 'woman's wit' can add to your own reasonings, we offer it freely."