Luttrell Of Arran Part 60

Grenfell took the letter from the other's hand, and pored over it in silence for several minutes; then, leisurely folding it, he laid it down on the table.

"How do you understand him?" asked Ladarelle again.

"It's not very easy to understand what he says here; though, if the words had been spoken instead of written, I suspect I could have come at the meaning."

"'There ain't two ways about it,'" repeated Dolly, moodily, "and why not say which is the one way? That would be more to the purpose."

"It's one of two things, evidently; either you are to get rid of Sir Within, or his ward. Grog is not a very scrupulous fellow; but though he would poison a horse he had laid heavily against for the Derby, I don't think he'd go so far in the case of an old diplomatist. It remains then to be seen what is to be done with the ward; he probably means you should carry her off yourself."

"Perhaps she wouldn't come: if she has designs on Sir Within, it's almost certain she would not."

Grenfell made no answer, but sat lost in thought for some minutes, when he said: "Yes; that's what Grog advises: his calculation is, that this old man's infatuation, which, uninterfered with, would have led him into a foolish marriage, will, if it be crossed and thwarted, as certainly break him down and kill him."

"Men don't die of these things!"

"Not men like you and me, certainly; but there is a time of life when existence is held on a very frail tenure; and, at that time, a mere hope extinguished serves to crush vitality."

"And do you really think he'd take it so much to heart?"

"I know too little of him to give an opinion. When I have seen him some half-dozen times more, and seen, besides, something of his manner towards her, I might risk a guess, perhaps."

"If I was quite sure that I 'stood in' for the double event--that is, to stop her marriage and succeed to the estate at once--I almost think I'd do it."

"'Yes," said Grenfell, after another pause, "this must be what Grog alludes to, as the one way of dealing with the matter."

"She'd insist on marriage, I suppose?" said Dolly, in a sort of sulky tone.

"Of course she would."

"That's a bit of a bore. I had not calculated on such a step for these six or eight years yet. Then there's another thing to be thought of: my governor, who naturally will not see the necessity of the step, is sure to be outrageous at it. All that he will recognise will be the very thing he most despises in the world--a love match."

"Could he not be brought to see a much more valid reason for this match?

Don't you think the matter could be placed before him in such a light that he must accept that view?"

"No. I know him better. I could tell you at once what he'd say." "And what would it be?"

"He'd say: If she must be got out of the way and married off, get some hard-up Sub who can't pay his mess debts, or wants to lodge a few hundreds for the next vacancy; or find some Irish squire. My governor always thinks an Irishman is ready for anything but paying his debts.

He'd marry her for a couple of thousand down. That's what my governor would hit on, without taking five minutes to think of it."

"What if _she_ would not consent to such an arrangement?" "That's as it might be. You'll not find my governor giving any one credit for a strong will but himself. He reasons out every question his own way, and never suspects the mere possibility of opposition."

"That may do in the bank, perhaps, where none can gainsay him."

"He'll tell you, it does just as well in the world at large; and he'll point to himself as the best proof of the system."

"I should like to hear your father discuss the question with the young lady herself; she, I take it, has a will of her own, also; and the matter would probably be well debated." "She'd have no chance with my governor!"

"I'm not so sure of that. I have a suspicion that she could hold her own in an argument that touched her interest."

"You know more of her than I do. She spoke to _you_, to _me_ she barely condescended a few words. No more wine: thanks. I must be thinking of the road. I have got old Sir Within's horses, and the coachman tells me they have never been out after sunset for the last four years, and if they get cold now it may cost him his place."

"Why not come over and stop here, it might bore you less than yonder?"

"I should be delighted; I could ask nothing better; but I am supposed to be down here on business. My governor is not at all satisfied with the way things are going on. He says Sir Within has cut down too much timber, and he has taken renewals for leases he had no right to grant, and what with his tanks, and fish-ponds, and river-G.o.ds, he has left two mills without a drop of water."

"Tell him, with my compliments, Sir Within Wardle will do worse than all these."

"You mean about that girl?"

"Yes."

"That's what Grog says, but I dare not quote _him_ to the governor. Tell me, would you have any objection to my telling him that this was _your_ opinion?"

"I have not the honour of being known to your father, and a mere surmise of mine would carry no weight with it."

"I don't know that. I fancy he rather took a liking to you last night.

What did you do at whist?"

"Lost a few half-crowns."

"Ah, that accounts for it all! He said at breakfast this morning, that though you held only indifferent cards, you played with perfect composure, and it was quite a pleasure to play with you. With a few nights' ill luck you'll stand high in his favour, I promise you."

"It is a cheap friendship after all," said Grenfell, laughing.

"Yes. You may have it for five pounds, but I doubt greatly if you could re-sell it for as many shillings."

"Make use of my favour, therefore, while it lasts, and if nothing prevent, come and dine here the day after to-morrow," said Grenfell.

"Agreed. Here come the fat coach-horses; see how they heave their flanks, only coming round from the stable-yard. I tell you, Grenfell,"

said he in a whisper, "there will be a great sale of stock at Dahradern one of these days; and there's a lot I'll certainly not give orders to have bought in. Good night--good night."

CHAPTER x.x.xVII. A WOODLAND RIDE

It was only at intervals that the sun's rays pierced the leafy shade of a long valley in the woods of Dalradern, where Sir Within and his ward were riding. The tall beech-trees, which stood like the columns of a gigantic cathedral, were met and interwoven above so densely, that the light struggled with difficulty through the foliage, and fell in fanciful patches on the smooth turf beneath.

With noiseless tread the horses moved over that even turf, so that, when the riders were not speaking, not a sound broke the stillness, except the rich carol of the blackbird, or the deep-voiced cooing of the wood-pigeon.

Sir Within rode his strong dark-brown short-legged cob, a beast of grave and dignified deportment, never startled nor surprised by the fretful and uneasy performances of the mettlesome animal at his side, and whose natural hot temper was alternately chafed and caressed at the fancy of his rider; for it was her pleasure to be eternally correcting some imaginary fault, or teaching some new accomplishment. Now, it was his neck that wanted plasticity; now, he bore a little too heavily on the hand; now, the off-shoulder was a thought too prominent in his canter; or, more vexatious than these, he _would_ respond to a touch of the spur by a sharp switch of the tail--a breach of good breeding she could not tolerate.

Firmly seated on an animal that defied all sympathy in these mettlesome feats, Sir Within had ample time to admire the exquisite grace with which she rode. It was indeed the very perfection of the accord between horse and rider, which makes the spectator unable to say to which of the two he yields the palm of excellence. No bound nor spring ever took her unawares; and when the animal seemed half mad with excitement, the graceful caress she stooped to bestow appeared to subdue him like a charm.

"Why are you so grave, my dear Gardy? You told me you should be yourself again when that tiresome man was gone, and now he's off-thank Heaven for it!--but you look so depressed and dispirited as if you had not yet tasted the relief."

"True, Ma Mie, quite true. I have not quite convinced myself that we are free of him. His son, however, remains, and is to stay till next week."

"Yes, but how little we see of him. Your kind neighbour, Mr. Grenfell, has him almost every day at dinner."