Roland Cashel Volume I Part 64

"Whom have we here?" cried Linton, as a large travelling-carriage suddenly swept round the drive, and entered the court.

"Sir Andrew MacFarline's baggage, sir; I pa.s.sed them at the last change.

One would say, from the preparations, that they speculate on a somewhat lengthy visit. What rooms are we to a.s.sign them, sir?"

"The four that look north over the billiard-room and the hall; they are the coldest and most cheerless in the house. Your master will occupy the apartments now mine; see, here is the plan of the house; Lord and Lady Kilgoff have 4, 5, and 6. These that are not marked you may distribute how you will. My quarters are those two, beyond the library."

Linton was here interrupted by the advance of a tall, stiff-looking old fellow, who, carrying his hand to his hat in military guise, stood straight before him, saying, in a very broad accent, "The gen'ral's mon, sir, an't please ye."

"Well, friend, and what then?" replied Linton, half testily.

"I 've my leddy's orders, sir, to tak' up a good position, and a warm ane, in the hoos yonder, and if it's no askin' too much, I 'd like to speer the premises first."

"Mr. Phillis, look after this, if you please," said Linton, turning away; "and remember my directions."

"Come with me, friend," said Phillis; "your mistress, I suppose, does not like cold apartments?"

"Be ma saul, if she finds them so, she 'll mak' the rest of the hoos over warm for the others," said he, with a sardonic grin, that left small doubt of his sincere conviction.

"And your master?" said Phillis, in that interrogatory tone which invites a confidence.

"The gen'ral 's too auld a soldier no to respec deescepline," said he, dryly.

"Oh, that's it, Sanders."

"Ma name's Bob Flint, and no Saunders,--gunner and driver i' the Royal Artillery," said the other, drawing himself up proudly; "an' if we are to be mair acquaint, it's just as well ye 'd mind that same."

As Bob Flint possessed that indescribable something which would seem, by an instinct, to save its owner from impertinences, Mr. Phillis did not venture upon any renewed familiarity, but led the way into the house in silence.

"That's a bra' cookin' place ye've got yonder," said Bob, as he stopped for a second at the door of the great kitchen, where already the cooks were busied in the various preparations; "but I'm no so certain my leddy wad like to see a bra' giggot scooped out in tha' fashion just to mak'

room for a wheen black potatoes inside o' it;"--the operation alluded to so sarcastically being the stuffing of a shoulder of mutton with truffles, in Provencal mode.

"I suppose her Ladyship will be satisfied with criticising what comes to table," said Phillis, "without descending to the kitchen to make objections."

"If she does, then," said Flint, "she's mair ceevil to ye here than she was in the last hoos we spent a fortnight, whar she discharged twa maids for no making the beds as she'd taw'd them, forbye getting the coachman turned off because the carriage horses held their tails ower high for her fancy."

"We'll scarce put up with that here," said Phillis, with offended dignity.

"I dinna ken," said Bob, thoughtfully; "she made her ain nephew carry a pound o' dips from the chandler's, just, as she said, to scratch his pride a bit. I 'd ha' ye mind a wee hoo ye please her fancy. You 're a bonnie mon, but she'll think leetle aboot sending ye packing."

Mr. Phillis did not deign a reply to this speech, but led the way to the suite destined for her Ladyship's accommodation.

CHAPTER x.x.xII. HOW THE VISITORS FARED

They come--they come!

--Harold.

Linton pa.s.sed the greater part of the night in letter-writing.

Combinations were thickening around him, and it demanded all the watchful activity he could command to prevent himself being overtaken by events. To a confidential lawyer he submitted a case respecting Corrigan's t.i.tle, but so hypothetically and with such reserve that it betrayed no knowledge of his secret--for he trusted no man. Mary Leicester's ma.n.u.script was his next care, and this he intrusted to a former acquaintance connected with the French press, entreating his influence to obtain it the honor of publication, and, instead of remuneration, asking for some flattering acknowledgment of its merits.

His last occupation was to write his address to the const.i.tuency of his borough, where high-sounding phrases and generous professions took the place of any awkward avowals of political opinion. This finished, and wearied by the long-sustained exertion, he threw himself on his bed. His head, however, was far too deeply engaged to permit of sleep. The plot was thickening rapidly--events, whose course he hoped to shape at his leisure, were hurrying on, and although few men could summon to their aid more of cold calculation in a moment of difficulty, his wonted calm was now disturbed by one circ.u.mstance--this being, as he called it to himself--Laura's treachery. No men bear breaches of faith so ill as they who practise them with the world. To most persons the yacht voyage would have seemed, too, a chance occurrence, where an accidental intimacy was formed, to wane and die out with the circ.u.mstance that created it. Not so did _he_ regard it. He read a prearranged plan in every step she had taken--he saw in her game the woman's vanity to wield an influence over one for whom so many contended--he knew, too, how in the great world an "_eclat_" can always cover an "indiscretion"--and that, in the society of that metropolis to which she aspired, the reputation of chaperoning the rich Roland Cashel would be of incalculable service.

If Linton had often foiled deeper snares, here a deep personal wrong disturbed his powers of judgment, and irritated him beyond all calm prudential thoughts. Revenge upon her, the only one he had ever cared for, was now his uppermost thought, and left little place for any other.

Wearied and worn out, he fell asleep at last, but only to be suddenly awakened by the rattling of wheels and the quick tramp of horses on the gravel beneath his window. The one absorbing idea pervading his mind, he started up, muttering, "_She_ is here." As he opened his window and looked down, he at once perceived his mistake--Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k's well-known voice was heard, giving directions about her luggage--and Linton closed the cas.e.m.e.nt, half relieved and half disappointed.

For a brief s.p.a.ce the house seemed astir. Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k made her way along the corridor in a mingled commentary on the handsome decorations of the mansion and Mr. Kennyf.e.c.k's stupidity, who had put Archbold's "Criminal Practice" into her bag instead of Debrett's "Peerage,"

while Linton could overbear a little quizzing conversation between the daughters, wherein the elder reproached her sister for not having the politeness to bid them "welcome." The slight commotion gradually subsided, all became still, but only for a brief s.p.a.ce. Again the same sound of crashing wheels was heard, and once more Linton flung open his window and peered out into the darkness. It was now raining tremendously, and the wind howling in long and dreary cadences.

"What a climate!" exclaimed a voice Linton knew to be Downie Meek's. His plaint ran thus:--

"I often said they should pension off the Irish Secretary after three years, as they do the Chief Justice of Gambia."

"It will make the ground very heavy for running, I fear," said the deep full tone of a speaker who a.s.sisted a lady to alight.

"How you are always thinking of the turf, Lord Charles!" said she, as he rather carried than aided her to the shelter of the porch.

Linton did not wait for the reply, but shut the window, and again lay down.

In that half-waking state, where sleep and fatigue contest the ground with watchfulness, Linton continued to hear the sound of several arrivals, and the indistinct impressions became commingled till all were lost in heavy slumber. So is it. Childhood itself, in all its guileless freedom, enjoys no sounder, deeper sleep than he whose head is full of wily schemes and subtle plots, when once exhausted nature gains the victory.

So profound was that dreamless state in which he lay, that he was never once aware that the door by which his chamber communicated with the adjoining one had been opened, while a select committee were debating about the disposition of the furniture, in total ignorance that he made part of it.

"Why couldn't Sir Andrew take that small room, and leave this for me? I like an alcove vastly," said Lady Janet, as, candle in hand, she took a survey of the chamber.

"Yes, my leddy," responded Flint, who, loaded with cloaks, mantles, and shawls, looked like an ambulating wardrobe.

"You can make him a kind of camp-bed there; he'll do very well."

"Yes, my leddy."

"And don't suffer that impertinent Mr. Phillis to poke his head in here and interfere with our arrangements. These appear to me to be the best rooms here, and I 'll take them."

"Yes, my leddy."

"Where's Sir Andrew?"

"He's takin' a wee drap warm, my leddy, in the butler's room; he was ower wat in the 'd.i.c.key' behind."

"It rained smartly, but I 'm sure the country wanted it," dryly observed Lady Janet.--"Well, sir, _you_ here again?" This sharp interrogatory was addressed to Mr. Phillis, who, after a vain search for her Ladyship over half the house, at length discovered her.

"You are not aware, my Lady," said he, in a tone of obsequious deference, that nearly cost him an apoplexy, "that these rooms are reserved for my master."

"Well, sir; and am I to understand that a guest's accommodation is a matter of less importance than a valet's caprice? for as Mr. Cashel never was here himself, and consequently never could have made a choice, I believe I am not wrong in the source of the selection."