The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain Part 44

"I love your daughter--I will not deny it."

"She returns your affections?"

"I cannot reply to anything involving Miss Gourlay's opinions, who is not here to explain them; nor is it generous in you to force me into the presumptuous task of interpreting her sentiments on such a subject."

"The fact, however, is this. I have for some years entertained other and different views with respect to her settlement in life. You may be a gentleman, or you may be an impostor; but one thing is certain, you have taught her to contravene my wishes--to despise the honors to which a dutiful obedience to them would exalt her--to spurn my affection, and to trample on my authority. Now, sir, listen to me. Renounce her--give up all claims to her--withdraw every pretension, now and forever; or, by the living G.o.d! you shall never carry your life out of this room. Sooner than have the n.o.ble design which I proposed for her frustrated; sooner than have the projects of my whole life for her honorable exaltation ruined, I could bear to die the death of a common felon. Here, sir, is a proposition that admits of only the one fatal and deadly alternative.

You see these pistols; they are heavily loaded; and you know my purpose; --it is the purpose, let me tell you, of a resolved and desperate man."

"I know not how to account for this violence, Sir Thomas Gourlay,"

replied the stranger with singular coolness; "all I can say is, that on me it is thrown away."

"Refuse the compliance with the proposition I have made, and by heavens you have looked upon your last sun. The pistols, sir, are c.o.c.ked; if one fails, the other won't."

"This outrage, Sir Thomas, upon a stranger, in your own house, under the protection of your own roof, is as monstrous as it is cowardly."

"My roof, sir, shall never afford protection to a villain," said the baronet, in a loud and furious voice. "Renounce my daughter, and that quickly. No, sir, this roof will afford you no protection."

[Ill.u.s.tration: PAGE 446-- Pistols, which he instantly c.o.c.ked, and held ready]

"Well, sir, I cannot help that," replied the stranger, deliberately taking out of his breast, where they were covered by an outside coat, a case of excellent pistols, which he instantly c.o.c.ked, and held ready for action: "If your roof won't, these good friends will. And now, Sir Thomas, hear me; lay aside your idle weapons, which, were I even unarmed, I would disregard as much as I do this moment. Our interview is now closed; but before I go, let me entreat you to reflect upon the conditions I have offered you; reflect upon them deeply--yes, and accept them, otherwise you will involve yourself in all the consequences of a guilty but unsuccessful ambition--in contempt--infamy--and ruin."

The baronet's face became exceedingly blank at the exhibition of the fire-arms. Pistol for pistol had been utterly out of the range of his calculations. He looked upon the stranger with astonishment, not un-mingled with a considerable portion of that wholesome feeling which begets self-preservation. In fact, he was struck dumb, and uttered not a syllable; and as the stranger made his parting bow, the other could only stare at him as if he had seen an apparition.

CHAPTER XXII. Lucy at Summerfield Cottage.

On his way to the inn, the stranger could not avoid admiring the excellent sense and prudence displayed by Lucy Gourlay, in the brief dialogue which we have already detailed to our readers. He felt clearly, that if he had followed up his natural impulse to ascertain the place of her retreat, he would have placed himself in the very position which, knowing her father as she did, she had so correctly antic.i.p.ated. In the meantime, now that the difficulty in this respect, which she had apprehended, was over, his anxiety to know her present residence returned upon him with full force. Not that he thought it consistent with delicacy to intrude himself upon her presence, without first obtaining her permission to that effect. He was well and painfully aware that a lying report of their elopement had gone abroad, but as he did not then know that this calumny had been princ.i.p.ally circulated by unfortunate Crackenfudge, who, however, was the dupe of Dandy Dulcimer, and consequently took the fact for granted.

Lucy, however, to whom we must now return, on arriving at the neat cottage already alluded to, occasioned no small surprise to its proprietor. The family, when the driver knocked, were all asleep, or at least had not arisen, and on the door being opened by a broad-faced, good-humored looking servant, who was desired to go to a lady in the chaise, the woman, after rubbing her eyes and yawning, looked about her as if she were in a dream, exclaiming, "Lord bless us! and divil a sowl o' them out o' the blankets yet!"

"You're nearly asleep," said the driver; "but I'll hould a testher that a tight c.r.a.pper Would soon brighten your eye. Come, come," he added, as she yawned again, "shut your pittaty trap, and go to the young lady in the chaise."

The woman settled her cap, which was awry, upon her head, by plucking it quickly over to the opposite side, and hastily tying the strings of her ap.r.o.n, so as to give herself something of a tidy look, she proceeded, barefooted, but in slippers, to the chaise.

"Will you have the kindness," said Lucy, in a very sweet voice, "to say to Mrs. Norton that a young friend of hers wishes to see her."

"And tell her to skip," added Alley Mahon, "and not keep us here all the blessed mornin'."

"Mrs. Norton!" exclaimed the woman; "I don't know any sich parson as that, Miss."

"Why," said Lucy, putting her head out of the chaise, and re-examining the cottage, "surely this is where my friend Mrs. Norton did live, certainly. She must have changed her residence, Alley. This is most unfortunate!--What are we to do? I know not where to go."

"Whisht! Miss," said Alley, "we'll put her through her catechiz again.

Come here, my good woman; come forrid; don't be ashamed or afeard in the presence of ladies. Who does live here?"

"Mr. Mainwarin'," replied the servant, omitting the "Miss,"

notwithstanding that Alley had put in her claim for it by using the plural number.

"This is distressing--most unfortunate!" exclaimed Lucy; "how long has this gentleman--Mr.--Mr.------"

"Mainwarin', Miss," added the woman, respectfully.

"She's a stupid lookin' sthreel, at all events," said Alley, half to herself and half to her mistress.

"Yes, Mainwaring," continued Lucy; "how long has he been living here?"

"Troth, and that's more than I can tell you, Miss," replied the woman; "I'm from the county Wexford myself, and isn't more than a month here."

Whilst this little dialogue went on, or rather, we should say, after it was concluded, a tapping was heard at one of the windows, and a signal given with the finger for the servant to return to the house. She did so; but soon presented herself a second time at the chaise door with more agreeable intelligence.

"You're right, Miss," said she; "the mistress desired me to ask you in; she seen you from the windy, and desired me to bring your things too; you're to come in, then, Miss, you, an' the sarvint that's along wid you."

On entering, an intelligent, respectable-looking female, of lady-like manners, shook hands with and even kissed Lucy, who embraced her with much affection.

"My dear Mrs. Norton," she said, "how much surprised you must feel at this abrupt and unseasonable visit."

"How much delighted, you mean, my dear Miss Gourlay; and if I am surprised, I a.s.sure you the surprise is an agreeable one."

"But," said the innocent girl, "your servant told me that you did not live here, and I felt so much distressed!"

"Well," replied Mrs. Norton, "she was right, in one sense: if Mrs.

Norton that was does not live here, Mrs. Mainwaring that is certainly does--and feels both proud and flattered at the honor Miss Gourlay does her humble residence."

"How is this?" said Lucy, smiling; "you have then--"

"Yes, indeed, I have changed my condition, as the phrase goes; but neither my heart nor my affections to you, Miss Gourlay. Pray sit down on this sofa. Your maid, I presume, Miss Gourlay?"

"Yes," replied Lucy; "and a faithful creature has she proved to me, Mrs.

Nor--" but I beg your pardon, my dear madam; how am I--oh, yes, Mrs.

Mainwaring!"

"Nancy," said the latter, "take this young woman with you, and make her comfortable. You seem exhausted. Miss Gourlay; shall I get some tea?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Nor--Mainwaring, no; we have had a hasty cup of tea in Dublin. But if it will not be troublesome, I should like to go to bed for a time."

Mrs. Mainwaring flew out of the room, and called Nancy Gallaher. "Nancy, prepare a bed immediately for this lady; her maid, too, will probably require rest. Prepare a bed for both."

She was half in and half out of the room as she spoke; then returning with a bunch of keys dangling from her finger, she glanced at Miss Gourlay with that slight but delicate and considerate curiosity which arises only from a friendly warmth of feeling--but said nothing.

"My dear Mrs. Mainwaring," said Lucy, who understood her look, "I feel that I have acted very wrong. I have fled from my father's house, and I have taken refuge with you. I am at present confused and exhausted, but when I get some rest, I will give you an explanation. At present, it is sufficient to say that papa has taken my marriage with that odious Lord Dunroe so strongly into his head, that nothing short of my consent will satisfy him. I know he loves me, and thinks that rank and honor, because they gratify his ambition, will make me happy. I know that that ambition is not at all personal to himself, but indulged in and nurtured on my account, and for my advancement in life. How then can I blame him?"

"Well, my child, no more of that at present; you want rest."

"Yes, Mrs. Mainwaring, I do; but I am very wretched and unhappy.

Alas! you know not, my dear friend, the delight which I have always experienced in obeying papa in everything, with the exception of this hateful union; and now I feel something like remorse at having abandoned him."