The Knight Of Gwynne Volume II Part 29

"She's a fine young girl, there's no denying it," said M'Dermot, who antic.i.p.ated, as the result of his chief's attention, a more liberal scale of treatment for himself. "But I don't know how ye 'll ever get round her, though to be sure if _you_ can't, who can?"

"This inventory will keep me till night," said Nickie, changing the theme quite suddenly, "and I'll miss Dempsey, I 'm afraid."

"I hope not; sure you have his track,--haven't you?"

"Yes, and I have four fellows after him, along the sh.o.r.e here, but they say he 's cunning as a fox. Well, I 'll not give him up in a hurry, that's all. Is that rain I hear against the gla.s.s, Mick?"

"Ay, and dreadful rain too!" said the other, peeping through the window, which now rattled and shook with a sudden squall of wind. "You 'll not be able to leave this so late."

"So I 'm thinking, Mick," said Nickie, laying down his writing-materials, and turning his back to the fire; "I believe I must stay where I am."

"'T is yourself is the boy!" cried Mick, with a look of admiration at his master.

"You 're wrong, Mick," said he, with a scarce repressed smile, "all wrong; I wasn't thinking of her."

"Maybe not," said M'Dermot, shaking his head doubtfully; "maybe she's not thinking of you this minute! But, afther all, I don't know how ye 'll do it. Any one would say the vardic was again you."

"So it is, man, but can't we move for a new trial?" So saying, he turned suddenly about, and pulled the bell.

M'Dermot said nothing, but stood staring at his chief, with a well-feigned expression of wonderment, as though to say, "What is he going to do next?"

The summons was speedily answered by old Tate, who stood in respectful attention within the door. Not the slightest suspicion had crossed the butler's mind of Mr. Nickie's calling, or of his object with the Knight, or his manner would certainly have displayed a very different politeness. "Didn't you ring, sir?" said he, with a bow to Nickie, who now seemed vacillating, and uncertain how to proceed.

"Yes--I did--ring--the--bell," replied he, hesitating between each word of the sentence. "I was about to say that, as the night was so severe,--a perfect hurricane it seems,--I should remain here. Eh, did you speak?"

"No, sir," replied Tate, respectfully.

"You can inform your mistress, then, and say, with Mr. Nickie's respectful compliments,-mind that!--that if they have no objection, he would be happy to join them at supper."

Tate stood as if transfixed, not a sign of anger, not even of surprise in his features. The shock had actually stupefied him.

"Do ye hear what the gentleman 's saying to you?" asked Mick, in a stern voice.

"Sir?" said Tate, endeavoring to recover his routed faculties,--"sir?"

"Tell the old fool what I said," muttered Nickie, with angry impatience; and then, as if remembering that his message might possibly be not over-courteously worded by Mr. M'Dennot, he approached Tate, and said, "Give your mistress Mr. Nickie's compliments, and say that, not being able to return to Coleraine, he hopes he may be permitted to pa.s.s the evening with her and Miss Darcy." This message, uttered with great rapidity, as if the speaker dare not trust himself with more deliberation, was accompanied by a motion of the hand, which half pushed the old butler from the room.

Neither Mr. Nickie nor his subordinate exchanged a word during Tate's absence. The former, indeed, seemed far less confident of his success than at first, and M'Dermot waited the issue, for his cue what part to take in the transaction.

If Tate's countenance, when he left the room, exhibited nothing but confusion and bewilderment, when he reentered it his looks were composed and steadfast.

"Well?" said Nickie, as the old butler stood for a second without speaking,--"well?"

"Her Ladyship says that you and the other men, sir, may receive any accommodation the house affords." He paused for a moment or two, and then added, "Her Ladyship declines Mr. Nickie's society."

"Did she give you that message herself?" asked Nickie, hastily; "are those her own words?"

"Them's her words," said Tate, dryly.

"I never heerd the likes--"

"Stop, Mick, hold your tongue!" said Nickie, to his over-zealous follower; while he muttered to himself, "My name is n't Anthony Nickie, or I 'll make her repent that speech! Ay, faith," said he, aloud, as turning to the portrait of the Knight he appeared to address it, "you shall come to the hammer as the original did before you." If Tate had understood the purport of this sarcasm, it is more than probable the discussion would have taken another form; as it was, he listened to Mr.

Nickie's orders about the supper with due decorum, and retired to make the requisite preparations. "I will make a night of it, by-------,"

exclaimed Nickie, as with clinched fist he struck the table before him.

"I hope you know how to sing, Mick?"

"I can do a little that way, sir," grinned the ruffian, "when the company is pressin'. If it was n't too loud--"

"Too loud! you may drown the storm out there, if ye 're able. But wait till we have the supper and the liquor before us, as they might cut off the supplies." And with this prudent counsel, they suffered Tate to proceed in his arrangements, without uttering another word.

CHAPTER XVIII. A CONVIVIAL EVENING

While Tate busied himself in laying the table, Mr. Nickie, with bent brows and folded arms, pa.s.sed up and down the apartments, still ruminating on the affront so openly pa.s.sed upon him, and cogitating how best to avenge it. As pa.s.sing and repa.s.sing he cast his eyes on the preparations, he halted suddenly, and said, "Lay another cover here."

Tate stood, uncertain whether he had heard aright the words, when Nickie repeated, "Don't you hear me? I said lay another cover. The gentleman will sup here."

"Oh! indeed," exclaimed Tate, as, opening his eyes to the fullest extent, he appeared to admit a new light upon his brain; "I beg pardon, sir, I was thinking that this gentleman might like to sup with the other gentleman, out in the kitchen beyond!"

"I said he 'd sup here," said Nickie, vehemently, for he felt the taunt in all its bitterness.

"I say, old fellow," said M'Dermot in Tate's ear, "you needn't be sparin' of the liquor. Give us the best you have, and plenty of it. It is all the same to yer master, you know, in a few days. I was saying, sir," said he to Nickie, who, overhearing him, turned sharply round,-"I was saying, sir, that he might as well give up the ould bin with the cobweb over it. It's the creditors suffers now, and we've many a way of doin' a civil turn."

"His mistress has shut the door on that," said Nickie, savagely, "and she may take the consequences."

"Oh, never mind him," whispered M'Dermot to Tate; "he 's the best-hearted crayture that ever broke bread, but pa.s.sionate, d' ye mind, pa.s.sionate."

Poor Tate, who had suddenly become alive to the characters and objects of his quests, was now aware that his mistress's refusal to admit the chief might possibly be productive of very disastrous consequences; for, like all low Irishmen, he had a very ample notion of the elastic character of the law, and thought that its pains and penalties were entirely at the option of him who executed it.

"Her Ladyship never liked to see much company," said he, apologetically.

"Well, maybe so," rejoined M'Dennot, "but in a quiet homely sort of a way, sure she need n't have refused Mr. Anthony; little she knows, there 's not the like of him for stories about the Court of Conscience and the Sessions."

"I don't doubt it," exclaimed Tate, who, in a.s.senting, felt pretty certain that his fascinations would scarcely have met appreciation in the society of his mistress and her daughter.

"And if ye heerd him sing 'Hobson's Choice,' with a new verse of his own at the end!"

Tate threw a full expression of wondering admiration into his features, and went on with his arrangements in silence.

"Does he know anything of Dempsey, do you think?" said Nickie, in a whisper to his follower.

"Not he," muttered the other, scornfully; "the crayture seems half a nat'ral." Then, in a voice pitched purposely loud, he said, "Do you happen to know one Dempsey in these parts?"

"Paul Dempsey?" added Nickie.

"A little, short man, with a turned-up nose, that walks with his shoulders far back and his hands spread out? Ay, I know him well; he dined here one day with the master, and sure enough he made the company laugh hearty!"

"I 'd be glad to meet him, if he 's as pleasant as you say," said Nickie, slyly.