The Tenants of Malory Volume I Part 23

"Well--yes--he may be handsome," said Miss Agnes. "I'm no very great critic; but I can't conceive any girl falling in love with him."

"Oh! as to _that_--but--_why_?" said Captain Shapnell.

"His face, I think, is so selfish--somehow," she said.

"Is it now, really?--_how_?" asked the Captain. "I'm _am-azed_ at you!"

exclaimed Miss Charity.

"Well, there's a selfish hook--no, not a hook, a _curve_--of his nose, and a cruel crook of his shoulder," said Miss Agnes, in search of faults.

"You're determined to hit him by hook or by crook--ha, ha, ha--I say,"

pursued the Captain.

"A _hook_!" exclaimed Miss Charity, almost angrily; "there's _no_ hook!

I _wonder_ at you--I really think, sometimes, Agnes, you're the greatest _fool_ I ever met in the whole course of my life!"

"Well, I can't help thinking what I think," said Agnes.

"But you _don't_ think _that_--you _know_ you don't--you _can't_ think it," decided her elder sister.

"No more she does," urged the Captain, with his teazing giggle; "she _doesn't_ think it. You always know, when a girl abuses a man, she _likes_ him; she does, by Jove! And I venture to say she thinks Master Cleve one of the very handsomest and most fascinating fellows she ever beheld," said the agreeable Captain.

"I really think what I said," replied Agnes, and her pretty face showed a brilliant colour, and her eyes had a handsome fire in them, for she was vexed; "though it is natural to think in a place like this, where all the men are more or less old and ugly, that any young man, even tolerably good-looking, should be thought a wonder."

"Ha, ha, ha! very good," said the Captain, plucking out his whisker a little, and twiddling his moustache, and glancing down at his easy waistcoat, and perhaps ever so little put out; but he also saw over his shoulder Cleve crossing the Green towards them from the jetty, and not perhaps being quite on terms to call him "Master Cleve" to his face, he mentioned a promise to meet young Owen of Henlwyd in the billiard-room for a great game of pyramid, and so took off his hat gracefully to the ladies, and, smirking, and nodding, and switching his cane, swaggered swiftly away toward the point of rendezvous.

So Cleve arrived, and joined the young ladies, and walked beside Agnes, chatting upon all sorts of subjects, and bearing some occasional reproofs and protests from Miss Charity with great submission and gaiety, and when Miss Charity caught a glimpse of "the Admiral's"

bath-chair, with that used-up officer in it, _en route_ for the Hazelden Road, and already near the bridge, she plucked her watch from her belt, with a slight pallor in her cheek, and "_declared_" she had not an idea how late it was. Cleve Verney accompanied the ladies all the way to Hazelden, and even went in, when bidden, and drank a cup of tea, at their early meal, and obeyed also a summons to visit the "Admiral" in his study.

"Very glad to see you, sir--very happy, Mr. Verney," said Mr. Vane Etherage, with his fez upon his head, and lowering his pipe with the gravity of a Turk. "I wish you would come and dine at three o'clock--the true hour for dinner, sir--I've tried every hour, in my time, from twelve to half-past eight--at three o'clock, sir, some day--any day--to-morrow. The Welsh mutton is the best on earth, and the Hazelden mutton is the best in Wales!" The "Admiral" always looked in the face of the person whom he harangued, with an expression of cool astonishment, which somehow aided the pomp of his delivery. "An unfortunate difference, Mr. Verney--a dispute, sir--has arisen between me and your uncle; but that, Mr. Verney, need not extend to his nephew; no, sir, it need _not_; no need it should. Shall we say to-morrow, Mr. Verney?"

I forget what excuse Mr. Verney made; it was sufficient, however, and he was quite unable to name an immediate day, but lived in hope. So having won golden opinions, he took his leave. And the good people of Cardyllian, who make matches easily, began to give Mr. Cleve Verney to pretty Miss Agnes Etherage.

While this marrying and giving in marriage was going on over many tea-tables, that evening, in Cardyllian, Mr. Cleve Verney, the hero of this new romance, had got ash.o.r.e a little below Malory, and at nightfall walked down the old road by Llanderris church, and so round the path that skirts the woods of Malory, and down upon the sh.o.r.e that winds before the front of the old house.

As he came full in sight of the sh.o.r.e, on a sudden, within little more than a hundred paces away, he saw, standing solitary upon the shingle, a tall man, with a Tweed rug across his arm, awaiting a boat which was slowly approaching in the distance.

In this tall figure he had no difficulty in recognizing Sir Booth Fanshawe, whom he had confronted in other, and very different scenes, and who had pa.s.sed so near him, in the avenue at Malory.

With one of those sudden and irresistible impulses, which, as they fail or succeed, are cla.s.sed as freaks of madness, or inspirations of genius, he resolved to walk up to Sir Booth, and speak to him upon the subject then so near to his heart.

CHAPTER XXII.

SIR BOOTH SPEAKS.

THE idea, perhaps, that sustained Cleve Verney in this move, was the sudden recurrence of his belief that Sir Booth would so clearly see the advantages of such a connexion as to forget his resentments.

Sir Booth was looking seaward, smoking a cigar, and watching the approach of the boat, which was still distant. As Cleve drew near, he saw Sir Booth eye him, he fancied, uneasily; and throwing back his head a little, and withdrawing his cheroot, ever so little from his lips, the Baronet demanded grimly--

"Wish to speak to _me_, sir?"

"Only a word, if you allow me," answered Cleve, approaching.

On ascertaining that he had to deal with a gentleman, Sir Booth was confident once more.

"Well, sir, I hear you," said he.

"You don't recognise me, Sir Booth; and I fear when I introduce myself, you will hardly connect my name with anything pleasant or friendly. I only ask a patient hearing, and I am sure your own sense of fairness will excuse me personally."

"Before you say, more, sir, I should like to know for whom you take me, and why; I don't recollect _you_--I _think_--I can't see very well--no one does in this sort of light; but I rather think, I never saw your face before, sir--nor you mine, I dare say--your guesses as to who I am, may be anything you please--and quite mistaken--and this is not a usual time, you know, for talking with strangers about business--and, in fact, I've come here for quiet and my health, and I can't undertake to discuss other people's affairs--I find my own as much as my health and leisure will allow me to attend to."

"Sir Booth Fanshawe, you must excuse me for saying I know you perfectly.

I am also well aware that you seek a little repose and privacy here, and you may rely implicitly upon my mentioning your name to no one; in fact, I have been for some weeks aware of your residing at Malory, and never _have_ mentioned it to any one."

"Ha! you're _very_ kind, indeed--taking _great_ care of me, sir; you are very obliging," said Sir Booth, sarcastically, "I'm sure; ha, ha! I ought to be very grateful. And to whom, may I ask, do I owe all this attention to my--my _interests_ and comforts?"

"I am connected, Sir Booth, with a house that has unfortunately been a good deal opposed, in politics, to yours. There are reasons which make this particularly painful to me, although I have been by the direction of others, whom I had no choice but to obey, more in evidence in these miserable contests than I could wish; I've really been little more than a pa.s.sive instrument in the hands of others, absolutely without power, or even influence of my own in the matter. You don't recognise me, but you have seen me elsewhere. My name is Cleve Verney."

Sir Booth had not expected this name, as his countenance showed. With a kind of jerk, he removed his cigar from his lips, sending a shower of red sparks away on the breeze, and gazing on the young man with eyes like b.a.l.l.s of stone, ready to leap from their sockets. I dare say he was very near exploding in that sort of language which, on occasion, he did not spare. But he controlled himself, and said merely, clearing his voice first,--

"That will do, sir, the name's enough; I can't be supposed to wish to converse with any one of that name, sir--no more I do."

"What I have to say, Sir Booth, affects _you_, it interests you very _nearly_," answered Cleve.

"But, sir, I am going out in that boat--I wish to smoke my cigar--I've come down here to live to myself, and to be alone when I choose it,"

said Sir Booth, with suppressed exasperation.

"One word, I beg--you'll not regret it, Sir Booth," pleaded Cleve.

"Well, sir, come--I _will_ hear it; but I tell you beforehand, I have pretty strong views as to how I have been used, and it is not likely to lead to much," said Sir Booth, with one of those sudden changes of purpose to which fiery men are liable.

So, as briefly and as persuasively as he could, Cleve Verney disclosed his own feelings, giving to the date of his attachment, skilfully, a retrospective character, and guarding the ladies of Malory from the unreasonable temper of this violent old man; and, in fact, from Cleve's statement you would have gathered that he was not even conscious that the ladies were now residing at Malory. He closed his little confession with a formal proposal.

Was there something--ever so little--in the tone of this latter part of his brief speech, that reflected something of the confidence to which I have alluded, and stung the angry pride of this ruined man? He kept smoking his cigar a little faster, and looked steadily at the distant boat that was slowly approaching against the tide.

When Cleve concluded, the old man lowered his cigar and laughed shortly and scornfully.

"You do us a great deal of honour, Mr. Verney--too much honour, by--,"

scoffed the Baronet.

"Be so good at all events as to answer me this one question frankly--yes or no. Is your uncle, Kiffyn Verney, aware of your speaking to me on this subject?"

"_No_, Sir Booth, he is not," said Cleve; "he knows nothing of it. I ought, perhaps, to have mentioned that at first."