The Weird Of The Wentworths Volume I Part 9

"That is what I came here for, to find out--that is exactly what I don't know--can you a.s.sist me? Let's hear what you can devise, Bill."

"Look you--this here is my advice, trap him--snare 'im--net him--set another girl in his way--a springe to catch woodc.o.c.ks--eh Ned? get him to marry another girl--get the la.s.s to forget him!"

"Sage advice that, you muddle-pated idiot--that would be a joke!

Wentworth marry another--if he must marry, why the devil not Ellen Ravensworth? Well, you are a greater fool than I took you for, Bill."

Stacy gave an angry grunt when he saw his error.

"No, no! Wentworth must not marry, that's flat!"

"How will you prevent him, De Vere?"

"How prevent him? lots of ways! If the thing depended on such thickheaded fools as you and Bill, you would want your la.s.s, as the Scotch say, and Wentworth would _not_ want his. But, thank heaven, you have a wily customer in me, and if I don't bring matters straight call me a fool--an idiot! Now what do you think of this?" he continued, and for several minutes, in a low voice, whispered some dark plan or scheme.

The changing expression of L'Estrange's face from gloom and doubt, till at last, when the Captain ceased, he exclaimed with joy, "Bravo! well done! it is the counsel of a Nestor," showed he at least thought well of it, and augured its success.

"You're a gallows bird--a crafty old fox--a rascally dog, you are," said Bill; "and what, my hearty, if I refuse, what if Bill says his daughter shan't?"

"Then I say I'll twist your neck, you old smuggler, and rid the world of such a scoundrel, and be thanked for doing so! that's what I say; so you had best comply."

"Ye dursn't, you dog."

"Daren't I?" said the Captain, springing up from his seat. "Dead dogs tell no tales, and why should I not? I dare anything--I neither fear G.o.d nor regard man--I fear neither angel, spirit, nor devil! and think you I fear an old rascal like you?"

Some terrible catastrophe might have happened had it not been for L'Estrange, who saw they were both inflamed with drink; he interposed himself between the brawlers, and tried to make peace by insisting on the Captain accompanying him home, and Bill's appeasing his wrath, saying they had been there quite long enough; the plan was a famous one, and if they left Bill to himself he would soon come round to it.

Muttering indistinct oaths and curses old Bill unbarred the door once more, and let the two friends--if we may so call them--out. Taking L'Estrange's arm, the Captain proceeded with him across the bleak common.

"Are you not glad you told me all, you unbelieving fellow?"

"I am. I hope it will succeed."

"Sure to succeed. By-the-by, how did you come out here? marched like me, I suppose, and a cold tramp we shall have of it," said the Captain, b.u.t.toning up his coat.

"No, I rode out."

"Rode, and where the deuce did you leave your horse? If you left it on the common, ten to one some dog of a smuggler has noosed it."

"Never you fear, I brought my man with me, and he is taking care of them."

"He rode too? aha, then, I can ride his nag for him--it will save the grind; that'll do nicely," said the Captain, quickening his pace and advancing to where the man and horses stood. "By Gad he's asleep; I'll freshen him up," said he, laying his riding-whip pretty smartly across the Irishman's shoulders.

When Pat had smoked out his pipe, and found he had no more tobacco to replenish it with, again anathematizing L'Estrange for his nocturnal freaks, he dismounted, and leaning against his charger's side, which proved a capital defence against the cold south-easter that blew chilly over the downs, still white with snow, he actually fell asleep; and in dreamland once more visited his emerald isle, green Erin, and like Campbell's dreaming soldier, hastened to his wife's embrace, and vowed he would leave them no more for a soldier's life! Poor Pat's dream was somewhat rudely broken by the blow of De Vere's whip. Rubbing his eyes he looked round to see his disturber.

"Rouse up, you sleepy dog," said the Captain, as his lash again descended--"rouse up and hold the stirrup for me."

Mechanically the Irishman obeyed, knowing the Captain of old, and he had the mortification of beholding him firmly seated on his horse, and as soon as L'Estrange was mounted they both set off at full gallop towards Brighton, the Captain telling him he might get back the best way he could, and that a double quick would warm him after his slumbers.

"Divil resave 'em for a set of thieves," cried the enraged Paddy, as soon as his tormentor was gone. "A pretty trick to play an honest man--ill luck to 'em both." He then began his solitary plod home over the bleak plains. "An' they niver thought I might be murthered, and not even a dhrap of the rale good stuff to keep the cold out have they left me--ill luck to 'em." With such kindly expressions Pat Malony cheered his way, and after a four mile trudge, reached the barracks at past three in the morning; and as he could not, or would not give an account of himself he was placed in guard for absence without leave, until L'Estrange released him from his prison and comforted the son of Erin's offended pride by a sovereign, for which piece of generosity he was rewarded by as many blessings as he had received cursings the previous night, and a.s.sured of Pat's willingness to endure fifty such nightly perambulations.

CHAPTER IX.

"Prometheus-like, from heaven she stole The fire, that through those silken lashes In darkest glances seems to roll, From eyes that cannot hide their flashes; And as along her bosom steal In lengthened flow her raven tresses, You'd swear each cl.u.s.tering lock could feel, And curled to give her neck caresses."--_Byron._

About a week after this nocturnal adventure, Captain de Vere might have been seen trotting along the King's road with an orderly behind him. He reined his coal-black charger before a handsome mansion, and dismounting rung the bell--it was answered by a footman in the De Vere livery.

"Is my brother, the Earl, at home?"

"He is not, sir--but walk in, Captain de Vere--my Lord bade me ask you to wait for him--my Lord is at a _levee_, but will be home soon."

"Very well, I'll wait;--you fellow," addressing his orderly, "wait for me."

The Captain never considered how long he kept any one waiting. The door was shut, and he followed the servant up a grand flight of stairs till they arrived at Lord Wentworth's study--a warm, comfortable little room.

On the escritoire in the centre of the room lay many official letters, and state papers--several blank warrants signed by authority lay on one side. On these the Captain at once glanced with an air of surprise, and ill-concealed joy--"James, bring me a bottle of wine and some gla.s.ses--and biscuits--and James, the papers."

"Immediately, sir," said the servant, leaving the room. No sooner was he gone than the Captain appropriated one of these warrants.

"He will never miss one--there are more than a dozen--it may be of use some day--nothing like two strings to one's bow," he muttered, as he folded up the warrant and put it inside his cigar-case. Scarcely had he done so ere the servant returned with the creature comforts he had ordered. "Draw the cork, and now begone with you."

"Nothing else, sir?"

"No, sirrah, nothing."

"I may as well make myself jolly," said the Captain to himself. "If Wentworth's at a _levee_ it will be a long time ere he comes back," and suiting the action to the word he drew a small chess-table to the fire: on this he placed the wine and biscuits; he then seated himself in an easy chair--placed his feet on another--and lighting a cigar began to read the papers--occasionally taking a gla.s.s of port wine with evident gusto--"Trust Bill for nabbing good wine."

Several times during the hour he awaited his brother, an observer might have seen him stride across the room to the window, which looked out on a side street running up from the sea,--make some masonic sign to some one on the opposite side, and, apparently satisfied with the result, return to his wine and newspaper.

"Curse this delay," said the Captain, striking his sword on the fender as the clock struck two.

But at the same moment the door of the apartment opened, and the Earl entered in his robes.

"Well, Jack," he exclaimed, "you make yourself comfortable."

"Always do so," was the curt reply, as he lit his third cigar.

"And have you waited long?"

"I believe you--just a mortal hour have I been here," looking at his watch--"however, I was as well here as out in the cold."

"I have been at a _levee_ or would have been here before."

"How is the Regent?"

"Never was better in his life--he seems to have renewed his youth since last summer. Is there any news? I have not seen the papers yet to-day."

"Devil a bit except Frank's battalion left in the Miranda for the Mediterranean. Egad, they'll catch it 'in the Bay of Biscay O!' if it is blowing like this," said the Captain, whistling the chorus of that song, and once more approaching the window.