“Look at this, Harry,” said Kate, as he came into the room where she was
preparing breakfast. “Read that note; it bears upon what I was telling
you about last night.”
“What a scoundrel!” cried Harry, as his eye ran over the lines. “He
scarcely seems to know whether the better game will be menace or
entreaty.”
“He inclines to menace, however,” for he says, “The shame of an exposure,
which certainly you would not be willing to incur.’”
“What may that mean?”
“To connect my name, perhaps, with that of my poor old grand-father; to
talk of me as the felon’s granddaughter. I am not going to disown the
relationship.”
“And this fellow says he will arrive to-night to take your answer. He
has courage, certainly!”
“Come, come, Harry, don’t look so fiercely. Remember, first of all, he
is, or he was, a priest.”
“No reason that I shouldn’t throw him over the Clunk rock!” said
Luttrell, doggedly.
“I think we might feel somewhat more benevolently towards him,” said
she, with a malicious twinkle of the eye, “seeing how generously he
offers to go all the way to Italy to see Sir Within, and explain to him
that my marriage with Mr. Ladarelle was a mockery, and that I am still
open to a more advantageous offer.”
“How can you talk of this so lightly?”
“If I could not, it would break my heart!” said she, and her lip
trembled with agitation. She leaned her head upon her hand for some
minutes in deep thought, and then, as though having made up her mind how
to act, said, “I wish much, Cousin Harry, that you would see this man
for me, only----”
“Only what?”
“Well, I must say it, I am afraid of your temper.”
“The Luttrell temper?” said he, with a cold smile.
“Just so. It reaches the boiling-point so very quickly, that one is not
rightly prepared for the warmth till he is scalded.”
“Come, I will be lukewarm to-day--cold as the spring well yonder, if you
like. Give me my instructions. What am I to do?”
“I shall be away all day. I have a long walk before me, and a good deal
to do, and I want you to receive this man. He will soon moderate his
tone when he finds that I am not friendless; he will be less exacting in
his demands when he sees that he is dealing with a Luttrell. Ascertain
what is his menace, and what the price of it.”
“You are not going to buy him off, surely?” cried Harry, angrily.
“I would not willingly bring any shame on the proud name I have borne
even on sufferance. I know well how your father felt about these things,
and I will try to be loyal to his memory, though I am never again to
hear him praise me for it. Mr. Cane already wrote to me about this man,
and advised that some means might be taken to avoid publicity. Indeed,
he offered his own mediation to effect its settlement, but I was angry
at the thought of such submission, and wrote back, I fear, a hasty,
perhaps ill-tempered answer. Since then Cane has not written, but a
letter might come any moment--perhaps to-day. The post will be here by
one o’clock; wait for its arrival, and do not see the priest till the
letters have come. Open them till you find Cane’s, and when you are in
possession of what he counsels, you will be the better able to deal with
this fellow.”
“And is all your correspondence at my mercy?”
“All!”
“Are you quite sure that you are prudent in such frankness?”
“I don’t know that it will tempt you to any very close scrutiny. I
expect an invoice about some rapeseed, I look for a small package of
spelling-books, I hope to receive some glasses of vaccine matter to
inoculate with, and tidings, perhaps, of a roll of flannel that a
benevolent visitor promised me for my poor.”
“And no secrets?”
“Only one: a sketch of Life on Arran, which I sent to a London
periodical, but which is to be returned to me, as too dull, or too
melancholy, or too something or other for publication. I warn you about
this, as the editor has already pronounced sentence upon it.”
“May I read it, Kate?”
“Of course. I shall be very proud to have even one to represent the
public I aspired to. Read it by all means, and tell me when I come back
that it was admirable, and that the man that rejected it was a fool. If
you can pick up any especial bit for praise or quotation, commit it to
memory, and you can’t think how happy you’ll make me, for I delight
in laudation, and I do--get--so very--little of it,” said she, pausing
after each word, with a look of comic distress that was indescribably
droll; and yet there was a quivering of the voice and a painful anxiety
in her eye that seemed to say the drollery was but a coyer to a very
different sentiment It was in this more serious light that Harry
regarded her, and his look was one of deepest interest. “You have your
instructions now!” said she, turning away to hide the flush his steady
gaze had brought to her cheek; “and so, good-by!”
“I’d much rather go with you, Kate,” said he, as she moved away.
“No, no,” said she, smiling, “you will be better here! There is plenty
of work for each of us. Good-by!”
Harry’s wish to have accompanied her thus thwarted, by no means rendered
him better disposed towards him who was the cause of the disappointment,
and as he paced the room alone he conned over various modes of “clearing
off scores” with this fallen priest. “I hope the fellow will be
insolent! How I wish he may be exacting and defiant!” As he
muttered this below his breath, he tried to assume a manner of great
humility--something so intensely submissive as might draw the other on
to greater pretension. “I think I’ll persuade him that we are at his
mercy--absolutely at his mercy!” mattered he. But had he only glanced
at his face in the glass as he said it, he would have seen that his
features were scarcely in accordance with the mood of one asking for
quarter. The boat which should bring the letters was late, and his
impatience chafed and angered him. Three several times had he rehearsed
to himself the mock humility with which he meant to lure on the priest
to his destruction; he had planned all, even to the veriest detail of
the interview, where he should sit, where he would place his visitor,
the few bland, words he would utter to receive him; but when he came to
think of the turning-point of the discussion, of that moment when, all
reserve abandoned, he should address the man in the voice of one whose
indignation had been so long pent up that he could barely control
himself to delay his vengeance,--when he came to this, he could plan
no more. Passion swept all his intentions, to the winds, and his mind
became a chaos.
At last the post arrived, but brought only one letter. It was in Cane’s
writing. He opened it eagerly, and read:
“Dear Madam,--I am happy to inform you that you are not likely to be
further molested by applications from the priest O’Rafferty. He no
sooner heard that young Mr. Luttrell was alive, and in Ireland, than he
at once changed his tone of menace for one of abject solicitation.
He came here yesterday to entreat me to use my influence with you to
forgive him his part in an odious conspiracy, and to bestow on him a
trifle--a mere trifle--to enable him to leave the country, never to
return to it.
“I took the great--I hope not unpardonable---liberty to act for you
in this matter, and gave him five pounds, for which I took a formal
receipt, including a pledge of his immediate departure. Might I plead,
in justification of the authority I thus assumed, my fears that if
young Mr. Luttrell should, by any mischance, have met this man, the very
gravest disasters might have ensued. His family traits of rashness and
violence being, I am informed, only more strikingly developed by his
life and experiences as a sailor.”
Harry read over this passage three several times, pausing and pondering
over each word of it.
“Indeed!” muttered he. “Is this the character I have brought back
with me? Is it thus my acquaintances are pleased to regard me? The
ungovernable tempers of our race have brought a heavy punishment on
us, when our conduct in every possible contingency exposes us to such
comment as this! I wonder is this the estimate Kate forms of us? Is it
thus she judges the relatives who have shared their name with her?”
To his first sense of disappointment that the priest should escape him,
succeeded a calmer, better feeling--that of gratitude that Kate should be
no more harassed by these cares. Poor girl! had she not troubles enough
to confront in life without the terror of a painful publicity! He read
on:
“Of Mr. Ladarelle himself you are not likely to hear more. He has been
tried and convicted of swindling, in France, and sentenced to five
years’ reclusion, with labour. His father, I learn, is taking steps to
disinherit him, and there is no wrong he has done you without its full
meed of punishment.
“It was quite possible that he and his accomplice, O’Rorke, might have
escaped had they not quarrelled, and each was the chief instrument in
the conviction of the other. The scene of violent invective and abuse
that occurred between them, exceeded, it is said, even the widest
latitude of a French criminal court.
“I thought to have concluded my letter here, but I believe I ought to
inform you, and in the strictest confidence, that we had a visit
from young Mr. Luttrell on Wednesday last. We were much struck by the
resemblance he bore to his late father in voice and manners, as well
as in face and figure. When I hinted to him--I only hinted
passingly--certain scruples of yours about retaining the Arran property,
he declared, and in such a way as showed a decided resolve, that, come
what might, the estate should not revert to him. ‘It was yours,’ he
said, ‘and it was for you to dispose of it.’ When he put the question on
the ground of a dishonour to his father’s memory, I forbore to press it
further. The Luttrell element in his nature showed itself strongly, and
warned me to avoid any inopportune pressure.
“You will, I suspect, find it exceedingly difficult to carry out your
intentions in this matter, and I hope you will allow me to entreat
a reconsideration of the whole project; all the more, since every
information I have obtained as to the chance of employment in Australia
is decidedly unfavourable. Except for the mechanic, it is said, there
is now no demand. The governess and tutor market is greatly overstocked,
and persons of education are far less in request than strong-bodied
labourers.
“I hope sincerely I may be able to dissuade you from what I cannot but
call a rash scheme. In the first place, it will not accomplish what you
intended regarding the Arran property; and secondly, it will as Surely
involve yourself in grave difficulty and hardship. I know well how much
may be expected from what you call your ‘courage,’ but ‘courage’ that
will brave great dangers will also occasionally succumb to small daily
privations and miseries. There is no doubt whatever how you would behave
in the great trial. It is in meeting the slights and injuries that are
associated with humble fortune that I really feel you will be unequal.
“Should you, however, persist in your resolve, I shall be able to secure
you a passage to Melbourne under favourable circumstances, as a distant
relative of my wife’s, Captain Crowther, of the _Orion_, will sail from
Liverpool on Thursday, the seventh of next month. This gives you still
seventeen days; might I hope for such reflection as will induce you
to forego a step so full of danger, present and future? Indeed, from
Captain Crowther himself I have heard much that ought to dissuade you
from the attempt. He went so far as to say yesterday, that he believed
he had already brought back to England nearly every one of those he had
taken out with hopes of literary employment.
“I think I know what you would reply to this. I have only to call upon
my memory of our last conversation to remind me of the daring speech you
made when I ventured to hint at the difficulty of finding employment;
and once more, my dear Miss Luttrell, let me entreat you to remember,
you have not the habits, the strength, the temperament, that go with
menial labour. You have yourself admitted to me that your early sorrows
and sufferings are nightmares to you in your sleep--that you are never
feverish or ill that they do not recur--that when your head wanders,
it is about the days of your childish troubles; surely it is not with
habits of luxury and refinement you hope to combat these enemies?
“Do not persist in believing that what you call your peasant nature is a
garment only laid aside, but which can be resumed at any moment. Take my
word for it, there is not a trace of it left in you!
“If your desire for independence must be complied with, why not remain
and achieve it at home? Mrs. Cane is ready and willing to serve you in
any way; and it will be a sincere pleasure to us both if we can acquit
towards you any portion of the debt we have long owed your late uncle.
“I wish much you would consult Mr. Luttrell on this subject; indeed,
he would have a right to feel he ought to be consulted upon it; and,
although his experiences of life may not be large or wide, his near
relationship to you gives him a claim to have his opinion cared for.
“You will see from all this insistance, my dear Miss Luttrell, how eager
I am to dissuade you from a step which, if taken, will be the great
disaster of your whole life. Remember that you are about to act not
alone for the present, but for the events and contingencies which are to
occur years hence.”
The letter wound up with many assurances of esteem, and most cordial
offers of every service in the writer’s power. A postscript added, “On
reconsideration, I see that you must absolutely speak to Mr. Luttrell
about your project, since in my notes I find that he positively declines
to accept your gift of the Arran estate except in exchange for the
larger property in Roscommon. In all my varied experiences, two such
clients as yourself and your cousin have never occurred to me.”
It was as he was finishing the reading of this letter for the third
time, that Harry Luttrell felt a hand laid gently on his shoulder. He
turned, and saw Kate standing behind him. Her cheek was flushed with the
fresh glow of exercise, and her hair, partly disordered, fell in heavy
masses beneath her bonnet on her neck and shoulders, while her full
lustrous eyes shone with a dazzling brilliancy. It was one of those
moments in which every trait that formed her beauty had attained
its most perfect development. Harry stared at her with a wondering
admiration.
“Well, Sir?” cried she, as if asking what his look implied--“well, Sir?”
But, unable to maintain the cool indifference she had attempted, and
feeling that her cheek was growing hot and red, she added, quickly,
“What have you done?--have you seen him?--has he been here?” He stared
on without a word, his eager eyes seeming to drink in delight without
slaking, till she turned away abashed and half vexed. “I don’t suppose
you heard my question,” said she, curtly.
“Of course I heard it, but it was of what I saw I was thinking, not of
what I heard.”
“Which, after all, was not quite polite, Harry.”
“Politeness was not much in my thoughts either,” said he. “I couldn’t
believe any one could be so beautiful.”
“What a nice rough compliment, what a dear piece of savage flattery!
What would you say, Sir, if you had seen me, in my days of finery,
decked out in lace and jewels, Harry? And, dear me, don’t they make a
wondrous difference! I used to come down to dinner at Dalradern at times
powdered, or with my hair in short curls, à la Sévigné, and my costume
all to suit; and you should have seen the worshipful homage of old Sir
Within, as he presented me with my bouquet, and kissed the extreme tips
of my fingers. Oh dear, what a delightful dream it was, all of it!”
“What a coquette you must be! What a coquette you are!” muttered he,
savagely.
“Of course I am, Harry. Do you think I would deny it? Coquetry is
the desire to please, as a means of self-gratification. I accept the
imputation.”
“It means intense vanity, though,” said he, roughly.
“And why not vanity, any less than courage or compassion, or a dozen
other things one prides himself on having?”
“I think you are saying these things to vex me, Kate. I’ll swear you
don’t feel them.”
“No matter what I feel, Sir. I am certainly vain enough to believe I can
keep _that_ for myself. Tell me of this man. Have you seen him?”
“No, he has not come; he _will_ not come.”
“Not come! And why?”
“Here’s a letter from Cane will explain it all; a letter which I suppose
you would not have let me read had you seen it first. You said you had
no secrets, but it turns out that you had.”
“What do you mean?” said she, snatching the letter eagerly from him.
“I read every word of it three times. I know it almost by heart,” said
he, as he watched her running her eyes over the letter.
“When I said I had no secrets,” said she, gravely, “I meant with regard
to my past life. Of _that_ assuredly I have told you all, freely and
candidly. The future is my own, at least so far as what I intend by it.”
“And you persist in this scheme?”
“Don’t look so sternly--don’t speak so harshly, Harry. Let me enjoy the
good news of Cane’s letter, in so far as this priest is concerned. It
is a great weight off my heart to know that my name is not to be bandied
about by gossips and newsmongers--that name your poor father treasured
with such care, and for whose safeguard he would have made any
sacrifice.”
“Tell me you will give up this scheme, Kate; tell me you will make Arran
your home,” cried he, earnestly. “I mustn’t tell you an untruth, Harry.
Arran is yours.”
“And if it be mine,” said he, seizing her hand, “share it with me, Kate.
Yes, dearest, be mine also. Oh, do not turn away from me. I know too
well how little I resemble those gifted and graceful people your life
has been passed with. I am a rough sailor, but remember, Kate, the heart
of a gentleman beats under this coarse jacket. I am a Luttrell still.”
“And the Luttrell’s have passed their ordeal, Harry. Three generations of
them married peasants to teach their proud hearts humility. Go practise
the lesson your fathers have bought so dearly; it will be better than to
repeat it. As for me, my mind is made up. Hear me out, Harry. I promised
my poor old grandfather to aid him on his trial. Illness overtook me,
and I was in a raging fever on the day he was sentenced. It was not for
months after that I was able to go to him, and the poor old man, who
had believed himself forgotten and deserted, no sooner saw me than he
forgave all, and pressed me to his heart with rapturous affection.
I told him then--I gave him my solemn pledge--that so soon as I had
arranged certain details here, I would follow him across the seas. There
are many ways by which a resident can lighten the pains and penalties
of a prisoner. I learned these, and know all about them, and I have
determined to pay off some part of the debt I owe him, for he loved
me--he loved me more than all the world. The very crime for which he is
suffering was committed on my behalf; he thought this property should
have been mine, and he was ready to stake his life upon it.”
“And must he be more to you than _me?_” said Harry, sadly.
“I must pay what I owe, Harry, before I incur a new debt,” said she,
with a smile of deep melancholy.
“Why did I ever come here? What evil destiny ever brought me to know
you!” cried he, passionately. “A week ago--one short week--and I had
courage to go anywhere, dare anything, and now the whole world is a
blank to me.”
“Where are you going? Don’t go away, Harry. Sit down, like a dear, kind
cousin, and hear me. First of all, bear in mind people cannot always do
what is pleasantest in life----”
A heavy bang of the door stopped her, and he was gone!