THE APPOINTED HOUR--THE SCHEMERS AND THE PLOT.
"And here comes my dear brother," exclaimed Mary Ashwoode, joyously, as
she ran to welcome the young man, now entering her father's room, in
which, for more than an hour previously, she had been sitting. Throwing
her arm round his neck, and looking sweetly in his face, she
continued--"You _will_ stay with us this evening, dear Harry--do, for
my sake--you won't refuse--it is so long since we have had you;" and
though she spoke with a gay look and a gladsome voice, a sense of real
solitariness called a tear to her dark eye.
"No, Mary--not this evening," said the young man coldly; "I must be in
town again to-night, and before I go must have some conversation upon
business with my father, so that I may not see you again till morning."
"But, dear Henry," said she, still clinging affectionately to his arm,
"you have been in such danger, and I knew nothing of it until after you
went out this morning: are you quite well, Henry?--you were not
hurt--were you?"
"No, no--nothing--nothing--I never was better," said he, impatiently.
"Well, brother--_dear_ brother," she continued imploringly, "come early
home to-night--do not be upon the road late--won't you promise?"
"There, there, there," said he rudely, "run away--take your work, or
your book, or whatever it may be, down stairs; your father wants to
speak with me alone," and so saying, he turned pettishly from her.
His habitual coldness and carelessness of manner had never before
seemed so ungracious. The poor girl felt her heart swell within her, as
though it would burst. She had never felt so keenly that in all this
world there lived but one being upon whose love she might rely, and he
separated, it might be for ever, from her: she gathered up her work,
and ran quickly from the room, to hide the tears which she could not
restrain.
Young Ashwoode was to the full as worldly and as unprincipled a man as
was his father; and whatever reluctance he may have felt as to adopting
Sir Richard's plans respecting O'Connor, the reader would grievously
wrong him in attributing his unwillingness to any visitings of
gratitude, or, indeed, to any other feeling than that which he had
himself avowed. A few hours' reflection had satisfied the young man of
the transcendent importance of securing Lord Aspenly; and by a
corresponding induction he had arrived at the conclusion to which his
father had already come--namely, that it was imperatively necessary by
all means to put an end effectually to his sister's correspondence with
O'Connor. To effect this object both were equally resolved; and with
respect to the means to be employed both were equally unscrupulous.
With Henry Ashwoode courage was constitutional, and art habitual. If,
therefore, either duplicity or daring could ensure success, he felt
that he must triumph; and, at all events, he was sufficiently impressed
with the importance of the object, to resolve to leave nothing untried
for its achievement.
"You _are_ punctual, sir," said Sir Richard, glancing at his
richly-chased watch; "sit down; I have considered your suggestions of
this morning, and I am inclined to adopt them; it is most probable that
Mary, like the rest of her sex, will be taken by the splendour of the
proposal--fascinated--in short, as I said this morning--dazzled. Now,
whether she be or not--observe me, it shall be our object to make
O'Connor believe that she _is_ so. You will have his ear, and through
her maid, Carey, I can manage their correspondence; not a letter from
either can reach the other, without first meeting my eye. I am very
certain that the young fellow will lose no time in writing to her some
more of those passionate epistles, of which, as I told you, I have seen
a sample. I shall take care to have their letters _re_-written for the
future, before they come to hand; and it shall go hard, or between us
we shall manage to give each a very moderate opinion of the other's
constancy; thus the affair will--or rather must--die a natural
death--after all, the most effectual kind of mortality in such cases."
"I called to-day upon the fellow," said the young man. "I made him out,
and without approaching the point of nearest interest, I have,
nevertheless, opened operations successfully--so far as a most
auspicious re-commencement of our acquaintance may be so accounted."
"And, stranger still to say," rejoined the baronet, "I also encountered
him to-day; but only for some dozen seconds."
"How!--saw O'Connor!" exclaimed young Ashwoode.
"Yes, sir, O'Connor--Edmond O'Connor," repeated Sir Richard. "He was
coolly walking up to the house to see me, as it would seem; and I do
believe the fellow speaks truth--he _did_ see me, and that is all. I
fancy he will scarcely come here again uninvited; he said so pretty
plainly, and I believe the fellow has spirit enough to feel an
affront."
"He did not see Mary?" inquired Henry.
"I did not ask him, and don't choose to ask her; I don't mean to allude
to the subject in her presence," replied Sir Richard, quickly. "I
think--indeed I _know_--I can mar their plans better by appearing never
once to apprehend anything from O'Connor's pretensions. I have reasons,
too, for not wishing to deal harshly with Mary _at present_; we must
have no _scenes_, if possible. Were I to appear suspicious and uneasy,
it would put them on their guard. And now, upon the other point, did
you speak to Craven about the possibility of raising ten thousand
pounds on the Glenvarlogh property?"
"He says it can be done very easily, if Mary joins you," replied the
young man; "but I have been thinking that if you ask her to sign any
deed, it might as well be one assigning over her interest absolutely to
you. Aspenly does not want a penny with her--in fact, from what fell
from him to-day, when I met him in town, I'm inclined to think he
believes that she has not a penny in the world; so she may as well make
it over to you, and then we can turn it all into money when and how we
please. I desired Craven to work night and day at the deeds, and have
them over by ten o'clock to-morrow morning."
"You did quite rightly," rejoined the old gentleman. "I hardly expect
any opposition from the girl--at least no more than I can easily
frighten her out of. Should she prove sulky, however, I do not well
know where to turn: as to asking my brother Oliver, I might as well, or
_better_, ask a Jew broker; he hates me and mine with his whole heart;
and to say the truth, there is not much love lost between us. No, no,
there's nothing to be looked for in that quarter. I daresay we'll
manage one way or another--lead or drive to get Mary to sign the deed,
and if so, the ship rights again. Craven comes, you say, at ten
to-morrow?"
"He engaged to be here at that hour with the deeds," repeated the young
man.
"Well," said his father, yawning, "you have nothing more to say, nor I
neither--oblige me by withdrawing." So parted these congenial
relations.
The past day had been an agitating one to Mary Ashwoode. Still suspense
was to be her doom, and the same alternations of hope and of despair
were again to rob her pillow of repose; yet even thus, happy was she in
comparison with what she must have been, had she but known the schemes
of which she was the unconscious subject. At this juncture we shall
leave the actors in this true tale, and conclude the chapter with the
close of day.