THE COUNCIL--SHOWING WHAT ADVICE MR. AUDLEY GAVE, AND HOW IT WAS TAKEN.
Larry Toole was true to his word. Without turning from the direct
course, or pausing on his way for one moment, he accomplished the
service which he had volunteered, and in an incredibly short time
returned to the little inn, bringing Mr. Audley with him in a coach.
With an air of importance and mystery, suitable to the occasion, the
little gentleman, followed by his attendant, proceeded to the chamber
where Miss Ashwoode and her maid were awaiting his arrival. Mary arose
as he entered the room, and Larry, from behind, ejaculated, in a tone
of pompous exultation, "Here he is, Miss Mary--Mr. Audley himself, an'
no mistake."
"Tut, tut, Larry," exclaimed the little gentleman, turning impatiently
toward that personage, whose obstreperous announcement had disarranged
his plans of approach; "hold your tongue, Larry, I say--ahem!"
"Mr. Audley," said Mary, "I hope you will pardon----"
"Not one word of the kind--excuse the interruption--not a word,"
exclaimed the little gentleman, gallantly waving his hand--"only too
much honour--too proud, Miss Ashwoode, I have long known something of
your family, and, strange as it may appear, have felt a peculiar
interest in you--although I had not the honour of your acquaintance--for
the sake of--of other parties. I have ever entertained a warm regard
for your welfare, and although circumstances are much, very much
changed, I cannot forget relations that once subsisted--ahem!" This was
said diplomatically, and he blew his nose with a short decisive twang.
"I understand, my poor young lady," he continued, relapsing into the
cordial manner that was natural to him, "that you are at this moment in
circumstances of difficulty, perhaps of danger, and that you have been
disappointed in this emergency by the absence of your relative, Major
O'Leary, with whose acquaintance, by-the-bye, I am honoured, and a more
worthy, warm-hearted--but no matter--in his absence, then, I venture to
tender my poor services--pray, if it be not too bold a request, tell me
fully and fairly, the nature of your embarrassment; and if zeal,
activity, and the friendliest dispositions can avail to extricate you,
you may command them all--pray, then, let me know what I _can_ do to
serve you." So saying, the old gentleman took the pale and lovely
lady's hand, with a mixture of tenderness and respect which encouraged
and assured her.
Larry having withdrawn, she told the little gentleman all that she
could communicate, without disclosing her brother's implication in the
conspiracy. Even this reserve, the old gentleman's warm and kindly
manner, and the good-natured simplicity, apparent in all he said and
did, effectually removed, and the whole case, in all its bearings, and
with all its circumstances, was plainly put before him. During the
narrative, the little gentleman was repeatedly so transported with ire
as to slap his thigh, sniff violently, and mutter incoherent
ejaculations between his teeth; and when it was ended, was so far
overcome by his feelings, that he did not trust himself to address the
young lady, until he had a little vented his indignation by marching
and countermarching, at quick time, up and down the room, blowing his
nose with desperate abandonment, and muttering sundry startling
interjections. At length he grew composed, and addressing Mary
Ashwoode, observed,--
"You are quite right, my dear young lady--quite right, indeed, in
resolving against putting yourself into the hands of anybody under Sir
Henry's influence--perfectly right and wise. Have you _no_ relatives in
this country, none capable of protecting you, and willing to do so?"
"I have, indeed, one relative," rejoined she, but----"
"Who is it?" interrupted Audley.
"An uncle," replied Mary.
"His name, my dear--his name?" inquired the old gentleman, impatiently.
"His name is French--Oliver French," replied she, "but----"
"Never mind," interrupted Audley again, "where does he live?"
"He lives in an old place called Ardgillagh," rejoined she, "on the
borders of the county of Limerick."
"Is it easily found out?--near the high road from Dublin?--near any
town?--easily got at?" inquired he, with extra-ordinary volubility.
"I've heard my brother say," rejoined she, "that it is not far from the
high road from Dublin; he was there himself. I believe the place is
well known by the peasantry for many miles round; but----"
"Very good, very good, my dear," interposed Mr. Audley again. "Has he a
family--a wife?"
"No," rejoined Mary; "he is unmarried, and an old man."
"Pooh, pooh! why the devil hasn't he a wife? but no matter, you'll be
all the welcomer. That's our ground--all the safer that it's a little
out of the way," exclaimed the old man. "We'll steal a march--they'll
never suspect us; we'll start at once."
"But I fear," said Mary, dejectedly, "that he will not receive me.
There has long been an estrangement between our family and him; with my
father he had a deadly quarrel while I was yet an infant. He vowed that
neither my father nor any child of his should ever cross his threshold.
I've been told he bitterly resented what he believed to have been my
father's harsh treatment of my mother. I was too young, however, to
know on which side the right of the quarrel was; but I fear there is
little hope of his doing as you expect, for some six or seven years
since my brother was sent down, in the hope of a reconciliation, and in
vain. He returned, reporting that my uncle Oliver had met all his
advances with scorn. No, no, I fear--I greatly fear he will not receive
me."
"Never believe it--never think so," rejoined old Audley, warmly; "if he
were man enough to resent your mother's wrongs, think you his heart
will have no room for yours? Think you his nature's changed, that he
cannot pity the distressed, and hate tyranny any longer? Never believe
me, if he won't hug you to his heart the minute he sees you. I like the
old chap; he was right to be angry--it was his duty to be in a
confounded passion; he ought to have been kicked if he hadn't done just
as he did--I'd swear he was right. Never trust me, if he'll not take
your part with his whole heart, and make you his pet for as long as you
please to stay with him. Deuce take him, I like the old fellow."
"You would advise me, then, to apply to him for protection?" asked Mary
Ashwoode, "and I suppose to go down there immediately."
"Most unquestionably so," replied Mr. Audley, with a short nod of
decision--"most unquestionably--start to-night; we shall go as far as
the town of Naas; I will accompany you. I consider you my ward until
your natural protectors take you under their affectionate charge, and
guard you from grief and danger as they ought. My good girl," he
continued, addressing Flora Guy, "you must come along with your
mistress; I've a coach at the door. We shall go directly into town, and
my landlady shall take you both under her care until I have procured
two chaises, the one for myself, and the other for your mistress and
you. You will find Mrs. Pickley, my landlady, a very kind, excellent
person, and ready to assist you in making your preparations for the
journey."
The old gentleman then led his young and beautiful charge, with a
mixture of gallantry and pity, by the hand down the little inn stairs,
and in a very brief time Mary Ashwoode and her faithful attendant found
themselves under the hospitable protection of Mrs. Pickley's roof-tree.