Barrington Volume Ii Part 6

"We never met till yesterday," said she, calmly.

"True; and if we part to-morrow, it will be forever. I feel too painfully," added he, with more eagerness, "how I compromise all that I value by an avowal abrupt and rash as this is; but I have had no choice.

I have been offered the command of a native force in India, and must give my answer at once. With hope--the very faintest, so that it be hope--I will refuse. Remember I want no pledge, no promise; all I entreat is that you will regard me as one who seeks to win your favor.

Let time do the rest."

"I do not think I ought to do this--I do not know if you should ask it."

"May I speak to your grandfather--may I tell him what I have told you--may I say, 'It is with Josephine's permission--'"

"I am called Miss Barrington, sir, by all but those of my own family."

"Forgive me, I entreat you," said he, with a deep humility in his tone.

"I had never so far forgotten myself if calm reason had not deserted me.

I will not transgress again."

"This is the shortest way back to the cottage," said she, turning into a narrow path in the wood.

"It does not lead to my hope," said he, despondingly; and no more was uttered between them for some paces.

"Do not walk so very fast, Miss Barrington," said he, in a tone which trembled slightly. "In the few minutes--the seconds you could accord me--I might build the whole fortune of my life. I have already endangered my hopes by rashness; let me own that it is the fault I have struggled against in vain. This scar"--and he showed the deep mark of a sabre-wound on the temple--"was the price of one of my offendings; but it was light in suffering to what I am now enduring."

"Can we not talk of what will exact no such sacrifice?" said she, calmly.

"Not now, not now!" said he, with emotion; "if you pa.s.s that porch without giving me an answer, life has no longer a tie for me. You know that I ask for no pledge, no promise, merely time,--no more than time,--a few more of those moments of which you now would seem eager to deny me. Linger an instant here, I beseech you, and remember that what to _you_ may be a caprice may to _me_ be a destiny."

"I will not hear more of this," said she, half angrily. "If it were not for my own foolish trustfulness, you never would have dared to address such words to one whom you met yesterday for the first time."

"It is true your generous frankness, the nature they told me you inherited, gives me boldness, but it might teach you to have some pity for a disposition akin to it. One word,--only one word more."

"Not one, sir! The lesson my frankness has taught me is, never to incur this peril again."

"Do you part from me in anger?"

"Not with _you_; but I will not answer for myself if you press me further."

"Even this much is better than despair," said he, mournfully; and she pa.s.sed into the cottage, while he stood in the porch and bowed respectfully as she went by. "Better than I looked for, better than I could have hoped," muttered he to himself, as he strolled away and disappeared in the wood.

CHAPTER V. A CABINET COUNCIL

"What do you think of it, Dinah?" said Barrington, as they sat in conclave the next morning in her own sitting-room.

She laid down a letter she had just finished reading on the table, carefully folding it, like one trying to gain time before she spoke: "He's a clever man, and writes well, Peter; there can be no second opinion upon that."

"But his proposal, Dinah,--his proposal?"

"Pleases me less the more I think of it. There is great disparity of age,--a wide discrepancy in character. A certain gravity of demeanor would not be undesirable, perhaps, in a husband for Josephine, who has her moments of capricious fancy; but if I mistake not, this man's nature is stern and unbending."

"There will be time enough to consider all that, Dinah. It is, in fact, to weigh well the chances of his fitness to secure her happiness that he pleads; he asks permission to make himself known to her, rather than to make his court."

"I used to fancy that they meant the same thing,--I know that they did in my day, Peter," said she, bridling; "but come to the plain question before us. So far as I understand him, his position is this: 'If I satisfy you that my rank and fortune are satisfactory to you, have I your permission to come back here as your granddaughter's suitor?'"

"Not precisely, Dinah,--not exactly this. Here are his words: 'I am well aware that I am much older than Miss Barrington, and it is simply to ascertain from herself if, in that disparity of years, there exists that disparity of tastes and temper which would indispose her to regard me as one to whom she would intrust her happiness. I hope to do this without any offence to her delicacy, though not without peril to my own self-love. Have I your leave for this experiment?'"

"Who is he? Who are his friends, connections, belongings? What is his station independently of his military rank, and what are his means? Can you answer these questions?"

"Not one of them. I never found myself till to-day in a position to inquire after them."

"Let us begin, then, by that investigation, Peter. There is no such test of a man as to make him talk of himself. With you alone the matter, perhaps, would not present much difficulty to him, but I intend that Mr.

Withering's name and my own shall be on the committee; and, take _my_ word for it, we shall sift the evidence carefully."

"Bear in mind, sister Dinah, that this gentleman is, first of all, our guest."

"The first of all that I mean to bear in mind is, that he desires to be your grandson."

"Of course,--of course. I would only observe on the reserve that should be maintained towards one who honors us with his presence."

"Peter Barrington, the Arabs, from whom you seem to borrow your notions on hospitality, seldom scruple about cutting a guest's head off when he pa.s.ses the threshold; therefore I would advise you to adopt habits that may be more suited to the land we live in."

"All I know is," said Barrington, rising and pacing the room, "that I could no more put a gentleman under my roof to the question as to his father and mother and his fortune, than I could rifle his writing-desk and read his letters."

"Brother Peter, the weakness of your disposition has cost you one of the finest estates in your country, and if it could be restored to you to-morrow, the same imbecility would forfeit it again. I will, however, take the matter into my own hands."

"With Withering, I suppose, to a.s.sist you?"

"Certainly not. I am perfectly competent to make any inquiry I deem requisite without a legal adviser. Perhaps, were I to be so accompanied, Major Stapylton would suppose that he, too, should appear with his lawyer."

Barrington smiled faintly at the dry jest, but said nothing.

"I see," resumed she, "that you are very much afraid about my want of tact and delicacy in this investigation. It is a somewhat common belief amongst men that in all matters of business women err on the score of hardness and persistence. I have listened to some edifying homilies from your friend Withering on female incredulity and so forth,--reproaches which will cease to apply when men shall condescend to treat us as creatures accessible to reason, and not as mere dupes. See who is knocking at the door, Peter," added she, sharply. "I declare it recalls the old days of our innkeeping, and Darby asking for the bill of the lame gentleman in No. 4."

"Upon my life, they were pleasant days, too," said Barrington, but in a tone so low as to be unheard by his sister.

"May I come in?" said Withering, as he opened the door a few inches, and peeped inside. "I want to show you a note I have just had from Kinshela, in Kilkenny."

"Yes, yes; come in," said Miss Barrington. "I only wish you had arrived a little earlier. What is your note about?"

"It's very short and very purpose-like. The first of it is all about Brazier's costs, which it seems the taxing-officer thinks fair and reasonable,--all excepting that charge for the additional affidavits.

But here is what I want to show you. 'Major M'Cormick, of M'Cormick's Grove, has just been here; and although I am not ent.i.tled to say as much officially on his part, I entertain no doubt whatever but that he is ready to advance the money we require. I spoke of fifteen hundred, but said twelve might possibly be taken, and twelve would be, I imagine, his limit, since he held to this amount in all our conversation afterwards.

He appears to be a man of strange and eccentric habits, and these will probably be deemed a sufficient excuse for the singular turn our interview took towards its conclusion. I was speaking of Mr.

Barrington's wish for the insertion in the deed of a definite period for redemption, and he stopped me hastily with, "What if we could strike out another arrangement? What if he was to make a settlement of the place on his granddaughter? I am not too old to marry, and I 'd give him the money at five per cent." I have been careful to give you the very expressions he employed, and of which I made a note when he left the office; for although fully aware how improper it would be in me to submit this proposal to Mr. Barrington, I have felt it my duty to put you in possession of all that has pa.s.sed between us.'"

"How can you laugh, Peter Barrington?--how is it possible you can laugh at such an insult,--such an outrage as this? Go on, sir," said she, turning to Withering; "let us hear it to the end, for nothing worse can remain behind."

"There is no more; at least, there is not anything worth hearing.

Kinshela winds up with many apologies, and hopes that I will only use his communication for my own guidance, and not permit it in any case to prejudice him in your estimation." As he spoke, he crumpled up the note in his hand in some confusion.

"Who thinks of Mr. Kinshela, or wants to think of him, in the matter?"