Frank Fairlegh Part 31

"Which he could have reached by merely stretching out his arm, I daresay, only he was too idle," interposed I.

"Indeed he could not," replied f.a.n.n.y quickly, "for he was sitting in the low easy-chair, and trying to fasten mamma's spectacles on Donald's nose." (Donald being a favourite Scotch terrier belonging to Harry, and a great character in his way.) "Well, I had just found the book," she continued, "and we were going to begin when a note was given to Mr.

Oaklands, which had been brought by a groom from the Hall, with a message that the gentleman who had left it was waiting at the inn in the village for an answer. Mr. Oaklands began to read it in his usual quiet way, but no sooner had he thrown his eye over the first few lines than his cheeks flushed, his brow grew dark, and his face a.s.sumed that fearfully stern expression which I have heard you describe, but had never before seen myself. As soon as he had finished reading it he crushed the paper in his hand, and sprung up, saying hurriedly, 'Is Frank------?' He then took two or three steps towards the door, and I thought he was coming to consult you. Suddenly, however, some new idea seemed to cross his mind, and, stopping abruptly, he strode towards the window, where he remained for a few moments, apparently buried in thought. At length he muttered, 'Yes, that will be better, better in all respects'; and turning on his heel, he was about to quit the room, leaving his hat on the table, when I ventured to hand it to him, saying, 'You are going without your hat, Mr. Oaklands'. He started at the sound of my voice, and seeming for the first time to recollect that I was in the room, he took the hat from me, begging pardon for his inattention, and adding, 'You must allow me to postpone our Italian lesson till----till to-morrow, shall we say? I find there is a gentleman waiting to see me.' He paused as if he wished to say more, but scarcely knew how to express himself. 'You saw,' he continued, 'that is--you may have observed that--that in fact there was something in that note which annoyed me--you need not say anything about it to Mrs. Fairlegh; she is rather given to alarming herself unnecessarily, I fancy,' he added -201--with a faint smile; 'tell Frank I shall not be at home till dinner time, but that I shall see him in the evening.' He then shook my hand warmly, and, holding it for a moment in his own, fixed his eyes on my face with a strange, half-melancholy expression that frightened me, and once more saying 'good-bye,' he pressed his hat over his brows, and bounding across the lawn, was out of sight in an instant. His manner was so very odd, so unlike what it generally is. Dear Frank, what is the meaning of all this? I am sure there is something going to happen, something--"

"You silly child," replied I, affecting a careless composure I was far from feeling, "how you frighten yourself about nothing. Harry has probably received a threatening letter from a Cambridge dun, and your lively imagination magnifies it into a--(challenge, I was going to add, but I subst.i.tuted)--into something dreadful."

"Is that what you really think?" questioned f.a.n.n.y, fixing her large blue eyes upon my face inquiringly.

I am the worst hand in the world at playing the hypocrite, and with ready tact she perceived at once that I was attempting to deceive her.

"Frank," she resumed, "you have seen but little of me since we were children together, and deem, possibly, that--I am a weak, silly girl, unfit to be trusted with evil tidings; but indeed, dear brother, you do me injustice; the sorrows we have gone through" (and her eyes filled with tears as she spoke), "the necessity for exertion in order to save mamma as much as possible, have given me more strength of character and firmness of purpose than girls of my age in general possess; tell me the truth, and fear not that power will be given me to bear it, be it what it may; but, if I think you are trying to hide it from me--and do not hope to deceive me; your face proves that you are as much alarmed at what you have heard as I am myself, and probably with far better reason--I shall be unable to forget it, and it will make me miserable."

"Well then," replied I, "thus far I will trust you. I do fear, from what you have told me, that Oaklands has received some evil tidings relative to a disagreeable affair in which he was engaged at Cambridge, the results of which are not fully known at present, and which, I am afraid, may yet occasion him much care and anxiety."

"And I had fancied him so light-hearted and happy," said f.a.n.n.y thoughtfully; "and is this all I am to know about it then?"

"All that I feel myself at liberty to tell at present," -202--replied I; "recollect, darling, it is my friend's secret, not my own, or you should hear everything."

"Then you will tell me all your secrets if I ask you?" inquired f.a.n.n.y archly.

"Whom should I trust or confide in, if not my own dear little sister?"

said I, stroking her golden locks caressingly. "And now," continued I, rising, "I will go and see whether I can do any good in this affair; but when Master Harry is in one of his impetuous moods he gets quite beyond my management."

"Oh! but you can influence him," exclaimed f.a.n.n.y, her bright eyes sparkling with animation; "you can calm his impetuosity with your own quiet good sense and clear judgment--you can appeal to his high and generous nature--you can tell him how dear he is to you, how you love him with more than a brother's love: you can and will do all this--will you not, dear Frank?"

"Of course I shall do everything that I am able, my dear child," replied I, somewhat astonished at this sudden outburst; "and now go, and be quiet, this business seems rather to have excited you. If my mother asks for me, tell her I am gone up to the Hall."

"What warm-hearted creatures women are!" thought I, as I ran, rather than walked, through the park; "that little sister of mine, now--no sooner does she hear that _my_ friend has got into a sc.r.a.pe, of the very nature of which she is ignorant (a pretty fuss she would be in if she were aware that it was a duel, of which I am afraid), than she becomes quite excited, and implores me, as if she were pleading for her life, to use my influence with Harry to prevent his doing--something, she has not the most remote notion what. I wish she did not act quite so much from impulse. It's lucky she has got a brother to take care of her; though it does not become me to find fault with her, for it all proceeds from her affection for me; she knows how wretched I should be if anything were to go wrong with Harry,"--and then I fell into a train of thought as to what it could be which had so suddenly excited him: something connected with Wilford, no doubt; but what?--my fears pointed to a challenge, and my blood ran cold at the thought. He _must_ accept it; neither my influence, were it increased a hundredfold, nor that of any one else, could make him apologise; besides, it is not very easy to imagine a satisfactory apology for horse-whipping a man till he cannot stand. And what course likely to be of any use could I take? On one point I was resolved--nothing -203--should induce me to become his second. What would be my feelings in case of a fatal result were I to reflect that I had made all the arrangements for the murder of the friend I loved best in the world--that I had actually stationed him opposite the never-failing pistol of his most bitter enemy, and placed in his hand a deadly weapon wherewith to attempt the life of a fellow-creature, when the next moment he might be called upon to answer before the Judge of all mankind for the deeds which he had done in the flesh? No! I could not be his second. As my meditations reached this point, I overtook the groom who had brought the eventful note, and who was leisurely proceeding on foot towards the Hall with that peculiar gait observable in men who spend much of their time on horseback, which consists of a compromise between walking and riding, and is strongly suggestive of their inability to realise the fact that they have not at all times and seasons a perpetual horse between their legs.

"Have you seen Mr. Oaklands, Harris?" inquired I, as the man touched his hat respectfully.

"Yes, sir, I may say I've seen him, and that's all," was the reply. "I brought him a note to the cottage, and was a waiting for orders, when he came tearing out, ordered me to get off, sprang into my saddle, and without stopping for me to let down the stirrups, drove his heels into 'Tom Trot'--that's the new grey horse, sir, if you please--and was out of sight like old boots."

Not having time to inst.i.tute an inquiry into the amount of velocity with which the ancient articles referred to by Mr. Harris were accustomed to vanish, I asked if he knew who brought the note.

"A groom in a dark, claret-coloured livery, mounted on a splendid coal-black mare, nearly thorough-bred, but with more bone and substance about her than you generally see in them sort, and as clean on her pins as an unbroke colt. Sir John ain't got such a horse in his stables, nor Mr. Harry neither," was the reply.

This was conclusive evidence; the livery and the mare were alike Wilford's.

Leaving the groom to conjecture what he pleased, I hurried on, and, reaching the Hall, inquired of the old butler whether Harry was at home.

"No, sir," was the reply, "they ain't any of them at home. Mr. Harry came home a horseback about a quarter of an hour ago, and called Mr.

Archer into his own room, and they had a confab, and then Mr. Archer went out a -204--riding on the same horse Mr. Harry came back upon, and would not take any o' the grooms with him--and afore that Sir John had ordered the phaeton, and Mr. Henry being come home he asked him to go with him; so you see, Mr. Fairlegh, they're none of 'em at home, sir."

"I'll go into the library and write a note, Edmonds," said I, as a new idea entered my head. "You know Sir John is kind enough to let me order a horse whenever I require one--will you tell Harris to have one saddled for me in ten minutes' time?"

"Certainly, Mr. Fairlegh; we all of us have Sir John's orders to attend to you, sir, the same as to Mr. Henry, and you're a young gent as it's a pleasure to serve too, if you'll excuse me taking the liberty of telling you so," replied the good old man, as he showed me into the library.

The idea which had come into my head (and it was more for the sake of doing _something_ that I determined on it, than from any great hope I entertained of its proving of much avail) was to ride over to Hillingford, and consult Freddy Coleman on the subject. Perhaps his clear head and quick wit might enable him to devise some scheme by which, without betraying Harry's confidence, or bringing the slightest imputation on his honour, this duel might be prevented. What else could I do? It was quite clear to me that the note Harry had received was a challenge from Wilford, and that the gentleman waiting at the inn was some one whom he had prevailed upon to act as his second, probably Wentworth. Harry's first impulse had evidently been to come to me, and ask me to be his second; but, doubtless, guessing the distaste I should have to the office, and reflecting on the difficulties in which, if anything serious were to ensue, I might be involved, he had determined on asking Archer instead. Archer, by instantly setting off on horseback alone, had clearly agreed to his request, and was gone to make the necessary arrangements; and Harry had gladly accompanied Sir John, in order to be out of the way, and so avoid my questions and any attempts I might have made to induce him to alter his purpose. Were I to inform Sir John on his return, it would be an unpardonable breach of confidence towards Harry; were I to give notice to the authorities, so as to enable them to take measures for preventing the duel, it would always be said by Wilford that I did so with Harry's connivance, because he was afraid to meet him: thus my hands were tied in every way, and, as I said before, I could think of nothing better than to ride over and consult Coleman, whose powers of -205--getting out of a sc.r.a.pe I had seen pretty well tested in the affair of the bell-ringing. I therefore scrawled a hasty note to my mother, telling her that I was going to take a long ride, and she had better not wait dinner for me; and leaving a message for Oaklands with the servant who announced the horse, that I should see him in the evening, flung myself into the saddle, rode quietly till I was out of sight of the house, and then started at a gallop for Hillingford. Unwilling to meet any of the Coleman family, I left my horse at the inn, and, pulling my hat over my brows, to avoid, if possible, being recognised by their servant, rang the bell, and desired him to tell Mr. Frederic that a gentleman wanted to speak with him on particular business.

CHAPTER XXVI -- COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE

"If you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instru- ment of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit if you speed well in it."

"Now I see the bottom of your purpose."

"You see it lawful then."

"I love him, sir, Dearer than eyesight, s.p.a.ce and liberty, Beyond what can be valued rich or rare, No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable--"

"Adieu! these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit."

--_Shakspeare_.

"FREDDY, can I have half an hour's private conversation with you?" asked I, as soon as we had exchanged salutations.

"To be sure you can; but," he added, catching a glimpse of the anxious expression of my face, "there is nothing wrong, is there?"

I made a gesture indicative of silence, and he opened a door into a sort of lawyer's office, saying, in a low voice:--

"Come in here, we shall not be interrupted; the governor's in London, and the women are out walking". "So much the better," replied I, "for the business I am come upon is strictly private, and will not brook delay." I then told him as concisely as possible the whole affair -206--from beginning to end; he listened attentively to my recital, merely asking a question now and then to elucidate any particular point he did not clearly understand. I fancy he made a gesture of surprise when I first mentioned Wilford's name, and when I had concluded, he asked,

"Wilford, you say, this man's name is? What is his Christian name?"

"Stephen."

"And he's a young fellow?"

"About three or four and twenty."

"And you want to prevent his being able to shoot Harry Oaklands at five o'clock to-morrow morning?"

"I do not know the hour, but I conclude the meeting will probably take place to-morrow morning. Wilford would not wish to remain in the neighbourhood longer than necessary, lest he should attract attention."

Coleman mused for some minutes, and then muttering as though he were thinking aloud--

"It might be done, so; yes, that would do. I suppose," he said, at length addressing me, "if Master Wilford were taken into custody on a magistrate's warrant at half-past four a.m., that would suit your ideas very nicely? I can so arrange the matter that Wilford will never be able to trace the laying the information to our door."

"But how can you avoid that?" inquired I.

"Why, if you must know," replied Freddy, "I am acquainted with a man who would give a hundred pounds any day to stop our friend Stephen from fighting a duel."

"What, do you know Wilford then?" asked I.

"_Ray-ther_," was the reply, accompanied by a very significant wink--"just a _very few_--I should say we're not entire strangers, though I have never enjoyed the honour of much personal intercourse with him; but I do not so deeply regret that, as, from your account, it seems rather a dangerous privilege."