Luttrell Of Arran Part 48

"You are a treasure of discretion, Sir," said Sir Within; "but permit me to observe, that the excess of caution often delays a negotiation. _You_ say that she cannot go to Italy, and _I_ say she can as little return to Ireland--at least, without Mr. Luttrell's acquiescence. Now for the third course?"

"This school Sir Gervais speaks of in Paris," said M'Kinlay, fumbling for the pa.s.sage in the letter, for he was now so confused and puzzled that he was very far from feeling calm. "Here is the address--Madame Gosselin, Rue Neuve, St. Augustin, Paris. Sir Gervais thought that--with of course your approval--this would be the best course we could take.

She would be well treated, well educated, cared for, and eventually qualified to be a governess--if she should not chance to marry."

"Yes, yes," said Sir Within, slowly, as he pondered over the other's words, "there is much in what you say, and the remarkable fact is, that _they do_, very often, make admirable wives."

Who were the "they" he referred to, as a category, M'Kinlay did not dare to inquire, but a.s.sented by a smile and a bow.

"Curious it is," said the old man, reflectively, "to mark how generations alternate, as if it were decreed that the world should not make any distinct progress, but oscillate between vice and virtue--virtue and vice. The respectable father and the scampish son being the counterpoise for the rakish mamma and the discreet daughter."

To what such a reflection could be thought to apply, Mr. M'Kinlay had not the vaguest conception; but it is only fair to add, that his faculties were never throughout the interview at their clearest.

"My chief difficulty is this, Sir," said the lawyer, rising to an effort that might show he had an opinion and a will of his own; "Sir Gervais requests me to convey his daughter as far as Ma.r.s.eilles; he names an early day to meet us there, so that really there is very little time--I may say no time, if we must start by Monday next."

Sir Within made no reply, and the other went on.

"Suppose I take this girl over to Paris with us, and the school should be full, and no vacancy to be had? Suppose they might object--I have heard of such things--to receive as a pupil one who had not made any preliminary inquiries?"

"Your position might become one of great embarra.s.sment, Mr. M'Kinlay, and to relieve you so far as in me lies, I would propose that until you have taken the necessary steps to ensure Miss O'Hara's reception, she should remain under the charge of my housekeeper here, Mrs. Simc.o.x. She is a most excellent person, and kindness itself. When you have satisfied yourself by seeing Madame Gosselin at Paris, as to all matters of detail, I shall very probably have had time to receive a reply to the letter I will write to my co-trustee, Mr. Luttrell, and everything can be thus arranged in all due form."

"I like all of your plans, Sir, but the last step. I have confessed to you that Sir Gervais Vyner had strictly enjoined me not to mention Mr.

Luttrell's name."

"You also mentioned to me, if I mistake not, that the young girl's friends, whoever they might be supposed to be, were to be consulted as to any future arrangements regarding her. Now, do you seriously mean to tell me that you are going to address yourself to the old peasant, who a.s.sumed to be her grandfather, and who frankly owned he couldn't read?"

"I do think, Sir Within, that old Malone--that is the man's name--ought to be informed, and, indeed, consulted as to any step we take."

"A model of discreet reserve you certainly are!" said Sir Within, smiling graciously. "You will write to him, therefore, and say that Miss Kate O'Hara is, for the time being, under the roof of one of her guardians, Sir Within Wardle, preparatory to her being sent to a school at Paris. You may, if you think it advisable, ask him for a formal acquiescence to our plan, and if he should desire it, add, he may come over here and see her. I suspect, Mr. M'Kinlay, we cannot possibly be called on to carry out the illusion of relations.h.i.+p beyond this."

"But he is her grandfather; I a.s.sure you he is."

"I believe whatever Mr. M'Kinlay asks me to believe. With the inner convictions which jar against my credulity, you shall have no cause of complaint, Sir; they are, and they shall be, inoperative. To prove this, I will beg of you to enclose ten pounds on my part to this old peasant, in case he should like to come over here."

"I am sure Sir Gervais will be deeply obliged by all your kindness in this matter."

"It is my pleasure and my duty both."

"What a rare piece of fortune it was for her, that made you her guardian."

"Only one of them, remember, and that I am now acting, per force, without my colleague. I own, Mr. M'Kinlay, I am red tapist enough not to like all this usurped authority, but you have tied me up to secresy."

"Not I, Sir Within. It was Sir Gervais who insisted on this."

"I respect his wishes, for perhaps I appreciate their necessity. You see some sort of objection to my plan, Mr. M'Kinlay?" said the old diplomatist, with a cunning twinkle of the eye. "What is it?"

"None, Sir, none whatever," said the lawyer, rapidly.

"Yes, yes, you do; be candid, my dear Mr. M'Kinlay. What we say to each other here will never figure in a Blue-book."

"I did not see a positive objection, Sir Within; I only saw what might be an embarra.s.sment."

"In what shape?"

"I am completely in your hands, Sir Within Wardle; but such is my confidence in you, I will not withhold anything. Here is the difficulty I speak of: Miss Courtenay, who never favoured the project about this girl, likes it now less than ever, and I do not feel quite certain that she will be satisfied with any arrangement short of sending her back to the obscurity she came from."

"I can understand and appreciate that wish on her part, but then there is no need that I should suspect it, Mr. M'Kinlay. The habits of my profession have taught me to bear many things in mind without seeming to act upon the knowledge. Now, the shelter that I purpose to afford this young lady need not excite any mistrust. You will tell Sir Gervais that the arrangement met with your approval. That it was, in your opinion, the best of the alternatives that offered, and that Sir Within Wardle has, on the present occasion, a double happiness afforded him--he obliges friends whom he values highly, and he consults his own personal gratification."

In the last few words the old envoy had resumed a tone familiar to him in the days when he dictated despatches to a secretary, and sent off formal doc.u.ments to be read aloud to dignitaries great and potent as himself; and Mr. M'Kinlay was duly impressed thereat.

"In all that relates to Mr. Luttrell I am to rely upon you, Sir," said Sir Within, and Mr. M'Kinlay bowed his acquiescence. "I am certain that you smile at my excess of formality," continued the old minister. "These particularities are second nature to us;" and it was clear as he said "us," that he meant an order whose ways and habits it would be a heresy to dispute. "If you will not take more wine, let us go into the drawing-room. A drawing-room without ladies, Mr. M'Kinlay," said he, with a sigh; "but, perhaps, one of these days--who knows?--we may be fortunate enough to receive you here more gracefully."

Mr. M'Kinlay, in any ordinary presence, would have responded by one of those little jocose pleasantries which are supposed to be fitting on such occasions; he had tact enough, however, to perceive that Sir Within would not have been the man for a familiarity of this sort, so he merely smiled, and bowed a polite concurrence with the speech.

"It will be as well, perhaps, if I wrote a few lines to Mademoiselle Heinzleman, and also to Miss O'Hara herself, and if you will excuse me for a few minutes, I will do so."

The old minister despatched his two notes very speedily, and, with profuse a.s.surances of his "highest consideration," he took leave of the lawyer, and sat down to ruminate over their late conversation, and the step he had just taken.

Mr. M'Kinlay, too, meditated as he drove homewards, but not with all that clearness of intellect he could usually bestow upon a knotty point.

Like most men in his predicament, to be puzzled was to be angered, and so did he inveigh to himself against "that crotchety old humbug, with his mare's nest of a secret marriage." Not but there was-a "something somewhere," which he, M'Kinlay, would certainly investigate before he was many weeks older. "Miss Georgina's manner to me used to undergo very strange vacillations--very strange ones indeed. Yes, there was something 'in it'--surely something."

While Kate O'Hara was still sleeping the next morning, Ada hurried into her room, and threw her arms around her, sobbing bitterly, as the hot tears ran down her cheeks. "Oh, Kate, my own dear, darling Kate, what is this dreadful thing I have just heard? Lisette has just told me that she is not to pack your clothes--that you are not coming with me abroad."

Kate raised herself on one arm, and pushed back her hair from her brow, her large eyes wearing for an instant the meaningless look of one suddenly awakened from sleep.

"Do you hear me--do you know what I am saying, dearest?" asked Ada, as she kissed her, and drew her towards her.

"Tell it me again," said she, in a low, distinct voice.

"Lisette says that Mademoiselle has orders--from whom I cannot say--that you are to remain in England, to go to a school, or to live with a governess, or to return to Ireland, or something; but whatever it is, that we are to be separated." And again her grief burst forth and choked her words.

"I knew this would come one day," said Kate, slowly, but without any touch of emotion. "It was a caprice that took me, and it is a caprice that deserts me."

"Oh, don't say that, Kate, of my own dear papa, who loves you almost as he loves me!"

"I can have nothing but words of grat.i.tude for him, Ada, and for your mother."

"You mean, then----"

"No matter what I mean, my sweet Ada. It may be, after all, a mercy.

Who is to say whether, after another year of this sort of life, its delicious happiness should have so grown into my nature that it would tear my very heart-strings to free myself from its coils? Even now, there were days when I forgot I was a peasant girl, without home, or friends, or fortune."

"Oh, Kate, you will break my heart if you speak this way!"

"Well, then, to talk more cheerfully. Will not that pretty hat yonder, with the long blue feather, look wondrous picturesque, as I follow the goats up the steep sides of Inchegora? and will not that gauzy scarf be a rare m.u.f.fle as I gather the seaweed below the cliffs of Bengore?"

"Kate, Kate!" sobbed Ada, "how cruel you are! You know, too, that dear papa does not mean this. It is not to hards.h.i.+p and privation he would send you."

"But there are reverses, Ada, a hundred times worse than any change of food or dress. There are changes of condition that seem to rend one's very ident.i.ty. Here, I had respect, attention, deference, and now, I go, Heaven knows where, to render these tributes to Heaven knows whom. Tell me of yourself, my sweet Ada. It is a far brighter theme to dwell on."