"Much obliged, I'm sure, for the attention," said Merl, with an a.s.sumed smartness.

"That 's all right; so you should," continued Brierley. "Tom told me that you were present at Cro' Martin when he was outraged and insulted,--by a female of course, or he wouldn't be making a complaint of it now,--and as he is not the man that ever lay under a thing of the kind, or ever will, he sent me here to you, to arrange where you 'd like to have it, and when."

"To have what?" asked Merl, with a look of unfeigned terror.

"Baythershin! how dull we are!" said Mr. Brierley, with a finger to his very red nose. "Sure it's not thinking of the King's Bench you are, that you want me to speak clearer."

"I want to know your meaning, sir,--if you have a meaning."

"Be cool, honey; keep yourself cool. Without you happen to find that warmth raises your heart, I 'd say again, be cool. I've one simple question to ask you,"--here he dropped his voice to a low, cautious whisper,--"Will ye blaze?"

"Will I what?" cried Merl.

Mr. Brierley arose, and drawing himself up to his full height, extended his arm in the att.i.tude of one taking aim with a pistol. "Eh!" cried he, "you comprehend me now, don't you?"

"Fight--fight a duel!" exclaimed Merl, aloud.

"Whisht! whisht! speak lower," said Brierley; "there's maybe a chap listening at the door this minute!"

Accepting the intimation in a very different spirit from that in which it was offered, Merl rushed to the door, and threw it wide open.

"Waiter!--landlord!--house!--waiter!" screamed he, at the top of his voice. And in an instant three or four slovenly-looking fellows, with dirty napkins in dirtier hands, surrounded him.

"What is it, your honer?--what is it?" asked they, in a breath.

"Don't you hear what the gentleman's asking for?" said Brierley, with a half-serious face. "He wants a chaise-to the door as quick as lightning.

He 's off this minute."

"Yes, by Jupiter! that I am," said Merl, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.

"Take your last look at the West, dear, as you pa.s.s the Shannon, for I don't think you 'll ever come so far again," said Brierley, with a grin, as he moved by him to descend the stairs.

"If I do, may--" But the slam of his room-door, and the rattle of the key as he locked it, cut short Mr. Merl's denunciation.

In less than half an hour afterwards a yellow post-chaise left the "Martin Arms" at full speed, a wild yell of insult and derision greeting it as it swept by, showing how the Oughterard public appreciated its inmate!

CHAPTER XX. SOMETHING NOT EXACTLY FLIRTATION.

Most travelled reader, have you ever stood upon the plateau at the foot of the Alten-Schloss in Baden, just before sunset, and seen the golden glory spread out like a sheen over the vast plain beneath you, with waving forests, the meandering Rhine, and the blue Vosges mountains beyond all? It is a n.o.ble landscape, where every feature is bold, and throughout which light and shade alternate in broad, effective ma.s.ses, showing that you are gazing on a scene of great extent, and taking in miles of country with your eye. It is essentially German, too, in its characteristics. The swelling undulations of the soil, the deep, dark forests, the picturesque homesteads, with shadowy eaves and carved quaint balconies, the great gigantic wagons slowly toiling through the narrow lanes, over which the "Lindens" spread a leafy canopy,--all are of the Vaterland.

Some fancied resemblance--it was in reality no more--to a view from a window at Cro' Martin had especially endeared this spot to Martin, who regularly was carried up each evening to pa.s.s an hour or so, dreaming away in that half-unconsciousness to which his malady had reduced him.

There he sat, scarcely a remnant of his former self, a leaden dulness in his eye, and a ma.s.sive immobility in the features which once were plastic with every pa.s.sing mood that stirred him. The clasped hands and slightly bent-down head gave a character of patient, unresisting meaning to his figure, which the few words he dropped from time to time seemed to confirm.

At a little distance off, and on the very verge of the cliff, Kate Henderson was seated sketching; and behind her, occasionally turning to walk up and down the terraced s.p.a.ce, was Ma.s.singbred, once more in full health, and bearing in appearance the signs of his old, impatient humor.

Throwing away his half-smoked cigar, and with a face whose expression betokened the very opposite of all calm and ease of mind, he drew nigh to where she sat, and watched her over her shoulder. For a while she worked away without noticing his presence. At last she turned slightly about, and looking up at him, said, "You see, it's very nearly finished."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 232]

"Well, and what then?" asked he, bluntly.

"Do you forget that I gave you until that time to change your opinion?

that when I was shadowing in this foreground I said, 'Wait 'till I have done this sketch, and see if you be of the same mind,' and you agreed?"

"This might be very pleasant trifling if nothing were at stake, Miss Henderson," said he; "but remember that I cannot hold all my worldly chances as cheaply as _you_ seem to do them."

"Light another cigar, and sit down here beside me,--I don't dislike smoke, and it may, perchance, be a peace calumet between us; and let us talk, if possible, reasonably and calmly."

He obeyed like one who seemed to feel that her word was a command, and sat down on the cliff at her side.

"There, now," said she, "be useful; hold that color-case for me, and give me your most critical counsel. Do you like my sketch?"

"Very much indeed."

"Where do you find fault with it? There must be a fault, or your criticism is worth nothing."

"Its greatest blemish in my eyes is the time it has occupied you. Since you began it you have very rarely condescended to speak of anything else."

"A most unjust speech, and an ungrateful one. It was when throwing in those trees yonder, I persuaded you to recall your farewell address to your borough friends; it was the same day that I sketched that figure there, that I showed you the great mistake of your present life. There is no greater error, believe me, than supposing that a Parliamentary success, like a social one, can be achieved by mere brilliancy. Party is an army, and you must serve in the ranks before you can wear your epaulets."

"I have told you already,--I tell you again,--I 'm tired of the theme that has myself alone for its object."

"Of whom would you speak, then?" said she, still intently busied with her drawing.

"You ask me when you know well of whom," said he, hurriedly. "Nay, no menaces; I could not if I would be silent. It is impossible for me any longer to continue this struggle with myself. Here now, before I leave this spot, you shall answer me--" He stopped suddenly, as though he had said more than he intended, or more than he well knew how to continue.

"Go on," said she, calmly. And her fingers never trembled as they held the brush.

"I confess I do envy that tranquil spirit of yours," said he, bitterly.

"It is such a triumph to be calm, cold, and impa.s.sive at a moment when others feel their reason tottering and their brain a chaos."

"There is nothing so easy, sir," said she, proudly. "All that I can boast of is not to have indulged in illusions which seem to have a charm for _you_. You say you want explicit-ness. You shall have it. There was one condition on which I offered you my friendship and my advice. You accepted the bargain, and we were friends. After a while you came and said that you rued your compact; that you discovered your feelings for me went further; that mere friendship, as you phrased it, would not suffice--"

"I told you, rather," broke he in, "that I wished to put that feeling to the last test, by linking your fortune with my own forever."

"Very well, I accept that version. You offered to make me your wife, and in return, I asked you to retract your words,--to suffer our relations to continue on their old footing, nor subject me to the necessity of an explanation painful to both of us. For a while you consented; now you seem impatient at your concession, and ask me to resume the subject. Be it so, but for the last time."

Ma.s.singbred's cheeks grew deadly pale, but he never uttered a word.

After a second's pause, she resumed: "Your affections are less engaged in this case than you think. You would make me your wife just as you would do anything else that gave a bold defiance to the world, to show a consciousness of your own power, to break down any obstacle, and make the prejudices or opinions of society give way before you. You have energy and self-esteem enough to make this succeed. Your wife--albeit the steward's daughter--the governess! would be received, invited, visited, and the rest of it; and so far as _you_ were concerned the triumph would be complete. Now, however, turn a little attention to the other side of the medal. What is to requite _me_ for all this courtesy on sufferance, all this mockery of consideration? Where am I to find my friendships, where even discover my duties? You only know of one kind of pride, that of station and social eminence. I can tell you there is another, loftier far,--the consciousness that no inequality of position can obliterate, what I feel and know in myself of superiority to those fine ladies whose favorable notice you would entreat for me. Smile at the vanity of this declaration if you like, sir, but, at least, own that I am consistent; for I am prouder in the independence of my present dependence than I should be in all the state of Mr. Ma.s.singbred's wife.

You can see, therefore, that I could not accept this change as the great elevation you would deem it. You would be stooping to raise one who could never persuade herself that she was exalted. I am well aware that inequality of one sort or another is the condition of most marriages.

The rank of one compensates for the wealth of the other. Here it is affluence and age, there it is beauty and poverty. People treat the question in a good commercial spirit, and balance the profit and loss like tradesfolk; but even in this sense our compact would be impossible, since _you_ would endow me with what has no value in my eyes, and _I_, worse off still, have absolutely nothing to give in return."

"Give me your love, dearest Kate," cried he, "and, supported by that, you shall see that I deserve it. Believe me, it is your own proud spirit that exaggerates the difficulties that would await us in society."

"I should scorn myself if I thought of them," broke she in, haughtily; "and remember, sir, these are not the words of one who speaks in ignorance. I, too, have seen that great world, on which your affections are so fixed. I have mixed with it, and know it. Notwithstanding all the cant of moralists, I do not believe it to be more hollow or more heartless than other cla.s.ses. Its great besetting sin is not of self-growth, for it comes of the slavish adulation offered by those beneath it,--the grovelling worship of the would-be fine folk, who would leave friends and home and hearth to be admitted even to the antechambers of the great. They who offer up this incense are in my eyes far more despicable than they who accept the sacrifice; but I would not cast my lot with either. Do not smile, sir, as if these were high-flown sentiments; they are the veriest commonplaces of one who loves commonplace, who neither seeks affections with coronets nor friendships in gold coaches, but who would still less be of that herd--mute, astonished, and awe-struck--who worship them!"

"You deem me, then, deficient in this same independence of spirit?"

cried Ma.s.singbred, half indignantly.