Part 30 (1/2)
”Ah! at any cost! indeed, he had the cruelty to say to myself, 'If the boat goes over, mind that you keep up,'to windward, or to leeward, or somewhere, I don't know where, for I was well aware that it was down I should go. 'You can swim,' said he, 'I suppose?' 'Not a stroke,' said I. 'It don't matter,' said he, 'you can grip on all the same.' Yes, Sir, that was his unfeeling remark. 'You can grip on all the same.'”
”But he declared that the boy he _would_ save!” cried Luttrell, with a scornful toss of his head at the other's prolixity.
”That he did; I am willing to make oath of it, let the consequences be what they may to him.”
”He never told _me_ of that,” said Luttrell, thoughtfully.
”I should think not, Sir; it's not very likely that a man will parade his own inhumanity, and declare how he risked five valuable lives to save a few savage creatures, who might as well be drowned at sea as die of starvation on sh.o.r.e.”
”You are severe, Sir. You judge us somewhat hardly. With all our barbarism, we have our uses, and, more too, we have ties and affections pretty much like our betters.” Though there was far more sadness than sarcasm in the way Luttrell said these words, Mr. M'Kinlay winced under the reproof they conveyed, and hastily blurted out his excuses.
”You cannot suppose I could have meant to include you, Sir. You couldn't imagine that in speaking of these poor ignorant creatures, I had the slightest intention----”
”I never suspect an insult where it is possible to believe such was not intended, Sir,” said Luttrell, haughtily. ”But I don't think that we are here now to discuss the fishermen of Arran, or their claim to be deemed civilised.”
”You are right--you are quite right, Mr. Luttrell. I ask pardon for all this digression, the more since it was entirely personal; but a man's first s.h.i.+pwreck takes a wonderful hold on his imagination;” and the lawyer laughed with one of those practised laughs, which, by setting others off, frequently cut short an unpleasant discussion. Luttrell was, however, impa.s.sive in his gravity; if anything, he looked more stern than before. ”I have come here,” resumed M'Kinlay, ”at the request of my friend and client, Sir Gervais Vyner. This letter is my introduction to you.”
Luttrell took it, read the address, turned it round, and looked at the seal, and then laid it down upon the table. He heaved a long sigh, too, but it was a sigh of relief, for he had had sore misgivings as to M'Kinlay's visit, and visions of law and its dire consequences in various ways had been flitting before his eyes.
”I opine that the letter will explain the object of my coming here more briefly than I could.”
”Do me the favour to tell it in words, Sir,” said Luttrell, coldly; and the other bowed and began.
Our reader may not be as patient a listener as was Luttrell, nor, indeed, need he hear Mr. M'Kinlay's account of a mission with which he is already familiar; enough, then, if we say that he was listened to for above an hour in perfect silence, not one word of remark, not a question, not even a gesture interrupted the flow of the narrative, and although at some moments the lawyer grew pathetic over peasant hards.h.i.+ps and privations, and at others was jocose over their drolleries, Luttrell neither vouchsafed any show of sentiment or of mirth, but heard him throughout, as might the Chancellor have heard a pleading in Equity.
Vyner had cautioned M'Kinlay not to divulge the name of the girl in whose behalf Luttrell was entreated to act, until he had given some pledge of his willingness to accept the trust. He knew well the proud susceptibility of the man, and how instantaneously he would reject what savoured of an advantage to those connected with him, not to speak of the additional pain he would feel in knowing that these peasants had been paraded as his near relatives, and so Vyner had said, ”Keep the name of the girl in the background, and even when asked for it, do not appear aware of her being his connexion. Leave it entirely to him to avow it or not, as he pleases. Remember,” said he, as he parted with him, ”you will have to treat with not only a very acute, ready-witted man, but one of the most sensitive and easily irritated temperaments in the universe.”
In fact, so profuse had Vyner been of his directions, his counsels, and his warnings, that he frightened M'Kinlay considerably, impressing him with a very wholesome fear of the man he was to deal with. ”I'll let him pick out the facts from the brief itself,” thought he, as he handed the letter. ”I'll not open the case by a speech.” This clever tactic was, however, routed at once by Luttrell, as he said, ”Let me hear the statement from yourself, Sir. I will give it all my attention.”
Thus called upon, he spoke, and, apart from those little digressionary excursions into the pathetic and the humorous, he spoke well. He owned, that though Vyner's desire to be an Irish proprietor met a certain encouragement from himself, that he looked with little favour on the other project, and less even of hope.
Indeed, of this plan, not being a father himself, he spoke less confidently. ”But, after all,” said he, smiling, ”they are one and the other but a rich man's fancy. He can afford an unprofitable investment, and a somewhat costly experiment.”
In all he said, Mr. M'Kinlay took pains to show that Sir Gervais was acting under his own judgment; that he, M'Kinlay, was a cool, calm, long-headed man of the world, and only looked on these matters as a case he ”was to carry,” not criticise; a question he was to consign to parchment, and not ratify by an opinion.
Perhaps, he was a little prolix in his excuses and exculpation, dwelling somewhat needlessly on the guarded prudence he had himself maintained throughout the affair, for Luttrell at last said, and rather abruptly, ”Come to _me_ now, Sir. Let me hear what part is a.s.signed to me in these matters, for a.s.suredly I cannot guess it.”
”My friend and client wishes you to be a trustee in this case; that you will act for the young girl on whom he purposes to make the settlement, and, in fact, consent to a sort of guardians.h.i.+p with respect to her.”
Luttrell gave a smile--it was a smile of much meaning, and full of inexpressible sadness. ”What a strange choice to have made,” said he, mournfully. ”When a captain loses a frigate, the Admiralty are usually slow to give him another; at all events, they don't pa.s.s over scores of able and fortunate officers to fix upon this one unlucky fellow, to entrust him with a new s.h.i.+p. Now this is precisely what your friend would do. With a large and wide acquaintance, surrounded with friends, as few men are, esteemed and loved by many, he goes out of his way to seek for one whose very name carries disaster with it. If, instead of conferring a benefit upon this poor child, he owed her a deep grudge, then, and then only, I could understand his choice of me! Do you know, Sir,” and here his voice became loud and full and ringing--”do you know, Sir, it would be difficult to find a man who has acc.u.mulated more failures on his head than he who now stands before you, and these not from what we usually call fate, or bad luck, or misfortune, but simply and purely from an intractable temper, a nature that refused to be taught by its own hard experiences, and a certain stubborn spirit that ever took more pleasure in breasting the flood, than others took in swimming with the full tide of fortune. It takes very little knowledge of life to teach a man one lesson--which is, to avoid such men as me!
They whose qualities ensure failure are truly 'unlucky! Tell Sir Gervais Vyner it is not out of apathy or indolence that I refuse him, it is simply because, when he makes _me_ the partner of his enterprise, it ensures disaster for it.”
Mr. M'Kinlay replied to this pa.s.sionate outburst as lamely as men usually do to such like appeals; that is, he strung plat.i.tudes and common-places together, which, happily for him, the other never deigned to pay the slightest attention to.
One only observation did reach Luttrell's ears. It was a remark to which the speaker imparted little force; for when he made it, he had come to the end of his persuasive resources, and was in the position of those gunners who, when their ammunition is expended, charge the piece with the nearest rubbish they can lay hands upon. The remark was to this purpose: that, simple as the act seems, the choice of a trustee is one of the most puzzling things in the world, and nothing is often more embarra.s.sing than being refused by one upon whom, without ever directly asking, we have confidently counted for that office.
Luttrell started; he suddenly bethought him of Harry. What would be more forlorn or friendless in the world than that poor boy's lot, if he were left fatherless? Except Vyner, was there one he could ask to befriend him? Indeed, whenever the contingency crossed his mind, and the thought of death presented itself full before him, he at once reverted to the hope that Vyner would not refuse this his last request. If, however, by declining what was now asked of him any coldness or estrangement ensued, he could not, of course, make this demand. ”I shall have forfeited all my claim upon him,” said he to himself, ”if I deny him this small service, and perhaps he will not understand, and, at all events, not give any weight to the scruples I have detailed. He may say these are but the gloomy fancies of a solitary, cheerless life.”--”Yes,” said he, on the closing a discussion with himself and now speaking the result aloud--”Yes. It shall be a bargain between us. Let Vyner be the guardian of my boy, and I will accept this charge; and, to show what confidence I place in his generosity, I shall accede at once; and when you get back to England, you will tell him the compact I have made with him.”
”I do not feel myself in a position, Mr. Luttrell, to make a formal pledge on the part of Sir Gervais Vyner,” began M'Kinlay----
”I shall not ask you, Sir,” broke in Luttrell, proudly; ”we have been friends some five-and-twenty years, without any a.s.sistance from lawyers, and it is possible we may continue the attachment without their aid.