Part 79 (1/2)
She never stirred nor raised her head, till, by a rustling sound of the branches at the window, she was startled, and looked up. It was O'Rorke, who was leaning on the sill of the window, and looking in.
”Would you give me a sc.r.a.p of something you were wearing--a bit of ribbon, or the like, I know you're not fond of cutting off your hair--to give the old man? He'd rather have it than a crown jewel----”
”Take this!” cried she, s.n.a.t.c.hing up a scissors, and cutting off the long and silky lock that fell in a curl upon her neck; and, turning to the table, she folded it neatly in a piece of paper. She took up her pen, too, but the thought that he could not read deterred her; for what she would have written she could not bear that other eyes than his own should trace, and she sat thinking for some minutes, when suddenly, through what train of thought impelled it is not easy to say, she cried out, ”Yes, I will do it! Come back--wait a moment--or, better still, leave me to myself an instant, and I shall be ready.”
He left the window, and she sat down at the table. Without a moment's hesitation or reflection she wrote thus:
”St. Finbar's, Arran.
”Sir,--I make no attempt to deprecate your anger, or palliate the wrong I have done you. My offence is one that only a free pardon could coyer, and I do not dare to entreat for this. It is for something more, and less than forgiveness, I have now to ask you.
”My grandfather, a man of eighty, is in gaol, about to be tried on a charge of felony; he declares his innocence, but, having no means to pay counsel, despairs of establis.h.i.+ng the fact. My uncle cannot help him; will you?
”When I think of the time that I had not to speak a wish till I saw it gratified, I sicken over the ingrat.i.tude which drives me to approach you as a suppliant, while I promise never again to address you.
”The bearer of the present note will take charge of your answer, should you deign to reply to your unhappy, because unworthy,
”Kate Luttrell.”
”Are you ready with the letter?” asked O'Rorke, as he leaned his arms on the window-sill and looked into the room.
”Yes,” said she, folding and addressing it. ”You will set out immediately, and deliver this into the hands of Sir Within Wardle, at Dalradern Castle. It is about fourteen miles from Wrexham. Mind!
into his own hands, for I am not sure how or by whom he may now be surrounded. As little can I guess what sort of a reply he may give; he may reject my entreaty; he may even refuse to answer it. He would have every right to do either. Let it be your care to note him closely as he reads my letter, and mark what effect it produces. I shall question you, when you come back, on the minutest details of your meeting--of all that he says, of his manner, of his looks; whether he speaks of me, and how.
You know well, few better, how to acquit yourself in such a scene, and be sure that you address your sharpest wits to it. If he be ill and cannot write, tell him that he may trust you with a verbal answer. _I_ have not said so in my note, but _you_ may, and he will believe you; he reads men quickly, and he will see that you are in my confidence. If he asks you about me and my life here, answer freely whatever your own judgment prompts; he may question you about the place I live in, tell him what it is like.”
”Don't give me any more directions, if you don't want me to forget some of them; only tell me one thing. If he asks me as to what amount might be required for the defence, am I to say the highest figure or the lowest?”
”You are to adhere to the strict truth, O'Rorke, and for this reason, if for no other, that you will be in the presence of a man well accustomed to deal with craftier men than yourself, and that all your attempts at deception would go for nothing.”
”And if he says, 'Why don't Mr. Luttrell come forward to help one of his own near relations?'”
”He will not ask this.”
”And why wouldn't he?”
”Because he is a gentleman, Sir.”
”Oh, that's the reason,” said O'Rorke, sneeringly. ”Well, I think by this time I know as much about him as I am likely to do till I see him, so I'll be going.”
”Have you any money for this journey?”
”Of course I haven't. I suppose I'll need five pounds to come and go.”
”Take ten,” said she, pus.h.i.+ng the notes towards him. ”I will try and settle matters with my uncle later.”
”By St. Peter! you ought to have been born a lady with a fine estate,”
cried he, rapturously. ”You have a grand way of doing things, anyhow!”