Volume I Part 30 (1/2)

”The project has done this for him, at least,” said she, firmly,--”it has given him hope!”

”How I like to hear about hope!” said he, with a peculiarly sarcastic bitterness. ”I never knew a fellow worth sixpence that had that cant of 'hope' in his mouth! How much hope had I when I began the world! How much have I now?”

”Don't you hope Captain Stapylton may not have forgotten his appointment, papa?” said she, with a quick drollery, which sparkled in her eye, but brought no smile to her lips.

”Well, here he is at last,” said Dill, as he heard the sharp click made by the wicket of the little garden; and he started up, and rushed to the window. ”May I never!” cried he, in horror, ”if it isn't M'Cormick! Say we're out,--that I'm at Graigue,--that I won't be home till evening!”

But while he was multiplying these excuses, the old Major had caught sight of him, and was waving his hand in salutation from below.

”It's too late,--it's too late!” sighed Dill, bitterly; ”he sees me now,--there's no help for it!”

What benevolent and benedictory expressions were muttered below his breath, it is not for this history to record; but so vexed and irritated was he, that the Major had already entered the room ere he could compose his features into even a faint show of welcome.

”I was down at the Dispensary,” croaked out M'Cormick, ”and they told me you were not expected there to-day, and so I said, maybe he's ill, or maybe,”--and here he looked shrewdly around him,--”maybe there 's something going on up at the house.”

”What should there be going on, as you call it?” responded Dill, angrily, for he was now at home, in presence of the family, and could not compound for that tone of servile acquiescence he employed on foreign service.

”And, faix, I believe I was right; Miss Polly isn't so smart this morning for nothing, no more than the saving cover is off the sofa, and the piece of gauze taken down from before the looking-gla.s.s, and the 'Times' newspaper away from the rug!”

”Are there any other domestic changes you 'd like to remark upon, Major M'Cormick?” said Dill, pale with rage.

”Indeed, yes,” rejoined the other; ”there 's yourself, in the elegant black coat that I never saw since Lord Kilraney's funeral, and looking pretty much as lively and pleasant as you did at the ceremony.”

”A gentleman has made an appointment with papa,” broke in Polly, ”and may be here at any moment.”

”I know who it is,” said M'Cormick, with a finger on the side of his nose to imply intense cunning. ”I know all about it.”

”What do you know?--what do you mean by all about it?” said Dill, with an eagerness he could not repress.

”Just as much as yourselves,--there now! Just as much as yourselves!”

said he, sententiously.

”But apparently, Major, you know far more,” said Polly.

”Maybe I do, maybe I don't; but I 'll tell you one thing, Dill, for your edification, and mind me if I 'm not right: you 're all mistaken about him, every one of ye!”

”Whom are you talking of?” asked the doctor, sternly.

”Just the very man you mean yourself, and no other! Oh, you need n't fuss and fume, I don't want to pry into your family secrets. Not that they 'll be such secrets tomorrow or next day,--the whole town will be talking of them,--but as an old friend that could, maybe, give a word of advice--”

”Advice about what? Will you just tell me about what?” cried Dill, now bursting with anger.

”I 've done now. Not another word pa.s.ses my lips about it from this minute. Follow your own road, and see where it will lead ye?”

”Cannot you understand, Major M'Cormick, that we are totally unable to guess what you allude to? Neither papa nor I have the very faintest clew to your meaning, and if you really desire to serve us, you will speak out plainly.”

”Not another syllable, if I sat here for two years!”

The possibility of such an infliction seemed so terrible to poor Polly that she actually shuddered as she heard it.

”Is n't that your mother I see sitting up there, with all the fine ribbons in her cap?” whispered M'Cormick, as he pointed to a small room which opened off an angle of the larger one. ”That 's 'the boodoo,' is n't it?” said he, with a grin. This, I must inform my reader, was the M'Cormick for ”boudoir.” ”Well, I'll go and pay my respects to her.”