Volume Ii Part 22 (1/2)
Scarcely had Stapylton gained the road when he was joined by McCormick.
”Faith, you didn't get the best of that brush, anyhow,” said he, with a grin.
”What do you mean, sir?” replied Stapylton, savagely.
”I mean that I heard every word that pa.s.sed between you, and I would n't have been standing in your shoes for a fifty-pound note.”
”How is your rheumatism this morning?” asked Stapylton, blandly.
”Pretty much as it always is,” croaked out the other.
”Be thankful to it, then; for if you were not a cripple, I 'd throw you into that river as sure as I stand here to say it.”
Major McCormick did not wait for a less merciful moment, but hobbled away from the spot with all the speed he could muster.
CHAPTER XIV. STORMS
When Stapylton stepped out of his boat and landed at ”The Home,” the first person he saw was certainly the last in his wishes. It was Miss Dinah who stood at the jetty, as though awaiting him. Scarcely deigning to notice, beyond a faint smile of acquiescence, the somewhat bungling explanation he gave of his absence, she asked if he had met her brother.
”No,” said he. ”I left the village a couple of hours ago; rather loitering, as I came along, to enjoy the river scenery.”
”He took the road, and in this way missed you,” said she, dryly.
”How unfortunate!--for me, I mean, of course. I own to you, Miss Barrington, wide as the difference between our ages, I never yet met any one so thoroughly companionable to me as your brother. To meet a man so consummately acquainted with the world, and yet not soured by his knowledge; to see the ripe wisdom of age blended with the generous warmth of youth; to find one whose experiences only make him more patient, more forgiving, more trustful--”
”Too trustful, Major Stapylton, far too trustful.” And her bold gray eyes were turned upon him as she spoke, with a significance that could not be mistaken.
”It is a n.o.ble feeling, madam,” said he, haughtily.
”It is a great misfortune to its possessor, sir.”
”Can we deem that misfortune, Miss Barrington, which enlarges the charity of our natures, and teaches us to be slow to think ill?”
Not paying the slightest attention to his question, she said,--
”My brother went in search of you, sir, to place in your hands some very urgent letters from the Horse Guards, and which a special messenger brought here this morning.”
”Truly kind of him. They relate, I have no doubt, to my Indian appointment. They told me I should have news by to-day or to-morrow.”
”He received a letter also for himself, sir, which he desired to show you.”
”About his lawsuit, of course? It is alike a pleasure and a duty to me to serve him in that affair.”
”It more nearly concerns yourself, sir,” said she, in the same cold, stern tone; ”though it has certainly its bearing on the case you speak of.”
”More nearly concerns myself!” said he, repeating her words slowly. ”I am about the worst guesser of a riddle in the world, Miss Barrington.
Would you kindly relieve my curiosity? Is this letter a continuation of those cowardly attacks which, in the want of a worthier theme, the Press have amused themselves by making upon me? Is it possible that some enemy has had the malice to attack me through my friends?”
”The writer of the letter in question is a sufficient guarantee for its honor, Mr. Withering.”
”Mr. Withering!” repeated he, with a start, and then, as suddenly a.s.suming an easy smile, added: ”I am perfectly tranquil to find myself in such hands as Mr. Withering's. And what, pray, does _he_ say of me?”