Volume Ii Part 23 (1/2)
Very differently from his former speech did the present affect her; and her cheeks glowed and her eyes flashed as she said, ”I have never intrusted my fate to your keeping, sir; and you may spare yourself all anxiety about it.”
”You mistake me. You wrong me, Josephine--”
”You wrong yourself when you call me by my Christian name; and you arm me with distrust of one who would presume upon an interest he has not created.”
”You refuse me, then?” said he, slowly and calmly.
”Once, and forever!”
”It may be that you are mistaken, Miss Barrington. It may be that this other affection, which you prefer to mine, is but the sickly sentiment of a foolish boy, whose life up to this has not given one single guarantee, nor shown one single trait of those which make 'true and gallant gentlemen.' But you have made your choice.”
”I have,” said she, with a low but firm voice.
”You acknowledge, then, that I was right,” cried he, suddenly; ”there is a prior attachment? Your heart is not your own to give?”
”And by what right do you presume to question me? Who are you, that dares to do this?”
”Who am I?” cried he, and for once his voice rose to the discordant ring of pa.s.sion.
”Yes, that was my question,” repeated she, firmly.
”So, then, you have had your lesson, young lady,” said he; and the words came from him with a hissing sound, that indicated intense anger. ”Who am I? You want my birth, my parentage, my bringing up! Had you no friend who could have asked this in your stead? Or were all those around you so bereft of courage that they deputed to a young girl what should have been the office of a man?”
Though the savage earnestness of his manner startled, it did not affright her; and it was with a cold quietness she said, ”If you had known my father, Major Stapylton, I suspect you would not have accused his daughter of cowardice!”
”Was he so very terrible?” said he, with a smile that was half a sneer.
”He would have been, to a man like you.”
”To a man like me,--a man like me! Do you know, young lady, that either your words are very idle words or very offensive ones?”
”And yet I have no wish to recall them, sir.”
”It would be better you could find some one to sustain them.
Unfortunately, however, you cannot ask that gallant gentleman we were just talking of; for it is only the other day, and after pa.s.sing over to Calais to meet me, his friends pretend that there is some obstacle to our meeting. I owe my tailor or my bootmaker something; or I have not paid my subscription to a club; or I have left an unsettled bill ar Baden. I really forget the precise pretext; but it was one which to them seemed quite sufficient to balk me of a redress, and at the same time to shelter their friend.”
”I will not believe one word of it, sir!”
”Well, we have at least arrived at a perfect frankness in our intercourse. May I ask you, young lady, which of your relatives has suggested your present course! Is it to your aunt or to your grandfather I must go for an explanation?”
”I suspect it is to me, Major Stapylton,” said Barrington, as he came from behind Josephine. ”It is to me you must address yourself. Fifine, my dear, your aunt is looking for you; go and tell her, too, that I am quite ready for tea, and you will find me here when it is ready. Major Stapylton and I will take a stroll along the river-side.” Now this last was less an invitation than a sort of significant hint to Stapylton that his host had no intention to ask him to cross his threshold, at least for the present; and, indeed, as Barrington pa.s.sed out and closed the wicket after him, he seemed as though closing the entrance forever.
With a manner far more a.s.sured thau his wont, Barrington said: ”I have been in pursuit of you, Major Stapylton, since four o'clock. I missed you by having taken the road instead of the river; and am much grieved that the communication I have to make you should not take place anywhere rather than near my roof or within my own gates.”
”I am to suppose from your words, sir, that what you are about to say can scarcely be said to a friend; and if so, cannot you hit upon a more convenient mode of making your communication?”
”I think not. I believe that I shall be dealing more fairly with you by saying what I have to say in person.”
”Go on,” said Stapylton, calmly, as the other paused.
”You are aware,” continued Barrington, ”that the chief obstacle to a settlement of the claims I have long preferred against the India Company has been a certain doc.u.ment which they possess, declaring that a large portion of the territory held by the Rajah of Luckerabad was not amenable to the laws that regulate succession, being what is called 'Lurkar-teea,'--conquered country,--over which, under no circ.u.mstances, could the Rajah exercise prospective rights. To this deed, for their better protection, the Company obtained the signature and seal of the Rajah himself, by means which, of course, we could never discover; but they held it, and always declared that no portion of my son's claim could extend to these lands. Now, as they denied that he could succeed to what are called the 'Turban lands,' meaning the right of sovereignty--being a British subject--on the one hand, and rejected his claim to these conquered countries on the other,--they excluded him altogether.”