Volume Ii Part 24 (1/2)

”I am glad to perceive that you understand me so readily,” said Stapylton, who could scarcely repress the joy he felt at the success of his diversion; ”and that nothing may mar our future understanding, this is my address in London, where I shall wait your orders for a week.”

Though the stroke was shrewdly intended, and meant to throw upon Barrington all the onus of the provocation, the Major little suspected that it was the one solitary subject of which his opponent was a master.

On the ”duello” Barrington was an authority beyond appeal, and no subtlety, however well contrived, could embarra.s.s or involve him.

”I have no satisfaction to claim at your hands, Major Stapylton,” said he, calmly. ”My friend, Mr. Withering, when he sent me these letters, knew you were my guest, and he said, 'Read them to Major Stapylton. Let him know what is said of him, and who says it.'”

”And, perhaps, you ought to add, sir, who gives it the sanction of his belief,” broke in Stapylton, angrily. ”You never took the trouble to recite these charges till they obtained your credence.”

”You have said nothing to disprove them,” said the old man, quickly.

”That is enough,--quite enough, sir; we understand each other perfectly.

You allege certain things against me as injuries done you, and you wait for _me_ to resent the imputation. I 'll not balk you, be a.s.sured of it.

The address I have given you in London will enable you to communicate with me when you arrive there; for I presume this matter had better be settled in France or Holland.”

”I think so,” said Barrington, with the air of a man thoroughly at his ease.

”I need not say, Mr. Barrington, the regret it gives me that it was not one of my detractors himself, and not their dupe, that should occupy this place.”

”The dupe, sir, is very much at your service.”

”Till we meet again,” said Stapylton, raising his hat as he turned away.

In his haste and the confusion of the moment, he took the path that led towards the cottage; nor did he discover his mistake till he heard Barrington's voice calling out to Darby,--

”Get the boat ready to take Major Stapylton to Inistioge.”

”You forget none of the precepts of hospitality,” said Stapylton, wheeling hastily around, and directing his steps towards the river.

Barrington looked after him as he went, and probably in his long and varied life, crossed with many a care and many troubles, he had never felt the pain of such severe self-reproach as in that moment. To see his guest, the man who had sat at his board and eaten his salt, going out into the dreary night without one hospitable effort to detain him, without a pledge to his health, without a warm shake of his hand, or one hearty wish for his return.

”Dear, dear!” muttered he, to himself, ”what is the world come to! I thought I had no more experiences to learn of suffering; but here is a new one. Who would have thought to see the day that Peter Barrington would treat his guest this fas.h.i.+on?”

”Are you coming in to tea, grandpapa?” cried Josephine, from the garden.

”Here I am, my dear!”

”And your guest, Peter, what has become of him?” said Dinah.

”He had some very urgent business at Kilkenny; something that could not admit of delay, I opine.”

”But you have not let him go without his letters, surely. Here are all these formidable-looking despatches, on his Majesty's service, on the chimney-piece.”

”How forgetful of me!” cried he, as, s.n.a.t.c.hing them up, he hastened down to the river-side. The boat, however, had just gone; and although he shouted and called at the top of his voice, no answer came, and he turned back at last, vexed and disappointed.

”I shall have to start for Dublin to-morrow, Dinah,” said he, as he walked thoughtfully up and down the room. ”I must have Withering's advice on these letters. There are very pressing matters to be thought of here, and I can take Major Stapylton's despatches with me. I am certain to hear of him somewhere.”

Miss Barrington turned her eyes full upon him, and watched him narrowly.

She was a keen detector of motives, and she scanned her brother's face with no common keenness, and yet she could see nothing beyond the preoccupation she had often seen. There was no impatience, no anxiety. A shade more thoughtful, perhaps, and even that pa.s.sed off, as he sat down to his tea, and asked Fifine what commissions she had for the capital.