Part 5 (1/2)
”There's Mr. Craggs, now, my lord,” said the old butler, as he looked out of the window, and eagerly seized the opportunity to interrupt the scene; ”there he is, and a gentleman with him.”
”Ha! go and meet him, Charles,--it's Harcourt. Go and receive him, show him his room, and then bring him here to me.”
The boy heard without a word, and left the room with the same slow step and the same look of apathy. Just as he reached the hall the stranger was entering it. He was a tall, well-built man, with the mingled ease and stiffness of a soldier in his bearing; his face was handsome, but somewhat stern, and his voice had that tone which implies the long habit of command.
”You're a Ma.s.sy, that I'll swear to,” said he, frankly, as he shook the boy's hand; ”the family face in every lineament. And how is your father?”
”Better; he has had a severe illness.”
”So his letter told me. I was up the Rhine when I received it, and started at once for Ireland.”
”He has been very impatient for your coming,” said the boy; ”he has talked of nothing else.”
”Ay, we are old friends. Glencore and I have been schoolfellows, chums at college, and messmates in the same regiment,” said he, with a slight touch of sorrow in his tone. ”Will he be able to see me now? Is he confined to bed?”
”No, he will dine with you. I 'm to show you your room, and then bring you to him.”
”That 's better news than I hoped for, boy. By the way, what's your name?”
”Charles Conyngham.”
”To be sure, Charles; how could I have forgotten it! So, Charles, this is to be my quarters; and a glorious view there is from this window.
What's the mountain yonder?”
”Ben Creggan.”
”We must climb that summit some of these days, Charley. I hope you 're a good walker. You shall be my guide through this wild region here, for I have a pa.s.sion for explorings.”
And he talked away rapidly, while he made a brief toilet, and refreshed himself from the fatigues of the road.
”Now, Charley, I am at your orders; let us descend to the drawing-room.”
”You 'll find my father there,” said the boy, as he stopped short at the door; and Harcourt, staring at him for a second or two in silence, turned the handle and entered.
Lord Glencore never turned his head as the other drew nigh, but sat with his forehead resting on the table, extending his hand only in welcome.
”My poor fellow!” said Harcourt, grasping the thin and wasted fingers,--”my poor fellow, how glad I am to be with you again!” And he seated himself at his side as he spoke. ”You had a relapse after you wrote to me?”
Glencore slowly raised his head, and, pus.h.i.+ng back a small velvet skull-cap that he wore, said,--
”You 'd not have known me, George. Eh? see how gray I am! I saw myself in the gla.s.s to-day for the first time, and I really could n't believe my eyes.”
”In another week the change will be just as great the other way. It was some kind of a fever, was it not?”
”I believe so,” said the other, sighing.
”And they bled you and blistered you, of course. These fellows are like the farriers--they have but the one system for everything. Who was your torturer; where did you get him from?”
”A pract.i.tioner of the neighborhood, the wild growth of the mountain,”
said Glencore, with a sickly smile; ”but I must n't be ungrateful; he saved my life, if that be a cause for grat.i.tude.”