Part 57 (2/2)
”Agreed,” replied I; ”only let me say half a dozen words to my mother; ”and, rus.h.i.+ng upstairs, I dashed into her room, told her the whole matter on the spot, incoherently, and without the slightest preparation, whereby I set her crying violently, to make up for which I kissed her abruptly (getting very wet in so doing), pulled down the bell-rope in obedience to the dictates of a sudden inspiration that she would be the better for a maid-servant, and left her in one of the most fearful states of confusion on record, flurried into a condition of nerves which set camphor-julep completely at defiance, and rendered trust in sal-volatile a very high act of faith indeed.
While Oaklands and I were walking up to the Hall, we overtook Coleman returning from shooting wild-fowl. As we came up with him, Oaklands seized him by the shoulder, exclaiming:--
”Well, Freddy, what sport, eh?”
”My dear Oaklands,” returned he gravely, removing Harry's hand as he spoke, ”that is a very bad habit of yours, and one which I advise you to get rid of as soon as possible; n.o.body who had ever endured one of your friendly gripes could say with truth that you hadn't _a vice_ about you.”
”For which vile pun it would serve you right to repeat the dose,”
replied Oaklands, ”only that I am not in a vindictive mood at present.”
”Then you must have pa.s.sed the afternoon in some -381-- very mollifying atmosphere,” returned Freddy, ”for when I met you three hours ago, you seemed as if you could have cut anybody's throat with the greatest satisfaction.”
The conscious half-cough, half-laugh, with which Oaklands acknowledged this sally, attracted Coleman's attention, and mimicking the sound, he continued, ”A--ha--hem! and what may that mean? I say, there's some mystery going on here from which I'm excluded--that's not fair, though, you know. Come, be a little more transparent; give me a peep into the hidden recesses of your magnanimous mind; unclasp the richly bound volume of your secret soul; elevate me to the alt.i.tude of the Indian herb, or, in plain slang--Young England's chosen dialect--make me 'up to snuff'.”
”May I enlighten him?” asked I.
”Yes, to be sure,” replied Oaklands; ”I'll go on, for I am anxious to speak to my father. Freddy, old boy! shake hands; I'm the happiest fellow in existence!” so saying, he seized and wrung Coleman's hand with a heartiness which elicited sundry grotesque contortions, indicative of agony, from that individual, and, bounding forward, was soon lost to sight in the deepening twilight.
”And so, you see,” continued I, after having imparted to Coleman as much as I considered necessary of the state of affairs, a confidence which he received with mingled exclamations of surprise and delight--”and so, you see, we've not only got to tell Lawless that he is refused, poor fellow I but that f.a.n.n.y has accepted Oaklands; very awkward, isn't it?”
”It would be with anybody else,” replied Coleman; ”but I think there are ways and means of managing the thing which will prevent any very desperate consequences in the present instance; sundry ideas occur to me; would you mind my being in the room when you tell him?”
”As far as I am concerned, I should be only too glad to have you,”
returned I, ”if you do not think it would annoy him.”
”I'm not afraid of that,” was the rejoinder; ”as I wrote the offer for him, it strikes me I'm the very person he ought to select for his confidant.”
”Do you think,” he added, after a moment's thought, ”Harry would sell those phaeton horses?”
”That's the line of argument you intend to bring forward by way of consolation, is it? Well, it is not such a bad notion,” replied I; ”but don't be too sure of success, '_Equo ne credite Tueri_': I doubt its being in the power -382-- of horse-flesh to carry such a weight of disappointment as I fear this news will occasion him.”
”Well, I've other schemes to fall back upon if this should fail,”
returned Freddy; ”and now let us get on, for the sooner we put him out of his misery the better.”
”Where's the master?” inquired I, encountering Shrimp as we crossed the hall.
”He's upstairs, sir; in his own room, sir; a-going it like bricks, if you please, sir; you can hear him down here, Gents.”
”Stop a minute--listen!” said Coleman; ”I can hear him now.”
As he spoke, the sound of some one running quickly in the room overhead was distinctly audible; then came a scuffling noise, and then a heavyish fall.
”What's he doing?” asked Coleman.
”He's a-trainin' of hisself for some match as must be a-coming off, sir; leastways so I take it; he's been a-going on like that for the last hour and a quarter, and wery well he's lasted out, I say; he'll be safe to win, don't you think, Gents?”
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