Part 18 (1/2)
”Not I,” answered Yorke carelessly; ”the poor devil had luck on his wide, or doubled marvelously well on his pursuers, for I am told that not a trace of him nor of his confederate, the little fiddler, did our men find. It's well for them, as Sir Henry was much enraged and their shrift would have been short, I fear, had they been captured.”
”These rebels grow bolder than ever,” said Gulian, uttering a secret thanksgiving which spoke better for his kindness of heart than his loyalty to King and Crown; ”I marvel at their adroitness.”
”So do we all;--but, Verplanck, I came on a different errand to-day than politics. I came”--and Geoffrey hesitated, as a questioning look came on Gulian's face--”I came--I--In short, am I right in esteeming you for the present as brother and guardian to Mistress Betty Wolcott?”
”Aye; in her father's absence, of course, I stand in that relation toward her. Well, what of Betty?”
”Only this,” and rising, Yorke bowed in courtly fas.h.i.+on: ”I have the honor to ask your permission to pay my addresses to your sister, Mistress Betty.”
”To Betty?” was Gulian's astonished and delighted response. ”You surprise me. Your acquaintance is but recent, and, I think, somewhat formal?”
”Love is hardly a matter of time or formality,” returned Yorke, with a smile, as a remembrance of his first meeting with Betty occurred to him, ”and that I do truly and honestly love her you have my honorable a.s.surance. Do you give me your permission to proceed in the matter?”
”With all my heart,” said Gulian, this new aspect of things driving all unpleasantness connected with Betty from his head; ”but her father's consent is, I fear me, quite a different matter.”
”That is not for to-day,” cried the lover, as he shook Gulian's hand with almost boyish delight, ”and to-morrow may take care of itself if I can but gain Betty's ear.”
”But my consent and Clarissa's can be but conditional,” proceeded Gulian, his habitual caution returning to him. ”I am not sure that I should be altogether justified--Nay,” seeing Yorke's face cloud with keen disappointment, ”I will myself lay the matter before Betty, and endeavor to ascertain if she may be well disposed toward you.”
”Heaven forbid!” thought the impetuous lover. But he only said aloud, ”Thank you, Verplanck, I am delighted to receive your sanction. How are you spending the afternoon?”
”I have business at Breucklen Heights, but I shall be at home this evening, when I will approach Betty in the matter, and tell my wife of the honor you do us. For I have not forgotten my many visits to your father, Lord Herbert, at Yorke Towers, and the kindness extended me while in England. Indeed, Yorke, for my personal share in the matter, I know of no alliance which could gratify me more.”
This was unwonted warmth on Gulian's part, and Yorke, feeling it to be such, grasped his hand warmly at parting, as he flung himself in his saddle, and rode gayly up Maiden Lane.
But the ”best laid plans o' mice and men” often meet with unsuspected hindrances, as both Gulian and Yorke were destined to discover. What special imp prompted Betty to sally forth for a walk after dinner, thereby missing a call from Yorke (who came thus early to prevent Gulian's intended interview), it would be vain to speculate; but when the maid returned, feeling more like her old happy self than she had done in weeks, the irony of fate prompted an encounter with her brother-in-law at the library door.
”I have somewhat to say to you, Betty,” began Gulian, with an air of importance, which set Betty's nerves on edge at once. If there was one thing more than another that annoyed her it was Gulian's pompous manner.
”Will you come inside before going upstairs? I will not detain you long.”
Wondering what could have occurred to wipe out the displeasure with which he had dismissed her to bed the last time they met, Betty followed him, and throwing off her hood and cloak seated herself calmly as Gillian entered and closed the door with the solemnity he considered befitting the occasion.
”I had the unhappiness--the very great unhappiness,” he began, ”to feel much displeased with you last night; but upon thinking the whole matter over carefully, I am convinced that in a.s.sisting your unfortunate brother to escape you did your best under the circ.u.mstances, and were justified in yielding to a very natural and proper sisterly impulse.”
”Thank you,” said Betty demurely, but with a sparkle of fun in her liquid eyes as she turned them upon Gulian, secretly amused at this curiously characteristic apology.
”We will dismiss that event and endeavor to forget it; I only wish, to repeat my injunction that I desire Clarissa should know nothing of the matter.” He paused, and Betty made a movement of a.s.sent.
”How old are you, Betty?” came the next remark.
”I am turned sixteen,” replied Betty, somewhat surprised at the question.
”So I thought.” Gulian paused again to give weight and dignity to the disclosure. ”You are now of a marriageable age. I have this morning received a proposal for your hand.”
”Indeed,” said Betty calmly, ”And who, pray, has done me that honor, in this city, where I am but a recent comer?”
”Precisely what I remarked; the acquaintance has been, perhaps, unduly short. But nevertheless a most honorable and distinguished gentleman intends to offer you, through me, his hand”--