Part 34 (1/2)

”I would rather die than cause her a minute's pain,” he said, with quiet fervour.

”You have caused her a good many,” the General said grimly. ”Not willingly, I am sure of that, or I wouldn't be here. Haven't you heard how she suffered? Why, G.o.d bless my soul, I was afraid at one time that I might be going to lose her; and all through you, young man--all through you. Now I'll have no more s.h.i.+lly-shally. If Nell is fond of you and you are fond of Nell----”

”G.o.d knows how I love her!” Langrishe cried out, a glow of pa.s.sion lighting up his worn, dark face. ”But you don't understand, Sir Denis. I feel sure you don't understand. I have nothing in the world but my sword. My uncle, Sir Peter, gave me that. He gave me nothing else. Lady Langrishe, who nursed my uncle through an attack of the gout before he married her, has just presented him with an heir. I have no hopes from my uncle. If I lose my sword-arm I lose everything. I am likely to lose my sword-arm, Sir Denis.”

”Whether you do or whether you do not is in the hands of G.o.d,” the General said. ”I don't think Nell will mind very much if your sword-arm is ineffectual or not. You've done enough for honour, anyhow. And I'm not going to betray any more of the child's secrets. You'd better come and hear them yourself. I'll tell you what: come on Christmas Day. Come to lunch and bring your bag with you. I daresay you won't want to cut your visit short?”

”You really mean it, Sir Denis?”

”Mean it, my lad? I've meant it for a long time. I've watched your career, Langrishe. I know pretty well all about you. You'd never give me credit for half the cunning I've got.” The General rubbed his hands softly together and tried to look Machiavellian, failing ludicrously in the attempt. ”There's no man I would more willingly trust my girl to.

Why, I went after you to Tilbury when you were going out--to find out what you meant. I'll tell you about it.”

For the moment the General forgot completely how he had man[oe]uvred in the second place to marry Nelly to Robin Drummond. In fact, he didn't remember about it till he was going home, and then, after a momentary shamefacedness about his unintentional disingenuousness, he decided, like a sensible man, that there was no use talking about that now.

Before that time, however, he had lunched with Mrs. Langrishe and her son after a talk with the latter. Now that he had succeeded in breaking down the lover's scruples, G.o.dfrey Langrishe was only too anxious to fling himself into the next train and be carried off to his love. But the General would not have it so, though he was pleased at the young man's impatience.

”It wants but five days to Christmas Day,” he said. ”Come then. You can spare him, ma'am?” to Mrs. Langrishe.

”I have had to spare him for less happy things,” the mother responded cheerfully.

There was no happier old soldier in all his Majesty's dominions than was Sir Denis Drummond on his homeward journey. In fact, he found himself several times displaying his gratification so evidently in his face that people smiled and looked significantly at each other. One lady whispered to another of the Christmas spirit.

It was by a stern effort of his will that he composed his face as he went up the stairs of his own house. He didn't deceive Pat, who had admitted him--for once the General had forgotten his latch-key. Pat reported to Bridget:

”Sorra wan o' me knows what's come to the master; he's gone up the stairs, and the heart of him that light that his foot is only touchin'

the ground in an odd place.”

”'Twill be somethin' good for Miss Nelly then,” Bridget replied sagely.

The General schooled his face to wear an absurdly transparent look of gloom as he entered the drawing-room, but it was quite wasted on Nelly, who didn't look at him. She had a screen between her face and the fire as she sat in her fireside chair, and her little pale, hurt, haughty profile showed up clearly against the peac.o.c.k's feathers of the screen.

The General had meant to have some play with Nell, but that forlorn look of hers went to his heart.

”I saw Langrishe to-day, Nell,” he said. ”He's coming for Christmas. We can put him up--hey?”

”Papa!”

He heard the incredulously joyful half-whisper, and he felt the pang that comes to all fathers at such a moment. Nell was not going to be only his ever again. He had been enough for her once on a time; yet, here she was, come to womanhood, breaking her heart for a stranger.

”If I were you, Nell,” he said gently, ”I'd be seeing about my wedding-clothes.”

CHAPTER XXVIII

NOEL! NOEL!

Captain Langrishe arrived only just in time for lunch on the Christmas Day. By the time he had been shown his room and had deposited his bag and returned to the drawing-room it was time for the luncheon-bell.

The meeting between Nelly and himself would have seemed to outsiders a cold one. To be sure, it took place under the General's eye. One might have supposed that the General would have absented himself from that lovers' meeting, but as a matter of fact he did not. Nelly's flush, the shy, burning look which Langrishe sent her from his dark eyes, were enough for the two princ.i.p.als. For the rest, all seemed to be of the most ordinary. No one could have supposed that for the two persons mainly concerned this was the most wonderful Christmas Day there ever had been since the beginning.

During lunch Langrishe talked mainly to the General. They had plenty to talk about. The General found it necessary to apologise to Nelly for ”talking shop,” an apology which was tendered in a whimsical spirit and received in the same. Pat, waiting at table, quite forgot that he was Sir Denis Drummond's manservant, listening to the stirring tale; and was once again Corporal Murphy, back in ”th' ould rig'mint.” In fact, he once almost forgot himself so far as to put in an eager comment, but fortunately pulled himself up in time. He mentioned afterwards to Bridget that the Captain's talk had nearly brought him to the point of ”joinin'” again. ”Only that I remembered that at last you'd consinted to my spakin' to Sir Denis I couldn't have held myself in, Bridget, my jewel,” he said. ”But the thought of gettin' kilt before ever I'd made you Mrs. Murphy was too much for me.”