One Of Them. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Not exactly. But do not erect barriers just high enough to be surmounted. Let him come here just as usual, and I will try if I cannot entangle him in a little serious flirtation with myself, which certainly, if it succeed, will wound May’s pride, and cure her of any weakness for him.”

      Sir William made no reply, but he stared at the speaker with a sort of humorous astonishment, and somehow her cheek flushed under the look.

      “These are womanish artifices, which you men hold cheaply, of course; but little weapons suit little wars, Sir William, and such are our campaigns. At all events, count upon my aid till Monday next.”

      “And why not after?”

      “Because the Peninsular and Oriental packet touches at Malta on Saturday, and Clara and I must be there in time to catch it.”

      “Oh no; we cannot spare you. In fact, we are decided on detaining you. May would break up house here and follow you to the Pyramids, – the Upper Cataracts, – anywhere, in short. But leave us you must not.”

      She covered her face with her handkerchief, and never spoke, but a slight motion of her shoulders showed that she was sobbing. “I have been so uncandid with you all this time,” said she, in broken accents. “I should have told you all, – everything. I ought to have confided to you the whole sad story of my terrible bereavement and its consequences; but I could not. No, Sir William, I could not endure the thought of darkening the sunshine of all the happiness I saw here by the cloud of my sorrows. When I only saw faces of joy around me, I said to my heart, ‘What right have I, in my selfishness, to obtrude here?’ And then, again, I bethought me, ‘Would they admit me thus freely to their hearth and home if they knew the sad, sad story?’ In a word,” said she, throwing down the handkerchief, and turning towards him with soft and tearful eyes, “I could not risk the chance of losing your affection, for you might have censured, you might have thought me too unforgiving, – too relentless!”

      Here she again bent down her head, and was lost in an access of fresh afflictions.

      Never was an elderly gentleman more puzzled than Sir William. He felt that he ought to offer consolation, but of what nature or for what calamity he could n’t even guess. It was an awkward case altogether, and he never fancied awkward cases at any time. Then he had that unchivalric sentiment that elderly gentlemen occasionally will have, – a sort of half distrust of “injured women.” This was joined to a sense of shame that it was usually supposed by the world men of his time of life were always the ready victims of such sympathies. In fact, he disliked the situation immensely, and could only muster a few commonplace remarks to extricate himself from it.

      “You’ll let me tell you everything; I know you will,” said she, looking bewitchingly soft and tender through her tears.

      “Of coarse I will, my dear Mrs. Morris, but not now, – not to-day. You really are not equal to it at this moment.”

      “True, I am not!” said she, drying her eyes; “but it is a promise, and you ‘ll not forget it.”

      “You only do me honor in the confidence,” said he, kissing her hand.

      “A thousand pardons!” cried a rich brogue. And at the same moment the library door was closed, and the sound of retreating steps was heard along the corridor.

      “That insufferable O’Shea!” exclaimed she. “What will he not say of us?”

      CHAPTER XIV. THE BILLIARD-ROOM

      Mr. O’Shea had a very happy knack at billiards. It was an accomplishment which had stood him more in stead in life than even his eloquence in the House, his plausibility in the world, or his rose-amethyst ring. That adventurous category of mankind, who have, as Curran phrased it, “the title-deeds of their estates under the crown of their hats,” must, out of sheer necessity, cultivate their natural gifts to a higher perfection than that well-to-do, easy-living class for whom Fortune has provided “land and beeves,” and are obliged to educate hand, eye, and hearing to an amount of artistic excellence of which others can form no conception. Now, just as the well-trained singer can modulate his tones, suiting them to the space around him, or as the orator so pitches his voice as to meet the ears of his auditory, without any exaggerated effort, so did the Member for Inch measure out his skill, meting it to the ability of his adversary with a graduated nicety as delicate as that of a chemist in apportioning the drops of a precious medicament.

      It was something to see him play. There was a sort of lounging elegance, – a half purpose-like energy, dashed with indolence, – a sense of power, blended with indifference, – a something that bespoke the caprice of genius, mingled with a spirit that seemed to whisper that, after all, “cannons” were only vanity, and “hazards” themselves but vexation of spirit. He was, though a little past his best years, a good-looking fellow, – a thought too pluffy, perhaps, and more than a thought too swaggering and pretentious; but somehow these same attributes did not detract from the display of certain athletic graces of which the game admits, for, after all, it was only Antinous fallen a little into flesh, and seen in his waistcoat.

      It was mainly to this accomplishment he owed the invitations he received to the villa. Charles Heathcote, fully convinced of his own superiority at the game, was piqued and irritated at the other’s success; while Sir William was, perhaps, not sorry that his son should receive a slight lesson on the score of his self-esteem, particularly where the price should not be too costly. The billiard-room thus became each evening the resort of all in the villa. Thither May Leslie fetched her work, and Mrs. Morris her crochet needles, and Clara her book; while around the table itself were met young Heathcote, Lord Agincourt, O’Shea, and Layton. Of course the stake they played for was a mere trifle, – a mere nominal prize, rather intended to record victory than reward the victors, – just as certain taxes are maintained more for statistics than revenue, – and half-crowns changed hands without costing the loser an afterthought; so at least the spectators understood, and all but one believed. Her quiet and practised eye, however, detected in Charles Heathcote’s manner something more significant than the hurt pride of a beaten player, and saw under all the external show of O’Shea’s indifference a purpose-like energy, little likely to be evoked for a trifling stake. Under the pretext of marking the game, a duty for which she had offered her services, she was enabled to watch what went forward without attracting peculiar notice, and she could perceive how, from time to time, Charles and O’Shea would exchange a brief word as they passed, – sometimes a monosyllable, sometimes a nod, – and at such times the expression of Heathcote’s face would denote an increased anxiety and irritation. It was while thus watching one evening, a chance phrase she overheard confirmed all her suspicions, – it was while bending down her head to show some peculiar stitch to May Leslie that she brought her ear to catch what passed.

      “This makes three hundred,” whispered Charles.

      “And fifty,” rejoined O’Shea, as cautiously.

      “Nothing of the kind,” answered Charles, angrily.

      “You ‘ll find I ‘m right,” said the other, knocking the balls about to drown the words. “Are you for another game?” asked he, aloud.

      “No; I ‘ve bad enough of it,” said Charles, impatiently, as he drew out his cigar-case, – trying to cover his irritation by searching for a cigar to his liking.

      “I ‘m your man, Inch-o’-brogue,” broke in Agincourt; for it was by this impertinent travesty of the name of his borough he usually called him.

      “What, isn’t the pocket-money all gone yet?” said the other, contemptuously.

      “Not СКАЧАТЬ