A Perilous Secret Part 17
"I d--don't think I shall be m--much m--missed," said Percy, rather sullenly.
"I know two people who will miss you."
"I d--don't know one."
"Two, I a.s.sure you--Miss Clifford and myself. Come, Mr. Fitzroy, I will not beat about the bush. I am afraid you are mortified, and I must say, justly mortified, at the coolness my father has shown to you. But I a.s.sure you that it is not from any disrespect to you personally."
"Oh, indeed!" said Percy, ironically.
"No; quite the reverse--he is afraid of you."
"That is a g--g--good joke."
"No; let me explain. Fathers are curious people. If they are ever so disinterested in their general conduct, they are sure to be a little mercenary for their children. Now you know Miss Clifford is a beauty who would adorn Clifford Hall, and an heiress whose money would purchase certain properties that join ours. You understand?"
"Yes," said the little man, starting up in great wrath. "I understand, and it's a--bom--inable. I th--thought you were my friend, and a m--man of h--honor."
"So I am, and that is why I warn you in time. If you quarrel with Miss Clifford, and leave this place in a pet, just see what risks we both run, you and I. My father will be always at me, and I shall not be able to insist on your prior claim; he will say you have abandoned it. Julia will take the huff, and you know beautiful women will do strange things--mad things--when once pique enters their hearts. She might turn round and marry me."
"You forget, sir, you are a man of honor."
"But not a man of stone. Now, my dear Fitzroy, be reasonable. Suppose that peerless creature went in for female revenge; why, the first thing she would do would be to _make_ me love her, whether I chose or no. She wouldn't give _me_ a voice in the matter. She would flatter me; she would cajole me; she would transfix my too susceptible heart with glances of fire and bewitching languor from those glorious eyes."
"D--d----! Ahem!" cried Percy, turning green.
Walter had no mercy. "I heard her say once she could make any man love her if she chose."
"So she could," said Percy, ruefully. "She made me. I had an awful p--p--prejudice against her, but there was no resisting."
"Then don't subject _me_ to such a trial. Stick to her like a man."
"So I will; b--but it is a m--m--mortifying position. I'm a man of family. We came in with the C--Conquest, and are respected in our c--county; and here I have to meet her on the sly, and live at the D--Dun Cow."
"Where the _cuisine_ is wretched."
"A--b--b--bominable!"
Having thus impregnated his mind with that soothing sentiment, jealousy, Walter told him he had a house to let on the estate--quite a gentleman's house, only a little dilapidated, with a fine lawn and garden, only neglected into a wilderness. "But all the better for you," said he. "You have plenty of money, and no occupation. Perhaps that is what leads to these little quarrels. It will amuse you to repair the crib and restore the lawn. Why, there is a brook runs through it--it isn't every lawn has that--and there used to be water-lilies floating, and peonies nodding down at them from the bank: a paradise. She adores flowers, you know. Why not rent that house from me? You will have constant occupation and amus.e.m.e.nt. You will become a rival potentate to my governor. You will take the shine out of him directly; you have only to give a ball, and then all the girls will worship you, Julia Clifford especially, for she could dance the devil to a stand-still."
Percy's eyes flashed. "When can I have the place?" said he, eagerly.
"In half an hour. I'll draw you a three months' agreement. Got any paper? Of course not. Julia is so near. What are those? Playing-cards.
What do you play? 'Patience,' all by yourself. No wonder you are quarrelsome! Nothing else to bestow your energy on."
Percy denied this imputation. The cards were for pistol practice. He shot daily at the pips in the yard.
"It is the fiend _Ennui_ that loads your pistols, and your temper too.
Didn't I tell you so?"
Walter then demanded the ace of diamonds, and on its face let him the house and premises on a repairing lease for three years, rent 5 a year: which was a good bargain for both parties, since Percy was sure to lay out a thousand pounds or two on the property, and to bind Julia more closely to him, who was worth her weight in gold ten times over.
Walter had brought the keys with him, so he drove Percy over at once and gave him possession, and, to do the little fellow justice, the moisture of grat.i.tude stood in his eyes when they parted.
Walter told Julia about it the same night, and her eyes were eloquent too.
The next day he had a walk with Mary Bartley, and told her all about it.
She hung upon him, and gazed admiringly into his eyes all the time, and they parted happy lovers.
Mr. Bartley met her at the gate, "Mary," said he, gravely, "who was that I saw with you just now?"
"Cousin Walter."
"I feared so. You are too much with him."
Mary turned red and white by turns, but said nothing.
Bartley went on: "You are a good child, and I have always trusted you. I am sure you mean no harm. But you must be more discreet. I have just heard that you and that young man are looked upon as engaged lovers. They say it is all over the village. Of course a father is the last to hear these things. Does Mrs. Easton know of this?"
"Oh yes, papa, and approves it."
"Stupid old woman! She ought to be ashamed of herself."
"Oh, papa!" said Mary, in deep distress; "why, what objection can there be to Cousin Walter?"
"None whatever as a cousin, but every objection to intimacy. Does he court you?"
"I don't know, papa. I suppose he does."
"Does he seek your love?"
"He does not say so exactly."
"Come, Mary, you have never deceived me. Does he love you?"
"I am afraid he does; and if you reject him he will be very unhappy. And so shall I."
"I am truly sorry to hear it, Mary, for there are reasons why I can not consent to an engagement between him and you."
"What reasons, papa?"
"It would not be proper to disclose my reasons; but I hope, Mary, that it will be enough to say that Colonel Clifford has other views for his son, and I have other views for my daughter. Do you think a blessing will attend you or him if you defy both fathers?"
"No, no," said poor Mary. "We have been hasty and very foolish. But, oh, papa, have you not seen from the first? Oh, why did you not warn me in time? Then I could have obeyed you easily. Now it will cost me the happiness of my life. We are very unfortunate. Poor Walter! He left me so full of hope. What shall I do? what shall I do?"
It was Mary Bartley's first grief. She thought all chance of happiness was gone forever, and she wept bitterly for Walter and herself.
Bartley was not unmoved, but he could not change his nature. The sum he had obtained by a crime was dearer to him than all his more honest gains.
He was kind on the surface, but hard as marble.