Davenport Dunn, a Man of Our Day. Volume 1

“Very few as wealthy, I should say, Dunn, – very few, indeed. Let me only know your wishes. I feel certain how they will be treated.”

“I am aware,” said Dunn, with some energy, “that you incur the risk of some attack in anything you would do for me. I am necessarily in scant favor with a large party here. They would assail you, they would vilify me; but that would pass over. A few weeks – a few months at furthest – ”

“To be sure, – perfectly correct It would be mere momentary clamor. Sir Davenport Dunn, Baronet, would survive – ”

“I beg pardon,” said Dunn, in a voice tremulous with emotion. “I don’t think I heard you aright; I trust, at least, I did not.”

The Secretary looked quickly in his face, and saw it pale, the lips slightly quivering, and the brow contracted.

“I was saying,” said he, in a voice broken and uncertain, “that I ‘m sure the Premier would not refuse to recommend you to her Majesty for a baronetcy.”

“May I make so bold as to ask if you have already held any conversation with the Minister on this subject?”

“None, whatever. I assure you, most solemnly, that I have no instructions on the subject, nor have I ever had any conversation with him on the matter.”

“Then let me beg you to forget what has just passed between us. It is, after all, mere chit-chat. That’s a Susterman’s, that portrait you are looking at,” said he, eager to change the topic. “It is said to be a likeness of Bianca Capello.”

“A very charming picture, indeed; purchased, I suppose, in your last visit abroad.”

“Yes; I bought it at Verona. Its companion, yonder, was a present from the Archduke Stephen, in recognition, as he was gracious enough to call it, of some counsels I had given the Government engineers about drainage in Hungary. Despotic governments, as we like to term them, have this merit, at least, – they confer acts of munificent generosity.”

The Secretary muttered an assent, and looked confused.

“I reaped a perfect harvest of crosses and decorations,” continued Dunn, “during my tour. I have got cordons from countries I should be puzzled to point out on the map, and am a noble in almost every land of Europe but my own.”

“Ours is the solitary one where the distinction is not a mere title,” said the other, “and, consequently, there are graver considerations about conferring it than if it were a mere act of courtesy.”

“Where power is already acquired there is often good policy in legitimatizing it,” said Dunn, gravely. “They say that even the Church of Rome knows how to affiliate a heresy. – Well, Clowes, what is it?” asked he of the butler, who stood awaiting a favorable moment to address him. He now drew nigh, and whispered some words in his ear.

“But you said I was engaged – that I had company with me?” said Dunn, in reply.

“Yes, sir, but she persisted in saying that if I brought up her name you would certainly see her, were it but for a moment This is her card.”

“Miss Kellett,” said Dunn to himself. “Very well. Show her into the study, I will come down. – It is the daughter of that unfortunate gentleman we were speaking of awhile ago,” said he, showing the card. “I suppose some new disaster has befallen him. Will you excuse me for a moment?”

As Dunn slowly descended the stairs, a very strange conflict was at work within him. From his very boyhood there had possessed him a stern sentiment of vengeance against the Kellett family. It was the daily lesson his father repeated to him. It grew with his years, and vague and unmeaning as it appeared, it had the force of an instinct. His own memory failed him as to all the circumstances of an early insult, but enough remained to make him know that he had been ignominiously treated and expelled from the house. In the great career of his life, with absorbing cares and high interests around him, he had little time for such memories, but in moments of solitude or of depression the thought would come up, and a sense of vindictive pleasure fill him, as he remembered, in the stern words of his father, where was he, and where were they? In the protection he had that very day assumed to throw over Kellett in the Court, there was the sentiment of an insolent triumph; and here was again the daughter of the once proud man supplicating an interview with him.

These were his thoughts as he entered the room where Sybella Kellett was standing near the fire. She had taken off her bonnet, and as her long hair fell down, and her dripping clothes clung to her, the picture of poverty and destitution her appearance conveyed revolted against the sentiment which had so lately filled him, and it was in a voice of gentle meaning he asked her to be seated.

“Can you tell me of my father, sir?” said she, eagerly, and not heeding his words; “he left home early this morning, and has never returned.”

“I can tell you everything, Miss Kellett,” said he, in a kind voice. “It will reassure you at once when I say he is well. Before this he is at home again.”

The young girl clasped her hands closely, and her pale lips murmured some faint words.

“In a moment of excitement this morning he said something to offend the Court. It was an emergency to try a calmer temper, perhaps, than his; indeed, he ought not to have been there; at all events, he was betrayed into expressions which could not be passed over in mere silence, and he was committed – ”

“To prison?” said she, faintly.

“Yes, he was taken into custody, but only for a few hours. I obtained his release soon after the Court rose. The difficulty was to make him accept of his liberation. Far from having calmed down, his passion had only increased, and it was only after much entreaty that he consented to leave the jail and come here with me. In fact, it was under the pretence of drawing up a formal protest against his arrest that he did come, and he has been employed in this manner till about an hour ago, when one of my clerks took charge of him to convey him home. A little quietness and a little rest will restore him perfectly, however, and I have no doubt to-morrow or next day will leave no trace of this excitement.”

“You have been most kind,” said she, rising, “and I am very grateful for it. We owe much to you already, and this last but increases the debt.”

Dunn stood silently contemplating her, as she replaced her bonnet and prepared for the road. At last he said, “Have you come all this way on foot and alone?”

“On foot, but not alone; a comrade of my brother’s – a fellow-soldier of his – kindly gave me his escort. He is waiting for me now without.”

“Oh, then, the adventure has had its compensation to a certain degree,” said Dunn, with a smile of raillery.

“Either I do not understand you, or you mistake me, – which is it?” said she, boldly.

“My dear young lady,” said Dunn, hastily, “do not let me offend you. There is everything in what you have done this night to secure you respect and esteem. We live in a time when there is wonderfully little of personal devotion; and commonplace men like myself may well misjudge its sacrifices.”

“And yet it is precisely from you I should have expected the reverse. If great minds are tainted with littleness, where are we to look for high and noble sentiments?” She moved towards the door as she spoke; and Dunn, anticipating her, said, —

“Do not go for a moment; let me offer you some refreshment, even a glass of wine. Well, then, your friend? It is scarcely courteous to leave him outside in such weather.”

“Pray forgive me not accepting your offer; but I am impatient to be at home again. My father, too, will be distressed at my absence.”

“But I will send my carriage with you; you shall not walk,” said he, ringing the bell.

“Do not think me ungrateful, but I had rather return as I came. You have no idea, sir, how painfully kindness comes to hearts like ours. A sense of pride sustains us through many a trial; break down this, and we are helpless.”

“Is it that you will accept nothing at my hands, – even the most commonplace of attentions? Well, I’ll try if I cannot be more fortunate elsewhere;” and so saying, he hurried at once from the room. Before Sybella could well reflect on his words, he was back again, followed by Charles Conway.

“Miss Kellett was disposed to test your Crimean habits again, my good fellow,” said Dunn, “by keeping you out there under this terrible rain, and I perceive you have got some rough treatment already;” and he looked at the armless sleeve of his jacket.

“Yes,” said Conway, laughing, “a piece of Russian politeness!”

Few as were the words, the tone and manner of the speaker struck Dunn with astonishment, and he said, —

“Have you been long in the service?”

“Some years,” was the short reply.

“It’s very strange,” said Dunn, regarding him fixedly, “but your features are quite familiar to me. You are very like a young officer who cut such a dash here formerly, – a spendthrift fellow, in a Lancer regiment.”

“Pray don’t involve yourself in any difficulty,” said Conway, “for, perhaps – indeed, I ‘m convinced – you are describing myself.”

“Conway, of the Twelfth?”

“The same, at your service, – at least, in so far as being ruined and one-armed means the same with the fellow who had a good fortune, and two hands to scatter it.”

“I must go. I ‘m impatient to be away,” said Sybella, eagerly.

“Then there is the carriage at the door,” said Dunn. “This time I have resolved to have my way;” and he gave her his arm courteously to conduct her.

“Could you call upon me to-morrow – could you breakfast with me, Mr. Conway?” said Dunn, as he gave him his hand at parting; “my request is connected with a subject of great importance to yourself.”