Luttrell Of Arran

“No, Sir; I will not.”

“I thought you liked a weed,” said Harry, carelessly.

“My likings or my dislikings must be matter of perfect indifference to you, Sir, or I should not be wet to the skin and shivering as I am now.”

“Take a go of brandy, and you’ll be all right,” said Harry, throwing his flask to him.

Though not very graciously offered, M’Kinlay accepted the dram, and then looked over the side towards the shore with an air of greater contentment. “Considering, Sir, that I came here to-day on your account, I think I might have been treated with somewhat more deference to my tastes,” said he, at last.

“On my account? And in what way on my account?”

“If we are not likely to have any more storms of wind, I can perhaps tell you.”

“No, no, it’s still as a fishpond here. Go on.”

“Before I go on – before I even begin, Mr. Luttrelle I must have your promise that you will not mention to any one what shall pass between us to-day. It is on a subject which concerns you– but still concerns others more nearly.”

“All right. I’ll not speak of it.”

“You will give me your word?”

“I have given it. Didn’t you hear me say I’d not speak of it?”

“Well, Sir, the matter is this: Great uneasiness is being felt here at the intimacy that has grown up between you and Miss Vyner. Motives of extreme delicacy towards you– who, of course, not having lived much in the world, could not be expected to weigh such considerations – but motives of great delicacy, as I say, have prevented any notice being taken of this intimacy, and a hope has been felt that you yourself, once awakened to the fact of the long interval that separates her condition from yours, would soon see the propriety, indeed the necessity, of another line of conduct, and thus not require what may seem an admonition, though I really intend you should receive it as the warning counsel of a friend.”

“Have you been commissioned to say this to me?” asked Luttrell, haughtily.

“Though I had decided with myself not to answer any questions, I will reply to this one – and this only. I have.”

“Who gave you this charge?”

M’Kinlay shook his head, and was silent.

“Was it Sir Gervais Vyner?”

Another shake of the head was the reply.

“I thought not. I am certain, too, it was not Lady Vyner. Be frank, Sir, and tell me candidly. It was Miss Courtenay employed you on this errand?”

“I really see no necessity for any explanation on my part, Mr. Luttrell. I have already transgressed the limits of mere prudence in the avowal I have made you. I trust you will be satisfied with my candour.”

“Let me ask for a little more of that same candour. I want to know what is expected of me. What I am to do?”

“Really, Sir, you make my position a very painful one. You insist upon my being extremely disagreeable to you.”

“Listen to reason. I am telling you that I found myself in considerable embarrassment, and I entreat of you, as a favour, to show me the way out of it. Am I to discontinue all intimacy with Miss Vyner? Am I to avoid her? Am I to leave this, and not return?”

“That I opine to be the most fitting course under the circumstances,” said M’Kinlay, bowing.

“I see,” said Harry, pondering for some seconds – “I see.” And then, with a more fervid manner, resuming: “But if I know, Sir – if I feel – that all this caution is unnecessary, that I have not – that I never had – the slightest pretensions such as you speak of, that Miss Vyner’s manner to me, in its very freedom, repels any suspicion of the kind, – I ask you, is it not a little hard to deny me the greatest happiness I have ever tasted in life – the first holiday after a long spell of work and hardship? Why should I not go straight to Sir Gervais and say this?”

“You forget your promise to myself.”

“Ay, to be sure, that is a barrier. I suppose you are right. The best, the only way, is to go off; and I own I feel ashamed to make this return for all the generous kindness I have met here; and what an insufferable coxcomb must it stamp me, if it ever comes out that I left on such grounds as these.”

“That is not how the world regards such things, Sir. Men are not supposed to measure their affections by their circumstances. If it were so, we should not see so many mésalliances.”

“I don’t know how to go about it. I’m a precious bungler at making excuses, and, whenever I have told a lie in my life, my own shame and confusion have always convicted me; help me to some ingenious pretext for a sudden departure.”

“You can have law business. Your agents wish to see you.”

“But I have no property, or next to none. No, no, that won’t do.”

“You desire to visit your friends in Ireland.”

“Just as bad. I have as little friends as fortune. Try again.”

“Why should not Captain Dodge have sent for you; you left him very ill, and confined to bed, I understand?”

“He told Sir Gervais to keep me as long as possible; that the air of the hospital was bad for me, and had brought back my ague.”

“If you are so very scrupulous, Sir, as to what people generally regard as a mere conventionality, I should say, pack up and be off without any explanation at all.”

“I believe you are right. It is the old story of paying one’s debts with the topsail sheet. Shabby enough, too, but it can’t be helped. Perhaps, Mr. M’Kinlay, if occasion should occur, you would find means to let Sir Gervais know that I am not the ungrateful dog my want of manners might bespeak me; perhaps you would convey to him that this step of mine had been suggested by yourself.”

“It is possible, Mr. Luttrell, that a fortuitous moment for an explanation of the kind you mention might occur, and, if so, you may rely on my willingness to profit by it. You mean to go at once?”

“I suppose so. Is it not what you advise?”

“Most certainly.”

“Here goes, then! I’ll start this instant. They are all out driving, except Miss Courtenay. I see her in the garden yonder. She, I know, will forgive me my abrupt departure, and you’ll make the best story you can out of it, Mr. M’Kinlay. As I was last seen in your company, you’ll be obliged, for your own sake, to say something plausible.”

“I will do my best, Sir. The eccentric habits of a sea-life must bear the burden of the explanation.”

“It’s poor comfort that I can’t be much missed! Good-by!” And, without any more cordial leave-taking, Luttrell turned into a side-path that led directly to the house, while M’Kinlay entered the garden and made straight for the sea-wall, on which Miss Courtenay was sitting, awaiting him.

“Well?” said she, impatiently, as he came forward – “well?”

“It is done – all finished!”

“In what way? How is it finished?”

“He goes away – goes at once!”

“Of course he writes a note, and makes some sort of excuse to my brother-in-law for his hurried departure?”

“I believe not. I fear – that is, I apprehend – he is one of those not very tractable people who always do an awkward thing in the awkwardest way; for when I explained to him that his position here was – what shall I say? – an indiscretion, and that Miss Vyner’s friends saw with uneasiness the growing intimacy between them – ”