Roland Cashel, Volume II (of II). Lever Charles James
of his mistake by saying that ‘he could not possibly have had the rudeness to enter the world before his Royal Highness.’”
“Ah! yes – very true – so it was,” sighed Meek, who-affected not to perceive the covert sneer at his assumed courtesy.
While, therefore, the party gathered around Cashel, with eager assurance of Miss Meek’s precedence, Lady Kilgoff, rising, crossed the room to where that young lady was standing, and gracefully arranging her loose-flowing ringlets into a knot at the back of the head, fastened them by a splendid comb which she took from her own, and whose top was fashioned into a handsome coronet of gold, saying, “The question of legitimacy is solved forever: the Pretender yields her crown to the true Sovereign.”
The gracefulness and tact of this sudden movement called forth the warmest acknowledgments of all save Lady Janet, who whispered to Miss Kenny feck, “It is pretty clear, I fancy, who is to pay for the crown jewels!”
“Am I really the Queen?” cried the young girl, half wild with delight.
“Most assuredly, madam,” said Linton, kissing her hand in deep reverence. “I beg to be first to tender my homage.”
“That ‘s so like him!” cried she, laughing; “but you shall be no officer of mine. Where ‘s Charley? I want to make him Master of the Buckhounds, if there be buckhounds.”
“Will you not appoint your ladies first, madam?” said Lady Janet; “or, are your preferences for the other sex to leave us quite forgotten?”
“Be all of you everything you please,” rejoined the childish, merry voice, “with Charley Frobisher for Master of the Horse.”
“Linton for Master of the Revels,” said some one.
“Agreed,” said she.
“Mr. Cashel had better be First Lord of the Treasury, I suspect,” said Lady Janet, snappishly, “if the Administration is to last.”
“And if ye a’ways wear drapery o’ this fashion,” said Sir Andrew, taking up the torn fragment of her riding-habit as he spoke, “I maun say that the Mistress of the Robes will na be a sinecure.”
“Will any one tell me what are my powers?” said she, sitting down with an air of mock dignity.
“Will any one dare to say what they are not?” responded Cashel.
“Have I unlimited command in everything?”
“In everything, madam; I and all mine are at your orders.”
“That’s what the farce will end in,” whispered Lady Janet to Mrs. Kennyfeck.
“Well, then, to begin. The court will dine with us today – to-morrow we will hunt in our royal forest; our private band – Have we a private band, Mr. Linton?”
“Certainly, your Majesty, – so private as to be almost undiscoverable.”
“Then our private band will perform in the evening; perhaps, too, we shall dance. Remember, my Lords and Ladies, we are a young sovereign who loves pleasure, and that a sad face or a mournful one is treason to our person. Come forward now, and let us name our household.”
While the group gathered around the wild and high-spirited girl, in whose merry mood even the least-disposed were drawn to participate, Linton approached Lady Kilgoff, who had seated herself near a window, and was affecting to arrange a frame of embroidery, on which she rarely bestowed a moment’s labor.
CHAPTER II. LADY KILGOFF AT BAY
I’ll make her brew the beverage herself,
With her own fingers stir the cap,
And know’t is poison as she drinks it.
Had Linton been about to renew an acquaintance with one he had scarcely known before, and who might possibly have ceased to remember him, his manner could not have been more studiously diffident and respectful.
“I rejoice to see your Ladyship here,” said he, in a low, deliberate voice, “where, on the last time we spoke together, you seemed uncertain of coming.”
“Very true, Mr. Linton,” said she, not looking up from her work; “my Lord had not fully made up his mind.”
“Say, rather, your Ladyship had changed yours,” said he, with a cold smile, – “a privilege you are not wont to deny yourself.”
“I might have exercised it oftener in life with advantage,” replied she, still holding her head bent over the embroidery frame.
“Don’t you think that your Ladyship and I are old friends enough to speak without innuendo?”
“If we speak at all,” said she, with a low but calm accent.
“True, that is to be thought of,” rejoined he, with an unmoved quietude of voice. “Being in a manner prepared for a change in your Ladyship’s sentiments towards me – ”
“Sir!” said she, interrupting, and as suddenly raising her face, which was now covered with a deep blush.
“I trust I have said nothing to provoke reproof,” said Linton, coldly. “Your Ladyship is well aware if my words be not true. I repeat it, then, – your sentiments are changed towards me, or – the alteration is not of my choosing – I was deceived in the expression of them when last we met.”
“It may suit your purpose, sir, but it can scarcely conform to the generosity of a gentleman, to taunt me with acceding to your request for a meeting. If any other weakness can be alleged against me, pray let me hear it.”
“When we last met,” said Linton, in a voice of lower and deeper meaning than before, “we did so that I might speak, and you hear, the avowal of a passion which for years has filled my heart – against which I have struggled and fought in vain – to stifle which I have plunged into dissipations that I detested, and followed ambitions I despised – to obliterate all memory of which I would stoop to crime itself, rather than suffer on in the hopeless misery I must do.”
“I will hear no more of this,” said she, pushing back the work-table, and preparing to rise.
“You must and you shall hear me, madam,” said he, replacing the table and affecting to arrange it for her. “I conclude you do not wish this amiable company to arbitrate between us.”
“Oh, sir! is it thus you threaten me?”
“You should say compromise, madam. There can be no threat where a common ruin impends on all concerned.”
“To what end all this, Mr. Linton?” said she. “You surely cannot expect from me any return to a feeling which, if it once existed, you yourself were the means of uprooting forever. Even you could scarcely be ungenerous enough to persecute one for whose misery you have done already too much.”
“Will you accept my arm for half an hour?” cried he, interrupting. “I pledge myself it shall be the last time I either make such a request, or even allude to this topic between us. On the pretence of showing you the house, I may be able – if not to justify myself – nay, I see how little you care for that – well, at least to assure you that I have no other wish, no other hope, than to see you happy.”
“I cannot trust you,” said she, in a tone of agitation; “already we are remarked.”
“So I perceive,” said he, in an undertone; then added, in a voice audible enough to be heard by the rest, “I am too vain of my architectural merits to leave their discovery to chance; and as you are good enough to say you would like to see the house, pray will your Ladyship accept my arm while I perform the cicerone on myself?”
The coup succeeded, and, to avoid the difficulty and embarrassment a refusal would have created, Lady Kilgoff arose, and prepared to accompany him.
“Eh, what – what is’t, my Lady?” said Lord Kilgoff, suddenly awaking from a kind of lethargic slumber, as she whispered some words in his ear.
“Her