THE ULTIMATUM.
“AN appeal ad misericordiam,” thought Charles, with a secret satisfaction. “He’ll be disappointed in me; I’m not, I rather think, a person to he flattered or cajoled. He thinks I have an influence at Guildford House, and he intends to use it. Yery good, Mr. Dacre, we shall see.”
“I have persuaded you to come and dine with me in this out-of-the-way place,” continued Dacre, “shall I confess it? — with an object. With you I can afford to be perfectly candid, and I shall speak with the confidence of a brother. Ah! Mr. Mannering, Mr. Mannering, you have been treating me very oddly; haven’t you?” He smiled archly, and shook his head as he placed his hand gently on Charles Mannering’s arm. “You followed me when I took my leave, on the night of my visit to your chambers; you followed me, on another night, all the way to the Fleet, when I went to see that miserable fellow, Guy de Beaumirail; and you have been busy among your Mends, at the clubs, collecting all the old women’s tales affecting me that your gossiping friends could bring to mind — scandals, falsehoods, I do assure you, if you but knew the circumstances, the most incredible, and the blackest; and with this evidence, you array a case for the ear of that very tribunal by which we all desire to be favourably heard, and at least fairly judged — private friendship. Ah! my good friend, is that generous, or just, or at all the measure by which you would have it measured to you again?”
“You admit, Mr. Dacre,” said Charles, “that you are practising, necessarily just now, a strict reserve. That, of course, is a matter entirely for yourself, and which, I’m quite aware, it would be most impertinent of me to remark on; in fact, I can have no interest in it so long as it does not involve -anyone who has a natural claim upon my care, and — and that sort of thing. But those circumstances of concealment, you know, don’t do so well to found new acquaintances and intimacies upon, especially in families where there is so little experience and knowledge of the world, as in that at Guildford House; and as they know absolutely nothing, except a word or two, of no real importance, from Ardenbroke, whom you have put under conditions of reserve — I, as one of Miss Gray’s few relations, and the only one at present near her, think myself obliged to inquire a little, and, in fact, take some little trouble, such as a brother, if she had one, ought to take in such a case; and I can’t see that in doing so I commit the slightest impertinence.”
“How provoking, dear Mannering, that we should so entirely differ in opinion in a thing so nearly affecting both of us — I may say personally affecting us. Would you mind stopping here for a moment? We have got so near the road, and I want ever so little talk with you quietly. Thanks.” He looked upward for a moment with a meditative smile. The transparent azure of heaven opened above him with hardly a filmy cloud in its great concave; and the brightness of the moon was almost dazzling. Etherealized in that wonderful light, his handsome features for a moment moved the admiration even of Charles Mannering. For a few seconds the faint, fixed smile was seen in that light, and then Mr. Dacre looked, still smiling, in Charles Mannering’s face.
“I wish so much, my dear Mannering, I could persuade you to take a different view of your duty.”
A pause occurred here, but Mannering made no sign.
“Because otherwise the situation becomes so painful.”
There was another pause, but Charles only looked down, and switched the grass slightly with his cane; he was not going to recede.
“For I can’t allow that kind of thing to go on, do you see; I can’t, really, for one hour more.”
Charles looked up in his face, with an inquisitive sternness; he did not quite see his drift. Dacre’s handsome features still wore that faint smile, and he shook his head gently.
“No, indeed, Mr. Mannering: I’m sorry it has come to this, but I can’t. We must understand one another; I shall be perfectly explicit; and I still venture to hope that, on reflection, you will see the reasonableness of what I have to propose.”
Here was a wait of a second or more.
“Pray go on. I don’t see — I confess I don’t understand at present,” said Charles Mannering a little stiffly.
“Well, as I say, I still speak in hope. I have one or two very simple and, I think, fair conditions to propose. If you agree with me in so thinking, and consequently accept them, we continue good friends; if not, why then it is very unlucky, and I’m very sorry.”
“And what are your conditions, as you call them?” asked Charles.
“Yes, my conditions; well, they are just these — you have followed me about on two occasions, to my knowledge; well, it is only fair that I should ask that all that sort of thing, whether done by yourself, or your friend, or your servant, should totally cease; you have been making inquiries about me, the places I frequent, and so on. I have to entreat of you to make no more inquiries about me. That’s also quite clear.”
Here was a silence while you could count two, but Charles Mannering made no sign.
“You have been collecting foolish stories about me, and possibly retailing them; I quite excuse you, but I must stipulate also that all that shall absolutely cease; and lastly, dear Mannering, not at all seeing in your remote cousinship your obligation to charge yourself with the duties of a brother to Miss Gray, and not choosing while myself employed by that lady upon a difficult and not unimportant affair, to be watched and misapprehended, I have one more earnest and friendly request to submit, and that is, that for the present your visits at Guildford House shall be discontinued.”
At this last demand Charles Mannering flushed up to his temples.
“By Jove!” said he, with an angry laugh, “that’s cool, isn’t it? I don’t think I ever heard anything so impertinent in all my life, by heaven!”
“I was half afraid you’d think so,” said Mr. Dacre, “still while a hope was possible I ventured to try; and since my little proposal has fallen through, there only remains the unpleasant alternative. It can all be arranged in a few minutes.”
“I don’t understand you; but if you mean that we should fight, I’ll meet you when and where you like; and the sooner the better,” said Charles Mannering sharply, with gleaming eyes, and a face now pale and contracted.
He had been on the point of striking Dacre with the little walking-stick he clutched tightly in his fingers.
Dacre smiled and nodded slightly.
“No need to wait a moment; your friend, Captain Transom, can speak to mine, who’s here, also; and he’ll find everything that is necessary. This light will answer perfectly.”
“I dare say; I don’t care; as bad for one as the other.”
Incensed, agitated, Charles Mannering strode onward and under the old oaks, over the stile.
“By Jove, I thought you’d never come down from your moonlight and poetry,” said Transom, whose head was sticking out of the window, “the Ticklepitchers won, I suppose you heard, with five wickets to go down. Anything wrong? what’s the matter?” he added, observing the expression of his friend’s face.
“Nothing — just a word — get out for a moment, and walk a bit up here,” answered Charles.