Percy Levant caught him by the shoulder and held him in a savage grip.
“You—you devil!” he said, fiercely, almost wildly. “You know that I cannot! If I had not seen her I might have had the strength; but now——”
He withdrew his hand, and, almost thrusting the other man away from him, strode on.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A SAD HOME-COMING.
Lord Cecil Neville was a man of his word. He had pledged himself to remain in Ireland until the mission he had undertaken was completed, and he meant keeping his word, though his life depended on it. And it seemed to him that more than his life, his happiness, hung in the balance. He had written again and again to Doris, and had received no answer to any one of his letters. That they had reached her was evident from the fact that none were returned through the post to him. To all his passionate attempts for an explanation of her silence not one word came from her!
Life had gone fairly smoothly for Viscount Neville up to this, and his hot, impetuous nature—inherited from his mother’s side of the family—found it difficult to endure the suspense. Many men would have broken their word and returned posthaste to England and Barton, but a pledge was a solemn thing to Cecil Neville, and like a soldier on duty he stuck to his post.
It is not necessary to speak in detail of what he accomplished in Ireland, but this much may be said, that he found the people in the right and the agent in the wrong, and that that agent had a bad time of it! It may be added that Lord Neville succeeded in a few short weeks in winning more hearts among the marquis’ tenants than all the Stoyles for centuries had been able to do, and that before many days had passed “the young lord,” as he was called, was regarded as a friend and protector, and many a faltering voice called down a blessing on his head, and implored him to remain in “the old country.” The Irish are a warm-hearted people, quick to resent an injury, but equally quick in their gratitude for a benefit; this handsome young nobleman who had relieved them from their oppressor, and done his best to better their hard lot, received his reward in the shape of an affectionate gratitude which he should remember and cherish all his life through.
The absentee landlord, the man who screws the last penny from the tenant, and spends it in Paris or London, has been the curse of the country; and it was because Lord Neville saw this, and owned it freely, that the people trusted him.
Often, when he had returned from a day’s inspection of the estate, and had relieved the oppressed, he wondered what the marquis would say when he heard what his ambassador had done! Often when, tortured by an anxiety respecting Doris’ silence, he spent the night pacing up and down his room, he vowed that when they were married they would come and live among these people, who had welcomed him so readily, and so gratefully recognized his efforts on their behalf.