“It would be better you could find some one to sustain them. Unfortunately, however, you cannot ask that gallant gentleman we were just talking of; for it is only the other day, and after passing over to Calais to meet me, his friends pretend that there is some obstacle to our meeting. I owe my tailor or my bootmaker something; or I have not paid my subscription to a club; or I have left an unsettled bill ar Baden. I really forget the precise pretext; but it was one which to them seemed quite sufficient to balk me of a redress, and at the same time to shelter their friend.”
“I will not believe one word of it, sir!”
“Well, we have at least arrived at a perfect frankness in our intercourse. May I ask you, young lady, which of your relatives has suggested your present course! Is it to your aunt or to your grandfather I must go for an explanation?”
“I suspect it is to me, Major Stapylton,” said Barrington, as he came from behind Josephine. “It is to me you must address yourself. Fifine, my dear, your aunt is looking for you; go and tell her, too, that I am quite ready for tea, and you will find me here when it is ready. Major Stapylton and I will take a stroll along the river-side.” Now this last was less an invitation than a sort of significant hint to Stapylton that his host had no intention to ask him to cross his threshold, at least for the present; and, indeed, as Barrington passed out and closed the wicket after him, he seemed as though closing the entrance forever.
With a manner far more assured thau his wont, Barrington said: “I have been in pursuit of you, Major Stapylton, since four o'clock. I missed you by having taken the road instead of the river; and am much grieved that the communication I have to make you should not take place anywhere rather than near my roof or within my own gates.”
“I am to suppose from your words, sir, that what you are about to say can scarcely be said to a friend; and if so, cannot you hit upon a more convenient mode of making your communication?”
“I think not. I believe that I shall be dealing more fairly with you by saying what I have to say in person.”
“Go on,” said Stapylton, calmly, as the other paused.
“You are aware,” continued Barrington, “that the chief obstacle to a settlement of the claims I have long preferred against the India Company has been a certain document which they possess, declaring that a large portion of the territory held by the Rajah of Luckerabad was not amenable to the laws that regulate succession, being what is called 'Lurkar-teea,'—conquered country,—over which, under no circumstances, could the Rajah exercise prospective rights. To this deed, for their better protection, the Company obtained the signature and seal of the Rajah himself, by means which, of course, we could never discover; but they held it, and always declared that no portion of my son's claim could extend to these lands. Now, as they denied that he could succeed to what are called the 'Turban lands,' meaning the right of sovereignty—being a British subject—on the one hand, and rejected his claim to these conquered countries on the other,—they excluded him altogether.”
“My dear sir,” said Stapylton, mildly, “I'm shocked to interrupt you, but I am forced to ask, what is the intimate bearing of all this upon me, or on your position towards me?”