“Well, here goes for the attempt. Let us first have our dinner, M’Kinlay, and then I’ll write your credentials. You shall go over to Arran, and use your best powers of persuasion. I’ll tell you by-and-by all that you ought to know beforehand of your adversary, for adversary you’ll find him, whatever subject you broach; but I shall call it a great victory if you succeed.”
“Where is Arran?” asked the lawyer, in some trepidation, for he only half liked his mission.
“Here it is,” said Vyner, spreading a map over the table, and pointing to some three or four insignificant dots off the coast of Donegal. “It is the most northern of these—that one.”
“And how is it to be come at?”
“We must learn all that from the people of the inn here. A fishing lugger, I take it——”
“I declare, frankly, I have no fancy for the expedition; nor is there, indeed, any reason for it. A letter will be amply sufficient to explain your object.”
“Yes, but not to urge and persuade him—not to meet the doubts and the difficulties he will suggest—not to reassure him about this, and convince him about that. He’s a clever fellow, M’Kinlay, and one who will require to examine every phase of a subject before he’ll accept it.”
“Good Heavens! what a place to go to,” cried the other, as his eyes were still intently bent upon the little spots on the map.
“The place is most interesting; some remarkable scenery, and a very curious ruin of an ancient Abbey.”
“Not in my way—not at all in my way, Sir Gervais. I’d rather see a snug chop-house than the purest specimen of pointed Gothic.”