“And to which, as you say, you offered strenuous objection?”
“No, Miss Conrtenay. No. Nothing of the kind. I objected to entertain the question of altering the will, accompanied as the request was by what I could not help regarding as symptoms of a wandering, incoherent intellect.”
“What do you mean, Sir? Do you intend to insinuate that Sir Within Wardle is insane? Is that your meaning?”
“I should certainly say his mind is verging on imbecility. I don’t think the opinion will be disputed by any one who sat at table with him to-day.”
“I declare, Sir, you amaze me!” cried she, in a voice of terror. “You amaze and you frighten me. Are there any others of us in whom you detect incipient madness? Did you remark any wildness in my sister’s eyes, or any traits of eccentricity in my mother’s manner? To common, vulgar apprehensions—to my brother’s and my own—Sir Within was most agreeable to-day. We thought him charming in those little reminiscences of a life where, be it remembered, the weapons are not the coarse armour of every-day society, but the polished courtesies that Kings and Princes deal in. I repeat, Sir, to our notions his anecdotes and illustrations were most interesting.”
Mr. M’Kinlay stood aghast. What could have brought down upon him this avalanche of indignation and eloquence? Surely in his remark on that old man’s imbecility he could not be supposed to insinuate anything against the sanity of the others! His first sensation was that of terror; his second was anger. He was offended—“sorely hurt,” he would have called it—to be told that in a matter of social usage, in what touched on conventionalities, he was not an efficient testimony.
“I am aware, fully aware, Miss Courtenay,” said he, gravely, “that Sir Within’s society is not my society; that neither our associations, our topics, or our ways of life, are alike; but, on a question which my professional opinion might determine—and such a question might well arise—I will say that there are few men at the English Bar would be listened to with more deference.”
“Fiddle-faddle, Sir! We have nothing to do with the Bar or Barristers, here. I have a great esteem for you—we all have—and I assure you I can give no better proof of it than by promising that I will entirely forget this conversation—every word of it.”
She waved her hand as she said “By-by!” and flitted rather than walked away, leaving Mr. M’Kinlay in a state of mingled shame and resentment that perfectly overwhelmed him.
For the honour of his gallantry I will not record the expressions with which he coupled her name; they were severe—they were even unprofessional; but he walked the garden alone till a late hour of the evening, and when Sir Gervais went at last in search of him, he refused to come in to tea, alleging much preoccupation of mind, and hinting that an urgent demand for his presence in London might possibly—he was not yet quite certain—oblige him to take a very hurried leave of his kind hosts.