“'Tis Mr. Daly, my Lady,” said Tate, for something like the fourth time, without being attended to. “'T is Mr. Daly wants leave to visit you.”
“Mr. Bagenal Daly, Mamma, wishes to know if you'll receive him?”
“Mr. Daly is exactly the kind of person to suggest this impracticable line of policy,” said Lady Eleanor, with half-closed eyes; for the name alone had struck her, and she had not heard what was said.
“My dear Mamma,” said Helen, rising, and leaning over her chair, “it is a visit he proposes; nothing so very impracticable in that, I hope!” and then, at a gesture from her mother, continued to Tate, “Lady Eleanor will be very happy to see Mr. Daly.”
Lady Eleanor had scarcely aroused herself from her revery when Bagenal Daly entered. His manner was stately, perhaps somewhat colder than usual, and he took his seat with an air of formal politeness.
“I have come, my Lady,” said he, slowly, “to learn if I can be of any service in the capital; unexpected news has just reached me, requiring my immediate departure for Dublin.”
“Not to-night, sir, I hope; it is very severe, and likely, I fear, to continue so.”
“To-night, madam, within an hour, I expect to be on the road.”
“Could you defer a little longer, and we may be fellow-travellers,” said Forester; “I was to start to-morrow morning, but my packing can soon be made.”
“I should hope,” said Lady Eleanor, smiling, “that you will not leave us unprotected, gentlemen, and that one, at least, will remain here.” This speech, apparently addressed to both, was specially intended for Forester, whose cheek tingled with a flush of pleasure as he heard it.