“Something in it! ay, Lionel, that it has,—the whole story of our country's misery and degradation. The owner of the soil has diffused little else among the people than the licentious terror of his own unbridled passion; he has taught lawless outrage, when he should have inculcated obedience and submission. The corruption of our people has come from above downwards; the heavy retribution will come one day; and when the vices of the peasant shall ascend to the master, the social ruin will be complete. To this dreadful consummation let us lend no aid. No, no, Lionel, sorrow may be lessened by time; but remorse is undying and eternal.”
“I must leave the Guards at once,” said the young man, pacing the room slowly, and endeavoring to speak with an air of calm composure, while every feature of his face betrayed the agitation he suffered; “an exchange will not be difficult to manage.”
“You have some debts, too, in London: they must be cared for immediately.”
“Nothing of any large amount; my horses and carriages when sold will more than meet all I owe. Have you formed any guess as to what income will be left you to live on?” said he, in a voice which anxiety made weak and tremulous.
“Without Daly's assistance, I cannot answer that point; the extent of this fellow Gleeson's iniquity seems but half explored. The likelihood is, that your mother's jointure will be the utmost we can save from the wreck. Even that, however, will be enough for all we need, although, from motives of delicacy on her part, it was originally set down at a very small sum,—not more than a thousand per annum.”
A long silence now ensued. The Knight, buried in thought, sat with his arms crossed, and his eyes bent upon the ground. Lionel leaned on the window-frame and looked out upon the lawn; nothing stirred, no sound was heard save the sharp ticking of the clock upon the mantelpiece, which marked with distinctness every second, as if reminding them of the fleeting moments that were to be their last beneath that roof.
“This is the 24th, if I remember aright,” said Darcy, looking up at the dial; “at noon, to-day, we are no longer masters here.”
“The Hickmans will scarcely venture to push matters to such extremities; an assurance that we are willing to surrender peaceable possession will, I trust, be sufficient to prevent the indecency of a rapid flight from our own house and home.”
“There are legal forms of possession to be gone through, I believe,” said the Knight, sorrowfully; “certain observances the law exacts, which would be no less painful for us to witness than the actual presence of our successors.”
“Who can this be? I saw a carriage disappear behind the copse yonder. There it is again, coming along by the lake.”