The emphasis with which he spoke the last words brought the color to O'Reilly's cheek, who seemed very miserable at the interruption.
“You came to take possession,” continued Daly, fixing his eyes on him with a steadfast stare.
“You mistake, Bagenal,” said the Knight, gently; “Mr. O'Reilly is come with a very different object,—one which I trust he will deem it no breach of confidence or propriety in me if I mention it to you.”
“I regret to say, sir,” said O'Reilly, hastily, “that I cannot give my permission in this instance. Whatever the fate of the proposal I have made to you, I beg it to be understood as made under the seal of honorable secrecy.”
Darcy bowed deeply, but made no reply.
“Confound me,” cried Daly, “if I understand any compact between two such men as you to require all this privacy, unless you were hardy enough to renew your old father's proposal for my friend's daughter, and now had modesty enough to feel ashamed of your own impudence.”
“I am no stranger, sir, to the indecent liberties you permit your tongue to take,” said Hickman, moving towards the door; “but this is neither the time nor place to notice them.”
“So then I was right,” cried Daly; “I guessed well the game you would play—”
“Bagenal,” interposed the Knight, “I must atop this. Mr. Hickman is now beneath my roof—”
“Is he, faith?—not in his own estimation then. Why, his fellows are taking an inventory of the furniture at this very moment.”