“Is this true, sir?” said Darcy, turning a fierce look towards O'Reilly, whose face became suddenly of an ashy paleness.
“If so,” muttered he, “I can only assure you that it is without any orders of mine.”
“How good!” said Daly, bursting into an insolent laugh; “why, Darcy, when you meet with a fellow in your plantations with a gun in his hand and a lurcher at his heels, are you disposed to regard him as one in search of the picturesque, or a poacher? So, when a gentleman travels about the country with a sub-sheriff in his carriage and two bailiffs in the rumble, does it seem exactly the guise of one paying morning calls to his neighbors?”
“Mr. O'Reilly, I ask you to explain this proceeding.”
“I confess, sir,” stammered out the other, “I came accompanied by certain persons in authority, but who have acted in this matter entirely without my permission. The proposal I have made this day was the cause of my visit.”
“It is a subject on which I can no longer hold any secrecy,” said the Knight, haughtily. “Bagenal, you were quite correct in your surmise. Mr. O'Reilly not only intended us the honor of an alliance, but offered to merge the ancient glories of his house by assuming the more humble name and shield of Darcy.”
“What! eh! did I hear aright?” said Daly, with a broken voice; while, walking to the window, he looked down into the lawn beneath, as if calculating the height from the ground. “By Heaven, Darcy, you 're the best-tempered fellow in Europe—that 's all,” he muttered, as he walked away.
The door opened at this moment, and the shock bullet head of a bailiff appeared.
“That's Mr. Daly! there he is!” cried out O'Reilly, who, pale with passion and trembling all over, supported himself against the back of a chair with one hand, while with the other he pointed to where Daly stood.
“In that case,” said the fellow, entering, while he drew a slip of paper from his breast, “I 'll take the opportunity of sarvin' him where he stands.”