“I wish you good morning, Mr. Darcy,” said O'Reilly, addressing him for the first time by the name of his family instead of his usual designation; and without vouchsafing a word to Daly, he retired from the room.
It was not until O'Reilly's carriage drove past the window that either Darcy or his friend uttered a syllable; they stood apparently lost in thought up to that moment, when the noise of wheels and the tramp of horses aroused them.
“We must lose no time, Bagenal,” said the Knight, hastily; “I cannot count very far on that gentleman's delicacy or forbearance. Lady Eleanor must not be exposed to the indignities the law will permit him to practise towards us; we must, if possible, leave this to-night;” and so saying, he left the room to make arrangements in accordance with his resolve.
Bagenal Daly looked after him for a moment. “Poor fellow!” muttered he, “how manfully he bears it!” When a sudden flush that covered his cheek bespoke a rapid change of sentiment, and at the same instant he left the room, and, crossing the hall and the courtyard, walked hastily towards the stables.
“Saddle a horse for me, Carney, and as fast as may be.”
“Here's a mare ready this minute, sir; she was going out to take her gallop.”
“I'll give it, then,” said Daly, as he buttoned up his coat; and then, breaking off a branch of the old willow that hung over the fountain, sprang in the saddle with an alertness that would not have disgraced a youth of twenty.
“There he goes,” muttered the old huntsman, as he looked after him, “and there is n't the man between this and Killy-begs can take as much out of a baste as himself. 'T is quiet enough the mare will be when he turns her head into this yard again.”
Whatever Daly's purpose, it seemed one which brooked little delay, for no sooner was he on the sward than he pushed the mare to a fast gallop, and was seen sweeping along the lawn at a tremendous pace. In less than ten minutes he saw O'Reilly's carriage, as, in a rapid trot, the horses advanced along the level avenue, and almost the moment after, he had stationed himself in the road, so as to prevent their proceeding further. The coachman, who knew him well, came to a stop at his signal, and before his master could ask the reason, Daly was beside the window of the chariot.
“I would wish a word with you, Mr. O'Reilly,” said he, in a low, subdued voice, so as to be inaudible to the sub-sheriff, who was seated beside him. “You made use of an expression a few moments ago, which, if I understood aright, convinces me I have unwittingly done you great injustice.”