O'Reilly, whose ashy cheek and affrighted air bespoke a heart but ill at ease, made no reply, and Daly went on,—
“You said, sir, that neither the time nor the place suited the notice you felt called upon to take of my remarks on your conduct. May I ask, as a very great favor, what time and what place will be more convenient to you? And I cannot better express my own sense of regret for a hasty expression than by assuring you that I shall hold myself bound to be at your service in both respects.”
“A hostile meeting, sir, is that your proposition?” said O'Reilly, aloud.
“How admirably you read a riddle!” said Daly, laughing.
“There, Mr. Jones!” cried O'Reilly, turning to his companion, “I call on you to witness the words,—a provocation to a duel offered by this gentleman.”
“Not at all,” rejoined Daly; “the provocation came from yourself,—at least, you used a phrase which men with blood in their veins understand but one way. My error—and I 'll not forgive myself in haste for it—was the belief that an upstart need not of necessity be a poltroon.—Drive on,” cried he to the coachman, with a sneering laugh; “your master is looking pale.” And, with these words, he turned his horse's head, and cantered slowly back towards the abbey.
CHAPTER XXXIII. TATE SULLIVAN'S FAREWELL
The sorrows and sufferings of noble minds are melancholy themes to dwell upon; they may “point a moral,” but they scarcely “adorn a tale,” least of all such a tale as ours is intended to be. While, therefore, we would spare our readers and ourselves the pain of this narration, we cannot leave that old abbey, which we remember so full of happiness, without one parting look at it, in company with those about to quit it forever.
From the time of Mr. O'Reilly's leave-taking, the day, notwithstanding its gloomy presage, went over rapidly. The Knight busied himself with internal arrangements, while Lionel took into his charge all the preparations for their departure on the morrow, Bagenal Daly assisting each in turn, and displaying an amount of calm foresight and circumspection in details which few would have given him credit for. Meanwhile, Lady Eleanor slept long and heavily, and awoke, not only refreshed in body, but with an appearance of quiet energy and determination she had not shown for years past. Great indeed was the Knight's astonishment on hearing that she intended joining them at dinner; in her usual habit she dined early, and with Helen alone for her companion, so that her present resolve created the more surprise.