“I will not lose a post, rely upon it, madam,” said Bick-nell; “and am I to suppose you have determined on this journey?”
“Yes,” said Miss Daly, “the case admits of little hesitation; the young man is alone, friendless, and unknown. I 'll hasten over at once,—I am too old for slander, Mr. Bicknell. Besides, let me see who will dare to utter it.”
There was a sternness in her features as she spoke that made her seem the actual image of her brother. Then, turning to Linwood, she continued,—
“I 'll go over this evening to Bangor in the packet, let me find you there.”
“I 'll see him safe on board, ma'am,” said Freney, with a leer, while, slipping his arm within the valet's, he half led, half drew him from the room.
CHAPTER XXXII. A LESSON IN POLITICS
In the deep bay-window of a long, gloomy-looking dinner-room of a Dublin mansion, sat a party of four persons around a table plentifully covered with decanters and bottles, and some stray remnants of a dessert which seemed to have been taken from the great table in the middle of the apartment. The night was falling fast, for it was past eight o'clock of an evening in autumn, and there was barely sufficient light to descry the few scrubby-looking ash and alder trees that studded the barren grass-plot between the house and the stables. There was nothing to cheer in the aspect without, nor, if one were to judge from the long pauses that ensued after each effort at conversation, the few and monotonous words of the speakers, were there any evidences of a more enlivening spirit within doors. The party consisted of Dr. Hickman and his son Mr. O'Reilly, Mr. Heffernan, and “Counsellor” O'Halloran.
At first, and by the dusky light in the chamber, it would seem as if but three persons were assembled; for the old doctor, whose debility had within the last few months made rapid strides, had sunk down into the recess of the deep chair, and save by a low quavering respiration, gave no token of his presence. As these sounds became louder and fuller, the conversation gradually dropped into a whisper, for the old man was asleep. In the subdued tone of the speakers, the noiseless gestures as they passed the bottle from hand to hand, it was easy to mark that they did not wish to disturb his slumbers. It is no part of our task to detail how these individuals came to be thus associated. The assumed object which at this moment drew them together was the approaching trial at Galway of a record brought against the Hickmans by Darcy. It was Bick-nell's last effort, and with it must end the long and wearisome litigation between the houses.
The case for trial had nothing which could suggest any fears as to the result. It was on a motion for a new trial that the cause was to come on. The plea was misdirection and want of time, so that, in itself, the matter was one of secondary importance. The great question was that a general election now drew nigh, and it was necessary for O'Reilly to determine on the line of political conduct he should adopt, and thus give O'Halloran the opportunity of a declaration of his client's sentiments in his address to the jury.