“Had n't he, then?” exclaimed Paul,—“maybe not. If I hadn't, then, who had?—tell me that. Wasn't it then and there I first heard of the kind intentions towards me?”
“Towards you, sir! Of what are you speaking?”
“Blood alive! will you tell me that I 'm not Paul Dempsey, of Dempsey's Grove?” exclaimed he, driven beyond all patience by what he deemed equivocation. “Will you tell me that your Ladyship didn't allude to the day I brought the letter from Coleraine, and say that you actually began to like me from that hour? Did n't you tell Miss Helen not to lie down-hearted, because there were better days in store for us? Miss Darcy remembers it, I see,—ay, and your Ladyship does now. Did n't you call me rash and headstrong and ambitious? I forgive it all; I believe it is true. And was n't I your bond-slave from that hour? Oh, mercy on me! the pleasant time I had of it at Mother Fum's! Then came the days and nights I was watching over you at Ballintray. Ay, faith, and money was very scarce with me when I gave old Denny Nolan five shillings for the loan of his nankeen jacket to perform the part of waiter at the little inn. Do you remember a little note, in the shape of a friendly warning? Eh, now, my Lady, I think your memory is something fresher.”
If the confusion of Lady Eleanor and her daughter was extreme at this outpouring of Mr. Dempsey's confessions, the amazement of Darcy and the utter stupefaction of Forester were even greater; to throw discredit upon him would be to acknowledge the real bearing of the circumstances, which would be far worse than all his imputations; so there was no alternative but to lie under every suspicion his narrative might suggest.
Forester felt annoyed as much that such a person should have obtained this assumed intimacy as by the pretensions he well knew were only absurd, and took an early leave under the pretence of fatigue. Bicknell soon followed; and now the Knight, arresting Dempsey's preparations for departure, led him back towards the fire, and placing a chair for him between Lady Eleanor and himself, obliged him to recount his scattered reminiscences once more, and, what was a far less pleasing duty to him, to listen to Lady Eleanor while she circumstantially unravelled the web of his delusion, and, in order, explained on what unsubstantial grounds he had built the edifice of his hope. Perhaps honest Paul was not more afflicted at any portion of the disentanglement than that which, in disavowing his pretensions, yet confessed that some other held the favorable place, while that other's name was guarded as a secret. This was, indeed, a sore blow, and he could n't rally from it; and willingly would he have bartered all the gratitude they expressed for his many friendly offices to know his rival's name.
“Well,” exclaimed he, as Lady Eleanor concluded, “it's clear I was n't the man. Only think of my precious journey to London, and the interview with that terrible old Countess,—all for nothing! No matter,—it's all past and over. As for the loan, I 've arranged it all; you shall have the money when you like.”
“I must decline your generous offer, not without feeling your debtor for it; but I have determined to abandon these proceedings. The Government have promised me some staff appointment, quite sufficient for my wishes and wants; and I will neither burden my friends nor wear out myself by tiresome litigation.”
“That's the worst of all,” exclaimed Dempsey; “I thought you would not refuse me this.”