Sir Arthur was reading the letter when she entered.
“Here's Skeff gone off to what he calls the 'front;' he says that Tony Butler has joined the insurgents, and he must get him out of their hands at any price.”
“But of course, papa, you 'll not permit it; you 'll forbid him peremptorily,” broke in Bella.
“I 'm not so sure of that, Bella; because, amongst other reasons, I 'm not so sure he 'd mind me. Our gifted friend is endowed with considerable self-will.”
“Immense determination, I should rather call it, papa; but, pray, try to stop this mad freak. He is not certainly called on to expose such a life as his, and at such a moment.”
“What am I to do?”
“Go over to him at once; declare that you have the right to speak on such a subject. Say that if he is pleased to overlook the necessity of his presence here at this crisis, he ought to remember his position with regard to us,—ought to think of me,” said she, with a burst of grief that ended in a shower of tears, and drove her from the room.
Sir Arthur was far more disposed to sit down to his dinner than go off on this mission of affection; but Lady Lyle took the same view of the case as her daughter, and there was no help for it. And although the bland butler repeated, “Soup is served, sir,” the poor man had to step downstairs to his carriage and drive off to the Legation.
On arriving there, he learned that his Excellency had gone to see the Prime Minister. Sir Arthur set off in the pursuit, which led him from one great office of the state to another, always to discover that the object of his search had just left only five minutes before; till, at length, his patience became exhausted on hearing that Mr. Darner was last seen in company with an officer of rank on the road to Castelamare, whither, certainly, he determined not to follow him.
It was near nine o'clock when he got home to report himself unsuccessful, to meet dark looks from his wife and daughter, and sit down alone to a comfortless dinner, chagrined and disconcerted.