Arthur Hazlehurst, with an aspect graver than his wont, replied to Harry’s appeal—“It certainly is very unfortunate that you should have selected last night, of all others, to displease my father; because, owing to the Crane offer, time is of the greatest importance; but for that I should not have cared; you would only have had to wait for a week or two, taking pains to be especially polite and deferential in the interval, and he would have totally forgotten his anger. As it is, perhaps I had better speak to him,—he is sure to tell me about the cotton-spinner, and I can avail myself of that opportunity to come to the point; and now, if you have nothing better to propose, we’ll go in to breakfast. Love may possibly destroy the appetite, but a railroad journey has a directly contrary effect.”
Harry had nothing better to propose—(for a vague suggestion in regard to punching old Crane’s head, if he (Crane) did not mind what he was about, could scarcely be considered in the light of a serious, practical amendment)—so they went in to breakfast accordingly.
This meal appeared to be a most unsatisfactory one to “all who assembled within those walls;” for, despite the presence of every delicacy of the season, and a few over, each individual seemed labouring under some secret sorrow, and a general wet blanket damped, and hung heavy on, the spirits of the whole party; with the exception, perhaps, of Horace D’Almayne, who was unusually animated, and watched the proceedings with a look of quiet penetration.
When the ladies quitted the room, Mr. Crane called Mr. Hazlehurst aside, and informed him that he wished for the honour of an interview; to which request that gentleman acceded in his most gracious manner, and they adjourned together to the library.
Harry, with a significant glance to Arthur to remain on the look out and watch proceedings, strolled off with Tom on some horse-or-dog-inspecting pretext, but really to keep himself out of harm’s way till he was wanted,—so low an estimate had he now acquired of his own diplomatic abilities.
D’Almayne and Arthur being thus left tête-à-tête, the former accosted the latter after the following fashion:—
“Hazlehurst, mon cher, I shall die of ennui if we have many such tristes affaires as this meal of which we have just partaken, Now, without being more inquisitive than my neighbours, you cannot suppose I have remained entirely in the dark in regard to the little amusements your friends and relations have devised to vary the monotony of life withal.”
“And the result of these your observations?” inquired Arthur, coldly.
“Is, that the various interests clash, and that delicate dilemmas innumerable must, ere long, present their horns;—now I, being an easy-tempered fellow, like to be happy myself, and to see every brother man, and sister woman, happy also. I shall, therefore, have much pleasure in doing mon petit possible to smooth away these difficulties—an endeavour in which my influence with our good friend Crane will greatly assist me; but to enable me to do this, you must of course take me so far into your confidence, as to tell me whether I am right in my preconceived ideas—che dice, Signor?”
Arthur reflected for a moment—he knew D’Almayne to be quick-sighted, clear-headed, and fertile in expedient, at the same time he believed he was designing and self-interested; in the present emergency, however, he might, from his influence with Mr. Crane, be possibly of some use, while he could scarcely, with the worst intentions, render the aspect of affairs more complicated and unsatisfactory than it now appeared.