"I know you do," replied Mrs. Effingham; "I have seen it in a thousand instances, and therefore it is that I place so much confidence in you, Charles. You see the evil of a violent and passionate disposition, and strive against it. Your father neither sees nor knows it. I am not sure that he is not proud of being ill-tempered; for many men, I believe, think that energy of mind must be combined with violence of passion. But still I cannot help thinking, Charles, that you gave way more than necessary to-day, in acting towards this young man, this Arthur Hargrave, as I gather that you have done. To protect Lucy was right and just, even if you had not been her lover; but you might have done so, it seems to me, without knocking him down, risking, thereby, evil consequences to yourself, which, I hope, are not likely to take place."
Charles smiled. "Perhaps, if I had not taken him for the favoured lover," he said, "I might have treated him more gently. But there is no reason to be apprehensive of any farther consequences; all that can be said is, that I found a strange man, dressed as a sailor, in my father's park, and insulting my father's ward, and that I knocked him down accordingly; so there is nothing likely to ensue."
"I think not, either," replied Mrs. Effingham; "for it is an impression upon my mind, that a man who insults or persecutes a woman, will sooner or later prove himself a coward in his dealings with man; so now, good-by!"
CHAPTER X.
Charles Tyrrell made the best of his way back towards the park by a different line from that which he had taken in coming; for the path which he had followed, though the nearest of the manifold paths, and much nearer than the high road itself, was about twice the length which it might have been rendered if the makers thereof had chosen to take a straight line. He accordingly cut across the grounds of the manor-house towards the paling which separated them from the park, vaulted over the fence, and, taking his way through the midst of the trees and even the underwood, gained a compensating five or ten minutes for the half hour more than needful which had been given to Lucy and Mrs. Effingham.
When he entered the library of Sir Francis, he found that worthy gentleman in his element, the two friendly justices having arrived, to one of whom he was laying down the law upon various matters of county jurisprudence, while the other was undergoing Mr. Driesen, for we know of no other way to express ourselves, seeing that that gentleman was operating upon him with the calm cruelty of a surgeon in large practice, or a professed torturer of the Inquisition, making use of a passage from Aristophanes as the rack, and enjoying the writhings of his victim when he insisted upon his giving his view of a long quotation, of which he neither understood nor could remember one single word. The unhappy man, it seems, had acquired a certain degree of reputation for learning in the county, by occasionally misquoting to his brother justices some of the Latin headings to the papers in the Rambler and Spectator; and Mr. Driesen, it would seem, had determined, from the first, to do justice upon him as soon as he could meet with him. He had, consequently, dragged him close up to Sir Francis and the other justice, and endeavoured, as far as possible, to call them from Sir Francis's discussion upon the law, to witness his infliction upon the worthy personage he was persecuting.
No sooner did Charles appear than the poor man darted towards him for refuge, leaving Mr. Driesen grinning at him with triumph and contempt; but Sir Francis had also his word to say to his son, and immediately remarked,
"Why, Charles, I should have supposed those enormous long legs of yours might have carried you to the manor-house and back somewhat more rapidly."
"Under ordinary circumstances they would have done so," replied Charles Tyrrell, coolly: for all that had passed between him and Lucy, although it had left his mind in no slight state of agitation, had also left it in as placable a mood as it is possible to conceive. "I met with various little incidents on the road, sir," he added, with a smile, "none of them very disagreeable indeed, but which served to detain me. In the first place, I met Miss Effingham coming up here to console you and my mother for the absence of your affectionate son, who she fully believed had departed, not this life, but this house, on his journey to Oxford."
"You are pleased to be facetious, sir," said his father, dryly. "Pray what was the next little incident? I suppose this was not a disagreeable one, certainly."