“I would not take a fortune for that,” he exclaimed, giving the young girl a brilliant, delightful smile. “The low brute! He was worse than his own dead beast, because God has endowed him with intelligence, which he uses only to gain wealth and rob the poor. He is one of the greatest scoundrels in all England and one of the richest. None of his family will have anything to do with him; neither his stepmother, the present dowager Duchess of Kilkenty, nor his half-brother, Lord Glenarm. He is so powerful that he is feared almost as much as he is disliked. But,” here Telemac lowered his voice, “it is said that he has lent large sums in high places and for that reason he is safe. But he is not safe. No one is safe. There is a hand that smites in the dark, and some day it will strike the Duke of Kilkenty!”
Telemac had risen as he made this dire prophecy, which he spoke in an emphatic whisper. It was impossible not to feel impressed at his words; but suddenly, becoming aware of their serious faces and wide-stretched eyes, he sat down and began to laugh.
“What an absurd old person you must think me,” he exclaimed, “to frighten you like this about a man we all have our reasons for disliking. Let us change the subject.”
After talking gayly about other things, he presently left, and they were rather glad, for some reason, that they had not mentioned that their young Irish friend was about to journey north with them in the motor car.
They did not see Telemac next morning when they took the road to Oxford, which lay through the most charming country imaginable, rolling and green, and dotted with lovely villages.
Feargus joined them a few miles out of St. Albans, as he had promised, his kit of belongings strapped to his back; and they started in good earnest to Oxford Town, the day still before them.
A little before one o’clock they found themselves on the summit of a hill, and below them, its many towers and spires gilded by the afternoon sun, lay the ancient city of Oxford. Like a dream picture it was, this gray old town which seemed to be floating on a violet mist. Then, as they drew nearer and its buildings took on form and shape, they could see plainly the belfries and spires of its many churches and of the twenty-two colleges of the University.
The scarlet motor, speeding up Broad Street, was like a bird of brilliant plumage that had lost its way in a strange land. They inquired and were directed to a hotel, an old Tudor building, and here the dashing “Comet” presently paused.
It would have been neither natural nor human if the hearts of the Motor Maids had not beat a shade faster at sight of so many handsome, athletic young college men in the streets, students of the twenty-two colleges. Many carried books under their arms and some wore their academic robes and square hats. Even Miss Campbell, past the age of frivolities, could not resist a feeling of pleasure at sight of so much youth and good looks passing along the quiet streets. But young Englishmen are very bashful, as every American girl knows who has visited this famous seat of learning; and most of the students pretended to ignore the fact that they had attracted the attention of five inquisitive ladies.
“It always gives me a kind of lonesome feeling when people won’t notice me,” Nancy observed, as they followed a boy who appeared to be entirely outlined with buttons into the hotel.