Dariel: A Romance of Surrey

by R. D. Blackmore

Now whether it was mean of me, or noble, depends upon the right view of the case; but before she could repent of being kind, I got hold of her hand, and kissed it so as to assure her of my forgiveness. Then the loveliest colour ever seen on earth arose in her face, and in her eyes there was the sweetest light just for a moment, and then she trembled, and I was afraid of myself.

By mutual accord we dropped that point. But I knew that she felt for the first time in her heart that the whole of mine belonged to it. Crafty love and maiden fear combined to let that bide a while.

"I fear that it is too selfish of me, and too great trespass upon your good-will," she said without looking at me again, "if I ask you to help me in this matter. But you do admire my father, I think. Nobody can meet him without that."

"He is the noblest and the grandest man I have ever had the honour of speaking to. I wish that I could only do something for him. There can be no trespass on my good-will. Only tell me plainly."

"This is all I know, and I dare not ask more, for it is not considered good to tell me. There is one day in the year of great sorrow and bitterness, through something that has happened in my father's life. It is something that he himself has done, though no one could believe that he would ever commit a sin. Last year, and every year before that until now, I was away and saw nothing of it, being under education with good ladies of great learning. But now that is finished, and it was not possible for the tribulation to be concealed from me. Long before that I had known there was something of very great misfortune and calamity to us; but I have never been permitted to hear more about it; and how can I learn, of whom can I enquire? Stepan knows, I am almost sure of that; and perhaps Baboushka does—but as for telling me—it appears that with our people, the young maidens are kept out of reach of all knowledge; but I have been brought up in England, and it is not curiosity, Mr. Cran-lee, you must not be in such error as to think that I have curiosity. It is anxiety, and love of my dear father, which any one of any age or nation has a right to; and if he is to go back into that land of danger without my knowing what I have to dread, or what to save him from, how can I be of any use? He had better have no daughter."

"Shall I go and ask him all about it? He may think what he likes of me; if it will be of any good to you. No, that is not exactly what I mean. What I mean is, that I will take any row upon myself."

"I can scarcely understand what the English is of that." Oh, Dariel, can even you tell fibs? "But if it is anything, Mr. Cran-lee, of a proposal unpleasant to you, and offering unkindness to my father, it is the very last thing I would desire you to do. And what would become of you, when he regarded you, as he has the power of doing to those—to those—who show him what you call impertinence? What I was thinking of was quite different to that. And though it would give some trouble, which I have no right to seek from you, there could not be anything unbecoming in it. I thought of it last night, when I was in such sorrow that I could not sleep with any happiness. My father has one great friend in London, a gentleman known to him in our native land, and who was a great part of his coming to this country. He understands everything of our situation here, and I have seen him several times. My father has told me to make application to him, if anything should arise, beyond his own assistance. The gentleman is not of our own rank of life, because he is of commerce, which we do not understand. Nevertheless he is very wealthy, and nothing can be more respected than that point in England. He is now entitled Signor Nicolo, because it is better among the nations with whom he has dealings with the precious stones. But by birth, and of language, and the ways of thinking, he has always been an Englishman of the name of Nickols. And he is of an integrity beyond all common foreign names. He resides in the best part of London, mentioned by your great Shakespeare, and still called Hatton Garden."

"And you would like me to go and see him?" I enquired with the greatest alacrity, perceiving a good chance now of discovering many things still mysterious; "Dariel, it shall be done to-morrow. Don't talk of trouble, I beseech you."

"It is not only that," she answered, already assuming her right to my services, which women are never very slow to do; "but also the difficulty that Signor Nicolo will have to perceive in what authority you come. It is not as if you bore any message, or power of enquiry from my father, for he would not wish at all that I should so employ myself. And if you do this for me, Mr. Cran-lee, you must bear in mind that my dear father will perhaps be much displeased that it has been done; and then although he is so just and righteous, he will inflict the whole of the blame upon you, because he can never find any fault with me. And then perhaps you would never come here any more."