The poor Italian, so wise and so subtle in his talk, was as rash and blind when it came to action, as if he had been born in Ireland, and nourished on potatoes and Repeal. He bared his whole soul to the merciless eye of Randal.
“My daughter!” he exclaimed. “Sir, your question is an insult.”
Randal’s way became clear at once. “Forgive me,” he said, mildly; “I will tell you frankly all that I know. I am acquainted with the Count’s sister. I have some little influence over her. It was she who informed me that the Count had come here, bent upon discovering your refuge, and resolved to wed your daughter. This is the danger of which I spoke. And when I asked your permission to aid in forestalling it, I only intended to suggest that it might be wise to find some securer home, and that I, if permitted to know that home, and to visit you, could apprise you, from time to time, of the Count’s plans and movements.”
“Sir, I thank you sincerely,” said Riccabocca, with emotion; “but am I not safe here?”
“I doubt it. Many people have visited the Squire in the shooting season, who will have heard of you—perhaps seen you, and who are likely to meet the Count in London. And Frank Hazeldean, too, who knows the Count’s sister—”
“True, true,” interrupted Riccabocca. “I see, I see. I will consider. I will reflect. Meanwhile you are going to Hazeldean. Do not say a word to the Squire. He knows not the secret you have discovered.”
With those words Riccabocca turned slightly away, and Randal took the hint to depart.
“At all times command and rely on me,” said the young traitor, and he regained the pale to which he had fastened his horse.
As he remounted, he cast his eyes toward the place where he had left Riccabocca. The Italian was still standing there. Presently the form of Jackeymo was seen emerging from the shrubs. Riccabocca turned hastily round, recognized his servant, uttered an exclamation loud enough to reach Randal’s ear, and then catching Jackeymo by the arm, disappeared with him amidst the deeper recesses of the garden.
“It will be indeed in my favor,” thought Randal, as he rode on, “if I can get them into the neighborhood of London—all occasion there to woo, and, if expedient, to win—the heiress.”