Some time passed before she entirely recovered from the effects of the fearful danger in which she had been placed. She looked forward, day after day, for the return of the corvette, but in vain. She eagerly examined the newspapers, but none of them mentioned the Ariadne. She might still be on the coast of Ireland, or have been ordered elsewhere. From what Captain Denham had said before he took his departure, she was fully persuaded he would soon return; and it must be confessed, she longed to ask him many questions. There were various doubts passing through her mind which she was anxious to have solved. She scarcely, however, would trust herself to speak of them even to Sophy. She was soon to have her mind occupied with other cares.
Her father, who had never recovered the loss of his son, or his visit to the West Indies, was now very evidently declining in health. He could no longer follow the hounds, or ride out as before. He took little or no interest in public affairs. Even his neighbours he declined seeing when they called, though he seemed always glad to have a visit from Mr Jamieson or his blind niece. He held frequent conversations with the steward about his affairs, which seemed greatly to trouble him. At length it was determined to send to Dublin to request the presence of his family lawyer, Mr Finlayson, who, though now an old man, was sufficiently hale to undertake the journey. He had, it appeared, as had his father before him, managed for many years the Kilfinnan property.
Nora willingly agreed to write to request his attendance, for she felt, that as he was a faithful friend of her father’s, he would certainly be a comfort to him, and might also be able to suggest a means of placing the property in a more satisfactory state than it was in at present. She thought nothing of herself; it scarcely occurred to her that she was to become the heiress of it all. She knew that the title would become extinct at her father’s death, but that caused her no regret. She supposed that her income would enable her and her cousin Sophy to live as they had been accustomed. More she did not require.
Within a week Mr Patrick Finlayson arrived in a chaise from Dublin. In those days the journey was not performed as rapidly as at present, and the dangers to be encountered were not a few. He was a small, neatly made, active little man, with a clear complexion, which even his advanced age had scarcely succeeded in depriving of the hue of youth, though his hair was white as snow. His eyes were bright and intelligent, and his whole manner and appearance showed that he was still capable of a considerable amount of active exertion. His brown suit, knee breeches, and silk stockings, were set off by brightly polished steel buttons and diamond buckles. Having paid his respects to the ladies of the family, and addressed Lady Nora in his usual easy, familiar style, which showed that he had from her earliest youth, claimed the honour of being one of her admirers and friends, he made more especial inquiries about the Earl.
“You will see a great change in my father,” said Nora, “but your coming will, I feel sure, do him good. You know more about our affairs than we do. I only hope things are not worse than he supposes, and if they are, I must ask you to conceal the truth from him; I am afraid it would do him no good to make him aware of it, and would only deeply grieve him. I care not so much if I only am the sufferer.”
“You need not be alarmed, my dear Lady Nora,” answered the old man, taking her hand. “Things are not worse than the Earl supposes; on the contrary, I have of late seen the importance of not allowing him to believe that they were improving as much as they have been. You know, probably, your good father’s disposition, and are aware, that had he discovered this, he would very quickly have launched out again into his old habits of extravagance, which, however, from the sad account you give of him, he is not now likely to do, and therefore I am prepared to tell him the whole truth. Your affairs, Lady Nora, require nursing, I will confess to that, and careful management, but a few years of economy will, I hope, place them on a satisfactory footing.”
“This is indeed pleasant news you bring us, Mr Finlayson, I own when I heard that you had consented to come, that I feared things were rather worse than better, but I am indeed very grateful to you for coming; you have always been one of our truest friends, and I am sure at the present moment you will be a great comfort to my poor father. I will let the Earl know of your arrival, and I am sure he will be glad to see you at once. During the last few days he has grown very much weaker, and his medical attendant will not tell me what he thinks of his case. He himself speaks very willingly to our friend and neighbour, Mr Jamieson, who, when I ask him what he thinks, always looks very grave, and replies, ‘that the lives of all of us are in God’s hands, and that we should be prepared to lose those we love at any moment.’ This makes me, as you may suppose, extremely anxious.”
While Lady Nora was speaking the old gentleman became very serious.
“I should like to see the Earl as soon as possible,” he observed; “I have several matters of importance to consult him about, which I should not like to put off until he becomes still weaker than you tell me he is at present. You will excuse me, Lady Nora, when I say I should like to be alone with him for some time.”
“O yes, sir,” said Lady Nora; “I know that whatever you have to say to my father you have the right to say to him; and I feel such perfect confidence in you that I have no desire to pry into any secrets you may have with him.”