Trafford arrived from England on the evening after, and hastened off to Howth, where he found Sir Brook deeply engaged over the maps and plans of his new estate; for already the preliminaries had so far advanced that he could count upon it as his own.

“Look here, Trafford,” he cried, “and see what a noble extension we shall give to the old grounds of the Nest. The whole of this wood—eleven hundred and seventy acres—comes in, and this mountain down to that stream there is ours, as well as all these meadow-lands between the mountain and the Shannon,—one of the most picturesque estates it will be in the kingdom. If I were to have my own way, I 'd rebuild the house. With such foliage—fine old timber much of it—there 's nothing would look better than one of those Venetian villas, those half-castellated buildings one sees at the foot of the mountains of Conigliano; and they are grand spacious places to live in, with wide stairs, and great corridors, and terraces everywhere. I see, however, Lendrick's heart clings to his old cottage, and we must let him have his way.”

“What is this here?” asked Trafford, drawing out from the mass of papers the plan of a very pretty but very diminutive cottage.

“That's to be mine. This window you see here will project over the river, and that little terrace will be carried on arches all along the river bank. I have designed everything, even to the furniture. You shall see a model cottage, Trafford; not one of those gingerbread things to be shown to strangers by ticket on Tuesdays or Saturdays, with a care-taker to be tipped, and a book to be scribbled full of vulgar praises of the proprietor, or doggerel ecstasies over some day of picnicking. But come and report yourself,—where have you been, and what have you done since I saw you?”

“I have a long budget for you. First of all, read that;” and he handed Sir Brook Sewell's letter.

“What! do you mean to say that you met him?”

“No; I rejoice to say I have escaped that mischance; but you shall hear everything, and in as few words as I can tell it. I have already told you of Mrs. Sewell's visit here, and I have not a word to add to that recital. I simply would say that I pledge my honor to the strict truth of everything I have told you. You may imagine, then, with what surprise I was awoke from my sleep to read that note. My first impression was to write him a full and explicit denial of what he laid to my charge; but as I read the letter over a third and even a fourth time, I thought I saw that he had written it on some sort of compulsion,—that, in fact, he had been instigated to the step, which was one he but partly concurred in. I do not like to say more on this head.”

“You need not. Go on.”

“I then deemed that the best thing to do was to let him have his shot, after which my explanation would come more forcibly; and as I had determined not to fire at him, he would be forced to see that he could not persist in his quarrel.”

“There you mistook your man,” cried Sir Brook, fiercely.

“I don't think so; but you shall hear. We must have crossed over in the same packet, but we never met. Stanhope, who went with me, thought he saw him on the landing-slip at Holyhead, but was not quite sure. At all events, we reached the inn at the Head, and had just sat down to luncheon, when the waiter brought in this note, asking which of us was Major Trafford. Here it is:—

“'Pray accept my excuses for having given you a rough sea passage; but, on second thoughts, I have satisfied myself that there is no valid reason why I should try to blow your brains out, “et pour si peu de chose.” As I can say without any vanity that I am a better pistol-shot than you, I have the less hesitation in taking a step which, as a man of honor and courage, you will certainly not misconstrue. With this assurance, and the not less strong conviction that my conduct will be safely treated in any representation you make of this affair, I am your humble and faithful servant,

“'Dudley Sewell.'

“I don't think I was ever so grateful to any man in the world as I felt to him on reading his note, since, let the event take what turn it might, it rendered my position with the Lendricks a most perilous one. I made Stanhope drink his health, which I own he did with a very bad grace, telling me at the same time what good luck it was for me that he had been my friend on the occasion, for that any man but himself would have thought me a regular poltroon. I was too happy to care for his sarcasms, such a load had been removed from my heart, and such terrible forebodings too.

“I started almost immediately for Holt, and got there by midnight. All were in bed, and my arrival was only known when I came down to breakfast. My welcome was all I could wish for. My father was looking well, and in great spirits. The new Ministry have offered him his choice of a Lordship of the Admiralty, or something else—I forget what; and just because he has a fine independent fortune and loves his ease, he is more than inclined to take office, one of his chief reasons being 'how useful he could be to me.' I must own to you frankly that the prospect of all these new honors to the family rather frightened than flattered me, for I thought I saw in them the seeds of more strenuous opposition to my marriage; but I was greatly relieved when my mother—who you may remember had been all my difficulty hitherto—privately assured me that she had brought my father round to her opinion, and that he was quite satisfied—I am afraid her word was reconciled, but no matter—reconciled to the match. I could see that you must have been frightening her terribly by some menaced exposure of the family pretensions, for she said over and over again, 'Why is Sir Brook so angry with me? Can't you manage to put him in better temper with us? I have scarcely had courage to open his letters of late. I never got such lectures in my life.' And what a horrid memory you seem to have! She says she 'd be afraid to see you. At all events, you have done me good service. They agree to everything; and we are to go on a visit to Holt,—such, at least, I believe to be the object of the letter which my mother has written to Lucy.”

“All this is excellent news, and we 'll announce it to-night at the Priory. As for the Sewell episode, we must not speak of it. The old Judge has at last found out the character of the man to whose confidence he committed himself, but his pride will prevent his ever mentioning his name.”

“Is there any rumor afloat as to the Chief's advancement to the Peerage?”

“None,—so far as I have heard.”

“I 'll tell you why I ask. There is an old maiden aunt of mine, a sister of my father, who told me, in strictest confidence, that my father had brought back from town the news that Baron Lendrick was to be created a Peer; that it was somewhat of a party move to enable the present people to prosecute the charge against the late Government of injustice towards the Judge, as well as of a very shameful intrigue to obtain his retirement. Now, if the story were true, or if my mother believed it to be true, it would perfectly account for her satisfaction with the marriage, and for my father's 'resignation'!”

“I had hoped her consent was given on better grounds, but it may be as you say. Since I have turned miner, Trafford,” added he, laughing, “I am always well content if I discover a grain of silver in a bushel of dross, and let us take the world in the same patient way.”

“When do you intend to go to the Priory?”

“I thought of going this evening. I meant to devote the morning to these maps and drawings, so that I might master the details before I should show them to my friends at night.”

“Couldn't that be deferred? I mean, is there anything against your going over at once? I 'll own to you I am very uneasy lest some incorrect version of this affair with Sewell should get abroad. Even without any malevolence there is plenty of mischief done by mere blundering, and I would rather anticipate than follow such disclosures.”

“I perceive,” said Sir Brook, musingly, as with longing eyes he looked over the colored plans and charts which strewed the table, and had for him all the charm of a romance.

“Then,” resumed Trafford, “Lucy should have my mother's letter. It might be that she ought to reply to it at once.”

“Yes, I perceive,” mused Sir Brook again.

“I 'm sure, besides, it would be very politic in you to keep up the good relations you have so cleverly established with the Chief; he holds so much to every show of attention, and is so flattered by every mark of polite consideration for him.”

“And for all these good reasons,” said Sir Brook, slowly, “you would say, we should set out at once. Arriving there, let us say, for luncheon, and being begged to stay and dine,—which we certainly should,—we might remain till, not impossibly, midnight.”

Perhaps it was the pleasure of such a prospect sent the blood to Trafford's face, for he blushed very deeply as he said, “I don't think, sir, I have much fault to find with your arrangement.”

“And yet the real reason for the plan remains unstated,” said Fossbrooke, looking him steadfastly in the face, “so true is what the Spanish proverb says, 'Love has more perfidies than war.' Why not frankly say you are impatient to see your sweetheart, sir? I would to Heaven the case were my own, and I 'd not be afraid nor ashamed to avow it; but I yield to the plea, and let us be off there at once.”