“You never were shut up in a jail, Sir James?”
“Not exactly in a jail,” said the old soldier; “but I’ve been in prison, and far worse quarters than this. To be sure, there’s an excitement about it when you’re in the hands of an enemy—”
“In the hands of an enemy,” cried John—“a thing to be proud of; but laid by the heels in a wretched hole, like a poacher or a thief!”
“I would put up with it if I were you. There is nothing disgraceful in it. It is just a mistake that will be put right. I will come and see you, man, every day, and Lady Montgomery will send you books. I hope they will not be too good books, John. That’s her foible, honest woman. You seem to be victualled for a siege,” Sir James added, looking round the room. “That is Miss Barbara Erskine, I will be bound.”
“I felt disposed to pitch them all out of the window,” said John.
“Nothing of the sort; though they’re too good to fall into the hands of the turnkeys. Keep up your heart, my fine lad. I’ll see Monypenny tonight before I dine, and if we cannot bring you out with flying colours, between us, it will be a strange thing to me. Just you keep up your heart,” said Sir James, patting John kindly on the back as he went away. “The sheriff will be round here again on the 25th, and we’ll be prepared for the examination, and bring you clear off. It’s not so very long to wait.”
With this John was forced to be content. The 25th was four days off, and to remain in confinement for four days more was an appalling anticipation; but Sir James’s visit gave him real cheer. Perhaps Mr. Monypenny, too, on thinking it over, might turn to a conviction of his client’s truth.
While Sir James rode home, pleased with himself that he had obeyed his own generous impulse, and pleased with John, who had been so unfeignedly consoled by it, Lord Lindores and his son were driving back from Tinto together in the early twilight. There was not a word exchanged between them as they drove down the long avenue in the shadow of the woods; but as they turned into the lighter road, Lord Lindores returned to the subjects which occupied his mind habitually. “That is a business well over,” he said, with a sigh of satisfaction. “It is always a relief when the last ceremonies are accomplished; and though Carry chose to meet me with heroics, it is very satisfactory to know that her position is so good. One could never be sure with a man of Torrance’s temper. He was as likely as not to have surrounded his widow with annoyances and restraints. He has erred just a little on the other side now, poor fellow! Still he meant it, no doubt, for the best.” Lord Lindores spoke to his son with an ease and confidence which he could not feel with the other members of his family. Rintoul himself, indeed, had been somewhat incomprehensible for a little time past; but indigestion, or any other trifling reason, might account for that. “And now that all is over, we must think of other matters,” he continued. “This business about Edith must be settled. Millefleurs must have his answer. He has been very patient; but a young fellow like that knows his own importance, and Edith must hear reason. She will never have another such chance.”
Rintoul made a little movement in his corner, which was all that stood for a reply on his part; and his father could not even see the expression of his face.
“I can only hope that she will be more amenable to his influence than to mine,” said Lord Lindores, with a sigh. “It is strange that she, the youngest of my children, should be the one to give me the most trouble. Rintoul, it is also time that I should speak to you about yourself. It would give your mother and me great satisfaction to see you settled. I married early myself, and I have never had any reason to repent it. Provided that you make a wise choice. The two families will no doubt see a great deal of each other when things are settled between Edith and Millefleurs; and I hear on all hands that his sister, Lady Reseda—you met her several times in town—”
“Yes—I met her,” said Rintoul, reluctantly. He turned once more in his corner, as if he would fain have worked his way through and escaped; but he was secured for the moment, and in his father’s power.
“And you admired her, I suppose, as everybody does? She is something like her brother; but what may perhaps be thought a little—well, comical—in Millefleurs, is delightful in a girl. She is a merry little thing, the very person I should have chosen for you, Rintoul: she would keep us all cheerful. We want a little lightheartedness in the family. And though your father is only a Scotch peer, your position is unimpeachable; and I will say this for you, that you have behaved very well; few young men would have conducted themselves so irreproachably in such a sudden change of circumstances. I feel almost certain
