“Ay, my lord, it’s just Rolls,” said the butler, barring, as it were, his entrance. Rolls regarded the young man with a stern air; and even when Rintoul, recovering himself, began to express pleasure at his return, and great interest in hearing how it was, the face of Rolls remained unmoved. He changed his mind, however, about barring the entrance, and slowly showed Rintoul into the vacant dining-room, which he entered after him, shutting the door.
“I’ll easy tell your lordship how I got out,” he said; “but there’s mair pressing matter in hand. They tell me, my lord, that ye will not yield to have my maister, John Erskine of Dalrulzian, for Lady Edith’s man. I would like to hear if that’s true.”
“It’s a curious sort of question to ask,” said Rintoul. “I might ask what’s that to you, Rolls?”
“Ay, so ye might—it would be just like you, my lord; but I do not think it would be politic in all the circumstances. What for are you opposing it? Ye’re to marry Miss Nora, and get your ain will and pleasure. I wish her much joy, poor thing, and strength of mind to bear a’ that’s before her. What is your lordship’s objection to my maister, if I may make so bold as to ask?”
“You are not very complimentary,” said Rintoul, growing red.
“No, I’m no’ complimentary, my lord; it’s no’ my line. Will you tell me what’s set you against this marriage? for that is what I would like to ken.”
Rintoul tried to laugh, though it would have pleased him better to knock his monitor down. “You must see, Rolls, that a thing like this is my own concern,” he said.
“It’s my concern as well,” said Rolls. “There’s mair between you and me, my lord, than I’m wanting to tell; but if I was in your lordship’s place, I would not rin counter to them that has proved themselves your best friend—”
“Rolls! what are you doing here?” cried John Erskine, with amazement, suddenly opening the door.
The countenance of Rolls was quite impassive. “I was giving my Lord Rintoul an account of my marvellous deliverance out o’ my prison, sir,” he said, “and how it was thought I had suffered enough in my long wait for the trial. And that was true. Much have I suffered, and many a thought has gone through my head. I’m real ripened in my judgment, and awfu’ well acquaint with points o’ law. But I hope I may never have anything more ado with such subjects—if it be not upon very urgent occasion,” Rolls said. And he withdrew with a solemn bow to Rintoul, in his usual methodical and important way.
Rintoul had come to see John Erskine upon a matter of business; but they had never ceased to be friends—as good friends, that is, as they ever had been. And the similarity of their situation no doubt awakened new sympathies in their minds. At least, whatever was the cause, this meeting did much to draw them together. It was now that Rintoul showed to John the real good feeling that was in him. “I have not been on your side, I confess,” he said. “I have thought Edith might do better. I don’t hide it from you. But you need not fear that I will stand in your way. I’m in the same box myself. My lord likes my affair just as little as he likes yours. But of course if she sticks fast to you, as she’ll certainly do, what can he make of it? Everything must come right in the end.”
XLVIII
Thus between threats and promises, and patience and obstinacy, it came gradually to pass that Lord Lindores had to yield. He made that winter a very unhappy one to his family—and it was not more agreeable to himself; for it was not long before he arrived at the conviction that he could make nothing by his opposition. In Rintoul’s case, this had been evident to him from the very first, but he had tried for some time to delude himself with the idea that Edith would and must yield to his will. The successive stages of wrath, bewildered surprise, impatient certainty, and then of a still more disagreeable conviction that whatever he might say or do he would not overcome this girl, went over him one after another, irritating and humiliating his arbitrary spirit. A father may consent to the fact that beyond a certain point he cannot coerce his full-grown son; but to be opposed and vanquished by a chit of a girl, is hard upon him. To see a soft, small creature, whom he could almost blow away, whom he could crush in his hand like a butterfly, standing up in all the force of a distinct and independent being before him, and asserting her own will and judgment against his—this was almost more than he could bear. He came, however, gradually to a perception of what can and what cannot be done in the way of moral compulsion. It had succeeded with Carry, and he had not been able at first to imagine that it would not succeed equally with Edith; but gradually his mind was undeceived. He had in reality given up the contest long before he would confess to himself, and still longer before he would allow to the world that it was so. If he could do nothing else, he would at least keep his household in suspense, and make the cup as bitter as possible to them before they should be allowed to touch the sweet.
Lord Lindores, with all these vexations upon his head, experienced for a moment an absolute pause in
