meaning; for his eye glistened, and a red flush suffused his cheek.
“It is, sir, that's mine, every word of it; and what's more, I 'm as ready to stand to it to-day as the hour I wrote it.”
Mr. Prichard, scarcely noticing the reply, was again deep in his researches; but the object of them must be reserved for another chapter.
CHAPTER XIV. AN EMBARRASSING QUESTION.
How very seldom it is that a man looks at a letter he has written some twenty years or so before, and peruses it with any degree of satisfaction! No matter how pleasurable the theme, or how full of interest at the time, years have made such changes in circumstances, have so altered his relations with the world, dispelled illusions here, created new prospects there, that the chances are he can feel nothing but astonishment for what once were his opinions, and a strange sense of misgiving that he ever could have so expressed himself.
Rare as this pleasure is, we left Mr. Dalton in the fullest enjoyment of it, in our last chapter; and as he read and re-read his autograph, every feature of his face showed the enjoyment it yielded him.
“My own writing, sure enough! I wish I never put my hand to paper in a worse cause. Is n't it strange,” he muttered, “how a man's heart will outlive his fingers? I could n't write now as well as I used then, but I can feel just the same. There 's the very words I said.” And with this he read, half aloud, from the paper: “'But if you my consent to send lawyers and attorneys to the devil, and let the-matter be settled between us, like two gentlemen, Peter Dalton will meet you when, where, and how you like, and take the satisfaction as a full release of every claim and demand he makes on you.' Just so; and a fairer offer never was made; but I grieve to say it wasn't met in the same spirit.”
“When you wrote that letter, Mr. Dalton,” said Prichard, not looking up from the papers before him, “you were doubtless suffering under the impression of a wrong at the hands of Sir Stafford Ouslow.”
“Faith, I believe you. The loss of a fine estate was n't a trifle, whatever you may think it.”
“The question ought rather to be, what right had you to attribute that loss to him?”
“What right is it? All the right in the world. Who got the property? Answer me that. Was n't it he came in as a sole legatee? But what am I talking about? Sure the thing is done and ended, and what more does he want?”
“I'm just coming to that very point, sir,” said Prichard. “Sir Stafford's attention having been accidentally called to this transaction, he perceives that he has unwittingly done you a great injustice, and that there is one matter, at least, on which he is bound, even for his own satisfaction.”
“Satisfaction, is it?” broke in Dalton, catching at the only word that struck his ear with a distinct signification. “Better late than never; and it 's proud I am to oblige him. Not but there 's people would tell you that the time 's gone by, and all that sort of thing; but them was never my sentiments. 'Never a bad time for a good deed,' my poor father used to say, and you may tell him that I 'll think the better of his countrymen to the day of my death, for what he 's going to do now.”
Prichard laid down the paper he was reading, and stared at the speaker in mute amazement.
“You 're his friend, I perceive,” said Dalton.
“Sir Stafford is kind enough to consider me in that light.”
“Faith, the kindness is all the other way,” rejoined Dalton, laughing, “at least, in this country; for the seconds are just as guilty as the principals, and have no fun for their money. But, sure, we can cross over to Landau; they tell me it's Barbaria there, over the Rhine.”
“Bavaria, perhaps?” interposed the other.
“Yes, that 's what I said. We can be over the frontier in two hours. There 's every conveniency in life,” said he, rubbing his hands in high glee.
“Our business, I trust, sir, can be all arranged here, and without much delay, either.”
“Just as you like; I 'm not fond of moving since my knee was bad, and I 'm agreeable to anything.”
“You seem to contemplate a hostile meeting, sir, if I understand you aright,” said Prichard, slowly; “but if you had been kind enough to hear me out, you 'd have seen that nothing was further from my friend's thoughts or my own.”
“Oh, murther!” groaned Dal ton, as he sank down into a chair.
“We never entertained any such intention.”
“No duel?”
“Nothing of the kind.”
“Sure, I heard you say satisfaction. I 'll take my oath you said satisfaction.”
“I hope sincerely, sir, that the word may bear a peaceful signification.”
“Oh dear, oh dear!” cried Dalton, as, clasping his hands on his knees, he sat, a perfect type of disappointed hope, and totally inattentive to a very eloquent explanation that Prichard was pouring forth.
“You see, now, sir, I trust,” cried the latter, triumphantly, “that if my friend's intentions are not precisely what you looked for, they are not less inspired by an anxious desire to cultivate your friendship and obtain your good opinion.”
“I wasn't listening to a word you were saying,” said Dalton, with a sincerity that would have made many men smile; but Mr. Prichard never laughed, or only when the joke was uttered by a silk gown, or the initiative given by the bench itself.
“I was endeavoring, sir, to convey,” said he again, and with infinite patience, “that, by a clause of the late Mr. Godfrey's will, the suggestion was made to the effect that, if Sir Stafford Onslow should deem it fitting and suitable, the testator would not be averse to an annuity of from one hundred and fifty to two hundred pounds per annum being settled on Mr. Peter Dalton for the term of his life. This clause has now been brought under Sir Stafford's notice for the first time, as he never, in fact, saw the will before. The document was lodged in our hands; and as certain proceedings, of which the letter you have just acknowledged forms a part, at that period placed you in a peculiar position of hostility to Sir Stafford, we, as his legal advisers, did not take any remarkable pains to impress this recommendation on his memory.”
“Go on; I 'm listening to you,” said Dalton.
“Well, sir, Sir Stafford is now desirous of complying with this injunction, the terms of which he reads as more obligatory upon him than his legal friends would be willing to substantiate. In fact, he makes the matter a question of feeling and not of law; and this, of course, is a point wherein we have no right to interpose an opinion. Something like ten years have elapsed since Mr. Godfrey's death, and taking the sum at two hundred pounds, with interest at five per cent, a balance of above three thousand two hundred will now be at your disposal, together with the annuity on your life; and to arrange the payment of these moneys, and take measures for their future disbursement, I have the honor to present myself before you. As for these letters, they are your own; and Sir Stafford, in restoring them, desires to efface all memory of the transaction they referred to, and to assure you that, when circumstances enable him to meet you, it may be on terms of perfect cordiality and friendship.”
“Upon my soul and conscience I don't understand a word of it all!” said Dalton, whose bewildered looks gave a perfect concurrence to the speech. “Is it that I have a right to all the money?”
“Exactly, sir; Sir Stafford feels that he is simply carrying out the wishes of your relative, Mr. Godfrey—”
“But this has nothing to do with the little difference between Sir Stafford and myself? I mean, it leaves us just where we were before.”
“Sir Stafford hopes that henceforth a better understanding will subsist between you