CHAPTER XVII. “A falconer Henry is, when Emma hawks; PRIOR. THE Earl, on reflection, felt dissatisfied with the very lucid and satisfactory explanation given by Archer of the manner in which he had discovered his place of retreat. The explanation was, if anything, too smooth and satisfactory; and when this is the case, we suspect invention and forethought. Smooth and well rounded periods, or very satisfactory explanations, like other works of Art, are always manufactured; the productions of Nature are rough and angular. The perfection of Art is to copy Nature; but as Nature herself is not always perfect, the artist who would draw her true picture must copy her imperfections; but minds possessed of great acumen and refinement can admit of no imperfection in their works. It was so with Archer. If the strong love of a warm heart be fearfully suspicious, its intuitions are often clearer than the calculations of a cold intellect. The more the Earl pondered that night over the conversation he had overheard in the abbey, the more confident did he feel, that he and Ellen had been the subjects of that conversation, and not O'More and Lord Ormond's daughter. "I see it now," said he, "Archer suspected me of overhearing him; I knew this by his questions, when I entered the house; and he told me the story of O'More—which may, or may not be true to throw me off my guard; but with whom could he have been speaking? I must know more of this to-morrow." He rose early the next morning, and seized the first opportunity which presented itself, of a private interview with Ellen Cavendish. After telling her of the conversation he had overheard, he asked her if she thought the second speaker could be her uncle. "No," replied Ellen, "he was in the house when I returned." 66 Who, then, could it possibly have been? Do you know of any one living in this neighbourhood, or have you seen any stranger about this place ?" "Never more than one person; but I have seen him often of late." "He has the bearing of a noble cavalier; he is about your height, with blue eyes, and fair hair and about your age." ; "A noble cavalier, about my height and age, with blue eyes and fair hair," replied the Earl, musing to himself; "this description suits my cousin Fitzgibbon; and he is now at liberty, and some of his property lies in this neighbourhood. Could it be possible!" exclaimed the Earl, with darkening brow. "Did he ever address you?" inquired he, looking intently into Ellen's face. "Yes, but only once, for I did not return his salutation; he has not, therefore, attempted it again." "You did not, perhaps, like the freedom of his address ?" 66 "No." "The scoundrel! to presume. Was he alone ?" "He is always alone." "On foot, or horseback?" 66 Both, but he often rides out with a hawk on his wrist." "The villain! he is flying his hawk at a higher quarry. Ellen, you should be on your guard, and not walk alone in this neighbourhood." "I never venture far from the house, and I am always accompanied by my trusty friend Brien, who would see no discourtesy done me, as you may conclude, from the reception he was disposed to give you, at our first interview." "Was it fear of this man which caused you to start, and prepare for flight, on that occasion ?" "It was." 66 Well, the danger is now, I hope, over; but this, I think, explains the whole mystery. This stranger, you say, has not shewn his face in this neighbourhood since I came here ?" "Never that I saw ; but I have been very little abroad of late." "Just as I thought! Ellen, the stranger you saw is Fitzgibbon, the White Knight; he is my cousin and my sworn foe. It was he who informed Archer of my being in this neighbourhood; and he was no doubt, the man with whom Archer held the conversation in the old abbey last night. This is base of that cunning churchman. He was displeased with me for denouncing Fitzgibbon before O'Neill, and exposing his treason before the assembled chiefs." "I do not know to what you refer,” replied Ellen, "but you may be, possibly, mistaken." "No, no, I see it all clear enough now; Fitzgibbon is Archer's spy." CHAPTER XVIII. "A man he was, harmless and faithful." "Something in his soul, HAYWARD. On which his melancholy sits and broods; And I doubt not but the hatch and the disclose SHAKSPEARE. THE same day, after breakfast, the Jesuit, and the priest, his host, were seated in the library of the old house. The priest looked sober and sedate; the Jesuit as mild and bland as a May morning, and seemed disposed to chat on a number of small matters, such as the weather, the crops, and even to gossip about the Earl and his servants; and, in the end, to joke the old man about the probability of a match between the Earl and his niece, Miss Cavendish. 66 But, by the bye, I believe I should not call the young lady your niece. She is no relation, I understand, to you." "None whatever," said the old man with deliberate emphasis. |