Chapter 20

IN THE OAK PARLOUR.

That evening, Dan paid a visit to Mr. Jarner in order to confess his newly born passion. After the rebuff he had received from Miss Linisfarne, he judged it as well to enlist the sympathy of the vicar, so that if the one retarded the other would speed his wooing. Miss Linisfarne had taken up a distinctly hostile attitude towards Meg. She monopolized Dan all the tea-time, and seemed displeased when he addressed the girl even in the most casual manner. Dan was quite unaware of her reason for acting thus, and so wished to seek the advice and assistance of Mr. Jarner.

The vicar was installed in the oaken parlour, and, according to his usual custom, had placed himself at the open window with his beer and his long clay pipe. There was no light in the room save what was given by the soft twilight. Dan hailed his host outside, and was bidden to enter with hearty hospitality.

"Hey, lad, I'm glad to see you," said Mr. Jarner, in his usual loud voice; "come inside--come inside. A tankard and a pipe and a chat ye shall have. Down, Jane! Down, Mike!"--this to the yapping terriers. "Come in, my lord."

"Hush!" said Dan, pausing on the threshold of the parlour; "not that name here."

"Ay, ay! I forgot. It is Dan I'm to call you. Sit ye down. Yonder's the chair. Wait, and I'll light up."

"Not on my account, sir," said his visitor, seating himself on the window seat. "Let us sit down here and enjoy the beauty of the evening. It is good to live on days like these. You remember Keble on the evening, vicar?"

"Ay, sir; Keble and Cowper. Both knew the quiet of eventide. Isn't that a pretty picture, sir?"--the vicar pronounced it 'pratty.' "Yon's the church tower black against the clear glow of the sky. Bats and owls are abroad; I've been watching their flittings. And hark, if you have a soul for music, Dan."

"The nightingale!"

"He's in the thicket yonder, and sings his evening hymn nightly to me. To think that yonder strain is but an invitation to battle--the cock nightingale calling to his rival!"

"Then all the sorrow of the bird----"

"Comes from the poets. Poetic invention, sir! though I don't deny the ideal view is finer than the real. But we can talk of birds and beasts another time. What brings you here, Dan?"

"A desire for your company, vicar."

"Pooh-pooh, sir! Am I a young maiden that ye should come slipping through the dark to talk with me? You've--ay, ay, here's a tankard for you, Dan. Come, drink up!"

"To tell you the truth, Mr. Jarner, I wish to speak seriously with you," said Dan, after they had pledged each other in ale.

"Is it about those mysteries, Dan? Have you found out anything new?"

"I have seen Miss Linisfarne."

The vicar laid down his pipe on the window sill, and, with his hands on his knees, stared in surprise at his visitor. The news astonished him.

"You--seen--Miss--Linisfarne!" said he, with a pause between each word. Dan nodded thrice to assure him that such was the case. Whereat the vicar picked up his pipe again, and proceeded to proclaim his wonderment. "It is the first time she has seen a stranger for years. How did you chance on her, may I ask?"

"Meg took me to the Court to see the picture of Sir Alurde Breel, and, while we were looking at it, Miss Linisfarne made her appearance."

"Ay?"

"She was most agreeable, and very curious to know who I was."

"Did you gratify her curiosity, Dan?" demanded the vicar, with a twinkle in his eye. His short acquaintance with Lord Ardleigh had shown him something of the young man's character.

"No, sir. I managed to keep my secret with some difficulty, so she made another attempt to find it out, and asked me to tea."

"Preserve us!" cried Jarner, breaking his pipe in his astonishment; "if this is not the most remarkable thing I have heard. Tea at Farbis Court, and you a stranger! In all the years I have known Miss Linisfarne, I have never broken bread under her roof. Look after yourself, lad. There's woman's guile at work. If you don't take care of yourself, the old lady will marry you. You'll be mated, my lord, before you know where you are. There is no trusting Eve's daughters," finished the vicar, rising to get a fresh pipe.

"I'll be married soon, no doubt, Mr. Jarner, but not to Miss Linisfarne."

In the glow of the match, with which the vicar was lighting his new pipe, Dan saw that his face had suddenly grown serious.

"Are you talking of Meg, my lord?"

"Yes. Of whom else should I talk? I am in love with Meg, sir, and, with your assistance, hope to make her my wife."

"Is this a joke, my lord?" demanded Mr. Jarner, sternly.

"I was never more serious in my life."

"Then you're a lunatic, sir--a crazy person! What?--what? To love a woman you've seen but twice--to----"

"Pardon me! I've seen her four times."

"When, and where?"

"First, at the Gates of Dawn. Second, on the crest of the ridge. Third, at afternoon tea, in my dell, yesterday. Fourth, to-day at Farbis Court."

"My lord--my lord, you----"

"Don't call me 'my lord'!"

"Ay, but I shall, my lord. This is a serious matter, and it behoves you to talk with me in your true colours. As a priest, my Lord Ardleigh, I tell you that it is wrong for you to behave so!"

"I don't understand you, sir," said Dan, placidly. He was not at all put out by the vicar's anger, which he considered just enough, in the parson's present state of misapprehension.

"She has been to your dell, sir--alone."

"Don't go too far, sir! You have no right to judge me without a hearing!"

"The Lord forgive me if I am harsh!" said Jarner, wiping his forehead; "but the girl is dear to me, and I would not have a hair of her head harmed for all the gold of Ophir. I listen, my lord."

"There is not much to tell, Mr. Jarner. Meg had tea with me in the dell; and it was there I fell in love with her."

"You cannot love so suddenly, sir! This is a young man's fancy!"

"Indeed, no! I am in love with her beauty, her heart, and her noble character. Can you blame me?"

"No! It is natural that you should love so fine a creature. But so soon--so soon! Ay, there's the rub, my lord! Easy in--easy out!"

"My dear vicar, if you had constructed an ideal, and suddenly found it realized in the flesh, would you not fall in love with it forthwith?"

"Probably, my lord--probably!"

"Well, that is what I have done. For years I have sought a woman like Meg, in the hope of making her my wife. Now I have found her, I am not inclined to let her go."

"But your rank--your relatives."

"A fig for both, my dear sir. I shall woo, and, I hope, win, under the name of Dan, and as to my relatives, I can settle with them. Believe me, Mr. Jarner, Meg will make a noble Countess of Ardleigh."

"That is true!--that is true! A heart of gold, my lord--of gold unalloyed!"

"From what I have seen of her, from what you have told me of her, I see well that I can find no better mate. If she will accept me as her husband, vicar, I shall feel proud and happy. You see, sir, the gipsy's prophecy is coming true, after all."

Mr. Jarner wiped his eyes. He was deeply affected for the moment, for, knowing the merits of Meg, he wished her to marry a man worthy of her. Such a one Dan appeared to be, for, lord or no lord, he was an honest, noble young fellow, whom any girl might be proud to have at her feet. It was greatly to Mr. Jarner's credit that Dan's rank weighed not one iota in his estimation of the situation.

"Good! good!" said Jarner, gripping Dan's hand; "if it is no fancy, but real, enduring love, I'll help you, my lord. But," he added, springing to his full height, "if you play her false----"

"I shall not play her false," rejoined Dan, seriously. "On my honour, I swear that she shall be my wife."

The vicar would have replied, but at that moment a whistle rang out in the garden. Jarner raised his head and listened. It was repeated.

"Not a word more, Dan," said he, hurriedly; "here is Tinker Tim, I know his whistle--we will talk of this again. Be honest and true, and I shall be your friend."

They had just time to exchange a hearty hand-shake, when Tim's huge bulk appeared at the window. The dogs barked furiously; but, nothing dismayed, the gipsy thrust in his mighty shoulders, and nodded to the gentlemen.

"Evening to both o' ye," said Tim, familiarly. "I looked in at your dell, young man, but the fire was out and you also. Hy! passin, I've got ye the dorg."

"What, another dog?" laughed Dan, as the gipsy hauled a fox-terrier pup out of his pocket. "Why, vicar, you must have a dozen."

"Nay, five only! This makes the sixth," replied Jarner, taking the dog from Tim. "Light the lamp, Dan, and we'll have a look at this one."

Thereafter ensued an argument over the dog, its breed, its price, and its condition, between the vicar and Tim. Dan listened with great amusement, and the buyer and seller went at it hard, the one trying to get the better of the other. At length a satisfactory bargain was concluded, and Tim, before taking his departure, accepted a drink of ale from the hospitable clergyman.

"I'll go with you, Tim," said Dan, putting on his cap; "it will be company up to my dell."

"Right, rye!" replied the Tinker, draining the tankard. "Good night t' ye, my noble gentleman," he added, nodding to Jarner.

"Come and see me to-morrow; we will resume our conversation."

This was the parting salutation of Jarner to Dan, and after he promised to call, he strode away with Tim into the darkness. At the top of the ridge, Dan halted to look down at the Gates of Dawn, which reared themselves like the portals of night in the gloom. Tim chuckled and clapped his companion heavily on the shoulder.

"What about the prophecy, my lord?" said he, in a dry voice.

"My lord!" repeated Dan, starting. "What, you know?"

"I know that you are Lord Ardleigh, and that the prophecy of the Mother is fulfilled."