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diff --git a/old/33468-h.htm.2021-01-25 b/old/33468-h.htm.2021-01-25 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..109ea82 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/33468-h.htm.2021-01-25 @@ -0,0 +1,19708 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Roland Cashel, by Charles James Lever. + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Roland Cashel, by Charles James Lever + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Roland Cashel + Volume I (of II) + +Author: Charles James Lever + +Illustrator: Phiz. + +Release Date: August 19, 2010 [EBook #33468] +Last Updated: February 27, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROLAND CASHEL *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h1> +ROLAND CASHEL +</h1> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h2> +By Charles James Lever. +</h2> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +With Illustrations By Phiz, +</h3> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h3> +In Two Volumes. Vol. I. +</h3> +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h4> +Boston: Little, Brown, And Company. 1907. +</h4> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" alt="frontispiece" width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="titlepage" width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +<br /> <br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<p> +To G. P. B. JAMES, Esq. +</p> +<p> +Dear James,—You, once upon a time, dedicated to me a tale of deep +and thrilling interest Let me now inscribe to you this volume on the plea +of that classic authority who, in the interchange of armour, “gave Brass +for Gold.” + </p> +<p> +It is, however, far less to repay the obligation of a debt by giving you a +“Roland”—not for your “Oliver,” but your “Stepmother”—than for +the pleasure of recording one “Fact” in a bulky tome of Fiction, that I +now write your name at the head of this page,—that fact being, the +warm memory I cherish of all our pleasant hours of intercourse, and the +sincere value I place upon the honor of your friendship. +</p> +<p> +Yours, in all esteem and affection, +</p> +<p> +CHARLES LEVER. +</p> +<p> +Palazzo Ximenes, Florence, Oct 20, 1849. +</p> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<blockquote> +<p class="toc"> +<big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> +</p> +<p> +<br /> <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE. </a> <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>ROLAND CASHEL.</b> </a><br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> DON PEDRO'S GUESTS +<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> A +CHALLENGE—AND HOW IT ENDED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> +CHAPTER III. </a> MR. SIMMS ON LIFE AT THE VILLA <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> THE KENNYFECK +HOUSEHOLD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> HOW +ROLAND BECAME ENTITLED TO THE GODFREY BROWNE PROPERTY <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> A FRACAS IN THE +BETTING-RING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> PEEPS +BEHIND THE CURTAIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. +</a> LOVE v. LAW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER +IX. </a> AN EXCITING ADVENTURE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> THE COMING DINNER-PARTY +DISCUSSED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> A +DRIVE WITH THE LADIES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. +</a> THE GREAT KENNYFECK DINNER <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> TUBBER-BEG <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> MR. LINTON REVEALS +HIS DESIGNS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> AT +THE GAMING TABLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> WHAT +ROLAND OVERHEARD AT THE MONEY LENDER'S <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> +CHAPTER XVII. </a> SCANNING THE POLITICAL HORIZON <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> UNDER THE +GREEN-WOOD TREE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> THE +DOMESTIC DETECTIVE CONSULTED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER +XX. </a> HOW ENRIQUE'S LETTER WAS LOST AND FOUND <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> THE CONSPIRATORS +DISTURBED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> VISIT +TO THE “CASHEL PICTURE GALLERY.” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> +CHAPTER XXIII. </a> LINTON VISITS HIS ESTATE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> BREAKFAST WITH MR. +CORRIGAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> TUBBERMORE +TRANSFORMED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> BAD +GENERALSHIP <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> LIEUTENANT +SICKLETON'S PATENT PUMP <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER +XXVIII. </a> A SPLIT IN THE KENNYFECK CABINET <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> STORM AND WRECK +<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> MISS +LEICESTER'S DREAM AND ITS FULFILMENT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> +CHAPTER XXXI. </a> THE GUESTS BEGIN TO ARRIVE <br /><br /> <a +href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a> HOW THE VISITORS +FARED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a> ROLAND'S +INTRODUCTION TO MR. CORRIGAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER +XXXIV. </a> ROLAND “HEARS SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE” <br /><br /> +<a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a> MISS JEMIMA MEEK +<br /><br /> +</p> +</blockquote> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +PREFACE. +</h2> +<p> +I first thought of this story—I should say I planned it, if the +expression were not misleading—when living at the Lake of Como. +There, in a lovely little villa—the “Cima”—on the border of +the lake, with that glorious blending of Alpine scenery and garden-like +luxuriance around me, and little or none of interruption or intercourse, I +had abundant time to make acquaintance with my characters and follow them +into innumerable situations, and through adventures far more extraordinary +and exciting than I dared afterwards to recount. +</p> +<p> +I do not know how it may be with other story-tellers, but I have to own +for myself that the personages of a novel gain over at times a degree of +interest very little inferior to that inspired by living and real people, +and that this is especially the case when I have found myself in some +secluded spot and seeing little of the world. To such an ascendancy has +this deception attained, that more than once I have found myself trying to +explain why this person should have done that, and by what impulse that +other was led into something else. In fact, I have found that there are +conditions of the mind in which purely imaginary creations assume the +characters of actual people, and act positively as though they were +independent of the will that invented them. +</p> +<p> +Of the strange manner in which imagination can thus assume the mastery, +and for a while at least have command over the mind, I cannot give a +stronger instance within my own experience than the mode in which this +story was first conceived. +</p> +<p> +When I began I intended that the action should be carried on in the land +where the tale opened. The scene on every side of me had shed its +influence, the air was weighty with the perfume of the lime and the +orange. To days of dazzling brilliancy there succeeded nights of tropical +splendor; with stars of almost preternatural magnitude streaking the calm +lake with long lines of light. To people a scene like this with the sort +of characters that might befit it, was rather a matter of necessity with +me than choice, and it was then that Maritaña revealed herself to me with +a charm of loveliness I have never been able to repicture. It was there I +bethought me of those passionate natures in which climate and soil and +vegetation reproduce themselves, glowing, ardent, and voluptuous as they +are. It was there my fancy loved to stray among the changeful incidents of +lives of wild adventure and wilder passion; and to imagine the strange +discords that could be evoked between the traits of a land that recalled +Paradise and the natures that were only angelic in the fall. +</p> +<p> +I cannot trust to my memory to remind me of the sort of tale I meaned to +write. I know there was to have been a perfect avalanche of adventure on +land and on sea. I know that through a stormy period of daily peril and +excitement, the traits of the Northern temperament in Roland himself were +to have asserted their superiority over his more impulsive comrades; I +know he was to have won that girl's love against a rivalry that set life +in the issue; and I have a vague impression of how such a character might +come by action and experience to develop such traits as make men the +rulers of their fellows. +</p> +<p> +Several of the situations occur to me, but not a single clew to the story. +There are even now scenes before me of prairie life and lonely rides in +passes of the Pampas; of homes where the civilized man had never seen a +brother nor heard a native tongue. It is in vain I endeavor to recall +anything like a connected narrative. All that I can well remember is the +great hold the characters had taken in my mind; how they peopled the +landscape around me, and followed me wherever I went. +</p> +<p> +This was in autumn. As winter drew nigh we moved into an Italian city, +much frequented by foreigners, and especially the resort of our +countrymen. The new life of this place and the interest they excited, so +totally unlike all that I had left at my little villa, effected a complete +revolution in my thoughts, utterly routing the belief I had indulged in as +to the characters of my story, and the incidents in which they displayed +themselves. Up to this all my efforts had been, as it were, to refresh my +mind as to a variety of events and people I had once known, and to try if +I could not recall certain situations which had interested me. Now the +spell was broken, all the charm of the illusion gone, and I awoke to the +dreary consciousness of my creatures being mere shadows, and their actions +as unreal as themselves. +</p> +<p> +There is a sort of intellectual bankruptcy in such awakenings; and I know +of few things so discouraging as this sudden revulsion from dream-land to +the cold <i>terra firma</i> of unadorned fact. +</p> +<p> +There was little in the city we now lived in to harmonize with “romance.” + It was, in fact, all that realism could accomplish with the aids of every +taste and passion of modern society. That this life of present-day +dissipation should be enacted in scenes where every palace and every +street, every monument, and indeed every name recalled a glorious past, +may not impossibly have heightened the enjoyment of the drama, but most +unquestionably it vulgarized the actors. +</p> +<p> +Instead of the Orinoco and its lands of feathery palms, I had now before +me the Arno and its gay crowds of loungers, the endless tide of equipages, +and the strong pulse-beat of an existence that even, in the highways of +life, denotes passion and emotion. +</p> +<p> +What I had of a plan was lost to me from that hour. I was again in the +whirlpool of active existence, and the world around me was deep—triple +deep—in all cases of loving and hating, and plotting and gambling, +of intriguing, countermining, and betraying, as very polite people would +know how to do: occupations to watch, which inspire an intensity of +interest unknown in any other condition of existence. +</p> +<p> +Out of these impressions thus enforced came all the characters of my +story. Not one was a portrait, though in each and all were traits taken +from life. If I suffered myself on one single occasion to amass too many +of the characteristics of an individual into a sketch, it was in the +picture of the beau of Drumcondera; but there I was drawing from +recollection and not able to correct, as I should otherwise have done, +what might seem too close adherence to a model. I have been told that in +the character of Linton I have exaggerated wickedness beyond all belief. I +am sorry to reply that I made but a faint copy of him who suggested that +personage, and who lives and walks the stage of life as I write. One or +two persons—not more—who know him whose traits furnished the +picture, are well aware that I have neither overdrawn my sketch, nor +exaggerated my drawing. +</p> +<p> +The Kennyfeck young ladies—I am anxious to say—are not from +life, nor is Lady Kilgoff, though I have heard surmises to the contrary. +</p> +<p> +These are all the explanations and excuses that occur to me I have to make +of this story. Its graver faults are not within the pale of apology; and +for these I only ask indulgence,—the same indulgence that has never +been denied me. +</p> +<p> +CHARLES LEVER. +</p> +<p> +Trieste, 1872. +</p> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h1> +ROLAND CASHEL. +</h1> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER I. DON PEDRO'S GUESTS. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +And thus they lived ye merrie yeare, +For they were a jollie crewe +Of pleasante laddes that knewe no feare, +And—as little of honestie too. + +Ballade of Capt. Pike. +</pre> +<p> +Our tale opens on a gorgeous night of Midsummer, at an era so little +remote that to name the precise year could have no interest for the +reader, and in a region which seemed to combine all that is delightful in +climate with whatever is luxuriant and splendid in vegetation. It was upon +the bank of a small river, a tributary of the Oronoco, not very distant +from the picturesque city of Barcelonetta, that a beautiful villa stood, +the elegance of whose architecture and the lavish magnificence of whose +decorations were alike evidence that neither taste nor wealth were wanting +to its proprietor. +</p> +<p> +In this land, where Nature had been so prodigal of her gifts, the +luxurious appointments of this princely abode seemed to partake of the +character of a fairy palace; and the admixture of objects of high art, the +treasures of Italian galleries and Spanish collections, with the more +vivid realities of the scene, favored this illusion. The fortunate owner +of this paradise was a certain Pedro Rica, who, for something like +fourteen years, had been a resident of Columbia. A widower, with an only +child, then an infant of scarce a year old, he had arrived in that +country, seeking, as he said, by new scenes and new associations, to +erase, so far as might be, the painful memory of his late bereavement. +</p> +<p> +While he gave it to be understood that he was a Spaniard by birth, some +averred that he was a Mexican; others, that he was a Texan; and one or two +alleged that he was an American of the States,—an assumption that +the ease and fluency of his English went far to corroborate. Of whatever +nation he came, certain it is that a mystery hung over both his native +land and his history; and as he showed little disposition to enlighten the +world on these subjects, as is usual in such cases, his neighbors took +their revenge by inventing a hundred stories about him, each one only +worse than the other. At one time it was said that his wealth was acquired +by piracy; at another, that he absconded from a Texan city, with a large +sum belonging to the government; forgery, breach of trust, were among the +commonest allegations; and the most charitable only averred that he made +his money in the slave-trade. +</p> +<p> +It is but fair to say that the sole foundation for these various rumors +lay in the stern distance of his manner, and the cold, almost repulsive, +austerity with which he declined all acquaintance with the neighborhood. +These traits, added to the voluptuous splendor of a retinue and a style of +living infinitely above all around, gradually estranged from him the few +who attempted to form an intimacy, and left him to live—as it seemed +he preferred—a life of solitary magnificence; an object of affected +pity to many, but of real envy to all. +</p> +<p> +As his daughter grew up, he was accustomed to visit the sea-coast each +summer for some weeks, and from these absences he now usually returned +with one or two acquaintances, for the most part officers of the Columbian +navy, with whom he had formed an intimacy at the seaside. Such +acquaintanceship seemed to increase from year to year, till at last each +autumn saw the “Villa de las Noches Entretenidas,” “of the pleasant +nights” crowded with guests, whose wild orgies were in strange contrast to +the former stillness and quietude within those walls. +</p> +<p> +A more motley and discordant assemblage it would be hard to conceive, +consisting as they did of adventurers from every land of Europe,—the +wild and reckless outcast of every clime and country, the beggared +speculator, the ruined gambler, the duellist with blood upon his hand, the +defaulter with shame upon his forehead; all that good morals reject, and +the law pursues, mingled with others whose faults went no further than +waste or improvidence, or the more venial sin that they came poor into the +world, and were stamped “Adventurers” from the cradle. +</p> +<p> +A service that never exercised too nice a scrutiny into the habits of its +followers, and whose buccaneer life had all the freedom of piracy, with +the assumption of a recognized class, offered no mean attraction to the +lover of enterprise; and certainly, if the standard of morals was low, +that of daring, reckless adventure was the very opposite. +</p> +<p> +Amid this pleasant company we must now ask pardon for introducing our +reader, with this saving assurance, that he shall not have long to commune +with such companionship. It was, as we have said, a summer's night. A sky +all glittering with stars spread its dark blue canopy over a scene where, +amid the banana, the manioc, and the plantain, flowers of every bright hue +were blooming, and fountains gushing; while, through an atmosphere +tremulous with the song of the mocking-bird, fire-flies were glancing and +glittering. +</p> +<p> +In the deep piazza before the villa was now assembled a numerous party of +men disposed in every attitude of lounging, ease, and abandonment; they +seemed, though perhaps after very different estimates, to be enjoying the +delicious balm and freshness of the night air. They were of various ages; +and although the greater number showed by their dress that they belonged +to the naval service, other signs, not less distinctive, pronounced that +they were drawn from classes of life as varied as they were numerous; +while, here and there, a caballero might be seen attired in the +picturesque costume of the Caraccas, his many colored scarf and plumed hat +aiding, in no inconsiderable degree, the picturesque effect of a scene +Salvator might have painted. +</p> +<p> +Not only beneath the piazza itself, but on the marble steps, and even +beneath them again, on the close-shaven turf, the party lay, sated as it +were with splendor, and recruiting strength for new dissipations. Some sat +talking in low and whispering voices, as if unwilling, even by a sound, to +break the stilly calm. Others, in perfect silence, seemed to drink in the +soothing influence of that tranquil moment, or smoked the cigarettos in +dreamy indolence; while at intervals, from the leafy groves, a merry +laugh, or the tinkling of a guitar, would mingle with the bubbling murmur +of the fountains, making the very stillness yet more still as they ceased. +Behind the piazza, and opening by several large windows upon it, could be +seen a splendid saloon, resplendent with wax-lights, and still displaying +on the loaded table the remnants of a sumptuous repast, amid which vessels +of gold and vases of flowers appeared. Here, yet lingered two or three +guests,—spirits who set no store on an entertainment if it did not +degenerate into debauch. +</p> +<p> +A broad alley, flanked by tall hedges of the prickly pear, led from the +villa to a little mound, on which a chestnut-tree stood, the patriarch of +the wood; a splendid tree it was, and worthy of a better destiny than it +now fulfilled, as, lighted up by several lanterns suspended from the +branches, it spread its shade over a large table where a party were +playing at “Monte.” + </p> +<p> +Even without the suggestive aid of the large heaps of gold beside each +player, and piled in the middle of the table, the grave and steadfast +faces of some, the excited look of others, and the painful intensity of +interest in all, showed that the play was high. Still, although such was +the case, and while the players were men whose hot blood and reckless +lives did but little dispose them to put the curb upon their tempers, not +a word was spoken aloud; nor did a gesture or a look betray the terrible +vacillations of hope and fear the changeful fortune of the game +engendered. Standing near the table, but not mingling in the play, stood +Don Pedro himself, his sallow and melancholy features fixed upon the game, +with an expression that might mean sorrow or deep anxiety, it were +difficult to say which. +</p> +<p> +Beside him, at a small table littered with papers and writing materials, +sat his steward, or intendant, a German named Geizheimer, a beetle-browed, +white-cheeked, thick-lipped fellow, whose aquiline features and guttural +accents told that lending money at enormous interest was no uncongenial +occupation. Such was his present, and indeed almost his only duty; for, +while Don Pedro seldom or never played, gaming was the invariable +occupation of the guests, whose means to support it were freely supplied +by the steward; the borrowers either passing a simple note for repayment, +or, when the sum was a heavy one, mortgaging their share in the next prize +they should capture. Other contracts, it was rumored, were occasionally +resorted to, but of such we shall speak anon. +</p> +<p> +At a short distance from the table, but sufficiently near to observe the +game, stood one on whom nothing short of the passion of play could have +prevented every eye being bent. But so it was; she stood alone and +unmarked, while all the interest was concentrated upon the game. Dressed +in a white tunic, or chemise, fastened round the waist by a gold girdle, +stood Maritaña Rica, her large and lustrous black eyes eagerly turned to +where two youths were standing intensely occupied by the play. Her neck, +arms, and shoulders were bare, in Mexican fashion, and even the mantilla +she wore over her head was less as a protection than as a necessary +accompaniment of a costume which certainly is of the simplest kind. Except +the chemise, she had no other garment, save a jupe of thin lama-wool, +beautifully embroidered and studded with precious stones; this terminated +below the middle of the leg, displaying an ankle and foot no Grecian +statue ever surpassed in beauty. +</p> +<p> +If the deep brown of her skin almost conveyed the reproach—and such +it is—of Indian blood, a passing glance at the delicate outline of +her features, and, in particular, of her mouth, at once contradicted the +suspicion. The lips were beautifully arched, and, although plump and +rounded, had none of the fulness of the degraded race. These were now +slightly parted, displaying teeth of surprising whiteness, and imparting +in the whole expression a character of speaking animation. Although not +yet sixteen, her figure had all the graceful development of womanhood, +without having entirely lost a certain air of fawn-like elasticity, which, +from time to time, her gestures of impatience displayed. +</p> +<p> +The two young men on whom her interest seemed fixed, were playing in +partnership, and, in their highly wrought passion, never once looked up +from the board. One, somewhat taller and older by a few years, appeared to +exercise the guidance of their play; and it was easy to see, in the +swollen and knotted veins of his forehead, in the clinched hands, and in +the tremulous lip, the passionate nature of a confirmed gambler. The +younger, whose dress of green velvet, slashed and braided in Mexican +taste, and whose wide-leaved sombrero was decorated with a long sash of +light blue silk, whose deep gold fringe hung upon his shoulder, was +evidently one less enamoured of play, and more than once busied himself in +arranging the details of his costume, of which he seemed somewhat vain. It +was in one of these moments that his eyes met those of Maritaña fixed +steadfastly upon him, and, fascinated by her unmoved stare, he felt his +cheek grow hot, and, whether from a sense of shame or a still more tender +motive, the blush spread over his face and forehead. Maritaña looked +steadily, almost sternly, at him, and then, with a slight toss of her +head, so slight that none save he who had watched her intently could read +its scornful import, she turned away. The youth did not wait a moment, +but, slipping from his place, followed along the alley he had seen her +take. +</p> +<p> +He who remained, unconscious of his friend's departure, continued to +mutter about the chances of the game, and speculate on the amount he would +dare to hazard. “She is against us every time, Roland!” said he, in a low, +half-whispering voice. “Fortune will not smile, woo her how we may! Speak, +<i>amigo mio</i>, shall we risk all?” As he spoke, he began counting the +piles of glittering gold before him, but his hand trembled, and the pieces +clung to his moist fingers, so that he was too late for the deal. +</p> +<p> +“Sixteen hundred,” muttered he to himself. “Ten—twenty—thirty.” + </p> +<p> +“The bank loses!” cried the croupier, announcing the game. +</p> +<p> +“Loses!” screamed the young man, in an accent whose piercing agony +startled the whole board,—“loses! because it was the only time I had +no wager. See, Roland, see how true it is; there is a curse upon us.” He +seized the arm of the person at his side, and clinched it with a +convulsive energy as he spoke. +</p> +<p> +“<i>Saperlote!</i> my young friend; you 'll never change luck by tearing +my old uniform,” growled out a rugged-looking German skipper, who, +commanding a small privateer, affected the rank and style of a naval +officer. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, is it you, Hans?” said the youth, carelessly; “I thought it had been +one of our own fellows. Only think the bank should lose, because I made no +stake; see now, watch this. Halt!” cried he to the dealer, in a voice that +at once arrested his hand. “You give one no time, sir, to decide upon his +game,” said he, with a savage irascibility, which continued bad luck had +carried to the highest pitch. “Players who risk their two or three crowns +may not object; but, if a man desires to make a heavy stake; it is but +common courtesy to wait a moment. A thousand doubloons, the red queen—fifteen +hundred,” added he, quickly,—“fifteen, and thirty-five—or +eight.” So saying, he pushed with both hands the great heap of gold pieces +into the middle of the table; and then, with eyes bloodshot and glaring, +he watched each card that fell from the banker's fingers. When the first +row of cards were dealt, all was in his favor, and, as the banker took up +the second pack, a long-suppressed sigh broke from the gambler's bosom. It +seemed, at length, as if fortune had grown weary of persecuting him. +</p> +<p> +“Come, Enrique,” said a handsomely dressed and fine-looking man, who stood +opposite to him, “luck has turned at last; there is nothing but the queen +of spades against you!” + </p> +<p> +As if by some magic spell he had called the card, the words were not out +when it dropped upon the table. A cry of mingled amazement and horror +burst from the players, whose natures would seem to recognize some +superstitious influence in such marked casualties. As for Enrique, he +stood perfectly still and silent; a horrible smile, the ghastly evidence +of an hysterical effort, sat upon his rigid features, and at length two or +three heavy drops of blood trickled from his nostril and fell upon his +shirt. +</p> +<p> +“Where's Roland?” said he, in a faint whisper, to a young man behind him. +</p> +<p> +“I saw him with Maritaña, walking towards the three fountains.” + </p> +<p> +Enrique's pallid cheek grew scarlet, and, rudely pushing his way through +the crowd, he disappeared from view. +</p> +<p> +“There goes a man in a good humor to board a prize,” said one of the +bystanders, coolly, and the play proceeded without a moment's +interruption. +</p> +<p> +With his broad-leaved hat drawn down upon his brows, and his head sunk +upon his bosom, he traversed the winding walks with the step of one who +knew their every turning; at last he reached a lonely and unfrequented +part of the garden, where the path, leading for some distance along the +margin of a small lake, suddenly turned off towards a flower terrace, the +midst of which “the three fountains” stood. +</p> +<p> +Instead of taking the shortest way to the spot, Enrique left the walk and +entered a grove of trees, through whose thick shade be proceeded silently +and cautiously. The air was calm and motionless, and none save one who had +received the education of a prairie hunter could have followed that track +so noiselessly. By degrees the wood became open, and his progress more +circumspect, when he suddenly halted. +</p> +<p> +Directly in front of him, not twenty paces from where he stood, was the +terrace, over which, in the stilly night air, the fountain threw a light +spray-like shower, rustling, as it fell upon the leaves, with a murmuring +sound. Lower down, was a little basin surrounded by a border of white +marble, and beside this two figures were now standing, whom, by the clear +starlight, he could easily recognize to be Roland and Maritaña. +</p> +<p> +The former, with folded arms, and head bent down as if in thought, leaned +against a tree, while Maritaña stood beside the fountain, moving her foot +to and fro in the clear water, and, as though entirely engrossed by her +childish pastime, never bestowed a look upon her companion. At last she +ceased suddenly, and turning abruptly round, so as to stand full in front +of him, said, “Well, senhor, am I to hope our pleasant interview is ended, +or am I still to hear more of your complaints,—those gentle +remonstrances which sound, to my ears at least, more wearisome than words +of downright anger?” + </p> +<p> +“You have not heard me patiently,” said the youth, advancing towards her, +while the slightly shaken tones of his voice contrasted strangely with the +assured and haughty accents in which he spoke. +</p> +<p> +“Patiently!” echoed she, with a scornful laugh. “And where was this same +goodly gift to be learned? Among the pleasant company we have quitted, +senhor? whose friendships of a night are celebrated by a brawl on the +morrow! From the most exemplary crew of the 'Esmeralda,' and, in +particular, the worthy lieutenant, Don Roland da Castel, who, if report +speaks truly, husbands the virtue so rigidly that he cannot spare the +smallest portion to expend upon his friends?” + </p> +<p> +“If my thrift had extended to other matters,” said the youth, bitterly, +“mayhap I should not have to listen to language like this?” + </p> +<p> +“What say you, sir?” cried the girl, passionately, as she stamped upon the +ground with a gesture of violent anger. “Do you affect to say that it +matters to me whether you stood there as loaded with gold as on the +morning you brought back that Mexican prize, and played the hero with such +martial modesty; or as poor—as poor—as bad luck at cards can +make you? If I loved you, I 'd have as little care for one event as the +other!” + </p> +<p> +“You certainly thought more favorably of me then than now, Maritaña!” said +Roland, diffidently. +</p> +<p> +“I know not why you say so!” + </p> +<p> +“At least you accepted my hand in betrothal—” + </p> +<p> +“Stay!” cried she, impetuously. “Did I not tell you then, before the +assembled witnesses—before my father—what a mockery this same +ceremony was; that its whole aim and object was to take advantage of that +disgraceful law that can make an unmarried girl a widow, to inherit the +fortune of one she never would have accepted as her husband. Speak, sir!—and +say, did I not tell you this, and more too, that such a bridal ceremony +brought little fortune to the bridegroom; for that already I had been +thrice a widowed bride? Nay, more, you heard me swear as solemnly, that +while I regarded the act as one of deep profanation, I felt in nowise +bound by it. It is idle, then, to speak of our betrothal!” + </p> +<p> +“It is true, Maritaña, you said all this; although, perhaps, you had not +now remembered it, had not some other succeeded to that place in your +regard—” + </p> +<p> +“There, there!” cried she, stopping him impatiently. “I will not listen +again to the bead-roll of your jealousies. People must have loved very +little, or too much, to endure that kind of torture. Besides, why tell me +of these things? You are, they say, a most accomplished hunter, and can +answer me,—if, when in chase of an antelope, a jaguar joins the +sport, you do not turn upon him at once, the worthier and nobler enemy, +and thus, as it were, protect what had been your prey.” + </p> +<p> +The youth seemed stung to the quick by this pitiless sarcasm; and, +although he made no reply, his hands, convulsively clutched, bespoke the +torrent of agitation within him. “You are right, Maritaña!” said be, after +a pause. “It is idle to talk of our betrothal,—I release you.” + </p> +<p> +“Release <i>me!</i>” said she, laughing contemptuously; “this is a task I +always perform for myself, senhor, and by the shortest method, as thus.” + As she spoke, she struggled to tear from her finger a ring which resisted +all her efforts. At last, by a violent wrench, she succeeded, and holding +it up for a second, till the large diamond glittered like a star, she +threw it into the still fountain at her feet “There, <i>amigo mio</i>, I +release you,—never was freedom more willingly accorded!” + </p> +<p> +“Never was there a slave more weary of his servitude!” said the youth, +bitterly. “If Don Pedro Rica but tear his accursed bond, I should feel +myself my own again.” + </p> +<p> +“He will scarce refuse you, sir, if the rumor be correct that says you +have lost eleven thousand doubloons at play. The wealthy conqueror stands +on very different ground from <i>the</i> ruined gambler. Go to him at +once! Ask back the paper! Tell him you have neither a heart nor a fortune +to bestow upon his daughter! That, as a gambler, fettered by the lust for +play, you have lost all soul for those hazardous enterprises that win a +girl's love and a father's consent.” + </p> +<p> +She waited for a moment, that he might reply; and then, impatient, +perhaps, at his silence, added, “I did not think, senhor, you esteemed +yourself so rich a prize! Be of good cheer, however! They who are less +cognizant of your deserts will be more eager to secure them.” + </p> +<p> +With these slighting words she turned away. Roland advanced as if to +follow her, but with a contemptuous gesture of the hand she waved him +back, and he stood like one spell-bound, gazing after her, till she +disappeared in the dark distance. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II. A CHALLENGE—AND HOW IT ENDED. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +La Diche viene quando no se aguarda. + +—Spanish Proverb. + +(Good lack comes when it is not looked for.) +</pre> +<p> +Roland looked for some minutes in the direction by which Maritaña had +gone, and then, with a sudden start, as if of some newly taken resolve, +took the path towards the villa. He had not gone far when, at the turn of +the way, he came in front of Enrique, who, with hasty steps, was advancing +towards him. +</p> +<p> +“Lost, everything lost!” exclaimed the latter, with a mournful gesture of +his hands. +</p> +<p> +“All gone!” cried Roland. +</p> +<p> +“Every crown in the world!” + </p> +<p> +“Be it so; there is an end of gambling, at least!” + </p> +<p> +“You bear your losses nobly, senhor!” said Enrique, sneeringly; “and, +before a fitting audience, might claim the merit of an accomplished +gamester. I am, however, most unworthy to witness such fine philosophy. I +recognize in beggary nothing but disgrace!” + </p> +<p> +“Bear it, then, and the whole load, too!” said Roland, sneeringly. “To +your solicitations only I yielded in taking my place at that accursed +table. I had neither a passion for play, nor the lust for money-getting; +you thought to teach me both, and, peradventure, you have made me despise +them more than ever.” + </p> +<p> +“What a moralist!” cried Enrique, laughing insolently, “who discovers that +he has cared neither for his mistress nor his money till he has lost +both.” + </p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” said Roland, trembling with passion. +</p> +<p> +“I never speak in riddles,” was the cool reply. +</p> +<p> +“This, then, is meant as insult,” said Roland, approaching closer, and +speaking in a still lower voice; “or is it merely the passion of a +disappointed gambler?” + </p> +<p> +“And if it were, <i>amigo mio</i>,” retorted the other, “what more fitting +stake to set against the anger of a rejected lover?” + </p> +<p> +“Be it so!” cried Roland, fiercely; “you never caught up a man more +disposed to indulge your humor. Shall it be now?” + </p> +<p> +“Could not so much courage keep warm till daylight?” said Enrique, calmly. +“Below the fountains there is a very quiet spot.” + </p> +<p> +“At sunrise?” + </p> +<p> +“At sunrise,” echoed Enrique, bowing with affected courtesy, till the +streamers from his hat touched the ground. +</p> +<p> +“Now for my worthy father-in-law elect,” said Roland; “and to see him +before he may hear of this business, or I may find it difficult to obtain +my divorce.” When the youth arrived at the villa, the party were assembled +at supper. The great saloon, crowded with guests and hurrying menials, was +a scene of joyous but reckless conviviality, the loud laughter and the +louder voices of the company striking on Roland's ear with a grating +discordance he had never experienced before. The sounds of that festivity +he had been wont to recognize as the pleasant evidence of free and +high-souled enjoyment, now jarred heavily on his senses, and he wondered +within himself how long he had lived in such companionship. +</p> +<p> +Well knowing that the supper-party would not remain long at table, while +high play continued to have its hold upon the guests, he strolled into one +of the shady alleys, watching from time to time for the breaking up of the +entertainment At last some two or three arose, and, preceded by servants +with lighted flambeaux, took the way towards the gaming-table. They were +speedily followed by others, so that in a brief space—except by the +usual group of hard-drinking souls, who ventured upon no stake save that +of health—the room was deserted. +</p> +<p> +He looked eagerly for Don Pedro, but could not see him, as it was +occasionally his practice to retire to his library long before his guests +sought their repose. Roland made a circuit of the villa, and soon came to +the door of this apartment, which led into a small flower-garden. Tapping +gently here, he received a summons to enter, and found himself before Don +Pedro, who, seated before a table, appeared deeply immersed in matters of +business. +</p> +<p> +Roland did not need the cold and almost stern reception of his host to +make him feel his intrusion very painfully; and he hastened to express his +extreme regret that he should be compelled by any circumstances to +trespass on leisure so evidently destined for privacy. “But a few moments' +patient hearing,” continued he, “will show that, to me at least, the +object of this visit did not admit of delay.” + </p> +<p> +“Be seated, senhor; and, if I may ask it without incivility, be brief, for +I have weighty matters before me.” + </p> +<p> +“I will endeavor to be so,” said Roland, civilly, and resumed: “This +evening, Don Pedro, has seen the last of twenty-eight thousand Spanish +dollars, which, five weeks since, I carried here along with me. They were +my share, as commander of the 'Esmeralda,' when she captured a Mexican +bark, in May last. They were won with hard blows and some danger; they +were squandered in disgrace at the gaming-table.” + </p> +<p> +“Forgive me,” said Don Pedro: “you can scarcely adhere to your pledge of +brevity if you permit yourself to be led away by moralizing; just say how +this event concerns me, and wherefore the present visit.” + </p> +<p> +Roland became red with anger and shame, and when he resumed it was in a +voice tremulous with ill-suppressed passion. “I did not come here for your +sympathy, senhor. If the circumstance I have mentioned had no relation to +yourself, you had not seen me here. I say that I have now lost all that I +was possessed of in the world.” + </p> +<p> +“Again I must interrupt you, Senhor Roland, by saying that these are +details for Geizheimer, not for me. He, as you well know, transacts all +matters of money, and if you desire a loan, or are in want of any +immediate assistance, I 'm sure you 'll find him in every way disposed to +meet your wishes.” + </p> +<p> +“Thanks, senhor, but I am not inclined for such aid. I will neither +mortgage my blood nor my courage, nor promise three hundred per cent for +the means of a night at the gambling-table.” + </p> +<p> +“Then pray, sir, how am I to understand your visit? Is it intended for the +sake of retailing to me your want of fortune at play, and charging me with +the results of your want of skill or luck?” + </p> +<p> +“Far from it, senhor. It is simply to make known that I am ruined; that I +have nothing left me in the world; and that, as one whose fortune has +deserted him, I have come to ask back that bond by which I accepted your +daughter's hand in betrothal.” + </p> +<p> +A burst of laughter from Don Pedro here stopped the speaker, who, with +flushed cheek and glaring eyeballs, stared at this sudden outbreak. “Do +you know for what you ask me, senhor?” said Rica, smiling insolently. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I ask for what you never could think to enforce,—to make me, a +beggar, the husband of your daughter.” + </p> +<p> +“Most true; I never thought of such an alliance. I believe you were told +that Columbian law gives these contracts the force of a legal claim, in +the event of survivorship; and you flattered yourself, perhaps too +hastily, that other ties more binding still might grow from it. If Fortune +was as fickle with you here as at the card-table, the fault is not in me.” + </p> +<p> +“But of what avail is it now?” said Roland, passionately. “If I died +to-morrow, there is not sufficient substance left to buy a suit of +mourning for my poor widow.” + </p> +<p> +“She could, perhaps, dispense with outward grief,” said Pedro, sneeringly. +</p> +<p> +“I say again,” cried Roland, with increased agitation, “this bond is not +worth the paper it is written on. I leave the service; I sail into another +latitude, and it is invalid,—a mere mockery!” + </p> +<p> +“Not so fast, sir,” said Pedro, slowly: “there is a redeeming clause, by +which you, on paying seventy thousand doubloons, are released of your +contract, with my concurrence. Mark that well,—with my concurrence +it must be. Now, I have the opinion of learned counsel, in countries where +mayhap your adventurous fancy has already carried you, that this clause +embraces the option which side of the contract I should desire to +enforce.” + </p> +<p> +“Such may be your law here; I can have little doubt that any infamy may +pass for justice in this favored region,” said Roland; “but I 'll never +believe that so base a judgment could be uttered where civilization +prevails. At all events, I 'll try the case. I now tell you frankly, that, +tomorrow, I mean to resign my rank and commission in this service; I mean +to quit this country, with no intention ever to revisit it. If you still +choose to retain a contract whose illegality needs no stronger proof than +that it affects to bind one party only, I 'll not waste further time by +thinking of it.” + </p> +<p> +“I will keep it, senhor,” interrupted Pedro, calmly. “I knew a youth, +once, who had as humble an opinion of his fortunes as you have now; and +yet he died,—not in this service, indeed, but in these seas,—and +his fortune well requited the trouble of its claimant.” + </p> +<p> +“I have no right to trespass longer on you, sir,” said Roland, bowing. “I +wish I could thank you for all your hospitality to me with a more fitting +courtesy; I must confess myself your debtor without hope of repayment.” + </p> +<p> +“Have you signified to Don Gomez Noronja your intention to resign?” + </p> +<p> +“I shall do it within half an hour.” + </p> +<p> +“You forget that your resignation must be accepted by the Minister; that +no peremptory permission can be accorded by a captain in commission, save +under a guarantee of ten thousand crowns for a captain, and seven for a +lieutenant, the sum to be estreated if the individual quit the service +without leave. This, at least, is law you cannot dispute.” + </p> +<p> +Roland hung down his head, thunderstruck by an announcement which, at one +swoop, dashed away all his hopes. As he stood silent and overwhelmed, Don +Pedro continued, “You see, sir, that the service knows how to value its +officers, even when they set little store by the service. Knowing that +young men are fickle and fanciful, with caprices that carry them faster +than sound judgment, they have made the enactment I speak of. And, even +were you to give the preliminary notice, where will you be when the time +expires? In what parallel south of Cape Horn? Among the islands of the +Southern Pacific; perhaps upon the coast of Africa? No, no; take my +advice: do not abandon your career; it is one in which you have already +won distinction. Losses at play are easily repaired in these seas. Our +navy—” + </p> +<p> +“Is nothing better than a system of piracy!” broke in Roland, savagely. +“So long as, in ignorance of its real character, I walked beneath your +flag, the heaviest crime which could be imputed to me was but the folly of +a rash-brained boy. I feel that I know better now; I'll serve under it no +more.” + </p> +<p> +“Dangerous words, these, senhor, if reported in the quarter where they +would be noticed.” + </p> +<p> +Roland turned an indignant glance at him as he uttered this threat, and +with an expression so full of passion that Rica, for a few seconds, seemed +to feel that he had gone too far. “I did but suggest caution, senhor,” + said he, timidly. +</p> +<p> +“Take care that you practise as well as preach the habit,” muttered +Roland, “or you'll find that you have exploded your own mine.” + </p> +<p> +This, which he uttered as he left the room, was in reality nothing more +than a vague menace; but it was understood in a very different sense by +Pedro, who stood pale and trembling with agitation, gazing at the door by +which the youth departed. At last he moved forward, and opening it, called +out, “Senhor Roland! Roland, come back! Let me speak to you again.” But +already he was far beyond hearing, as with all his speed he hastened down +the alley. +</p> +<p> +Don Pedro's resolves were soon formed; he rang his bell at once, and, +summoning a servant, asked if Don Gomez Noronja was still at table? +</p> +<p> +“He has retired to his room, senhor,” was the reply. +</p> +<p> +A few momenta after, Rica entered the chamber of his guest, where he +remained in close conversation till nigh daybreak. As he reached his own +apartment the sound of horses' feet and carriage wheels was heard upon the +gravel, and, throwing up the window, Rica called out,— +</p> +<p> +“Is that Don Enrique?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, senhor, taking French leave, as you would call it. A bad return for +a Spanish welcome; but duty leaves no alternative.” + </p> +<p> +“Are you for the coast, then?” + </p> +<p> +“With all speed. Our captain received important despatches in the night We +shall be afloat before forty hours. Adios!” + </p> +<p> +The farewell was cordially re-echoed by Rica, who closed the window, +muttering to himself, “So! all will go well at last.” + </p> +<p> +While Enrique was making all the speed towards the seashore a light +calèche and four horses could accomplish, Roland was pacing with impatient +steps the little plot of grass where so soon he expected to find himself +in deadly conflict with his enemy. +</p> +<p> +Never was a man's mind more suited to the purpose for which he waited. +Dejected, insulted, and ruined in one night, he had little to live for, +and felt far less eager to be revenged of his adversary, than to rid +himself of a hated existence. It was to no purpose that he could say, and +say truly, that he had never cared for any of these things, of which he +now saw himself stripped. His liking for Maritaña had never gone beyond +great admiration for her beauty, and a certain spiteful pleasure in +exciting those bursts of passion over which she exercised not the +slightest control. It was caprice, not love; the delight of a schoolboy in +the power to torment, without the wish to retain. His self-love, then, it +was, was wounded on finding that she, with whose temper he had sported, +could turn so terribly upon himself. The same feeling was outraged by +Enrique, who seemed to know and exult over his defeat. These sources of +bitterness, being all aggravated by the insulting manner of Don Pedro, +made up a mass of indignant and angry feelings which warred and goaded him +almost to madness. +</p> +<p> +The long-expected dawn broke slowly, and although, a few moments after +sunrise, the whole sky became of a rich rose color, these few moments +seemed like an age to the impatient thoughts of him who thirsted for his +vengeance. +</p> +<p> +He walked hastily up and down the space, waiting now and again to listen, +and then, disappointed, resumed his path, with some gesture of impatience. +At last he heard footsteps approaching. They came nearer and nearer; and +now he could hear the branches of the trees bend and crack, as some one +forced a passage through them. A swelling feeling about the heart bespoke +the anxiety with which he listened, when a figure appeared which even at a +glance he knew to be not Enrique's. As the man approached be took off his +hat respectfully and presented a letter. +</p> +<p> +“From Don Enrique?” said Roland, and then, tearing open the paper, he +read,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Amigo Mio,—Not mine the fault that I do not stand before +you now instead of these few lines; but Noronja has +received news of these Chilian fellows, and sent me to get +the craft ready for sea at once. We shall meet, then, in a +few hours; and, if so, let it be as comrades. The service +and our own rules forbid a duel so long as we are afloat and +on duty. Whatever be your humor when next we touch shore +again, rely upon finding me ready to meet it, either as an +enemy or as + +Your friend, + +Enrique da Cordova. +</pre> +<p> +A single exclamation of disappointment broke from Roland, but the moment +after all former anger was gone. The old spirit of comrade-affection began +to seek its accustomed channels, and he left the spot, happy to think how +different had been his feeling than if he were quitting it with the blood +of his shipmate on his hands. +</p> +<p> +Although he now saw that his continuance in the service for the present +was inevitable, he had fully made up his mind to leave it, and, with it, +habits of life whose low excesses had now become intolerable. So long as +the spirit of adventure and daring sustained him, so long the respite of a +few months' shore life was a season of pleasure and delight; but as by +degrees the real character of his associates became clearer, and he saw in +them men who cared for enterprise no further than for its gain, and +calculated each hazardous exploit by its profit, he felt that he was now +following the career of a bravo who hires out his arm and sells his +courage. This revolted every sentiment of his mind, and, come what would, +he resolved to abandon it. In these day-dreams of a new existence the +memory of two years passed in the Pampas constantly mingled, and he could +not help contrasting the happy and healthful contentment of the simple +hunter with the voluptuous but cankered pleasures of the wealthy +buccaneer. Once more beneath the wooded shades of the tall banana, he +thought how free and peaceful his days would glide by, free from the rude +conflicts he now witnessed, and the miserable jealousies of these +ill-assorted companionships. For some hours he wandered, revolving +thoughts like these; and at length turned his steps towards the villa, +determined, so long as his captain remained, that he would take up his +quarters at Barcelonetta, nor in future accept of the hospitality of Don +Rica's house. With this intention he was returning to arrange for the +removal of his luggage, when his attention was excited by the loud +cracking of whips, and the shrill cries that accompanied the sounds of +“The post! the post!” + </p> +<p> +In a moment every window of the villa was thrown open, and beads, in every +species of night-gear, and every stage of sleepy astonishment, thrust out; +for the post, be it observed, was but a monthly phenomenon, and the +arrival of letters was very often the signal for a total break-up of the +whole household. +</p> +<p> +The long wagon, drawn by four black mules, and driven by a fellow whose +wide-tasselled sombrero and long moustaches seemed to savor more of the +character of a melodrama than real life, stopped before the chief entrance +of the villa, and was immediately surrounded by the guests, whose hurried +wardrobe could only be excused in so mild a climate. +</p> +<p> +“Anything for me, Truxillo?” cried one, holding up a dollar temptingly +between finger and thumb. +</p> +<p> +“Where are my cigarettes?” + </p> +<p> +“And my mantle?” + </p> +<p> +“And my gun?” + </p> +<p> +“And the senhora's embroidered slippers?” cried a maid, as she ransacked +every corner where the packages lay. +</p> +<p> +The driver, however, paid little attention to these various demands, but, +loosening the bridles of his beasts, he proceeded to wash their mouths +with some water fetched from the fountain, coolly telling the applicants +that they might help themselves, only to spare something for the people of +Barcelonetta, for he knew there was a letter or two for that place. +</p> +<p> +“What have we here?” cried one of the guests, as a mass of something +enveloped in a horse-sheet lay rolled up in the foot of the calèche, where +the driver sat. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, par Dios!” cried the man, laughing, “I had nearly forgotten that +fellow. He is asleep, poor devil! He nearly died of cold in the night!” + </p> +<p> +“Who is he—what is he?” + </p> +<p> +“A traveller from beyond San Luis in search of Don Pedro.” + </p> +<p> +“Of me?” said Don Pedro, whose agitation became, in spite of all his +efforts, visible to every one; at the same instant that, pulling back the +cloak rudely, he gazed at the sleeping stranger,—“I never saw him +before.” + </p> +<p> +“Come, awake—stir up, senhor!” said the driver, poking the passenger +very unceremoniously with his whip. “We are arrived; this is the Villa de +las Noches Entretenidas; here is Don Pedro himself!” + </p> +<p> +“The Lord be praised!” said a short, round-faced little man, who, with a +nightcap drawn over his ears, and a huge cravat enveloping his chin, now +struggled to look around him. “At last!” sighed he; “I 'm sure I almost +gave up all hope of it.” These words were spoken in English; but even that +evidence was not necessary to show that the little plump figure in drab +gaiters and shorts was not a Spaniard. +</p> +<p> +“Are you Don Peter, sir,—are you really Don Peter?” said he, rubbing +his eyes, and looking hurriedly around to assure himself he was not +dreaming. +</p> +<p> +“What is your business with me—or have you any?” said Rica, in a +voice barely above a whisper. +</p> +<p> +“Have I!—Did I come six thousand miles in search of you? Oh, dear! +oh, dear! I can scarcely think it all over, even now. But still there may +be nothing done if he isn't here.” + </p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” said Rica, impatiently. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Roland Cashel; Roland Cashel, Esq., I should call him now, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“That 's my name!” said the youth, forcing his way through the crowd, and +standing in front of the traveller. +</p> +<p> +The little man put his hand into a breast-pocket, and drew out a little +book, opening which he began to read, comparing the detail, as he went on, +with the object before him:— +</p> +<p> +“Six foot and an inch in height, at least, olive-brown complexion, dark +eyes and hair, straight nose, short upper lip, frowns slightly when he +speaks;—just talk a little, will you?” + </p> +<p> +Cashel could not help smiling at the request; when the other added, “Shows +his teeth greatly when he laughs.” + </p> +<p> +“Am I a runaway negro from New Orleans that you have taken my portrait so +accurately, sir?” + </p> +<p> +“Got that at Demerara,” said the little man, putting up the book, “and +must say it was very near indeed!” + </p> +<p> +“I have been at Demerara,” said Cashel, hoping by the admission to obtain +some further insight into the traveller's intentions. +</p> +<p> +“I know that,” said the little man. “I tracked you thence to St Kitts, +then to Antigua. I lost you there, but I got up the scent again in +Honduras, but only for a short time, and had to try Demerara again; then I +dodged down the coast by Pernambuco, but lost you entirely in June,—some +damned Indian expedition, I believe. But I met a fellow at New Orleans who +had seen you at St. Louis, and so I tracked away south—” + </p> +<p> +“And, in one word, having found me, what was the cause of so much +solicitude, sir?” said Cashel, who felt by no means comfortable at such a +hot and unwearied pursuit. +</p> +<p> +“This can all be better said in the house,” interposed Don Rica, who, +relieved of any uneasiness on his own account, had suddenly resumed his +habitual quiet demeanor. +</p> +<p> +“So I 'm thinking too!” said the traveller; “but let me first land my +portmanteau; all the papers are there. I have not lost sight of it since I +started.” + </p> +<p> +The parcels were carefully removed under his own inspection, and, +accompanied by Don Pedro Rica and Roland, the little man entered the +villa. +</p> +<p> +There could be no greater contrast than that between the calm and placid +bearing Don Pedro had now assumed, and the agitated and anxious appearance +which Cashel exhibited. The very last interview he had sustained in that +same spot still dwelt upon his mind; and when he declined Don Pedro's +polite request to be seated, and stood with folded arms before the table, +which the traveller had now covered with his papers, a prisoner awaiting +the words of his judgment could not have endured a more intense feeling of +anxiety. +</p> +<p> +“'Roland Cashel, born in York, a. d. 18—, son of Godfrey Cashel and +Sarah, his wife,'” read the little man; then murmured to himself, +“Certificate of baptism, signed by Joshua Gorgeous, Prebendary of the +Cathedral; all right, so far. Now we come to the wanderings. Your father +was quartered at Port-au-Prince, in the year 18—, I believe?” + </p> +<p> +“He was. I was then nine years old,” said Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“Quite correct; he died there, I understand?” + </p> +<p> +Cashel assented by a nod. +</p> +<p> +“Upon which event you joined, or was supposed to join, the 'Brown Peg,' a +sloop in the African trade, wrecked off Fernando Po same winter?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; she was scuttled by the second mate, in a mutiny. But what has all +this secret history of me to mean? Did you come here, sir, to glean +particulars to write my life and adventures?” + </p> +<p> +“I crave your pardon most humbly, Mr. Cashel,” said the little man, in a +perfect agony of humiliation. “I was only recapitulating a few collateral +circumstances, by way of proof. I was, so to say, testing—that is, I +was—” + </p> +<p> +“Satisfying yourself as to this gentleman's identity,” added Don Pedro. +</p> +<p> +“Exactly so, sir; the very words upon the tip of my tongue,—satisfying +myself that you were the individual alluded to here”—as he spoke, he +drew forth a copy of the “Times” newspaper, whose well-worn and +much-thumbed edges bespoke frequent reference—“in this +advertisement,” said he, handing the paper to Don Pedro, who at once read +aloud,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Reward of £500.—Any person giving such information as may +lead to the discovery of a young gentleman named Roland +Cashel, who served for some years on board of various +merchant vessels in the Levant, the African, and the West +India trade, and was seen in New Orleans in the autumn of +18—, will receive the above reward. He was last heard of in +Mexico, but it is believed that he has since entered the +Chilian or Columbian service. He is well known in the +Spanish Main, and in many of the cities on the coast, as the +Caballero.” + </pre> +<p> +Cashel's face was one burning surface of scarlet as he heard the words of +an advertisement which, in his ideas, at once associated him with runaway +negroes and escaped felons; and it was with something like suffocation +that he restrained his temper as he asked why, and by whose authority, he +was thus described? +</p> +<p> +The little man looked amazed and confounded at a question which, it would +seem, he believed his information had long since anticipated. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Cashel wishes to know the object of this inquiry,—who sent you +hither, in fact,” said Don Rica, beginning himself to lose patience at the +slowness of the stranger's apprehension. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Kennyfeck, of Dublin, the law agent, sent me.” + </p> +<p> +“Upon what grounds,—with what purpose?” + </p> +<p> +“To tell him that the suit is gained; that he is now the rightful owner of +the whole of the Godfrey and Godfrey Browne estates, and lands of Ben +Currig, Tulough Callaghan, Knock Swinery, Kildallooran, Tullimeoran, +Ballycanderigan, with all the manorial rights, privileges, and perquisites +appertaining to,—in a word, sir, for I see your impatience, to +something, a mere trifle, under seventeen thousand per annum, not to speak +of a sum, at present not exactly known, in bank, besides foreign bonds and +securities to a large amount.” + </p> +<p> +While Mr. Simms recited this, with the practised volubility of one who had +often gone over the same catalogue before, Cashel stood amazed, and almost +stupefied, unable to grasp in his mind the full extent of his good +fortune, but catching, here and there, glimpses of the truth, in the few +circumstances of family history alluded to. Not so, Don Rica; neither +confusion nor hesitation troubled the free working of his acute faculties, +but he sat still, patiently watching the effect of this intelligence on +the youth before him. At length, perceiving that he did not speak, he +himself turned towards the stranger, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“You are, doubtless, a man of the world, sir, and need no apologies for my +remarking that good news demands a scrutiny not less searching than its +opposite. As the <i>friend</i> of Senhor Cashel,”—here he turned a +glance beneath his heavy brows at the youth, who, however, seemed not to +notice the word,—“as his friend, I repeat, deeply interested in +whatever affects him, I may, perhaps, be permitted to ask the details of +this very remarkable event.” + </p> +<p> +“If you mean the trial, sir,—or rather the trials, for there were +three at bar, not to mention a suit in equity and a bill of discovery—” + </p> +<p> +“No, I should be sorry to trespass so far upon you,” interrupted Rica. +“What I meant was something in the shape of an assurance,—something +like satisfactory proof that this narrative, so agreeable to believe, +should have all the foundation we wish it.” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing easier,” said Mr. Simms, producing an enormous black leather +pocket-book from the breast of his coat, and opening it leisurely on the +table before him. “Here are, I fancy, documents quite sufficient to answer +all your inquiries. This is the memorandum of the verdict taken at Bath, +with the note of the Attorney-General, and the point reserved, in which +motion for a new trial was made.” + </p> +<p> +“What is this?” asked Cashel, now speaking for the first time, as he took +up a small book of strange shape, and looked curiously at it. +</p> +<p> +“Check-book of the bank of Fordyce and Grange, Lombard Street,” replied +Simms; “and here, the authority by which you are at liberty to draw on the +firm for the balance already in their hands, amounting to—let me see +“—here he rapidly set down certain figures on the corner of a piece +of paper, and with the speed of lightning performed a sum in arithmetic—“the +sum of one hundred and twenty-three thousand pounds seven and elevenpence, +errors excepted.” + </p> +<p> +“This sum is mine!” cried Cashel, as his eyes flashed fire, and his dark +cheek grew darker with excitement. +</p> +<p> +“It is only a moiety of your funded property,” said Simms. “Castellan and +Biggen, the notaries, certify to a much larger amount in the Three per +Cents.” + </p> +<p> +“And I am at liberty to draw at once for whatever amount I require?” + </p> +<p> +“Within that sum, certainly. Though, if you desire more, I 'm sure they +'ll not refuse your order.” + </p> +<p> +“Leave us for a moment, sir,” said Cashel, in an accent whose trembling +eagerness bespoke the agitation he labored under. “I have something of +importance to tell this gentleman.” + </p> +<p> +“If you will step this way, sir,” said Don Rica, politely. “I have ordered +some refreshment in this room, and I believe you will find it awaiting +you.” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Simms gladly accepted the offered hospitality, and retired. The door +was not well closed, when Don Rica Advanced with extended hands towards +Cashel, and said: +</p> +<p> +“With all my heart I give you joy; such good fortune as this may, indeed, +obliterate every little cloud that has passed between us, and make us once +more the friends we have ever been.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel crossed his arms on his breast, and coldly replied, “I thank you. +But a few hours back, and one-half as much kindness would have made a +child of me in feeling. Now it serves only to arouse my indignation and my +Anger.” + </p> +<p> +“Are you indeed so unjust, so ungenerous as this!” exclaimed Rica, in a +tone whose anguish seemed wrung from the very heart. +</p> +<p> +“Unjust,—ungenerous! how?” cried Cashel, passionately. +</p> +<p> +“Both, sir,” said Rica, in a voice of almost commanding severity. “Unjust +to suppose that in thwarting your last resolve to leave a service in which +you have already won fame and honor, I was not your best and truest +friend; that in offering every opposition in my power to such a hot-headed +resolution, I was not consulting your best interests; ungenerous to +imagine that I could feel any other sentiment than delight at your altered +fortunes, I, who gave you all that was dearest and nearest to me on earth, +my child,—my Maritaña.” + </p> +<p> +Had it not been for the passionate emotion of the last few words, Cashel's +anger would have suggested a reply not less indignant than his question; +but the sight of the hard, the stern, the unflinching Pedro Rica, as he +now stood,—his face covered by his hands, while his strong chest +heaved and throbbed with convulsive energy,—this was more than he +felt prepared to look on. It was then only by a great effort he could say, +“You seem to forget, Senhor Rica, how differently you interpreted this +same contract but a few hours ago. You told me then—I think I hear +the words still ringing in my ears—that you never thought of such an +alliance; that your calculation took a less flattering estimate of my +relationship.” + </p> +<p> +“I spoke in anger, Roland,—anger caused by your passionate resolve. +Remember, too, that I preferred holding you to your contract, in +preference to allowing you to redeem it by paying the penalty.” + </p> +<p> +“Easy alternative,” said Cashel, with a scornful laugh; “you scarcely +expected a beggar, a ruined gambler, could pay seventy thousand doubloons. +But times are changed, sir. I am rich now,—rich enough to double the +sum you stipulated for. Although I well know the contract is not worth the +pen that wrote it, I am willing to recognize it, at least so far as the +forfeit is concerned.” + </p> +<p> +“My poor child, my darling Maritaña,” said Pedro, but in a voice barely +audible. The words seemed the feeble utterance of a breaking heart. +</p> +<p> +“Sorrow not for her, senhor,” said Cashel, hastily. “She has no griefs +herself on such a score. It is but a few hours since she told me so.” + </p> +<p> +Don Pedro was silent; but a mournful shake of the head and a still more +mournful smile seemed to intimate his dissent. +</p> +<p> +“I tell you, sir, that your own scorn of my alliance was inferior to +hers!” cried Cashel, in a voice of deep exasperation. “She even went so +far as to say that she was a party to the contract only on the condition +of its utter worthlessness. Do not, then, let me hear of regrets for <i>her</i>.” + </p> +<p> +“And you believe this?” + </p> +<p> +“I believe what I have myself witnessed.” + </p> +<p> +“What, then, if you be a witness to the very opposite? What if your ears +reveal to you the evidence as strongly against, as now you deem it in +favor of, your opinion?” + </p> +<p> +“I do not catch your meaning.” + </p> +<p> +“I would say, what if from Maritaña's own lips you heard an avowal of her +affection, would you conceive yourself at liberty to redeem a contract to +which you were only one party, and by mere money—I care not how +large you call the sum—to reject the heart you have made your own?” + </p> +<p> +“No, no, this cannot be,” cried Cashel, struggling in a conflict of +uncertainty and fear. +</p> +<p> +“I know my daughter, sir,” said Pedro, with an air of pride he well knew +when and how to assume. +</p> +<p> +“If I but thought so,” muttered Cashel to himself; and low as the words +were, Rica heard them. +</p> +<p> +“I ask you for nothing short of your own conviction,—the conviction +of your own ears and eyes. You shall, if you please, remain concealed in +her apartment while I question her on the subject of this attachment. If +you ever supposed me base enough to coerce her judgment, you know <i>her</i> +too well to believe it to be possible. But I will not insult myself by +either supposition. I offer you this test of what I have said: accept it +if you will, and with this condition, that you shall then be free to tear +this contract, if you like, but never believe that I can barter the +acknowledged affection of my child, and take money for her misery.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel was moved by the truth-like energy of the words he heard; the very +aspect of emotion in one he had never seen save calm, cold, and +self-possessed, had its influence on him, and he replied, “I consent.” So +faintly, however, were the words uttered that he was obliged to repeat +them ere they reached Don Pedro's ears. +</p> +<p> +“I will come for you after supper this evening,” said Rica. “Let me find +you in the arbor at the end of the 'hacienda.' Till then, <i>adios</i>.” + So saying, he motioned to Cashel to follow the stranger. Roland obeyed the +suggestion, and they parted. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III. MR. SIMMS ON LIFE AT THE VILLA +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He told them of men that cared not a d—n +For the law or the new police, +And had very few scruples for killing a lamb, +If they fancied they wanted the fleece. + +Sir Peter's Lament +</pre> +<p> +When Roland Cashel rejoined Mr. Simms, he found that worthy individual +solacing himself for the privations of prairie travel, by such a breakfast +as only Don Pedro's larder would produce. Surrounded by various dishes +whose appetizing qualities might have suffered some impairment from a more +accurate knowledge of their contents,—sucking monkeys and young +squirrels among the number,—he tasted and sipped, and sipped again, +till between the seductions of sangaree and Curaçoa punch, he had produced +that pleasing frame of mind when even a less gorgeous scene than the +windows of the villa displayed before him would have appeared delightful. +Whether poor Mr. Simms's excess—and such we are compelled to confess +it was—could be excused on the score of long fasting, or the +consciousness that he had a right to some indulgence in the hour of +victory, he assuredly revelled in the fullest enjoyment of this luxurious +banquet, and, as Cashel entered the room, had reached the delicious +dreamland of misty consciousness, where his late adventures and his former +life became most pleasingly commingled, and jaguars, alligators, +gambusinos, and rancheros, danced through his brain in company with Barons +of the Exchequer and Masters in Chancery. +</p> +<p> +Elevated by the scenes of danger he had passed through,—some real, +the far greater number imaginary,—into the dignity of a hero, he +preferred rather to discuss prairie life and scenes in the Havannah, to +dwelling on the topics so nearly interesting to Cashel. Nor was Roland a +very patient listener to digressions, which, at every moment, left the +high-road, and wandered into every absurd by-path of personal history. +</p> +<p> +“I always thought, sir,” said Simms, “and used to say it everywhere, too, +what a splendid change for you this piece of good fortune would be, +springing at a bound, as a body might say, from a powder-monkey into the +wealth of a peer of the realm; but, egad, when I see the glorious life you +lead hereabouts, such grog, such tipple, capital house, magnificent +country, and, if I may pronounce from the view beneath my window, no lack +of company, too! I begin to feel doubts about it.” + </p> +<p> +If Cashel was scarcely pleased at the allusions to himself in this speech, +he speedily forgave them in his amusement at the commentary Simms passed +on life at the villa; but yet would willingly have turned from either +theme to that most engrossing one,—the circumstances of his altered +fortune. Simms, however, was above such grovelling subjects; and, as he +sat, glass in hand, gazing out upon the garden, where strolling parties +came and went, and loitering groups lingered in the shade, he really +fancied the scene a perfect paradise. +</p> +<p> +“Very hard to leave this, you'll find it!” exclaimed Simms. “I can well +imagine life here must be rare fun. How jolly they do seem down there!” + said he, with a half-longing look at the strange figures, who now and then +favored him with a salute or a gesture of the hand, as they passed. +</p> +<p> +“Come, let us join them,” said Cashel, who, despairing of recalling him to +the wished-for topic, was fain to consent to indulge the stranger's humor. +</p> +<p> +“All naval men?” asked Simms, as they issued forth into the lawn. +</p> +<p> +“Most of them are sailors!” said Cashel, equivocating. +</p> +<p> +“That's a fine-looking old fellow beneath the beech-tree, with the long +Turkish pipe in his mouth. He's captain of a seventy-four, I take it.” + </p> +<p> +“He's a Greek merchantman,” whispered Cashel; “don't look so hard at him, +for he observes you, and is somewhat irascible in temper, if stared at.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed! I should n't have thought—” + </p> +<p> +“No matter, do as I tell you; he stabbed a travelling artist the other +day, who fancied he was a fine study, and wished to make a drawing of his +head.” + </p> +<p> +Simms's jaw dropped suddenly, and a sickly faintness stole over him, that +even all his late potations could not supply courage enough to hear such a +story unmoved. +</p> +<p> +“And who is he, sir, yonder?” asked he, as a youth, with no other clothing +than a shirt and trousers, was fencing against a tree, practising, by +bounds and springs, every imaginable species of attack and assault. +</p> +<p> +“A young Spaniard from the Basque,” said Cashel, coolly; “he has a duel +to-morrow with some fellow in Barcelonetta, and he 's getting his wrist +into play.” Then calling out, he said, “Ah, José, you mean to let blood, I +see!” + </p> +<p> +“He's only a student,” said the youth, with an insolent toss of his head. +“But who have we here?” + </p> +<p> +“A friend and countryman of mine, Mr. Simms,” said Cashel, introducing the +little man, who performed a whole circuit round the young Spaniard in +salutations. +</p> +<p> +“Come to join us?” asked the youth, surveying him with cool impertinence. +“What in the devil's name hast thou done that thou shouldst leave the Old +World at thy time of life? Virtuous living or hypocrisy ought to have +become a habit with thee ere now, old boy, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“He's only on a visit,” said Cashel, laughing; “he can return to good +society, not like all of us here.” + </p> +<p> +“Would you infer from that, sir—” + </p> +<p> +“Keep your temper, José,” said Cashel, with an indescribable assumption of +insolent superiority; “or, if you cannot, keep your courage for the +students, whose broils best suit you.” + </p> +<p> +“You presume somewhat too far on your skill with the rapier, Senhor +Cashel,” said the other, but in a voice far less elevated than before. +</p> +<p> +“You can test the presumption at any moment,” said Cashel, insolently; +“now, if you like it.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Cashel! oh, Mr. Roland! for mercy's sake, don't!” exclaimed +Simms. +</p> +<p> +“Never fear,” interposed Cashel; “that excellent young man has better +principles than you fancy, and never neglects, though he sometimes +forgets, himself.” + </p> +<p> +So saying, he leisurely passed his arm beneath Simms's, and led him +forward. +</p> +<p> +“Good day, Senhor Cashel,” said a tall and well-dressed man, who made his +salutations with a certain air of distinction that induced Simms to +inquire who and what he was. +</p> +<p> +“A general in the service of one of the minor States of Germany,” said +Cashel; “a man of great professional skill, and, it is said, of great +personal bravery.” + </p> +<p> +“And in what capacity is he here?” + </p> +<p> +“A refugee. His sentence to be shot was commuted to imprisonment for life. +He made his escape from Spandau, and came here.” + </p> +<p> +“What was his crime?” + </p> +<p> +“Treachery,—the very basest one can well conceive; he commanded the +fort of Bergstein, which the French attacked on their advance in the +second Austrian campaign. The assailants had no heavy artillery, nor any +material for escalade; but they had money, and gold proved a better +battering-train than lead. Plittersdorf—that's the general's name—fired +over their heads till he had expended all his ammunition, and then +surrendered, with the garrison, as prisoners of war. The French, however, +exchanged him afterwards, and he very nearly paid the penalty of his false +faith.” + </p> +<p> +“And now is he shunned,—do people avoid him?” + </p> +<p> +“How should they? How many here are privileged to look down on a traitor? +Is it the runaway merchant, the defaulting bank clerk, the filching +commissary, that can say shame to one whose crime stands higher in the +scale of offence? The best we can know of any one here is, that his +rascality took an aspiring turn; and yet there are some fellows one would +not like to think ill of. Here comes one such; and as I have something +like business to treat of with him, I 'll ask you to wait for me, on this +bench, till I join you.” + </p> +<p> +Without waiting for any reply, Cashel hastened forward, and taking off his +hat, saluted a sallow-looking man of some eight-and-forty or fifty years +of age, who, in a loose morning-gown, and with a book in his hand, was +strolling along in one of the alleys. +</p> +<p> +“Ha, lieutenant,” said the other, as, lifting up his eyes, he recognized +Cashel,—“making the most of these short hours of pleasure, eh? You +'ve heard the news, I suppose; we shall be soon afloat again.” + </p> +<p> +“So I've heard, captain!” replied Cashel; “but I believe we have taken our +last cruise together.” + </p> +<p> +“How so, lad? <i>You</i> look well, and in spirits; and as for myself, I +never felt in better humor than to try a bout with our friends on the +western coast.” + </p> +<p> +“You have no friend, captain, can better like to hear you say so; and as +for me, the chances of fortune have changed. I have discovered that I need +neither risk head nor limbs for gold; a worthy man has arrived here to-day +with tidings that I am the owner of a large estate, and more money than I +shall well know how to squander, and so—” + </p> +<p> +“And so you 'll leave us for the land where men have learned that art? +Quite right, Cashel. At your age a man can accustom himself to any and +everything; at mine—a little later—at mine, for instance, the +task is harder. I remember myself, some years ago, fancying that I should +enjoy prodigiously that life of voluptuous civilization they possess in +the Old World, where men's wants are met ere they are well felt, and +hundreds—ay, thousands—are toiling and thinking to minister to +the rich man's pleasures. It so chanced that I took a prize a few weeks +after; she was a Portuguese barque with specie, broad doubloons and gold +bars for the mint at Lisbon, and so I threw up my command and went over to +France and to Paris. The first dash was glorious; all was new, glittering, +and splendid; every sense steeped in a voluptuous entrancement; thought +was out of the question, and one only could wonder at the barbarism that +before seemed to represent life, and sorrow for years lost and wasted in +grosser enjoyment. Then came a reaction, at first slight, but each day +stronger; the headache of the debauch, the doubt of your mistress's +fidelity, your friend's truth, your own enduring good fortune,—all +these lie in wait together, and spring out on you in some gloomy hour, +like Malays boarding a vessel at night, and crowding down from maintop and +mizen! There is no withstanding; you must strike or fly. I took the last +alternative, and, leaving my splendid quarters one morning at daybreak, +hastened to Havre. Not a thought of regret crossed me; so quiet a life +seemed to sap my very courage, and prey upon my vitals; that same night I +swung once more in a hammock, with the rushing water beside my ear, and +never again tried those dissipations that pall from their very excess; +for, after all, no pleasure is lasting which is not dashed with the sense +of danger.” + </p> +<p> +While he was yet speaking, a female figure, closely veiled, passed close +to where they stood, and, without attracting any notice, slipped into +Cashel's hand a slip of paper. Few as the words it contained were, they +seemed to excite his very deepest emotion, and it was with a faltering +voice he asked the captain by what step he could most speedily obtain his +release from the service? +</p> +<p> +A tiresome statement of official forms was the answer; but Roland's +impatience did not hear it out, as he said,— +</p> +<p> +“And is there no other way,—by gold, for instance?” + </p> +<p> +A cold shrug of the shoulders met this sally, and the captain said,— +</p> +<p> +“To corrupt the officials of the Government is called treason by our laws, +and is punishable by death, just like desertion.” \ +</p> +<p> +“Therefore is desertion the better course, as it involves none but one,” + said Cashel, laughing, as he turned away. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV. THE KENNYFECK HOUSEHOLD +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Man, being reasonable, must dine out; +The best of life is but a dinner-party. + +Amphytrion, Canto IV. +</pre> +<p> +It was about half-past six of an autumn evening, just as the gray twilight +was darkening into the gloom that precedes night, that a servant, dressed +in the most decorous black, drew down the window-blinds of a large and +splendidly furnished drawing-room of a house in Merrion Square, Dublin. +</p> +<p> +Having arranged certain portly deep-cushioned chairs into the orderly +disorder that invites social groupings, and having disposed various other +articles of furniture according to those notions of domestic landscape so +popular at the present day, he stirred the fire and withdrew,—all +these motions being performed with the noiseless decorum of a church. +</p> +<p> +A glance at the apartment, even by the fitful light of the coal-fire, +showed that it was richly, even magnificently, furnished. The +looking-glasses were immense in size, and framed with all that the most +lavish art of the carver could display. The hangings were costly Lyons +silk, the sofas, tables, and cabinets were all exquisite specimens of +modern skill and elegance, while the carpet almost rose above the foot in +the delicate softness of its velvet pile. A harp, a grand pianoforte, and +several richly-bound and gilded volumes strewed about gave evidence of +tastes above the mere voluptuous enjoyment of ease, and in one window +stood an embroidery-frame, with its unfinished labor, from which the +threads depended in that fashion, that showed it had lately occupied the +fair hands of the artist. +</p> +<p> +This very enviable apartment belonged to Mr. Mountjoy Kennyfeck, the +leading solicitor of Dublin, a man who, for something more than thirty +years, had stood at the head of his walk in the capital, and was reputed +to be one of its most respected and richest citizens. Mrs. Mountjoy +Kennyfeck—neither for our own nor our reader's convenience dare we +omit the “prénom”—was of a western family considerably above that of +her liege lord and master in matter of genealogy, but whose quarterings +had so far survived the family acres that she was fain to accept the hand +of a wealthy attorney, after having for some years been the belle of her +county, and the admired beauty of Castle balls and drawing-rooms. +</p> +<p> +It had been at first, indeed, a very hard struggle for the O'Haras to +adopt the style and title of Kennyfeck, and poor Matilda was pitied in all +the moods and tenses for exchanging the riotous feudalism of Mayo for the +decorous quietude and wealthy <i>insouciance</i> of a Dublin mansion; and +the various scions of the house did not scruple to express very +unqualified opinions on the subject of her fall; but Time—that heals +so much—Time and Mr. Kennyfeck's claret, of which they all drank +most liberally during the visits to town, assuaged the rancor of these +prejudices, and “Matty,” it was hinted, might have done worse; while some +hardy spirit averred that “Kennyfeck, though not one of ourselves, has a +great deal of the gentleman about him, notwithstanding.” + </p> +<p> +A word of Mr. Kennyfeck himself, and even a word will almost suffice. He +was a very tall, pompous-looking personage, with a retiring forehead and a +large prominent nose; he wore a profusion of powder, and always dressed in +the most scrupulous black; he spoke little, and that slowly; he laughed +never. It was not that he was melancholy or depressed; it seemed rather +that his nature had been fashioned in conformity with the onerous +responsibilities of his pursuit, and that he would have deemed any +exhibition of mirthful emotion unseemly and unbecoming one who, so to say, +was a kind of high priest in the temple of equity. Next to the +Chancellor's he venerated the decisions of Mrs. Kennyfeck; after Mrs. +Kennyfeck came the Master of the Rolls. This was his brief and simple +faith, and it is astonishing in what simple rules of guidance men amass +vast fortunes, and obtain the highest suffrages of civic honor and +respect! +</p> +<p> +Mr. Kennyfeck's family consisted of two daughters: the eldest had been a +beauty for some years, and, even at the period our tale opens, had lost +few of her attractions. She was tall, dark-haired, and dark-eyed, with an +air of what in the Irish capital is called “decided fashion” about her, +but in less competent circles might have been called almost effrontery. +She looked strangers very steadily in the face, spoke with a voice full, +firm, and unabashed,—no matter what the subject, or who the +audience,—and gave her opinions on people and events with a careless +indifference to consequences that many mistook for high genius rebellious +against control. +</p> +<p> +Olivia, three years younger than her sister, had just come out; and +whether that her beauty—and she was very handsome—required a +different style, or that she saw more clearly “the mistake” in Miss +Kennyfeck's manner, but she took a path perfectly her own. She was +tenderness itself; a delicacy too susceptible for this work-a-day world +pervaded all she said and did,—a retiring sensitiveness that she +knew, as she plaintively said, would never “let her be loved,” overlaid +her nature, and made her the victim of her own feelings. Her sketches, +everlasting Madonnas dissolved in tears; her music, the most mournful of +the melodies; her reading, the most disastrously ending of modern poems,—all +accorded with this tone, which, after all, scarcely consorted well with a +very blooming cheek, bright hazel eyes, and an air and carriage that +showed a full consciousness of her captivations, and no small reliance on +her capacity to exercise them. +</p> +<p> +A brief interval after the servant left the room, the door opened, and +Mrs. Kennyfeck entered. She was dressed for dinner, and if not exactly +attired for the reception of a large company, exhibited, in various +details of her costume, unequivocal signs of more than common care. A +massive diamond brooch fastened the front of her dark velvet dress, and on +her fingers several rings of great value glittered. Miss Kennyfeck, too, +who followed her, was, though simply, most becomingly dressed; the light +and floating material of her robe contrasting well with the more stately +folds of the matronly costume of her mother. +</p> +<p> +“I am surprised they are not here before this,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, lying +back in the deep recess of a luxurious chair, and placing a screen between +herself and the fire. “Your father said positively on the 5th, and as the +weather has been most favorable, I cannot understand the delay. The +packets arrive at four, I think?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, at four, and the carriage left this at three to fetch them.” + </p> +<p> +“Read the note again,—he writes so very briefly always. I 'm sure I +wish the dear man would understand that I am not a client, and that a +letter is not exactly all it might be, because it can be charged its +thirteen-and-fourpence, or six-and-eightpence, whatever it is.” + </p> +<p> +Miss Kennyfeck took an open note from the chimney, and read:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dear Mrs. Kennyfeck,—We have made all the necessary +arrangements in London, and shall leave on the 2nd, so as +to arrive at Merrion Square by the 5th. Mr. C—— would, +I believe, rather have remained another day in town; but +there was no possibility of doing so, as the “Chancellor” + will sit on Tuesday. Love to the girls, and believe me, +yours very truly, + +M. Kennyfeck. +</pre> +<p> +Invite Jones and Softly to meet us at dinner. +</p> +<p> +The clock on the mantelpiece now struck seven; and scarcely had the last +chime died away as a carriage drove up to the door. +</p> +<p> +“Here they come, I suppose,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, with a half-sigh. +</p> +<p> +“No, mamma; it is a hackney-coach. Mr. Jones, or Mr. Softly, perhaps.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, dear! I had forgotten them. How absurd it was to ask these people, +and your father not here.” + </p> +<p> +The door opened, and the servant announced the Rev. Mr. Knox Softly. A +very tall, handsome young man entered, and made a most respectful but +cordial salutation to the ladies. He was in look and mien the <i>beau +idéal</i> of health, strength, and activity, with bright, full blue eyes, +and cheeks rosy as the May. His voice, however, was subdued to the dulcet +accent of a low whisper, and his step, as he crossed the room, had the +stealthy noiselessness of a cat's approach. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Kennyfeck quite restored, I hope, from the fatigue of his journey?” + </p> +<p> +“We 've not seen him yet,” replied his lady, almost tartly. “He ought to +have been here at four o'clock, and yet it's past seven.” + </p> +<p> +“I think I hear a carriage.” + </p> +<p> +“Another ———,” hackney, Miss Kennyfeck was about to say, +when she stopped herself, and, at the instant, Counsellor Clare Jones was +announced. +</p> +<p> +This gentleman was a rising light of the Irish bar, who had the good +fortune to attract Mr. Kennyfeck's attention, and was suddenly transferred +from the dull duties of civil bills and declarations to business of a more +profitable kind. He had been somewhat successful in his college career,—carried +off some minor honors; was a noisy member of a debating society; wrote +leaders for some provincial papers; and with overbearing powers of +impudence, and a good memory, was a very likely candidate for high +forensic honor. +</p> +<p> +Unlike the first arrival, the Counsellor had few, if any, of the forms of +good society in his manner or address. His costume, too, was singularly +negligent; and as he ran a very dubious hand through a mass of thick and +tangled hair on entering, it was easy to see that the greatest part of his +toilet was then and there performed. The splashed appearance of his nether +garments, and of shoes that might have done honor to snipe-shooting, also +showed that the carriage which brought him was a mere ceremonial +observance, and, as he would himself say, “the act of conveyance was a +surplusage.” + </p> +<p> +Those who saw him in court pronounced him the most unabashed and cool of +men; but there was certainly a somewhat of haste and impetuosity in his +drawing-room manner that even a weak observer would have ascribed to +awkwardness. +</p> +<p> +“How do you do, Mrs. Kennyfeck?—how do you do, Miss Kennyfeck?—glad +to see you. Ah! Mr. Softly,—well, I hope? Is he come—has he +arrived?” A shake of the head replied in the negative. “Very strange; I +can't understand it. We have a consultation with the Solicitor-General +to-morrow, and a meeting in chambers at four.” + </p> +<p> +“I should n't wonder if Mr. Cashel detained papa; he is very young, you +know, and London must be so new and strange to him, poor lad!” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; but your father would scarce permit it,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, +smartly. “I rather think it must have been some accidental circumstance; +coaches are constantly upsetting, and post-horses cannot always be had.” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Knox Softly smiled benignly, as though to say in these suggestions +Mrs. Kennyfeck was displaying a very laudable spirit of uncertainty as to +the course of human events. +</p> +<p> +“Here 's Olivia,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, as her younger daughter entered. +“Let us hear her impressions,—full of forebodings, I don't doubt.” + </p> +<p> +Miss Olivia Kennyfeck performed her salutations to the guests with the +most faultless grace, throwing into her courtesy to the curate a certain +air of filial reverence very pretty to behold, and only a little +objectionable on the score of the gentleman's youth and personal +attractions; and then, turning to her mother said,— +</p> +<p> +“You are not uneasy, mamma, I hope? Though, after all, this is about the +period of the equinox.” + </p> +<p> +“Nonsense, child! packets are never lost nowadays in the Irish Channel. +It's merely some sudden freak of gayety,—some London distraction +detains them. Will you touch that bell, Mr. Clare Jones? It is better to +order dinner.” + </p> +<p> +There was something peremptory in the lady's tone and manner that rather +damped the efforts at small-talk,—never very vigorous or +well-sustained at these ante-dinner moments; nor were any of the party +very sorry when the servant announced that the soup was served. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER V. HOW ROLAND BECAME ENTITLED TO THE GODFREY BROWNE PROPERTY. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The sherry iced,—the company still colder. + +Bell: Images. +</pre> +<p> +The party who now took their seats at table were not made of those +ingredients whose admixture accomplishes a social meeting. Their natures, +pursuits, and tastes were only sufficiently unlike to suggest want of +agreement, without possessing the broad contrasts that invite conversation +by their own contrariety. Besides this, there was a sense of constraint +over every one, from the absence of the host and his expected guest; and +lastly, the very aspect of a gorgeously decorated table, with vacant +places, has always a chilling influence over those who sit around. A +certain amount of propinquity is as essential to conversation as good +roads and easy distances are a necessary condition to a visiting +neighborhood. If you cannot address him or her who sits beside you without +attracting the attention of the whole table to your remark, you are +equally debarred from the commonplaces that induce table-talk, or the +smart thing that cannot well be said too publicly. +</p> +<p> +The dinner here proceeded in very stately quietude, nor were the efforts +of Mr. Jones to introduce a conversational spirit at all successful; +indeed, that gifted gentleman would have willingly exchanged the +unexceptionable cookery and admirably conditioned wine before him for the +riotous freedom of a bar mess,—where sour sherry and nisi-prius +jokes abounded, and Father Somebody's song was sure to give the scene a +conviviality that only yielded its fascination to blind hookey or spoiled +five. +</p> +<p> +Far otherwise the curate. The angelic smile that sat upon his features +mechanically; his low, soft, liquid voice; his gentle gestures; and even +his little sallies of pleasantry, were in perfect accordance with the +decorous solemnity of a scene where the chink of a cut decanter, or the +tingling sound of a silver dish-cover, were heard above the stillness of +the company. +</p> +<p> +If, then, Mr. Knox Softly accompanied the ladies to the door, and followed +them out with his eyes with an expression beaming regretfulness at their +departure, the Counsellor, very differently minded, surrounded himself +with an array of the dessert-dishes and decanters, and prepared to discuss +his wine and walnuts to his perfect contentment. +</p> +<p> +“You have never met this Mr. Roland Cashel, I believe?” said Mr. Softly, +as he filled a very large claret glass and tasted it enjoyably. +</p> +<p> +“Never,” replied Jones, whose teeth were busily engaged in smashing +almonds and filberts, in open defiance of a tray of silver nutcrackers +before him. “I don't think he has been in Ireland since a mere child, and +very little in England.” + </p> +<p> +“Then his recovery of the estate was quite unexpected?” + </p> +<p> +“Mere accident Kennyfeck came upon the proofs when making some searches +for a collateral claim. The story is very short. This lad's father, whose +name was Godfrey Cashel, was a poor lieutenant in the 81st, and quartered +at Bath, when he chanced to discover that a rich old bachelor there, a +certain Godfrey Browne, was a distant relation of his mother. He lost no +time in making his acquaintance and explaining the relationship, which, +however, brought him no more substantial benefit than certain invitations +to dinner and whist parties, where the unfortunate lieutenant lost his +half-crowns. +</p> +<p> +“At length a note came one morning inviting him to breakfast and to +'transact a little matter of business.' Poor Godfrey read the words with +every commentary that could flatter his hopes, and set out in better +spirits than he had known for many a year before. What, then, was his +dismay to discover that he was only wanted to witness the old gentleman's +will!—a very significant proof that he was not to benefit by its +provisions. +</p> +<p> +“With a very ill-repressed sigh, the poor lieutenant threw a glance over +the half-opened leaves, where leasehold, and copyhold, and freehold, and +every other 'hold' figured among funded property, consols, and reduced +annuities,—with money lent on mortgages, shares in various +companies, and What not,—a list only to be equalled by the long +catalogue of those 'next of kin,' who, to the number of seventeen, were +mentioned as reversionary heirs. +</p> +<p> +“'You are to sign your name here, Mr. Cashel,' said the solicitor, +pointing to a carefully-scratched portion of the parchment, where already +the initials were pencilled for his guidance. +</p> +<p> +“'Faith! and it's at the other side of the book I'd rather see it,' said +the lieutenant, with a sigh. +</p> +<p> +“'Not, surely, after seventeen others!' exclaimed the astonished attorney. +</p> +<p> +“'Even so,—a chance is better than nothing.' +</p> +<p> +“'What's that he's saying?' interposed the old man, who sat reading his +newspaper at the fire. The matter was soon explained by the attorney, and +when he finished, Cashel added: 'That's just it; and I'm to sail for the +Cape on the 4th of next month, and if you 'll put me down among the rest +of the fellows, I 'll send you the best pipe of Constantia you ever +tasted, as sure as my name is Godfrey Cashel.' +</p> +<p> +“The old man threw his spectacles up on his forehead, wiped his eyes, and +then, replacing his glasses, took a deliberate survey of the poor +lieutenant who had proposed such a very 'soft' bargain. 'Eh! Clinchet,' +said he to the attorney, 'can we do this for him?' +</p> +<p> +“'Nothing easier, sir; let the gentleman come in last, as residuary +legatee, and it alters nothing.' +</p> +<p> +“'I suppose you count on your good luck,' said old Browne, grinning. +</p> +<p> +“'Oh, then, it's not from my great experience that way.' said Cashel. 'I +'ve been on the “Duke's list” for promotion seventeen years already, and, +for all I see, not a bit nearer than the first day; but there's no reason +my poor boy should be such an unfortunate devil. Who knows but fortune may +make amends to him one of these days? Come, sir, is it a bargain?' +</p> +<p> +“'To be sure. I 'm quite willing; only don't forget the Constantia. It's a +wine I like a glass of very well indeed, after my dinner.' +</p> +<p> +“The remainder is easily told; the lieutenant sailed for the Cape, and +kept his word, even though it cost him a debt that mortgaged his +commission. Old Browne gave a great dinner when the wine arrived, and the +very first name on the list of legatees, his nephew, caught a fever on his +way home from it, and died in three weeks. +</p> +<p> +“Kennyfeck could tell us, if he were here, what became of each of them in +succession; four were lost, out yachting, at once; but, singular as it may +seem, in nineteen years from the day of that will, every life lapsed, and, +stranger still, without heirs; and the fortune has now descended to poor +Godfrey Cashel's boy, the lieutenant himself having died in the West +Indies, where he exchanged into a native regiment. That is the whole +story; and probably in a romance one would say that the thing was +exaggerated, so much more strange is truth than fiction.” + </p> +<p> +“And what kind of education did the young man get?” + </p> +<p> +“I suppose very little, if any. So long as his father lived, he of course +held the position of an officer's son,—poor, but in the rank of +gentleman. After that, without parents,—his mother died when he was +an infant,—he was thrown upon the world, and, after various +vicissitudes, became a cabin boy on board of a merchantman; then he was +said to be a mate of a vessel in the African trade employed on the Gold +Coast,—just as probably a slaver; and, last of all, he was +lieutenant in the Columbian navy,—which, I take it, is a very good +name for piracy. It was in the Havannah we got a trace of him, and I +assure you, strange as it may sound, Kennyfeck's agent had no small +difficulty in persuading him to abandon that very free-and-easy service, +to assume the rights and immunities of a very large property. +</p> +<p> +“Kennyfeck was to meet him on his arrival in England, about ten days ago, +and they spent a few days in London, and were—But hark! there comes +a carriage now,—yes, I know the step of his horses; here they are!” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VI. A FRACAS IN THE BETTING-RING. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ne'er mind his torn, ill-fashioned doublet, +Beshrew me! if he 's not a pretty man. + +Don Lopez. +</pre> +<p> +The movement and bustle in the hall showed that Mr. Jones's surmise was +correct; for scarcely had the carriage stopped than the street-door was +flung wide open, and Mr. Pearse, the butler, followed by a strong +detachment of bright-liveried menials, stood bowing their respectful +compliments to their master and his guest. As Mr. Kennyfeck entered the +house, he walked slowly and with difficulty, endeavoring at the same time +to avoid all scrutiny of his appearance as he passed through the crowded +hall; but, although his hat was pressed firmly over his brows, it could +not entirely conceal a very suspiciously tinted margin around one eye; +while the care with which he defended his left arm, and which he carried +in his waistcoat, looked like injury there also. +</p> +<p> +He, however, made an attempt at a little sprightliness of manner, as, +shaking his companion's hand with cordial warmth, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“Welcome to Ireland, Mr. Cashel. I hope I shall very often experience the +happiness of seeing you under this roof.” + </p> +<p> +The person addressed was a remarkably handsome young man, whose air and +carriage bespoke, however, much more the confidence that results from a +sense of personal gifts, and a bold, daring temperament, than that more +tempered ease which is the consequence of fashionable breeding. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Kennyfeck's felicitations on their arrival were scarce uttered ere +Cashel had sufficiently recovered from his surprise at the unexpected +magnificence of the house to make any reply; for, although as yet advanced +no further than the hall, a marble group by Canova, a centre lamp of +costly Sèvres, and some chairs of carved ebony served to indicate the +expensive style of the remainder of the mansion. +</p> +<p> +While Cashel, then, muttered his acknowledgments, he added to himself, but +in a voice scarcely less loud,— +</p> +<p> +“Devilish good crib, this, Master Kennyfeck.” + </p> +<p> +“Pearse,” said the host, “is dinner ready?” + </p> +<p> +“My mistress and the young ladies have dined, sir; but Mr. Jones and Mr. +Softly are in the parlor.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, let us have something at once; or, would you prefer, Mr. Cashel, +making any change in your dress first?” + </p> +<p> +“I say dinner above all things,” said the youth, disencumbering himself of +a great Mexican mantle. +</p> +<p> +“Perfectly right; quite agree with you,” said Kennyfeck, endeavoring to +assume a little of his guest's dash; “and here we are. Ah, Jones, how d'ye +do? Mr. Cashel, this is my friend Mr. Jones. Mr. Softly, very glad to see +you. Mr. Softly.—Mr. Cashel. Don't stir, I beg; keep your places. We +'ll have a bit of dinner here, and join you at your wine afterwards. +Meanwhile, I 'll just step upstairs, and be back again in a moment; you'll +excuse me, I 'm sure.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, certainly,” replied Cashel, who appeared as if he could excuse +anything with a better grace than the ceremonious slowness of the butler's +arrangements. +</p> +<p> +There was a pause of a few seconds as Mr. Kennyfeck left the room, broken, +at last, by Mr. Jones asking if they had not been detained by contrary +winds. +</p> +<p> +“No, I think not; I fancy the weather was pretty average kind of weather. +Had we been expected here earlier?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; Mrs. Kennyfeck mentioned to me Monday, and afterwards Tuesday, as +the very latest day for your arrival.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel made no remark; and, soon after, Mr. Pearse's entrance with the +soup put an end to the conversation. “Mr. Kennyfeck desired me to say, +sir, not to wait for him; he'll be down presently.” + </p> +<p> +“What do you call this soup?” + </p> +<p> +“Mock-turtle, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Rather too much Madeira in it for my taste; but that sha' n't prevent my +having a glass of wine. Will you permit me, gentlemen?” + </p> +<p> +The parties bowed policy; but still the intercourse did not progress; and +in the exchanged glances of those at the large table, and the sidelong +looks Cashel occasionally threw towards them, it was easy to see that +neither party had made way with the other. +</p> +<p> +“I fear Kennyfeck is not going to make his appearance,” said Cashel, as he +seemed to hesitate about proceeding with his dinner. +</p> +<p> +“I should n't advise you waiting,” cried Jones; “the fish is growing +cold.” + </p> +<p> +“I suspect Mr. Kennyfeck is fatigued by his journey, sir,” said Mr. +Softly, in his most bland of voices; “I thought I remarked it by his +face.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, did you?” said Cashel, with a very peculiar look of knowingness. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; you are aware, Mr. Cashel,” interrupted Jones, “our friend is n't +much used to that kind of thing. I suppose it's some years since he has +had so much knocking about as in these last few days.” + </p> +<p> +“I fancy so,” said Cashel, with a significant smile that puzzled the +lawyer exceedingly, and he ate on without making a further remark. +</p> +<p> +The two or three efforts made by Jones and Softly to converse together +were, like nearly all similar attempts at perfect ease and +self-possession, complete failures, and gradually slided down into +monosyllables, and then to silence; when Cashel, who seemed to be enjoying +his venison and Bordeaux with perfect zest, leaned back in his chair and +said, “What kind of place is this same good city of Dublin? What goes +forward here?” + </p> +<p> +As this question was more directly addressed to Jones, that gentleman +prepared himself, not unwillingly, for an elaborate reply. +</p> +<p> +“Dublin, Mr. Cashel,” said he, pretty much in the same tone he would have +used in opening an address to a jury,— +</p> +<p> +“Dublin is a city which, from a great variety of causes, will always be +exposed to every variable and opposing criticism. To begin: it is +provincial—” + </p> +<p> +“Is it slow?” interrupted Cashel, who had listened to this exordium with +palpable signs of impatience. +</p> +<p> +“If you mean, has it its share of those habits of dissipation, those +excesses so detrimental alike to health and fortune—” + </p> +<p> +“No, no; I merely ask what goes on here,—how do people amuse +themselves?” said Cashel, fencing to avoid any very lengthened exposure of +the other's views. +</p> +<p> +“They dine, dance, drink tea, talk politics and scandal, like other folk; +but if you ask, what are the distinguishing features of the society—” + </p> +<p> +“What kind of sport does the country afford?” interrupted Roland, somewhat +unceremoniously. +</p> +<p> +“Hunting, shooting, fishing, coursing—” + </p> +<p> +“What do you mean by hunting,—a fox, is it?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, fox-hunting and hare-hunting, too.” + </p> +<p> +A very insolent laugh was Cashel's answer, as, turning to Mr. Softly, he +said, “Well, I own, all this does strike me as a very tiresome kind of +life. Do you like Ireland, sir?” + </p> +<p> +“I feel a deep interest in it,” said the curate, with a most solemn +manner. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, that's all very well; but do you like it?” + </p> +<p> +“Were it not for its darkness,” said Mr. Softly, sighing, “I should say I +liked it.” + </p> +<p> +“Darkness,” echoed Cashel,—“darkness; why, hang it, you are pretty +far north here. What is the darkness you speak of?” + </p> +<p> +“I alluded to popery, sir,—to the obscuring mists of superstition +and ignorance,” replied Mr. Softly, with a kind of energetic timidity that +made himself blush. +</p> +<p> +“Oh—I perceive—yes—I understand,” muttered Cashel, who +certainly felt all the awkwardness of a man caught in a lie. +</p> +<p> +“We have a very agreeable society among the bar men,” said Jones, +returning to the charge in a new direction; “a great deal of pleasantry +and fun goes on at our messes.” + </p> +<p> +“Droll fellows, I suppose,” said Cashel, carelessly. “I remember I knew a +lawyer once; he was a mate of a small clipper in the African trade,—mischievous +kind of devil he was too,—always setting the slaves by the ears, and +getting money for settling the differences. They played him a good trick +at last.” Here he laughed heartily at the recollection for several +minutes. +</p> +<p> +“What was it?” asked Jones, in some curiosity to learn how the bar was +respected on the banks of the Niger. +</p> +<p> +“They painted him black and sold him at Cuba,” said Cashel, who once more +broke out into laughter at the excellence of the jest. +</p> +<p> +Jones's and Softly's eyes met with a most complete accordance in the +glances exchanged. Meanwhile, Cashel, drawing his chair towards the larger +table, filled his glass and proceeded to smash his walnuts with all the +easy contentment of a man who had dined well. +</p> +<p> +“I perceive Mr. Kennyfeck is not likely to join us,” said Softly, with a +half suggestive look towards the door. +</p> +<p> +“Tired, perhaps,” said Jones, affecting what he opined to be the cool +indifference of the highest fashion. +</p> +<p> +“More than that, I suspect,” said Cashel, with a most unfeigned +carelessness. “Did you remark his eye?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes!” exclaimed both together. “What could that mean?” + </p> +<p> +“A slight bit of a scrimmage we had on the way from town; a—” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. Kennyfeck engaged in a row!” cried Softly, almost incredible at the +tidings. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. I fancy that is about the best word for it,” said Cashel, sipping +his wine. “I suppose one ought not to mention these kind of things; but of +course they are safe with you. They 'll never go further, I am certain.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, never,—not a syllable,” chimed in the two. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then, on our way here, I learned that there were to be races a few +miles from Coventry, and as I saw our friend Kennyfeck had no fancy for +the sight, I just slipped a few half-crowns into the postboy's hand, and +told him to drive there instead of taking the Liverpool road. Away we went +at a good pace, and in less than an hour reached the course. I wish you +saw the old gentleman's face when he awoke from a sound nap, and saw the +grand stand, with its thousand faces, all in a row, and the cords, the +betting-ring, and the whole circumstance of a race-ground. By good luck, +too, the sharp jerk of our pull-up smashed a spring, and so we had nothing +for it but to leave the chaise and wait till it could be repaired. While +my servant was away in search of some kind of a drag or other, to go about +the field,—there was no walking, what with the crowd and the press +of horses, not to speak of the mud that rose over the ankles,—we +pushed on,—that is, I did, with a stout grip of Kennyfeck's arm, +lest he should escape,—we pushed on, into the ring. Here there was +rare fun going forward, every fellow screaming out his bets, and booking +them as fast as he could. At first, of course, the whole was all ancient +Greek to me. I neither knew what they meant by the 'favorite,' or 'the +odds,' or 'the field;' but one somehow always can pick up a thing quickly, +if it be but 'game,' and so, by watching here, and listening there, I +managed to get a kind of inkling of the whole affair, and by dint of some +pushing and elbowing, I reached the very centre of the ring, where the +great dons of the course were betting together. +</p> +<p> +“'Taurus even against the field,' cried one. +</p> +<p> +“'Taurus against the field,' shouted another. +</p> +<p> +“And this same cry was heard on every side. +</p> +<p> +“'Give it in fifties,—hundreds if you like better,' said a young +fellow mounted on a smart-looking pony, to his friend, who appeared to +reflect on the offer. 'Come, hurry on, man. Let's have a bet, just to give +one an interest in the race.' The other shook his head, and the first went +on, 'What a slow set, to be sure! Is no one willing to back the field, +even? Come, then, here 's a hundred pound to any man who 'll take the +field against Taurus, for two thousand.' +</p> +<p> +“'Let me have your cob,' said I, 'and I 'll take the bet.' +</p> +<p> +“He turned round in his saddle, and stared at me as if I were something +more or less than human, while a very general roar of laughing ran around +the entire circle. +</p> +<p> +“'Come away, come away at once,' whispered Kennyfeck, trembling with +fright. +</p> +<p> +“'Yes, you had better move off, my friend,' said a thickset, rough-looking +fellow, in a white coat. +</p> +<p> +“'What say you to five thousand, sir; does that suit your book?' cried the +young fellow to me, in a most insolent tone. +</p> +<p> +“'Oh, let him alone, my Lord,' said another. 'Take no notice of him.' +</p> +<p> +“'I say, Grindle,' cried a tall thin man with moustaches, 'who let these +people inside the ring?' +</p> +<p> +“'They forces their way, my Lud,' said a little knocker-kneed creature, in +a coat four times too big for him, 'and I says to Bill, de—pend upon +it, Bill, them's the swell mob.' +</p> +<p> +“The words were scarcely out of the fellow's mouth when a general cry of +the 'swell mob' resounded on every side, and at once they closed upon us, +some pushing, others elbowing, driving, and forcing, so that what with the +dense crowd, and the tight hold Kennyfeck now kept of me, I was pinioned, +and could do nothing. At last, by a vigorous twist, I shook them off from +me, and laid two of the foremost at my feet. This I did with a Mexican +trick I saw they knew nothing about. You first make a feint at the face, +and then, dropping on the knee, seize the fellow by both legs, and hurl +him back on his head,—just stand up, I 'll not hurt you.” + </p> +<p> +“Thank you,—I understand the description perfectly,” said Mr. +Softly, pale with terror at the proposed experiment. +</p> +<p> +“Well, the remainder is soon told. They now got in upon us, and of course +I need n't say we got confoundedly thrashed. Kennyfeck was tumbled about +like a football; every one that had nothing else to do had a kick at him, +and there 's no saying how it might have ended had not a certain Sir +George Somebody recognized our poor friend, and rescued him. I 'm not +quite sure that I was quite myself about this time; Kennyfeck has some +story of my getting on some one's horse, and riding about the course in +search of the originators of the fray. The end of it, however, was, we +reached Liverpool with sorer bones than was altogether pleasant, and +although, when Kennyfeck went to bed, I went to the theatre, the noise +only increased my headache, and it needed a good night's sleep to set me +all right again.” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. Kennyfeck taken for one of the swell mob!” exclaimed Softly, with a +sort of holy horror that seemed to sum up his whole opinion of the +narrative. +</p> +<p> +“Very bad, was n't it?” said Cashel, pushing the wine past; “but he's a +capital fellow,—took the whole thing in such good part, and seems +only anxious that the story should n't get abroad. Of course I need n't +repeat my caution on that subject?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, certainly not! Shall we join the ladies?” said Mr. Jones, as he +surveyed his whiskers and arranged the tie of his cravat before the glass. +</p> +<p> +“I'm quite ready,” said Cashel, who had quietly set down in his own mind +that the ladies of the Kennyfeck family were a kind of female fac-simile +of the stiff-looking old attorney, and, therefore, felt very few qualms on +the subject of his disordered and slovenly appearance. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely had Cashel entered the drawing-room than he found his hand +grasped in Mr. Kennyfeck's, when, with a most dulcet acccent, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“I knew you 'd forgive me,—I told Mrs. Kennyfeck you'd excuse me for +not joining you at dinner; but I was really so fatigued. Mrs. Kennyfeck—Mr. +Cashel. My daughter, Mr. Cashel. My daughter Olivia. Well, now, have you +dined heartily?—I hope my friends here took care of you.” + </p> +<p> +“I thank you. I never dined better,—only sorry not to, have had your +company. We have our apologies to make, Mrs. Kennyfeck, for not being +earlier; but, of course, you 've heard that we did our very utmost.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, yes! I explained everything,” interrupted Kennyfeck, most eager +to stop a possible exposure. “Mrs. Kennyfeck knows it all.” + </p> +<p> +Although Cashel's manner and address were of a kind to subject him to the +most severe criticism of the ladies of the Kennyfeck family, they evinced +the most laudable spirit in their hospitable and even cordial reception of +him, Mrs. Kennyfeck making room for him to sit on the sofa beside her,—a +post of honor that even the Castle aides-de-camp only enjoyed by great +favor; while the daughters listened with an attention as flattering to <i>him</i> +as it was galling to the other two guests. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Softly, however, resigned himself to this neglect as to a passing +cloud of forgetfulness, and betook himself to the columns of the “Morning +Post” for consolation, occasionally glancing over the margin to watch the +laughing group around the fire. As for Jones; Mr. Kennyfeck had withdrawn +with that gentleman into a window, where the tactics of some bill in +equity engaged their attention,—manifestly, however, to the young +barrister's discontent, as his frequent stolen looks towards the ladies +evidenced. +</p> +<p> +It was the first time that the Kennyfecks had ever deigned to listen to +any one whose claims to a hearing rested on higher grounds than the light +gossip and small-talk of the capital, the small fashionable chit-chat of a +provincial city, and which bears the same resemblance to the table-talk of +the greater metropolis as do larks to ortolans, when disguised in the same +kind of sauce; only those accustomed to the higher flavor being able to +detect the difference. It was, then, with as much surprise as pleasure +that they found themselves listening to the narratives in which not a +single noble or lordly personage figured, nor one singular incident +occurred reflecting on the taste, the wealth, or the morals of their +acquaintance. It was no less a novelty, too, for Cashel to find any one a +listener to descriptions of scenes and habits in whose familiarity he saw +nothing strange or remarkable; so that when the young ladies, at first +attracted by mere curiosity, became gradually more and more interested in +his stories, his flattered vanity gave new warmth to an enthusiasm always +ardent, and he spoke of prairie life and adventure with a degree of +eloquence and power that might have captivated even less indulgent +auditors. +</p> +<p> +It was, besides, the first time that they ever had seen great wealth +unallied with immense pretension. Cashel, perhaps from character, or that +his accession to fortune was too recent, and his consequent ignorance of +all that money can do, whichever of these the cause, was certainly the +most unassuming young man they had ever met. In comparison with him, the +aides-de-camp were princes of the blood; even Mr. Jones put forth a degree +of pretension on the score of his abilities, which stood in strong +contrast with the unaffected and simple modesty of Roland Cashel. +</p> +<p> +It is but fair to all parties to add that dark and flashing eyes, shaded +by long and drooping lashes, a high and massive forehead; a brown, almost +Spanish complexion, whose character was increased by a pair of short +coal-black moustaches,—did not detract from the merit of tales, +which, as they chiefly related to feats of personal daring and address, +were well corroborated by the admirable symmetry and handsome proportions +of the relater. +</p> +<p> +Story followed story. Now the scene lay in the low and misty swamps of the +Niger, where night resounds with the dull roar of the beasts of prey, and +the heavy plash of the sluggish alligator on the muddy shore; now, it was +in the green wood of the Spice Islands, amid an atmosphere scented with +perfume, and glittering with every gorgeous hue of plumage and verdure. At +one moment he would describe a chase at sea, with all its high and +maddening excitement, as each new vicissitude of success or failure arose; +and then he would present some little quiet picture of shore life in a +land where the boundless resources of Nature supply, even anticipate, the +wants and luxuries of man. +</p> +<p> +Whatever the interest, and occasionally it rose to a high pitch, that +attended his narratives of danger and daring, the little sketches he gave +from time to time of the domestic life of these far-away people, seemed to +attract the most delighted attention of his fair hearers, particularly +where his narrative touched upon the traits, whether of beauty, dress, or +demeanor, that distinguish the belles of New Spain. +</p> +<p> +“How difficult,” said Miss Kennyfeck, “I could almost say, how impossible, +to leave a land so abounding in the romance of life, for all the dull and +commonplace realities of European existence.” + </p> +<p> +“How hard to do so without leaving behind the heart that could feel such +ecstasies,” murmured Olivia, with a half-raised eyelid, and a glance that +made Cashel flush with delight. +</p> +<p> +“How shall we ever make Ireland compensate you for quitting so lovely a +country!” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, with a smile rarely accorded to anything +lower than a viscount. +</p> +<p> +“We have a Mexican proverb, madam,” said Cashel, gayly, “which says, +'Wherever the sun shines, bright eyes shine also.' But enough of these +tiresome memories, in which my egotism will always involve me. Shall we +have a fandango?” + </p> +<p> +“I don't know it; I never saw it danced.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, the manolo, then.” + </p> +<p> +“Nor that either,” said both girls, laughing. +</p> +<p> +“Well, will you learn? I'll teach you the manolo. It's very simple. If you +'ll play the air, Miss Kennyfeck,—it runs thus.” Here he opened the +pianoforte, and, after a few chords, struck with a masterly finger, he +played a little Spanish dance; but with a spirit of execution, and in such +an exciting character of time and measure, that a general exclamation of +delight broke from the whole room, Mr. Jones himself forgetting all +rivalry, and Mr. Softly laying down his newspaper to listen, and for a +moment carried away by the fascination of the spirit-stirring melody. +</p> +<p> +“That is the manolo; come, now, and let me teach you, first the air, and +then the dance.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, I never could succeed to give it that character of bold and haughty +defiance it breathes from you,” said Miss Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“Nay, nay, a man's hand is always so rude and heavy, it needs the taper +finger of a lady,”—here Cashel bent, and kissed the hand he held, +but with such a deference and respect in the salute, that deprived the +action, so novel to our eyes, of any appearance of a liberty,—“of a +lady,” he resumed, “to impart the ringing brilliancy of the saucy manolo.” + </p> +<p> +“Then play it over once more, and I 'll try,” said Miss Kennyfeck, who was +a most accomplished musician, and had even already caught up the greater +part of the air. +</p> +<p> +Cashel obeyed, and again the plaudits followed even more enthusiastically +than the first time. With a precision that called forth many a hearty +“bravo” from Roland, Miss Kennyfeck played over the air, catching up all +the spirit of its transitions from gay to plaintive, and from tender to a +strain bold, daring, and energetic. +</p> +<p> +“Now for the dance,” exclaimed Cashel, eagerly, as he busied himself in +removing chairs and pushing back sofas. “Will you be kind enough to assist +me with this table?” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Softly, the gentleman thus addressed, rose to comply, his face +exhibiting a very amusing struggle between shame and astonishment at the +position he occupied. The space cleared, Roland took Olivia's hand, and +led her forward with an air of exceeding deference. +</p> +<p> +“Now, Miss Kenny feck, the step is the easiest thing in the world. It goes +so,—one—two; one—two—three; and then change—Exactly, +quite right; you have it perfectly. This is, as it were, an introduction +to the dance; but the same step is preserved throughout, merely changing +its time with the measure.” + </p> +<p> +It would be as impossible to follow as it would be unfair to weary the +reader with the lesson which now began; and yet we would like to linger on +the theme, as our memory brings up every graceful gesture and every proud +attitude of the fascinating manolo. Representing, as it does, by +pantomimic action a little episode of devotion, in which pursuit and +flight, entreaty, rejection, seductive softness, haughty defiance, timid +fear, and an even insolent boldness alternate and succeed each other, all +the movements which expressive action can command, whether of figure or +feature, are called forth. Now, it is the retiring delicacy of shrinking, +timid loveliness, half hoping, halt fearing, to be pursued; now the +stately defiance of haughty beauty, demanding homage as its due. At one +moment the winning seductiveness that invites pursuit, and then, sudden as +the lightning, the disdain that repels advance. +</p> +<p> +Not the least interesting part of the present scene was to watch how +Olivia, who at first made each step and gesture with diffidence and fear, +as she went on, became, as it were, seized with the characteristic spirit +of the measure; her features varying with each motive of the music, her +eyes at one instant half closed in dreamy languor, and at the next +flashing in all the brilliancy of conscious beauty. As for Roland, +forgetting, as well he might, all his functions as teacher, he moved with +the enthusiastic spirit of the dance,—his rapturous gaze displaying +the admiration that fettered him; and when at last, as it were, yielding +to long-proved devotion, she gave her hand, it needed the explanation of +its being a Mexican fashion to excuse the ardor with which he pressed it +to his lips. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Kennyfeck's applause, however, was none the less warm; and if any of +the company disapproved, they prudently said nothing,—even Mr. +Softly, who only evidenced his feeling by a somewhat hasty resumption of +the “Morning Post,” while the elder sister, rising from the piano, +whispered, as she passed her sister, “Bad jockey-ship, Livy, dear, to make +fast running so early.” + </p> +<p> +“And that is the—What d'ye call it, Mr. Cashel?” said Mrs. +Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“The manolo, madam. It is of Italian origin, rather than Spanish,—Calabrian, +I fancy; but, in Mexico, it has become national, and well suits the +changeful temper of our Spanish belles, and the style of their light and +floating costume.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, I suspect it has a better effect with short drapery than with the +sweeping folds of our less picturesque dress,” said Miss Kennyfeck, who, +for reasons we must not inquire, took a pleasure in qualifying her +approval. +</p> +<p> +“I never saw it appear more graceful,” said Cashel, with a blunt +abruptness far more flattering than a studied compliment. +</p> +<p> +Olivia blushed; Mrs. Kennyfeck looked happy, and the elder sister bit her +lips, and threw up her eyebrows, with an expression we cannot attempt to +render in words. +</p> +<p> +“May I not have the honor of introducing you to the manolo?” said Cashel, +presenting himself before her with a deep bow. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, I prefer being a spectator; besides, we could have no music,—my +sister does not play.” + </p> +<p> +Olivia blushed; and, in her hasty look, there was an expression of gently +conveyed reproach, as though to say, “This is unfair.” + </p> +<p> +“Do you like music, Mr. Cashel?” continued Miss Kennyfeck, who saw the +slight cloud of disappointment that crossed Roland's features. “Oh, I 'm +certain you do, and I know you sing!” + </p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Cashel, carelessly, “as every one sings in that merry land I +come from; but I fear the wild carol-lings of a ranchero would scarce find +acceptance in the polished ears of Europe.” + </p> +<p> +“What are the melodies like, then?” asked Miss Kennyfeck, throwing into +the question a most eager interest. +</p> +<p> +“You shall hear, if you like,” said Roland, taking up a guitar, and +striking a few full chords with a practised hand. “This is one of the +war-songs;” and without further preface he began. Had he even been less +gifted than he was as to voice and musical taste, there was enough in the +bold and manly energy of his manner, in the fiery daring of his dark eyes, +and the expressive earnestness of his whole bearing, to attract the +admiration of his hearers. But, besides these advantages, he was not +unskilled in the science of music, and even made so poor an instrument a +full and masterly accompaniment, imitating, as few but Spaniards can do, +the distant sound of drums, the dropping fire of cannon, the wild abrupt +changes of battle, and the low plaintive sounds of suffering and defeat; +so that, as he concluded, the whole character of the performance had +ceased to be regarded as a mere musical display, but had the absolute +effect of a powerfully told story. +</p> +<p> +The Kennyfecks had often been called on in society to award their praises +to amateur performances, in whose applause, be it said, <i>en passant</i>, +a grateful sense of their being concluded always contributes the +enthusiasm; but real admiration and pleasure now made them silent, and as +their eyes first turned on the singer and then met, there was a world of +intelligence in that one quiet, fleeting glance that revealed more of +secret thought and feeling than we, as mere chroniclers of events, dare +inquire into. +</p> +<p> +Whether it was that this silence, prolonged for some seconds, suggested +the move, or that Mr. Jones began to feel how ignoble a part he had been +cast for in the whole evening's entertainment, but he rose to take his +leave at once, throwing into his manner a certain air of easy +self-sufficiency, with which in the “courts” he had often dismissed a +witness under cross-examination, and by a mere look and gesture contrived +to disparage his testimony. +</p> +<p> +None, save Miss Kennyfeck, perceived his tactic. She saw it, however, and, +with a readiness all her own, replied by a slight elevation of the +eyebrow. Jones saw his “signal acknowledged,” and went home contented. +Poor man, he was not the first who has been taken into partnership because +his small resources were all “ready,” and who is ejected from the firm +when wider and grander speculations are entered on. I am not certain +either that he will be the last! +</p> +<p> +Mr. Softly next withdrew, his leave-taking having all the blended humility +and cordiality of his first arrival; and now Mr. Kennyfeck was awakened +out of a very sound nap by his wife saying in his ear, “Will you ask Mr. +Cashel if he 'll take a biscuit and a glass of wine before he retires?” + </p> +<p> +The proposition was politely declined, and after a very cordial +hand-shaking with all the members of the family, Cashel said his +good-night and retired. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VII. PEEPS BEHIND THE CURTAIN. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ich möchte ihn im Schlafrock sehen. + +Der Reisende Teufel. + +(I 'd like to see him in his robe-de-chambre.) + +(The Travelling Devil.) +</pre> +<p> +There has always appeared to us something of treachery, not to speak of +indelicacy, in the privileges authors are wont to assume in following +their characters into their most secret retirement, watching there their +every movement and gesture, overhearing their confidential whisperings,—nay, +sometimes sapping their very thoughts, for the mere indulgence of a +prying, intrusive curiosity. +</p> +<p> +For this reason, highly appreciating, as we must do, the admirable wit of +the “Diable Boiteux,” and the pleasant familiar humor of the “Hermite de +la Chaussée d'Antin,” we never could entirely reconcile ourselves to the +means by which such amusing views of life were obtained, while we +entertain grave doubts if we,—that is, the world at large,—have +any right to form our judgments of people from any other evidence than +what is before the public. It appears to us somewhat as if, that following +Romeo or Desdemona into the Green-room, we should be severe upon the want +of keeping which suggested the indulgence of a cigar or a pot of porter, +and angry at the high-flown illusions so grossly routed and dispelled. +</p> +<p> +“Act well your part; there all the honour lies,” said the poet moralist; +but it's rather hard to say that you are to “act” it off as well as on the +stage; and if it be true that no man is a hero to his valet, the valet +should say nothing about it; and this is the very offence we think +novel-writers commit, everlastingly stripping off the decorations and +destroying the illusions they take such trouble to create, for little else +than the vain boastfulness of saying, See, upon what flimsy materials I +can move you to sentiments of grief, laughter, pity, or contempt. Behold +of what vulgar ingredients are made up the highest aspirations of genius,—the +most graceful fascinations of beauty. +</p> +<p> +Having denounced, by this recorded protest, the practice, and disclaiming, +as we must do, all desire to benefit by its enjoyment, we desire our +reader, particularly if he be of the less worthy gender, to feel a due +sense of the obligation he owes us, if we claim his company for half an +hour on such a voyage of discovery. Step softly, there is no excuse for +noise, as the stair-carpet is thick, and not a sound need be heard. +Gently, as you pass that green door,—that is the bedroom of Mr. and +Mrs. Kennyfeck. We will not linger there, nor invade the sanctity of those +precincts, within which the monotonous tones of Mrs. K. are heard, +revelling in that species of domestic eloquence which, like the liberty of +the press, is oftener pleasant to those who employ, than to those who +receive its judgments. Here for a few minutes let us stay. This is Roland +Cashel's apartment; and, strange enough, instead of sleeping, he is up at +his table, writing, too,—he, of all men the least epistolary. There +may be no great indication of character in mere handwriting, but the +manner, the gesture, the degree of rapidity of the writer, as seen at the +moment, are all full of individuality. Mark, then, with what speed his pen +moves; not the daisy-cutting sling of the accomplished rider, but the +slashing gallop of the heavy charger. Many a blot, never an erasure,—so, +there it goes,—“Yours ever, Roland Cashel.” And now, he begins +another. +</p> +<p> +Come, these are no times for squeamishness. Let us anticipate “Sir James,” + and read before he seals it. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dublin. My dear Comrade,—We are neither of us very gifted +letter-writers, but events are always enough to tell, even +when style be wanting; and here am I, so overwhelmed by the +rush of new sensations that I know not where to begin, or +how to tell what has really happened since we parted, nor +distinguish actual stubborn facts from my own fancies. My +brief note from Porto Giacomo told you that I had succeeded +to something like fifteen thousand pounds a year. I believe +it is rather more, with a good round sum, I don't know how +much, in bank; and now, here I am,' just arrived, but +marvellously at home, in the house of the worthy fellow that +has established my claim. + +If I only knew so much of my good luck, I 'd say it was no +bad thing to be pleasantly domesticated in a capital +mansion, with every refinement and luxury at hand, and two +such girls, the daughters! Oh, <i>amigo mio</i>, you'd think +wondrous little of the Barcelonetta belles, if I could show +you these damsels! Such tempting shyness; such shrinking, +playful modesty; and then so frank, without that slap-dash +abruptness! Never mind,—I own freely that Maritaña is +lovely; there is not such a mouth—as to a foot—well, +well. I wish I could take a peep at you all again, just as +night closes, and she comes out to take her walk upon the +grass, and hear her singing as she went, or watch her as she +danced the manolo, which—by the way—one of the girls here +caught up wonderfully, and in almost an instant too. But the +manolo, with a long, sweeping, flounced, and furbelowed +petticoat! Only think of the absurdity! Not but she looked +exceedingly pretty the while, but how much better had she, +if one could only have cut half a yard off her drapery! + +Have you received the pistols I sent from London? I hope you +'ll think them handsome,—I know they are true, having tried +them at thirty-five, and even fifty paces. The yataghan I 'm +certain you 'll admire; it has the peculiar handle and hilt +you 're fond of. Pray let our friends on the Chilian side +learn something of the qualities of the blade itself. I have +been thinking since about the emeralds—and perhaps Maritaña +may refuse them. If so, do what you will with them so that I +hear no more of the matter. And now for the bond: release +me from that tie by all means. It is not that I really feel +it in the light of a contract,—Maritaña never did; but I +have it ever on my mind, like a debt. I give you full powers: +draw upon me for the sum you please, and I promise not to +dishonor the check. Pedro likes a good bargain, and don't +balk him! + +I don't know what your own views are in that quarter, but I +tell you frankly that Maritaña has higher and bolder +aspirations than either you or I were likely to aid her in +attaining. She is a proud girl, Enrique, and will never care +for any man that is not able and willing to elevate her into +a very different sphere from that she moves in. I never +actually loved her,—I certainly do not do so now,—and yet +I cannot get her out of my head. + +Before I forget it, let me ask you to pay Ruy Dias two +hundred doubloons for me. The horse I killed was not worth +forty; but, these are not times for bargaining, and the +fellow didn't want to part with the beast Alconetti—the +Italian in the Plaza—has something against me,—pay it too; +and now that I am on the subject of debts, whenever you +next cruise off Ventillanos, send a party on shore to catch +the dean, and give him four-and-twenty with a rope's end,— +say it is from me; he 'll know why, and so shall you, when +you inform me that it has been cleverly effected. + +Above all, my dear boy, write; I so long to hear about you +all, and to know all that has happened since I left you. +Send the old trunks with my uniform to the agents in the +Havannah; I 'd like to see them once more. François may +keep anything else of mine, except what you would like to +select as a “souvenir.” Don't let Rica write to me. I feel I +should have no chance in a correspondence with him; nor +need I have any, because whatever you say, I agree to,— +remember that. + +If you can manage about the emeralds, it would be the most +gratifying news to me. You might tell her that we are so +certain of never meeting again, and that all is now over +forever, and so on,—it would have an air of unkindness to +reject them. Besides, I see no reason why she should! No +matter; I needn't multiply reasons, where, if one will not +suffice, a thousand must fail, and the chances are, if she +suspect my anxiety on the subject, it will decide her +against me. Do it, then, all in your own way. + +Have I said all I wanted? Heaven knows! My head is full; my +heart, too, is not without its load. I wish you were here. I +wish it for many reasons. I already begin to suspect you are +right about the sudden effect a spring into wealth may +produce; but I hope that all you said on that score may not +be true. If I thought so, I 'd—No matter, I 'll endeavor to +show that you are unjust, and that is better. Yours ever, + +Roland Cashel. + +Don Enrique da Cordova, + +Lieutenant of the Columbian frigate “Esmeralda.” Care of +Messrs. Eustache et Le Moine, merchants, Havannah. +</pre> +<p> +The next epistle which followed was far more brief. It was thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Messrs. Vanderhaeghen und Droek, Antwerp. + +Enclosed is an order on Hamerton for seventeen thousand four +hundred and forty-eight gulden, principal and interest for +three years, of an unjust demand made by you on me before +the tribunal of Bruges. + +You failed, even with all the aid of your knavish laws and +more knavish countrymen, to establish this iniquitous claim, +and only succeeded in exhibiting yourselves as rogues and +swindlers,—good burgher-like qualities in your commercial +city. + +I have now paid what I never owed; but there still remains +between us an unsettled score. Let my present punctuality +guarantee the honorable intentions I entertain of settling +it one day; till when, as you have shown yourselves my +enemy, + +Believe me to be yours, Roland Cashel. +</pre> +<p> +The order on the banker ran as follows:— +</p> +<p> +Pay to Vanderhaeghen und Droek, two of the greatest knaves alive, +seventeen thousand four hundred and forty-eight gulden, being the +principal and interest for three years of a dishonest claim made upon +Roland Cashel. To Hamerton and Co., Cheapside. +</p> +<p> +With all that soothing consciousness we hear is the result of good +actions, Cashel lay down on his bed immediately on concluding this last +epistle, and was fast asleep almost before the superscription was dried. +</p> +<p> +And now, worthy reader, another peep, and we have done. Ascending +cautiously the stairs, you pass through a little conservatory, at the end +of which a heavy cloth curtain conceals a door. It is that of a +dressing-room, off which, at opposite sides, two bedrooms lie. This same +dressing-room, with its rose-colored curtains and ottoman, its little +toilet-tables of satin-wood, its mirrors framed in alabaster, its cabinets +of buhl, and the book-shelves so coquettishly curtained with Malines lace, +is the common property of the two sisters whom we so lately introduced to +your notice. +</p> +<p> +There were they wont to sit for hours after the return from a ball, +discussing the people they had met, their dress, their manner, their +foibles and flirtations; criticising with no mean acuteness all the varied +games of match-making mammas and intriguing aunts, and canvassing the +schemes and snares so rife around them. And oh, ye simple worshippers of +muslin-robed innocence! oh, ye devoted slaves of ringleted loveliness and +blooming freshness! bethink ye what wily projects lie crouching in hearts +that would seem the very homes of careless happiness; what calculations; +what devices; how many subtleties that only beauty wields, or simple man +is vanquished by! +</p> +<p> +It was considerably past midnight as the two girls sat at the fire, their +dressing-gowns and slippered feet showing that they had prepared for bed; +but the long luxuriant hair, as yet uncurled, flowed in heavy masses on +their neck and shoulders. They did not, as usual, converse freely +together; a silence and a kind of constraint sat upon each, and although +Olivia held a book before her, it was less for the purpose of reading than +as a screen against the fire, while her sister sat with folded arms and +gently drooping head, apparently lost in thought. It was after a very +lengthened silence, and in a voice which showed that the speaker was +following up some train of thought, Miss Kennyfeck said,— +</p> +<p> +“And do you really think him handsome, Olivia?” + </p> +<p> +“Of whom are you speaking, dear?” said Olivia, with the very softest +accent. +</p> +<p> +Miss Kennyfeck started; her pale cheeks became slightly red as, with a +most keen irony, she replied, “Could you not guess? Can I mean any one but +Mr. Clare Jones?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, he's a downright fright,” answered the other; “but what could have +made you think of him?” + </p> +<p> +“I was not thinking of him, nor were you either, sister dear,” said Miss +Kennyfeck, fixing her eyes full upon her; “we were both thinking of the +same person. Come, what use in such subterfuges? Honesty, Livy, may not be +the 'best policy,' but it has one great advantage,—it saves a deal +of time; and so I repeat my question, do you think him handsome?” + </p> +<p> +“If you mean Mr. Cashel, dearest,” said the younger, half bashfully, “I +rather incline to say he is. His eyes are very good; his forehead and brow—” + </p> +<p> +“There,—no inventory, I beg,—the man is very well-looking, I +dare say, but I own he strikes me as <i>tant soit peu sauvage</i>. Don't +you think so?” + </p> +<p> +“True, his manners—” + </p> +<p> +“Why, he has none; the man has a certain rakish, free-and-easy demeanor +that, with somewhat more breeding, would rise as high as 'tigerism,' but +now is detestable vulgarity.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, dearest, you are severe.” + </p> +<p> +“I rather suspect that you are partial.” + </p> +<p> +“I, my dear! not I, in the least. He is not, by any means, the style of +person I like. He can be very amusing, perhaps; he certainly is very odd, +very original.” + </p> +<p> +“He is very rich, Livy,” said the elder sister, with a most dry gravity. +</p> +<p> +“That can scarcely be called a fault, still less a misfortune,” replied +Olivia, slyly. +</p> +<p> +“Well, well, let us have done with aphorisms, and speak openly. If you are +really pleased with his manner and address, say so at once, and I 'll +promise never to criticise too closely a demeanor which, I vow, does not +impress me highly,—only be candid.” + </p> +<p> +“But I do not see any occasion for such candor, my dear. He is no more to +me than he is to <i>you</i>. I ask no protestations from <i>you</i> about +this Mr. Roland Cashel.” + </p> +<p> +Miss Kennyfeck bit her lip and seemed to repress a rising temptation to +reply, but was silent for a moment, when she said, in a careless, easy +tone,— +</p> +<p> +“Do you know, Livy dearest, that this same manolo you danced this evening +is not by any means a graceful performance to look at, at least when +danced with long, sweeping drapery, flapping here and flouncing there. It +may suit those half-dressed Mexican damsels who want to display a high +arched instep and a rounded ankle, and who know that they are not +transgressing the ordinary limits of decorum in the display; but certainly +your friend Mr. Softly did not accord all his approval. Did you remark +him?” + </p> +<p> +“I did not; I was too much engaged in learning the figure: but Mr. Softly +disapproves of all dancing.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, I know he does,” yawned Miss Kennyfeck, as if the very mention of his +name suggested sleep; “the dear man has his own notions of pleasantry,—little +holy jokes about Adam and Eve. There is nothing so intolerable to me as +the insipid playfulness of your young parson, except, perhaps, the coarse +fun of your rising barrister. How I hate Mr. Clare Jones!” + </p> +<p> +“He is very underbred.” + </p> +<p> +“He is worse; the rudest person I ever met,—so familiar.” + </p> +<p> +“Why will he always insist on shaking hands?” + </p> +<p> +“Why will he not at least wash his own, occasionally?” + </p> +<p> +“And then his jests from the Queen's Bench,—the last <i>mot</i>—I'm +sure I often wished it were so literally—of some stupid Chief +Justice. Well, really, in comparison, your savage friend is a mirror of +good looks and good manners.” + </p> +<p> +“Good night, my dear,” said Olivia, rising, as though to decline a renewal +of the combat. +</p> +<p> +“Good night,” echoed her sister, bluntly, “and pleasant dreams of 'Roland +the brave, Roland the true;' the latter quality being the one more in +request at this moment.” And so, humming the well-known air, she took her +candle and retired. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VIII. LOVE v. LAW +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ay! marry—they have wiles, +Compared to which, our schemes are honesty. + +The Lawyer's Daughter. +</pre> +<p> +Notwithstanding all that we hear said against castle-building, how few +among the unbought pleasures of life are so amusing, nor are we certain +that these shadowy speculations—these “white lies” that we tell to +our own conscience—are not so many incentives to noble deeds and +generous actions. These “imaginary conversations” lift us out of the +jog-trot path of daily intercourse, and call up hopes and aspirations that +lie buried under the heavy load of wearisome commonplaces of which life is +made up, and thus permit a man, immersed as he may be in the fatigues of a +profession, or a counting-house, harassed by law, or worried by the Three +per Cents, to be a hero to his own heart at least for a few minutes once a +week. +</p> +<p> +But if “castle-building” be so pleasurable when a mere visionary scheme, +what is it when it comes associated with all the necessary conditions for +accomplishment,—when not alone the plan and elevation of the edifice +are there, but all the materials and every appliance to realize the +conception? +</p> +<p> +Just fancy yourself “two or three and twenty,” waking out of a sound and +dreamless sleep, to see the mellow sun of an autumnal morning straining +its rays through the curtains of your bedroom. Conceive the short and easy +struggle by which, banishing all load of cares and duties in which you +were once immersed, you spring, as by a bound, to the joyous fact that you +are the owner of a princely fortune, with health and ardent spirit, a +temper capable of, nay, eager for engagement, a fearless courage, and a +heart unchilled. Think of this, and say, Is not the first waking half-hour +of such thoughts the brightest spot of a whole existence? Such was the +frame of mind in which our hero awoke, and lay for some time to revel in! +We could not, if we would, follow the complex tissue of day-dreams that +wandered over every clime, and in the luxuriant rapture of power created +scenes of pleasure, of ingredients the most far-fetched and remote. The +“actual” demands our attention more urgently than the “ideal,” so that we +are constrained to follow the unpoetical steps of so ignoble a personage +as Mr. Phillis,—Cashel's new valet,—who now broke in upon his +master's reveries as he entered with hot water and the morning papers. +</p> +<p> +“What have you got there?” cried Cashel, not altogether pleased at the +intrusion. +</p> +<p> +“The morning papers! Lord Ettlecombe “—his former master, and his +universal type—“always read the 'Post,' sir, before he got out of +bed.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, let me see it,” said Cashel, who, already impressed with the +necessity of conforming to a new code, was satisfied to take the law even +from so humble an authority as his own man. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir. Our arrival is announced very handsomely among the fashionable +intelligence, and the 'Dublin Mail' has copied the paragraph stating that +we are speedily about to visit our Irish estates.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, indeed,” said Cashel, somewhat flattered at his newborn notoriety; +“where is all this?” + </p> +<p> +“Here, sir, under 'Movements in High Life': 'The Duke of Uxoter to Lord +Debbington's beautiful villa at Maulish; Sir Harry and Lady Emeline +Morpas, etc.; Rosenorris; Lord Fetcherton—'No, here we have it, sir,—'Mr. +Roland Cashel and suite'—Kennyfeck and self, sir—'from +Mivart's, for Ireland. We understand that this millionnaire proprietor is +now about to visit his estates in this country, preparatory to taking up a +residence finally amongst us. If report speak truly, he is as accomplished +as wealthy, and will be a very welcome accession to the ranks of our +country gentry.'” + </p> +<p> +“How strange that these worthy people should affect to know or care +anything about me or my future intentions,” said Cashel, innocently. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, sir, they really know nothing,—that little thing is mine.” + </p> +<p> +“Yours,—how yours?” + </p> +<p> +“Why, I wrote it, sir. When I lived with Sir Giles Heathcote, we always +fired off a certain number of these signal-guns when we came to a new +place. Once the thing was set a-going, the newspaper fellows followed up +the lead themselves. They look upon a well-known name as of the same value +as a fire or a case of larceny. I have known a case of seduction by a +marquis to take the 'pas' of the last murder in the Edgware Road.” + </p> +<p> +“I have no fancy for this species of publicity,” said Cashel, seriously. +</p> +<p> +“Believe me, sir, there is nothing to be done without it. The Press, sir, +is the fourth estate. They can ignore anything nowadays, from a speech in +Parliament to the last novel; from the young beauty just come out, to the +newly-launched line-of-battle ship. A friend of mine, some time back, +tried the thing to his cost, sir. He invented an admirable +moustache-paste; he even paid a guinea to an Oxford man for a Greek name +for it; well, sir, he would not advertise in the dailies, but only in +bills. Mark the consequence. One of the morning journals, in announcing +the arrival of the Prince of Koemundkuttingen on a visit to Colonel +Sibthorp, mentioned that in the fraternal embrace of these two +distinguished personages their moustaches, anointed with the new patent +adhesive Eukautherostickostecon, became actually so fastened together (as +the fellow said, like two clothes-brushes) that after a quarter of an +hour's vain struggle they had to be cut asunder. From that moment, sir, +the paste was done up; he sold it as harness stuff the week after, and +left the hair and beard line altogether.” + </p> +<p> +As Cashel's dressing proceeded, Mr. Phillis continued to impose upon him +those various hints and suggestions respecting costume for which that +accomplished gentleman's gentleman was renowned. +</p> +<p> +“Excuse me, but you are not going to wear that coat, I hope. A morning +dress should always incline to what artists call 'neutral tints;' there +should also be nothing striking, nothing that would particularly catch the +eye, except in those peculiar cases where the wearer, adopting a certain +color, not usually seen, adheres strictly to it, Just as we see my Lord +Blenneville with his old coffee-colored cut-away, and Sir Francis Heming +with his light-blue frock; Colonel Mordaunt's Hessians are the same kind +of thing.” + </p> +<p> +“This is all mere trifling,” said Casbel, impatiently; “I don't intend to +dress like the show-figure in a tailor's shop, to be stared at.” + </p> +<p> +“Exactly so, sir; that is what I have been saying: any notoriety is to be +avoided where a gentleman has a real position. Now, with a dark frock, +gray trousers, and this plain single-breasted vest, your costume is +correct.” + </p> +<p> +If Cashel appeared to submit to these dictations with impatience, he +really received them as laws to which he was, in virtue of his station, to +be bound. He had taken Mr. Phillis exactly as he had engaged the services +of a celebrated French cook, as a person to whom a “department” was to be +intrusted; and feeling that he was about to enter on a world whose habits +of thinking and prejudices were all strange, he resolved to accept of +guidance, with the implicitness that he would have shown in taking a pilot +to navigate him through a newly visited channel. Between the sense of +submission, and a certain feeling of shame at the mock importance of these +considerations, Casbel exhibited many symptoms of impatience, as Mr. +Phillis continued his revelations on dress, and was sincerely happy when +that refined individual, having slowly surveyed him, pronounced a faint, +“Yes, very near it,” and withdrew. +</p> +<p> +There was a half glimmering suspicion, like a struggling ray of sunlight +stealing through a torn and ragged cloud, breaking on Roland's mind that +if wealth were to entail a great many requirements, no matter how small +each, of obedience to the world's prescription, that he, for one, would +prefer his untrammelled freedom to any amount of riches. This was but a +fleeting doubt, which he had no time to dwell upon, for already he was +informed by the butler that Mrs. Kennyfeck was waiting breakfast for him. +</p> +<p> +Descending the stairs rapidly, he had just reached the landing opposite +the drawing-room, when he heard the sounds of a guitar accompaniment, and +the sweet silvery tones of a female voice. He listened, and to his +amazement heard that the singer was endeavoring, and with considerable +success, too, to remember his own Mexican air that he had sung the +preceding evening. +</p> +<p> +Somehow, it struck him he had never thought the melody so pretty before; +there was a tenderness in the plaintive parts he could not have conceived. +Not so the singer; for after a few efforts to imitate one of Roland's +bolder passages, she drew her finger impatiently across the chords, and +exclaimed, “It is of no use; it is only the caballero himself can do it.” + </p> +<p> +“Let him teach you, then!” cried Cashel, as he sprang into the room, wild +with delight. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Cashel, what a start you 've given me!” said Olivia Kennyfeck, +as, covered with blushes, and trembling with agitation, she leaned on the +back of a chair. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, pray forgive me,” said he, eagerly; “but I was so surprised, so +delighted to hear you recalling that little song, I really forgot +everything else. Have I startled you, then?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, no; it's nothing. I was trying a few chords. I thought I was quite +alone.” + </p> +<p> +“But you'll permit me to teach you some of our Mexican songs, won't you? I +should be so charmed to hear them sung as you could sing them.” + </p> +<p> +“It is too kind of you,” said she, timidly; “but I am no musician. My +sister is a most skilful performer, but I really know nothing; a simple +ballad and a canzonette are the extent of my efforts.” + </p> +<p> +“For our prairie songs, it is the feeling supplies all the character. They +are wild, fanciful things, with no higher pretensions than to recall some +trait of the land they belong to; and I should be so flattered if you +would take an interest in the Far West.” + </p> +<p> +“How you must love it! How you must long to return to it!” said Olivia, +raising her long drooping lashes, and letting her eyes rest, with an +expression of tender melancholy, on Cashel. +</p> +<p> +What he might have said there is no guessing,—nay, for his sake, and +for hers too, it is better not even to speculate on it; but ere he could +reply, another speaker joined in the colloquy, saying,— +</p> +<p> +“Good morning, Mr. Cashel. Pray don't forget, when the lesson is over, +that we are waiting breakfast.” So saying, and with a laugh of saucy +raillery, Miss Kennyfeck passed down the stairs, not remaining to hear his +answer. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Cashel!” exclaimed Olivia, with a tone half reproachful, half +shy, “we shall be scolded,—at least, I shall,” added she. “It is the +unforgivable offence in this house to be late at breakfast.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel would very willingly have risked all the consequences of delay for +a few minutes longer of their interview; but already she had tripped on +downstairs, and with such speed as to enter the breakfast-parlor a few +seconds before him. Roland was welcomed by the family without the +slightest shade of dissatisfaction at his late appearance, cordial +greetings and friendly inquiries as to how he had rested pouring in on +every side. +</p> +<p> +“What 's to be done with Mr. Cashel to-day? I hope he is not to be teased +by business people and red-tapery,” said Mrs. Kenny feck to her husband. +</p> +<p> +“I am afraid,” said the silky attorney, “I am very much afraid I must +trespass on his kindness to accompany me to the Master's office. There are +some little matters which will not wait.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, they must,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, peremptorily. “Who is the Master,—Liddard, +is n't it? Well, tell him to put it off; Mr. Cashel must really have a +little peace and quietness after all his fatigues.” + </p> +<p> +“It will only take an hour, at most, Mrs. Kennyfeck,” remonstrated her +submissive mate. +</p> +<p> +“Well, that is nothing,” cried Cashel. “I 'm not in the least tired, and +the day is long enough for everything.” + </p> +<p> +“Then we have a little affair which we can manage at home here about the +mortgages. I told you—” + </p> +<p> +“I believe you did,” replied Cashel, laughing; “but I don't remember a +word of it. It's about paying some money, isn't it?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, it's the redemption of two very heavy claims,” exclaimed Kennyfeck, +perfectly shocked at the indifference displayed by the young man,—“claims +for which we are paying five and a half per cent.” + </p> +<p> +“And it would be better to clear them off?” said Cashel, assuming a show +of interest in the matter he was far from feeling. +</p> +<p> +“Of course it would. There is a very large sum lying to your credit at +Falkner's, for which you receive only three per cent.” + </p> +<p> +“Don't you perceive how tiresome you are, dear Mr. Kennyfeck?” said his +wife. “Mr. Cashel is bored to death with all this.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, no! not in the least, madam. It ought to interest me immensely; and +so all these things will, I 'm sure. But I was just thinking at what hour +that fellow we met on the packet was to show us those horses he spoke of?” + </p> +<p> +“At four,” said Mr. Kennyfeck, with a half-sigh of resignation; “but you +'ll have ample time for that. I shall only ask you to attend at the +judge's chambers after our consultation.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, you are really intolerable!” cried his wife. “Why cannot you and +Jones, and the rest of you, do all this tiresome nonsense, and leave Mr. +Cashel to us? I want to bring him out to visit two or three people; and +the girls have been planning a canter in the park.” + </p> +<p> +“The canter, by all means,” said Cashel. “I 'm sure, my dear Mr. +Kennyfeck, you 'll do everything far better without me. I have no head for +anything like business; and so pray, let me accompany the riding-party.” + </p> +<p> +“The attendance at the Master's is peremptory,” sighed the attorney,—“there +is no deferring that; and as to the mortgages, the funds are falling every +hour. I should seriously advise selling out at once.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, sell out, in Heaven's name! Do all and anything you like, and I +promise my most unqualified satisfaction at the result.” + </p> +<p> +“There, now,” interposed Mrs. Kennyfeck, authoritatively, “don't worry any +more; you see how tiresome you are!” + </p> +<p> +And poor Mr. Kennyfeck seemed to see and feel it too; for he hung his +head, and sipped his tea in silence. +</p> +<p> +“To-day we dine alone, Mr. Cashel,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck; “but to-morrow I +will try to show you some of the Dublin notorieties,—at least, such +as are to be had in the season. On Friday we plan a little country party +into Wicklow, and have promised to keep Saturday free, if the Blackenburgs +want us.” + </p> +<p> +“What shall we say, then, about Tubberbeg, Mr. Cashel?” said Kennyfeck, +withdrawing him into a window-recess. “We ought to give the answer at +once.” + </p> +<p> +“Faith! I forgot all about it,” said Cashel. “Is that the fishery you told +me of?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, no!” sighed the disconsolate man of law. “It's the farm on the +terminable lease, at present held by Hugh Corrigan; he asks for a +renewal.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, let him have it,” said Cashel, bluntly, while his eyes were turned +towards the fire, where the two sisters, with arms entwined, stood in the +most graceful of attitudes. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, but have you considered the matter maturely?” rejoined Kennyfeck, +laying his hand on Cashel's arm. “Have you taken into account that he only +pays eight and seven pence per acre,—the Irish acre, too,—and +that a considerable part of that land adjoining the Boat Quay is let, as +building plots for two and sixpence a foot?” + </p> +<p> +“A devilish pretty foot it is, too,” murmured Cashel, musingly. +</p> +<p> +“Eh! what?” exclaimed Kennyfeck, perfectly mystified at this response. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! I meant that I agreed with you,” rejoined the young man, reddening, +and endeavoring to appear deeply interested. “I quite coincide with your +views, sir.” + </p> +<p> +Kennyfeck seemed surprised at this, for he had not, to his knowledge, +ventured on any opinion. +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps,” said he, taking breath for a last effort, “if you 'd kindly +look at the map of the estate, and just see where this farm trenches on +your own limits, you could judge better about the propriety of the +renewal.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, with pleasure!” exclaimed Cashel, while he suffered himself to be led +into the study, his face exhibiting very indifferent signs of +satisfaction. +</p> +<p> +“Shall we assist in the consultation, Mr. Cashel?” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, +smiling in reply to his reluctant look at leaving. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, by all means!” cried he, enthusiastically; “do come, and give me your +advice. Pray, come.” + </p> +<p> +“Come, girls,” said the mother, “although I perceive Mr. Kennyfeck is +terribly shocked at the bare thought of our intrusion; but be of good +courage, we only accompany Mr. Cashel to save him from any long +imprisonment.” And so she moved majestically forward, her daughters +following her. +</p> +<p> +An alchemist would probably have received company in his laboratory, or a +hermit admitted a jovial party in his cell, with less of constraint and +dissatisfaction than did Mr. Kennyfeck watch the approach of his wife and +daughters to the sanctum of his study. +</p> +<p> +Save at rare intervals, when a disconsolate widow had come to resolve a +question of administration, or a no less forlorn damsel had entered to +consult upon an action for “breach of promise,” St. Kevin himself had +never been less exposed to female intervention. It needed, then, all his +reverence and fear of Mrs. Kennyfeck to sustain the shock to his feelings, +as he saw her seat herself in his office-chair, and look around with the +air of command that he alone used to exhibit in these regions. +</p> +<p> +“Now for this same map, Mr. Kennyfeck, and let us bear the question for +which this Privy Council has been convened.” + </p> +<p> +“This is the map,” said Mr. Kennyfeck, unfolding a large scroll, “and I +believe a single glance will enable Mr. Cashel to perceive that some +little deliberation would be advisable before continuing in possession a +tenant whose holding completely destroys the best feature of the demesne. +This red line here is your boundary towards the Limerick road; here, +stands the house, which, from the first, was a great mistake. It is built +in a hollow without a particle of view; whereas, had it been placed here, +where this cross is marked, the prospect would have extended over the +whole of Scariff Bay, and by the west, down to Killaloe.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, what's to prevent our building it there yet?” interrupted Cashel. +“I think it would be rare fun building a house,—at least if I may +judge from all the amusement I've had in constructing one of leaves and +buffalo-hides, in the prairies.” + </p> +<p> +Mrs. Kennyfeck and her eldest daughter smiled their blandest approbation, +while Olivia murmured in her sister's ear, “Oh, dear, he is so very +natural, isn't he?” + </p> +<p> +“That will be a point for ulterior consideration,” said Mr. Kennyfeck, who +saw the danger of at all wandering from the topic in hand. “Give me your +attention now for one moment, Mr. Cashel. Another inconvenience in the +situation of the present house is, that it stands scarcely a thousand +yards from this red-and-yellow line here.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, what is that?” inquired Cashel, who already began to feel +interested in the localities. +</p> +<p> +“This—and pray observe it well, sir—this red-and-yellow line, +enclosing a tract which borders on the Shannon, and runs, as you may +remark, into the very heart of the demesne, this is Tubberbeg, the farm in +question,—not only encroaching upon your limits, but actually +cutting you off from the river,—at least, your access is limited to +a very circuitous road, and which opens upon a very shallow part of the +stream.” + </p> +<p> +“And who or what is this tenant?” asked Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“His name is Corrigan, a gentleman by birth, but of a very limited +fortune; he is now an old man, upwards of seventy, I understand.” + </p> +<p> +“And how came it that he ever obtained possession of a tract so +circumstanced, marring, as you most justly observe, the whole character of +the demesne?” + </p> +<p> +“That would be a long story, sir; enough, if I mention that his ancestors +were the ancient owners of the entire estate, which was lost by an act of +confiscation in the year forty-five. Some extenuating circumstances, +however, induced the Government to confer upon a younger branch of the +family a lease of this small tract called Tubberbeg, to distinguish it +from Tubbermore, the larger portion; and this lease it is whose +expiration, in a few years, induces the present query.” + </p> +<p> +“Has Mr. Corrigan children?” + </p> +<p> +“No; his only child, a daughter, is dead, but a granddaughter lives now +with the old man.” + </p> +<p> +“Then what is it he asks? Is it a renewal of the lease, on the former +terms?” + </p> +<p> +“Why, not precisely. I believe he would be willing to-pay more.” + </p> +<p> +“That's not what I mean,” replied Cashel, reddening; “I ask, what terms as +to time, he seeks for. Would it content him to have the land for his own +life?” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. Kennyfeck, you are really very culpable to leave Mr. Cashel to the +decision of matters of this kind,—matters in which his kindliness of +heart and inexperience will always betray him into a forgetfulness of his +own interest. What has Mr. Cashel to think about this old creature's +ancestors, who were rebels, it appears, or his daughter, or his +granddaughter? Here is a simple question of a farm, which actually makes +the demesne worthless, and which, by a singular piece of good fortune, is +in Mr. Cashel's power to secure.” + </p> +<p> +“This is a very correct view, doubtless,” said her meek husband, +submissively, “but we should also remember—” + </p> +<p> +“We have nothing to remember,” interrupted Mrs. Kenny-feck, stoutly; +“nothing, save his interests, who, as I have observed, is of too generous +a nature to be trusted with such matters.” + </p> +<p> +“Is there no other farm,—have we nothing on the property he 'd like +as well as this?” asked Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“I fear not. The attachment to a place inhabited for centuries by his +ancestry—” + </p> +<p> +“By his fiddlestick!” struck in Mrs. Kennyfeck; “two and sixpence an acre +difference would be all the necessary compensation. Mr. Kennyfeck, how can +you trifle in this manner, when you know how it will injure the demesne!” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, ruin it utterly!” exclaimed Miss Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“It completely cuts off the beautiful river and those dear islands,” said +Olivia. +</p> +<p> +“So it does,” said Cashel, musing. +</p> +<p> +“I wonder are they wooded? I declare I believe they are. Papa, are these +little scrubby things meant to represent trees?” + </p> +<p> +“Oaks and chestnut-trees,” responded Mr. Kennyfeck, gravely. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, how I should love a cottage on that island,—a real Swiss +cottage, with its carved galleries and deep-eaved roof. Who owns these +delicious islands?” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. Cashel, my dear,” said papa, still bent on examining the map. +</p> +<p> +“Do I, indeed!” cried Roland, in an ecstasy. “Then you shall have your +wish, Miss Kenny feck. I promise you the prettiest Swiss cottage that your +own taste can devise.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, dear, oh, pray forgive me!” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Roland Cashel, don't think of such a thing! Olivia was merely +speaking at random. How silly, child, you are to talk that way!” + </p> +<p> +“Really, mamma, I had not the slightest suspicion—I would n't for +the world have said anything if I thought—” + </p> +<p> +“Of course not, dear; but pray be guarded. Indeed, I own I never did hear +you make a lapse of the kind before. But you see, Mr. Cashel, you have +really made us forget that we were strangers but yesterday, and you are +paying the penalty of your own exceeding kindness. Forget, then, I beseech +you, this first transgression.” + </p> +<p> +“I shall assuredly keep my promise, madam,” said Cashel, proudly; “and I +have only to hope Miss Kennyfeck will not offend me by declining so very +humble a present. Now, sir, for our worthy friend Mr. Corrigan.” + </p> +<p> +“Too fast, a great deal to fast, love,” whispered the elder sister in the +ear of the younger, and who, to the credit of her tact and ingenuity be it +spoken, only gave the most heavenly smile in reply. +</p> +<p> +“I really am puzzled, sir, what advice to give,” said the attorney, +musing. +</p> +<p> +“I have no difficulties of this sentimental kind,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, +with a glance of profound depreciation towards her husband; “and I beg Mr. +Cashel to remember that the opportunity now offered will possibly never +occur again. If the old man is to retain his farm, of course Mr. Cashel +would not think of building a new mansion, which must be +ill-circumstanced; from what I can hear of the present house, it is +equally certain that he would not reside in that.” + </p> +<p> +“Is it so very bad?” asked Cashel, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“It was ill-planned originally, added to in, if possible, worse taste, and +then suffered to fall into ruin. It is now something more than eighty +years since it saw any other inhabitant than a caretaker.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, the picture is certainly not seductive. I rather opine that the +best thing we can do is to throw this old rumbling concern down, at all +events; and now once more,—what shall we do with Mr. Corrigan?” + </p> +<p> +“I should advise you not giving any reply before you visit the property +yourself. All business matters will be completed here, I trust, by +Saturday. What, then, if we go over on Monday to Tubbermore?” + </p> +<p> +“Agreed. I have a kind of anxiety to look at the place,—indeed, a +mere glance would decide me if I ever care to return to it again.” + </p> +<p> +“Then, I perceive, our counsel is of no avail here,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, +rising, with a very ill-concealed chagrin. +</p> +<p> +“Nay, madam, don't say so. You never got so far as to give it,” cried +Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, you forget that I said it would be absurd to hesitate about +resuming possession.” + </p> +<p> +“Unquestionably,” echoed Miss Kennyfeck. “It is merely to indulge an old +man's caprice at the cost of your own comfort and convenience.” + </p> +<p> +“But he may cling to the spot, sister dear,” said Olivia, in an accent +only loud enough to be audible by Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“You are right,” said Roland, in her ear, with a look that spoke his +approval far more eloquently. +</p> +<p> +Although Miss Kennyfeck had heard nothing that passed, her quickness +detected the looks of intelligence that were so speedily interchanged, and +as she left the room she took occasion to whisper, “Do take advice, dear; +there is no keeping up a pace like that.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IX. AN EXCITING ADVENTURE +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Bravo, Toro.” + </pre> +<p> +As it chanced that many of Mr. Kennyfeck's clients were Western gentlemen, +whose tastes have an unequivocal tendency to all matters relating to +horse-flesh, his stable was not less choicely furnished than his cellar; +for, besides being always able to command the shrewdest judgments when he +decided to make a purchase, many an outstanding balance of long duration, +many a debt significantly pencilled “doubtful” or “bad,” in his note-book, +was cleared off by some tall, sinewy steeplechaser from Galway, or some +redoubted performer with the “Blazers.” + </p> +<p> +So well known was this fact that several needed no other standard of a +neighbor's circumstances, than whether he had contributed or not to the +Kennyfeck stud. This brief explanation we have been induced to make, to +account for the sporting character of a stable whose proprietor never was +once seen in the saddle. Far otherwise the ladies of the house; the mother +and daughters, but in particular the elder, rode with all the native grace +of Galway; and as they were invariably well mounted, and their grooms the +smartest and best appointed, their “turn-out” was the admiration of the +capital. +</p> +<p> +It was in vain that the English officials at the Castle, whose superlative +tastes were wont to overshadow mere Irish pretension, endeavored to +compete with these noted equestrians. Secretaries' wives and chamberlains' +daughters, however they might domineer in other matters, were here, at +least, surpassed, and it was a conceded fact, that the Kennyfecks rode +better, dressed better, and looked better on horseback than any other +girls in the country. If all the critics as to horsemanship pronounced the +elder unequivocally the superior rider, mere admirers of gracefulness +preferred the younger sister, who, less courageous and self-possessed, +invested her skill with a certain character of timidity that increased the +interest her appearance excited. +</p> +<p> +They never rode out without an immense <i>cortège</i> of followers, every +well-looking and well-mounted man about town deeming it his <i>devoir</i> +to join this party, just as the box of the reigning belle at the opera is +besieged by assiduous visitors The very being seen in this train was a +kind of brevet promotion in fashionable esteem, to which each +newly-arrived cornet aspired, and thus the party usually presented a group +of brilliant uniforms and dancing plumes that rivalled in brilliancy, and +far excelled in amusement, the staff of the viceroy himself. +</p> +<p> +It would be uufair to suppose that, with all their natural innocence and +artlessness, they were entirely ignorant of the sway they thus exercised; +indeed, such a degree of modesty would have trenched upon the incredulous, +for how could they doubt what commanders of the forces and +deputy-assistant-adjutants assured them, still less question the veracity +of a prince royal, who positively asserted that they “rode better than +Quentin's daughter”? +</p> +<p> +It was thus a source of no small excitement among the mounted loungers of +the capital, when the Kennyfecks issued forth on horseback, and not, as +usual, making the tour of the “Square” to collect their forces, they rode +at once down Grafton Street, accompanied by a single cavalier. +</p> +<p> +“Who have the Kennyfeck girls got with them?” said a thin-waisted-looking +aide-de-camp to a lanky, well-whiskered fellow in a dragoon undress, at +the Castle gate. +</p> +<p> +“He is new to me—never saw him before. I say, Lucas, who is that +tall fellow on Kennyfeck's brown horse—do you know him?” + </p> +<p> +“Don't know—can't say,” drawled out a very diminutive hussar cornet. +</p> +<p> +“He has a look of Merrington,” said another, joining the party. +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit of it; he's much larger. I should n't wonder if he's one of the +Esterhazys they've caught. There is one of them over here—a Paul or +a Nicholas, of the younger branch;—but here 's Linton, he 'll tell +us, if any man can.” + </p> +<p> +This speech was addressed to a very dapper, well-dressed man of about +thirty, mounted on a small thoroughbred pony, whose splashed and heaving +flanks bespoke a hasty ride. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Tom, you met the Kennyfecks,—who was that with them?” + </p> +<p> +“Don't you know him, my Lord?” said a sharp, ringing voice; “that's our +newly-arrived millionnaire,—Roland Cashel, our Tipperary Croesus,—the +man with I won't say how many hundred thousands a year, and millions in +bank besides.” + </p> +<p> +“The devil it is—a good-looking fellow, too.” + </p> +<p> +“Spooney, I should say,” drawled out the hussar, caressing his moustache. +</p> +<p> +“One need n't be as smart a fellow as you, Wheeler, with forty thousand a +year,” said Linton, with a sly glance at the others. +</p> +<p> +“You don't suppose, Tom,” said the former speaker, “that the Kennyfecks +have any designs in that quarter,—egad! that would be rather +aspiring, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“Very unwise in us to permit it, my Lord,” said Linton, in a low tone. +“That's a dish will bear carving, and let every one have his share.” + </p> +<p> +My Lord laughed with a low cunning laugh at the suggestion, and nodded an +easy assent. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile the Kennyfecks rode slowly on, and crossing Essex Bridge +continued their way at a foot pace towards the park, passing in front of +the Four Courts, where a very large knot of idlers uncovered their heads +in polite salutation as they went. +</p> +<p> +“That's Kennyfeck's newly-discovered client,” cried one; “a great card, if +they can only secure him for one of the girls.” + </p> +<p> +“I say, did you remark how the eldest had him engaged? She never noticed +any of us.” + </p> +<p> +“I back Olivia,” said another; “she's a quiet one, but devilish sly for +all that.” + </p> +<p> +“Depend upon it,” interposed an older speaker, “the fellow is up to all +that sort of thing.” + </p> +<p> +“Jones met him at dinner yesterday at Kennyfeck's, and says he is a +regular soft one, and if the girls don't run an opposition to each other, +one is sure to win.” + </p> +<p> +“Why not toss up for him, then? that would be fairer.” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, and more sisterly, too,” said the elder speaker. “Jones would be +right glad to claim the beaten horse.” + </p> +<p> +“Jones, indeed,—I can tell you they detest Jones,” said a young +fellow. +</p> +<p> +“They told you so, eh, Hammond?” said another; while a very hearty laugh +at the discomfited youth broke from the remainder. +</p> +<p> +And now to follow our mounted friends, who, having reached the park, +continued still at a walking pace to thread the greasy paths that led +through that pleasant tract; now hid amid the shade of ancient +thorn-trees, now gaining the open expanse of plain with its bold +background of blue mountains. +</p> +<p> +From the evident attention bestowed by the two sisters, it was clear that +Cashel was narrating something of interest, for he spoke of an event which +had happened to himself in his prairie life; and this alone, independent +of all else, was enough to make the theme amusing. +</p> +<p> +“Does this convey any idea of a prairie, Mr. Cashel?” said Miss Kennyfeck, +as they emerged from a grove of beech-trees, and came upon the wide and +stretching plain, so well known to Dubliners as the Fifteen Acres, but +which is, in reality, much greater in extent. “I have always fancied this +great grassy expanse must be like a prairie.” + </p> +<p> +“About as like as yonder cattle to a herd of wild buffaloes,” replied +Roland, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“Then what is a prairie like? Do tell us,” said Olivia, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“I can scarcely do so, nor, if I were a painter, do I suppose that I could +make a picture of one, because it is less the presence than the total +absence of all features of landscape that constitutes the wild and lonely +solitude of a prairie. But fancy a great plain—gently—very +gently undulating,—not a tree, not a shrub, not a stream to break +the dreary uniformity; sometimes, but even that rarely, a little muddy +pond of rain-water, stagnant and yellow, is met with, but only seen soon +after heavy showers, for the hot sun rapidly absorbs it. The only +vegetation a short yellowed burnt-up grass,—not a wild flower or a +daisy, if you travelled hundreds of hundreds of miles. On you go, days and +days, but the scene never changes. Large cloud shadows rest upon the +barren expanse, and move slowly and sluggishly away, or sometimes a sharp +and pelting shower is borne along, traversing hundreds of miles in its +course; but these are the only traits of motion in the death-like +stillness. At last, perhaps after weeks of wandering, you descry, a long +way off, some dark objects dotting the surface,—these are buffaloes; +or at sunset, when the thin atmosphere makes everything sharp and +distinct, some black spectral shapes seem to glide between you and the red +twilight,—these are Indian hunters, seen miles off, and by some +strange law of nature they are presented to the vision when far, far +beyond the range of sight. Such strange apparitions, the consequence of +refraction, have led to the most absurd superstitions; and all the stories +the Germans tell you of their wild huntsmen are nothing to the tales every +trapper can recount of war parties seen in the air, and tribes of red men +in pursuit of deer and buffaloes, through the clear sky of an autumn +evening.” + </p> +<p> +“And have you yourself met with these wild children of the desert?” said +Olivia; “have you ever been amongst them?” + </p> +<p> +“Somewhat longer than I fancied,” replied Roland, smiling. “I was a +prisoner once with the Camanches.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, let us hear all about it,—how did it happen?” cried both +together. +</p> +<p> +“It happened absurdly enough, at least you will say so, when I tell you; +but to a prairie-hunter the adventure would seem nothing singular. It +chanced that some years ago I made one of a hunting-party into the Rocky +Mountains, and finally as far as Pueblo Santo, the last station before +entering the hunting-grounds of the Camanches, a very fierce tribe, and +one with whom all the American traders have failed to establish any +relations of friendship or commerce. They care nothing for the inventions +of civilization, and, unlike all other Indians, prefer their own bows and +arrows to firearms. +</p> +<p> +“We had been now four days within their boundary, and yet never met one of +the tribe. Some averred that they always learned by the scouts whenever +any invasion took place, and retired till they were in sufficient force to +pour down and crush the intruders. Others, who proved better informed, +said that they were hunting in a remote tract, several days' journey +distant. We were doubly disappointed, for besides not seeing the +Camanches, for which we had a great curiosity, we did not discover any +game. The two or three trails we followed led to nothing, nor could a +hoof-track be seen for miles and miles of prairie. In this state of +discomfiture, we were sitting one evening around our fires, and debating +with ourselves whether to turn back or go on, when, the dispute waxing +warm between those of different opinions, I, who hated all disagreements +of the kind, slipped quietly away, and throwing the bridle on my horse, I +set out for a solitary ramble over the prairie. +</p> +<p> +“I have the whole scene before me this instant,—the solemn +desolation of that dreary track; for scarcely had I gone a mile over what +seemed a perfectly level plain, when the swelling inequalities of the +ground shut out the watch-fires of my companions, and now there was +nothing to be seen but the vast expanse of land and sky, each colored with +the same dull leaden tint of coming night; no horizon was visible, not a +star appeared, and in the midst of this gray monotony, a stillness +prevailed that smote the heart with something more appalling than mere +fear. No storm that ever I listened to at sea, not the loudest thunder +that ever crashed, or the heaviest sea that ever broke upon a leeward +shore at midnight, ever chilled my blood like that terrible stillness. I +thought that the dreadful roll of an avalanche or the heaving ground-swell +of an earthquake had been easier to bear. I believe I actually prayed for +something like sound to relieve the horrible tension of my nerves, when, +just as if my wish was heard, a low booming sound, like the sea within a +rocky cavern, came borne along on the night wind. Then it lulled again, +and after a time grew louder. This happened two or three times, so that, +half suspecting some self-delusion, I stopped my ears, and then on +removing my hands, I heard the noise increasing till it swelled into one +dull roaring sound, that made the very air vibrate. I thought it must be +an earthquake, of which it is said many occur in these regions, but, from +the dreary uniformity, leave no trace behind. +</p> +<p> +“I resolved to regain my companions at once; danger is always easier to +confront in company, and so I turned my horse's head to go back. The noise +was now deafening, and so stunning that the very ground seemed to give it +forth. My poor horse became terrified, his flanks heaved, and he labored +in his stride as if overcome by fatigue. This again induced me to suspect +an earthquake, for I knew by what singular instincts animals are apprised +of its approach. I therefore gave him the spur, and urged him on with +every effort, when suddenly he made a tremendous bound to one side, and +set off with the speed of a racer. Stretched to his fullest stride, I was +perfectly powerless to restrain him; meanwhile, the loud thundering sounds +filled the entire air,—more deafening than the greatest artillery; +the crashing uproar smote my ears, and made my brain ring with the +vibration, and then suddenly the whole plain grew dark behind and at +either side of me, the shadow swept on and on, nearer and nearer, as the +sounds increased, till the black surface seemed, as it were, about to +close around me; and now I perceived that the great prairie, far as my +eyes could stretch, was covered by a herd of wild buffaloes; struck by +some sudden terror, they had taken what is called 'the Stampedo,' and set +out at full speed. In an instant they were around me on every side,—a +great moving sea of dark-backed monsters,—roaring in terrible +uproar, and tossing their savage heads wildly to and fro, in all the +paroxysm of terror. To return, or even to extricate myself, was +impossible; the dense mass pressed like a wall at either side of me, and I +was borne along in the midst of the heaving herd, without the slightest +hope of rescue. I cannot—you would not ask me, if even I could—recall +the terrors of that dreadful night, which in its dark hours compassed the +agonies of years. Until the moon got up, I hoped that the herd might pass +on, and at last leave me at liberty behind; but when she rose, and I +looked back, I saw the dark sea of hides, as if covering the whole wide +prairie, while the deep thunder from afar mingled with the louder +bellowing of the herd around me. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose my reeling brain became maddened by the excitement; for even +yet, when by any accident I suffer slight illness, terrible fancies of +that dreadful scene come back; and I have been told that, in my wild cries +and shouts, I seem encouraging and urging on the infuriate herd, and by my +gestures appearing to control and direct their headlong course. Had it +been possible, I believe I should have thrown myself to the earth and +sought death at once, even in this dreadful form, than live to die the +thousand deaths of agony that night inflicted; but this could not be, and +so, as day broke, I was still carried on, not, indeed, with the same speed +as before; weariness weighed on the vast moving mass, but the pressure of +those behind still drove them onward. I thought the long hours of darkness +were terrible; and the appalling gloom of night added tortures to my +sufferings; but the glare of daylight, the burning sun, and the clouds of +dust were still worse. I remember, too, when exhaustion had nearly spent +my last frail energy, and when my powerless hands, letting fall the +bridle, dropped heavily to my side, that the herd suddenly halted,—halted, +as if arrested by some gigantic hand; and then the pressure became so +dreadful that my bones seemed almost bursting from my flesh, and I +screamed aloud in my agony. After this, I remember little else. The other +events of that terrible ride are like the shadowy spectres of a magic +lantern; vague memories of sufferings, pangs that even yet chill my blood, +steal over me, but unconnected and incoherent, so that when, as I +afterwards heard, the herd dashed into the Camanche encampment, I have no +recollection of anything, except the terror-struck faces of the red men, +as they bent before me, and seemed to worship me as a deity. Yes, this +terrible tribe, who had scarcely ever been known to spare a white man, not +only did not injure, but they treated me with the tenderest care and +attention. A singular incident had favored me. One of the wise men had +foretold some days before that a herd of wild buffaloes, sent by their +god, Anadongu, would speedily appear, and rescue the tribe from the +horrors of impending starvation. The prediction was possibly based upon +some optical delusion, like that I have mentioned. Whatever its origin, +the accomplishment was hailed with ecstasy; and I myself, a poor, almost +dying creature, stained with blood, crushed and speechless, was regarded +as their deliverer and preserver.” + </p> +<p> +“How long did you remain amongst them?” cried Miss Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“And how did you escape?” asked Olivia. +</p> +<p> +“Were they always equally kind?” + </p> +<p> +“Were you sorry to leave them?” were the questions rapidly poured in ere +Cashel could reply to any one of them. +</p> +<p> +“I have often heard,” said Miss Kennyfeck, “that the greater mental +ability of the white man is certain to secure him an ascendancy over the +minds of savage tribes, and that, if he be spared at first, he is sure in +the end to become their chief.” + </p> +<p> +“I believe they actually worship any display of intelligence above their +own,” said Olivia. +</p> +<p> +“These are exaggerated accounts,” said Cashel, smiling. “Marriage is, +among savage as among civilized nations, a great stepping-stone to +eminence. When a white man is allied with a princess—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, how shocking!” cried both together. “I'm sure no person, anything +akin to a gentleman, could dream of such a thing,” said Miss Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“It happens now and then, notwithstanding,” said Cashel, with a most +provoking gravity. +</p> +<p> +While the sisters would have been well pleased had Cashel's personal +revelations continued on this theme, they did not venture to explore so +dangerous a path, and were both silent. Roland, too, appeared buried in +some recollection of the past, for he rode on for some time without +speaking,—a preoccupation on his part which seemed in no wise +agreeable to his fair companions. +</p> +<p> +“There are the MacFarlines, Livy,” said Miss Kennyfeck; “and Linton, and +Lord Charles, and the rest of them. I declare, I believe they see us, and +are coming this way.” + </p> +<p> +“What a bore! Is there no means of escape? Mr. Cashel, pray invent one.” + </p> +<p> +“I beg pardon. What was it you said? I have been dreaming for the last +three minutes.” + </p> +<p> +“Pleasant dreams I 'm certain they were,” said Miss Kennyfeck, with a very +significant smile; “evoked, doubtless, by some little memory of your life +among the Cainanches.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel started and grew red, while his astonishment rendered him +speechless. +</p> +<p> +“Here they come; how provoking!” exclaimed Livy. +</p> +<p> +“Who are coming?” + </p> +<p> +“Some friends of ours, who, strange to say, have the misfortune to be +peculiarly disagreeable to my sister Livy to-day, although I have +certainly seen Lord Charles contrive to make his company less distasteful +at other times.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, my dear Caroline, you know perfectly well—” broke in Olivia, +with a tone of unfeigned reproach. +</p> +<p> +“Let us ride for it, then,” said Miss Kepnyfeck, without permitting her to +finish. “Now, Mr. Cashel, a canter,—a gallop, if you will.” + </p> +<p> +“Quite ready,” said Cashel, his animation at once returning at the bare +mention; and away they set, down a gentle slope with wooded sides, then +they gained another grassy plain, skirted with trees, at the end of which +a small picturesque cottage stood, the residence of a ranger; passing +this, they arrived at a thick wood, and then slackened their pace, as all +pursuit might be deemed fruitless. This portion of the park, unlike the +rest, seemed devoted to various experiments in agriculture and gardening. +Here were little enclosed plots of Indian corn and Swedish turnips; here, +small plantations of fruit trees. Each succeeding secretary seemed to have +left behind him some trace of his own favorite system for the improvement +of Ireland, and one might recall the names of long-departed officials in +little experimental specimens of drainage, or fencing, or drill culture +around. Less interested by these patchwork devices, Cashel stood gazing on +a beautiful white bull, who grazed in a little paddock carefully fenced by +a strong oak paling. Although of a small breed, he was a perfect specimen +of strength and proportion, his massive and muscular neck and powerful +loins contrasting with the lanky and tendinous form of the wild animal of +the prairies. +</p> +<p> +The girls had not remarked that Roland, beckoning to his servant, +despatched him at full speed on an errand, for each was loitering about, +amusing herself with some object of the scene. +</p> +<p> +“What has fascinated you yonder?” said Miss Kennyfeck, riding up to where +Roland still stood in wondering admiration at the noble animal. +</p> +<p> +“The handsomest bull I ever saw!” cried he, in all the ecstasy of a +'Torero;' “who ever beheld such a magnificent fellow? Mark the breadth of +his chest, and the immense fore-arm. See how he lashes his tail about. No +need of bandilleros to rouse your temper.”. +</p> +<p> +“Is there no danger of the creature springing over the paling?” said +Olivia, drawing closer to Cashel, and looking at him with a most trustful +dependence. +</p> +<p> +Alas for Roland's gallantry, he answered the words and not the glance that +accompanied them. +</p> +<p> +“No; he'd never think of it, if not excited to some excess of passion. I +'d not answer for his patience, or our safety either, if really provoked. +See! is not that glorious?” This burst of enthusiasm was called forth by +the bull, seized with some sudden caprice, taking a circuit of the paddock +at full speed, his head now raised majestically aloft, and now bent to the +ground; he snatched some tufts of the grass as he went, and flung them +from him in wild sport. +</p> +<p> +“Bravo, toro!” cried Cashel, in all the excitement of delight and +admiration. “Viva el toro!” shouted he. “Not a 'Corrida' of the Old World +or the New ever saw a braver beast.” + </p> +<p> +Whether in compliance with his humor, or that she really caught up the +enthusiasm from Cashel, Miss Kennyfeck joined in all his admiration, and +seemed to watch the playful pranks of the great animal with delight. +</p> +<p> +“How you would enjoy a real 'toro machia!'” said Cashel, as he turned +towards her, and felt that she was far handsomer than he had ever believed +before. Indeed, the heightened color of exercise, and the flashing +brilliancy of her eyes, made her seem so without the additional charm +derived from sympathy with his humor. +</p> +<p> +“I should delight in it,” cried she, with enthusiasm. “Oh, if I could but +see one!” + </p> +<p> +Cashel drew nearer as she spoke, his dark and piercing eyes fixed with a +look of steadfast admiration, when in a low half-whisper he said, “Would +you really like it? Have these wild and desperate games an attraction for +you?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, do not ask me,” said she, in the same low voice. “Why should I +confess a wish for that which never can be.” + </p> +<p> +“How can you say that? Have not far greater and less likely things +happened to almost all of us? Think of me, for instance. Travelling with +the Gambusinos a few months back, and now—now <i>your</i> companion +here.” + </p> +<p> +If there was not a great deal in the mere words themselves, there was +enough in the look of the speaker to make them deeply felt. How much +further Cashel might have adventured, and with what additional +speculations invested the future, is not for us to say; for just then his +groom rode up at speed, holding in his hands a great coil of rope, to one +end of which a small round ball of wood was fastened. +</p> +<p> +“What is that for, Mr. Cashel?” inquired both the girls together, as they +saw him adjust the coils lightly on his left arm, and poise the ball in +his right hand. +</p> +<p> +“Cannot you guess what it means?” said Roland, smiling. “Have you never +heard of a lasso?” + </p> +<p> +“A lasso!” exclaimed both in amazement “You surely could never intend—” + </p> +<p> +“You shall see,” cried he, as he made three or four casts with the rope in +the air, and caught up the loops again with astonishing dexterity. “Now +only promise me not to be afraid, nor, if possible, let a cry escape, and +I'll show you some rare sport Just take your places here; the horses will +stand perfectly quiet.” Without waiting for a reply, he ordered the grooms +to remain at either side of the young ladies, and then dismounting, he +forced open the lock and led his horse into the paddock. This done, he +leisurely closed the gate and mounted, every motion being as free from +haste and excitement as if made upon the high-road. As for the bull, at +the noise of the gate on its hinges, he lifted up his head; but as it were +indifferent to the cause, he resumed his grazing attitude the moment +after. +</p> +<p> +Cashel's first care seemed to be to reconnoitre the ground; for at a slow +walk he traversed the space in various directions, carefully examining the +footing and watching for any accidental circumstance that might vary the +surface. He then rode up to the paling, where in unfeigned terror the two +girls sat, silently following him in every motion. +</p> +<p> +“Now, remember,” said he, smiling, “no fears, no terrors. If you were to +make me nervous, I should probably miss my cast, and the disgrace, not to +speak of anything else, would be dreadful.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, we 'll behave very well,” said Miss Kennyfeck, trying to assume a +composure that her pale cheek and compressed lips very ill corroborated. +As for Olivia, too terrified for words, she merely looked at him, while +the tears rolled heavily down her cheeks. +</p> +<p> +“Now, to see if my hand has not forgot its cunning!” said Roland, as he +pressed his horse's flanks, and, pushing into a half-gallop, made a +circuit around the bull. The scene was a picturesque as well as an +exciting one. The mettlesome horse, on which the rider sat with consummate +ease; in his right hand the loose coils of the lasso, with which to +accustom his horse he flourished and shook around the head and ears of the +animal as he went; while, with head bent down, and the strong neck +slightly retracted, the bull seemed to watch him as he passed, and at +length, slowly turning, continued to fix his eyes upon the daring +intruder. Gradually narrowing his circle, Cashel was cautiously +approaching within a suitable distance for the cast, when the bull, as it +were losing patience, gave one short hoarse cry and made at him, so sudden +the spring, and so infuriate the action, that a scream from both the +sisters together showed how near the danger must have appeared. Roland, +however, had foreseen from the attitude of the beast what was coming, and +by a rapid wheel escaped the charge, and passed close beside the +creature's flank, unharmed. Twice or thrice the same manouvre occurred +with the same result; and although the horse was terrified to that degree +that his sides were one sheet of foam, the control of the rider was +perfect, and his every gesture bespoke ease and confidence. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly the bull stopped, and retiring till his haunches-touched the +paling, he seemed surveying the field, and contemplating another and more +successful mode of attack. The concentrated passion of the creature's +attitude at this moment was very fine, as with red eyeballs and frothed +lips he stood, slowly and in heavy strokes lashing his flanks with his +long tail. +</p> +<p> +“Is he tired?” said Miss Kennyfeck, as Cashel stood close to the paling, +and breathed his horse, for what he foresaw might be a sharp encounter. +</p> +<p> +“No! far from it,” answered Roland; “the fellow has the cunning of an old +'Corridor;' you 'll soon see him attack.” + </p> +<p> +The words were not well uttered, when, with a low deep roar, the bull +bounded forward, not in a straight line, however, but zigzagging from left +to right, and right to left, as if with the intention of pinning the +horseman into a corner. The terrific springs of the great beast, and his +still more terrific cries, appeared to paralyze the horse, who stood; +immovable, nor was it till the savage animal had approached within a few +yards of him, that at last he reared up straight, and then, as if overcome +by terror, dashed off at speed, the bull following. +</p> +<p> +The scene was now one of almost maddening excitement; for, although the +speed of the horse far exceeded that of his pursuer, the bull, by taking a +small circle, was rapidly gaining on him, and, before the third circuit of +the field was made, was actually almost side by side. Roland saw all his +danger; he knew well that the slightest swerve, a “single mistake,” would +be fatal; but he had been trained to peril, and this was not the first +time he had played for life and won. It was then, just at the instant when +the bull, narrowing his distance, was ready, by one bound, to drive his +horns into the horse's flank, that the youth suddenly reined up, and +throwing the horse nearly on his haunches, suffered his pursuer to shoot +ahead. The same instant, at least so it seemed, he rose in his stirrups, +and winding the rope three or four times above his head, hurled it forth. +Away went the floating coils through the air, and with a sharp snap, they +caught the animal's fore-legs in their fast embrace. Maddened by the +restraint, he plunged forward, but ere he gained the ground, a dexterous +pull of the lasso jerked the legs backwards, and the huge beast fell +floundering to the earth. The stunning force seemed enough to have +extinguished life, and he lay, indeed, motionless for a few seconds, when, +by a mighty effort, he strove to burst his bonds. Roland, meanwhile, after +a severe struggle to induce his horse to approach, abandoned the effort, +sprang to the ground, and by three or four adroit turns of the lasso over +the head and between the horns, completely fettered him, and at each fresh +struggle passing new turns of the rope, he so bound him that the creature +lay panting and powerless, his quivering sides and distended nostrils +breathing the deep rage that possessed him. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Mosquito mio,”—the Toridor's usual pet name for a young bull,—“you +were an easy victory after all, though I believe with a little more +practice of the game I should only get off second best.” + </p> +<p> +There was, if we must confess it, a certain little bit of boastfulness in +the speech, the truth being that the struggle, though brief, had been a +sharp one, and so Cashel's air and look bespoke it, as he led his horse +out of the paddock. +</p> +<p> +It would be a somewhat nice point—happily, it is not requisite to +decide it—whether Roland was more flattered by the enthusiastic +praise of the elder sister, or touched by the silent but eloquent look +with which Olivia received him. +</p> +<p> +“What a splendid sight, what a noble achievement!” said Miss Kennyfeck. +“How I thank you for thus giving me, as it were, a peep into Spain, and +letting me feel the glorious enthusiasm a deed of heroism can inspire!” + </p> +<p> +“Are you certain you are not hurt?” whispered Olivia; “the creature's +horns certainly grazed you. Oh dear! how terrible it was at one moment!” + </p> +<p> +“Are you going to leave him in his toils?” said Miss Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, certainly,” replied Cashel, laughing; “I commit the pleasant office +of liberating him to other hands.” And so saying, he carelessly mounted +his horse, while they pressed him with a hundred questions and inquiries +about the late combat. +</p> +<p> +“I shall be amused to hear the reports that will be current to-morrow,” + said Miss Kennyfeck, “about this affair. I 'm certain the truth will be +the last to ooze out. My groom says that the creature belongs to the Lord +Lieutenant, and if so, there will be no end to the stories.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel did not seem as much impressed as the sisters expected at this +announcement, nor at all aware that he had been constructively affronting +the Vice-Majesty of the land, and so he chatted away in pleasant +indifference while they continued their ride towards home. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER X. THE COMING DINNER-PARTY DISCUSSED +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +How kindness all its spirit lends, +When we discuss our dearest friends, +Not meanly faults and follies hiding, +But frankly owning each backsliding, +Confessing with polite compassion, +“They 're very bad, but still the fashion.” + +The Mode. +</pre> +<p> +The Kennyfecks were without strangers that day, and Cashel, who was now, +as it were by unanimous election, received into the bosom of the family, +enjoyed for the first time in his life a peep into the science of +dinner-giving, in the discussions occasioned by the approaching banquet. +</p> +<p> +No sooner were they assembled around the drawing-room fire, than Mrs. +Kennyfeck, whose whole soul was occupied by the one event, took occasion, +as it were by pure accident, to remember that they “were to have some +people to-morrow.” Now, the easy <i>nonchalance</i> of the reminiscence +and the shortness of the invitation would seem to imply that it was merely +one of those slight deviations from daily routine which adds two or three +guests to the family table; and so, indeed, did it impress Cashel, who +little knew that the dinner in question had been devised, planned, and +arranged full three weeks before, and the company packed with a degree of +care and selection that evinced all the importance of the event. +</p> +<p> +Time was when the Irish capital enjoyed, and justly, the highest +reputation for all that constitutes social success; when around the +dinner-tables of the city were met men of the highest order of +intelligence, men pleased to exercise, without effort or display, all the +charm of wit and eloquence, and to make society a brilliant reunion of +those gifts which, in the wider sphere of active life, won fame and +honors. +</p> +<p> +As the race of these bright conversers died out,—for, alas! they +belonged to a past era,—their places were assumed by others of very +dissimilar tastes. Many educated at English universities brought back with +them to Ireland the more reserved and cautious demeanor of the other +country, and thus, if not by their influence, by their mere presence, +threw a degree of constraint over the tone of society, which, in +destroying its freedom, despoiled it of all its charm. +</p> +<p> +Fashion, that idol of an Englishman's heart, soon became an Irish deity +too, and it now grew the “ton” to be English, or at least what was +supposed to be such, in dress and manner, in hours, accent, and demeanor. +The attempt was never successful; the reserve and placidity which sit with +gracefulness on the high-bred Englishman, was a stiff, uncourteous manner +in the more cordial and volatile Irishman. His own demeanor was a tree +that would not bear grafting, and the fruit lost all its raciness by the +admixture. +</p> +<p> +The English officials at the Castle, the little staff of a commander of +the forces, a newly-made bishop, fresh from Oxford, even the officers of +the last arrived dragoon regiment, became, by right of “accent,” the types +of manner and breeding in circles where, in the actual enjoyment of social +qualities, they were manifestly beneath those over whom they held sway; +however, they were stamped at the metropolitan mint, and the competitors +were deemed a mere depreciated currency which a few years more would +cancel forever. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Kennyfeck, as a fashionable dinner-giver, of course selected her +company from this more choice section; a fact which deserves to be +recorded, to the credit of her hospitality; for it was a very rare +occurrence indeed, when she found herself invited by any of those +distinguished personages who figured the oftenest at her own table. They +thought, perhaps justly, that their condescension was sufficiently great +to demand no further acknowledgment; and that, as virtue is said to be its +own reward, theirs was abundantly exhibited in the frankness with which +they ate Kennyfeck's venison, and drank his Burgundy, both of which were +excellent. +</p> +<p> +Every one dined there, because they knew “they 'd meet every one.” A +pretender in the world of fashion, unlike a pretender to monarchy, is sure +to have the best company in his <i>salon</i>; and so, although you might +have met many at the tables of the first men of the country, who were +there by virtue of their talents or abilities, at Kennyfeck's the company +was sure to be “select.” They could not afford dilution, lest they should +find themselves at ease! +</p> +<p> +“Olivia, pray take that newspaper from Mr. Kennyfeck, and let us hear who +he has asked to dinner to-morrow,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, gracefully +imitating an attitude of Lady Londonderry in the “Book of Beauty.” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Kennyfeck heard the request, and started; his surprise had not been +greater if the Chancellor had addressed him as “Tom.” It was the first +time in his life that an allusion had ever been made to the bare +possibility of his inviting the company of a grand dinner; a prerogative +he had never so much as dreamed of, and now he actually heard his wife +refer to him, as if he were even a party to the deed. +</p> +<p> +“Invite! Mrs. Kennyfeck. I 'm sure I never thought—” + </p> +<p> +“No matter what you thought,” said his spouse, reddening at his stupidity. +“I wanted to remember who are coming, that we may let Mr. Cashel learn +something of our Dublin folk.” + </p> +<p> +“Here's a list, mamma,” said Olivia; “and I believe there are no +apologies. Shall I read it?” + </p> +<p> +“Do so, child,” said she, but evidently out of humor that the delightful +little display of indifference and ignorance should not have succeeded +better. +</p> +<p> +“Sir Andrew and Lady Janet MacFarline, of course!” cried Miss Kennyfeck; +“ain't they first?” + </p> +<p> +“They are,” replied her sister. +</p> +<p> +“Sir Andrew, Mr. Cashel,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, “is a very distinguished +officer,—a K.C.B., and something else besides. He was in all the +Duke's battles in Spain; a most gallant officer, but a little rough in +manner,—Scotch, you know. Lady Janet was sister to Lord—What +is that lord, Caroline? I always forget.” + </p> +<p> +“Dumkeeran, mamma.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, that's it She is a charming person, but very proud,—very +proud, indeed; will not visit with the Dublin people. With us, I must say, +I have never seen anything like her kindness; we are absolutely like +sisters. Go on, Olivia.” + </p> +<p> +“Lord Charles Frobisher.” + </p> +<p> +“And the Honorable Elliot St. John,” chimed in her sister; “Damon and +Pythias, where a dinner is concerned.” This was said in a whisper. +</p> +<p> +“They are aides-de-camp to the Lord Lieutenant. Lord Charles is younger +brother to the Duke of Derwent; quite a man of fashion, and so amusing. +Oh, he 's delightful!” + </p> +<p> +“Charming!” duetted the two sisters. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. St. John is a very nice person too; but one never knows him like Lord +Charles: he is more reserved. Olivia, however, says he has a great deal in +him.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, mamma! I 'm sure I don't know; I only thought him much more +conversable than he gets credit for.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, I meant no more,” said her mother, who did not fancy the gathering +gloom on Cashel's face at this allusion; “read on again, child.” + </p> +<p> +“Lord Chief Justice Malone.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Kennyfeck,” said she, playfully, “this is <i>your</i> doing; I +suspected, from your confusion awhile ago, what you were at.” Then, +turning to Roland, she said, “He is always playing us this trick, Mr. +Cashel; whenever we have a few friends together, he will insist upon +inviting some of his old bar cronies!” + </p> +<p> +A deep groan from Mr. Kennyfeck at the terrible profanity of thus styling +the chief of the Common Pleas, made every one start; but even this, like a +skilful tactician, Mrs. Kennyfeck turned to her own advantage. +</p> +<p> +“Pray don't sigh that way. He is a most excellent person, a great lawyer, +and, they say, must eventually have the peerage.” She nodded to Olivia to +proceed, who read on. +</p> +<p> +“The Attorney-General and Mrs. Knivett.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, really, Mr. Kennyfeck, this is pushing prerogative; don't you think +so, Mr. Cashel? Not but, you know, the Attorney-General is a great +personage in this poor country; he is member for—where is it?” + </p> +<p> +“Baldoyle, mamma.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, member for Baldoyle; and she was a Miss Gamett, of Red Gamett, in +Antrim; a most respectable connection; so I think we may forgive him. Yes, +Mr. Kennyfeck, you are, at least, reprieved.” + </p> +<p> +“Here come the Whites, mamma. I suppose we may reckon on both, though she, +as usual, sends her hopes and fears about being with us at dinner, but +will be delighted to come in the evening.” + </p> +<p> +“That apology is stereotyped,” broke in Miss Kennyfeck, “as well as the +little simpering speech she makes on entering the drawing-room. 'So you +see, my dear Mrs. Kennyfeck, there is no resisting you. Colonel White +assured me that your pleasant dinners always set him up for a month,—he, +he, he.'” + </p> +<p> +If Cashel had not laughed heartily at the lisping imitation, it is +possible Mrs. Kennyfeck might have been displeased; but as the quiz +“took,” she showed no umbrage whatever. +</p> +<p> +“The Honorable Downie Meek, Under Secretary of State,” read Olivia, with a +little more of emphasis than on the last-mentioned names. +</p> +<p> +“A person you'll be charmed with, Mr. Cashel,—so highly informed, so +well bred, so perfectly habituated to move in the very highest circles,” + said Mrs. Kennyfeck, giving herself, as she spoke, certain graces of +gesture which she deemed illustrative of distinguished fashion. +</p> +<p> +“A cucumber dressed in oil,” whispered Miss Kennyfeck, who showed more +than once a degree of impatience at these eulogistic descriptions. +</p> +<p> +“The Dean of Dramcondera, your great favorite, mamma.” + </p> +<p> +“So he is, my dear. Now, Mr. Cashel, I shall insist upon you liking my +Dean. I call him <i>my</i> Dean, because one day last spring—” + </p> +<p> +“Mrs. Biles wants to speak to you, ma'am, for a minute,” said the butler +from behind the chair; and although the interruption was anything but +pleasant, yet the summons must be obeyed, for Mrs. Biles was the +housekeeper, and any approach to treating her with indifference or +contempt on the eve of a great dinner would be about as impolitic as +insulting a general who was about to command in a great battle; so that +Mrs. Kennyfeck rose to comply, not even venturing a word of complaint, +lest the formidable functionary should hear of it, and take her revenge on +the made dishes. +</p> +<p> +“Now for the Dean. Is mamma out of hearing?” said Miss Kennyfeck, who +rejoiced at the casual opportunity of a little portrait-painting in a +different style. “Conceive a tall, pompous man, with large white features, +and a high bald head with a conical top; a sharp, clear, but unpleasant +voice, always uttering grave nonsense, or sublime absurdity. He was a +brilliant light at Oxford, and came over to illumine our darkness, and if +pedantry could only supply the deficiency in the potato crop, he would be +a providence to the land. His affectation is to know everything, from +chuck-farthing to conic sections, and so to diffuse his information as +always to talk science to young ladies, and discuss the royal game of +goose with Lords of the Treasury. His failures in these attempts at +Admirable Crichtonism would abash even confidence great as his, but that +he is surrounded by a little staff of admirers, who fend off the sneers of +the audience, and, like buffers, break the rude shocks of worldly +collision. Socially, he is the tyrant of this capital; for having learning +enough to be more than a match for those he encounters, and skill enough +to give his paradoxes a mock air of authority, he usurps a degree of +dictation and rule that makes society mere slavery. You 'll meet him +to-morrow evening, and you'll see if he does not know more of Mexico and +Savannah life than you do. Take care, I say, that you venture not into the +wilds of the Pampas; for you'll have his companionship, not as +fellow-traveller, but as guide and instructor. As for myself, whenever I +read in the papers of meetings to petition Parliament to repeal this or +redress that, in the name of 'Justice to Ireland,' I ask, why does nobody +pray for the recall of the Dean of Drumcondera?” + </p> +<p> +“Here's mamma,” whispered Olivia, as the drawing-room door opened. +</p> +<p> +“We've done the Dean, mamma,” said Miss Kennyfeck, with calm composure. +</p> +<p> +“Well, don't you feel that you love him already? Mr. Cashel, confess that +you participate in all my raptures. Oh dear! I do so admire talent and +genius,” exclaimed Mrs. Kennyfeck, theatrically. +</p> +<p> +Cashel smiled, and muttered something unintelligible; and Olivia read on, +but with a rapidity that showed the names required no special notice. “The +Craufurds, the Smythes, Mrs. Felix Brown, Lady Emmeline Grove.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, that dear Lady Emmeline! a most gifted creature; she 's the authoress +of some sweet poems. She wrote that touching sonnet in the 'Nobility's +Gallery of Loveliness,' beginning, 'Twin Sister of the Evening Star.' I'm +sure you know it.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'm unfortunate enough never to have seen it,” said Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you shall see the writer to-morrow evening; I must really take care +that you are acquainted. People will tell you that she is affected, and +takes airs of authorship; but remember her literary success,—think +of her contributions to the 'Court Journal.'” + </p> +<p> +“Those sweet flatteries of the nobility that Linton calls court-plaster, +mamma,” said Miss Kennyfeck, laughing maliciously. +</p> +<p> +“Linton is very abusive,” said her mother, tartly; “he never has a good +word for any one.” + </p> +<p> +“He used to be a pet of yours, mamma,” insinuated Olivia. +</p> +<p> +“So he was till he became so intimate with those atrocious Fothergills.” + </p> +<p> +“Who is he?” said Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“He's a son of Sir George Linton.” + </p> +<p> +“That's one story, mamma; but as nobody ever saw the aforesaid Sir George, +the presumption is it may be incorrect. The last version is that he was +found, like Moses, the discoverer being Lady Harriet Dropmore, who, with a +humanity never to be forgotten,”—“or forgiven,” whispered Olivia, +“for she has been often taunted with it,”—“took care of the +creature, and had it reared,—nay, better again, she sent it to Rugby +and to Cambridge, got it into Parliament for Elmwood, and has now made it +Master of the Horse in Ireland.” + </p> +<p> +“He is the most sarcastic person I ever met.” + </p> +<p> +“It is such an easy talent,” said Miss Kennyfeck; “the worst of wine makes +capital vinegar.” + </p> +<p> +“Then here follow a set of soldier people,” said Olivia,—“hussars +and Queen's Bays, and a Captain Tanker of the Royal Navy,—oh, I +remember, he has but one arm,—and then the Pelertons and the +Cuffes.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, are we at the end of our muster-roll?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, we have nearly reached the dregs of the cup. I see Mr. Knox Softly, +and the Townleys!” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, the Townleys! Poor Mrs. Townley, with her yellow turban and red +feathers, that Lord Dunbrock mistook for a <i>vol-au-vent</i> garnished +with shrimps.” + </p> +<p> +“Caroline!” cried Mrs. Kennyfeck, reprovingly, for her daughter's sallies +had more than once verged upon the exhaustion of her patience. +</p> +<p> +“We shall not weary you with any description of the 'refreshers,' Mr. +Cashel.” + </p> +<p> +“Pray who and what are they?” inquired Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“The 'refreshers' are that amiable but undervalued class in society who +are always asked for the evening when the other members of the family are +invited to dine. They are the young lady and young gentleman class,—the +household with ten daughters, and a governess that sings like, anything +but, Persiani. They are briefless barristers, with smart whiskers; and +young men reading for the Church, with moustaches; infantry officers, old +maids, fellows of college, and the gentleman who tells Irish stories.” + </p> +<p> +“Caroline, I really must request—” + </p> +<p> +“But, mamma, Mr. Cashel surely ought to learn the map of the country he is +to live in.” + </p> +<p> +“I am delighted to acquire my geography so pleasantly,” cried Cashel. +“Pray go on.” + </p> +<p> +“I am bound over,” said she, smiling; “mamma is looking penknives at me, +so I suppose I must stop. But as to these same 'refreshers,' you will +easily distinguish them from the dinner company. The young ladies are +always fresher in their white muslin; they walk about in gangs, and eat a +prodigious deal of bread-and-butter at tea. Well, I have done, mamma, +though I 'm sure I was not aware of my transgressions.” + </p> +<p> +“I declare Mr. Kennyfeck is asleep again.—Mr. Kenny-feck, have the +goodness to wake up and say who is to make the whist-table for Lady +Blennerbore.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, my Lord,” said Mr. Kennyfeck, waking up and rubbing his eyes, “we'll +take a verdict for the plaintiff, leaving the points reserved.” + </p> +<p> +A very general laugh here recalled him to himself, as with extreme +confusion he continued, “I was so fatigued in the Rolls to-day. It was an +argument relative to a trust, Mr. Cashel, which it is of great moment you +should be relieved of.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, never trouble your head about it now, sir,” said Cashel, +good-naturedly. “I am quite grieved at the weariness and fatigue my +affairs are costing you.” + </p> +<p> +“I was asking about Lady Blennerbore's whist,” interposed Mrs. Kennyfeck. +“Who have you for her party besides the Chief Justice?” + </p> +<p> +“Major M'Cartney says he can't afford it, mamma,” said the eldest +daughter, slyly. “She is so very lucky with the honors!” + </p> +<p> +“Where is Thorpe?” cried Mrs. Kennyfeck, not deigning to notice this +speech,—“he used to like his rubber.” + </p> +<p> +“He told me,” said Miss Kennyfeck, “that he would n't play with her +Ladyship any more; that one had some chance formerly, but that since she +has had that touch of the palsy, she does what she likes with the Kings +and Aces.” + </p> +<p> +“This is atrocious; never let me hear it again,” said the mamma, +indignantly; “at all events, old Mr. Moore Hacket will do.” + </p> +<p> +“Poor old man, he is so blind that he has to thumb the cards all over to +try and know them by the feel, and then he always washes the King and +Queen's faces with a snuffy handkerchief, so that the others are sneezing +at every trick they play.” + </p> +<p> +“Caroline, you permit yourself to take the most improper freedoms; I +desire that we may have no more of this.” + </p> +<p> +“I rather like old Mr. Hacket,” said the incorrigible assailant; “he +mistook Mr. Pottinger's bald and polished head for a silver salver, and +laid his teacup on it, the last evening he was here.” + </p> +<p> +If Cashel could not help smiling at Miss Kennyfeck's sallies, he felt it +was in rather a strange spirit of hospitality the approaching +entertainment was given, since few of the guests were spared the most +slighting sarcasms, and scarcely for any was there professed the least +friendship or affection. He was, however, very new to “the world,” and the +strange understanding on which its daily intercourse, its social life of +dinners, visits, and <i>déjeuners</i> subsists, was perfectly unknown to +him. He had much to learn; but as his nature was of an inquiring +character, he was as equal as he was well inclined to its task. It was +then, with less enjoyment of the scene for its absurdity, than actually as +an occasion to acquire knowledge of people and modes of living hitherto +unknown, he listened gravely to the present discussion, and sat with +attentive ears to hear who was to take in Lady Janet, and whether Sir +Archy should precede the Chief Justice or not; if a Dragoon Colonel should +take the <i>pas</i> of an Attorney-General, and whether it made the same +difference in an individual's rank that it did in his comfort, that he was +on the half-pay list When real rank is concerned, few things are easier +than the arrangement of such details; the rules are simple, the exceptions +few, if any; but in a society where the distinctions are inappreciable, +where the designations are purely professional, an algebraic equation is +simpler of solution than such difficulties. +</p> +<p> +Then came a very animated debate as to the places at table, wherein lay +the extreme difficulty of having every one away from the fire and nobody +in a draught, except, of course, those little valued guests who really +appeared to play the ignoble part of mortar in a great edifice, being +merely the cohesive ingredient that averted friction between more +important materials. Next came the oft-disputed question as to whether the +champagne should be served with the <i>petits pâtés</i>, after the fish, +or at a remote stage of the second course, the young ladies being eager +advocates of the former, Mrs. Kennyfeck as firmly denouncing the practice +as a new-fangled thing, that “the Dean” himself said he had never seen at +Christchurch; but the really great debate arose on a still more knotty +point, and one on which it appeared the family had brought in various +bills, without ever discovering the real remedy. It was by what means—of +course, moral force means—it were possible to induce old Lady +Blennerbore to rise from table whenever Mrs. Kennyfeck had decreed that +move to be necessary. +</p> +<p> +It was really moving to listen to Mrs. Kennyfeck's narratives of signals +unnoticed and signs unattended to; that even on the very last day her +Ladyship had dined there, Mrs. Kennyfeck had done little else for three +quarters of an hour than half stand and sit down again, to the misery of +herself and the discomfort of her neighbors. +</p> +<p> +“Poor dear old thing,” said Olivia, “she is so very nearsighted.” + </p> +<p> +“Not a bit of it,” said her sister; “don't tell me of bad sight that can +distinguish the decanter of port from the claret, which I have seen her do +some half-dozen times without one blunder.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'd certainly stop the supplies,” said Cashel; “wouldn't that do?” + </p> +<p> +“Impossible!” said Miss Kennyfeck; “you couldn't starve the whole garrison +for one refractory subject.” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. Linton's plan was a perfect failure, too,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck. “He +thought by the introduction of some topic ladies do not usually discuss +that she would certainly withdraw; on the contrary, her Ladyship called +out to me, 'I see your impatience, my dear, but I must hear the end of +this naughty story.' We tried the French plan, too, and made the gentlemen +rise with us; but really they were so rude and ill-tempered the entire +evening after, I 'll never venture on it again.” + </p> +<p> +Here the whole party sighed and were silent, as if the wished-for mode of +relief were as distant as ever. +</p> +<p> +“Must we really ask those Claridge girls to sing, mamma?” said Miss +Kennyfeck, after a long pause. +</p> +<p> +“Of course you must. They were taught by Costa, and they are always asked +wherever they go.” + </p> +<p> +“As a matter of curiosity, Mr. Cashel, the thing is worth hearing. +Paganini's monocorde was nothing to it, for they 'll go through a whole +scena of Donizetti with only one note in their voice. Oh dear! how very +tiresome it all is; the same little scene of pressings and refusals and +entreaties and rejections, and the oft-repeated dispute of the sisters +between 'Notte divina' and 'Non vedro mai,' ending in that Tyrolese thing, +which is on every organ in the streets, and has not the merit of the +little shaved dog with the hat in his mouth, to make it droll. And then”—here +Miss Kennyfeck caught a side glance of a most rebuking frown on her +mother's face, so that adroitly addressing herself to Cashel, she seemed +unaware of it,—“and then, when the singing is over, and those who +detest music are taking their revenge by abusing the singers, and people +are endeavoring to patch up the interrupted chattings,—then, I +suppose, we are quite suddenly, without the slightest premeditation, to +suggest a quadrille or carpet-dance. This is to be proposed as a most new +and original idea that never occurred to any one before, and is certain to +be hailed with a warm enthusiasm; all the young ladies smiling and +smirking, and the gentlemen fumbling for their soiled kid gloves,—clean +ones would destroy the merit of the impromptu.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'm certain Mr. Cashel's impression of our society here will scarcely be +flattering, from what he has heard this evening,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, +rising. +</p> +<p> +“He'll see with his own eyes to-morrow night,” said Miss Kennyfeck, +coolly. +</p> +<p> +“Will you favor me with a little of your time in the morning?” said Mr. +Kennyfeck to Cashel. “I find that I cannot avoid troubling you; there are +several documents for signature, and if you could devote an hour, or, if +possible, two—” + </p> +<p> +“I am perfectly at your orders,” said Cashel; “the ladies say that they +will not ride, and therefore dispose of me as you like.” + </p> +<p> +A hearty good-night followed, and the party broke up. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XI. A DRIVE WITH THE LADIES. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Geld kann vieles in der Welt. + +—Wiener Lied. + +(Money can do much in this world.) +</pre> +<p> +When Cashel descended the stairs to breakfast, he took a peep into the +drawing-room as he went, some slight hope of seeing Olivia, perhaps, +suggesting the step. He was disappointed, however; except a servant +arranging candies in the lustres, the room was empty. The same fate +awaited him in the breakfast-room, where a small table, most significantly +laid for two, showed that a <i>tête-à-tête</i> with his host was in store +for him. No wonder, then, if Mr. Kennyfeck saw something of impatience in +the air of his young guest, whose eyes turned to the door each time it +opened, or were as hastily directed to the garden at each stir without,—evident +signs of thoughts directed in channels different from the worthy +solicitor's. +</p> +<p> +Confess, my dear reader,—if you be of the sex to judge of these +matters,—confess it is excessively provoking when you have prepared +your mind, sharpened your wit—perhaps, too, curled your whiskers—with +a latent hope that you are to meet and converse with two very handsome and +sprightly girls, that the interview is converted into a scene with “Papa.” + For ourselves, who acknowledge to have a kind of Catholicism in these +affairs, who like the dear creatures in all the flaunting dash of a +riding-hat and habit, cantering away of a breezy day, with laughing voice +and half-uncurled hair; who delight to see them lounging in a britzska or +lolling in a phaeton; who gaze with rapture on charms heightened by the +blaze of full-dress, and splendid in all the brilliancy of jewels and +flowers,—we own that we have a kind of fondness, almost amounting to +a preference, for the prim coquettishness of a morning-dress—some +light muslin thing, floating and gauzy—showing the figure to +perfection, and in its simplicity suiting well the two braids of hair so +innocently banded on the cheeks. There is something of conscious power in +the quiet garb, a sense of trustfulness; it is like the warrior advancing +without his weapons to a conference that is exceedingly pleasing, seeming +to say, You see that I am not a being of tulle, and gauze, and point de +Bruxelles, of white satin, and turquoise, and pink camellias, but a +creature whose duties may be in the daily round of life, meant to sit +beside on a grassy slope as much as on a velvet ottoman, to talk with as +well as flirt with. +</p> +<p> +We have no means of knowing if Cashel was of our mind, and whether these +demi-toilette visions were as suggestive to his as they are to our +imagination, but that he bore his disappointment with a very bad grace we +can perfectly answer for, and showed, by his distracted manner and +inattentive air, that the papa's companionship was a very poor substitute +for the daughters'. +</p> +<p> +It must be owned, too, that Mr. Kennyfeck was scarcely a brilliant +converser, nor, had he been so, was the matter under consideration of a +kind to develop and display his abilities. The worthy solicitor had often +promised himself the pleasure he now enjoyed of recounting the whole story +of the law proceedings. It was the great event of his own life, “his +Waterloo,” and he dwelt on every detail with a prosy dalliance that was +death to the listener. Legal subtleties, shrewd and cunning devices of +crafty counsellors, all the artful dodges of the profession, Cashel heard +with a scornful indifference or a downright apathy, and it demanded all +Mr. Kennyfeck's own enthusiasm in the case to make him persist in a +narrative so uninteresting to its only auditor. +</p> +<p> +“I fear I weary you, Mr. Cashel,” said the solicitor, “with these details, +but I really supposed that you must feel desirous of knowing not only the +exact circumstances of your estate, but of learning the very singular +history by which your claim was substantiated.” + </p> +<p> +“If I am to be frank,” said Cashel, boldly, “I must tell you that these +things possess not the slightest interest for me. When I was a gambler—which, +unfortunately, I was at one time—whether I won or lost, I never +could endure to discuss the game after it was over. So long as there was a +goal to reach, few men could feel more ardor in the pursuit. I believe I +have the passion for success as strong as my neighbors, but the struggle +over, the prize won, whether by myself or another it mattered not, it +ceased to have any hold upon me. I could address myself to a new contest, +but never look back on the old one.” + </p> +<p> +“So that,” said Kennyfeck, drawing a long breath to conceal a sigh, “I am +to conclude that this is a topic you would not desire to renew. Well, I +yield of course; only pray how am I to obtain your opinion on questions +concerning your property?” + </p> +<p> +“My opinions,” said Cashel, “must be mere arbitrary decisions, come to +without any knowledge; that you are well aware of. I know nothing of this +country,—neither its interests, its feelings, nor its tastes. I know +just as little of what wealth will do, and what it will not do. Tell me, +therefore, in a few words, what other men, situated as I am, would pursue,—what +habits they would adopt, how live, and with whom. If I can conform, +without any great sacrifice of personal freedom, I 'll do so, because I +know of no slavery so bad as notoriety. Just then give me your counsel, +and I ask, intending to follow it.” + </p> +<p> +Few men were less able than Mr. Kennyfeck to offer a valuable opinion on +these difficult subjects, but the daily routine of his professional life +had made him acquainted with a certain detail that seemed, to himself at +least, an undeviating rule of procedure. He knew that, to the heir of a +large estate coming of age, a wife and a seat in Parliament were the two +first objects. He had so often been engaged in drawing up settlements for +the one, and raising money for the other contingency, that they became as +associated in his mind with one-and-twenty years of age as though intended +by Nature to denote it. +</p> +<p> +With some reserve, which we must not scrutinize, he began with the +political object. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose, sir,” said he, “you will desire to enter Parliament?” + </p> +<p> +“I should like it,” said Cashel, earnestly, “if a sense of inferiority +would not weigh too heavily on me to compensate for the pleasure. With an +education so neglected as mine, I should run the hazard of either unjustly +depreciating my own judgment, or what is worse, esteeming it at more than +its worth. Now, though I suspect that the interest of politics would have +a great attraction for me, I should always occupy too humble a station +regarding them, to make that interest a high one. Omit Parliament, then, +and what next?” + </p> +<p> +“The duties of a country gentleman are various and important—the +management of your estates—” + </p> +<p> +“This I must leave in your hands,” said Cashel, abruptly. “Suggest +something else.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, of course, these come in a far less important category; but the +style of your living, the maintenance of a house befitting your rank and +property, the reception of your country neighbors,—all these are +duties.” + </p> +<p> +“I am very ignorant of forms,” said Cashel, haughtily; “but I opine that +if a man spare no money, with a good cook, a good cellar, a good stable, +and <i>carte blanche</i> from the owner to make free with everything, +these duties are not very difficult to perform.” + </p> +<p> +Had Mr. Kennyfeck known more of such matters, he might have told him that +something was still wanting,—that something which can throw its +perfume of good-breeding and elegance over the humble dinner-party in a +cottage, and yet be absent from the gorgeous splendor of a banquet in a +palace. Mr. Kennyfeck did not know this, so he accorded his fullest assent +to Cashel's opinion. +</p> +<p> +“What comes next?” said Roland, impatiently, “for as I am neither +politician nor country gentleman, nor can I make a pursuit of mere +hospitality, I really do not see what career is open to me.” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Kennyfeck had been on the eve of introducing the topic of marriage, +when this sally suddenly routed the attempt. The man who saw nothing to +occupy him in politics, property, or social intercourse would scarcely +deem a wife an all-sufficient ambition. Mr. Kennyfeck was posed. +</p> +<p> +“I see, sir, your task is a hard one; it is no less than to try and +conform my savage tastes and habits to civilized usages,—a difficult +thing, I am certain; however, I promise compliance with any ritual for a +while. I have often been told that the possession of fortune in these +countries imposes more restraints in the shape of duties than does poverty +elsewhere. Let me try the problem for myself. Now, dictate, and I obey.” + </p> +<p> +“After all,” said Mr. Kennyfeck, taking courage, “few men would deem it a +hard condition in which to find themselves master of above £16,000 a year, +to enter Parliament, to keep a good house, and marry—as every man in +your circumstances may—the person of his choice.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh! Is matrimony another article of the code?” said Cashel, smiling. +“Well, that is the greatest feature, because the others are things to +abandon, if not found to suit your temper or inclination—but a wife—that +does look somewhat more permanent. No matter, I'll adventure all and +everything—of course depending on your guidance for the path.” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Kennyfeck was too happy at these signs of confidence to neglect an +opportunity for strengthening the ties, and commenced a very prudent +harangue upon the necessity of Cashel's using great caution in his first +steps, and not committing himself by anything like political pledges, till +he had firmly decided which side to adopt. “As to society,” said he, “of +course you will select those who please you most for your intimates; but +in politics there are many considerations very different from mere liking. +Be only guarded, however, in the beginning, and you risk nothing by +waiting.” + </p> +<p> +“And as to the other count in the indictment,” said Cashel, interrupting a +rather prosy dissertation about political parties,—“as to the other +count—matrimony I mean. I conclude, as the world is so exceedingly +kind as to take a profound interest in all the sayings and doings of a man +with money, that perhaps it is not indifferent regarding so eventful a +step as his marriage. Now, pray, Mr. Kennyfeck, having entered Parliament, +kept open house, hunted, shot, raced, dined, gambled, duelled, and the +rest, to please society, how must I satisfy its exigencies in this last +particular? I mean, is there any particular style of lady,—tall, +short, brunette or fair, dark-eyed or blue-eyed,—or what, in short, +is the person I must marry if I would avoid transgressing any of those +formidable rules which seem to regulate every action of your lives, and, +if I may believe Mr. Phillis, superintend the very color of your cravat +and the shape of your hat?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, believe me,” replied Mr. Kennyfeck with a bland persuasiveness, +“fashion is only exigeant in small matters; the really momentous affairs +of life are always at a man's own disposal. Whoever is fortunate enough to +be Mr. Cashel's choice, becomes, by the fact, as elevated above envious +criticisms as she will be above the sphere where they alone prevail.” + </p> +<p> +“So far that is very flattering. Now for another point. There is an old +shipmate of mine—a young Spanish officer—who has lived rather +a rakish kind of life. I 'm not quite sure if he has not had a brush or +two with our flag, for he dealt a little in ebony—you understand—the +slave-trade, I mean. How would these fine gentlemen, I should like to +know, receive him? Would they look coldly and distantly at him? I should +naturally wish to see him at my house, but not that he might be offered +anything like slight or insult.” + </p> +<p> +“I should defer it, certainly. I would recommend you not pressing this +visit, till you have surrounded yourself with a certain set, a party by +whom you will be known and upheld.” + </p> +<p> +“So then, if I understand you aright, I must obtain a kind of security for +my social good conduct before the world will trust me? Now, this does seem +rather hard, particularly as no man is guilty till he has been convicted.” + </p> +<p> +“The bail-bond is little else than a matter of form,” said Mr. Kennyfeck, +smiling, and glad to cap an allusion which his professional pursuits made +easy of comprehension. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” sighed Cashel, “I'm not quite certain that this same world of +yours and I shall be long friends, if even we begin as such. I have all my +life been somewhat of a rebel, except where authority was lax enough to +make resistance unnecessary. How am I to get on here, hemmed in and fenced +by a hundred restrictions?” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Kennyfeck could not explain to him that these barriers were less +restrictions against personal liberty than defences against aggression; so +he only murmured some commonplaces about “getting habituated,” and “time,” + and so on, and apologized for what he, in reality, might have expatiated +on as privileges. +</p> +<p> +“My mistress wishes to know, sir,” said a footman, at this juncture, “if +Mr. Cashel will drive out with her? the carriage is at the door.” + </p> +<p> +“Delighted!” cried Cashel, looking at the same time most uncourteously +pleased to get away from his tiresome companion. +</p> +<p> +Cashel found Mrs. Kennyfeck and her daughters seated in a handsome +barouche, whose appointments, bating, perhaps, some little exuberance in +display, were all perfect. The ladies, too, were most becomingly attired, +and the transition from the tittle cobwebbed den of the solicitor to the +free air and pleasant companionship, excited his spirits to the utmost. +</p> +<p> +“How bored you must have been by that interview!” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, as +they drove away. +</p> +<p> +“Why do you say so?” said Cashel, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“You looked so weary, so thoroughly tired out, when you joined us. I'm +certain Mr. Kennyfeck has been reading aloud all the deeds and documents +of the trial, and reciting the hundred-and-one difficulties which his +surpassing acuteness, poor dear man! could alone overcome.” + </p> +<p> +“No, indeed you wrong him,” said Roland, with a laugh; “he scarcely +alluded to what he might have reasonably dwelt upon with pride, and what +demands all my gratitude. He was rather giving me, what I so much stand in +need of, a little lecture on my duties and devoirs as a possessor of +fortune; a code, I shame to confess, perfectly strange to me.” + </p> +<p> +A very significant glance from Mrs. Kennyfeck towards the girls revealed +the full measure of her contempt for the hardihood of poor Mr. Kennyfeck's +daring; but quickly assuming a smile, she said, “And are we to be +permitted to hear what these excellent counsels were, or are these what +the Admiralty calls 'secret instructions'?” + </p> +<p> +“Not in the least. Mr. Kennyfeck sees plainly enough—it is but too +palpable—that I am as ignorant of this new world as he himself would +be, if dropped down suddenly in an Indian encampment, and that as the +thing I detest most in this life is any unnecessary notoriety, I want to +do as far as in me lies, like my neighbors. I own to you that the little +sketch with which he favored me is not too fascinating, but he assures me +that with time and patience and zeal I'll get over my difficulties, and +make a very tolerable country gentleman.” + </p> +<p> +“But, my <i>dear</i> Mr. Cashel,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, with a great +emphasis on the epithet, “why do you think of listening to Mr. Kennyfeck +on such a subject? Poor man, he takes all his notions of men and manners +from the Exchequer and Common Pleas.” + </p> +<p> +“Papa's models are all in horse-hair wigs,—fat mummies in ermine!” + said Miss Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“When Mr. Cashel knows Lord Charles,” said Olivia. +</p> +<p> +“Or Mr. Linton—” + </p> +<p> +“Or the Dean,” broke in Mrs. Kennyfeck; “for although a Churchman, his +information on every subject is boundless.” + </p> +<p> +Miss Kennyfeck gave a sly look towards Cashel, which very probably entered +a dissent to her mamma's opinion. +</p> +<p> +“If I were you,” resumed she, tenderly, “I know what I should do; coolly +rejecting all their counsels, I should fashion my life as it pleased +myself to live, well assured that in following my bent I should find +plenty of people only too happy to lend me their companionship. Just +reflect, for a moment, how very agreeable you can make your house, without +in the least compromising any taste or inclination of your own; without, +in fact, occupying your mind on the subject.” + </p> +<p> +“But the world,” remarked Mrs. Kennyfeck, “must be cared for! It would not +do for one in Mr. Cashel's station to form his associates only among those +whose agreeability is their recommendation.” + </p> +<p> +“Then let him know the Dean, mamma,” said Miss Kennyfeck, slyly. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, my dear,” rejoined Mrs. Kennyfeck, not detecting the sarcasm, “I +cannot fancy one more capable of affording judicious counsel. You spoke +about ordering plate, Mr. Cashel; but of course you will apply to Storr +and Mortimer. Everything is so much better in London; otherwise, here we +are at Leonard's.” + </p> +<p> +The carriage drove up, as she spoke, to the door of a very +splendid-looking shop, where in all the attractive display modern taste +has invented, plate and jewellery glittered and dazzled. +</p> +<p> +“It was part of Mr. Kennyfeck's counsel this morning,” said Cashel, “that +I should purchase anything I want in Ireland, so far, at least, as +practicable; so, if you will aid me in choosing, we 'll take the present +opportunity.” + </p> +<p> +Mrs. Kennyfeck was overjoyed at the bare mention of such an occasion of +display, and sailed into the shop with an air that spoke plain as words +themselves, “I'm come to make your fortune.” So palpable, indeed, was the +manner of her approach, that the shopman hastily retired to seek the +proprietor of the establishment,—a little pompous man, with a bald +head,—who, having a great number of “bad debts” among his high +clients, had taken to treating great folk with a very cool assumption of +equality. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Cashel is come to look about some plate, Mr. Leonard. Let us see your +book of drawings; and have you those models you made for Lord Kellorane?” + </p> +<p> +“We have better, ma'am,” said Leonard. “We have the plate itself. If you +will step upstairs. It is all laid out on the tables. The fact is”—here +he dropped his voice—“his lordship's marriage with Miss Fenchurch is +broken off, and he will not want the plate, and we have his orders to sell +it at once.” + </p> +<p> +“And is that beautiful pony-phaeton, with the two black Arabians, to be +sold?” asked Miss Kennyfeck, eagerly. “He only drove them once, I think.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, madam, everything: they are all to be auctioned at Dycer's to-day.” + </p> +<p> +“At what hour?” inquired Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“At three, precisely, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Then it wants but five minutes of the time,” said Cashel, looking at his +watch. +</p> +<p> +“But the plate, sir? Such an opportunity may never occur again,” broke in +Leonard, fearful of seeing his customer depart unprofitably. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, to be sure. Let us see it,” said Cashel, as he handed Mrs. Kennyfeck +upstairs. +</p> +<p> +An exclamation of surprise and delight burst from the party at the +magnificent display which greeted them on entering the room. How splendid—what +taste—how very beautiful—so elegant—so massive—so +chaste! and fifty other encomiastic phrases. +</p> +<p> +“Very fine, indeed, ma'am,” chimed in Leonard; “cost fifteen and +seven-pence the ounce throughout, and now to be sold for thirteen +shillings.” + </p> +<p> +“What is the price?” said Cashel, in a low whisper. +</p> +<p> +“There are, if I remember right, sir, but I 'll ascertain in a moment, +eight thousand ounces.” + </p> +<p> +“I want to know the sum in one word,” rejoined Cashel, hastily. +</p> +<p> +“It will be something like three thousand seven hundred and—” + </p> +<p> +“Well, say three thousand seven hundred, it is mine.” + </p> +<p> +“These ice-pails are not included, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, send them also, and let me know the price. How handsome that brooch +is! Let me see it on your velvet dress, Mrs. Kennyfeck. Yes, that really +looks well. Pray let it remain there.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, I could not think of such a thing! It is far too costly. It is the +most splendid—” + </p> +<p> +“You 'll not refuse me, I hope, a first request, madam,” said he, with a +half-offended air. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Kennyfeck, really overwhelmed by the splendor of the gift, complied +with a reluctant shame. +</p> +<p> +“These are the diamonds that were ordered for the bride,” said Leonard, +opening a jewel-casket, and exhibiting a most magnificent suite. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, how sorry she must be!” cried Miss Kennyfeck, as she surveyed the +glittering mass. +</p> +<p> +“If she loved him,” murmured Olivia, in a low whisper, as if to herself, +but overheard by Cashel, who kept his eyes towards her with an expression +of deep interest. +</p> +<p> +“If the gentleman stood in need of such a set,” said Leonard, “I am +empowered to dispose of them at the actual cost. It is old Mr. Fenchurch +who suffers all the loss, and he can very well afford it. As a wedding +present, sir—” + </p> +<p> +“But I am not going to be married, that I know of,” said Cashel, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps not this week, sir, or the next,” rejoined the self-sufficient +jeweller; “but, of course, that time will come. Two thousand pounds for +such a suite is positively getting them a present, to break them up and +reset them.” + </p> +<p> +“How shocking!” cried Miss Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, madam; but what is to be done? They only suit large fortunes in +their present form; these, unfortunately, are very rare with us.” + </p> +<p> +“A quarter past three!” exclaimed Cashel; “we shall be too late.” + </p> +<p> +“And the diamonds, sir?” said Leonard, following him downstairs. +</p> +<p> +“Do <i>you</i> think them so handsome?” said Cashel to Olivia, as she +walked at his side. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, they are most beautiful,” replied she, with a bashful falling of her +eyelids. +</p> +<p> +“I 'll take them also,” whispered Cashel to Leonard, who, for perhaps the +only time for years past, accompanied the party, bareheaded, to their +carriage, and continued bowing till they drove away. +</p> +<p> +“Dycer's,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck; “and as fast as you can.” + </p> +<p> +With all their speed they came too late. The beautiful equipage had been +already disposed of, and was driving from the gate as they drew up. +</p> +<p> +“How provoking!—how terribly provoking!” exclaimed Mrs. Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“I declare, I think them handsomer than ever,” said Miss Kennyfeck, as she +surveyed the two well-matched and highly-bred ponies. +</p> +<p> +“Who bought them?” asked Mrs. Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“I am the fortunate individual, or rather the unhappy one, who excites +such warm regrets,” said Mr Linton, as he lounged on the door of the +carriage. “I would I were Rothschild, or his son, or his godson, to beg +your acceptance of them.” + </p> +<p> +“What did you give for them, Mr. Linton?” asked Mrs. Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“How unfair to ask; and you, too, who understand these things so well.” + </p> +<p> +“I want to purchase them,” said she, laughing; “that was my reason.” + </p> +<p> +“To you, then, the price is what I have just paid,—a hundred and +fifty.” + </p> +<p> +“How cheap!” + </p> +<p> +“Absolutely for nothing. I bought them on no other account. I really do +not want such an equipage.” + </p> +<p> +“To be serious, then,” resumed Mrs. Kennyfeck, “we came here with Mr. +Cashel to purchase them, and just arrived a few minutes too late.” + </p> +<p> +“Quite early enough to allow of my being able to render you a slight +service; without, however, the satisfaction of its having demanded any +effort from me. Will you present me to Mr. Cashel?” The gentlemen bowed +and smiled, and Linton resumed: “If you care for the ponies, Mr. Cashel, I +am delighted to say they are at your service. I really bought them, as I +say, because they were going for nothing.” Cashel did not know how to +return the generosity, but accepted the offer, trusting that time would +open an occasion to repay the favor. +</p> +<p> +“Shall I send them home to you, or will you drive them?” + </p> +<p> +“Will you venture to accompany me?” said Cashel, turning to Olivia +Kennyfeck; who, seeing at once the impropriety of a proposal which +Roland's ignorance of the world alone could have committed, was silent and +confused. +</p> +<p> +“Are you afraid, my dear?” inquired Mrs. Kennyfeck, to show that all other +objections might be waived. +</p> +<p> +“Oh no, mamma, if you are not.” + </p> +<p> +“The ponies are perfectly quiet,” said Linton. +</p> +<p> +“I 'm certain nothing will happen,” said Miss Kennyfeck, with a most +significant glance at her sister. +</p> +<p> +“Take care of her, Mr. Cashel,” said the mamma, as Roland handed the +blushing girl to her place. “I have never trusted her in any one's charge +before; and if I had not such implicit confidence—” Before the +sentence was finished, the ponies sprang forward in a trot, the equipage +in a moment fled and disappeared from view. +</p> +<p> +“A fine young fellow he seems to be,” said Linton, as he raised his hat in +adieu; “and so frank, too!” There was a something in his smile that looked +too intelligent, but Mrs. Kennyfeck affected not to notice it, as she said +“Good-bye.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XII. THE GREAT KENNYFECK DINNER. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +There were lords and ladies,—I saw myself,— +A duke with his Garter, a knight with his Gaelph. +“Orders”—as bright as the eye could see, +The “Golden Fleece,” and the “Saint Esprit;” + Black Eagles, and Lions, and even a Lamb, +Such an odd-looking thing—from the great “Nizam;” + Shamrocks and Thistles there were in a heap, +And the Legion of Honor from “Louis Philippe,” + So I asked myself—Does it not seem queer, +What can bring this goodly company here? + +Mrs. Thorpe's Fête at Twickenham +</pre> +<p> +Although Mrs. Kennyfeck's company were invited for seven o'clock, it was +already something more than half-past ere the first guest made his +appearance, and he found himself alone in the drawing-room; Mrs. +Kennyfeck, who was a very shrewd observer of everything in high life, +having remembered that it twice occurred to herself and Mr. K. to have +arrived the first at the Secretary's “Lodge,” in the Park, and that the +noble hostess did not descend till at least some two or three others had +joined them. +</p> +<p> +The “first man” to a dinner is the next most miserable thing to the “last +man” at leaving it. The cold air of solitude, the awkwardness of seeming +too eager to be punctual, the certainty, almost inevitable, that the next +person who arrives is perfectly odious to you, and that you will have to +sustain a <i>tête-à-tête</i> with the man of all others you dislike,—all +these are the agreeables of the first man; but he who now had to sustain +them was, happily, indifferent to their tortures. He was an old, very deaf +gentleman, who had figured at the dinner-tables of the capital for half a +century, on no one plea that any one could discover, save that he was a +“Right Honorable.” The privilege of sitting at the Council had conferred +the far pleasanter one of assisting at dinners; and his political career, +if not very ambitious, had been, what few men can say, unruffled. +</p> +<p> +He seated himself, then, in a very well-cushioned chair, and with that +easy smile of benevolent meaning which certain deaf people assume as a +counterpoise for the want of colloquial gifts, prepared to be, or at least +to look, a very agreeable old gentleman to the next arrival. A full +quarter of an hour passed over, without anything to break the decorous +stillness of the house; when suddenly the door was thrown wide, and the +butler announced Sir Harvey Upton and Captain Jennings. These were two +hussar officers, who entered with that admirable accompaniment of clinking +sabres, sabretaches, and spurs, so essential to a cavalry appearance. +</p> +<p> +“Early, by Jove!” cried one, approaching the mirror over the +chimney-piece, and arranging his moustaches, perfectly unmindful of the +presence of the Right Honorable who sat near it. +</p> +<p> +“They are growing worse and worse in this house, I think,” cried the +other. “The last time I dined here, we sat down at a quarter to nine.” + </p> +<p> +“It's all Linton's fault,” drawled out the first speaker; “he told a story +about Long Wellesley asking some one for 'ten.' and apologizing for an +early dinner, as he had to speak in the House afterwards. Who is here? +Neat steppers, those horses!” + </p> +<p> +“It is Kilgoff and his new wife,—do you know her?” + </p> +<p> +“No; she's not one of those pale girls we used to ride with at +Leamington?” + </p> +<p> +There was no time for reply, when the names were announced, “Lord and Lady +Kilgoff!” and a very weakly looking old man, with a blue inside vest, and +enormous diamond studs in his shirt, entered, supporting a very beautiful +young woman, whose proud step and glancing eye were strange contrasts to +his feeble and vacant expression. The hussars exchanged significant but +hasty glances, and fell back, while the others advanced up the room. +</p> +<p> +“Our excellent hostess,” said my Lord, in a low but distinct voice, “will +soon shame Wilton-Crescent itself in late hours. I fancy it 's nigh eight +o'clock.” + </p> +<p> +“It's not their fault, poor things,” said she, lying back in a chair and +disposing her magnificent dress into the most becoming folds; “people will +come late do what one may.” + </p> +<p> +“They may do so, that's very true; but I would beg to observe, you need +not wait for them.” This was said with a smile towards the hussars, as +though to imply, “There is no reason why you should not express an +opinion, if it agree with mine.” + </p> +<p> +The baronet immediately bowed, and smiling, so as to show a very white +range of teeth beneath his dark moustache, said, “In part, I agree with +your Lordship, but it requires the high hand of fashion to reform the +abuse.” Here a most insidious glance at her Ladyship most effectually +conveyed the point of his meaning. +</p> +<p> +Just then, in all the majesty of crimson velvet, Mrs. Kennyfeck appeared, +her comely person heaving under the accumulated splendor of lace, flowers, +and jewelry. Her daughters, more simply but still handsomely dressed, +followed, Mr. Kennyfeck bringing up the rear, in very evident confusion at +having torn his kid gloves,—a misfortune which he was not clear +should be buried in silence, or made the subject of public apology. +</p> +<p> +Lady Kilgoff received Mrs. Kennyfeck's excuses for being late with a very +quiet, gentle smile; but my Lord, less given to forgiveness, held his +watch towards Mr. Kennyfeck, and said, “There 's always an excuse for a +man of business, sir, or this would be very reprehensible.” Fortunately +for all parties the company now poured in faster; every instant saw some +two or three arrive. Indeed, with such speed did they appear, it seemed as +if they had all waited for a movement <i>en masse</i>: judges and +generals, with nieces and daughters manifold, country gentlemen, cliente, +the <i>élite</i> of Dublin diners-out, the Whites, the Rigbys, with their +ringleted girls, the young member for Mactark, the Solicitor-General and +Mrs. Knivett, and, at last, escorted by his staff of curates and small +vicars, came “the Dean” himself, conducting a very learned dissertation on +the musical properties of the “Chickgankazoo,”—a three-stringed +instrument of an African tribe, and which he professed to think “admirably +adapted for country congregations too poor to buy an organ! Any one could +play it, Softly could play it, Mrs. Kennyfeck could—” + </p> +<p> +“How do you do, Mr. Dean?” said that lady, in her sweetest of voices. +</p> +<p> +The Dean accepted the offered hand, but, without attending to the +salutation, went on with a very curious argument respecting the vocal +chords in the human throat, which he promised to demonstrate on any thin +lady in the company. +</p> +<p> +The Chief Secretary's fortunate arrival, however, rescued the devoted fair +one from the Dean's scientific ardor; for Mr. Meek was a great personage +in the chief circles of Dublin. Any ordinary manner, in comparison with +Mr. Downie Meek's, would be as linsey-woolsey to three-pile velvet! There +was a yielding softness, a delicious compliance about him, which won him +the world's esteem, and pointed him out to the Cabinet as the very man to +be “Secretary for Ireland.” Conciliation would be a weak word to express +the <i>suave</i> but winning gentleness of his official dealings. The most +frank of men, he was unbounded in professions, and if so elegant a person +could have taken a hint from so humble a source, we should say that he had +made his zoological studies available and imitated the cuttle-fish, since +when close penned by an enemy he could always escape by muddying the +water. In this great dialectic of the Castlereagh school he was perfect, +and could become totally unintelligible at the shortest notice. +</p> +<p> +After a few almost whispered words to his hostess, Mr. Meek humbly +requested to be presented to Mr. Cashel. Roland, who was then standing +beside Miss Kennyfeck, and listening to a rather amusing catalogue of the +guests, advanced to make the Secretary's acquaintance. Mr. Downie Meek's +approaches were perfect, and in the few words he spoke, most favorably +impressed Cashel with his unpretentious, unaffected demeanor. +</p> +<p> +“Are we waiting for any one, Mr. Kennyfeck?” said his spouse, with a +delicious simplicity of voice. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, certainly!” exclaimed her less accomplished husband; “Sir Andrew and +Lady Janet MacFarline and Lord Charles Frobisher have not arrived.” + </p> +<p> +“It appears to me,”—a favorite expression of his Lordship, with a +strong emphasis on the pronoun,—“it appears to me,” said Lord +Kilgoff, “that Sir Andrew MacFarline waits for the tattoo at the Royal +Barrack to dress for dinner;” and he added, somewhat lower, “I made a vow, +which I regret to have broken to-day, never to dine wherever he is +invited.” + </p> +<p> +“Here they come! here they come at last,” cried out several voices +together, as the heavy tread of carriage-horses was heard advancing, and +the loud summons of the footman resounded through the square. +</p> +<p> +Sir Andrew and Lady Janet MacFarline were announced in Mr. Pearse's most +impressive manner; and then, after a slight pause, as if to enable the +company to recover themselves from the shock of such august names, Lord +Charles Frobisher and Captain Foster. +</p> +<p> +Sir Andrew was a tall, raw-boned, high-cheeked old man, with a white head, +red nose, and a very Scotch accent, whose manners, after forty years' +training, still spoke of the time that he carried a halbert in the “Black +Watch.” Lady Janet was a little, grim-faced, gray-eyed old lady, with a +hunch, who, with a most inveterate peevishness of voice and a most decided +tendency to make people unhappy, was the terror of the garrison. +</p> +<p> +“We hae na kept ye waitin', Mrs. Kannyfack, I humbly hope?” said Sir +Andrew. +</p> +<p> +“A good forty minutes, Sir Andrew,” broke in Lord Kilgoff, showing his +watch; “but you are always the last.” + </p> +<p> +“He was not recorded as such in the official despatch from 'Maida,' my +Lord,” said Lady Janet, fiercely; “but with some people there is more +virtue in being early at dinner than first up the breach in an assault!” + </p> +<p> +“The siege will always keep hot, my Lady,” interposed a very +well-whiskered gentleman in a blue coat and two inside waistcoats; “the +soup will not.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, Mr. Linton,” said she, holding out two fingers, “why were n't you at +our picnic?” Then she added, lower: +</p> +<p> +“Give me your arm in to dinner. I can't bear that tiresome old man.” + Linton bowed and seemed delighted, while a scarcely perceptible motion of +the brows conveyed an apology to Miss Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +Dinner was at length announced, and after a little of what Sir Andrew +called “clubbing the battalions,” they descended in a long procession. +Cashel, after vainly essaying to secure either of the Kennyfeck girls as +his companion, being obliged to pair off with Mrs. White, the lady who +always declined, but never failed to come. +</p> +<p> +It is a singular fact in the physiology of Amphytrionism, that +second-class people can always succeed in a “great dinner,” though they +fail egregiously in all attempts at a small party. We reserve the reason +for another time, to record the fact that Mrs. Kennyfeck's table was both +costly and splendid. The soups were admirable, the Madeira perfect in +flavor, the pâtés as hot and the champagne as cold, the fish as fresh and +the venison as long kept, the curry as high seasoned and the pine-apple +ice as delicately simple, as the most refined taste could demand. The +material enjoyments were provided with elegance and abundance, and the +guests—the little chagrin of the long waiting over—all +disposed to be chatty and agreeable. +</p> +<p> +Like a tide first breaking on a low strand, in small and tiny ripples, +then gradually coming bolder in, with courage more assured, and greater +force, the conversation of a dinner usually runs; till at last at the high +flood the great waves tumble madly one upon another, and the wild chorus +of the clashing water wakes up “the spirit of the storm.” + </p> +<p> +Even without the aid of the “Physiologie du Goût,” people will talk of +eating while they eat; and so the chitchat was <i>cuisine</i> in all its +moods and tenses, each bringing to the common stock some new device in +cookery, and some anecdotes of his travelled experience in “gourmandise,” + and while Mr. Linton and Lord Charles celebrated the skill of the +“Cadran,” or the “Schwan” at Vienna, the Dean was critically explaining to +poor Mrs. Kennyfeck that Homer's heroes had probably the most perfect <i>rôti</i> +that ever was served, the juices of the meat being preserved in such large +masses. +</p> +<p> +“Soles, with a 'gratin' of fine gingerbread, I saw at Metternich's,” said +Mr. Linton, “and they were excellent.” + </p> +<p> +“I like old Jules Perregaux's idea better, what he calls his <i>côtelettes +à la financière</i>.” + </p> +<p> +“What are they? I never tasted them.” + </p> +<p> +“Very good mutton cutlets <i>en papillotte</i>, the envelopes being +billets de banque of a thousand francs each.” + </p> +<p> +“Is it permitted to help one's self twice, my Lord?” + </p> +<p> +“I called for the dish again, but found it had been too successful. De +Brigues did a neat thing that way, in a little supper he gave to the +artistes of the Opéra-Comique; the jellies were all served with rings in +them,—turquoise, diamond, emerald, pearl, and so on,—so that +the fair guests had all the excitement of a lottery as the <i>plat</i> +came round to them.” + </p> +<p> +“The kick-shaws required something o' that kind to make them endurable,” + said Sir Andrew, gruffly; “gie me a haggis, or a cockie-leekie.” + </p> +<p> +“What is that?” said Miss Kennyfeck, who saw with a sharp malice how +angrily Lady Janet looked at the notion of the coming explanation. +</p> +<p> +“I 'll tell ye wi' pleasure, Miss Kannyfack, hoo to mak' a cockie-leekie!” + </p> +<p> +“Cockie-leekie, <i>unde derivator</i> cockie-leekie?” cried the Dean, who, +having taken a breathing canter through Homer and Horace, was quite ready +for the moderns. +</p> +<p> +“What, sir?” asked Sir Andrew, not understanding the question. +</p> +<p> +“I say, what 's the derivation of your cockie-leekie,—the etymology +of the phrase?” + </p> +<p> +“I dinna ken, and I dinna care. It's mair needfu' that one kens hoo to +mak' it than to speer wha gave it the name of cockie-leekie.” + </p> +<p> +“More properly pronounced, <i>coq à lécher</i>,” said the inexorable Dean. +“The dish is a French one.” + </p> +<p> +“Did ever any one hear the like?” exclaimed Sir Andrew, utterly confounded +by the assertion. +</p> +<p> +“I confess, Sir Andrew,” said Linton, “it's rather hard on Scotland. They +say you stole all your ballad-music from Italy, and now they claim your +cookery for France!” + </p> +<p> +“The record,” said the Attorney-General, across the table, “was tried at +Trim. Your Lordships sat with the Chief Baron.” + </p> +<p> +“I remember perfectly; we agreed that the King's Bench ruled right, and +that the minor's claim was substantiated.” Then turning to Mrs. Kennyfeck, +who out of politeness had affected to take interest in what she could not +even understand a syllable of, he entered into a very learned dissertation +on “heritable property,” and the great difficulties that lay in the way of +defining its limits. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile “pipeclay,” as is not unsuitably styled mess-table talk, passed +among the military, with the usual quizzing about regimental oddities. +Brownrigg's cob, Hanshaw's whiskers, Talbot's buggy, and Carey's +inimitable recipe for punch, the Dean throwing in his negatives here and +there, to show that nothing was “too hot or too heavy” for his +intellectual fingers. +</p> +<p> +“Bad law! Mr. Chief Justice,” said he, in an authoritative tone. “Doves in +a cot, and coneys in a warren, go to the heir. With respect to deer—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh dear, how tiresome!” whispered Mrs. White to Cashel, who most heartily +assented to the exclamation. +</p> +<p> +“What's the name o' that beastie, young gentleman?” said Sir Andrew, who +overheard Cashel recounting some circumstances of Mexican life. +</p> +<p> +“The chiguire,—the wild hog of the Caraccas,” said Cashel. “They are +a harmless sort of animal, and lead somewhat an unhappy life of it; for +when they escape the crocodile in the river, they are certain to fall into +the jaws of the jaguar on land.” + </p> +<p> +“Pretty much like a member o' the Scotch Kirk in Ireland,” said Sir +Andrew, “wi' Episcopaalians on the tae haun, and Papishes on the tither. +Are thae creatures gude to eat, sir?” + </p> +<p> +“The flesh is excellent,” broke in the Dean. “They are the <i>Cavia-Capybara</i> +of Linnaeus, and far superior to our European swine.” + </p> +<p> +“I only know,” said Cashel, abruptly, “that <i>we</i> never eat them, +except when nothing else was to be had. They are rancid and fishy.” + </p> +<p> +“A mere prejudice, sir,” responded the Dean. “If you taste the chiguire, +to use the vulgar name, and let him lie in steep in a white-wine vinegar, +<i>en marinade</i>, as the French say—” + </p> +<p> +“Where are you to find the white-wine vinegar in the Savannahs?” said +Cashel. “You forget, sir, that we are speaking of a country where a fowl +roasted in its own feathers is a delicacy.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, how very singular! Do you mean that you eat it, feathers and all?” + said Mrs. White. +</p> +<p> +“No, madam. It's a prairie dish, which, I assure you, after all, is not to +be despised. The <i>plat</i> is made this way. You take a fowl,—the +wild turkey, when lucky enough to find one,—and cover him all over +with soft red clay; the river clay is the best. You envelop him +completely; in fact, you make a great ball, somewhat the size of a man's +head. This done, you light a fire, and bake the mass. It requires, +probably, five or six hours to make the clay perfectly hard and dry. When +it cracks, the dish is done. You then break open the shell, to the outside +of which the feathers adhere, and the fowl, deliciously roasted, stands +before you.” + </p> +<p> +“How very excellent,—<i>le poulet braisé</i> of the French, +exactly,” said Lord Kilgoff. +</p> +<p> +“How cruel!” “How droll!” “How very shocking!” resounded through the +table; the Dean the only one silent, for it was a theme on which, most +singular to say, he could neither record a denial nor a correction. +</p> +<p> +“I vote for a picnic,” cried Mrs. White, “and Mr. Cashel shall cook us his +<i>dinde à la Mexicaine</i>.” + </p> +<p> +“An excellent thought,” said several of the younger part of the company. +</p> +<p> +“A very bad one, in my notion,” said Lord Kilgoff, who had no fancy for +seeing her Ladyship scaling cliffs, and descending steep paths, when his +own frail limbs did not permit of accompanying her. “Picnics are about as +vulgar a pastime as one can imagine. Your dinner is ever a failure; your +wine detestable; your table equipage arrives smashed or topsy-turvy—” + “<i>Unde</i> topsy-turvy?—<i>unde</i>, topsy-turvy, Softly?” said +the Dean, turning fiercely on the curate. “Whence topsyturvy? Do you give +it up? Do you, Mr. Attorney? Do you, my Lord? do you give it up, eh? I +thought so! Topsy-turvy, <i>quasi</i>, top side t' other way.” + </p> +<p> +“It's vera ingenious,” said Sir Andrew; “but I maun say I see no +neecessity to be always looking back to whare a word gat his birth, +parentage, or eddication.” + </p> +<p> +“It suggests unpleasant associations,” said Lord Kilgoff, looking +maliciously towards Linton, who was playing too agreeable to her Ladyship. +“The etymology is the key to the true meaning. Sir, many of those +expressions popularly termed bulls—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, <i>apropos</i> of bulls,” said Mr. Meek, in his sweetest accent, “did +you hear of a very singular outrage committed yesterday upon the Lord +Lieutenant's beautiful Swiss bull?” + </p> +<p> +“Did the Dean pass an hour with him?” whispered Linton to Lady Janet, who +hated the dignitary. +</p> +<p> +“It must have been done by mesmerism, I fancy,” rejoined Mr. Meek. “The +animal, a most fierce one, was discovered lying in his paddock, so +perfectly fettered, head, horns, and feet, that he could not stir. There +is every reason to connect the outrage with a political meaning; for in +this morning's paper, 'The Green Isle,' there is a letter from Mr. +O'Bleather, with a most significant allusion to the occurrence. 'The time +is not distant,' says he, 'when John Bull,'—mark the phrase,—'tied, +fettered, and trammelled, shall lie prostrate at the feet of the once +victim of his tyranny.'” + </p> +<p> +“The sedition is most completely proven by the significance of the act,” + cried out the Chief Justice. +</p> +<p> +“We have, consequently, offered a reward for the discovery of the +perpetrators of this insolent offence, alike a crime against property, as +an act subversive of the respectful feeling due to the representative of +the sovereign.” + </p> +<p> +“What is the amount offered?” said Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“One hundred pounds, for such information as may lead to the conviction of +the person or persons transgressing,” replied the Attorney-General. +</p> +<p> +“I feel it would be very unfair to suffer the Government to proceed in an +error as to the affair in question; so that I shall claim the reward, and +deliver up the offender,” replied Cashel, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“Who can it be?” cried Mr. Meek, in astonishment “Myself, sir,” said +Cashel. “If you should proceed by indictment, as you speak of, I hope the +Misses Kennyfeck may not have to figure as 'aiding and abetting,' for they +were present when I lassoed the animal.” + </p> +<p> +“Lassoed the Swiss bull!” exclaimed several together. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/cash10162.jpg" alt="162" width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +“Nothing more simple,” said the Dean, holding up his napkin over Mrs. +Kennyfeck's head, to the manifest terror of that lady for her yellow +turban. “You take the loop of a long light rope, and, measuring the +distance with your eye, you make the cast, in this manner—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh dear! oh, Mr. Dean; my bird-of-paradise plume!” + </p> +<p> +“When you represent a bull, ma'am, you should not have feathers,” rejoined +the implacable Dean, with a very rough endeavor to restore the broken +plume. “Had you held your head lower down, in the attitude of a bull's +attack, I should have lassoed you at once, and without difficulty.” + </p> +<p> +“Lasso is part of the verb 'to weary,' 'to fatigue,' 'to <i>ennuyer,</i> +in fact,” said Mr. Linton, with an admirably-put-on simplicity; and a very +general smile ran through the company. +</p> +<p> +“When did you see Gosford?” said Meek, addressing one of the hussar +officers, eager to relieve the momentary embarrassment. +</p> +<p> +“Not for six months; he 's in Paris now.” “Does he mention <i>me</i> in +his letter to you?” + </p> +<p> +“He does,” said the other, but with an evident constraint, and a side-look +as he ended. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, faith, he forgets nane of us,” said Sir Andrew, with a grin. “He +asks after Kannyfack,—ould sax-and-eightpence, he ca's you,—and +says he wished you were at Paris, to gie him a dinner at the—what d' +ye ca' it?—the Roshy de something. I see he has a word for ye, my +Lord Kilgoff. He wants to know whether my leddie is like to gie ye an heir +to the ancient house o' Kilgoff, in whilk case he 'll no be so fond of +playing écarté wi' George Lushington, wha has naething to pay wi' except +post-obits on yer lordship,—he, he, he! Ay, and Charlie, my man,” + continued he, turning to the aide-de-camp, Lord Charles Frobisher, “he +asks if ye hauld four by honors as often as ye used formerly; he says +there 's a fellow at Paris ye could n't hold a candle to,—he never +deals the adversary a card higher than the nine.” + </p> +<p> +The whole company, probably in relief to the evident dismay created by the +allusion to Lord Kilgoff, laughed heartily at this sally, and none more +than the good-looking fellow the object of it. +</p> +<p> +“But what of Meek, sir?—what does he say of Downie?” + </p> +<p> +“He says vera little about Mister Meek, ava; he only inquires what changes +we have in the poleetical world, and where is that d—d humbug, +Downie Meek?” + </p> +<p> +Another and a heartier laugh now ran through the room, in which Mr. Downie +Meek cast the most Imploring looks around him. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” cried he, at last, “that's not fair; it is really not fair of +Gosford. I appeal to this excellent company if I deserve the title.” + </p> +<p> +A chorus of negatives went the round, with most energetic assurances of +dissenting from the censure of the letter. +</p> +<p> +“Come now, Sir Andrew,” said Meek, who for once, losing his balance, would +not even omit him in the number of approving voices,—“come, now, Sir +Andrew, I ask you frankly, am I a humbug?” + </p> +<p> +“I canna tell,” said the cautious old general, with a sly shake of the +head; “I can only say, sir, be ma saul, ye never humbugged <i>me!</i>” + </p> +<p> +This time the laugh was sincere, and actually shook the table. Mrs. +Kennyfeck, who now saw that Sir Andrew, to use the phrase employed by his +acquaintances, “was up,” determined to withdraw, and made her telegraphic +signals, which soon were answered along the line, save by Lady Janet, who +stubbornly adhered to her glass of claret, with some faint hope that the +lagging decanter might arrive in her neighborhood time enough for another. +</p> +<p> +Poor Mrs. Kennyfeck's devices to catch her eye were all in vain; as well +might some bore of the “House” hope for the Speaker's when he was fixedly +exchanging glances with “Sir Robert.” She ogled and smiled, but to no +purpose. +</p> +<p> +“My Leddy,—Leddy Janet,” said Sir Andrew. +</p> +<p> +“I hear you, sir; I heard you twice already. If you please, my Lord, a +very little,—Mr. Linton, I beg for the water. I believe, Sir Andrew, +you have forgotten Mr. Gosford's kind remembrances to the Dean.” + </p> +<p> +“Faith, and so I did, my Leddy. He asks after ye, Mr. Dean, wi' muckle +kindness and affection, and says he never had a hearty laugh syne the day +ye tried to teach Lady Caroline Jedyard to catch a sheep!” + </p> +<p> +The Dean looked stern, and Linton asked for the secret. +</p> +<p> +“It was by hauding the beast atween yer knees, and so when the Dean pit +himself i' the proper position, wi' his legs out, and the shepherd drove +the flock towards him, by sair ill-luck it was a ram cam first and he +hoisted his reverence up i' the air, and then laid him flat on his back, +amaist dead. Ech, sirs! but it was a sair fa', no' to speak o' the damage +done to his black breeches!” + </p> +<p> +This was too much for Lady Janet's endurance, and, amid the loud laughter +of some, and the more difficultly suppressed mirth of others, the ladies +arose. +</p> +<p> +“Yer na going, leddies! I hope that naething I said, Leddy Kilgoff, Leddy +Janet, ech. We mun e'en console ourselves wi' the claret.” This was said +<i>sotto</i>, as the door closed and the party reseated themselves at the +table. +</p> +<p> +“My Jo Janet <i>does</i> like to bide a wee,” muttered he, half aloud. +</p> +<p> +“Jo!” cried the Dean, “is derived from the Italian; it's a term of +endearment in both languages. It's a corruption of <i>Gioia mia</i>.” + </p> +<p> +“What may that mean?” + </p> +<p> +“My joy! my life!” + </p> +<p> +“Eh, that's it, is it? Ah, sir, these derivatives gat mony a twist and +turn in the way from one land to the tither!” And with this profound bit +of moralizing, he sipped his glass in revery. +</p> +<p> +The conversation now became more general, fewer personalities arose; and +as the Dean, after a few efforts to correct statements respecting the +“pedigrees of race-horses,” “the odds at hazard,” “the soundings upon the +coral reefs,” “the best harpoons for the sulphur-bottomed whales,” only +made new failures, he sulked and sat silent, permitting talk to take its +course uninterrupted. The hussar baronet paid marked attention to Cashel, +and invited him to the mess for the day following. Lord Charles overheard +the invitation, and said, “I'll join the party;” while Mr. Meek, leaning +over the table, in a low whisper begged Cashel to preserve the whole bull +adventure a secret, as the press was really a most malevolent thing in +Ireland! +</p> +<p> +During the while the Chief Justice slept profoundly, only waking as the +bottle came before him, and then dropping off again. The Attorney-General, +an overworked man of business, spoke little and guardedly, so that the +conversation, principally left to the younger members of the party, ranged +over the accustomed topics of hunting, shooting, and deer-stalking, varied +by allusion, on Cashel's part, to sports of far higher, because more +dangerous, excitement. +</p> +<p> +In the pleasant flurry of being attentively listened to,—a new +sensation for Roland,—he arose and ascended to the drawing-room, +where already a numerous party of refteshers had arrived. Here again +Cashel discovered that he was a person of notoriety, and as, +notwithstanding all Mr. Downie Meek's precaution, the “lasso” story had +got abroad, the most wonderful versions of the incident were repeated on +every side. +</p> +<p> +“How did you say he effected it, Mr. Linton?” said the old deaf Countess +of Dumdrum, making an ear-trumpet of her hand. +</p> +<p> +“By doing what Mr. Meek won't do with the Catholics, my Lady,—taking +the bull by the horns.” + </p> +<p> +“Don't you think he found conciliation of service besides?” suggested Mr. +Meek, with an angelic simplicity. +</p> +<p> +“Isn't he handsome! how graceful! So like a Corsair,—one of Byron's +heroes. I 'm dying to know him. Dear me, how those Kennyfeck girls eat him +up. Olivia never takes her eyes off him. He looks so bored, poor fellow! +he 's longing to be let alone.” Such were the muttered comments on the new +object of Dublin curiosity, who himself was very far from suspecting that +his personal distinction had less share in his popularity than his +rent-roll and his parchments. +</p> +<p> +As we are more desirous of recording the impression he himself created, +than of tracing how others appeared to him, we shall make a noiseless turn +of the salons, and, spy-fashion, listen behind the chairs. +</p> +<p> +“So you don't think him even good-looking, Lady Kilgoff?” said Mr. Linton, +as he stood half behind her seat. +</p> +<p> +“Certainly not more than good-looking, and not so much as nice-looking,—very +awkward, and ill at ease he seems.” + </p> +<p> +“That will wear off when he has the good taste to give up talking to young +ladies, and devote himself to the married ones.” + </p> +<p> +“Enchanting,—positively enchanting, my dear,” exclaimed Mrs. +Leicester White to a young friend beside her. “That description of the +forest, over which the lianas formed an actual roof, the golden fruit +hanging a hundred feet above the head, was the most gorgeous picture I +ever beheld.” + </p> +<p> +“I wish you could persuade him,” lisped a young lady with large blue eyes, +and a profusion of yellow hair in ringlets, “to write that little story of +the Zambo for Lady Blumter's Annual.” + </p> +<p> +“I say, Charlie,” whispered the baronet to the aide-decamp, “but he's +wide-awake, that Master Cashel; he's a very shrewd fellow, you'll see.” + </p> +<p> +“Do you mean to couch his eyes, Tom?” said Lord Charles, with his usual +slow, lazy intonation; “what does he say about the races,—will he +come?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, he can't promise, old Kennyfeck has a hold upon him just now about +law business.” + </p> +<p> +“You will impress upon him, my dear Mr. Kennyfeck,” said Mr. Meek, who +held the lappet of the other's coat, “that there are positively—so +to say—but two parties in the country,—the Gentleman and the +Jacobin. Whig and Tory, orange and green, have had their day; and the +question is now between those who have something to lose, and those who +have everything to gain.” + </p> +<p> +“I really could wish that you, who are so far better qualified than I am +to explain—” + </p> +<p> +“So I will; I intend, my dear sir. Now, when can you dine with me? You +must come this week; next I shall be obliged to be in London. Shall we say +Wednesday? Wednesday be it Above all, take care that he doesn't even meet +any of that dangerous faction,—those Morgans. They are the very +people to try a game of ascendancy over a young man of great prospects and +large fortune. O'Growl wants a few men of standing to give an air of +substance and respectability to the movement. Lord Witherton will be most +kind to your young friend, but you must press upon him the necessity of +being presented at once. We want to make him a D.L., and if he enters +Parliament, to give him the lieutenancy of the county.” + </p> +<p> +While all these various criticisms were circulating, and amid an +atmosphere, as it were, impregnated by plots and schemes of every kind, +Cashel stood a very amused spectator of a scene wherein he never knew he +was the chief actor. It would indeed have seemed incredible to him that he +could, by any change of fortune, become an object of interested +speculation to lords, ladies, members of the Government, Church +dignitaries, and others. He was unaware that the man of fortune, with a +hand to offer, a considerable share of the influence property always +gives, livings to bestow, and money to lose, may be a very legitimate mark +for the enterprising schemes of mammas and ministers, suggesting hopes +alike to black-coats and blacklegs. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps, among the pleasant bits of credulity which we enjoy through life, +there is none sweeter than that implicit faith we repose in the cordial +expressions and flattering opinions bestowed upon us, when starting in the +race, by many who merely, in the jockey phrase, “standing to win” upon us, +have their own, and not <i>our</i> interest before them in the +encouragement they bestow. +</p> +<p> +The discovery of the cheat is soon made, and we are too prone to revenge +our own over-confidence by a general distrust, from which, again, +experience, later on, rallies us. So that a young man's course is usually +from over-simplicity to over-shrewdness, and then again to that negligent +half-faith which either, according to the calibre of the wearer, conceals +deep knowledge of life, or hides a mistaken notion of it. Let us return to +Cashel, who now stood at the table, around which a considerable number of +the party were grouped, examining a number of drawings, which Mr. +Pepystell, the fashionable architect, had that day sent for Roland's +inspection; houses, villas, castles, cottages, abbeys, shooting-boxes, +gate-lodges, Tudor and Saxon, Norman and Saracenic,—everything that +the morbid imagination of architecture run mad could devise and amalgamate +between the chaste elegance of the Greek and the tinkling absurdity of the +Chinese. +</p> +<p> +“I do so love a cottage <i>ornée</i>,” said Mrs. White, taking up a very +beautiful representation of one, where rose-colored curtains, and a group +on a grass-plot, with gay dresses and parasols, entered into the composite +architecture. “To my fancy, that would be a very paradise.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, mamma! isn't that so like dear old Kilgoran!” said a tall, thin young +lady, handing an abbey, as large as Westminster, to another in widow's +black. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Maria! I wonder at your showing me what must bring up such sad +memories!” said the mamma, affectedly, while she pressed her handkerchief +to her eyes. +</p> +<p> +“If she means her father's house,” said Lady Janet to Linton, “it's about +as like a like as—Lord Kilgoff to the Farnese Hercules, or his wife +to any other lady in the peerage.” + </p> +<p> +“You remember Kilgoran, my Lord,” said the lady in black to the Chief +Justice; “does that remind you of it?” + </p> +<p> +“Very like,—very like, indeed, madam,” said the old judge, looking +at a rock-work grotto in a fish-pond. +</p> +<p> +“What's this?” cried another, taking up a great Saxon fortress, with +bastions and gate-towers and curtains, as gloomy and sombre as Indian-ink +could make it. +</p> +<p> +“As a residence I think that is far too solemn-looking and sad.” + </p> +<p> +“What did you say it was, sir?” asked the judge. +</p> +<p> +“The elevation for the new jail at Naas, my Lord,” replied Linton, +gravely. +</p> +<p> +“I 'm very glad to hear it. We have been sadly crippled for room there +latterly.” + </p> +<p> +“Do you approve of the Panopticon plan, my Lord?” said Mrs. White, who +never omitted a question when a hard word could be introduced. +</p> +<p> +“It is, madam,—you are perfectly correct,” said the obsequious old +judge,—“very much the same kind of thing as the Pantechnicon.” + </p> +<p> +“Talking of Panopticon, where 's Kilgoff?” whispered Linton to one of the +hussars. +</p> +<p> +“Don't you see him yonder, behind the harp? How that poor woman must be +bored by such <i>espionnage!</i>” + </p> +<p> +“If you mean to build a house, sir,” said Lady Janet, addressing Cashel, +with a tone of authority, “don't, I entreat of you, adopt any of these +absurd outrages upon taste and convenience, but have a good square stone +edifice.” + </p> +<p> +“Four, or even five stories high,” broke in Linton, gravely. +</p> +<p> +“Four quite enough,” resumed she, “with a roomy hall, and all the +reception-rooms leading off it. Let your bedrooms—” “Be numerous +enough, at all events,” said Linton again. +</p> +<p> +“Of course; and so arranged that you can devote one story to families +exclusively.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; the <i>garçons</i> should have their dens as remote as possible from +the quieter regions.” + </p> +<p> +“Have a mass of small sitting-rooms beside the larger salons. In a +country-house there's nothing like letting people form their own little +coteries.” + </p> +<p> +“Wouldn't you have a theatre?” asked Mrs. White. +</p> +<p> +“There might be, if the circumstances admitted. But with a billiard-room +and a ball-room—” + </p> +<p> +“And a snug crib for smoking,” whispered one of the military. +</p> +<p> +“I don't see any better style of house,” said Linton, gravely, “than those +great hotels one finds on the Rhine, and in Germany generally. They have +ample accommodation, and are so divided that you can have your own suite +of rooms to yourself.” + </p> +<p> +“Mathews used to keep house after that fashion,” said Lord Kilgoff, +approaching the table. “Every one ordered his own dinner, and eat it +either in his own apartment or in the dining-room. You were invited for +four days, never more.” + </p> +<p> +“That was a great error; except in that particular, I should recommend the +plan to Mr. Roland Cashel's consideration.” + </p> +<p> +“I never heard of it before,” said Cashel; “pray enlighten me on the +subject.” + </p> +<p> +“A very respectable country gentleman, sir,” said Lord Kilgoff, “who had +the whim to see his company without paying what he deemed the heaviest +penalty,—the fatigue of playing host. He therefore invited his +friends to come and do what they pleased,—eat, drink, drive, ride, +play,—exactly as they fancied; only never to notice him otherwise +than as one of the guests.” + </p> +<p> +“I like his notion prodigiously,” cried Cashel; “I should be delighted to +imitate him.” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing easier, sir,” said my Lord, “with Mr. Linton for your prime +minister; the administration is perfectly practicable.” + </p> +<p> +“Might I venture on such a liberty?” + </p> +<p> +“Too happy to be president of your council,” said Linton, gayly. +</p> +<p> +A very entreating kind of look from Olivia Kennyfeck here met Cashel's +eyes, and he remarked that she left the place beside the table and walked +into the other room; he himself, although dying to follow her, had no +alternative but to remain and continue the conversation. +</p> +<p> +“The first point, then,” resumed Linton, “is the house. In what state is +your present mansion?” + </p> +<p> +“A ruin, I believe,” said Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“How picturesque!” exclaimed Mrs. Leicester White. +</p> +<p> +“I fancy not, madam,” rejoined Cashel. “I understand it is about the least +prepossessing bit of stone and mortar the country can exhibit.” + </p> +<p> +“No matter, let us see it; we 'll improvise something, and get it ready +for the Christmas holidays,” said Linton. “We have—let us see—we +have about two months for our preparation, and, therefore, no time to +lose. We must premise to the honorable company that our accommodation is +of the simplest; 'roughing' shall be the order of the day. Ladies are not +to look for Lyons silk ottomans in their dressing-rooms, nor shall we +promise that our conservatory furnish a fresh bouquet for each fair guest +at breakfast.” + </p> +<p> +“Two months are four centuries!” said Mrs. White; “we shall accept of no +apologies for any shortcomings, after such an age of time to prepare.” + </p> +<p> +“You can have your fish from Limerick every day,” said an old +bluff-looking gentleman in a brown wig. +</p> +<p> +“There 's a capital fellow, called Tom Cox, by the way, somewhere down in +that country, who used to paint our scenes for the garrison theatricals. +Could you make him out, he 'd be so useful,” said one of the military. +</p> +<p> +“By all means get up some hurdle-racing,” cried another. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile, Roland Cashel approached Olivia Kennyfeck, who was affecting to +seek for some piece of music on the pianoforte. +</p> +<p> +“Why do you look so sad?” said he, in a low tone, and seeming to assist +her in the search. +</p> +<p> +“Do I?” said she, with the most graceful look of artless-ness. “I 'm sure +I did n't know it.” + </p> +<p> +“There again, what a deep sigh that was; come, pray tell me, if I dare to +know, what has grieved you?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, nothing, nothing whatever. I 'm sure I never felt in better spirits. +Dear me! Mr. Cashel, how terrified I am, there's that dreadful Lady Janet +has seen us talking together.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, and what then?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, she is so mischievous, and says such horrid, spite-ful things. It was +she that said it—” + </p> +<p> +“Said what,—what did she say?” cried he, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, what have I done?” exclaimed she, covering her face with her hands. +“Not for the world would I have said the words. Oh, Mr. Cashel, you, who +are so good and so generous, do not ask me more.” + </p> +<p> +“I really comprehend nothing of all this,” said Cashel, who now began to +suspect that she had overheard some speech reflecting upon him, and had, +without intending, revealed it; “at the same time, I must say, if I had +the right, I should insist on knowing what you heard.” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps he has the right,” muttered she, half aloud, as if speaking +unconsciously; “I believe he has.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, yes, be assured of it; what were the words?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, I shall die of shame. I 'll never be able to speak to you again; but +don't look angry, promise that you 'll forget them, swear you 'll never +think of my having told them, and I'll try.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, anything, everything; let me hear them.” + </p> +<p> +“Well,”—here she hung her head till the long ringlets fell straight +from her fair forehead, and half concealed the blushing cheek, which each +moment grew redder,—“I am so terrified, but you 'll forgive it,—I +know you will,—well, she said, looking towards you, 'I am not +acquainted with this young gentleman yet, but if I should have that honor +soon I 'll take the liberty to tell him that the worthy father's zeal in +his service is ill-requited by his stealing the affections of his youngest +daughter.'” Scarcely were the words uttered, when, as if the strength that +sustained her up to that moment suddenly failed, she reeled back and sank +fainting on a sofa. +</p> +<p> +Happily for Cashel's character for propriety, a very general rush of +ladies, old and young, to the spot, prevented him taking her in his arms +and carrying her to the balcony for air; but a universal demand for sal +volatile, aromatic vinegar, open windows, and all the usual restoratives +concealed his agitation, which really was extreme. +</p> +<p> +“You are quite well now, dearest,” said her mamma, bathing her temples, +and so artistically as to make her pale face seem even more beautiful in +the slight dishevelment of her hair. “It was the heat.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, mamma,” muttered she, quite low. +</p> +<p> +“Hem! I thought so,” whispered Lady Janet to a neighbor. “She was too +warm.” + </p> +<p> +“I really wish that young ladies would reserve these scenes for fitting +times and places. That open window has brought back my lumbago,” said Lord +Kilgoff. +</p> +<p> +“The true treatment for syncope,” broke in the Dean, “is not by +stimulants. The want of blood on the brain is produced by mechanical +causes, and you have merely to hold the person up by the legs—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Dean! Oh, fie!” cried twenty voices together. +</p> +<p> +“The Dean is only exemplifying his etymology on 'top side t'other way,'” + cried Linton. +</p> +<p> +“Lord Kilgoff's carriage stops the way,” said a servant. And now, the +first announcement given, a very general air of leave-taking pervaded the +company. +</p> +<p> +“Won't you have some more muffling?—nothing round <i>your</i> +throat?—a little negus, my Lord, before venturing into the night +air.”—“How early!”—“How late!”—“What a pleasant +evening!”—“What a fine night!”—“May I offer you my arm?—mind +that step—goodbye, good-bye—don't forget to-morrow.”—“Your +shawl S is blue—that's Lady Janet's.”—“Which is your hat?”— +</p> +<p> +“That's not mine. Thanks—don't take so much trouble.”—“Not +your carriage, it is the next but one—mind the draught.”—A +hundred good-nights, and they are gone! So ends a dinner-party, and of all +the company not a vestige is seen, save the blaze of the low-burned +wax-lights, the faded flowers, the deranged furniture, and the jaded looks +of those whose faces wreathed in smiles for six mortal hours seek at last +the hard-bought and well-earned indulgence of a hearty yawn! +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIII. TUBBER-BEG. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +He was, the world said, a jovial fellow, +Who ne'er was known at Fortune to repine; +Increasing years had rendered him more mellow, +And age improved him—as it did his wine. + +Sir Gavin Gwynne. +</pre> +<p> +The Shannon, after expanding into that noble sheet of water called Lough +Derg, suddenly turns to the southward, and enters the valley of Killaloe, +one of the most beautiful tracts of country which Ireland, so rich in +river scenery, can boast. The transition from the wide lake, with its +sombre background of gray mountain and rocky islands, bleak and bare, to +the cultivated aspect of this favored spot, is like that experienced in +passing from beneath the gloom of lowering thunder-clouds into light and +joyous sunshine. Rich waving woods of every tint and hue of foliage, with +here and there some spreading lawns of deepest green, clothe the mountains +on either side, while in bright eddies the rapid river glides in between, +circling and winding as in playful wantonness, till in the far distance it +is seen passing beneath the ancient bridge of Killaloe, whose cathedral +towers stand out against the sky. +</p> +<p> +On first emerging from the lake, the river takes an abrupt bend, round a +rocky point, and then, sweeping back again in a bold curve, forms a little +bay of deep and tranquil water, descending towards which the rich meadows +are seen, dotted with groups of ancient forest trees, and backed by a +dense skirting of timber. At one spot, where the steep declivity of the +ground scarce affords footing for the tall ash-trees, stands a little +cottage, at the extremity of which is an old square tower; this is +Tubber-beg. +</p> +<p> +As you sail down the river you catch but one fleeting glance at the +cottage, and when you look again it is gone! The projecting headlands, +with the tall trees, have hidden it, and you almost fancy that you have +not seen it. If you enter the little bay, however, and, leaving the strong +current, run into the deep water under shore, you arrive at a spot which +your memory will retain for many a day after. +</p> +<p> +In front of the cottage, and descending by a series of terraces to which +art has but little contributed, are a number of flower-plots, whose +delicious odors float over the still water, while in every gorgeous hue +are seen the camellia, the oleander, and the cactus, with the tulip, the +ranunculus, and the carnation,—all flourishing in a luxuriance which +care and the favored aspect of this sheltered nook combine to effect. +Behind and around, on either side, the dark-leaved holly, the laurustinus, +and the arbutus are seen in all the profusion of leaf and blossom a mild, +moist air secures, and forming a framework in which stands the cottage +itself, its deep thatched eave, and porch of rustic-work trellised and +festooned with creeping plants, almost blending its color with the +surrounding foliage. Through the open windows a peep within displays the +handsomely disposed rooms, abounding in all the evidences of cultivated +taste and refinement. Books in several of the modern languages are +scattered on the table, music, drawings of the surrounding scenery, in +water-color or pencil,—all that can betoken minds carefully trained +and exercised, and by their very diversity showing in what a world of +self-stored resources their possessors must live; the easel, the +embroidery-frame, the chess-board, the half-finished manuscript, the newly +copied music, the very sprig of fern which marks the page in the little +volume on botany,—slight things in themselves, but revealing so much +of daily life! +</p> +<p> +If the cottage be an almost ideal representation of rustic elegance and +simplicity, its situation is still more remarkable for beauty; for while +Art has developed all the resources of the ground, Nature, in her own +boundless profusion, has assembled here almost every ingredient of the +picturesque, and as if to impart a sense of life and motion to the stilly +calm, a tumbling sheet of water gushes down between the rocks, and in +bounding leaps descends towards the Shannon, of which it is a tributary. +</p> +<p> +A narrow path, defended by a little railing of rustic-work, separates the +end of the cottage from the deep gorge of the waterfall; but through the +open window the eye can peer down into the boiling abyss of spray and foam +beneath, and catch a glimpse of the bridge which, formed of a fallen +ash-tree, spans the torrent. +</p> +<p> +Traversed in every direction by paths, some galleried along the face, +others cut in the substance of the rock, you can pass hours in rambling +among these wild and leafy solitudes, now lost in shade, now emerging +again, to see the great river gliding along, the white sails dotting its +calm surface. +</p> +<p> +Well did Mr. Kennyfeck observe to Roland Cashel that it was the most +beautiful feature of his whole demesne, and that its possession by another +not only cut him off from the Shannon in its handsomest part, but actually +deprived the place of all pretension to extent and grandeur. The spreading +woods of Tubbermore were, as it seemed, the background to the cottage +scene, and possessed no character to show that they were the property of +the greater proprietor. +</p> +<p> +The house itself was not likely to vindicate the claim the locality +denied. It was built with a total disregard to aspect or architecture. It +was a large four-storied edifice, to which, by way of taking off from the +unpicturesque height, two wings had been planned: one of these only was +finished; the other, half built, had been suffered to fall into ruin. At +the back, a high brick wall enclosed a space intended for a garden, but +never put into cultivation, and now a mere nursery of tall docks and +thistles, whose gigantic size almost overtopped the wall. All the dirt and +slovenliness of a cottier habitant—for the house was occupied by +what is misnamed “a caretaker”—were seen on every hand. One of the +great rooms held the family; its fellow, on the opposite side of the hall, +contained a cow and two pigs; cabbage-stalks and half-rotting potato-tops +steamed their pestilential vapors beneath the windows; while half-naked +children added the discord, the only thing wanting to complete the sum of +miserable, squalid discomfort, so sadly general among the peasantry. +</p> +<p> +If one needed an illustration of the evils of absenteeism, a better could +not be found than in the ruinous, damp, discolored building, with its +falling roof and broken windows. The wide and spreading lawn, thick grown +with thistles; the trees broken or barked by cattle; the gates that hung +by a single hinge, or were broken up piecemeal for firing,—all +evidenced the sad state of neglectful indifference by which property is +wrecked and a country ruined! Nor was the figure then seated on the broken +doorstep an unfitting accompaniment to such a scene,—a man somewhat +past the middle period of life, whose ragged, tattered dress bespoke great +poverty, his worn hat drawn down over his eyes so as partly to conceal a +countenance by no means prepossessing; beside him lay a long old-fashioned +musket, the stock mended by some rude country hand. This was Tom Keane, +the “caretaker,” who, in all the indolent enjoyment of office, sat smoking +his “dudeen,” and calmly surveying the process by which a young heifer was +cropping the yearling shoots of an ash-tree. +</p> +<p> +Twice was his name called by a woman's voice from within the house before +he took any notice of it. +</p> +<p> +“Arrah, Tom, are ye asleep?” said she, coming to the door, and showing a +figure whose wretchedness was even greater than his own; while a certain +delicacy of feature, an expression of a mild and pleasing character, still +lingered on a face where want and privation had set many a mark. “Tom, +alanah!” said she, in a tone of coaxing softness, “sure it's time to go +down to the post-office. Ye know how anxious the ould man is for a +letter.” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, and he has rayson, too,” said Tom, without stirring. +</p> +<p> +“And Miss Mary herself was up here yesterday evening to bid you go early, +and, if there was a letter, to bring it in all haste.” + </p> +<p> +“And what for need I make haste?” said the man, sulkily. “Is it any +matther to me whether he gets one or no? Will <i>I</i> be richer or +poorer? Poorer!” added he, with a savage laugh; “be gorra! that wud be +hard, anyhow. That's a comfort old Oorrigan hasn't. If they turn him out +of the place, then he'll know what it is to be poor!” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, Tom, acushla! don't say <i>that</i>, and he so good to us, and the +young lady that was so kind when the childer had the measles, comin' twice—no, +but three times a day, with everything she could think of.” + </p> +<p> +“Wasn't it to please herself? Who axed her?” said Tom, savagely. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” sighed the woman. “Them's the hard words,—'to +please herself!'” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, just so! When ye know them people as well as me, you 'll say the +same. That's what they like,—to make themselves great among the +poor; giving a trifle here, and a penny there; making gruel for this one, +and tay for that; marchin' in as if they owned the house, and turning up +their noses at everything they see. 'Why don't you sweep before the door, +Nancy?'—'Has the pig any right to be eating there out of the kish +with the childer?'—'Ye ought to send that child to school'—and, +'What's your husband doing?'—That's the cry with them. 'What's your +husband doing? Is he getting the wheat in, or is he at the potatoes?' Tear +and ages!” cried he, with a wild energy, “what does any one of themselves +do from morning till night, that they 're to come spyin' after a poor man, +to ax 'Is he workin' like a naygur?' But we 'll teach them something yet,—a +lesson they 're long wanting. Listen to this.” + </p> +<p> +He took, as he spoke, a soiled and ragged newspaper from his pocket, and +after seeking some minutes for the place, he read, in a broken voice:— +</p> +<p> +“'The days to come'—ay, here it is—'The days to come.—Let +the poor man remember that there is a future before him that, if he have +but courage and boldness, will pay for the past. Turn about's fair play, +my lords and gentlemen! You 've had the pack in your own hands long +enough, and dealt yourselves all the trumps. Now, give us the cards for a +while. You say our fingers are dirty; so they are, with work and toil, +black and dirty! but not as black as your own hearts. Hurrah! for a new +deal on a bran-new table: Ireland the stakes, and the players her own +stout sons!' Them's fine sintiments,” said he, putting up the paper. “Fine +sintiments! and the sooner we thry them the better. That's the real song,” + said he, reciting with energy,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“'Oh! the days to come, the days to come, +When Erin shall have her own, boys! +When we 'll pay the debts our fathers owed, +And reap what they have sown, boys!'” + </pre> +<p> +He sprang to his feet as he concluded, shouldering his musket, strode out +as if in a marching step, and repeating to himself, as he went, the last +line of the song. About half an hour's brisk walking brought him to a low +wicket which opened on the high road, a little distance from which stood +the small village of Derraheeny, the post-town of the neighborhood. The +little crowd which usually assembled at the passing of the coach had +already dispersed, when Tom Keane presented himself at the window, and +asked, in a tone of voice subdued almost to softness,— +</p> +<p> +“Have you anything for Mr. Corrigan this morning, ma'am?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; there are two letters and a newspaper,” replied a sharp voice from +within. “One-and-fourpence to pay.” + </p> +<p> +“She did n't give me any money, ma'am, but Miss Mary said—” + </p> +<p> +“You can take them,” interrupted the post-mistress, hastily handing them +out, and slamming the little window to at the same instant. +</p> +<p> +“There's more of it!” muttered Tom; “and if it was for <i>me</i> the +letters was, I might sell my cow before I 'd get trust for the price of +them!” And with this reflection he plodded moodily homeward. Scarcely, +however, had he entered the thick plantation than he seated himself +beneath a tree, and proceeded to take a careful and strict scrutiny of the +two letters; carefully spelling over each address, and poising them in his +hands, as if the weight could assist his guesses as to the contents. +“That's Mr. Kennyfeck's big seal. I know it well,” said he, gazing on the +pretentious coat-of-arms which emblazoned the attorney's letter. “I can +make nothing of the other at all. 'Cornelius Corrigan, Esq., Tubber-beg, +Derraheeny,'—sorra more!” It was in vain that he held it open, +lozenge fashion, to peep within; but one page only was written, and he +could not see that. Kennyfeck's letter was enclosed in an envelope, so +that here, too, he was balked, and at last was fain to slip the newspaper +from its cover,—a last resource to learn something underhand! The +newspaper did not contain anything peculiarly interesting, save in a +single paragraph, which announced the intention of Roland Cashel, Esq., of +Tubbermore Castle, to contest the county at the approaching general +election. “We are informed,” said the writer, “on competent authority, +that this gentleman intends to make the ancestral seat his chief residence +in future, and that already preparations are making to render this +princely mansion in every respect worthy of the vast fortune of its +proprietor.” + </p> +<p> +“Faith, and the 'princely mansion' requires a thing or two to make it all +perfect,” said Tom, with a sardonic laugh; while in a lower tone he +muttered,—“maybe, for all the time he 'll stay there, it's not worth +his while to spend the money on it.” Having re-read the paragraph, he +carefully replaced the paper in its cover, and continued his way, not, +however, towards his own home, but entering a little woodland path that +led direct towards the Shannon. After passing a short distance, he came to +a little low edge of beech and birch, through which a neat rustic gate led +and opened upon a closely shaven lawn. The neatly gravelled walk, the +flower-beds, the delicious perfume that was diffused on every side, the +occasional peeps at the eddying river, and the cottage itself seen at +intervals between the evergreens that studded the lawn, were wide +contrasts to the ruinous desolation of the “Great House;” and as if +unwilling to feel their influence, Tom pulled his hat deeper over his +brows, and never looked at either side as he advanced. The part of the +cottage towards which he was approaching contained a long veranda, +supported by pillars of rustic-work, within which, opening by three large +windows, was the principal drawing-room. Here, now, at a small +writing-table, sat a young girl, whose white dress admirably set off the +graceful outline of her figure, seen within the half-darkened room; her +features were pale, but beautifully regular, and the masses of her hair, +black as night, which she wore twisted on the back of the head, like a +cameo, gave a character of classic elegance and simplicity to the whole. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/cash10181.jpg" alt="181 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +Without, and under the veranda, an old man, tall, and slightly bowed in +the shoulders, walked slowly up and down. It needed not the careful nicety +of his long queue., the spotless whiteness of his cambric shirt and vest, +nor the perfection of his nicely fitting nankeen pantaloons, to bespeak +him a gentleman of the past day. There was a certain <i>suave</i> +gentleness in his bland look, an air of easy courtesy in his every motion, +a kind of well-bred mannerism in the very carriage of his gold-headed +cane, that told of a time when the graces of deportment were a study, and +when our modern careless freedom had been deemed the very acme of +rudeness. He was dictating, as was his wont each morning, some +reminiscence of his early life, when he had served in the Body-Guard of +Louis XVI., and where he had borne his part in the stormy scenes of that +eventful era. The memory of that most benevolent monarch, the fascinations +of that queen whom to serve was to idolize, had sufficed to soften the +hardships of a life which, from year to year, pressed more heavily, and +were at last, after many a straggle, impressing their lines upon a brow +where age alone had never written grief. +</p> +<p> +On the morning in question, instead of rapidly pouring forth his +recollections, which usually came in groups, pressing one upon the other, +he hesitated often, sometimes forgetting “where he was,” in his narrative, +and more than once ceasing to speak altogether; he walked in revery, and +seeming deeply preoccupied. +</p> +<p> +His granddaughter had noticed this change; but cautiously abstaining from +anything that might betray her consciousness, she sat, pen in hand, +waiting, her lustrous eyes watching each gesture with an intensity of +interest that amounted to actual suffering. +</p> +<p> +“I fear, Mary,” said he, with an effort to smile, “we must give it up for +to-day. The present is too strong for the past, just as sorrow is always +an overmatch for joy. Watching for the post has routed all my thoughts, +and I can think of nothing but what tidings may reach me from Dublin.” + </p> +<p> +“You have no fears, sir,” said she, rising, and drawing her arm within +his, “that your application could be rejected. You ask nothing unusual or +unreasonable,—a brief renewal of a lease where you have expended a +fortune.” + </p> +<p> +“True, true, dear child. Let us, however, not look on the case with our +eyes alone, but see it as others may.. But here comes Tom.—Well, +what news, Tom; are there letters?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, sir, here's two; there's one-and-fourpence to be paid.” + </p> +<p> +“Let me see them,” cried the old man, impatiently, as he snatched them, +and hastily re-entered the house. +</p> +<p> +“Is Cathleen better to-day?” said the young lady, addressing the peasant. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, miss, glory be to God, she's betther. Thanks to yourself and Him. +Oh, then, it's of yer beautiful face she does be dramin' every night. Says +she, 'It's Miss Mary, I think, is singing to me, when I hear the birds in +my sleep.'” + </p> +<p> +“Poor child, give her this little book for me, and say I 'll come up and +see her this evening, if I can. Mrs. Moore will send her the broth; I hope +she 'll soon be able to eat something. Good-bye, Tom.” + </p> +<p> +A deep-drawn heavy sigh from within the cottage here made her abruptly +conclude the interview and hasten in. The door of her grandfather's little +dressing-room was, however, locked; and after a noiseless effort to turn +the handle, she withdrew to the drawing-room to wait in deep anxiety for +his coming. +</p> +<p> +The old man sat with his head supported on both hands, gazing steadfastly +at two open letters which lay on the table before him; had they contained +a sentence of death, his aspect could scarce have been more sad and +sorrow-struck. One was from Mr. Kennyfeck, and ran thus: +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dear Mr. Corrigan,—I have had a brief conversation with Mr. +Roland Cashel on the subject of your renewal, and I am +grieved to say that he does not seem disposed to accede to +your wishes. Entertaining, as he does, the intention to make +Tubbermore his chief residence in Ireland, his desire is, I +believe, to connect the farm in your holding with the +demesne. This will at once explain that it is not a question +of demanding a higher rent from you, but simply of carrying +out a plan for the enlargement and improvement of the +grounds pertaining to the “Hall.” + +The matter, is, however, by no means decided upon; nor will +it be, in all probability, before you have an opportunity of +meeting Mr. Cashel personally. His present intention is to +visit your neighborhood next week. + +I am, dear sir, truly yours, + +M. Kennyfeck. Cornelius Corrigan, Esq., Tubber-beg Cottage. +</pre> +<p> +The second letter was as follows:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Simpkins and Green have the honor to forward for +acceptance the enclosed bill for two hundred and seventeen +pounds, at three months, Mr. Heneage Leicester, of New +Orleans, on Mr. Corrigan. + +“They are authorized also to state that Mr. Leicester's +affairs have suffered considerably from the consequence of +the commercial distress at N. O., and his personal property +has been totally lost by the earthquake which took place on +the 11th and 12th ultimo. He therefore trusts to Mr. C——— +'s efforts to contribute to his aid by a greater exertion +than usual, and will draw upon him for two sums of one +hundred, at dates of six and nine months, which he hopes may +suit his convenience, and be duly honored. Mr. Leicester +continues to hope that he may be able to visit Europe in the +spring, where his great anxiety to see his daughter will +call him.” + </pre> +<p> +“The ruin is now complete,” said the old man. “I have struggled for years +with poverty and privation to ward off this hour; but, like destiny, it +will not be averted! Despoiled of fortune; turned from the home where I +have lived from my childhood; bereft of all! I could bear up still if she +were left to me; but now, he threatens to take <i>her</i>, my child, my +hope, my life! And the world will stand by him, and say, 'He is her +father!' He, that broke the mother's heart,—my own darling girl!—and +now comes to rob me—a poor helpless old man—of all my +companionship and my pride. Alas, alas! the pride, perhaps, deserves the +chastisement. Poor Mary, how will she ever learn to look on him with a +daughter's affection?—What a life will hers be! and this deception,—how +will it, how can it ever be explained? I have always said that he was +dead.” + </p> +<p> +Such, in broken half-sentences, were the words he spoke, while +thick-coming sobs almost choked his utterance. +</p> +<p> +“This cannot be helped,” said he, taking up the pen and writing his name +across the bill. “So much I can meet by selling our little furniture here; +we shall need it no more, for we have no longer a home. Where to, then?” + </p> +<p> +He shook his hands in mournful despair, and walked towards the window. +Mary was standing outside, in the little flower-garden, assisting the old +gardener to fasten some stray tendrils of a japonica between two trees. +</p> +<p> +“We must try and shelter this window, Ned,” said she, “from the morning +sun. It comes in too strongly here in papa's library. By next summer, I +hope to see a thick trellis of leaves across the whole casement.” + </p> +<p> +“By next summer,” repeated the old man, from within, with a trembling +voice; “and who will be here to see it?” + </p> +<p> +“This little hedge, too, must be overgrown with that creeping plant we got +from America, the white liana. I want the beech to be completely hid +beneath the blossoms, and they come out in May.” + </p> +<p> +“In May!” said the poor old man, with an accent of inexpressible sadness, +as though the very promise of spring had unfolded a deep vista of years of +suffering. “But why care for the home, if she, who made its sunshine, is +taken from me? What matters it where I linger on, or how, the last few +hours of a life, bereft of its only enjoyment,—she, that in my old +age renewed all the memories of my early and my happy days.” + </p> +<p> +He sat down and covered his face with his hands; and when he withdrew +them, the whole character and expression of the countenance had changed: a +dull, meaningless look had replaced the mild and cheerful beam of his soft +blue eyes; the cheeks were flattened, and the mouth, so ready with its +gentle smile, now remained partly open, and slightly drawn to one side. He +made an effort to speak, but a thickened guttural utterance rendered the +words scarcely intelligible. He approached the window and beckoned with +his hand. The next instant, pale with terror, but still composed and +seeming calm, Mary was beside him. +</p> +<p> +“You are not well, dear papa,” she said, with a great effort to appear at +ease. “You must lie down—here will do—on this sofa; I 'll +close the curtain, and send over for Tiernay,—he said he should be +back from Limerick this morning.” + </p> +<p> +A gentle pressure of her hand to his lips, and a faint smile, seemed to +assent. +</p> +<p> +She opened the window, and whispered a few words to the gardener; and +then, closing it noiselessly, drew the curtain, and sat down on a low +stool beside the sofa where he lay. +</p> +<p> +So still and motionless did he remain that she thought he slept,—indeed, +the long-drawn breathing, and the repose of his attitude, betokened sleep. +</p> +<p> +Mary did not venture to move, but sat, one hand clasped in his, the other +resting on his forehead, still and silent. +</p> +<p> +The darkened room, the unbroken silence, the figure of him in whom was +centred her every thought and hope, lying sick before her, sank with a +dreary weight upon her heart; and in the gloom of her sorrow dark +foreboding of future evil arose, vague terrors of trials, new and hard to +bear! That strange prescience, which never is wanting in great +afflictions, and seems itself a Heaven-sent warning to prepare for the +coming blow, revealed a time of sore trouble and calamity before her. “Let +him be but spared to me,” she cried, in her heart-uttered prayer, “and let +me be so fashioned in spirit and temper that I may minister to him through +every hour,—cheering, consoling, and encouraging; giving of <i>my</i> +youth its gift of hopefulness and trust, and borrowing of <i>his</i> age +its serenity and resignation. But oh that I may not be left solitary and +alone, unfriended and unsupported!” A gush of tears, the first she shed, +here burst forth, and, in the transport of her grief, brought calm to her +mind once more. +</p> +<p> +A low tap at the window, and a voice in whisper aroused her. “It is the +doctor, miss,—Dr. Tiernay,” said the gardener. +</p> +<p> +A motion to admit him was all her reply, and with noiseless step the +physician entered and approached the sofa. He felt the pulse, and listened +to the respiration of the sick man; and then, withdrawing the curtain so +as to let the light fall upon his features, steadily contemplated their +expression. As he looked, his own countenance grew graver and sadder; and +it was with an air of deep solemnity that he took Mary's hand and led her +from the room. +</p> +<p> +With a weight like lead upon her heart Mary moved away. “When did it +happen?” whispered he, when he had closed the door behind them. +</p> +<p> +“Happen!” gasped she, in agony; “what do you mean?” + </p> +<p> +“I meant when—this—occurred,” replied he, faltering; “was he +in his usual health this morning?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, perfectly,—a little less composed; anxious about his letters; +uneasy at the delay,—but no more.” + </p> +<p> +“You do not know if he received any unpleasant tidings, or heard anything +to distress him?” + </p> +<p> +“He may have done so,” answered she, sadly, “for he locked his door and +read over his letters by himself. When I saw him next, he was standing at +the window, and beckoning to me.” + </p> +<p> +A gentle tap at the door here interrupted the colloquy, and the old +housekeeper whispered, “The master, miss, wants to spake with the doctor; +he's better now.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, let me see him,” cried Mary, springing towards the door. But Dr. +Tiernay interposed gently, and said, “No, this might prove dangerous; +remain here till I have seen and spoken with him.” Mary assented by a +gesture, and sat down without speaking. +</p> +<p> +“Sit down, Tiernay,” said the sick man, as the doctor came to his bedside,—“sit +down, and let me speak while I have strength. Everything is against us, +Tiernay. We are not to get the renewal; this young Mr. Cashel wants the +cottage,—we must turn out. I'll have to do so, even before the +gale-day; but what matter about me! It 's that poor child I 'm thinking of—” + Here he stopped, and was some minutes before he could resume. “There,—read +that; that will tell you all.” + </p> +<p> +Tiernay took the crumpled letter, which the old man had all this while +held firmly in his closed grasp, and read it. +</p> +<p> +“Well, that 's bad news, is n't it?” said Corrigan. “Not the bill,—I +don't mean that; but <i>he 's</i> coming back; do you see the threat?—he's +coming back again.” + </p> +<p> +“How can he?” said the doctor. “The man committed a forgery. How will he +dare to return here and place his neck in a halter?” + </p> +<p> +“You forget whose evidence alone can convict him,—mine; the name he +forged was mine, the sum he took was mine,—nearly all I had in the +world; but he has nothing to fear from me, whatever I may have to dread +from <i>him</i>.” + </p> +<p> +“How can he have any terror for <i>you!</i>” + </p> +<p> +“He can take <i>her</i> away,—not from me, for she 'll soon be +separated by a stronger hand than his; but I can't bear to think that she +'ll be in his power. Tiernay, this is what is cutting into my heart now as +I lie here, and leaves me no rest to think of the brief minutes before me. +Tell me, is there no way to avoid this? Think of something, my old friend,—take +this weight off my dying heart, and my last breath will bless you.” + </p> +<p> +“Are there any relations, or friends?” + </p> +<p> +“None, not one; I 'm the last of the tree,—the one old rotten branch +left. I was thinking of a nunnery, Tiernay, one of those convents in +France or the Low Countries; but even there, if he found her out, he could +legally demand her to be restored to him,—and he would find her, ay, +that he would! There never was a thing yet that man could n't do when he +set his heart on it; and the more the obstacles, the greater his wish. I +heard him say it with his own lips, that he never had any fancy for my +poor Lucy till he overheard her one day saying that 'she never hated any +one till she knew him.' From that hour, he swore to himself she should be +his wife! Heaven knows if the hate was not better bestowed than the love; +and yet, she did love him to the last,—ay, even, after cruelty and +desertion, ay, after his supposed death; when she heard that he married +another, and was living in splendor at Cadiz, ay,—Tiernay! after all +that, she told me on her death-bed, she loved him still!” + </p> +<p> +“I think the nunnery is the best resource,” said the doctor, recalling the +sick man from a theme where his emotions were already too powerfully +excited. +</p> +<p> +“I believe it is,” said the old man, with more of energy than before; “and +I feel almost as if Providence would give me strength and health to take +her there myself, and see her safe before I die. Feel that pulse now: +isn't it stronger?” + </p> +<p> +“You are better, much better already,” said the doctor; “and now, keep +quiet and composed. Don't speak—if it was possible, I 'd say, don't +think—for a few hours. The worst is nigh over.” + </p> +<p> +“I thought so, Tiernay. I felt it was what old Joe Henchy used to call 'a +runaway knock.'” And, with a faint smile, the old man pressed his hand, +and said, “Good-bye.” + </p> +<p> +Scarcely, however, had the doctor reached the door, when he called him +back. +</p> +<p> +“Tiernay,” said he, “it's of no use telling me to lie still, and keep +quiet, and the rest of it. I continue, asleep or awake, to think over +what's coming. There is but one way to give me peace,—give me some +hope. I 'll tell you now how that is to be done; but, first of all, can +you spare three days from home?” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure I can; a week, if it would serve you. Where am I to go?” + </p> +<p> +“To Dublin, Tiernay. You 'll have to go up there, and see this young man, +Cashel, yourself, and speak to him for me. Tell him nothing of our present +distress or poverty, but just let him see who it is that he is turning out +of the lands where their fathers lived for hundreds of years. Tell him +that the Corrigans is the oldest stock in the whole country; that the time +was, from the old square tower on Garraguin, you could n't see a spot of +ground that was n't our own! Tell him,”—and, as he spoke, his +flashing eye and heightened color showed how the theme agitated and +excited him,—“tell him that if he turns us from hearth and home, it +is not as if it was like some poor cotter—” He paused, his lips +trembled, and the big tears burst from his eyes and rolled heavily down +his face. “Oh! God forgive me for saying the words!” cried he, in an +accent of deep agony. “Why wouldn't the humblest peasant that ever +crouched to his meal of potatoes, beside the little turf fire of his +cabin, love his home as well as the best blood in the land? No, no, Mat, +it's little kindness we 'd deserve on such a plea as that.” + </p> +<p> +“There, there, don't agitate yourself. I know what you mean, and what +you'd like me to say.” + </p> +<p> +“You do not,” rejoined the old man, querulously, “for I have n't said it +yet. Nor I can't think of it now. Ah, Mat,” here his voice softened once +more into its habitual key, “that was a cruel thought of me a while ago; +and faith, Mr. Cashel might well suspect, if he heard it, that I was n't +one of the old good blood of the Corrigans, that could talk that way of +the poor; but so it is. There is n't a bad trait in a man's heart that is +not the twin-brother of his selfishness. And now I'll say no more; do the +best you can for us, that's all. I was going to bid you tell him that we +have an old claim on the whole estate that some of the lawyers say is +good,—that the Crown have taken off the confiscation in the time of +my great father, Phil Corrigan; but sure he would n't mind that,—besides, +that's not the way to ask a favor.” + </p> +<p> +“You must n't go on talking this way; see how hot your hand is!” + </p> +<p> +“Well, maybe it will be cold enough soon! There is another thing, Mat. You +must call on Murphy, with the bill of sale of the furniture and the books, +and get money to meet these bills. There they are; I indorsed them this +morning. Tell Green it's no use sending me the other bills; I 'll not have +means to take them up, and it would be only disgracing my name for nothing +to write it on them. I 'll be longing to see you back again, Mat, and hear +your tidings; so God bless you, and send you safe home to us.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'll set off to-night,” said the doctor, rising, and shaking his hand. +“Your attack is passed over, and there's no more danger, if you 'll keep +quiet.” + </p> +<p> +“There's another thing, Mat,” said the sick man, smiling faintly, and with +a strange meaning. “Call at 28 Drogheda Street, and ask the people to show +you the room Con Corrigan fought the duel in with Colonel Battley. It was +only twelve feet long and ten wide, a little place off the drawing-room, +and the colonel would n't even consent that we should stand in the +corners. Look and see if the bullet is in the wall still. The old marquis +used to have it fresh painted red every year, on the anniversary of the +day. Oh, dear, oh, dear, but they were the strange times, then! ay, and +pleasant times too.” And with such reflections on the past, he fell off +into a dreamy half-consciousness, during which Tiernay stole from the room +and left him alone. +</p> +<p> +Faint and trembling with agitation, Mary Leicester was standing all this +while at the door of the sick chamber. “Did I hear aright, Doctor?” said +she; “was that his voice that sounded so cheerfully?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, my dear Miss Mary, the peril is by; but be cautious. Let him not +speak so much, even with you. This is a sweet quiet spot,—Heaven +grant he may long enjoy it!” + </p> +<p> +Mary's lips muttered some words in audibly, and they parted. She sat down +alone, in the little porch under the eave. The day was a delicious one in +autumn, calm, mellow, and peaceful; a breeze, too faint to ripple the +river, stirred the flowers and shook forth their odor. The cottage, the +leafy shade, through which the tempered sunlight fell in fanciful shapes +upon the gravel, the many colored blossoms of the rich garden, the clear +and tranquil river, the hum of the distant waterfall,—they were all +such sights and sounds as breathe of home and home's happiness; and so had +she felt them to be till an unknown fear found entrance into her heart and +spread its darkness there. What a terrible sensation comes with a first +sorrow! +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIV. MR. LINTON REVEALS HIS DESIGNS. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +With fame and fortune on the cast, +He never rose a winner, +And learned to know himself, at last, +“A miserable sinner.” + +Bell. +</pre> +<p> +It was about ten days or a fortnight after the great Kennyfeck dinner, +when all the gossip about its pretension, dulness, and bad taste had died +away, and the worthy guests so bored by the festivity began to wonder +“when they would give another,” that a gentleman sat at breakfast in one +of those large, dingy-looking, low-ceilinged apartments which are the +choice abodes of the viceregal staff in the Castle of Dublin. The tawdry +and time-discolored gildings, the worn and faded silk hangings, the +portraits of bygone state councillors and commanders-in-chief, grievously +riddled by rapier-points and pistol-shots, were not without an emblematic +meaning of the past glories of that seat of Government, now so sadly +fallen from its once high and palmy state. +</p> +<p> +Although still a young man, the present occupant of the chamber appeared +middle-aged, so much had dissipation and excess done the work of time on +his constitution. A jaded, wearied look, a sleepy, indolent expression of +the eye, certain hard lines about the angles of the mouth, betokened one +who played a high game with life, and rarely arose a winner. Although his +whole appearance bespoke birth and blood rather than intellect or ability, +there was enough in his high and squarely shaped head, his deep dark eye, +and his firm, sharply cut mouth, to augur that incapacity could not be +reckoned among the causes of any failures he incurred in his career. He +was, in every respect, the <i>beau idéal</i> of that strange solecism in +our social code, “the younger son.” His brother, the Duke of Derwent, had +eighty thousand a year. <i>He</i> had exactly three hundred. His Grace +owned three houses, which might well be called palaces, besides a grouse +lodge in the Highlands, a yachting station at Cowes, and a villa at Hyères +in France. My Lord was but too happy to be the possessor of the three +cobwebbed chambers of a viceregal aide-decamp, and enjoy the pay of his +troop without joining his regiment. +</p> +<p> +Yet these two men were reared exactly alike! As much habituated to every +requirement and luxury of wealth as his elder brother, the younger +suddenly discovered that, once beyond the shadow of his father's house, +all his worldly resources were something more than what the cook, and +something less than the valet, received. He had been taught one valuable +lesson, however, which was, that as the State loves a rich aristocracy, it +burdens itself with the maintenance of all those who might prove a drain +on its resources, and that it is ever careful to provide for the Lord +Georges and Lord Charleses of its noble houses. To this provision he +believed he had a legal claim,—at all events, he knew it to be a +right uncontested by those less highly born. +</p> +<p> +The system which excludes men from the career of commerce, in compensation +opens the billiard-room, the whist-table, and the betting-ring; and many a +high capacity has been exercised in such spheres as these, whose resources +might have won honor and distinction in very different fields of +enterprise. Whether Lord Charles Frobisher knew this, and felt that there +was better in him, or whether his successes were below his hopes, certain +is it, he was a depressed, dejected man, who lounged through life in a +languid indolence, caring for nothing, not even himself. +</p> +<p> +There was some story of an unfortunate attachment, some love affair with a +very beautiful but portionless cousin, who married a marquis, to which +many ascribed the prevailing melancholy of his character; but they who +remembered him as a schoolboy said he was always shy and reserved, and saw +nothing strange in his bearing as a man. The breakfast-table, covered with +all that could stimulate appetite, and yet withal untasted, was not a bad +emblem of one who, with many a gift to win an upward way, yet lived on in +all the tawdry insignificance of a court aide-de-camp. A very weak glass +of claret and water, with a piece of dry toast, formed his meal; and even +these stood on the corner of a writing-table, at which he sat, rising +sometimes to look out of the window, or pace the room with slow, uncertain +steps. Before him lay an unfinished letter, which, to judge from the slow +progress it made, and the frequent interruptions to its course, seemed to +occasion some difficulty in the composition; and yet the same epistle +began “My dear Sydney,” and was addressed to his brother. Here it is:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +My dear Sydney,—I suppose, from not hearing from you some +weeks back, that my last, which I addressed to the +Clarendon, has never reached you, nor is it of any +consequence. It would be too late now to ask you about +Scott's horses. Cobham told us how you stood yourself, and +that was enough to guide the poor devils here with their +ponies and fifties. We all got a squeeze on the “mare.” I +hear you won seven thousand besides the stakes. I hope the +report may be true. Is Raucus in training for the Spring +Meeting, or not? If so, let me have some trifle on him in +your own book. + +I perceive you voted on Brougham's amendment against our +people; I conclude you were right, but it will make them +very stubborn with me about the exchange. N———has +already remarked upon what he calls the “intolerable +independence of some noble lords.” I wish I knew the clew to +your proceeding: are you at liberty to give it? I did not +answer the question in your last letter.—Of course I am +tired of Ireland; but as the alternatives are a “compound +in Calcutta, or the Government House, Quebec,” I may as well +remain where I am. I don't know that a staff-officer, like +Madeira, improves by a sea-voyage. + +You say nothing of Georgina, so that I hope her chest is +better, and that Nice may not be necessary. I believe, if +climate were needed, you would find Lisbon, or rather +Cintra, better than any part of Italy, and possessed of one +great advantage,—few of our rambling countrymen. N——— +commended your haunch so highly, and took such pains to +record his praises, that I suspect he looks for a repetition +of the favor. If you <i>are</i> shooting bucks, perhaps you would +send him a quarter. +</pre> +<p> +Two sentences, half finished and erased, here showed that the writer +experienced a difficulty in continuing. Indeed, his flurried manner as he +resumed the letter proved it. At last he went on:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +I hate asking favors, my dear Sydney, but there is one +which, if not positively repugnant to you to grant, will +much oblige me. There is a young millionnaire here, a Mr. +Cashel, wishes to be a member of your Yacht Club; and as I +have given a promise to make interest in his behalf with +you, it would be conferring a great obligation on me were I +to make the request successfully. So far as I can learn, +there is no reason against his admission, and, as regards +property, many reasons in his favor. If you can do this for +me, then, you will render me a considerable service. + +Of course I do not intend to fix any acquaintanceship upon +you, nor in any other way, save the bean in the ballot-box, +and a civil word in proposing, inflict you with what Rigby +calls “Protective Duties.” I should have been spaced in +giving you this trouble but for Tom Linton, who, with his +accustomed good nature at other men's cost, suggested the +step to Cashel, and told him, besides, that my brother was +vice-admiral of the yacht fleet. + +If Emily wants a match for the chestnut pony, I know of one +here perfect in every respect, and to be had very cheap. Let +me know about this soon, and also the club matter, as I have +promised to visit Cashel at his country-house; and in case +of refusal on your part, this would be unpleasant Thanks for +your invitation for Christmas, which I cannot accept of. +Hope and Eversham are both on leave, so that I must remain +here. N———continues to ask you here; but my advice is, +as it has ever been, not to come. The climate detestable,— +the houses dull and dirty; no shooting, nor any hunting,— +at least with such horses as you are accustomed to ride. + +I am glad you took my counsel about the mortgage. There is +no property here worth seventeen years' purchase, in the +present aspect of politics. Love to Jane and the girls, and +believe me ever yours, + +Charles Frobisher. +</pre> +<p> +The task completed, he turned to the morning papers, which, with a mass of +tradesmen's bills, notes, and cards of invitation, littered the table. He +had not read long, when a deep-drawn yawn from the further end of the room +aroused him, and Frobisher arose and walked towards a sofa, on which was +stretched a man somewhat about the middle of life, but whose bright eye +and fresh complexion showed little touch of time. His dress, slightly +disordered, was a dinner costume, and rather inclined towards +over-particularity; at least, the jewelled buttons of his vest and shirt +evinced a taste for display that seemed not ill to consort with the easy +effrontery of his look. +</p> +<p> +Taking his watch from his pocket, he held it to his ear, saying, “There is +an accomplishment, Charley, I 've never been able to acquire,—to +wind my watch at supper-time. What hour is it?” + </p> +<p> +“Two,” said the other, laconically. +</p> +<p> +“By Jove! how I must have slept Have you been to bed?” + </p> +<p> +“Of course. But, I 'd swear, with less success than you have had on that +old sofa. I scarcely closed my eyes for ten minutes together.” + </p> +<p> +“That downy sleep only comes of a good conscience and a heart at ease with +itself,” said the other. “You young gentlemen, who lead bad lives, know +very little about the balmy repose of the tranquil mind.” + </p> +<p> +“Have you forgotten that you were to ride out with Lady Cecilia this +morning?” said Frobisher, abruptly. +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit of it. I even dreamed we were cantering together along the +sands, where I was amusing her ladyship with some choice <i>morceaux</i> +of scandal from that set in society she professes to hold in such horror +that she will not receive them at court, but for whose daily sayings and +doings she has the keenest zest.” + </p> +<p> +“Foster is gone with her,” rejoined Lord Charles, “and I suspect she is +just as well pleased. Before this he has told her everything about our +late sitting, and the play, and the rest of it!” + </p> +<p> +“Of course he has; and she is dying to ask Mr. Softly, the young +chaplain's advice, whether rooting us all out would not be a 'good work.'” + </p> +<p> +“Since when have you become so squeamish about card-playing, Mr. Linton?” + </p> +<p> +“I? Not in the least! I 'm only afraid that some of my friends may turn to +be so when they hear of my successes. You know what happened to Wycherley +when he got that knack of always turning up a king? Some one asked Buxton +what was to be done about it. 'Is it certain?' said he. 'Perfectly +certain; we have seen him do it a hundred times!' 'Then back him,' said +old Ruxton; 'that's my advice to you.'” As he said this he drew a chair +towards the table and proceeded to fill out a cup of chocolate. “Where do +you get these anchovies, Charley? Burke has got some, but not half the +size.” + </p> +<p> +“They are ordered for the household. Lawson can tell you all about 'em,” + said the other, carelessly. “But, I say, what bets did you book on +Laplander?” + </p> +<p> +“Took him against the field for seven hundred even.” + </p> +<p> +“A bad bet, then,—I call it a very bad bet.” + </p> +<p> +“So should I, if I did n't know Erebus is dead lame.” + </p> +<p> +“I've seen a horse run to win with a contracted heel before now,” said +Lord Charles, with a most knowing look. +</p> +<p> +“So have I; but not on stony ground. No, no, you may depend upon it.” + </p> +<p> +“I don't want to depend upon it,” said the other, snappishly. “I shall not +venture five pounds on the race. I remember once something of an implicit +reliance on a piece of information of the kind.” + </p> +<p> +“Well! you know how that happened. I gave Hilyard's valet fifty pounds to +get a peep at his master's betting-book, and the fellow told Hilyard, who +immediately made up a book express, and let us all in for a smart sum. I +am sure I was the heaviest loser in the affair.” + </p> +<p> +“So you ought, too. The contrivance was a very rascally one, and deserved +its penalty.” + </p> +<p> +“The expression is not parliamentary, my Lord,” said Linton, with a slight +flushing of the cheek, “and so I must call you to order.” + </p> +<p> +“Is Turcoman to run?” asked Lord Charles, negligently. +</p> +<p> +“No. I have persuaded Cashel to buy him, and he has taken him out of +training.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, you really go very straightforward in your work, Linton. I must say +you are as plucky a rogue as I 've ever heard of. Pray, now, how do you +manage to keep up your influence over that youth? He always appears to me +to be a rash-headed, wilful kind of fellow there would be no guiding.” + </p> +<p> +“Simply, by always keeping him in occupation. There are people like +spavined horses, and one must always get them warm in their work, and they +never show the blemish. Now, I have been eternally alongside of Cashel. +One day buying horses,—another, pictures,—another time it was +furniture, carriages, saddlery,—till we have filled that great old +house of the ex-Chancellor's with an assemblage of objects, living and +inanimate, it would take a month to chronicle.” + </p> +<p> +“Some kind friend may open his eye to all this one of these days, Master +Linton; and then—” + </p> +<p> +“By that time,” said Linton, “his clairvoyance will be too late. Like many +a man I 've known, he 'll be a capital judge of claret when his cellar has +been emptied.” + </p> +<p> +“You were a large winner last night, Linton?” + </p> +<p> +“Twelve hundred and fifty. It might have been double the amount, but I 've +taken a hint from Splasher's Physiology. He says nothing encourages a +plethora like small bleedings. And you, Charley; what did <i>you</i> do?” + </p> +<p> +“Sixty pounds!” replied he, shortly. “I never venture out of my depth.” + </p> +<p> +“And you mean to infer that I do, my Lord,” said Linton, trying to smile, +while evidently piqued by the remark. “Well, I plead guilty to the charge. +I have a notion in my head that seven feet of water drowns a man just as +effectually as seven hundred fathoms in the blue Atlantic. Now <i>you</i> +know, as well as I, that neither of us could afford to lose sixty pounds +thrice running; so let us not talk of venturing out of our depth, which, I +take it, would be to paddle in very shallow water indeed.” + </p> +<p> +For an instant it seemed as if Lord Charles would have given an angry +reply to this sally; but, as hastily checking the emotion, he walked to +the window, and appeared to be lost in thought, while Linton continued his +breakfast with all the zest of a hungry man. +</p> +<p> +“I'll give up play altogether,” said Frobisher. “That I've resolved upon. +This will go abroad, rely upon it Some of the papers will get hold of it, +and we shall see some startling paragraphs about 'Recent Discoveries in +the Vice-regal Household,'—'Nefarious System of High Play at the +Castle,' and so on. Now it 's all very well for you, who neither care who +'s in or out, or hold any appointment here; but remember, there are others—myself +for instance—who have no fancy for this kind of publicity.” + </p> +<p> +“In the first place,” interrupted Linton, “there is no danger; and in the +second, if there were, it's right well remunerated. Your appointment here, +with all its contingent advantages, of which, not to excite your blushes, +we shall say nothing, is some three or four hundred a year. Now, a lucky +evening and courage to back the luck—a quality, by the way, I never +yet found in one Englishman in a hundred—is worth this twice or +thrice told. Besides, remember, that this wild bull of the prairies has +come of himself into our hunting-grounds. If <i>we</i> don't harpoon him, +somebody else will. A beast of such fat on the haunches is not going to +escape scot free; and lastly, by falling into good hands, he shall have +the advantage of being cut up artistically, and not mauled and mangled by +the rude fingers of the ignorant Faith, as for myself, I think I richly +merit all the spoils I shall obtain!” + </p> +<p> +“As how, pray?” asked Lord Charles, languidly. +</p> +<p> +“In the first place, to speak of the present, I have ridden out with him, +sat beside him on the box of his drag; he is seen with me in public, and +has been heard to call me 'Linton' on the ride at Dycer's. My tradespeople +have become his tradespeople. The tailor who reserved his master stroke of +genius for me now shares his favors with him. In fact, Charley, we are +one. Secondly, as regards the future, see from what perils I shall rescue +him. He shall not marry Livy Kennyfeck; he shall not go into Parliament +for the Liberal interest, nor for any interest, if I can help it; he shall +not muddle away a fine fortune in fattening Durham bulls and Berkshire +boars; neither shall he excel in rearing mangel-wurzel or beet-root. I 'll +teach him to have a soul above subsoiling, and a spirit above green crops. +He shall not fall into the hands of Downie Meek, and barter his birthright +for a Whig baronetcy; neither shall he be the victim of right honorable +artifices, and marry a Lady Juliana or Cecilia. In fine, I 'll secure him +from public meetings and agricultural societies, twaddling dinners, +horticultural breakfasts, the Irish Academy, and Mrs. White.” + </p> +<p> +“These are great deservings indeed,” said Lord Charles, affectedly. +</p> +<p> +“So they are,” said the other; “nor do I believe there is another man +about town could pilot the channel but myself. It is only reasonable, +then, if I save the craft, that I should claim the salvage. Now, the next +point is, will you be one of the crew? I'll take you with pleasure, but +there's no impressment All I ask is secrecy, whether you say yea or nay.” + </p> +<p> +“Let me hear what the service is to be like.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, we shall first of all cruise; confound metaphors,—let us talk +plainly. Cashel has given me a <i>carte blanche</i> to fill his house with +guests and good things. The company and the <i>cuisine</i> are both to be +among my attributions, and I intend that we should do the thing right +royally. Selection and exclusiveness are, of course, out of the question. +There are so many cock-tails to run,—there can be no +disqualification. Our savage friend, in fact, insists on asking everybody +he sees, and we are lucky if we escape the infantry and the junior bar. +Here's the list,—a goodly catalogue truly, and such a <i>macédoine</i> +of incongruities has been rarely assembled, even at old Kennyfeck's +dinner-table.” + </p> +<p> +“Why, I see few others than the people we met there t' other day.” + </p> +<p> +“Not many; but please to remember that even a country house has limits, +and that some of the guests, at least, must have separate rooms. To be +serious, Charley, I have misused the King's press damnably; we have such a +party as few have ever witnessed. There are the Kilgoffs, the Whites, the +Hamiltons, along with the Clan Kennyfeck, the Ridleys, and Mathew +Hannigan, Esquire, of Bally-Hanni-gan, the new Member of Parliament for +Dunrone, and the last convert to the soothing doctrines of Downie Meek.” + </p> +<p> +“Is Downie coming?” lisped the aide-de-camp. +</p> +<p> +“Ay, and his daughter, too. He wrote one of his velvety epistles, setting +forth the prayer of his petition in favor of 'a little girl yet only in +the nursery.'” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, yes; I know all that. Well, I 'm not sorry. I like Jemmy. She is a +confounded deal better than her father, and is a capital weight to put on +a young horse, and a very neat hand too. Who next? Not the Dean, I hope.” + </p> +<p> +“No; we divided on the Dean, and carried his exclusion by a large +majority. Mrs. Kennyfeck was, I believe, alone in the lobby.” + </p> +<p> +“Glad of that! No one can expect an Irish visit in the country without +rain, and he 's an awful fellow to be caged with, when out-o'-door work is +impracticable.” + </p> +<p> +“Then there are the Latrobes and the Heatherbys; in fact, the whole set, +with a Polish fellow, of course a Count,—Deuroominski; a literary +tourist, brought by Mrs. White, called Howie; and a small little dark man +one used to see two seasons ago, that sings the melodies and tells Irish +legends,—I forget the name.” + </p> +<p> +“Promiscuous and varied, certainly; and what is the order of the course? +Are there to be games, rural sports, fireworks, soaped pigs, and other +like intellectualities?” + </p> +<p> +“Precisely; a kind of coming-of-age thing on a grand scale. I have engaged +Somerton's <i>chef</i>; he has just left his place. Gunter sends over one +of his people; and Dubos, of the Cadran Bleu, is to forward two hampers +per week from Paris. Hicksley is also to provide all requisites for +private theatricals. In fact, nearly everything has been attended to, save +the horse department; I wish you 'd take that under your protectorate; we +shall want any number of screws for saddle and harness, with drags, +breaks, and machines of all kinds, to drive about in. Do, pray, be master +of the horse.” + </p> +<p> +“Thanks; but I hate and detest trouble of all kinds. So far as selling you +two of my own,—a wall-eye and a bone-spavin included,—I +consent.” + </p> +<p> +“Agreed. Everything in your stable carries a sidesaddle; that I know, so +name your figure.” + </p> +<p> +“A hundred; they 'd bring close on fifty at Dycer's any day; so I am not +exorbitant, as these are election times.” + </p> +<p> +“There 's the ticket, then,” said Linton, taking out a check-book and +filling up a leaf for the sum, which he tore out and presented to Lord +Charles. +</p> +<p> +“What! has he really so far installed you as to—” “As to give blank +checks,” said the other, holding up the book in evidence, where “Roland +Cashel” was written on a vast number of pages. “I never knew the glorious +sense of generosity before, Charley. I have heard a great deal about +liberal sentiments, and all that kind o' thing; but now, for the first +time, do I feel the real enjoyment of indulgence. To understand this +liberty aright, however, a man must have a squeeze,—such a squeeze +as I have experienced myself once or twice in life; and then, my boy, as +the song says,”—here, with a bold rattling air, he sang to a popular +melody,— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“When of luck you 've no card up, +And feel yourself 'hard up,' +And cannot imagine a method to win; +When 'friends' take to shy you, +And Jews to deny you, +How pleasant to dip in another man's tin! + +“Not seeking or craving +Some pettyful saving, +You draw as you like upon Drummond or Gwynne, +And, while pleasure pursuing +You know there 's no ruing +The cost that comes out of another man's tin. +</pre> +<p> +“Eh, Charley! that's the toast we 'Chevaliers Modernes' should drink +before the health of the royal family.” + </p> +<p> +“The royal family!” sneered Frobisher; “I never observed that loyalty was +a very remarkable trait in your character.” + </p> +<p> +“The greater injustice yours, then,” said Linton. “I conceived a very +early attachment to monarchy, on learning the importance of the king at +écarte.” + </p> +<p> +“I should have thought the knave had more of your sympathy,” said the +other. +</p> +<p> +“Inasmuch as he follows the queen, I suppose,” said Linton, +good-humoredly, laughing. “But come, don't look so grave, old fellow; had +I been a political <i>intrigant</i>, and devoted these goodly talents of +mine to small state rogueries in committees and adjourned debates, I'd +have been somebody in these dull times of aspiring mediocrity; but as my +ambitions have never soared beyond the possession of what may carry on the +war of life, irrespective of its graver honors, you moralists—Heaven +bless the mark!—rather regard me distrustfully. Now, let me tell you +a secret, and it's one worth the knowing. There's nothing so fatal to a +man's success in life as 'a little character;' a really great one may +dispense with every kind of ability and acquirement. Get your name once up +in our English public, and you may talk, preach, and write the most rank +nonsense with a very long impunity; but a little character, like a small +swimming bladder, only buoys you up long enough to reach deep water and be +drowned. To journey the road of life with this is to 'carry weight' Take +my advice,—I give it in all sincerity; you are as poor a man as +myself; there are thousands of luxuries you can afford yourself, but this +is too costly an indulgence for a small fortune. Your 'little character' +is a kind of cankering conscience, not strong enough to keep you out of +wickedness, but sufficiently active to make you miserable afterwards. An +everlasting suggester of small scruples, it leaves a man no time for +anything but petty expedients and devices, and you hang suspended all your +life between desire and denial, without the comfort of the one or the +credit of the other.” + </p> +<p> +“Is the sermon over?” said Lord Charles, rather affectedly than really +feeling tired of the “tirade,” “or are you only rehearsing the homily +before you preach it to Roland Cashel?” + </p> +<p> +“Quite wrong there, my Lord,” said Linton, with the same imperturbable +temper. “Cashel is rich enough to afford himself any caprice, even a good +name, if he like it You and I take ours as we do railway tickets, any +number that's given us!” And with this speech, delivered in an air of +perfect quietude, but still emphatically slow, he settled his hat on +before the glass, arranged his whiskers, and walked away. +</p> +<p> +Lord Charles, for a second, seemed disposed to make an angry reply, but, +correcting the impulse, he walked to the window in silence. “I have half a +mind to spoil your game, my worthy friend,” muttered he, as the other +passed across the court-yard; “one word to Cashel would do it To be sure +it is exploding the mine with one's own hand to the fusee; that's to be +thought of.” And, so saying, he lay down on the sofa to ruminate. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XV. AT THE GAMING TABLE. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Not half so skilled in means and ways, +The 'hungry Greek' of classic days +His cards with far less cunning plays +Than eke our modern sharper!” + </pre> +<p> +When Linton had determined within himself to make Cashel “his own,” his +first care was to withdraw him from the daily society of the Kennyfecks, +by whose familiar intercourse a great share of influence was already +enjoyed over their young guest. This was not so easy a task as he had at +first imagined. Cashel had tasted of the pleasant fascination of easy +intimacy with two young and pretty girls, eagerly bent on being agreeable +to him. He was in all the full enjoyment of that rare union, the pleasure +of being at home and yet an honored guest; and it was only when Linton +suggested that late hours and irregular habits were but little in +accordance with the decorous propriety of a family, that Cashel yielded, +and consented to remove his residence to a great furnished house in +“Stephen's Green,” where some bygone Chancellor once held his state. +</p> +<p> +Linton well knew that if “Necessity” be the mother of invention, +“Propinquity” is the father of love; that there is nothing so suggestive +of the tender passion as that lackadaisical state to which lounging at +home contributes, and the chance meetings with a pretty girl. The little +intercourse on the stairs going down to breakfast, the dalliance in the +conservatory, the chit-chat before dinner, are far more formidable than +all the formal meetings under the blaze of wax-lights, and amid the crush +of white satin. +</p> +<p> +“If I leave him much longer among them,” said he to himself, “he 'll marry +one of these girls; and then adieu to all influence over him! No more +écarté,—no more indiscriminate purchases of everything I propose,—no +more giving 'the odds against the field.' A wife and a wife's family are +heavy recognizances against a bachelor friend's counsels.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel was really sorry to leave the house where his time had passed so +pleasantly. The very alternation of his interest regarding the two sisters +had kept his mind in a state of pleasant incertitude, now seeing something +to prefer in this, now in that, while at the same time suggesting on their +part greater efforts to please and amuse him. If Mr. Kennyfeck deemed +Cashel's removal a very natural step, and one which his position in some +sort demanded, not so his wife. She inveighed powerfully against the +dangerous intimacy of Linton, and the ruinous consequences such an +ascendancy would lead to. “You should tell Mr. Cashel who this man is,” + said she, imperiously. +</p> +<p> +“But that is exactly what nobody knows,” meekly responded Mr. Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“Pshaw! every one knows all about him. You can tell him how he ruined +young Rushbrook, and in less than two years left him without a shilling.” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Kennyfeck shook his head, as though to say that the evidence was by no +means conclusive on that count. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, you may affect not to believe it,” said she, angrily, “but did n't +George Lawson see the check for eight thousand paid to Linton at La +touche's bank, and that was one evening's work.” + </p> +<p> +“There was a great deal of high play, I 've heard, among them.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, indeed! you've heard that much,” said she, scornfully; “probably, +too, you've heard how Linton paid seventy thousand pounds for part of the +Dangwood estate,—he that had not sixpence three months previous. I +tell you, Mr. Kennyfeck, that you have labored to very little purpose to +establish this young man's claim if you are to stand by and see his +property portioned among sharpers. There! don't start and look so +frightened; there 's nobody listening, and if there were, too, I don't +care. I tell you, Mr. Kennyfeck, that if it weren't for your foolish +insufficiency Cashel would propose for Olivia. Yes! the thing is plain as +possible. He fell in love with her the very night he arrived; every one +saw it. Jane Lyons told me how it was remarked the day the company dined +here. Leonard told all over Dublin how she chose the diamonds, and that +Cashel distinctly referred to her before buying them. Then they were seen +together driving through the streets. What more would you have? And now +you suffer all this to be undone for the selfish objects of Mr. Linton; +but I tell you, Mr. Kennyfeck, if you 're a fool, I am not!” + </p> +<p> +“But really I don't see—” + </p> +<p> +“You don't see! I'm sure you do not. You'd see, however, if it were a case +for an action in the courts,—a vulgar appeal to twelve greasy +jurors,—you 'd see then. There is quite enough for a shabby verdict! +But I regard the affair very differently, and I tell you frankly, if I see +Cashel draw off in his attentions, I 'll send for my cousin O'Gorman. I +believe you can assure your young client that he 'll find there's no +joking with him.” + </p> +<p> +Now this was the “most unkindest cut of all;” for if report spoke truly, +Mr. Kennyfeck had himself experienced from that gentleman a species of +moral force impulsion which left the most unpleasant reminiscences behind. +</p> +<p> +“I beseech you to remember, Mrs. Kennyfeck, that this agency is one of the +best in Ireland.” + </p> +<p> +“So much the more reason to have the principal your son-in-law.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'd have you to reflect how little success coercion is like to have with +a person of Mr. Cashel's temper.” + </p> +<p> +“Peter is the best shot in Ballinasloe,” rejoined Mrs. Kennyfeck, +sententiously. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Kennyfeck nodded a full assent, but seemed to hazard a doubt as to the +efficiency of such skill. +</p> +<p> +“I repeat, sir, I'll send for him. Peter knows pretty well what ought to +be done in such matters, and it's a comfort to think there is some spirit +on one side of the family, at least.” Whether to afford a practical +illustration, albeit negatively, or that he dreaded a continuance of the +controversy, Mr. Kennyfeck feigned a business appointment, and retired, +leaving his spouse to ponder over her threat, and resolve with herself as +to the advantage of Peter's alliance. +</p> +<p> +While this conjugal discussion engaged papa and mamma, Cashel was +endeavoring to explain to the fair daughters the reasons for his +departure, affecting to see that the multiplicity of his engagements and +duties required a step which he owned was far from agreeable to his +feelings. +</p> +<p> +“I suspected how soon you would weary of us,” said Olivia, in a half +whisper. +</p> +<p> +“We ought to have remembered, Livy,” said the elder sister, “how little +would our claims upon Mr. Cashel appear when confronted with those of a +higher station in the world.” + </p> +<p> +“I assure you, you wrong both yourselves and me. I never—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, I 'm certain you never imagined this step. I can well believe that if +it were not for advice—not very disinterested, perhaps—you +would have still condescended to regard this as your home.” + </p> +<p> +“If I suspected that this removal would in the least affect the sentiments +I entertain for my kind friends here, or in any way alter those I trust +they feel for me, I 'd never have adopted, or, having adopted, never +execute it.” + </p> +<p> +“We are really very much to blame, Mr. Cashel,” said Olivia bashfully, “in +suffering our feelings to sway you on a matter like this. It was only too +kind of you to come here at first; and perhaps even yet you will come +occasionally to see us.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, Mr. Cashel, Livy is right; we are very selfish in our wishes, and +very inconsiderate besides. Your position in the world requires a certain +mode of living, a certain class of acquaintances, which are not ours. It +is far better, then, that we should resign ourselves to an interruption, +than wait for an actual broach of intimacy.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel was totally at a loss to see how his mere change of residence could +possibly imply a whole train of altered feelings and relations, and was +about to express his astonishment on that score when Linton's phaeton +drove up to the door, according to an appointment they had made the day +before, to breakfast with the officers of a regiment quartered a short +distance from town. +</p> +<p> +“There is your <i>friend</i>, Mr. Cashel,” said Miss Kennyfeck, with a +marked emphasis on the word. Cashel muttered something about a rendezvous, +and took up his hat, when a servant entered to request he would favor Mr. +Kennyfeck with a brief interview before going out. +</p> +<p> +“Are we to see you at dinner to-day?” said Olivia, languidly. +</p> +<p> +“I hope so. Mrs. Kennyfeck has been kind enough to ask me, and I hope to +have the pleasure.” + </p> +<p> +“Will Mr. Linton give leave?” said Miss Kennyfeck, laughing; and then, +seeing a cloud on Cashel's brow, added, “I meant, if you had made no +appointment with him.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'm self-willed enough to follow my own bent generally,” said he, +abruptly, and left the room. +</p> +<p> +“You owe that gentleman a heavy grudge, Livy,” said Miss Kennyfeck, as she +approached the window and looked out. +</p> +<p> +“Who do you mean, dear?” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. Linton. Were it not for him, I half think you might have succeeded.” + </p> +<p> +“I really cannot comprehend you,” said the younger, with well-assumed +astonishment. +</p> +<p> +“Of course not, my dear. Still, it was a difficult game, even if left all +to yourself. He was always likely to smash the tackle at the moment when +almost caught. There, don't look so puzzled, dear; I was only following +out a little reverie,—that's all.” + </p> +<p> +Meanwhile Cashel hastily descended the stairs, not over good-humoredly +commenting on Mr. Kennyfeck's ill-chosen moment for a business +conversation. “I can only stay a few minutes, or rather seconds,” cried +he, as he opened the door of the study; and then checked himself as he +perceived a short, stout elderly man, of venerable appearance, who rose +respectfully from his chair as he came in. +</p> +<p> +“Doctor Tiernay, Mr. Cashel,” said Kennyfeck, presenting the stranger. “I +have taken the liberty to delay you, sir, since it would be a great +convenience if you could accord this gentleman a brief hearing at present; +he has come above a hundred miles to crave it, and must leave Dublin by +the afternoon mail.” + </p> +<p> +“Without it be Mr. Cashel's pleasure to detain me,” said the doctor, +submissively. +</p> +<p> +“He is a tenant of your Tubbermore estate, sir,” resumed Kennyfeck, “a +very near neighbor.” + </p> +<p> +“I regret that I am pressed for time at this moment, sir,” said Cashel, +drawing on his gloves impatiently; “but I believe it is the less +consequence, inasmuch as I really know nothing—absolutely nothing—and +you, Mr. Kennyfeck, know everything about that property, and are by far +the best person to hear and decide upon this gentleman's proposition, +whatever it be.” + </p> +<p> +“It is a case that must be decided by yourself, sir,” said the doctor. “It +is neither a matter of law nor right, but a simple question of whether you +will do an act of great kindness to the oldest tenant on your property,—a +man who, now overtaken by years and sickness, may not perhaps be alive at +my return to hear of your benevolence.” + </p> +<p> +“It is about this renewal, sir,” interposed Kennyfeck, who saw Cashel's +increasing impatience to be away. “Mr. Corrigan's lease expires on the +25th.” + </p> +<p> +“He is now struck by paralysis,” interrupted the doctor; “and his only +prayer is to be suffered to die beneath the roof where he has lived for +fifty years.” + </p> +<p> +“A tenant at will,” interposed Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“Gracious Heaven! how could he suppose I should dream of dispossessing +him?” cried Cashel. “Of course, sir, the house is his own so long as he +pleases to hold it. Tell him so. Mr. Kennyfeck will tell him from me that +he need not give the matter another thought. I am sincerely grieved that +it should have already caused him so much anxiety.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, sir,” cried the doctor, while two very dubious drops twinkled in his +eyes, “you are indeed worthy of the good fortune that has befallen you. My +poor old friend will bless you, with a prouder heart in his belief in +human nature than even his gratitude could suggest. Farewell, sir, and may +you long live to be as happy as you know how to make others.” + </p> +<p> +With an impulse of irrepressible warmth the old man seized Cashel's hand +in both his own, and pressed it cordially, when the door suddenly opened, +and Linton, dressed in a riding costume, appeared. +</p> +<p> +“What, Roland, at business so early. Do you know you 're an hour behind +time?” + </p> +<p> +“I do; but I couldn't help it In fact, this was unexpected—” + </p> +<p> +“It was an act of benevolence, sir, detained Mr. Cashel,” interrupted the +doctor. “I believe no appointment can be broken with a safer apology.” + </p> +<p> +“Ho! ho!” said Linton, throwing up his eyebrows, as if he suspected a +snare to his friend's simplicity. “Which of the missions to convert the +blacks, or what family of continuous twins are you patronizing?” + </p> +<p> +“Good-bye, sir,” said the doctor, turning towards Cashel. “I'd ask your +pardon for the liberty I have already taken with you, if I were not about +to transgress again.” Here he looked Linton fully in the face. “Mr. Cashel +has done a kind and worthy action this morning, sir; but if he does many +more such, and keep your company, he is not only a good man, but the +strongest principled one I ever met with.” + </p> +<p> +As the last word was uttered, the door closed after him, and he was gone. +</p> +<p> +“So then, I 'm the Mephistopheles to your Faust,” said Linton, laughing +heartily; “but what piece of credulous benevolence has cost you this +panegyric and me this censure?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, a mere trifle,” said Cashel, preparing to leave,—“a simple +grant of renewal to an old tenant on my estate.” + </p> +<p> +“Only that,” said Linton, affecting the coolest indifference, while by a +keen glance at Kennyfeck he revealed a profound consciousness of his +friend's simplicity. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing more, upon my honor; that little cottage of Tubber-beg.” + </p> +<p> +“Not that fishing lodge beside the river, in an angle of your own +demesne?” asked Linton, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“The same. Why, what of it?” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing, save that your magnanimity is but one-sided, since only so late +as Thursday last, when we looked over the map together, you gave me that +cottage until such time as you should include the farm within the +demesne.” + </p> +<p> +“By Jupiter, and so I did!” exclaimed Cashel, while a flush of shame +covered his face and forehead; “what a confounded memory I have! What is +to be done?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, never fret about it,” said Linton, taking his arm, and leading him +away; “the thing is easily settled. What do I want with the cottage? The +old gentleman is, doubtless, a far more rural personage than I should +prove. Let us not forget Aubrey's breakfast, which, if we wait much +longer, will be a luncheon. The ladies well, Mr. Kennyfeck?” This was the +first time he had noticed that gentleman. +</p> +<p> +“Quite well, Mr. Linton,” said he, bowing politely. +</p> +<p> +“Pray present my respects. By the way, you don't want a side-saddle horse, +do you?” + </p> +<p> +“I thank you, we are supplied.” + </p> +<p> +“Whata pity! I 've got such a gray, with that swinging low cantering +action Miss Kennyfeck likes; she rides so well! I wish she 'd try him.” + </p> +<p> +A shake of the head and a bland smile intimated a mild refusal. +</p> +<p> +“Inexorable father! Come, Cashel, you shall make the <i>amende</i> for +having given away my cottage; you must buy Reginald and make him a present +to the lady.” + </p> +<p> +“Agreed,” said Cashel; “send him over to-day; he's mine, or rather Miss +Kennyfeck's. Nay, sir, really I will not be opposed. Mr. Kennyfeck, I +insist.” + </p> +<p> +The worthy attorney yielded, but not without reluctance, and saw them +depart, with grave misgivings that the old doctor's sentiment was truly +spoken, and that Linton's companionship was a most unhappy accident. +</p> +<p> +“I must get into Parliament,” said Linton, as he seated himself beside +Cashel in the phaeton, “if it were only to quote you as one of that +much-belied class, the Irish landlord. The man who grants renewals of his +best land on terms contracted three hundred years ago is very much wanted +just now. What a sensation it would create in the House when they cry, +'Name, name,' and I reply that I am under a positive personal injunction +not to name, and then Sharman Crawford, or one of that set, rises and +avers that he believed the honorable and learned gentleman's statement to +be perfectly unfounded. Amid a deluge of 'Ohs!' I stand up and boldly +declare that further reserve is no longer possible, and that the gentleman +whom I am so proud to call my friend is Roland Cashel, Esq., of +Tubbennore. There 's immortality for you, for that evening at any rate. +You 'll be toasted at Bellamy's at supper, and by the white-headed old +gentlemen who sit in the window at the Carlton.” + </p> +<p> +“You'll not hint that I had already made a present of the lands when I +displayed so much munificence,” said Cashel, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“Not a syllable; but I'll tell the secret to the Opposition, if you ever +grow restive,” said Linton, with a laugh, in which, had Roland studied +Lavater, he might have read a valuable lesson. +</p> +<p> +“<i>A propos</i> of Parliament, Kennyfeck persists in boring me about it, +and that Mr. Downie Meek seems to have it at heart that I am to represent +something or somebody, well knowing, the while, that I cannot possibly be +supposed to understand anything of the interests whereon I should be +called to vote and legislate.” + </p> +<p> +“That 's not so much consequence,” said Linton; “you 'd find a very strong +section of the House very like yourself, but the thing would bore you; you +would neither like the fatigue nor the slavery of it; and, positively, +there is no excitement, save for the half-dozen who really contest the +race. Meek, and others of the same stamp, will tell you that property +should be represented in the Legislature. I agree fully with the +sentiment, so it should. So also should a man's rents be collected, but +that's no reason he should be his own agent, when he can find another, far +more capable, ready for office.—Touch that off-side horse, he 'll +skulk his collar when he can.—Now, if you have county or borough +influence going a begging, send in your nominee, any fellow who 'll suit +your views, and express your opinions,—myself, for instance,” said +he, laughing, “for want of a better.—Those manes don't lie right; +that near-sider's falls on the wrong side of the neck.—The great +secret for any man situated as you are is to avoid all complications, +political, social, and matrimonial. You have a glorious open country +before you, if there be no cross-riding to spoil your run.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, I am not above taking advice,” said Cashel; “but really I must own +that, from the little I've seen of the matter, it seems harder to go +through life with a good fortune than without a shilling. I know that, as +a poor man, very lately—” + </p> +<p> +“Come, come, you know very little of what poverty means; you 've been +leading a gay life in a land where men do by one bold enterprise the work +which costs years of slow toil in our tamer regions. Now, I should have +liked that kind of thing myself. Ay, you may smile, that a man who devotes +a large share of each day to the tie of his cravat, and the immaculate +elegance of his boots, should venture to talk of prairie life and +adventure. Take care! By Jove! I thought you were into that apple-stall.” + </p> +<p> +“Never say it twice,” cried Cashel, gayly. “I 'm beginning to feel +confoundedly tired of this life here; and, if I don't find that it +improves on acquaintance, I 'll take a run down west, just to refresh my +spirits. Will you come with me?” + </p> +<p> +“With my whole heart I join the proposal; but you are not serious; I know +you are merely jesting in all this.” + </p> +<p> +“Perfectly serious. I am decidedly weary of seven o'clock dinners and +morning calls. But here we are.” + </p> +<p> +As he spoke, they drove into the barrack-yard, where groups of lounging +officers, in every variety of undress, were seen in all the insipid +enjoyment of that cigar-smoking existence which forms the first article in +our military code of education. +</p> +<p> +The gallant —th Light Dragoons were a “fast regiment,” and the +inventors of that new locomotive on the road to ruin called a “mess +breakfast,”—a meal where champagne flows with a profusion rarely +seen at dinner, and by which men begin the day in a frame of mind that +would not be very decorous even when concluding it. Cashel, being an +honored guest, drank wine with every one, not to speak of participating in +various little bibatory trios and quartets, so that when the entertainment +drew to a close he was very far from that self-possession and command +which, with all his high spirits, seldom deserted him. +</p> +<p> +A tremendous fall of rain, that showed no prospect of ceasing, had just +set in, so that the party agreed to repair to the major's rooms, and make +a pool at écarté. After some talking about play in general, and some +quizzing about not being able to bet a sum such as Cashel would care to +play for, the game began. +</p> +<p> +Notwithstanding the apologies, the play was high, so much so, that Cashel, +never a very shrewd observer, could not help remarking that several of the +players could not conceal the anxiety the game inspired. +</p> +<p> +Roland himself joined less from inclination than fellowship, and far +better pleased to be at liberty to chat with some of the others than to be +seated at the table, he arose each time he lost, well content to pay for +freedom by his gold. His natural indifference, added to a perfect +carelessness about money, induced him to accept any bet that was offered, +and these were freely proposed, since, in play <i>parlance</i>, “the run +was against him;” so that, ere the trumpet-call announced the time to +dress for the mess, he had lost heavily. +</p> +<p> +“You have no idea how much you have lost?” said Linton, in a low voice, +and with a gravity of manner almost reproachful. +</p> +<p> +“Not the slightest,” said Cashel, laughing. +</p> +<p> +“I can tell you, then, for I have totted it up. This morning's work has +cost you seven thousand some hundred pounds.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said Cashel, a flush rather of shame than displeasure mantling +on his features. “I'll give it up in future.” + </p> +<p> +“No, no! not till you've had your revenge,” whispered Linton. “We 'll stay +for the mess, and have at them again. The night is terrific, and no +possibility of leaving.” + </p> +<p> +The mess followed, and although play was to succeed it, the party drank +freely, and sat long over their wine; even Linton himself seemed to linger +at the table, and leave it with regret. +</p> +<p> +As for Cashel, for the first time in his life he wished to play. No desire +for money-getting, no mean passion for gain, suggested the wish, it was +simply a piqued vanity at being beaten; a sense of indignity that his +inferiority should seem to be implied, even in so trifling a matter, urged +him on, and he was one of the first to vote for a return to écarté. +</p> +<p> +Except Linton, there was not probably one who could be called a good +player in the party; but luck, which has more than the mastery over skill, +supplied the place of knowledge, and Cashel was the only heavy loser of +the whole assembly. Stung by continued failure, too, he betted madly and +foolishly, so that as the day was breaking, and the stir in the +barrack-yard announced the approaching parade, his losses reached more +than double what they had been in the morning. +</p> +<p> +“I say, lads!” said the major, as they all arose from the table, “one word +before you go.” So saying, he turned the key in the door, and stood with +his back against it. “Before any one leaves the room, each must promise on +his honor not to mention a syllable of this night's business. We all know +that we have been playing far higher stakes than ever we've been in the +habit of. The report, if it get abroad, would ruin the regiment.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, we all promise not a word shall be said about it,” cried out several +voices together. “There's the second trumpet!” So saying, they hastened +pell-mell to dress for the parade, while Cashel, taking Linton's arm, set +out homewards. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Tom!” said Roland, after they had walked on for some time in +silence, “I am somewhat ashamed of this exploit of mine, and would not for +a great deal that Kennyfeck should know it. Is there no way of getting +this money by loan?—for if I draw now—” + </p> +<p> +“Make your mind quite easy; I'll arrange that for you. Don't worry +yourself about it. It's a bore, of course, to lose a round sum like that; +but you can afford it, my boy, that's one comfort. If it had been me, by +Jove, the half of it would have drained the well!” This said, he hastily +changed the topic, and they walked along chatting of everything save the +late party. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVI. WHAT ROLAND OVERHEARD AT THE MONEY LENDER'S +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The money that “at play” is spent +Must oft be raised at “cent per cent.” + +The Mode. +</pre> +<p> +“Good night, or rather good morrow,” said Linton, as he stood with Cashel +on the steps of his newly taken residence. +</p> +<p> +Cashel made no reply; his thoughts were recurring to the scene of the late +debauch, and in some pangs of self-reproach he was recalling the heavy sum +he had lost. “You spoke of my being able to raise this money, Linton, +without Kennyfeck's knowing; for I am really ashamed of the affair. Tell +me how can it be done?” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing easier.” + </p> +<p> +“Nay, but when? for, if I must confess it, I can think of nothing else +till it be arranged.” + </p> +<p> +“What a timid conscience yours must be,” said Linton, laughing, “that +cannot sleep lest the ghosts of his I. O.'s should haunt him.” + </p> +<p> +“The fact is so, nevertheless. The very gloomy moments of my life have +been associated with play transactions. This shall be the last.” + </p> +<p> +“What folly! You suffer mere passing impressions to wear deep into your +nature,—you that should be a man of nerve and vigor. What can it +possibly signify that you have thrown away a few hundreds, or a few +thousands either?” + </p> +<p> +“Very little as regards the money, I own; but I'm not certain how long my +indifference respecting play might last. I am not sure how long I could +endure being beaten—for that is the sense losing suggests—without +a desire to conquer in turn. Now up to this I have played to oblige +others, without interest or excitement of any kind. What if I should +change and become a gambler from choice?” + </p> +<p> +“Why, if you propound the question with that solemn air, you'll almost +frighten me into believing it would be something very terrible; but if you +ask me simply what would be the result of your growing fond of play, I 'll +tell you fairly, it's a pleasure gained,—one of the few resources +which only a rich man can afford with impunity, so much the more +fascinating that it can be indulged in such perfect accordance with every +humor of a man's mind. If you are so inclined, you play low, and coquet +with fortune, or if lavishly given, you throw the reins loose and go free. +Now it seems to me that nothing could better suit the careless, +open-handed freedom of your habits than the vacillations of high play. +It's the only way that even for a moment you can taste the sensation of +being hard pressed, while in the high flood of luck you can feel that +gushing sense of power that somehow seems to be the secret soul of gold!” + </p> +<p> +“Men must lose with a very different look upon their features before I can +win with the ecstasy you speak of,” cried Cashel. “But where are we +straying to,—what part of the town have we got into?” + </p> +<p> +“This is the cattle-market,” said Linton, “and I have brought you here +because I saw you 'd not close your eyes till that silly affair was +settled; and here we are now at Dan Hoare's counting-house, the man of all +others to aid us. Follow me; I ought to know the stairs well, in daylight +or dark.” + </p> +<p> +Cautiously following his guide, Cashel mounted a half-rotten, creaky +stair, which passed up between two damp and mildewed walls, and entered a +small chamber whose one window looked out in a dirty court. The only +furniture consisted of two deal chairs and a table, on which various +inscriptions made by penknives betokened the patience and zeal of former +visitors. +</p> +<p> +Linton passed on to the end of the chamber, where was a narrow door, but +suddenly halted as his eye caught a little slip of paper attached to a +sliding panel, and which bore the word “Engaged.” “Ha!” cried he, “one +here already! You see, early as it is, Dan is at work, discounting and +protesting as usual. By the way, I have forgot one essential: he never +gives a stamp, and so I must provide one. Wait for me here; there is a +place in the neighborhood where they can be had, and I 'll be back +presently.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel sat himself down in the cheerless little den, thinking of the many +who might have waited there before, in so many frames of anxiety and +torturing suspense. His own memory could recall a somewhat similar +character in Geiz-heimer, and while he was thus remembering some features +of the past he fell into a reverie, forgetting time and place together, +the sound of voices from the adjoining room serving rather to lull than +arouse his attention. At last a word caught his ear. He started suddenly, +and, looking about him for a second, experienced almost a difficulty to +remember where he was. Could it be possible, or was it mere fancy? but he +believed he heard his name mentioned by some one within that room. Less +caring to know how or by whom the name was spoken than if the fact were +actually so, he leaned forward on his chair, and bent his ear to listen, +when he heard, in a voice louder than had been used before, the following +words:— +</p> +<p> +“It may be all as you say, sir; I won't pretend to throw a doubt upon your +words; but, as a mere man of business, I may be permitted to say that this +promise, however satisfactory to your friend's feelings, is not worth a +sixpence in law. Corrigan asks for a renewal of his lease, and the other +says, 'Keep your holding,—don't disturb yourself,'—and there +he is, a tenant at will. Now, for the purposes you have in view towards +me, that pledge goes for nothing. I cannot renew these bills upon such +frail security. If the old man cannot find means to meet them, Leicester +must, that's all.” + </p> +<p> +“Leicester is a villain!” cried another and a deeper voice, whose tones +seemed not quite strange to Roland's ears. “He has ruined my poor old +friend; he will soon leave him houseless, and he threatens to leave him +almost friendless too.” + </p> +<p> +“He told me,” said the other, “he should certainly claim his daughter, and +means to return next summer for that purpose.” + </p> +<p> +“I almost hope poor Con will never live to see that day,” said the former, +with a heavy sigh. +</p> +<p> +“Well, to return to our own affair, sir, I tell you frankly, I don't +consider Cashel's promise deserving of any consideration. He doubtless +means to keep it; that's the very most anybody can say about it. But +remember what a life he is leading: he has drawn about thirty thousand out +of Latrobe's hands in three months,—no one knows for what. He has +got among a set of men who play high, and cannot pay if they lose. Now, +his estate is a good one; but it can't last forever. My notion is that the +young fellow will end as he began, and become a buccaneer once more.” + </p> +<p> +“He has a long course to run ere that comes,” said the other. +</p> +<p> +“Not so long as you fancy. There are demands upon him from quarters you +little suspect, or that, for the moment, he little suspects himself. It +would surprise you to hear that he is in Leicester's hands too.” + </p> +<p> +“Roland Cashel—Mr. Cashel—in Leicester's hands! How do you +mean?” + </p> +<p> +Just at this instant Linton's foot was heard ascending the stairs, and +Cashel, whose eagerness to hear the remainder became a perfect torture of +anxiety, was forced to lose the opportunity. +</p> +<p> +“What a hunt I have had!” said Linton, as he entered, flushed and +weary-looking. “Our amount is rather above the ordinary mark, and I found +it almost impossible to procure the stamps. Are you tired waiting?” + </p> +<p> +“No,—nothing to speak of,” said Cashel, confusedly. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I fancy our friend here has had much more than his share of an +audience. I'll see, and unearth him.” + </p> +<p> +And so saying, Linton knocked with his cane at the door. A low murmuring +of voices succeeded, the sound of feet followed, and soon after the door +was opened, and a small, thin, pale-faced man in black appeared. +</p> +<p> +“Good morning, Mr. Hoare. Here have we been playing antechamber to your +serene highness for full an hour. This is Mr. Roland Cashel, Mr. Hoare, +who wishes to make your acquaintance.” + </p> +<p> +The little man turned his quick gray eyes towards Cashel with a most +scrutinizing keenness; but, as suddenly withdrawing them, invited both to +enter. +</p> +<p> +“Be seated, gentlemen. Pardon the humble accommodation of this place. Take +a chair, Mr. Linton.” + </p> +<p> +“We want tin, Mr. Hoare,” said Linton, slapping his boot with his cane,—“that +most universal and vulgar want My friend here desires to raise a sum +without having recourse to his agent, and I believe no man can aid in a +little secret-service transaction like yourself.” + </p> +<p> +“Is the sum a large one, sir?” said Hoare, addressing Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“I cannot tell you exactly,” said Cashel, in some confusion at the +confession of his ignorance. “I fancy it must be close on ten or twelve +thousand pounds.” + </p> +<p> +“More like twenty!” cried Linton, coolly. Then, turning to Hoare, he went +on: “My friend here is, happily for him, very little skilled in affairs of +this kind, and, as his security is about the best that can be offered, he +need not buy his experience very dearly. Now just tell us, frankly, how, +when, and on what terms he can have this money.” + </p> +<p> +“Money is scarce just now, sir,” said Hoare; “but as to securities, Mr. +Cashel's bills are quite sufficient. There is no necessity for any legal +expenses whatever. I need not say that the transaction shall be perfectly +secret: in fact, I'll keep the bills in my own hands till due.” + </p> +<p> +“There, that's the man I told you he was,” cried Linton. “A Croesus in +generosity as in gold. I would I were your son, or your son-in-law, +Hoare.” + </p> +<p> +“Too much honor, Mr. Linton,” said the money-lender, whose slight flush +did not betoken a concurrence in his own words. “Now to business,” + continued he, addressing Cashel. “If you favor me with your name on four +bills for five thousand each, and the accompanying charges for interest, +discount, commission, and so on, I 'll engage that you have this money +within the week.” + </p> +<p> +“Could it not be to-morrow? I should like greatly to have the whole off my +mind; and as I mean not to play again—” + </p> +<p> +“Pooh, pooh,” said Linton, stopping an explanation he was by no means +pleased Hoare should hear; “time enough for resolutions, and time enough +for payment too. By the end of the week, Hoare, will do perfectly. You can +bring the bills with you to my quarters, say on Saturday morning, and we +'ll drive over to Mr. Cashel's.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/cash10222.jpg" alt="222 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +“Very well. I 'll be punctual. At eleven on Saturday expect me. May I +bring that little thing of yours for two hundred pounds with it, Mr. +Linton?” + </p> +<p> +“Of course you may not. Where do you expect me to find money for the debts +of last year? My dear Hoare, I have no more memory for such things than I +have for the sorrows of childhood.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, very well, sir, we'll keep it over,” said Hoare, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“Let him bring it,” whispered Cashel, “and include it in one of my bills. +There's nothing so worrying as an overhanging debt.” + </p> +<p> +“Do you think so?” replied Linton. “Bless me, I never felt that. A life +without duns is like a sky without a cloud, very agreeable for a short +time, but soon becoming wearisome from very monotony. You grow as sick of +uninterrupted blue as ever you did of impending rain and storm. Let me +have the landscape effect of light and shadow over existence. The +brilliant bits are then ten times as glorious in color, and the dark +shadows of one's mortgages only heighten the warmth of the picture. Ask +Hoare, there, <i>he'll</i> tell you. I actually cherish my debts.” + </p> +<p> +“Very true, sir; you cannot bear to part with them either.” + </p> +<p> +“Well said, old Moses; the 'interest' they inspire is too strong for one's +feelings. But hark! I hear some fresh arrivals without. Another boat-load +of the d——d has crossed the Styx.” + </p> +<p> +“Thanks for the simile, sir,” said Hoare, smiling faintly,—“on +Saturday.” + </p> +<p> +“On Saturday,” repeated Linton. +</p> +<p> +Cashel lingered as he left the room; a longing desire to speak one word, +to ask one question of Hoare—who was this Leicester of whom he +spoke?—was uppermost in his mind, and yet he did not dare to own he +had heard the words. He could have wished, too, to communicate his +thoughts to Linton, but a secret fear told him that perhaps the mystery +might be one he would not wish revealed. +</p> +<p> +“Why so thoughtful, Roland?” said Linton, after traversing some streets in +silence. “My friend Hoare has not terrified you?” + </p> +<p> +“No, I was not thinking of him,” said Cashel. “What kind of a character +does he bear?” + </p> +<p> +“Pretty much that of all his class. Sharp enough, when sharpness is called +for, and seemingly liberal if liberality pays better. To me he has been +ever generous. Why, Heaven knows; I suppose the secret will out one of +these days. I'm sure I don't ask for it.” + </p> +<p> +Linton's flippancy, for the first time, was distasteful to Cashel. If the +school in which he was bred taught little remorse about the sin of +incurring debt, it inculcated, however, a manly self-reliance to clear off +the encumbrance by some personal effort, and he by no means sympathized +with the cool indifference of Linton's philosophy. Linton, always shrewd +enough to know when he had not “made a hit,” at once turned the +conversation into another channel, by asking at what time Cashel proposed +to receive his visitors at Tubbermore. +</p> +<p> +“Is the honor seriously intended me?” said Cashel, “or is it merely a +piece of fashionable quizzing, this promised visit, for I own I scarcely +supposed so many fine people would like to encounter the hard usage of +such an old ruin as I hear this must be.” + </p> +<p> +“You'll have them to a certainty. I doubt if there will be a single +apology. I know at this instant the most urgent solicitations have been +employed to procure invitations.” + </p> +<p> +“With all my heart, then,” cried Cashel; “only remember the order of the +course depends on you. I know nothing of how they ought to be entertained +or amused. Take the whole affair into your own hands, and I shall concur +in everything.” + </p> +<p> +“Originality is always better than imitation, but still, if one cannot +strike out a totally new line, what do you think of taking old Mathews of +Johnstown for our model, and invite all our guests with free permission to +dine, breakfast, and sup at what hour and in what parties they please? +This combines the unbridled freedom of an inn with the hospitality of a +country house. Groups form as fancy dictates. New combinations spring up +each day,—no fatigue, no <i>ennui</i>, can ensue with such endless +changes in companionship, and you yourself, instead of the fatiguing +duties of a host, are at liberty, like any of your guests, to join this +party or that.” + </p> +<p> +“I like the notion immensely. How would our friends take it, for that is +the point?” + </p> +<p> +“It would be popular with every one, for it will suit your people, who +know and like to mix with every set in society, and at the same time +gratify your 'exclusives,' who can form their own little coteries with all +the jealous selection they love. Besides, it avoids another and a great +difficulty. Had you received in ordinary fashion, you must have asked some +lady friend to have done the honors for you. This would have been a matter +of the greatest embarrassment. The Kennyfecks have not rank enough; old +Lady Janet would have frightened every one away; Mrs. White would have +filled the house with her own 'blues,' and banished every one else; and as +for Lady Kilgoff, who, besides being a very pretty woman and +well-mannered, has an exceedingly fascinating way with strangers, 'my +Lord' is so jealous, so absurdly, madly jealous, that she dare not ask +after the success of a shooting-party without his suspecting an +allegorical allusion to Cupid and his shafts.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, let us resolve to receive 'en Mathews;' and now, when shall +we name the day?” + </p> +<p> +“Let us wait till the result of the division be known in Parliament. A +change of ministers is hinted at, and if it were to occur, you'll have +every one hastening away to his county for the new election; by Saturday +we shall learn everything, and that will be time enough.” + </p> +<p> +“In any case, I had better set off and see what can be done to put the +house in a fit state to receive them.” + </p> +<p> +“Leave all that to me. I 'll take Popham, the architect, down with me, and +you need never trouble your head about the matter. It's quite clear people +who accept an invitation like the present must put up with a hundred small +penalties on convenience. The liberty of such a house always repays +whatever is wanting on the score of ceremonial and order, and your fine +guests, who would perhaps give themselves airs towards the Kennyfecks and +their set if meeting them elsewhere, will here affect, at least, a tone of +good-natured equality, just as in revolutionary times people shake hands +with their hairdresser.” + </p> +<p> +“But how to amuse or even occupy them! that is a great puzzle to me.” + </p> +<p> +“Leave them perfectly to their own devices. In fun there should be always +free-trade. Protection ruins it. But all this is Egyptian to you, so go to +bed and sleep soundly, and leave the cares of state to me. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“On me the glory or disgrace, +The pride of triumph or the shame of fall.” + </pre> +<p> +“Then I 'll think no more of the matter,” said Cashel; “and so good-by.” + </p> +<p> +“Now for a twenty-four hours' sleep,” said Linton, “and then once more to +roll the stone of life, which, by the way, gives the lie to the old adage, +for unquestionably it does 'gather moss' as we grow older.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVII. SCANNING THE POLITICAL HORIZON. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Confound their politics! + +—National Anthem. +</pre> +<p> +Linton was very far from indulging that dreamy inactivity of which he +spoke. Plans and schemes of various kinds occupied his thoughts too +intently to admit of slumber. Indeed, his theory was, that, if a man could +not dream of some happy mode of advancing his fortune, sleep was a fearful +inroad upon his worldly career. +</p> +<p> +He at once hastened home to read his letters and newspapers, and so +important did their intelligence seem, that he only delayed to change his +dress and eat a hurried breakfast, when he repaired to the Castle, where a +few minutes previously the secretary, Mr. Downie Meek, had arrived from +his lodge in the Park. +</p> +<p> +“Safe once more, Meek,” said he, entering the official chamber, where, +immersed in printed returns, petitions, and remonstrances, sat the busy +secretary. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Linton! you are the <i>bien venu</i>. We are to have another heat for +the race, though I own it scarcely looks promising.” + </p> +<p> +“Particularly as you are going to carry weight,” said Linton, laughing. +“It's true, I suppose, that the Irish party have joined you?” + </p> +<p> +“There was no help for it,” said the secretary, with a despondent gesture +of the eyebrows; “we had no alternative save accepting the greasy voices, +or go out. Some deemed the former the better course, but others remembered +the story of the Brahmin, who engaged to teach the ass to speak in ten +years, or else forfeit his own head.” + </p> +<p> +“And perfectly right,” interrupted Linton. “The Brahmin had only three +chances in his favor. Now, your king may die too, and you have any number +of asses to be got rid of.” + </p> +<p> +“Let us be serious, Tom. What are our prospects at a general election? Are +the landed gentry growing afraid of the O'Gorman party, or are they still +hanging back, resentful of Peel's desertion?” + </p> +<p> +“They are very conservative,—that is, they want to keep their +properties and pay the least possible taxation. Be cautious, however, and +you have them all your own. The Irish party being now with you, begin by +some marked favor to the Protestant Church. Hear me out. This will alarm +the Romanists, and cause a kind of split amongst them. Such as have, or +expect to have place, will stand by you; the others will show fight. You +have then an opportunity of proclaiming yourselves a strong Protestant +Cabinet, and the ultras, who hate Peel, will at least affect to believe +you. While the country is thus agitated, go to the elections. Your +friends, amid so many unsettled opinions, cannot be expected to take +pledges, or, better still, they cannot accept any, subject to various +contingencies never to arise.” + </p> +<p> +“I am sorely afraid of this splitting up the forces,” said Meek, +doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +“It's your true game, depend upon it,” said Linton. “These Irish allies +are unwieldy—when numerous. I remember once calling on Tom Scott, +the trainer, one day, and while we went through the stables I could not +help remarking the fine family of boys he had. 'Yes, sir,' said Tom, +modestly, 'they 're good-looking chaps, and smart ones. God Almighty keep +'em little, sir!'” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, very true,” sighed Meek; “God Almighty keep 'em little!” + </p> +<p> +“Then,” resumed Linton, “you have never played out that golden game of +Irish legislation, which consists in enacting a law, and always ruling +against it. Decide for the education system, but promote the men who +oppose it. Condemn the public conduct of certain parties, and then let +them figure as baronets, or lieutenants of counties, in the next +'Gazette,' and, to crown all, seek out every now and then some red-hot +supporter of Government, and degrade him from the bench of magistrates for +maladministration! This, which in England would seem rather chaotic +legislation, will to Irish intelligence smack like even-handed justice.” + </p> +<p> +“We have a bad press,” said Meek, peevishly. +</p> +<p> +“No matter, it has the less influence. Believe me, it will be an evil day +for you Downing Street gentlemen when Ireland possesses a really able and +independent press,—when, avoiding topics of mere irritating +tendency, men address themselves to the actual wants of the country, +exemplifying, as they disclose them, the inaptitude and folly of English +legislation. Don't wait for that day, Meek. In all likelihood it is +distant enough, but in any case don't hasten its coming by your prayers.” + </p> +<p> +“You mustn't broach these doctrines out of doors, Tom,” said Meek, in a +soft, caressing tone; “there is a horrid cant getting up just now against +English rule, and in favor of native manufactures.” + </p> +<p> +“Which be they, Meek? I never heard of them. Maynooth is the only factory +I know of in the land, and a brisk trade it has, home and colonial.” + </p> +<p> +“You know as well as any man the benefits we have conferred on this +country.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, it demands no great tax on memory to repeat them. You found a +starving peasantry of a couple of millions, and, being unable or +incompetent to aid them, you ruined the gentry to keep them company. You +saw a mangy, miserable dog with famine in his flank and death in his eye, +and, answering his appeal to your compassion, you cut an inch off his tail +and told him to eat it.” + </p> +<p> +“You are too bad, Tom—a great deal too bad. What are you looking +for?” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing at present,” was the cool reply. +</p> +<p> +“What in prospective, then?” + </p> +<p> +“I should like to be the Secretary for Ireland, Meek, whenever they shelve +you among the other unredeemed pledges in that pawn-office, the Board of +Trade.” + </p> +<p> +Meek affected a laugh, but not over successfully, while to turn the +conversation, he said, “<i>A propos</i> to your friend Cashel, I have not +been able to show him any attentions, so occupied have I been with one +thing and another. Let us make a dinner for him.” + </p> +<p> +“No, no, he does n't care for such things. Come and Join his house-warming +on the Shannon; that will be far better.” + </p> +<p> +“I mean it, but I should like also to see him here. He knows the Kilgoffs, +doesn't he?” + </p> +<p> +“Slightly. By the way, what are you going to do with my Lord? He wants, +like Sancho, to be governor of an island.” + </p> +<p> +“What an old bore! without brains, fortune, or influence.” + </p> +<p> +“He has a very pretty wife, Meek. Don't you think the Foreign Office would +recognize <i>that</i> claim?” + </p> +<p> +“So they send him out of this, I am content. But to return to what we were +talking about. Shall we say Friday? or will Saturday suit you? and we'll +make up a small party.” + </p> +<p> +“I fear not. I mean to leave the town by the end of the week.” + </p> +<p> +“Not for any time?” + </p> +<p> +“A few days only, and then I shall be at your orders. Meanwhile, leave +Cashel to himself; he has got some suspicions—Heaven knows whence or +how—that his borough influence makes him a very important card just +now; therefore don't notice him, starve him out, and you 'll have him come +forth with a white flag one of these days. I know him well, and the +chances are that, if he were to attribute any of your civilities to the +score of your calculation respecting his political influence, he would at +once become your most determined opponent.” + </p> +<p> +“But his borough—” + </p> +<p> +“Let him represent it himself, Meek, and it's the next best thing to +disfranchisement.” + </p> +<p> +“He would not be likely to accept any advice from us?” asked Meek, half +timidly. +</p> +<p> +“To a certainty he would not, although proffered in your own most +insinuating manner. Come, Meek, no nonsense; you must look out for a seat +for your <i>protégé</i> Clare Jones, elsewhere; though I tell you frankly +he is not worth the trouble.” + </p> +<p> +“I declare you are all wrong, Linton—quite wrong; I was thinking +whether from motives of delicacy you would not like to press your own +claim, which <i>we</i> might, with so much propriety.” + </p> +<p> +“Thanks,” said Linton; while a sly twinkle of his eye showed that he did +not care to disguise the spirit of mistrust with which he heard the +speech. “Thanks; <i>you</i> are too generous, and I am too modest, so let +us not think more of the matter.” + </p> +<p> +“What is Cashel's real fortune?” said Meek, not sorry to turn the +conversation into a less dangerous channel; “one hears so many absurd and +extravagant reports, it is hard to know what to believe.” + </p> +<p> +“Kennyfeck calls it fourteen thousand a year above all charges and cost of +collection.” + </p> +<p> +“And your own opinion?” + </p> +<p> +Linton shrugged his shoulders carelessly, and said, “There or thereabouts. +I fancy that his ready money has been greatly overrated. But why do you +ask? Your people wouldn't give him a peerage, would they?” + </p> +<p> +“Not now, of course,” said Meek, hesitating. +</p> +<p> +“Nor at any time, I trust,” said Linton, authoritatively. “The man does +not know how to behave as a plain country gentleman; why increase his +embarrassments by making him a Lord? Besides, you should take care in +these new creations who are your peeresses, or one of these days you 'll +have old Kennyfeck fancying that he is a noble himself.” + </p> +<p> +“There is no danger to be apprehended in that quarter?” asked Meek, with +some trepidation of manner. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, but there is, though, and very considerable, too. He has been living +in the house with those girls,—clever and shrewd girls, too. He is +more at his ease there than elsewhere. They listen patiently to his +tiresome prairie stories, and are indulgent to all his little 'escapades'—as +a 'ranchero;' in a word, he is a hero there, and never leaves the +threshold without losing some of the charms of the illusion.” + </p> +<p> +“And you saw all this?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes.” + </p> +<p> +“And suffered it?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes. What would you have me do? Had there been only one girl in the case—I +might have married her. But it is only in botany, or the bay of that name, +that the English permit polygamy.” + </p> +<p> +“I am very sorry to hear this,” said Meek, gravely. +</p> +<p> +“I am very sorry to have it to tell, Meek,” said the other. +</p> +<p> +“He might marry so well!” muttered Meek, half in soliloquy. +</p> +<p> +“To be sure he might; and in good hands—I mean in those of a man who +sees his way in life—cut a very fair figure, too. But it won't do to +appear in London with a second or third rate woman, whose only +recommendation is the prettiness that has fascinated 'Castle balls' in +Dublin.” + </p> +<p> +“Let us talk over this again, Linton,” said Meek, arranging his papers, +and affecting to be busied. +</p> +<p> +“With all my heart; indeed, it was a subject I intended to speak to you +about. I have a little theory thereanent myself.” + </p> +<p> +“Have you, indeed?” said Meek, looking up with animation. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, but it needs your counsel—perhaps something more, I should say—but +another time—good-bye, goodbye.” And without waiting to say or hear +more, Linton lounged out of the room, leaving the secretary, thoughtful +and serious, behind him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVIII. UNDER THE GREEN-WOOD TREE. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Nor lives the heart so cold and dark +But in its depths some lingering spark +Of love is cherished there! + +The Outlaw. +</pre> +<p> +When Tom Linton parted with Mr. Meek he repaired to the club in Kildare +Street to listen to the gossip on the rumored dissolution of Parliament, +and pick up what he could of the prevailing tone among the country gentry. +</p> +<p> +His appearance was eagerly hailed by many, who regarded him as generally +well informed on all the changes and turns of party warfare; but, as he +professed the most complete ignorance of everything, and seemed to devour +with greedy curiosity the most commonplace announcements, he was speedily +deserted and suffered to pursue his work of inquiry perfectly unmolested. +Not that indeed there was much to learn; the tone of banter and raillery +with which, from want of all real political influence, men in Ireland +accustom themselves to discuss grave questions, concealing their real +sentiments, or investing them with a ludicrous exaggeration, oftentimes +foiled even the shrewd perception of Tom Linton. +</p> +<p> +He did, however, learn so much as showed him, that all the ordinary +landmarks of party being lost, men were beginning to find themselves at +liberty to adopt any leadership which pleased them, without suffering the +stain of desertion. They thought themselves betrayed by each of the great +political chiefs in turn, and began to fancy that the best course for them +in future would be to make specific terms for any support they should +accord. Suggestions to this end thrown out in all the bantering gayety of +Irish manner might mean anything, or nothing, and so Linton well knew, as +he listened to them. +</p> +<p> +He had taken his place at a whist-table, that he might, while seemingly +preoccupied, hear what was said around him, and although no error of play, +nor a single mistake in the game, marked the different direction of his +attention, he contrived to learn much of the opinion prevalent in certain +circles. +</p> +<p> +“That is the luckiest fellow in Europe,” said one of his late antagonists; +“as usual he rises the only winner.” + </p> +<p> +“You can scarcely call it luck,” said another; “he is a first-rate player, +and always so cool.” + </p> +<p> +Meanwhile, Linton, mounting his horse, rode slowly along the streets till +he arrived at Bilton's Hotel, where a handsome britzska was standing, +whose large up-standing horses and richly-mounted harnessing gave token of +London rather than of Dublin taste. +</p> +<p> +“Is her Ladyship going out, Halpin?” said he to the footman. +</p> +<p> +“Her Ladyship ordered the carriage for four precisely, sir.” + </p> +<p> +Linton mused for a second or two, and then asked if Lord Kilgoff were at +home, and not waiting for a reply, passed on. +</p> +<p> +No sooner, however, had he reached the landing-place, and was beyond the +observation of the servant, than he halted and appeared to reflect At +last, as if having made his resolve, he turned to descend the stairs, when +the drawing-room door opened and Lord Kilgoff appeared. +</p> +<p> +“The very man I wanted. Linton, come here,” cried he, re-entering the +room. +</p> +<p> +“I was just on my way to you, my Lord,” said Linton, with well-affected +eagerness. +</p> +<p> +“Are they out, Linton, are they 'out'?” said he, in breathless impatience. +</p> +<p> +“No, my Lord. I've seen Meek; they're safe for the present. A coalition +has been formed with O'Morgan and his party, which secures a working +majority of forty-five or fifty.” + </p> +<p> +“This is certain, Linton; may I rely upon it?” + </p> +<p> +“You may, my Lord, with confidence.” + </p> +<p> +“Then I suppose the moment has come when my adhesion would be most +well-timed. It's a grave question, Tom; everything depends on it. If I +join them and they go out—” + </p> +<p> +“Why, your Lordship goes out too, without ever having the satisfaction of +being 'in.'” + </p> +<p> +“Not if they gave me the mission to Florence, Tom. They never remove the +smaller legations in any change of parties.” + </p> +<p> +“But you could not help resigning, my Lord; you should follow your +friends,” said Linton, with an assumed air of high principle. +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit of it; I 'd hold on. I see no reason whatever for such a +course. I have made a rough draft of a letter which Hindley should show to +Peel. See here, this is the important passage. I presuppose that I had +already given Hindley my resignation to hand in to Aberdeen, but that +yielding to his arguments, who refuses to deliver it, I have reconsidered +the matter. Now, listen: 'You say that my functions are not of a nature to +admit any line of partisanship, and that a man of honorable views can +serve his country under a Whig or Tory administration, irrespective of his +own preference for one or the other. I feel this to be true. I know that, +in my own official career, I have always forgotten the peculiar politics +of my masters; but another question arises,—how shall I be judged by +others? for while I confess to you that I entertain for Peel's capacity a +respect I have never been able to feel for the Whig leaders, yet family +prejudices, connections, a hundred minor circumstances, some purely +accidental, threw me among the ranks of that party, and a sense of +consistency kept me where very probably unbiassed judgment had never +suffered me to remain.'” + </p> +<p> +“Amazingly good! very well done, indeed!” said Linton, in whose dubious +smile younger eyes than Lord Kilgoff's might have read the most insolent +expression of contempt; not, indeed, at the hypocrisy, but at the poor +attempt to give it color. “There could be no thought of removing a man +with such sentiments.” + </p> +<p> +“I think not, Linton. It would be a gross and flagrant case of official +tyranny to do so,—a case for inquiry in the House,—a motion to +produce the correspondence—” + </p> +<p> +“Better not, my Lord,” said Linton, dryly; “that is an admirable letter +addressed to your friend, Lord Hindley; but in a blue book it won't read +so well. Take my advice: hold on if you can, go if you must, but don't ask +questions, at all events.” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps you are right, Tom,” said Kilgoff, musing. +</p> +<p> +“Now for another point, my Lord; this visit to Mr. Cashel—” + </p> +<p> +“I 've declined it,” said Lord Kilgoff, reddening, and with a look of +extreme irritation. “The note is there sealed on the table, and shall be +sent within an hour.” + </p> +<p> +“I am not at liberty to ask your reasons, my Lord,” said Linton, gravely +and respectfully, “but I am certainly free to state my own, why I think +you ought most positively to go there.” + </p> +<p> +“You may, certainly,” said Lord Kilgoff, rising impatiently, and pacing +the room; “I shall not interrupt you, but I shall also pledge myself not +to let them influence me in the slightest degree. My mind is made up, +sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Then I shall speak with more freedom,” said Linton, boldly; “because, +having no pretension to change your sentiments, I am merely desirous to +record my own.” + </p> +<p> +Lord Kilgoff made no reply, but continued his walk, while Linton resumed:— +</p> +<p> +“Now I see your impatience, my Lord, and will not trespass on it. Here, in +three words, is my case. The borough of Drumkeeran returns a member to +Parliament; Hebden, who represents it, is about to accept the Hundreds; +Cashel owns the town.” + </p> +<p> +“And if he does, sir, what signifies it to me?” broke in Lord Kilgoff; “I +have not the slightest influence over that gentleman's opinions. He was +rude enough to give me a very flat contradiction in the only discussion we +ever held together. I venture to assert, from what I have seen of him, +that any direction of his course in Parliament would be totally +impossible. He is self-willed, obstinate, and opinionated.” + </p> +<p> +“Granted, my Lord; he is the very calibre to run through his own, and ruin +any other man's fortune.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, sir, and this is the person whose services you think it worth my +while obtaining?” + </p> +<p> +“I never said so, my Lord.” + </p> +<p> +“What! did n't I hear you this moment—” + </p> +<p> +“No, you heard me say that the borough is his, but you never heard me say +that he ought to be its member. For that honor I had another in my eye,—one +over whom your Lordship's influence has never yet been doubted.” + </p> +<p> +“Whom do you mean?” + </p> +<p> +“Tom Linton, my Lord; a very unworthy, but a most devoted partisan of your +Lordship's.” + </p> +<p> +“What! Tom—<i>you</i> in Parliament?” + </p> +<p> +“Even so, my Lord,” said Linton, for once in his life—perhaps, the +only time—that a flash of angry meaning colored his calm features. +“I am sorry that the notion should so palpably wake your Lordship's +amazement.” + </p> +<p> +“No—no—no! I did n't mean that. I was only surprised. In fact, +you took me unawares—we were talking of Cashel.” + </p> +<p> +“Precisely, my Lord; we were discussing the probable career of a person so +eminently gifted with statesmanlike qualities; then, how could I possibly +hope for patience when introducing to your notice abilities so humble as +my own?” + </p> +<p> +“But is it possible—is this practicable, Linton?” + </p> +<p> +“With your assistance it is certain. The influence of your Lordship's rank +would give such weight to your opinions, that if you were only to say to +him, 'Send Linton into Parliament as your member,' the thing is done.” + </p> +<p> +“I have my doubts.” + </p> +<p> +“I have none whatever—I know the man well. He is dying to conform to +anything that he supposes to be the discipline of his class. Tell him he +ought, and he never resists.” + </p> +<p> +“I have resolved on not paying this visit,” said Kilgoff, after a brief +pause; “reasons of sufficient weight determined me.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, my Lord, pardon the freedom, but I must say that they had need be +strong reasons to weigh against all the advantages I can show from the +opposite course.” + </p> +<p> +“They are, sir, very strong reasons, nor do I deem it necessary to advert +to them again; enough that I esteem them sufficient.” + </p> +<p> +“Of course, my Lord, I never dreamed of calling them in question; they +must needs be cogent arguments which counterpoise the opposite scale—a +high diplomatic career—a representative peerage—this there +could be no doubt of.” + </p> +<p> +“How do you mean?” broke in Kilgoff, abruptly. +</p> +<p> +“Simply that this young man becomes your trump card, if you only please to +take him up. As yet he has resisted the advances made by Downie Meek and +his set, because of my watchfulness; but sooner or later some party will +catch him, and when one thinks how few men with a large unencumbered +fortune we possess here, with a great county interest, two boroughs, for +he owns Knockgarvan as well, the prize is really worth having, +particularly as it only needs the stretching out the hand to take.” + </p> +<p> +Lord Kilgoff mused and seemed to ponder over the words. He entertained +small doubts of his “friend” Linton's capacity; but he had very +considerable suspicions of his principles, and it is a strange fact that +people willing to commit very gross breaches of fair dealing themselves +are exceedingly scrupulous respecting the fair fame of their associates in +iniquity, so admirably accommodating is a worldly conscience! +</p> +<p> +“Well, sir,” said he, at length, “the price—name the price. What are +we to pay for the article?—that is the question.” + </p> +<p> +“I have said, my Lord, it is to be had for asking. Your Lordship has only +to take the territory, as our naval men do the chance islands they meet +with in the Southern Pacific. Land and plant your flag—<i>voilà +tout!</i>” + </p> +<p> +“But you have heard me observe already,” said he, in a querulous tone, +“that I dislike the prospect of this visit—that in fact it would be +exceedingly disagreeable to me.” + </p> +<p> +“Then I have nothing more to say, my Lord,” said Linton, coolly, while he +took up his hat and gloves. “I can only congratulate you on the excellence +of your political prospects, which can dispense with a strong alliance to +be had so easily.” + </p> +<p> +“Our measures of value are very different, Mr. Linton,” said Lord Kilgoff, +proudly. “Still, to prove that this is no caprice on my part,”—here +he stopped abruptly, while his heightened color showed the degree of +embarrassment he labored under,—“to show you that I have—in +order to explain my motives—” Here he took a cautious glance around +the room, walked to the door, opened and shut it again, and then drawing +his arm within Linton's, led him towards a window. For a second or two he +seemed undecided, and at last, by a great effort, he whispered a few words +in Linton's ear. +</p> +<p> +Had any third party been there to watch the effect of the whispered +confidence, he might easily have read in the speaking brilliancy of +Linton's eyes, and in his assured look, that it was of a nature to give +him the greatest pleasure. But scarce had his Lordship done speaking, when +these signs of pleasure gave way to a cold, almost stern air of morality, +and he said, “But surely, my Lord, it were far better to leave her +Ladyship to deal with such insolent pretension—” + </p> +<p> +“Hush, not so loud; speak lower. So I should, Linton, but women never will +see anything in these airs of puppyism. They persist in thinking, or +saying, at least, that they are mere modern fashionable manners, and this +endurance on their part gives encouragement. And then, when there happens +to be some disparity of years—Lady Kilgoff <i>is</i> my junior—the +censorious world seizes on the shadow of a scandal; in fact, sir, I will +not consent to afford matter for newspaper asterisks or figurative +description.” + </p> +<p> +“Your Lordship never had a better opportunity of giving open defiance to +both. These airs of Cashel are, as you remark, mere puppyism, assumed to +get credit for a certain fashionable character for levity. To avoid him +would be to acknowledge that there was danger in his society. I don't go +so far as to say that he would assert as much, but most assuredly the +world would for him. I think I hear the ready comments on your absence: +'Were not the Kilgoffs expected here?' 'Oh, they were invited, but Lord +Kilgoff was afraid to venture. Cashel had been paying attentions.' In a +word, every species of impertinence that malevolence and envy can fancy +would be fabricated. Your Lordship knows the world far better than I do; +and knows, besides, the heavy price a man pays for being the possessor of +a high capacity and a handsome wife: these are two insults that the less +fortunate in life never do, or never can forgive.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, what is it you counsel?” + </p> +<p> +“To meet these calumnies in the face; small slanders, like weak fires, are +to be trampled out; to tamper with such, is to fan the flame which at last +will scorch you. Besides, to take another view of the matter: her Ladyship +is young, and has been much admired; how will she accept this seclusion? I +don't speak of the present case; besides, I suppose that this country +visit would bore her beyond measure. But how will she regard it in other +instances? Is it not an implied fear on your Lordship's part? you, who +have really nothing to dread in competition with any man. I only know, if +I were in your place, how I should actually seize the very opportunity of +openly flouting such calumnious rumor; never was there an occasion to do +so on cheaper terms. This Roland Cashel is an underbred boy.” + </p> +<p> +“There is a great deal in what you say, Linton. But as jealousy is a +feeling of which I have never had any experience, I was only anxious on +Lady Kilgoff's account, that the thoughtless gayety of a very young and +handsome woman should not expose her to the sarcastic insinuations of an +impertinent world. She <i>is</i> gay in manner; there <i>is</i> an air of +lively imagination—” + </p> +<p> +“No more than what the French call '<i>amabilité</i>,' my Lord, which, +like the famed armor of Milan is not the less defensive that it is so +beautiful in all its details.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, I 'll not send the note,” said Lord Kilgoff, as he took up +the letter, and tearing it, threw the fragments into the fire; “of course, +Linton, this conversation is strictly confidential?” + </p> +<p> +“Your Lordship has never found me unworthy of such a trust.” + </p> +<p> +“Never; nor, I must say, would it be for your advantage to become so.” + </p> +<p> +Linton bit his lip, and for a second or two seemed burning to make a +rejoinder; but overcoming the temptation, assumed his careless smile, and +said,— +</p> +<p> +“I leave you, my Lord, greatly gratified that chance led me to pay this +visit. I sincerely believe, that in the counsels I have offered, I have at +least been able to be of service to you.” + </p> +<p> +Lord Kilgoff presented his hand in acknowledgment of the speech, but it +was accorded with an air which seemed to say, “Well, here is a receipt in +full for your devotedness.” + </p> +<p> +Linton took it in the same spirit, and left the room, as though deeply +impressed with all the honor he enjoyed in such a noble friendship. +</p> +<p> +Hastening down the stairs, he sprang into the saddle of his horse, and +cantering up the street, turned towards the road which leads to the +Phoenix Park. It was about the hour when the equipages were wont to throng +that promenade, but Linton did not seem desirous of joining that gay +crowd, for he took a cross-path through the fields, and after a sharp ride +of half-an-hour, reached a low paling which skirted the park on the +eastward; here, at a small cottage kept by one of the rangers, a little +door led in, passing through which he found himself in one of the long +green alleys of that beautiful tract. A boy, who seemed to be ready +waiting, now took his horse, and Linton entered the wood and disappeared. +He did not proceed far, however, within the shady copse, for after going a +short distance he perceived a carriage standing in the lane, by the door +of which a footman waited, with a shawl upon his arm. The coachman, with +his whip posed, sat talking with his fellow-servant, so that Linton saw +that the carriage had no occupant. +</p> +<p> +He now hastened along, and speedily emerging at a little grassy opening of +the wood, came in sight of a lady walking at some distance in front. The +fashionable air and splendid dress, which might have suited the most +brilliant promenade of a great city, seemed strange in such a lone, +unvisited spot. Linton lost no time in overtaking her, only diminishing +his speed as he came closer, when, with his hat removed, and in an +attitude of the most humble deference, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“Pray let me stand excused if I am somewhat behind my time; the fault was +not my own.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, say nothing about it,” said a soft musical voice, and Lady Kilgoff +turned an easy smile towards him. “'Qui s'excuse, s'accuse,' says the +French proverb, and I never dreamt of the accusation. Is it not a lovely +day here?” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/cash10242.jpg" alt="242 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +Linton was too much piqued to answer at once, but recovering, he said, +“Without seeking to apologize for an absence that was not felt, let me +return to the subject. I assure your Ladyship that I had been detained by +Lord Kilgoff, who was pleased to bestow a more than ordinary share of his +confidence upon me, and even condescended to ask my counsel.” + </p> +<p> +“How flattering! Which you gave, I hope, with all the sincerity for which +you are famous.” + </p> +<p> +Linton tried to smile, but not very successfully. +</p> +<p> +“What, then, was this wonderful mystery? Not the representative peerage, I +trust; I 'm sure I hope that question is at rest forever.” + </p> +<p> +“You are quite safe there,—he never mentioned it.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, then it was his diplomatic ambition,—ain't I right? Ah, I knew +it; I knew it How very silly, or how very wicked you must be, Mr. Linton, +to encourage these daydreams,—you who have not the excuse of +hallucinations, who read the book of life as it is written, without +fanciful interpretations!” + </p> +<p> +“I certainly must disclaim your paneygric. I had one hallucination, if so +you term it,—it was that you wished, ardently wished, for the +position which a foreign 'mission' bestows. A very natural wish, I freely +own, in one so worthy in every way to grace and adorn it.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, so I did some time back, but I 've changed my mind. I don't think I +should like it; I have been reconsidering the subject.” + </p> +<p> +“And your Ladyship inclines now rather to seclusion and rural pleasures; +how fortunate that I should have been able to serve your interests there +also.” + </p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” said she, with a stare, while a deep scarlet suffused +her cheek. +</p> +<p> +“I alluded to a country visit which you fancied might be made so +agreeably, but which his Lordship had the bad taste to regard less +favorably.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, sir, you did not presume to give any opinion?” + </p> +<p> +“I really did. I had all the hardihood to brave Lord Kilgoff's most fixed +resolves. You were aware that he declined Mr. Cashel's invitation?” + </p> +<p> +She nodded, and he went on,— +</p> +<p> +“Probably, too, knowing the reasons for that refusal?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir; the matter was indifferent to me, so I never troubled my head +about it. My Lord said we shouldn't go, and I said, 'Very well,' and there +it ended.” + </p> +<p> +Now, although this was spoken with a most admirably feigned indifference, +Linton was too shrewd an observer not to penetrate the deception. +</p> +<p> +“I am doubly unlucky this day,” said he, at last, “first to employ all my +artifices to plan a ministerial success to which you are actually averse, +and secondly, to carry a point to which you are indifferent.” + </p> +<p> +“Dare I ask, if the question be not an indiscreet one, what peculiar +interest Mr. Linton can have, either in our acceptance or refusal of this +invitation?” + </p> +<p> +“Have I not said that I believed you desired it?” replied he, with a most +meaning look. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed you read inclinations most skilfully, only that you interpret them +by anticipation.” + </p> +<p> +“This is too much,” said Linton, in a voice whose passionate earnestness +showed that all dissimulation was at an end, “far too much! The genteel +comedy that we play before the world, madam, might be laid aside for a few +moments here. When I asked for this interview, and you consented to give +it—” + </p> +<p> +“It was on the express stipulation that you should treat me as you do in +society, sir,” broke she in—“that there should be no attempt to fall +back upon an intimacy which can never be resumed.” + </p> +<p> +“When I promised, I intended to have kept my word, Laura,” said he, in +deep dejection; “I believed I could have stifled the passion that consumes +me, and talked to you in the words of sincere, devoted friendship, but I +cannot. Old memories of once happiness, brought up too vividly by seeing +you, as I used to see you, when in many a country walk we sauntered on, +dreaming of the time when, mine, by every tie of right, as by affection—” + </p> +<p> +“How you requited that affection, Linton!” said she, in a tone whose deep +reproach seemed actually to stun him. Then suddenly changing to an air of +disdainful anger, she continued: “You are a bold man, Linton. I thought it +would be too much for even <i>your</i> hardihood to recur to a theme so +full of humiliation for yourself; but I know your theory, sir: you think +there is a kind of heroism in exaggerated baseness, and that it is no less +great to transcend men in crime than in virtue. You dare to speak of an +affection that you betrayed and bartered for money.” + </p> +<p> +“I made you a peeress, madam. When you were Laura Gardiner, you couldn't +have spoken to me as now you speak.” + </p> +<p> +“If I consented to the vile contract, it was that, when I discovered your +baseness, any refuge was preferable to being the wife of one like you!” + </p> +<p> +“A most complimentary assurance, not only to myself, but his Lordship,” + said Linton, with an insolent smile. +</p> +<p> +“Now, hear me,” said she, not noticing the taunt, but speaking with a +voice of deep collected earnestness. “It is in vain to build upon time or +perseverance—the allies you trust so deeply—to renew the ties +broken forever. If I had no other higher and more sustaining motive, my +knowledge of you would be enough to rescue me from this danger. I know you +well, Linton. You have often told me what an enemy you could be. This, at +least, I believe of all that you have ever sworn! I have a full faith, +too, in your ingenuity and skill; and yet I would rather brave both—ay, +both hate and craft—than trust to what you call your honor.” + </p> +<p> +“You do indeed know me well, Laura,” said he, in a voice broken and +faltering, “or you never had dared to speak such words to me. There is not +one breathing could have uttered them and not pay the penalty, save +yourself. I feel in my inmost heart how deeply I have wronged you, but is +not my whole life an atonement for the wrong? Am I not heartbroken and +wretched, without a hope or a future? What greater punishment did any one +ever incur than to live in the daily sight and contemplation of a bliss +that his own folly or madness have forever denied him; and yet, to that +same suffering do I cling, as the last tie that binds me to existence. To +see you in the world, to watch you, to mark the effect your grace and +beauty are making on all around you—how every fascination calls up +its tribute of admiration—how with each day some new excellence +develops itself, till you seem inexhaustible in all the traits of graceful +womanhood, this has been the cherished happiness of my life! It was to +this end I labored to induce the acceptance of that invitation that once +more, beneath the same roof, I should see you for days long. Your own +heart must confess how I have never before the world forgotten the +distance that separates us. There is, then, no fear that I should resign +every joy that yet remains to me for any momentary indulgence of speaking +to you as my heart feels. No, no, Laura, you have nothing to dread either +from my hate or my love.” + </p> +<p> +“To what end, then, was it that you asked me to meet you here to-day?” + said she, in a voice in which a touch of compassionate sorrow was blended. +</p> +<p> +“Simply to entreat, that if I should succeed in persuading his Lordship to +accept this visit, you would throw no obstacle in the way on your side.” + </p> +<p> +“And if I consent, shall I have no cause to rue my compliance?” + </p> +<p> +“So far as depends on me, none, on my honor!” + </p> +<p> +It had been better for Linton's cause that he had omitted the last words, +at least: as Laura turned away her head, a curl of insolent meaning was on +her lip, but she did not speak, and they now walked along, side by side, +in silence. +</p> +<p> +“You will go, then?” said he, at last, in a low whisper. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said she, faintly. +</p> +<p> +Linton stole a glance at her unperceived, and suddenly the sparkle of his +eyes and the elation of his whole expression showed the transport of +pleasure he experienced. +</p> +<p> +“Now for one word of caution,” said Linton, as, drawing closer to her +side, he assumed the tone of sincere friendship. “Lord Kilgoff has just +revealed to me, in deep confidence, that he has been much offended by +certain attentions shown to you by this Mr. Cashel, and which were of so +marked a nature that he was almost determined never to admit his intimacy +in future. Had his Lordship known you as well as I do, he might have +spared himself this anxiety. I believe such savage excellence as his has +few attractions for you; nor, save the admiration that all must yield you, +has the youth taste or feeling to appreciate your excellence. However, 'my +Lord' is jealous; let it be your care, by knowledge of the fact, not to +incur anything to sustain the suspicion.” + </p> +<p> +“How very absurd all this is! Do you know that Mr. Cashel did not +condescend to pay me the poor compliment of a special invitation to his +house, but asked my Lord to come, and hoped I would accompany him; just as +people invite their humbler acquaintances, hoping that only half the +request may be accorded.” + </p> +<p> +“He is underbred even to barbarism,” said Linton. +</p> +<p> +“He seems a most good-natured creature, and full of generosity.” + </p> +<p> +“Overwealth has sometimes that air. When the glass is brimful, none but +the steadiest hand can carry, without spilling, the wine.” + </p> +<p> +“He does not appear even to make the effort. They tell me he has +squandered some thousands already, making presents to every one who will +accept them.” + </p> +<p> +“He gave me this cane,” said Linton, superciliously, exhibiting a little +riding cane, which he had taken himself out of Cashel's hand, and was of +no value whatever. “Not any great evidence of exaggerated generosity,” + said he. “As to his house, however, I trust its honors may be well done; +he has given me <i>carte blanche</i>, and I must only try and not disgrace +my prerogative.” + </p> +<p> +“How very late it is—nearly seven,” said Lady Kilgoff, looking at +her watch. +</p> +<p> +“Shall I see your Ladyship to your carriage?” said Linton. +</p> +<p> +“I think not,” said she, blushing slightly; “as I left it unaccompanied, +so I shall return to it Good-bye.” + </p> +<p> +She held out her hand as she spoke, but slightly averted her head, so that +Linton could not mark the expression of her features. As it was, he +pressed the gloved fingers to his lips, but, when doing so, contrived to +unclasp her bracelet,—a singularly rich one, and a present from Lord +Kilgoff on the day of her marriage. This he let fall noiselessly on the +grass, and murmured, in a low voice, “Goodbye.” + </p> +<p> +Lady Kilgoff, hastily wrapping her shawl about her, left the spot. Linton +watched her till he had seen her seated in the carriage, and continued to +gaze after it, as it drove rapidly away, and so intently occupied by his +thoughts, that he did not notice the approach of a horseman, who came up +at a walking pace behind him. +</p> +<p> +“Eh, Tom!” cried out Lord Charles Frobisher, “this is flying at high +game!” + </p> +<p> +“You are mistaken, Charley,” said he, in some confusion. “This 'meeting +under the green-wood tree' was nothing less than a love affair.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, hang your morality, Mr. Joseph; it's rather good fun to see the +'insolent beauty' of the season capitulating.” + </p> +<p> +“Wrong again,” said Linton, affecting a laugh. “Everton is in a scrape, +and his wife wants me to get him out of the way—” + </p> +<p> +“Nonsense, man, I saw the carriage; there is no need of mystifying here. +Besides, it's no affair of mine—I'm sure I wish it were! But come, +what are the odds on Hitchley's colt—are seven to two taken?” + </p> +<p> +“Don't bet,” said Linton, knowingly; “there is something 'wrong' in that +stable, and I have n't found out the secret.” + </p> +<p> +“What a deep fellow you are, Tom.” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing of the kind, Charley. If I were, you 'd never have discovered it. +Your only deep fellow is he that the world deems shallow—your +light-hearted, rattling knave, whose imputed thoughtlessness covers every +breach of faith, and makes his veriest schemes seem purely accident. But, +once get the repute of being a clever or a smart fellow, and success is +tenfold more difficult. The world, then, only plays with you as one does +with a sharper, betting small stakes, and keeping a steady eye on the +cards. Your own sleepy eye, Charley, your languid, careless look, are a +better provision than most men give their younger children.” + </p> +<p> +Lord Charles lifted his long eyelashes lazily, and, for a second, +something like a sparkle lit up his cold, dark eye, but it was gone in a +moment, and his habitually lethargic expression once more returned. “You +heard that we were nearly 'out,' I suppose?” said he, after a pause. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. This is the second time that I bought Downie Meek's carriage-horses +on the rumor of a change of administration.” + </p> +<p> +“And sold them back again at double the price, when he found that the +ministry were safe!” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure; was n't it a 'good hedge' for him to be Secretary for Ireland +at the cost of a hundred or so?” + </p> +<p> +“You 'll get the name of spreading the false intelligence, Tom, if you +always profit so much by it.” + </p> +<p> +“With all my heart. I wish sincerely some good-natured fellow would lay to +my charge a little roguery that I had no share in. I have experienced all +manner and shades of sensations, but injured innocence, that would really +be new to me.” + </p> +<p> +“Well,” sighed Lord Charles, with a yawn, “I suppose we have only a short +time before us here. The end of the session will scarcely see us in +office.” + </p> +<p> +“About that: by keeping all hands at the pumps we may float the ship into +harbor, but no more.” + </p> +<p> +“And what 's to become of us?” said the <i>aide-de-camp</i>, with a deep +depression in his accent. +</p> +<p> +“The usual lot of a crew paid off,” cried Linton, laughing; “look out for +a new craft in commission, and go to sea again. As for you, Charley, you +can either marry something in the printed calico line, with a hundred and +fifty thousand, or, if you prefer it, exchange into a light cavalry corps +at Suntanterabund.” + </p> +<p> +“And you?” said Lord Charles, with something almost of sternness. +</p> +<p> +“I? Oh, as for me, I have many alternatives. I can remain a Whig, and +demand office from the Tories—a claim Peel has never resisted; I can +turn Repealer, and be pensioned by something in the Colonies; I can be a +waiter on Providence, and live on all parties by turns. In fact, Charley, +there never was a better age for your 'adventurer' than this year of our +Lord 18—. All the geography of party has been erased, and it is open +to every man to lay down new territorial limits.” + </p> +<p> +“But for any case of the kind you should have a seat in Parliament” + </p> +<p> +“So I mean it, my boy. I intend to represent,—I'm sure I forget the +name of my constituency,—in the next assemblage of the collective +wisdom.” + </p> +<p> +“How do you manage the qualification?” said the <i>aide-de-camp</i>, +slyly. +</p> +<p> +“The man who gives the borough must take care of that; it's no affair of +mine,” said Linton, carelessly. “I only supply the politics.” + </p> +<p> +“And what are they to be?” + </p> +<p> +“<i>Cela dépend</i>. You might as well ask me what dress I 'll wear in the +changeable climate of an Irish July.” + </p> +<p> +“Then you 'll take no pledges?” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure I will; every one asked of me. I only stipulate to accompany +each with a crotchet of my own, so that, like the gentleman who emptied +his snuff-box over the peas, I 'll leave the dish uneatable by any but +myself.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, good-bye, Tom,” said Lord Charles, laughing. “If you only be as +loyal in love as you promise to be in politics, our fair friend is +scarcely fortunate.” And so saying, he cantered slowly away. +</p> +<p> +“Poor fellow!” said Linton, contemptuously, “your little bit of principle +haunts you like a superstition.” And with this reflection, he stepped out +briskly to where the boy was standing with his horse. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Linton, darlin', only sixpence! and I here this two hours?” said +the ragged urchin, with a cunning leer, half roguery, half shame. +</p> +<p> +“And where could you have earned sixpence, you scoundrel, in that time?” + cried Linton, affecting anger. +</p> +<p> +“Faix, I 'd have earned half a crown if I 'd got up on the beast and rode +down to Bilton's,” said the fellow, grinning. +</p> +<p> +“You 'd have had your skull cracked with this cane, the next time I met +you, for your pains,” said the other, really enraged, while he chucked a +shilling at him. +</p> +<p> +“Success to your honor,—all's right,” said the boy. And touching his +cap, he scampered off into the wood, and disappeared. +</p> +<p> +“You shall have a sea voyage, my friend,” said Linton, looking after him; +“a young gentleman with such powers of observation would have a fine +opening in our colonies.” And away he rode towards town, his brain +revolving many a complex scheme and lucky stratagem, but still with ready +smile acknowledging each salutation of his friends, and conveying the +impression of being one whose easy nature was unruffled by a care. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIX. THE DOMESTIC DETECTIVE CONSULTED. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Of “sweet fifteen” no mortal e'er afraid is, +Your real “man traps” are old maiden ladies. + +The Legacy. +</pre> +<p> +It was late of that same afternoon ere Cashel awoke. Mr. Phillis had twice +adventured into the room on tiptoe, and as stealthily retired, and was +now, for the third time, about to retreat, when Roland called him back. +</p> +<p> +“Beg pardon, sir; but Mrs. Kennyfeck's footman has been here twice for the +answer to this note.” + </p> +<p> +“Let me see it,” said Cashel, taking a highly-perfumed epistle, whose +tinted paper, seal, and superscription were all in the perfection of +epistolary coquetry. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dear Mr. Cashel,—Mamma desires me to convey her reproaches +for your shocking forgetfulness of yesterday, when, after +promising to dine here, you never appeared. She will, +however, not only forgive the past, but be grateful for the +present, if you will come to us to-day at seven. + +Believe me, very truly yours, + +Olivia Kennyfeck. +</pre> +<p> +Simple and commonplace as the words were, Cashel read them over more than +once. +</p> +<p> +I know not if any of my male readers can corroborate me, but I have always +thought there is some mysterious attraction in even the most every-day +epistle of a young and pretty woman. The commonest social forms assume a +different meaning, and we read the four letters which spell “dear” in an +acceptation very remote from what they inspire when written by one's law +agent; and then, the concluding “yours truly,” or “faithfully yours,” or +better again, “ever yours,”—what suggestive little words they are! +how insinuating in their portraiture of a tie which possibly might, but +does not actually, bind the parties. +</p> +<p> +If my readers concur not in these sympathies; I have great satisfaction in +saying that Roland Cashel did. He not only sat gazing at the few lines, +but he looked so long at them as to half believe that the first word was a +superlative; then, suddenly rousing himself he asked the hour. It was +already past six. He had only time, then, for a verbal, “With pleasure,” + and to dress for dinner. +</p> +<p> +It seemed like a reproach on his late mode of living, the pile of unopened +letters, which in imposing mass Mr. Phillis had arrayed on his master's +dressing-table. They contained specimens of everything epistolary which +falls to the lot of those favored children of fortune who, having “much to +give,” are great favorites with the world. There were dear little pressing +invitations signed by the lady of the house, and indited in all the +caligraphy of the governess. There were begging letters from clergymen +with large families, men who gave so “many hostages to fortune,” that they +actually ruined themselves in their own “recognizances.” Flatteries, +which, if not written on tinted paper, might have made it blush to bear +them, mixed up with tradesmen's assurances of fidelity and punctuality, +and bashful apologies for the indelicacy of any allusion to money. +</p> +<p> +Oh, it is a very sweet world this of ours, and amiable withal! save that +the angelic smile it bestows on one part of the creation has a sorry +counterpart in the sardonic grin with which it regards the other. Our +friend Cashel was in the former category, and he tossed over the letters +carelessly, rarely breaking a seal, and, even then, satisfied with a mere +glance at the contents, or the name of the writer, when he suddenly caught +sight of a large square-shaped epistle, marked “Sea-letter.” It was in a +hand he well knew, that of his old comrade Enrique; and burning with +anxiety to hear of him, he threw himself into a chair, and broke the seal. +</p> +<p> +The very first words which met his eye shocked him. +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“St. Kitt's, Jamaica. + +“Ay, Roland, even so. St. Kitt's, Jamaica! heavily ironed +in a cell at the top of a strong tower over the sea, with an +armed sentry at my door, I write this! a prisoner fettered +and chained,—I, that could not brook the very orders of +discipline! Well, well, it is only cowardice to repine. +Truth is, <i>amigo</i>, I 've had no luck since you left us. It +was doubtless yours that sustained me so long, and when +<i>you</i> withdrew from the firm, I became bankrupt, and yet, +this is pretty much what we used once, in merry mood, to +predict for each other, 'the loop and the leap.' + +“How shall I tell you so briefly as neither to weary you to +read, nor myself to write it, my last sad misfortune? I say +the last, because the bad luck took a run against me. First, +I lost everything I possessed at play,—the very pistols you +sent me, I staked and lost. Worse still, Roland,—and faith +I don't think I could make the confession, if a few hours, +or a few days more, were not to hide my shame in a felon's +grave,—I played the jewels you sent here for Maritaña. She +refused them with words of bitterness and anger. Partly from +the irritated feeling of the moment, partly from the curse +of a gambler's spirit,—the hope to weary out the malice of +fortune,—I threw them on the monte-table. Of course I lost. +It was soon after this Barcelonetta was laid in ruin by a +shock of earthquake, the greatest ever experienced here. The +'Quadro' is a mere mass of chaotic rubbish. The 'Puerta +Mayor,' with all its statues, is ingulfed, and an arm of the +sea now washes up and over the beautiful gardens where the +Governor gave his <i>fête</i>. The villa, too, rent from roof to +basement, is a ruin; vast yawning gulfs intersect the +parterres everywhere; the fountains are dried up; the +trees blasted by lightning; and a red-brown surface of +ashes strewn over the beauteous turf where we used to stroll +by moonlight. The old tree that sheltered our monte-table +stands uninjured, as if in mockery over our disasters! +Maritaña's hammock was slung beneath the branches, and there +she lay, careless of—nay, I could almost say, if the words +did not seem too strange for truth, actually pleased by—the +dreadful event. I went to take leave of her; it was the last +night we were to spend on shore. I little knew it was to be +the last time we should ever meet. Pedro passed the night +among the ruins of the villa, endeavoring to recover papers +and valuables amid that disastrous mass. Geizheimer was +always with him, and as Noronja and the rest soon fell off +to sleep, wearied by a day of great fatigue, I sat alone +beside her hammock till day was breaking. Oh, would that +night could have lasted for years, so sweetly tranquil were +the starlit hours, so calm and yet so full of hopeful +promise. What brilliant pictures of ambition did she, that +young, untaught girl, present to my eyes,—how teach me to +long for a cause whose rewards were higher, and greater, and +nobler than the prizes of this wayward life. I would have +spoken of my affection, my deep-felt, long-cherished love, +but, with a half-scornful laugh, she stopped me, saying, 'Is +this leafy shade so like a fair lady's boudoir that you can +persuade yourself to trifle thus, or is your own position so +dazzling that you deem the offer to share it a flattery?'” + </pre> +<p> +“I 'm afraid, sir,” said Mr. Phillis, here obtruding his head into the +room, “that you 'll be very late. It is already more than half-past seven +o'clock.” + </p> +<p> +“So it is!” exclaimed Cashel, starting up, while he muttered something not +exceedingly complimentary to his host's engagement. “Is the carriage +ready?” And without staying to hear the reply, hurried downstairs, the +open letter still in his hand. +</p> +<p> +Scarcely seated in the carriage, Cashel resumed the reading of the letter. +Eager to trace the circumstances which led to his friend's captivity, he +hastily ran his eyes over the lines till he came to the following:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“There could be no doubt of it. The 'Esmeralda,' our noble +frigate, was not in the service of the Republic, but by some +infamous treaty between Pedro and Narochez, the minister, +was permitted to carry the flag of Columbia. We were +slavers, buccaneers, pirates,—not sailors of a state. When, +therefore, the British war-brig 'Scorpion' sent a gun +across our bows, with an order to lie to, and we replied by +showing our main-deck ports open, and our long eighteens all +ready, the challenge could not be mistaken. We were near +enough to hear the cheering, and it seemed, too, they heard +ours; we wanted but you, Roland, among us to have made our +excitement madness!” + </pre> +<p> +The carriage drew up at Kennyfeck's door as Cashel had read thus far, and +in a state of mind bordering on fever he entered the hall and passed up +the stairs. The clock struck eight as he presented himself in the +drawing-room, where the family were assembled, the number increased by two +strangers, who were introduced to Roland as Mrs. Kennyfeck's sister, Miss +O'Hara, an elderly maiden lady, with a light brown wig; and a raw-boned, +much-freckled young man, Peter O'Gorman, her nephew. +</p> +<p> +Nothing could be more cordial than the reception of the Kennyfecks; they +affected not to think that it was so late, vowed that the clock was too +fast, were certain that Mr. Cashel's watch was right; in fact, his +presence was a receipt in full for all the anxieties of delay, and so they +made him feel it. +</p> +<p> +There was a little quizzing of Roland, as they seated themselves at table, +over his forgetfulness of the day before, but so good-humoredly as not to +occasion, even to himself, the slightest embarrassment. +</p> +<p> +“At breakfast at the barrack!” repeated Miss Kennyfeck after him. “What a +formidable affair, if it always lasts twenty-four hours.” + </p> +<p> +“What do you mean? How do you know that?” asked Roland, half in shame, +half in surprise, at this knowledge of his movements. +</p> +<p> +“Not to speak of the brilliant conversation, heightened by all the +excitement of wit, champagne, and hazard,—dreadful competitors with +such tiresome society as ours,” said Olivia. +</p> +<p> +“Never mind them, Mr. Cashel,” broke in Miss O'Hara, in a mellifluous +Doric; “'tis jealous they are, because you like the officers better than +themselves.” + </p> +<p> +A most energetic dissent was entered by Cashel to this supposition, who +nevertheless felt grateful for the advocacy of the old lady. +</p> +<p> +“When I was in the Cape Coast Fencibles,” broke in Peter, with an accent +that would have induced one to believe Africa was on the Shannon, “we used +to sit up all night,—it was so hot in the day; but we always called +it breakfast, for you see—” + </p> +<p> +“And when are we to visit your pictures, Mr. Cashel?” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, +whose efforts to suppress Peter were not merely vocal, as that injured +individual's shins might attest. +</p> +<p> +“That depends entirely on you, madam,” said Roland, bowing. “I have only +to say, the earlier the more agreeable to me.” + </p> +<p> +“He has such a beautiful collection,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, turning to her +sister. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed, then, I delight in pictures,” said “Aunt Fanny,” as her nieces +called her. “I went the other day to Mount Bennett, to see a portrait +painted by Rousseau.” + </p> +<p> +“By Rubens, I suppose you mean, aunt,” interposed Miss Kennyfeck, tartly. +</p> +<p> +“So it may be, my dear, I never know the names right; but it was a dark +old man, with a hairy cap and a long gray beard, as like Father Morris +Heffernan as ever it could stare.” + </p> +<p> +“Is your new Carlo Dolce so very like Olivia?” interposed Mrs. Kennyfeck, +who was sadly hampered by her country relatives and their reminiscences. +</p> +<p> +“So very like, madam, that I beg you to accept it as a portrait,” replied +Roland. +</p> +<p> +“Upon my word, then, young gentleman, you 're not so fond of a pretty face +as you might be,” broke in Aunt Fanny, “or you would n't be so ready to +give it away.” A very hearty laugh at the old lady's eccentricity relieved +Cashel from all necessity of explanation. +</p> +<p> +“The old masters are so good,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck; “I delight in their +fine, vigorous touch.” + </p> +<p> +“Why don't they put more clothes on their figures,” said Aunt Fanny, “even +a warm climate is no excuse for the way the creatures went about.” + </p> +<p> +“If you saw them in Hickweretickanookee,” said Peter, “King John never +wore anything but a cocked-hat and a pair of short black gaiters the +missionary gave him for learning the Lord's Prayer.” + </p> +<p> +“I hear that Lady Janet said Cary would be an excellent study for Helen +M'Gregor,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck. “It was scarcely civil, however.” + </p> +<p> +“It was more,—downright rude,” said Cashel, reddening; “but Miss +Kennyfeck can afford to pay the penalty beauty always yields to its +opposite.” + </p> +<p> +“There, my dear, that's a compliment,” said Aunt Fanny, “and don't be +displeased. I say, darling, did n't he say a while ago you were like +somebody at Carlow?” + </p> +<p> +“A Carlo Dolce, aunt,” broke in both sisters, laughing; and so the dinner +proceeded amid commonplaces, relieved occasionally from their flatness by +the absurdities of Aunt Fanny, who seemed as good-naturedly proof against +ridicule, as she was likely to evoke it. +</p> +<p> +Peter was the first to rise from table, as he was anxious to go to “the +play,” and the ladies soon retired to the drawing-room, Mrs. Kennyfeck +slyly whispering, as she passed behind Roland's chair, an entreaty that he +would not long delay in following them. Cashel's anxiety to close his <i>tête-à-tête</i> +arose from another cause,—his burning anxiety to finish Enrique's +letter; while Kennyfeck himself seemed beating about, uncertain how to +open subjects he desired to have discussed. After a long pause, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“I was speaking to Pepystell yesterday, and he is of opinion that there is +no use in preserving any part of the old structure at Tubbermore,—the +great difficulty of adapting a new character of architecture to the old +would not repay the cost.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel nodded a careless assent, and, after a pause, Kennyfeck resumed:— +</p> +<p> +“It might be of some convenience at present, however, to let the building +stand as it is. A residence of one kind or other you will want, +particularly as the elections are approaching.” + </p> +<p> +Another nod in silence was all the reply. +</p> +<p> +“Pepystells estimate is large,—don't you think so?” + </p> +<p> +He nodded again. +</p> +<p> +“Nearly seventy thousand pounds! And that does not include the gate tower, +which seems a point for after consideration.” + </p> +<p> +“I remember,” muttered Cashel, in a voice that implied anything rather +than a mind attentive to the subject before it. +</p> +<p> +“Now, it would be as well,” said Mr. Kennyfeck, drawing a long breath, +and, as it were, preparing himself for a great effort, “to put a little +order into our affairs. Your first year or two will be costly ones,—building +expenses, equipage, horses, furniture, election charges. Much of your +capital is vested in foreign securities, which it would be injurious to +sell at this moment. Don't you think”—here he changed his voice to +an almost insinuating softness—“don't you think that by devoting a +certain portion of your income,—say a third, or one-half, perhaps,—for +the present, to meet these charges—” He paused, for he saw from +Cashel's occupied look that he was not attending to his words. +</p> +<p> +“Well—continue,” said Roland, affecting to wait for his conclusion. +</p> +<p> +“I was about to ask, sir,” said Kennyfeck, boldly, “what sum would you +deem sufficient for your yearly expenditure?” + </p> +<p> +“What is the amount of my income?” asked Cashel, bluntly. +</p> +<p> +“In good years, something above sixteen thousand pounds; in bad ones, +somewhat less than twelve.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then,—you have the scale of my expenditure at once.” + </p> +<p> +“Not your whole income?” exclaimed Kennyfeck, astonished. +</p> +<p> +“Even so. I see no earthly reason for hoarding. I do not find that +squandering money is any very high enjoyment; I am certain scraping and +saving it would afford me still less pleasure.” + </p> +<p> +“But there are always casualties demanding extraordinary expense,—a +contested election, for instance.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'll not try it,—I don't intend to enter Parliament.” + </p> +<p> +“When you marry—” + </p> +<p> +“Perhaps I shall not do that either.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, sums lost at play,—the turf has pressed on many a strong +pocket.” + </p> +<p> +“Play has no fascination for me; I can give it up: I may almost say I have +done so.” + </p> +<p> +“Not without paying a heavy penalty, however,” said Kennyfeck, whose +animation showed that he had at last approached the territory he was so +long in search of. +</p> +<p> +“How do you mean?” said Cashel, blushing deeply, as he began to fear that +by some accident his secret visit to the money-lender had reached +Kennyfeck's ears. +</p> +<p> +“Your drafts on Latrobe, sir, whose account I have received to-day, are +very heavy.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, is that all?” said Cashel, carelessly. +</p> +<p> +“All! all!” repeated Kennyfeck; then, suddenly correcting himself, he +added, “I am almost certain, sir, that your generous habits have +over-mastered your prudence. Are you aware of having drawn fifty thousand +pounds?” + </p> +<p> +“No, I really was not,” replied Cashel, smiling more at the attorney's +look of consternation than anything else. “I fancied about half as much. +Pray tell me some of the items. No, no! not from book; that looks too +formal,—just from memory.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, there are horses without number,—one bought with all his +engagements for the Oaks, which amount to a forfeiture of four thousand +pounds.” + </p> +<p> +“I remember that,—a piece of Linton's blundering; but he lost more +heavily himself, poor fellow, our steed Lanz-knecht having turned out a +dead failure.” + </p> +<p> +“Then there is something about a villa at Cowes, which I am certain you +never saw.” + </p> +<p> +“No; but I have a drawing of it somewhere—a pretty thing under a +cliff, with a beautiful bay of deep water, and good anchorage. Linton +knows all about it.” + </p> +<p> +“Twelve thousand pounds is a large sum to give without ever seeing the +purchase.” + </p> +<p> +“So it is; but go on.” + </p> +<p> +“I cannot remember one-half; but there is plate and jewels; sums advanced +for building; subscriptions to everything and everybody; a heavy amount +transmitted to the Havannah.” + </p> +<p> +“Very true; and that reminds me of a letter which I received at the very +moment I was leaving home. Have I your leave to finish the reading? It is +from an old and valued comrade.” + </p> +<p> +“Of course,—don't think of me for an instant,” said Kennyfeck, +scarcely able to repress an open acknowledgment of his amazement at the +coolness which could turn from so interesting a topic to the, doubtless +commonplace, narrative of some Mexican sailor. +</p> +<p> +Cashel was, meanwhile, searching every pocket for the letter, which he +well remembered, after reading in the carriage, to have crushed in his +hand as he ascended the stairs. “I have dropped this letter,” said he, in +a voice of great agitation. “May I ask if your servants have found it?” + </p> +<p> +The bell was rung, and the butler at once interrogated. He had seen +nothing, neither had the footman. They both remembered, however that Mr. +Phillis had accompanied his master to the foot of the stairs to receive +some directions, and then left him to return with the carriage. +</p> +<p> +“So, then, Phillis must have found it,” said Cashel, rising hastily; and, +without a word of apology or excuse, he bade his host a hurried good +evening, and left the room. +</p> +<p> +“Won't you have the carriage? Will you not stay for a cup of tea?” cried +Mr. Kennyfeck, hastening after him. But the hall-door had already banged +heavily behind him, and he was gone. When Cashel reached his house, it was +to endure increased anxiety; for Mr. Phillis had gone out, and, like a +true gentleman's gentleman, none of the other servants knew anything of +his haunts, or when he would return. Leaving Cashel, then, to the tortures +of a suspense which his fervid nature made almost intolerable, we shall +return for a brief space to the house he had just quitted, and to the +drawing-room, where, in momentary expectation of his appearance, the +ladies sat, maintaining that species of “staccato” conversation which can +afford interruption with least inconvenience. It is our duty to add, that +we bring the reader back here less with any direct object as to what is +actually going forward, than to make him better acquainted with the new +arrival. +</p> +<p> +Had Miss O'Hara been the mere quiet, easy-going, simple-minded elderly +maiden she seemed to Cashel's eyes, the step on our part had not been +needed; she might, like some other characters of our tale, have been +suffered to glide by as ghosts or stage-supernumeraries do, unquestioned +and undetained; but she possessed qualities of a kind to demand somewhat +more consideration. Aunt Fanny, to give her the title by which she was +best known, was, in reality, a person of the keenest insight into others,—reading +people at sight, and endowed with a species of intuitive perception of all +the possible motives which lead to any action. Residing totally in a small +town in the west of Ireland, she rarely visited the capital, and was now, +in fact, brought up “special” by her sister, Mrs. Kennyfeck, who desired +to have her advice and counsel on the prospect of securing Cashel for one +or other of her daughters. It was so far a wise step, that in such a +conjuncture no higher opinion could have been obtained. +</p> +<p> +“It was like getting a private hint from the Chancellor about a cause in +equity.” This was Mr. Kennyfeck's own illustration. +</p> +<p> +Aunt Fanny was then there in the guise of a domestic detective, to watch +proceedings and report on them,—a function which simplifies the due +conduct of a case, be it in love or law, beyond anything. +</p> +<p> +“How agreeable your papa must be this evening, my dear!” said Mrs. +Kennyfeck, as with a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece she recognized +that it was near ten. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/cash10261.jpg" alt="261 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +“I 'm sure he is deep in one of his interminable law arguments, which +always makes Mr. Cashel so sleepy and so stupid, that he never recovers +for the rest of the evening.” + </p> +<p> +“He ought to find the drawing-room all the pleasanter for the contrast,” + remarked Miss O'Hara, dryly. “I like to see young men—mind me well, +young men, it does n't do with old ones—thoroughly bored before they +come among the ladies. The sudden change to the tea, and the wax-lights, +and the bright eyes, are trying stimulants. Let them, however, be what +they call 'pleasant' below-stair, and they are sure to come up flushed and +excited, well satisfied with the host's claret, and only anxious to order +the carriage. What o'clock is it now?” + </p> +<p> +“A quarter-past ten, aunt.” + </p> +<p> +“Too late; full three-quarters too late,” ejaculated she, with the tone of +an oracle. “There is nothing your father could have to say should have +detained him till now. Play that little Mexican thing again, my dear; and, +Livy, love, leave the door a little open; don't you find the heat of this +room intolerable?” + </p> +<p> +The young ladies obeyed, and meanwhile Aunt Fanny, drawing her chair +closer to her sister's, said, in a low tone,— +</p> +<p> +“Well, explain the matter more clearly. Did he give her the diamonds?” + </p> +<p> +“No; that is the strangest of all,” responded Mrs. Kennyfeck. “He just +told Leonard to send them home, and we never heard more about them.” + </p> +<p> +Aunt Fanny shook her head. +</p> +<p> +“You know, he asked Olivia, as they were going downstairs, what she +thought of them; and she replied, 'They 're beautiful.'” + </p> +<p> +“How did she say it, though; was it like a mere casual remark, or did she +make it with feeling?” + </p> +<p> +“With feeling,” echoed Mrs. Kennyfeck, pursing up her lips. +</p> +<p> +“Well?” + </p> +<p> +“Well! he just said, 'I'll take them,' and there was an end of it.” + </p> +<p> +Aunt Fanny seemed to reflect, and, after some time, said,— +</p> +<p> +“Now, as to the horse, when did he make her a present of that?” + </p> +<p> +“It was to Caroline he gave the horse; sure I told you already.” + </p> +<p> +“Very true, so you did; a bad feature of the case, too! She ought to have +declined it somehow.” + </p> +<p> +“So she would,” broke in Mrs. Kennyfeck; “but, you perceive, it was very +doubtful, at the time, which of the girls he preferred.” + </p> +<p> +“And you tell me this Mr. Linton has such influence over him.” + </p> +<p> +“The most absolute. It is only a few weeks since they became acquainted, +and now they are inseparable.” + </p> +<p> +“What is he like,—Linton himself?” + </p> +<p> +Mrs. Kennyfeck gave a most significant signal, by closing up her lips, and +slowly nodding her head,—a gesture that seemed well understood. +</p> +<p> +“Does Kennyfeck know nothing of his affairs; has he no private history of +the man, which might be useful to us?” + </p> +<p> +“Don't think of that, my dear,” rejoined Mrs. Kennyfeck, knowingly; “but +here they come at last.” This was said with reference to the sound of +footsteps on the stairs, which gradually approached, and at last Mr. +Kennyfeck made his appearance in the drawing-room. +</p> +<p> +“Where is Mr. Cashel,—is he gone?” asked Mrs. Kennyfeck, in an +accent of unusual anxiety. +</p> +<p> +“He went away above an hour ago. He wanted to see a letter, or to write +one, or to look for one he had lost,—I forget which.” + </p> +<p> +“I'm certain you do!” observed Mrs. Kennyfeck, with an expression of +unequivocal contempt. “I am perfectly certain we need not look to you for +either information or assistance.” + </p> +<p> +Poor Mr. Kennyfeck was dumfoundered. The very words were riddles to him, +and he turned to each person about him in silent entreaty for explanation; +but none came. +</p> +<p> +“What had you been conversing about?” asked Aunt Fanny, in that +encouraging tone lawyers sometimes use to draw out a reluctant or bashful +witness. +</p> +<p> +“Of his money affairs, Miss O'Hara; and I am grieved to say that the +subject had so little interest for him, that he started up and left me on +suddenly remembering something about a letter.” + </p> +<p> +“Which something you have totally forgotten,” remarked Mrs. Kennyfeck, +tartly. +</p> +<p> +“And yet it would be a most important fact for us,” observed Aunt Fanny, +with judicial solemnity; “a letter, whether to read or to write, of such +pressing necessity, implies much.” + </p> +<p> +“Come, Livy, dear,” said Miss Kennyfeck, rising from the pianoforte, and +addressing her sister, who sat reading on the sofa, “<i>my</i> canzonette +and <i>your</i> beautiful attitude are so much sweetness thrown away. He's +gone without even a thought of either! There, there, don't look so +innocently vacant,—you understand me perfectly.” + </p> +<p> +A very gentle smile was all the younger sister's reply as she left the +room. +</p> +<p> +“Depend upon it, my dear,” said Miss O'Hara to Mrs. Kennyfeck, “that young +man had made some unhappy connection; that's the secret of this letter, +and when they get into a scrape of the kind it puts marriage out of their +heads altogether. It was the same with Captain Morris,”—here she +whispered still lower, the only audible words being, “without my ever +suspecting,—one evening—a low creature—never set eyes +upon—ah, man, man!” And with this exclamation aloud, Aunt Fanny took +her candle and retired. +</p> +<p> +About a minute after, however, she re-entered the drawing-room, and +advancing close to her sister, said, with all the solemnity of deep +thought,— +</p> +<p> +“Peter is no good in this case, my dear; send him home at once. That man +will 'blaze' for the asking.” And with a nod of immense significance she +finally withdrew. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XX. HOW ENRIQUE'S LETTER WAS LOST AND FOUND. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Arcades ambo!” + +Blackguards both! +</pre> +<p> +In the window of a very pretty cottage-room overlooking the Liffey, and +that romantic drive so well known to Dub-liners as the “low road” to +Lucan, sat Tom Linton. He was enjoying a cigar and a glass of weak negus, +as a man may enjoy such luxuries seated in the easiest of chairs, looking +out upon one of the sweetest of woodland landscapes, and feeling the while +that the whole was “his own.” If conscientious scruples had been any part +of that gentleman's life philosophy, he might have suffered some +misgivings, seeing that the cottage itself, its furniture, the plate, the +very horses in the stable and the grooms about it, had been won at the +hazard-table, and from one whose beggary ended in suicide. But Linton did +not dwell on such things, and if they did for an instant cross his mind, +he dismissed them at once with a contemptuous pity for the man who could +not build up a fortune by the arts with which he had lost one. He had not +begun the world himself with much principle, and all his experiences went +to prove that even less would suffice, and that for the purposes of the +station he occupied, and the society he frequented, it was only necessary +that he should not transgress in his dealings with men of a certain rank +and condition; so that while every transaction with people of class and +fashion should be strictly on “the square,” he was at perfect liberty to +practise any number of sharp things with all beneath them. It was the old +axiom of knight-errantry adapted to our own century, which made every +weapon fair used against the plebeian! +</p> +<p> +From a pleasant revery over some late successes and some future ones in +anticipation, he was aroused by a gentle tap at the door. +</p> +<p> +“Come in,” said he; “I think I guess who it is,—Phillis, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, sir, you're quite correct,” said that individual, advancing from the +misty twilight of the room, which was only partly lighted by a single +alabaster lamp. “I thought I'd find you at home, sir, and I knew this +letter might interest you. He dropped it when going up the stairs at +Kennyfeck's, and could scarcely have read it through.” + </p> +<p> +“Sit down, George—sit down, man—what will you take? I see you +'ve had a fast drive; if that was your car I heard on the road, your pace +was tremendous. What shall it be—claret—sherry—brandy-and-water?” + </p> +<p> +“If you please, sir, sherry. I have lost all palate for Bordeaux since I +came to Mr. Cashel. We get abominable wine from Cullan.” + </p> +<p> +“So I remarked myself; but this must be looked to. Come, try that; it's +some of Gordon's, and he would not send a bad bottle to me.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'm very certain of that, sir. It is excellent.” + </p> +<p> +“Now then for the epistle.” So saying, he lighted a taper and prepared to +read.. “Jamaica,—oh, a shipmate's letter!” + </p> +<p> +“A curious one, too, sir, as you 'll say when you read it.” + </p> +<p> +Linton, without reply, began to read, nor did he break silence till he +finished, when, laying down the paper, he said, “And this very fellow who +writes this he actually spoke of inviting to Ireland,—to stay some +time at his house,—to be introduced, in fact, to his acquaintances +as a personal friend.” + </p> +<p> +“It's very sad, sir,” sighed Phillis. “I have long been of opinion that I +must leave him. The appointments, it is true, are good; perquisites, too, +very handsome; but the future, Mr. Linton,—what a future it will +be!” + </p> +<p> +“It need not be a very near one, at all events,” said Linton, smiling; +“you've read this?” + </p> +<p> +“Just threw an eye over it, sir!” + </p> +<p> +“Well, you see that your excellent master has been little better than a +pirate or a slaver.” + </p> +<p> +“Very shocking, indeed, sir!” + </p> +<p> +“Of course this must not go abroad, George.” + </p> +<p> +“It would ruin me utterly, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“To be sure it would. No nobleman, nor any gentleman of rank or fashion, +could think of engaging your services after such an appointment. Happily, +George, you may not require such, if you only mind your hits. Your master +can afford to make your fortune, and never know himself the poorer. Come, +how go on matters latterly at No. 50?” + </p> +<p> +“Pretty much as usual, sir; two dinner-parties last week.” + </p> +<p> +“I know all about them, though I affected to be engaged and did n't dine +there. What I want is to hear of these Kennyfecks,—do they come much +after him?” + </p> +<p> +“Only once, sir, when they came to see the house and stopped to luncheon.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, was he particular in his attentions to either of the daughters?” + </p> +<p> +“Very attentive, indeed, sir, to the younger. She dropped her handkerchief +in the gallery, and ran back for it, and so did he, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“You followed, of course?” + </p> +<p> +“I did, sir, and she was blushing very much as I came in, and I heard her +say something about 'forgiving him,' and then they left the room.” + </p> +<p> +“And what of Kennyfeck,—has he had any conversations with him on +business?” + </p> +<p> +“None, sir; I have strictly followed your orders, and never admitted him.” + </p> +<p> +“Lord Charles Frobisher was a large winner t'other night?” said Linton, +after a pause. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir, so I heard them say at supper, and Mr. Cashel first gave a +check and then changed his mind, and I saw him hand over a heavy sum in +notes.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed!” muttered Linton to himself; “and my worthy friend Charley did +not confess this to me. Have you taken care that the people don't send in +their bills and accounts, as I mentioned?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, sir; with few exceptions, nothing of the kind comes.” + </p> +<p> +“What brought that Mr. Clare Jones so frequently of late?” + </p> +<p> +“He came twice in Mr. Downie Meek's carriage, sir, but sat all the while +outside, while Mr. Meek was with my master; the third day, however, he was +sent for to come in, and spent nearly an hour in the study.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, what took place?” + </p> +<p> +“I could only hear part of the conversation, sir, as I feared I might be +sent for. The subject was a seat in Parliament, which Mr. Cashel owns, and +that Mr. Meek is desirous of procuring for Jones.” + </p> +<p> +“Ha! ha! my little Judas! is that your game? Go on, George, this interests +me.” + </p> +<p> +“I have little more to tell, sir, for Mr. Meek always speaks so low, and +my master scarcely said anything.” + </p> +<p> +“And Jones?” + </p> +<p> +“He merely remarked on the identity of his political principles with those +of the present Government.” + </p> +<p> +“Of course; the fellow began as a Radical, and then turned Tory, and now +is a Whig. Blue and yellow when mixed always make green. But how did it +end?” + </p> +<p> +“As well as I could perceive, sir, without any promise. My master was to +deliberate and send his answer.” + </p> +<p> +“Let neither have access to him till you hear from me again,—mark +that.” + </p> +<p> +“You shall be obeyed, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Did Lord Kilgoff call?” + </p> +<p> +“Twice, sir; but my master was out. I followed your directions, however, +and said that her Ladyship was with him, and he seemed much provoked at +not finding him at home.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, how did he take it,—did he make any remark?” + </p> +<p> +“A half smile, sir; nothing more.” + </p> +<p> +“But said nothing?” + </p> +<p> +“Not a word, sir.” + </p> +<p> +Linton arose and walked the room in deep meditation; at last he said,— +</p> +<p> +“You had better let him have those letters we held back the last two days, +to-day. He'll not think deeply over his losses on the Derby while dwelling +on this missing letter.” + </p> +<p> +“I don't suspect his losses, sir, will cause much uneasiness on any score; +money occupies very little of his thoughts.” + </p> +<p> +“True; but here the sum is a very heavy one. I made the book myself, and +stood to win thirty thousand pounds; but, no matter,—it can't be +helped now,—better luck another time. Now, another point. It strikes +me of late that he seems bored somewhat by the kind of life he is leading, +and that these carouses at the messes are becoming just as distasteful to +him as the heavy dinner-parties with the Dean and the rest of them. Is +that your opinion?” + </p> +<p> +“Perfectly, sir. He even said as much to me t'other evening, when he came +back from a late supper. He is always wishing for the yacht to come over,—speaks +every now and then of taking a run over to London and Paris; in fact, sir, +he <i>is</i> bored here. There is no disguising it.” + </p> +<p> +“I feared as much, George; I suspected, many a day ago, he would not be +long satisfied with the provincial boards. But this must not be; once away +from Dublin, he is lost to us forever. I know, and so do you know, the +hands he would fall into in town. Better let him get back to his old +prairie haunts, for a while, than that.” + </p> +<p> +“Not so very unlikely, sir. He sits poring over maps and charts for hours +together, and scans the new coast survey like a man bent on exploring the +scenes for himself. It is hard to say what is best to do with him.” + </p> +<p> +“I'll tell you what he must not be permitted to do with himself: he must +not leave Ireland; he must not marry; he must not enter Parliament; and, +for the moment, to employ his thoughts and banish <i>ennui</i>, we 'll get +up the house-warming at Tubbermore. I mean to set off thither to-morrow.” + </p> +<p> +“Without Mr. Cashel, sir?” + </p> +<p> +“Of course; be it your care that matters are well looked to in my absence, +and as Kennyfeck's house is safer than the barracks, he may dine there as +often as he pleases. Keep a watch on Jones,—not that I think he 'll +be very dangerous; see after Lord Charles, whether he may try to profit by +my absence; and, above all, write me a bulletin each day.” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Phillis promised a strict obedience to orders, and rose to retire, +pleading the necessity of his being at home when his master returned. +</p> +<p> +“What of this letter, sir? Shall I contrive to place it in his pocket, and +discover it as he is undressing? He never suspects anything or anybody.” + </p> +<p> +“No, George,—I 'll keep it; it may turn out useful to us one of +these days; there's no knowing when or how. I 'm curious, too, to see how +he will act with reference to it,—whether he will venture on any +confidence towards me. I suspect not; he never alludes to his bygones. The +only terror his mind is capable of would seem the fear of fashionable +contempt. If he ever lose this, he's lost to us forever.” This was said +rather in soliloquy than addressed to Phillis, who did not appear to catch +the meaning of the remark. “You'll leave this note on his table, and take +care he sees it. It is to remind him of an appointment here to-morrow with +Hoare, the money-lender, at eleven o'clock punctually.” + </p> +<p> +Phillis took the note, and after a very respectful leave-taking, withdrew. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Linton, musing, as he leaned against the window, “all goes +fairly so far. Mr. Phillis may live to see himself once more a merchant +tailor in Cheapside, and Tom Linton, under the buckler of his M.P., defy +duns and bums, and be again a denizen of the only city worth living in.” + </p> +<p> +He then reseated himself in an easy-chair, and prepared to con over the +letter, to which he had only given a passing attention. The narrative of +Enrique, full of exciting details and hair-breadth 'scapes, was, however, +far less an object of interest to Linton than the consideration how far a +character like this might be made use of for the purpose of threat and +intimidation over Cashel. +</p> +<p> +His reflections ran somewhat thus: “The day may come—is, perhaps, +even now nigh—when Cashel shall reject my influence and ascendency. +There never has been anything which could even counterfeit friendship +between us,—close intimacy has been all. To maintain that hold over +him so necessary to my fortunes, I must be in a position to menace. Roland +himself has opened the way to this by his own reserve. The very +concealment he has practised implies fear;—otherwise, why, in all +the openness of our familiar intercourse, never have mentioned Enrique's +name; still more, never once alluded to this Maritaña? It is clear enough +with what shame he looks back on the past. Let mine be the task to +increase that feeling, and build up the fear of the world's ridicule, till +he shall be the slave of every whisper that syllables his name! The higher +his path in society, the greater the depth to which disclosures may +consign him; and what disclosures so certainly ruinous as to connect him +with the lawless marauders of the Spanish main,—the slaver and the +pirate? His dear friend, a felon, taken in open fight by a British +cruiser! Maritaña, too, may serve us; her name as mistress—or, if +need be, as wife—will effectually oppose any matrimonial +speculations here. So far this letter has been a rare piece of fortune!” + </p> +<p> +For some moments he walked the room with excited and animated looks, the +alternating shades of pleasure and its opposite flitting rapidly across +his strong features. At last he broke out in words: “Ay, Cashel, I am as +suddenly enriched as yourself,—but with a different heritage. Yours +was Gold; mine, Revenge! And there are many to whom I could pay the old +debt home. There's Forster, with his story of Ascot, and his black-ball at +Graham's!—a double debt, with years of heavy interest upon it; +there's Howard, too, that closed his book at Tattersall's, after tearing +out the leaf that had my name! Frobisher himself daring his petty +insolence at every turn!—all these cry for acquittance, and shall +have it There are few men of my own standing, that with moneyed means at +my command, I could not ruin! and, ungallant as the boast may be, some +fair ladies, too! How I have longed for the day, how I have schemed and +plotted for it! and now it comes almost unlooked for. +</p> +<p> +“Another month or two of this wasteful extravagance, and Cashel will be +deeply, seriously embarrassed. Kennyfeck will suggest retrenchment and +economy; that shall be met with an insidious doubt of the good man's +honesty. And how easy to impeach it! The schemes of his wife and daughter +will aid the accusation. Roland shall, meanwhile, learn the discomfort of +being 'hard up.' The importunity—nay, the insolence—of duns +shall assail him at every post and every hour. From this there is but one +bold, short step,—and take it he must,—make me his agent. That +done, all the rest is easy. Embarrassment and injurious reports will soon +drive him from the country, and from an estate he shall never revisit as +his own! So far,—the first act of the drama! The second discovers +Tom Linton the owner of Tubbermore, and the host of Lord and Lady Kilgoff, +who have condescendingly agreed to pass the Easter recess with him. Mr. +Linton has made a very splendid maiden speech, which, however, puzzles the +ministers and the 'Times;' and, if he were not a man perfectly indifferent +to place, would expose him to the imputation of courting it. +</p> +<p> +“And Laura all this while!” said he, in a voice whose accents trembled +with intense feeling, “can she forgive the past? Will old memories revive +old affections, or will they rot into hatred? Well,” cried he, sternly, +“whichever way they turn, I 'm prepared.” + </p> +<p> +There was a tone of triumphant meaning in his last words that seemed to +thrill through his frame, and as he threw himself back upon his seat, and +gazed out upon the starry sky, his features wore the look of proud and +insolent defiance. “So is it,” said he, after a pause; “one must be alone—friendless, +and alone—in life, to dare the world so fearlessly.” He filled a +goblet of sherry, and as he drank it off, cried, “Courage! Tom Linton +against 'the field!'” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXI. THE CONSPIRATORS DISTURBED +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Eternal friendship let us swear, +In fraud at least—“nous serons frères.” + +Robert Macaire. +</pre> +<p> +Cashel passed a night of feverish anxiety. Enrique's uncertain fate was +never out of his thoughts; and if for a moment he dropped off to sleep, he +immediately awoke with a sudden start,—some fancied cry for help, +some heart-uttered appeal to him for assistance breaking in upon his weary +slumber. +</p> +<p> +How ardently did he wish for some one friend to whom he might confide his +difficulty, and from whom receive advice and counsel. Linton's shrewdness +and knowledge of life pointed him out as the fittest; but how to reveal to +his fashionable friend the secrets of that buccaneering life he had +himself so lately quitted? How expose himself to the dreaded depreciation +a “fine gentleman” might visit on a career passed amid slavers and +pirates? A month or two previous, he could not have understood such +scruples; but already the frivolities and excesses of daily habit had +thrown an air of savage rudeness over the memory of his Western existence, +and he had not the courage to brave the comments it might suggest To this +false shame had Linton brought him, acting on a naturally sensitive +nature, by those insidious and imperceptible counsels which represent the +world—meaning, thereby, that portion of it who are in the purple and +fine linen category—as the last appeal in all cases, not alone of a +man's breeding and pretensions, but of his honor and independence. +</p> +<p> +It was not without many a severe struggle, and many a heartfelt repining, +Cashel felt himself surrender the free action of his natural independence +to the petty and formal restrictions of a code like this. But there was an +innate dread of notoriety, a sensitive shrinking from remark, that made +him actually timid about transgressing whatever he was told to be an +ordinance of fashion. To dress in a particular way; to frequent certain +places; to be known to certain people; to go out at certain hours; and so +on,—were become to his mind as the actual requirements of his +station, and often did he regret the hour when he had parted with his +untrammelled freedom to live a life of routine and monotony. +</p> +<p> +Shrinking, then, from any confidence in Linton, he next thought of +Kennyfeck; and, although not placing a high value on his skill and +correctness in such a difficulty, he resolved, at all hazards, to consult +him on the course to be followed. He had been often told how gladly +Government favors the possessor of fortune and influence. “Now,” thought +he, “is the time to test the problem. All of mine is at their service, if +they but liberate my poor comrade.” + </p> +<p> +So saying to himself, he had just reached the hall, when the sound of +wheels approached the door. A carriage drew up, and Linton, followed by +Mr. Hoare, the money-lender, descended. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I had entirely forgotten this affair,” cried Cashel, as he met them; +“can we not fix another day?” + </p> +<p> +“Impossible, sir; I leave town to-night.” + </p> +<p> +“Another hour to-day, then?” said Cashel, impatiently. +</p> +<p> +“This will be very difficult, sir. I have some very pressing engagements, +all of which were formed subject to your convenience in this business.” + </p> +<p> +“But while you are discussing the postponement, you could finish the whole +affair,” cried Linton, drawing his arm within Cashel's, and leading him +along towards the library. “By Jove! it does give a man a sublime idea of +wealth, to be sure,” said he, laughing, “to see the cool indifference with +which you can propose to defer an interview that brings you some fifteen +thousand pounds. As for me, I 'd make the Viceroy himself play +'ante-chamber,' if little Hoare paid me a visit.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, be it so; only let us despatch,” said Cashel, “for I am anxious to +catch Kennyfeck before he goes down to court.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'll not detain you many minutes, sir,” said Hoare, drawing forth a very +capacious black leather pocket-book, and opening it on the table. “There +are the bills, drawn as agreed upon,—at three and six months,—here +is a statement of the charges for interest, commission, and—” + </p> +<p> +“I am quite satisfied it is all right,” said Cashel, pushing the paper +carelessly from him. “I have borrowed money once or twice in my life, and +always thought anything liberal which did not exceed cent per cent.” + </p> +<p> +“We are content with much less, sir, as you will perceive,” said Hoare, +smiling. “Six per cent interest, one-half commission—” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, yes; it is all perfectly correct,” broke in Cashel. “I sign my name +here—and here?” + </p> +<p> +“And here, also, sir. There is also a policy of insurance on your life.” + </p> +<p> +“What does that mean?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, a usual kind of security in these cases,” said Linton; “because if +you were to die before the bills came due—” + </p> +<p> +“I see it all; whatever you please,” said Cashel, taking up his hat and +gloves. “Now, will you pardon me for taking a very abrupt leave?” + </p> +<p> +“You are forgetting a very material point, sir,” said Hoare; “this is an +order on Frend and Beggan for the money.” + </p> +<p> +“Very true. The fact is, gentlemen, my head is none of the clearest +to-day. Good-bye—good-bye.” + </p> +<p> +“Ten to one all that haste is to keep some appointment with one of +Kennyfeck's daughters,” said Hoare, as he shook the sand over the +freshly-signed bills, when the heavy bang of the hall-door announced +Cashel's departure. +</p> +<p> +“I fancy not,” said Linton, musing; “I believe I can guess the secret.” + </p> +<p> +“What am I to do with these, Mr. Linton?” said the other, not heeding the +last observation, as he took two pieces of paper from the pocket of his +book. +</p> +<p> +“What are they?” said Linton, stretching at full length on a sofa. +</p> +<p> +“Two bills, with the endorsement of Thomas Linton.” + </p> +<p> +“Then are two ten-shilling stamps spoiled and good for nothing,” replied +Linton, “which, without that respectable signature, might have helped to +ruin somebody worth ruining.” + </p> +<p> +“'One will be due on Saturday, the twelfth. The other—” + </p> +<p> +“Don't trouble yourself about the dates, Hoare. I 'll renew as often as +you please—I 'll do anything but pay.” + </p> +<p> +“Come, sir, I'll make a generous proposition: I have made a good morning's +work. You shall have them both for a hundred.” + </p> +<p> +“Thanks for the liberality,” said Linton, laughing. “You bought them for +fifty.” + </p> +<p> +“I know that very well; but remember, you were a very depreciated stock at +that time. Now, you are at a premium. I hear you have been a considerable +winner from our friend here.” + </p> +<p> +“Then you are misinformed. I have won less than the others,—far less +than I might have done. The fact is, Hoare, I have been playing a back +game,—what jockeys call, holding my stride.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, take care you don't wait too long,” said Hoare, sententiously. +</p> +<p> +“How do you mean?” said Linton, sitting up, and showing more animation +than he had exhibited before. +</p> +<p> +“You have your secret—I have mine,” replied Hoare, dryly, as he +replaced the bills in his pocket-book and clasped it. +</p> +<p> +“What if we exchange prisoners, Hoare?” + </p> +<p> +“It would be like most of your compacts, Mr. Linton, all the odds in your +own favor.” + </p> +<p> +“I doubt whether any man makes such compacts with <i>you</i>,” replied +Linton; “but why higgle this way? 'Remember,' as Peacham says, 'that we +could hang one another;' and there is an ugly adage about what happens +when people such as you and I 'fall out.'” + </p> +<p> +“So there is; and, strange enough, I was just thinking of it. Come, what +is <i>your</i> secret?” + </p> +<p> +“Read that,” said Linton, placing Enrique's letter in his hand, while he +sat down, directly in front, to watch the effect it might produce. +</p> +<p> +Hoare read slowly and attentively; some passages he re-read three or four +times; and then, laying down the letter, he seemed to reflect on its +contents. +</p> +<p> +“You scarcely thought what kind of company our friend used to keep +formerly?” asked Linton, sneeringly. +</p> +<p> +“I knew all about that tolerably well. I was rather puzzling myself a +little about this Pedro Rica; that same trick of capturing the slavers, +and then selling the slaves, is worthy of one I could mention, not to +speak of the double treachery of informing against his comrades, and +sending the English frigate after them.” + </p> +<p> +“A deep hand he must be,” remarked Linton, coolly. +</p> +<p> +“A very deep one; but what is Cashel likely to do here?” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing; he has no clew whatever to the business; the letter itself he +had not time to read through, when he dropped it, and—” + </p> +<p> +“I understand—perfectly. This accounts for his agitation. Well, I +must say, <i>my</i> secret is the better of the two, and, as usual, you +have made a good bargain.” + </p> +<p> +“Not better than <i>your</i> morning's work here, Hoare; confess that” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, there will not be many more such harvests to reap,” said he, sighing. +</p> +<p> +“How so? his fortune is scarcely breached as yet” + </p> +<p> +“He spends money fast,” said Hoare, gravely; “even now, see what sums he +has squandered; think of the presents he has lavished,—diamonds, +horses—” + </p> +<p> +“As to the Kennyfeck affair, it was better than getting into a matrimonial +scrape, which I fancy I have rescued him from.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, no, nothing of the kind. Pirate as he is, he would n't venture on +that.” + </p> +<p> +“Why so?—what do you mean?” + </p> +<p> +“Simply, that he is married already; at least, that species of betrothal +which goes for marriage in his free and easy country.” + </p> +<p> +“Married!” exclaimed Linton, in utter amazement; “and he never even hinted +in the most distant manner to this.” + </p> +<p> +“And yet the obligation is sufficiently binding, according to Columbian +law, to give his widow the benefit of all property he might die possessed +of in that Republic.” + </p> +<p> +“And he knows this himself?” + </p> +<p> +“So well, that he has already proposed a very large sum as forfeit to +break the contract.” + </p> +<p> +“And this has been refused?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes. The girl's father has thought it better to follow your own plan, and +make 'a waiting race,' well knowing, that if Cashel does not return to +claim her as his wife,—or that, which is not improbable, she may +marry more advantageously,—he will always be ready to pay the +forfeit.” + </p> +<p> +“May I learn his name?” + </p> +<p> +“No!” + </p> +<p> +“Nor his daughter's—the Christian name, I mean.” + </p> +<p> +“To what end? It would be a mere idle curiosity, for I should exact a +pledge of your never divulging it.” + </p> +<p> +“Of course,” said Linton, carelessly. “It was, as you say, a mere idle +wish. Was this a love affair, then, for it has a most commercial air?” + </p> +<p> +“I really don't know that; I fancy that they were both very young, and +very ignorant of what they were pledging, and just as indifferent to the +consequences.” + </p> +<p> +“She was handsome, this—” + </p> +<p> +“Maritaña is beautiful, they say,” said Hoare, who inadvertently let slip +the name he had refused to divulge. +</p> +<p> +Linton's quick ear caught it at once, but as rapidly affected not to +notice it, as he said,— +</p> +<p> +“But I really do not see as yet how this affects what we were just +speaking of?” + </p> +<p> +“It will do so, however—and ere long. These people, who were +immensely rich some time back, are now, by one of the convulsions so +frequent in those countries, reduced to absolute poverty. They will, +doubtless, follow Cashel here, and seek a fulfilment of his contract. I +need not tell you, Mr. Linton, what must ensue on such a demand; it would +be hard to say whether acceptance or refusal would be worse. In a word, +the father-in-law is a man of such a character, there is only one thing +would be more ruinous than his enmity, and that is, any alliance with him. +Let him but arrive in this country, and every gentleman of station and +class will fall back from Cashel's intimacy; and even those—I 'll +not mention names,” said he, smiling—“who could gloss over some of +their prejudices with gold-leaf, will soon discover that a shrewder eye +than Cashel's will be on them, and that all attempts to profit by his +easiness of temper and reckless nature will be met by one who has never +yet been foiled in a game of artifice and deceit.” + </p> +<p> +“Then I perceive we have a very short tether,” said Linton, gravely; “when +may this worthy gentleman be-looked for?” + </p> +<p> +“At any moment. I believe early in spring, however, will be the time.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, that gives us a few months; during which I must contrive to get in +for this borough of Derraheeny—But hark! is that a carriage at the +door?—yes, by Jove! the Kennyfecks. I remember, he had asked them +to-day to come and see his pictures. I say, Hoare, step out by the back +way; we must not be caught together here. I 'll make my escape +afterwards.” + </p> +<p> +Already the thundering knock of the footman resounded through lie house, +and Hoare, not losing a moment, left the library, and hastened through the +garden at the rear of the house; while Linton, seizing some writing +materials, hurried upstairs, and established himself in a small boudoir +off one of the drawing-rooms, carefully letting down the Venetians as he +entered, and leaving the chamber but half lighted; this done, he drew a +screen in front of him, and waited patiently. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXII. VISIT TO THE “CASHEL PICTURE GALLERY.” + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ignored the schools of France and Spain, +And of the Netherlands not surer, +He knew not Cuyp from Claude Lorraine, +Nor Dow from Albert Durer. + +Bell: Images. +</pre> +<p> +Scarcely had the Kennyfecks' carriage driven from the door when the +stately equipage of the MacFarlines drew up, which was soon after followed +by the very small pony phaeton of Mrs. Leicester White, that lady herself +driving, and having for her companion a large high-shouldered, spectacled +gentleman, whose glances, at once inquiring and critical, pronounced him +as one of her numerous <i>protégés</i> in art, science, or letters. +</p> +<p> +This visit to the “Cashel Gallery,” as she somewhat grandiloquently +designated the collection, had been a thing of her own planning; first, +because Mrs. White was an adept in that skilful diplomacy which so happily +makes plans for pleasure at other people's houses—and oh, what +numbers there are!—delightful, charming people as the world calls +them! whose gift goes no further than this, that they keep a registry of +their friends' accommodation, and know to a nicety the season to dine +here, to sup there, to picnic at one place, and to “spend the day”—horrible +expression of a more horrible fact—at another. But Mrs. White had +also another object in view on the present occasion, which was, to +introduce her companion, Mr. Elias Howie, to her Dublin acquaintance. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Elias Howie was one of a peculiar class, which this age, so fertile in +inventions, has engendered, a publishers' man-of-all-work, ready for +everything, from statistics to satire, and equally prepared to expound +prophecy, or write squibs for “Punch.” + </p> +<p> +Not that lodgings were not inhabited in Grub Street before our day, but +that it remained for the glory of this century to see that numerous horde +of tourist authors held in leash by fashionable booksellers, and every now +and then let slip over some country, to which plague, pestilence, or +famine, had given a newer and more terrible interest In this novel walk of +literature Mr. Howie was one of the chief proficients; he was the creator +of that new school of travel which, writing expressly for London readers, +refers everything to the standard of “town;” and whether it be a trait of +Icelandic life, or some remnant of old-world existence in the far East, +all must be brought for trial to the bar of “Seven Dials,” or stand to +plead in the dock of Pall Mall or Piccadilly. Whatever errors or +misconceptions he might fall into respecting his subjects, he made none +regarding his readers. He knew them by heart,—their leanings, their +weakness, and their prejudices; and how pleasantly could he flatter their +town-bred self-sufficiency,—how slyly insinuate their vast +superiority over all other citizens, insidiously assuring them that the +Thames at Richmond was infinitely finer than the Rhine or the Danube, and +that a trip to Margate was richer in repayal than a visit to the +Bosphorus! Ireland was, just at the time we speak of, a splendid field for +his peculiar talents. The misery-mongers had had their day. The world was +somewhat weary of Landlordism, Pauperism, and Protestantism, and all the +other “isms” of that unhappy country. +</p> +<p> +There was nothing that had not been said over the overgrown Church +establishment, the devouring Middleman, Cottier misery, and Celtic +barbarism; people grew weary of hearing about a nation so endowed with +capabilities, and which yet did nothing, and rather than puzzle their +heads any further, they voted Ireland a “bore.” It was just then that +“this inspired Cockney” determined to try a new phase of the subject, and +this was not to counsel nor console, not to lament over nor bewail our +varied mass of errors and misfortunes, but to laugh at us. To hunt out as +many incongruities—many real enough, some fictitious—as he +could find; to unveil all that he could discover of social anomaly; and, +without any reference to, or any knowledge of, the people, to bring them +up for judgment before his less volatile and more happily circumstanced +countrymen, certain of the verdict he sought for—a hearty laugh. His +mission was to make “Punch” out of Ireland, and none more capable than he +for the office. +</p> +<p> +A word of Mr. Howie in the flesh, and we have done. He was large and +heavily built, but neither muscular nor athletic; his frame and all his +gestures indicated weakness and uncertainty. His head was capacious, but +not remarkable for what phrenologists call moral development; while the +sinister expression of his eyes—half submissive, half satirical—suggested +doubts of his sincerity. There was nothing honest about him but his mouth; +this was large, full, thick-lipped, and sensual,—the mouth of one +who loved to dine well, and yet felt that his agreeability was an ample +receipt in full for the best entertainment that ever graced Black wall or +the “Frères.” + </p> +<p> +It is a heavy infliction that we story-tellers are compelled to lay upon +our readers and ourselves, thus to interrupt our narrative by a lengthened +description of a character not essentially belonging to our story; we had +rather, far rather, been enabled to imitate Mrs. White, as she advanced +into the circle in the drawing-room, saying, “Mr. Cashel, allow me to +present to your favorable notice my distinguished friend, Mr. Howie. Lady +Janet MacFarline, Mr. Howie,—” sotto,—“the author of 'Snooks +in the Holy Land,' the wittiest thing of the day; Sir Andrew will be +delighted with him—has been all over the scenes of the Peninsular +war. Mrs. Kennyfeck, Mr. Howie.” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Howie made his round of salutations, and although by his awkwardness +tacitly acknowledging that they were palpably more habituated to the +world's ways than himself, yet inwardly consoled by remarking certain +little traits of manner and accent sufficiently provincial to be treasured +up, and become very droll in print or a copper etching. +</p> +<p> +“It's a vara new pleasure ye are able to confer upon your friends, Mr. +Cashel,” said Sir Andrew, “to show them so fine a collection o' pictures +in Ireland, whar, methinks, the arts ha' no enjoyed too mickle +encouragement.” + </p> +<p> +“I confess,” said Cashel, modestly, “I am but ill qualified to extend the +kind of patronage that would be serviceable, had I even the means; I have +not the slightest pretension to knowledge or judgment. The few I have +purchased have been as articles of furniture, pleasant to look at, without +any pretension to high excellence.” + </p> +<p> +“Just as Admiral Dalrymple paid ten pounds for a dunghill when he turned +farmer,” whispered Mr. Howie in Mrs. White's ear, “and then said, 'he had +only bought it because some one said it was a good thing; but that, now, +he 'd give any man “twenty” to tell him what to do with it,'” + </p> +<p> +Mrs. White burst into a loud fit of laughter, exclaiming: +</p> +<p> +“Oh, how clever, how good! Pray, Mr. Howie, tell Lady Janet—tell Mr. +Cashel that.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, madam!” cried the terrified tourist, who had not discovered before +the very shallow discrimination of his gifted acquaintance. +</p> +<p> +“If it is so vara good,” said Sir Andrew, “we maun insist on hearin' it.” + </p> +<p> +“No, no! nothing of the kind,” interposed Howie; “besides, the observation +was only intended for Mrs. White's ear.” + </p> +<p> +“Very true,” said that lady, affecting a look of consciousness. +</p> +<p> +“The odious woman,” whispered Miss Kennyfeck to her sister; “see how +delighted she looks to be compromised.” + </p> +<p> +“If we had Linton,” said Cashel, politely offering his arm to Lady Janet, +as he led her into the so-called gallery, “he could explain everything for +us. We have, however, a kind of catalogue here. This large landscape is +said to be by Both.” + </p> +<p> +“If she be a coo,” said Sir Andrew, “I maun say it's the first time I ever +seen ane wi' the head ower the tail.” + </p> +<p> +“Nonsense,” said Lady Janet; “don't ye perceive that the animal is +fore-shortened, and is represented looking backwards?” + </p> +<p> +“I ken nothing aboot that; she may be shortened in the fore-parts, an' ye +say, and that may be some peculiar breed, but what brings her head ower +her rump?” + </p> +<p> +Sir Andrew was left to finish his criticism alone, the company moving on +to a portrait assigned to Vandyck, as Diedrich von Aevenghem, Burgomaster +of Antwerp. +</p> +<p> +“A fine head!” exclaimed Mrs. White, authoritatively; “don't you think so, +Mr. Howie?” + </p> +<p> +“A very choice specimen of the great master, for which, doubtless, you +gave a large sum.” + </p> +<p> +“Four hundred, if I remember aright,” said Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“I think he maught hae a clean face for that money,” broke in Sir Andrew. +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean, sir?” said Miss Kennyfeck, insidiously, and delighted +at the misery Lady Janet endured from his remarks. +</p> +<p> +“Don't ye mind the smut he has on ane cheek?” + </p> +<p> +“It's the shadow of his nose, Sir Andrew,” broke in Lady Janet, with a +sharpness of rebuke there was no misunderstanding. +</p> +<p> +“Eh, my leddy, so it may, but ye need na bite mine off, for a' that!” And +so saying, the discomfited veteran fell back in high dudgeon. +</p> +<p> +The party now broke into the twos and threes invariable on such occasions, +and While Mrs. Kennyfeck and her elder daughter paid their most devoted +attentions to Lady Janet, Mrs. White and the author paired off, leaving +Olivia Kennyfeck to the guidance of Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“So you 'll positively not tell me what it is that preys on your mind this +morning?” said she, in the most insinuating of soft accents. +</p> +<p> +Cashel shook his head mournfully, and said,— +</p> +<p> +“Why should I tell you of what it is impossible you could give me any +counsel in, while your sympathy would only cause uneasiness to yourself?” + </p> +<p> +“But you forget our compact,” said she, archly; “there was to be perfect +confidence on both sides, was there not?” + </p> +<p> +“Certainly. Now, when shall we begin?” + </p> +<p> +“Have you not begun already?” + </p> +<p> +“I fancy not. Do you remember two evenings ago, when I came suddenly into +the drawing-room and found you pencil in hand, and you, instead of at once +showing me what you had been sketching, shut the portfolio, and carried it +off, despite all my entreaties—nay, all my just demands?” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, but,” said she, smiling, “confidence is one thing—confession is +another.” + </p> +<p> +“Too subtle distinctions for me,” cried Cashel. “I foolishly supposed that +there was to be an unreserved—” + </p> +<p> +“Speak lower, for mercy sake!—don't you perceive Lady Janet trying +to hear everything you say?” This was said in a soft whisper, while she +added aloud, “I think you said it was a Correggio, Mr. Cashel,” as they +stood before a very lightly-clad Magdalen, who seemed endeavoring to make +up for the deficiency of her costume by draping across her bosom the +voluptuous masses of her golden hair. +</p> +<p> +“I think a Correggio,” said Cashel, confused at the sudden artifice; “but +who has the catalogue?—oh, Sir Andrew; tell us about number +fifty-eight.” + </p> +<p> +“Fefty-eight, fefty-eight?” mumbled Sir Andrew a number of times to +himself, and then, having found the number, he approached the picture and +surveyed it attentively. +</p> +<p> +“Well, sir, what is it called?” said Olivia. +</p> +<p> +“It's vara singular,” said Sir Andrew, still gazing at the canvas, “but +doubtless Correggio knew weel what he was aboot. This,” said he, “is a +picture of Sain John the Baaptist in a raiment of caamel's hair.” + </p> +<p> +No sense of propriety was proof against this announcement; a laugh, loud +and general, burst forth, during which Lady Janet, snatching the book +indignantly from his hands, cried,— +</p> +<p> +“You were looking at sixty-eight, Sir Andrew, not fifty-eight; and you +have made yourself perfectly ridiculous.” + </p> +<p> +“By my saul, I believe so,” muttered the old gentleman, in deep anger. “I +'ve been looking at 'saxty-eight' ower long already!” + </p> +<p> +Fortunately, this sarcasm was not heard by her against whom it was +directed, and they who did hear it were fain to suppress their laughter as +well as they were able. The party was now increased by the arrival of the +Dean and his “ancient,” Mr. Softly, to the manifest delight of Mrs. +Kennyfeck, who at once exclaimed,— +</p> +<p> +“Ah, we shall now hear something really instructive.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/cash10288.jpg" alt="288 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +The erudite churchman, after a very abrupt notice of the company, started +at speed without losing a moment. +</p> +<p> +His attention being caught by some curious tableaux of the interior of the +great Pyramid, he immediately commenced an explanation of the various +figures, the costumes and weapons, which he said were all masonic, showing +that Pharaoh wore an apron exactly like the Duke of Sussex, and that every +emblem of the “arch” was to be found among the great of Ancient Egypt. +</p> +<p> +While thus employed, Mr. Howie, seated in a corner, was busily sketching +the whole party for an illustration to his new book on Ireland, and once +more Cashel and his companion found themselves, of course by the merest +accident, standing opposite the same picture in a little boudoir off the +large gallery. The subject was a scene from Faust, where Marguerite, +leaning on her lover's arm, is walking in a garden by moonlight, and +seeking by a mode of divination common in Germany to ascertain his truth, +which is by plucking one by one the petals of a flower, saying +alternately, “He loves me, he loves me not;” and then, by the result of +the last-plucked leaf, deciding which fate is accomplished. Cashel first +explained the meaning of the trial, and then taking a rose from one of the +flower vases, he said,— +</p> +<p> +“Let me see if you can understand my teaching; you have only to say, 'Er +liebt mich,' and, 'Er liebt mich nicht.'” + </p> +<p> +“But how can I?” said she, with a look of beaming innocence, “if there be +none who—” + </p> +<p> +“No matter,” said Cashel; “besides, is it not possible you could be loved, +and yet never know it? Now for the ordeal.” + </p> +<p> +“Er liebt mich nicht,” said Olivia, with a low, silvery voice, as she +plucked the first petal off, and threw it on the floor. +</p> +<p> +“You begin inauspiciously, and, I must say, unfairly, too,” said Cashel. +“The first augury is in favor of love.” + </p> +<p> +“Er liebt mich,” said she, tremulously, and the leaf broke in her fingers. +“Ha!” sighed she, “what does that imply? Is it, that he only loves by half +his heart?” + </p> +<p> +“That cannot be,” said Cashel; “it is rather that you treated his +affection harshly.” + </p> +<p> +“Should it not bear a little?—ought it to give way at once?” + </p> +<p> +“Nor will it,” said he, more earnestly, “if you deal but fairly. Come, I +will teach you a still more simple, and yet unerring test.” + </p> +<p> +A heavy sigh from behind the Chinese screen made both the speakers start; +and while Olivia, pale with terror, sank into a chair, Cashel hastened to +see what had caused the alarm. +</p> +<p> +“Linton, upon my life!” exclaimed he, in a low whisper, as, on tiptoe, he +returned to the place beside her. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Cashel; oh dear, Mr. Cashel—” + </p> +<p> +“Dearest Olivia—” + </p> +<p> +“Heigho!” broke in Linton; and Roland and his companion slipped +noiselessly from the room, and, unperceived, mixed with the general +company, who sat in rapt attention while the Dean explained that painting +was nothing more nor less than an optical delusion,—a theory which +seemed to delight Mrs. Kennyfeck in the same proportion that it puzzled +her. Fortunately, the announcement that luncheon was on the table cut +short the dissertation, and the party descended, all more or less content +to make material enjoyments succeed to intellectual ones. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” whispered Miss Kennyfeck to her sister, as they descended the +stairs, “did he?” + </p> +<p> +An almost inaudible “No” was the reply. +</p> +<p> +“Your eyes are very red for nothing, my dear,” rejoined the elder. +</p> +<p> +“I dinna ken, sir,” said Sir Andrew to Softly, as he made use of his arm +for support,—“I dinna ken how ye understand your theory aboot +optical delusions, but I maun say, it seems to me a vara strange way for +men o' your cloth to pass the mornin' starin' at naked weemen,—creatures, +too, that if they ever leeved at all, must ha' led the maist abondoned +lives. I take it that Diana herself was ne better than a cuttie; do ye +mark hoo she does no scruple to show a bra pair of legs—” + </p> +<p> +“With respect to the Heathen Mythology,” broke in Softly, in a voice he +hoped might subdue the discussion. +</p> +<p> +“Don't tell me aboot the hay thins, sir; flesh and bluid is a' the same, +whatever Kirk it follows.” + </p> +<p> +Before they were seated at table, Linton had joined them, explaining, in +the most natural way in the world, that, having sat down to write in the +boudoir, he had fallen fast asleep, and was only awakened by Mr. Phillis +having accidentally discovered him. A look of quick intelligence passed +between Cashel and Olivia at this narrative; the young lady soon appeared +to have recovered from her former embarrassment, and the luncheon +proceeded pleasantly to all parties. Mr. Howie enjoyed himself to the +utmost, not only by the reflection that a hearty luncheon at two would +save an hotel dinner at six, but that the Dean and Sir Andrew were two +originals, worth five pound apiece even for “Punch.” As to Cashel, a +glance at the author's note-book would show how he impressed that gifted +personage: “R. C.: a snob—rich—and gullible; his pictures, all +the household gods at Christie's, the Vandyck, late a sign of the Marquis +of Granby, at Windsor. Mem.: not over safe to quiz him.” “But we 'll see +later on.” “Visit him at his country-seat, 'if poss.'” + </p> +<p> +“Who is our spectacled friend?” said Linton, as they drove away from the +door. +</p> +<p> +“Some distinguished author, whose name I have forgotten.” + </p> +<p> +“Shrewd looking fellow,—think I have seen him at Ascot. What brings +him over here?” + </p> +<p> +“To write a book, I fancy.” + </p> +<p> +“What a bore. This is the age of detectives, with a vengeance. Well, don't +let him in again, that's all. By Jove! it's easier, now-a-days, to escape +the Queen's Bench than the 'Illustrated News.'” + </p> +<p> +“A note from Mr. Kennyfeck, sir,” said Mr. Phillis, “and the man waits for +an answer.” + </p> +<p> +Linton, taking up a book, affected to read, but in reality placed himself +so as to watch Cashel's features as he perused the letter, whose size and +shape pronounced to be something unusual. Hurriedly mumbling over a rather +tedious exordium on the various views the writer had taken of a subject, +Cashel's eyes suddenly flashed as he drew forth a small printed paragraph, +cut from the column of a newspaper, and which went thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“It will be, doubtless, in our readers' recollection how a +short time back an armed slaver, sailing under the flag of +Columbia, was taken, after a most severe and sanguinary +engagement, by H.M. brig 'Hornet.' The commander, a young +Spaniard of singularly handsome exterior, and with all the +bearing and appearance of a rank very different from his +mode of life, was carried off and confined in St. Kitts' +till such time as he could be brought to trial. +Representations from the Government of the Republic were, +however, made, and a claim preferred for indemnity, not only +for the loss of the vessel and property, but for the loss of +life and other injury incurred on the capture. While this +singular demand was under investigation, the young Spaniard +alluded to contrived to break his bonds and escape: the +only mode of doing which was by a leap into the sea from the +parapet of the fortress, a height, we are informed, of nigh +one hundred feet. They who are acquainted with the locality +assert that if he even survived the desperate leap, he must +inevitably have fallen a victim to the sharks who frequent +the bay to catch the bodies of all who die in the prison, +and who, it would appear, are thus unceremoniously disposed +of. This supposition would seem, however, in some respect, +contradicted by the circumstance that a Venezuelan cruiser, +which hung about the shore for the two preceding days, +sailed on the very night of his escape, and, in all +probability, with him on board.” + </pre> +<p> +“I could swear he is safe!” cried Cashel, in an ecstasy of enthusiasm; +“he's a glorious fellow.” + </p> +<p> +“Who is that?” said Linton, looking up; “any one I know?” + </p> +<p> +“No, indeed!” said Cashel. Then suddenly checking himself in a speech +whose opening accents were far from flattering, he added, “One you never +even heard of.” + </p> +<p> +He once more addressed himself to the letter, which, however, merely +contained some not very brilliant commentaries of Mr. Kennyfeck over the +preceding extract, and which, after enumerating a great many modes of +investigating the event, concluded with the only thing like common sense +in the whole, by recommending a strict silence and secrecy about it all. +</p> +<p> +Cashel was closing the epistle, when he caught on the turn-down the +following lines;— +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Linton has written to me about something like a legal transfer of the +cottage and lands of Tubberbeg, which he mentions your having presented to +him. What reply am I to return to this? I stated that you had already +assured Mr. Corrigan, the present tenant, of an undisturbed possession of +the tenure, but Mr. L. interrupted my explanation by saying that he only +desired an assignment of the property, such as would give a parliamentary +qualification, and that all pledges made to Mr. C. he would regard as +equally binding on himself.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel's first impulse, when he had read thus far, was to show Linton the +paragraph, and frankly ask him what he wished to be done; indeed, he had +already advanced towards him with that object, when he checked himself. +“It might seem ungracious to ask any explanation. There had been already a +moment of awkwardness about that same cottage, and Linton had behaved so +well; and, of course, only asking him for the possession as a means of +qualifying, Corrigan need never hear of it Besides, he could make Linton a +present of much greater real value as soon as the circumstances of the +estate became better known.” Such and such-like reasonings passed hastily +through his brain; and as all his resolves were quickly formed, and as +quickly acted on, he sat down and wrote: +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Dear Mr. Kennyfeck,—Many thanks for the information of your +note, which has served to allay all my anxiety for a valued +friend. As to Linton, you will have the goodness to satisfy +him in every particular, and make all and every legal title +he desires to the cottage and grounds of Tubberbeg. Although +he is now at my side while I write, I have not alluded to +the subject, feeling the awkwardness of touching on a theme +so delicate. Say, however, for me, that Corrigan is not to +be disturbed, nor any pledge I have made towards him—no +matter how liberally construed by him—to be, in any +respect, infringed.—Yours, in great haste, +</pre> +<p> +“Why you are quite a man of business to-day, Cashel, with your +correspondence and letter-writing; and I 'm sorry for it, for I wanted to +have a bit of serious talk with you,—that is, if it do not bore +you.” + </p> +<p> +“Not in the least. I was, I own it, nervous and uneasy this morning; now, +however, my mind is at ease, and I am quite ready for anything.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, then, without preamble, are you still of the same mind about +Parliament, because the time is hastening on when you ought to come to +some decision on the matter?” + </p> +<p> +“I have never bestowed a thought on the matter since,” said Cashel. “The +truth is, when I hear people talk politics in society, I am only +astonished at their seeming bigotry and one-sidedness; and when I read +newspapers of opposite opinions, I am equally confounded at the excellent +arguments they display for diametrically contradictory lines of action, so +that my political education makes but little progress.” + </p> +<p> +“What you say is perfectly just,” said Linton, appearing to reflect +profoundly. “A man of real independence—not the mere independence of +fortune, but the far higher independence of personal character—has +much to endure in our tangled and complex system of legislation. As for +yourself, for instance, who can afford to despise patronage, who have +neither sons to advance in the Navy, nor nephews in the Foreign Office, +who neither want the Bath nor a baronetcy, who would be as sick of the +flatteries as you would be disgusted with the servility of party—why +you should submit to the dust and heat, the turmoil and fatigue of a +session, I can't think. And how you would be bored,—bored by the +ceaseless reiterations night after night, the same arguments growing +gradually weaker as the echo grew fainter; bored by the bits of 'Horace' +got off by heart to wind up with; bored by the bad jests of witty members; +bored by Peel's candor, and Palmerston's petulance; by Cobden's unblushing +effrontery, and Hume's tiresome placidity. You 'd never know a happy day +nor a joyous hour till you accepted the Chiltern Hundreds, and cut them +all. No; the better course for you would be, choose a nominee for your +borough; select a man in whom you have confidence. Think of some one over +whom your influence would be complete, who would have no other aim than in +following out your suggestions; some one, in fact, who unites sufficient +ability with personal friendship. What d' ye think of Kennyfeck?” + </p> +<p> +“Poor Kennyfeck,” said Cashel, laughing, “he'd never think of such a +thing.” + </p> +<p> +“I don't know,” said Linton, musing; “it might not suit him, but his wife +would like it prodigiously.” + </p> +<p> +“Shall I propose it, then?” said Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“Better not, perhaps,” said Linton, appearing to reflect; “his income, +which is a right good one, is professional. This, of course, he 'd forfeit +by accepting a seat in the House. Besides, really, the poor man would make +no way. No, we must think of some one else. Do you like White?” + </p> +<p> +“Leicester White? I detest the man, and the wife too.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, there's Frobisher, a fellow of good name and family. I 'd not go +bail for his preferring your interests to his own, but as times go, you +might chance upon worse. Will you have Frobisher?” + </p> +<p> +“I have no objection,” said Cashel, carelessly; “would he like it +himself?” + </p> +<p> +“Would he like anything that might help him to a step in the regiment, or +place him in a position to sell himself, you, and the borough +constituency, to the highest bidder?” said Linton, irritated at Cashel's +half assent. +</p> +<p> +“Well, if these be his principles,” cried Cashel, laughing, “I think we 'd +better put him aside.” + </p> +<p> +“You 're right; he 'd never do,” said Linton, recovering all his +self-possession; “what you want is a man sufficiently unconnected with +ties of family or party, to see in you his patron and his object, and who, +with cleverness enough to enunciate the views you desire to see prevail, +has also the strong bond of personal regard to make him always even more +the friend than the follower.” + </p> +<p> +“I only know of one man who realizes all this combination,” said Cashel, +smiling, “and <i>he</i> would n't answer.” + </p> +<p> +“Who is he,—and why?” asked Linton, in vain endeavoring to look easy +and unconcerned. +</p> +<p> +“Tom Linton is the man, and his invincible laziness the 'why.' Isn't that +true?” + </p> +<p> +“By George, Cashel, if you 're content with the first part of the +assertion, I 'll pledge myself to remedy the latter. I own, frankly, it is +a career for which I have no predilection; if I had, I should have been +'in' many years ago. I have all my life held very cheap your great +political leaders, both as regards capacity and character, and I have ever +fancied that I should have had some success in the lists; but I have +always loved ease, and that best of ease, independence. If you think, +however, that I can worthily represent you in Parliament, and that you +could safely trust to my discretion the knotty question of political war, +say the word, my boy, and I 'll fling my 'far niente' habits to the wind, +and you shall have all the merit of developing the promising member for—what's +the name of it?” + </p> +<p> +“Derraheeny.” + </p> +<p> +“Exactly—the honorable and learned—for Derraheeny. I rather +like the title.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, Linton, if you are really serious—” + </p> +<p> +“Most assuredly, serious; and more, to prove it, I shall ask you to clench +our bargain at once. It is not enough that you make me your nominee, but +you must also render me eligible to become so.” + </p> +<p> +“I don't clearly comprehend—” + </p> +<p> +“I 'll enlighten you. Our venerable constitution, perfectly irrespective +of the Tom Lintons of this world—a race which, by the way, never +dies out, probably because they have avoided intermarriage—has +decided that a man must possess something besides his wits to be qualified +as 'Member of Parliament;' a strange law, because the aforesaid wits are +all that the Honorable House has any reason to lay claim to. This same +something which guarantees that a man has a legislative capacity, amounts +to some hundreds a year. Don't be impatient, and come out with any piece +of rash generosity; I don't want you to make a present of an estate—only +to lend me one! To be qualified, either as a candidate for the House or a +gentleman rider, one only needs a friend,—a well-to-do friend, who +'ll say, 'He's all right.'” + </p> +<p> +“I 'm quite ready to vouch for you, Tom, but you 'll have to take the +affair into your own management.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, it's easy enough. That same cottage and the farm which we spoke of +the other day, Kennyfeck can make out a kind of conveyance, or whatever +the instrument is called, by which it acknowledges me for its owner, vice +Roland Cashel, Esquire. This, properly sealed, signed, and so on, will +defy the most searching Committee that ever pried into any gentleman's +private circumstances.” + </p> +<p> +“Then explain it all to Kennyfeck, and say that I wish it done at once.” + </p> +<p> +“Nay, Cashel, pardon me. My ugliest enemy will not call me punctilious, +but I must stand upon a bit of ceremony here. This must be ordered by +yourself. You are doing a gracious thing,—a devilish kind thing,—it +must not be done by halves. Were I to communicate this to Kennyfeck, he +'ll unquestionably obey the direction, but most certainly he 'd say to the +first man he met, 'See how Linton has managed to trick Cashel out of a +very considerable slice of landed property.' He 'd not take much trouble +to state the nature of our compact; he 'd rather blink the whole +arrangement, altogether, and make the thing seem a direct gift. Now, I +have too much pride on your account, and my own too, to stand this.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, well, it shall be as you like; only I trow I disagree with you +about old Kennyfeck: he 's a fine straight-hearted fellow—he's—” + </p> +<p> +“He 's an attorney, Cashel. These fellows can no more comprehend a +transfer of property without a trial at bar, or a suit in Equity, than an +Irish second can understand a falling out without one of the parties being +brought home on a door. Besides, he has rather a grudge against me. I +never told you,—indeed, I never meant to tell you,—but I can +have no secrets from you. You know the youngest girl, Olivia?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, go on,” said Cashel, red and pale by turns. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I flirted a good deal last winter with her. Upon my life, I did not +intend it to have gone so far; I suppose it must have gone far, though, +because she became desperately in love. She is very pretty, certainly, and +a really good little girl,—<i>mais, que voulez-vous?</i> If I tie a +fly on my hook I can't afford to see a flounder or a perch walk off with +it; it's the speckled monster of the stream I fish for. They ought to have +known that themselves,—I 've no doubt they did, too; but they were +determined, as they say here, to die 'innocent,' and so one fine morning I +was just going to join the hounds at Finglas, when old Kennyfeck, very +trimly dressed, and looking unutterable importance, entered my lodgings. +There's a formula for these kind of explanations—I 've gone through +seven of these myself, and I 'll swear that every papa has opened the +conference with a solemn appeal to Heaven 'that he never was aware of the +attentions shown his daughter, nor the state of his dear child's +affections, till last evening.' They always assure you, besides, that if +they could give a million and a half as dowry, you are the very man—the +actual one individual—they would have selected; so that on an +average most young ladies have met with at least half-a-dozen parties whom +the fathers have pronounced to be, separately, the one most valued. +Kennyfeck behaved, I must say, admirably. His wife would have a Galway +cousin sent for, and a duel; some other kind friend suggested to have me +waylaid and thrashed. He calmly heard me for about ten minutes, and then +taking up his hat and gloves, said, 'Take your rule,' and so it ended. I +dined there the next Sunday,—yes, that's part of my system: I never +permit people to nourish small grudges, and go about abusing me to my +acquaintances. If they <i>will</i> do that, I overwhelm them by their +duplicity, as I am seen constantly in their intimacy, and remarkable for +always speaking well of them, so that the world will certainly give it +against them. The gist of all this tiresome story is, that Kennyfeck and +the ladies would, if occasion served, pay off the old debt to me; +therefore, beware if you hear me canvassed in that quarter!” Linton, like +many other cunning people, very often lapsed into little confessions of +the tactics by which he played his game in the world, and although Cashel +was not by any means a dangerous confidant to such disclosures, he now +marked with feelings not all akin to satisfaction this acknowledgment of +his friend's skill. +</p> +<p> +“You 'd never have shown your face there again, I 'll wager a hundred!” + said Linton, reading in the black look of Roland's countenance an +expression he did not fancy. +</p> +<p> +“You are right. I should have deemed it unfair to impose on the young lady +a part so full of awkwardness as every meeting must necessitate.” + </p> +<p> +“That comes of your innocence about women, my dear friend; they have face +for anything. It is not hypocrisy, it is not that they do not feel, and +feel deeply, but their sense of command, their instinct of what is +becoming, is a thousand times finer than ours; and I am certain that when +we take all manner of care to, what is called, spare their feelings, we +are in reality only sparing them a cherished opportunity of exercising a +control over those feelings which we foolishly suppose to be as +ungovernable as our own.” + </p> +<p> +Either not agreeing with the sentiment, or unable to cope with its +subtlety, Cashel sat some time without speaking. From Olivia Kennyfeck his +thoughts reverted to one in every respect unlike her,—the daring, +impetuous Maritaña. +</p> +<p> +He wondered within himself whether <i>her</i> bold, impassioned nature +could be comprehended within Linton's category, and a secret sense of +rejoicing thrilled through him as he replied to himself in the negative. +</p> +<p> +“I 'd wager a trifle, Roland, from that easy smile you wear, that your +memory has called up one example, at least, unfavorable to my theory. Eh! +I have guessed aright Come then, out with it, man,—who is this +peerless paragon of pure ingenuous truth?—who is she whose nature is +the transparent crystal where fair thoughts are enshrined? No denizen of +our misty northland, I'll be sworn, but some fair Mexican, with as little +disguise as drapery. Confess, I say—there is a confession, I 'll be +sworn—and so make a clean breast of it.” + </p> +<p> +It struck Cashel, while Linton was speaking, how effectually Maritaña +herself, by one proud look, one haughty gesture, would have silenced such +flippant raillery; and he could not help feeling it a kind of treason to +their old friendship that he should listen to it in patient endurance. +</p> +<p> +“Listen to me, amigo mio,” said he, in a tone of earnest passion that +seemed almost estranged from his nature latterly,—“listen to me +while I tell you that in those faraway countries, whose people you regard +with such contemptuous pity, there are women—ay, young girls—whose +daring spirit would shame the courage of many of those fine gentlemen we +spend our lives with; and I, for one, have so much of the Indian in me, as +to think that courage is the first of virtues.” + </p> +<p> +“I cannot help fancying,” said Linton, with an almost imperceptible +raillery, “that there are other qualities would please me as well in a +wife or a mistress.” + </p> +<p> +“I have no doubt of it—and suit you better, too,” said Cashel, +savagely; then hastily correcting himself for his rude speech, he added, +“I believe, in good earnest, that you would as little sympathize with that +land and its people as I do with this. Ay, if you want a confession, +there's one for you. I'm longing to be back once more among the vast +prairies of the West, galloping free after the dark-backed bisons, and +strolling along in the silent forests. The enervation of this life wearies +and depresses me; worse than all, I feel that, with a little more of it, I +shall lose all energy and zest for that activity of body, which, to men +like myself, supplies the place of thought,—a little more of it, and +I shall sink into that languid routine where dissipation supplies the only +excitement.” + </p> +<p> +“This is a mere passing caprice; a man who has wealth—” + </p> +<p> +“There it is,” cried Cashel, interrupting him impetuously; “that is the +eternal burden of your song. As if wealth, in forestalling the necessity +for labor, did not, at the same time, deprive life of all the zeal of +enterprise. When I have stepped into my boat to board a Chilian frigate, I +have had a prouder throbbing at my heart than ever the sight of that +banker's check-book has given me. There's many a Gambusino in the Rocky +Mountains a happier—ay, and a finer fellow, too, than the gayest of +those gallants that ever squandered the gold <i>he</i> quarried! But why +go on?—we are speaking in unknown tongues to each other.” + </p> +<p> +The tone of irritation into which, as it seems unconsciously, Cashel had +fallen, was not lost on the keen perception of Linton, and he was not +sorry to feign a pretext for closing an interview whose continuance might +be unpleasant. +</p> +<p> +“I was thinking of a hurried trip down to Tubbermore,” said he, rising; +“we shall have these guests of yours in open rebellion, if we don't affect +at least something like preparation for their reception. I'll take +Perystell along with me, and we'll see what can be done to get the old +house in trim.” + </p> +<p> +“Thanks,” said Cashel, as he walked up and down, his thoughts seeming +engaged on some other theme. +</p> +<p> +“I 'll write to you a report of the actual condition of the fortress,” + said Linton, assuming all his habitual easy freedom of manner, “and then, +if you think of anything to suggest, you'll let me hear.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, I 'll write,” said Cashel, still musing on his own thoughts. +</p> +<p> +“I see pretty plainly,” cried Linton, laughing, “there's no earthly use in +asking you questions just now, your brain being otherwise occupied, and +so, good-bye.” + </p> +<p> +“Good-bye—good-bye,” said Cashel, endeavoring, but not with a very +good grace to shake off his pre-occupation while he shook hands with him; +and Linton descended the stairs, humming an opera air, with all the +seeming light-heartedness of a very careless nature. +</p> +<p> +Cashel, meanwhile, sat down, and, with his head resting on his hand, +pondered over their late interview. There were two circumstances which +both puzzled and distressed him. How came it that Linton should have +written this note to Kennyfeck on a subject which only seemed to have +actually suggested itself in the course of this their very last +conversation? Had he already planned the whole campaign respecting the +seat in Parliament and the qualification, and was his apparently chance +allusion to those topics a thing studied and devised beforehand? This, if +true, would argue very ill for his friend's candor and fair dealing; and +yet, how explain it otherwise? Was there any other seat open to him for +which to need a qualification? If so, he had never spoken of it. It was +the first time in his life that Cashel had conceived a suspicion of one +whom he had regarded in the light of friend, and only they who have +undergone a similar trial can understand the poignant suffering of the +feeling; and yet, palpable as the cause of such a doubt was, he had never +entertained it had not Linton spoken disparagingly of the Kennyfecks! This +is a curious trait of human nature, but one worth consideration; and while +leaving it to the elucidation the penetration of each reader may suggest, +we only reiterate the fact, that while Cashel could, without an effort, +have forgiven the duplicity practised on himself, the levity Linton +employed respecting Olivia engendered doubts of his honor too grave to be +easily combated. +</p> +<p> +As for Linton scarcely had he quitted Cashel, than he hastened to call on +Kennyfeck; he had written the note already alluded to, to leave at the +house should the solicitor be from home; but having left it by accident on +the writing-table, his servant, discovering it to be sealed and addressed, +had, without further question, left it at Kennyfeck's house. As Linton +went along, he searched his pockets for the epistle, but consoled himself +by remembering how he had left it at home. +</p> +<p> +A few moments later found him at Kennyfeck's door. The attorney was at +home, and, without any announcement, Linton entered the study where he +sat. +</p> +<p> +“I was this instant writing to you, sir,” said Kennyfeck, rising, and +placing a seat for him; “Mr Cashel, on being informed of the wish +expressed in your note—” + </p> +<p> +“Of what note?” said Linton, in a voice of, for him, very unusual +agitation. +</p> +<p> +“This note—here, sir,—dated—no, by-the-by, it is not +dated, but brought by your servant two hours ago.” + </p> +<p> +Linton took the paper, glanced his eye over it, and then, in mingled +chagrin and forgetfulness, tore it, and threw the fragments into the fire. +</p> +<p> +“There is some mistake about this,” said he, slowly, and giving himself +time to consider what turn he should lend it. +</p> +<p> +“This is Mr. Cashel's reply, sir,” said Kennyfeck, after pausing some +moments, but in vain for the explanation. +</p> +<p> +Linton eagerly caught the letter and read it through, and whatever +scruples or fear he might have conceived for any other man's, it seemed as +if he had little dread of Cashel's penetration, for his assured and easy +smile at once showed that he had regained his wonted tranquillity. +</p> +<p> +“You will then take the necessary steps, without delay, Kennyfeck,” said +he. “The elections cannot be very distant, and it is better to be +prepared.” As he spoke, he threw the letter back upon the table, but in a +moment afterwards, while taking off his gloves, managed to seize it and +convey it to his pocket. “You know far better than I do, Kennyfeck,” + resumed he, “how sharp the lawyers can be in picking out any flaw +respecting title and so forth; for this reason, be careful that this +document shall be as regular and binding as need be.” + </p> +<p> +“It shall be submitted for counsel's opinion this evening, sir—” + </p> +<p> +“Not to Jones, then; I don't fancy that gentleman, although I know he has +some of your confidence; send it to Hammond.” + </p> +<p> +“As you please, sir.” + </p> +<p> +“Another point. You'll not insert any clause respecting the tenant in +possession; it would only be hampering us with another defence against +some legal subtlety or other.” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. Cashel does not desire this, sir?” + </p> +<p> +“Of course not—you understand what the whole thing means. Well, I +must say good-bye; you 'll have all ready by the time I return to town. My +respects to the drawing-room. Adieu. +</p> +<p> +“That was bad blunder about the note,” muttered Linton, as he walked along +towards home, “and might have lost the game, if the antagonist had any +skill whatever.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIII. LINTON VISITS HIS ESTATE. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Let's see the field, and mark it well, +For, here, will be the battle. + +Ottocar. +</pre> +<p> +“Does this path lead to the house, friend?” said a gentleman whose dress +bespoke recent travel, to the haggard, discontented figure of a man who, +seated on a stone beside a low and broken wicket, was lazily filling his +pipe, and occasionally throwing stealthy glances at the stranger. A. short +nod of the head was the reply. “You belong to the place, I suppose?” + </p> +<p> +“Maybe I do; and what then?” + </p> +<p> +“Simply that, as I am desirous of going thither, I should be glad of your +showing me the way.” + </p> +<p> +“Troth, an' there's little to see when you get there,” rejoined the other, +sarcastically. “What are you by trade, if it's not displeasin' to ye?” + </p> +<p> +“That's the very question I was about to ask you,” said Linton, for it was +himself; “you appear to have a very easy mode of life, whatever it be, +since you are so indifferent about earning half-a-crown.” + </p> +<p> +Tom Keane arose from his seat, and made an awkward attempt at saluting, as +he said,— +</p> +<p> +“'Tis the dusk o'the evening prevented me seeing yer honer, or I wouldn't +be so bowld. This is the way to the Hall sure enough.” + </p> +<p> +“This place has been greatly neglected of late,” said Linton, as they +walked along side by side, and endeavoring, by a tone of familiarity, to +set his companion at ease. +</p> +<p> +“Troth, it is neglected, and always was as long as I remember. I was +reared in it, and I never knew it other; thistles and docks as big as your +leg, everywhere, and the grass choked up with moss.” + </p> +<p> +“How came it to be so completely left to ruin?” + </p> +<p> +“Anan!” muttered he, as if not well comprehending the question, but, in +reality, a mere device employed to give him more time to scan the +stranger, and guess at his probable object. +</p> +<p> +“I was asking,” said Linton, “how it happened that a fine old place like +this was suffered to go to wreck and ruin?” + </p> +<p> +“Faix, it's ould enough, anyhow,” said the other, with a coarse laugh. +</p> +<p> +“And large too.” + </p> +<p> +“Yer honer was here afore?” said Tom, stealthily glancing at him under his +brows. “I 'm thinking I remember yer honer's faytures. You would n't be +the gentleman that came down with Mr. Duffy?” + </p> +<p> +“No; this is my first visit to these parts; now, where does this little +road lead? It seems to be better cared for than the rest, and the gate, +too, is neatly kept.” + </p> +<p> +“That goes down to the cottage, sir—Tubber-beg, as they call it. Yer +honer isn't Mr. Cashel himself?” said Tom, reverentially taking off his +tattered hat, and attempting an air of courtesy, which sat marvellously +ill upon him. +</p> +<p> +“I have not that good luck, my friend.” + </p> +<p> +“'T is good luck ye may call it,” sighed Tom; “a good luck that does n't +fall to many; but, maybe, ye don't want it; maybe yer honer—” + </p> +<p> +“And who lives in the cottage of Tubber-beg?” said Linton, interrupting. +</p> +<p> +“One Corrigan, sir; an old man and his granddaughter.” + </p> +<p> +“Good kind of people, are they?” + </p> +<p> +“Ayeh! there's worse, and there 's betther! They 're as proud as Lucifer, +and poor as naygurs.” + </p> +<p> +“And this is the Hall itself?” exclaimed Linton, as he stopped directly in +front of the old dilapidated building, whose deformities were only +exaggerated by the patchy effect of a faint moonlight. +</p> +<p> +“Ay, there it is,” grinned Tom, “and no beauty either; and ugly as it +looks without, it's worse within! There 'a cracks in the walls ye could +put your hand through, and the windows is rotten, where they stand.” + </p> +<p> +“It is not very tempting, certainly, as a residence,” said Linton, +smiling. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, but if ye heerd the rats, the way they do be racin' and huntin' each +other at night, and the wind bellowsin' down the chimbleys, such +screechin' and yellin' as it keeps, and then the slates rattlin', till +ye'd think the ould roof was comin' off altogether,—be my soul, +there's many a man would n't take the property and sleep a night in that +house.” + </p> +<p> +“One would do a great deal, notwithstanding, for a fine estate like this,” + said Linton, dryly. +</p> +<p> +There was something, either in the words or the accent, that touched Tom +Keane's sympathy for the speaker; some strange suspicion perhaps, that he +was one whose fortune, like his own, was not beyond the casualties and +chances of life, and it was with a species of coarse friendship that he +said, “Ah, if we had it between us, we 'd do well.” + </p> +<p> +“Right well; no need to ask for better,” said Linton, with a heartiness of +assent that made the other perfectly at ease. “I'm curious to have a look +at the inside of the place; I suppose there is no hindrance?” + </p> +<p> +“None in life! I live below, and, faix, there's no living anywhere else, +for most of the stairs is burned, and, as I towld ye, the rats has +upstairs all to themselves. Nancy, give us a light,” cried he, passing +into the dark and spacious hall, “I'm going to show a gentleman the +curiosities. I ax you honer's pardon, the place is n't so clean as it +might be.” + </p> +<p> +Linton gave one peep into the long and gloomy chamber, where the whole +family were huddled together in all the wretchedness and disorder of a +cabin, and at once drew back. +</p> +<p> +“The cows is on the other side,” said the man, “and, beyond, there's four +rooms was never plastered; and there, where you see the straw, that's the +billiard-room, and inside of it again, there's a place for play-actin', +and, more by token, there's a quare thing there.” + </p> +<p> +“What's that?” asked Linton, whose curiosity was excited by the remark. +</p> +<p> +“Come, and I 'll show yer honer.” + </p> +<p> +So saying, he led on through a narrow corridor, and, passing through two +or three dilapidated, ruined chambers, they entered a large and spacious +apartment, whose sloping floor at once showed Linton that they were +standing on the stage of a theatre. +</p> +<p> +Tom Keane held up the flickering light, that the other might see the torn +and tattered remnants of the decorations, and the fragments of scenes, as +they flapped to and fro. “It's a dhroll place, anyhow,” said he, “and +there's scarce a bit of it hasn't a trap-door, or some other contrivance +of the like; but here's one stranger than all; this is what I towld yer +honer about.” He walked, as he spoke, to the back wall of the building, +where, on the surface of the plaster, a rude scene, representing a wood, +was painted, at one side of which a massive pile of rock, overgrown with +creepers, stood. “Now, ye 'd never guess what was there,” said Tom, +holding the candle in different situations to exhibit the scene; “and, +indeed, I found it by chance myself; see this,”—and he pressed a +small but scarcely perceptible knob of brass in the wall, and at once, +what appeared to be the surface of the rock, slid back, discovering a dark +space behind. “Come on, now, after me,” continued he. Linton followed, and +they ascended a narrow stair constructed in the substance of the wall, and +barely sufficient to admit one person. +</p> +<p> +Arriving at the top, after a few seconds' delay, Tom opened a small door, +and they stood in a large and well-proportioned room, where some +worm-eaten bed-furniture yet remained. The door had been once, as a small, +fragment of glass showed, the frame of a large mirror, and must have been +quite beyond the reach of ordinary powers of detection. +</p> +<p> +“That was a cunning way to steal down among the play acthers,” said Keane, +grinning, while Linton, with the greatest attention, remarked the position +of the door and its secret fastening. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose no one but yourself knows of this stair?” said Linton. +</p> +<p> +“Sorra one, sir, except, maybe, some of the smugglers that used to come +here long ago from the mouth of the Shannon. This was one of their +hiding-places.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, if this old mansion comes ever to be inhabited, one might have rare +fun by means of that passage; so be sure, you keep the secret well. Let +that be a padlock on your lips.” And, so saying, he took a sovereign from +his purse and gave it to him. “Your name is—” + </p> +<p> +“Tom, yer honer—Tom Keane; and, by this and by that, I'm ready to do +yer honer's bidding from this hour out—” + </p> +<p> +“Well, we shall be good friends, I see,” interrupted Linton; “you may, +perhaps, be useful to me, and I can also be able to serve you. Now, which +is the regular entrance to this chamber?” + </p> +<p> +“There, sir; it's the last door as ye see in the long passage. Them is all +bedrooms alone there, but it's not safe to walk down, for the floor is +rotten.” + </p> +<p> +Linton noted down in a memory far from defective the circumstances of the +chamber, and then followed his guide through the remainder of the house, +which in every quarter presented the same picture of ruin and decay. +</p> +<p> +“The bit of candle is near out,” said Tom, “but sure there is n't much +more to be seen; there's rooms there was never opened, and more on the +other side, the same. The place is as big as a barrack, and here we are +once more on the grand stair.” + </p> +<p> +For once, the name was not ill applied, as, constructed of Portland stone, +and railed with massive banisters of iron, it presented features of +solidity and endurance, in marked contrast to the other portions of the +edifice. Linton cast one more glance around the gloomy entrance, and +sallied forth into the free air. “I 'll see you to-morrow, Tom,” said he, +“and we'll have some talk together. Good night.” + </p> +<p> +“Good night, and good luck to yer honer; but won't you let me see your +honer out of the grounds,—as far as the big gate, at least?” + </p> +<p> +“Thanks; I know the road perfectly already, and I rather like a lonely +stroll of a fine night like this.” + </p> +<p> +Tom, accordingly, reiterated his good wishes, and Linton was suffered to +pursue his way unaccompanied. Increasing his speed as he arrived at a turn +of the road, he took the path which led off the main approach, and led +down by the river-side to the cottage of Tubber-beg. There was a feeling +of strong interest which prompted him to see this cottage, which now he +might call his own; and as he went, he regarded the little clumps of +ornamental planting, the well-kept walks, the neat palings, the quaint +benches beneath the trees, with very different feelings from those he had +bestowed on the last-visited scene. Nor was he insensible to the landscape +beauty which certain vistas opened, and, seen even by the faint light of a +new moon, were still rich promises of picturesque situation. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly, and without any anticipation, he found himself on turning a +little copse of evergreens, in front of the cottage, and almost beneath +the shadow of its deep porch. Whatever his previous feelings of +self-interest in every detail around, they were speedily routed by the +scene before him. +</p> +<p> +In a large and well furnished drawing-room, where a single lamp was +shining, sat an old man in an easy-chair, his features, his attitude, and +his whole bearing indicating the traces of recent illness. Beside him, on +a low stool almost at his feet, was a young girl of singular beauty,—the +plastic grace of her figure, the easy motion of the head, as from time to +time she raised it to throw upwards a look of affectionate reverence, and +the long, loose masses of her hair, which, accidentally unfastened, fell +on either shoulder, making rather one of those ideals which a Raphael can +conceive than a mere creature of every-day existence. Although late +autumn, the windows lay open to the ground, for, as yet, no touch of +coming winter had visited this secluded and favored spot. In the still +quiet of the night, <i>her</i> voice, for she alone spoke, could be heard; +at first, the mere murmur of the accents reached Linton's ears, but even +from them he could gather the tone of cheering and encouragement in which +she spoke. At length he heard her say, in a voice of almost tremulous +enthusiasm, “It was so like you, dear papa, not to tell this Mr. Cashel +that you had yourself a claim, and, as many think, a rightful one, to this +same estate, and thus not trouble the stream of his munificence.” + </p> +<p> +“Nay, child, it had been as impolitic as unworthy to do so,” said the old +man; “he who stoops to receive a favor should detract nothing from the +generous sentiment of the granter.” + </p> +<p> +“For my part, I would tell him,” said she, eagerly, “that his noble +conduct has forever barred my prosecuting such a claim, and that if, +to-morrow, the fairest proofs of my right should reach me, I'd throw them +in the fire.” + </p> +<p> +“To get credit for such self-sacrifice, Mary, one must be independent of +all hypothesis; one must do, and not merely promise. Now, it would be hard +to expect Mr. Cashel to feel the same conviction I do, that this +confiscation was repealed by letters under the hand of Majesty itself. The +Brownes, through whom Cashel inherits, were the stewards of my ancestors, +entrusted with all their secret affairs, and cognizant of all their family +matters. From the humble position of dependents, they suddenly sprang into +wealth and fortune, and ended by purchasing the very estate they once +lived on as day-laborers,—sold as it was, like all confiscated +estates, for a mere fraction of its value.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, base ingratitude!” + </p> +<p> +“Worse still; it is said, and with great reason to believe it true, that +Hammond Browne, who was sent over to London by my great grandfather to +negotiate with the Government, actually received the free pardon and the +release of the confiscation, but concealed and made away with both, and, +to prevent my grandfather being driven to further pursuit, gave him the +lease of this cottage on the low terms we continue to hold it.” + </p> +<p> +A low, faint cough from the old man warned his granddaughter of the +dangers of the night air, and she arose and closed the windows. They still +continued their conversation, but Linton, unable to hear more, returned to +his inn, deeply reflecting over the strange disclosures he had overheard. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIV. BREAKFAST WITH MR. CORRIGAN. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +How cold is treachery. + +<i>Play</i>. +</pre> +<p> +“Who can Mr. Linton be, my dear?” said old Mr. Corrigan, as he sat at +breakfast the next day, and pondered oyer the card which, with a polite +request for an interview, the servant had just delivered. “I cannot +remember the name, if I ever heard it before; but should we not invite him +to join us at breakfast?” + </p> +<p> +“Where is he, Simon?” asked Miss Leicester. +</p> +<p> +“At the door, miss, and a very nice-looking gentleman as ever I saw.” + </p> +<p> +“Say that I have been ill, Simon, and cannot walk to the door, and beg +he'll be kind enough to come in to breakfast.” + </p> +<p> +With a manner where ease and deference were admirably blended, Linton +entered the room, and apologizing for his intrusion, said, “I have come +down here, sir, on a little business matter for my friend Roland Cashel, +and I could not think of returning to town without making the acquaintance +of one for whom my friend has already conceived the strongest feeling of +interest and regard. It will be the first question I shall hear when I get +back, 'Well, what of Mr. Corrigan, and how is he?'” + </p> +<p> +While making this speech, which he delivered in a tone of perfect +frankness, he seemed never to have noticed the presence of Miss Leicester, +who had retired a little as he entered the room, and now, on being +introduced to her, made his acknowledgments with a grave courtesy. +</p> +<p> +“And so our young landlord is thinking of taking up his residence amongst +us?” said Corrigan, as Linton assumed his place at the breakfast-table. +</p> +<p> +“For a few weeks he purposes to do so, but I question greatly if the +tranquil pleasures and homely duties of a country life will continue long +to attract him; he is very young, and the world so new to him, that he +will scarcely settle down anywhere, or to anything, for some time to +come.” + </p> +<p> +“Experience is a capital thing, no doubt, Mr. Linton; but I 'd rather +trust the generous impulses of a good-hearted youth in a country like +this, long neglected by its gentry. Let him once take an interest in the +place and the people, and I'll vouch for the rest. Is he a sportsman?” + </p> +<p> +“He <i>was</i>, when in Mexico; but buffalo and antelope hunting are very +different from what this country offers.” + </p> +<p> +“Does he read?—is he studious?” said Mary. +</p> +<p> +“Not even a newspaper, Miss Leicester. He is a fine, high-spirited, +dashing fellow, and if good-nature and honorable intentions could +compensate for defective education and training, he would be perfect.” + </p> +<p> +“They'll go very far, depend on it, Mr. Linton. In these days, a man of +wealth can buy almost anything. Good sense, judgment, skill, are all in +the market; but a generous nature and a warm heart are God's gifts, and +can neither be grafted nor transplanted.” + </p> +<p> +“You'll like him, I'm certain, Mr. Corrigan.” + </p> +<p> +“I know I shall. I have reason for the anticipation; Tiernay told me the +handsome words he used when according me a favor—and here comes the +doctor himself.” And as he spoke, Dr. Tiernay entered the room, his +flushed face and hurried breathing bespeaking a hasty walk. “Good-morrow, +Tiernay. Mr. Linton, let me present our doctor; not the least among our +local advantages, as you can tell your friend Mr. Cashel.” + </p> +<p> +“We've met before, sir,” said Tiernay, scanning, with a steady gaze, the +countenance which, wreathed in smiles, seemed to invite rather than dread +recognition. +</p> +<p> +“I am happy to be remembered, Dr. Tiernay,” said Linton, “although I fancy +our meeting was too brief for much acquaintance; but we'll know each other +better, I trust, hereafter.” + </p> +<p> +“No need, sir,” whispered Tiernay, as he passed close to his side; “I +believe we read each other perfectly already.” + </p> +<p> +Linton smiled, and bowed, as though accepting the speech in some +complimentary sense, and turned toward Miss Leicester, who was busily +arranging some dried plants in a volume. +</p> +<p> +“These are not specimens of this neighborhood?” said Linton, taking up +some heaths which are seldom found save in Alpine regions. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir,” interrupted Tiernay, “you 'll be surprised to find here +productions which would not seem native to these wilds.” + </p> +<p> +“If you take an interest in such things,” said old Corrigan, “you can't +have a better guide than my granddaughter and Tiernay; they know every +crag and glen for twenty miles round; all I bargain for is, don't be late +back for dinner. You 'll give us your company, I hope, sir, at six?” + </p> +<p> +Linton assented, with a cordial pleasure that delighted his inviter; and +Mary, so happy to see the gratified expression of her grandfather's face, +looked gratefully at the stranger for his polite compliance. +</p> +<p> +“A word with you, sir,” whispered Tiernay in Linton's ear; and he passed +out into the little flower-garden, saying, as he went, “I 'll show Mr. +Linton the grounds, Miss Mary, and you shall not have to neglect your +household cares.” + </p> +<p> +Linton followed him without speaking, nor was a word interchanged between +them till they had left the cottage a considerable distance behind them. +“Well, sir,” said Linton, coming to a halt, and speaking in a voice of +cold and steadfast purpose, “how far do you propose that I am to bear you +company?” + </p> +<p> +“Only till we are beyond the danger of being overheard,” said Tiernay, +turning round. “Here will do perfectly. You will doubtless say, sir, that +in asking you for an explanation of why I see you in this cottage, that I +am exceeding the bounds of what right and duty alone impose.” + </p> +<p> +“You anticipate me precisely,” said Linton, sarcastically, “and to save +you the embarrassment of so obviously impertinent a proceeding, I beg to +say that I shall neither afford you the slightest satisfaction on this or +any other subject of inquiry. Now, sir, what next?” + </p> +<p> +“Do you forget the occasion of our first meeting?” said the doctor, who +actually was abashed beneath the practised effrontery of his adversary. +</p> +<p> +“Not in the least, sir. You permitted yourself on that occasion to take a +liberty, which from your age and other circumstances I consented to pass +unnoticed. I shall not always vouch for the same patient endurance on my +part; and so pray be cautious how you provoke it.” + </p> +<p> +“It was at that meeting,” said the doctor, with passionate earnestness, +“that I heard you endeavor to dissuade your friend from a favorable +consideration of that man's claim, whose hospitality you now accept of. It +was with an insolent sneer at Mr. Cashers simplicity—” + </p> +<p> +“Pray stop, sir; not too far, I beseech you. The whole affair, into which +by some extraordinary self-delusion you consider yourself privileged to +obtrude, is very simple. This cottage and the grounds appertaining to it +are mine. This old gentleman, for whom I entertain the highest respect, is +<i>my</i> tenant. The legal proof of what I say, I promise to submit to +you within the week; and it was to rescue Mr. Cashel from the +inconsistency of pledging himself to what was beyond his powers of +performance, that I interfered. <i>Your</i> very ill-advised zeal +prevented this; and rather than increase the awkwardness of a painful +situation, I endured a very unprovoked and impertinent remark. Now, sir, +you have the full explanation of my conduct, and my opinion of yours; and +I see no reason to continue the interview.” So saying, Linton touched his +hat and turned back towards the cottage. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXV. TUBBERMORE TRANSFORMED. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ay, sir, the knave is a deep one. + +Old Play. +</pre> +<p> +To save our reader the tedious task of following Mr. Linton's movements, +however necessary to our story some insight into them may be, we take the +shorter, and therefore pleasanter course, of submitting one of his own +brief notes to Roland Cashel, written some three days after his arrival at +Tubbermore:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Still here, my dear Cashel, still in this Tipperary +Siberia, where our devotion to your service has called and +still retains us,—and what difficulties and dangers have +been ours! What a land!—and what a people! Of a truth, I +no longer envy the rich, landed proprietor, as, in my +ignorance, I used to do some weeks back. To begin: Your +Château de Tubbermore, which seems a cross between a jail +and a county hospital without, and is a downright ruin +within, stands in a park of thistles and docks whose +luxuriant growth are a contemptuous reflection upon your +trees, which positively don't grow at all. So ingeniously +placed is this desirable residence, that although the +country, the river, and the mountains, offer some fine +landscape effects, not a vestige of any of them can be seen +from your windows. Your dining-room, late a nursery for an +interesting family of small pigs, looks out upon the +stables, picturesque as they are in fissured walls and +tumbling rafters; and one of the drawing-rooms—they call +it the blue room, a tint so likely to be caught up by the +spectators—opens upon a garden,—but what a garden! Fruit- +trees, there are none—stay, I am unjust, two have been left +standing to give support to a clothes-line, where the +amiable household of your care-taker, Mr. Cane, are +pictorially represented by various garments, crescendo from +the tunic of tender years to the full-grown 'toga.' But why +enumerate small details? Let me rather deal in negatives, +and tell you there is not a whole pane of glass in the +entire building, not a grate, few doors, little flooring, +and actually no roof. The slates, where there are such, are +so loose that the wind rattles among them like the keys of a +gigantic piano, and usually ends with a grand Freischutz +effect, which uncovers a room or two. The walls are +everywhere so rotten, that if you would break a loop-hole, +you throw down enough to drive a 'break' through; and as +for the chimneys, the jackdaw may plead the Statute of +Limitations, and defy to surrender a possession which +certainly dates from the past century! Perystell is in +despair; he goes about sticking his thumb through the +rotting timbers, and knocking down partitions with a tick of +his foot, and exclaiming against the ignorance of the last +age of architects, who, I take it, were pretty much like +their successors, save in the thefts committed from Greek +and Roman models. This is not tempting, nor the remedy for +it easy. Stone and mortar are as great luxuries here as ice- +cream at Calcutta; there are no workmen, or the few are +merely artificers in mud. Timber is an exotic, glass and +iron are traditions; so that if you desire to be an Irish +country gentleman, your pursuit of territorial ascendancy +has all the merit of difficulty. Now, <i>que faire?</i> Shall we +restore, or, rather, rebuild, or shall we put forty pounds +of Dartford gunpowder in one of the cellars, and blow the +whole concern to him who must have devised it? Such is the +course I should certainly adopt myself, and only feel regret +at the ignoble service of the honest explosive. + +“Perystell, like all his tribe, is a pedant, and begins by +asking for two years, and I won't say how many thousand +pounds. My reply is, 'Months and hundreds, <i>vice</i> years and +thousands'—and so we are at issue. I know your anxiety to +receive the people you have invited, and I feel how +fruitless it would be to tell you with what apologies I, if +in your place, should put them off; so pray instruct me how +to act. Shall I commission Perystell to go to work in all +form, and meanwhile make a portion of the edifice habitable? +or shall I—and I rather admire the plan—get a corps of +stage artificers from Drury Lane, and dress up the house as +they run up a provincial theatre? I know you don't care +about cost, which, after all, is the only real objection to +the scheme; and if you incline to my suggestion about the +fireworks for a finish, it will be perfectly appropriate. + +“'My own cottage'—so far, at least, as I could see of it +without intruding on the present occupant—is very pretty: +roses, and honeysuckle, and jasmines, and such-like +ruralities, actually enveloping it. It is well placed, too, +in a snug little nook, sheltered from the north, and with a +peep at the river in front,—just the sort of place where +baffled ambition and disappointment would retire to; and +where, doubtless, some of these days, Tom Linton, not being +selected by her Majesty as Chief Secretary for the Home +Office, will be announced in the papers to have withdrawn +from public life, 'to prosecute the more congenial career of +literature.' There is a delicious little boudoir, too,—such +is it at present, you or I would make it a smoking crib,— +looking over the Shannon, and with a fine bold mountain, +well wooded, beyond. I should like a gossip with you in that +bay-window, in the mellow hour, when confidence, which hates +candles, is at its full. + +“Have I told you everything? I scarcely know, my head is so +full of roof-trees, rafters, joists, gables, and parapets. +Halt! I was forgetting a pretty—that is not the word—a +handsome girl, daughter or granddaughter of our tenant, Mr. +Corrigan, one of those saintly, virginal heads Raphael +painted, with finely pencilled eyebrows, delicate beyond +expression above; severe, in the cold, un-impassioned +character of the mouth and lips; clever, too, or, what +comes to nearly the same, odd and eccentric, being educated +by an old St. Omer priest who taught her Latin, French, +Italian, with a dash of theology, and, better than all, to +sing Provençal songs to her own accompaniment on the piano. +You 'll say, with such companionship, Siberia is not so bad +after all, nor would it, perhaps, if we had nothing else to +think of. Besides, she is as proud as an Austrian +archduchess, has the blood of, God knows how many, kings— +Irish, of course—in her veins, and looks upon me, Saxon +that I am, as a mountain-ash might do on a mushroom.” + </pre> +<p> +There was no erasure but one, and that very slight, and seeming +unimportant; he had written Tubber-beg at the top of the letter, and, +perceiving it, had changed it to Tubber-more, the fact being that he had +already established himself as an inmate of the “Cottage,” and a guest of +Mr. Corrigan. We need not dwell on the arts by which Linton accomplished +this object, to which, indeed, Mr. Corrigan's hospitable habits +contributed no difficulty. The “doctor” alone could have interposed any +obstacle; and he, knowing the extent of Linton's power, did not dare to do +so, contenting himself to watch narrowly all his proceedings, and warn his +friend whenever warning could no longer be delayed. +</p> +<p> +Without enjoying the advantages of a careful education, Linton's natural +quickness counterfeited knowledge so well that few, in every-day +intercourse, could detect the imposition. He never read a book through, +but he skimmed some thousands, and was thoroughly familiar with that +process so popular in our Universities, and technically termed “cramming” + an author. In this way, there were few subjects on which he could not +speak fairly,—a faculty to which considerable fluency and an easy +play of fancy lent great assistance. His great craft, however, was—and +whatever may be said on the subject, it would seem the peculiar gift of +certain organizations—that he was able, in an inconceivably short +time, to worm himself into the confidence of almost all with whom he came +in contact. His natural good sense, his singularly clear views, his ever +ready sympathy, but, more than all, the dexterity with which he could +affect acquaintance with topics he was all but totally ignorant of, +pointed him out as the very person to hear the secrets of a family. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Corrigan was not one to exact any great efforts of Linton's tact in +this walk; his long isolation from the world, Joined to a character +naturally frank, made him communicative and open; and before Linton had +passed a week under his roof, he had heard all the circumstances of the +old forfeiture, and the traditionary belief of the family that it had been +withdrawn under a special order of the King in council. +</p> +<p> +“You are quite right,” said Linton, one night, as this theme bad been +discussed for some hours, “never to have alluded to this in any +correspondence with Cashel. His hasty and excitable temper would have +construed the whole into a threat; and there is no saying how he might +have resented it.” + </p> +<p> +“I did not speak of it for a very different reason,” said old Corrigan, +proudly; “I had just accepted a favor—and a great one—at his +hands, and I would not tarnish the lustre of his noble conduct by even the +possibility of self-interest.” + </p> +<p> +Linton was silent; a struggle of some kind seemed working within him, but +he did not speak, and at last sauntered from the room, and passed out into +the little garden in front. +</p> +<p> +He had not gone far, when he heard a light footstep on the gravel behind +him. He turned, and saw Mary Leicester. +</p> +<p> +“I have followed you, Mr. Linton,” said she, in a voice whose agitation +was perceptible, “because I thought it possible that some time or other, +in your close intimacy with Mr. Cashel, you might allude to this topic, +and I know what distress such a communication would occasion to my +grandfather. Our claim—if the word be not inapplicable—can +never be revived; for myself, there is no condition of privation I would +not rather meet, than encounter the harassing vicissitudes of a struggle +which should embitter my poor dear grandfather's few years on earth. The +very mention of the theme is sure to render him irritable and unhappy. +Promise me, then, to avoid the subject as much as possible here, and never +to advert to it elsewhere.” + </p> +<p> +“Should I not be doing you a gross injustice by such a pledge?” said +Linton, mildly. +</p> +<p> +“I can endure that; I cannot support the alternative. Make me this +promise.” + </p> +<p> +“I make it, truly and solemnly; would it were in my power to pledge myself +to aught of real service to Miss. Leicester.” + </p> +<p> +“There is one such,” said Mary, after a pause, “and yet I am ashamed to +ask it,—ashamed of the presumption it would imply,—and yet I +feel acquitted to my own heart.” + </p> +<p> +“What is it?—only tell me how I can serve you,” said Linton, +passionately. +</p> +<p> +“I have scarce courage for the avowal,” said she, in a low, faint voice. +“It is not that my self-love can be wounded by any judgment that may be +pronounced; it is rather that I dread failure for itself. In a word, Mr. +Linton, certain circumstances of fortune have pressed upon my +grandfather's resources, some of which I am aware of—of others +ignorant. So much, however, do I know, that the comforts, so necessary to +his age and habits, have diminished one by one, each year seeing some new +privations, where increasing infirmity would demand more ease. In this +emergency, I have thought of an effort—you will smile at the folly, +perhaps, but be lenient for the motive—I have endeavored to make +some of the many reminiscences of his own early years contribute to his +old age, and have written certain short sketches of the time when, as a +youth, he served as a soldier of the body-guard of Louis XVI. I know how +utterly valueless they are in a literary point of view, but I have thought +that, as true pictures of a time now probably passed away never to return +again, they might have their interest Such is my secret. My entreaty is, +to ask of you to look at them, and, if not utterly unworthy, to assist me +regarding their publication.” + </p> +<p> +“I not only promise this, but I can pledge myself to the success,” said +Linton; “such recitals of life and manners as I have listened to from Mr. +Corrigan would be invaluable; we know so little in England—” + </p> +<p> +“Nay, let me stop you; they are written in French. My hope is to procure +their insertion in some French journal, as is the custom now-a-days. Here +they are,” said she, handing him a packet with a trembling hand. “I have +but to say, that if they be all I fear them, you will be too true a friend +to peril me by a rejection.” And without waiting for a reply, she hurried +back to the house. +</p> +<p> +Many minutes had not elapsed ere Linton found himself in his room, with +the open manuscript before him. It was quite true, he had not in +anticipation conceived a very high idea of Miss Leicester's efforts, +because his habit, like that of a great number of shrewd people, was to +regard all amateur performances as very inferior, and that only they who +give themselves wholly up to any pursuit attain even mediocrity. He had +not, however, read many pages ere he was struck by the evidence of high +ability. The style was everywhere simple, chaste, and elegant; the +illustrations natural and graceful; and the dialogue, when, occurring, +marked by all the epigrammatic smartness which characterized the era. +</p> +<p> +The sketches also had the merit of life-pictures,—real characters of +the day, being drawn with a vigor that only actual knowledge could impart. +All these excellences Linton could perceive and estimate; but there were +many very far above his power of appreciation. As it was, he read on, +fascinated by the interest the scenes inspired, nor ceased till the last +page was completed, when, throwing himself on his bed, he fell soon +asleep, and dreamed of Mary Leicester. +</p> +<p> +His very first care, on waking, was to resume the manuscript, and see how +far the impression first made might be corroborated by afterthought. It +was while reading, that the post had just arrived, bringing, among other +letters, one in Phillis's hand, which was, though brief, significant:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Sir,—There is no time to be lost. The K.'s are here every +day, and Lord C——— spends every morning here till three +or four O'C. + +Mr. Meek has written to ask for Mr. C.'s interest in the +borough; what answer given, not known. Mr. C. would seem to +be again pressed for money. He was here twice yesterday. The +rumor is that Mr. C. will marry Miss O. K. immediately. +Pearse overheard Mr. K. warning Mr. C. against Mr. Linton as +a very dangerous intimate. Ld. C. F. said, when sitting here +yesterday, “I have known Master Tom some years, and never +knew the man he did not help to ruin with whom he had any +influence.” Mr. C. said something about being on his guard, +and “suspecting;” but the exact words were not heard. Lord +K. and Lady breakfasted with Mr. C. to-day, and stayed till +two. Lady K. swept down with her dress a Sevres jar in the +boudoir; heard Mr. C. say that he would not give the +fragments for the most precious vase in the Tuileries. Lord +K. asked what he said, and her Ladyship replied that Mr. +C.'s vase was unhappily the fellow of one in the Tuileries, +and looked confused at the accident. Mr. Linton is warned to +lose no time, as Mr. C. is hourly falling deeper into other +influences, and every day something occurs to injure Mr. L's +interest. Honored sir, in duty yours, +P. + +N.B.—The yacht came into harbor from Cowes last night. +</pre> +<p> +The same day which brought this secret despatch saw one from Linton to +Cashel, saying, that by the aid of four hundred workmen in various crafts, +unceasing toil, and unwearied zeal, Tubbermore would be ready to receive +his guests by the following Wednesday. A steamer, hired specially, had +brought over from London nearly everything which constitutes the internal +arrangement of a house; and as money had been spent without control, +difficulties melted away into mere momentary embarrassments,—impossibilities, +there were none. The letter contained a long list of commissions for +Cashel to execute, given, however, with no other object than to occupy his +time for the remaining few days in town as much as possible. This written +and sent off, Linton addressed himself to his task of preparation with an +energy few could surpass, and while the trades-people were stimulated by +increased pay to greater efforts, and the work was carried on through the +night by torchlight; the whole demesne swarmed with laborers by whom roads +were cut, paths gravelled, fences levelled, flower-plots devised; even the +garden—that labyrinth of giant weeds—was reduced to order, +till in the hourly changing aspect of the place it was hard not to +recognize the wand of enchantment It was, indeed, like magic to see how +fountains sprang up, and threw their sprayey showers over the new-planted +shrubs; new paths led away into dense groves of trees; windows, so late +half walled up, now opened upon smooth, shaven turf, or disclosed a reach +of swelling landscape; and chambers, that a few days back were the gloomy +abode of the bat and the night-owl, became of a sudden cheerful and +lightsome. +</p> +<p> +Stuccoed ceilings, mirror-panelled windows, gilded cornices, and carved +architraves—all of which would imply time and long labor—were +there at once and on the moment, for the good fairy who did these things +knows not failure,—the banker's check-book. From the great hall to +the uppermost chamber the aspect of all bespoke comfort. The elegances of +life, Linton well knew, are like all other refinements,—not capable +of being “improvised,” but the daily comforts are. The meaner objects +which make up the sum of hourly want,—the lazy ottoman, the +downy-pillowed fauteuils, the little squabs that sit in windows to provoke +flirtations and inspire confidences; the tempting little writing-tables +that suggest pen and ink; the billiard-table, opening on the +flower-garden, so redolent of sweet odors that you feel exonerated for the +shame of an in-door occupation; the pianos and guitars and harps scattered +about in various places, as though to be ever ready to the touch; the +books and prints and portfolios that give excuse to the lounging mood, and +text for that indolent chitchat so pleasant of a morning,—all these, +and a thousand other things, seen through the long perspective of a +handsome suite of rooms, do make up that sum, for which our own dear +epithet, “comfort,” has no foreign equivalent. +</p> +<p> +We have been often compelled, in this veracious history, to reflect with +harshness on certain traits of Mr. Linton's morality. Let us make him the +small <i>amende</i> in our power to say, that in his present functions he +was unsurpassable; and here, for the moment, we leave him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVI. BAD GENERALSHIP +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“They alle agrede to disagree, +A moste united Familie!” + </pre> +<p> +Great was the excitement and bustle in the Kennyfeck family on the arrival +of a brief note from Roland Cashel, setting forth that the house at +Tubbermore was at length in a state to receive his guests, who were +invited for the following Wednesday. +</p> +<p> +Although this visit had rarely been alluded to in Cashel's presence, it +was a very frequent topic of the family in secret committee, and many were +the fears inspired by long postponement that the event would never come +off. Each, indeed, looked forward to it with very different feelings. +Independent of all more purely personal views, Mrs. Kennyfeck speculated +on the immense increase of importance she should obtain socially, in the +fact of being domesticated in the same house with a commander of the +forces and his lady, not to speak of secretaries, <i>aides-de-camp</i>, +and Heaven knows what other functionaries. The young ladies had +prospective visions of another order; and poor Kennyfeck fancied himself a +kind of agricultural Metternich, who was about, at the mere suggestion of +his will, to lay down new territorial limits on the estate, and cut and +carve the boundaries at his pleasure. +</p> +<p> +Aunt Fanny, alone, was not warmed by the enthusiasm around her; first of +all, there were grave doubts if she could accompany the others, as no +precise invitation had ever been accorded to her; and although Mrs. +Kennyfeck stoutly averred “she was as good as asked,” the elder daughter +plainly hinted at the possible awkwardness of such a step, Olivia +preserving between the two a docile neutrality. +</p> +<p> +“I 'm sorry for <i>your</i> sake, my dear,” said Miss O'Hara to Olivia, +with an accent almost tart, “because I thought I might be useful.” + </p> +<p> +“It is very provoking for all our sakes,” said Miss Kennyfeck, as though +quietly suffering the judgment to be pronounced; “we should have been so +happy all together.” + </p> +<p> +“If your father was any good, he 'd manage it at once,” said Mrs. K., with +a resentful glance towards poor Mr. Kennyfeck, who, with spectacles on his +forehead, and the newspaper on his knee, fancied he was thinking. +</p> +<p> +“We should have some very impertinent remark upon it, I'm certain,” said +Miss K., who, for reasons we must leave to the reader's own acuteness, was +greatly averse to her aunt accompanying them, “so many of one family! I +know how Linton will speak of it.” + </p> +<p> +“Let him, if he dare; I wonder whose exertions placed Cashel himself in +the position he enjoys,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, angrily, and darting a look +of profound contempt at her husband, recognizing, doubtless, the axiom of +the ignoble means through which Providence occasionally effects our +destinies. +</p> +<p> +“I can remain here, mamma, for that matter,” said Olivia, in a voice of +angelic innocence. +</p> +<p> +“Sweet—artless creature,” whispered her sister, “not to know how all +our devices are exercised for her.” + </p> +<p> +“It 's really too provoking, Fanny,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck; “you were just +beginning to acquire that kind of influence over him which would be so +serviceable, and once in the country, where so many opportunities for +joining him in his walks would occur, I calculated immensely on your +assistance.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, my dear, it can't be helped,” sighed Aunt Fanny. +</p> +<p> +“Could n't we allude to it to-day, when Cashel calls, and say something +about your going away to the country and our regrets at parting, and so +on? Olivia, you might do that very easily.” + </p> +<p> +“It wouldn't do for Olivia,” said Aunt Fanny, very sententiously. +</p> +<p> +“Quite right, aunt,” chimed in Miss Kennyfeck; “that would be like old +Admiral Martin, who shot away all his ammunition firing salutes.” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. Kennyfeck!” said his spouse, with a voice of command; “I vow he is +deafer every day—Mr. Kennyfeck, you must call on Mr. Cashel this +morning, and say that we really cannot think of inflicting him with an +entire family; that you and I alone—or you and Olivia—” + </p> +<p> +“No—no, Mr. Kennyfeck and Caroline,” interposed Aunt Fanny, “say +that.” + </p> +<p> +“Thanks for the preference,” said Miss Kennyfeck, with a short nod, “I am +to play lightning-conductor; isn't it so?” + </p> +<p> +“Or shall I propose going alone?” interposed Mr. Kennyfeck, in all the +solemnity of self-importance. +</p> +<p> +“Is n't he too bad?” exclaimed his wife, turning to the others; “did you +ever conceive there could be anything as dull as that man? We cannot trust +you with any part of the transaction.” + </p> +<p> +“Here comes Mr. Cashel himself,” said Miss Kennyfeck; as a phaeton drove +rapidly to the door, and Cashel, accompanied by a friend, descended. +</p> +<p> +“Not a word of what we were speaking, Mr. Kennyfeck!” said his wife, +sternly, for she reposed slight reliance on his tact. +</p> +<p> +“Who is with him?” whispered Olivia to her sister; but not heeding the +question, Miss Kennyfeck said,— +</p> +<p> +“Take <i>my</i> advice, Livy, and get rid of your duenna. You 'll play +your own game better.” + </p> +<p> +Before there was time for rejoinder, Lord Charles Frobisher and Cashel +entered the drawing-room. +</p> +<p> +“You received my note, I hope, Mrs. Kennyfeck,” said Roland, as he +accepted her cordially offered hand. “I only this morning got Linton's +last bulletin, and immediately wrote off to tell you.” + </p> +<p> +“That <i>is</i> significant,” whispered Miss Kennyfeck to Olivia. “To give +<i>us</i> the earliest intelligence.” + </p> +<p> +“I trust the announcement is not too abrupt.” + </p> +<p> +“Of course not,—our only scruple is, the largeness of our party. We +are really shocked at the notion of inflicting an entire family upon you.” + </p> +<p> +“Beware the Bear,” whispered Lord C., in a very adroit undertone,—“don't +invite the aunt.” + </p> +<p> +“My poor house will only be the more honored,” said Cashel, bowing, and +sorely puzzled how to act. +</p> +<p> +“You'll have a very numerous muster, Cashel, I fancy,” said Lord Charles, +aloud; “not to speak of the invited, but those 'Umbræ,' as the Romans call +them, who follow in the suite of such fascinating people as Mrs. White.” + </p> +<p> +“Not one too many, if there be but room for them; my anxiety is, that my +personal friends should not be worst off, and I have come to beg, if not +inconvenient, that you would start from this on Tuesday.” + </p> +<p> +“Do you contract to bring us all down?” said Frobisher. “I really think +you ought; the geography of that district is not very familiar to most of +us. What says Miss Kennyfeck?” + </p> +<p> +“I like everything that promises pleasure and amusement.” + </p> +<p> +“What says her sister?” whispered Cashel to Olivia. +</p> +<p> +“How do you mean to travel, Mr. Cashel?” said she, in a tone which might +be construed into perfect artlessness or the most intense interest. +</p> +<p> +“With you—if you permit,” said Cashel, in a low voice. “I have been +thinking of asking Mrs. Kennyfeck if she would like to go down by sea, and +sail up the Shannon. My yacht has just arrived.” + </p> +<p> +“Mamma cannot bear the water, or it would be delightful,” said Olivia. +</p> +<p> +“Cannot we manage a lady patroness, then?” said Cashel; “would Miss O'Hara +kindly consent?” + </p> +<p> +“Aunt Fanny, Mr. Cashel wishes to speak to you.” + </p> +<p> +“Gare la tante!” said Frobisher, between his teeth. +</p> +<p> +“We were speaking—or rather, I was expressing a hope,” said Cashel, +diffidently, “that a yacht excursion round the southern coast, and so up +the Shannon, might not be an inappropriate way of reaching Tubbermore. +Would Miss O'Hara feel any objection to be of the party?” + </p> +<p> +“With Caroline and me,” said Olivia, innocently. +</p> +<p> +Miss O'Hara smiled, and shook her head doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +“It is very tempting, Mr. Cashel,—too tempting, indeed; but it +requires consideration. May I speak a word with you?” And so saying, she +withdrew with Cashel into a window recess. +</p> +<p> +The interview was brief; but as they returned to the circle, Cashel was +heard to say,— +</p> +<p> +“I am really the worst man in the world to solve such difficulties, for in +my ignorance of all forms, I incur the risk of undervaluing them; but if +you thought by my inviting Lord and Lady Kilgoff—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, by no means. My sister would never consent to that. But I will just +confer with her for an instant.” + </p> +<p> +“If the Kilgoff s are asked, it spoils all,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, in reply +to a whispered communication of her sister. +</p> +<p> +“I'll manage that,” said Aunt Fanny; “I half hinted you did n't like the +companionship for the girls.” + </p> +<p> +“He'll invite Mrs. Leicester White, or Lady Janet, perhaps.” + </p> +<p> +“He sha'n't. I 'll take the whole upon myself.” + </p> +<p> +“You <i>have</i> done it, I see,” said Frobisher, coming close to Cashel, +and affecting to examine his watch-guard; “and I warned you, +notwithstanding.” + </p> +<p> +“What could I do?” said Cashel, hopelessly. +</p> +<p> +“What you must do later on,” said Lord Charles, coolly; “cut the whole +concern altogether.” + </p> +<p> +“Have you invited the Dean, Mr. Cashel?” interposed Mrs. Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“I really cannot inform you, madam. There has been so much confusion—Linton +promising to do everything, and ask everybody; but the omission—if +such—” + </p> +<p> +“Should be left where it is,” muttered Frobisher. +</p> +<p> +“How long should we probably be on the voyage, Mr. Cashel?” asked Miss +O'Hara. +</p> +<p> +“Three—four—or five days—perhaps more.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'll give you a month's sail, and back 'Time' after all,” said Lord +Charles. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that is out of the question; we couldn't think of such an excursion,” + said Aunt Fanny. +</p> +<p> +Olivia cast a most imploring look on her aunt, and was silent. +</p> +<p> +“Another point, Mr. Cashel,” said Miss O'Hara, speaking in a very low +whisper; “my sister, who is so particular about her girls,—you know +how they have been brought up, so rigidly, and so carefully,—she is +afraid of that kind of intimacy that might possibly grow up between them +and—and—” Here she came to a full stop. “Did n't I hear you +speak of Lady Kilgoff?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes; I thought her exactly the kind of person you 'd like to have.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, she is charming—most delightful; but she is a woman of the +world, Mr. Cashel.” said Aunt Fanny, shaking her head. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed!” muttered Roland, not in the least guessing the drift of the +remark. +</p> +<p> +“No, no, Mr. Cashel, that would never do. These sweet children have no +knowledge of such people, further than the common intercourse of society. +Lady Kilgoff and Mrs. White—” + </p> +<p> +“Is she another?” + </p> +<p> +“She is another, Mr. Cashel,” said Aunt Fanny oracularly. +</p> +<p> +“Then I see nothing for it but limiting the party to myself and my yacht +commander,—Lieutenant Sickleton of the Navy,—and I believe we +have as little of the world about us as any one could desire.” + </p> +<p> +It was full a minute or two before Miss O'Hara could satisfy herself that +this speech was not uttered ironically; but the good-natured and frank +look of the speaker at last dispelled the fear, and she said,— +</p> +<p> +“Well, if you really ask my opinion, I'd say, you are right. For our parts—that +is, for the girls and myself, I mean—we should like it all the +better, and if you would n't find us too tiresome companions—” + </p> +<p> +Miss O'Hara was interrupted here by Mrs. Kennyfeck, who, with considerable +agitation in her manner said, “I must beg pardon for disturbing your +agreeable <i>tête-à-tête</i>, Mr. Cashel, but I wish to say one word to my +sister.” + </p> +<p> +As they retired together, Frobisher came up, and, drawing his arm within +Roland's, led him to a window: “I say, old fellow, you are going too fast +here; hold in a bit, I advise you.” + </p> +<p> +“How do you mean?—what have I done?” + </p> +<p> +“It's no affair of mine, you know, and you may say I'm devilish +impertinent to mix myself up in it, but I don't like to see a fellow +'sold,' notwithstanding.” + </p> +<p> +“Pray be explicit and frank; what is it?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, if you 'll not take it ill—” + </p> +<p> +“I promise I shall not—go on.” + </p> +<p> +“Do you mean to marry that little girl yonder, with the blue flower in her +hair?” + </p> +<p> +“I cannot say that I do, or that I do not,” said Roland, getting very red. +</p> +<p> +“Then, you 're making a very bad book, that's all.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, you 're quite mistaken; I don't suspect her of the slightest feeling +towards me—” + </p> +<p> +“What has that to say to it, my dear fellow?” interrupted Frobisher. “I +did n't imply that she was in love with you! I wanted to warn you about +the mess you 're getting into,—the family fracas; the explanation +asking; the sermonizing; the letter-writing; the tears, reproaches, +distractions,—ay, and the damages, too!—devilish heavy they'd +be against one like you, with plenty of 'ready.' Hush! they 're coming.” + </p> +<p> +Miss O'Hara advanced towards Cashel, and Frobisher retired; her mien and +carriage were, however, statelier and more imposing, with less of +cordiality than before. “We cannot agree upon the details of this +excursion, I find, sir; my sister's scruples, Mr. Kennyfeck's doubts,—the +difficulties, in short, of every kind, are such, that I fear we must +relinquish it.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel bowed deeply, without uttering a word; the insinuations of +Frobisher were added in his mind to the suspicion that some secret game +was being played against him, and his manly nature was insulted by the +doubt. +</p> +<p> +Aunt Fanny, perhaps, perceived she had gone too far, for, reassuming her +former smile, she said, “Not that we despair of one day or other taking a +pleasure-trip in your beautiful vessel.” + </p> +<p> +“You do me too much honor by expressing such a hope,” said Cashel, +gravely; and then turning to Frobisher, added, “Will you drive me down to +Kingstown? I want to go on board for a few minutes.” + </p> +<p> +“We see you at seven o'clock I hope?” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, in a whisper. +</p> +<p> +“I regret to have made an engagement for to-day, madam,” replied Cashel, +stiffly. “Good-morning, ladies. Very sorry, Miss O'Hara, our sea +intentions have been a failure. Let me hope for better luck on land.” + </p> +<p> +“Will you not be here this evening?” said Olivia, as he passed close to +her, and there was in the swimming eye and tremulous voice enough to have +melted a harder heart than Roland's; but this time he was proof against +all blandishments, and with a very cold negative, he departed. +</p> +<p> +“There is hope for you yet, old fellow,” said Lord Charles, as he walked +downstairs beside him; “you did that extremely well.” + </p> +<p> +Now, although Roland was far from knowing what he had done, or how to +merit the praises, he was too well pleased with the momentary repose the +flattery afforded to question further. Meanwhile, a very excited scene +took place in the house they had just quitted, and to which, for a brief +space, we must return. +</p> +<p> +On a sofa in one corner of the room sat Olivia Kennyfeck, pale and +trembling, her eyes tearful, and her whole air bespeaking grief and +agitation. At the window close by stood Miss Kennyfeck, the calm composure +of her face, the ease of her attitude, the very types of internal quiet. +She looked out, up the square, and playing on the woodwork of the window +an imaginary pianoforte air, while in the back drawing-room sat Mrs. +Kennyfeck and Miss O'Hara, side by side on a sofa, their excited looks and +heightened complexions attesting the animation of the controversy, for +such in reality it was. +</p> +<p> +“I thought you would go too far—I knew you would,” said Mrs. +Kennyfeck, with an angry gesture of the hand. +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean by too far?” rejoined her sister. “Is it in the face of +a letter like this that you would permit him to continue his attentions, +and, worse still, let the girls go off for an excursion of maybe a week or +two? Read that.” + </p> +<p> +“The letter is anonymous, and may be untrue from end to end.” + </p> +<p> +“Then why not let me test its truth by some allusion to its contents?” + </p> +<p> +“And banish him from the house ever after,” rejoined Mrs. Kennyfeck, +bitterly. “No, no, Fanny, you mistake him very much; he isn't like one of +your old County Clare admirers, that can be huffed to-day, and asked to +dinner to-morrow,—not that, indeed, you showed much judgment in your +management even of them.” + </p> +<p> +This allusion to Aunt Fanny's spinsterhood was too palpable to pass +unnoticed, and she arose from the sofa with a face of outraged temper. +</p> +<p> +“It might be a question, my dear, between us, which had the least success,—I, +who never got a husband, or you, who married that one.” + </p> +<p> +If Mr. Kennyfeck had intended by a tableau to have pointed the moral of +this allusion, he could not have succeeded better, as he sat bolt upright +in his chair, endeavoring through the murky cloud of his crude ideas to +catch one ray of light upon all he witnessed; he looked the very ideal of +hopeless stupidity. Miss O'Hara, like a skilful general, left the field +under the smoke of her last fire, and Mrs. Kennyfeck sat alone, with what +Homer would call “a heart-consuming rage,” to meditate on the past. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVII. LIEUTENANT SICKLETON'S PATENT PUMP. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The mariner's chart +He knew by heart, +And every current, rock, and shore, +From the drifting sand +Off Newfoundland, +To the son-split cliffs of Singapore. + +Captain Pike. +</pre> +<p> +Lord Charles Frobisher was never a very talkative companion, and as +Cashel's present mood was not communicative, they drove along, scarcely +interchanging a sentence, till the harbor of Kingstown came in sight, and +with it the gay pennons that fluttered from the mast of Roland's schooner. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose that is your yacht,—the large craft yonder?” + </p> +<p> +“I hope so,” said Cashel, enthusiastically; “she sits the water like a +duck, and has a fine rakish look about her.” + </p> +<p> +“So, then, you never saw her before?” + </p> +<p> +“Never. I purchased her from description, taking her crew, commander, and +all, just as she sailed into Southampton from Zante, a month ago. They +sent me a drawing of her, her measurement, tonnage, and draught of water, +as also the log of her run in the Mediterranean;—yes, that's she, I +can recognize the water-line from the sketch.” + </p> +<p> +“Is your visit on board going to be a long one?” drawled out Lord Charles, +languidly; “for I own I am not the least aquatic, and were it not for +lobsters and whitebait I vote the sea a humbug.” + </p> +<p> +“Then I 'll say good-bye,” said Cashel. “That blue water, that curling +ripple, and the fluttering of that bunting, have set me a-thinking about a +hundred things.” + </p> +<p> +“You 'll dine with us at seven, won't you?” + </p> +<p> +“No, I 'll dine on board, or not dine at all,” said he, as he sprang from +the carriage, and, waving his hand in adieu, made his way to the harbor. +Taking the first boat that offered, Cashel rowed out to the yacht, just in +time to catch Lieutenant Sickleton, who, in full yacht costume, was about +to wait on his principal. He was a bluff, good-natured, blunt fellow, who, +having neither patronage nor interest in the service, had left the +wardroom for the easier, but less ambitious, life of a yacht commander; a +thoroughly good seaman, and brave as a lion, he saw himself reduced to a +position almost menial from hard and galling necessity. He had twice been +to Alexandria with touring lords, who, while treating him well in all +essentials, yet mingled so much of condescension in their courtesy as to +be all but unendurable. He had gone to America with a young Oxford man, +the son of a great London brewer, whose overbearing insolence he had been +obliged to repel by a threat of personal consequences. He had taken an +invalid family to Madeira, and a ruined duke to Greece, and was now, with +the yacht and its company, transferred to Cashel's hands, not knowing—scarce +caring—with whom or where his future destinies were to be cast. +</p> +<p> +The Freemasonry of the sea has a stronger tie than the mere use of +technicals. Cashel was not ten minutes on board ere Sickleton and he were +like old acquaintances. The “Lucciola” was, in Skeleton's ideas, the best +thing that ever ran on a keel; there was nothing she could n't do,—fair +weather or foul. She could outsail a Yankee smack in a gale off the coast +of Labrador, or beat a felucca in the light winds off the Gulf of Genoa. +If these tidings were delightful to Cashel's ears,—the most exciting +and heart-stirring he had listened to for many a day,—the +gratification was no less to Sickleton that he was about to sail with one +who really loved the sea, and thoroughly understood and could value the +qualities of his noble craft. +</p> +<p> +From the vessel, they turned the conversation to all the possible places +the world's map afforded for a cruise. Sickleton's experiences were +chiefly Eastern,—he knew the Mediterranean as well as he did the +Downs; while Cashel's could vie with him in both coasts of the great +Spanish peninsula, and all the various channels of the West India islands. +For hours they sat discussing soundings, the trade winds, and shore +currents, with all the bearings of land points, bluffs, and lighthouses. +In talk, they visited half the globe; now staggering under a half-reefed +topsail in the Bay of Biscay, now swimming along, with winged and +stretching sails, under the blue cliffs of Baia. +</p> +<p> +“I 'm sure I don't know how you ever could lead a shore life,” said +Sickleton, as Cashel described with warm enthusiasm some passages of his +rover's existence. +</p> +<p> +“Nor do I understand how I have borne it so long,” said Cashel; “its +dissipations weary, its deceits provoke me. I have lost—if not all—great +part of that buoyancy which mingled peril and pleasure create, and I +suppose, in a month or two more, I should be about as apathetic, as +indolent, and as selfish as any fine gentleman ought to be. Ah, if we had +a war!” + </p> +<p> +“That's it,—that's what I say every day and every night: if we had a +war, the world would be worth living, in or dying for. Fellows like +myself, for instance, are never thought of in a peace; but they 'look us +all out,'—just as they do a storm-jib, when it comes on to blow. No +laughing a man out of position, then,—no, faith!” + </p> +<p> +“How do you mean?” said Cashel, who saw in the intense expression of the +speaker how much the words covered. +</p> +<p> +“Just what happened to myself,—that's all,” said Sickleton; “but if +you like to hear how,—the story is n't long, or any way remarkable,—we +'ll have a bit of luncheon here, and I'll tell it to you.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel willingly assented, and very quickly a most appetizing meal made +its appearance in the cabin, to which Sickleton did the honors most +creditably. +</p> +<p> +“I 'm impatient for that anecdote you promised me,” said Cashel, as the +dessert made its appearance, and they sat in all the pleasant enjoyment of +social ease. +</p> +<p> +“You shall hear it,—though, as I said before, it's not much of a +story either; nor should I tell it, if I did n't see that you feel a sort +of interest about myself—unhappily, its hero.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'll not weary you by telling you the story that thousands can repeat, +of a service without patronage, no sooner afloat than paid off again, and +no chance of employment, save in a ten-gun brig off the coast of Guinea, +and I suppose you know what that is?” + </p> +<p> +Cashel nodded, and Sickleton went on:— +</p> +<p> +“Well, I passed as lieutenant, and went through my yellow fever in the +Niger very creditably. I was the only one of a ship's company in the +gun-room on the way back to England, after a two years' cruise; I suppose +because life was less an object to me than the other fellows, who had +mothers, and sisters, and so on. So it was, I brought the old 'Amphion' +safe into dock, and was passed off to wander about the world, with +something under forty pounds in my pocket, and a 'good-service letter' +from the Admiralty—a document that costs a man some trouble to gain, +but that would not get you a third-class place in the rail to Croydon, +when you have it. What was I to do?—I had no interest for the +Coast-Guard. I tried to become keeper of a lighthouse, but failed. It was +no use to try and be a clerk—there were plenty of fellows, better +qualified than myself, walking the streets supperless. So I set myself a +thinking if I could n't do something for 'the service' that might get me +into notice, and make the 'Lords' take me up. There was one chap made his +fortune by 'round sterns,' though they were known in the Dutch Navy for +two centuries. There was another invented a life-boat; a third, a new +floating buoy—and so on. Now I 'm sure I passed many a sleepless +night thinking of something that might aid me; at one time it was a new +mode of reefing topsails in a gale; at another it was a change in +signalizing the distant ships of a squadron; now an anchor for rocky +bottoms; now a contrivance for lowering quarter-boats in a heavy sea—till +at last, by dint of downright thought and perseverance, I did fall upon a +lucky notion. I invented a new hand-pump, applicable for launches and +gun-boats,—a thing greatly wanted, very simple of contrivance, and +easy to work. It was a blessed moment, to be sure, when my mind, instead +of wandering over everything from the round top to the taffrail, at last +settled down on this same pump! +</p> +<p> +“It was not mere labor and study this invention caused me. No! it +swallowed up nearly every shilling of my little hoard. I was obliged to +make a model, and what with lead and zinc, and solder and leather, and +caoutchouc and copper, I was very soon left without 'tin;' but I had hope, +and hope makes up for half rations! At last, my pump was perfect; the next +thing was to make it known. There was no use in trying this through any +unprofessional channels. Landsmen think that as they pay for the navy, +they need not bother their heads about it further. 'My lords,' I knew +well, would n't mind me, because my father was n't in Parliament, and so I +thought of one of those magazines that devote themselves to the interests +of the two services, and I wrote a paper accordingly, and accompanied it +by a kind of diagram of my pump. I waited for a month—two—three +months—but heard nothing, saw nothing of my invention. I wrote, but +could get no answer; I called, but could see no editor; and at last was +meditating some personal vengeance, when I received a note. It was then +much after midsummer, few people in town, and the magazines were printing +anything—as no one reads them in the dog-days—stating that if +Lieutenant Sickleton would procure a woodcut of his pump, the paper +descriptive of it should appear in the next number. That was a civil way +of asking me for five pounds; but help there was none, and so I complied. +</p> +<p> +“At length I read in the list of the contents, 'Lieutenant Sickleton's New +Hand Pump, with an Illustration'—and my heart bounded at the words. +It was the nineteenth article—near the end of the number. I forget +what the others were—something, of course, about Waterloo, and +Albuera, and the Albert chako, and such-like stuff. My pump, I knew, put +it where they would, was <i>the</i> paper of the month. This feeling was a +little abated on finding that, as I walked down Fleet Street on the day of +publication, I did n't perceive any sign of public notice or recognition; +no one said as I passed, 'That's Sickleton, the fellow who invented the +new pump.' I remembered, however, that if my <i>pump</i> was known, <i>I</i> +was not as yet, and that though the portrait of my invention had become +fame, my own was still in obscurity. +</p> +<p> +“I betook myself to the office of the journal, expecting there at least to +find that enthusiastic reception the knowledge of my merits must secure, +but hang me, if one of the clerks—as to the editor, there was no +seeing him—took the slightest trouble about me. I told him, with, I +trust, a pardonable swelling of the bosom, that I was 'Sickleton.' I did +n't say the famous Sickleton, and I thought I was modest in the omission; +but he was n't in the least struck by the announcement, and I quitted the +place in disgust. +</p> +<p> +“Worse than all, when I came to read over my paper, I found, by the errors +of the press, that the whole diagram was spoiled. The letters had been +misplaced, and the fiend himself, if he wanted it, couldn't work my pump. +You see that C D represented the angular crank, F was the stop-cock, and T +the trigger that closed the piston. Hang me, if they did n't make F the +trigger, and instead of B being the cistern, it was made the jet; so that +when you began to work, all the water squirted through the sluices at OPQ +over the operator. I went nearly mad. I wrote a furious letter to the +editor; I wrote another to the 'Times;' I wrote to the 'Globe,' the +'Post,' and the 'Herald.' I explained, I elucidated, I asked for the +Englishman's birthright, as they call it—'Justice'—but no use! +In fact, my reclamations could only be inserted as advertisements, and +would cost me about a hundred pounds to publish. So I sat down to grieve +over my invention, and curse the hour I ever thought of serving my +country. +</p> +<p> +“It was about six months after this—I had been living on some +relations nearly as poor as myself—when I one day received an order +to 'wait at the Admiralty the next morning.' I went, but without hope or +interest. I could n't guess why I was sent for, but no touch of expectancy +made me anxious for the result. +</p> +<p> +“I waited from eleven till four in the ante-room; and at last, after some +fifty had had audiences, Lieutenant Sickleton was called. The time was I +would have trembled at such an interview to the very marrow of my bones. +Disappointment, however, had nerved me now, and I stood as much at ease +and composed as I sit here. +</p> +<p> +“'You are Mr. Sickleton?' said the First Lord, who was a 'Tartar.' +</p> +<p> +“'Yes, my Lord.' +</p> +<p> +“'You invented a kind of pump—a hand-pump for launches and small +craft, I think?' +</p> +<p> +“'Yes, my Lord.' +</p> +<p> +“'You have a model of the invention, too?' +</p> +<p> +“'Yes, my Lord.' +</p> +<p> +“'Can you describe the principle of your discovery? is there anything +which, for its novelty, demands the peculiar attention of the Admiralty?' +</p> +<p> +“'Yes—at least I think so, my Lord,' said I, the last embers of hope +beginning to flicker into a faint flame within. 'The whole is so simple, +that I can, with your permission, make it perfectly intelligible even +here. There is a small double-acting piston—' +</p> +<p> +“'Confound the fellow! don't let him bore us, now,' said Admiral M——— +in a whisper quite loud enough for me to overhear it. 'If it amuse his +Majesty, that's enough. Tell him what's wanted, and let him go.' +</p> +<p> +“'Oh, very well,' said the First Lord, who seemed terribly afraid of his +colleague. 'It is the king's wish, Mr. Sickleton, that your invention +should be tested under his Majesty's personal inspection, and you are +therefore commanded to present yourself at Windsor on Monday next, with +your model, at eleven o'clock. It is not very cumbrous, I suppose?' +</p> +<p> +“'No, my Lord. It only weighs four and a half hundredweight.' +</p> +<p> +“'Pretty well for a model; but here is an order for a wagon. You 'll +present this at Woolwich.' He bowed and turned his back, and I retreated. +</p> +<p> +“Sharp to the hour of eleven I found myself at Windsor on the following +Monday. It was past two, however, before his Majesty could see me. There +were audiences and foreign ambassadors, papers to read, commissions to +sign—in fact, when two o'clock came, the king had only got through a +part of his day's work, and then it was luncheon-time. This was over about +three; and at last his Majesty, with the First Lord, two admirals, and an +old post-captain, who, by the way, had once put me in irons for not +saluting his Majesty's guard when coming up to the watch at midnight, +appeared on the terrace. +</p> +<p> +“The place selected for the trial was a neat little parterre outside one +of the small drawing-rooms. There was a fountain supplied by two running +streams, and this I was to experiment upon with my new pump. It was trying +enough to stand there before such a presence; but the uppermost thought in +my mind was about my invention, and I almost forgot the exalted rank of my +audience. +</p> +<p> +“After due presentation to his Majesty, and a few common-place questions +about where I had served, and how long, and so on, the king said, 'Come +now, sir. Let us see the pump at work, for we haven't much time to lose.' +</p> +<p> +“I immediately adjusted the apparatus, and when all was ready, I looked +about in some dismay, for I saw no one to assist the working. There were +present, besides the king and the three naval officers, only two fellows +in full-dress liveries, a devilish sight more pompous-looking than the +king or the First Lord. What was to be done? It was a dilemma I had never +anticipated; and in my dire distress, I stepped back and whispered a word +to old Admiral Beaufort, who was the kindest-looking of the party. +</p> +<p> +“'What is he saying?—what does he want?' said the king, who partly +overheard the whisper. +</p> +<p> +“'Mr. Sickleton remarks, your Majesty, that he will need assistance to +exhibit his invention—that he requires some one to work the pump.' +</p> +<p> +“'Then why did n't he bring hands with him?' said the king, testily. 'I +suppose the machine is not self-acting, and that he knew that before he +came here.' +</p> +<p> +“I thought I 'd have fainted at this rebuke from the lips of royalty +itself, and so I stammered out some miserable excuse about not knowing if +I were empowered to have brought aid—my ignorance of court etiquette—in +fact, I blundered—and so far, that the king cut me short by saying, +'Take those people there, sir, and don't delay us;' pointing to the two +gentlemen in cocked hats, bags, and swords, that looked as if they could +have danced on my grave with delight. +</p> +<p> +“In a flurry—compared to which a fever was composure—I +instructed my two new assistants in the duty, and stationing myself with +the hose to direct the operation of the jet, I gave the word to begin. +Well! instead of a great dash of water spurting out some fifty feet in +height, and fizzing through the air like a rocket, there came a trickling, +miserable dribble, that puddled at my very feet! I thought the sucker was +clogged—the piston stopped—the valves impeded—twenty +things did I fancy—but the sober truth was, these gilded rascals +would n't do more than touch the crank with the tips of their fingers, and +barely put sufficient force in the pressure to move the arm up and down. +'Work it harder—put more strength to it,' I whispered, in mortal +fear to be overheard, but they never minded me in the least Indeed, I +almost think one fellow winked his eye ironically when I addressed him. +</p> +<p> +“'Eh—what!' said the king, after ten minutes of an exhibition that +were to me ten years at the galleys, 'these pumps do next to nothing. They +make noise enough, but don't bring up any water at all.' +</p> +<p> +“The First Lord shook his head in assent. Old Beaufort made me a sign to +give up the trial, and the post-captain blurted out, in a half-whisper, +something about a 'blundering son of a dog's wife' that nearly drove me +mad. +</p> +<p> +“'I say, Sickleton,' said the king, 'your invention's not worth the solder +it cost you. You couldn't sprinkle the geraniums yonder in three weeks +with it.' +</p> +<p> +“'It's all the fault of these d——d buffers, please your +Majesty,' said I, driven clean out of my senses by failure and disgrace—and, +to be sure, as hearty a roar of laughter followed as ever I listened to in +my life—'if they 'd only bear a hand and work the crank as I showed +them—' As I spoke, I leaned over and took hold of the crank myself, +letting the hose rest on my shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“With two vigorous pulls I filled the pistons full, and, at the third, +rush went the stream with the force of a Congrève—not, indeed, over +the trees, as I expected, but full in the face of the First Lord; scarcely +was his cry uttered, when a fourth dash laid him full upon his back, +drenched from head to foot, and nearly senseless from the shock. The king +screamed with laughing—the admiral shouted—the old +post-captain swore—and I, not knowing one word of all that was +happening behind my back, worked away for the bare life, till the two +footmen, at a signal from the admiral, laid hold of me by main force, and +dragged me away, the perspiration dripping from my forehead, and my +uniform all in rags by the exertion. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/cash10346.jpg" alt="346 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +“'Get away as fast as you can, sir,' whispered old B., 'and thank God if +your day's work only puts you at the end of the list.' I followed the +counsel—I don't know how—I never could recollect one event +from that moment till I awoke the next morning at my aunt's cottage at +Blackwall, and saw my coat in tatters, and the one epaulette hanging by a +thread; then I remembered my blessed invention, and I think I showed good +pluck by not going clean out of my mind.” + </p> +<p> +There was an earnestness in poor Sickleton's manner that effectually +repressed any mirth on Cashel's part—indeed, his sense of the +ludicrous gave way before his feeling of sorrow for the hard fortune of +the man without a friend. In the partial civilization of the far west, +personal prowess and energy were always enough to secure any man's +success; but here, each day's experience taught him how much was to be +laid to the score of family—of fortune—name—address—and +the thousand other accessories of fortune. He had just begun to express +his wonder that Sickleton had never tried life in the New World, when the +mate appeared at the cabin-door to say that a shore boat was rowing out to +the yacht. +</p> +<p> +A movement of impatience broke from Sickleton. “More of 'em, I suppose,” + cried he; “we've had such a lot of sight-seers this morning, since we +dropped anchor! most of them affecting to be intimate friends of yours, +and all so well acquainted with your habits of life, that I should have +become perfectly informed on every particular of your private history only +by listening.” + </p> +<p> +“The chances are,” broke in Cashel, “I did not personally know a man +amongst them.” + </p> +<p> +“I half suspect as much. They spoke far too confidently to be authentic. +One would have it you were half ruined already, and had got the yacht over +to clear away, and be off. Another, that you were going to be married to a +lady with an immense fortune,—a rumor contradicted by a third saying +it was an attorney's daughter without a shilling.” + </p> +<p> +“There's a lady, I see, sir, coming on board,” said the mate, putting in +his head once more. +</p> +<p> +“I 'd swear there was,” growled Sickleton. +</p> +<p> +“You give them luncheon, I hope?” said Cashel, smiling at the other's +impatience. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; we've had something like an ordinary here, today, and as I heard +that to-morrow would be busier still, I have had my boat going backwards +and forwards all the morning to prepare.” + </p> +<p> +“I am desired to show you this card, sir,” said the mate, handing one to +Sickleton, who passed it to Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“Lord Kilgoff—indeed!” said he, surprised, and at once hastened to +the deck. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Cashel himself here!” exclaimed my Lady, from the stern of a small +boat alongside; and after an exchange of friendly recognition, the party +ascended the gangway. “This was a pleasure we scarcely looked for, to meet +you here,” said his Lordship, blandly. “We had just taken our drive down +to the harbor, when accidentally hearing your yacht had arrived, Lady +Kilgoff grew desirous to see it.” + </p> +<p> +“A yacht in harbor is a horse in stable,” said Cashel. “Will you permit me +to give you a cruise?” + </p> +<p> +“I should like nothing in the world so well.” + </p> +<p> +“It is late—almost six o'clock,” said Lord Kilgoff, looking at his +watch. +</p> +<p> +“And if it be,” said my Lady, coaxingly, “you know Dr. Grover recommended +you the sea air and sea excursions. I declare you look better already, +don't you think so, Mr. Cashel?” “I protest I do,” said Cashel, thus +appealed to; “and if you will only pardon the deficiencies of a floating +cuisine, and dine here—” + </p> +<p> +“How delightful!” broke in my Lady, not suffering even time for an +apology. +</p> +<p> +“It appeared to me there was a haunch of venison hanging over the stern +when we came on board?” said my Lord, with his glass to his eye. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, my Lord,” said Sickleton, touching his hat in salutation; “I've had +it there for two hours every day since Tuesday week.” + </p> +<p> +“And is the wind, and the tide, and everything else as it should be, Mr. +Cashel?” said Lady Kilgoff. +</p> +<p> +“Everything—when you have only uttered your consent,” said he, +gallantly. +</p> +<p> +“What is this, sir?” said my Lord, as, having requested something to +drink, Sickleton poured him out a large glassful of scarcely frothing +liquid. +</p> +<p> +“Dry champagne, my Lord. Moot's.” + </p> +<p> +“And very excellent too. Really, Laura, I am very sorry it should be so +late, and we were to have dined with Meek at seven—” + </p> +<p> +“But only alone—no party, remember that,” said she, persuasively; +“how easy to send the carriage back with an apology.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel looked his thanks, but without speaking. +</p> +<p> +“Take those red partridges out of ice,” said Sickleton, from the cook's +galley, “and let us have those Ostend oysters to-day.” + </p> +<p> +“I yield,” said my Lord. “Mr. Cashel must take all the consequences of my +breach of faith upon himself.” + </p> +<p> +“I promise to do so, my Lord.” + </p> +<p> +“A pen and ink, and some paper, Mr. Cashel,” said her Ladyship. +</p> +<p> +“Will you permit me to show you the way?” said he, handing her down into +the little cabin, whose arrangement was all in the perfection of modern +taste and elegance. +</p> +<p> +“How beautiful!” cried she. “Oh! Mr. Cashel, I really do envy you the +possession of this fairy ship. You don't know how passionately I love the +sea.” + </p> +<p> +“There are but few things I could hear you say with so much pleasure to +me,” said Cashel, gazing with a strange feeling of emotion at the +brilliant color and heightened expression of her handsome features. +</p> +<p> +“There! that is finished,” said she, closing the hastily-written note. +“Now, Mr. Cashel, we are yours.” However much of course the words were in +themselves, her eyes met Cashel's as she spoke them, and as suddenly fell; +while he, taking the letter, left the cabin without speaking—a world +of curious conjecture warring in his heart. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXVIII. A SPLIT IN THE KENNYFECK CABINET +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Like “cat and dog!” not so! <i>their</i> strife +They carried on like “man and wife.” + +Family Jars. +</pre> +<p> +It may easily have escaped our reader's memory, that on Roland Cashel's +hasty departure from Mr. Kennyfeck's, the seeds of a very serious schism +had been sown in that respectable family, Mrs. Kennyfeck being firmly +persuaded that her liege lord had grossly mismanaged his influence over +the young proprietor; the girls as resolutely opposed to each other; and +all, with a most laudable unanimity, agreed in thinking that Aunt Fanny +“had spoiled everything,” and that but for her odious interference there +never would have arisen the slightest coolness between them and their +distinguished acquaintance. +</p> +<p> +“I may lose the agency!” said Mr. Kennyfeck, with a sigh of afflicting +sincerity. +</p> +<p> +“I should n't wonder if he avoids the house,” quoth his wife. +</p> +<p> +“He evidently rejects all attempts at domination,” said Miss Kennyfeck, +with a glance at her aunt. Olivia said nothing; but it was not difficult +to see that her thoughts were full of the theme. Meanwhile, Miss O'Hara, +in all the dignity of injured rectitude, sat seemingly unconscious of the +popular feeling against her, repeating from time to time the ominous +words, “We shall see—we shall see;” a species of prophetic warning +that, come what may, can always assert its accomplishment. +</p> +<p> +With such elements of discord and discontent, the breakfast proceeded +gradually, and the broken attempts at talk had subsided into a sullen +silence, when the butler entered to say that Mr. Phillis begged to speak a +few words with Mr. Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“Let him come in here,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, as her husband was rising to +leave the room. “I think, if there are to be no more blunders, we had +better be present at the conference.” + </p> +<p> +“Show him in, Pearse,” said Mr. Kennyfeck, in a meek voice; and the +gentleman's gentleman entered, in all that easy self-sufficiency so +peculiar to his class. +</p> +<p> +“What is it, Mr. Phillis?” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, in a commanding tone, +meant to convey the information of “where the Court sat,” and to whom he +should address his pleading. +</p> +<p> +“It's a little matter on which I wanted advice, ma'am, for I am really +puzzled bow to act. You know, ma'am, that we are expecting large company +at our place in the country—Tubb—something—” + </p> +<p> +“Tubbermore,” interposed Mr. Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir, Tubbermore. Well, there have been at least twenty messages this +morning from different families, who want to know the best way of going, +and when Mr. Cashel means to go himself, and where post-horses are to be +had, and how they are to get forward where there are none, and so on.” + </p> +<p> +“Is your master not the person to dictate the answer to these queries?” + said Mrs. Kennyfeck, with her grandest air. +</p> +<p> +“Of course, ma'am, but he's not here.” + </p> +<p> +“Where is he, then?” asked she, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“He's gone, ma'am; he went last night.” + </p> +<p> +“Gone! gone where?” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, with an eagerness no artifice +could cover. +</p> +<p> +“It's hard to say, ma'am; but he went down to Kingstown last night, and +sailed in the yacht; and from the preparations and sea stores taken from +the hotel, it would seem like a long cruise.” + </p> +<p> +“And did he not mention anything of his intention to <i>you</i> Mr. +Phillis?” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, with a flattering emphasis on the pronoun. +</p> +<p> +“A few lines in pencil, ma'am, dated from the harbor, was all I received. +Here they are.” And he handed a piece of note-paper across the table. The +contents ran thus:— +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Phillis, send word to Sir Harvey Upton's that I sha'n't dine +there to-morrow. Give the bearer of this my dressing-case, +and clothes for some days, and have the fourgon ready packed +to start for Tubbermore on receiving my next orders. + +R. C.—Kingstown Harbor. +</pre> +<p> +“And who brought this note?” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, who fancied she was +conducting the inquiry in true judicial form. +</p> +<p> +“One of the yacht sailors, ma'am; he came up on Lord Kilgoff s carriage.” + </p> +<p> +“On Lord Kilgoff's carriage—how did that happen?” + </p> +<p> +“The carriage came into town, ma'am, to bring some things my Lady sent +for; at least, so the sailor told me.” + </p> +<p> +“And were Lord and Lady Kilgoff on board the yacht?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, ma'am; they both sailed in her last night.” + </p> +<p> +As though drawn by some irresistible influence, every eye was now turned +to Aunt Fanny, who, up to this, had listened to Mr. Phillis with a +breathless attention, and if looks could be translated, every glance thus +thrown said plainly, “This is <i>your</i> doing.” + </p> +<p> +“Are you certain that the yacht has not returned to Kingstown?” said Miss +O'Hara. +</p> +<p> +“Perfectly, ma'am. It blew a storm last night, and the sailors about the +harbor told me it was a great chance that any small vessel could outlive +the gale.” + </p> +<p> +Olivia Kennyfeck became deadly pale at these words, and whispered +something in her sister's ear. +</p> +<p> +“Of course,” replied the other, aloud; then turning to Phillis, said, “Had +they a pilot with them?” + </p> +<p> +“I believe so, miss, but there are so many contradictory reports, one +don't know what to credit; some say that Lord Kilgoff was greatly opposed +to the cruise, but that her Ladyship insisted, and that, in fact, they got +under weigh at last without my Lord's knowing, and while they were at +dinner.” + </p> +<p> +“It was a fearful night!” said Mr. Kennyfeck, whose mind was entirely +engrossed by the one idea. +</p> +<p> +“Take him into the next room, and I'll join you presently,” said Mrs. +Kennyfeck to her husband, for that keen-sighted lady had remarked the +intense interest with which Mr. Phillis listened to every remark made +around him. +</p> +<p> +“Here's a pretty piece of business!” cried she, as the door closed after +her husband and the valet; “and certainly, I must say, we 've no one to +thank for it but you, Fanny!” + </p> +<p> +“Unquestionably not,” echoed Miss Kennyfeck. “Aunt Fanny has the entire +merit of this catastrophe.” + </p> +<p> +“It is most cruel,” sighed Olivia, as she wiped the tears from her eyes, +and bent upon her stern relative a glance of most reproachful sadness. +</p> +<p> +“Are you all mad?” said the assailed individual, her courage and her color +rising together. “How can you pretend to connect me with this disgraceful +proceeding? Here's a case as clearly prearranged as ever was heard of.” + </p> +<p> +“Impossible!” cried Mrs. Kennyfeck; “did n't he invite us only yesterday +to go down to Tubbermore by sea?” + </p> +<p> +“And didn't you yourself offer the only impediment?” said Miss Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“You are very cruel, aunt,” sobbed Olivia. +</p> +<p> +“You'll drive me out of my senses,” said Miss O'Hara; and certainly her +look did not belie her words. “I endeavor to rescue you from the snares of +a young debauchee, who, as you well know, has a wife still living—” + </p> +<p> +“There, I hope you are content now,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, as Olivia fell +fainting into her arms; and the window was thrown open, and all were +busied in employing the wonted restoratives for such attacks. Meanwhile, +hostilities were continued, but in a less rigorous fashion. “You know +you've ruined everything—you know well how your officious meddling +has destroyed this poor child's fortune; rub her temples, Cary.” + </p> +<p> +“I know that he is a dissipated, abandoned wretch, that would desert her +to-morrow as he has done that unhappy—” + </p> +<p> +“Hush, she is coming to. You want to kill her.” + </p> +<p> +“Humph!” muttered Aunt Fanny; “this scene might be very effective with the +young gentleman, but is quite thrown away upon me.” + </p> +<p> +“Aunt, aunt!” cried Miss Kennyfeck, reprovingly. +</p> +<p> +“If we had just followed our own counsels, we should have this very hour +been on the way to Tubbermore, perhaps never to leave it!” + </p> +<p> +Aunt Fanny shook her head. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. You may affect to doubt and hesitate, and all that, but where is the +wonderful condescension in a Mr. Cashel proposing for the grand-niece of +Roger Miles O'Hara, of Kilmurray O'Hara of Mayo, the second cousin of +Lawrence O'Hara Kelly, that ought to be Lord Bally Kelly?” + </p> +<p> +“Fairly enough, if that was all,” slipped in Miss O'Hara, hoping to escape +from all danger by climbing up the genealogical tree whereon her sister +was perched. +</p> +<p> +“If that was all!” repeated Mrs. Kennyfeck, indignantly, catching at the +last words, “and what more is wanting, I 'd be glad to ask? But, to be +sure, it was rather a mistake to call to our counsels, in such a case, one +that never could succeed in her own.” + </p> +<p> +This terrible taunt at Miss O'Hara's celibacy didn't go unpunished, for, +throwing all attempts at conciliation behind her, she rose, with flashing +eyes and trembling lips. +</p> +<p> +“So, it is you that tell me this,” said she—“<i>you</i> that dare to +sneer at <i>my</i> being unmarried—you, that were fain to take up +with a Dublin attorney—poor Tom Kennyfeck—the hack of the +quarter sessions, serving latitats and tithe notices over the country in +his old gig—Indeed, girls, I 'm sorry to speak that way of your +father, but it 's well known—” + </p> +<p> +A loud shriek interrupted the speech, and Mrs. Kennyfeck, in strong +hysterics, took her place beside Olivia. +</p> +<p> +“It will do her good, my dear,” said Aunt Fanny to her niece, as she +chafed the hands and bathed the temples of her mother. “I was only telling +the truth; she'd never have married your father if Major Kennedy had n't +jilted her; and good luck it was he did, for he had two other wives living +at the time—just as your friend, Mr. Cashel, wanted to do with your +sister.” + </p> +<p> +“Aunt—aunt—I entreat you to have done. Haven't you made +mischief enough?” + </p> +<p> +“Eaten up with vanity and self-conceit,” resumed the old lady, not heeding +the interruption. “A French cook and a coach-and-four,—nothing less! +Let her scream, child—sure, I know it's good for her—it +stretches the lungs.” + </p> +<p> +“Leave me—leave the room!” cried Miss Kennyfeck, whose efforts at +calmness were rendered fruitless by the torrent of her aunt's eloquence. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed I will, my dear: I'll leave the house, too. Sorry I am that I ever +set foot in it. What with the noise and the racket night and day, it's +more like a lunatic asylum than a respectable residence.” + </p> +<p> +“Send her away—send her away!” screamed Mrs. Kennyfeck, with a cry +of horror. +</p> +<p> +“Do, aunt—do leave the room.” + </p> +<p> +“I'm going—I'm going, young lady; but I suppose I may drink my cup +of tea first—it's the last I 'll ever taste in the same house;” and +she reseated herself at the table with a most provoking composure. “I came +here,” resumed she, “for no advantage of mine. I leave you without regret, +because I see how your poor fool of a father, and your vain, conceited +mother—” + </p> +<p> +“Aunt, you are really too bad. Have you no feeling?” + </p> +<p> +“That's just what comes of it,” said she, stirring her tea tranquilly. +“You set up for people of fashion, and you don't know that people of +fashion are twice as shrewd and 'cute as yourself. Faith, my dear, they'd +buy and sell you, every one. What are they at all day, but roguery and +schemes of one kind or other, and then after 'doing' you, home they go, +and laugh at your mother's vulgarity!” + </p> +<p> +A fresh torrent of cries from Mrs. Kennyfeck seemed to show that +unconsciousness was not among her symptoms, and Miss Kennyfeck now +hastened from the room to summon her father to her aid. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you've come to turn me out, I suppose?” said Aunt Fanny, as the old +gentleman entered in a state of perplexity that might have evoked the +compassion of a less determined enemy. +</p> +<p> +“My dear Miss Fanny—” + </p> +<p> +“None of your four courts blarney with me, sir; I'm ready to go—I +'ll leave by the coach to-night. I conclude you 'll have the decency to +pay for my place, and my dinner too, for I 'll go to Dawson's Hotel this +minute. Tell your mother, and that poor dawdle there, your sister, that +they 'd be thankful they'd have followed my advice. The rate you're +living, old gentleman, might even frighten you. There's more waste in your +kitchen than in Lord Clondooney's. +</p> +<p> +“As for yourself, Caroline, you 're the best of the lot; but your tongue, +darling!—your tongue!” And here she made a gesture of far more +expressive force than any mere words could give. +</p> +<p> +“Is she gone?” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, as a slight lull succeeded. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, mamma,” whispered Miss Kennyfeck; “but speak low, for Mr. Phillis is +in the hall.” + </p> +<p> +“I'll never see her again—I'll never set eyes on her,” muttered Mrs. +Kennyfeck. +</p> +<p> +“I shouldn't wonder, mamma, if that anonymous letter was written by +herself,” said Caroline. “She never forgave Mr. Cashel for not specially +inviting her; and this, I'm almost sure, was the way she took to revenge +herself.” + </p> +<p> +“So it was,” cried Mrs. Kennyfeck, eagerly seizing at the notion. “Hush, +take care Livy doesn't hear you.” + </p> +<p> +“As for the yacht expedition, it was just the kind of thing Lady Kilgoff +was ready for. She is dying to be talked of.” + </p> +<p> +“And that poor, weak creature, Cashel, will be so flattered by the soft +words of a peeress, he'll be intolerable ever after.” + </p> +<p> +“Aunt Fanny—Aunt Fanny!” sighed Miss Kennyfeck, with a mournful +cadence. +</p> +<p> +“If I only was sure—that is, perfectly certain—that she wrote +that letter about Cashel—But here comes your father—take +Olivia, and leave me alone.” + </p> +<p> +Miss Kennyfeck assisted her sister from the sofa, and led her in silence +from the room, while Mr. Kennyfeck sat down, with folded hands and bent +down head, a perfect picture of dismay and bewilderment. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said his wife, after a reasonable interval of patient expectation +that he would speak—“well, what have you to say for yourself now, +sir?” + </p> +<p> +The poor solicitor, who never suspected that he was under any indictment, +looked up with an expression of almost comic innocence. +</p> +<p> +“Did you hear me, Mr. Kennyfeck, or is it you want to pass off your +dulness for deafness? Did you hear me, I say?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, I heard—but I really do not know—that is, I am unaware +how—I cannot see—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, the old story,” sighed she—“injured innocence! Well, sir, I was +asking you if you felt gratified with our present prospects? Linton's +intimacy was bad enough, but the Kilgoff friendship is absolute, utter +ruin. That crafty, old, undermining peer, as proud as poor, will soon +ensnare him; and my Lady, with her new airs of a viscountess, only anxious +to qualify for London by losing her character before she appears there!” + </p> +<p> +“As to the agency—” + </p> +<p> +“The agency!” echoed she, indignantly, “do your thoughts never by any +chance, sir, take a higher flight than five per cent.?—are you +always dreaming of your little petty gains at rent-day? I told you, sir, +how the patron might be converted into a son-in-law—did I not?” + </p> +<p> +“You did, indeed, and I'm certain I never threw any impediment in the way +of it.” + </p> +<p> +“You never threw any impediment in the way of your child's succeeding to a +fortune of sixteen thousand a year! You really are an exemplary father.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'd have forwarded it, if I only knew how.” + </p> +<p> +“How good of you! I suppose you 'd have drawn up the settlements if +ordered. But so it is—all my efforts through life have been thwarted +by you! I have labored and toiled day and night to place my children in +the sphere that their birth, on one side at least, would entitle them to, +and you know it.” + </p> +<p> +Now this Mr. Kennyfeck really did not know. In his dull fatuity he always +imagined that he was the honey-gatherer of the domestic hive, and that +Mrs. Kennyfeck had in her own person monopolized the functions of queen +bee and wasp together. +</p> +<p> +“Your low, pettifogging ambition never soared above a Softly or a Clare +Jones for your daughters, while I was planning alliances that would have +placed them among the best in the land—and how have I been rewarded? +Indifference, coolness, perhaps contempt!” Here a flood of tears, that had +remained dammed up since the last torrent, burst forth in convulsive sobs. +“Ungrateful man, who ought never to have forgotten the sacrifice I made in +marrying him—the rupture with every member of my family—the +severance of every tie that united me to my own.” + </p> +<p> +She ceased, and here, be it remembered, Mrs. Kennyfeck seemed to address +herself to some invisible jury empanelled to try Mr. Kennyfeck on a +serious charge. +</p> +<p> +“He came like a serpent into the bosom of our peaceful circle, and with +the arts that his crafty calling but too well supplied, seduced my young +affections.” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Kennyfeck started. It had never before occurred to him that Don Juan +was among his range of parts. +</p> +<p> +“False and unfeeling both,” resumed she. “Luring with promises never +intended for performance, you took me from a home, the very sanctuary of +peace!” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Kennyfeck wiped his forehead in perplexity; his recollection of the +home in question was different. Sanctuary it might have been, but it was +against the officers of the law and the sheriff, and so far as a +well-fastened hall door and barricaded windows went, the epithet did not +seem quite unsuitable. +</p> +<p> +“Ah!” sighed she—for it is right to remark that Mrs. Kennyfeck was a +mistress of that domestic harmony which consists in every modulation, from +the grand adagio of indignant accusation to the rattling andante of open +abuse—“had I listened to those older and wiser than I, and who +foretold the destiny that awaited me, I had never seen this unhappy day! +No, sir! I had not lived to see myself outraged and insulted, and my only +sister turned out of the house like a discarded menial.” + </p> +<p> +Had Mr. Kennyfeck been informed that for courteously making way for a +Bencher in the Hall he was stripped of his gown and degraded from his +professional rank, he could not have been more thoroughly amazed and +thunderstruck. +</p> +<p> +He actually gasped with excess of astonishment, and, if breath had been +left him, would have spoken; but so it was, the very force of the charge +stunned him, and he could not utter a word. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile, Mrs. Kennyfeck, who in the ardor of combat had imitated certain +Spanish sailors, who in the enthusiasm of a sea-fight loaded their cannons +with whatever came next to hand, was actually shocked by the effect of her +own fire. For the grandeur of a peroration she had taken a flying leap +over all truth, and would gladly have been safe back again at the other +side of the fence. +</p> +<p> +For an instant not a word dropped from either side, and it was clear that +he who spoke first had gained the victory. This was the lady. +</p> +<p> +“Go, sir”—and she wiped her eyes with that calm dignity by which a +scolding wife seems to call up all Christian forgiveness of herself, and +stand acquitted before her own conscience—“go, sir, and find out +what these people that Cashel has invited mean to do; and if it be their +intention to repair to Tubbermore, let us lose no time in setting out; and +if we are to go, Mr. Kennyfeck, let as do so as becomes us.” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Kennyfeck stifled a rising sigh—for he knew what the words +denoted—and departed; while Mrs. Kennyfeck, with her heart lightened +of a heavy load, rose to join her daughters, and discuss dress and +“toilette,” the great commissariat of the approaching campaign. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXIX. STORM AND WRECK. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Tut, never mind the swell, love, +The sails may sweep the brine; +But the craft will steer as well, love, +With your soft hand in mine. + +The Cruise. +</pre> +<p> +It was upon a delicious evening, a little before sunset, that a yacht +worked out of the harbor of Kingstown, all her canvas spread to catch the +light air of wind, which scarcely ruffled the glassy surface of the Bay. +The craft, with her snow-white sails, her tall and taper spars, her gay +bunting from gaff and peak, was all that the scene wanted to render it a +perfect picture; and so, to all seeming, thought the many spectators who +crowded the pier and the shore, and gazed with admiration at the graceful +vessel, as she glided silently above her own image in the water. +</p> +<p> +Various were the comments and criticisms from those who surveyed her +course; some, in wondering conjecture whither she was bound; others, not a +whit better informed, boldly affecting some secret knowledge of her +destination, and even, by such pretty pretension, assuming airs of +superiority. +</p> +<p> +“She belongs to that rich young fellow, Roland Cashel,” said one of these, +“who, by the way, is getting through his fortune tolerably fast. The story +goes, that he has spent two hundred thousand already, and is borrowing at +immense interest.” + </p> +<p> +“Was n't he a smuggler, or a privateer's-man, or something of the kind?” + </p> +<p> +“No; he made all the money in the slave trade.” + </p> +<p> +“I always heard that he succeeded to a landed estate,” softly insinuated a +modest-looking old gentleman. +</p> +<p> +“Not at all, sir. Such, I am aware, was the common belief; the fact, +however, is, that he had invested large sums in land, and was then able to +escape the scrutiny many would have instituted regarding the origin of his +wealth.” + </p> +<p> +“Who is it he is always riding with about town—a handsome girl, on a +brown horse?” + </p> +<p> +“On a gray, you mean.” + </p> +<p> +“No, a brown, with a bang tail.” + </p> +<p> +“No, no, it's a gray. She's a daughter of Tom Kennyfeck, the attorney.” + </p> +<p> +“The gentleman is right,” interposed a third. “I 've seen him very often +with a lady mounted on a brown thorough-bred.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh! that's Lady Kilgoff, the handsomest woman in Ireland.” + </p> +<p> +“She was much better-looking two years ago,” simpered out an ensign, +affectedly. “I used to dance with her and her sister at the race balls of +Ashby.” + </p> +<p> +The group immediately fell back, in tacit acknowledgment of the claim of +one so aristocratically associated. +</p> +<p> +“Didn't you know her, Hipsley?” lisped out the ensign to a brother +officer, who was admiring a very green baby on the arm of a very blooming +nursery-maid. “You knew the Craycrofts, didn't you?” + </p> +<p> +“Lady Kilgoff's maiden name, sir, was Gardiner,” said the timid old +gentleman who spoke before. +</p> +<p> +The ensign stuck his glass in one eye, and gazed at him for a second or +two, with consummate effrontery, and then, in a voice intended for the +most cutting drollery, said,— +</p> +<p> +“Are, you certain it was n't 'Snooks'?”—a rejoinder so infinitely +amusing that the bystanders laughed immoderately, and the bashful man +retired, overwhelmed in confusion. +</p> +<p> +“They 're off for a good long cruise,” said one, looking through his +pocket telescope at the yacht, which now was steering to the southward, +with a fresher breeze. +</p> +<p> +“I suspect so. They took on board five or six hampers from the hotel, just +before they sailed.” + </p> +<p> +A very warm controversy now arose as to where the yacht was bound for, and +who were the parties who went on board of her in the harbor; points which, +in the absence of all real knowledge, admitted of a most animated debate. +Meanwhile, an old weather-beaten sailor, in a pilot coat, continued to +gaze alternately from the sky to the sea, and back again, and at last +murmured to himself,— +</p> +<p> +“They 'll catch it before midnight, if they don't haul their wind, and get +into shelter.” + </p> +<p> +Some drifting clouds, dropping slight rain as they passed, soon after +cleared the pier of its loiterers, and night fell, dark and starless, +while the wind freshened, and the sea fretted and chafed upon the rocks, +and even sent its spray high against the strong lighthouse. +</p> +<p> +Let us now quit the shore, and bear company with the party on board, who, +having dined sumptuously, sat sipping their coffee on deck, while the +swift craft skimmed the calm waters of the bay, and unfolded in her course +the beautiful panorama of the shore—the bold steep bluff of +Brayhead, the curved strand of Killiney, the two “Sugar Loaves” rising +from the bosom of dark woods, and, in the distance, the higher chain of +the Wicklow mountains, while on the opposite side Howth seemed like a blue +island studding the clear surface of the bay. Lord Kilgoff and Mr. +Sickleton paid but passing attention to the bright picture around. A +learned discussion on naval matters, wherein my Lord took the opportunity +of storing his mind with a goodly stock of technicals, to be used at some +future occasion, occupied them altogether, leaving her Ladyship and Roland +Cashel to the undisturbed enjoyment of the scene and its associations. +</p> +<p> +They paid the highest tribute the picturesque can exact—they sat in +silence watching the changing tints, which from red faded to violet, then +gray, and at last grew dark with closing night, while the wind freshening +sent the sea rushing swiftly past, and made their light craft heave and +pitch heavily. +</p> +<p> +“We are returning to Kingstown, I trust?” said my Lord to Sickleton, who +had left him for a moment, to give orders about shortening sail. “It +appears to me like a threatening night.” + </p> +<p> +“It looks dirty, my Lord,” said Sickleton, dryly, as he walked aft with +the pilot, and conferred with him in a low tone. +</p> +<p> +“Are we making for Kingstown, Mr. Cashel?” said my Lord, in a voice he was +not able to divest of anxiety. +</p> +<p> +“I believe not,” said Cashel, rising, and approaching the compass. “No, we +are lying down channel straight as we can go.” + </p> +<p> +“Ay, and very well for us that we can do it,” growled out the pilot. “If +we make the Hook Light before we tack, I shall say we 're lucky.” + </p> +<p> +“Does he mean there is any danger, Mr. Cashel?” said Lady Kilgoff, but in +a voice devoid of tremor. +</p> +<p> +“None whatever; but I am sadly distressed at having carried you out so +far, since I find that in the present state of the tide, and with the wind +still driving more to the north, we cannot bear up for Kingstown, but must +run along the shore.” + </p> +<p> +“Think nothing of that,” said she, gayly; “real peril I have no fancy for—a +mere inconvenience is of no moment whatever; but”—here she dropped +her voice very low—“say something to my Lord—give him some +encouragement.” + </p> +<p> +“It blows fresh, my Lord, and if it were not for the trespass on your +comfort, I should almost rejoice at the occasion of showing you my yacht's +qualities as a sailing-boat.” + </p> +<p> +“I should prefer taking your word for them, sir,” said Lord Kilgoff, +tartly; “a pleasure-trip is one thing, a night in a small vessel exposed +to a heavy gale is another.” + </p> +<p> +“You 're right, my Lord,” said the pilot, who heard but a part of the +observation; “it will be a gale before morning.” + </p> +<p> +“Luff! luff, there!” shouted Sickleton; and at the same instant a heavy +sea thundered against the bow and broke over the fore part of the vessel +with a crashing sound. +</p> +<p> +“I think when we see the lighthouse of Kingstown so near us,” said Lord +Kilgoff, “there ought to be no great difficulty in returning.” + </p> +<p> +“That's not the harbor-light you see yonder—that's the Kish, my +Lord,” said the pilot “Keep her up, my man, keep her up, the wind is +freshening.” + </p> +<p> +“Will you indeed forgive me for this disastrous turn of our cruise?” said +Cashel, as he fastened his boat-cloak around Lady Kilgoff's throat, after +several vain efforts to induce her to go below. +</p> +<p> +“If you only prevent my Lord from scolding, I shall enjoy it immensely,” + said she, in a half whisper. +</p> +<p> +“I trust, Lady Kilgoff,” said his Lordship, approaching, and steadying +himself by the bulwarks, “that this night'a experience will induce you to +distrust your own judgment when in opposition to mine. I foresaw the whole +of it. It is now blowing a fierce gale—” + </p> +<p> +“Not a bit of it, my Lord,” interposed the pilot, bluntly; “but it will +blow great guns 'fore daybreak, or I 'm mistaken.” + </p> +<p> +“And where shall we be then?” asked my Lord, querulously. +</p> +<p> +“Rayther hard to tell,” said the pilot, laughing. “If she be as good a +sea-boat as they say, and that we don't carry away any of our spars, we +may run for Cove. I take it—” + </p> +<p> +“For Cove! Gracious mercy! and if she be not as good a vessel as it is +said she is, sir, what then, pray?” + </p> +<p> +The pilot made no reply, but gave orders to set the jib, as she was +laboring too much by the head. +</p> +<p> +The wind increased, and with it the sea, which, dividing at the bow, fell +in great cataracts over the vessel, sweeping along the entire deck at +every plunge she gave. +</p> +<p> +“I wish she were a little deeper in the water,” whispered Sickleton to +Cashel. “We have n't within fifteen tons of our ballast on board. But she +'s a sweet craft, ain't she? Keep her, there—steady, man.” + </p> +<p> +“We could n't stand round in stays, and bear up for the harbor?” asked +Cashel, on whom Lord Kilgoff's face of misery had made a strong +impression. +</p> +<p> +“Impossible! At least the pilot, who knows this coast well, says there is +a shore current here runs eight knots.” + </p> +<p> +“What shall we do with him? He 'll scarce live through the night.” + </p> +<p> +“Let us get him down below, and, once snug in a berth, he 'll fall asleep, +and forget everything.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel shook his head doubtfully, but determined to try the plan at all +hazards. +</p> +<p> +“Would my Lord be persuaded to lie down, do you think?” said Roland, +approaching Lady Kilgoff, who, enveloped in the folds of the heavy +boat-cloak, sat calm and collected near the wheel. +</p> +<p> +“Is there danger?” asked she, hurriedly. +</p> +<p> +“Not the least; but he seems so ill, and every sea rushes-over him as he +stands.” + </p> +<p> +“You should go down, my dear Lord,” said she, addressing him; “Mr. Cashel +is afraid you 'll catch cold here?” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, is he indeed?” said Lord Kilgoff, in a snappish asperity. “He is too +good to bestow a thought upon me.” + </p> +<p> +“I am only anxious, my Lord, that you should n't suffer from your +complaisance so unhappily rewarded.” + </p> +<p> +“Very kind, exceedingly kind, sir. It is, as you say, most unhappy—a +perfect storm, a hurricane. Gracious mercy! what's that?” + </p> +<p> +This exclamation was caused by a loud smash, like the report of a +cannon-shot, and at the same moment the taper topmast fell crashing down, +with all its cordage clattering round it. The confusion of the accident, +the shouting of voices, the thundering splash of the sea, as, the peak +having fallen, the craft had lost the steadying influence of the mainsail, +all seemed to threaten immediate danger. Cashel was about to spring +forward and assist in cutting away the entangled rigging, when he felt his +hand firmly grasped by another, whose taper fingers left no doubt to whom +it belonged. +</p> +<p> +“Don't be alarmed—it is nothing,” whispered he encouragingly; “the +mishap is repaired in a second.” + </p> +<p> +“You 'll not leave me,” said she, in a low tone, which thrilled through +every fibre of his heart. He pressed her hand more closely, and tried, but +in vain, to catch a glimpse at her face. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile the disordered rigging had been repaired, and two men under +Sickleton's direction, lifting the drooping and scarce conscious peer from +the deck, carried him down below. +</p> +<p> +If the old instincts of Roland Cashel's sailor life would have rendered +the scene interesting to him, watching as he did the way his craft +“behaved,” and marking well the fine qualities she possessed as a +sea-boat, there was another and far more intense feeling then occupying +him as he stood close beside that swathed and muffled figure, who, pale +and silent, marked by some gesture, from time to time, her dependence upon +him. To Roland, the rattle of the gale, the hissing sea, the strained and +creaking cordage, all, not only brought back old memories of his once +life, but effectually seemed to dispel the colder mood of mind which +admixture with the world of fashion had impressed upon him. He was again, +if not in reality, in heart and spirit, the bold buccaneer that walked the +Western seas, bursting with life, and eager for adventure. Every plunge +that sent the bowsprit down, every squall that bent the taper mast, and +laid the vessel half-seas under, inspirited and excited him, not the less +that the wild storm called forth every form of encouragement to her, who +vibrated between actual terror and a strange sense of delight. +</p> +<p> +Roland lay at her feet, partly as a barrier against the surging water +that, breaking over the bow, swept the entire deck, partly that he might +mark those beauteous features, on which the binnacle light occasionally +cast its glare. +</p> +<p> +“It is fine,” murmured she, in a low, soft voice, “and I almost feel as if +my own terrors should serve to heighten the sense of ecstasy. I tremble +while I delight in it.” + </p> +<p> +There was an expression of intense excitement in her eyes as she spoke, +and her pale features for an instant flushed, as Roland's look met hers. +</p> +<p> +“How I glory in your words,” cried he, wild with enthusiasm; “I feel like +one who suddenly awakes to life out of some long and dreary sleep,—rather +this is the sleep, this is itself the vision in which I lie, here, beneath +your smile, while we are borne onward through the hissing foam. Oh, would +it but last—would that this dark and starless night could be for +years, and that we might thus cleave the black waters on and on!” + </p> +<p> +“And whither to?” asked she, in a whisper scarcely breathed. +</p> +<p> +“Whither to?” echoed he; “what matters it, while we journey thus? The +sun-tipped icebergs of the North Sea, or the rosy mountains of the Spice +Island; the balmy shores of Quito, or the bleak coast of Labrador—all +are alike to me.” + </p> +<p> +“A large vessel under the lee!” sang out a voice from the bow, and the cry +was repeated still louder, while the pilot shouted, “Show a light at the +mast-head; put your helm hard up!” The double command was scarce obeyed, +when a huge black mass heaved past them, her great yards almost seeming to +grate the cordage. The looming size of the immense object that towered +overhead, and the death-like stillness of the yacht's crew till the danger +was past, thrilled with a cold terror through her, and instinctively she +grasped Roland's hand more closely. The gale had now become furious, and +as the light spars were barely able to sustain even the little canvas +spread, the sea swept over the vessel as she lay storm-tossed and scarce +navigable. The hatches were fastened down, the boats strongly secured, and +every precaution of seamanship adopted; and so long as these were in +performance, and a certain activity and bustle prevailed, so long did Lady +Kilgoff's courage appear to support her; but when all was done, and the +men resumed their places in watchful silence, and her mind was left to the +contemplation of the raging hurricane alone, she seemed to sink, and, with +a faint, low sigh, glided from the seat and fell fainting to the deck. +</p> +<p> +“You cannot take her below,” said Sickleton, as Cashel, raising her in his +arms, was about to carry her to the cabin; “we dare not open the hatches. +See, there it comes again!” and, as he spoke, a great wave broke over the +vessel's quarter and fell in torrents over the deck, washing, as it +receded, several loose spars overboard. By the aid of coats and cloaks +innumerable, Cashel at last succeeded in enveloping the fair form beside +him, and supporting her head upon his arm as he sat, he saw, to his +unspeakable delight, that she soon dropped into a calm sleep. +</p> +<p> +“This is a disastrous bit of pleasuring,” said Sickleton, as he stood +holding on by one of the braces; “who could have supposed such a gale was +brewing?” + </p> +<p> +“Well, well,” replied Cashel, “if it comes no worse—” + </p> +<p> +“If it does, we can't stand through it, that's all,” said the lieutenant, +dryly. “The old pilot says we shall have to make a tack to keep clear of +the Hook; but what boat can sail on a wind with a storm-jib and +three-reefed topsail?” + </p> +<p> +“She behaves nobly,” said Roland, as he gazed at the sleeping form, to +guard which seemed all his care. +</p> +<p> +Sickleton mistook the remark, and said, “Ay, that I knew she would; but +the sea is tremendous for a small craft, and see how close we have the +land under our lee—that black mass yonder.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'd give all I own in the world that she were safe on shore,” murmured +Cashel, not heeding the other's observation; “I cannot forgive myself for +having induced her to venture out.” + </p> +<p> +The lieutenant made no reply, but peered for a few seconds through the +skylight of the cabin. “My Lord is lying like a dead man,” said he; +“fright and sea-sickness together have nearly done for him, and yet it was +only two hours back he thought he 'd make a good figure at the Admiralty. +There,” continued he, “day is breaking yonder; we shall soon know our +fate; if the gale freshens after sunrise, it is all up with us.” + </p> +<p> +“Run the craft in shore and I 'll engage to save her,” said Cashel, +eagerly. “I'm a strong swimmer in surf; I rescued a Malabar girl once, and +in a sea nearly as heavy as this.” + </p> +<p> +Sickleton smiled incredulously, and turned away. +</p> +<p> +“It is freshening, by Jove!” said he, as a squall struck the vessel, and +laid her almost on her beam ends, while every plank shivered as though she +were rending in pieces. +</p> +<p> +“It's coming stronger, sir,” said the pilot, as he shook the sea from his +rough coat and bent his gaze steadfastly towards the east; “I 'd rather +not see that red sunrise. Keep her away, man, keep her away!” + </p> +<p> +“Shall we try it?” muttered Sickleton, to some whispered observations of +the other. +</p> +<p> +“We may as well,” rejoined the pilot; “she 'll never hold steerage way +with her present canvas, and if she won't bear the mainsail we must go on +shore, and no help for it.” + </p> +<p> +“Bear a hand there, boys!” cried Sickleton; “shake out the mainsail!” + </p> +<p> +“You 'll carry away the mast,” cried Cashel, as he heard the order. +</p> +<p> +“It 's like enough,” growled the pilot, “but yonder's the lee-shore.” + </p> +<p> +“I could save her—I 'm certain I could save her,” said Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“He's thinking of the lady,” said the pilot to Sickleton; and the +contemptuous tone showed how humbly he estimated him. +</p> +<p> +“Breakers ahead!—shoal water!” shouted a voice from the bow. +</p> +<p> +“'Bout ship!” cried Sickleton; “stand by sheets and tacks there—down +helm! Are ye ready, men?” And the next moment the obedient vessel spun +round, and was cleaving the water on another tack. +</p> +<p> +“What is it? where am I? is this a dream?” said Lady Kilgoff, as she moved +back the hair from her eyes, and looked up at Cashel, who for hours had +never moved or stirred. +</p> +<p> +“To <i>me</i> it has been a delicious dream,” said Cashel, as he met her +glance; “and if it were not that you may feel alarmed, it would be still +such.” + </p> +<p> +“What a terrible sea! Where are we?” + </p> +<p> +“Not far from shore,” said Cashel, encouragingly. +</p> +<p> +“A devilish deal too near it, though,” muttered the pilot, under his +breath. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I remember all now. Where is my Lord, Mr. Cashel? Is he ill?” + </p> +<p> +“He 's gone below—he is sleeping, I believe. It has been a wild +night for <i>you</i>; and you 've passed it here on the deck.” + </p> +<p> +“Here?” said she, looking up and blushing, for she still lay supported +against Roland, and one of his hands held the boat-cloak across her. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, here,” said Cashel, with a voice and manner that made the color +mount to her cheeks and as suddenly desert them again. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile the lieutenant had gone below, and reappeared with a chart, over +which he and the pilot now bent in the deepest consideration. +</p> +<p> +“Then that must have been the 'Calf' Light we saw to the eastward,” said +Sickleton, pointing to the map. +</p> +<p> +“I 'd say so too,” replied the other, “if such a run did n't seem +impossible; but we only tripped our anchor last night before sunset.” + </p> +<p> +“Ten hours, though!—one can do a deal in ten hours!” said the +lieutenant. +</p> +<p> +“It may be worth as many years sometimes!” said Cashel, in a whisper to +her at his side. +</p> +<p> +“Breakers right ahead!” shouted the man at the bow. +</p> +<p> +“We 're among the 'Barrels!'” cried, the pilot; “back the topsail! down +mainsail!—” + </p> +<p> +But it was too late! Like a sea-bird rising to its flight, the light craft +bounded forward, till her shining copper glanced above the waves, and +then, with a spring, dashed onward, amid the foam and spray that rose like +a mist around her. The frothy shower flew over the deck, while the hissing +water spurted up on every side with a crashing, splintering sound. The +keel came down, and while a loud cry broke forth, “She 's struck!” the +mast snapped suddenly across, and fell with its draped rigging into the +sea. +</p> +<p> +“Stand by! cut away the boats!” shouted Sickleton; and seizing a hatchet, +gave the example himself, while Cashel, lifting the now lifeless form of +Lady Kilgoff, placed her in the boat. The confusion and terror became now +extreme. The breaking sea had already forced its way through the vessel's +bottom, and issued in a clear jet of blue water from the hatchways. The +first boat launched was rapidly crowded, and scarcely had it touched the +water than it was swamped. For an instant the struggling figures were seen +battling with the waves, but in a moment after they were gone! +</p> +<p> +Mainly through Sickleton and Cashel's exertions, the second boat was got +ready, and just about to be launched, when Roland turned to seek Lord +Kilgoff, whom, up to that moment, he had entirely forgotten. Scarcely had +he reached the binnacle, when the old man, pale and almost dead with +terror, stood before him. “Is she safe, sir?—is my Lady safe?” cried +he, tremulously. +</p> +<p> +“Quite so; come along, there 's not a moment to lose.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Cashel, do not leave me!” cried Lady Kilgoff, as the boat was +lifted from its place, and swung by the halyards from side to side. +</p> +<p> +“You cannot surely resist that appeal, sir,” said Lord Kilgoff, his +withered and worn features flushed with a pang of sudden anger. +</p> +<p> +“I must see to <i>your</i> safety, my Lord, or none else is likely to do +it,” said Cashel, sternly; and as he spoke he lifted the old man and +placed him in the boat. “Stay where you are, Sickleton,” cried he to the +lieutenant; “I 'll cut her adrift. So there! my boys, all together—larboard +now.” And as the vessel heaved over to the surge, the boat was launched. A +shrill cry of terror was heard above the raging storm; for Cashel, in his +eagerness to secure the others' safety, had perilled his own, and now the +boiling surf rushed between the yacht and the boat, defying every effort +to approach. +</p> +<p> +“Never fear for me,” said Roland, boldly; “the distance is short, and I +'ve swum in many a heavier surf.” And he swung himself, as he spoke, by a +loose stay into the sea. Nobly breasting the mad waves, he was seen at +intervals, now borne on the white-crested billows, now deep down in the +dark trough of waters. His Indian teaching had taught him, too, to dive at +times through the coming surf, and thus escape its force, and so did he +emerge from the great mass of waters that seemed almost to have buried +him. Bending to the oars, the boat's crew pulled manfully through the +tide, and at last gaining a little bay, floated into calm water, just as +Cashel had got a footing on a reef of rock, a short distance from land. +</p> +<p> +“Safe!” cried he, as he drew his wearied limbs up the little craggy +eminence, from which he could see the yacht still storm-lashed and +heaving, and follow with his eyes the boat, as with bounding speed she +made for shore. +</p> +<p> +No sooner had Sickleton safely landed his freight than he put out again to +rescue those in the yacht, while Cashel, bruised, bleeding, and torn, made +his way slowly to the little hut where Lord and Lady Kilgoff had taken +shelter. +</p> +<p> +His entrance was little noticed. The cabin was full of country people and +fishermen,—some earnestly proffering advice and counsel, others as +eagerly questioning all about the recent calamity. In a great straw chair, +beside the fire, sat Lord Kilgoff, his head resting on a country-woman's +shoulder, while another bathed his temples to restore animation. +</p> +<p> +“Where is she?” said Cashel, passionately; and the tone and look of the +speaker turned attention towards him. +</p> +<p> +“'T is her husband,” whispered the woman of the house, courtesying +respectfully to the youth, who, in all the torn disorder of his dress, +looked the gentleman; and with that she drew him into an inner room, where +upon a low settle lay the pale and scarce breathing form of Lady Kilgoff. +</p> +<p> +“Don't be afeared, yer honer, she 'll be betther in a minute or two. She +has more courage than her father there,” and she pointed to the outside +room where Lord Kilgoff sat. “Indeed, the first word she spoke was about +yerself.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel made a gesture to be silent, and sat down beside the settle, his +gaze fixed on the features, which, in their calm loveliness, had never +seemed more beautiful. +</p> +<p> +The stillness that now reigned in the little cabin, only broken by the low +whisperings without, the calm tranquillity so suddenly succeeding to the +terrible convulsion, the crowd of sensations pressing on the brain, and, +above all, the immense fatigue he had gone through, brought on such a +sense of stupor that Cashel fell heavily on the floor, and with his head +leaning against the settle, fell into a sound sleep. +</p> +<p> +Before evening had closed in most of the party had recovered from their +fatigues, and sat grouped in various attitudes round the blazing fire of +the cabin. In a deep, old-fashioned straw chair, reclined, rather than +sat, Lady Kilgoff; a slightly feverish flush lent a brilliancy to her +otherwise pale features, deepening the expression of her full soft eyes, +and giving a more animated character to the placid beauty of her face. Her +hair, in all the loose freedom of its uncared for state, fell in great +voluptuous masses along her neck and shoulders, while part of a +finely-turned arm peeped out beneath the folds of the wide scarlet cloak +which the fisherman's wife had lent her in lieu of her own costly +“Cashmere.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/cash10374.jpg" alt="374 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +Next to her sat Roland; and although dressed in the rough jacket of a +sailor, his throat encircled by a rude cravat of colored worsted, he +seemed in the very costume to have regained some of his long-lost +joyousness, and, notwithstanding the sad event of the night, to be in a +very ecstasy of high spirits. Sickleton, too, seemed like one who regarded +the whole adventure as a circumstance too common-place for much thought, +and busied himself writing letters to various persons at Cashel's +dictation, sorely puzzled from time to time to follow out the thread of an +intention, which Roland's devotion to the lady at his side more than once +interrupted. +</p> +<p> +The most disconsolate and woe-begone of all was the poor peer, who, +propped up by cushions, sat with unmeaning gaze steadily riveted on the +fire. There was something so horribly absurd, too, in the costume in which +he was clad, that converted all pity into a sense of ridicule. A great +wide pea-jacket encircled his shrunken, wasted figure to the knees, where +the thin attenuated legs appeared, clad in blue worsted stockings, whose +wide folds fell in a hundred wrinkles around them; a woollen cap of red +and orange stripes covered his head, giving a most grotesque expression to +the small and fine-cut features of his face. If Lady Kilgoff and Cashel +had not been too much interested on other topics, they could not have +failed to discover, in the occasional stealthy glances that Sickleton cast +on the old lord, that the costume had been a thing of his own devising, +and that the rakish air of the nightcap, set sideways on the head, was +owing to the sailor's inveterate fondness for a joke, no matter how +ill-timed the moment or ill-suited the subject of it. +</p> +<p> +Behind them, and in a wider circle, sat the fisherman and his family, the +occasional flash of the fire lighting up the gloom where they sat, and +showing, as in a Rembrandt, the strong and vigorous lines of features +where health and hardship were united—the whole forming in the light +and shadow a perfect subject for a painter. +</p> +<p> +From the first moment of the mishap, Lord Kilgoff had sunk into a state of +almost child-like imbecility, neither remembering where he was, nor taking +interest in anything, an occasional fractious or impatient remark at some +parsing inconvenience being all the evidence he gave of thought. It +devolved, therefore, upon Cashel to make every arrangement necessary,—an +assumption on his part which his natural respect and delicacy made no +small difficulty. As for Lady Kilgoff, she appeared implicitly to yield to +his judgment on every point; and when Roland suggested that, instead of +returning to Dublin and all its inevitable rumors, they should at once +proceed to Tubbermore, she assented at once, and most willingly. +</p> +<p> +It was with this object, then, that Sickleton sat, pen in hand, making +notes of Cashel's directions, and from time to time writing at his +dictation to various tradesmen whose services he stood in need of. It +would certainly have called for a clearer head, and a calmer than +Roland's, to have conducted the conversation with the lady and the command +to the gentleman, who sat at either side of him. Many a sad blunder did he +make, and more than once did the reply intended for her Ladyship find its +way into the epistle of the lieutenant, nor did the mistake appear till a +reading of the document announced it. At these, a burst of laughter was +sure to break forth, and then my Lord would look up, and, passing his +fingers across his temples, seem trying to recall his lost and wandering +faculties—efforts that the changeful play of his features showed to +be alternately failing and succeeding, as reason, tide-like, ebbed and +flowed within his brain. +</p> +<p> +It was as Sickleton wrote down at Cashel's direction the order for a +considerable sum of money to be distributed among the crew of the yacht, +that Lord Kilgoff, catching as it were in a momentary lucidness the +meaning of the words, said aloud, “This is not munificence, sir. I tell +you this is the wasteful extravagance of the buccaneer, not the generosity +of a true gentleman.” + </p> +<p> +The other suddenly started at the words, and while Lady Kilgoff's deep +flush of passion and Cashel's look of astonishment exhibited their +feelings, Sickleton's hearty laugh showed the racy enjoyment deficient +delicacy can always reap from an awkward dilemma. +</p> +<p> +“But, my Lord, you mistake Mr. Cashel,” said Lady Kilgoff, eagerly bending +forward as she spoke. “His noble gift is to compensate these brave fellows +for a loss, as well as reward them for an act of devotion.—How silly +in me to reason with him! see, Mr. Cashel, his mind is quite shaken by +this calamity.” + </p> +<p> +“Your defence compensates a hundred such reproofs,” said Cashel, with +warmth. “Well, Mr. Sickleton,” said he, anxious to quit a painful topic, +“what of this schooner yacht you spoke of awhile ago?” + </p> +<p> +“The handsomest craft that ever swam,” said the lieutenant, delighted to +discuss a favorite theme. “Lord Wellingham has married, and they say won't +keep her any longer. You 'll get her for ten thousand, and the story is +she cost about fourteen.” + </p> +<p> +“But perhaps Mr. Cashel may soon follow her noble owner's example,” said +Lady Kilgoff, smiling, and with a subdued look towards Roland. +</p> +<p> +“Don't give him bad counsel, my Lady.” + </p> +<p> +“It really does seem to me a kind of inveteracy thus to talk of buying a +new yacht within a few hours after losing one.” + </p> +<p> +“Like a widower looking out for a new wife, I suppose,” said the +lieutenant, laughing. +</p> +<p> +“No, sir, I beg to correct you,” broke in my Lord, with a snappishness +that made the bearers start; “her Ladyship is not yet a widow, although +her levity might seem to imply it.” + </p> +<p> +“My Lord, I must protest against this sarcastic humor,” said she, with a +mild dignity. “Our terrible catastrophe may have disturbed your right +judgment, but I pray select another theme for misconstruction. Mr. Cashel, +I will wish you a good-night. In the difficulty in which I am placed, I +can only say that my perfect confidence in your counsel satisfies me it +will be such as you ought to give and I to follow.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, sir, of course; when the lady says, 'Follow,' I hope you know a +gentleman's devoir better than to disobey.” These words were uttered by +the old man with a sneering impertinence that augured no absence of mind; +but ere the door closed upon Lady Kilgoff his face had again put on its +former dull and vacant stare, and it was clear that the momentary +intelligence was past and over. +</p> +<p> +“Now, Sickleton,” said Cashel, as if at length able to give his mind to +the details before him, “you will haste to Dublin; send us the carriages +with all the speed you can muster; pack off her Ladyship's maid and the +wardrobe, and don't forget that dressing-case at Seward's. I should like +to have her crest upon it, but there's no time for that—besides, we +should only have more scandal in Dublin when it got abroad. Then for +Kennyfeck: tell him I have no money, and stand much in need of it, for, as +my Lord says, mine are buccaneer's habits; and lastly, run over to Cowes +and secure the yacht—we must have her. I'm much mistaken, or our +friends here will take a cruise with us among the Greek Islands one of +these days.” + </p> +<p> +“Treacherous navigation, too!” said Sickleton, with a dryness that seemed +to imply more than the mere words. +</p> +<p> +“What if it be, man! they say there's nothing much worse anywhere than the +line of coast here beside us.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, and have n't we suffered enough to make us credit the report?” He +paused, and then dropping his voice to a low and cautious whisper, added, +“Not but that I shall call you lucky if all the danger has ended with the +loss of the vessel.” + </p> +<p> +“How? What do you mean?” asked Cashel, in atone of great eagerness. +</p> +<p> +“Cannot you guess?” said the other, with an imperturbable coolness. +</p> +<p> +“No, on my honor, I have n't a thought whither your words point.” + </p> +<p> +“Then, faith, the peril is fifty times greater and nearer than I +suspected,” cried he, warmly. “When a man cracks on all that he can carry, +and more than is safe, you at least give him credit for knowing the +channel, and understanding its bearings; but when he tells you that he +neither knows the course nor the soundings, why you set him down as mad.” + </p> +<p> +“I shall not be very far removed from that condition if you'll not +condescend to explain yourself more freely,” said Cashel, with some +irritation of manner. “Where is this danger? and what is it?” + </p> +<p> +Sickleton looked at him for a second or two, then at the old peer; and, at +last, with a scarcely perceptible movement of his head, motioned towards +the door by which Lady Kilgoff had just passed out. +</p> +<p> +“You surely cannot mean—you do not suppose—” + </p> +<p> +“No matter what I suppose; all I say is, there are worse breakers ahead of +you just now than the 'Lucciola' had last night; haul your wind, and draw +off while you have time. Besides, look yonder,”—and he pointed with +a jerk of his thumb to Lord Kilgoff, who still sat with stolid gaze fixed +upon the red embers of the fire,—“that would be a victory with but +little honor!” + </p> +<p> +Cashel started to his feet, and, passing his hand over his forehead, +seemed, as it were, trying to disabuse his mind of some painful illusion. +His features, flushed and animated an instant before, had grown almost +livid in pallor; and he stood, with one hand leaning on the chair from +which he had risen, like one recovering from a fainting fit At last, and +with a voice husky and hoarse from emotion, he said, “Sickleton, if I had +thought this—if, I say, I even believed what you hint at possible—” + </p> +<p> +“Pooh! pooh!” broke in the other; “why anchor in three fathoms when you +'ve deep water beside you? You 'll not hug a lee-shore with a fresh breeze +on your quarter; and all I ask is, that you 'd not risk the loss of that +noble craft merely that you may spoil the wreck.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel grasped the rough seaman's hand in both his own, and shook it with +warmth. +</p> +<p> +“I can only say this,” said the bluff lieutenant, rising, “if such be the +object of your cruises, you must seek another shipmate than Bob Sickleton; +and so good-night.” + </p> +<p> +“Are you going?” said Cashel, with a sorrowful voice. “I wish you were not +about to leave thus.” + </p> +<p> +“I have given you your bearings; that ought to be enough for you. +Good-night, once more.” And with this the honest-hearted lieutenant threw +his boat-cloak around him, and sallied forth to the door, before which a +chaise was in waiting to convey him to Dublin. +</p> +<p> +As for Roland, his agitated and excited mind banished all desire for +sleep, and he wandered out upon the beach, where, resolving many a good +intention for the future, he walked to and fro till day was breaking. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXX. MISS LEICESTER'S DREAM AND ITS FULFILMENT +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Old walls have mouths as well as ears. + +The Convent: a Play. +</pre> +<p> +To us of the present day, who see what Genii are guineas, fairy tales are +mere allegories. Your true sorcerer is a credit “on Coutts,” and anything +may be esteemed within his power who reckons by tens of thousands. +</p> +<p> +Tom Linton was experimenting on this problem somewhat largely at +Tubbermore, where the old, misshapen, ugly house had undergone such a +series of transformations inside and out that the oldest inhabitant might +have failed to recognize it. Roman cement and stucco—those cosmetics +of architecture—had given to the front a most plausible air; and +what with a great flagged terrace beneath and a balustrade parapet above, +the whole had put on a wonderful look of solidity and importance. French +windows and plate-glass, stuccoed architraves and richly traceried +balconies, from which access was had to various terraces and flower-plats, +contributed an appearance of lightness to the building; and what was lost +in architectural elegance, was fully recompensed by convenience and +facility of enjoyment. +</p> +<p> +Within, the arrangements were excellent, and, as regarded the object in +view, perfect; various suites of apartments, so separated as to be +actually like residences, abounded throughout, so that the guests might +either indulge their solitude undisturbed, or mix in the wide circle of +the general company. For the latter, a magnificent suite of rooms led +along the entire basement story. Here, considering the shortness of the +time and the difficulties encountered, Linton's skill was pre-eminently +distinguished. Painting was too slow a process for such an emergency, and +accordingly the walls were hung with rich silks and stuffs from the looms +of Lyons, draped in a hundred graceful fashions, while the floors, laid +down in the rough, were concealed by the massive texture of Persian +carpets, the most costly ever brought to this country. The air of comfort +and “livableness”—if we may coin a word—depicted on every +side, took away the reproach of ostentatious splendor, which perhaps might +have been applied to rich decorations and gorgeous details in a mere +country house. And this was managed with no mean skill; and he must have +been a stern critic who could have canvassed too rigidly the merit of +appliances so manifestly provided for his own enjoyment. Books and +pictures—the Penates of domesticity—were there, and everything +possible was done to give a semblance of long habitation to that which but +a few weeks back had been a dreary ruin. +</p> +<p> +A critical eye might have detected in many instances the evidences of a +more refined taste than Mr. Linton's, and so was it Miss Leicester had +frequently aided him by her advice and suggestions, and every day, when +the weather permitted, saw old Mr. Corrigan and his granddaughter repair +to Tubbermore, whose progress they watched with a degree of interest only +felt by those whose retirement admits few sources of amusement There was a +secret cause of pride, too, in seeing the old residence of the family—marred +as had been its proportions by frequent and tasteless additions—resume +something of its once grandeur. Mary, whose earliest lessons in infancy +had been the tales of her powerful ancestors, who lorded over an almost +princely tract, entered heart and soul into a course which favored so many +of fancy's pleasantest fictions. Her greatest delight, however, was in the +restoration of one part of the building, which all former innovators had +apparently despaired of, and left as a species of storehouse for every +kind of lumber. This was a great square tower, with an adjoining chapel, +the floor of which was formed by the tombstones of her earliest ancestors. +One compartment of a stained-glass window showed “the helmet and torch,” + the arms of the O'Regans, from which the family, by a corruption, took the +name of Corrigan; and various other mementos abounded to prove the high +station they had once supported. +</p> +<p> +Strongly imbued with a knowledge of the tales and customs of the period, +Mary restored the chapel to all the emblazoned splendor of the sixteenth +century. The rich carvings that modern research has discovered and carried +away from the châteaux of the Low Countries were adapted to the place, and +speedily the interior put on an air of highly preserved and cherished +antiquity. +</p> +<p> +The tower adjoining was also converted into a great chamber of audience,—a +“Ritter-Saal,”—hung round with weapons of the chase and war, while +great buffets displayed a wealth of antique plate and china, of +gem-wrought cups and massive flagons, that lent a lustre to its otherwise +too stern appearance. Lighted by a range of stained windows far from the +ground, the tempered sunlight cast a mellow glance on every object; and +here, in the silence of the noon, when the workmen had gone to dinner, +Mary used to sit alone, some strange spell fascinating her to a spot where +echoes had once awoke to the tramp of her own kinsmen's footsteps. +</p> +<p> +“Tell me, Mr. Linton,” said she, as he entered suddenly, and found her +seated in her favorite place, “what part of the chapel adjoins the wall we +see yonder?” + </p> +<p> +“That,” said Linton, musing for a second,—“that, if I mistake not, +must be what you styled the crypt; the—” + </p> +<p> +“Exactly!” cried she, with animation. “The crypt is somewhat lower than +this chamber, two steps or so?” + </p> +<p> +“About as much.” + </p> +<p> +“How strange, how very strange!” she said, half to herself. +</p> +<p> +“What is strange!” said Linton, smiling at the intense preoccupation of +her features. +</p> +<p> +“You will laugh outright,” said she, “if I tell you. It was a dream I had +last night about this chamber.” + </p> +<p> +“Pray let me hear it,” said Linton, seating himself, and affecting a deep +interest “I own to a most implicit confidence in dreams.” + </p> +<p> +“Which is more than I do,” said she, laughing. “This has, however, so much +of truth about it, as the locality is concerned, and thus far it is +curious. Are you certain that you never told me before that the crypt lay +outside of that wall?” + </p> +<p> +“Perfectly; since I only learned as much myself about an hour ago.” + </p> +<p> +“How singular!” + </p> +<p> +“Come, do not torture my curiosity further. Let us have your dream.” + </p> +<p> +“It was very short. I dreamed that I was sitting here musing and thinking +over the lives and fortunes of some of those who once dwelt within these +walls, and comparing their destiny with that of their descendants, only +admitted, as it were, on sufferance, when suddenly a door opened slowly +there,—there, in the very midst of that wall,—and I could see +down into the crypt, and the chapel beyond it. On the altar there were +candles lighted, and I thought the figure of a man crossed and recrossed +below the steps, as if settling and arranging the books and cushions; and, +at last, he turned round, and I perceived that he carried in his hands a +small and strongly clasped box, and, as he came towards me, he seemed to +hold this out for me to take; but, as I did not move or stir, he laid it +down within the doorway, and, as he did so, the wall gradually closed up +again, and no vestige of the door could be seen. Nay, so perfectly +unshaken did all appear that I remember remarking a cobweb that stretched +from the frame of a picture, and hung over the spot where the door seemed +to be; and there,” cried she, starting up,—“there, Mr. Linton, as I +live, there is the cobweb!” + </p> +<p> +“Which, without doubt, you observed yesterday,” said Linton, “and in your +sleep the vision of our neglect was renewed.” + </p> +<p> +“No, no; I never saw it before. I am confident that I never noticed it +yesterday. I am sorry I revealed my dream to you,” said she, perceiving +that, in spite of all his tact, incredulity had lent a look of pitying +compassion to his features. +</p> +<p> +“On the contrary, I beg of you to believe in all my interest for your +recital; nay, I'll prove it too.” + </p> +<p> +“How so?” said she, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Simply enough. I 'll give orders at once to have a door made here, and +then we shall see if the view you describe of the crypt and the chapel can +be seen from this point.” + </p> +<p> +“Why don't you add, and of the figure with the casket, too?” said she, +smiling; “for I see you regard them all as alike veracious.” + </p> +<p> +“In any case,” cried Linton, “if he lay down the treasure—and +treasure it must be—here in the doorway, I 'll take care that the +walls do not swallow it up again; we shall be able to find it in the +morning.” + </p> +<p> +“And will you really have this done?” + </p> +<p> +“I 'll give the orders this very day.” + </p> +<p> +“I must not be so silly,” said she, after a pause; “the whole is too +absurd. No, Mr. Linton, do not, I beg of you, do not take any notice of my +folly.” + </p> +<p> +“At all events,” said Linton, “your dream is a most happy inspiration; a +door here will be a great improvement, and if the vista takes in the +chapel, so much the better. Remember, too,” added he, in a lower and more +feeling voice,—“remember what I have told you so often, that +whatever we do here has, so to say, no other reward than the pleasure it +gives me the doing. Our great patron has about as much gratefulness in his +composition as taste. He will neither feel thankful for our exertions, nor +sensible of their success, and is just as likely to desecrate yon +Ritter-Saal, by making it his smoking-room.” + </p> +<p> +“If I thought so,” said she, proudly, and then stopped suddenly. “But how +can it concern me? I have only to wonder how you can accept of an intimacy +so distasteful.” + </p> +<p> +This, in its very abruptness, was a home-thrust; and so much did Linton +feel it that he reddened, at first with shame, and then with anger at his +want of composure. +</p> +<p> +“There are many circumstances in life, Miss Leicester,” said he, gravely, +“which demand heavy sacrifices of personal feeling; and happy if sometimes +the recompense come in seeing that our self-devotion has worked well for +others! I may one day explain myself more fully on this head.” + </p> +<p> +Before Mary could answer, a messenger came to say that her grandfather was +waiting to return with her to the cottage, and she bid Linton good-bye +with a degree of interest for him she had never felt before. Linton stood +in a window and watched her as she went, nor did his eye quit the graceful +form till it disappeared in the covering of the trees. “Yes,” said he to +himself, “I have struck the right chord at last! She neither is to be +dazzled by the splendor nor excited by the ambitions of the great world. +The key to the mystery of her nature lies in the very fact of her position +in life,—the indignant struggle against a condition she feels +beneath her; she can sympathize with this. She is just the very girl, too, +to awaken Laura's jealousy, so brilliantly handsome, so much of elegance +in mien and deportment Ay! the game will win; I may stake all upon it. Who +is that?” said he, starting suddenly, as a door banged behind him, and he +saw Tom Keane, who had been a silent listener to his soliloquy. Linton +well knew that, shrewd as the man was, the words could have conveyed +little or nothing to his intelligence, and carelessly asked what had the +post brought. +</p> +<p> +“A heap of letters, yer honer,” said he, laying the heavily loaded bag on +the table. “I never see so many come to the town afore.” + </p> +<p> +As Linton unlocked the bag and emptied its contents before him, his face +suddenly grew dark and angry, for none of the letters, as he turned them +over, were for himself; they were all addressed Roland Cashel, Esq., and +marked “private.” At last he saw one with his own name, and, motioning to +Keane to leave him undisturbed, he sat down to read it. It came from his +correspondent, Mr. Phillis, and was of the briefest: +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Sir,—All has gone wrong. R. C. sailed last night on a +yachting excursion with Lord and Lady K., some say for +Wales, others for the Isle of Wight. The truth I cannot +ascertain. The persons invited to Tubbennore are all +preparing to set out, but eagerly asking where C. is to be +found. There has been something like a breach at K.'s, and I +fancy it is about Lady Kilgoffs going in the yacht, which, +although seeming accident, must have been planned +previously. If you had been here the matter might have taken +another turn, as C. appears very tired of K.'s agency, and +the difficulty of obtaining money from him. + +I have received a few lines from C., dated from “the +harbor,” to order a “fourgon” to be got ready; but I shall +pretend not to have received the note, and leave this, if +you desire it, for Tubbermore on hearing from you. + +Yours, in duty, + +R. Phillis. +</pre> +<p> +Linton crashed the note passionately in his fingers, and with a cheek +almost purple, and swollen knotted veins about the forehead and temples, +he hastily walked to and fro in the apartment. “So, madam,” said he, “is +this, then, the reason of your compliance? Was this the source of that +yielding to my wishes that induced you to come here? And to dare this +towards <i>me!</i>” A fiendish laugh burst from him as he said, “Silly +fool; so long as you played fair, the advantage was all on your own side. +Try to cheat, and you 'll see who's the victor! And that cub, too,” added +he, with a hoarse passion, “who ventures a rivalry with me! Hate has an +inspiration that never deceives; from the first moment I saw him I felt +that for him.” + </p> +<p> +“You say you wanted the masons, sir,” said Keane, opening the door, where +he had been endeavoring, but ineffectually, to catch the clew of Linton's +words. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, let them come here,” said he, with his ordinary composure. “You are +to break a door there,” said he, as the men entered, “and I wish to have +it done with all speed. You 'll work all night, and be doubly paid.” As he +spoke, he sauntered out to muse over the late tidings he had received, and +plan within himself the coming campaign. +</p> +<p> +Thus loitering and reflecting, time slipped by and evening drew near. +</p> +<p> +“We must have a light here,” said one of the masons. “This room is never +very bright, and now it is almost dark as night. But what have we here?” + And at the moment his hammer sent forth a ringing sound as if it had +struck upon metal. +</p> +<p> +“What can it be?” said the other; “it seems like a plate of iron.” + </p> +<p> +Linton now drew nigh, as he overheard these words, and stationing himself +at a small window, beheld the two men as they labored to detach what +seemed a heavy stone in the wall. +</p> +<p> +“It's not a plate of iron, but a box,” cried one. +</p> +<p> +“Hush,” said the other, cautioning silence; “if it's money there 's in it, +let us consider a bit where we 'll hide it.” + </p> +<p> +“It sounds empty, anyhow,” said the first, as the metal rang clearly out +under the hammer. Meanwhile Linton stood overwhelmed at the strange +connection between the dream and the discovery. “It is a box, and here's +the key fastened to it by a chain,” cried the former speaker. He had +scarcely succeeded in removing the box from the wall, when Linton was +standing, unseen and noiseless, behind him. +</p> +<p> +“We 'll share it fair, whatever it is,” said the second. +</p> +<p> +“Of course,” said the other. “Let us see what there is to-share.” And so +he threw back the lid, and beheld, to his great dismay, nothing but a roll +of parchment fastened by a strap of what had once been red leather, but +which crumbled away as he touched it. +</p> +<p> +“'T is Latin,” said the first, who seemed the more intelligent of the two, +after a vain effort to decipher the heavily engrossed line at the top. +</p> +<p> +“You are right,” said Linton; and the two men started with terror on +seeing him so near. “It is Latin, boys; it was the custom of the monks to +bury their prayers in that way once, and to beg whoever might discover the +document to say so many masses for the writer's soul; and Protestant +though I be, I do not think badly of the practice. Let us find out the +name.” And thus saying, he took up the roll and perused it steadily. For a +long time the evening darkness, the difficulty of the letters, and the +style of the record, impeded him; but as he read on, the color came and +went in his cheek, his hand trembled with agitation, and had there been +light enough to have noted him well, even the workmen must have perceived +the excitement under which he labored. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said he, at last, “it is exactly as I said; it was written by a +monk. This was an old convent once, and Father Angelo asks our prayers for +his eternal repose, which assuredly he shall have, heretic that I am! +Here, boys, here's a pound-note for you; Father Rush will tell you how to +use it for the best. Get a light and go on with your work, and if you +don't like to spend the money in masses, say nothing about the box, and I +'ll not betray your secret.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/cash10388.jpg" alt="388 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +A dry laugh and a significant leer of the eye showed that he had +accurately read his hearers' inmost thoughts, and Linton sat down as if to +await their return; but no sooner had they left the spot than he hastened +with all speed to the inn, to con over his newly discovered treasure, and +satisfy himself as to its importance and authenticity. +</p> +<p> +Drawing close the curtains of his windows, and locking the door of his +room, like one who would be alone, he again opened the casket, and took +out the scroll. With bent-down head and steady gaze, he perused it from +end to end, and then sat with riveted eyes fixed upon the signature and +massive seal which were appended to the foot of the document. “That this +should have been revealed in a dream,” said he, at length, “is almost +enough to shake one's faith in the whole! Am I myself awake, and is it +real what I see before me?” He walked the room with uncertain steps, then +opened wide the window, then closed it again, once more took up the paper +and studied it. In fact, it was clear to see that a sceptical nature, the +very habit of doubt, had indisposed him to believe in even that which his +very senses corroborated. +</p> +<p> +“What would I give for some lawyer's craft at this moment!” said he, as +the drops of perspiration stood upon his forehead, and his clenched hands +were clasped together in strong emotion; “what would I give for the +keenness that could pierce through every line of this, and see it free of +flaw—ay, that is the point! And then, Master Roland,”—here his +voice grew full and round,—“and then we should see who is the master +and who the dependent, if with a word—with one word—I could +unmake you, and from the insolence of your sudden wealth bring you down +once more to your fitting station! Never did Fortune stand by me like +this! Let me, however, not lose the game from over-strength; caution is +needed here. Before Corri-gan shall know himself the rightful owner of +Tubbermore, he must be satisfied to see Tom Linton his son-in-law. A +glorious hit that deals vengeance on every hand. Ay, my lady, we shall +acquit our debt to <i>you</i> also!” From the heat of overwhelming passion +he again turned to the document which lay open on the table. “What if it +were only a copy? But this is scarce possible; the signatures look real, +and the seal cannot be counterfeit. Whom could I trust to inspect it? With +whom dare I place it for a day, or even an hour? No! I 'll never suffer it +out of my own keeping! I know not if the power to strike is not the very +acme of revenge!” + </p> +<p> +As he walked the room in deepest agitation he chanced for an instant to +catch a glimpse of Tubbermore, which, in the bright light of a newly-risen +moon, could be seen above the trees. +</p> +<p> +“So then it may chance that I have not expended my labor in vain, and that +this same house may be yet my own. Mine!” cried he, in ecstasy,—“mine +those swelling woods, that princely park; the high position which wealth +bestows, and the power that I could speedily accomplish in political life. +There may be many who have more ambition to strive for: I 'll swear there +are few men living have more grudges to pay off.” + </p> +<p> +And with this speech, uttered in an accent of withering hate and scorn, he +again returned to gaze at the open parchment. The document, surmounted by +the royal arms, and engrossed in a stiff old-fashioned hand, was a free +pardon accorded by his Majesty George the Second to Miles Hardress +Corrigan, and a full and unqualified restoration to his once forfeited +estates. Certain legal formalities were also enjoined to be taken, and +certain oaths to be made, as the recognition of this act of his +sovereign's grace. +</p> +<p> +Such was the important document on which now he gazed, reading and +re-reading it, till every word became riveted on his memory. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXI. THE GUESTS BEGIN TO ARRIVE. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Hark they come! they come!” + </pre> +<p> +An unusual bustle and commotion in the little inn awoke Linton early on +the following morning. These were caused by the arrival of a host of +cooks, coachmen, grooms, footmen, and scullions, with a due proportion of +the other sex, all engaged in London, and despatched—“as per order”—to +form the household of Tubbermore. +</p> +<p> +As Linton proceeded with his dressing, he overheard the multifarious +complaints and lamentations of this town-reared population over the dirt +and destitution of their newly adopted land,—criticisms which, as +they scrupled not to detail aloud, evoked rejoinders not a whit more +complimentary to the Saxon; the hostess of the Goat—being an +energetic disciple of that great authority who has pronounced both the +land and its people as the paragons of creation—leading the van of +the attack, and certainly making up for any deficiencies in her cause by +the force of her eloquence. +</p> +<p> +“Arrah! who wanted ye here at all?” said she, addressing the circle, +stunned into silence by her volubility. “Who axed ye? Was it to plaze us, +or to fill yer pockets with the goold of ould Ireland, ye kem? Oh, +murther! murther!—is n't it the sin and the shame to think how the +craytures is eatin' us up! Faix! maybe ye 'll be sorry enough for it yet. +There's more than one amongst you would like to be safe home again, afore +long! A set of lazy thieves, no less. The heavens be my bed, but I never +thought I 'd see the day they 'd be bringing a 'naygur' to Ireland to +teach us music!” + </p> +<p> +This singular apostrophe, which seemed to fill the measure of her woe, so +far attracted Linton's curiosity to comprehend it, that he opened the +window and looked out, and at once discovered, by the direction of the +eyes of the circle, the object of the sarcasm. He was a well-built man, of +a dark swarthy complexion and immense beard and mustache, who sat on a +stone bench before the door, occupied in arranging the strings of his +guitar. The air of unmoved tranquillity showed that he did not suspect +himself to be the butt of any sarcasm, and he pursued his task with a +composure that vouched for his ignorance of the language. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/cash10392.jpg" alt="392 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +“Who is our friend?” said Linton, addressing the coachman, and pointing to +the musician. +</p> +<p> +“We calls him Robinson Crusoe, sir,” replied the other; “we took him up on +the road from Limerick. We never seed him afore.” + </p> +<p> +“So, then, he doesn't belong to our force. I really had begun to fear that +Mr. Gunter had pushed enlistment too far.” + </p> +<p> +Meanwhile the stranger, attracted by the voice, looked up, and seeing +Linton, immediately removed his cap, with an air of quiet courtesy that +was not lost upon the shrewd observer to whom it was tendered. +</p> +<p> +“You are a sailor, I perceive?” said Tom, as he walked out in front of the +inn. The other shook his head dubiously. +</p> +<p> +“I was asking,” said Linton, changing his language to French, “if you had +been a sailor?” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, sir,” replied he, again removing his cap, “a sailor from Trieste.” + </p> +<p> +“And how came you here?” + </p> +<p> +“Our vessel was lost off the Blasquets, sir, on Wednesday night. We were +bound for Bristol with fruit from Sicily, and caught in a gale; we struck, +and all were lost, except myself and another, now in hospital in the large +city yonder.” + </p> +<p> +“Were you a petty officer, or a common seaman?” said linton, who had been +scanning with keen eye the well-knit frame and graceful ease of the +speaker. +</p> +<p> +“A common sailor, sir,” rejoined he, modestly. +</p> +<p> +“And how comes it that you are a musician, friend?” asked Linton, +shrewdly. +</p> +<p> +“Every one is in my country, sir—at least, with such humble skill as +I possess.” + </p> +<p> +“What good fortune it was to have saved your guitar from shipwreck!” + rejoined Linton, with an incredulous twinkle of his gray eyes. +</p> +<p> +“I did not do so, sir,” said the sailor, who either did not, or would not, +notice the sarcasm. “My good friends here”—pointing to the servants—“bought +this for me in the last town we came through.” + </p> +<p> +Linton again fixed his eyes upon him; it was evident that he was +hesitating between belief and an habitual sense of distrust, that extended +to everything and everybody. At last he said,— +</p> +<p> +“And what led you hither, my friend?” + </p> +<p> +“Chance,” said the man, shrugging his shoulders. “I could have no +preferences for one road over another—all were strange—all +unknown to me. I hoped with the aid of my guitar, to get some clothes once +more together, and then to find some vessel bound for the Adriatic.” + </p> +<p> +“What can you do besides that?” said Linton, “for it strikes me a fellow +with thews and sinews like yours was scarcely intended to thrum catgut.” + </p> +<p> +“I can do most things where a steady eye, and a strong; hand, and a quick +foot are needed. I 've been a hunter in the forests of Dalmatia—herded +the half-wild cattle on the Campagna at Rome—sailed a felucca in the +worst Levanters of the gulf—and to swim in a high sea, or to ride an +unbroken horse, I'll yield to but one man living.” + </p> +<p> +“And who may he be?” said Linton, aroused at the southern enthusiasm so +suddenly excited. +</p> +<p> +“A countryman of mine,” said the sailor, sententiously; “his name is not +known to you.” + </p> +<p> +“How sad such gifts as these should have so little recompense in our +days,” said Linton, with an affected sincerity. “There was a time, in your +own country, too, when a fellow like yourself would not have had long to +seek for a patron.” + </p> +<p> +The Italian's cheek grew deeper in its flush, and his dark eyes seemed +almost to kindle beneath the shaggy brows; then correcting, as it seemed, +the passionate impulse, he said: “Ay, true enough, sir; there were many +who had the gold to squander, who had not the hand to strike, and, as you +say, fellows like me were high in the market.” + </p> +<p> +“And no great hardship in it, either,” said Linton. “There is a justice +surer and quicker than the law, which I, for one, think right well of.” + </p> +<p> +Either not following the import of the speech, or not caring to concur in +it, the Italian did not reply. +</p> +<p> +“I have a notion that we may find out some employment for you here,” said +Linton. “What name are we to call you?” + </p> +<p> +“Giovanni,” said the sailor, after a moment's hesitation, which did not +escape the shrewdness of his questioner. +</p> +<p> +“Giovanni be it,” said Linton, easily; “as good as another.” + </p> +<p> +“Just so,” rejoined the Italian, with a hardihood that seemed to sit +easily upon him. +</p> +<p> +“I think, friend,” said Linton, drawing nearer to him—and, although +the foreign language in which he spoke effectually prevented the others +from understanding what passed, instantly his voice dropped into a lower +and more confidential tone—“I think, friend, we shall soon +understand each other well. You are in want of a protector; I may yet +stand in need of an attached and zealous fellow. I read people quickly, +and it seems to me that we are well met. Stay here, then; we shall soon +have a large company arriving, and I 'll try and find out some exercise +for your abilities.” + </p> +<p> +The Italian's dark eyes flashed and twinkled as though his subtle nature +had already enlarged upon the shadowy suggestions of the other, and he +made a significant gesture of assent. +</p> +<p> +“Remember, now, in whose service you are,” said Linton, taking out his +purse, and seeking among its contents for the precise piece of coin he +wanted—“remember, that I am not the master here, but one who has to +the full as much power, and that I can prove a strong friend, and, some +say, a very dangerous enemy. Here is the earnest of our bargain,” said he, +handing him a guinea in gold; “from this hour I count upon you.” + </p> +<p> +The Italian nodded twice, and pocketing the money with a cool audacity +that told that such contracts were easily comprehended by him, touched his +cap, and sauntered away, as though to follow out some path of his own +choosing. Linton looked after him for a moment, but the next his attention +was taken off by seeing that Mr. Corrigan and his granddaughter were +advancing hastily towards him. +</p> +<p> +“So you have really accepted my suggestion,” said Mary, with a flush of +pleasure on her cheek; “the door has been opened, and the vista is exactly +as my dream revealed it.” + </p> +<p> +“In all save the chief ingredient,” replied Linton, laugh-. ing; “we want +the monk and the casket.” + </p> +<p> +“Hush!” said she, cautiously; “grandpapa is a firm believer in all dreams +and visions, and would not hear them spoken of irreverently.” + </p> +<p> +“Assuredly, I never was less in the mind to do so,” replied Linton, with a +degree of earnestness that made Mary smile, little suspecting at the time +to what his speech owed its fervor. +</p> +<p> +“We've come to take a last look at the 'Hall,' Mr. Linton,” said the old +man. “Tom Keane tells me that your gay company will soon arrive; indeed, +rumor says that some have already reached Limerick, and will be here +to-morrow.” + </p> +<p> +“This is more than I knew of,” said Linton; “but here comes the redoubted +Tom himself, and with a full letter-bag, too.” Hastily unlocking the +leather sack, Tom Linton emptied its contents upon a grassy bench, where +the party seated themselves to learn the news. “There are no secrets +here,” said Linton, tossing over the letters, with nearly all of whose +handwriting he was familiar; “help me, Miss Leicester, I beg, to get +through my task. Pray break some of the seals, and tell us who our dear +friends are whose presence is so soon to charm and enliven us. And will +you, too, sir, bear your part?” Thus invited, old Mr. Corrjgan put on his +spectacles, and slowly prepared to assist in the labor. +</p> +<p> +“That's the Dean's hand, Miss Leicester—the Dean of Drumcondera. I +hope he 's not coming; I 'm sure he was never invited.” + </p> +<p> +“He regrets he cannot be with you this week, but will certainly come next, +and take the liberty of presenting his distinguished friend, the Hofrath +von Dunnersleben, professor of Oriental Literature at Hochenkanperhausen.” + </p> +<p> +“This is painting the lily with a vengeance; 'color on color' is bad +heraldry, but what shall we say of the taste that brings 'bore upon +bore'?” + </p> +<p> +“'Mrs. Leicester White has prevailed upon Mr. Howie to defer his departure +from Ireland—'” + </p> +<p> +“This is too bad,” interrupted Linton. “What fortune have you, sir? I hope +better tidings than Miss Leicester.” + </p> +<p> +“This is a strange kind of scrawl enough,” said the old man; “it runs +thus:—'Dear Tom, we are starting for your wild regions this evening—two +drags and a mail phaeton. I have sent Gipsy and the white fetlocked colt +by Hericks, and will bring Tom Edwards with me. The mare looks well, but +fleshy; you must look to it that we haven't heavy ground—'” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, I know who that's from,” said Linton, hastily taking the letter from +Corrigan's hand; “it's Lord Charles Frobisher,—a silly fellow, that +never thinks of anything but horse-racing and training.” + </p> +<p> +“He would seem to speculate on something of the kind here,” said Corrigan; +“at least, it looks very like premeditation, this sending off grooms and +racers.” + </p> +<p> +“He does so everywhere he goes,” said Linton, affecting to laugh; “a +surgeon would no more travel without his lancets, than Charley without +some chance of a 'match;' but what's this? +</p> +<p> +“Dear Mr. Cashel,—I and my little girl are already <i>en route</i> +for your hospitable castle, too happy to assist in the celebration of your +house-warming—” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, that's Meek,” said Linton. “And now for this rugged little hand here. +</p> +<p> +“Lady Janet and Sir Andrew MacFarline—” + </p> +<p> +“Strange style,—the lady first,” interposed Miss Leicester. +</p> +<p> +“She is always so,” said Linton, continuing the perusal— +</p> +<p> +—“will reach Tubbermore by Tuesday, and have only to request that +their apartments may not have a north aspect, as Lady J. has still a heavy +cold hanging over her. Sir A.'s man, Flint, will arrange the rooms himself +and, with Mr. Cashel's permission, give directions about double doors—if +there be none. +</p> +<p> +“Sir A. has taken the liberty of mentioning to Gordon that the sherry is +far too hot and acrid, and hopes Mr. Cashel will pardon his having ordered +some dozens of 'Amontillado' for trial. Lady J. asks, as a favor, that +plants and flowers may be banished from the house during her brief stay, +Dr. Grimes positively forbidding all herbaceous odors; and if the cook +could make the 'cuisine' particularly simple, it would also oblige her, as +Dr. G. says she ought not to be exposed to the irritation of tempting +viands, even to see them at table. +</p> +<p> +“Lady J. hopes that the society will be cheerful without dissipation, and +gay without debauch; above all, she stipulates for early hours, and trusts +that by eleven, at latest, the house will have retired to rest. Lady Janet +has no objection to meeting any one Mr. Cashel may honor with his +invitation, but leaves it to Mr. C.'s discretion not to abuse this +liberality. Were she to particularize, she should merely suggest that the +Kennyfecks, except perhaps the elder girl, are odious—Mrs. White a +perfect horror—the Meeks something too atrocious—and that +rather than meet the Kilgoffs and their set, Lady J. would almost prefer +to relinquish all her much-anticipated pleasure. Mr. Linton can be, and +very often is, gentlemanlike and amusing, but 'Lintonism,' as occasionally +practised, is intolerable. +</p> +<p> +“Lady Janet has ventured on these remarks, far less for her own +convenience than in the discharge of what she feels to be a duty to a very +young and inexperienced man, whose unsuspecting nature will inevitably +expose him to the very insidious attacks of selfishness, cunning, and to +that species of dictation that sooner or later ends in debasing and +degrading him who permits himself to be its subject. +</p> +<p> +“Janet MacFarline.” + </p> +<p> +“What a chaste specimen of disinterestedness her Ladyship's own letter,” + said Mary. “Is she a near relative, or a very old friend of Mr. Cashel's +family?” + </p> +<p> +“Neither; a mere acquaintance, undistinguished by anything like even a +passing preference.” + </p> +<p> +“She is a Lady Janet,” interposed old Corrigan, “and it is surprising what +charms of influence pertain to those segments of great families, as they +descend a scale in society, and live among the untitled of the world; +besides that, whatever they want in power, they 'take out' in pretension, +and it does quite as well.” + </p> +<p> +“She is 'mauvaise langue,'” said Linton; “and there are few qualities +obtain such sway in society. But who comes here in such haste? It is Tom +Keane. Well, Tom, what has happened—is the Hall on fire?” + </p> +<p> +“No, sir; but the company 's comin' rowlin' in as fast as 'pays' down the +big avenue, and into the coort; there was three coaches all together, and +I see two more near the gate.” + </p> +<p> +“Then we shall leave you to your cares of host,” said Corrigan, rising; +“but don't forget that when affairs of state permit, we shall be delighted +to see you at the cottage.” + </p> +<p> +“Oh, by all means, Mr. Linton. I have acquired the most intense curiosity +to hear about your fine company and their doings—pray compassionate +my inquisitiveness.” + </p> +<p> +“But will you not join us sometimes?” said Linton; “can I not persuade you +to make part of our little company? for I trust we shall be able to have +some society worth showing you.” + </p> +<p> +The old man shook his head and made a gesture of refusal. +</p> +<p> +“Nay,” said he, “I am so unfitted for such scenes, and so grown out of the +world's ways, that I am going to play hermit, and be churlish enough to +lock the wicket that leads down to the cottage during the stay of your +visitors—not against <i>you</i>, however. You'll always find the key +at the foot of the holly-tree.” + </p> +<p> +“Thanks—I'll not forget it,” said Linton; and he took a cordial +leave of his friends, and returned to the house, wondering as he went who +were the punctual guests whose coming had anticipated his expectations. +</p> +<p> +He was not long in doubt upon this point, as he perceived Mr. Phillis, +who, standing on the terrace before the chief entrance, was giving +directions to the people about, in a tone of no small authority. +</p> +<p> +“What, Phillis! has your master arrived?” cried Linton, in astonishment. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Linton!” cried the other, obsequiously, as hat in hand he made +his approaches, “there has been such a business since I wrote—” + </p> +<p> +“Is he here? Is he come?” asked Linton, impatiently. +</p> +<p> +“No, sir, not yet; nor can he arrive before to-morrow evening. You +received my letter, I suppose, about the result of the yachting-party and +Lady Kilgoff?” + </p> +<p> +“No! I know not one word about it,” said Linton, with a firmness that +showed how well he could repress any trace of anxiety or excitement. “Come +this way, out of the hearing of these people, and tell me everything from +the beginning.” + </p> +<p> +Phillis obeyed, and walked along beside him, eagerly narrating the whole +story of Cashel's departure, to the moment when the yacht foundered, and +the party were shipwrecked off the coast of Wexford. +</p> +<p> +“Well, go on,” said Linton, as the other came to a full stop. “What then?” + </p> +<p> +“A few lines came from Mr. Cashel, sir, with orders for certain things to +be sent down to a little village on the coast, and directions for me to +proceed at once to Tubbermore and await his arrival.” + </p> +<p> +Linton did not speak for some minutes, and seemed totally occupied with +his own reflections, when by hazard he caught the words “her Ladyship +doing exactly as she pleases—” + </p> +<p> +“With whom?” asked he, sternly. +</p> +<p> +“With Mr. Cashel, sir; for it seems that notwithstanding all the terror +and danger of the late mishap, Mr. Sickleton has been despatched to Cowes +to purchase the 'Queen of the Harem,' Lord Wellingham's new yacht, and +this at Lady Kilgoff's special instigation. Mr. Sickleton slept one night +at our house in town, and I took a look at his papers; there was nothing +of any consequence, however, except a memorandum about 'Charts for the +Mediterranean,' which looks suspicious.” + </p> +<p> +“I thought, Phillis, I had warned you about the Kilgoff intimacy. I +thought I had impressed you with the necessity of keeping them from him.” + </p> +<p> +“So you had, sir; and, to the very utmost of my power, I did so; but here +was a mere accident that foiled all my care and watchfulness.” + </p> +<p> +“As accidents ever do,” muttered Linton, with suppressed passion. “The +game of life, like every other game, is less to skill than chance! Well, +when can they be here?” + </p> +<p> +“To-morrow afternoon, sir, if not delayed by something unforeseen; though +this is not at all unlikely, seeing the difficulty of getting posters. +There are from thirty to forty horses engaged at every stage.” + </p> +<p> +“Whom have we here?” cried Linton, as a large travelling-carriage suddenly +swept round the drive, and entered the court. +</p> +<p> +“Sir Andrew MacFarline's baggage, sir; I passed them at the last change. +One would say, from the preparations, that they speculate on a somewhat +lengthy visit. What rooms are we to assign them, sir?” + </p> +<p> +“The four that look north over the billiard-room and the hall; they are +the coldest and most cheerless in the house. Your master will occupy the +apartments now mine; see, here is the plan of the house; Lord and Lady +Kilgoff have 4, 5, and 6. These that are not marked you may distribute how +you will. My quarters are those two, beyond the library.” + </p> +<p> +Linton was here interrupted by the advance of a tall, stiff-looking old +fellow, who, carrying his hand to his hat in military guise, stood +straight before him, saying, in a very broad accent, “The gen'ral's mon, +sir, an't please ye.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, friend, and what then?” replied Linton, half testily. +</p> +<p> +“I 've my leddy's orders, sir, to tak' up a good position, and a warm ane, +in the hoos yonder, and if it's no askin' too much, I 'd like to speer the +premises first.” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. Phillis, look after this, if you please,” said Linton, turning away; +“and remember my directions.” + </p> +<p> +“Come with me, friend,” said Phillis; “your mistress, I suppose, does not +like cold apartments?” + </p> +<p> +“Be ma saul, if she finds them so, she 'll mak' the rest of the hoos over +warm for the others,” said he, with a sardonic grin, that left small doubt +of his sincere conviction. +</p> +<p> +“And your master?” said Phillis, in that interrogatory tone which invites +a confidence. +</p> +<p> +“The gen'ral 's too auld a soldier no to respec deescepline,” said he, +dryly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that's it, Sanders.” + </p> +<p> +“Ma name's Bob Flint, and no Saunders,—gunner and driver i' the +Royal Artillery,” said the other, drawing himself up proudly; “an' if we +are to be mair acquaint, it's just as well ye 'd mind that same.” + </p> +<p> +As Bob Flint possessed that indescribable something which would seem, by +an instinct, to save its owner from impertinences, Mr. Phillis did not +venture upon any renewed familiarity, but led the way into the house in +silence. +</p> +<p> +“That's a bra' cookin' place ye've got yonder,” said Bob, as he stopped +for a second at the door of the great kitchen, where already the cooks +were busied in the various preparations; “but I'm no so certain my leddy +wad like to see a bra' giggot scooped out in tha' fashion just to mak' +room for a wheen black potatoes inside o' it;”—the operation alluded +to so sarcastically being the stuffing of a shoulder of mutton with +truffles, in Provencal mode. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose her Ladyship will be satisfied with criticising what comes to +table,” said Phillis, “without descending to the kitchen to make +objections.” + </p> +<p> +“If she does, then,” said Flint, “she's mair ceevil to ye here than she +was in the last hoos we spent a fortnight, whar she discharged twa maids +for no making the beds as she'd taw'd them, forbye getting the coachman +turned off because the carriage horses held their tails ower high for her +fancy.” + </p> +<p> +“We'll scarce put up with that here,” said Phillis, with offended dignity. +</p> +<p> +“I dinna ken,” said Bob, thoughtfully; “she made her ain nephew carry a +pound o' dips from the chandler's, just, as she said, to scratch his pride +a bit. I 'd ha' ye mind a wee hoo ye please her fancy. You 're a bonnie +mon, but she'll think leetle aboot sending ye packing.” + </p> +<p> +Mr. Phillis did not deign a reply to this speech, but led the way to the +suite destined for her Ladyship's accommodation. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXII. HOW THE VISITORS FARED +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +They come—they come! + +—Harold. +</pre> +<p> +Linton passed the greater part of the night in letter-writing. +Combinations were thickening around him, and it demanded all the watchful +activity he could command to prevent himself being overtaken by events. To +a confidential lawyer he submitted a case respecting Corrigan's title, but +so hypothetically and with such reserve that it betrayed no knowledge of +his secret—for he trusted no man. Mary Leicester's manuscript was +his next care, and this he intrusted to a former acquaintance connected +with the French press, entreating his influence to obtain it the honor of +publication, and, instead of remuneration, asking for some flattering +acknowledgment of its merits. His last occupation was to write his address +to the constituency of his borough, where high-sounding phrases and +generous professions took the place of any awkward avowals of political +opinion. This finished, and wearied by the long-sustained exertion, he +threw himself on his bed. His head, however, was far too deeply engaged to +permit of sleep. The plot was thickening rapidly—events, whose +course he hoped to shape at his leisure, were hurrying on, and although +few men could summon to their aid more of cold calculation in a moment of +difficulty, his wonted calm was now disturbed by one circumstance—this +being, as he called it to himself—Laura's treachery. No men bear +breaches of faith so ill as they who practise them with the world. To most +persons the yacht voyage would have seemed, too, a chance occurrence, +where an accidental intimacy was formed, to wane and die out with the +circumstance that created it. Not so did <i>he</i> regard it. He read a +prearranged plan in every step she had taken—he saw in her game the +woman's vanity to wield an influence over one for whom so many contended—he +knew, too, how in the great world an “<i>éclat</i>” can always cover an +“indiscretion”—and that, in the society of that metropolis to which +she aspired, the reputation of chaperoning the rich Roland Cashel would be +of incalculable service. +</p> +<p> +If Linton had often foiled deeper snares, here a deep personal wrong +disturbed his powers of judgment, and irritated him beyond all calm +prudential thoughts. Revenge upon her, the only one he had ever cared for, +was now his uppermost thought, and left little place for any other. +</p> +<p> +Wearied and worn out, he fell asleep at last, but only to be suddenly +awakened by the rattling of wheels and the quick tramp of horses on the +gravel beneath his window. The one absorbing idea pervading his mind, he +started up, muttering, “<i>She</i> is here.” As he opened his window and +looked down, he at once perceived his mistake—Mrs. Kennyfeck's +well-known voice was heard, giving directions about her luggage—and +Linton closed the casement, half relieved and half disappointed. +</p> +<p> +For a brief space the house seemed astir. Mrs. Kennyfeck made her way +along the corridor in a mingled commentary on the handsome decorations of +the mansion and Mr. Kennyfeck's stupidity, who had put Archbold's +“Criminal Practice” into her bag instead of Debrett's “Peerage,” while +Linton could overbear a little quizzing conversation between the +daughters, wherein the elder reproached her sister for not having the +politeness to bid them “welcome.” The slight commotion gradually subsided, +all became still, but only for a brief space. Again the same sound of +crashing wheels was heard, and once more Linton flung open his window and +peered out into the darkness. It was now raining tremendously, and the +wind howling in long and dreary cadences. +</p> +<p> +“What a climate!” exclaimed a voice Linton knew to be Downie Meek's. His +plaint ran thus:— +</p> +<p> +“I often said they should pension off the Irish Secretary after three +years, as they do the Chief Justice of Gambia.” + </p> +<p> +“It will make the ground very heavy for running, I fear,” said the deep +full tone of a speaker who assisted a lady to alight. +</p> +<p> +“How you are always thinking of the turf, Lord Charles!” said she, as he +rather carried than aided her to the shelter of the porch. +</p> +<p> +Linton did not wait for the reply, but shut the window, and again lay +down. +</p> +<p> +In that half-waking state, where sleep and fatigue contest the ground with +watchfulness, Linton continued to hear the sound of several arrivals, and +the indistinct impressions became commingled till all were lost in heavy +slumber. So is it. Childhood itself, in all its guileless freedom, enjoys +no sounder, deeper sleep than he whose head is full of wily schemes and +subtle plots, when once exhausted nature gains the victory. +</p> +<p> +So profound was that dreamless state in which he lay, that he was never +once aware that the door by which his chamber communicated with the +adjoining one had been opened, while a select committee were debating +about the disposition of the furniture, in total ignorance that he made +part of it. +</p> +<p> +“Why couldn't Sir Andrew take that small room, and leave this for me? I +like an alcove vastly,” said Lady Janet, as, candle in hand, she took a +survey of the chamber. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, my leddy,” responded Flint, who, loaded with cloaks, mantles, and +shawls, looked like an ambulating wardrobe. +</p> +<p> +“You can make him a kind of camp-bed there; he'll do very well.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, my leddy.” + </p> +<p> +“And don't suffer that impertinent Mr. Phillis to poke his head in here +and interfere with our arrangements. These appear to me to be the best +rooms here, and I 'll take them.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, my leddy.” + </p> +<p> +“Where's Sir Andrew?” + </p> +<p> +“He's takin' a wee drap warm, my leddy, in the butler's room; he was ower +wat in the 'dickey' behind.” + </p> +<p> +“It rained smartly, but I 'm sure the country wanted it,” dryly observed +Lady Janet.—“Well, sir, <i>you</i> here again?” This sharp +interrogatory was addressed to Mr. Phillis, who, after a vain search for +her Ladyship over half the house, at length discovered her. +</p> +<p> +“You are not aware, my Lady,” said he, in a tone of obsequious deference, +that nearly cost him an apoplexy, “that these rooms are reserved for my +master.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, sir; and am I to understand that a guest's accommodation is a +matter of less importance than a valet's caprice? for as Mr. Cashel never +was here himself, and consequently never could have made a choice, I +believe I am not wrong in the source of the selection.” + </p> +<p> +“It was Mr. Linton, my Lady, who made the arrangement.” + </p> +<p> +“And who is Mr. Linton, sir, who ventures to give orders here?—I ask +you, who is Mr. Linton?” As there was something excessively puzzling to +Mr. Phillis in this brief interrogatory, and as Lady Janet perceived as +much, she repeated the phrase in a still louder and more authoritative +tone, till, in the fulness of the accents, they fell upon the ears of him +who, if not best able to give the answer, was, at least, most interested +in its nature. +</p> +<p> +He started, and sat up; and although, from the position of his bed in a +deep alcove he was himself screened from observation, the others were +palpable enough to his eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” cried Lady Janet, for the third time, “I ask, who is Mr. Linton?” + </p> +<p> +“Upon my life, your Ladyship has almost made me doubt if there be such a +person,” said Tom, protruding his head through the curtains. +</p> +<p> +“I vow he's in the bed yonder!” said Lady Janet, starting back. “Flint, I +think you are really too bad; this is all your doing, or yours, sir,” + turning to Phillis with a face of anger. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, my Leddy, it's a' his meddlin'.” + </p> +<p> +“Eh, Leddy Janet, what's this?” said Sir Andrew, suddenly joining the +party, after a very dangerous excursion along dark corridors and back +stairs. +</p> +<p> +“We've strayed into Mr. Linton's room, I find,” said she, gathering up +various small articles she had on entering thrown on the table. “I must +only reserve my apologies for a more fitting time and place, and wish him +'good-night.'” + </p> +<p> +“I've even dune something o' the same wi' Mrs. Kannyfack,” said Sir +Andrew. “She was in bed, though, and so I made my retreat undiscovered.” + </p> +<p> +“I regret, Lady Janet,” said Linton, politely, “that my present toilet +does not permit me to show you to your apartment, but if you will allow +Mr. Phillis—” + </p> +<p> +“Dinna get up, man,” broke in Sir Andrew, as he half pushed the invading +party out of the door; “we'll find it vara weel, I 've na doubt.” And in a +confused hubbub of excuses and grumblings they withdrew, leaving Linton +once more to court slumber, if he could. +</p> +<p> +“I beg pardon, sir,” said Phillis, popping in his head the minute after, +“but Mr. Downie Meek' has taken the rooms you meant for Lady Janet; +they've pillaged all the chambers at either side for easy-chairs and +cushions to—” + </p> +<p> +“With all my heart; let them settle the question between them, or leave it +to arbitration. Shut the door, pray.” + </p> +<p> +“Mrs. White, too, and a large party are in the library, and I don't know +where to show them into.” + </p> +<p> +“Anywhere but here, Phillis. Good-night; there's a good man, good-night.” + </p> +<p> +“They 're all asking for you, sir; just tell me what to say.” + </p> +<p> +“Merely that I have passed a shocking night, and request I may not be +disturbed till late in the afternoon.” + </p> +<p> +Phillis retired with a groan, and soon a confused hum of many voices could +be heard along the corridor, in every accent of irritation and +remonstrance. Self-reproaches on the mistaken and abused confidence which +had led the visitors to journey so many miles to “such a place;” mutual +condolences over misfortune; abuse of the whole establishment, and “that +insufferable puppy the valet” in particular, went round, till at last, +like a storm that bad spent its fury, a lull succeeded; one by one the +grumblers slipped away, and just as day was breaking, the house was buried +in the soundest sleep. +</p> +<p> +About an hour later, when the fresh-risen son was glistening and +glittering among the leaves, lightly tipped with the hoar-frost of an +autumnal morning, a handsomely-appointed travelling-carriage, with four +posters, drove rapidly up to the door, and an active-looking figure, +springing from the box, applied himself to the bell with a vigorous hand, +and the next minute, flinging open the carriage-door, said, “Welcome,—at +last, I am able to say,—welcome to Tub-bermore.” + </p> +<p> +A graceful person, wrapped in a large shawl, emerged, and, leaning on his +arm, entered the house; but in a moment he returned to assist another and +a far more helpless traveller, an old and feeble man, who suffered himself +to be carried, rather than walked, into the hall. +</p> +<p> +“This is Tubbermore, my Lord,” said the lady, bending down, and with a +hand slightly touching his shoulder seeming to awake his attention. +</p> +<p> +“Yes—thank you—perfectly well,” said he, in a low soft voice, +while a smile of courteous but vacant meaning stole over his sickly +features. +</p> +<p> +“Not over-fatigued, my Lord?” said Roland, kindly. +</p> +<p> +“No, sir—we saw the 'Lightship' quite near us.” + </p> +<p> +“Still thinking of that dreadful night,” said her Ladyship, as she +arranged two braids of her fair brown hair more becomingly on her +forehead; and then turning to a very comely personage, who performed a +series of courtesies, like minute guns, at intervals, added, “If you +please, then, we'll retire to our apartment. Your housekeeper, I suppose, +Mr. Cashel?” + </p> +<p> +“I conclude so,” said Roland; “but I am equally a stranger here with +yourself.” + </p> +<p> +“Mrs. Moss, at your service, sir,” said the housekeeper, with another +courtesy. +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Moss, then,” said Roland, in an undertone, “I have only to remark +that Lord and Lady Kilgoff must want for nothing here.” + </p> +<p> +“I understand, sir,” said Mrs. Moss; and whether the words, or the look +that accompanied them, should bear the blame, but they certainly made +Cashel look half angry, half ashamed. +</p> +<p> +“Then good-night—or good-morrow, I believe it should be,” said Lady +Kilgoff. “I'm sure, in charity, we should not keep you from your bed a +minute longer. You had a severe night outside.” + </p> +<p> +“Good-night—good-night, my Lord,” said Cashel; and the handsome form +of the lady moved proudly on, while the servant assisted the poor decrepid +husband slowly after. +</p> +<p> +Roland looked after them for an instant, and whether from some curiosity +to see the possessions which called him master, or that he felt indisposed +to sleep, he passed out into the lawn and stood some minutes gazing at the +strange and somewhat incongruous pile before him. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps something of disappointment mingled with his thoughts—perhaps +it was only that strange revulsion which succeeds to all long-excited +expectation, when the moment of satisfying it has come, and speculation is +at an end forever—but he was turning away, in half sadness, when he +caught sight of a hand waving to him a salute from one of the windows. He +had just time to answer the gesture, when the shutter was closed. There +was one other saw the motion, and noted well the chamber from whence it +came. Linton, awoke by the arrival of the carriage, had watched every step +that followed, and now sat, with half-drawn curtains, eagerly marking +everything that might minister to his jealous anger. +</p> +<p> +As for Cashel, he sauntered on into the wood, his mind wandering on themes +separated by nearly half the world from where his steps were straying. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIII. ROLAND'S INTRODUCTION TO MR. CORRIGAN +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +And while the scene around them smiled, +With pleasant talk the way beguiled. + +Haile: Rambles. +</pre> +<p> +As Roland Cashel strolled along alone, he could not divest himself of a +certain feeling of disappointment, that, up to the present, at least, all +his wealth had so little contributed to realize those illusions he had so +often fancied. The plots, the wiles and cunning schemes by which he had +been surrounded, were gradually revealing themselves to his senses, and he +was rapidly nearing the fatal “bourne” which separates credulity from +distrust. +</p> +<p> +If we have passed over the events which succeeded the loss of the yacht +with some appearance of scant ceremony to our reader, it is because, +though in themselves not totally devoid of interest, they formed a species +of episode which only in one respect bore reference to the current of our +story. It is not necessary, no more than it would be gratifying, to us to +inquire with what precise intentions Lady Kilgoff had sought to +distinguish Roland by marks of preference. Enough, if we say that he was +neither puppy enough to ascribe the feeling to anything but a caprice, nor +was he sufficiently hackneyed in the world's ways to suspect it could mean +more. +</p> +<p> +That he was flattered by the notice, and fascinated by the charms of a +very lovely and agreeable woman, whose dependence upon him each day +increasing drew closer the ties of intimacy, is neither strange nor +uncommon, no more than that she, shrewdly remarking the bounds of +respectful deference by which he ever governed his acquaintance, should +use greater freedoms and less restricted familiarity with him, than had he +been one of those fashionable young men about town with whom the repute of +a conquest would be a triumph. +</p> +<p> +It is very difficult to say on what terms they lived in each other's +society. It were easier, perhaps, to describe it by negatives, and say +that assuredly if it were not love, the feeling between them was just as +little that which subsists between brother and sister. There was an almost +unbounded confidence—an unlimited trust—much asking of advice, +and, in fact, as many of my readers will say, fully as much peril as need +be. +</p> +<p> +From her, Cashel first learned to see the stratagems and schemes by which +his daily life was beset. Too proud to bestow more than a mere passing +allusion to the Kennyfecks, she directed the whole force of her attack +upon that far more dangerous group in whose society Roland had lately +lived. For a time she abstained altogether from even a chance reference to +Linton; but at length, as their intimacy ripened, she avowed her fear of +him in all its fulness. When men will build up the edifice of distrust, it +is wonderful with what ingenuity they will gather all the scattered +materials of doubt, with what skill arrange and combine them! A hundred +little circumstances of a suspicious nature now rushed to Roland's memory, +and his own conscience corroborated the history she drew of the possible +mode by which Linton acquired an influence over him. +</p> +<p> +That Linton had been the “evil genius” of many, Cashel had often heard +before, but always from the lips of men; and it is astonishing, whether +the source be pride, or something less stubborn, but the warning which we +reject so cavalierly from our fellows, comes with a wondrous force of +conviction from the gentler sex. +</p> +<p> +For the heavy sums he had lost at play, for all the wasteful outlay of his +money, Cashel cared little; but for the humiliating sense of being a +“dupe” and a “tool,” his outraged pride suffered deeply; and when Lady +Kilgoff drew a picture, half real, half imaginary, of the game which his +subtle associate was playing, Roland could scarce restrain himself from +openly declaring a rupture, and, if need be, a quarrel with him. +</p> +<p> +It needed all her persuasions to oppose this course; and, indeed, if she +had not made use of one unanswerable argument, could she have succeeded. +This was the inevitable injury Linton could inflict upon <i>her</i>, by +ascribing the breach to her influence. It would be easy enough, from such +materials as late events suggested, to compose a history that would ruin +her. Lord Kilgoff's lamentable imbecility, the result of that fatal night +of danger; Cashel's assiduous care of her; her own most natural dependence +upon him,—all these, touched on with a woman's tact and delicacy, +she urged, and at last obtained his pledge that he would leave to time and +opportunity the mode of terminating an intimacy he had begun to think of +with abhorrence. +</p> +<p> +If there be certain minds to whom the very air they breathe is doubt, +there are others to whom distrust is absolute misery. Of these latter +Cashel was one. Nature had made him frank and free-spoken, and the +circumstances of his early life had encouraged the habit. To nourish a +grudge would have been as repulsive to his sense of honor as it would be +opposed to all the habits of his buccaneering life. To settle a dispute +with the sword was invariably the appeal among his old comrades; and such +arbitraments are those which certainly leave the fewest traces of +lingering malice behind them. To cherish and store up a secret wrong, and +wait in patience for the day of reckoning, had something of the Indian +about it that, in Roland's eyes, augmented its atrocity. +</p> +<p> +Oppressed with thoughts like these, and associating every vexation he +suffered as in some way connected with that wealth whose possession he +fancied was to satisfy every wish and every ambition, he sauntered on, +little disposed to derive pleasure from the presence of those external +objects which fortune had made his own. +</p> +<p> +“When I was poor,” thought he, “I had warm and attached friends, ready to +exult in my successes, and sympathize with me in my sorrows. If I had +enemies, they were brave fellows, as willing to defend their cause with +the sword as myself. None flattered or frowned on him who was richer than +the rest. No subtle schemes lay in wait for him whose unsuspecting +frankness exposed him to deception; we were <i>bons camarades</i>, at +least,” said he, aloud, “and from what I have seen of the great world, I +'ve lived to prize the distinction.” + </p> +<p> +From this revery he was suddenly recalled by observing, directly in front +of him, an elderly gentleman, who, in a stooping posture, seemed to seek +for something among the dry leaves and branches beside a low wicket. +</p> +<p> +“This is the first fruit of our gay neighborhood,” said the old man, +testily, as he poked the dead leaves with his cane; “we 're lucky if they +leave us without more serious inconvenience.” + </p> +<p> +“Can I assist you in your search?—have you lost something?” said +Cashel, approaching. +</p> +<p> +“There is a key—the key of the wicket—hid somewhere +hereabouts, young man,” said the other, who, scarcely bestowing a look +upon Roland, continued his investigation as busily as before. +</p> +<p> +Cashel, undaunted by the somewhat ungracious reception, now aided him in +his search, while the other continued: “I 've known this path for nigh +forty years, and never remember this wicket to have been locked before. +But so it is. My old friend is afraid of the invasion of this noisy +neighborhood, and has taken to lock and key to keep them out. The key he +promised to hide at the foot of this tree.” + </p> +<p> +“And here it is,” said Cashel, as he unlocked the wicket and flung it +wide. +</p> +<p> +“Many thanks for your help, but you have a better reward than my +gratitude, in eyes some five-and-thirty years younger,” said the old man, +with the same half-testy voice as before. “Perhaps you 'd like to see the +grounds here, yourself; come along. The place is small, but far better +kept than the great demesne, I assure you; just as many an humble +household is more orderly than many a proud retinue.” + </p> +<p> +Roland was rather pleased by the quaint oddity of his new companion, of +whom he thought, but could not remember where, he had seen the features +before. +</p> +<p> +“You are a stranger in these parts, I conclude?” said the old man. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. I only arrived here about an hour ago, and have seen nothing save +the path from the Hall to this spot.” + </p> +<p> +“There 's little more worth the seeing on yonder side of the paling, sir. +A great bleak expanse, with stunted trees and a tasteless mansion, full +of, I take it, very dubious company; but perhaps you are one of them?” + </p> +<p> +“I confess as much,” said Roland, laughing; “but as I have not seen them, +don't be afraid I 'll take up the cudgels for my associates.” + </p> +<p> +“Labor lost if you did,” said the other, bluntly. “I only know of them +what the newspapers tell us; but their names are enough.” + </p> +<p> +“Are they all in the same category, then?” asked Cashel, smiling. +</p> +<p> +“Pigeons or hawks; dupes or swindlers,—an ugly alternative to choose +from.” + </p> +<p> +“You are candid, certainly, friend,” said Cashel, half angrily; “but don't +you fancy there is rather too much of frankness in saying this to one who +has already said he is of the party?” + </p> +<p> +“Just as he likes to take it,” said the old man, bluntly. “The wise man +takes warning where the fool takes umbrage. There 's a fine view for you—see! +there's a glorious bit of landscape,” cried he, enthusiastically, as they +came to an opening of the wood and beheld the wide expanse of Lough Deny, +with its dotted islands and ruined tower. +</p> +<p> +Roland stood still, silently gazing on the scene, whose beauty was +heightened by all the strong effect of light and shade. +</p> +<p> +“I see you have an eye for landscape,” said the old man, as he watched the +expression of Cashel's features. +</p> +<p> +“I 've been a lover of scenery in lands where the pursuit was well +rewarded,” said Roland, thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +“That you may; but never in a country where the contemplation called for +more thought than in this before you. See, yonder, where the lazy smoke +rises heavily from the mountain side, high up there amid the fern and the +tall heath, that is a human dwelling,—there lives some cottier a +life of poverty as uncheered and unpitied as though he made no part of the +great family of man. For miles and miles of that dreary mountain some +small speck may be traced where men live and grow old and die out, +unthought of and uncared for by all beside. This misery would seem at its +full, if now and then seasons of sickness did not show how fever and ague +can augment the sad calamities of daily life. There are men—ay, and +old men too—who never have seen bread for years, I say, save when +some gamekeeper has broken it to feed the greyhounds in a coursing party.” + </p> +<p> +“And whose the fault of all this?” said Cashel, eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“It is easy to see, sir,” said the other, “that you are no landed +proprietor, for not only you had not asked the question, but you had not +shown so much emotion when putting it So it is,” muttered he to himself. +“It is so ever. They have most sympathy with the poor who have least the +power to help them.” + </p> +<p> +“But I ask again, whose the fault of such a system?” cried Cashel. +</p> +<p> +“Ask your host yonder, and you 'll soon have an answer to your question. +You 'll hear enough of landlords' calamities,—wrecking tenantry, +people in barbarism, irreclaimably bad, sunk in crime, black in +ingratitude. Ask the peasant, and he 'll tell you of clearances,—whole +families turned out to starve and die in the highways; the iron pressure +of the agent in the dreary season of famine and fever. Ask the priest, and +he will say, it is the galling tyranny of the 'rich man's church' +establishment consuming the substance, but restoring nothing to the +people. Ask the rector, and he 'll prove it is popery,—the debasing +slavery of the very blackest of all superstitions; and so on. Each throws +upon another the load which he refuses to bear his share of, and the end +is, we have a reckless gentry and a ruined people; all the embittering +hatred of a controversy, and little of the active working of Christian +charity. Good-bye, sir. I ask pardon for inflicting something like a +sermon upon you. Good-bye.” + </p> +<p> +“And yet,” said Cashel, “you have only made me anxious to hear more from +you. May I ask if we are likely to meet again, and where?” + </p> +<p> +“If you should chance to be sick during your visit here, and send for the +doctor, it's likely they 'll fetch me, as there is no other here.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel started, for he at once remembered that the speaker was Dr. +Tiernay, the friend of his tenant, Mr. Corrigan. As the doctor did not +recognize him, however, Roland resolved to keep his secret as long as he +could. +</p> +<p> +“There, sir,” said Cashel, “I see some friends accosting you. I 'll say +good-bye.” + </p> +<p> +“Too late to do so now,” said the other, half sulkily. “Mr. Corrigan would +feel it a slight if you turned back, when his table was spread for a meal. +You 'll have to breakfast here.” + </p> +<p> +Before Roland could answer, Mr. Corrigan came forward from beneath the +porch, and, with a hand to each, bid them welcome. +</p> +<p> +“I was telling this gentleman,” said Tiernay, “that he is too far within +your boundaries for retreat. He was about to turn back.” + </p> +<p> +“Nay, nay,” said the old man, smiling; “an old fellow like you or me may +do a churlish thing, but a young man's nature is fresher and warmer. I +tell you, Tiernay, you 're quite wrong; this gentleman will breakfast +here.” + </p> +<p> +“With pleasure,” said Cashel, cordially, and entered the cottage. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXIV. ROLAND “HEARS SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE.” + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Ay, sir, I saw him 'hind the arras. + +Sir Gavin. +</pre> +<p> +Cashel would have devoted more attention to the tasteful arrangement of +the drawing-room into which they were ushered, if he had not been struck +with the handsome and graceful form of a young girl, who from time to time +passed before his eyes in an inner chamber, engaged in the office of +preparing breakfast, and whom he at once recognized as the granddaughter +of whom Linton wrote. +</p> +<p> +“We were talking of poor Ireland,” said Tiernay, “and all her sorrows.” + </p> +<p> +“I'll engage you were,” cried Corrigan, laughing, “and I 'll swear you did +not make a mournful topic a whit less gloomy by your way of treating it—And +that's what he calls entertaining a stranger, sir,—like a bankrupt +merchant amusing a party by a sight of his schedule. Now, I 'll wager a +trifle my young friend would rather hear where a brace of cocks was to be +found, or the sight of a neat grass country to ride over after the +fox-hounds,—and I can do both one and the other. But here comes +Mary,—my granddaughter, Miss Leicester, sir.” + </p> +<p> +Mary saluted the stranger with an easy gracefulness, and she shook the +doctor's hand cordially. +</p> +<p> +“You are a little late, doctor,” said she, as she led the way into the +breakfast-room. +</p> +<p> +“That was in part owing to that rogue Keane, who has taken to locking the +gate of the avenue, by way of seeming regular, and some one else has done +the same with the wicket here. Now, as for fifty years back all the cows +of the country have strayed through the one, and all the beggars through +the other, I don't know what 's to come of it.” + </p> +<p> +“I suppose the great house is filling?” said Mary, to withdraw him from a +grumbling theme; “we heard the noise of several arrivals this morning +early.” + </p> +<p> +“This gentleman can inform you best upon all that,” said Tiernay; “he +himself is one of the company.” + </p> +<p> +“But I am ignorant of everything,” said Cashel; “I only arrived here a +little after daybreak, and, not caring to sleep, I strolled out, when my +good fortune threw me into your way.” + </p> +<p> +“Your friends are likely to have fine weather, and I am glad of it,” said +Corrigan. “This country, pretty enough in sunshine, looks bleak and dreary +when the sky is lowering; but I 've no doubt <i>you'd</i> rather have +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +'A southerly wind and a cloudy sky,' +</pre> +<p> +as the song says, than the brightest morning that ever welcomed a lark. +Are you fond of hunting?” + </p> +<p> +“I like every kind of sport where horse, or gun, or hound can enter; but I +'ve seen most of such pastimes in distant countries, where the game is +different from here, and the character of the people just as unlike.” + </p> +<p> +“'I have hunted the wild boar myself,” said old Corrigan, proudly, “in the +royal forests at Meudon and Fontainebleau.” + </p> +<p> +“I speak of the antelope and the jaguar, the dark leopard of Guiana, or +the brown bison of the Andes.” + </p> +<p> +“That is indeed a manly pastime!” said Mary, enthusiastically. +</p> +<p> +“It is so,” said Cashel, warmed by the encouragement of her remark, “more +even for the endurance and persevering energy it demands than for its +peril. The long days of toil in search of game, the nights of waking +watchfulness, and then the strange characters and adventures among which +you are thrown, all make up a kind of life so unlike the daily world.” + </p> +<p> +“There is, as you say, something highly exciting in all that,” said +Corrigan; “but, to my thinking, hunting is a royal pastime, and loses half +of its prestige when deprived of the pomp and circumstance of its courtly +following. When I think of the old forest echoing to the tantarara of the +<i>cor de chasse</i>, the scarlet-clad <i>piqueurs</i> with lance and +cutlass, the train of courtiers mounted on their high-mettled steeds, +displaying all the address of the <i>salon</i>, and all the skill of the +chase, to him who was the centre of the group,—the king himself—” + </p> +<p> +“Are you not forgetting the fairest part of the pageants papa?” broke in +Mary. +</p> +<p> +“No, my dear, that group usually waited to join us as we returned. Then, +when the '<i>Retour de la Chasse</i>' rang out from every horn, and the +whole wood re-echoed with the triumphant sounds, then might be seen the +queen and her ladies advancing to meet us. I think I see her yet, the +fair-haired queen, the noblest and most beautiful in all that lovely +circle, mounted on her spotted Arabian, who bore himself proudly beneath +his precious burden. Ah! too truly did Burke say, 'the Age of Chivalry was +past,' or never had such sorrows gone unavenged. Young gentleman, I know +not whether you have already conceived strong opinions upon politics, and +whether you incline to one or other of the great parties that divide the +kingdom, but one thing I would beseech you,—be a Monarchist. There +is a steadfast perseverance in clinging to the legitimate Sovereign. Like +the very observance of truth itself, shake the conviction once, and there +is no limit to scepticism.” + </p> +<p> +“Humph!” muttered Tiernay, half aloud. “Considering how royalty treated +your ancestors, your ardor in their favor might be cooled a little.” + </p> +<p> +“What's Tiernay saying?” said the old man. +</p> +<p> +“Grumbling, as usual, papa,” said Mary, laughing, and not willing to +repeat the remark. +</p> +<p> +“Trying to give a man a bias in politics,” said the doctor, sarcastically, +“is absurd, except you accompany the advice with a place. A man's +political opinions are born with him, and he has as much to do with the +choice of his own Christian name as whether he 'll be a Whig or a Tory.” + </p> +<p> +“Never mind him, sir,” said Corrigan to Cashel; “one might travesty the +well-known epigram, and say of him that he never said a kind thing, nor +did a rude one, in his life.” + </p> +<p> +“The greater fool he, then,” mattered Tiernay, “for the world likes him +best who does the exact opposite; and here comes one to illustrate my +theory. There, I see him yonder; so I 'll step into the library and look +over the newspaper.” + </p> +<p> +“He cannot endure a very agreeable neighbor of ours,—a Mr. Linton,” + said Corrigan, as the doctor retired,—“and makes so little secret of +his dislike that I am always glad when they avoid a meeting.” + </p> +<p> +“Mr. Linton is certainly more generous,” said Mary, “for he enjoys the +doctor's eccentricity without taking offence at his rude humor.” + </p> +<p> +“Good-breeding can be almost a virtue,” said the old man, with a smile. +</p> +<p> +“It has this disadvantage, however,” said Cashel: “it deceives men who, +like myself, have little knowledge of life, to expect far more from +politeness than it is ever meant to imply,—just as on the Lima +shore, when we carried off a gold Madonna, we were never satisfied if we +missed the diamond eyes of the image.” + </p> +<p> +The old man and his granddaughter almost started at the strange +illustration; but their attention was now called off by the approach of +Linton, whom they met as he reached the porch. +</p> +<p> +“Come here a moment, sir,” said the doctor, addressing Cashel, from the +little boudoir; “here are some weapons of very old date found among the +ruins beside where we stand.” And Roland had just time to quit the +breakfast-room before Linton entered it. +</p> +<p> +“The menagerie fills fast,” said Linton, as he advanced gayly into the +apartment: “some of our principal lions have come; more are expected; and +all the small cages have got their occupants.” + </p> +<p> +“I am dying of curiosity,” said Mary. “Tell us everything about everybody. +Who have arrived?” + </p> +<p> +“We have everything of a household save the host. He is absent; and, +stranger than all, no one knows where.” + </p> +<p> +“How singular!” exclaimed Corrigan. +</p> +<p> +“Is it not? He arrived this morning with the Kilgoffs, and has not since +been heard of. I left his amiable guests at the breakfast-table conversing +on his absence, and endeavoring to account for it under every variety of +'shocking accident' one reads of in the morning papers. The more +delicately minded were even discussing, in whispers, how long it would be +decent to stay in a house if the owner committed suicide.” + </p> +<p> +“This is too shocking,” said Mary. +</p> +<p> +“And yet there are men who do these things! Talleyrand it was, I believe, +who said that the fellow who shot himself showed a great want of <i>savoir +vivre</i>. Well, to come back: we have the Kilgoffs, whom I have not seen +as yet; the Meeks, father and daughter; the MacFarlines; Mrs. White and +her familiar, a distinguished author; the whole Kennyfeck tribe; +Frobisher; some five or six cavalry subalterns; and a large mob of +strange-looking people, of both sexes, making up what in racing slang is +called the 'ruck' of the party.” + </p> +<p> +“Will it not tax your ingenuity, Mr. Linton, to amuse, or even to preserve +concord among such a heterogeneous multitude?” said Mary. +</p> +<p> +“I shall amuse them by keeping them at feud with each other, and, when +they weary of that, let them have a grand attack of the whole line upon +their worthy host and entertainer. Indeed, already signs of rebellious +ingratitude have displayed themselves. You must know that there has been a +kind of petty scandal going about respecting Lady Kilgoff and Mr. Cashel.” + </p> +<p> +“My dear sir,” said Mr. Corrigan, gravely, but with much courtesy, “when +my granddaughter asked you for the latest news of your gay household, she +did so in all the inconsiderate ignorance her habits and age may warrant; +but neither she nor I cared to hear more of your guests than they ought to +have reported of them, or should be repeated to the ears of a young lady.” + </p> +<p> +“I accept the rebuke with less pain,” said Linton, smiling easily, +“because it is, in part at least, unmerited. If you had permitted me to +continue, you should have seen as much.” Then, turning to Miss Leicester, +he added: “You spoke of amusement, and you 'll acknowledge we are not +idle. Lord Charles Frobisher is already marking out a race-course; Meek is +exploring the political leaning of the borough; the Kennyfecks are trying +their voices together in every room of the house; and Lady Janet has every +<i>casserole</i> in the kitchen engaged in the preparation of various +vegetable abominations which she and Sir Andrew take before breakfast; and +what with the taking down and putting up of beds, the tuning of +pianofortes, sol-fa-ing here, bells ringing there, cracking of tandem +whips, firing off percussion-caps, screaming to grooms out of window, and +slamming of doors, Babel was a scene of peaceful retirement in comparison. +As this, too, is but the beginning, pray forgive me if my visits here be +more frequent and enduring than ever.” + </p> +<p> +“Your picture of the company is certainly not flattering,” said Mary. +</p> +<p> +“Up to their merits, notwithstanding; but how could it be otherwise? To +make a house pleasant, to bring agreeable people together,—to +assemble those particles whose aggregate solidifies into that compact mass +called society,—is far harder than is generally believed; vulgar +folk attempt it by getting some celebrity to visit them. But what a +failure that is! One lion will no more make a party than one swallow a +summer. New people, like our friend Cashel, try it by asking everybody. +They hope, by firing a heavy charge, that some of the shot will hit. +Another mistake! He little knows how many jealousies, rivalries, and small +animosities are now at breakfast together at his house, and how ready they +are, when no other game offers, to make him the object of all their apite +and scandal.” + </p> +<p> +“But why?” said Mary. “Is not his hospitality as princely as it is +generously offered? Can they cavil with anything in either the reception +itself or the manner of it?” + </p> +<p> +“As that part of the entertainment entered into <i>my</i> functions, Miss +Leicester, I should say, certainly not. The whole has been well 'got up.' +I can answer for everything save Cashel himself; as Curran said, 'I can +elevate all save the host.' He is irreclaimably <i>en arrière</i>,—half +dandy, half Delaware, affecting the man of fashion, but, at heart, a +prairie hunter.” + </p> +<p> +“Hold, sir!” cried Cashel, entering suddenly, his face crimson with +passion. “By what right do you presume to speak of me in this wise?” + </p> +<p> +“Ha! ha! ha!” broke out Linton, as he fell into a chair in a burst of +admirably feigned laughter. “I told you, Miss Leicester, how it would be; +did I not say I should unearth the fox? Ah! Roland, confess it; you were +completely taken in.” + </p> +<p> +Cashel stared around for an explanation, and in the astonishment of each +countenance he fancied he read a condemnation of his conduct All his +impulses were quick as thought, and so he blushed deeply for his +passionate outbreak, as he said,— +</p> +<p> +“I ask pardon of you, sir, and this lady for my unseemly anger. This +gentleman certainly deserves no apology from me. Confound it, Master Tom, +but assuredly you don't fire blank cartridge to startle your game.” + </p> +<p> +“No use to tickle lions with straws,” said Linton; and the insinuated +flattery succeeded. +</p> +<p> +“Let me now bid you welcome to my cottage, Mr. Cashel,” said Corrigan; +“although this incognito visit was an accident, I feel happy to see you +here.” + </p> +<p> +“Thank you, thank you,” replied Cashel. “I shall be even more grateful +still if you permit me to join in Linton's petition, and occasionally +escape from the noisy festivities of the Hall, and come here.” + </p> +<p> +While Corrigan and Cashel continued to interchange mutual assurances of +esteem and regard, Linton walked to a window with Miss Leicester. +</p> +<p> +“We had no conception that our guest was Mr. Cashel,” said Mary; “he met +Dr. Tiernay accidentally in the park, and came along with him to +breakfast.” + </p> +<p> +“And did not the doctor remember him?” said Linton, shrewdly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no; he may probably recollect something of having met him before, +three weeks hence, but he is so absent!” + </p> +<p> +“I thought Roland would have taken the quizzing better,” said Linton, +thoughtfully. “There 's no knowing any man, or—woman either. <i>You</i> +perceived what I was at, certainly.” + </p> +<p> +“No, indeed. I was as much deceived as Mr. Cashel. I thought, to be sure, +that you were unusually severe, but I never suspected the object.” + </p> +<p> +“How droll! Well, I am a better actor than I fancied,” said Linton, +laughing; then added, in a lower tone, “Not that the lesson should be lost +upon him; for, in sober earnest, there was much truth in it.” + </p> +<p> +“We were greatly pleased with him,” said Mary, “and now, knowing who he +is, and what temptations such a young man has to over-estimate himself, +are even more struck by his unassuming quietude.” + </p> +<p> +Linton only smiled, but it was a smile of most compassionate pity. +</p> +<p> +“I conclude that you mean to show yourself to your company, then, Mr. +Cashel?” said he, turning suddenly about. +</p> +<p> +“I'm ready,” said Roland. “I'd go, however, with an easier conscience if +Mr. Corrigan would only promise me to come and see us there sometimes.” + </p> +<p> +“I'm a very old fellow, Mr. Cashel, and have almost outlived the habits of +society; but if any one's invitation shall bring me beyond these walls, it +shall be yours.” + </p> +<p> +“I must be content with that,” said Roland, as he shook the proffered +hand; and then, with a cordial farewell to Miss Leicester, took Linton's +arm, and retired. +</p> +<p> +<a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XXXV. MISS JEMIMA MEEK. +</h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +If you show him in Hyde Park—Lauk! how they will stare! +Though a very smart figure in Bloomsbury Square, + +The Snob. +</pre> +<p> +Cashel's was not a nature to dwell upon a grievance, and he would have, at +once and forever, forgotten the late scene with Linton if it were not +coupled in his mind with suspicions derived from various different +sources. This made him silent and reserved as he walked along, and so +palpably inattentive to all his companion's efforts at agreeability that +Linton at last said, “Well, Cashel, if you can dispense with sleep, you +certainly seem to take the compensation in dreaming. Here have I been +retailing for you the choicest bits of gossip and small-talk, not only +without the slightest gratitude, but even without common attention on your +part!” + </p> +<p> +“Very true,” said Cashel; “the reproach is quite just, and no man can be +more agreeable at the expense of his friends than yourself.” + </p> +<p> +“Still harping on my daughter, eh?” cried Linton. “I never thought you the +man to misconstrue a jest; but if you really are offended with my folly—” + </p> +<p> +“If I really were offended,” said Cashel, almost sternly, “I should not +leave it to be inferred from my manner.” + </p> +<p> +“That I am sure of,” cried Linton, assuming an air of frankness; “and now, +since all that silly affair is forgotten—” + </p> +<p> +“I did not say so much,” interrupted Cashel. “I cannot forget it; and that +is the very reason I am annoyed with myself, with you, and with all the +world.” + </p> +<p> +“Pooh! nonsense, man; you were not used to be so thin-skinned. Let us talk +of something else. Here are all our gay friends assembled: how are we to +occupy and amuse them?” + </p> +<p> +Cashel made no reply, but walked on, seemingly lost in thought. +</p> +<p> +“By the way,” said Linton, “you've told me nothing of your adventures. +Haven't you had something very like a shipwreck?” + </p> +<p> +“The yacht is lost,” said Cashel, dryly. +</p> +<p> +“Actually lost!” echoed the other, with well-assumed astonishment. “How +fortunate not to have had the Kennyfeck party on board, as I believe you +expected.” + </p> +<p> +“I had the Kilgoffs, however,” rejoined Roland. +</p> +<p> +“The Kilgoffs! you amaze me. How did my Lord ever consent to trust his +most precious self on such an enterprise?” + </p> +<p> +Cashel shrugged his shoulders, without uttering a word in reply. +</p> +<p> +“But come, do condescend to be a little more communicative. How, and when, +and where did the mishap occur?” + </p> +<p> +“She foundered on the southern coast some time after midnight on the 15th. +The crew and passengers escaped by the boats, and the craft went to +pieces.” + </p> +<p> +“And the Kilgoffs, how did they behave in the moment of peril?” + </p> +<p> +“My Lord seemed insensible to all around; Lady Kilgoff with a dignified +courage quite admirable.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed!” said Linton, slowly, while he fixed his eyes on Cashel's face, +where an expression of increased animation now displayed itself. +</p> +<p> +“She has a fine generous nature,” continued Cashel, not heeding the +remark. “It is one of the saddest things to think of, how she has been +mated.” + </p> +<p> +“She is a peeress,” said Linton, curtly. +</p> +<p> +“And what of that? Do your aristocratic distinctions close the heart +against every high and noble sentiment, or can they compensate for the +absence of every tie that attaches one to life? Is not some poor Indian +girl who follows her wild ranchero husband through the dark valleys of +Guiana, not only a happier, but a better wife than your proud peeress?” + </p> +<p> +Linton shook his head and smiled, but did not reply. +</p> +<p> +“I see how my old prejudices shock you,” said Cashel. “I only grieve to +think how many of them have left me; for I am sick—sick at heart—of +your gay and polished world. I am weary of its double-dealing, and tired +of its gilded falsehood. Since I have been a rich man, I have seen nothing +but the servile flattery of sycophancy, or the insidious snares of deeper +iniquity. There is no equality for one like myself. The high-born wealthy +would treat me as a <i>parvenu</i>, the vulgar rich only reflect back my +own errors in broader deformity. I have known no other use of wealth than +to squander it to please others; I have played high, and lost deeply; I +have purchased a hundred things simply because some others wished to sell +them; I have entertained and sat among my company, waiting to catch and +resent the covert insult that men pass upon such as me; and will you tell +me—you, who know the world well—that such a life repays one?” + </p> +<p> +“Now, let me write the credit side of the account,” said Linton, laughing, +and affecting a manner of easy jocularity. “You are young, healthy, and +high-spirited, with courage for anything, and more money than even +recklessness can get rid of; you are the most popular fellow among men, +and the greatest favorite of the other sex, going; you get credit for +everything you do, and a hundred others that men know you could, but have +not done; you have warm, attached friends,—I can answer for one, at +least, who 'll lay down his life for you.” He paused, expecting some +recognition, but Cashel made no sign, and he resumed: “You have only to +propose some object to your ambition, whether it be rank, place, or a high +alliance, to feel that you are a favorite with fortune.” + </p> +<p> +“And is it by knowing beforehand that one is sure to win that gambling +fascinates?” said Roland, slowly. +</p> +<p> +“If you only knew how the dark presage of failure deters the unlucky man, +you 'd scarce ask the question!” rejoined Linton, with an accent of +sorrow, by which he hoped to awaken sympathy. The stroke failed, however, +for Cashel took no notice of it. +</p> +<p> +“There goes one whose philosophy of life is simple enough,” said Linton, +as he stopped at a break in the holly hedge, beside which they were +walking, and pointed to Lord Charles, who, mounted on a blood-horse, was +leading the way for a lady, equally well carried, over some +sporting-looking fences. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Jim,” cried Frobisher, “let her go a little free at them; she 's +always too hot when you hold her back.” + </p> +<p> +“You don't know, perhaps, that Jim is the lady,” whispered Linton, and +withdrawing for secrecy behind the cover of the hedge. “Jim,” continued +Linton, “is the familiar for Jemima. She's Meek's daughter, and the +wildest romp—” + </p> +<p> +“By Jove! how well she cleared it. Here she comes back again,” cried +Cashel, in all the excitement of a favorite sport. +</p> +<p> +“That 's all very pretty, Jim,” called out Frobisher, “but let me observe +it's a very Brummagem style of thing, after all. I want you to ride up to +your fence with your mare in hand, touch her lightly on the flank, and pop +her over quietly.” + </p> +<p> +“She is too fiery for all that,” said the girl, as she held in the +mettlesome animal, and endeavored to calm her by patting her neck. +</p> +<p> +“How gracefully she sits her saddle,” muttered Cashel; and the praise +might have been forgiven from even a less ardent admirer of equestrianism, +for she was a young, fresh-looking girl, with large hazel eyes, and a +profusion of bright auburn hair which floated and flaunted in every +graceful wave around her neck and shoulders. She possessed, besides, that +inestimable advantage as a rider which perfect fearlessness supplies, and +seemed to be inspired with every eager impulse of the bounding animal +beneath her. +</p> +<p> +As Cashel continued to look, she had taken the mare a canter round a large +grass field, and was evidently endeavoring, by a light hand and a +soothing, caressing voice, to calm down her temper; stooping, as she went, +in the saddle to pat the animal's shoulder, and almost bending her own +auburn curls to the counter. +</p> +<p> +“She is perfect!” cried Roland, in a very ecstasy. “See that, Linton! Mark +how she sways herself in her saddle!” + </p> +<p> +“That comes of wearing no stays,” said Linton, dryly, as he proceeded to +light a cigar. +</p> +<p> +“Now she's at it. Here she comes!” cried Cashel almost breathless with +anxiety; for the mare, chafed by the delay, no sooner was turned towards +the fence once more, than she stretched out and dashed wildly at it. +</p> +<p> +It was a moment of intense interest, for the speed was far too great to +clear a high leap with safety; the fear was, however, but momentary, for, +with a tremendous bound, the mare cleared the fence, and, after a couple +of minutes' cantering, stood with heaving flanks and swelling nostril +beside the other horse. +</p> +<p> +“You see my misfortune, I suppose?” said the girl, addressing Frobisher. +</p> +<p> +“No. She 's not cut about the legs?” said he, as he bent down in his +saddle and took a most searching survey of the animal. +</p> +<p> +“No, the hack is all right But don't you perceive that bit of blue cloth +flaunting yonder on the hedge?—that is part of my habit. See what a +tremendous rent is here; I declare, Charley, it is scarcely decent” And to +illustrate the remark, she wheeled her horse round so as to show the +fringed and jagged end of her riding-habit, beneath which a very finely +turned ankle and foot were now seen. +</p> +<p> +“Then why don't you wear trousers, like everybody else?” said Frobisher, +gruffly, and scarce bestowing even a passing glance at the well-arched +instep. +</p> +<p> +“Because I never get time to dress like any one else. You order me out +like one of your Newmarket boys,” replied she, pettishly. +</p> +<p> +“By Jove! I wish any one of them had got your hand.” + </p> +<p> +“To say nothing of the foot, Charley,” said she, roguishly, and +endeavoring to arrange her torn drapery to the best advantage. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> +<!-- IMG --></a> +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> +<img src="images/cash10432.jpg" alt="432 " width="100%" /><br /> +</div> +<p> +“No; that may do to astonish our friend Cashel, and make 'my lady' +jealous. By the way, Jim, I don't see why you should n't 'enter for the +plate' as well as the Kennyfeck girls.” + </p> +<p> +“I like <i>you</i> better, Charley,” said she, curveting her horse, and +passaging him alternately from side to side. +</p> +<p> +“This is the second time to-day I have played the eavesdropper +unconsciously,” said Roland, in a whisper, “and with the proverbial +fortune of the listener in both cases.” And with these words he moved on, +leaving Linton still standing opposite the opening of the hedge. +</p> +<p> +Cashel had not advanced many paces beneath the shelter of the tall +hollies, when Frobisher accidentally caught sight of Linton, and called +out, “Ha, Tom,—found you at last! Where have you been hiding the +whole morning?—you that should, at least, represent our host here.” + </p> +<p> +Linton muttered something, while, by a gesture, he endeavored to caution +Frobisher, and apprise him of Cashel's vicinity. The fretful motion of hie +horse, however, prevented his seeing the signal, and he resumed,— +</p> +<p> +“One of my people tells me that Cashel came with the Kilgoffs this +morning. I say, Tom, you'll have to look sharp in that quarter. Son, there—quiet, +Gustave—gently, man!” + </p> +<p> +“He's too fat, I think. You always have your cattle too heavy,” said +Linton, hoping to change the topic. +</p> +<p> +“He carries flesh well. But what is it I had to tell you? Oh, I remember +now,—about the yacht club. I have just got a letter from Derwent, in +which he says the thing is impossible. His remark is more true than +courteous. He says, 'It's all very well in such a place as Ireland to know +such people, but that it won't do in England; besides that, if Cashel does +wish to get among men of the world, he ought to join some light cavalry +corps for a year or so, and stand plucking by Stanhope, and Dashfield, and +the rest of them. They 'll bring him out if he 'll only pay handsomely.'—Soh, +there, man,—do be quiet, will you?—The end of it is, that +Derwent will not put his name up. I must say it's a disappointment to me; +but, as a younger brother, I have only to smile and submit.” + </p> +<p> +While Lord Charles was retailing this piece of information in no very +measured tone, and only interrupted by the occasional impatience of his +horse, Linton's eyes were fixed on Cashel, who, at the first mention of +his own name, increased his speed, so as to suggest the fond hope that +some, at least, of this unwelcome intelligence might have escaped him. +</p> +<p> +“You'll have to break the thing to him, Tom,” resumed Lord Charles. “You +know him better than any of us, and how the matter can be best touched +upon.” + </p> +<p> +“Not the slightest necessity for that, <i>now</i>,” said Linton, with a +low, deliberate voice. +</p> +<p> +“Why so?” + </p> +<p> +“Because you have just done so yourself. If you had only paid the least +attention to my signal, you 'd have seen that Cashel was only a few yards +in front of me during the entire of your agreeable revelations.” + </p> +<p> +“By Jove!” exclaimed Frobisher, as his head dropped forward in +overwhelming confusion; “what is to be done?” + </p> +<p> +“Rather difficult to say, if he heard all,” said Linton, coolly. +</p> +<p> +“You 'd say it was a quiz, Tom. <i>You 'd</i> pretend that you saw him all +the while, and only did the thing for joke's sake, eh?” + </p> +<p> +“Possibly enough I might,” replied Linton; “but <i>you</i> could n't.” + </p> +<p> +“How very awkward, to be sure!” exclaimed Frobisher. “I say, Jim, I wish +you 'd make up to Cashel a bit, and get us out of this scrape. There's Tom +ready to aid and abet you, if only to take him out of the Kilgoffs' way.” + </p> +<p> +“There never was a more propitious moment, Miss Meek,'” said Linton, +passing through the hedge, and approaching close to her. “He's a great +prize,—the best estate in Ireland.” + </p> +<p> +“The nicest stable of horses in the whole country,” echoed Frobisher. +</p> +<p> +“A good-looking fellow, too; only wanting a little training to make +presentable anywhere.” + </p> +<p> +“That white barb, with the flea-bitten flank, would carry you to +perfection, Jim.” + </p> +<p> +“He 'll be a peer one of these days, if he is only patient enough not to +commit himself in politics.” + </p> +<p> +“And such a hunting country for <i>you</i>,” said Frobisher, in ecstasy. +</p> +<p> +“I tell you I don't care for him; I never did,” said the girl, as a flush +of half-angry meaning colored her almost childish features. +</p> +<p> +“But don't you care to be mistress of fifteen thousand a year, and the +finest stud in Ireland?” + </p> +<p> +“Mayhap a countess,” said Linton, quietly. “Your papa would soon manage +that.” + </p> +<p> +“I 'd rather be mistress of myself, and this brown mare, Joan, here,—that's +all I know; and I'll have nothing to do with any of your plots and +schemes,” said she, in a voice whose utterance was that of emotion. +</p> +<p> +“That's it,” said Frobisher, in a low tone to Linton; “there's no getting +them, at that age, with a particle of brains.” + </p> +<p> +“They make up surprisingly for it afterwards,” replied Linton, dryly. +</p> +<p> +“So you 'll not consent, Jim?” said Frobisher, in a half-coaxing manner to +the young girl, who, with averted head, sat in mingled sorrow and +displeasure. “Well, don't be pettish about it; I 'm sure I thought it very +generous in me, considering—” + </p> +<p> +She looked round at this moment, and her large eyes were bent upon him +with a look which their very tears made passionately meaning. +</p> +<p> +“Considering what a neat finger you have on a young horse,” said he. And +she turned abruptly away, and, as if to hide her emotion, spurred her mare +into a bounding canter. +</p> +<p> +“Take care, Charley, take care what you 're doing,” said Linton, with a +look of consummate shrewdness. +</p> +<p> +Frobisher looked after her for a minute or two, and then seemed to drop +into a revery, for he made no reply whatever. +</p> +<p> +“Let the matter stop where it is,” said Linton, quietly, as if replying to +some acknowledgment of the other; “let it stop there, I say, and one of +these days, when she marries,—as she unquestionably will do, through +papa Downie's means,—somebody of influence, she 'll be a steadfast, +warm friend, never forgetting, nor ever wishing to forget, her childhood's +companion. Go a little further, however, and you 'll just have an equally +determined enemy. I know a little of both sides of the question,” added +he, meditatively, “and it needs slight reflection which to prefer.” + </p> +<p> +“How are you going to amuse us here, Mr. Linton?” said she, cantering up +at this moment; “for it seems to me, as old Lord Kilgoff says, that we are +like to have a very dull house. People are ordering dinner for their own +small parties as unsocially as though they were at the Crown Inn, at +Brighton.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes, by the by,” said Frobisher, “I want to ask you about that. Don't you +think it were better to dash a little bit of 'communism' through your +administration?” + </p> +<p> +“I intend to send in my resignation as premier, now that the head of the +State has arrived,” said Linton, smiling dubiously. +</p> +<p> +“I perceive,” said Frobisher, shrewdly, “you expect that the Government +will go to pieces, if you leave it.” + </p> +<p> +“The truth is, Charley,” said he, dropping his voice to a low whisper, and +leaning his hand on the horse's mane, “our friend Roland is rather too far +in the category 'savage' for long endurance; he grows capricious and +self-opinionated. The thin plating comes off, and shows the buccaneer at +every slight abrasion.” + </p> +<p> +“What of that?” said Frobisher, languidly; “his book on Coutts' is +unexceptionable. Come, Tom, you are the only man here who has a head for +these things. Do exert yourself and set something a-going.” + </p> +<p> +“Well, what shall it be?” said he, gayly. “Shall we get the country people +together, and have hack races? Shall we assemble the squires, and have a +ball? Shall we start private theatricals? What says Miss Meek?” + </p> +<p> +“I vote for all three. Pray do, Mr. Linton,—you, who are so clever, +and can do everything,—make us gay. If we only go on as we have +begun, the house will be like a model prison,—on the separate and +silent system.” + </p> +<p> +“As you wish it,” said Linton, bowing with assumed gallantry; “and now to +work at once.” So saying, he turned towards the house, the others riding +at either side of him. +</p> +<p> +“What shall we do about Derwent's letter, Tom?” asked Frobisher. +</p> +<p> +“Never speak of it; the chances are that he has heard enough to satisfy +the most gluttonous curiosity. Besides, he has lost his yacht.” Here he +dropped his voice to a low muttering, as he said, “And may soon have a +heavier loss!” + </p> +<p> +“Is his pace too fast?” said Frobisher, who caught up the meaning, +although not the words. +</p> +<p> +Linton made no reply, for his thoughts were on another track; then, +suddenly catching himself, he said, “Come, and let us have a look at the +stables; I've not seen our stud yet.” And they turned off from the main +approach and entered the wood once more. +</p> +<p> +END OF VOL. I. <br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Roland Cashel, by Charles James Lever + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROLAND CASHEL *** + +***** This file should be named 33468-h.htm or 33468-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/4/6/33468/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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