28 files changed, 65535 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/34882-0.txt b/34882-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a36d73f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,12174 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrington, 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: Barrington
+       Volume I (of II)
+
+Author: Charles James Lever
+
+Illustrator: Phiz.
+
+Release Date: January 8, 2011 [EBook #34882]
+Last Updated: February 27, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRINGTON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+BARRINGTON
+
+Volume I.
+
+By Charles James Lever
+
+With Illustrations By Phiz.
+
+Boston: Little, Brown, And Company.
+
+1907.
+
+[Illustration: frontispiece]
+
+
+
+
+BARRINGTON.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. THE FISHERMAN'S HOME
+
+If there should be, at this day we live in, any one bold enough to
+confess that he fished the river Nore, in Ireland, some forty years ago,
+he might assist me by calling to mind a small inn, about two miles from
+the confluence of that river with the Barrow, a spot in great favor with
+those who followed the “gentle craft.”
+
+It was a very unpretending hostel, something wherein cottage
+and farmhouse were blended, and only recognizable as a place of
+entertainment by a tin trout suspended over the doorway, with the modest
+inscription underneath,--“Fisherman's Home.” Very seldom is it, indeed,
+that hotel pledges are as honestly fulfilled as they were in this
+simple announcement. The house was, in all that quiet comfort and
+unostentatious excellence can make, a veritable Home! Standing in a fine
+old orchard of pear and damson trees, it was only approachable by a path
+which led from the highroad, about two miles off, or by the river, which
+wound round the little grassy promontory beneath the cottage. On the
+opposite side of the stream arose cliffs of considerable height, their
+terraced sides covered with larch and ash, around whose stems the
+holly, the laurel, and arbutus grew in a wild and rich profusion. A high
+mountain, rugged with rock and precipice, shut in the picture, and gave
+to the river all the semblance of a narrow lake.
+
+The Home, as may be imagined, was only resorted to by fishermen, and
+of these not many; for the chosen few who knew the spot, with the
+churlishness of true anglers, were strenuously careful to keep the
+secret to themselves. But another and stronger cause contributed to this
+seclusion. The landlord was a reduced gentleman, who, only anxious to
+add a little to his narrow fortune, would not have accepted a greater
+prosperity at the cost of more publicity, and who probably only
+consented to his occupation on finding how scrupulously his guests
+respected his position.
+
+Indeed, it was only on leave-taking, and then far from painfully, you
+were reminded of being in an inn. There was no noise, no bustle; books,
+magazines, flowers, lay about; cupboards lay open, with all their
+cordials free to take. You might dine under the spreading sycamore
+beside the well, and have your dessert for the plucking. No obsequious
+waiter shook his napkin as you passed, no ringleted barmaid crossed your
+musing steps, no jingling of bells, or discordant cries, or high-voiced
+remonstrances disturbed you. The hum of the summer bee, or the flapping
+plash of a trout, were about the only sounds in the stillness, and all
+was as peaceful and as calm and as dreamy as the most world-weary could
+have wished it.
+
+Of those who frequented the spot, some merely knew that the host had
+seen better days. Others, however, were aware that Peter Barrington
+had once been a man of large fortune, and represented his county in the
+Irish Parliament. Though not eminent as a politician, he was one of
+the great convivial celebrities of a time that boasted of Curran, and
+Avanmore, and Parsons, and a score of others, any one of whom, in our
+day, would have made a society famous. Barrington, too, was the almoner
+of the monks of the screw, and “Peter's pence” was immortalized in a
+song by Ned Lysaght, of which I once possessed, but have lost a copy.
+
+One might imagine there could be no difficulty in showing how in that
+wild period of riotous living and costly rivalry an Irish gentleman ran
+through all his property and left himself penniless. It was, indeed,
+a time of utter recklessness, many seeming possessed of that
+devil-may-care spirit that drives a drowning crew to break open the
+spirit-room and go down in an orgie. But Barrington's fortune was so
+large, and his successes on the turf so considerable, that it appeared
+incredible, when his estates came to the hammer, and all his personal
+property was sold off; so complete his ruin, that, as he said himself,
+the “only shelter he had was an umbrella, and even that he borrowed from
+Dan Driscoll, the sheriff's officer.”
+
+Of course there were theories in plenty to account for the disaster,
+and, as usual, so many knew, many a long day ago, how hard pressed he
+had been for money, and what ruinous interest he was obliged to pay,
+till at last rumors filtered all down to one channel, and the world
+agreed that it was all his son's doing, and that the scamp George had
+ruined his father. This son, his only child, had gone out to India in
+a cavalry regiment, and was celebrated all over the East for a costly
+splendor that rivalled the great Government officials. From every
+retired or invalided officer who came back from Bengal were heard
+stories of mad Barring-ton's extravagance: his palace on the Hooghly,
+his racing stud, his elephants, his army of retainers,--all narratives
+which, no matter in what spirit retailed, seemed to delight old Peter,
+who, at every fresh story of his son's spendthrift magnificence, would
+be sure to toast his health with a racy enthusiasm whose sincerity was
+not to be doubted.
+
+Little wonder need there be if in feeding such extravagance a vast
+estate melted away, and acre followed acre, till all that remained of
+a property that ranked next to the Ormonds' was the little cottage over
+whose door the tin-trout dangled, and the few roods of land around it:
+sorry remnant of a princely fortune!
+
+But Barrington himself had a passion, which, inordinately indulged, has
+brought many to their ruin. He was intensely fond of law. It was to him
+all that gambling is to other men. All that gamesters feel of hope
+and fear, all the intense excitement they derive from the vacillating
+fortunes of play, Barrington enjoyed in a lawsuit. Every step of the
+proceeding had for him an intense interest. The driest legal documents,
+musty declarations, demurrers, pleadings, replies, affidavits, and
+counter-affidavits were his choicest reading; and never did a young lady
+hurry to her room with the last new novel with a stronger anticipation
+of delight than did Barrington when carrying away to his little snuggery
+a roll of parchments or rough drafts, whose very iterations and jargon
+would have driven most men half crazy. This same snuggery of his was a
+curiosity, too, the walls being all decorated with portraits of legal
+celebrities, not selected with reference to their merit or distinction,
+but solely from their connection with some suit in which he had been
+engaged; and thus under the likeness of Chief Baron O'Grady might be
+read, “Barring-ton versus Brazier, 1802; a juror withdrawn:” Justice
+Moore's portrait was inscribed, “Argument in Chambers, 1808,” and so on;
+even to the portraits of leading counsel, all were marked and dated only
+as they figured in the great campaign,--the more than thirty years' war
+he carried on against Fortune.
+
+Let not my reader suppose for one moment that this litigious taste grew
+out of a spirit of jarring discontent or distrust. Nothing of the kind.
+Barrington was merely a gambler; and with whatever dissatisfaction the
+declaration may be met, I am prepared to show that gambling, however
+faulty in itself, is not the vice of cold, selfish, and sordid men,
+but of warm, rash, sometimes over-generous temperaments. Be it well
+remembered that the professional play-man is, of all others, the one
+who has least of a gamester in his heart; his superiority lying in the
+simple fact that his passions are never engaged, his interest never
+stirred. Oh! beware of yourself in company with the polished antagonist,
+who only smiles when he loses, whom nothing adverse ever disturbs, but
+is calmly serene under the most pitiless pelting of luck. To come back:
+Barrington's passion for law was an intense thirst for a certain species
+of excitement; a verdict was to him the odd trick. Let him, however, but
+win the game, there never was a man so indifferent about the stakes.
+
+For many a year back he had ceased to follow the great events of the
+world. For the stupendous changes in Europe he cared next to nothing. He
+scarcely knew who reigned over this empire or that kingdom. Indifferent
+to art, science, letters, and even society, his interest was intense
+about all that went on in the law courts, and it was an interest so
+catholic that it took in everything and everybody, from the great judge
+upon the bench to the small taxing-officer who nibbled at the bill of
+costs.
+
+Fortunately for him, his sister, a maiden lady of some eighteen or
+twenty years his junior, had imbibed nothing of this passion, and, by
+her prudent opposition to it, stemmed at least the force of that current
+which was bearing him to ruin. Miss Dinah Barrington had been the great
+belle of the Irish court,--I am ashamed to say how long ago,--and though
+at the period my tale opens there was not much to revive the impression,
+her high nose, and full blue eyes, and a mass of wonderfully unchanged
+brown hair, proclaimed her to be--what she was very proud to call
+herself--a thorough Barrington, a strong type of a frank nature, with a
+bold, resolute will, and a very womanly heart beneath it.
+
+When their reverses of fortune first befell them, Miss Barrington wished
+to emigrate. She thought that in Canada, or some other far-away land,
+their altered condition might be borne less painfully, and that they
+could more easily bend themselves to humble offices where none but
+strangers were to look on them; but Barrington clung to his country
+with the tenacity of an old captain to a wreck. He declared he could not
+bring himself to the thought of leaving his bones in a strange land,
+but he never confessed what he felt to be the strongest tie of all,
+two unfinished lawsuits, the old record of Barrington v. Brazier, and
+a Privy Council case of Barrington and Lot Rammadahn Mohr against the
+India Company. To have left his country with these still undecided
+seemed to him--like the act of a commander taking flight on the morning
+of a general action--an amount of cowardice he could not contemplate.
+Not that he confided this opinion to his sister, though he did so in the
+very fullest manner to his old follower and servant, Darby Cassan. Darby
+was the last remnant of a once princely retinue, and in his master's
+choice of him to accompany his fallen fortunes, there was something
+strangely indicative of the man. Had Darby been an old butler or a
+body-servant, had he been a favorite groom, or, in some other capacity,
+one whose daily duties had made his a familiar face, and whose functions
+could still be available in an humble state, there would have seemed
+good reason for the selection; but Darby was none of these: he had never
+served in hall or pantry; he had never brushed the cobweb from a bottle,
+or led a nag to the door. Of all human professions his were about the
+last that could address themselves to the cares of a little household;
+for Darby was reared, bred, and passed fifty-odd years of his life as an
+earth-stopper!
+
+A very ingenious German writer has attempted to show that the sympathies
+of the humble classes with pursuits far above their own has always
+its origin in something of their daily life and habits, just as the
+sacristan of a cathedral comes to be occasionally a tolerable art critic
+from his continual reference to Rubens and Vandyck. It is possible
+that Darby may have illustrated the theory, and that his avocations as
+earth-stopper may have suggested what he assuredly possessed, a perfect
+passion for law. If a suit was a great game to Barrington, to Darby
+it was a hunt! and though his personal experiences never soared beyond
+Quarter Sessions, he gloried in all he saw there of violence and
+altercation, of vituperative language and impassioned abuse. Had he been
+a rich man, free to enjoy his leisure, he would have passed all his
+days listening to these hot discussions. They were to him a sort of
+intellectual bull-fight, which never could be too bloody or too cruel.
+Have I said enough, therefore, to show the secret link which bound
+the master to the man? I hope so; and that my reader is proud of a
+confidence with which Miss Barrington herself was never intrusted.
+She believed that Darby had been taken into favor from some marvellous
+ability he was supposed to possess, applicable to their new venture as
+innkeepers. Phrenology would perhaps have pronounced Darby a heaven-born
+host, for his organ of acquisitiveness was grandly developed. Amidst
+that great household, where the thriftless habits of the master had
+descended to the servants, and rendered all reckless and wasteful alike,
+Darby had thriven and grown almost rich. Was it that the Irish climate
+used its influence over him; for in his practice to “put by something
+for a rainy day,” his savings had many promptings? As the reputation
+of having money soon attached to him, he was often applied to in the
+hunting-field, or at the kennel, for small loans, by the young bloods
+who frequented the Hall, and, being always repaid three or four fold, he
+grew to have a very high conception of what banking must be when done
+on a large scale. Besides all this, he quickly learned that no character
+attracts more sympathy, especially amongst the class of young squires
+and sporting-men, than a certain quaint simplicity, so flattering in its
+contrast to their own consummate acuteness. Now, he was simple to their
+hearts' content. He usually spoke of himself as “Poor Darby, God help
+him!” and, in casting up those wonderful accounts, which he kept by
+notches on a tally-stick, nothing was more amusing than to witness his
+bewilderment and confusion, the inconceivable blunders he would
+make, even to his own disadvantage, all sure to end at last in the
+heart-spoken confession that it was “clean beyand him,” and “he 'd leave
+it all to your honor; pay just what ye plaze, and long life to ye!”
+
+Is it that women have some shrewd perception of character denied to men?
+Certainly Darby never imposed on Miss Barrington. She read him like a
+book, and he felt it. The consequence was a very cordial dislike, which
+strengthened with every year of their acquaintance.
+
+Though Miss Barrington ever believed that the notion of keeping an inn
+originated with her brother, it was Darby first conceived the project,
+and, indeed, by his own skill and crafty intelligence was it carried on;
+and while the words “Peter Barrington” figured in very small letters, it
+is true, over the door to comply with a legal necessity, to most of the
+visitors he was a mere myth. Now, if Peter Barrington was very happy
+to be represented by deputy,--or, better still, not represented at
+all,--Miss Dinah regarded the matter in a very different light. Her
+theory was that, in accepting the humble station to which reverse of
+fortune brought them, the world ought to see all the heroism and courage
+of the sacrifice. She insisted on being a foreground figure, just to
+show them, as she said, “that I take nothing upon me. I am the hostess
+of a little wayside inn,--no more!” How little did she know of her
+own heart, and how far was she from even suspecting that it was the
+_ci-devant_ belle making one last throw for the admiration and homage
+which once were offered her freely.
+
+Such were the three chief personages who dwelt under that secluded roof,
+half overgrown with honeysuckle and dog-roses,--specimens of that wider
+world without, where jealousies, and distrusts, and petty rivalries
+are warring: for as in one tiny globule of water are represented the
+elements which make oceans and seas, so is it in the moral world; and
+“the family” is only humanity, as the artists say, “reduced.”
+
+For years back Miss Barrington had been plotting to depose Darby. With
+an ingenuity quite feminine, she managed to connect him with every
+chagrin that crossed and every annoyance that befell them. If the pig
+ploughed up the new peas in the garden, it was Darby had left the gate
+open; it was _his_ hand overwound the clock; and a very significant hint
+showed that when the thunder soured the beer, Mr. Darby knew more of
+the matter than he was likely to tell. Against such charges as these,
+iterated and reiterated to satiety, Barrington would reply by a smile,
+or a good-natured excuse, or a mere gesture to suggest patience, till
+his sister, fairly worn out, resolved on another line of action. “As she
+could not banish the rats,” to use her own words, “she would scuttle the
+ship.”
+
+To explain her project, I must go back in my story, and state that her
+nephew, George Barrington, had sent over to England, some fifteen years
+before, a little girl, whom he, called his daughter. She was consigned
+to the care of his banker in London, with directions that he should
+communicate with Mr. Peter Barrington, announce the child's safe
+arrival, and consult with him as to her future destination. Now,
+when the event took place, Barrington was in the very crisis of his
+disasters. Overwhelmed with debts, pursued by creditors, regularly
+hunted down, he was driven day by day to sign away most valuable
+securities for mere passing considerations, and obliged to accept any
+conditions for daily support He answered the banker's letter, briefly
+stating his great embarrassment, and begging him to give the child his
+protection for a few weeks or so, till some arrangement of his affairs
+might enable him to offer her a home.
+
+This time, however, glided over, and the hoped-for amendment never
+came,--far from it. Writs were out against him, and he was driven to
+seek a refuge in the Isle of Man, at that time the special sanctuary of
+insolvent sinners. Mr. Leonard Gower wrote again, and proposed that, if
+no objection would be made to the plan, the child should be sent to a
+certain convent near Namur, in the Netherlands, where his own daughter
+was then placed for her education. Aunt Dinah would have rejected,--ay,
+or would have resented such a proposal as an insult, had the world but
+gone on better with them. That her grand-niece should be brought up a
+Catholic was an outrage on the whole Barring-ton blood. But calamity had
+brought her low,--very low, indeed. The child, too, was a heathen,--a
+Hindoo or a Buddhist, perhaps,--for the mother was a native woman,
+reputed, indeed, to be a princess. But who could know this? Who could
+vouch that George was ever married at all, or if such a ceremony were
+possible? All these were “attenuating circumstances,” and as such she
+accepted them; and the measure of her submission was filled up when she
+received a portrait of the little girl, painted by a native artist. It
+represented a dark-skinned, heavy-browed child, with wide, full eyes,
+thick lips, and an expression at once florid and sullen,--not any of
+the traits one likes to associate with infancy,--and it was with a half
+shudder Aunt Dinah closed the miniature, and declared that “the sight of
+the little savage actually frightened her.”
+
+Not so poor Barrington. He professed to see a great resemblance to his
+son. It was George all over. To be sure, his eyes were deep blue, and
+his hair a rich brown; but there was something in the nose, or perhaps
+it was in the mouth,--no, it was the chin,--ay, it was the chin was
+George's. It was the Barrington chin, and no mistake about it.
+
+At all events, no opposition was made to the banker's project, and the
+little girl was sent off to the convent of the Holy Cross, on the banks
+of the Meuse. She was inscribed on the roll as the Princess Doondiah,
+and bore the name till her father's death, when Mr. Gower suggested that
+she should be called by her family name. The letter with the proposal,
+by some accident, was not acknowledged, and the writer, taking silence
+to mean consent, desired the superior to address her, henceforth, as
+Miss Barrington; the first startling intimation of the change being
+a strangely, quaintly written note, addressed to her grand-aunt, and
+signed “Josephine Barrington.” It was a cold, formal letter,--so very
+formal, indeed, as to read like the copy of a document,--asking
+for leave to enter upon a novitiate of two years' duration, at the
+expiration of which she would be nineteen years of age, and in a
+position to decide upon taking the veil for life. The permission, very
+urgently pressed for by Mr. Gower in another letter, was accorded,
+and now we have arrived at that period in which but three months only
+remained of the two years whose closure was to decide her fate forever.
+
+Barrington had long yearned to see her. It was with deep and bitter
+self-reproach he thought over the cold neglect they had shown her. She
+was all that remained of poor George, his boy,--for so he called
+him, and so he thought of him,--long after the bronzed cheek and the
+prematurely whitened hair had tempered his manhood. To be sure, all the
+world said, and he knew himself, how it was chiefly through the “boy's”
+ extravagance he came to ruin. But it was over now. The event that sobers
+down reproach to sorrow had come. He was dead! All that arose to memory
+of him were the traits that suggested hopes of his childhood, or gave
+triumph in his riper years; and oh, is it not better thus? for what
+hearts would be left us if we were to carry in them the petty rancors
+and jealousies which once filled them, but which, one day, we buried in
+the cold clay of the churchyard.
+
+Aunt Dinah, moved by reasons long canvassed over in her own mind, at
+last began to think of recalling her grand-niece. It was so very bold a
+project that, at first, she could scarcely entertain it. The Popery was
+very dreadful! Her imagination conjured up the cottage converted into a
+little Baal, with false gods and graven images, and holy-water fonts
+at every turn; but the doubtful legitimacy was worse again. She had
+a theory that it was by lapses of this kind the “blue blood” of old
+families grew deteriorated, and that the downfall of many an ancient
+house was traceable to these corruptions. Far better, she deemed it,
+that the Barringtons should die out forever than their line be continued
+by this base and ignoble grafting.
+
+There is a _contre_ for every _pour_ in this world. It may be a weak
+and an insufficient one, it is true; but it is a certainty that all our
+projects must come to a debtor or creditor reckoning, and the very best
+we can do is to strike an honest balance!
+
+How Miss Dinah essayed to do this we shall learn in the next chapter and
+what follows it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. A WET MORNING AT HOME
+
+If there was anything that possessed more than common terror for
+Barrington, it was a wet day at the cottage! It was on these dreary
+visitations that his sister took the opportunity of going into
+“committee of supply,”--an occasion not merely for the discussion
+of fiscal matters, but for asking the most vexatious questions and
+demanding the most unpleasant explanations.
+
+We can all, more or less, appreciate the happiness of that right
+honorable gentleman on the Treasury bench who has to reply to the crude
+and unmeaning inquiries of some aspiring Oppositionist, and who wishes
+to know if her Majesty's Government have demanded an indemnity from the
+King of Dahomey for the consul's family eaten by him at the last court
+ceremonial? What compensation is to be given to Captain Balrothery for
+his week's imprisonment at Leghorn, in consequence of his having thrown
+the customs officer and a landing waiter into the sea? Or what mark of
+her Majesty's favor will the noble lord recommend should be conferred
+upon Ensign Digges for the admirable imitation he gave of the dancing
+dervishes at Benares, and the just ridicule he thus threw upon these
+degrading and heathenish rites?
+
+It was to a torture of this order, far more reasonable and pertinent,
+however, that Barrington usually saw himself reduced whenever the
+weather was so decidedly unfavorable that egress was impossible. Poor
+fellow, what shallow pretexts would he stammer out for absenting himself
+from home, what despicable subterfuges to put off an audience! He had
+forgotten to put down the frame on that melon-bed.
+
+There was that awning over the boat not taken in. He 'd step out to
+the stable and give Billy, the pony, a touch of the white oils on that
+swelled hock. He 'd see if they had got the young lambs under cover. In
+fact, from his perturbed and agitated manner, you would have imagined
+that rain was one of the rarest incidents of an Irish climate, and only
+the very promptest measures could mitigate the calamity.
+
+“May I ask where you are off to in such haste, Peter?” asked Miss Dinah
+one morning, just as Barrington had completed all his arrangements for
+a retreat; far readier to brave the elements than the more pitiless
+pelting that awaited him within doors.
+
+“I just remembered,” said he, mildly, “that I had left two night-lines
+out at the point, and with this fresh in the river it would be as well
+if I 'd step down and see--”
+
+“And see if the river was where it was yesterday,” broke she in,
+sneeringly.
+
+“No, Dinah. But you see that there 's this to be remarked about
+night-lines--”
+
+“That they never catch any fish!” said she, sternly. “It's no weather
+for you to go tramping about in the wet grass. You made fuss enough
+about your lumbago last week, and I suppose you don't want it back
+again. Besides,”--and here her tongue grew authoritative,--“I have got
+up the books.” And with these words she threw on the table a number of
+little greasy-looking volumes, over which poor Barrington's sad glances
+wandered, pretty much as might a victim's over the thumb-screws and the
+flesh-nippers of the Holy Inquisition.
+
+“I've a slight touch of a headache this morning, Dinah.”
+
+“It won't be cured by going out in the rain. Sit down there,” said she,
+peremptorily, “and see with your own eyes how much longer your means
+will enable you to continue these habits of waste and extravagance.”
+
+“These what?” said he, perfectly astounded.
+
+“These habits of waste and extravagance, Peter Barring-ton. I repeat my
+words.”
+
+Had a venerable divine, being asked on the conclusion of an edifying
+discourse, for how much longer it might be his intention to persist in
+such ribaldries, his astonishment could scarce have been greater than
+Barrington's.
+
+“Why, sister Dinah, are we not keeping an inn? Is not this the
+'Fisherman's Home'?”
+
+“I should think it is, Peter,” said she, with scorn. “I suspect he finds
+it so. A very excellent name for it it is!”
+
+“Must I own that I don't understand you, Dinah?”
+
+“Of course you don't. You never did all your life. You never knew you
+were wet till you were half drowned, and that's what the world calls
+having such an amiable disposition! Ain't your friends nice friends?
+They are always telling you how generous you are,--how free-handed,--how
+benevolent. What a heart he has! Ay, but thank Providence there's very
+little of that charming docility about _me_, is there?”
+
+“None, Dinah,--none,” said he, not in the least suspecting to what he
+was bearing testimony.
+
+She became crimson in a minute, and in a tone of some emotion said, “And
+if there had been, where should you and where should I be to-day? On the
+parish, Peter Barrington,--on the parish; for it 's neither _your_ head
+nor _your_ hands would have saved us from it.”
+
+“You're right, Dinah; you're right there. You never spoke a truer word.”
+ And his voice trembled as he said it.
+
+“I did n't mean _that_, Peter,” said she, eagerly; “but you are too
+confiding, too trustful. Perhaps it takes a woman to detect all the
+little wiles and snares that entangle us in our daily life?”
+
+“Perhaps it does,” said he, with a deep sigh.
+
+“At all events, you needn't sigh over it, Peter Barring-ton. It's not
+one of those blemishes in human nature that have to be deplored so
+feelingly. I hope women are as good as men.”
+
+“Fifty thousand times better, in every quality of kindliness and
+generosity.”
+
+“Humph!” said she, tossing her head impatiently. “We 're not here for a
+question in ethics; it is to the very lowly task of examining the house
+accounts I would invite your attention. Matters cannot go on as they do
+now, if we mean to keep a roof over us.”
+
+“But I have always supposed we were doing pretty well, Dinah. You know
+we never promised ourselves to gain a fortune by this venture; the very
+utmost we ever hoped for was to help us along,--to aid us to make both
+ends meet at the end of the year And as Darby tells me--”
+
+“Oh, Darby tells you! What a reliable authority to quote from! Oh, don't
+groan so heavily! I forgot myself. I would n't for the world impeach
+such fidelity or honesty as his.”
+
+“Be reasonable, sister Dinah,--do be reasonable; and if there is
+anything to lay to his charge--”
+
+“You 'll hear the case, I suppose,” cried she, in a voice high-pitched
+in passion. “You 'll sit up there, like one of your favorite judges, and
+call on Dinah Barrington against Cassan; and perhaps when the cause is
+concluded we shall reverse our places, and _I_ become the defendant! But
+if this is your intention, brother Barrington, give me a little time. I
+beg I may have a little time.”
+
+Now, this was a very favorite request of Miss Barring-ton's, and she
+usually made it in the tone of a martyr; but truth obliges us to own
+that never was a demand less justifiable. Not a three-decker of the
+Channel fleet was readier for a broadside than herself. She was always
+at quarters and with a port-fire burning.
+
+Barrington did not answer this appeal; he never moved,--he scarcely
+appeared to breathe, so guarded was he lest his most unintentional
+gesture should be the subject of comment.
+
+“When you have recovered from your stupefaction,” said she, calmly,
+“will you look over that line of figures, and then give a glance at this
+total? After that I will ask you what fortune could stand it.”
+
+“This looks formidable, indeed,” said he, poring over the page through
+his spectacles.
+
+“It is worse, Peter. It _is_ formidable.”
+
+“After all, Dinah, this is expenditure. Now for the incomings!”
+
+“I suspect you 'll have to ask your prime minister for _them_. Perhaps
+he may vouchsafe to tell you how many twenty-pound notes have gone to
+America, who it was that consigned a cargo of new potatoes to Liverpool,
+and what amount he invested in yarn at the last fair of Graigue? and
+when you have learned these facts, you will know all you are ever likely
+to know of your _profits!_” I have no means of conveying the intense
+scorn with which she uttered the last word of this speech.
+
+“And he told me--not a week back--that we were going on famously!”
+
+“Why wouldn't he? I 'd like to hear what else he could say. Famously,
+indeed, for _him_ with a strong balance in the savings-bank, and a gold
+watch--yes, Peter, a gold watch--in his pocket. This is no delusion,
+nor illusion, or whatever you call it, of mine, but a fact,--a downright
+fact.”
+
+“He has been toiling hard many a year for it, Dinah, don't forget that.”
+
+“I believe you want to drive me mad, Peter. You know these are things
+that I can't bear, and that's the reason you say them. Toil, indeed! _I_
+never saw him do anything except sit on a gate at the Lock Meadows, with
+a pipe in his mouth; and if you asked him what he was there for, it was
+a 'track' he was watching, a 'dog-fox that went by every afternoon to
+the turnip field.' Very great toil that was!”
+
+“There was n't an earth-stopper like him in the three next counties; and
+if I was to have a pack of foxhounds tomorrow--”
+
+“You 'd just be as great a foot as ever you were, and the more sorry I
+am to hear it; but you 're not going to be tempted, Peter Barrington.
+It's not foxes we have to think of, but where we 're to find shelter for
+ourselves.”
+
+“Do you know of anything we could turn to, more profitable, Dinah?”
+ asked he, mildly.
+
+“There 's nothing could be much less so, I know _that!_ You are not
+very observant, Peter, but even to you it must have become apparent that
+great changes have come over the world in a few years. The persons who
+formerly indulged their leisure were all men of rank and fortune. Who
+are the people who come over here now to amuse themselves? Staleybridge
+and Manchester creatures, with factory morals and bagman manners;
+treating our house like a commercial inn, and actually disputing the
+bill and asking for items. Yes, Peter, I overheard a fellow telling
+Darby last week that the ''ouse was dearer than the Halbion!'”
+
+“Travellers will do these things, Dinah.”
+
+“And if they do, they shall be shown the door for it, as sure as my name
+is Dinah Barrington.”
+
+“Let us give up the inn altogether, then,” said he, with a sudden
+impatience.
+
+“The very thing I was going to propose, Peter,” said she, solemnly.
+
+“What!--how?” cried he, for the acceptance of what only escaped him in
+a moment of anger overwhelmed and stunned him. “How are we to live,
+Dinah?”
+
+“Better without than with it,--there's my answer to that. Let us
+look the matter fairly in the face, Peter,” said she, with a calm and
+measured utterance. “This dealing with the world 'on honor' must ever
+be a losing game. To screen ourselves from the vulgar necessities of our
+condition, we must submit to any terms. So long as our intercourse
+with life gave us none but gentlemen to deal with, we escaped well and
+safely. That race would seem to have thinned off of late, however; or,
+what comes to the same, there is such a deluge of spurious coin one
+never knows what is real gold.”
+
+“You may be right, Dinah; you may be right.”
+
+“I know I am right; the experience has been the growth of years too. All
+our efforts to escape the odious contact of these people have multiplied
+our expenses. Where one man used to suffice, we keep three. You
+yourself, who felt it no indignity to go out a-fishing formerly with a
+chance traveller, have to own with what reserve and caution you would
+accept such companionship now.”
+
+“Nay, nay, Dinah, not exactly so far as that--”
+
+“And why not? Was it not less than a fortnight ago three Birmingham men
+crossed the threshold, calling out for old Peter,--was old Peter to the
+good yet?”
+
+“They were a little elevated with wine, sister, remember that; and,
+besides, they never knew, never had heard of me in my once condition.”
+
+“And are we so changed that they cannot recognize the class we pertain
+to?”
+
+“Not _you_, Dinah, certainly not you; but I frankly own I can put up
+with rudeness and incivility better than a certain showy courtesy some
+vulgar people practise towards me. In the one case I feel I am not
+known, and my secret is safe. In the other, I have to stand out as
+the ruined gentleman, and I am not always sure that I play the part as
+gracefully as I ought.”
+
+“Let us leave emotions, Peter, and descend to the lowland of arithmetic,
+by giving up two boatmen, John and Terry--”
+
+“Poor Terry!” sighed he, with a faint, low accent
+
+“Oh! if it be 'poor Terry!' I 've done,” said she, closing the book, and
+throwing it down with a slap that made him start.
+
+“Nay, dear Dinah; but if we could manage to let him have something,--say
+five shillings a week,--he 'd not need it long; and the port wine that
+was doing his rheumatism such good is nearly finished; he'll miss it
+sorely.”
+
+“Were you giving him Henderson's wine,--the '11 vintage?” cried she,
+pale with indignation.
+
+“Just a bottle or two, Dinah; only as medicine.”
+
+“As a fiddlestick, sir! I declare I have no patience with you; there
+'s no excuse for such folly, not to say the ignorance of giving these
+creatures what they never were used to. Did not Dr. Dill tell you that
+tonics, to be effective, must always have some relation to the daily
+habits of the patient?”
+
+“Very true, Dinah; but the discourse was pronounced when I saw him
+putting a bottle of old Madeira in his gig that I had left for Anne
+M'Cafferty, adding, he 'd send her something far more strengthening.”
+
+“Right or wrong, I don't care; but this I know, Terry Dogherty is n't
+going to finish off Henderson's port. It is rather too much to stand,
+that we are to be treating beggars to luxuries, when we can't say
+to-morrow where we shall find salt for our potatoes.” This was a
+somewhat favorite illustration of Miss Barrington,--either implying that
+the commodity was an essential to human life, or the use of it an emblem
+of extreme destitution.
+
+“I conclude we may dispense with Tom Divett's services,” resumed she.
+“We can assuredly get on without a professional rat-catcher.”
+
+“If we should, Dinah, we'll feel the loss; the rats make sad havoc of
+the spawn, and destroy quantities of the young fish, besides.”
+
+“His two ugly terriers eat just as many chickens, and never leave us an
+egg in the place. And now for Mr. Darby--”
+
+“You surely don't think of parting with Darby, sister Dinah?”
+
+“He shall lead the way,” replied she, in a firm and peremptory voice;
+“the very first of the batch! And it will, doubtless, be a great comfort
+to you to know that you need not distress yourself about any provision
+for his declining years. It is a care that he has attended to on his own
+part. He 'll go back to a very well-feathered nest, I promise you.”
+
+Barrington sighed heavily, for he had a secret sorrow on that score.
+He knew, though his sister did not, that he had from year to year been
+borrowing every pound of Darby's savings to pay the cost of law charges,
+always hoping and looking for the time when a verdict in his favor would
+enable him to restore the money twice told. With a very dreary sigh,
+then, did he here allude “to the well-feathered nest” of one he had left
+bare and destitute. He cleared his throat, and made an effort to avow
+the whole matter; but his courage failed him, and he sat mournfully
+shaking his head, partly in sorrow, partly in shame. His sister noticed
+none of these signs; she was rapidly enumerating all the reductions
+that could be made,--all the dependencies cut off; there were the
+boats, which constantly required repairs; the nets, eternally being
+renewed,--all to be discarded; the island, a very pretty little object
+in the middle of the river, need no longer be rented. “Indeed,” said
+she, “I don't know why we took it, except it was to give those memorable
+picnics you used to have there.”
+
+“How pleasant they were, Dinah; how delightful!” said he, totally
+overlooking the spirit of her remark.
+
+“Oh! they were charming, and your own popularity was boundless; but I
+'d have you to bear in mind, brother Peter, that popularity is no more
+a poor man's luxury than champagne. It is a very costly indulgence, and
+can rarely be had on 'credit.'”
+
+Miss Barrington had pared down retrenchment to the very quick. She
+had shown that they could live not only without boatmen, rat-catchers,
+gardener, and manservant, but that, as they were to give up their daily
+newspaper, they could dispense with a full ration of candle-light;
+and yet, with all these reductions, she declared that there was still
+another encumbrance to be pruned away, and she proudly asked her brother
+if he could guess what it was?
+
+Now Barrington felt that he could not live without a certain allowance
+of food, nor would it be convenient, or even decent, to dispense with
+raiment; so he began, as a last resource, to conjecture that his sister
+was darkly hinting at something which might be a substitute for a home,
+and save house-rent; and he half testily exclaimed, “I suppose we 're to
+have a roof over us, Dinah!”
+
+“Yes,” said she, dryly, “I never proposed we should go and live in the
+woods. What I meant had a reference, to Josephine--”
+
+Barrington's cheek flushed deeply in an instant, and, with a voice
+trembling with emotion, he said,--
+
+“If you mean, Dinah, that I'm to cut off that miserable pittance--that
+forty pounds a year--I give to poor George's girl--” He stopped, for he
+saw that in his sister's face which might have appalled a bolder heart
+than his own; for while her eyes flashed fire, her thin lips trembled
+with passion; and so, in a very faltering humility, he added: “But you
+never meant _that_ sister Dinah. You would be the very last in the world
+to do it.”
+
+“Then why impute it to me; answer me that?” said she, crossing her hands
+behind her back, and staring haughtily at him.
+
+“Just because I 'm clean at my wits' end,--just because I neither
+understand one word I hear, or what I say in reply. If you 'll just tell
+me what it is you propose, I 'll do my best, with God's blessing,
+to follow you; but don't ask me for advice, Dinah, and don't fly out
+because I 'm not as quick-witted and as clever as yourself.”
+
+There was something almost so abject in his misery that she seemed
+touched by it, and, in a voice of a very calm and kindly meaning, she
+said,--
+
+“I have been thinking a good deal over that letter of Josephine's; she
+says she wants our consent to take the veil as a nun; that, by the rules
+of the order, when her novitiate is concluded, she must go into the
+world for at least some months,--a time meant to test her faithfulness
+to her vows, and the tranquillity with which she can renounce forever
+all the joys and attractions of life. We, it is true, have no means of
+surrounding her with such temptations; but we might try and supply their
+place by some less brilliant but not less attractive ones. We might
+offer her, what we ought to have offered her years ago,--a home! What do
+you say to this, Peter?”
+
+“That I love you for it, sister Dinah, with all my heart,” said he,
+kissing her on each cheek; “that it makes me happier than I knew I ever
+was to be again.”
+
+“Of course, to bring Josephine here, this must not be an inn, Peter.”
+
+“Certainly not, Dinah,--certainly not. But I can think of nothing but
+the joy of seeing her,--poor George's child I How I have yearned to know
+if she was like him,--if she had any of his ways, any traits of that
+quaint, dry humor he had, and, above all, of that disposition that made
+him so loved by every one.”
+
+“And cheated by every one too, brother Peter; don't forget that!”
+
+“Who wants to think of it now?” said he, sorrowfully.
+
+“I never reject a thought because it has unpleasant associations. It
+would be but a sorry asylum which only admitted the well-to-do and the
+happy.”
+
+“How are we to get the dear child here, Dinah? Let us consider the
+matter. It is a long journey off.”
+
+“I have thought of that too,” said she, sententiously, “but not made up
+my mind.”
+
+“Let us ask M'Cormick about it, Dinah; he's coming up this evening
+to play his Saturday night's rubber with Dill. He knows the Continent
+well.”
+
+“There will be another saving that I did n't remember, Peter. The weekly
+bottle of whiskey, and the candles, not to speak of the four or five
+shillings your pleasant companions invariably carry away with them,--all
+may be very advantageously dispensed with.”
+
+“When Josephine 's here, I 'll not miss it,” said he, good-humoredly.
+Then suddenly remembering that his sister might not deem the speech
+a gracious one to herself, he was about to add something; but she was
+gone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. OUR NEXT NEIGHBORS
+
+Should there be amongst my readers any one whose fortune it has been
+in life only to associate with the amiable, the interesting, and the
+agreeable, all whose experiences of mankind are rose-tinted, to him I
+would say, Skip over two people I am now about to introduce, and take
+up my story at some later stage, for I desire to be truthful, and, as is
+the misfortune of people in my situation, I may be very disagreeable.
+
+After all, I may have made more excuses than were needful. The persons
+I would present are in that large category, the commonplace, and only as
+uninviting and as tiresome as we may any day meet in a second-class on
+the railroad. Flourish, therefore, penny trumpets, and announce Major
+M'Cormick. The Major, so confidently referred to by Barrington
+in our last chapter as a high authority on matters continental, was a
+very shattered remnant of the unhappy Walcheren expedition. He was a
+small, mean-looking, narrow-faced man, with a thin, bald head, and red
+whiskers. He walked very lame from an injury to his hip; “his wound,”
+ he called it, though his candor did not explain that it was incurred by
+being thrown down a hatchway by a brother officer in a drunken brawl.
+In character he was a saving, penurious creature, without one single
+sympathy outside his own immediate interests. When some sixteen or
+eighteen years before the Barringtons had settled in the neighborhood,
+the Major began to entertain thoughts of matrimony. Old soldiers are
+rather given to consider marriage as an institution especially intended
+to solace age and console rheumatism, and so M'Cormick debated with
+himself whether he had not arrived at the suitable time for this
+indulgence, and also whether Miss Dinah Barrington was not the
+individual destined to share his lot and season his gruel.
+
+But a few years back and his ambition would as soon have aspired to an
+archduchess as to the sister of Barrington, of Barrington Hall, whose
+realms of social distinction separated them; but now, fallen from their
+high estate, forgotten by the world, and poor, they had come down--at
+least, he thought so--to a level in which there would be no presumption
+in his pretensions. Indeed, I half suspect that he thought there was
+something very high-minded and generous in his intentions with regard to
+them. At all events, there was a struggle of some sort in his mind which
+went on from year to year undecided. Now, there are men--for the most
+part old bachelors--to whom an unfinished project is a positive luxury,
+who like to add, day by day, a few threads to the web of fate, but no
+more. To the Major it was quite enough that “some fine day or other”--so
+he phrased it--he 'd make his offer, just as he thought how, in the same
+propitious weather, he 'd put a new roof on his cottage, and fill up
+that quarry-hole near his gate, into which he had narrowly escaped
+tumbling some half-dozen times. But thanks to his caution and
+procrastination, the roof, and the project, and the quarry-hole were
+exactly, or very nearly, in the same state they had been eighteen years
+before.
+
+Rumor said--as rumor will always say whatever has a tinge of ill-nature
+in it--that Miss Barrington would have accepted him; vulgar report
+declared that she would “jump at the offer.” Whether this be, or not,
+the appropriate way of receiving a matrimonial proposal, the lady was
+not called upon to display her activity. He never told his love.
+
+It is very hard to forgive that secretary, home or foreign, who in the
+day of his power and patronage could, but did not, make us easy for life
+with this mission or that com-missionership. It is not easy to believe
+that our uncle the bishop could not, without any undue strain upon his
+conscience, have made us something, albeit a clerical error, in his
+diocese, but infinitely more difficult is it to pardon him who, having
+suggested dreams of wedded happiness, still stands hesitating, doubting,
+and canvassing,--a timid bather, who shivers on the beach, and then puts
+on his clothes again.
+
+It took a long time--it always does in such cases--ere Miss Barrington
+came to read this man aright. Indeed, the light of her own hopes had
+dazzled her, and she never saw him clearly till they were extinguished;
+but when the knowledge did come, it came trebled with compound interest,
+and she saw him in all that displayed his miserable selfishness; and
+although her brother, who found it hard to believe any one bad who had
+not been tried for a capital felony, would explain away many a meanness
+by saying, “It is just his way,--a way, and no more!” she spoke out
+fearlessly, if not very discreetly, and declared she detested him. Of
+course she averred it was his manners, his want of breeding, and
+his familiarity that displeased her. He might be an excellent
+creature,--perhaps he was; _that_ was nothing to her. All his moral
+qualities might have an interest for his friends; she was a mere
+acquaintance, and was only concerned for what related to his bearing in
+society. Then Walcheren was positively odious to her. Some little
+solace she felt at the thought that the expedition was a failure and
+inglorious; but when she listened to the fiftieth time-told tale of
+fever and ague, she would sigh, not for those who suffered, but over the
+one that escaped. It is a great blessing to men of uneventful lives and
+scant imagination when there is any one incident to which memory can
+refer unceasingly. Like some bold headland last seen at sea, it lives in
+the mind throughout the voyage. Such was this ill-starred expedition
+to the Major. It dignified his existence to himself, though his memory
+never soared above the most ordinary details and vulgar incidents. Thus
+he would maunder on for hours, telling how the ships sailed and parted
+company, and joined again; how the old “Brennus” mistook a signal and
+put back to Hull, and how the “Sarah Reeves,” his own transport, was
+sent after her. Then he grew picturesque about Flushing, as first
+seen through the dull fogs of the Scheldt, with village spires peeping
+through the heavy vapor, and the strange Dutch language, with its queer
+names for the vegetables and fruit brought by the boats alongside.
+
+“You won't believe me, Miss Dinah, but, as I sit here, the peaches was
+like little melons, and the cherries as big as walnuts.”
+
+“They made cherry-bounce out of them, I hope, sir,” said she, with a
+scornful smile.
+
+“No, indeed, ma'am,” replied he, dull to the sarcasm; “they ate them in
+a kind of sauce with roast-pig, and mighty good too!”
+
+But enough of the Major; and now a word, and only a word, for his
+companion, already alluded to by Barrington.
+
+Dr. Dill had been a poor “Dispensary Doctor” for some thirty years, with
+a small practice, and two or three grand patrons at some miles off, who
+employed him for the servants, or for the children in “mild cases,” and
+who even extended to him a sort of contemptuous courtesy that serves to
+make a proud man a bear, and an humble man a sycophant.
+
+Dill was the reverse of proud, and took to the other line with much
+kindliness. To have watched him in his daily round you would have said
+that he liked being trampled on, and actually enjoyed being crushed. He
+smiled so blandly, and looked so sweetly under it all, as though it was
+a kind of moral shampooing, from which he would come out all the fresher
+and more vigorous.
+
+The world is certainly generous in its dealings with these temperaments;
+it indulges them to the top of their hearts, and gives them humiliations
+to their heart's content. Rumor--the same wicked goddess who libelled
+Miss Barrington--hinted that the doctor was not, within his own walls
+and under his own roof, the suffering angel the world saw him, and
+that he occasionally did a little trampling there on his own account.
+However, Mrs. Dill never complained; and though the children wore a
+tremulous terror and submissiveness in their looks, they were only
+suitable family traits, which all redounded to their credit, and made
+them “so like the doctor.”
+
+Such were the two worthies who slowly floated along on the current
+of the river of a calm summer's evening, to visit the Barringtons. As
+usual, the talk was of their host. They discussed his character and his
+habits and his debts, and the difficulty he had in raising that little
+loan; and in close juxtaposition with this fact, as though pinned on the
+back of it, his sister's overweening pride and pretension. It had been
+the Major's threat for years that he 'd “take her down a peg one of
+these days.” But either he was mercifully unwilling to perform the act,
+or that the suitable hour for it had not come; but there she remained,
+and there he left her, not taken down one inch, but loftier and
+haughtier than ever. As the boat rounded the point from which the
+cottage was visible through the trees and some of the outhouses could
+be descried, they reverted to the ruinous state everything was falling
+into. “Straw is cheap enough, anyhow,” said the Major. “He might put a
+new thatch on that cow-house, and I 'm sure a brush of paint would n't
+ruin any one.” Oh, my dear reader! have you not often heard--I know that
+I have--such comments as these, such reflections on the indolence or
+indifference which only needed so very little to reform, done, too,
+without trouble or difficulty, habits that could be corrected, evil ways
+reformed, and ruinous tendencies arrested, all as it were by a “rush of
+paint,” or something just as uncostly?
+
+“There does n't seem to be much doing here, Dill,” said M'Cormick, as
+they landed. “All the boats are drawn up ashore. And faith! I don't
+wonder, that old woman is enough to frighten the fish out of the river.”
+
+“Strangers do not always like that sort of thing,” modestly remarked the
+doctor,--the “always” being peculiarly marked for emphasis. “Some will
+say, an inn should be an inn.”
+
+“That's my view of it. What I say is this: I want my bit of fish, and
+my beefsteak, and my pint of wine, and I don't want to know that the
+landlord's grandfather entertained the king, or that his aunt was a
+lady-in-waiting. 'Be' as high as you like,' says I, 'but don't make
+the bill so,'--eh, Dill?” And he cackled the harsh ungenial laugh which
+seems the birthright of all sorry jesters; and the doctor gave a little
+laugh too, more from habit, however, than enjoyment.
+
+“Do you know, Dill,” said the Major, disengaging himself from the arm
+which his lameness compelled him to lean on, and standing still in the
+pathway,--“do you know that I never reach thus far without having a sort
+of struggle with myself whether I won't turn back and go home again. Can
+you explain that, now?”
+
+“It is the wound, perhaps, pains you, coming up the hill.”
+
+“It is not the wound. It's that woman!”
+
+“Miss Barrington?”
+
+“Just so. I have her before me now, sitting up behind the urn there, and
+saying, 'Have you had tea, Major M'Cormick?' when she knows well she did
+n't give it to me. Don't you feel that going up to the table for your
+cup is for all the world like doing homage?”
+
+“Her manners are cold,--certainly cold.”
+
+“I wish they were. It's the fire that's in her I 'm afraid of! She has as
+wicked an eye in her head as ever I saw.”
+
+“She was greatly admired once, I 'm told; and she has many remains of
+beauty.”
+
+“Oh! for the matter of looks, there's worse. It's her nature, her
+temper,--herself, in fact, I can't endure.”
+
+“What is it you can't endure, M'Cormick?” cried Barrington, emerging
+from a side walk where he had just caught the last words. “If it be
+anything in this poor place of mine, let me hear, that I may have it
+amended.”
+
+“How are ye,--how are ye?” said the Major, with a very confused manner.
+“I was talking politics with Dill. I was telling him how I hated _them_
+Tories.”
+
+“I believe they are all pretty much alike,” said Barring-ton; “at least,
+I knew they were in my day. And though we used to abuse him, and drink
+all kind of misfortunes to him every day of our lives, there was n't a
+truer gentleman nor a finer fellow in Ireland than Lord Castlereagh.”
+
+“I'm sure of it. I've often heard the same remark,” chimed in Dill.
+
+“It's a pity you didn't think so at the time of the Union,” said
+M'Cormick, with a sneer.
+
+“Many of us did; but it would not make us sell our country. But what
+need is there of going back to those times, and things that can't be
+helped now? Come in and have a cup of tea. I see my sister is waiting
+for us.”
+
+Why was it that Miss Barrington, on that evening, was grander and
+statelier than ever? Was it some anticipation of the meditated change in
+their station had impressed her manner with more of pride? I know
+not; but true it is she received her visitors with a reserve that was
+actually chilling. To no end did Barrington exert himself to conceal or
+counteract this frigidity. In all our moral chemistry we have never yet
+hit upon an antidote to a chilling reception.
+
+[Illustration: 046]
+
+The doctor was used to this freezing process, and did not suffer
+like his companion. To him, life was a huge ice-pail; but he defied
+frost-bite, and bore it. The Major, however chafed and fidgeted under
+the treatment, and muttered to himself very vengeful sentiments about
+that peg he had determined to take her down from.
+
+“I was hoping to be able to offer you a nosegay, dear lady,” said
+Dill,--this was his customary mode of address to her, an ingenious
+blending of affection with deference, but in which the stronger accent
+on the last word showed the deference to predominate,--“but the rain has
+come so late, there's not a stock in the garden fit to present to you.”
+
+“It is just as well, sir. I detest gillyflowers.”
+
+The Major's eyes sparkled with a spiteful delight, for he was sorely
+jealous of the doctor's ease under difficulties.
+
+“We have, indeed, a few moss-roses.”
+
+“None to be compared to our own, sir. Do not think of it.”
+
+The Major felt that his was not a giving disposition, and consequently
+it exempted him from rubs and rebuffs of this sort. Meanwhile, unabashed
+by failure, the doctor essayed once more: “Mrs. Dill is only waiting to
+have the car mended, to come over and pay her dutiful respects to you,
+Miss Dinah.”
+
+“Pray tell her not to mind it, Dr. Dill,” replied she, sharply, “or to
+wait till the fourth of next month, which will make it exactly a year
+since her last visit; and her call can be then an annual one, like the
+tax-gatherer's.”
+
+“Bother them for taxes altogether,” chimed in Barrington, whose ear
+only caught the last word. “You haven't done with the county cess when
+there's a fellow at you for tithes; and they're talking of a poor-rate.”
+
+“You may perceive, Dr. Dill, that your medicines have not achieved a
+great success against my brother's deafness.”
+
+“We were all so at Walcheren,” broke in M'Cormick; “when we 'd come out
+of the trenches, we could n't hear for hours.”
+
+“My voice may be a shrill one, Major M'Cormick, but I'll have you to
+believe that it has not destroyed my brother's tympanum.”
+
+“It's not the tympanum is engaged, dear lady; it's the Eustachian tube
+is the cause here. There's a passage leads down from the internal ear--”
+
+“I declare, sir, I have just as little taste for anatomy as for
+fortification; and though I sincerely wish you could cure my brother, as
+I also wish these gentlemen could have taken Walcheren, I have not the
+slightest desire to know how.”
+
+“I 'll beg a little more tea in this, ma'am,” said the Major, holding
+out his cup.
+
+“Do you mean water, sir? Did you say it was too strong?”
+
+“With your leave, I 'll take it a trifle stronger,” said he, with a
+malicious twinkle in his eye, for he knew all the offence his speech
+implied.
+
+“I'm glad to hear you say so, Major M'Cormick. I'm happy to know that
+your nerves are stronger than at the time of that expedition you quote
+with such pleasure. Is yours to your liking, sir?”
+
+“I 'll ask for some water, dear lady,” broke in Dill, who began to think
+that the fire was hotter than usual. “As I said to Mrs. Dill, 'Molly,'
+says I, 'how is it that I never drink such tea anywhere as at the--'” He
+stopped, for he was going to say, the Harringtons', and he trembled at
+the liberty; and he dared not say the Fisherman's Home, lest it should
+be thought he was recalling their occupation; and so, after a pause
+and a cough, he stammered out--“'at the sweet cottage.'” Nor was his
+confusion the less at perceiving how she had appreciated his difficulty,
+and was smiling at it.
+
+“Very few strangers in these parts lately, I believe,” said M'Cormick,
+who knew that his remark was a dangerous one.
+
+“I fancy none, sir,” said she, calmly. “We, at least, have no customers,
+if that be the name for them.”
+
+“It's natural, indeed, dear lady, you shouldn't know how they are
+called,” began the doctor, in a fawning tone, “reared and brought up as
+you were.”
+
+The cold, steady stare of Miss Barrington arrested his speech; and
+though he made immense efforts to recover himself, there was that in her
+look which totally overcame him. “Sit down to your rubber, sir,” said
+she, in a whisper that seemed to thrill through his veins. “You will
+find yourself far more at home at the odd trick there, than attempting
+to console me about my lost honors.” And with this fierce admonition,
+she gave a little nod, half in adieu, half in admonition, and swept
+haughtily out of the room.
+
+M'Cormick heaved a sigh as the door closed after her, which very plainly
+bespoke how much he felt the relief.
+
+“My poor sister is a bit out of spirits this evening,” said Barrington,
+who merely saw a certain show of constraint over his company, and never
+guessed the cause. “We've had some unpleasant letters, and one thing
+or another to annoy us, and if she does n't join us at supper, you 'll
+excuse her, I know, M'Cormick.”
+
+“That we will, with--” He was going to add, “with a heart and a half,”
+ for he felt, what to him was a rare sentiment, “gratitude;” but Dill
+chimed in,--
+
+“Of course, we couldn't expect she'd appear. I remarked she was nervous
+when we came in. I saw an expression in her eye--”
+
+“So did I, faith,” muttered M'Cormick, “and I'm not a doctor.”
+
+“And here's our whist-table,” said Barrington, bustling about; “and
+there 's a bit of supper ready there for us in that room, and we 'll
+help ourselves, for I 've sent Darby to bed. And now give me a hand with
+these cards, for they 've all got mixed together.”
+
+Barrington's task was the very wearisome one of trying to sort out an
+available pack from some half-dozen of various sizes and colors.
+
+“Is n't this for all the world like raising a regiment out of twenty
+volunteer corps?” said M'Cormick.
+
+“Dill would call it an hospital of incurables,” said Barrington. “Have
+you got a knave of spades and a seven? Oh dear, dear! the knave, with
+the head off him! I begin to suspect we must look up a new pack.”
+ There was a tone of misgiving in the way he said this; for it implied a
+reference to his sister, and all its consequences. Affecting to search
+for new cards in his own room, therefore, he arose and went out.
+
+“I wouldn't live in a slavery like that,” muttered the Major, “to be
+King of France.”
+
+“Something has occurred here. There is some latent source of
+irritation,” said Dill, cautiously. “Barrington's own manner is fidgety
+and uneasy. I have my suspicion matters are going on but poorly with
+them.”
+
+While this sage diagnosis was being uttered, M'Cormick had taken a short
+excursion into the adjoining room, from which he returned, eating a
+pickled onion. “It's the old story; the cold roast loin and the dish of
+salad. Listen! Did you hear that shout?”
+
+“I thought I heard one awhile back; but I fancied afterwards it was only
+the noise of the river over the stones.”
+
+“It is some fellows drawing the river; they poach under his very
+windows, and he never sees them.”
+
+“I 'm afraid we 're not to have our rubber this evening,” said Dill,
+mournfully.
+
+“There's a thing, now, I don't understand!” said M'Cormick, in a low but
+bitter voice. “No man is obliged to see company, but when he does do
+it, he oughtn't to be running about for a tumbler here and a mustard-pot
+there. There's the noise again; it's fellows robbing the salmon-weir!”
+
+“No rubber to-night, I perceive that,” reiterated the doctor, still
+intent upon the one theme.
+
+“A thousand pardons I ask from each of you,” cried Barrington, coming
+hurriedly in, with a somewhat flushed face; “but I 've had such a hunt
+for these cards. When I put a thing away nowadays, it's as good as gone
+to me, for I remember nothing. But here we are, now, all right.”
+
+The party, like men eager to retrieve lost time, were soon deep in their
+game, very little being uttered, save such remarks as the contest called
+for. The Major was of that order of players who firmly believe fortune
+will desert them if they don't whine and complain of their luck, and so
+everything from him was a lamentation. The doctor, who regarded whist
+pathologically, no more gave up a game than he would a patient. He had
+witnessed marvellous recoveries in the most hopeless cases, and he had
+been rescued by a “revoke” in the last hour. Unlike each, Barrington was
+one who liked to chat over his game, as he would over his wine. Not that
+he took little interest in it, but it had no power to absorb and engross
+him. If a man derive very great pleasure from a pastime in which, after
+years and years of practice, he can attain no eminence nor any mastery,
+you may be almost certain he is one of an amiable temperament Nothing
+short of real goodness of nature could go on deriving enjoyment from a
+pursuit associated with continual defeats. Such a one must be hopeful,
+he must be submissive, he must have no touch of ungenerous jealousy in
+his nature, and, withal, a zealous wish to do better. Now he who can be
+all these, in anything, is no bad fellow.
+
+If Barrington, therefore, was beaten, he bore it well. Cards were often
+enough against him, his play was always so; and though the doctor had
+words of bland consolation for disaster, such as the habits of his craft
+taught him, the Major was a pitiless adversary, who never omitted the
+opportunity of disinterring all his opponents' blunders, and singing a
+song of triumph over them. But so it is,--_tot genera hominum_,--so many
+kinds of whist-players are there!
+
+Hour after hour went over, and it was late in the night. None felt
+disposed to sup; at least, none proposed it. The stakes were small,
+it is true, but small things are great to little men, and Barrington's
+guests were always the winners.
+
+“I believe if I was to be a good player,--which I know in my heart I
+never shall,” said Barrington,--“that my luck would swamp me, after all.
+Look at that hand now, and say is there a trick in it?” As he said
+this, he spread out the cards of his “dummy” on the table, with the
+dis-consolation of one thoroughly beaten.
+
+“Well, it might be worse,” said Dill, consolingly. “There's a queen of
+diamonds; and I would n't say, if you could get an opportunity to trump
+the club--”
+
+“Let him try it,” broke in the merciless Major; “let him just try it! My
+name isn't Dan M'Cormick if he'll win one card in that hand. There, now,
+I lead the ace of clubs. Play!”
+
+“Patience, Major, patience; let me look over my hand. I 'm bad enough at
+the best, but I 'll be worse if you hurry me. Is that a king or a knave
+I see there?”
+
+“It's neither; it 's the queen!” barked out the Major.
+
+“Doctor, you 'll have to look after my eyes as well as my ears. Indeed,
+I scarcely know which is the worst. Was not that a voice outside?”
+
+[Illustration: 052]
+
+“I should think it was; there have been fellows shouting there the whole
+evening. I suspect they don't leave you many fish in this part of the
+river.”
+
+“I beg your pardon,” interposed Dill, blandly, “but you 've taken up my
+card by mistake.”
+
+While Barrington was excusing himself, and trying to recover his lost
+clew to the game, there came a violent knocking at the door, and a loud
+voice called out, “Holloa! Will some of ye open the door, or must I put
+my foot through it?”
+
+“There _is_ somebody there,” said Barrington, quietly, for he had now
+caught the words correctly; and taking a candle, he hastened out.
+
+[Illustration: 052]
+
+“At last,” cried a stranger, as the door opened,--“at last! Do you know
+that we've been full twenty minutes here, listening to your animated
+discussion over the odd trick?--I fainting with hunger, and my friend
+with pain.” And so saying, he assisted another to limp forward, who
+leaned on his arm and moved with the greatest difficulty.
+
+The mere sight of one in suffering repressed any notion of a rejoinder
+to his somewhat rude speech, and Barrington led the way into the room.
+
+“Have you met with an accident?” asked he, as he placed the sufferer on
+a sofa.
+
+“Yes,” interposed the first speaker; “he slipped down one of those rocks
+into the river, and has sprained, if he has not broken, something.”
+
+“It is our good fortune to have advice here; this gentleman is a
+doctor.”
+
+“Of the Royal College, and an M.D. of Aberdeen, besides,” said Dill,
+with a professional smile, while, turning back his cuffs, he proceeded
+to remove the shoe and stocking of his patient.
+
+“Don't be afraid of hurting, but just tell me at once what's the
+matter,” said the young fellow, down whose cheeks great drops were
+rolling in his agony.
+
+“There is no pronouncing at once; there is great tumefaction here. It
+may be a mere sprain, or it may be a fracture of the fibula simple, or a
+fracture with luxation.”
+
+“Well, if you can't tell the injury, tell us what's to be done for it.
+Get him to bed, I suppose, first?” said the friend.
+
+“By all means, to bed, and cold applications on the affected part.”
+
+“Here's a room all ready, and at hand,” said Barrington, opening the
+door into a little chamber replete with comfort and propriety.
+
+“Come,” said the first speaker, “Fred, all this is very snug; one might
+have fallen upon worse quarters.” And so saying, he assisted his friend
+forward, and deposited him upon the bed.
+
+While the doctor busied himself with the medical cares for his patient,
+and arranged with due skill the appliances to relieve his present
+suffering, the other stranger related how they had lost their way,
+having first of all taken the wrong bank of the river, and been obliged
+to retrace their steps upwards of three miles to retrieve their mistake.
+
+“Where were you going to?” asked Barringtou.
+
+“We were in search of a little inn they had told us of, called the
+'Fisherman's Home.' I conclude we have reached it at last, and you are
+the host, I take it?”
+
+Barrington bowed assent.
+
+“And these gentlemen are visitors here?” But without waiting for any
+reply,--difficult at all times, for he spoke with great rapidity and
+continual change of topic,--he now stooped down to whisper something to
+the sick man. “My friend thinks he'll do capitally now, and, if we leave
+him, that he'll soon drop asleep; so I vote we give him the chance.”
+ Thus saying, he made a gesture for the others to leave, following them
+up as they went, almost like one enforcing an order.
+
+“If I am correct in my reading, you are a soldier, sir,” said
+Barrington, when they reached the outer room, “and this gentleman here
+is a brother officer,--Major M'Cor-mick.”
+
+“Full pay, eh?”
+
+“No, I am an old Walcheren man.”
+
+“Walcheren--Walcheren--why, that sounds like Malplaquet or Blenheim!
+Where the deuce was Walcheren? Did n't believe that there was an old
+tumbril of that affair to the fore still. You were all licked there, or
+you died of the ague, or jaundice? Oh, dummy whist, as I live! Who's the
+unlucky dog has got the dummy?--bad as Walcheren, by Jove! Is n't that a
+supper I see laid out there? Don't I smell Stilton from that room?”
+
+“If you 'll do us the honor to join us--”
+
+“That I will, and astonish you with an appetite too! We breakfasted at
+a beastly hole called Graigue, and tasted nothing since, except a few
+peaches I stole out of an old fellow's garden on the riverside,--'Old
+Dan the miser,' a country fellow called him.”
+
+“I have the honor to have afforded you the entertainment you speak of,”
+ said M'Cormick, smarting with anger.
+
+“All right! The peaches were excellent,--would have been better if
+riper. I 'm afraid I smashed a window of yours; it was a stone I shied
+at a confounded dog,--a sort of terrier. Pickled onions and walnuts, by
+all that 's civilized! And so this is the 'Fisherman's Home,' and you
+the fisherman, eh? Well, why not show a light or a lantern over the
+door? Who the deuce is to know that this is a place of entertainment? We
+only guessed it at last.”
+
+“May I help you to some mutton?” said Barrington, more amused than put
+out by his guest's discursiveness.
+
+“By all means. But don't carve it that way; cut it lengthwise, as if it
+were the saddle, which it ought to have been. You must tell me where
+you got this sherry. I have tasted nothing like it for many a day,--real
+brown sherry. I suppose you know how they brown it? It's not done by
+sugar,--that's a vulgar error. It's done by boiling; they boil down so
+many butts and reduce them to about a fourth or a fifth. You haven't got
+any currant-jelly, have you? it is just as good with cold mutton as hot.
+And then it is the wine thus reduced they use for coloring matter. I got
+up all my sherry experiences on the spot.”
+
+“The wine you approve of has been in my cellar about five-and-forty
+years.”
+
+“It would not if I 'd have been your neighbor, rely upon that. I'd have
+secured every bottle of it for our mess; and mind, whatever remains of
+it is mine.”
+
+“Might I make bold to remark,” said Dill, interposing, “that we are the
+guests of my friend here on this occasion?”
+
+“Eh, what,--guests?”
+
+“I am proud enough to believe that you will not refuse me the honor of
+your company; for though an innkeeper, I write myself gentleman,” said
+Barrington, blandly, though not without emotion.
+
+“I should think you might,” broke in the stranger, heartily; “and I'd
+say the man who had a doubt about your claims had very little of his
+own. And now a word of apology for the mode of our entrance here, and to
+introduce myself. I am Colonel Hunter, of the 21st Hussars; my friend is
+a young subaltern of the regiment.”
+
+A moment before, and all the awkwardness of his position was painful
+to Barrington. He felt that the traveller was there by a right, free
+to order, condemn, and criticise as he pleased. The few words of
+explanation, given in all the frankness of a soldier, and with the tact
+of a gentleman, relieved this embarrassment, and he was himself again.
+As for M'Cormick and Dill, the mere announcement of the regiment he
+commanded seemed to move and impress them. It was one of those corps
+especially known in the service for the rank and fortune of its
+officers. The Prince himself was their colonel, and they had acquired
+a wide notoriety for exclusiveness and pride, which, when treated by
+unfriendly critics, assumed a shape less favorable still.
+
+Colonel Hunter, if he were to be taken as a type of his regiment, might
+have rebutted a good deal of this floating criticism; he had a fine
+honest countenance, a rich mellow voice, and a sort of easy jollity in
+manner, that spoke well both for his spirits and his temper. He did, it
+is true, occasionally chafe against some susceptible spot or other of
+those around him, but there was no malice prepense in it, any more than
+there is intentional offence in the passage of a strong man through a
+crowd; so he elbowed his way, and pushed on in conversation, never so
+much as suspecting that he jostled any one in his path.
+
+Both Barrington and Hunter were inveterate sportsmen, and they ranged
+over hunting-fields and grouse mountains and partridge stubble and trout
+streams with all the zest of men who feel a sort of mesmeric brotherhood
+in the interchange of their experiences. Long after the Major and the
+doctor had taken their leave, they sat there recounting stories of their
+several adventures, and recalling incidents of flood and field.
+
+In return for a cordial invitation to Hunter to stay and fish the river
+for some days, Barrington pledged himself to visit the Colonel the first
+time he should go up to Kilkenny.
+
+“And I 'll mount you. You shall have a horse I never lent in my life. I
+'ll put you on Trumpeter,--sire Sir Hercules,--no mistake there; would
+carry sixteen stone with the fastest hounds in England.”
+
+Barrington shook his head, and smiled, as he said, “It's two-and-twenty
+years since I sat a fence. I 'm afraid I 'll not revive the fame of my
+horsemanship by appearing again in the saddle.”
+
+“Why, what age do you call yourself?”
+
+“Eighty-three, if I live to August next.”
+
+“I 'd not have guessed you within ten years of it. I 've just passed
+fifty, and already I begin to look for a horse with more bone beneath
+the knee, and more substance across the loins.”
+
+“These are only premonitory symptoms, after all,” said Barrington,
+laughing. “You've many a day before you come to a fourteen-hand cob and
+a kitchen chair to mount him.”
+
+Hunter laughed at the picture, and dashed away, in his own half-reckless
+way, to other topics. He talked of his regiment proudly, and told
+Barrington what a splendid set of young fellows were his officers. “I
+'ll show you such a mess,” said he, “as no corps in the service can
+match.” While he talked of their high-hearted and generous natures,
+and with enthusiasm of the life of a soldier, Barrington could scarcely
+refrain from speaking of his own “boy,” the son from whom he had hoped
+so much, and whose loss had been the death-blow to all his ambitions.
+There were, however, circumstances in that story which sealed his lips;
+and though the father never believed one syllable of the allegations
+against his son, though he had paid the penalty of a King's Bench
+mandamus and imprisonment for horsewhipping the editor who had aspersed
+his “boy,” the world and the world's verdict were against him, and
+he did not dare to revive the memory of a name against which all the
+severities of the press had been directed, and public opinion had
+condemned with all its weight and power.
+
+“I see that I am wearying you,” said Hunter, as he remarked the grave
+and saddened expression that now stole over Barrington's face. “I ought
+to have remembered what an hour it was,--more than half-past two.” And
+without waiting to hear a reply, he shook his host's hand cordially and
+hurried off to his room.
+
+While Barrington busied himself in locking up the wine, and putting
+away half-finished decanters,--cares that his sister's watchfulness very
+imperatively exacted,--he heard, or fancied he heard, a voice from the
+room where the sick man lay. He opened the door very gently and looked
+in.
+
+“All right,” said the youth. “I 'm not asleep, nor did I want to sleep,
+for I have been listening to you and the Colonel these two hours,
+and with rare pleasure, I can tell you. The Colonel would have gone a
+hundred miles to meet a man like yourself, so fond of the field and such
+a thorough sportsman.”
+
+“Yes, I was so once,” sighed Barrington, for already had come a sort of
+reaction to the late excitement.
+
+“Isn't the Colonel a fine fellow?” said the young man, as eager to
+relieve the awkwardness of a sad theme as to praise one he loved. “Don't
+you like him?”
+
+“That I do!” said Barrington, heartily. “His fine genial spirit has put
+me in better temper with myself than I fancied was in my nature to be.
+We are to have some trout-fishing together, and I promise you it sha'n't
+be my fault if _he_ doesn't like _me_.”
+
+“And may I be of the party?--may I go with you?”
+
+“Only get well of your accident, and you shall do whatever you like. By
+the way, did not Colonel Hunter serve in India?”
+
+“For fifteen years. He has only left Bengal within a few months.”
+
+“Then he can probably help me to some information. He may be able to
+tell me--Good-night, good-night,” said he, hurriedly; “to-morrow will be
+time enough to think of this.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. FRED CONYERS
+
+Very soon after daybreak the Colonel was up and at the bedside of his
+young friend.
+
+“Sorry to wake you, Fred,” said he, gently; “but I have just got an
+urgent despatch, requiring me to set out at once for Dublin, and I did
+n't like to go without asking how you get on.”
+
+“Oh, much better, sir. I can move the foot a little, and I feel assured
+it 's only a severe sprain.” #
+
+“That's all right. Take your own time, and don't attempt to move about
+too early. You are in capital quarters here, and will be well looked
+after. There is only one difficulty, and I don't exactly see how to deal
+with it. Our host is a reduced gentleman, brought down to keep an inn
+for support, but what benefit he can derive from it is not so very
+clear; for when I asked the man who fetched me hot water this morning
+for my bill, he replied that his master told him I was to be his guest
+here for a week, and not on any account to accept money from me. Ireland
+is a very strange place, and we are learning something new in it every
+day; but this is the strangest thing I have met yet.”
+
+“In _my_ case this would be impossible. I must of necessity give a deal
+of trouble,--not to say that it would add unspeakably to my annoyance to
+feel that I could not ask freely for what I wanted.”
+
+“I have no reason to suppose, mind you, that you are to be dealt with
+as I have been, but it would be well to bear in mind who and what these
+people are.”
+
+“And get away from them as soon as possible,” added the young fellow,
+half peevishly.
+
+“Nay, nay, Fred; don't be impatient. You'll be delighted with the old
+fellow, who is a heart-and-soul sportsman. What station he once occupied
+I can't guess; but in the remarks he makes about horses and hounds,
+all his knowing hints on stable management and the treatment of young
+cattle, one would say that he must have had a large fortune and kept a
+large establishment.”
+
+In the half self-sufficient toss of the head which received this speech,
+it was plain that the young man thought his Colonel was easily imposed
+on, and that such pretensions as these would have very little success
+with _him_.
+
+“I have no doubt some of your brother officers will take a run down to
+see how you get on, and, if so, I 'll send over a hamper of wine, or
+something of the kind, that you can manage to make him accept.”
+
+“It will not be very difficult, I opine,” said the young man,
+laughingly.
+
+“No, no,” rejoined the other, misconstruing the drift of his words. “You
+have plenty of tact, Fred. You 'll do the thing with all due delicacy.
+And now, good-bye. Let me hear how you fare here.” And with a hearty
+farewell they parted.
+
+There was none astir in the cottage but Darby as the Colonel set out
+to gain the high-road, where the post-horses awaited him. From Darby,
+however, as he went along, he gathered much of his host's former
+history. It was with astonishment he learned that the splendid house of
+Barring-ton Hall, where he had been dining with an earl a few days ago,
+was the old family seat of that poor innkeeper; that the noble deer-park
+had once acknowledged him for master. “And will again, plase God!” burst
+in Darby, who thirsted for an opportunity to launch out into law, and
+all its bright hopes and prospects.
+
+“We have a record on trial in Trinity Term, and an argument before the
+twelve Judges, and the case is as plain as the nose on your honor's
+face; for it was ruled by Chief Baron Medge, in the great cause of
+'Peter against Todd, a widow,' that a settlement couldn't be broke by an
+estreat.”
+
+“You are quite a lawyer, I see,” said the Colonel.
+
+“I wish I was. I 'd rather be a judge on the bench than a king on his
+throne.”
+
+“And yet I am beginning to suspect law may have cost your master
+dearly.”
+
+“It is not ten, or twenty--no, nor thirty--thousand pounds would see
+him through it!” said Darby, with a triumph in his tone that seemed
+to proclaim a very proud declaration. “There 's families would be
+comfortable for life with just what we spent upon special juries.”
+
+“Well, as you tell me he has no family, the injury has been all his
+own.”
+
+“That's true. We're the last of the ould stock,” said he, sorrowfully;
+and little more passed between them, till the Colonel, on parting, put a
+couple of guineas in his hand, and enjoined him to look after the young
+friend he had left behind him.
+
+It is now my task to introduce this young gentleman to my readers.
+Frederick Conyers, a cornet in his Majesty's Hussars, was the only son
+of a very distinguished officer, Lieutenant-General Conyers, a man
+who had not alone served with great reputation in the field, but held
+offices of high political trust in India, the country where all his life
+had been passed. Holding a high station as a political resident at a
+native court, wielding great power, and surrounded by an undeviating
+homage, General Conyers saw his son growing up to manhood with
+everything that could foster pride and minister to self-exaltation
+around him. It was not alone the languor and indolence of an Eastern
+life that he had to dread for him, but the haughty temper and
+overbearing spirit so sure to come out of habits of domination in very
+early life.
+
+Though he had done all that he could to educate his son, by masters
+brought at immense cost from Europe, the really important element of
+education,--the self-control and respect for other's rights,--only to
+be acquired by daily life and intercourse with equals, this he could not
+supply; and he saw, at last, that the project he had so long indulged,
+of keeping his son with him, must be abandoned. Perhaps the rough speech
+of an old comrade helped to dispel the illusion, as he asked, “Are you
+bringing up that boy to be a Rajah?” His first thought was to send him
+to one of the Universities, his great desire being that the young man
+should feel some ambition for public life and its distinctions. He
+bethought him, however, that while the youth of Oxford and Cambridge
+enter upon a college career, trained by all the discipline of our public
+schools, Fred would approach the ordeal without any such preparation
+whatever. Without one to exert authority over him, little accustomed to
+the exercise of self-restraint, the experiment was too perilous.
+
+To place him, therefore, where, from the very nature of his position,
+some guidance and control would be exercised, and where by the
+working of that model democracy--a mess--he would be taught to repress
+self-sufficiency and presumption, he determined on the army, and
+obtained a cornetcy in a regiment commanded by one who had long served
+on his own staff. To most young fellows such an opening in life would
+have seemed all that was delightful and enjoyable. To be just twenty,
+gazetted to a splendid cavalry corps, with a father rich enough and
+generous enough to say, “Live like the men about you, and don't be
+afraid that your checks will come back to you,” these are great aids
+to a very pleasant existence. Whether the enervation of that life of
+Oriental indulgence had now become a nature to him, or whether he had no
+liking for the service itself, or whether the change from a condition of
+almost princely state to a position of mere equality with others, chafed
+and irritated him, but so is it, he did not “take to” the regiment, nor
+the regiment to him.
+
+Now it is a fact, and not a very agreeable fact either, that a man with
+a mass of noble qualities may fail to attract the kindliness and good
+feeling towards him which a far less worthy individual, merely by
+certain traits, or by the semblance of them, of a yielding, passive
+nature is almost sure to acquire.
+
+Conyers was generous, courageous, and loyal, in the most chivalrous
+sense of that word, to every obligation of friendship. He was eminently
+truthful and honorable; but he had two qualities whose baneful influence
+would disparage the very best of gifts. He was “imperious,” and, in
+the phrase of his brother officers, “he never gave in.” Some absurd
+impression had been made on him, as a child, that obstinacy and
+persistency were the noblest of attributes, and that, having said a
+thing, no event or circumstance could ever occur to induce a change of
+opinion.
+
+Such a quality is singularly unfitted to youth, and marvellously out of
+place in a regiment; hence was it that the “Rajah,” as he was generally
+called by his comrades, had few intimates, and not one friend amongst
+them.
+
+If I have dwelt somewhat lengthily on these traits, it is because their
+possessor is one destined to be much before us in this history. I will
+but chronicle one other feature. I am sorry it should be a disqualifying
+one. Owing in great measure, perhaps altogether, to his having
+been brought up in the East, where Hindoo craft and subtlety were
+familiarized to his mind from infancy, he was given to suspect that few
+things were ever done from the motives ascribed to them, and that under
+the open game of life was another concealed game, which was the real
+one. As yet, this dark and pernicious distrust had only gone the length
+of impressing him with a sense of his own consummate acuteness, an
+amount of self-satisfaction, which my reader may have seen tingeing the
+few words he exchanged with his Colonel before separating.
+
+Let us see him now as he sits in a great easy-chair, his sprained ankle
+resting on another, in a little honeysuckle-covered arbor of the garden,
+a table covered with books and fresh flowers beside him, while Darby
+stands ready to serve him from the breakfast-table, where a very
+tempting meal is already spread out.
+
+“So, then, I can't see your master, it seems,” said Con-yers, half
+peevishly.
+
+“Faix you can't; he's ten miles off by this. He got a letter by the
+post, and set out half an hour after for Kilkenny. He went to your
+honor's door, but seeing you was asleep he would n't wake you; 'but,
+Darby,' says he, 'take care of that young gentleman, and mind,' says he,
+'that he wants for nothing.'”
+
+“Very thoughtful of _him_,--very considerate indeed,” said the youth;
+but in what precise spirit it is not easy to say.
+
+“Who lives about here? What gentlemen's places are there, I mean?”
+
+“There's Lord Carrackmore, and Sir Arthur Godfrey, and Moore of
+Ballyduff, and Mrs. Powerscroft of the Grove--”
+
+“Do any of these great folks come down here?”
+
+[Illustration: 064]
+
+Darby would like to have given a ready assent,--he would have been
+charmed to say that they came daily, that they made the place a
+continual rendezvous; but as he saw no prospect of being able to give
+his fiction even twenty-four hours' currency, he merely changed from one
+leg to the other, and, in a tone of apology, said, “Betimes they does,
+when the sayson is fine.”
+
+“Who are the persons who are most frequently here?”
+
+“Those two that you saw last night,--the Major and Dr. Dill. They 're
+up here every second day, fishing, and eating their dinner with the
+master.”
+
+“Is the fishing good?”
+
+“The best in Ireland.”
+
+“And what shooting is there,--any partridges?”
+
+“Partridges, be gorra! You could n't see the turnips for them.”
+
+“And woodcocks?”
+
+“Is it woodcocks! The sky is black with the sight of them.”
+
+“Any lions?”
+
+“Well, maybe an odd one now and then,” said Darby, half apologizing for
+the scarcity.
+
+There was an ineffable expression of self-satisfaction in Conyers's face
+at the subtlety with which he had drawn Darby into this admission; and
+the delight in his own acuteness led him to offer the poor fellow a
+cigar, which he took with very grateful thanks.
+
+“From what you tell me, then, I shall find this place stupid enough till
+I am able to be up and about, eh? Is there any one who can play chess
+hereabout?”
+
+“Sure there's Miss Dinah; she's a great hand at it, they tell me.”
+
+“And who is Miss Dinah? Is she young,--is she pretty?”
+
+Darby gave a very cautious look all around him, and then closing one
+eye, so as to give his face a look of intense cunning, he nodded very
+significantly twice.
+
+“What do you mean by that?”
+
+“I mane that she'll never see sixty; and for the matter of beauty--”
+
+“Oh, you have said quite enough; I 'm not curious about her looks. Now
+for another point. If I should want to get away from this, what other
+inn or hotel is there in the neighborhood?”
+
+“There's Joe M'Cabe's, at Inistioge; but you are better where you are.
+Where will you see fresh butter like that? and look at the cream, the
+spoon will stand in it. Far and near it's given up to her that nobody
+can make coffee like Miss Dinah; and when you taste them trout, you 'll
+tell me if they are not fit for the king.”
+
+“Everything is excellent,--could not be better; but there's a
+difficulty. There's a matter which to me at least makes a stay here most
+unpleasant. My friend tells me that he could not get his bill,--that he
+was accepted as a guest. Now I can't permit this--”
+
+“There it is, now,” said Darby, approaching the table, and dropping his
+voice to a confidential whisper. “That's the master's way. If he gets a
+stranger to sit down with him to dinner or supper, he may eat and drink
+as long as he plases, and sorra sixpence he'll pay; and it's that same
+ruins us, nothing else, for it's then he 'll call for the best sherry,
+and that ould Maderia that's worth a guinea a bottle. What's the use,
+after all, of me inflaming the bill of the next traveller, and putting
+down everything maybe double? And worse than all,” continued he, in a
+tone of horror, “let him only hear any one complain about his bill or
+saying, 'What's this?' or 'I didn't get that,' out he'll come, as mighty
+and as grand as the Lord-Liftinint, and say, 'I 'm sorry, sir, that we
+failed to make this place agreeable to you. Will you do me the favor not
+to mind the bill at all?' and with that he'd tear it up in little bits
+and walk away.”
+
+“To me that would only be additional offence. I 'd not endure it.”
+
+“What could you do? You'd maybe slip a five-pound note into my hand, and
+say, 'Darby my man, settle this little matter for me; you know the ways
+of the place.'”
+
+“I 'll not risk such an annoyance, at all events; that I 'm determined
+on.”
+
+Darby began now to perceive that he had misconceived his brief, and
+must alter his pleadings as quickly as possible; in fact, he saw he was
+“stopping an earth” he had meant merely to mask. “Just leave it all to
+me, your honor,--leave it all to me, and I 'll have your bill for you
+every morning on the breakfast-table. And why would n't you? Why would
+a gentleman like your honor be behouldin' to any one for his meat and
+drink?” burst he in, with an eager rapidity. “Why would n't you say,
+'Darby, bring me this, get me that, fetch me the other; expinse is no
+object in life tome'?”
+
+There was a faint twinkle of humor in the eye of Conyers, and Darby
+stopped short, and with that half-lisping simplicity which a few
+Irishmen understand to perfection, and can exercise whenever the
+occasion requires, he said: “But sure is n't your honor laughing at me,
+is n't it just making fun of me you are? All because I'm a poor ignorant
+crayture that knows no better!”
+
+“Nothing of that kind,” said Conyers, frankly. “I was only smiling at
+thoughts that went through my head at the moment.”
+
+“Well, faix! there's one coming up the path now won't make you laugh,”
+ said Darby, as he whispered, “It's Dr. Dill.”
+
+The doctor was early with his patient; if the case was not one of
+urgency, the sufferer was in a more elevated rank than usually fell to
+the chances of Dispensary practice. Then, it promised to be one of the
+nice chronic cases, in which tact and personal agreeability--the two
+great strongholds of Dr. Dill in his own estimation--were of far more
+importance than the materia medica. Now, if Dill's world was not a very
+big one, he knew it thoroughly. He was a chronicle of all the family
+incidents of the county, and could recount every disaster of every house
+for thirty miles round.
+
+When the sprain had, therefore, been duly examined, and all the pangs of
+the patient sufficiently condoled with to establish the physician as
+a man of feeling, Dill proceeded to his task as a man of the world.
+Conyers, however, abruptly stopped him, by saying, “Tell me how I'm to
+get out of this place; some other inn, I mean.”
+
+“You are not comfortable here, then?” asked Dill.
+
+“In one sense, perfectly so. I like the quietness, the delightful
+tranquillity, the scenery,--everything, in short, but one circumstance.
+I 'm afraid these worthy people--whoever they are--want to regard me
+as a guest. Now I don't know them,--never saw them,--don't care to see
+them. My Colonel has a liking for all this sort of thing. It has to his
+mind a character of adventure that amuses him. It would n't in the least
+amuse me, and so I want to get away.”
+
+“Yes,” repeated Dill, blandly, after him, “wants to get away; desires to
+change the air.”
+
+“Not at all,” broke in Conyers, peevishly; “no question of air whatever.
+I don't want to be on a visit. I want an inn. What is this place they
+tell me of up the river,--Inis--something?”
+
+“Inistioge. M'Cabe's house; the 'Spotted Duck;' very small, very poor,
+far from clean, besides.”
+
+“Is there nothing else? Can't you think of some other place? For I can't
+have my servant here, circumstanced as I am now.”
+
+The doctor paused to reply. The medical mind is eminently ready-witted,
+and Dill at a glance took in all the dangers of removing his patient.
+Should he transfer him to his own village, the visit which now had to
+be requited as a journey of three miles and upwards, would then be an
+affair of next door. Should he send him to Thomastown, it would be worse
+again, for then he would be within the precincts of a greater than Dill
+himself,--a practitioner who had a one-horse phaeton, and whose name was
+written on brass. “Would you dislike a comfortable lodging in a private
+family,--one of the first respectability, I may make bold to call it?”
+
+“Abhor it!--couldn't endure it! I'm not essentially troublesome or
+exacting, but I like to be able to be either, whenever the humor takes
+me.”
+
+“I was thinking of a house where you might freely take these
+liberties--”
+
+“Liberties! I call them rights, doctor, not liberties! Can't you imagine
+a man, not very wilful, not very capricious, but who, if the whim
+took him, would n't stand being thwarted by any habits of a so-called
+respectable family? There, don't throw up your eyes, and misunderstand
+me. All I mean is, that my hours of eating and sleeping have no rule.
+I smoke everywhere; I make as much noise as I please; and I never brook
+any impertinent curiosity about what I do, or what I leave undone.”
+
+“Under all the circumstances, you had, perhaps, better remain where you
+are,” said Dill, thoughtfully.
+
+“Of course, if these people will permit me to pay for my board and
+lodging. If they 'll condescend to let me be a stranger, I ask for
+nothing better than this place.”
+
+“Might I offer myself as a negotiator?” said Dill, insinuatingly; “for
+I opine that the case is not of the difficulty you suppose. Will you
+confide it to my hands?”
+
+“With all my heart. I don't exactly see why there should be a
+negotiation at all; but if there must, pray be the special envoy.”
+
+When Dill arose and set out on his mission, the young fellow looked
+after him with an expression that seemed to say, “How you all imagine
+you are humbugging me, while I read every one of you like a book!”
+
+Let us follow the doctor, and see how he acquitted himself in his
+diplomacy.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. DILL AS A DIPLOMATIST
+
+Dr. Dill had knocked twice at the door of Miss Barrington's little
+sitting-room, and no answer was returned to his summons.
+
+“Is the dear lady at home?” asked he, blandly. But, though he waited for
+some seconds, no reply came.
+
+“Might Dr. Dill be permitted to make his compliments?”
+
+“Yes, come in,” said a sharp voice, very much with the expression of one
+wearied out by importunity. Miss Barrington gave a brief nod in return
+for the profound obeisance of her visitor, and then turned again to a
+large map which covered the table before her.
+
+“I took the opportunity of my professional call here this morning--”
+
+“How is that young man,--is anything broken?”
+
+“I incline to say there is no fracture. The flexors, and perhaps,
+indeed, the annular ligament, are the seat of all the mischief.”
+
+“A common sprain, in fact; a thing to rest for one day, and hold under
+the pump the day after.”
+
+“The dear lady is always prompt, always energetic; but these sort of
+cases are often complicated, and require nice management.”
+
+“And frequent visits,” said she, with a dry gravity.
+
+“All the world must live, dear lady,--all the world must live.”
+
+“Your profession does not always sustain your theory, sir; at least,
+popular scandal says you kill as many as you cure.” “I know the dear
+lady has little faith in physic.”
+
+“Say none, sir, and you will be nearer the mark; but, remember, I seek
+no converts; I ask nobody to deny himself the luxuries of senna and
+gamboge because I prefer beef and mutton. You wanted to see my brother,
+I presume,” added she, sharply, “but he started early this morning for
+Kilkenny. The Solicitor-General wanted to say a few words to him on his
+way down to Cork.”
+
+“That weary law! that weary law!” ejaculated Dill, fervently; for he
+well knew with what little favor Miss Barrington regarded litigation.
+
+“And why so, sir?” retorted she, sharply. “What greater absurdity is
+there in being hypochondriac about your property than your person? My
+brother's taste inclines to depletion by law; others prefer the lancet.”
+
+“Always witty, always smart, the dear lady,” said Dill, with a sad
+attempt at a smile. The flattery passed without acknowledgment of any
+kind, and he resumed: “I dropped in this morning to you, dear lady, on a
+matter which, perhaps, might not be altogether pleasing to you.”
+
+“Then don't do it, sir.”
+
+“If the dear lady would let me finish--”
+
+“I was warning you, sir, not even to begin.”
+
+“Yes, madam,” said he, stung into something like resistance; “but I
+would have added, had I been permitted, without any due reason for
+displeasure on your part.”
+
+“And are _you_ the fitting judge of that, sir? If you know, as you say
+you know, that you are about to give me pain, by what presumption do you
+assert that it must be for my benefit? What's it all about?”
+
+“I come on the part of this young gentleman, dear lady, who, having
+learned--I cannot say where or how--that he is not to consider himself
+here at an inn, but, as a guest, feels, with all the gratitude that the
+occasion warrants, that he has no claim to the attention, and that it is
+one which would render his position here too painful to persist in.”
+
+“How did he come by this impression, sir? Be frank and tell me.”
+
+“I am really unable to say, Miss Dinah.”
+
+“Come, sir, be honest, and own that the delusion arose from
+yourself,--yes, from yourself. It was in perceiving the courteous
+delicacy with which you declined a fee that he conceived this flattering
+notion of us; but go back to him, doctor, and say it is a pure mistake;
+that his breakfast will cost him one shilling, and his dinner two; the
+price of a boat to fetch him up to Thomastown is half a crown, and that
+the earlier he orders one the better. Listen to me, sir,” said she, and
+her lips trembled with passion,--“listen to me, while I speak of this
+for the first and last time. Whenever my brother, recurring to what he
+once was, has been emboldened to treat a passing stranger as his guest,
+the choice has been so judiciously exercised as to fall upon one who
+could respect the motive and not resent the liberty; but never till
+this moment has it befallen us to be told that the possibility--the bare
+possibility--of such a presumption should be met by a declaration of
+refusal. Go back, then, to your patient, sir; assure him that he is at
+an inn, and that he has the right to be all that his purse and his want
+of manners can insure him.”
+
+“Dear lady, I'm, maybe, a bad negotiator.”
+
+“I trust sincerely, sir, you are a better doctor.”
+
+“Nothing on earth was further from my mind than offence--”
+
+“Very possibly, sir; but, as you are aware, blisters will occasionally
+act with all the violence of caustics, so an irritating theme may be
+pressed at a very inauspicious moment. My cares as a hostess are not in
+very good favor with me just now. Counsel your young charge to a change
+of air, and I 'll think no more of the matter.”
+
+Had it been a queen who had spoken, the doctor could not more palpably
+have felt that his audience had terminated, and his only duty was to
+withdraw.
+
+And so he did retire, with much bowing and graciously smiling, and
+indicating, by all imaginable contortions, gratitude for the past and
+humility forever.
+
+I rejoice that I am not obliged to record as history the low but fervent
+mutterings that fell from his lips as he closed the door after him,
+and by a gesture of menace showed his feelings towards her he had just
+quitted. “Insolent old woman!” he burst out as he went along, “how can
+she presume to forget a station that every incident of her daily life
+recalls? In the rank she once held, and can never return to, such
+manners would be an outrage; but I 'll not endure it again. It is your
+last triumph, Miss Dinah; make much of it.” Thus sustained by a very
+Dutch courage,--for this national gift can come of passion as well as
+drink,--he made his way to his patient's presence, smoothing his
+brow, as he went, and recalling the medico-chimrgical serenity of his
+features.
+
+“I have not done much, but I have accomplished something,” said he,
+blandly. “I am at a loss to understand what they mean by introducing
+all these caprices into their means of life; but, assuredly, it will not
+attract strangers to the house.”
+
+“What are the caprices you allude to?”
+
+“Well, it is not very easy to say; perhaps I have not expressed my
+meaning quite correctly; but one thing is clear, a stranger likes to
+feel that his only obligation in an inn is to discharge the bill.”
+
+“I say, doctor,” broke in Conyers, “I have been thinking the matter
+over. Why should I not go back to my quarters? There might surely be
+some means contrived to convey me to the high-road; after that, there
+will be no difficulty whatever.”
+
+The doctor actually shuddered at the thought. The sportsman who sees
+the bird he has just winged flutter away to his neighbor's preserve may
+understand something, at least, of Dr. Dill's discomfiture as he saw his
+wealthy patient threatening a departure. He quickly, therefore, summoned
+to his aid all those terrors which had so often done good service
+on like occasions. He gave a little graphic sketch of every evil
+consequence that might come of an imprudent journey. The catalogue was
+a bulky one; it ranged over tetanus, mortification, and disease of the
+bones. It included every sort and description of pain as classified
+by science, into “dull, weary, and incessant,” or “sharp lancinating
+agony.” Now Conyers was as brave as a lion, but had, withal, one of
+those temperaments which are miserably sensitive under suffering, and
+to which the mere description of pain is itself an acute pang. When,
+therefore, the doctor drew the picture of a case very like the present
+one, where amputation came too late, Conyers burst in with, “For mercy's
+sake, will you stop! I can't sit here to be cut up piece-meal; there's
+not a nerve in my body you haven't set ajar.” The doctor blandly took
+out his massive watch, and laid his fingers on the young man's pulse.
+“Ninety-eight, and slightly intermittent,” said he, as though to
+himself.
+
+“What does that mean?” asked Conyers, eagerly.
+
+“The irregular action of the heart implies abnormal condition of
+the nervous system, and indicates, imperatively, rest, repose, and
+tranquillity.”
+
+“If lethargy itself be required, this is a capital place for it,” sighed
+Conyers, drearily.
+
+“You have n't turned your thoughts to what I said awhile ago, being
+domesticated, as one might call it, in a nice quiet family, with all the
+tender attentions of a home, and a little music in the evening.”
+
+Simple as these words were, Dill gave to each of them an almost honeyed
+utterance.
+
+“No; it would bore me excessively. I detest to be looked after; I abhor
+what are called attentions.”
+
+“Unobtrusively offered,--tendered with a due delicacy and reserve?”
+
+“Which means a sort of simpering civility that one has to smirk for
+in return. No, no; I was bred up in quite a different school, where we
+clapped our hands twice when we wanted a servant, and the fellow's head
+paid for it if he was slow in coming. Don't tell me any more about your
+pleasant family, for they 'd neither endure me, nor I them. Get me well
+as fast as you can, and out of this confounded place, and I 'll give you
+leave to make a vascular preparation of me if you catch me here again!”
+
+The doctor smiled, as doctors know how to smile when patients think they
+have said a smartness, and now each was somewhat on better terms with
+the other.
+
+“By the way, doctor,” said Conyers, suddenly, “you have n't told me what
+the old woman said. What arrangement did you come to?”
+
+“Your breakfast will cost one shilling, your dinner two. She made no
+mention of your rooms, but only hinted that, whenever you took your
+departure, the charge for the boat was half a crown.”
+
+“Come, all this is very business-like, and to the purpose; but where, in
+Heaven's name, did any man live in this fashion for so little? We have
+a breakfast-mess, but it's not to be compared with this,--such a variety
+of bread, such grilled trout, such a profusion of fruit. After all,
+doctor, it is very like being a guest, the nominal charge being to
+escape the sense of a favor. But perhaps one can do here as at one of
+those 'hospices' in the Alps, and make a present at parting to requite
+the hospitality.”
+
+“It is a graceful way to record gratitude,” said the doctor, who liked
+to think that the practice could be extended to other reminiscences.
+
+“I must have my servant and my books, my pipes and my Spitz terrier.
+I 'll get a target up, besides, on that cherry-tree, and practise
+pistol-shooting as I sit here. Could you find out some idle fellow who
+would play chess or _écarté_ with me,--a curate or a priest,--I 'm
+not particular; and when my man Holt comes, I 'll make him string my
+grass-mat hammock between those two elms, so that I can fish without the
+bore of standing up for it. Holt is a rare clever fellow, and you 'll
+see how he'll get things in order here before he's a day in the place.”
+
+The doctor smiled again, for he saw that his patient desired to be
+deemed a marvel of resources and a mine of original thought. The
+doctor's smile was apportioned to his conversation, just as he added
+syrups in his prescriptions. It was, as he himself called it, the
+“vehicle,” without special efficacy in itself, but it aided to get down
+the “active principle.” But he did more than smile. He promised all
+possible assistance to carry out his patient's plans. He was
+almost certain that a friend of his, an old soldier, too,--a Major
+M'Cormick,--could play _écarté_, though, perhaps, it might be cribbage;
+and then Father Cody, he could answer for it, was wonderful at skittles,
+though, for the present, that game might not be practicable; and as for
+books, the library at Woodstay was full of them, if the key could only
+be come at, for the family was abroad; and, in fact, he displayed a most
+generous willingness to oblige, although, when brought to the rude test
+of reality, his pictures were only dissolving views of pleasures to
+come.
+
+When he took his leave at last, he left Conyers in far better spirits
+than he found him. The young fellow had begun to castle-build about how
+he should pass his time, and in such architecture there is no room for
+ennui. And what a rare organ must constructiveness be, when even in its
+mockery it can yield such pleasure! We are very prone to envy the rich
+man, whose wealth sets no limit to his caprices; but is not a rich
+fancy, that wondrous imaginative power which unweariedly invents new
+incidents, new personages, new situations, a very covetable possession?
+And can we not, in the gratification of the very humblest exercise of
+this quality, rudely approximate to the ecstasy of him who wields it
+in all its force? Not that Fred Conyers was one of these; he was a mere
+tyro in the faculty, and could only carry himself into a region where
+he saw his Spitz terrier jump between the back rails of a chair, and
+himself sending bullet after bullet through the very centre of the
+bull's eye.
+
+Be it so. Perhaps you and I, too, my reader, have our Spitz terrier and
+bull's-eye days, and, if so, let us be grateful for them.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER
+
+Whether it was that Dr. Dill expended all the benevolence of his
+disposition in the course of his practice, and came home utterly
+exhausted, but so it was, that his family never saw him in those moods
+of blandness which he invariably appeared in to his patients. In fact,
+however loaded he went forth with these wares of a morning, he disposed
+of every item of his stock before he got back at night; and when poor
+Mrs. Dill heard, as she from time to time did hear, of the doctor's
+gentleness, his kindness in suffering, his beautiful and touching
+sympathy with sorrow, she listened with the same sort of semi-stupid
+astonishment she would have felt on hearing some one eulogizing the
+climate of Ireland, and going rapturous about the blue sky and the
+glorious sunshine. Unhappy little woman, she only saw him in his dark
+days of cloud and rain, and she never came into his presence except in a
+sort of moral mackintosh made for the worst weather.
+
+The doctor's family consisted of seven children, but our concern is only
+with the two eldest,--a son and a daughter. Tom was two years younger
+than his sister, who, at this period of our story, was verging on
+nineteen. He was an awkward, ungainly youth, large-jointed, but weakly,
+with a sandy red head and much-freckled face, just such a disparaging
+counterpart of his sister as a coarse American piracy often presents of
+one of our well-printed, richly papered English editions. “It was all
+there,” but all unseemly, ungraceful, undignified; for Polly Dill was
+pretty. Her hair was auburn, her eyes a deep hazel, and her skin a
+marvel of transparent whiteness. You would never have hesitated to call
+her a very pretty girl if you had not seen her brother, but, having
+seen him, all the traits of her good looks suffered in the same way that
+Grisi's “Norma” does from the horrid recollection of Paul Bedford's.
+
+After all, the resemblance went very little further than this
+“travestie,” for while he was a slow, heavy-witted, loutish creature,
+with low tastes and low ambitions, she was a clever, intelligent girl,
+very eagerly intent on making something of her advantages. Though the
+doctor was a general practitioner, and had a shop, which he called
+“Surgery,” in the village, he was received at the great houses in a sort
+of half-intimate, half-patronizing fashion; as one, in short, with whom
+it was not necessary to be formal, but it might become very inconvenient
+to have a coldness. These were very sorry credentials for acceptance,
+but he made no objection to them.
+
+A few, however, of the “neighbors”--it would be ungenerous to inquire
+the motive, for in this world of ours it is just as well to regard
+one's five-pound note as convertible into five gold sovereigns, and not
+speculate as to the kind of rags it is made of--were pleased to notice
+Miss Dill, and occasionally invite her to their larger gatherings, so
+that she not only gained opportunities of cultivating her social gifts,
+but, what is often a greater spur to ambition, of comparing them with
+those of others.
+
+Now this same measuring process, if only conducted without any envy or
+ungenerous rivalry, is not without its advantage. Polly Dill made it
+really profitable. I will not presume to say that, in her heart
+of hearts, she did not envy the social accidents that gave others
+precedence before her, but into her heart of hearts neither you nor
+I have any claim to enter. Enough that we know nothing in her outward
+conduct or bearing revealed such a sentiment. As little did she maintain
+her position by flattery, which many in her ambiguous station would have
+relied upon as a stronghold. No; Polly followed a very simple policy,
+which was all the more successful that it never seemed to be a policy at
+all. She never in any way attracted towards her the attentions of those
+men who, in the marriageable market, were looked on as the choice lots;
+squires in possession, elder sons, and favorite nephews, she regarded
+as so much forbidden fruit. It was a lottery in which she never took a
+ticket It is incredible how much kindly notice and favorable recognition
+accrued to her from this line.
+
+We all know how pleasant it is to be next to the man at a promiscuous
+dinner who never eats turtle nor cares for “Cliquot;” and in the world
+at large there are people who represent the calabash and the champagne.
+
+Then Polly played well, but was quite as ready to play as to dance. She
+sang prettily, too, and had not the slightest objection that one of her
+simple ballads should be the foil to a grand performance of some young
+lady, whose artistic agonies rivalled Alboni's. So cleverly did Polly
+do all this, that even her father could not discover the secret of her
+success; and though he saw “his little girl” as he called her, more and
+more sought after and invited, he continued to be persuaded that all
+this favoritism was only the reflex of his own popularity. How, then,
+could mere acquaintances ever suspect what to the eye of those nearer
+and closer was so inscrutable?
+
+Polly Dill rode very well and very fearlessly, and occasionally was
+assisted to “a mount” by some country gentleman, who combined gallantry
+with profit, and knew that the horse he lent could never be seen
+to greater advantage. Yet, even in this, she avoided display, quite
+satisfied, as it seemed, to enjoy herself thoroughly, and not attract
+any notice that could be avoided. Indeed, she never tried for “a place,”
+ but rather attached herself to some of the older and heavier weights,
+who grew to believe that they were especially in charge of her, and
+nothing was more common, at the end of a hard run, than to hear such
+self-gratulations as, “I think I took great care of you, Miss Dill?”
+ “Eh, Miss Polly! you see I'm not such a bad leader!” and so on.
+
+Such was the doctor's “little girl,” whom I am about to present to
+my readers under another aspect. She is at home, dressed in a neatly
+fitting but very simple cotton dress, her hair in two plain bands, and
+she is seated at a table, at the opposite of which lounges her brother
+Tom with an air of dogged and sleepy indolence, which extends from his
+ill-trimmed hair to his ill-buttoned waistcoat.
+
+“Never mind it to-day, Polly,” said he, with a yawn. “I've been up all
+night, and have no head for work. There's a good girl, let's have a chat
+instead.”
+
+“Impossible, Tom,” said she, calmly, but with decision. “To-day is
+the third. You have only three weeks now and two days before your
+examination. We have all the bones and ligaments to go over again, and
+the whole vascular system. You 've forgotten every word of Harrison.”
+
+“It does n't signify, Polly. They never take a fellow on anything but
+two arteries for the navy. Grove told me so.”
+
+“Grove is an ass, and got plucked twice. It is a perfect disgrace to
+quote him.”
+
+“Well, I only wish I may do as well. He's assistant-surgeon to the
+'Taurus' gun-brig on the African station; and if I was there, it's
+little I 'd care for the whole lot of bones and balderdash.”
+
+“Come, don't be silly. Let us go on with the scapula. Describe the
+glenoid cavity.”
+
+“If you were the girl you might be, I'd not be bored with all this
+stupid trash, Polly.”
+
+“What do you mean? I don't understand you.”
+
+“It's easy enough to understand me. You are as thick as thieves, you and
+that old Admiral,--that Sir Charles Cobham. I saw you talking to the
+old fellow at the meet the other morning. You 've only to say, 'There's
+Tom--my brother Tom--wants a navy appointment; he's not passed yet, but
+if the fellows at the Board got a hint, just as much as, “Don't be hard
+on him--“'”
+
+“I 'd not do it to make you a post-captain, sir,” said she, severely.
+“You very much overrate my influence, and very much underrate my
+integrity, when you ask it.”
+
+“Hoity-toity! ain't we dignified! So you'd rather see me plucked, eh?”
+
+“Yes, if that should be the only alternative.”
+
+“Thank you, Polly, that's all! thank you,” said he; and he drew his
+sleeve across his eyes.
+
+“My dear Tom,” said she, laying her white soft hand on his coarse
+brown fingers, “can you not see that if I even stooped to anything so
+unworthy, that it would compromise your whole prospects in life? You'd
+obtain an assistant-surgeoncy, and never rise above it.”
+
+“And do I ask to rise above it? Do I ask anything beyond getting out of
+this house, and earning bread that is not grudged me?”
+
+“Nay, nay; if you talk that way, I've done.”
+
+“Well, I do talk that way. He sent me off to Kilkenny last week--you saw
+it yourself--to bring out that trash for the shop, and he would n't pay
+the car hire, and made me carry two stone of carbonate of magnesia and
+a jar of leeches fourteen miles. You were just taking that post and rail
+out of Nixon's lawn as I came by. You saw me well enough.”
+
+“I am glad to say I did not,” said she, sighing.
+
+“I saw you, then, and how that gray carried you! You were waving a
+handkerchief in your hand; what was that for?”
+
+“It was to show Ambrose Bushe that the ground was good; he was afraid of
+being staked!”
+
+[Illustration: 084]
+
+“That's exactly what I am. I 'm afraid of being 'staked up' at the Hall,
+and if _you_ 'd take as much trouble about your brother as you did for
+Ambrose Bushe--”
+
+“Tom, Tom, I have taken it for eight weary months. I believe I know Bell
+on the bones, and Harrison on the arteries, by heart!”
+
+“Who thanks you?” said he, doggedly. “When you read a thing twice, you
+never forget it; but it's not so with me.”
+
+“Try what a little work will do, Tom; be assured there is not half
+as much disparity between people's brains as there is between their
+industry.”
+
+“I'd rather have luck than either, I know that. It's the only thing,
+after all.”
+
+She gave a very deep sigh, and leaned her head on her hand.
+
+“Work and toil as hard as you may,” continued he, with all the fervor of
+one on a favorite theme, “if you haven't luck you 'll be beaten. Can you
+deny that, Polly?”
+
+“If you allow me to call merit what you call luck, I'll agree with you.
+But I 'd much rather go on with our work. What is the insertion of the
+deltoid? I'm sure you know _that!_”
+
+[Illustration: 84]
+
+“The deltoid! the deltoid!” muttered he. “I forget all about the
+deltoid, but, of course, it's like the rest of them. It's inserted into
+a ridge or a process, or whatever you call it--”
+
+“Oh, Tom, this is very hopeless. How can you presume to face your
+examiners with such ignorance as this?”
+
+“I'll tell you what I'll do, Polly; Grove told me he did it,--if I find
+my pluck failing me, I 'll have a go of brandy before I go in.”
+
+She found it very hard not to laugh at the solemn gravity of this
+speech, and just as hard not to cry as she looked at him who spoke it At
+the same moment Dr. Dill opened the door, calling out sharply, “Where's
+that fellow, Tom? Who has seen him this morning?”
+
+“He's here, papa,” said Polly. “We are brushing up the anatomy for the
+last time.”
+
+“His head must be in capital order for it, after his night's exploit.
+I heard of you, sir, and your reputable wager. Noonan was up here this
+morning with the whole story!”
+
+“I 'd have won if they 'd not put snuff in the punch--”
+
+“You are a shameless hound--”
+
+“Oh, papa! If you knew how he was working,--how eager he is to pass
+his examination, and be a credit to us all, and owe his independence to
+himself--”
+
+“I know more of him than you do, miss,--far more, too, than he is aware
+of,--and I know something of myself also; and I tell him now, that if
+he's rejected at the examination, he need not come back here with the
+news.”
+
+“And where am I to go, then?” asked the young fellow, half insolently.
+
+“You may go--” Where to, the doctor was not suffered to indicate, for
+already Polly had thrown herself into his arms and arrested the speech.
+
+“Well, I suppose I can 'list; a fellow need not know much about
+gallipots for that.” As he said this, he snatched up his tattered old
+cap and made for the door.
+
+“Stay, sir! I have business for you to do,” cried Dill, sternly.
+“There's a young gentleman at the 'Fisherman's Home' laid up with a bad
+sprain. I have prescribed twenty leeches on the part. Go down and apply
+them.”
+
+“That's what old Molly Day used to do,” said Tom, angrily.'
+
+“Yes, sir, and knew more of the occasion that required it than you will
+ever do. See that you apply them all to the outer ankle, and attend well
+to the bleeding; the patient is a young man of rank, with whom you had
+better take no liberties.”
+
+“If I go at all--”
+
+“Tom, Tom, none of this!” said Polly, who drew very close to him, and
+looked up at him with eyes full of tears.
+
+“Am I going as your son this time? or did you tell him--as you told Mr.
+Nixon--that you 'd send your young man?”
+
+“There! listen to that!” cried the doctor, turning to Polly. “I hope you
+are proud of your pupil.”
+
+She made no answer, but whispering some hurried words in her brother's
+ear, and pressing at the same time something into his hand, she shuffled
+him out of the room and closed the door.
+
+The doctor now paced the room, so engrossed by passion that he forgot he
+was not alone, and uttered threats and mumbled out dark predictions with
+a fearful energy. Meanwhile Polly put by the books and drawings, and
+removed everything which might recall the late misadventure.
+
+“What's your letter about, papa?” said she, pointing to a square-shaped
+envelope which he still held in his hand.
+
+“Oh, by the way,” said he, quietly, “this is from Cob-ham. They ask us
+up there to dinner to-day, and to stop the night.” The doctor tried very
+hard to utter this speech with the unconcern of one alluding to some
+every-day occurrence. Nay, he did more; he endeavored to throw into it
+a certain air of fastidious weariness, as though to say, “See how these
+people will have me; mark how they persecute me with their attentions!”
+
+Polly understood the “situation” perfectly, and it was with actual
+curiosity in her tone she asked, “Do you mean to go, sir?”
+
+“I suppose we must, dear,” he said, with a deep sigh. “A professional
+man is no more the arbiter of his social hours than of his business
+ones. Cooper always said dining at home costs a thousand a year.”
+
+“So much, papa?” asked she, with much semblance of innocence.
+
+“I don't mean to myself,” said he, reddening, “nor to any physician in
+country practice; but we all lose by it, more or less.”
+
+Polly, meanwhile, had taken the letter, and was reading it over. It was
+very brief. It had been originally begun, “Lady Cobham presents,” but a
+pen was run through the words, and it ran,--
+
+     “Dear Dr. Dill,--If a short notice will not inconvenience
+     you, will you and your daughter dine here to-day at seven?
+     There is no moon, and we shall expect you to stay the night.
+
+     “Truly yours,
+
+     “Georgiana Cobham.
+
+“The Admiral hopes Miss D. will not forget to bring her music.”
+
+“Then we go, sir?” asked she, with eagerness; for it was a house to
+which she had never yet been invited, though she had long wished for the
+entrée.
+
+“I shall go, certainly,” said he. “As to you, there will be the old
+discussion with your mother as to clothes, and the usual declaration
+that you have really nothing to put on.”
+
+“Oh! but I have, papa. My wonderful-worked muslin, that was to have
+astonished the world at the race ball, but which arrived too late, is
+now quite ready to captivate all beholders; and I have just learned that
+new song, 'Where's the slave so lowly?' which I mean to give with a
+most rebellious fervor; and, in fact, I am dying to assault this same
+fortress of Cobham, and see what it is like inside the citadel.”
+
+“Pretty much like Woodstay, and the Grove, and Mount Kelly, and the
+other places we go to,” said Dill, pompously.
+
+“The same sort of rooms, the same sort of dinner, the same company;
+nothing different but the liveries.”
+
+“Very true, papa; but there is always an interest in seeing how
+people behave in their own house, whom you have never seen except in
+strangers'. I have met Lady Cobham at the Beachers', where she scarcely
+noticed me. I am curious to see what sort of reception she will
+vouchsafe me at home.”
+
+“Well, go and look after your things, for we have eight miles to drive,
+and Billy has already been at Dangan and over to Mooney's Mills, and he
+'s not the fresher for it.”
+
+“I suppose I 'd better take my hat and habit, papa?”
+
+“What for, child?”
+
+“Just as you always carry your lancets, papa,--you don't know what may
+turn up.” And she was off before he could answer her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. TOM DILL'S FIRST PATIENT
+
+Before Tom Dill had set out on his errand he had learned all about his
+father and sister's dinner engagement; nor did the contrast with the
+way in which his own time was to be passed at all improve his temper.
+Indeed, he took the opportunity of intimating to his mother how few
+favors fell to her share or his own,--a piece of information she very
+philosophically received, all her sympathies being far more interested
+for the sorrows of “Clarissa Harlowe” than for any incident that
+occurred around her. Poor old lady! she had read that story over and
+over again, till it might seem that every word and every comma in it had
+become her own; but she was blessed with a memory that retained nothing,
+and she could cry over the sorrowful bits, and pant with eagerness at
+the critical ones, just as passionately, just as fervently, as she had
+done for years and years before. Dim, vague perceptions she might
+have retained of the personages, but these only gave them a stronger
+truthfulness, and made them more like the people of the real world, whom
+she had seen, passingly, once, and was now to learn more about. I
+doubt if Mezzofanti ever derived one tenth of the pleasure from all his
+marvellous memory that she did from the want of one.
+
+Blessed with that one book, she was proof against all the common
+accidents of life. It was her sanctuary against duns, and difficulties,
+and the doctor's temper. As the miser feels a sort of ecstasy in
+the secret of his hoarded wealth, so had she an intense enjoyment in
+thinking that all dear Clarissa's trials and sufferings were only known
+to her. Neither the doctor, nor Polly, nor Tom, so much as suspected
+them. It was like a confidence between Mr. Richardson and herself, and
+for nothing on earth would she have betrayed it.
+
+Tom had no such resources, and he set out on his mission with no very
+remarkable good feeling towards the world at large. Still, Polly had
+pressed into his hand a gold half-guinea,--some very long-treasured
+keepsake, the birthday gift of a godmother in times remote, and now to
+be converted into tobacco and beer, and some articles of fishing-gear
+which he greatly needed.
+
+Seated in one of those light canoe-shaped skiffs,--“cots,” as they are
+called on these rivers,--he suffered himself to be carried lazily along
+by the stream, while he tied his flies and adjusted his tackle. There
+is, sometimes, a stronger sense of unhappiness attached to what is
+called being “hardly used” by the world, than to a direct palpable
+misfortune; for though the sufferer may not be able, even to his own
+heart, to set out, with clearness, one single count in the indictment,
+yet a general sense of hard treatment, unfairness, and so forth, brings
+with it great depression, and a feeling of desolation.
+
+Like all young fellows of his stamp, Tom only saw his inflictions, not
+one of his transgressions. He knew that his father made a common drudge
+of him, employed him in all that was wearisome and even menial in his
+craft, admitted him to no confidences, gave him no counsels, and treated
+him in every way like one who was never destined to rise above the
+meanest cares and lowest duties. Even those little fleeting glances at
+a brighter future which Polly would now and then open to his ambition,
+never came from his father, who would actually ridicule the notion of
+his obtaining a degree, and make the thought of a commission in the
+service a subject for mockery.
+
+He was low in heart as he thought over these things. “If it were not for
+Polly,” so he said to himself, “he 'd go and enlist;” or, as his boat
+slowly floated into a dark angle of the stream where the water was still
+and the shadow deep, he even felt he could do worse. “Poor Polly!” said
+he, as he moved his hand to and fro in the cold clear water, “you 'd be
+very, very sorry for me. You, at least, knew that I was not all bad, and
+that I wanted to be better. It was no fault of mine to have a head that
+could n't learn. I 'd be clever if I could, and do everything as well as
+she does; but when they see that I have no talents, that if they put the
+task before me I cannot master it, sure they ought to pity me, not blame
+me.” And then he bent over the boat and looked down eagerly into the
+water, till, by long dint of gazing, he saw, or he thought he saw, the
+gravelly bed beneath; and again he swept his hand through it,--it was
+cold, and caused a slight shudder. Then, suddenly, with some fresh
+impulse, he threw off his cap, and kicked his shoes from him. His
+trembling hands buttoned and unbuttoned his coat with some infirm,
+uncertain purpose. He stopped and listened; he heard a sound; there was
+some one near,--quite near. He bent down and peered under the branches
+that hung over the stream, and there he saw a very old and infirm man,
+so old and infirm that he could barely creep. He had been carrying a
+little bundle of fagots for firewood, and the cord had given way, and
+his burden fallen, scattered, to the ground. This was the noise Tom
+had heard. For a few minutes the old man seemed overwhelmed with his
+disaster, and stood motionless, contemplating it; then, as it were,
+taking courage, he laid down his staff, and bending on his knees, set
+slowly to work to gather up his fagots.
+
+There are minutes in the lives of all of us when some simple
+incident will speak to our hearts with a force that human words never
+carried,--when the most trivial event will teach a lesson that all our
+wisdom never gave us. “Poor old fellow,” said Tom, “he has a stout heart
+left to him still, and he 'll not leave his load behind him!” And then
+his own craven spirit flashed across him, and he hid his face in his
+hand and cried bitterly.
+
+Suddenly rousing himself with a sort of convulsive shake, he sent
+the skiff with a strong shove in shore, and gave the old fellow what
+remained to him of Polly's present; and then, with a lighter spirit than
+he had known for many a day, rowed manfully on his way.
+
+The evening--a soft, mellow, summer evening--was just falling as Tom
+reached the little boat quay at the “Fisherman's Home,”--a spot it was
+seldom his fortune to visit, but one for whose woodland beauty and trim
+comfort he had a deep admiration. He would have liked to have lingered a
+little to inspect the boat-house, and the little aviary over it, and the
+small cottage on the island, and the little terrace made to fish from;
+but Darby had caught sight of him as he landed, and came hurriedly
+down to say that the young gentleman was growing very impatient for his
+coming, and was even hinting at sending for another doctor if he should
+not soon appear.
+
+If Conyers was as impatient as Darby represented, he had, at least,
+surrounded himself with every appliance to allay the fervor of that
+spirit He had dined under a spreading sycamore-tree, and now sat with a
+table richly covered before him. Fruit, flowers, and wine abounded,
+with a profusion that might have satisfied several guests; for, as he
+understood that he was to consider himself at an inn, he resolved, by
+ordering the most costly things, to give the house all the advantage of
+his presence. The most delicious hothouse fruit had been procured from
+the gardener of an absent proprietor in the neighborhood, and several
+kinds of wine figured on the table, over which, and half shadowed by
+the leaves, a lamp had been suspended, throwing a fitful light over all,
+that imparted a most picturesque effect to the scene.
+
+And yet, amidst all these luxuries and delights, Bal-shazzar was
+discontented; his ankle pained him; he had been hobbling about on it all
+day, and increased the inflammation considerably; and, besides this, he
+was lonely; he had no one but Darby to talk to, and had grown to feel
+for that sapient functionary a perfect abhorrence,--his everlasting
+compliance, his eternal coincidence with everything, being a torment
+infinitely worse than the most dogged and mulish opposition. When,
+therefore, he heard at last the doctor's son had come with the leeches,
+he hailed him as a welcome guest.
+
+“What a time you have kept me waiting!” said he, as the loutish young
+man came forward, so astounded by the scene before him that he lost all
+presence of mind. “I have been looking out for you since three o'clock,
+and pottering down the river and back so often, that I have made the leg
+twice as thick again.”
+
+“Why didn't you sit quiet?” said Tom, in a hoarse, husky tone.
+
+“Sit quiet!” replied Conyers, staring half angrily at him; and then as
+quickly perceiving that no impertinence had been intended, which the
+other's changing color and evident confusion attested, he begged him to
+take a chair and fill his glass. “That next you is some sort of Rhine
+wine: this is sherry; and here is the very best claret I ever tasted.”
+
+“Well, I 'll take that,” said Tom, who, accepting the recommendation
+amidst luxuries all new and strange to him, proceeded to fill his glass,
+but so tremblingly that he spilled the wine all about the table, and
+then hurriedly wiped it up with his handkerchief.
+
+Conyers did his utmost to set his guest at his ease. He passed his
+cigar-case across the table, and led him on, as well as he might, to
+talk. But Tom was awestruck, not alone by the splendors around him, but
+by the condescension of his host; and he could not divest himself of the
+notion that he must have been mistaken for somebody else, to whom all
+these blandishments might be rightfully due.
+
+“Are you fond of shooting?” asked Conyers, trying to engage a
+conversation.
+
+“Yes,” was the curt reply.
+
+“There must be good sport hereabouts, I should say. Is the game well
+preserved?”
+
+“Too well for such as me. I never get a shot without the risk of a jail,
+and it would be cheaper for me to kill a cow than a woodcock!” There was
+a stern gravity in the way he said this that made it irresistibly comic,
+and Conyers laughed out in spite of himself.
+
+“Have n't you a game license?” asked he.
+
+“Haven't I a coach-and-six? Where would I get four pounds seven and ten
+to pay for it?”
+
+The appeal was awkward, and for a moment Conyers was silent At last he
+said, “You fish, I suppose?”
+
+“Yes; I kill a salmon whenever I get a quiet spot that nobody sees me,
+and I draw the river now and then with a net at night.”
+
+“That's poaching, I take it.”
+
+“It 's not the worse for that!” said Tom, whose pluck was by this time
+considerably assisted by the claret.
+
+“Well, it's an unfair way, at all events, and destroys real sport”
+
+“Real sport is filling your basket.”
+
+“No, no; there's no real sport in doing anything that's
+unfair,--anything that's un----” He stopped short, and swallowed off a
+glass of wine to cover his confusion.
+
+“That's all mighty fine for you, who can not only pay for a license, but
+you 're just as sure to be invited here, there, and everywhere there's
+game to be killed. But think of me, that never snaps a cap, never throws
+a line, but he knows it's worse than robbing a hen-roost, and often,
+maybe, just as fond of it as yourself!”
+
+Whether it was that, coming after Darby's mawkish and servile agreement
+with everything, this rugged nature seemed more palatable, I cannot
+say; but so it was, Con-yers felt pleasure in talking to this rough
+unpolished creature, and hearing his opinions in turn. Had there been
+in Tom Dill's manner the slightest shade of any pretence, was there any
+element of that which, for want of a better word, we call “snobbery,”
+ Conyers would not have endured him for a moment, but Tom was perfectly
+devoid of this vulgarity. He was often coarse in his remarks, his
+expressions were rarely measured by any rule of good manners; but it
+was easy to see that he never intended offence, nor did he so much as
+suspect that he could give that weight to any opinion which he uttered
+to make it of moment.
+
+Besides these points in Tom's favor, there was another, which also led
+Conyers to converse with him. There is some very subtle self-flattery
+in the condescension of one well to do in all the gifts of fortune
+associating, in an assumed equality, with some poor fellow to whom fate
+has assigned the shady side of the highway. Scarcely a subject can
+be touched without suggesting something for self-gratulation; every
+comparison, every contrast is in his favor, and Conyers, without being
+more of a puppy than the majority of his order, constantly felt how
+immeasurably above all his guest's views of his life and the world were
+his own,--not alone that he was more moderate in language and less prone
+to attribute evil, but with a finer sense of honor and a wider feeling
+of liberality.
+
+When Tom at last, with some shame, remembered that he had forgotten all
+about the real object of his mission, and had never so much as alluded
+to the leeches, Conyers only laughed and said, “Never mind them
+to-night. Come back to-morrow and put them on; and mind,--come to
+breakfast at ten or eleven o'clock.”
+
+“What am I to say to my father?”
+
+“Say it was a whim of mine, which it is. You are quite ready to do this
+matter now. I see it; but I say no. Is n't that enough?”
+
+“I suppose so!” muttered Tom, with a sort of dogged misgiving.
+
+“It strikes me that you have a very respectable fear of your governor.
+Am I right?”
+
+“Ain't you afraid of yours?” bluntly asked the other.
+
+“Afraid of mine!” cried Conyers, with a loud laugh; “I should think not.
+Why, my father and myself are as thick as two thieves. I never was in a
+scrape that I did n't tell him. I 'd sit down this minute and write to
+him just as I would to any fellow in the regiment.”
+
+“Well, there 's only one in all the world I 'd tell a secret to, and it
+is n't My father!”
+
+“Who is it, then?”
+
+“My sister Polly!” It was impossible to have uttered these words with a
+stronger sense of pride. He dwelt slowly upon each of them, and, when he
+had finished, looked as though he had said something utterly undeniable.
+
+“Here's her health,--in a bumper too!” cried Conyers.
+
+“Hurray, hurray!” shouted out Tom, as he tossed off his full glass, and
+set it on the table with a bang that smashed it. “Oh, I beg pardon! I
+didn't mean to break the tumbler.”
+
+“Never mind it, Dill; it's a trifle. I half hoped you had done it on
+purpose, so that the glass should never be drained to a less honored
+toast. Is she like _you?_”
+
+“Like me,--like me?” asked he, coloring deeply. “Polly like me?”
+
+“I mean is there a family resemblance? Could you be easily known as
+brother and sister?”
+
+“Not a bit of it. Polly is the prettiest girl in this county, and she 's
+better than she 's handsome. There's nothing she can't do. I taught her
+to tie flies, and she can put wings on a green-drake now that would take
+in any salmon that ever swam. Martin Keene sent her a pound-note for a
+book of 'brown hackles,' and, by the way, she gave it to _me_. And if
+you saw her on the back of a horse!--Ambrose Bushe's gray mare, the
+wickedest devil that ever was bridled, one buck jump after another
+the length of a field, and the mare trying to get her head between her
+fore-legs, and Polly handling her so quiet, never out of temper, never
+hot, but always saying, 'Ain't you ashamed of yourself, Dido? Don't you
+see them all laughing at us?'”
+
+“I am quite curious to see her. Will you present me one of these days?”
+
+Tom mumbled out something perfectly unintelligible.
+
+“I hope that I may be permitted to make her acquaintance,” repeated he,
+not feeling very certain that his former speech was quite understood.
+
+“Maybe so,” grumbled he out at last, and sank back in his chair with a
+look of sulky ill-humor; for so it was that poor Tom, in his ignorance
+of life and its ways, deemed the proposal one of those free-and-easy
+suggestions which might be made to persons of very inferior station,
+and to whom the fact of acquaintanceship should be accounted as a great
+honor.
+
+Conyers was provoked at the little willingness shown to meet his
+offer,--an offer he felt to be a very courteous piece of condescension
+on his part,--and now both sat in silence. At last Tom Dill, long
+struggling with some secret impulse, gave way, and in a tone far more
+decided and firm than heretofore, said, “Maybe you think, from seeing
+what sort of a fellow I am, that my sister ought to be like me; and
+because _I_ have neither manners nor education, that she 's the same?
+But listen to me now; she 's just as little like me as you are yourself.
+You 're not more of a gentleman than she's a lady!”
+
+“I never imagined anything else.”
+
+“And what made you talk of bringing her up here to present her to you,
+as you called it? Was she to be trotted out in a cavasin, like a filly?”
+
+“My dear fellow,” said Conyers, good-humoredly, “you never made a
+greater mistake. I begged that you would present _me_ to your sister.
+I asked the sort of favor which is very common in the world, and in
+the language usually employed to convey such a request. I observed the
+recognized etiquette--”
+
+“What do I know about etiquette? If you'd have said, 'Tom Dill, I want
+to be introduced to your sister,' I 'd have guessed what you were at,
+and I 'd have said, 'Come back in the boat with me to-morrow, and so you
+shall.'”
+
+“It's a bargain, then, Dill. I want two or three things in the village,
+and I accept your offer gladly.”
+
+Not only was peace now ratified between them, but a closer feeling of
+intimacy established; for poor Tom, not much spoiled by any excess of
+the world's sympathy, was so delighted by the kindly interest shown him,
+that he launched out freely to tell all about himself and his fortunes,
+how hardly treated he was at home, and how ill usage had made him
+despondent, and despondency made him dissolute. “It's all very well to
+rate a fellow about his taste for low pleasures and low companions; but
+what if he's not rich enough for better? He takes them just as he
+smokes cheap tobacco, because he can afford no other. And do you know,”
+ continued he, “you are the first real gentleman that ever said a kind
+word to me, or asked me to sit down in his company. It's even so strange
+to me yet, that maybe when I 'm rowing home to-night I 'll think it's
+all a dream,--that it was the wine got into my head.”
+
+“Is not some of this your own fault?” broke in Conyers. “What if you had
+held your head higher--”
+
+“Hold my head higher!” interrupted Tom. “With this on it, eh?” And he
+took up his ragged and worn cap from the ground, and showed it. “Pride
+is a very fine thing when you can live up to it; but if you can't it's
+only ridiculous. I don't say,” added he, after a few minutes of silence,
+“but if I was far away from this, where nobody knew me, where I did n't
+owe little debts on every side, and was n't obliged to be intimate
+with every idle vagabond about--I don't say but I'd try to be something
+better. If, for instance, I could get into the navy--”
+
+“Why not the army? You 'd like it better.”
+
+“Ay! but it 's far harder to get into. There's many a rough fellow like
+myself aboard ship that they would n't take in a regiment. Besides, how
+could I get in without interest?”
+
+“My father is a Lieutenant-General. I don't know whether he could be of
+service to you.”
+
+“A Lieutenant-General!” repeated Tom, with the reverential awe of one
+alluding to an actual potentate.
+
+“Yes. He has a command out in India, where I feel full sure he could
+give you something. Suppose you were to go out there? I 'd write a
+letter to my father and ask him to befriend you.”
+
+“It would take a fortune to pay the journey,” said Tom, despondingly.
+
+“Not if you went out on service; the Government would send you free of
+cost. And even if you were not, I think we might manage it. Speak to
+your father about it.”
+
+“No,” said he, slowly. “No; but I 'll talk it over with Polly. Not but
+I know well she'll say, 'There you are, castle-building and romancing.
+It's all moonshine! Nobody ever took notice of you,--nobody said he 'd
+interest himself about you.'”
+
+“That's easily remedied. If you like it, I 'll tell your sister all
+about it myself. I 'll tell her it's my plan, and I 'll show her what I
+think are good reasons to believe it will be successful.”
+
+“Oh! would you--would you!” cried he, with a choking sensation in the
+throat; for his gratitude had made him almost hysterical.
+
+“Yes,” resumed Conyers. “When you come up here tomorrow, we 'll arrange
+it all. I 'll turn the matter all over in my mind, too, and I have
+little doubt of our being able to carry it through.”
+
+“You 'll not tell my father, though?”
+
+“Not a word, if you forbid it. At the same time, you must see that he'll
+have to hear it all later on.”
+
+“I suppose so,” muttered Tom, moodily, and leaned his head thoughtfully
+on his hand. But one half-hour back and he would have told Conyers why
+he desired this concealment; he would have declared that his father,
+caring more for his services than his future good, would have thrown
+every obstacle to his promotion, and would even, if need were, have so
+represented him to Conyers that he would have appeared utterly unworthy
+of his interest and kindness; but now not one word of all this escaped
+him. He never hinted another reproach against his father, for already a
+purer spring had opened in his nature, the rocky heart had been smitten
+by words of gentleness, and he would have revolted against that which
+should degrade him in his own esteem.
+
+“Good night,” said Conyers, with a hearty shake of the hand, “and don't
+forget your breakfast engagement tomorrow.”
+
+“What 's this?” said Tom, blushing deeply, as he found a crumpled
+bank-note in his palm.
+
+“It's your fee, my good fellow, that's all,” said the other, laughingly.
+
+“But I can't take a fee. I have never done so. I have no right to one. I
+am not a doctor yet.”
+
+“The very first lesson in your profession is not to anger your patient;
+and if you would not provoke me, say no more on this matter.” There was
+a half-semblance of haughtiness in these words that perhaps the speaker
+never intended; at all events, he was quick enough to remedy the effect,
+for he laid his hand good-naturedly on the other's shoulder and said,
+“For my sake, Dill,--for my sake.”
+
+“I wish I knew what I ought to do,” said Tom, whose pale cheek actually
+trembled with agitation. “I mean,” said he, in a shaken voice, “I wish I
+knew what would make _you_ think best of me.”
+
+“Do you attach so much value to my good opinion, then?”
+
+“Don't you think I might? When did I ever meet any one that treated me
+this way before?”
+
+The agitation in which he uttered these few words imparted such a
+semblance of weakness to him that Conyers pressed him down into a chair,
+and filled up his glass with wine.
+
+“Take that off, and you 'll be all right presently,” said he, in a kind
+tone.
+
+Tom tried to carry the glass to his lips, but his hand trembled so that
+he had to set it down on the table.
+
+“I don't know how to say it,” began he, “and I don't know whether I
+ought to say it, but somehow I feel as if I could give my heart's blood
+if everybody would behave to me the way you do. I don't mean, mind you,
+so generously, but treating me as if--as if--as if--” gulped he out at
+last, “as if I was a gentleman.”
+
+“And why not? As there is nothing in your station that should deny that
+claim, why should any presume to treat you otherwise?”
+
+“Because I'm not one!” blurted he out; and covering his face with his
+hands, he sobbed bitterly.
+
+“Come, come, my poor fellow, don't be down-hearted. I 'm not much older
+than yourself, but I 've seen a good deal of life; and, mark _my_ words,
+the price a man puts on himself is the very highest penny the world will
+ever bid for him; he 'll not always get _that_, but he 'll never--no,
+never, get a farthing beyond it!”
+
+Tom stared vacantly at the speaker, not very sure whether he understood
+the speech, or that it had any special application to him.
+
+“When you come to know life as well as I do,” continued Conyers, who had
+now launched into a very favorite theme, “you'll learn the truth of what
+I say. Hold your head high; and if the world desires to see you, it must
+at least look up!”
+
+“Ay, but it might laugh too!” said Tom, with a bitter gravity, which
+considerably disconcerted the moralist, who pitched away his cigar
+impatiently, and set about selecting another.
+
+“I suspect I understand _your_ nature. For,” said he, after a moment or
+two, “I have rather a knack in reading people. Just answer me frankly a
+few questions.”
+
+“Whatever you like,” said the other, in a half-sulky sort of manner.
+
+“Mind,” said Conyers, eagerly, “as there can be no offence intended,
+you'll not feel any by whatever I may say.”
+
+“Go on,” said Tom, in the same dry tone.
+
+“Ain't you obstinate?”
+
+“I am.”
+
+“I knew it. We had not talked half an hour together when I detected
+it, and I said to myself, 'That fellow is one so rooted in his own
+convictions, it is scarcely possible to shake him.'”
+
+“What next?” asked Tom.
+
+“You can't readily forgive an injury; you find it very hard to pardon
+the man who has wronged you.”
+
+“I do not; if he did n't go on persecuting me, I would n't think of him
+at all.”
+
+“Ah, that's a mistake. Well, I know you better than you know yourself;
+you _do_ keep up the memory of an old grudge,--you can't help it.”
+
+“Maybe so, but I never knew it.”
+
+“You have, however, just as strong a sentiment of gratitude.”
+
+“I never knew that, either,” muttered he; “perhaps because it has had so
+little provocation!”
+
+“Bear in mind,” said Conyers, who was rather disconcerted by the want of
+concurrence he had met with, “that I am in a great measure referring to
+latent qualities,--things which probably require time and circumstances
+to develop.”
+
+“Oh, if that's it,” said Dili, “I can no more object than I could if you
+talked to me about what is down a dozen fathoms in the earth under our
+feet. It may be granite or it may be gold, for what I know; the only
+thing that _I_ see is the gravel before me.”
+
+“I 'll tell you a trait of your character you can't gainsay,”
+ said Conyers, who was growing more irritated by the opposition so
+unexpectedly met with, “and it's one you need not dig a dozen fathoms
+down to discover,--you are very reckless.”
+
+“Reckless--reckless,--you call a fellow reckless that throws away his
+chance, I suppose?”
+
+“Just so.”
+
+“But what if he never had one?”
+
+“Every man has a destiny; every man has that in his fate which he may
+help to make or to mar as he inclines to. I suppose you admit that?”
+
+“I don't know,” was the sullen reply.
+
+“Not know? Surely you needn't be told such a fact to recognize it!”
+
+“All I know is this,” said Tom, resolutely, “that I scarcely ever did
+anything in my life that it was n't found out to be wrong, so that at
+last I 've come to be pretty careless what I do; and if it was n't for
+Polly,--if it was n't for Polly--” He stopped, drew his sleeve across
+his eyes, and turned away, unable to finish.
+
+“Come, then,” said Conyers, laying his hand affectionately on the
+other's shoulder, “add my friendship to _her_ love for you, and see if
+the two will not give you encouragement; for I mean to be your friend,
+Dill.”
+
+“Do you?” said Tom, with the tears in his eyes.
+
+“There 's my hand on it.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. FINE ACQUAINTANCES
+
+There is a law of compensation even for the small things of this life,
+and by the wise enactments of that law, human happiness, on the whole,
+is pretty equally distributed. The rich man, probably, never felt one
+tithe of the enjoyment in his noble demesne that it yielded to some poor
+artisan who strolled through it on a holiday, and tasted at once the
+charms of a woodland scene with all the rapturous delight of a day of
+rest.
+
+Arguing from these premises, I greatly doubt if Lady Cobham, at the
+head of her great household, with her house crowded with distinguished
+visitors, surrounded by every accessory of luxury and splendor, tasted
+anything approaching to the delight felt by one, the very humblest
+of her guests, and who for a brief twenty-four hours partook of her
+hospitality.
+
+Polly Dill, with all her desire and ambition for notice amongst
+the great people of the county, had gone to this dinner-party with
+considerable misgivings. She only knew the Admiral in the hunting-field;
+of her Ladyship she had no knowledge whatever, save in a few dry
+sentences uttered to her from a carriage one day at “the meet,” when the
+Admiral, with more sailor-like frankness than politeness, presented her
+by saying, “This is the heroine of the day's run, Dr. Dill's daughter.”
+ And to this was responded a stare through a double eye-glass, and a
+cold smile and a few still colder words, affecting to be compliment, but
+sounding far more like a correction and a rebuke.
+
+No wonder, then, if Polly's heart was somewhat faint about approaching
+as a hostess one who could be so repelling as a mere acquaintance.
+Indeed, one less resolutely bent on her object would not have
+encountered all the mortification and misery her anticipation pictured;
+but Polly fortified herself by the philosophy that said, “There is
+but one road to this goal; I must either take that one, or abandon the
+journey.” And so she did take it.
+
+Either, however, that she had exaggerated the grievance to her own mind,
+or that her Ladyship was more courteous at home than abroad; but Polly
+was charmed with the kindness of her reception. Lady Cobham had shaken
+hands with her, asked her had she been hunting lately, and was about
+to speak of her horsemanship to a grim old lady beside her, when the
+arrival of other guests cut short the compliment, and Polly passed
+on--her heart lightened of a great load--to mix with the general
+company.
+
+I have no doubt it was a pleasant country-house; it was called the
+pleasantest in the county. On the present occasion it counted amongst
+its guests not only the great families of the neighborhood, but several
+distinguished visitors from a distance, of whom two, at least, are
+noteworthy,--one, the great lyric poet; the other, the first tragic
+actress of her age and country. The occasion which assembled them was
+a project originally broached at the Admiral's table, and so frequently
+discussed afterwards that it matured itself into a congress. The plan
+was to get up theatricals for the winter season at Kilkenny, in
+which all the native dramatic ability should be aided by the first
+professional talent. Scarcely a country-house that could not boast of,
+at least, one promising performer. Ruthven and Campion and Probart had
+in their several walks been applauded by the great in art, and there
+were many others who in the estimation of friends were just as certain
+of a high success.
+
+Some passing remark on Polly's good looks, and the suitability of
+her face and style for certain small characters in comedy,--the pink
+ribboned damsels who are made love to by smart valets,--induced
+Lady Cobham to include her in her list; and thus, on these meagre
+credentials, was she present. She did not want notice or desire
+recognition; she was far too happy to be there, to hear and see and mark
+and observe all around her, to care for any especial attention. If the
+haughty Arabellas and Georgianas who swept past her without so much as
+a glance, were not, in her own estimation, superior in personal
+attractions, she knew well that they were so in all the accidents
+of station and the advantages of dress; and perhaps--who knows?--the
+reflection was not such a discouraging one.
+
+No memorable event, no incident worth recording, marked her visit. In
+the world of such society the machinery moves with regularity and
+little friction. The comedy of real life is admirably played out by
+the well-bred, and Polly was charmed to see with what courtesy, what
+consideration, what deference people behaved to each other; and all
+without an effort,--perhaps without even a thought.
+
+It was on the following day, when she got home and sat beside her
+mother's chair, that she related all she had seen. Her heart was filled
+with joy; for, just as she was taking her leave, Lady Cobham had said,
+“You have been promised to us for Tuesday next, Miss Dill. Pray don't
+forget it!” And now she was busily engaged in the cares of toilette; and
+though it was a mere question of putting bows of a sky-blue ribbon on
+a muslin dress,--one of those little travesties by which rustic beauty
+emulates ball-room splendor,--to her eyes it assumed all the importance
+of a grand preparation, and one which she could not help occasionally
+rising to contemplate at a little distance.
+
+“Won't it be lovely, mamma,” she said, “with a moss-rose--a mere bud--on
+each of those bows? But I have n't told you of how he sang. He was the
+smallest little creature in the world, and he tripped across the room
+with his tiny feet like a bird, and he kissed Lady Cobham's hand with a
+sort of old-world gallantry, and pressed a little sprig of jasmine she
+gave him to his heart,--this way,--and then he sat down to the piano. I
+thought it strange to see a man play!”
+
+“Effeminate,--very,” muttered the old lady, as she wiped her spectacles.
+
+“Well, I don't know, mamma,--at least, after a moment, I lost all
+thought of it, for I never heard anything like his singing before.
+He had not much voice, nor, perhaps, great skill, but there was an
+expression in the words, a rippling melody with which the verses ran
+from his lips, while the accompaniment tinkled on beside them, perfectly
+rapturous. It all seemed as if words and air were begotten of the
+moment, as if, inspired on the instant, he poured forth the verses, on
+which he half dwelt, while thinking over what was to follow, imparting
+an actual anxiety as you listened, lest he should not be ready with his
+rhyme; and through all there was a triumphant joy that lighted up his
+face and made his eyes sparkle with a fearless lustre, as of one who
+felt the genius that was within him, and could trust it.” And then he
+had been so complimentary to herself, called her that charming little
+“rebel,” after she had sung “Where 's the Slave,” and told her that
+until he had heard the words from her lips he did not know they were
+half so treasonable. “But, mamma dearest, I have made a conquest; and
+such a conquest,--the hero of the whole society,--a Captain Stapylton,
+who did something or captured somebody at Waterloo,--a bold dragoon,
+with a gorgeous pelisse all slashed with gold, and such a mass of
+splendor that he was quite dazzling to look upon.” She went on, still
+very rapturously, to picture him. “Not very young; that is to say, he
+might be thirty-five, or perhaps a little more,--tall, stately, even
+dignified in appearance, with a beard and moustache almost white,--for
+he had served much in India, and he was dark-skinned as a native.” And
+this fine soldier, so sought after and so courted, had been markedly
+attentive to her, danced with her twice, and promised she should have
+his Arab, “Mahmoud,” at her next visit to Cobham. It was very evident
+that his notice of her had called forth certain jealousies from young
+ladies of higher social pretensions, nor was she at all indifferent to
+the peril of such sentiments, though she did not speak of them to her
+mother, for, in good truth, that worthy woman was not one to investigate
+a subtle problem, or suggest a wise counsel; not to say that her
+interests were far more deeply engaged for Miss Harlowe than for her
+daughter Polly, seeing that in the one case every motive, and the spring
+to every motive, was familiar to her, while in the other she possessed
+but some vague and very strange notions of what was told her. Clarissa
+had made a full confidence to her: she had wept out her sorrows on
+her bosom, and sat sobbing on her shoulder. Polly came to her with
+the frivolous narrative of a ball-room flirtation, which threatened no
+despair nor ruin to any one. Here were no heart-consuming miseries,
+no agonizing terrors, no dreadful casualties that might darken a whole
+existence; and so Mrs. Dill scarcely followed Polly's story at all, and
+never with any interest.
+
+Polly went in search of her brother, but he had left home early that
+morning with the boat, no one knew whither, and the doctor was in a
+towering rage at his absence. Tom, indeed, was so full of his success
+with young Conyers that he never so much as condescended to explain his
+plans, and simply left a message to say, “It was likely he 'd be back
+by dinner-time.” Now Dr. Dill was not in one of his blandest humors.
+Amongst the company at Cobham, he had found a great physician from
+Kilkenny, plainly showing him that all his social sacrifices were not to
+his professional benefit, and that if colds and catarrhs were going, his
+own services would never be called in. Captain Stapylton, too, to
+whom Polly had presented him, told him that he “feared a young brother
+officer of his, Lieutenant Conyers, had fallen into the hands of some
+small village practitioner, and that he would take immediate measures
+to get him back to headquarters,” and then moved off, without giving him
+the time for a correction of the mistake.
+
+He took no note of his daughter's little triumphs, the admiration that
+she excited, or the flatteries that greeted her. It is true he did not
+possess the same means of measuring these that she had, and in all that
+dreary leisure which besets an unhonored guest, he had ample time to
+mope and fret and moralize, as gloomily as might be. If, then, he
+did not enjoy himself on his visit, he came away from it soured and
+ill-humored.
+
+He denounced “junketings”--by which unseemly title he designated the
+late entertainment--as amusements too costly for persons of his means.
+He made a rough calculation--a very rough one--of all that the
+“precious tomfoolery” had cost: the turnpike which he had paid, and
+the perquisites to servants--which he had not; the expense of Polly's
+finery,--a hazarded guess she would have been charmed to have had
+confirmed; and, ending the whole with a startling total, declared that a
+reign of rigid domestic economy must commence from that hour. The edict
+was something like what one reads from the French Government, when
+about to protest against some license of the press, and which opens by
+proclaiming that “the latitude hitherto conceded to public discussion
+has not been attended with those gratifying results so eagerly
+anticipated by the Imperial administration.” Poor Mrs. Dill--like a mere
+journalist--never knew she had been enjoying blessings till she was
+told she had forfeited them forever, and she heard with a confused
+astonishment that the household charges would be still further reduced,
+and yet food and fuel and light be not excluded from the supplies.
+He denounced Polly's equestrianism as a most ruinous and extravagant
+pursuit. Poor Polly, whose field achievements had always been on a
+borrowed mount! Tom was a scapegrace, whose debts would have beggared
+half-a-dozen families,--wretched dog, to whom a guinea was a gold-mine;
+and Mrs. Dill, unhappy Mrs. Dill, who neither hunted, nor smoked,
+nor played skittles, after a moment's pause, he told her that his
+hard-earned pence should not be wasted in maintaining a “circulating
+library.” Was there ever injustice like this? Talk to a man with one
+meal a day about gluttony, lecture the castaway at sea about not giving
+way to his appetites, you might just as well do so as to preach to
+Mrs. Dill--with her one book, and who never wanted another--about the
+discursive costliness of her readings.
+
+Could it be that, like the cruel jailer, who killed the spider the
+prisoner had learned to love, he had resolved to rob her of Clarissa?
+The thought was so overwhelming that it stunned her; and thus stupefied,
+she saw the doctor issue forth on his daily round, without venturing
+one word in answer. And he rode on his way,--on that strange mission
+of mercy, meanness, of honest sympathy, or mock philanthropy, as men's
+hearts and natures make of it,--and set out for the “Fisherman's Home.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. A COUNTRY DOCTOR
+
+In a story, as in a voyage, one must occasionally travel with
+uncongenial companions. Now I have no reason for hoping that any of my
+readers care to keep Dr. Dill's company, and yet it is with Dr. Dill we
+must now for a brief space foregather. He was on his way to visit his
+patient at the “Fisherman's Home,” having started, intentionally very
+early, to be there before Stapylton could have interposed with any
+counsels of removing him to Kilkenny.
+
+The world, in its blind confidence in medical skill, and its unbounded
+belief in certain practitioners of medicine, is but scantily just to the
+humbler members of the craft in regard to the sensitiveness with
+which they feel the withdrawal of a patient from their care, and the
+substitution of another physician. The doctor who has not only heard,
+but felt Babington's adage, that the difference between a good physician
+and a bad one is only “the difference between a pound and a guinea,”
+ naturally thinks it a hard thing that his interests are to be sacrificed
+for a mere question of five per cent. He knows, besides, that they can
+each work on the same materials with the same tools, and it can be only
+through some defect in his self-confidence that he can bring himself to
+believe that the patient's chances are not pretty much alike in _his_
+hands or his rival's. Now Dr. Dill had no feelings of this sort; no
+undervaluing of himself found a place in his nature. He regarded medical
+men as tax-gatherers, and naturally thought it mattered but little which
+received the impost; and, thus reflecting, he bore no good will towards
+that gallant Captain, who, as we have seen, stood so well in his
+daughter's favor. Even hardened men of the world--old footsore pilgrims
+of life--have their prejudices, and one of these is to be pleased at
+thinking they had augured unfavorably of any one they had afterwards
+learned to dislike. It smacks so much of acuteness to be able to say,
+“I was scarcely presented to him; we had not exchanged a dozen
+sentences when I saw this, that, and t' other.” Dill knew this man
+was overbearing, insolent, and oppressive, that he was meddlesome and
+interfering, giving advice unasked for, and presuming to direct where no
+guidance was required. He suspected he was not a man of much fortune; he
+doubted he was a man of good family. All his airs of pretensions--very
+high and mighty they were--did not satisfy the doctor. As he said
+himself, he was a very old bird, but he forgot to add that he had always
+lived in an extremely small cage.
+
+The doctor had to leave his horse on the high-road and take a small
+footpath, which led through some meadows till it reached the little
+copse of beech and ilex that sheltered the cottage and effectually hid
+it from all view from the road. The doctor had just gained the last
+stile, when he suddenly came upon a man repairing a fence, and whose
+labors were being overlooked by Miss Barrington. He had scarcely uttered
+his most respectful salutations, when she said, “It is, perhaps, the
+last time you will take that path through the Lock Meadow, Dr. Dill. We
+mean to close it up after this week.”
+
+“Close it up, dear lady!--a right of way that has existed Heaven knows
+how long. I remember it as a boy myself.”
+
+“Very probably, sir, and what you say vouches for great antiquity; but
+things may be old and yet not respectable. Besides, it never was what
+you have called it,--a right of way. If it was, where did it go to?”
+
+“It went to the cottage, dear lady. The 'Home' was a mill in those
+days.”
+
+“Well, sir, it is no longer a mill, and it will soon cease to be an
+inn.”
+
+“Indeed, dear lady! And am I to hope that I may congratulate such kind
+friends as you have ever been to me on a change of fortune?”
+
+“Yes, sir; we have grown so poor that, to prevent utter destitution, we
+have determined to keep a private station; and with reference to that,
+may I ask you when this young gentleman could bear removal without
+injury?”
+
+“I have not seen him to-day, dear lady; but judging from the
+inflammatory symptoms I remarked yesterday, and the great nervous
+depression--”
+
+“I know nothing about medicine, sir; but if the nervous depression be
+indicated by a great appetite and a most noisy disposition, his case
+must be critical.”
+
+“Noise, dear lady!”
+
+“Yes, sir; assisted by your son, he sat over his wine till past
+midnight, talking extremely loudly, and occasionally singing. They have
+now been at breakfast since ten o'clock, and you will very soon be
+able to judge by your own ears of the well-regulated pitch of the
+conversation.”
+
+“My son, Miss Dinah! Tom Dill at breakfast here?”
+
+“I don't know whether his name be Tom or Harry, sir, nor is it to the
+purpose; but he is a red-haired youth, with a stoop in the shoulders,
+and a much-abused cap.”
+
+Dill groaned over a portrait which to him was a photograph.
+
+“I 'll see to this, dear lady. This shall be looked into,” muttered he,
+with the purpose of a man who pledged himself to a course of action; and
+with this he moved on. Nor had he gone many paces from the spot when he
+heard the sound of voices, at first in some confusion, but afterwards
+clearly and distinctly.
+
+“I 'll be hanged if I 'd do it, Tom,” cried the loud voice of Conyers.
+“It's all very fine talking about paternal authority and all that, and
+so long as one is a boy there's no help for it; but you and I are men.
+We have a right to be treated like men, have n't we?”
+
+“I suppose so,” muttered the other, half sulkily, and not exactly seeing
+what was gained by the admission.
+
+“Well, that being so,” resumed Conyers, “I'd say to the governor, 'What
+allowance are you going to make me?'”
+
+“Did you do that with your father?” asked Tom, earnestly.
+
+“No, not exactly,” stammered out the other. “There was not, in fact, any
+need for it, for my governor is a rare jolly fellow,--such a trump! What
+he said to me was, 'There's a check-book, George; don't spare it.'”
+
+“Which was as much as to say, 'Draw what you like.'”
+
+“Yes, of course. He knew, in leaving it to my honor, there was no risk
+of my committing any excess; so you see there was no necessity to make
+my governor 'book up.' But if I was in your place I 'd do it. I pledge
+you my word I would.”
+
+Tom only shook his head very mournfully, and made no answer. He felt,
+and felt truly, that there is a worldly wisdom learned only in poverty
+and in the struggles of narrow fortune, of which the well-to-do know
+absolutely nothing. Of what avail to talk to him of an unlimited credit,
+or a credit to be bounded only by a sense of honor? It presupposed so
+much that was impossible, that he would have laughed if his heart had
+been but light enough.
+
+“Well, then,” said Conyers, “if you have n't courage for this, let me do
+it; let me speak to your father.”
+
+“What could you say to him?” asked Tom, doggedly.
+
+“Say to him?--what could I say to him?” repeated he, as he lighted a
+fresh cigar, and affected to be eagerly interested in the process. “It's
+clear enough what I 'd say to him.”
+
+“Let us hear it, then,” growled out Tom, for he had a sort of coarse
+enjoyment at the other's embarrassment. “I 'll be the doctor now, and
+listen to you.” And with this he squared his chair full in front of
+Conyers, and crossed his arms imposingly on his chest “You said you
+wanted to speak to me about my son Tom, Mr. Conyers; what is it you have
+to say?”
+
+“Well, I suppose I'd open the matter delicately, and, perhaps, adroitly.
+I 'd say, 'I have remarked, doctor, that your son is a young fellow of
+very considerable abilities--'”
+
+“For what?” broke in Tom, huskily.
+
+“Come, you 're not to interrupt in this fashion, or I can't continue. I
+'d say something about your natural cleverness; and what a pity it
+would be if, with very promising talents, you should not have those fair
+advantages which lead a man to success in life.”
+
+“And do you know what _he_ 'd say to all that?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Well, I'll tell you. He'd say 'Bother!' Just 'bother.'”
+
+“What do you mean by 'bother'?”
+
+“That what you were saying was all nonsense. That you did n't know, nor
+you never could know, the struggles of a man like himself, just to make
+the two ends meet; not to be rich, mind you, or lay by money, or have
+shares in this, or stocks in that, but just to live, and no more.”
+
+“Well, I'd say, 'Give him a few hundred pounds, and start him.'”
+
+“Why don't you say a few thousands? It would sound grander, and be just
+as likely. Can't you see that everybody hasn't a Lieutenant-General for
+a father? and that what you 'd give for a horse--that would, maybe,
+be staked to-morrow--would perhaps be a fortune for a fellow like me?
+What's that I hear coming up the river? That's the doctor, I 'm sure.
+I 'll be off till he's gone.” And without waiting to hear a word, he
+sprang from his chair and disappeared in the wood.
+
+Dr. Dill only waited a few seconds to compose his features, somewhat
+excited by what he had overheard; and then coughing loudly, to announce
+his approach, moved gravely along the gravel path.
+
+“And how is my respected patient?” asked he, blandly. “Is the
+inflammation subsiding, and are our pains diminished?”
+
+“My ankle is easier, if you mean that,” said Conyers, bluntly.
+
+“Yes, much easier,--much easier,” said the doctor, examining the limb;
+“and our cellular tissue has less effusion, the sheaths of the tendons
+freer, and we are generally better. I perceive you have had the leeches
+applied. Did Tom--my son--give you satisfaction? Was he as attentive and
+as careful as you wished?”
+
+“Yes, I liked him. I wish he 'd come up every day while I remain. Is
+there any objection to that arrangement?”
+
+“None, dear sir,--none. His time is fully at your service; he ought to
+be working hard. It is true he should be reading eight or ten hours a
+day, for his examination; but it is hard to persuade him to it. Young
+men will be young men!”
+
+“I hope so, with all my heart. At least, I, for one, don't want to be
+an old one. Will you do me a favor, doctor? and will you forgive me if
+I don't know how to ask it with all becoming delicacy? I'd like to give
+Tom a helping hand. He's a good fellow,--I 'm certain he is. Will you
+let me send him out to India, to my father? He has lots of places to
+give away, and he 'd be sure to find something to suit him. You have
+heard of General Conyers, perhaps, the political resident at Delhi?
+That's my governor.” In the hurry and rapidity with which he spoke, it
+was easy to see how he struggled with a sense of shame and confusion.
+
+Dr. Dill was profuse of acknowledgments; he was even moved as he
+expressed his gratitude. “It was true,” he remarked, “that his life had
+been signalled by these sort of graceful services, or rather offers of
+services; for we are proud if we are poor, sir. 'Dill aut nil' is the
+legend of our crest, which means that we are ourselves or nothing.”
+
+“I conclude everybody else is in the same predicament,” broke in
+Conyers, bluntly.
+
+“Not exactly, young gentleman,--not exactly. I think I could, perhaps,
+explain--”
+
+“No, no; never mind it. I 'm the stupidest fellow in the world at a nice
+distinction; besides, I'll take your word for the fact. You have heard
+of my father, have n't you?”
+
+“I heard of him so late as last night, from a brother officer of yours,
+Captain Stapylton.”
+
+“Where did you meet Stapylton?” asked Conyers, quickly.
+
+“At Sir Charles Cobham's. I was presented to him by my daughter, and he
+made the most kindly inquiries after you, and said that, if possible,
+he'd come over here to-day to see you.”
+
+“I hope he won't; that's all,” muttered Conyers. Then, correcting
+himself suddenly, he said: “I mean, I scarcely know him; he has only
+joined us a few months back, and is a stranger to every one in the
+regiment. I hope you did n't tell him where I was.”
+
+“I'm afraid that I did, for I remember his adding, 'Oh! I must carry him
+off. I must get him back to headquarters.'”
+
+“Indeed! Let us see if he will. That's the style of these 'Company's'
+officers,--he was in some Native corps or other,--they always fancy they
+can bully a subaltern; but Black Stapylton will find himself mistaken
+this time.”
+
+“He was afraid that you had not fallen into skilful hands; and, of
+course, it would not have come well from me to assure him of the
+opposite.”
+
+“Well, but what of Tom, doctor? You have given me no answer.”
+
+“It is a case for reflection, my dear young friend, if I may be
+emboldened to call you so. It is not a matter I can say yes or no to on
+the instant. I have only two grown-up children: my daughter, the most
+affectionate, the most thoughtful of girls, educated, too, in a way to
+grace any sphere--”
+
+“You need n't tell me that Tom is a wild fellow,” broke in Conyers,--for
+he well understood the antithesis that was coming; “he owned it all to
+me, himself. I have no doubt, too, that he made the worst of it; for,
+after all, what signifies a dash of extravagance, or a mad freak or two?
+You can't expect that we should all be as wise and as prudent and as
+cool-headed as Black Stapylton.”
+
+“You plead very ably, young gentleman,” said Dill, with his smoothest
+accent, “but you must give me a little time.”
+
+“Well, I'll give you till to-morrow,--to-morrow, at this hour; for
+it wouldn't be fair to the poor fellow to keep him in a state of
+uncertainty. His heart is set on the plan; he told me so.”
+
+“I 'll do my best to meet your wishes, my dear young gentleman; but
+please to bear in mind that it is the whole future fate of my son I
+am about to decide. Your father may not, possibly, prove so deeply
+interested as you are; he may--not unreasonably, either--take a colder
+view of this project; he may chance to form a lower estimate of my poor
+boy than it is your good nature to have done.”
+
+“Look here, doctor; I know my governor something better than you do, and
+if I wrote to him, and said, 'I want this fellow to come home with a lac
+of rupees,' he 'd start him to-morrow with half the money. If I were to
+say, 'You are to give him the best thing in your gift,' there's nothing
+he 'd stop at; he 'd make him a judge, or a receiver, or some one of
+those fat things that send a man back to England with a fortune. What's
+that fellow whispering to you about? It's something that concerns me.”
+
+This sudden interruption was caused by the approach of Darby, who had
+come to whisper something in the doctor's ear.
+
+“It is a message he has brought me; a matter of little consequence.
+I 'll look to it, Darby. Tell your mistress it shall be attended to.”
+ Darby lingered for a moment, but the doctor motioned him away, and did
+not speak again till he had quitted the spot. “How these fellows will
+wait to pick up what passes between their betters,” said Dill, while he
+continued to follow him with his eyes. “I think I mentioned to you once,
+already, that the persons who keep this house here are reduced gentry,
+and it is now my task to add that, either from some change of fortune or
+from caprice, they are thinking of abandoning the inn, and resuming--so
+far as may be possible for them--their former standing. This project
+dates before your arrival here; and now, it would seem, they are
+growing impatient to effect it; at least, a very fussy old lady--Miss
+Barrington--has sent me word by Darby to say her brother will be back
+here tomorrow or next day, with some friends from Kilkenny, and she asks
+at what time your convalescence is likely to permit removal.”
+
+“Turned out, in fact, doctor,--ordered to decamp! You must say, I 'm
+ready, of course; that is to say, that I 'll go at once. I don't exactly
+see how I 'm to be moved in this helpless state, as no carriage can
+come here; but you 'll look to all that for me. At all events, go
+immediately, and say I shall be off within an hour or so.”
+
+“Leave it all to me,--leave it in my hands. I think I see what is to
+be done,” said the doctor, with one of his confident little smiles, and
+moved away.
+
+There was a spice of irritation in Conyers's manner as he spoke. He was
+very little accustomed to be thwarted in anything, and scarcely knew the
+sensation of having a wish opposed, or an obstacle set against him, but
+simply because there was a reason for his quitting the place, grew all
+the stronger his desire to remain there. He looked around him, and never
+before had the foliage seemed so graceful; never had the tints of the
+copper-beech blended so harmoniously with the stone-pine and the
+larch; never had the eddies of the river laughed more joyously, nor the
+blackbirds sung with a more impetuous richness of melody. “And to say
+that I must leave all this, just when I feel myself actually clinging
+to it. I could spend my whole life here. I glory in this quiet, unbroken
+ease; this life, that slips along as waveless as the stream there! Why
+should n't I buy it; have it all my own, to come down to whenever I was
+sick and weary of the world and its dissipations? The spot is small; it
+couldn't be very costly; it would take a mere nothing to maintain. And
+to have it all one's own!” There was an actual ecstasy in the thought;
+for in that same sense of possession there is a something that resembles
+the sense of identity. The little child with his toy, the aged man with
+his proud demesne, are tasters of the same pleasure.
+
+“You are to use your own discretion, my dear young gentleman, and
+go when it suits you, and not before,” said the doctor, returning
+triumphantly, for he felt like a successful envoy. “And now I will leave
+you. To-morrow you shall have my answer about Tom.”
+
+Conyers nodded vaguely; for, alas! Tom, and all about him, had
+completely lapsed from his memory.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. BEING “BORED”
+
+It is a high testimony to that order of architecture which we call
+castle-building, that no man ever lived in a house so fine he could not
+build one more stately still out of his imagination. Nor is it only to
+grandeur and splendor this superiority extends, but it can invest lowly
+situations and homely places with a charm which, alas! no reality can
+rival.
+
+Conyers was a fortunate fellow in a number of ways; he was young,
+good-looking, healthy, and rich. Fate had made place for him on the very
+sunniest side of the causeway, and, with all that, he was happier on
+that day, through the mere play of his fancy, than all his wealth could
+have made him. He had fashioned out a life for himself in that cottage,
+very charming, and very enjoyable in its way. He would make it such a
+spot that it would have resources for him on every hand, and he hugged
+himself in the thought of coming down here with a friend, or, perhaps,
+two friends, to pass days of that luxurious indolence so fascinating to
+those who are, or fancy they are, wearied of life's pomps and vanities.
+
+Now there are no such scoffers at the frivolity and emptiness of human
+wishes as the well-to-do young fellows of two or three-and-twenty.
+They know the “whole thing,” and its utter rottenness. They smile
+compassionately at the eagerness of all around them; they look with
+bland pity at the race, and contemptuously ask, of what value the prize
+when it is won? They do their very best to be gloomy moralists, but they
+cannot. They might as well try to shiver when they sit in the sunshine.
+The vigorous beat of young hearts, and the full tide of young pulses,
+will tell against all the mock misanthropy that ever was fabricated! It
+would not be exactly fair to rank Conyers in this school, and yet he was
+not totally exempt from some of its teachings. Who knows if these little
+imaginary glooms, these brain-created miseries, are not a kind of
+moral “alterative” which, though depressing at the instant, render the
+constitution only more vigorous after?
+
+At all events, he had resolved to have the cottage, and, going
+practically to work, he called Darby to his counsels to tell him the
+extent of the place, its boundaries, and whatever information he could
+afford as to the tenure and its rent.
+
+“You 'd be for buying it, your honor!” said Darby, with the keen
+quick-sightedness of his order.
+
+“Perhaps I had some thoughts of the kind; and, if so, I should keep you
+on.”
+
+Darby bowed his gratitude very respectfully. It was too long a vista
+for him to strain his eyes at, and so he made no profuse display of
+thankfulness. With all their imaginative tendencies, the lower Irish are
+a very bird-in-the-hand sort of people.
+
+“Not more than seventeen acres!” cried Conyers, in astonishment. “Why, I
+should have guessed about forty, at least. Isn't that wood there part of
+it?”
+
+“Yes, but it's only a strip, and the trees that you see yonder is in
+Carriclough; and them two meadows below the salmon weir is n't ours at
+all; and the island itself we have only a lease of it.”
+
+“It's all in capital repair, well kept, well looked after?”
+
+“Well, it is, and isn't!” said he, with a look of disagreement. “He'd
+have one thing, and she'd have another; _he_ 'd spend every shilling he
+could get on the place, and _she_ 'd grudge a brush of paint, or a coat
+of whitewash, just to keep things together.”
+
+“I see nothing amiss here,” said Conyers, looking around him. “Nobody
+could ask or wish a cottage to be neater, better furnished, or more
+comfortable. I confess I do not perceive anything wanting.”
+
+“Oh, to be sure, it's very nate, as your honor says; but then--” And he
+scratched his head, and looked confused.
+
+“But then, what--out with it?”
+
+“The earwigs is dreadful; wherever there 's roses and sweetbrier there's
+no livin' with them. Open the window and the place is full of them.”
+
+Mistaking the surprise he saw depicted in his hearer's face for terror,
+Darby launched forth into a description of insect and reptile tortures
+that might have suited the tropics; to hear him, all the stories of the
+white ant of India, or the gallinipper of Demerara, were nothing to the
+destructive powers of the Irish earwig. The place was known for them all
+over the country, and it was years and years lying empty, “by rayson of
+thim plagues.”
+
+Now, if Conyers was not intimidated to the full extent Darby intended by
+this account, he was just as far from guessing the secret cause of
+this representation, which was simply a long-settled plan of succeeding
+himself to the ownership of the “Fisherman's Home,” when, either from
+the course of nature or an accident, a vacancy would occur. It was the
+grand dream of Darby's life, the island of his Government, his seat in
+the Cabinet, his Judgeship, his Garter, his everything, in short, that
+makes human ambition like a cup brimful and overflowing; and what a
+terrible reverse would it be if all these hopes were to be dashed just
+to gratify the passing caprice of a mere traveller!
+
+“I don't suppose your honor cares for money, and, maybe, you 'd as soon
+pay twice over the worth of anything; but here, between our two selves,
+I can tell you, you 'd buy an estate in the county cheaper than this
+little place. They think, because they planted most of the trees and
+made the fences themselves, that it's like the King's Park. It's a fancy
+spot, and a fancy price, they'll ask for it But I know of another worth
+ten of it,--a real, elegant place; to be sure, it's a trifle out of
+repair, for the ould naygur that has it won't lay out a sixpence, but
+there 's every con-vaniency in life about it. There's the finest cup
+potatoes, the biggest turnips ever I see on it, and fish jumpin' into
+the parlor-window, and hares runnin' about like rats.”
+
+“I don't care for all that; this cottage and these grounds here have
+taken my fancy.”
+
+“And why would n't the other, when you seen it? The ould Major that
+lives there wants to sell it, and you 'd get it a raal bargain. Let me
+row your honor up there this evening. It's not two miles off, and the
+river beautiful all the way.”
+
+Conyers rejected the proposal abruptly, haughtily. Darby had dared to
+throw down a very imposing card-edifice, and for the moment the fellow
+was odious to him. All the golden visions of his early morning, that
+poetized life he was to lead, that elegant pastoralism, which was to
+blend the splendor of Lucullus with the simplicity of a Tityrus, all
+rent, torn, and scattered by a vile hind, who had not even a conception
+of the ruin he had caused.
+
+And yet Darby had a misty consciousness of some success. He did not,
+indeed, know that his shell had exploded in a magazine; but he saw,
+from the confusion in the garrison, that his shot had told severely
+somewhere.
+
+“Maybe your honor would rather go to-morrow? or maybe you 'd like the
+Major to come up here himself, and speak to you?”
+
+“Once for all, I tell you, No! Is that plain? No! And I may add, my good
+fellow, that if you knew me a little better, you 'd not tender me any
+advice I did not ask for.”
+
+“And why would I? Would n't I be a baste if I did?”
+
+“I think so,” said Conyers, dryly, and turned away. He was out of temper
+with everything and everybody,--the doctor, and his abject manner;
+Tom, and his roughness; Darby, and his roguish air of self-satisfied
+craftiness; all, for the moment, displeased and offended him. “I 'll
+leave the place to-morrow; I 'm not sure I shall not go to-night D'ye
+hear?”
+
+Darby bowed respectfully.
+
+“I suppose I can reach some spot, by boat, where a carriage can be had?”
+
+“By coorse, your honor. At Hunt's Mills, or Shibna-brack, you 'll get
+a car easy enough. I won't say it will be an elegant convaniency, but a
+good horse will rowl you along into Thomastown, where you can change for
+a shay.”
+
+Strange enough, this very facility of escape annoyed him. Had Darby
+only told him that there were all manner of difficulties to getting
+away,--that there were shallows in the river, or a landslip across the
+road,--he would have addressed himself to overcome the obstacles like a
+man; but to hear that the course was open, that any one might take it,
+was intolerable.
+
+“I suppose, your honor, I 'd better get the boat ready, at all events?”
+
+“Yes, certainly,--that is, not till I give further orders. I 'm the
+only stranger here, and I can't imagine there can be much difficulty in
+having a boat at any hour. Leave me, my good fellow; you only worry me.
+Go!”
+
+And Darby moved away, revolving within himself the curious problem, that
+if, having plenty of money enlarged a man's means of enjoyment, it was
+strange how little effect it produced upon his manners. As for Conyers,
+he stood moodily gazing on the river, over whose placid surface a few
+heavy raindrops were just falling; great clouds, too, rolled heavily
+over the hillsides, and gathered into ominous-looking masses over the
+stream, while a low moaning sound of very far-off thunder foretold a
+storm.
+
+Here, at least, was a good tangible grievance, and he hugged it to his
+heart. He was weather-bound! The tree-tops were already shaking wildly,
+and dark scuds flying fast over the mottled sky. It was clear that a
+severe storm was near. “No help for it now,” muttered he, “if I must
+remain here till to-morrow.” And hobbling as well as he could into
+the house, he seated himself at the window to watch the hurricane. Too
+closely pent up between the steep sides of the river for anything like
+destructive power, the wind only shook the trees violently, or swept
+along the stream with tiny waves, which warred against the current; but
+even these were soon beaten down by the rain,--that heavy, swooping,
+splashing rain, that seems to come from the overflowing of a lake in the
+clouds. Darker and darker grew the atmosphere as it fell, till the banks
+of the opposite side were gradually lost to view, while the river itself
+became a yellow flood, surging up amongst the willows that lined the
+banks. It was not one of those storms whose grand effects of lightning,
+aided by pealing thunder, create a sense of sublime terror, that has its
+own ecstasy; but it was one of those dreary evenings when the dull sky
+shows no streak of light, and when the moist earth gives up no perfume,
+when foliage and hillside and rock and stream are leaden-colored and
+sad, and one wishes for winter, to close the shutter and draw the
+curtain, and creep close to the chimney-corner as to a refuge.
+
+Oh, what comfortless things are these summer storms! They come upon us
+like some dire disaster in a time of festivity. They swoop down upon our
+days of sunshine like a pestilence, and turn our joy into gloom, and
+all our gladness to despondency, bringing back to our minds memories of
+comfortless journeys, weariful ploddings, long nights of suffering.
+
+I am but telling what Conyers felt at this sudden change of weather. You
+and I, my good reader, know better. We feel how gladly the parched earth
+drinks up the refreshing draught, how the seared grass bends gratefully
+to the skimming rain, and the fresh buds open with joy to catch the
+pearly drops. We know, too, how the atmosphere, long imprisoned, bursts
+forth into a joyous freedom, and comes back to us fresh from the sea and
+the mountain rich in odor and redolent of health, making the very air
+breathe an exquisite luxury. We know all this, and much more that he did
+not care for.
+
+Now Conyers was only “bored,” as if anything could be much worse; that
+is to say, he was in that state of mind in which resources yield no
+distraction, and nothing is invested with an interest sufficient to make
+it even passingly amusing. He wanted to do something, though the precise
+something did not occur to him. Had he been well, and in full enjoyment
+of his strength, he 'd have sallied out into the storm and walked off
+his ennui by a wetting. Even a cold would be a good exchange for the
+dreary blue-devilism of his depression; but this escape was denied
+him, and he was left to fret, and chafe, and fever himself, moving from
+window to chimney-corner, and from chimney-corner to sofa, till at last,
+baited by self-tormentings, he opened his door and sallied forth to
+wander through the rooms, taking his chance where his steps might lead
+him.
+
+Between the gloomy influences of the storm and the shadows of a
+declining day he could mark but indistinctly the details of the rooms
+he was exploring. They presented little that was remarkable; they were
+modestly furnished, nothing costly nor expensive anywhere, but a degree
+of homely comfort rare to find in an inn. They had, above all, that
+habitable look which so seldom pertains to a house of entertainment,
+and, in the loosely scattered books, prints, and maps showed a sort of
+flattering trustfulness in the stranger who might sojourn there. His
+wanderings led him, at length, into a somewhat more pretentious room,
+with a piano and a harp, at one angle of which a little octangular
+tower opened, with windows in every face, and the spaces between them
+completely covered by miniatures in oil, or small cabinet pictures. A
+small table with a chess-board stood here, and an unfinished game yet
+remained on the board. As Conyers bent over to look, he perceived that a
+book, whose leaves were held open by a smelling-bottle, lay on the chair
+next the table. He took this up, and saw that it was a little volume
+treating of the game, and that the pieces on the board represented a
+problem. With the eagerness of a man thirsting for some occupation, he
+seated himself at the table, and set to work at the question. “A Mate in
+Six Moves” it was headed, but the pieces had been already disturbed by
+some one attempting the solution. He replaced them by the directions of
+the volume, and devoted himself earnestly to the task. He was not a good
+player, and the problem posed him. He tried it again and again, but ever
+unsuccessfully. He fancied that up to a certain point he had followed
+the right track, and repeated the same opening moves each time.
+Meanwhile the evening was fast closing in, and it was only with
+difficulty he could see the pieces on the board.
+
+[Illustration: 126]
+
+Bending low over the table, he was straining his eyes at the game, when
+a low, gentle voice from behind his chair said, “Would you not wish
+candles, sir? It is too dark to see here.”
+
+Conyers turned hastily, and as hastily recognized that the person who
+addressed him was a gentlewoman. He arose at once, and made a sort of
+apology for his intruding.
+
+“Had I known you were a chess-player, sir,” said she, with the demure
+gravity of a composed manner, “I believe I should have sent you a
+challenge; for my brother, who is my usual adversary, is from home.”
+
+“If I should prove a very unworthy enemy, madam, you will find me a very
+grateful one, for I am sorely tired of my own company.”
+
+“In that case, sir, I beg to offer you mine, and a cup of tea along with
+it.”
+
+[Illustration: 126]
+
+Conyers accepted the invitation joyfully, and followed Miss Barrington
+to a small but most comfortable little room, where a tea equipage of
+exquisite old china was already prepared.
+
+“I see you are in admiration of my teacups; they are the rare Canton
+blue, for we tea-drinkers have as much epicurism in the form and color
+of a cup as wine-bibbers profess to have in a hock or a claret glass.
+Pray take the sofa; you will find it more comfortable than a chair. I am
+aware you have had an accident.”
+
+Very few and simple as were her words, she threw into her manner a
+degree of courtesy that seemed actual kindness; and coming, as this did,
+after his late solitude and gloom, no wonder was it that Conyers was
+charmed with it. There was, besides, a quaint formality--a sort of
+old-world politeness in her breeding--which relieved the interview of
+awkwardness by taking it out of the common category of such events.
+
+When tea was over, they sat down to chess, at which Conyers had merely
+proficiency enough to be worth beating. Perhaps the quality stood him
+in good stead; perhaps certain others, such as his good looks and his
+pleasing manners, were even better aids to him; but certain it is, Miss
+Barrington liked her guest, and when, on arising to say good-night, he
+made a bungling attempt to apologize for having prolonged his stay at
+the cottage beyond the period which suited their plans, she stopped
+him by saying, with much courtesy, “It is true, sir, we are about to
+relinquish the inn, but pray do not deprive us of the great pleasure
+we should feel in associating its last day or two with a most agreeable
+guest. I hope you will remain till my brother comes back and makes your
+acquaintance.”
+
+Conyers very cordially accepted the proposal, and went off to his bed
+far better pleased with himself and with all the world than he well
+believed it possible he could be a couple of hours before.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. A NOTE TO BE ANSWERED
+
+While Conyers was yet in bed the following morning, a messenger arrived
+at the house with a note for him, and waited for the answer. It was from
+Stapylton, and ran thus:--
+
+“Cobham Hall, Tuesday morning.
+
+“Dear Con.,--The world here--and part of it is a very pretty world, with
+silky tresses and trim ankles--has declared that you have had some sort
+of slight accident, and are laid up at a miserable wayside inn, to
+be blue-devilled and doctored _à discrétion_. I strained my shoulder
+yesterday hunting,--my horse swerved against a tree,--or I should
+ascertain all the particulars of your disaster in person; so there is
+nothing left for it but a note.
+
+“I am here domesticated at a charming country-house, the host an old
+Admiral, the hostess a _ci-devant_ belle of London,--in times not
+very recent,--and more lately what is called in newspapers 'one of the
+ornaments of the Irish Court.' We have abundance of guests,--county dons
+and native celebrities, clerical, lyrical, and quizzical, several pretty
+women, a first-rate cellar, and a very tolerable cook. I give you the
+catalogue of our attractions, for I am commissioned by Sir Charles and
+my Lady to ask you to partake of them. The invitation is given in all
+cordiality, and I hope you will not decline it, for it is, amongst other
+matters, a good opportunity of seeing an Irish 'interior,' a thing of
+which I have always had my doubts and misgivings, some of which are now
+solved; others I should like to investigate with your assistance. In
+a word, the whole is worth seeing, and it is, besides, one of those
+experiences which can be had on very pleasant terms. There is perfect
+liberty; always something going on, and always a way to be out of it if
+you like. The people are, perhaps, not more friendly than in England,
+but they are far more familiar; and if not more disposed to be pleased,
+they tell you they are, which amounts to the same. There is a good
+deal of splendor, a wide hospitality, and, I need scarcely add, a
+considerable share of bad taste. There is, too, a costly attention to
+the wishes of a guest, which will remind you of India, though I must own
+the Irish Brahmin has not the grand, high-bred air of the Bengalee. But
+again I say, come and see.
+
+“I have been told to explain to you why they don't send their boat.
+There is something about draught of water, and something about a 'gash,'
+whatever that is: I opine it to be a rapid. And then I am directed to
+say, that if you will have yourself paddled up to Brown's Barn, the
+Cobham barge will be there to meet you.
+
+“I write this with some difficulty, lying on my back on a sofa, while a
+very pretty girl is impatiently waiting to continue her reading to me
+of a new novel called 'The Antiquary.' a capital story, but strangely
+disfigured by whole scenes in a Scottish dialect. You must read it when
+you come over.
+
+“You have heard of Hunter, of course. I am sure you will be sorry at his
+leaving us. For myself, I knew him very slightly, and shall not have to
+regret him like older friends; not to say that I have been so long in
+the service that I never believe in a Colonel. Would you go with him
+if he gave you the offer? There is such a row and uproar all around me,
+that I must leave off. Have I forgotten to say that if you stand upon
+the 'dignities,' the Admiral will go in person to invite you, though he
+has a foot in the gout. I conclude you will not exact this, and I _know_
+they will take your acceptance of this mode of invitation as a great
+favor. Say the hour and the day, and believe me yours always,
+
+“Horace Stapylton.
+
+“Sir Charles is come to say that if your accident does not interfere
+with riding, he hopes you will send for your horses. He has ample
+stabling, and is vainglorious about his beans. That short-legged
+chestnut you brought from Norris would cut a good figure here, as the
+fences lie very close, and you must be always 'in hand.' If you saw how
+the women ride! There is one here now--a 'half-bred 'un'--that pounded
+us all--a whole field of us--last Saturday. You shall see her. I won't
+promise you 'll follow her across her country.”
+
+The first impression made on the mind of Conyers by this letter was
+surprise that Stapylton, with whom he had so little acquaintance, should
+write to him in this tone of intimacy; Stapylton, whose cold, almost
+stern manner seemed to repel any approach, and now he assumed all the
+free-and-easy air of a comrade of his own years and standing. Had he
+mistaken the man, or had he been misled by inferring from his bearing in
+the regiment what he must be at heart?
+
+This, however, was but a passing thought; the passage which interested
+him most of all was about Hunter. Where and for what could he have left,
+then? It was a regiment he had served in since he entered the army.
+What could have led him to exchange? and why, when he did so, had he not
+written him one line--even one--to say as much? It was to serve under
+Hunter, his father's old aide-de-camp in times back, that he had entered
+that regiment; to be with him, to have his friendship, his counsels, his
+guidance. Colonel Hunter had treated him like a son in every respect,
+and Conyers felt in his heart that this same affection and interest it
+was which formed his strongest tie to the service. The question, “Would
+you go with him if he gave you the offer?” was like a reflection on him,
+while no such option had been extended to him. What more natural, after
+all, than such an offer? so Stapylton thought,--so all the world would
+think. How he thought over the constantly recurring questions of his
+brother-officers: “Why didn't you go with Hunter?” “How came it that
+Hunter did not name you on his staff?” “Was it fair--was it generous
+in one who owed all his advancement to his father--to treat him in this
+fashion?” “Were the ties of old friendship so lax as all this?” “Was
+distance such an enemy to every obligation of affection?” “Would his
+father believe that such a slight had been passed upon him
+undeservedly? Would not the ready inference be, 'Hunter knew you to
+be incapable,--unequal to the duties he required. Hunter must have his
+reasons for passing you over'?” and such like. These reflections,
+very bitter in their way, were broken in upon by a request from Miss
+Barrington for his company at breakfast. Strange enough, he had half
+forgotten that there was such a person in the world, or that he had
+spent the preceding evening very pleasantly in her society.
+
+“I hope you have had a pleasant letter,” said she, as he entered, with
+Stapylton's note still in his hand.
+
+“I can scarcely call it so, for it brings me news that our Colonel--a
+very dear and kind friend to me--is about to leave us.”
+
+“Are these not the usual chances of a soldier's life? I used to be very
+familiar once on a time with such topics.”
+
+“I have learned the tidings so vaguely, too, that I can make nothing of
+them. My correspondent is a mere acquaintance,--a brother officer, who
+has lately joined us, and cannot feel how deeply his news has affected
+me; in fact, the chief burden of his letter is to convey an invitation
+to me, and he is full of country-house people and pleasures. He writes
+from a place called Cobham.”
+
+“Sir Charles Cobham's. One of the best houses in the county.”
+
+“Do you know them?” asked Conyers, who did not, till the words were out,
+remember how awkward they might prove.
+
+She flushed slightly for a moment, but, speedily recovering herself,
+said: “Yes, we knew them once. They had just come to the country, and
+purchased that estate, when our misfortunes overtook us. They showed
+us much attention, and such kindness as strangers could show, and they
+evinced a disposition to continue it; but, of course, our relative
+positions made intercourse impossible. I am afraid,” said she, hastily,
+“I am talking in riddles all this time. I ought to have told you that my
+brother once owned a good estate here. We Barringtons thought a deal of
+ourselves in those days.” She tried to say these words with a playful
+levity, but her voice shook, and her lip trembled in spite of her.
+
+Conyers muttered something unintelligible about “his having heard
+before,” and his sorrow to have awakened a painful theme; but she
+stopped him hastily, saying, “These are all such old stories now, one
+should be able to talk them over unconcernedly; indeed, it is easier to
+do so than to avoid the subject altogether, for there is no such egotist
+as your reduced gentleman.” She made a pretext of giving him his tea,
+and helping him to something, to cover the awkward pause that followed,
+and then asked if he intended to accept the invitation to Cobham.
+
+“Not if you will allow me to remain here. The doctor says three days
+more will see me able to go back to my quarters.”
+
+“I hope you will stay for a week, at least, for I scarcely expect my
+brother before Saturday. Meanwhile, if you have any fancy to visit
+Cobham, and make your acquaintance with the family there, remember you
+have all the privileges of an inn here, to come and go, and stay at your
+pleasure.”
+
+“I do not want to leave this. I wish I was never to leave it,” muttered
+he below his breath.
+
+“Perhaps I guess what it is that attaches you to this place,” said she,
+gently. “Shall I say it? There is something quiet, something domestic
+here, that recalls 'Home.'”
+
+“But I never knew a home,” said Conyers, falteringly. “My mother died
+when I was a mere infant, and I knew none of that watchful love that
+first gives the sense of home. You may be right, however, in supposing
+that I cling to this spot as what should seem to me like a home, for I
+own to you I feel very happy here.”
+
+“Stay then, and be happy,” said she, holding out her hand, which he
+clasped warmly, and then pressed to his lips.
+
+“Tell your friend to come over and dine with you any day that he can
+tear himself from gay company and a great house, and I will do my best
+to entertain him suitably.”
+
+“No. I don't care to do that; he is a mere acquaintance; there is no
+friendship between us, and, as he is several years older than me, and
+far wiser, and more man of the world, I am more chilled than cheered
+by his company. But you shall read his letter, and I 'm certain you
+'ll make a better guess at his nature than if I were to give you my own
+version of him at any length.” So saying, he handed Stapyl-ton's
+note across the table; and Miss Dinah, having deliberately put on her
+spectacles, began to read it.
+
+“It's a fine manly hand,--very bold and very legible, and says something
+for the writer's frankness. Eh? 'a miserable wayside inn!' This is less
+than just to the poor 'Fisherman's Home.' Positively, you must make him
+come to dinner, if it be only for the sake of our character. This man is
+not amiable, sir,” said she, as she read on, “though I could swear he is
+pleasant company, and sometimes witty. But there is little of genial in
+his pleasantry, and less of good nature in his wit.”
+
+“Go on,” cried Conyers; “I 'm quite with you.”
+
+“Is he a person of family?” asked she, as she read on some few lines
+further.
+
+“We know nothing about him; he joined us from a native corps, in India;
+but he has a good name and, apparently, ample means. His appearance and
+manner are equal to any station.”
+
+“For all that, I don't like him, nor do I desire that you should
+like him. There is no wiser caution than that of the Psalmist against
+'sitting in the seat of the scornful.' This man is a scoffer.”
+
+“And yet it is not his usual tone. He is cold, retiring, almost shy.
+This letter is not a bit like anything I ever saw in his character.”
+
+“Another reason to distrust him. Set my mind at ease by saying 'No' to
+his invitation, and let me try if I cannot recompense you by homeliness
+in lieu of splendor. The young lady,” added she, as she folded the
+letter, “whose horsemanship is commemorated at the expense of her
+breeding, must be our doctor's daughter. She is a very pretty girl, and
+rides admirably. Her good looks and her courage might have saved her the
+sarcasm. I have my doubts if the man that uttered it be thorough-bred.”
+
+“Well, I 'll go and write my answer,” said Conyers, rising. “I have
+been keeping his messenger waiting all this time. I will show it to you
+before I send it off.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. THE ANSWER
+
+“Will this do?” said Conyers, shortly after, entering the room with
+a very brief note, but which, let it be owned, cost him fully as much
+labor as more practised hands occasionally bestow on a more lengthy
+despatch. “I suppose it's all that's civil and proper, and I don't
+care to make any needless professions. Pray read it, and give me your
+opinion.” It was so brief that I may quote it:--
+
+“Dear Captain Stapylton,--Don't feel any apprehensions about me. I am in
+better quarters than I ever fell into in my life, and my accident is not
+worth speaking of. I wish you had told me more of our Colonel, of
+whose movements I am entirely ignorant. I am sincerely grateful to your
+friends for thinking of me, and hope, ere I leave the neighborhood, to
+express to Sir Charles and Lady Cobham how sensible I am of their kind
+intentions towards me.
+
+“I am, most faithfully yours,
+
+“F. CONYERS.”
+
+“It is very well, and tolerably legible,” said Miss Barrington, dryly;
+“at least I can make out everything but the name at the end.”
+
+“I own I do not shine in penmanship; the strange characters at the foot
+were meant to represent 'Conyers.'”
+
+“Conyers! Conyers! How long is it since I heard that name last, and how
+familiar I was with it once! My nephew's dearest friend was a Conyers.”
+
+“He must have been a relative of mine in some degree; at least, we are
+in the habit of saying that all of the name are of one family.”
+
+Not heeding what he said, the old lady had fallen back in her
+meditations to a very remote “long ago,” and was thinking of a time when
+every letter from India bore the high-wrought interest of a romance, of
+which her nephew was the hero,--times of intense anxiety, indeed, but
+full of hope withal, and glowing with all the coloring with which love
+and an exalted imagination can invest the incidents of an adventurous
+life.
+
+“It was a great heart he had, a splendidly generous nature, far too
+high-souled and too exacting for common friendships, and so it was that
+he had few friends. I am talking of my nephew,” said she, correcting
+herself suddenly. “What a boon for a young man to have met him, and
+formed an attachment to him. I wish you could have known him. George
+would have been a noble example for you!” She paused for some minutes,
+and then suddenly, as it were remembering herself, said, “Did you tell
+me just now, or was I only dreaming, that you knew Ormsby Conyers?”
+
+“Ormsby Conyers is my father's name,” said he, quickly.
+
+“Captain in the 25th Dragoons?” asked she, eagerly.
+
+“He was so, some eighteen or twenty years ago.”
+
+“Oh, then, my heart did not deceive me,” cried she, taking his hand
+with both her own, “when I felt towards you like an old friend. After
+we parted last night, I asked myself, again and again, how was it that
+I already felt an interest in you? What subtle instinct was it that
+whispered this is the son of poor George's dearest friend,--this is the
+son of that dear Ormsby Conyers of whom every letter is full? Oh, the
+happiness of seeing you under this roof! And what a surprise for my
+poor brother, who clings only the closer, with every year, to all that
+reminds him of his boy!”
+
+“And you knew my father, then?” asked Conyers, proudly.
+
+“Never met him; but I believe I knew him better than many who were his
+daily intimates: for years my nephew's letters were journals of their
+joint lives--they seemed never separate. But you shall read them
+yourself. They go back to the time when they both landed at Calcutta,
+young and ardent spirits, eager for adventure, and urged by a bold
+ambition to win distinction. From that day they were inseparable. They
+hunted, travelled, lived together; and so attached had they become to
+each other, that George writes in one letter: 'They have offered me an
+appointment on the staff, but as this would separate me from Ormsby,
+it is not to be thought of.' It was to me George always wrote, for
+my brother never liked letter-writing, and thus I was my nephew's
+confidante, and intrusted with all his secrets. Nor was there one in
+which your father's name did not figure. It was, how Ormsby got him out
+of this scrape, or took his duty for him, or made this explanation, or
+raised that sum of money, that filled all these. At last--I never knew
+why or how--George ceased to write to me, and addressed all his letters
+to his father, marked 'Strictly private' too, so that I never saw
+what they contained. My brother, I believe, suffered deeply from the
+concealment, and there must have been what to him seemed a sufficient
+reason for it, or he would never have excluded me from that share in his
+confidence I had always possessed. At all events, it led to a sort of
+estrangement between us,--the only one of our lives. He would tell me
+at intervals that George was on leave; George was at the Hills; he was
+expecting his troop; he had been sent here or there; but nothing more,
+till one morning, as if unable to bear the burden longer, he said,
+'George has made up his mind to leave his regiment and take service
+with one of the native princes. It is an arrangement sanctioned by the
+Government, but it is one I grieve over and regret greatly.' I asked
+eagerly to hear further about this step, but he said he knew nothing
+beyond the bare fact. I then said, 'What does his friend Conyers think
+of it?' and my brother dryly replied, 'I am not aware that he has been
+consulted.' Our own misfortunes were fast closing around us, so that
+really we had little time to think of anything but the difficulties that
+each day brought forth. George's letters grew rarer and rarer; rumors
+of him reached us; stories of his gorgeous mode of living, his princely
+state and splendid retinue, of the high favor he enjoyed with the Rajah,
+and the influence he wielded over neighboring chiefs; and then we heard,
+still only by rumor, that he had married a native princess, who had some
+time before been converted to Christianity. The first intimation of the
+fact from himself came, when, announcing that he had sent his daughter,
+a child of about five years old, to Europe to be educated--” She paused
+here, and seemed to have fallen into a revery over the past; when
+Conyers suddenly asked,--
+
+“And what of my father all this time? Was the old intercourse kept up
+between them?”
+
+“I cannot tell you. I do not remember that his name occurred till the
+memorable case came on before the House of Commons--the inquiry, as it
+was called, into Colonel Barrington's conduct in the case of Edwardes, a
+British-born subject of his Majesty, serving in the army of the Rajah of
+Luckerabad. You have, perhaps, heard of it?”
+
+“Was that the celebrated charge of torturing a British subject?”
+
+“The same; the vilest conspiracy that ever was hatched, and the
+cruellest persecution that ever broke a noble heart. And yet there were
+men of honor, men of purest fame and most unblemished character, who
+harkened in to that infamous cry, and actually sent out emissaries to
+India to collect evidence against my poor nephew. For a while the
+whole country rang with the case. The low papers, which assailed the
+Government, made it matter of attack on the nature of the British rule
+in India, and the ministry only sought to make George the victim to
+screen themselves from public indignation. It was Admiral Byng's case
+once more. But I have no temper to speak of it, even after this lapse of
+years; my blood boils now at the bare memory of that foul and perjured
+association. If you would follow the story, I will send you the little
+published narrative to your room, but, I beseech you, do not again
+revert to it. How I have betrayed myself to speak of it I know not. For
+many a long year I have prayed to be able to forgive one man, who has
+been the bitterest enemy of our name and race. I have asked for strength
+to bear the burden of our calamity, but more earnestly a hundred-fold
+I have entreated that forgiveness might enter my heart, and that if
+vengeance for this cruel wrong was at hand, I could be able to say, 'No,
+the time for such feeling is gone by.' Let me not, then, be tempted
+by any revival of this theme to recall all the sorrow and all the
+indignation it once caused me. This infamous book contains the whole
+story as the world then believed it. You will read it with interest, for
+it concerned one whom your father dearly loved. But, again. I say, when
+we meet again let us not return to it. These letters, too, will amuse
+you; they are the diaries of your father's early life in India as much
+as George's, but of them we can talk freely.”
+
+It was so evident that she was speaking with a forced calm, and that all
+her self-restraint might at any moment prove unequal to the effort
+she was making, that Conyers, affecting to have a few words to say to
+Stapylton's messenger, stole away, and hastened to his room to look over
+the letters and the volume she had given him.
+
+He had scarcely addressed himself to his task when a knock came to the
+door, and at the same instant it was opened in a slow, half-hesitating
+way, and Tom Dill stood before him. Though evidently dressed for the
+occasion, and intending to present himself in a most favorable guise,
+Tom looked far more vulgar and unprepossessing than in the worn
+costume of his every-day life, his bright-buttoned blue coat and yellow
+waistcoat being only aggravations of the low-bred air that unhappily
+beset him. Worse even than this, however, was the fact that, being
+somewhat nervous about the interview before him, Tom had taken what
+his father would have called a diffusible stimulant, in the shape of “a
+dandy of punch,” and bore the evidences of it in a heightened color and
+a very lustrous but wandering eye.
+
+[Illustration: 140]
+
+“Here I am,” said he, entering with a sort of easy swagger, but far more
+affected than real, notwithstanding the “dandy.”
+
+“Well, and what then?” asked Conyers, haughtily, for the vulgar
+presumption of his manner was but a sorry advocate in his favor. “I
+don't remember, that I sent for you.”
+
+“No; but my father told me what you said to him, and I was to come up
+and thank you, and say, 'Done!' to it all.”
+
+Conyers turned a look--not a very pleased or very flattering look--at
+the loutish figure before him, and in his changing color might be seen
+the conflict it cost him to keep down his rising temper. He was, indeed,
+sorely tried, and his hand shook as he tossed over the books on his
+table, and endeavored to seem occupied in other matters.
+
+“Maybe you forget all about it,” began Tom. “Perhaps you don't remember
+that you offered to fit me out for India, and send me over with a letter
+to your father--”
+
+“No, no, I forget nothing of it; I remember it all.” He had almost
+said “only too well,” but he coughed down the cruel speech, and went
+on hurriedly: “You have come, however, when I am engaged,--when I have
+other things to attend to. These letters here--In fact, this is not a
+moment when I can attend to you. Do you understand me?”
+
+“I believe I do,” said Tom, growing very pale.
+
+“To-morrow, then, or the day after, or next week, will be time enough
+for all this. I must think over the matter again.”
+
+“I see,” said Tom, moodily, as he changed from one foot to the other,
+and cracked the joints of his fingers, till they seemed dislocated. “I
+see it all.”
+
+“What do you mean by that?--what do you see?” asked Conyers, angrily.
+
+“I see that Polly, my sister, was right; that she knew you better than
+any of us,” said Tom, boldly, for a sudden rush of courage had now
+filled his heart. “She said, 'Don't let him turn your head, Tom, with
+his fine promises. He was in good humor and good spirits when he made
+them, and perhaps meant to keep them too; but he little knows what
+misery disappointment brings, and he'll never fret himself over the
+heavy heart he's giving you, when he wakes in the morning with a change
+of mind.' And then, she said another thing,” added he, after a pause.
+
+“And what was the other thing?”
+
+“She said, 'If you go up there, Tom,' says she, 'dressed out like a
+shopboy in his Sunday suit, he'll be actually shocked at his having
+taken an interest in you. He 'll forget all about your hard lot and
+your struggling fortune, and only see your vulgarity.' 'Your
+vulgarity,'--that was the word.” As he said this, his lip trembled, and
+the chair he leaned on shook under his grasp.
+
+“Go back, and tell her, then, that she was mistaken,” said Conyers,
+whose own voice now quavered. “Tell her that when I give my word I keep
+it; that I will maintain everything I said to you or to your father;
+and that when she imputed to me an indifference as to the feelings of
+others, she might have remembered whether she was not unjust to mine.
+Tell her that also.”
+
+[Illustration: 140]
+
+“I will,” said Tom, gravely. “Is there anything more?” “No, nothing
+more,” said Conyers, who with difficulty suppressed a smile at the words
+and the manner of his questioner. “Good-bye, then. You 'll send for me
+when you want me,” said Tom; and he was out of the room, and half-way
+across the lawn, ere Conyers could recover himself to reply.
+
+Conyers, however, flung open the window, and cried to him to come back.
+
+“I was nigh forgetting a most important part of the matter, Tom,” said
+he, as the other entered, somewhat pale and anxious-looking. “You told
+me, t' other day, that there was some payment to be made,--some sum to
+be lodged before you could present yourself for examination. What about
+this? When must it be done?”
+
+“A month before I go in,” said Tom, to whom the very thought of the
+ordeal seemed full of terror and heart-sinking.
+
+“And how soon do you reckon that may be?”
+
+“Polly says not before eight weeks at the earliest. She says we 'll
+have to go over Bell on the Bones all again, and brush up the Ligaments,
+besides. If it was the Navy, they 'd not mind the nerves; but they tell
+me the Army fellows often take a man on the fifth pair, and I know if
+they do me, it's mighty little of India I 'll see.”
+
+“Plucked, eh?”
+
+“I don't know what you mean by 'plucked,' but I 'd be turned back, which
+is, perhaps, the same. And no great disgrace, either,” added he, with
+more of courage in his voice; “Polly herself says there's days she could
+n't remember all the branches of the fifth, and the third is almost as
+bad.”
+
+“I suppose if your sister could go up in your place, Tom, you 'd be
+quite sure of your diploma?”
+
+“It's many and many a day I wished that same,” sighed he, heavily. “If
+you heard her going over the 'Subclavian,' you 'd swear she had the book
+in her hand.”
+
+Conyers could not repress a smile at this strange piece of feminine
+accomplishment, but he was careful not to let Tom perceive it. Not,
+indeed, that the poor fellow was in a very observant mood; Polly's
+perfections, her memory, and her quickness were the themes that filled
+up his mind.
+
+“What a rare piece of luck for you to have had such a sister, Tom!”
+
+“Don't I say it to myself?--don't I repeat the very same words every
+morning when I awake? Maybe I 'll never come to any good; maybe my
+father is right, and that I 'll only be a disgrace as long as I live;
+but I hope one thing, at least, I 'll never be so bad that I 'll forget
+Polly, and all she done for me. And I'll tell you more,” said he, with a
+choking fulness in his throat; “if they turn me back at my examination,
+my heart will be heavier for _her_ than for myself.”
+
+“Come, cheer up, Tom; don't look on the gloomy side. You 'll pass, I 'm
+certain, and with credit too. Here 's the thirty pounds you 'll have to
+lodge--”
+
+“It is only twenty they require. And, besides, I could n't take it; it's
+my father must pay.” He stammered, and hesitated, and grew pale and then
+crimson, while his lips trembled and his chest heaved and fell almost
+convulsively.
+
+“Nothing of the kind, Tom,” said Conyers, who had to subdue his own
+emotion by an assumed sternness. “The plan is all my own, and I
+will stand no interference with it. I mean that you should pass your
+examination without your father knowing one word about it. You shall
+come back to him with your diploma, or whatever it is, in your hand,
+and say, 'There, sir, the men who have signed their names to that do not
+think so meanly of me as you do.'”
+
+“And he'd say, the more fools they!” said Tom, with a grim smile.
+
+“At all events,” resumed Conyers, “I 'll have my own way. Put that
+note in your pocket, and whenever you are gazetted Surgeon-Major to the
+Guards, or Inspector-General of all the Hospitals in Great Britain, you
+can repay me, and with interest, besides, if you like it.”
+
+“You 've given me a good long day to be in your debt,” said Tom; and
+he hurried out of the room before his overfull heart should betray his
+emotion.
+
+It is marvellous how quickly a kind action done to another reconciles a
+man to himself. Doubtless conscience at such times condescends to play
+the courtier, and whispers, “What a good fellow you are! and how unjust
+the world is when it calls you cold and haughty and ungenial!” Not that
+I would assert higher and better thoughts than these do not reward him
+who, Samaritan-like, binds up the wounds of misery; but I fear me much
+that few of us resist self-flattery, or those little delicate adulations
+one can offer to his own heart when nobody overhears him.
+
+At all events, Conyers was not averse to this pleasure, and grew
+actually to feel a strong interest for Tom Dill, all because that poor
+fellow had been the recipient of his bounty; for so is it the waters
+of our nature must be stirred by some act of charity or kindness, else
+their healing virtues have small efficacy, and cure not.
+
+And then he wondered and questioned himself whether Polly might not
+possibly be right, and that his “governor” would maryel where and how he
+had picked up so strange a specimen as Tom. That poor fellow, too, like
+many an humble flower, seen not disadvantageously in its native wilds,
+would look strangely out of place when transplanted and treated as an
+exotic. Still he could trust to the wide and generous nature of his
+father to overlook small defects of manner and breeding, and take the
+humble fellow kindly.
+
+Must I own that a considerable share of his hopefulness was derived from
+thinking that the odious blue coat and brass buttons could scarcely
+make part of Tom's kit for India, and that in no other costume known to
+civilized man could his _protégé_ look so unprepossessingly?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII. A FEW LEAVES FROM A BLUE-BOOK
+
+The journal which Miss Barrington had placed in Conyers's hands was
+little else than the record of the sporting adventures of two young and
+very dashing fellows. There were lion and tiger hunts, so little varied
+in detail that one might serve for all, though doubtless to the narrator
+each was marked with its own especial interest. There were travelling
+incidents and accidents, and straits for money, and mishaps and arrests,
+and stories of steeple-chases and balls all mixed up together, and
+recounted so very much in the same spirit as to show how very little
+shadow mere misadventure could throw across the sunshine of their
+every-day life. But every now and then Conyers came upon some entry
+which closely touched his heart. It was how nobly Ormsby behaved. What a
+splendid fellow he was! so frank, so generous, such a horseman! “I wish
+you saw the astonishment of the Mahratta fellows as Ormsby lifted
+the tent-pegs in full career; he never missed one. Ormsby won the
+rifle-match; we all knew he would. Sir Peregrine invited Ormsby to go
+with him to the Hills, but he refused, mainly because I was not asked.”
+ Ormsby has been offered this, that, or t'other; in fact, that one name
+recurred in every second sentence, and always with the same marks of
+affection. How proud, too, did Barrington seem of his friend. “They have
+found out that no country-house is perfect without Ormsby, and he is
+positively persecuted with invitations. I hear the 'G.-G.' is provoked
+at Ormsby's refusal of a staff appointment. I'm in rare luck; the old
+Rajah of Tannanoohr has asked Ormsby to a grand elephant-hunt next week,
+and I 'm to go with him. I 'm to have a leave in October. Ormsby managed
+it somehow; he never fails, whatever he takes in hand. Such a fright
+as I got yesterday! There was a report in the camp Ormsby was going
+to England with despatches; it's all a mistake, however, he says. He
+believes he might have had the opportunity, had he cared for it.”
+
+If there was not much in these passing notices of his father, there was
+quite enough to impart to them an intense degree of interest. There is
+a wondrous charm, besides, in reading of the young days of those we have
+only known in maturer life, in hearing of them when they were fresh,
+ardent, and impetuous; in knowing, besides, how they were regarded by
+contemporaries, how loved and valued. It was not merely that Ormsby
+recurred in almost every page of this journal, but the record bore
+testimony to his superiority and the undisputed sway he exercised over
+his companions. This same power of dominating and directing had been
+the distinguishing feature of his after-life, and many an unruly and
+turbulent spirit had been reclaimed under Ormsby Conyers's hands.
+
+As he read on, he grew also to feel a strong interest for the writer
+himself; the very heartiness of the affection he bestowed on his father,
+and the noble generosity with which he welcomed every success of that
+“dear fellow Ormsby,” were more than enough to secure his interest for
+him. There was a bold, almost reckless dash, too, about Barrington which
+has a great charm occasionally for very young men. He adventured upon
+life pretty much as he would try to cross a river; he never looked for
+a shallow nor inquired for a ford, but plunged boldly in, and trusted
+to his brave heart and his strong arms for the rest. No one, indeed,
+reading even these rough notes, could hesitate to pronounce which of the
+two would “make the spoon,” and which “spoil the horn.” Young Conyers
+was eager to find some mention of the incident to which Miss Barrington
+had vaguely alluded. He wanted to read George Barrington's own account
+before he opened the little pamphlet she gave him, but the journal
+closed years before this event; and although some of the letters came
+down to a later date, none approached the period he wanted.
+
+It was not till after some time that he remarked how much more
+unfrequently his father's name occurred in the latter portion of the
+correspondence. Entire pages would contain no reference to him, and in
+the last letter of all there was this towards the end: “After all, I am
+almost sorry that I am first for purchase, for I believe Ormsby is most
+anxious for his troop. I say 'I believe,' for he has not told me so, and
+when I offered to give way to him, he seemed half offended with me.
+You know what a bungler I am where a matter of any delicacy is to be
+treated, and you may easily fancy either that _I_ mismanage the affair
+grossly, or that I am as grossly mistaken. One thing is certain, I 'd
+see promotion far enough, rather than let it make a coldness beween us,
+which could never occur if he were as frank as he used to be. My dear
+aunt, I wish I had your wise head to counsel me, for I have a scheme in
+my mind which I have scarcely courage for without some advice, and for
+many reasons I cannot ask O.'s opinion. Between this and the next mail I
+'ll think it over carefully, and tell you what I intend.
+
+“I told you that Ormsby was going to marry one of the Gpvernor-General's
+daughters. It is all off,--at least, I hear so,--and O. has asked for
+leave to go home. I suspect he is sorely cut up about this, but he
+is too proud a fellow to let the world see it. Report says that Sir
+Peregrine heard that he played. So he does, because he does everything,
+and everything well. If he does go to England, he will certainly pay you
+a visit. Make much of him for my sake; you could not make too much for
+his own.”
+
+This was the last mention of his father, and he pondered long and
+thoughtfully over it. He saw, or fancied he saw, the first faint
+glimmerings of a coldness between them, and he hastily turned to the
+printed report of the House of Commons inquiry, to see what part his
+father had taken. His name occurred but once; it was appended to an
+extract of a letter, addressed to him by the Governor-General. It was
+a confidential report, and much of it omitted in publication. It was
+throughout, however, a warm and generous testimony to Barrington's
+character. “I never knew a man,” said he, “less capable of anything mean
+or unworthy; nor am I able to imagine any temptation strong enough to
+warp him from what he believed to be right. That on a question of policy
+his judgment might be wrong, I am quite ready to admit, but I will
+maintain that, on a point of honor, he would, and must, be infallible.”
+ Underneath this passage there was written, in Miss Barrington's hand,
+“Poor George never saw this; it was not published till after his death.”
+ So interested did young Conyers feel as to the friendship between
+these two men, and what it could have been that made a breach between
+them,--if breach there were,--that he sat a long time without opening
+the little volume that related to the charge against Colonel Barrington.
+He had but to open it, however, to guess the spirit in which it was
+written. Its title was, “The Story of Samuel Ed-wardes, with an Account
+of the Persecutions and Tortures inflicted on him by Colonel George
+Barrington, when serving in command of the Forces of the Meer Nagheer
+Assahr, Rajah of Luckerabad, based on the documents produced before the
+Committee of the House, and private authentic information.” Opposite to
+this lengthy title was an ill-executed wood-cut of a young fellow
+tied up to a tree, and being flogged by two native Indians, with the
+inscription at foot: “Mode of celebrating His Majesty's Birthday, 4th of
+June, 18--, at the Residence of Luckerabad.”
+
+In the writhing figure of the youth, and the ferocious glee of his
+executioners, the artist had displayed all his skill in expression, and
+very unmistakably shown, besides, the spirit of the publication. I have
+no intention to inflict this upon my reader. I will simply give him--and
+as briefly as I am able--its substance.
+
+The Rajah of Luckerabad, an independent sovereign, living on the best
+of terms with the Government of the Company, had obtained permission to
+employ an English officer in the chief command of his army, a force of
+some twenty-odd thousand, of all arms. It was essential that he should
+be one not only well acquainted with the details of command, but fully
+equal to the charge of organization of a force; a man of energy and
+decision, well versed in Hindostanee, and not altogether ignorant of
+Persian, in which, occasionally, correspondence was carried on. Amongst
+the many candidates for an employment so certain to insure the fortune
+of its possessor, Major Barrington, then a brevet Lieutenant-Colonel,
+was chosen.
+
+It is not improbable that, in mere technical details of his art, he
+might have had many equal and some superior to him; it was well known
+that his personal requisites were above all rivalry. He was a man of
+great size and strength, of a most commanding presence, an accomplished
+linguist in the various dialects of Central India and a great master of
+all manly exercises. To these qualities he added an Oriental taste for
+splendor and pomp. It had always been his habit to live in a style of
+costly extravagance, with the retinue of a petty prince, and when he
+travelled it was with the following of a native chief.
+
+Though, naturally enough, such a station as a separate command gave
+might be regarded as a great object of ambition by many, there was a
+good deal of surprise felt at the time that Barrington, reputedly a man
+of large fortune, should have accepted it; the more so since, by his
+contract, he bound himself for ten years to the Rajah, and thus forever
+extinguished all prospect of advancement in his own service. There were
+all manner of guesses afloat as to his reasons. Some said that he was
+already so embarrassed by his extravagance that it was his only exit out
+of difficulty; others pretended that he was captivated by the gorgeous
+splendor of that Eastern life he loved so well; that pomp, display, and
+magnificence were bribes he could not resist; and a few, who affected
+to see more nearly, whispered that he was unhappy of late, had grown
+peevish and uncompanionable, and sought any change, so that it took him
+out of his regiment. Whatever the cause, he bade his brother-officers
+farewell without revealing it, and set out for his new destination. He
+had never anticipated a life of ease or inaction, but he was equally
+far from imagining anything like what now awaited him. Corruption,
+falsehood, robbery, on every hand! The army was little else than a
+brigand establishment, living on the peasants, and exacting, at the
+sword point, whatever they wanted. There was no obedience to discipline.
+The Rajah troubled himself about nothing but his pleasures, and, indeed,
+passed his days so drugged with opium as to be almost insensible to
+all around him. In the tribunals there was nothing but bribery, and
+the object of every one seemed to be to amass fortunes as rapidly as
+possible, and then hasten away from a country so insecure and dangerous.
+
+For some days after his arrival, Barrington hesitated whether he would
+accept a charge so apparently hopeless; his bold heart, however, decided
+the doubt, and he resolved to remain. His first care was to look about
+him for one or two more trustworthy than the masses, if such there
+should be, to assist him, and the Rajah referred him to his secretary
+for that purpose. It was with sincere pleasure Barring-ton discovered
+that this man was English,--that is, his father had been an Englishman,
+and his mother was a Malabar slave in the Rajah's household: his name
+was Edwardes, but called by the natives Ali Edwardes. He looked about
+sixty, but his real age was about forty-six when Barrington came to the
+Residence. He was a man of considerable ability, uniting all the craft
+and subtlety of the Oriental with the dogged perseverance of the Briton.
+He had enjoyed the full favor of the Rajah for nigh twenty years, and
+was strongly averse to the appointment of an English officer to the
+command of the army, knowing full well the influence it would have over
+his own fortunes. He represented to the Rajah that the Company was
+only intriguing to absorb his dominions with their own; that the new
+Commander-in-chief would be their servant and not his; that it was
+by such machinery as this they secretly possessed themselves of all
+knowledge of the native sovereigns, learned their weakness and their
+strength, and through such agencies hatched those plots and schemes by
+which many a chief had been despoiled of his state.
+
+The Rajah, however, saw that if he had a grasping Government on one
+side, he had an insolent and rebellious army on the other. There was not
+much to choose between them, but he took the side that he thought the
+least bad, and left the rest to Fate.
+
+Having failed with the Rajah, Edwardes tried what he could do with
+Barrington; and certainly, if but a tithe of what he told him were true,
+the most natural thing in the world would have been that he should give
+up his appointment, and quit forever a land so hopelessly sunk in vice
+and corruption. Cunning and crafty as he was, however, he made
+one mistake, and that an irreparable one. When dilating on the
+insubordination of the army, its lawless ways and libertine habits, he
+declared that nothing short of a superior force in the field could have
+any chance of enforcing discipline. “As to a command,” said he, “it is
+simply ludicrous. Let any man try it and they will cut him down in the
+very midst of his staff.”
+
+That unlucky speech decided the question; and Barring-ton simply said,--
+
+“I have heard plenty of this sort of thing in India; I never saw it,--I
+'ll stay.”
+
+Stay he did; and he did more: he reformed that rabble, and made of them
+a splendid force, able, disciplined, and obedient. With the influence of
+his success, added to that derived from the confidence reposed in him
+by the Rajah, he introduced many and beneficial changes into the
+administration; he punished peculators by military law, and brought
+knavish sutlers to the drum-head. In fact, by the exercise of a salutary
+despotism, he rescued the state from an impending bankruptcy and ruin,
+placed its finances in a healthy condition, and rendered the country
+a model of prosperity and contentment. The Rajah had, like most of his
+rank and class, been in litigation, occasionally in armed contention,
+with some of his neighbors,--one especially, an uncle, whom he accused
+of having robbed him, when his guardian, of a large share of his
+heritage. This suit had gone on for years, varied at times by little
+raids into each other's territories, to burn villages and carry away
+cattle. Though with a force more than sufficient to have carried the
+question with a strong hand, Barrington preferred the more civilized
+mode of leaving the matter in dispute to others, and suggested the
+Company as arbitrator. The negotiations led to a lengthy correspondence,
+in which Edwardes and his son, a youth of seventeen or eighteen, were
+actively occupied; and although Barrington was not without certain
+misgivings as to their trustworthiness and honesty, he knew their
+capacity, and had not, besides, any one at all capable of replacing
+them. While these affairs were yet pending, Barrington married the
+daughter of the Meer, a young girl whose mother had been a convert
+to Christianity, and who had herself been educated by a Catholic
+missionary. She died in the second year of her marriage, giving birth
+to a daughter; but Barrington had now become so completely the centre of
+all action in the state, that the Rajah interfered in nothing, leaving
+in his hands the undisputed control of the Government; nay, more, he
+made him his son by adoption, leaving to him not alone all his immense
+personal property, but the inheritance to his throne. Though Barrington
+was advised by all the great legal authorities he consulted in England
+that such a bequest could not be good in law, nor a British subject
+be permitted to succeed to the rights of an Eastern sovereignty, he
+obstinately declared that the point was yet untried; that, however
+theoretically the opinion might be correct, practically the question
+had not been determined, nor had any case yet occurred to rule as a
+precedent on it. If he was not much of a lawyer, he was of a temperament
+that could not brook opposition. In fact, to make him take any
+particular road in life, you had only to erect a barricade on it. When,
+therefore, he was told the matter could not be, his answer was, “It
+shall!” Calcutta lawyers, men deep in knowledge of Oriental law and
+custom, learned Moonshees and Pundits, were despatched by him at
+enormous cost, to England, to confer with the great authorities at home.
+Agents were sent over to procure the influence of great Parliamentary
+speakers and the leaders in the press to the cause. For a matter which,
+in the beginning, he cared scarcely anything, if at all, he had now
+grown to feel the most intense and absorbing interest. Half persuading
+himself that the personal question was less to him than the great
+privilege and right of an Englishman, he declared that he would rather
+die a beggar in the defence of the cause than abandon it. So possessed
+was he, indeed, of his rights, and so resolved to maintain them,
+supported by a firm belief that they would and must be ultimately
+conceded to him, that in the correspondence with the other chiefs every
+reference which spoke of the future sovereignty of Luckerabad included
+his own name and title, and this with an ostentation quite Oriental.
+
+Whether Edwardes had been less warm and energetic in the cause than
+Barrington expected, or whether his counsels were less palatable,
+certain it is he grew daily more and more distrustful of him; but an
+event soon occurred to make this suspicion a certainty.
+
+The negotiations between the Meer and his uncle had been so successfully
+conducted by Barrington, that the latter agreed to give up three
+“Pegunnahs,” or villages he had unrightfully seized upon, and to pay a
+heavy mulct, besides, for the unjust occupation of them. This settlement
+had been, as may be imagined, a work of much time and labor, and
+requiring not only immense forbearance and patience, but intense
+watchfulness and unceasing skill and craft. Edwardes, of course, was
+constantly engaged in the affair, with the details of which he had been
+for years familiar. Now, although Barrington was satisfied with the
+zeal he displayed, he was less so with his counsels, Edwardes always
+insisting that in every dealing with an Oriental you must inevitably be
+beaten if you would not make use of all the stratagem and deceit he
+is sure to employ against you. There was not a day on which the wily
+secretary did not suggest some cunning expedient, some clever trick; and
+Barrington's abrupt rejection of them only impressed him with a notion
+of his weakness and deficiency.
+
+One morning--it was after many defeats--Edwardes appeared with the draft
+of a document he had been ordered to draw out, and in which, of his own
+accord, he had made a large use of threats to the neighboring chief,
+should he continue to protract these proceedings. These threats very
+unmistakably pointed to the dire consequences of opposing the great
+Government of the Company; for, as the writer argued, the succession to
+the Ameer being already vested in an Englishman, it is perfectly clear
+the powerful nation he belongs to will take a very summary mode of
+dealing with this question, if not settled before he comes to the
+throne. He pressed, therefore, for an immediate settlement, as the best
+possible escape from difficulty.
+
+Barrington scouted the suggestion indignantly; he would not hear of it.
+
+“What,” said he, “is it while these very rights are in litigation that
+I am to employ them as a menace? Who is to secure me being one day Rajah
+of Luckerabad? Not you, certainly, who have never ceased to speak coldly
+of my claims. Throw that draft into the fire, and never propose a like
+one to me again!”
+
+The rebuke was not forgotten. Another draft was, however, prepared, and
+in due time the long-pending negotiations were concluded, the Meer's
+uncle having himself come to Luckerabad to ratify the contract, which,
+being engrossed on a leaf of the Rajah's Koran, was duly signed and
+sealed by both.
+
+It was during the festivities incidental to this visit that
+Edwardes, who had of late made a display of wealth and splendor quite
+unaccountable, made a proposal to the Rajah for the hand of his only
+unmarried daughter, sister to Barrington's wife. The Rajah, long
+enervated by excess and opium, probably cared little about the matter;
+there were, indeed, but a few moments in each day when he could be
+fairly pronounced awake. He referred the question to Barrington. Not
+satisfied with an insulting rejection of the proposal, Barrington, whose
+passionate moments were almost madness, tauntingly asked by what means
+Edwardes had so suddenly acquired the wealth which had prompted this
+demand. He hinted that the sources of his fortune were more than
+suspected, and at last, carried away by anger, for the discussion grew
+violent, he drew from his desk a slip of paper, and held it up. “When
+your father was drummed out of the 4th Bengal Fusiliers for theft, of
+which this is the record, the family was scarcely so ambitious.” For
+an instant Edwardes seemed overcome almost to fainting; but he rallied,
+and, with a menace of his clenched hand, but without one word, he
+hurried away before Barrington could resent the insult. It was said that
+he did not return to his house, but, taking the horse of an orderly that
+he found at the door, rode away from the palace, and on the same night
+crossed the frontier into a neighboring state.
+
+It was on the following morning, as Barrington was passing a cavalry
+regiment in review, that young Edwardes, forcing his way through the
+staff, insolently asked, “What had become of his father?” and at the
+same instant levelling a pistol, he fired. The ball passed through
+Barrington's shako, and so close to the head that it grazed it. It was
+only with a loud shout to abstain that Barrington arrested the gleaming
+sabres that now flourished over his head. “Your father has fled,
+youngster!” cried he. “When you show him _that_,”--and he struck him
+across the face with his horsewhip,--“tell him how near you were to have
+been an assassin!” With this savage taunt, he gave orders that the young
+fellow should be conducted to the nearest frontier, and turned adrift.
+Neither father nor son ever were seen there again.
+
+Little did George Barrington suspect what was to come of that morning's
+work. Through what channel Edwardes worked at first was not known,
+but that he succeeded in raising up for himself friends in England
+is certain; by their means the very gravest charges were made against
+Barrington. One allegation was that by a forged document, claiming to be
+the assent of the English Government to his succession, he had obtained
+the submission of several native chiefs to his rule and a cession of
+territory to the Rajah of Luckerabad; and another charged him with
+having cruelly tortured a British subject named Samuel Edwardes,--an
+investigation entered into by a Committee of the House, and becoming,
+while it lasted, one of the most exciting subjects of public interest.
+Nor was the anxiety lessened by the death of the elder Edwardes, which
+occurred during the inquiry, and which Barrington's enemies declared to
+be caused by a broken heart; and the martyred or murdered Edwardes was
+no uncommon heading to a paragraph of the time.
+
+Conyers turned to the massive Blue-book that contained the proceedings
+“in Committee,” but only to glance at the examination of witnesses,
+whose very names were unfamiliar to him. He could perceive, however,
+that the inquiry was a long one, and, from the tone of the member at
+whose motion it was instituted, angry and vindictive.
+
+Edwardes appeared to have preferred charges of long continued
+persecution and oppression, and there was native testimony in abundance
+to sustain the allegation; while the British Commissioner sent to
+Luckerabad came back so prejudiced against Barrington, from his proud
+and haughty bearing, that his report was unfavorable to him in all
+respects. There was, it is true, letters from various high quarters,
+all speaking of Barrington's early career as both honorable and
+distinguished; and, lastly, there was one signed Ormsby Conyers, a
+warm-hearted testimony “to the most straightforward gentleman and truest
+friend I have ever known.” These were words the young man read and
+re-read a dozen times.
+
+Conyers turned eagerly to read what decision had been come to by the
+Committee, but the proceedings had come abruptly to an end by George
+Barrington's death. A few lines at the close of the pamphlet mentioned
+that, being summoned to appear before the Governor-General in Council
+at Calcutta, Barrington refused. An armed force was despatched to occupy
+Luckerabad, on the approach of which Barrington rode forth to meet them,
+attended by a brilliant staff,--with what precise object none knew; but
+the sight of a considerable force, drawn up at a distance in what seemed
+order of battle, implied at least an intention to resist. Coming on
+towards the advanced pickets at a fast gallop, and not slackening
+speed when challenged, the men, who were Bengal infantry, fired, and
+Barrington fell, pierced by four bullets. He never uttered a word
+after, though he lingered on till evening. The force was commanded by
+Lieutenant-General Conyers.
+
+There was little more to tell. The Rajah, implicated in the charges
+brought against Barrington, and totally unable to defend himself,
+despatched a confidential minister, Meer Mozarjah, to Europe to do what
+he might by bribery. This unhappy blunder filled the measure of his
+ruin, and after a very brief inquiry the Rajah was declared to have
+forfeited his throne and all his rights of succession. The Company took
+possession of Luckerabad, as a portion of British India, but from a
+generous compassion towards the deposed chief, graciously accorded him a
+pension of ten thousand rupees a month during his life.
+
+My reader will bear in mind that I have given him this recital, not
+as it came before Conyers, distorted by falsehood and disfigured by
+misstatements, but have presented the facts as nearly as they might be
+derived from a candid examination of all the testimony adduced. Ere I
+return to my own tale, I ought to add that Edwardes, discredited and
+despised by some, upheld and maintained by others, left Calcutta with
+the proceeds of a handsome subscription raised in his behalf. Whether he
+went to reside in Europe, or retired to some other part of India, is not
+known. He was heard of no more.
+
+As for the Rajah, his efforts still continued to obtain a revision of
+the sentence pronounced upon him, and his case was one of those which
+newspapers slur over and privy councils try to escape from, leaving to
+Time to solve what Justice has no taste for.
+
+But every now and then a Blue-book would appear, headed “East India (the
+deposed Rajah of Luckerabad),” while a line in an evening paper would
+intimate that the Envoy of Meer Nagheer Assahr had arrived at a certain
+West-end hotel to prosecute the suit of his Highness before the Judicial
+Committee of the Lords. How pleasantly does a paragraph dispose of a
+whole life-load of sorrows and of wrongs that, perhaps, are breaking the
+hearts that carry them!
+
+While I once more apologize to my reader for the length to which this
+narrative has run, I owe it to myself to state that, had I presented it
+in the garbled and incorrect version which came before Conyers, and had
+I interpolated all the misconceptions he incurred, the mistakes he first
+fell into and then corrected, I should have been far more tedious and
+intolerable still; and now I am again under weigh, with easy canvas, but
+over a calm sea, and under a sky but slightly clouded.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. BARRINGTON'S FORD
+
+Conyers had scarcely finished his reading when he was startled by the
+galloping of horses under his window; so close, indeed, did they come
+that they seemed to shake the little cottage with their tramp. He looked
+out, but they had already swept past, and were hidden from his view
+by the copse that shut out the river. At the same instant he heard the
+confused sound of many voices, and what sounded to him like the plash of
+horses in the stream.
+
+Urged by a strong curiosity, he hurried downstairs and made straight
+for the river by a path that led through the trees; but before he could
+emerge from the cover he heard cries of “Not there! not there! Lower
+down!” “No, no! up higher! up higher! Head up the stream, or you 'll be
+caught in the gash!” “Don't hurry; you've time enough!”
+
+When he gained the bank, it was to see three horsemen, who seemed to
+be cheering, or, as it might be, warning a young girl who, mounted on a
+powerful black horse, was deep in the stream, and evidently endeavoring
+to cross it. Her hat hung on the back of her neck by its ribbon, and her
+hair had also fallen down; but one glance was enough to show that she
+was a consummate horsewoman, and whose courage was equal to her skill;
+for while steadily keeping her horse's head to the swift current, she
+was careful not to control him overmuch, or impede the free action of
+his powers. Heeding, as it seemed, very little the counsels or warnings
+showered on her by the bystanders, not one of whom, to Conyers's intense
+amazement, had ventured to accompany her, she urged her horse steadily
+forward.
+
+“Don't hurry,--take it easy!” called out one of the horsemen, as he
+looked at his watch. “You have fifty-three minutes left, and it's all
+turf.”
+
+“She 'll do it,--I know she will!” “She 'll lose,--she must lose!” “It's
+ten miles to Foynes Gap!” “It's more!” “It's less!” “There!--see!--she's
+in, by Jove! she's in!” These varying comments were now arrested by the
+intense interest of the moment, the horse having impatiently plunged
+into a deep pool, and struck out to swim with all the violent exertion
+of an affrighted animal. “Keep his head up!” “Let him free, quite free!”
+ “Get your foot clear of the stirrup!” cried out the bystanders, while
+in lower tones they muttered, “She would cross here!” “It's all her own
+fault!” Just at this instant she turned in her saddle, and called out
+something which, drowned in the rush of the river, did not reach them.
+
+“Don't you see,” cried Conyers, passionately, for his temper could no
+longer endure the impassive attitude of this on-looking, “one of the
+reins is broken, her bridle is smashed?”
+
+And, without another word, he sprang into the river, partly wading,
+partly swimming, and soon reached the place where the horse, restrained
+by one rein alone, swam in a small circle, fretted by restraint and
+maddened by inability to resist.
+
+“Leave him to me,--let go your rein,” said Conyers, as he grasped
+the bridle close to the bit; and the animal, accepting the guidance,
+suffered himself to be led quietly till he reached the shallow. Once
+there, he bounded wildly forward, and, splashing through the current,
+leaped up the bank, where he was immediately caught by the others.
+
+By the time Conyers had gained the land, the girl had quitted her saddle
+and entered the cottage, never so much as once turning a look on him who
+had rescued her. If he could not help feeling mortified at this show of
+indifference, he was not less puzzled by the manner of the others,
+who, perfectly careless of his dripping condition, discussed amongst
+themselves how the bridle broke, and what might have happened if the
+leather had proved tougher.
+
+“It's always the way with her,” muttered one, sulkily.
+
+“I told her to ride the match in a ring-snaffle, but she's a mule in
+obstinacy! She 'd have won easily--ay, with five minutes to spare--if
+she'd have crossed at Nunsford. I passed there last week without wetting
+a girth.”
+
+“She 'll not thank _you_ young gentleman, whoever you are,” said the
+oldest of the party, turning to Conyers, “for your gallantry. She 'll
+only remember you as having helped her to lose a wager!”
+
+“That's true!” cried another. “I never got as much as thank you for
+catching her horse one day at Lyrath, though it threw me out of the
+whole run afterwards.”
+
+“And this was a wager, then?” said Conyers.
+
+“Yes. An English officer that is stopping at Sir Charles's said
+yesterday that nobody could ride from Lowe's Folly to Foynes as the crow
+flies; and four of us took him up--twenty-five pounds apiece--that Polly
+Dill would do it,--and against time, too,--an hour and forty.”
+
+“On a horse of mine,” chimed in another,--“Bayther-shini”
+
+“I must say it does not tell very well for your chivalry in these
+parts,” said Conyers, angrily. “Could no one be found to do the match
+without risking a young girl's life on it?”
+
+A very hearty burst of merriment met this speech, and the elder of the
+party rejoined,--
+
+“You must be very new to this country, or you'd not have said that, sir.
+There's not a man in the hunt could get as much out of a horse as that
+girl.”
+
+“Not to say,” added another, with a sly laugh, “that the Englishman gave
+five to one against her when he heard she was going to ride.”
+
+Disgusted by what he could not but regard as a most disgraceful wager,
+Conyers turned away, and walked into the house.
+
+“Go and change your clothes as fast as you can,” said Miss Barrington,
+as she met him in the porch. “I am quite provoked you should have wetted
+your feet in such a cause.”
+
+It was no time to ask for explanations; and Conyers hurried away to his
+room, marvelling much at what he had heard, but even more astonished
+by the attitude of cool and easy indifference as to what might have
+imperilled a human life. He had often heard of the reckless habits and
+absurd extravagances of Irish life, but he fancied that they appertained
+to a time long past, and that society had gradually assumed the tone and
+the temper of the English. Then he began to wonder to what class in life
+these persons belonged. The girl, so well as he could see, was certainly
+handsome, and appeared ladylike; and yet, why had she not even by a word
+acknowledged the service he rendered her? And lastly, what could old
+Miss Barrington mean by that scornful speech? These were all great
+puzzles to him, and like many great puzzles only the more embarrassing
+the more they were thought over.
+
+The sound of voices drew him now to the window, and he saw one of the
+riding-party in converse with Darby at the door. They talked in a low
+tone together, and laughed; and then the horseman, chucking a half-crown
+towards Darby, said aloud,--
+
+“And tell her that we 'll send the boat down for her as soon as we get
+back.”
+
+Darby touched his hat gratefully, and was about to retire within the
+house when he caught sight of Conyers at the window. He waited till the
+rider had turned the angle of the road, and then said,--
+
+“That's Mr. St. George. They used to call him the Slasher, he killed so
+many in duels long ago; but he 's like a lamb now.”
+
+“And the young lady?”
+
+“The young lady is it!” said Darby, with the air of one not exactly
+concurring in the designation. “She's old Dill's daughter, the doctor
+that attends you.”
+
+“What was it all about?”
+
+“It was a bet they made with an English captain this morning that she
+'d ride from Lowe's Folly to the Gap in an hour and a half. The Captain
+took a hundred on it, because he thought she 'd have to go round by
+the bridge; and they pretinded the same, for they gave all kinds of
+directions about clearing the carts out of the road, for it's market-day
+at Thomastown; and away went the Captain as hard as he could, to be at
+the bridge first, to 'time her,' as she passed. But he has won the
+money!” sighed he, for the thought of so much Irish coin going into a
+Saxon pocket completely overcame him; “and what's more,” added he, “the
+gentleman says it was all your fault!”
+
+“All my fault!” cried Conyers, indignantly. “All my fault! Do they
+imagine that I either knew or cared for their trumpery wager! I saw a
+girl struggling in a danger from which not one of them had the manliness
+to rescue her!”
+
+“Oh, take my word for it,” burst in Darby, “it's not courage they want!”
+
+“Then it is something far better than even courage, and I'd like to tell
+them so.”
+
+And he turned away as much disgusted with Darby as with the rest of his
+countrymen. Now, all the anger that filled his breast was not in reality
+provoked by the want of gallantry that he condemned; a portion, at
+least, was owing to the marvellous indifference the young lady had
+manifested to her preserver. Was peril such an every-day incident of
+Irish life that no one cared for it, or was gratitude a quality not
+cultivated in this strange land? Such were the puzzles that tormented
+him as he descended to the drawing-room.
+
+As he opened the door, he heard Miss Barrington's voice, in a tone which
+he rightly guessed to be reproof, and caught the words, “Just as unwise
+as it is unbecoming,” when he entered.
+
+“Mr. Conyers, Miss Dill,” said the old lady, stiffly; “the young
+gentleman who saved you, the heroine you rescued!” The two allocutions
+were delivered with a gesture towards each. To cover a moment of extreme
+awkwardness, Conyers blundered out something about being too happy, and
+a slight service, and a hope of no ill consequences to herself.
+
+“Have no fears on that score, sir,” broke in Miss Dinah. “Manly young
+ladies are the hardiest things in nature. They are as insensible to
+danger as they are to--” She stopped, and grew crimson, partly from
+anger and partly from the unspoken word that had almost escaped her.
+
+“Nay, madam,” said Polly, quietly, “I am really very much 'ashamed.'”
+ And, simple as the words were, Miss Barrington felt the poignancy of
+their application to herself, and her hand trembled over the embroidery
+she was working.
+
+She tried to appear calm, but in vain; her color came and went, and the
+stitches, in spite of her, grew irregular; so that, after a moment's
+struggle, she pushed the frame away, and left the room. While this very
+brief and painful incident was passing, Conyers was wondering to himself
+how the dashing horsewoman, with flushed cheek, flashing eye, and
+dishevelled hair, could possibly be the quiet, demure girl, with a
+downcast look, and almost Quaker-like simplicity of demeanor. It is
+but fair to add, though he himself did not discover it, that the
+contributions of Miss Dinah's wardrobe, to which poor Polly was reduced
+for dress, were not exactly of a nature to heighten her personal
+attractions; nor did a sort of short jacket, and a very much beflounced
+petticoat, set off the girl's figure to advantage. Polly never raised
+her eyes from the work she was sewing as Miss Barrington withdrew, but,
+in a low, gentle voice, said, “It was very good of you, sir, to come
+to my rescue, but you mustn't think ill of my countrymen for not having
+done so; they had given their word of honor not to lead a fence, nor
+open a gate, nor, in fact, aid me in any way.”
+
+“So that, if they could win their wager, your peril was of little
+matter,” broke he in.
+
+She gave a little low, quiet laugh, perhaps as much at the energy as at
+the words of his speech. “After all,” said she, “a wetting is no great
+misfortune; the worst punishment of my offence was one that I never
+contemplated.”
+
+“What do you mean?” asked he.
+
+“Doing penance for it in this costume,” said she, drawing out the stiff
+folds of an old brocaded silk, and displaying a splendor of flowers
+that might have graced a peacock's tail; “I never so much as dreamed of
+this!”
+
+There was something so comic in the way she conveyed her distress that
+he laughed outright. She joined him; and they were at once at their ease
+together.
+
+“I think Miss Barrington called you Mr. Conyers,” said she; “and if
+so, I have the happiness of feeling that my gratitude is bestowed where
+already there has been a large instalment of the sentiment. It is you
+who have been so generous and so kind to my poor brother.”
+
+“Has he told you, then, what we have been planning together?”
+
+“He has told me all that _you_ had planned out for him,” said she, with
+a very gracious smile, which very slightly colored her cheek, and gave
+great softness to her expression. “My only fear was that the poor boy
+should have lost his head completely, and perhaps exaggerated to himself
+your intentions towards him; for, after all, I can scarcely think--”
+
+“What is it that you can scarcely think?” asked he, after a long pause.
+
+“Not to say,” resumed she, unheeding his question, “that I cannot
+imagine how this came about. What could have led him to tell _you_--a
+perfect stranger to him--his hopes and fears, his struggles and his
+sorrows? How could you--by what magic did you inspire him with that
+trustful confidence which made him open his whole heart before you? Poor
+Tom, who never before had any confessor than myself!”
+
+“Shall I tell you how it came about? It was talking of _you!_”
+
+“Of me! talking of me!” and her cheek now flushed more deeply.
+
+“Yes, we had rambled on over fifty themes, not one of which seemed to
+attach him strongly, till, in some passing allusion to his own cares and
+difficulties, he mentioned one who has never ceased to guide and comfort
+him; who shared not alone his sorrows, but his hard hours of labor, and
+turned away from her own pleasant paths to tread the dreary road of toil
+beside him.”
+
+“I think he might have kept all this to himself,” said she, with a tone
+of almost severity.
+
+“How could he? How was it possible to tell me his story, and not touch
+upon what imparted the few tints of better fortune that lighted it? I'm
+certain, besides, that there is a sort of pride in revealing how much of
+sympathy and affection we have derived from those better than ourselves,
+and I could see that he was actually vain of what you had done for him.”
+
+“I repeat, he might have kept this to himself. But let us leave this
+matter; and now tell me,--for I own I can hardly trust my poor brother's
+triumphant tale,--tell me seriously what the plan is?”
+
+Conyers hesitated for a few seconds, embarrassed how to avoid mention of
+himself, or to allude but passingly to his own share in the project. At
+last, as though deciding to dash boldly into the question, he said, “I
+told him, if he 'd go out to India, I 'd give him such a letter to my
+father that his fortune would be secure. My governor is something of a
+swell out there,”--and he reddened, partly in shame, partly in pride, as
+he tried to disguise his feeling by an affectation of ease,--“and that
+with _him_ for a friend, Tom would be certain of success. You smile at
+my confidence, but you don't know India, and what scores of fine things
+are--so to say--to be had for asking; and although doctoring is all very
+well, there are fifty other ways to make a fortune faster. Tom could be
+a Receiver of Revenue; he might be a Political Resident. You don't know
+what they get. There's a fellow at Baroda has four thousand rupees a
+month, and I don't know how much more for dâk-money.”
+
+“I can't help smiling,” said she, “at the notion of poor Tom in a
+palanquin. But, seriously, sir, is all this possible? or might it not be
+feared that your father, when he came to see my brother--who, with many
+a worthy quality, has not much to prepossess in his favor,--when, I
+say, he came to see your _protégé_ is it not likely that he
+might--might--hold him more cheaply than you do?”
+
+“Not when he presents a letter from me; not when it's I that have taken
+him up. You 'll believe me, perhaps, when I tell you what happened when
+I was but ten years old. We were up at Rangoon, in the Hills, when a
+dreadful hurricane swept over the country, destroying everything before
+it; rice, paddy, the indigo-crop, all were carried away, and the poor
+people left totally destitute. A subscription-list was handed about
+amongst the British residents, to afford some aid in the calamity, and
+it was my tutor, a native Moonshee, who went about to collect the sums.
+One morning he came back somewhat disconsolate at his want of success.
+A payment of eight thousand rupees had to be made for grain on that day,
+and he had not, as he hoped and expected, the money ready. He talked
+freely to me of his disappointment, so that, at last, my feelings being
+worked upon, I took up my pen and wrote down my name on the list, with
+the sum of eight thousand rupees to it Shocked at what he regarded as
+an act of levity, he carried the paper to my father, who at once said,
+'Fred wrote it; his name shall not be dishonored;' and the money was
+paid. I ask you, now, am I reckoning too much on one who could do that,
+and for a mere child too?”
+
+“That was nobly done,” said she, with enthusiasm; and though Conyers
+went on, with warmth, to tell more of his father's generous nature,
+she seemed less to listen than to follow out some thread of her own
+reflections. Was it some speculation as to the temperament the son of
+such a father might possess? or was it some pleasurable revery regarding
+one who might do any extravagance and yet be forgiven? My reader may
+guess this, perhaps,--I cannot. Whatever her speculation, it lent a
+very charming expression to her features,--that air of gentle, tranquil
+happiness we like to believe the lot of guileless, simple natures.
+
+Conyers, like many young men of his order, was very fond of talking of
+himself, of his ways, his habits, and his temper, and she listened to
+him very prettily,--so prettily, indeed, that when Darby, slyly peeping
+in at the half-opened door, announced that the boat had come, he felt
+well inclined to pitch the messenger into the stream.
+
+“I must go and say good-bye to Miss Barrington,” said Polly, rising. “I
+hope that this rustling finery will impart some dignity to my demeanor.”
+ And drawing wide the massive folds, she made a very deep courtesy,
+throwing back her head haughtily as she resumed her height in admirable
+imitation of a bygone school of manners.
+
+[Illustration: 166]
+
+“Very well,--very well, indeed! Quite as like what it is meant for as is
+Miss Polly Dill for the station she counterfeits!” said Miss Dinah, as,
+throwing wide the door, she stood before them.
+
+“I am overwhelmed by your flattery, madam,” said Polly, who, though
+very red, lost none of her self-possession; “but I feel that, like
+the traveller who tried on Charlemagne's armor, I am far more equal to
+combat in my every-day clothes.”
+
+[Illustration: 166]
+
+“Do not enter the lists with me in either,” said Miss Dinah, with a look
+of the haughtiest insolence. “Mr. Conyers, will you let me show you my
+flower-garden?”
+
+“Delighted! But I will first see Miss Dill to her boat.” “As you please,
+sir,” said the old lady; and she withdrew with a proud toss of her head
+that was very unmistakable in its import.
+
+“What a severe correction that was!” said Polly, half gayly, as she went
+along, leaning on his arm. “And _you_ know that, whatever my
+offending, there was no mimicry in it. I was simply thinking of some
+great-grandmother who had, perhaps, captivated the heroes of Dettingen;
+and, talking of heroes, how courageous of you to come to my rescue!”
+
+Was it that her arm only trembled slightly, or did it really press
+gently on his own as she said this? Certainly Conyers inclined to the
+latter hypothesis, for he drew her more closely to his side, and said,
+“Of course I stood by you. She was all in the wrong, and I mean to tell
+her so.”
+
+“Not if you would serve me,” said she, eagerly. “I have paid the
+penalty, and I strongly object to be sentenced again. Oh, here's the
+boat!”
+
+“Why it's a mere skiff. Are you safe to trust yourself in such a thing?”
+ asked he, for the canoe-shaped “cot” was new to him.
+
+“Of course!” said she, lightly stepping in. “There is even room for
+another.” Then, hastily changing her theme, she asked, “May I tell poor
+Tom what you have said to me, or is it just possible that you will come
+up one of these days and see us?”
+
+“If I might be permitted--”
+
+“Too much honor for us!” said she, with such a capital imitation of his
+voice and manner that he burst into a laugh in spite of himself.
+
+“Mayhap Miss Bamngton was not so far wrong: after all, you _are_ a
+terrible mimic.”
+
+“Is it a promise, then? Am I to say to my brother you will come?” said
+she, seriously.
+
+“Faithfully!” said he, waving his hand, for the boatmen had already got
+the skiff under weigh, and were sending her along like an arrow from a
+bow.
+
+Polly turned and kissed her hand to him, and Conyers muttered something
+over his own stupidity for not being beside her, and then turned sulkily
+back towards the cottage. A few hours ago and he had thought he
+could have passed his life here; there was a charm in the unbroken
+tranquillity that seemed to satisfy the longings of his heart, and
+now, all of a sudden, the place appeared desolate. Have you never, dear
+reader, felt, in gazing on some fair landscape, with mountain and stream
+and forest before you, that the scene was perfect, wanting nothing in
+form or tone or color, till suddenly a flash of strong sunlight from
+behind a cloud lit up some spot with a glorious lustre, to fade away as
+quickly into the cold tint it had worn before? Have you not felt then,
+I say, that the picture had lost its marvellous attraction, and that the
+very soul of its beauty had departed? In vain you try to recall the
+past impression; your memory will mourn over the lost, and refuse to
+be comforted. And so it is often in life: the momentary charm that
+came unexpectedly can become all in all to our imaginations, and its
+departure leave a blank, like a death, behind it.
+
+Nor was he altogether satisfied with Miss Barrington. The “old
+woman”--alas! for his gallantry, it was so that he called her to
+himself--was needlessly severe. Why should a mere piece of harmless
+levity be so visited? At all events, he felt certain that he himself
+would have shown a more generous spirit. Indeed, when Polly had quizzed
+him, he took it all good-naturedly, and by thus turning his thoughts to
+his natural goodness and the merits of his character, he at length
+grew somewhat more well-disposed to the world at large. He knew he
+was naturally forgiving, and he felt he was very generous. Scores of
+fellows, bred up as he was, would have been perfectly unendurable;
+they would have presumed on their position, and done this, that, and t'
+other. Not one of them would have dreamed of taking up a poor ungainly
+bumpkin, a country doctor's cub, and making a man of him; not one of
+them would have had the heart to conceive or the energy to carry out
+such a project. And yet this he would do. Polly herself, sceptical as
+she was, should be brought to admit that he had kept his word. Selfish
+fellows would limit their plans to their own engagements, and weak
+fellows could be laughed out of their intentions; but _he_ flattered
+himself that he was neither of these, and it was really fortunate that
+the world should see how little spoiled a fine nature could be, though
+surrounded with all the temptations that are supposed to be dangerous.
+
+In this happy frame--for he was now happy--he reentered the cottage.
+“What a coxcomb!” will say my reader. Be it so. But it was a coxcomb who
+wanted to be something better.
+
+Miss Barrington met him in the porch, not a trace of her late
+displeasure on her face, but with a pleasant smile she said, “I have
+just got a few lines from my brother. He writes in excellent spirits,
+for he has gained a lawsuit; not a very important case, but it puts us
+in a position to carry out a little project we are full of. He will be
+here by Saturday, and hopes to bring with him an old and valued friend,
+the Attorney-General, to spend a few days with us. I am, therefore,
+able to promise you an ample recompense for all the loneliness of your
+present life. I have cautiously abstained from telling my brother who
+you are; I keep the delightful surprise for the moment of your meeting.
+Your name, though associated with some sad memories, will bring him back
+to the happiest period of his life.”
+
+Conyers made some not very intelligible reply about his reluctance
+to impose himself on them at such a time, but she stopped him with a
+good-humored smile, and said,--
+
+“Your father's son should know that where a Barrington lived he had
+a home,--not to say you have already paid some of the tribute of this
+homeliness, and seen me very cross and ill-tempered. Well, let us not
+speak of that now. I have your word to remain here.” And she left him to
+attend to her household cares, while he strolled into the garden, half
+amused, half embarrassed by all the strange and new interests that had
+grown up so suddenly around him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV. AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION
+
+Whether from simple caprice, or that Lady Cobham desired to mark her
+disapprobation of Polly Dill's share in the late wager, is not open to
+me to say, but the festivities at Cob-ham were not, on that day, graced
+or enlivened by her presence. If the comments on her absence were brief,
+they were pungent, and some wise reflections, too, were uttered as to
+the dangers that must inevitably attend all attempts to lift people into
+a sphere above their own. Poor human nature! that unlucky culprit who
+is flogged for everything and for everybody, bore the brunt of these
+severities, and it was declared that Polly had done what any other
+girl “in her rank of life” might have done; and this being settled, the
+company went to luncheon, their appetites none the worse for the small
+_auto-da-fé_ they had just celebrated.
+
+“You'd have lost your money, Captain,” whispered Ambrose Bushe to
+Stapylton, as they stood talking together in a window recess, “if that
+girl had only taken the river three hundred yards higher up. Even as it
+was, she 'd have breasted her horse at the bank if the bridle had not
+given way. I suppose you have seen the place?”
+
+“I regret to say I have not. They tell me it's one of the strongest
+rapids in the river.”
+
+“Let me describe it to you,” replied he; and at once set about a picture
+in which certainly no elements of peril were forgotten, and all the
+dangers of rocks and rapids were given with due emphasis. Stapylton
+seemed to listen with fitting attention, throwing out the suitable
+“Indeed! is it possible!” and such-like interjections, his mind,
+however, by no means absorbed by the narrative, but dwelling solely on a
+chance name that had dropped from the narrator.
+
+“You called the place 'Barrington's Ford,'” said he, at last. “Who is
+Barrington?”
+
+“As good a gentleman by blood and descent as any in this room, but now
+reduced to keep a little wayside inn,--the 'Fisherman's Home,' it is
+called. All come of a spendthrift son, who went out to India, and ran
+through every acre of the property before he died.”
+
+“What a strange vicissitude! And is the old man much broken by it?”
+
+“Some would say he was; my opinion is, that he bears up wonderfully.
+Of course, to me, he never makes any mention of the past; but while my
+father lived, he would frequently talk to him over bygones, and liked
+nothing better than to speak of his son, Mad George as they called him,
+and tell all his wildest exploits and most harebrained achievements.
+But you have served yourself in India. Have you never heard of George
+Barrington?”
+
+Stapylton shook his head, and dryly added that India was very large,
+and that even in one Presidency a man might never hear what went on in
+another.
+
+“Well, this fellow made noise enough to be heard even over here. He
+married a native woman, and he either shook off his English allegiance,
+or was suspected of doing so. At all events, he got himself into trouble
+that finished him. It's a long complicated story, that I have never
+heard correctly. The upshot was, however, old Barrington was sold out
+stick and stone, and if it was n't for the ale-house he might starve.”
+
+“And his former friends and associates, do they rally round him and
+cheer him?”
+
+“Not a great deal. Perhaps, however, that's as much his fault as theirs.
+He is very proud, and very quick to resent anything like consideration
+for his changed condition. Sir Charles would have him up here,--he has
+tried it scores of times, but all in vain; and now he is left to two or
+three of his neighbors, the doctor and an old half-pay major, who lives
+on the river, and I believe really he never sees any one else. Old
+M'Cormick knew George Barrington well; not that they were friends,--two
+men less alike never lived; but that's enough to make poor Peter fond of
+talking to him, and telling all about some lawsuits George left him for
+a legacy.”
+
+“This Major that you speak of, does he visit here? I don't remember to
+have seen him.”
+
+“M'Cormick!” said the other, laughing. “No, he 's a miserly old fellow
+that has n't a coat fit to go out in, and he's no loss to any one. It's
+as much as old Peter Barrington can do to bear his shabby ways, and his
+cranky temper, but he puts up with everything because he knew his son
+George. That's quite enough for old Peter; and if you were to go over
+to the cottage, and say, 'I met your son up in Bombay or Madras; we were
+quartered together at Ram-something-or-other,' he 'd tell you the place
+was your own, to stop at as long as you liked, and your home for life.”
+
+“Indeed!” said Stapylton, affecting to feel interested, while he
+followed out the course of his own thoughts.
+
+“Not that the Major could do even that much!” continued Bushe, who now
+believed that he had found an eager listener. “There was only one thing
+in this world he'd like to talk about,--Walcheren. Go how or when you
+liked, or where or for what,--no matter, it was Walcheren you 'd get,
+and nothing else.”
+
+“Somewhat tiresome this, I take it!”
+
+“Tiresome is no name for it! And I don't know a stronger proof of old
+Peter's love for his son's memory, than that, for the sake of hearing
+about him, he can sit and listen to the 'expedition.'”
+
+There was a half-unconscious mimicry in the way he gave the last
+word that showed how the Major's accents had eaten their way into his
+sensibilities.
+
+“Your portrait of this Major is not tempting,” said Stapylton, smiling.
+
+“Why would it? He's eighteen or twenty years in the neighborhood, and I
+never heard that he said a kind word or did a generous act by any one.
+But I get cross if I talk of him. Where are you going this morning? Will
+you come up to the Long Callows and look at the yearlings? The Admiral
+is very proud of his young stock, and he thinks he has some of the best
+bone and blood in Ireland there at this moment.”
+
+“Thanks, no; I have some notion of a long walk this morning. I take
+shame to myself for having seen so little of the country here since I
+came that I mean to repair my fault and go off on a sort of voyage of
+discovery.”
+
+“Follow the river from Brown's Barn down to Inistioge, and if you
+ever saw anything prettier I'm a Scotchman.” And with this appalling
+alternative, Mr. Bushe walked away, and left the other to his own
+guidance.
+
+Perhaps Stapylton is not the companion my reader would care to stroll
+with, even along the grassy path beside that laughing river, with
+spray-like larches bending overhead, and tender water-lilies streaming,
+like pennants, in the fast-running current. It may be that he or she
+would prefer some one more impressionable to the woodland beauty of the
+spot, and more disposed to enjoy the tranquil loveliness around him; for
+it is true the swarthy soldier strode on, little heeding the picturesque
+effects which made every succeeding reach of the river a subject for a
+painter. He was bent on finding out where M'Cormick lived, and on making
+the acquaintance of that bland individual.
+
+“That's the Major's, and there's himself,” said a countryman, as he
+pointed to a very shabbily dressed old man hoeing his cabbages in
+a dilapidated bit of garden-ground, but who was so absorbed in his
+occupation as not to notice the approach of a stranger.
+
+“Am I taking too great a liberty,” said Stapylton, as he raised his
+hat, “if I ask leave to follow the river path through this lovely spot?”
+
+“Eh--what?--how did you come? You didn't pass round by the young wheat,
+eh?” asked M'Cormick, in his most querulous voice.
+
+“I came along by the margin of the river.”
+
+“That's just it!” broke in the other. “There's no keeping them out
+that way. But I 'll have a dog as sure as my name is Dan. I'll have a
+bull-terrier that'll tackle the first of you that's trespassing there.”
+
+“I fancy I'm addressing Major M'Cormick,” said Stapylton, never noticing
+this rude speech; “and if so, I will ask him to accord me the privilege
+of a brother-soldier, and let me make myself known to him,--Captain
+Stapylton, of the Prince's Hussars.”
+
+“By the wars!” muttered old Dan; the exclamation being a favorite one
+with him to express astonishment at any startling event. Then recovering
+himself, he added, “I think I heard there were three or four of ye
+stopping up there at Cobham; but I never go out myself anywhere. I live
+very retired down here.”
+
+“I am not surprised at that. When an old soldier can nestle down in a
+lovely nook like this, he has very little to regret of what the world is
+busy about outside it.”
+
+“And they are all ruining themselves, besides,” said M'Cormick, with
+one of his malicious grins. “There's not a man in this county is n't
+mortgaged over head and ears. I can count them all on my fingers for
+you, and tell what they have to live on.”
+
+“You amaze me,” said Stapylton, with a show of interest
+
+“And the women are as bad as the men: nothing fine enough for them to
+wear; no jewels rich enough to put on! Did you ever hear them mention
+_me?_” asked he, suddenly, as though the thought flashed upon him that
+he had himself been exposed to comment of a very different kind.
+
+“They told me of an old retired officer, who owned a most picturesque
+cottage, and said, if I remember aright, that the view from one of the
+windows was accounted one of the most perfect bits of river landscape in
+the kingdom.”
+
+“Just the same as where you 're standing,--no difference in life,”
+ said M'Cormick, who was not to be seduced by the flattery into any
+demonstration of hospitality.
+
+“I cannot imagine anything finer,” said Stapylton, as he threw himself
+at the foot of a tree, and seemed really to revel in enjoyment of the
+scene. “One might, perhaps, if disposed to be critical, ask for a little
+opening in that copse yonder. I suspect we should get a peep at the bold
+cliff whose summit peers above the tree-tops.”
+
+“You'd see the quarry, to be sure,” croaked out the Major, “if that's
+what you mean.”
+
+“May I offer you a cigar?” said Stapylton, whose self-possession was
+pushed somewhat hard by the other. “An old campaigner is sure to be a
+smoker.”
+
+“I am not. I never had a pipe in my mouth since Walcheren.”
+
+“Since Walcheren! You don't say that you are an old Walcheren man?”
+
+“I am, indeed. I was in the second battalion of the 103d,--the Duke's
+Fusiliers, if ever you heard of them.”
+
+“Heard of them! The whole world has heard of them; but I did n't know
+there was a man of that splendid corps surviving. Why, they lost--let me
+see--they lost every officer but--” Here a vigorous effort to keep his
+cigar alight interposed, and kept him occupied for a few seconds. “How
+many did you bring out of action,--four was it, or five? I'm certain you
+had n't six!”
+
+“We were the same as the Buffs, man for man,” said M'Cormick.
+
+“The poor Buffs!--very gallant fellows too!” sighed Stapylton. “I
+have always maintained, and I always will maintain, that the Walcheren
+expedition, though not a success, was the proudest achievement of the
+British arms.”
+
+“The shakes always began after sunrise, and in less than ten minutes you
+'d see your nails growing blue.”
+
+“How dreadful!”
+
+“And if you felt your nose, you would n't know it was your nose; you 'd
+think it was a bit of a cold carrot.”
+
+“Why was that?”
+
+“Because there was no circulation; the blood would stop going round; and
+you 'd be that way for four hours,--till the sweating took you,--just
+the same as dead.”
+
+“There, don't go on,--I can't stand it,--my nerves are all ajar
+already.”
+
+“And then the cramps came on,” continued M'Cormick, in an ecstasy over
+a listener whose feelings he could harrow; “first in the calves of the
+legs, and then all along the spine, so that you 'd be bent like a fish.”
+
+“For Heaven's sake, spare me! I've seen some rough work, but that
+description of yours is perfectly horrifying! And when one thinks it was
+the glorious old 105th--”
+
+“No, the 103d; the 105th was at Barbadoes,” broke in the Major, testily.
+
+“So they were, and got their share of the yellow fever at that very time
+too,” said Stapylton, hazarding a not very rash conjecture.
+
+“Maybe they did, and maybe they didn't,” was the dry rejoinder.
+
+It required all Stapylton's nice tact to get the Major once more full
+swing at the expedition, but he at last accomplished the feat, and with
+such success that M'Cormick suggested an adjournment within doors,
+and faintly hinted at a possible something to drink. The wily guest,
+however, declined this. “He liked,” he said, “that nice breezy spot
+under those fine old trees, and with that glorious reach of the river
+before them. Could a man but join to these enjoyments,” he continued,
+“just a neighbor or two,--an old friend or so that he really liked,--one
+not alone agreeable from his tastes, but to whom the link of early
+companionship also attached us, with this addition I could call this a
+paradise.”
+
+“Well, I have the village doctor,” croaked out M'Cor-mick, “and there's
+Barrington--old Peter--up at the 'Fisherman's Home.' I have _them_ by
+way of society. I might have better, and I might have worse.”
+
+“They told me at Cobham that there was no getting you to 'go out;' that,
+like a regular old soldier, you liked your own chimney-corner, and could
+not be tempted away from it.”
+
+“They didn't try very hard, anyhow,” said he, harshly. “I'll be nineteen
+years here if I live till November, and I think I got two invitations,
+and one of them to a 'dancing tea,' whatever that is; so that you may
+observe they did n't push the temptation as far as St. Anthony's!”
+
+Stapylton joined in the laugh with which M'Cormick welcomed his own
+drollery.
+
+“Your doctor,” resumed he, “is, I presume, the father of the pretty girl
+who rides so cleverly?”
+
+“So they tell me. I never saw her mounted but once, and she smashed a
+melon-frame for me, and not so much as 'I ask your pardon!' afterwards.”
+
+“And Barrington,” resumed Stapylton, “is the ruined gentleman I have
+heard of, who has turned innkeeper. An extravagant son, I believe,
+finished him?”
+
+“His own taste for law cost him just as much,” muttered M'Cormick. “He
+had a trunk full of old title-deeds and bonds and settlements, and he
+was always poring over them, discovering, by the way, flaws in this and
+omissions in that, and then he 'd draw up a case for counsel, and get
+consultations on it, and before you could turn round, there he was,
+trying to break a will or get out of a covenant, with a special jury and
+the strongest Bar in Ireland. That's what ruined him.”
+
+“I gather from what you tell me that he is a bold, determined, and
+perhaps a vindictive man. Am I right?”
+
+“You are not; he's an easy-tempered fellow, and careless, like every
+one of his name and race. If you said he hadn't a wise head on his
+shoulders, you 'd be nearer the mark. Look what he 's going to do now!”
+ cried he, warming with his theme: “he 's going to give up the inn--”
+
+“Give it up! And why?”
+
+“Ay, that's the question would puzzle him to answer; but it's the
+haughty old sister persuades him that he ought to take this black
+girl--George Barrington's daughter--home to live with him, and that a
+shebeen is n't the place to bring her to, and she a negress. That's more
+of the family wisdom!”
+
+“There may be affection in it.”
+
+“Affection! For what,--for a black! Ay, and a black that they never set
+eyes on! If it was old Withering had the affection for her, I wouldn't
+be surprised.”
+
+“What do you mean? Who is he?”
+
+“The Attorney-General, who has been fighting the East India Company for
+her these sixteen years, and making more money out of the case than
+she 'll ever get back again. Did you ever hear of Barrington and Lot
+Rammadahn Mohr against the India Company? That's the case. Twelve
+millions of rupees and the interest on them! And I believe in my heart
+and soul old Peter would be well out of it for a thousand pounds.”
+
+“That is, you suspect he must be beaten in the end?”
+
+“I mean that I am sure of it! We have a saying in Ireland, 'It's not
+fair for one man to fall on twenty,' and it's just the same thing to go
+to law with a great rich Company. You 're sure to have the worst of it.”
+
+“Did it never occur to them to make some sort of compromise?”
+
+“Not a bit of it. Old Peter always thinks he has the game in his hand,
+and nothing would make him throw up the cards. No; I believe if you
+offered to pay the stakes, he 'd say, 'Play the game out, and let the
+winner take the money!'”
+
+“His lawyer may, possibly, have something to say to this spirit.”
+
+“Of course he has; they are always bolstering each other up. It is,
+'Barrington, my boy, you 'll turn the corner yet. You 'll drive up that
+old avenue to the house you were born in, Barrington, of Barrington
+Hall;' or, 'Withering, I never heard you greater than on that point
+before the twelve Judges;' or, 'Your last speech at Bar was finer than
+Curran.' They'd pass the evening that way, and call me a cantankerous
+old hound when my back was turned, just because I did n't hark in to the
+cry. Maybe I have the laugh at them, after all.” And he broke out into
+one of his most discordant cackles to corroborate his boast.
+
+“The sound sense and experience of an old Walcheren man might have its
+weight with them. I know it would with me.”
+
+“Ay,” muttered the Major, half aloud, for he was thinking to
+himself whether this piece of flattery was a bait for a little
+whiskey-and-water.
+
+“I 'd rather have the unbought judgment of a shrewd man of the
+world than a score of opinions based upon the quips and cranks of an
+attorney's instructions.”
+
+“Ay!” responded the other, as he mumbled to himself, “he's mighty
+thirsty.”
+
+“And what's more,” said Stapylton, starting to his legs, “I 'd follow
+the one as implicitly as I'd reject the other. I 'd say, 'M'Cormick is
+an old friend; we have known each other since boyhood.'”
+
+“No, we haven't I never saw Peter Barrington till I came to live here.”
+
+“Well, after a close friendship of years with his son--”
+
+“Nor that, either,” broke in the implacable Major. “He was always
+cutting his jokes on me, and I never could abide him, so that the close
+friendship you speak of is a mistake.”
+
+“At all events,” said Stapylton, sharply, “it could be no interest of
+yours to see an old--an old acquaintance lavishing his money on lawyers
+and in the pursuit of the most improbable of all results. _You_ have no
+design upon him. _You_ don't want to marry his sister!”
+
+“No, by Gemini! “--a favorite expletive of the Major's in urgent
+moments.
+
+“Nor the Meer's daughter, either, I suppose?”
+
+“The black! I think not. Not if she won the lawsuit, and was as rich
+as--she never will be.”
+
+“I agree with you there, Major, though I know nothing of the case or its
+merits; but it is enough to hear that a beggared squire is on one side,
+and Leadenhall Street on the other, to predict the upshot, and, for my
+own part, I wonder they go on with it.”
+
+“I'll tell you how it is,” said M'Cormick, closing one eye so as to
+impart a look of intense cunning to his face. “It's the same with law as
+at a fox-hunt: when you 're tired out beating a cover, and ready to go
+off home, one dog--very often the worst in the whole pack--will yelp
+out. You know well enough he's a bad hound, and never found in his life.
+What does that signify? When you 're wishing a thing, whatever flatters
+your hopes is all right,--is n't that true?--and away you dash after the
+yelper as if he was a good hound.”
+
+“You have put the matter most convincingly before me.”
+
+“How thirsty he is now!” thought the Major; and grinned maliciously at
+his reflection.
+
+“And the upshot of all,” said Stapylton, like one summing up a
+case,--“the upshot of all is, that this old man is not satisfied with
+his ruin if it be not complete; he must see the last timbers of the
+wreck carried away ere he leaves the scene of his disaster. Strange, sad
+infatuation!”
+
+“Ay,” muttered the Major, who really had but few sympathies with merely
+moral abstractions.
+
+“Not what I should have done in a like case; nor _you_ either, Major,
+eh?”
+
+“Very likely not”
+
+“But so it is. There are men who cannot be practical, do what they will.
+This is above them.”
+
+A sort of grunt gave assent to this proposition; and Stapylton, who
+began to feel it was a drawn game, arose to take his leave.
+
+“I owe you a very delightful morning, Major,” said he. “I wish I could
+think it was not to be the last time I was to have this pleasure. Do you
+ever come up to Kilkenny? Does it ever occur to you to refresh your old
+mess recollections?”
+
+Had M'Cormick been asked whether he did not occasionally drop in at
+Holland House, and brush up his faculties by intercourse with the bright
+spirits who resorted there, he could scarcely have been more astounded.
+That he, old Dan M'Cormick, should figure at a mess-table,--he, whose
+wardrobe, a mere skeleton battalion thirty years ago, had never since
+been recruited,--he should mingle with the gay and splendid young
+fellows of a “crack” regiment!
+
+“I'd just as soon think of--of--” he hesitated how to measure an
+unlikelihood-- “of marrying a young wife, and taking her off to Paris!”
+
+“And I don't see any absurdity in the project There is certainly a great
+deal of brilliancy about it!”
+
+“And something bitter too!” croaked out M'Cormick, with a fearful grin.
+
+“Well, if you'll not come to see me, the chances are I'll come over and
+make _you_ another visit before I leave the neighborhood.” He waited a
+second or two, not more, for some recognition of this offer; but none
+came, and he con-tinned: “I'll get you to stroll down with me, and show
+me this 'Fisherman's Home,' and its strange proprietor.”
+
+“Oh, I 'll do _that!_” said the Major, who had no objection to a plan
+which by no possibility could involve himself in any cost.
+
+“As it is an inn, perhaps they 'd let us have a bit of dinner. What
+would you say to being my guest there tomorrow? Would that suit you?”
+
+“It would suit _me_ well enough!” was the strongly marked reply.
+
+“Well, we 'll do it this wise. You 'll send one of your people over
+to order dinner for two at--shall we say five o'clock?--yes,
+five--to-morrow. That will give us a longer evening, and I 'll call here
+for you about four. Is that agreed?”
+
+“Yes, that might do,” was M'Cormick's half-reluctant assent, for, in
+reality, there were details in the matter that he scarcely fancied.
+First of all, he had never hitherto crossed that threshold except as an
+invited guest, and he had his misgivings about the prudence of appearing
+in any other character, and secondly, there was a responsibility in
+ordering the dinner, which he liked just as little, and, as he muttered
+to himself, “Maybe I 'll have to order the bill too!”
+
+Some unlucky experiences of casualties of this sort had, perhaps,
+shadowed his early life; for so it was, that long after Stapylton had
+taken his leave and gone off, the Major stood there ruminating over this
+unpleasant contingency, and ingeniously imagining all the pleas he
+could put in, should his apprehension prove correct, against his own
+indebtedness.
+
+“Tell Miss Dinah,” said he to his messenger,--“tell her 't is an officer
+by the name of Captain Staples, or something like that, that 's up at
+Cobham, that wants a dinner for two to-morrow at five o'clock; and mind
+that you don't say who the other is, for it's nothing to her. And if
+she asks you what sort of a dinner, say the best in the house, for the
+Captain--mind you say the Captain--is to pay for it, and the other man
+only dines with him. There, now, you have your orders, and take care
+that you follow them!”
+
+There was a shrewd twinkle in the messenger's eye as he listened, which,
+if not exactly complimentary, guaranteed how thoroughly he comprehended
+the instructions that were given to him; and the Major saw him set forth
+on his mission, well assured that he could trust his envoy.
+
+In that nothing-for-nothing world Major M'Cormick had so long lived in,
+and to whose practice and ways he had adapted all his thoughts, there
+was something puzzling in the fact of a dashing Captain of Hussars of
+“the Prince's Own,” seeking him out, to form his acquaintance and invite
+him to dinner. Now, though the selfishness of an unimaginative man is
+the most complete of all, it yet exposes him to fewer delusions than the
+same quality when found allied with a hopeful or fanciful temperament.
+M'Cormick had no “distractions” from such sources. He thought very ill
+of the world at large; he expected extremely little from its generosity,
+and he resolved to be “quits” with it. To his often put question, “What
+brought him here?--what did he come for?” he could find no satisfactory
+reply. He scouted the notion of “love of scenery, solitude, and so
+forth,” and as fully he ridiculed to himself the idea of a stranger
+caring to hear the gossip and small-talk of a mere country neighborhood.
+“I have it!” cried he at last, as a bright thought darted through his
+brain,--“I have it at last! He wants to pump me about the 'expedition.'
+It's for that he's come. He affected surprise, to be sure, when I said
+I was a Walcheren man, and pretended to be amazed, besides; but that was
+all make-believe. He knew well enough who and what I was before he
+came. And he was so cunning, leading the conversation away in another
+direction, getting me to talk of old Peter and his son George. Wasn't
+it deep?--was n't it sly? Well, maybe we are not so innocent as we look,
+ourselves; maybe we have a trick in our sleeves too! 'With a good dinner
+and a bottle of port wine,' says he, 'I 'll have the whole story, and
+be able to write it with the signature “One who was there.”' But you 're
+mistaken this time, Captain; the sorrow bit of Walcheren you 'll hear
+out of my mouth to-morrow, be as pleasant and congenial as you like.
+I 'll give you the Barringtons, father and son,--ay, and old Dinah, too,
+if you fancy her,--but not a syllable about the expedition. It's the
+Scheldt you want, but you 'll have to 'take it out' in the Ganges.” And
+his uncouth joke so tickled him that he laughed till his eyes ran over;
+and in the thought that he was going to obtain a dinner under false
+pretences, he felt something as nearly like happiness as he had tasted
+for many a long day before.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI. COMING HOME
+
+Miss Barrtngton waited with impatience for Conyers's appearance at
+the breakfast-table,--she had received such a pleasant note from her
+brother, and she was so eager to read it. That notion of imparting some
+conception of a dear friend by reading his own words to a stranger is
+a very natural one. It serves so readily to corroborate all we have
+already said, to fill up that picture of which wo have but given the
+mere outline, not to speak of the inexplicable charm there is in being
+able to say, “Here is the man without reserve or disguise; here he is in
+all the freshness and warmth of genuine feeling; no tricks of style, no
+turning of phrases to mar the honest expression of his nature. You see
+him as we see him.”
+
+“My brother is coming home, Mr. Conyers; he will be here to-day. Here
+is his note,” said Miss Dinah, as she shook hands with her guest “I must
+read it for you:--
+
+“'At last, my dear Dinah--at last I am free, and, with all my love of
+law and lawyers, right glad to turn my steps homeward. Not but I
+have had a most brilliant week of it; dined with my old schoolfellow
+Longmore, now Chief Baron, and was the honored guest of the “Home
+Circuit,” not to speak of one glorious evening with a club called the
+“Unbriefed,” the pleasantest dogs that ever made good speeches for
+nothing!--an amount of dissipation upon which I can well retire and live
+for the next twelve months. How strange it seems to me to be once more
+in the “world,” and listening to scores of things in which I have no
+personal interest; how small it makes my own daily life appear, but how
+secure and how homelike, Dinah! You have often heard me grumbling over
+the decline of social agreeability, and the dearth of those pleasant
+speeches that could set the table in a roar. You shall never hear the
+same complaint from me again. These fellows are just as good as their
+fathers. If I missed anything, it was that glitter of scholarship, that
+classical turn which in the olden day elevated table-talk, and made it
+racy with the smart aphorisms and happy conceits of those who, even over
+their wine, were poets and orators. But perhaps I am not quite fair
+even in this. At all events, I am not going to disparage those who have
+brought back to my old age some of the pleasant memories of my youth,
+and satisfied me that even yet I have a heart for those social joys I
+once loved so dearly!
+
+“'And we have won our suit, Dinah,--at least, a juror was withdrawn by
+consent,--and Brazier agrees to an arbitration as to the Moyalty lands,
+the whole of Clanebrach and Barrymaquilty property being released from
+the sequestration.'
+
+“This is all personal matter, and technical besides,” said Miss
+Barrington; “so I skip it.”
+
+“'Withering was finer than ever I heard him in the speech to evidence.
+We have been taunted with our defensive attitude so suddenly converted
+into an attack, and he compared our position to Wellington's at Torres
+Vedras. The Chief Justice said Curran, at his best, never excelled it,
+and they have called me nothing but Lord Wellington ever since. And now,
+Dinah, to answer the question your impatience has been putting these ten
+minutes: “What of the money part of all this triumph?” I fear much,
+my dear sister, we are to take little by our motion. The costs of the
+campaign cut up all but the glory! Hogan's bill extends to thirty-eight
+folio pages, and there's a codicil to it of eleven more, headed
+“Confidential between Client and Attorney,” and though I have not in
+a rapid survey seen anything above five pounds, the gross total is two
+thousand seven hundred and forty-three pounds three and fourpence. I
+must and will say, however, it was a great suit, and admirably prepared.
+There was not an instruction Withering did not find substantiated,
+and Hogan is equally delighted with _him_, With all my taste for field
+sports and manly games, Dinah, I am firmly convinced that a good trial
+at bar is a far finer spectacle than the grandest tournament that
+ever was tilted. There was a skirmish yesterday that I 'd rather
+have witnessed than I 'd have seen Brian de Bois himself at
+Ashby-de-la-Zouch. And, considering that my own share for this passage
+at arms will come to a trifle above two thousand pounds, the confession
+may be taken as an honest one.
+
+“'And who is your young guest whom I shall be so delighted to see? This
+gives no clew to him, Dinah, for you know well how I would welcome any
+one who has impressed you so favorably. Entreat of him to prolong his
+stay for a week at least, and if I can persuade Withering to come down
+with me, we 'll try and make his sojourn more agreeable. Look out for
+me--at least, about five o'clock--and have the green-room ready for W.,
+and let Darby be at Holt's stile to take the trunks, for Withering likes
+that walk through the woods, and says that he leaves his wig and gown on
+the holly-bushes there till he goes back.'”
+
+The next paragraph she skimmed over to herself. It was one about an
+advance that Hogan had let him have of two hundred pounds. “Quite
+ample,” W. says, “for our excursion to fetch over Josephine.” Some
+details as to the route followed, and some wise hints about travelling
+on the Continent, and a hearty concurrence on the old lawyer's part with
+the whole scheme.
+
+“These are little home details,” said she, hurriedly, “but you have
+heard enough to guess what my brother is like. Here is the conclusion:--
+
+“'I hope your young friend is a fisherman, which will give me more
+chance of his company than walking up the partridges, for which I am
+getting too old. Let him however understand that we mean him to enjoy
+himself in his own way, to have the most perfect liberty, and that the
+only despotism we insist upon is, not to be late for dinner.
+
+“'Your loving brother,
+
+“'Peter Barrington.
+
+“'There is no fatted calf to feast our return, Dinah, but Withering
+has an old weakness for a roast sucking-pig. Don't you think we could
+satisfy it?'”
+
+Conyers readily caught the contagion of the joy Miss Barrington felt
+at the thought of her brother's return. Short as the distance was that
+separated him from home, his absences were so rare, it seemed as
+though he had gone miles and miles away, for few people ever lived more
+dependent on each other, with interests more concentrated, and all of
+whose hopes and fears took exactly the same direction, than this brother
+and sister, and this, too, with some strong differences on the score of
+temperament, of which the reader already has an inkling.
+
+What a pleasant bustle that is of a household that prepares for the
+return of a well-loved master! What feeling pervades twenty little
+offices of every-day routine! And how dignified by affection are the
+smallest cares and the very humblest attentions! “He likes this!” “He
+is so fond of that!” are heard at every moment It is then that one marks
+how the observant eye of love has followed the most ordinary tricks of
+habit, and treasured them as things to be remembered. It is not the key
+of the street door in your pocket, nor the lease of the premises in your
+drawer, that make a home. Let us be grateful when we remember that, in
+this attribute, the humblest shealing on the hillside is not inferior to
+the palace of the king!
+
+Conyers, I have said, partook heartily of Miss Barring-ton's delight,
+and gave a willing help to the preparations that went forward. All were
+soon busy within doors and without. Some were raking the gravel before
+the door; while others were disposing the flower-pots in little pyramids
+through the grass plats; and then there were trees to be nailed up, and
+windows cleaned, and furniture changed in various ways. What superhuman
+efforts did not Conyers make to get an old jet d'eau to play which
+had not spouted for nigh twenty years; and how reluctantly he resigned
+himself to failure and assisted Betty to shake a carpet!
+
+And when all was completed, and the soft and balmy air sent the odor of
+the rose and the jessamine through the open windows, within which every
+appearance of ease and comfort prevailed, Miss Barrington sat down
+at the piano and began to refresh her memory of some Irish airs, old
+favorites of Withering's, which he was sure to ask for. There was that
+in their plaintive wildness which strongly interested Conyers; while,
+at the same time, he was astonished at the skill of one at whose touch,
+once on a time, tears had trembled in the eyes of those who listened,
+and whose fingers had not yet forgot their cunning.
+
+“Who is that standing without there?” said Miss Barrington, suddenly, as
+she saw a very poor-looking countryman who had drawn close to the
+window to listen. “Who are you? and what do you want here?” asked she,
+approaching him.
+
+“I 'm Terry, ma'am,--Terry Delany, the Major's man,” said he, taking off
+his hat.
+
+“Never heard of you; and what 's your business?”
+
+“'T is how I was sent, your honor's reverence,” began he, faltering at
+every word, and evidently terrified by her imperious style of address.
+“'Tis how I came here with the master's compliments,--not indeed his own
+but the other man's,--to say, that if it was plazing to you, or, indeed,
+anyhow at all, they 'd be here at five o'clock to dinner; and though
+it was yesterday I got it, I stopped with my sister's husband at Foynes
+Gap, and misremembered it all till this morning, and I hope your honor's
+reverence won't tell it on me, but have the best in the house all the
+same, for he's rich enough and can well afford it.”
+
+“What can the creature mean?” cried Miss Barrington. “Who sent you
+here?”
+
+“The Major himself; but not for him, but for the other that's up at
+Cobham.”
+
+“And who is this other? What is he called?”
+
+“'Twas something like Hooks, or Nails; but I can't remember,” said he,
+scratching his head in sign of utter and complete bewilderment.
+
+“Did any one ever hear the like! Is the fellow an idiot?” exclaimed she,
+angrily.
+
+“No, my lady; but many a one might be that lived with ould M'Cormick!”
+ burst out the man, in a rush of unguardedness.
+
+“Try and collect yourself, my good fellow,” said Miss Barrington,
+smiling, in spite of herself, at his confession, “and say, if you can,
+what brought you here?”
+
+“It's just, then, what I said before,” said he, gaining a little more
+courage. “It's dinner for two ye're to have; and it's to be ready at
+five o'clock; but ye 're not to look to ould Dan for the money, for he
+as good as said he would never pay sixpence of it, but 't is all to come
+out of the other chap's pocket, and well affordin' it. There it is
+now, and I defy the Pope o' Rome to say that I did n't give the message
+right!”
+
+“Mr. Conyers,” began Miss Barrington, in a voice shaking with agitation,
+“it is nigh twenty years since a series of misfortunes brought us so low
+in the world that--” She stopped, partly overcome by indignation, partly
+by shame; and then, suddenly turning towards the man, she continued,
+in a firm and resolute tone, “Go back to your master and say, 'Miss
+Barrington hopes he has sent a fool on his errand, otherwise his message
+is so insolent it will be far safer he should never present himself here
+again!' Do you hear me? Do you understand me?”
+
+“If you mane you'd make them throw him in the river, the divil a straw I
+'d care, and I would n't wet my feet to pick him out of it!”
+
+“Take the message as I have given it you, and do not dare to mix up
+anything of your own with it.”
+
+“Faix, I won't. It's trouble enough I have without that! I 'll tell him
+there's no dinner for him here to-day, and that, if he 's wise, he won't
+come over to look for it.”
+
+“There, go--be off,” cried Conyers, impatiently, for he saw that Miss
+Barrington's temper was being too sorely tried.
+
+She conquered, however, the indignation that at one moment had
+threatened to master her, and in a voice of tolerable calm said,--
+
+“May I ask you to see if Darby or any other of the workmen are in the
+garden? It is high time to take down these insignia of our traffic, and
+tell our friends how we would be regarded in future.”
+
+“Will you let me do it? I ask as a favor that I may be permitted to do
+it,” cried Conyers, eagerly; and without waiting for her answer, hurried
+away to fetch a ladder. He was soon back again and at work.
+
+“Take care how you remove that board, Mr. Conyers,” said she. “If there
+be the tiniest sprig of jessamine broken, my brother will miss it. He
+has been watching anxiously for the time when the white bells would shut
+out every letter of his name, and I like him not to notice the change
+immediately. There, you are doing it very handily indeed. There is
+another holdfast at this corner. Ah, be careful; that is a branch of
+the passion-tree, and though it looks dead, you will see it covered with
+flowers in spring. Nothing could be better. Now for the last emblem of
+our craft,--can you reach it?”
+
+“Oh, easily,” said Conyers, as he raised his eyes to where the little
+tin fish hung glittering above him. The ladder, however, was too short,
+and, standing on one of the highest rungs, still he could not reach the
+little iron stanchion. “I must have it, though,” cried he; “I mean to
+claim that as my prize. It will be the only fish I ever took with my
+own hands.” He now cautiously crept up another step of the ladder,
+supporting himself by the frail creepers which covered the walls. “Help
+me now with a crooked stick, and I shall catch it.”
+
+[Illustration: 190]
+
+“I'll fetch you one,” said she, disappearing within the porch.
+
+Still wistfully looking at the object of his pursuit, Conyers never
+turned his eyes downwards as the sound of steps apprised him some one
+was near, and, concluding it to be Miss Barrington, he said, “I'm half
+afraid that I have torn some of this jessamine-tree from the wall; but
+see here's the prize!” A slight air of wind had wafted it towards
+him, and he suatched the fish from its slender chain and held it up in
+triumph.
+
+“A poacher caught in the fact, Barrington!” said a deep voice from
+below; and Conyers, looking down, saw two men, both advanced in life,
+very gravely watching his proceedings.
+
+Not a little ashamed of a situation to which he never expected an
+audience, he hastily descended the ladder; but before he reached the
+ground Miss Barrington was in her brother's arms, and welcoming him home
+with all the warmth of true affection. This over, she next shook hands
+cordially with his companion, whom she called Mr. Withering.
+
+“And now, Peter,” said she, “to present one I have been longing to make
+known to you. You, who never forget a well-known face, will recognize
+him.”
+
+“My eyes are not what they used to be,” said Barrington, holding out his
+hand to Conyers, “but they are good enough to see the young gentleman I
+left here when I went away.”
+
+“Yes, Peter,” said she, hastily; “but does the sight of him bring back
+to you no memory of poor George?”
+
+“George was dark as a Spaniard, and this gentleman--But pray, sir,
+forgive this rudeness of ours, and let us make ourselves better
+acquainted within doors. You mean to stay some time here, I hope.”
+
+“I only wish I could; but I have already overstayed my leave, and waited
+here only to shake your hand before I left.”
+
+[Illustration: 190]
+
+“Peter, Peter,” said Miss Dinah, impatiently, “must I then tell whom you
+are speaking to?”
+
+Barrington seemed pazzled. He looked from the stranger to his sister,
+and back again.
+
+She drew near and whispered in his ear: “The son of poor George's
+dearest friend on earth,--the son of Ormsby Conyers.”
+
+“Of whom?” said Barrington, in a startled and half-angry voice.
+
+“Of Ormsby Conyers.”
+
+Barrington trembled from head to foot; his face, for an instant crimson,
+became suddenly of an ashy paleness, and his voice shook as he said,--
+
+“I was not--I am not--prepared for this honor. I mean, I could not have
+expected that Mr. Conyers would have desired--Say this--do this for me,
+Withering, for I am not equal to it,” said the old man, as, with his
+hands pressed over his face, he hurried within the house, followed by
+his sister.
+
+“I cannot make a guess at the explanation my friend has left me to
+make,” cried Withering, courteously; “but it is plain to see that your
+name has revived some sorrow connected with the great calamity of his
+life. You have heard of his son, Colonel Barrington?”
+
+“Yes, and it was because my father had been his dearest friend that Miss
+Barrington insisted on my remaining here. She told me, over and over
+again, of the joy her brother would feel on meeting me--”
+
+“Where are you going,--what's the matter?” asked Withering, as a man
+hurriedly passed out of the house and made for the river.
+
+“The master is taken bad, sir, and I 'm going to Inistioge for the
+doctor.”
+
+“Let me go with you,” said Conyers; and, only returning by a nod the
+good-bye of Withering, he moved past and stepped into the boat.
+
+“What an afternoon to such a morning!” muttered he to himself, as the
+tears started from his eyes and stole heavily along his cheeks.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII. A SHOCK
+
+If Conyers had been in the frame of mind to notice it, the contrast
+between the neat propriety of the “Fisherman's Home,” and the disorder
+and slovenliness of the little inn at Inistioge could not have failed
+to impress itself upon him. The “Spotted Duck” was certainly, in all its
+details, the very reverse of that quiet and picturesque cottage he had
+just quitted. But what did he care at that moment for the roof that
+sheltered him, or the table that was spread before him? For days back he
+had been indulging in thoughts of that welcome which Miss Barrington had
+promised him. He fancied how, on the mere mention of his father's name,
+the old man's affection would have poured forth in a flood of kindest
+words; he had even prepared himself for a scene of such emotion as a
+father might have felt on seeing one who brought back to mind his own
+son's earlier years; and instead of all this, he found himself shunned,
+avoided, repulsed. If there was a thing on earth in which his pride was
+greatest, it was his name; and yet it was on the utterance of that word,
+“Conyers,” old Barrington turned away and left him.
+
+Over and over again had he found the spell of his father's name and
+title opening to him society, securing him attentions, and obtaining
+for him that recognition and acceptance which go so far to make life
+pleasurable; and now that word, which would have had its magic at a
+palace, fell powerless and cold at the porch of a humble cottage.
+
+To say that it was part of his creed to believe his father could do
+no wrong is weak. It was his whole belief,--his entire and complete
+conviction. To his mind his father embodied all that was noble,
+high-hearted, and chivalrous. It was not alone the testimony of those
+who served under him could be appealed to. All India, the Government
+at home, his own sovereign knew it. From his earliest infancy he had
+listened to this theme, and to doubt it seemed like to dispute the fact
+of his existence. How was it, then, that this old man refused to accept
+what the whole world had stamped with its value? Was it that he impugned
+the services which had made his father's name famous throughout the
+entire East?
+
+He endeavored to recall the exact words Barrington had used towards
+him, but he could not succeed. There was something, he thought, about
+intruding, unwarrantably intruding; or it might be a mistaken impression
+of the welcome that awaited him. Which was it? or was it either of them?
+At all events, he saw himself rejected and repulsed, and the indignity
+was too great to be borne.
+
+While he thus chafed and fretted, hours went by; and Mr. M'Cabe, the
+landlord, had made more than one excursion into the room, under pretence
+of looking after the fire, or seeing that the windows were duly
+closed, but, in reality, very impatient to learn his guest's intentions
+regarding dinner.
+
+“Was it your honor said that you'd rather have the chickens roast than
+biled?” said he at last, in a very submissive tone.
+
+“I said nothing of the kind.”
+
+“Ah, it was No. 5 then, and I mistook; I crave your honor's pardon.”
+ Hoping that the chord he had thus touched might vibrate, he stooped down
+to arrange the turf, and give time for the response, but none came. Mr.
+M'Cabe gave a faint sigh, but returned to the charge. “When there's the
+laste taste of south in the wind, there 's no making this chimney draw.”
+
+Not a word of notice acknowledged this remark.
+
+“But it will do finely yet; it's just the outside of the turf is a
+little wet, and no wonder; seven weeks of rain--glory be to Him that
+sent it--has nearly desthroyed us.”
+
+Still Conyers vouchsafed no reply.
+
+“And when it begins to rain here, it never laves off. It isn't like in
+your honor's country. Your honor is English?”
+
+A grunt,--it might be assent, it sounded like malediction.
+
+“'T is azy seen. When your honor came out of the boat, I said, 'Shusy,'
+says I, 'he's English; and there's a coat they could n't make in Ireland
+for a king's ransom.'”
+
+“What conveyances leave this for Kilkenny?” asked Conyers, sternly.
+
+“Just none at all, not to mislead you,” said M'Cabe, in a voice quite
+devoid of its late whining intonation.
+
+“Is there not a chaise or a car to be had?”
+
+“Sorrow one. Dr. Dill has a car, to be sure, but not for hire.”
+
+“Oh, Dr. Dill lives here. I forgot that. Go and tell him I wish to see
+him.”
+
+The landlord withdrew in dogged silence, but returned in about ten
+minutes, to say that the doctor had been sent for to the “Fisherman's
+Home,” and Mr. Barrington was so ill it was not likely he would be back
+that night.
+
+“So ill, did you say?” cried Conyers. “What was the attack,--what did
+they call it?”
+
+“'T is some kind of a 'plexy, they said. He's a full man, and advanced
+in years, besides.”
+
+“Go and tell young Mr. Dill to come over here.”
+
+“He's just gone off with the cuppin' instruments. I saw him steppin'
+into the boat.”
+
+“Let me have a messenger; I want a man to take a note up to Miss
+Barrington, and fetch my writing-desk here.”
+
+In his eager anxiety to learn how Mr. Barrington was, Conyers hastily
+scratched off a few lines; but on reading them over, he tore them up:
+they implied a degree of interest on his part which, considering the
+late treatment extended to him, was scarcely dignified. He tried again;
+the error was as marked on the other side. It was a cold and formal
+inquiry. “And yet,” said he, as he tore this in fragments, “one thing
+is quite clear,--this illness is owing to _me!_ But for _my_ presence
+there, that old man had now been hale and hearty; the impressions,
+rightfully or wrongfully, which the sight of _me_ and the announcement
+of _my_ name produced are the cause of this malady. I cannot deny it.”
+ With this revulsion of feeling he wrote a short but kindly worded
+note to Miss Barrington, in which, with the very faintest allusion to
+himself, he begged for a few lines to say how her brother was. He would
+have added something about the sorrow he experienced in requiting all
+her kindness by this calamitous return, but he felt that if the case
+should be a serious one, all reference to himself would be misplaced and
+impertinent.
+
+The messenger despatched, he sat down beside his fire, the only light
+now in the room, which the shade of coming night had darkened. He was
+sad and dispirited, and ill at ease with his own heart. Mr. M'Cabe,
+indeed, appeared with a suggestion about candles, and a shadowy hint
+that if his guest speculated of dining at all, it was full time to
+intimate it; but Conyers dismissed him with a peremptory command not to
+dare to enter the room again until he was summoned to it. So odious to
+him was the place, the landlord, and all about him, that he would have
+set out on foot had his ankle been only strong enough to bear him. “What
+if he were to write to Stapylton to come and fetch him away? He never
+liked the man; he liked him less since the remark Miss Barrrington had
+made upon him from mere reading of his letter, but what was he to do?”
+ While he was yet doubting what course to take, he heard the voices
+of some new arrivals outside, and, strange enough, one seemed to be
+Stapylton's. A minute or two after, the travellers had entered the room
+adjoining his own, and from which a very frail partition of lath and
+plaster alone separated him.
+
+“Well, Barney,” said a harsh, grating voice, addressing the landlord,
+“what have you got in the larder? We mean to dine with you.”
+
+“To dine here, Major!” exclaimed M'Cabe. “Well, well, wondhers will
+never cease.” And then hurriedly seeking to cover a speech not very
+flattering to the Major's habits of hospitality, “Sure, I 've a loin of
+pork, and there 's two chickens and a trout fresh out of the water, and
+there's a cheese; it isn't mine, to be sure, but Father Cody's, but
+he 'll not miss a slice out of it; and barrin' you dined at the
+'Fisherman's Home,' you 'd not get betther.”
+
+“That 's where we were to have dined by right,” said the Major,
+crankily,--“myself and my friend here,--but we're disappointed, and so
+we stepped in here, to do the best we can.”
+
+“Well, by all accounts, there won't be many dinners up there for some
+time.”
+
+“Why so?”
+
+“Ould Barrington was took with a fit this afternoon, and they say he
+won't get over it.”
+
+“How was it?--what brought it on?”
+
+“Here's the way I had it. Ould Peter was just come home from Kilkenny,
+and had brought the Attorney-General with him to stay a few days at the
+cottage, and what was the first thing he seen but a man that come all
+the way from India with a writ out against him for some of mad George
+Barrington's debts; and he was so overcome by the shock, that he fainted
+away, and never came rightly to himself since.”
+
+“This is simply impossible,” said a voice Conyers well knew to be
+Stapylton's.
+
+“Be that as it may, I had it from the man that came for the doctor,
+and what's more, he was just outside the window, and could hear ould
+Barrington cursin' and swearin' about the man that ruined his son, and
+brought his poor boy to the grave; but I 'll go and look after your
+honor's dinner, for I know more about that.”
+
+“I have a strange half-curiosity to know the correct version of this
+story,” said Stapylton, as the host left the room. “The doctor is a
+friend of yours, I think. Would he step over here, and let us hear the
+matter accurately?”
+
+“He's up at the cottage now, but I 'll get him to come in here when he
+returns.”
+
+If Conyers was shocked to hear how even this loose version of what had
+occurred served to heighten the anxiety his own fears created, he was
+also angry with himself at having learned the matter as he did. It was
+not in his nature to play the eavesdropper, and he had, in reality,
+heard what fell between his neighbors, almost ere he was aware of it. To
+apprise them, therefore, of the vicinity of a stranger, he coughed and
+sneezed, poked the fire noisily, and moved the chairs about; but though
+the disturbance served to prevent him from hearing, it did not tend to
+impress any greater caution upon them, for they talked away as before,
+and more than once above the din of his own tumult, he heard the name of
+Barrington, and even his own, uttered.
+
+Unable any longer to suffer the irritation of a position so painful, he
+took his hat, and left the house. It was now night, and so dark that
+he had to stand some minutes on the door-sill ere he could accustom his
+sight to the obscurity. By degrees, however, he was enabled to guide his
+steps, and, passing through the little square, he gained the bridge;
+and here he resolved to walk backwards and forwards till such time as
+he hoped his neighbors might have concluded their convivialities, and
+turned homeward.
+
+A thin cold rain was falling, and the night was cheerless, and without
+a star; but his heart was heavy, and the dreariness without best suited
+that within him. For more than an hour he continued his lonely walk,
+tormented by all the miseries his active ingenuity could muster. To
+have brought sorrow and mourning beneath the roof where you have been
+sheltered with kindness is sad enough, but far sadder is it to connect
+the calamity you have caused with one dearer to you than yourself, and
+whose innocence, while assured of, you cannot vindicate. “My father
+never wronged this man, for the simple reason that he has never been
+unjust to any one. It is a gross injustice to accuse him! If Colonel
+Barrington forfeited my father's friendship, who could doubt where the
+fault lay? But I will not leave the matter questionable. I will write
+to my father and ask him to send me such a reply as may set the issue
+at rest forever; and then I will come down here, and, with my father's
+letter in my hand, say, 'The mention of my name was enough, once on a
+time, to make you turn away from me on the very threshold of your own
+door--'” When he had got thus far in his intended appeal, his ear was
+suddenly struck by the word “Conyers,” uttered by one of two men who
+had passed him the moment before, and now stood still in one of the
+projections of the bridge to talk. He as hastily recognized Dr. Dill
+as the speaker. He went on thus: “Of course it was mere raving, but
+one must bear in mind that memory very often is the prompter of these
+wanderings; and it was strange how persistently he held to the one
+theme, and continued to call out, 'It was not fair, sir! It was not
+manly! You know it yourself, Conyers; you cannot deny it!'”
+
+“But you attach no importance to such wanderings, doctor?” asked one
+whose deep-toned voice betrayed him to be Stapylton.
+
+“I do; that is, to the extent I have mentioned. They are incoherencies,
+but they are not without some foundation. This Conyers may have had
+his share in that famous accusation against Colonel Barrington,--that
+well-known charge I told you of; and if so, it is easy to connect the
+name with these ravings.”
+
+“And the old man will die of this attack,” said Stapylton, half
+musingly.
+
+“I hope not. He has great vigor of constitution; and old as he is, I
+think he will rub through it.”
+
+“Young Conyers left for Kilkenny, then, immediately?” asked he.
+
+“No; he came down here, to the village. He is now at the inn.”
+
+“At the inn, here? I never knew that. I am sorry I was not aware of it,
+doctor; but since it is so, I will ask of you not to speak of having
+seen me here. He would naturally take it ill, as his brother officer,
+that I did not make him out, while, as you see, I was totally ignorant
+of his vicinity.”
+
+“I will say nothing on the subject, Captain,” said the doctor. “And now
+one word of advice from you on a personal matter. This young gentleman
+has offered to be of service to my son--”
+
+Conyers, hitherto spellbound while the interest attached to his father,
+now turned hastily from the spot and walked away, his mind not alone
+charged with a heavy care, but full of an eager anxiety as to wherefore
+Stapylton should have felt so deeply interested in Barrington's illness,
+and the causes that led to it,--Stapylton, the most selfish of men, and
+the very last in the world to busy himself in the sorrows or misfortunes
+of a stranger. Again, too, why had he desired the doctor to preserve his
+presence there as a secret? Conyers was exactly in the frame of mind to
+exaggerate a suspicion, or make a mere doubt a grave question. While be
+thus mused, Stapylton and the doctor passed him on their way towards the
+village, deep in converse, and, to all seeming, in closest confidence.
+
+“Shall I follow him to the inn, and declare that I overheard a few
+words on the bridge which give me a claim to explanation? Shall I say,
+'Captain Stapylton, you spoke of my father, just now, sufficiently aloud
+to be overheard by me as I passed, and in your tone there was that which
+entitles me to question you? Then if he should say, 'Go on; what is it
+you ask for?' shall I not be sorely puzzled to continue? Perhaps, too,
+he might remind me that the mode in which I obtained my information
+precludes even a reference to it. He is one of those fellows not to
+throw away such an advantage, and I must prepare myself for a quarrel.
+Oh, if I only had Hunter by me! What would I not give for the brave
+Colonel's counsel at such a moment as this?”
+
+Of this sort were his thoughts as he strolled up and down for hours,
+wearing away the long “night watches,” till a faint grayish tinge
+above the horizon showed that morning was not very distant. The whole
+landscape was wrapped in that cold mysterious tint in which tower and
+hill-top and spire are scarcely distinguishable from each other,
+while out of the low-lying meadows already arose the bluish vapor
+that proclaims the coming day. The village itself, overshadowed by the
+mountain behind it, lay a black, unbroken mass.
+
+Not a light twinkled from a window, save close to the river's bank,
+where a faint gleam stole forth and flickered on the water.
+
+Who has not felt the strange interest that attaches to a solitary light
+seen thus in the tranquil depth of a silent night? How readily do
+we associate it with some incident of sorrow! The watcher beside the
+sick-bed rises to the mind, or the patient sufferer himself trying to
+cheat the dull hours by a book, or perhaps some poor son of toil arising
+to his daily round of labor, and seated at that solitary meal which no
+kind word enlivens, no companionship beguiles. And as I write, in what
+corner of earth are not such scenes passing,--such dark shadows moving
+over the battlefield of life?
+
+In such a feeling did Conyers watch this light as, leaving the
+high-road, he took a path that led along the river towards it. As he
+drew nigher, he saw that the light came from the open window of a room
+which gave upon a little garden,--a mere strip of ground fenced off
+from the path by a low paling. With a curiosity he could not master, he
+stopped and looked in. At a large table, covered with books and papers,
+and on which a skull also stood, a young man was seated, his head
+leaning on his hand, apparently in deep thought, while a girl was slowly
+pacing the little chamber as she talked to him.
+
+“It does not require,” said she, in a firm voice, “any great effort of
+memory to bear in mind that a nerve, an artery, and a vein always go in
+company.”
+
+“Not for you, perhaps,--not for you, Polly.”
+
+“Not for any one, I 'm sure. Your fine dragoon friend with the sprained
+ankle might be brought to that amount of instruction by one telling of
+it.”
+
+“Oh, he 's no fool, I promise you, Polly. Don't despise him because he
+has plenty of money and can lead a life of idleness.”
+
+“I neither despise nor esteem him, nor do I mean that he should divert
+our minds from what we are at. Now for the popliteal space. Can you
+describe it? Do you know where it is, or anything about it?”
+
+“I do,” said he, doggedly, as he pushed his long hair back from his
+eyes, and tried to think,--“I do, but I must have time. You must n't
+hurry me.”
+
+She made no reply, but continued her walk in silence.
+
+“I know all about it, Polly, but I can't describe it. I can't describe
+anything; but ask me a question about it.”
+
+“Where is it,--where does it lie?”
+
+“Isn't it at the lower third of the humerus, where the flexors divide?”
+
+“You are too bad,--too stupid!” cried she, angrily. “I cannot believe
+that anything short of a purpose, a determination to be ignorant, could
+make a person so unteach-able. If we have gone over this once, we have
+done so fifty times. It haunts me in my sleep, from very iteration.”
+
+“I wish it would haunt me a little when I 'm awake,” said he, sulkily.
+
+“And when may that be, I'd like to know? Do you fancy, sir, that your
+present state of intelligence is a very vigilant one?”
+
+“I know one thing. I hope there won't be the like of you on the Court
+of Examiners, for I would n't bear the half of what _you've_ said to me
+from another.”
+
+[Illustration: 202]
+
+“Rejection will be harder to bear, Tom. To be sent back as ignorant and
+incapable will be far heavier as a punishment than any words of mine.
+What are you laughing at, sir? Is it a matter of mirth to you?”
+
+“Look at the skull, Polly,--look at the skull.” And he pointed to where
+he had stuck his short, black pipe, between the grinning teeth of the
+skeleton.
+
+She snatched it angrily away, and threw it out of the window, saying,
+“You may be ignorant, and not be able to help it. I will take care you
+shall not be irreverent, sir.”
+
+“There's my short clay gone, anyhow,” said Tom, submissively, “and I
+think I 'll go to bed.” And he yawned drearily as he spoke.
+
+“Not till you have done this, if we sit here till breakfast-time,” said
+she, resolutely. “There's the plate, and there's the reference. Read it
+till you know it!”
+
+“What a slave-driver you 'd make, Polly!” said he, with a half-bitter
+smile.
+
+“What a slave I am!” said she, turning away her head.
+
+“That's true,” cried he, in a voice thick with emotion; “and when I 'm
+thousands of miles away, I 'll be longing to hear the bitterest words
+you ever said to me, rather than never see you any more.”
+
+[Illustration: 202]
+
+“My poor brother,” said she, laying her hand softly on his rough head,
+“I never doubted your heart, and I ought to be better tempered with you,
+and I will. Come, now, Tom,”--and she seated herself at the table next
+him,--“see, now, if I cannot make this easy to you.” And then the two
+heads were bent together over the table, and the soft brown hair of the
+girl half mingled with the rough wool of the graceless numskull beside
+her.
+
+“I will stand by him, if it were only for her sake,” said Conyers to
+himself. And he stole slowly away, and gained the inn.
+
+So intent upon his purpose was he that he at once set about its
+fulfilment. He began a long letter to his father, and, touching slightly
+on the accident by which he made Dr. Dill's acquaintance, professed to
+be deeply his debtor for kindness and attention. With this prelude he
+introduced Tom. Hitherto his pen had glided along flippantly enough.
+In that easy mixture of fact and fancy by which he opened his case, no
+grave difficulty presented itself; but Tom was now to be presented, and
+the task was about as puzzling as it would have been to have conducted
+him bodily into society.
+
+“I was ungenerous enough to be prejudiced against this poor fellow when
+I first met him,” wrote he. “Neither his figure nor his manners are in
+his favor, and in his very diffidence there is an apparent rudeness and
+forwardness which are not really in his nature. These, however, are not
+mistakes you, my dear father, will fall into. With your own quickness
+you will see what sterling qualities exist beneath this rugged outside,
+and you will befriend him at first for my sake. Later on, I trust he
+will open his own account in your heart. Bear in mind, too, that it was
+all my scheme,--the whole plan mine. It was I persuaded him to try his
+luck in India; it was through me he made the venture; and if the poor
+fellow fail, all the fault will fall back upon _me_.” From this he went
+into little details of Tom's circumstances, and the narrow means by
+which he was surrounded, adding how humble he was, and how ready to be
+satisfied with the most moderate livelihood. “In that great wide world
+of the East, what scores of things there must be for such a fellow to
+do; and even should he not turn out to be a Sydenham or a Harvey, he
+might administer justice, or collect revenue, or assist in some other
+way the process of that system which we call the British rule in India.
+In a word, get him something he may live by, and be able, in due time,
+to help those he has left behind here, in a land whose 'Paddy-fields'
+are to the full as pauperized as those of Bengal.”
+
+He had intended, having disposed of Tom Dill's case, to have addressed
+some lines to his father about the Barring-tons, sufficiently vague to
+be easily answered if the subject were one distasteful or unpleasing to
+him; but just as he reached the place to open this, he was startled by
+the arrival of a jaunting-car at the inn-door, whose driver stopped to
+take a drink. It was a chance conveyance, returning to Kilkenny, and
+Conyers at once engaged it; and, leaving an order to send on the reply
+when it arrived from the cottage, he wrote a hasty note to Tom Dill and
+departed. This note was simply to say that he had already fulfilled his
+promise of interesting his father in his behalf, and that whenever Tom
+had passed his examination, and was in readiness for his voyage, he
+should come or write to him, and he would find him fully disposed to
+serve and befriend him. “Meanwhile,” wrote he, “let me hear of you. I am
+really anxious to learn how you acquit yourself at the ordeal, for which
+you have the cordial good wishes of your friend, F. Conyers.”
+
+Oh, if the great men of our acquaintance--and we all of us, no matter
+how hermit-like we may live, have our “great men”--could only know and
+feel what ineffable pleasure will sometimes be derived from the chance
+expressions they employ towards us,--words which, little significant in
+themselves, perhaps have some touch of good fellowship or good feeling,
+now reviving a “bygone,” now far-seeing a future, tenderly thrilling
+through us by some little allusion to a trick of our temperament, noted
+and observed by one in whose interest we never till then knew we had
+a share,--if, I say, they were but aware of this, how delightful they
+might make themselves!--what charming friends!--and, it is but fair to
+own, what dangerous patrons!
+
+I leave my reader to apply the reflection to the case before him,
+and then follow me to the pleasant quarters of a well-maintained
+country-house, full of guests and abounding in gayety.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII. COBHAM
+
+My reader is already aware that I am telling of some forty years ago,
+and therefore I have no apologies to make for habits and ways which our
+more polished age has pronounced barbarous. Now, at Cobham, the men
+sat after dinner over their wine when the ladies had withdrawn, and,
+I grieve to say, fulfilled this usage with a zest and enjoyment that
+unequivocally declared it to be the best hour of the whole twenty-four.
+
+Friends could now get together, conversation could range over
+personalities, egotisms have their day, and bygones be disinterred
+without need of an explanation. Few, indeed, who did not unbend at
+such a moment, and relax in that genial atmosphere begotten of closed
+curtains, and comfort, and good claret. I am not so certain that we
+are wise in our utter abandonment of what must have often conciliated
+a difference or reconciled a grudge. How many a lurking discontent, too
+subtle for intervention, must have been dissipated in the general burst
+of a common laugh, or the racy enjoyment of a good story! Decidedly the
+decanter has often played peacemaker, though popular prejudice inclines
+to give it a different mission.
+
+On the occasion to which I would now invite my reader, the party were
+seated--by means of that genial discovery, a horseshoe-table--around
+the fire at Cobham. It was a true country-house society of neighbors who
+knew each other well, sprinkled with guests,--strangers to every one.
+There were all ages and all temperaments, from the hardy old squire,
+whose mellow cheer was known at the fox-cover, to the young heir
+fresh from Oxford and loud about Leicestershire; gentlemen-farmers and
+sportsmen, and parsons and soldiers, blended together with just enough
+disparity of pursuit to season talk and freshen experiences.
+
+The conversation, which for a while was partly on sporting matters,
+varied with little episodes of personal achievement, and those little
+boastings which end in a bet, was suddenly interrupted by a hasty call
+for Dr. Dill, who was wanted at the “Fisherman's Home.”
+
+“Can't you stay to finish this bottle, Dill?” said the Admiral, who had
+not heard for whom he had been sent.
+
+“I fear not, sir. It is a long row down to the cottage.”
+
+“So it 's poor Barrington again! I 'm sincerely sorry for it! And now I
+'ll not ask you to delay. By the way, take my boat. Elwes,” said he to
+the servant, “tell the men to get the boat ready at once for Dr. Dill,
+and come and say when it is so.”
+
+The doctor's gratitude was profuse, though probably a dim vista of the
+“tip” that might be expected from him detracted from the fulness of the
+enjoyment.
+
+“Find out if I could be of any use, Dill,” whispered the Admiral, as the
+doctor arose. “Your own tact will show if there be anything I could do.
+You understand me; I have the deepest regard for old Barrington, and his
+sister too.”
+
+Dill promised to give his most delicate attention to the point, and
+departed.
+
+While this little incident was occurring, Stapylton, who sat at an angle
+of the fireplace, was amusing two or three listeners by an account
+of his intended dinner at the “Home,” and the haughty refusal of Miss
+Barrington to receive him.
+
+“You must tell Sir Charles the story!” cried out Mr. Bushe. “He'll soon
+recognize the old Major from your imitation of him.”
+
+“Hang the old villain! he shot a dog-fox the other morning, and he knows
+well how scarce they are getting in the country,” said another.
+
+“I 'll never forgive myself for letting him have a lease of that place,”
+ said a third; “he's a disgrace to the neighborhood.”
+
+“You're not talking of Barrington, surely,” called out Sir Charles.
+
+“Of course not. I was speaking of M'Cormick. Harrington is another stamp
+of man, and here's his good health!”
+
+“He'll need all your best wishes, Jack,” said the host, “for Dr. Dill
+has just been called away to see him.”
+
+“To see old Peter! Why, I never knew him to have a day's illness!”
+
+“He's dangerously ill now,” said the Admiral, gravely. “Dill tells me
+that he came home from the Assizes hale and hearty, in high spirits
+at some verdict in his favor, and brought back the Attorney-General to
+spend a day or two with him; but that, on arriving, he found a young
+fellow whose father or grandfather--for I have n't it correctly--had
+been concerned in some way against George Barrington, and that high
+words passed between old Peter and this youth, who was turned out on the
+spot, while poor Barrington, overcome by emotion, was struck down with
+a sort of paralysis. As I have said, I don't know the story accurately,
+for even Dill himself only picked it up from the servants at the
+cottage, neither Miss Barrington nor Withering having told him one word
+on the subject.”
+
+“That is the very same story I heard at the village where we dined,”
+ broke in Stapylton, “and M'Cormick added that he remembered the name.
+Conyers--the young man is called Conyers--did occur in a certain famous
+accusation against Colonel Barrington.”
+
+“Well, but,” interposed Bushe, “isn't all that an old story now? Is n't
+the whole thing a matter of twenty years ago?”
+
+“Not so much as that,” said Sir Charles. “I remember reading it all when
+I was in command of the 'Madagascar,'--I forget the exact year, but I
+was at Corfu.”
+
+“At all events,” said Bushe, “it's long enough past to be forgotten or
+forgiven; and old Peter was the very last man I could ever have supposed
+likely to carry on an ancient grudge against any one.”
+
+“Not where his son was concerned. Wherever George's name entered,
+forgiveness of the man that wronged him was impossible,” said another.
+
+“You are scarcely just to my old friend,” interposed the Admiral. “First
+of all, we have not the facts before us. Many of us here have never
+seen, some have never heard of the great Barrington Inquiry, and of such
+as have, if their memories be not better than mine, they can't discuss
+the matter with much profit.”
+
+“I followed the case when it occurred,” chimed in the former speaker,
+“but I own, with Sir Charles, that it has gone clean out of my head
+since that time.”
+
+“You talk of injustice, Cobham, injustice to old Peter Barrington,” said
+an old man from the end of the table; “but I would ask, are we quite
+just to poor George? I knew him well. My son served in the same regiment
+with him before he went out to India, and no finer nor nobler-hearted
+fellow than George Barrington ever lived. Talk of him ruining his father
+by his extravagance! Why, he'd have cut off his right hand rather
+than caused him one pang, one moment of displeasure. Barrington ruined
+himself; that insane passion for law has cost him far more than half
+what he was worth in the world. Ask Withering; he 'll tell you something
+about it. Why, Withering's own fees in that case before 'the Lords'
+amount to upwards of two thousand guineas.”
+
+“I won't dispute the question with you, Fowndes,” said the Admiral.
+“Scandal says you have a taste for a trial at bar yourself.”
+
+The hit told, and called for a hearty laugh, in which Fowndes himself
+joined freely.
+
+“_I_ 'm a burned child, however, and keep away from the fire,” said he,
+good-humoredly; “but old Peter seems rather to like being singed. There
+he is again with his Privy Council case for next term, and with, I
+suppose, as much chance of success as I should have in a suit to recover
+a Greek estate of some of my Phoenician ancestors.”
+
+It was not a company to sympathize deeply with such a litigious spirit.
+The hearty and vigorous tone of squiredom, young and old, could not
+understand it as a passion or a pursuit, and they mainly agreed that
+nothing but some strange perversion could have made the generous nature
+of old Barrington so fond of law. Gradually the younger members of
+the party slipped away to the drawing-room, till, in the changes that
+ensued, Stapylton found himself next to Mr. Fowndes.
+
+“I'm glad to see, Captain,” said the old squire, “that modern fashion of
+deserting the claret-jug has not invaded your mess. I own I like a man
+who lingers over his wine.”
+
+“We have no pretext for leaving it, remember that,” said Stapylton,
+smiling.
+
+“Very true. The _placeus uxor_ is sadly out of place in a soldier's
+life. Your married officer is but a sorry comrade; besides, how is a
+fellow to be a hero to the enemy who is daily bullied by his wife?”
+
+“I think you said that you had served?” interposed Stapylton.
+
+“No. My son was in the army; he is so still, but holds a Governorship
+in the West Indies. He it was who knew this Barrington we were speaking
+of.”
+
+“Just so,” said Stapylton, drawing his chair closer, so as to converse
+more confidentially.
+
+“You may imagine what very uneventful lives we country gentlemen live,”
+ said the old squire, “when we can continue to talk over one memorable
+case for something like twenty years, just because one of the parties to
+it was our neighbor.”
+
+“You appear to have taken a lively interest in it,” said Stapylton, who
+rightly conjectured it was a favorite theme with the old squire.
+
+“Yes. Barrington and my son were friends; they came down to my house
+together to shoot; and with all his eccentricities--and they were
+many--I liked Mad George, as they called him.”
+
+“He was a good fellow, then?”
+
+“A thoroughly good fellow, but the shyest that ever lived; to all
+outward seeming rough and careless, but sensitive as a woman all the
+while. He would have walked up to a cannon's mouth with a calm step,
+but an affecting story would bring tears to his eyes; and then, to
+cover this weakness, which he was well ashamed of, he 'd rush into fifty
+follies and extravagances. As he said himself to me one day, alluding
+to some feat of rash absurdity, 'I have been taking another inch off the
+dog's tail,'--he referred to the story of Alcibiades, who docked his dog
+to take off public attention from his heavier transgressions.”
+
+“There was no truth in these accusations against him?”
+
+“Who knows? George was a passionate fellow, and he 'd have made short
+work of the man that angered him. I myself never so entirely acquitted
+him as many who loved him less. At all events, he was hardly treated; he
+was regularly hunted down. I imagine he must have made many enemies,
+for witnesses sprung up against him on all sides, and he was too proud
+a fellow to ask for one single testimony in his favor! If ever a man met
+death broken-hearted, he did!”
+
+A pause of several minutes occurred, after which the old squire
+resumed,--
+
+“My son told me that after Barrington's death there was a strong
+revulsion in his favor, and a great feeling that he had been hardly
+dealt by. Some of the Supreme Council, it is said, too, were disposed
+to behave generously towards his child, but old Peter, in an evil hour,
+would hear of nothing short of restitution of all the territory, and a
+regular rehabilitation of George's memory, besides; in fact, he made the
+most extravagant demands, and disgusted the two or three who were
+kindly and well disposed towards his cause. Had they, indeed,--as he
+said,--driven his son to desperation, he could scarcely ask them to
+declare it to the world; and yet nothing short of this would satisfy
+him! 'Come forth,' wrote he,--I read the letter myself,--'come forth and
+confess that your evidence was forged and your witnesses suborned; that
+you wanted to annex the territory, and the only road to your object was
+to impute treason to the most loyal heart that ever served the King!'
+Imagine what chance of favorable consideration remained to the man who
+penned such words as these.”
+
+“And he prosecutes the case still?”
+
+“Ay, and will do to the day of his death. Withering--who was an old
+schoolfellow of mine--has got me to try what I could do to persuade him
+to come to some terms; and, indeed, to do old Peter justice, it is
+not the money part of the matter he is so obstinate about; it is the
+question of what he calls George's fair fame and honor; and one cannot
+exactly say to him, 'Who on earth cares a brass button whether George
+Barrington was a rebel or a true man? Whether he deserved to die an
+independent Rajah of some place with a hard name, or the loyal subject
+of his Majesty George the Third?' I own I, one day, did go so close to
+the wind, on that subject, that the old man started up and said, 'I hope
+I misapprehend you, Harry Fowndes. I hope sincerely that I do so, for if
+not, I 'll have a shot at you, as sure as my name is Peter Barrington.'
+Of course I 'tried back' at once, and assured him it was a pure
+misconception of my meaning, and that until the East India folk fairly
+acknowledged that they had wronged his son, _he_ could not, with honor,
+approach the question of a compromise in the money matter.”
+
+“That day, it may be presumed, is very far off,” said Stapylton, half
+languidly.
+
+“Well, Withering opines not. He says that they are weary of the whole
+case. They have had, perhaps, some misgivings as to the entire justice
+of what they did. Perhaps they have learned something during the course
+of the proceedings which may have influenced their judgment; and not
+impossible is it that they pity the old man fighting out his life; and
+perhaps, too, Barrington himself may have softened a little, since he
+has begun to feel that his granddaughter--for George left a child--had
+interests which his own indignation could not rightfully sacrifice; so
+that amongst all these perhapses, who knows but some happy issue may
+come at last?”
+
+“That Barrington race is not a very pliant one,” said Stapylton,
+half dreamily; and then, in some haste, added, “at least, such is the
+character they give them here.”
+
+“Some truth there may be in that. Men of a strong temperament and with
+a large share of self-dependence generally get credit from the world for
+obstinacy, just because the road _they_ see out of difficulties is
+not the popular one. But even with all this, I 'd not call old Peter
+self-willed; at least, Withering tells me that from time to time, as he
+has conveyed to him the opinions and experiences of old Indian officers,
+some of whom had either met with or heard of George, he has listened
+with much and even respectful attention. And as all their counsels have
+gone against his own convictions, it is something to give them a patient
+hearing.”
+
+“He has thus permitted strangers to come and speak with him on these
+topics?” asked Stapylton, eagerly.
+
+“No, no,--not he. These men had called on Withering,--met him, perhaps,
+in society,--heard of his interest in George Barrington's case, and
+came good-naturedly to volunteer a word of counsel in favor of an old
+comrade. Nothing more natural, I think.”
+
+“Nothing. I quite agree with you; so much so, indeed, that having served
+some years in India, and in close proximity, too, to one of the
+native courts, I was going to ask you to present me to your friend
+Mr. Withering, as one not altogether incapable of affording him some
+information.”
+
+“With a heart and a half. I 'll do it.”
+
+“I say, Harry,” cried out the host, “if you and Captain Stapylton will
+neither fill your glasses nor pass the wine, I think we had better join
+the ladies.”
+
+And now there was a general move to the drawing-room, where several
+evening guests had already assembled, making a somewhat numerous
+company. Polly Dill was there, too,--not the wearied-looking, careworn
+figure we last saw her, when her talk was of “dead anatomies,” but
+the lively, sparkling, bright-eyed Polly, who sang the Melodies to the
+accompaniment of him who could make every note thrill with the sentiment
+his own genius had linked to it. I half wish I had not a story to
+tell,--that is, that I had not a certain road to take,--that I might
+wander at will through by-path and lane, and linger on the memories thus
+by a chance awakened! Ah, it was no small triumph to lift out of obscure
+companionship and vulgar associations the music of our land, and wed it
+to words immortal, to show us that the pebble at our feet was a gem to
+be worn on the neck of beauty, and to prove to us, besides, that our
+language could be as lyrical as Anacreon's own!
+
+“I am enchanted with your singing,” whispered Stapylton, in Polly's ear;
+“but I 'd forego all the enjoyment not to see you so pleased with your
+companion. I begin to detest the little Poet.”
+
+“I 'll tell him so,” said she, half gravely; “and he 'll know well that
+it is the coarse hate of the Saxon.”
+
+“I'm no Saxon!” said he, flushing and darkening at the same time. And
+then, recovering his calm, he added, “There are no Saxons left amongst
+us, nor any Celts for us to honor with our contempt; but come away from
+the piano, and don't let him fancy he has bound you by a spell.”
+
+“But he has,” said she, eagerly,--“he has, and I don't care to break
+it.”
+
+But the little Poet, running his fingers lightly over the keys, warbled
+out, in a half-plaintive whisper,--
+
+     “Oh, tell me, dear Polly, why is it thine eyes
+     Through their brightness have something of sorrow?
+     I cannot suppose that the glow of such skies
+     Should ever mean gloom for the morrow;
+
+     “Or must I believe that your heart is afar,
+     And you only make semblance to hear me,
+     While your thoughts are away to that splendid hussar,
+     And 't is only your image is near me?”
+
+“An unpublished melody, I fancy,” said Stapylton, with a malicious
+twinkle of his eye.
+
+“Not even corrected as yet,” said the Poet, with a glance at Polly.
+
+What a triumph it was for a mere village beauty to be thus tilted for
+by such gallant knights; but Polly was practical as well as vain, and a
+certain unmistakable something in Lady Cobham's eye told her that two of
+the most valued guests of the house were not to be thus withdrawn from
+circulation; and with this wise impression on her mind, she slipped
+hastily away, on the pretext of something to say to her father. And
+although it was a mere pretence on her part, there was that in her look
+as they talked together that betokened their conversation to be serious.
+
+“I tell you again,” said he, in a sharp but low whisper, “she will not
+suffer it. You used not to make mistakes of this kind formerly, and I
+cannot conceive why you should do so now.”
+
+“But, dear papa,” said she, with a strange half-smile, “don't you
+remember your own story of the gentleman who got tipsy because he
+foresaw he would never be invited again?”
+
+But the doctor was in no jesting mood, and would not accept of the
+illustration. He spoke now even more angrily than before.
+
+“You have only to see how much they make of him to know well that he is
+out of our reach,” said he, bitterly.
+
+“A long shot, Sir Lucius; there is such honor in a long shot,” said she,
+with infinite drollery; and then with a sudden gravity, added, “I have
+never forgotten the man you cured, just because your hand shook and you
+gave him a double dose of laudanum.”
+
+This was too much for his patience, and he turned away in disgust at her
+frivolity. In doing so, however, he came in front of Lady Cobham, who
+had come up to request Miss Dill to play a certain Spanish dance for two
+young ladies of the company.
+
+“Of course, your Ladyship,--too much honor for her,--she will be
+charmed; my little girl is overjoyed when she can contribute even thus
+humbly to the pleasure of your delightful house.”
+
+Never did a misdemeanist take his “six weeks” with a more complete
+consciousness of penalty than did Polly sit down to that piano. She
+well understood it as a sentence, and, let me own, submitted well and
+gracefully to her fate. Nor was it, after all, such a slight trial, for
+the fandango was her own speciality; she had herself brought the dance
+and the music to Cobham. They who were about to dance it were her own
+pupils, and not very proficient ones, either. And with all this she did
+her part well and loyally. Never had she played with more spirit; never
+marked the time with a firmer precision; never threw more tenderness
+into the graceful parts, nor more of triumphant daring into the proud
+ones. Amid the shower of “Bravos!” that closed the performance,--for
+none thought of the dancers,--the little Poet drew nigh and whispered,
+“How naughty!”
+
+“Why so?” asked she, innocently.
+
+“What a blaze of light to throw over a sorry picture!” said he, dangling
+his eyeglass, and playing that part of middle-aged Cupid he was so fond
+of assuming.
+
+“Do you know, sir,” said Lady Cobham, coming hastily towards him, “that
+I will not permit you to turn the heads of my young ladies? Dr. Dill
+is already so afraid of your fascinations that he has ordered his
+carriage,--is it not so?” she went on appealing to the doctor, with
+increased rapidity. “But you will certainly keep your promise to us. We
+shall expect you on Thursday at dinner.”
+
+Overwhelmed with confusion, Dill answered--he knew not what--about
+pleasure, punctuality, and so forth; and then turned away to ring for
+that carriage he had not ordered before.
+
+“And so you tell me Barrington is better?” said the Admiral, taking him
+by the arm and leading him away. “The danger is over, then?”
+
+“I believe so; his mind is calm, and he is only suffering now from
+debility. What with the Assizes, and a week's dissipation at Kilkenny,
+and this shock,--for it was a shock,--the whole thing was far more of a
+mental than a bodily ailment.”
+
+“You gave him my message? You said how anxious I felt to know if I could
+be of any use to him?”
+
+“Yes; and he charged Mr. Withering to come and thank you, for he is
+passing by Cobham to-morrow on his way to Kilkenny.”
+
+“Indeed! Georgiana, don't forget that. Withering will call here
+to-morrow; try and keep him to dine, at least, if we cannot secure him
+for longer. He's one of those fellows I am always delighted to meet
+Where are you going, Dill? Not taking your daughter away at this hour,
+are you?”
+
+The doctor sighed, and muttered something about dissipations that were
+only too fascinating, too engrossing. He did not exactly like to
+say that his passports had been sent him, and the authorities duly
+instructed to give him “every aid and assistance possible.” For a
+moment, indeed, Polly looked as though she would make some explanation
+of the matter; but it was only for a moment, and the slight flush on
+her cheek gave way quickly, and she looked somewhat paler than her wont.
+Meanwhile, the little Poet had fetched her shawl, and led her away,
+humming, “Buona notte,--buona sera!” as he went, in that half-caressing,
+half-quizzing way he could assume so jauntily. Stapylton walked behind
+with the doctor, and whispered as he went, “If not inconvenient, might I
+ask the favor of a few minutes with you to-morrow?”
+
+Dill assured him he was devotedly his servant; and having fixed the
+interview for two o'clock, away they drove. The night was calm and
+starlight, and they had long passed beyond the grounds of Cobham, and
+were full two miles on their road before a word was uttered by either.
+
+“What was it her Ladyship said about Thursday next, at dinner?” asked
+the doctor, half pettishly.
+
+“Nothing to me, papa.”
+
+“If I remember, it was that we had accepted the invitation already, and
+begging me not to forget it.”
+
+“Perhaps so,” said she, dryly.
+
+“You are usually more mindful about these matters,” said he, tartly,
+“and not so likely to forget promised festivities.”
+
+“They certainly were not promised to me,” said she, “nor, if they had
+been, should I accept of them.”
+
+“What do you mean?” said he, angrily.
+
+“Simply, papa, that it is a house I will not re-enter, that's all.”
+
+“Why, your head is turned, your brains are destroyed by flattery,
+girl. You seem totally to forget that we go to these places merely
+by courtesy,--we are received only on sufferance; we are not _their_
+equals.”
+
+“The more reason to treat us with deference, and not render our position
+more painful than it need be.”
+
+“Folly and nonsense! Deference, indeed! How much deference is due from
+eight thousand a year to a dispensary doctor, or his daughter? I 'll
+have none of these absurd notions. If they made any mistake towards you,
+it was by over-attention,--too much notice.”
+
+“That is very possible, papa; and it was not always very flattering for
+that reason.”
+
+“Why, what is your head full of? Do you fancy you are one of Lord
+Carricklough's daughters, eh?”
+
+“No, papa; for they are shockingly freckled, and very plain.”
+
+“Do you know your real station?” cried he, more angrily, “and that if,
+by the courtesy of society, my position secures acceptance anywhere, it
+entails nothing--positively nothing--to those belonging to me?”
+
+“Such being the case, is it not wise of us not to want anything,--not to
+look for it,--not to pine after it? You shall see, papa, whether I fret
+over my exclusion from Cobham.”
+
+The doctor was not in a mood to approve of such philosophy, and he drove
+on, only showing--by an extra cut of his whip--the tone and temper that
+beset him.
+
+“You are to have a visit from Captain Stapylton tomorrow, papa?” said
+she, in the manner of a half question.
+
+“Who told you so?” said he, with a touch of eagerness in his voice;
+for suddenly it occurred to him if Polly knew of this appointment, she
+herself might be interested in its object.
+
+“He asked me what was the most likely time to find you at home, and also
+if he might venture to hope he should be presented to mamma.”
+
+That was, as the doctor thought, a very significant speech; it might
+mean a great deal,--a very great deal, indeed; and so he turned it over
+and over in his mind for some time before he spoke again. At last he
+said,--
+
+“I haven't a notion what he's coming about, Polly,--have you?”
+
+“No, sir; except, perhaps, it be to consult you. He told me he had
+sprained his arm, or his shoulder, the other day, when his horse
+swerved.”
+
+“Oh no, it can't be that, Polly; it can't be that.”
+
+“Why not the pleasure of a morning call, then? He is an idle man, and
+finds time heavy on his hands.”
+
+A short “humph” showed that this explanation was not more successful
+than the former, and the doctor, rather irritated with this game of
+fence, for so he deemed it, said bluntly,--
+
+“Has he been showing you any marked attentions of late? Have you noticed
+anything peculiar in his manner towards you?”
+
+“Nothing whatever, sir,” said she, with a frank boldness. “He has
+chatted and flirted with me, just as every one else presumes he has a
+right to do with a girl in a station below their own; but he has never
+been more impertinent in this way than any other young man of fashion.”
+
+“But there have been”--he was sorely puzzled for the word he wanted, and
+it was only as a resource, not out of choice, he said--“attentions?”
+
+“Of course, papa, what many would call in the cognate phrase, marked
+attentions; but girls who go into the world as I do no more mistake what
+these mean than would you yourself, papa, if passingly asked what was
+good for a sore-throat fancy that the inquirer intended to fee you.”
+
+“I see, Polly, I see,” muttered he, as the illustration came home to
+him. Still, after ruminating for some time, a change seemed to come over
+his thoughts, for he said,--
+
+“But you might be wrong this time, Polly: it is by no means impossible
+that you might be wrong.”
+
+“My dear papa,” said she, gravely, “when a man of his rank is disposed
+to think seriously of a girl in mine, he does not begin by flattery;
+he rather takes the line of correction and warning, telling her fifty
+little platitudes about trifles in manner, and so forth, by her docile
+acceptance of which he conceives a high notion of _himself_, and a half
+liking for _her_. But I have no need to go into these things; enough if
+I assure you Captain Stapylton's visit has no concern for me; he either
+comes out of pure idleness, or he wants to make use of _you_.”
+
+The last words opened a new channel to Dill's thoughts, and he drove on
+in silent meditation over them.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX. THE HOUR OF LUNCHEON
+
+If there be a special agreeability about all the meal-times of a
+pleasant country-house, there is not one of them which, in the charm
+of an easy, unconstrained gayety, can rival the hour of luncheon. At
+breakfast, one is too fresh; at dinner, too formal; but luncheon, like
+an opening manhood, is full of its own bright projects. The plans of the
+day have already reached a certain maturity, and fixtures have been made
+for riding-parties, or phaeton drives, or flirtations in the garden. The
+very strangers who looked coldly at each other over their morning papers
+have shaken into a semi-intimacy, and little traits of character and
+temperament, which would have been studiously shrouded in the more
+solemn festivals of the day, are now displayed with a frank and fearless
+confidence. The half-toilette and the tweed coat, mutton broth and
+“Balmorals,” seem infinitely more congenial to acquaintanceship than
+the full-blown splendor of evening dress and the grander discipline of
+dinner.
+
+Irish social life permits of a practice of which I do not, while
+recording, constitute myself the advocate or the apologist,--a sort
+of good-tempered banter called quizzing,--a habit I scarcely believe
+practicable in other lands; that is, I know of no country where it could
+be carried on as harmlessly and as gracefully, where as much wit could
+be expended innocuously, as little good feeling jeopardized in the
+display. The happiest hour of the day for such passages as these was
+that of luncheon, and it was in the very clash and clatter of the combat
+that a servant announced the Attorney-General!
+
+What a damper did the name prove! Short of a bishop himself, no
+announcement could have spread more terror over the younger members
+of the company, embodying as it seemed to do all that could be
+inquisitorial, intolerant, and overbearing. Great, however, was
+the astonishment to see, instead of the stern incarnation of Crown
+prosecutions and arbitrary commitments, a tall, thin, slightly stooped
+man, dressed in a gray shooting-jacket, and with a hat plentifully
+garnished with fishing-flies. He came lightly into the room, and kissed
+the hand of his hostess with a mixture of cordiality and old-fashioned
+gallantry that became him well.
+
+“My old luck, Cobham!” said he, as he seated himself at table. “I have
+fished the stream all the way from the Red House to this, and never so
+much as a rise to reward me.
+
+“They knew you,--they knew you, Withering,” chirped out the Poet, “and
+they took good care not to put in an appearance, with the certainty of a
+'detainer.'”
+
+“Ah! you here! That decanter of sherry screened you completely from my
+view,” said Withering, whose sarcasm on his size touched the very sorest
+of the other's susceptibilities. “And talking of recognizances,
+how comes it you are here, and a large party at Lord Dunraney's all
+assembled to meet you?”
+
+The Poet, as not infrequent with him, had forgotten everything of this
+prior engagement, and was now overwhelmed with his forgetfulness. The
+ladies, however, pressed eagerly around him with consolation so like
+caresses, that he was speedily himself again.
+
+“How natural a mistake, after all!” said the lawyer. “The old song
+says,--
+
+     'Tell me where beauty and wit and wine
+     Are met, and I 'll say where I 'm asked to dine.'
+
+Ah! Tommy, yours _is_ the profession, after all; always sure of your
+retainer, and never but one brief to sustain--'T. M. _versus_ the Heart
+of Woman.'”
+
+“One is occasionally nonsuited, however,” said the other, half
+pettishly. “By the way, how was it you got that verdict for old
+Barrington t'other day? Was it true that Plowden got hold of _your_ bag
+by mistake?”
+
+“Not only that, but he made a point for us none of us had discovered.”
+
+“How historical the blunder:--
+
+     'The case is classical, as I and you know;
+     He came from Venus, but made love to Juno.'”
+
+“If Peter Barrington gained his cause by it I 'm heartily rejoiced, and
+I wish him health and years to enjoy it.” The Admiral said this with a
+cordial good will as he drank off his glass.
+
+“He's all right again,” said Withering. “I left him working away with
+a hoe and a rake this morning, looking as hale and hearty as he did a
+dozen years ago.”
+
+“A man must have really high deserts in whose good fortune so many are
+well-wishers,” said Stapylton; and by the courteous tone of the remark
+Withering's attention was attracted, and he speedily begged the Admiral
+to present him to his guest. They continued to converse together as
+they arose from table, and with such common pleasure that when Withering
+expressed a hope the acquaintance might not end there, Stapylton replied
+by a request that he would allow him to be his fellow-traveller to
+Kilkenny, whither he was about to go on a regimental affair. The
+arrangement was quickly made, to the satisfaction of each; and as they
+drove away, while many bewailed the departure of such pleasant members
+of the party, the little Poet simperingly said,--
+
+     “Shall I own that my heart is relieved of a care?--
+     Though you 'll think the confession is petty--
+     I cannot but feel, as I look on the pair,
+     It is 'Peebles' gone off with 'Dalgetty.'”
+
+As for the fellow-travellers, they jogged along very pleasantly on their
+way, as two consummate men of the world are sure to do when they meet.
+For what Freemasonry equals that of two shrewd students of life? How
+flippantly do they discuss each theme! how easily read each character,
+and unravel each motive that presents itself! What the lawyer gained by
+the technical subtlety of his profession, the soldier made up for by
+his wider experience of mankind. There were, besides, a variety of
+experiences to exchange. Toga could tell of much that interested the
+“man of war,” and he, in turn, made himself extremely agreeable by his
+Eastern information, not to say, that he was able to give a correct
+version of many Hindostanee phrases and words which the old lawyer
+eagerly desired to acquire.
+
+“All you have been telling me has a strong interest for me, Captain
+Stapylton,” said he, as they drove into Kilkenny. “I have a case which
+has engaged my attention for years, and is likely to occupy what remains
+to me of life,--a suit of which India is the scene, and Orientals figure
+as some of the chief actors,--so that I can scarcely say how fortunate I
+feel this chance meeting with you.”
+
+“I shall deem myself greatly honored if the acquaintance does not end
+here.”
+
+“It shall not, if it depend upon me,” said Withering, cordially. “You
+said something of a visit you were about to make to Dublin. Will you do
+me a great--a very great--favor, and make my house your home while you
+stay? This is my address: '18 Merrion Square.' It is a bachelor's hall;
+and you can come and go without ceremony.”
+
+“The plan is too tempting to hesitate about. I accept your invitation
+with all the frankness you have given it. Meanwhile you will be my guest
+here.” “'That is impossible. I must start for Cork this evening.” And
+now they parted,--not like men who had been strangers a few hours back,
+but like old acquaintances, only needing the occasion to feel as old
+friends.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX. AN INTERIOR AT THE DOCTOR'S
+
+When Captain Stapylton made his appointment to wait on Dr. Dill, he was
+not aware that the Attorney-General was expected at Cobham. No sooner,
+however, had he learned that fact than he changed his purpose, and
+intimated his intention of running up for a day to Kilkenny, to hear
+what was going on in the regiment. No regret for any disappointment he
+might be giving to the village doctor, no self-reproach for the breach
+of an engagement--all of his own making--crossed his mind. It is,
+indeed, a theme for a moralist to explore, the ease with which a certain
+superiority in station can divest its possessor of all care for the
+sensibilities of those below him; and yet in the little household of
+the doctor that promised visit was the source of no small discomfort and
+trouble. The doctor's study--the sanctum in which the interview should
+be held--had to be dusted and smartened up. Old boots, and
+overcoats, and smashed driving-whips, and odd stirrup-leathers, and
+stable-lanterns, and garden implements had all to be banished. The
+great table in front of the doctor's chair had also to be professionally
+littered with notes and cards and periodicals, not forgetting an
+ingenious admixture of strange instruments of torture, quaint screws,
+and inscrutable-looking scissors, destined, doubtless, to make many a
+faint heart the fainter in their dread presence. All these details
+had to be carried out in various ways through the rest of the
+establishment,--in the drawing-room, wherein the great man was to be
+ushered; in the dining-room, where he was to lunch. Upon Polly did the
+greater part of these cares devolve; not alone attending to the due
+disposal of chairs and sofas and tables, but to the preparation of
+certain culinary delicacies, which were to make the Captain forget the
+dainty luxuries of Cobham. And, in truth, there is a marvellous _esprit
+du corps_ in the way a woman will fag and slave herself to make the
+humble household she belongs to look its best, even to the very guest
+she has least at heart; for Polly did not like Stapylton. Flattered
+at first by his notice, she was offended afterwards at the sort of
+conscious condescension of his manner,--a something which seemed to
+say, I can be charming, positively fascinating, but don't imagine for
+a moment that there is anything especial in it. I captivate--just as I
+fish, hunt, sketch, or shoot--to amuse myself. And with all this, how
+was it he was really not a coxcomb? Was it the grave dignity of his
+address, or the quiet state-liness of his person, or was it a certain
+uniformity, a keeping, that pervaded all he said or did? I am not quite
+sure whether all three did not contribute to this end, and make him what
+the world confessed,--a most well-bred gentleman.
+
+Polly was, in her way, a shrewd observer, and she felt that Stapylton's
+manner towards her was that species of urbane condescension with which a
+great master of a game deigns to play with a very humble proficient. He
+moved about the board with an assumption that said, I can checkmate you
+when I will! Now this is hard enough to bear when the pieces at stake
+are stained ivory, but it is less endurable: still when they are our
+emotions and our wishes. And yet with all this before her, Polly ordered
+and arranged and superintended and directed with an energy that never
+tired, and an activity that never relaxed.
+
+As for Mrs. Dill, no similar incident in the life of Clarissa had
+prepared her for the bustle and preparation she saw on every side, and
+she was fairly perplexed between the thought of a seizure for rent and
+a fire,--casualties which, grave as they were, she felt she could meet
+with Mr. Richardson beside her. The doctor himself was unusually fidgety
+and anxious. Perhaps he ascribed considerable importance to this visit;
+perhaps he thought Polly had not been candid with him, and that, in
+reality, she knew more of its object than she had avowed; and so he
+walked hurriedly from room to room, and out into the garden, and across
+the road to the river's side, and once as far as the bridge, consulting
+his watch, and calculating that as it now only wanted eight minutes of
+two o'clock, the arrival could scarcely be long delayed.
+
+It was on his return he entered the drawing-room and found Polly, now
+plainly but becomingly dressed, seated at her work, with a seeming
+quietude and repose about her, strangely at variance with her late
+display of activity. “I 've had a look down the Graigue Road,” said he,
+“but can see nothing. You are certain he said two o'clock?”
+
+“Quite certain, sir.”
+
+“To be sure he might come by the river; there's water enough now for the
+Cobham barge.”
+
+She made no answer, though she half suspected some reply was expected.
+
+“And of course,” continued the doctor, “they'd have offered him the use
+of it. They seem to make a great deal of him up there.”
+
+“A great deal, indeed, sir,” said she; but in a voice that was a mere
+echo of his own.
+
+“And I suspect they know why. I 'm sure they know why. People in their
+condition make no mistakes about each other; and if he receives much
+attention, it is because it's his due.”
+
+No answer followed this speech, and he walked feverishly up and down the
+room, holding his watch in his closed hand. “I have a notion you must
+have mistaken him. It was not two he said.”
+
+“I 'm positive it was two, sir. But it can scarcely be much past that
+hour now.”
+
+“It is seventeen minutes past two,” said he, solemnly. And then, as if
+some fresh thought had just occurred to him, asked, “Where 's Tom? I
+never saw him this morning.”
+
+“He 's gone out to take a walk, sir. The poor fellow is dead beat by
+work, and had such a headache that I told him to go as far as the Red
+House or Snow's Mill.”
+
+“And I 'll wager he did not want to be told twice. Anything for idleness
+with _him!_”
+
+“Well, papa, he is really doing his very best now. He is not naturally
+quick, and he has a bad memory, so that labor is no common toil; but his
+heart is in it, and I never saw him really anxious for success before.”
+
+“To go out to India, I suppose,” said Dill, sneeringly, “that notable
+project of the other good-for-nothing; for, except in the matter of
+fortune, there's not much to choose between them. There 's the half-hour
+striking now!”
+
+“The project has done this for him, at least,” said she, firmly,--“it
+has given him hope!”
+
+“How I like to hear about hope!” said he, with a peculiarly sarcastic
+bitterness. “I never knew a fellow worth sixpence that had that cant
+of 'hope' in his mouth! How much hope had I when I began the world! How
+much have I now?”
+
+“Don't you hope Captain Stapylton may not have forgotten his
+appointment, papa?” said she, with a quick drollery, which sparkled in
+her eye, but brought no smile to her lips.
+
+“Well, here he is at last,” said Dill, as he heard the sharp click made
+by the wicket of the little garden; and he started up, and rushed to the
+window. “May I never!” cried he, in horror, “if it isn't M'Cormick! Say
+we're out,--that I'm at Graigue,--that I won't be home till evening!”
+
+But while he was multiplying these excuses, the old Major had caught
+sight of him, and was waving his hand in salutation from below.
+“It's too late,--it's too late!” sighed Dill, bitterly; “he sees me
+now,--there's no help for it!”
+
+What benevolent and benedictory expressions were muttered below his
+breath, it is not for this history to record; but so vexed and irritated
+was he, that the Major had already entered the room ere he could compose
+his features into even a faint show of welcome.
+
+“I was down at the Dispensary,” croaked out M'Cormick, “and they told
+me you were not expected there to-day, and so I said, maybe he's ill,
+or maybe,”--and here he looked shrewdly around him,--“maybe there 's
+something going on up at the house.”
+
+“What should there be going on, as you call it?” responded Dill,
+angrily, for he was now at home, in presence of the family, and could
+not compound for that tone of servile acquiescence he employed on
+foreign service.
+
+“And, faix, I believe I was right; Miss Polly isn't so smart this
+morning for nothing, no more than the saving cover is off the sofa, and
+the piece of gauze taken down from before the looking-glass, and the
+'Times' newspaper away from the rug!”
+
+“Are there any other domestic changes you 'd like to remark upon, Major
+M'Cormick?” said Dill, pale with rage.
+
+“Indeed, yes,” rejoined the other; “there 's yourself, in the elegant
+black coat that I never saw since Lord Kilraney's funeral, and looking
+pretty much as lively and pleasant as you did at the ceremony.”
+
+“A gentleman has made an appointment with papa,” broke in Polly, “and
+may be here at any moment.”
+
+“I know who it is,” said M'Cormick, with a finger on the side of his
+nose to imply intense cunning. “I know all about it.”
+
+“What do you know?--what do you mean by all about it?” said Dill, with
+an eagerness he could not repress.
+
+“Just as much as yourselves,--there now! Just as much as yourselves!”
+ said he, sententiously.
+
+“But apparently, Major, you know far more,” said Polly.
+
+“Maybe I do, maybe I don't; but I 'll tell you one thing, Dill, for
+your edification, and mind me if I 'm not right: you 're all mistaken
+about him, every one of ye!”
+
+“Whom are you talking of?” asked the doctor, sternly.
+
+“Just the very man you mean yourself, and no other! Oh, you need n't
+fuss and fume, I don't want to pry into your family secrets. Not that
+they 'll be such secrets tomorrow or next day,--the whole town will be
+talking of them,--but as an old friend that could, maybe, give a word of
+advice--”
+
+“Advice about what? Will you just tell me about what?” cried Dill, now
+bursting with anger.
+
+“I 've done now. Not another word passes my lips about it from this
+minute. Follow your own road, and see where it will lead ye?”
+
+“Cannot you understand, Major M'Cormick, that we are totally unable to
+guess what you allude to? Neither papa nor I have the very faintest clew
+to your meaning, and if you really desire to serve us, you will speak
+out plainly.”
+
+“Not another syllable, if I sat here for two years!”
+
+The possibility of such an infliction seemed so terrible to poor Polly
+that she actually shuddered as she heard it.
+
+“Is n't that your mother I see sitting up there, with all the fine
+ribbons in her cap?” whispered M'Cormick, as he pointed to a small room
+which opened off an angle of the larger one. “That 's 'the boodoo,' is
+n't it?” said he, with a grin. This, I must inform my reader, was the
+M'Cormick for “boudoir.” “Well, I'll go and pay my respects to her.”
+
+So little interest did Mrs. Dill take in the stir and movement around
+her that the Major utterly failed in his endeavors to torture her by all
+his covert allusions and ingeniously drawn inferences. No matter what
+hints he dropped or doubts he suggested, _she_ knew “Clarissa” would
+come well out of her trials; and beyond a little unmeaning simper, and a
+muttered “To be sure,” “No doubt of it,” and, “Why not?” M'Cormick could
+obtain nothing from her.
+
+Meanwhile, in the outer room the doctor continued to stride up and
+down with impatience, while Polly sat quietly working on, not the less
+anxious, perhaps, though her peaceful air betokened a mind at rest.
+
+“That must be a boat, papa,” said she, without lifting her head, “that
+has just come up to the landing-place. I heard the plash of the oars,
+and now all is still again.”
+
+“You 're right; so it is!” cried he, as he stopped before the window.
+“But how is this! That 's a lady I see yonder, and a gentleman along
+with her. That's not Stapylton, surely!”
+
+“He is scarcely so tall,” said she, rising to look out, “but not very
+unlike him. But the lady, papa,--the lady is Miss Barrington.”
+
+Bad as M'Cormick's visit was, it was nothing to the possibility of such
+an advent as this, and Dill's expressions of anger were now neither
+measured nor muttered.
+
+“This is to be a day of disasters. I see it well, and no help for it,”
+ exclaimed he, passionately. “If there was one human being I 'd hate to
+come here this morning, it's that old woman! She's never civil. She's
+not commonly decent in her manner towards me in her own house, and what
+she 'll be in mine, is clean beyond me to guess. That's herself! There
+she goes! Look at her remarking,--I see, she's remarking on the weeds
+over the beds, and the smashed paling. She's laughing too! Oh, to be
+sure, it's fine laughing at people that's poor; and she might know
+something of that same herself. I know who the man is now. That 's
+the Colonel, who came to the 'Fisherman's Home' on the night of the
+accident.”
+
+“It would seem we are to hold a levee to-day,” said Polly, giving a very
+fleeting glance at herself in the glass. And now a knock came to the
+door, and the man who acted gardener and car-driver and valet to the
+doctor announced that Miss Barrington and Colonel Hunter were below.
+
+“Show them up,” said Dill, with the peremptory voice of one ordering
+a very usual event, and intentionally loud enough to be heard below
+stairs.
+
+If Polly's last parting with Miss Barrington gave little promise of
+pleasure to their next meeting, the first look she caught of the old
+lady on entering the room dispelled all uneasiness on that score. Miss
+Dinah entered with a pleasing smile, and presented her friend, Colonel
+Hunter, as one come to thank the doctor for much kindness to his young
+subaltern. “Whom, by the way,” added he, “we thought to find here. It is
+only since we landed that we learned he had left the inn for Kilkenny.”
+
+While the Colonel continued to talk to the doctor, Miss Dinah had seated
+herself On the sofa, with Polly at her side.
+
+“My visit this morning is to you,” said she. “I have come to ask your
+forgiveness. Don't interrupt me, child; your forgiveness was the very
+word I used. I was very rude to you t' other morning, and being all in
+the wrong,--like most people in such circumstances,--I was very angry
+with the person who placed me so.”
+
+“But, my dear madam,” said Polly, “you had such good reason to suppose
+you were in the right that this _amende_ on your part is far too
+generous.”
+
+“It is not at all generous,--it is simply just. I was sorely vexed with
+you about that stupid wager, which you were very wrong to have had any
+share in; vexed with your father, vexed with your brother,--not that I
+believed his counsel would have been absolute wisdom,--and I was even
+vexed with my young friend Conyers, because he had not the bad taste
+to be as angry with you as I was. When I was a young lady,” said she,
+bridling up, and looking at once haughty and defiant, “no man would have
+dared to approach me with such a proposal as complicity in a wager. But
+I am told that my ideas are antiquated, and the world has grown much
+wiser since that day.”
+
+“Nay, madam,” said Polly, “but there is another difference that your
+politeness has prevented you from appreciating. I mean the difference in
+station between Miss Barrington and Polly Dill.”
+
+It was a well-directed shot, and told powerfully, for Miss Barrington's
+eyes became clouded, and she turned her head away, while she pressed
+Polly's hand within her own with a cordial warmth. “Ah!” said she,
+feelingly, “I hope there are many points of resemblance between us. I
+have always tried to be a good sister. I know well what you have been to
+your brother.”
+
+A very jolly burst of laughter from the inner room, where Hunter had
+already penetrated, broke in upon them, and the merry tones of his voice
+were heard saying, “Take my word for it, madam, nobody could spare time
+nowadays to make love in nine volumes. Life 's too short for it. Ask my
+old brother-officer here if he could endure such a thirty years' war; or
+rather let me turn here for an opinion. What does your daughter say on
+the subject?”
+
+“Ay, ay,” croaked out M'Cormick. “Marry in haste--”
+
+“Or repent that you did n't. That 's the true reading of the adage.”
+
+“The Major would rather apply leisure to the marriage, and make the
+repentance come--”
+
+“As soon as possible afterwards,” said Miss Dinah, tartly.
+
+“Faix, I 'll do better still; I won't provoke the repentance at all.”
+
+“Oh, Major, is it thus you treat me?” said Polly, affecting to wipe her
+eyes. “Are my hopes to be dashed thus cruelly?”
+
+But the doctor, who knew how savagely M'Cormick could resent even the
+most harmless jesting, quickly interposed, with a question whether Polly
+had thought of ordering luncheon.
+
+It is but fair to Dr. Dill to record the bland but careless way he
+ordered some entertainment for his visitors. He did it like the lord of
+a well-appointed household, who, when he said “serve,” they served.
+It was in the easy confidence of one whose knowledge told him that the
+train was laid, and only waited for the match to explode it.
+
+“May I have the honor, dear lady?” said he, offering his arm to Miss
+Barrington.
+
+Now, Miss Dinah had just observed that she had various small matters
+to transact in the village, and was about to issue forth for their
+performance; but such is the force of a speciality, that she could not
+tear herself away without a peep into the dining-room, and a glance, at
+least, at arrangements that appeared so magically conjured up. Nor was
+Dill insensible to the astonishment expressed in her face as her eyes
+ranged over the table.
+
+“If your daughter be your housekeeper, Dr. Dill,” said she, in a
+whisper, “I must give her my very heartiest approbation. These are
+matters I can speak of with authority, and I pronounce her worthy of
+high commendation.”
+
+“What admirable salmon cutlets!” cried the Colonel. “Why, doctor, these
+tell of a French cook.”
+
+“There she is beside you, the French cook!” said the Major, with a
+malicious twinkle.
+
+“Yes,” said Polly, smiling, though with a slight flush on her face, “if
+Major M'Cormick will be indiscreet enough to tell tales, let us hope
+they will never be more damaging in their import.”
+
+“And do you say--do you mean to tell me that this curry is your
+handiwork? Why, this is high art.”
+
+“Oh, she 's artful enough, if it 's that ye 're wanting,” muttered the
+Major.
+
+Miss Barrington, having apparently satisfied the curiosity she felt
+about the details of the doctor's housekeeping, now took her leave, not,
+however, without Dr. Dill offering his arm on one side, while Polly,
+with polite observance, walked on the other.
+
+“Look at that now,” whispered the Major. “They 're as much afraid of
+that old woman as if she were the Queen of Sheba! And all because she
+was once a fine lady living at Barrington Hall.”
+
+“Here's their health for it,” said the Colonel, filling his glass,--“and
+in a bumper too! By the way,” added he, looking around, “does not Mrs.
+Dill lunch with us?”
+
+“Oh, she seldom comes to her meals! She's a little touched here.” And he
+laid his finger on the centre of his forehead. “And, indeed, no wonder
+if she is.” The benevolent Major was about to give some details of
+secret family history, when the doctor and his daughter returned to the
+room.
+
+The Colonel ate and talked untiringly. He was delighted with everything,
+and charmed with himself for his good luck in chancing upon such
+agreeable people. He liked the scenery, the village, the beetroot salad,
+the bridge, the pickled oysters, the evergreen oaks before the door.
+He was not astonished Conyers should linger on such a spot; and then it
+suddenly occurred to him to ask when he had left the village, and how.
+
+The doctor could give no information on the point, and while he was
+surmising one thing and guessing another, M'Cormick whispered in the
+Colonel's ear, “Maybe it's a delicate point. How do you know what went
+on with--” And a significant nod towards Polly finished the remark.
+
+“I wish I heard what Major M'Cormick has just said,” said Polly.
+
+“And it is exactly what I cannot repeat to you.”
+
+“I suspected as much. So that my only request will be that you never
+remember it.”
+
+“Isn't she sharp!--sharp as a needle!” chimed in the Major.
+
+Checking, and not without some effort, a smart reprimand on the last
+speaker, the Colonel looked hastily at his watch, and arose from table.
+
+“Past three o'clock, and to be in Kilkenny by six.”
+
+“Do you want a car? There's one of Rice's men now in the village; shall
+I get him for you?”
+
+“Would you really do me the kindness?” While the Major bustled off
+on his errand, the Colonel withdrew the doctor inside the recess of a
+window. “I had a word I wished to say to you in private, Dr. Dill; but
+it must really be in private,--you understand me?”
+
+“Strictly confidential, Colonel Hunter,” said Dill, bowing.
+
+“It is this: a young officer of mine, Lieutenant Conyers, has written
+to me a letter mentioning a plan he had conceived for the future
+advancement of your son, a young gentleman for whom, it would appear,
+he had formed a sudden but strong attachment. His project was, as I
+understand it, to accredit him to his father with such a letter as must
+secure the General's powerful influence in his behalf. Just the sort of
+thing a warm-hearted young fellow would think of doing for a friend he
+determined to serve, but exactly the kind of proceeding that might have
+a very unfortunate ending. I can very well imagine, from my own short
+experience here, that your son's claims to notice and distinction may be
+the very highest; I can believe readily what very little extraneous aid
+he would require to secure his success; but you and I are old men of the
+world, and are bound to look at things cautiously, and to ask, 'Is this
+scheme a very safe one?' 'Will General Conyers enter as heartily into
+it as his son?' 'Will the young surgeon be as sure to captivate the old
+soldier as the young one?' In a word, would it be quite wise to set a
+man's whole venture in life on such a cast, and is it the sort of risk
+that, with your experience of the world, you would sanction?”
+
+It was evident, from the pause the Colonel left after these words, that
+he expected Dill to say something; but, with the sage reserve of his
+order, the doctor stood still, and never uttered a syllable. Let us be
+just to his acuteness, he never did take to the project from the first;
+he thought ill of it, in every way, but yet he did not relinquish the
+idea of making the surrender of it “conditional;” and so he slowly
+shook his head with an air of doubt, and smoothly rolled his hands
+one over the other, as though to imply a moment of hesitation and
+indecision.
+
+“Yes, yes,” muttered he, talking only to himself,--“disappointment, to
+be sure!--very great disappointment too! And his heart so set upon it,
+that's the hardship.”
+
+“Naturally enough,” broke in Hunter, hastily. “Who would n't be
+disappointed under such circumstances? Better even that, however,
+than utter failure later on.” The doctor sighed, but over what precise
+calamity was not so clear; and Hunter continued,--
+
+“Now, as I have made this communication to you in strictest confidence,
+and not in any concert with Conyers, I only ask you to accept the view
+as a mere matter of opinion. I think you would be wrong to suffer your
+son to engage in such a venture. That's all I mean by my interference,
+and I have done.”
+
+Dill was, perhaps, scarcely prepared for the sudden summing up of the
+Colonel, and looked strangely puzzled and embarrassed.
+
+“Might I talk the matter over with my daughter Polly? She has a good
+head for one so little versed in the world.”
+
+“By all means. It is exactly what I would have proposed. Or, better
+still, shall I repeat what I have just told you?”
+
+“Do so,” said the doctor, “for I just remember Miss Barrington will call
+here in a few moments for that medicine I have ordered for her brother,
+and which is not yet made up.”
+
+“Give me five minutes of your time and attention, Miss Dill,” said
+Hunter, “on a point for which your father has referred me to your
+counsel.”
+
+“To mine?”
+
+“Yes,” said he, smiling at her astonishment. “We want your quick
+faculties to come to the aid of our slow ones. And here's the case.” And
+in a few sentences he put the matter before her, as he had done to her
+father. While he thus talked, they had strolled out into the garden, and
+walked slowly side by side down one of the alleys.
+
+“Poor Tom!--poor fellow!” was all that Polly said, as she listened; but
+once or twice her handkerchief was raised to her eyes, and her chest
+heaved heavily.
+
+“I am heartily sorry for him--that is, if his heart be bent on it--if he
+really should have built upon the scheme already.”
+
+“Of course he has, sir. You don't suppose that in such lives as ours
+these are common incidents? If we chance upon a treasure, or fancy that
+we have, once in a whole existence, it is great fortune.”
+
+“It was a brief, a very brief acquaintance,--a few hours, I believe.
+The--What was that? Did you hear any one cough there?”
+
+“No, sir; we are quite alone. There is no one in the garden but
+ourselves.”
+
+“So that, as I was saying, the project could scarcely have taken a very
+deep root, and--and--in fact, better the first annoyance than a mistake
+that should give its color to a whole lifetime. I'm certain I heard a
+step in that walk yonder.”
+
+“No, sir; we are all alone.”
+
+“I half wish I had never come on this same errand. I have done an
+ungracious thing, evidently very ill, and with the usual fate of those
+who say disagreeable things, I am involved in the disgrace I came to
+avert.”
+
+“But I accept your view.”
+
+“There! I knew there was some one there!” said Hunter, springing across
+a bed and coming suddenly to the side of M'Cormick, who was affecting to
+be making a nosegay.
+
+“The car is ready at the door, Colonel,” said he, in some confusion.
+“Maybe you 'd oblige me with a seat as far as Lyrath?”
+
+“Yes, yes; of course. And how late it is!” cried he, looking at his
+watch. “Time does fly fast in these regions, no doubt of it.”
+
+“You see, Miss Polly, you have made the Colonel forget himself,” said
+M'Cormick, maliciously.
+
+“Don't be severe on an error so often your own, Major M'Cormick,” said
+she, fiercely, and turned away into the house.
+
+The Colonel, however, was speedily at her side, and in an earnest voice
+said: “I could hate myself for the impression I am leaving behind me
+here. I came with those excellent intentions which so often make a
+man odious, and I am going away with those regrets which follow all
+failures; but I mean to come back again one of these days, and erase, if
+I can, the ill impression.”
+
+“One who has come out of his way to befriend those who had no claim upon
+his kindness can have no fear for the estimation he will be held in;
+for my part, I thank you heartily, even though I do not exactly see the
+direct road out of this difficulty.”
+
+“Let me write to you. One letter--only one,” said Hunter.
+
+But M'Cormick had heard the request, and she flushed up with anger at
+the malicious glee his face exhibited.
+
+“You 'll have to say my good-byes for me to your father, for I am sorely
+pressed for time; and, even as it is, shall be late for my appointment
+in Kilkenny.” And before Polly could do more than exchange his cordial
+shake hands, he was gone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI. DARK TIDINGS
+
+If I am not wholly without self-reproach when I bring my reader into
+uncongenial company, and make him pass time with Major M'Cormick he had
+far rather bestow upon a pleasanter companion, I am sustained by the
+fact--unpalatable fact though it be--that the highway of life is not
+always smooth, nor its banks flowery, and that, as an old Derry woman
+once remarked to me, “It takes a' kind o' folk to mak' a world.”
+
+Now, although Colonel Hunter did drive twelve weary miles of road with
+the Major for a fellow-traveller,--thanks to that unsocial conveniency
+called an Irish jaunting-car,--they rode back to back, and conversed
+but little. One might actually believe that unpopular men grow to feel
+a sort of liking for their unpopularity, and become at length delighted
+with the snubbings they meet with, as though an evidence of the amount
+of that discomfort they can scatter over the world at large; just, in
+fact, as a wasp or a scorpion might have a sort of triumphant joy in the
+consciousness of its power for mischief, and exult in the terror caused
+by its vicinity.
+
+“Splendid road--one of the best I ever travelled on,” said the Colonel,
+after about ten miles, during which he smoked on without a word.
+
+“Why wouldn't it be, when they can assess the county for it? They're on
+the Grand Jury, and high up, all about here,” croaked out the Major.
+
+“It is a fine country, and abounds in handsome places.” “And well
+mortgaged, too, the most of them.” “You 'd not see better farming than
+that in Norfolk, cleaner wheat or neater drills; in fact, one might
+imagine himself in England.”
+
+“So he might, for the matter of taxes. I don't see much difference.”
+
+“Why don't you smoke? Things look pleasanter through the blue haze of a
+good Havannah,” said Hunter, smiling.
+
+“I don't want them to look pleasanter than they are,” was the dry
+rejoinder.
+
+Whether Hunter did or did not, he scarcely liked his counsellor, and,
+re-lighting a cigar, he turned his back once more on him.
+
+“I'm one of those old-fashioned fellows,” continued the Major, leaning
+over towards his companion, “who would rather see things as they are,
+not as they might be; and when I remarked you awhile ago so pleased with
+the elegant luncheon and Miss Polly's talents for housekeeping, I was
+laughing to myself over it all.”
+
+“How do you mean? What did you laugh at?” said Hunter, half fiercely.
+
+“Just at the way you were taken in, that's all.”
+
+“Taken in?--taken in? A very strange expression for an hospitable
+reception and a most agreeable visit.”
+
+“Well, it's the very word for it, after all; for as to the hospitable
+reception, it was n't meant for us, but for that tall Captain,--the
+dark-complexioned fellow,--Staples, I think they call him.”
+
+“Captain Stapylton?”
+
+“Yes, that's the man. He ordered Healey's car to take him over here; and
+I knew when the Dills sent over to Mrs. Brierley for a loan of the two
+cut decanters and the silver cruet-stand, something was up; and so I
+strolled down, by way of--to reconnoitre the premises, and see what old
+Dill was after.”
+
+“Well, and then?”
+
+“Just that I saw it all,--the elegant luncheon, and the two bottles of
+wine, and the ginger cordials, all laid out for the man that never
+came; for it would seem he changed his mind about it, and went back to
+head-quarters.”
+
+“You puzzle me more and more at every word. What change of mind do you
+allude to? What purpose do you infer he had in coming over here to-day?”
+
+The only answer M'Cormick vouchsafed to this was by closing one eye and
+putting his finger significantly to the tip of his nose, while he said,
+“Catch a weasel asleep!”
+
+“I more than suspect,” said Hunter, sternly, “that this half-pay life
+works badly for a man's habits, and throws him upon very petty and
+contemptible modes of getting through his time. What possible business
+could it be of yours to inquire why Stapylton came, or did not come here
+to-day, no more than for the reason of _my_ visit?”
+
+“Maybe I could guess that, too, if I was hard pushed,” said M'Cormick,
+whose tone showed no unusual irritation from the late rebuke. “I was in
+the garden all the time, and heard everything.”
+
+“Listened to what I was saying to Miss Dill!” cried Hunter, whose voice
+of indignation could not now be mistaken.
+
+“Every word of it,” replied the unabashed Major. “I heard all you said
+about a short acquaintance--a few hours you called it--but that your
+heart was bent upon it, all the same. And then you went on about India;
+what an elegant place it was, and the fine pay and the great allowances.
+And ready enough she was to believe it all, for I suppose she was
+sworn at Highgate, and would n't take the Captain if she could get the
+Colonel.”
+
+By this time, and not an instant earlier, it flashed upon Hunter's mind
+that M'Cormick imagined he had overheard a proposal of marriage; and
+so amused was he by the blunder, that he totally drowned his anger in a
+hearty burst of laughter.
+
+“I hope that, as an old brother-officer, you 'll be discreet, at all
+events,” said he, at last. “You have not come by the secret quite
+legitimately, and I trust you will preserve it.”
+
+“My hearing is good, and my eyesight too, and I mean to use them both as
+long as they 're spared to me.”
+
+“It was your tongue that I referred to,” said Hunter, more gravely.
+
+“Ay, I know it was,” said the Major, crankily. “My tongue will take care
+of itself also.”
+
+“In order to make its task the easier, then,” said Hunter, speaking in
+a slow and serious voice, “let me tell you that your eaves-dropping
+has, for once at least, misled you. I made no proposal, such as you
+suspected, to Miss Dill. Nor did she give me the slightest encouragement
+to do so. The conversation you so unwarrantably and imperfectly
+overheard had a totally different object, and I am not at all sorry you
+should not have guessed it. So much for the past. Now one word for the
+future. Omit my name, and all that concerns me, from the narrative with
+which you amuse your friends, or, take my word for it, you 'll have
+to record more than you have any fancy for. This is strictly between
+ourselves; but if you have a desire to impart it, bear in mind that I
+shall be at my quarters in Kilkenny till Tuesday next.”
+
+“You may spend your life there, for anything I care,” said the Major.
+“Stop, Billy; pull up. I'll get down here.” And shuffling off the car,
+he muttered a “Good-day” without turning his head, and bent his steps
+towards a narrow lane that led from the high-road.
+
+[Illustration: 242]
+
+“Is this the place they call Lyrath?” asked the Colonel of the driver.
+
+“No, your honor. We're a good four miles from it yet.”
+
+The answer showed Hunter that his fellow-traveller had departed in
+anger; and such was the generosity of his nature, he found it hard not
+to overtake him and make his peace with him.
+
+“After all,” thought he, “he 's a crusty old fellow, and has hugged
+his ill-temper so long, it may be more congenial to him now than a
+pleasanter humor.” And he turned his mind to other interests that more
+closely touched him. Nor was he without cares,--heavier ones, too, than
+his happy nature had ever yet been called to deal with. There are
+few more painful situations in life than to find our advancement--the
+long-wished and strived-for promotion--achieved at the cost of some
+dearly loved friend; to know that our road to fortune had led us across
+the fallen figure of an old comrade, and that he who would have been the
+first to hail our success is already bewailing his own defeat. This was
+Hunter's lot at the present moment. He had been sent for to hear of a
+marvellous piece of good-fortune. His name and character, well known in
+India, had recommended him for an office of high trust,--the Political
+Resident of a great native court; a position not alone of power and
+influence, but as certain to secure, and within a very few years, a
+considerable fortune. It was the Governor-General who had made choice
+of him; and the Prince of Wales, in the brief interview he accorded
+him, was delighted with his frank and soldierlike manner, his natural
+cheerfulness, and high spirit. “We 're not going to unfrock you,
+Hunter,” said he, gayly, in dismissing him. “You shall have your
+military rank, and all the steps of your promotion. We only make you a
+civilian till you have saved some lacs of rupees, which is what I hear
+your predecessor has forgotten to do.”
+
+It was some time before Hunter, overjoyed as he was, even bethought him
+of asking who that predecessor was. What was his misery when he heard
+the name of Ormsby Conyers, his oldest, best friend; the man at whose
+table he had sat for years, whose confidence he had shared, whose heart
+was open to him to its last secret! “No,” said he, “this is impossible.
+Advancement at such a price has no temptation for me. I will not accept
+it” He wrote his refusal at once, not assigning any definite reasons,
+but declaring that, after much thought and consideration, he had
+decided the post was one he could not accept of. The Secretary, in
+whose province the affairs of India lay, sent for him, and, after much
+pressing and some ingenious cross-questioning, got at his reasons.
+“These may be all reasonable scruples on your part,” said he, “but they
+will avail your friend nothing. Conyers must go; for his own interest
+and character's sake, he must come home and meet the charges made
+against him, and which, from their very contradictions, we all hope to
+see him treat triumphantly: some alleging that he has amassed untold
+wealth; others that it is, as a ruined man, he has involved himself in
+the intrigues of the native rulers. All who know him say that at the
+first whisper of a charge against him he will throw up his post and come
+to England to meet his accusers. And now let me own to you that it is
+the friendship in which he held you lay one of the suggestions for your
+choice. We all felt that if a man ill-disposed or ungenerously minded to
+Conyers should go out to Agra, numerous petty and vexatious accusations
+might be forthcoming; the little local injuries and pressure, so sure to
+beget grudges, would all rise up as charges, and enemies to the fallen
+man spring up in every quarter. It is as a successor, then, you can best
+serve your friend.” I need not dwell on the force and ingenuity with
+which this view was presented; enough that I say it was successful, and
+Hunter returned to Ireland to take leave of his regiment, and prepare
+for a speedy departure to India.
+
+Having heard, in a brief note from young Conyers, his intentions
+respecting Tom Dill, Hunter had hastened off to prevent the possibility
+of such a scheme being carried out. Not wishing, however, to divulge the
+circumstances of his friend's fortune, he had in his interview with the
+doctor confined himself to arguments on the score of prudence. His next
+charge was to break to Fred the tidings of his father's troubles, and
+it was an office he shrunk from with a coward's fear. With every mile
+he went his heart grew heavier. The more he thought over the matter the
+more difficult it appeared. To treat the case lightly, might savor of
+heartlessness and levity; to approach it more seriously, might seem a
+needless severity. Perhaps, too, Conyers might have written to his son;
+he almost hoped he had, and that the first news of disaster should not
+come from him.
+
+That combination of high-heartedness and bashfulness, a blended temerity
+and timidity,--by no means an uncommon temperament,--renders a man's
+position in the embarrassments of life one of downright suffering. There
+are operators who feel the knife more sensitively than the patients. Few
+know what torments such men conceal under a manner of seeming slap-dash
+and carelessness. Hunter was of this order, and would, any day of his
+life, far rather have confronted a real peril than met a contingency
+that demanded such an address. It was, then, with a sense of relief he
+learned, on arrival at the barracks, that Conyers had gone out for
+a walk, so that there was a reprieve at least of a few hours of the
+penalty that overhung him.
+
+The trumpet-call for the mess had just sounded as Conyers gained the
+door of the Colonel's quarters, and Hunter taking Fred's arm, they
+crossed the barrack-square together.
+
+“I have a great deal to say to you, Conyers,” said he, hurriedly; “part
+of it unpleasant,--none of it, indeed, very gratifying--”
+
+“I know you are going to leave us, sir,” said Fred, who perceived the
+more than common emotion in the other's manner. “And for myself, I own I
+have no longer any desire to remain in the regiment. I might go further,
+and say no more zest for the service. It was through your friendship for
+me I learned to curb many and many promptings to resistance, and when
+_you_ go--”
+
+“I am very sorry,--very, very sorry to leave you all,” said Hunter,
+with a broken voice. “It is not every man that proudly can point to
+seven-and-twenty-years' service in a regiment without one incident to
+break the hearty cordiality that bound us. We had no bickerings, no
+petty jealousies amongst us. If a man joined us who wanted partisanship
+and a set, he soon found it better to exchange. I never expect again
+to lead the happy life I have here, and I 'd rather have led our bold
+squadrons in the field than have been a General of Division.” Who could
+have believed that he, whose eyes ran over, as he spoke these broken
+words, was, five minutes after, the gay and rattling Colonel his
+officers always saw him, full of life, spirit, and animation, jocularly
+alluding to his speedy departure, and gayly speculating on the
+comparisons that would be formed between himself and his successor? “I'm
+leaving him the horses in good condition,” said he; “and when Hargrave
+learns to give the word of command above a whisper, and Eyreton can ride
+without a backboard, he 'll scarcely report you for inefficiency.” It
+is fair to add, that the first-mentioned officer had a voice like a
+bassoon, and the second was the beau-ideal of dragoon horsemanship.
+
+It would not have consisted with military etiquette to have asked
+the Colonel the nature of his promotion, nor as to what new sphere of
+service he was called. Even the old Major, his contemporary, dared not
+have come directly to the question; and while all were eager to hear
+it, the utmost approach was by an insinuation or an innuendo. Hunter was
+known for no quality more remarkably than for his outspoken frankness,
+and some surprise was felt that in his returning thanks for his health
+being drank, not a word should escape him on this point; but the anxiety
+was not lessened by the last words he spoke. “It may be, it is more than
+likely, I shall never see the regiment again; but the sight of a hussar
+jacket or a scarlet busby will bring you all back to my memory, and you
+may rely on it, that whether around the mess-table or the bivouac fire
+my heart will be with you.”
+
+Scarcely had the cheer that greeted the words subsided, when a deep
+voice from the extreme end of the table said,--
+
+“If only a new-comer in the regiment, Colonel Hunter, I am too proud
+of my good fortune not to associate myself with the feelings of my
+comrades, and, while partaking of their deep regrets, I feel it a duty
+to contribute, if in my power, by whatever may lighten the grief of our
+loss. Am I at liberty to do so? Have I your free permission, I mean?”
+
+“I am fairly puzzled by your question, Captain Stapylton. I have not
+the very vaguest clew to your meaning, but, of course, you have my
+permission to mention whatever you deem proper.”
+
+“It is a toast I would propose, sir.”
+
+“By all means. The thing is not very regular, perhaps, but we are not
+exactly remarkable for regularity this evening. Fill, gentlemen, for
+Captain Stapylton's toast!”
+
+“Few words will propose it,” said Stapylton. “We have just drank Colonel
+Hunter's health with all the enthusiasm that befits the toast, but in
+doing so our tribute has been paid to the past; of the present and the
+future we have taken no note whatever, and it is to these I would now
+recall you. I say, therefore, bumpers to the health, happiness, and
+success of Major-General Hunter, Political Resident and Minister at the
+Court of Agra!”
+
+“No, no!” cried young Conyers, loudly, “this is a mistake. It is my
+father--it is Lieutenant-General Conyers--who resides at Agra. Am I not
+right, sir?” cried he, turning to the Colonel.
+
+But Hunter's face, pale as death even to the lips, and the agitation
+with which he grasped Fred's hand, so overcame the youth that with a
+sudden cry he sprang from his seat, and rushed out of the room. Hunter
+as quickly followed him; and now all were grouped around Stapylton,
+eagerly questioning and inquiring what his tidings might mean.
+
+“The old story, gentlemen,--the old story, with which we are all more or
+less familiar in this best of all possible worlds: General Hunter
+goes out in honor, and General Conyers comes home in--well, under a
+cloud,--of course one that he is sure and certain to dispel. I
+conclude the Colonel would rather have had his advancement under other
+circumstances; but in this game of leap-frog that we call life, we must
+occasionally jump over our friends as well as our enemies.”
+
+“How and where did you get the news?”
+
+“It came to me from town. I heard it this morning, and of course I
+imagined that the Colonel had told it to Conyers, whom it so intimately
+concerned. I hope I may not have been indiscreet in what I meant as a
+compliment.”
+
+None cared to offer their consolings to one so fully capable of
+supplying the commodity to himself, and the party broke up in twos or
+threes, moodily seeking their own quarters, and brooding gloomily over
+what they had just witnessed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII. LEAVING HOME
+
+I will ask my reader now to turn for a brief space to the “Fisherman's
+Home,” which is a scene of somewhat unusual bustle. The Barringtons are
+preparing for a journey, and old Peter's wardrobe has been displayed for
+inspection along a hedge of sweet-brier in the garden,--an arrangement
+devised by the genius of Darby, who passes up and down, with an
+expression of admiration on his face, the sincerity of which could not
+be questioned. A more reflective mind than his might have been carried
+away, at the sight to thoughts of the strange passages in the late
+history of Ireland, so curiously typified in that motley display.
+There, was the bright green dress-coat of Daly's club, recalling days of
+political excitement, and all the plottings and cabals of a once famous
+opposition. There was, in somewhat faded splendor it must be owned, a
+court suit of the Duke of Portland's day, when Irish gentlemen were as
+gorgeous as the courtiers of Versailles. Here came a grand colonel's
+uniform, when Barrington commanded a regiment of Volunteers; and yonder
+lay a friar's frock and cowl, relics of those “attic nights” with the
+Monks of the Screw, and recalling memories of Avonmore and Curran,
+and Day and Parsons; and with them were mixed hunting-coats, and
+shooting-jackets, and masonic robes, and “friendly brother” emblems,
+and long-waisted garments, and swallow-tailed affectations of all shades
+and tints,--reminders of a time when Buck Whalley was the eccentric, and
+Lord Llandaff the beau of Irish society. I am not certain that Monmouth
+Street would have endorsed Darby's sentiment as he said, “There was
+clothes there for a king on his throne!” but it was an honestly uttered
+speech, and came out of the fulness of an admiring heart, and although
+in truth he was nothing less than an historian, he was forcibly struck
+by the thought that Ireland must have been a grand country to live in,
+in those old days when men went about their ordinary avocations in such
+splendor as he saw there.
+
+[Illustration: 252]
+
+Nor was Peter Barrington himself an unmoved spectator of these old
+remnants of the past Old garments, like old letters, bring oftentimes
+very forcible memories of a long ago; and as he turned over the
+purple-stained flap of a waistcoat, he bethought him of a night at
+Daly's, when, in returning thanks for his health, his shaking hand had
+spilled that identical glass of Burgundy; and in the dun-colored tinge
+of a hunting-coat he remembered the day he had plunged into the Nore
+at Corrig O'Neal, himself and the huntsman, alone of all the field, to
+follow the dogs!
+
+“Take them away, Darby, take them away; they only set me a-thinking
+about the pleasant companions of my early life. It was in that suit
+there I moved the amendment in '82, when Henry Grattan crossed over and
+said, 'Barrington will lead us here, as he does in the hunting-field.'
+Do you see that peach-colored waistcoat? It was Lady Caher embroidered
+every stitch of it with her own hands, for me.”
+
+“Them 's elegant black satin breeches,” said Darby, whose eyes of
+covetousness were actually rooted on the object of his desire.
+
+“I never wore them,” said Barrington, with a sigh. “I got them for a
+duel with Mat Fortescue, but Sir Toby Blake shot him that morning. Poor
+Mat!”
+
+“And I suppose you'll never wear them now. You couldn't bear the sight
+then,” said Darby, insinuatingly.
+
+“Most likely not,” said Barrington, as he turned away with a heavy sigh.
+Darby sighed also, but not precisely in the same spirit.
+
+Let me passingly remark that the total unsuitability to his condition
+of any object seems rather to enhance its virtue in the eyes of a lower
+Irishman, and a hat or a coat which he could not, by any possibility,
+wear in public, might still be to him things to covet and desire.
+
+“What is the meaning of all this rag fair?” cried Miss Barrington, as
+she suddenly came in front of the exposed wardrobe. “You are not surely
+making any selections from these tawdry absurdities, brother, for your
+journey?”
+
+[Illustration: 252]
+
+“Well, indeed,” said Barrington, with a droll twinkle of his eye, “it
+was a point that Darby and I were discussing as you came up. Darby
+opines that to make a suitable impression upon the Continent, I must not
+despise the assistance of dress, and he inclines much to that Corbeau
+coat with the cherry-colored lining.”
+
+“If Darby 's an ass, brother, I don't imagine it is a good reason to
+consult him,” said she, angrily. “Put all that trash where you found it.
+Lay out your master's black clothes and the gray shooting-coat, see that
+his strong boots are in good repair, and get a serviceable lock on that
+valise.”
+
+It was little short of magic the spell these few and distinctly uttered
+words seemed to work on Darby, who at once descended from a realm of
+speculation and scheming to the commonplace world of duty and obedience.
+“I really wonder how you let yourself be imposed on, brother, by the
+assumed simplicity of that shrewd fellow.”
+
+“I like it, Dinah, I positively like it,” said he, with a smile. “I
+watch him playing the game with a pleasure almost as great as his
+own; and as I know that the stakes are small, I 'm never vexed at his
+winning.”
+
+“But you seem to forget the encouragement this impunity suggests.”
+
+“Perhaps it does, Dinah; and very likely his little rogueries are
+as much triumphs to him as are all the great political intrigues the
+glories of some grand statesman.”
+
+“Which means that you rather like to be cheated,” said she, scoffingly.
+
+“When the loss is a mere trifle, I don't always think it ill laid out.”
+
+“And I,” said she, resolutely, “so far from participating in your
+sentiment, feel it to be an insult and an outrage. There is a sense of
+inferiority attached to the position of a dupe that would drive me to
+any reprisals.”
+
+“I always said it; I always said it,” cried he, laughing. “The women of
+our family monopolized all the com-bativeness.”
+
+Miss Barrington's eyes sparkled, and her cheek glowed, and she looked
+like one stung to the point of a very angry rejoinder, when by an effort
+she controlled her passion, and, taking a letter from her pocket, she
+opened it, and said, “This is from Withering. He has managed to obtain
+all the information we need for our journey. We are to sail for Ostend
+by the regular packet, two of which go every week from Dover. From
+thence there are stages or canal-boats to Bruges and Brussels, cheap
+and commodious, he says. He gives us the names of two hotels, one of
+which--the 'Lamb,' at Brussels--he recommends highly; and the Pension of
+a certain Madame Ochteroogen, at Namur, will, he opines, suit us better
+than an inn. In fact, this letter is a little road book, with the
+expenses marked down, and we can quietly count the cost of our venture
+before we make it.”
+
+“I 'd rather not, Dinah. The very thought of a limit is torture to me.
+Give me bread and water every day, if you like, but don't rob me of the
+notion that some fine day I am to be regaled with beef and pudding.”
+
+“I don't wonder that we have come to beggary,” said she, passionately.
+“I don't know what fortune and what wealth could compensate for a
+temperament like yours.”
+
+“You may be right, Dinah. It may go far to make a man squander his
+substance, but take my word for it, it will help him to bear up under
+the loss.”
+
+If Barrington could have seen the gleam of affection that filled his
+sister's eyes, he would have felt what love her heart bore him; but he
+had stooped down to take a caterpillar off a flower, and did not mark
+it.
+
+“Withering has seen young Conyers,” she continued, as her eyes ran over
+the letter “He called upon him.” Barrington made no rejoinder, though
+she waited for one. “The poor lad was in great affliction; some
+distressing news from India--of what kind Withering could not guess--had
+just reached him, and he appeared overwhelmed by it.”
+
+“He is very young for sorrow,” said Barrington, feelingly.
+
+“Just what Withering said;” and she read out, “'When I told him that
+I had come to make an _amende_ for the reception he had met with at the
+cottage, he stopped me at once, and said, “Great grief s are the cure
+of small ones, and you find me under a very heavy affliction. Tell Miss
+Barrington that I have no other memories of the 'Fisherman's Home' than
+of all her kindness towards me.”'”
+
+“Poor boy!” said Barrington, with emotion. “And how did Withering leave
+him?”
+
+“Still sad and suffering. Struggling too, Withering thought, between
+a proud attempt to conceal his grief and an ardent impulse to tell all
+about it 'Had _you_ been there,' he writes, 'you'd have had the whole
+story; but I saw that he could n't stoop to open his heart to a man.'”
+
+“Write to him, Dinah. Write and ask him down here for a couple of days.”
+
+“You forget that we are to leave this the day after tomorrow, brother.”
+
+“So I did. I forgot it completely. Well, what if he were to come for one
+day? What if you were to say come over and wish us good-bye?”
+
+“It is so like a man and a man's selfishness never to consider a
+domestic difficulty,” said she, tartly. “So long as a house has a roof
+over it, you fancy it may be available for hospitalities. You never take
+into account the carpets to be taken up, and the beds that are taken
+down, the plate-chest that is packed, and the cellar that is walled up.
+You forget, in a word, that to make that life you find so very easy,
+some one else must pass an existence full of cares and duties.”
+
+“There 's not a doubt of it, Dinah. There 's truth and reason in every
+word you 've said.”
+
+“I will write to him if you like, and say that we mean to be at home by
+an early day in October, and that if he is disposed to see how our woods
+look in autumn, we will be well pleased to have him for our guest.”
+
+“Nothing could be better. Do so, Dinah. I owe the young fellow a
+reparation, and I shall not have an easy conscience till I make it.”
+
+“Ah, brother Peter, if your moneyed debts had only given you one-half
+the torment of your moral ones, what a rich man you might have been
+to-day!”
+
+Long after his sister had gone away and left him, Peter Barrington
+continued to muse over this speech. He felt it, felt it keenly too, but
+in no bitterness of spirit.
+
+Like most men of a lax and easy temper, he could mete out to himself the
+same merciful measure he accorded to others, and be as forgiving to his
+own faults as to theirs. “I suppose Dinah is right, though,” said he to
+himself. “I never did know that sensitive irritability under debt which
+insures solvency. And whenever a man can laugh at a dun, he is pretty
+sure to be on the high-road to bankruptcy! Well, well, it is somewhat
+late to try and reform, but I'll do my best!” And thus comforted, he set
+about tying up fallen rose-trees and removing noxious insects with all
+his usual zeal.
+
+“I half wish the place did not look in such beauty, just as I must leave
+it for a while. I don't think that japonica ever had as many flowers
+before; and what a season for tulips! Not to speak of the fruit There
+are peaches enough to stock a market. I wonder what Dinah means to do
+with them? She 'll be sorely grieved to make them over as perquisites to
+Darby, and I know she 'll never consent to have them sold. No, that is
+the one concession she cannot stoop to. Oh, here she comes! What a grand
+year for the wall fruit, Dinah!” cried he, aloud.
+
+“The apricots have all failed, and fully one-half of the peaches are
+worm-eaten,” said she, dryly.
+
+Peter sighed as he thought, how she does dispel an illusion, what a
+terrible realist is this same sister! “Still, my dear Dinah, one-half of
+such a crop is a goodly yield.”
+
+“Out with it, Peter Barrington. Out with the question that is burning
+for utterance. What's to be done with them? I have thought of that
+already. I have told Polly Dill to preserve a quantity for us, and to
+take as much more as she pleases for her own use, and make presents to
+her friends of the remainder. She is to be mistress here while we are
+away, and has promised to come up two or three times a week, and see
+after everything, for I neither desire to have the flower-roots sold,
+nor the pigeons eaten before our return.”
+
+“That is an admirable arrangement, sister. I don't know a better girl
+than Polly!”
+
+“She is better than I gave her credit for,” said Miss Barrington, who
+was not fully pleased at any praise not bestowed by herself. A man's
+estimate of a young woman's goodness is not so certain of finding
+acceptance from her own sex! “And as for that girl, the wonder is that
+with a fool for a mother, and a crafty old knave for a father, she
+really should possess one good trait or one amiable quality.” Barrington
+muttered what sounded like concurrence, and she went on: “And it is for
+this reason I have taken an interest in her, and hope, by occupying her
+mind with useful cares and filling her hours with commendable duties,
+she will estrange herself from that going about to fine houses, and
+frequenting society where she is exposed to innumerable humiliations,
+and worse.”
+
+“Worse, Dinah!--what could be worse?”
+
+“Temptations are worse, Peter Barrington, even when not yielded to; for
+like a noxious climate, which, though it fails to kill, it is certain to
+injure the constitution during a lifetime. Take my word for it, she
+'ll not be the better wife to the Curate for the memory of all the fine
+speeches she once heard from the Captain. Very old and ascetic notions
+I am quite aware, Peter; but please to bear in mind all the trouble we
+take that the roots of a favorite tree should not strike into a sour
+soil, and bethink you how very indifferent we are as to the daily
+associates of our children!”
+
+“There you are right, Dinah, there you are right,--at least, as regards
+girls.”
+
+“And the rule applies fully as much to boys. All those manly
+accomplishments and out-of-door habits you lay such store by, could
+be acquired without the intimacy of the groom or the friendship of the
+gamekeeper. What are you muttering there about old-maids' children? Say
+it out, sir, and defend it, if you have the courage!”
+
+But either that he had not said it, or failed in the requisite boldness
+to maintain it, he blundered out a very confused assurance of agreement
+on every point.
+
+A woman is seldom merciful in argument; the consciousness that she owes
+victory to her violence far more than to her logic, prompts persistence
+in the course she has followed so successfully, and so was it that Miss
+Dinah contrived to gallop over the battlefield long after the enemy was
+routed! But Barrington was not in a mood to be vexed; the thought of the
+journey filled him with so many pleasant anticipations, the brightest
+of all being the sight of poor George's child! Not that this thought had
+not its dark side, in contrition for the long, long years he had left
+her unnoticed and neglected. Of course he had his own excuses
+and apologies for all this: he could refer to his overwhelming
+embarrassments, and the heavy cares that surrounded him; but then
+she--that poor friendless girl, that orphan--could have known nothing
+of these things; and what opinion might she not have formed of those
+relatives who had so coldly and heartlessly abandoned her! Barrington
+took down her miniature, painted when she was a mere infant, and scanned
+it well, as though to divine what nature might possess her! There was
+little for speculation there,--perhaps even less for hope! The eyes were
+large and lustrous, it is true, but the brow was heavy, and the
+mouth, even in infancy, had something that seemed like firmness and
+decision,--strangely at variance with the lips of childhood.
+
+Now, old Barrington's heart was deeply set on that lawsuit--that great
+cause against the Indian Government--that had formed the grand campaign
+of his life. It was his first waking thought of a morning, his last at
+night. All his faculties were engaged in revolving the various points
+of evidence, and imagining how this and that missing link might be
+supplied; and yet, with all these objects of desire before him, he would
+have given them up, each and all, to be sure of one thing,--that his
+granddaughter might be handsome! It was not that he did not value far
+above the graces of person a number of other gifts; he would not, for an
+instant, have hesitated, had he to choose between mere beauty and a
+good disposition. If he knew anything of himself, it was his thorough
+appreciation of a kindly nature, a temper to bear well, and a spirit
+to soar nobly; but somehow he imagined these were gifts she was likely
+enough to possess. George's child would resemble him; she would have his
+light-heartedness and his happy nature, but would she be handsome? It
+is, trust me, no superficial view of life that attaches a great price
+to personal atractions, and Barrington was one to give these their full
+value. Had she been brought up from childhood under his roof, he had
+probably long since ceased to think of such a point; he would have
+attached himself to her by the ties of that daily domesticity which
+grow into a nature. The hundred little cares and offices that would
+have fallen to her lot to meet, would have served as links to bind their
+hearts; but she was coming to them a perfect stranger, and he wished
+ardently that his first impression should be all in her favor.
+
+Now, while such were Barrington's reveries, his sister took a different
+turn. She had already pictured to herself the dark-orbed, heavy-browed
+child, expanded into a sallow-complexioned, heavy-featured girl,
+ungainly and ungraceful, her figure neglected, her very feet spoiled by
+the uncouth shoes of the convent, her great red hands untrained to all
+occupation save the coarse cares of that half-menial existence. “As my
+brother would say,” muttered she, “a most unpromising filly, if it were
+not for the breeding.”
+
+Both brother and sister, however, kept their impressions to themselves,
+and of all the subjects discussed between them not one word betrayed
+what each forecast about Josephine. I am half sorry it is no part of my
+task to follow them on the road, and yet I feel I could not impart to my
+reader the almost boylike enjoyment old Peter felt at every stage of the
+journey. He had made the grand tour of Europe more than half a century
+before, and he was in ecstasy to find so much that was unchanged around
+him. There were the long-eared caps, and the monstrous earrings, and
+the sabots, and the heavily tasselled team horses, and the chiming
+church-bells, and the old-world equipages, and the strangely undersized
+soldiers,--all just as he saw them last! And every one was so polite
+and ceremonious, and so idle and so unoccupied, and the theatres were so
+large and the newspapers so small, and the current coin so defaced, and
+the order of the meats at dinner so inscrutable, and every one seemed
+contented just because he had nothing to do.
+
+“Isn't it all I have told you, Dinah dear? Don't you perceive
+how accurate my picture has been? And is it not very charming and
+enjoyable?”
+
+“They are the greatest cheats I ever met in my life, brother Peter; and
+when I think that every grin that greets us is a matter of five francs,
+it mars considerably the pleasure I derive from the hilarity.”
+
+It was in this spirit they journeyed till they arrived at Brussels.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII. THE COLONEL'S COUNSELS
+
+When Conyers had learned from Colonel Hunter all that he knew of
+his father's involvement, it went no further than this, that the
+Lieutenant-General had either resigned or been deprived of his civil
+appointments, and Hunter was called upon to replace him. With all his
+habit of hasty and impetuous action, there was no injustice in
+Fred's nature, and he frankly recognized that, however painful to him
+personally, Hunter could not refuse to accede to what the Prince had
+distinctly pressed him to accept.
+
+Young Conyers had heard over and over again the astonishment expressed
+by old Indian officials how his father's treatment of the Company's
+orders had been so long endured. Some prescriptive immunity seemed to
+attach to him, or some great patronage to protect him, for he appeared
+to do exactly as he pleased, and the despotic sway of his rule was known
+far and near. With the changes in the constitution of the Board, some
+members might have succeeded less disposed to recognize the General's
+former services, or endure so tolerantly his present encroachments, and
+Fred well could estimate the resistance his father would oppose to the
+very mildest remonstrance, and how indignantly he would reject whatever
+came in the shape of a command. Great as was the blow to the young man,
+it was not heavier in anything than the doubt and uncertainty about it,
+and he waited with a restless impatience for his father's letter,
+which should explain it all. Nor was his position less painful from
+the estrangement in which he lived, and the little intercourse he
+maintained with his brother-officers. When Hunter left, he knew that he
+had not one he could call friend amongst them, and Hunter was to go in a
+very few days, and even of these he could scarcely spare him more than a
+few chance moments!
+
+It was in one of these flitting visits that Hunter bethought him of
+young Dill, of whom, it is only truth to confess, young Conyers had
+forgotten everything. “I took time by the forelock, Fred, about that
+affair,” said he, “and I trust I have freed you from all embarrassment
+about it.”
+
+“As how, sir?” asked Conyers, half in pique.
+
+“When I missed you at the 'Fisherman's Home,' I set off to pay the
+doctor a visit, and a very charming visit it turned out; a better
+pigeon-pie I never ate, nor a prettier girl than the maker of it would
+I ask to meet with. We became great friends, talked of everything,
+from love at first sight to bone spavins, and found that we agreed to
+a miracle. I don't think I ever saw a girl before who suited me so
+perfectly in all her notions. She gave me a hint about what they call
+'mouth lameness' our Vet would give his eye for. Well, to come back
+to her brother,--a dull dog, I take it, though I have not seen him,--I
+said, 'Don't let him go to India, they 've lots of clever fellows out
+there; pack him off to Australia; send him to New Zealand.' And when she
+interrupted me, 'But young Mr. Conyers insisted,--he would have it so;
+his father is to make Tom's fortune, and to send him back as rich as a
+Begum,' I said, 'He has fallen in love with you, Miss Polly, that's the
+fact, and lost his head altogether; and I don't wonder at it, for here
+am I, close upon forty-eight,--I might have said forty-nine, but no
+matter,--close upon forty-eight, and I 'm in the same book!' Yes, if
+it was the sister, _vice_ the brother, who wanted to make a fortune in
+India, I almost think I could say, 'Come and share mine!'”
+
+“But I don't exactly understand. Am I to believe that they wish Tom to
+be off--to refuse my offer--and that the rejection comes from them?”
+
+“No, not exactly. I said it was a bad spec, that you had taken a far too
+sanguine view of the whole thing, and that as I was an old soldier, and
+knew more of the world,--that is to say, had met a great many more
+hard rubs and disappointments,--my advice was, not to risk it. 'Young
+Conyers,' said I, 'will do all that he has promised to the letter.
+You may rely upon every word that he has ever uttered. But bear in mind
+that he's only a mortal man; he's not one of those heathen gods who used
+to make fellows invincible in a battle, or smuggle them off in a cloud,
+out of the way of demons, or duns, or whatever difficulties beset them.
+He might die, his father might die, any of us might die.' Yes, by Jove!
+there's nothing so uncertain as life, except the Horse Guards.' And
+putting one thing with another, Miss Polly,' said I, 'tell him to
+stay where he is,'--open a shop at home, or go to one of the
+colonies,--Heligoland, for instance, a charming spot for the
+bathing-season.”
+
+“And she, what did she say?”
+
+“May I be cashiered if I remember! I never do remember very clearly what
+any one says. Where I am much interested on my own side, I have no time
+for the other fellow's arguments. But I know if she was n't convinced
+she ought to have been. I put the thing beyond a question, and I made
+her cry.”
+
+“Made her cry!”
+
+“Not cry,--that is, she did not blubber; but she looked glassy about
+the lids, and turned away her head. But to be sure we were parting,--a
+rather soft bit of parting, too,--and I said something about my coming
+back with a wooden leg, and she said, 'No! have it of cork, they make
+them so cleverly now.' And I was going to say something more, when a
+confounded old half-pay Major came up and interrupted us, and--and, in
+fact, there it rests.”
+
+“I 'm not at all easy in mind as to this affair. I mean, I don't like
+how I stand in it.”
+
+“But you stand out of it,--out of it altogether! Can't you imagine that
+your father may have quite enough cares of his own to occupy him without
+needing the embarrassment of looking after this bumpkin, who, for aught
+you know, might repay very badly all the interest taken in him? If
+it had been the girl,--if it had been Polly--” “I own frankly,” said
+Conyers, tartly, “it did not occur to me to make such an offer to
+_her!_”
+
+“Faith! then, Master Fred, I was deuced near doing it,--so near, that
+when I came away I scarcely knew whether I had or had not done so.”
+
+“Well, sir, there is only an hour's drive on a good road required to
+repair the omission.”
+
+“That's true, Fred,--that's true; but have you never, by an accident,
+chanced to come up with a stunning fence,--a regular rasper that you
+took in a fly a few days before with the dogs, and as you looked at
+the place, have you not said, 'What on earth persuaded me to ride at
+_that?_'”
+
+“Which means, sir, that your cold-blooded reflections are against the
+project?”
+
+“Not exactly that, either,” said he, in a sort of confusion; “but when
+a man speculates on doing something for which the first step must be an
+explanation to this fellow, a half apology to that,--with a whimpering
+kind of entreaty not to be judged hastily, not to be condemned unheard,
+not to be set down as an old fool who couldn't stand the fire of a pair
+of bright eyes,--I say when it comes to this, he ought to feel that his
+best safeguard is his own misgiving!”
+
+“If I do not agree with you, sir, it is because I incline to follow my
+own lead, and care very little for what the world says of it.”
+
+“Don't believe a word of that, Fred; it's all brag,--all nonsense! The
+very effrontery with which you fancy you are braving public opinion is
+only Dutch courage. What each of us in his heart thinks of himself
+is only the reflex of the world's estimate of him; at least, what
+he imagines it to be. Now, for my own part, I 'd rather ride up to a
+battery in full fire than I'd sit down and write to my old aunt Dorothy
+Hunter a formal letter announcing my approaching marriage, telling her
+that the lady of my choice was twenty or thereabouts, not to add
+that her family name was Dill. Believe me, Fred, that if you want the
+concentrated essence of public opinion, you have only to do something
+which shall irritate and astonish the half-dozen people with whom you
+live in intimacy. Won't they remind you about the mortgages on your
+lands and the gray in your whiskers, that last loan you raised from
+Solomon Hymans, and that front tooth you got replaced by Cartwright,
+though it was the week before they told you you were a miracle of order
+and good management, and actually looking younger than you did five
+years ago! You're not minding me, Fred,--not following me; you 're
+thinking of your _protégé_, Tom Dill, and what he 'll think and say of
+your desertion of him.”
+
+“You have hit it, sir. It was exactly what I was asking myself.”
+
+“Well, if nothing better offers, tell him to get himself in readiness,
+and come out with me. I cannot make him a Rajah, nor even a Zemindar;
+but I 'll stick him into a regimental surgeoncy, and leave him to
+fashion out his own future. He must look sharp, however, and lose no
+time. The 'Ganges' is getting ready in all haste, and will be round
+at Portsmouth by the 8th, and we expect to sail on the 12th or 13th at
+furthest.”
+
+“I 'll write to him to-day. I 'll write this moment.”
+
+“Add a word of remembrance on my part to the sister, and tell bumpkin to
+supply himself with no end of letters, recommendatory and laudatory, to
+muzzle our Medical Board at Calcutta, and lots of light clothing, and
+all the torturing instruments he 'll need, and a large stock of good
+humor, for he'll be chaffed unmercifully all the voyage.” And, with
+these comprehensive directions, the Colonel concluded his counsels, and
+bustled away to look after his own personal interests.
+
+Fred Conyers was not over-pleased with the task assigned him. The
+part he liked to fill in life, and, indeed, that which he had usually
+performed, was the Benefactor and the Patron, and it was but an
+ungracious office for him to have to cut the wings and disfigure
+the plumage of his generosity. He made two, three, four attempts at
+conveying his intentions, but with none was he satisfied; so he ended by
+simply saying, “I have something of importance to tell you, and which,
+not being altogether pleasant, it will be better to say than to write;
+so I have to beg you will come up here at once, and see me.” Scarcely
+was this letter sealed and addressed than he bethought him of the
+awkwardness of presenting Tom to his brother-officers, or the still
+greater indecorum of not presenting him. “How shall I ask him to the
+mess, with the certainty of all the impertinences he will be exposed
+to?--and what pretext have I for not offering him the ordinary attention
+shown to every stranger?” He was, in fact, wincing under that public
+opinion he had only a few moments before declared he could afford to
+despise. “No,” said he, “I have no right to expose poor Tom to this. I
+'ll drive over myself to the village, and if any advice or counsel be
+needed, he will be amongst those who can aid him.”
+
+He ordered his servant to harness his handsome roan, a thoroughbred
+of surpassing style and action, to the dog-cart,--not over-sorry to
+astonish his friend Tom by the splendor of a turn-out that had won the
+suffrages of Tattersall's,--and prepared for his mission to Inistioge.
+
+Was it with the same intention of “astonishing” Tom Dill that Conyers
+bestowed such unusual attention upon his dress? At his first visit to
+the “Fisherman's Home” he had worn the homely shooting-jacket and felt
+hat which, however comfortable and conventional, do not always redound
+to the advantage of the wearer, or, if they do, it is by something,
+perhaps, in the contrast presented to his ordinary appearance, and
+the impression ingeniously insinuated that he is one so unmistakably a
+gentleman, no travesty of costume can efface the stamp.
+
+It was in this garb Polly had seen him, and if Polly Dill had been a
+duchess it was in some such garb she would have been accustomed to see
+her brother or her cousin some six out of every seven mornings of the
+week; but Polly was not a duchess: she was the daughter of a village
+doctor, and might, not impossibly, have acquired a very erroneous
+estimate of his real pretensions from having beheld him thus attired.
+It was, therefore, entirely by a consideration for her ignorance of the
+world and its ways that he determined to enlighten her.
+
+At the time of which I am writing, the dress of the British army was a
+favorite study with that Prince whose taste, however questionable, never
+exposed him to censure on grounds of over-simplicity and plainness. As
+the Colonel of the regiment Conyers belonged to, he had bestowed upon
+his own especial corps an unusual degree of splendor in equipment, and
+amongst other extravagances had given them an almost boundless liberty
+of combining different details of dress. Availing himself of this
+privilege, our young Lieutenant invented a costume which, however
+unmilitary and irregular, was not deficient in becomingness. Under
+a plain blue jacket very sparingly braided he wore the rich scarlet
+waistcoat, all slashed with gold, they had introduced at their mess. A
+simple foraging-cap and overalls, seamed with a thin gold line, made up
+a dress that might have passed for the easy costume of the barrack-yard,
+while, in reality, it was eminently suited to set off the wearer.
+
+Am I to confess that he looked at himself in the glass with very
+considerable satisfaction, and muttered, as he turned away, “Yes, Miss
+Polly, this is in better style than that Quakerish drab livery you saw
+me last in, and I have little doubt that you 'll think so!”
+
+“Is this our best harness, Holt?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“All right!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV. CONYERS MAKES A MORNING CALL
+
+When Conyers, to the astonishment and wonder of an admiring village
+public, drove his seventeen-hand-high roan into the market square of
+Inistioge, he learned that all of the doctor's family were from home
+except Mrs. Dill. Indeed, he saw the respectable lady at the window
+with a book in her hand, from which not all the noise and clatter of his
+arrival for one moment diverted her. Though not especially anxious to
+attract her attention, he was half piqued at her show of indifference.
+A dog-cart by Adams and a thoroughbred like Boanerges were, after all,
+worth a glance at. Little did he know what a competitor be had in that
+much-thumbed old volume, whose quaintly told miseries were to her as
+her own sorrows. Could he have assembled underneath that window all the
+glories of a Derby Day, Mr. Richardson's “Clarissa” would have beaten
+the field. While he occupied himself in dexterously tapping the
+flies from his horse with the fine extremity of his whip, and thus
+necessitating that amount of impatience which made the spirited animal
+stamp and champ his bit, the old lady read on undisturbed.
+
+“Ask at what hour the doctor will be at home, Holt,” cried he,
+peevishly.
+
+“Not till to-morrow, sir; he has gone to Castle Durrow.”
+
+“And Miss Dill, is she not in the house?”
+
+“No, sir; she has gone down to the 'Fisherman's Home' to look after the
+garden,--the family having left that place this morning.”
+
+After a few minutes' reflection, Conyers ordered his servant to put up
+the horse at the inn, and wait for him there; and then engaging a “cot,”
+ he set out for the “Fisherman's Home.” “After having come so far, it
+would be absurd to go back without doing something in this business,”
+ thought he. “Polly, besides, is the brains carrier of these people. The
+matter would be referred to her; and why should I not go at once, and
+directly address her myself? With her womanly tact, too, she will see
+that for any reserve in my manner there must be a corresponding reason,
+and she'll not press me with awkward questions or painful inquiries, as
+the underbred brother might do. It will be enough when I intimate to
+her that my plan is not so practicable as when I first projected it.” He
+reassured himself with a variety of reasonings of this stamp, which had
+the double effect of convincing his own mind and elevating Miss Polly in
+his estimation. There is a very subtle self-flattery in believing that
+the true order of person to deal with us--to understand and appreciate
+us--is one possessed of considerable ability united with the very finest
+sensibility. Thus dreaming and “mooning,” he reached the “Fisherman's
+Home.” The air of desertion struck him even as he landed; and is there
+not some secret magic in the vicinity of life, of living people, which
+gives the soul to the dwelling-place? Have we to more than cross the
+threshold of the forsaken house to feel its desertion,--to know that our
+echoing step will track us along stair and corridor, and that through
+the thin streaks of light between the shutters phantoms of the absent
+will flit or hover, while the dimly descried objects of the room will
+bring memories of bright mornings and of happy eves? It is strange
+to measure the sadness of this effect upon us when caused even by the
+aspect of houses which we frequented not as friends but mere visitors;
+just as the sight of death thrills us, even though we had not loved the
+departed in his lifetime. But so it is: there is unutterable bitterness
+attached to the past, and there is no such sorrow as over the bygone!
+
+All about the little cottage was silent and desolate; even the shrill
+peacock, so wont to announce the coming stranger with his cry, sat
+voiceless and brooding on a branch; and except the dull flow of the
+river, not a sound was heard. After tapping lightly at the door and
+peering through the partially closed shutters, Conyers turned towards
+the garden at the back, passing as he went his favorite seat under the
+great sycamore-tree. It was not a widely separated “long ago” since
+he had sat there, and yet how different had life become to him in the
+interval! With what a protective air he had talked to poor Tom on
+that spot,--how princely were the promises of his patronage, yet not
+exaggerated beyond his conscious power of performance! He hurried on,
+and came to the little wicket of the garden; it was open, and he
+passed in. A spade in some fresh-turned earth showed where some one had
+recently been at work, but still, as he went, he could find none. Alley
+after alley did he traverse, but to no purpose; and at last, in his
+ramblings, he came to a little copse which separated the main garden
+from a small flower-plat, known as Miss Dinah's, and on which the
+windows of her own little sitting-room opened. He had but seen this spot
+from the windows, and never entered it; indeed, it was a sort of sacred
+enclosure, within which the profane step of man was not often permitted
+to intrude. Nor was Conyers without a sting of self-reproach as he now
+passed in. He had not gone many steps when the reason of the seclusion
+seemed revealed to him. It was a small obelisk of white marble under a
+large willow-tree, bearing for inscription on its side, “To the Memory
+of George Barrington, the Truehearted, the Truthful, and the Brave,
+killed on the 19th February, 18--, at Agra, in the East Indies.”
+
+How strange that he should be standing there beside the tomb of his
+father's dearest friend, his more than brother! That George who shared
+his joys and perils, the comrade of his heart! No two men had ever lived
+in closer bonds of affection, and yet somehow of all that love he had
+never heard his father speak, nor of the terrible fate that befell his
+friend had one syllable escaped him. “Who knows if friendships ever
+survive early manhood?” said Fred, bitterly, as he sat himself down
+at the base of the monument: “and yet might not this same George
+Barrington, had he lived, been of priceless value to my father now? Is
+it not some such manly affection, such generous devotion as his, that he
+may stand in need of?” Thus thinking, his imagination led him over the
+wide sea to that far-distant land of his childhood, and scenes of vast
+arid plains and far-away mountains, and wild ghauts, and barren-looking
+nullahs, intersected with yellow, sluggish streams, on whose muddy shore
+the alligator basked, rose before him, contrasted with the gorgeous
+splendors of retinue and the glittering host of gold-adorned followers.
+It was in a vision of grand but dreary despotism, power almost
+limitless, but without one ray of enjoyment, that he lost himself and
+let the hours glide by. At length, as though dreamily, he thought he
+was listening to some faint but delicious music; sounds seemed to come
+floating towards him through the leaves, as if meant to steep him in a
+continued languor, and imparted a strange half-fear that he was under a
+spell. With an effort he aroused himself and sprang to his legs; and now
+he could plainly perceive that the sounds came through an open window,
+where a low but exquisitely sweet voice was singing to the accompaniment
+of a piano. The melody was sad and plaintive; the very words came
+dropping slowly, like the drops of a distilled grief; and they sank into
+his heart with a feeling of actual poignancy, for they were as though
+steeped in sorrow. When of a sudden the singer ceased, the hands ran
+boldly, almost wildly, over the keys; one, two, three great massive
+chords were struck, and then, in a strain joyous as the skylark, the
+clear voice carolled forth with,--
+
+     “But why should we mourn for the grief of the morrow?
+     Who knows in what frame it may find us?
+     Meeker, perhaps, to bend under our sorrow,
+     Or more boldly to fling it behind us.”
+
+And then, with a loud bang, the piano was closed, and Polly Dill,
+swinging her garden hat by its ribbon, bounded forth into the walk,
+calling for her terrier, Scratch, to follow.
+
+“Mr. Conyers here!” cried she, in astonishment. “What miracle could have
+led you to this spot?”
+
+“To meet you.”
+
+“To meet me!”
+
+“With no other object. I came from Kilkenny this morning expressly
+to see you, and learning at your house that you had come on here, I
+followed. You still look astonished,--incredulous--”
+
+“Oh, no; not incredulous, but very much astonished. I am, it is true,
+sufficiently accustomed to find myself in request in my own narrow home
+circle, but that any one out of it should come three yards--not to say
+three miles--to speak to me, is, I own, very new and very strange.”
+
+“Is not this profession of humility a little--a very little--bit of
+exaggeration, Miss Dill?”
+
+“Is not the remark you have made on it a little--a very little--bit of a
+liberty, Mr. Conyers?”
+
+So little was he prepared for this retort that he flushed up to his
+forehead, and for an instant was unable to recover himself: meanwhile,
+she was busy in rescuing Scratch from a long bramble that had most
+uncomfortably associated itself with his tail, in gratitude for which
+service the beast jumped up on her with all the uncouth activity of his
+race.
+
+“He at least, Miss Dill, can take liberties unrebuked,” said Conyers,
+with irritation.
+
+“We are very old friends, sir, and understand each other's humors,
+not to say that Scratch knows well he 'd be tied up if he were to
+transgress.”
+
+Conyers smiled; an almost irresistible desire to utter a smartness
+crossed his mind, and he found it all but impossible to resist saying
+something about accepting the bonds if he could but accomplish the
+transgression; but he bethought in time how unequal the war of banter
+would be between them, and it was with a quiet gravity he began: “I came
+to speak to you about Tom--”
+
+“Why, is that not all off? Colonel Hunter represented the matter so
+forcibly to my father, put all the difficulties so clearly before him,
+that I actually wrote to my brother, who had started for Dublin, begging
+him on no account to hasten the day of his examination, but to come home
+and devote himself carefully to the task of preparation.”
+
+“It is true, the Colonel never regarded the project as I did, and saw
+obstacles to its success which never occurred to me; with all that,
+however, he never convinced me I was wrong.”
+
+“Perhaps not always an easy thing to do,” said she, dryly.
+
+“Indeed! You seem to have formed a strong opinion on the score of my
+firmness.”
+
+“I was expecting you to say obstinacy,” said she, laughing, “and was
+half prepared with a most abject retractation. At all events, I was
+aware that you did not give way.”
+
+“And is the quality such a bad one?”
+
+“Just as a wind may be said to be a good or a bad one; due west, for
+instance, would be very unfavorable if you were bound to New York.”
+
+It was the second time he had angled for a compliment, and failed;
+and he walked along at her side, fretful and discontented. “I begin to
+suspect,” said he, at last, “that the Colonel was far more eager to make
+himself agreeable here than to give fair play to my reasons.”
+
+“He was delightful, if you mean that; he possesses the inestimable boon
+of good spirits, which is the next thing to a good heart.”
+
+“You don't like depressed people, then?”
+
+“I won't say I dislike, but I dread them. The dear friends who go about
+with such histories of misfortune and gloomy reflections on every one's
+conduct always give me the idea of a person who should carry with him
+a watering-pot to sprinkle his friends in this Irish climate, where it
+rains ten months out of the twelve. There is a deal to like in life,--a
+deal to enjoy, as well as a deal to see and to do; and the spirit which
+we bring to it is even of more moment than the incidents that befall
+us.”
+
+“That was the burden of your song awhile ago,” said he, smiling; “could
+I persuade you to sing it again?”
+
+“What are you dreaming of, Mr. Conyers? Is not this meeting here--this
+strolling about a garden with a young gentleman, a Hussar!--compromising
+enough, not to ask me to sit down at a piano and sing for him? Indeed,
+the only relief my conscience gives me for the imprudence of this
+interview is the seeing how miserable it makes _you_.”
+
+“Miserable!--makes _me_ miserable!”
+
+“Well, embarrassed,--uncomfortable,--ill at ease; I don't care for the
+word. You came here to say a variety of things, and you don't like to
+say them. You are balked in certain very kind intentions towards us, and
+you don't know how very little of even intended good nature has befallen
+us in life to make us deeply your debtor for the mere project. Why, your
+very notice of poor Tom has done more to raise him in his own esteem and
+disgust him with low associates than all the wise arguments of all his
+family. There, now, if you have not done us all the good you meant, be
+satisfied with what you really have done.”
+
+“This is very far short of what I intended.”
+
+“Of course it is; but do not dwell upon that. I have a great stock of
+very fine intentions, too, but I shall not be in the least discouraged
+if I find them take wing and leave me.”
+
+“What would you do then?”
+
+“Raise another brood. They tell us that if one seed of every million
+of acorns should grow to be a tree, all Europe would be a dense forest
+within a century. Take heart, therefore, about scattered projects; fully
+their share of them come to maturity. Oh dear! what a dreary sigh you
+gave! Don't you imagine yourself very unhappy?”
+
+“If I did, I'd scarcely come to you for sympathy, certainly,” said he,
+with a half-bitter smile.
+
+“You are quite right there; not but that I could really condole with
+some of what I opine are your great afflictions: for instance, I could
+bestow very honest grief on that splint that your charger has just
+thrown out on his back tendon; I could even cry over the threatened
+blindness of that splendid steeple-chaser; but I 'd not fret about the
+way your pelisse was braided, nor because your new phaeton made so much
+noise with the axles.”
+
+“By the way,” said Conyers, “I have such a horse to show you! He is in
+the village. Might I drive him up here? Would you allow me to take you
+back?”
+
+“Not on any account, sir! I have grave misgivings about talking to you
+so long here, and I am mainly reconciled by remembering how disagreeable
+I have proved myself.”
+
+“How I wish I had your good spirits!”
+
+“Why don't you rather wish for my fortunate lot in life,--so secure from
+casualties, so surrounded with life's comforts, so certain to attach to
+it consideration and respect? Take my word for it, Mr. Conyers, your
+own position is not utterly wretched; it is rather a nice thing to be
+a Lieutenant of Hussars, with good health, a good fortune, and a fair
+promise of mustachios. There, now, enough of impertinence for one day.
+I have a deal to do, and you 'll not help me to do it. I have a whole
+tulip-bed to transplant, and several trees to remove, and a new walk to
+plan through the beech shrubbery, not to speak of a change of domicile
+for the pigs,--if such creatures can be spoken of in your presence. Only
+think, three o'clock, and that weary Darby not got back from his dinner!
+has it ever occurred to you to wonder at the interminable time people
+can devote to a meal of potatoes?”
+
+“I cannot say that I have thought upon the matter.”
+
+“Pray do so, then; divide the matter, as a German would, into all
+its 'Bearbeitungen,' and consider it ethnologically, esculently,
+and aesthetically, and you'll be surprised how puzzled you 'll be!
+Meanwhile, would you do me a favor?--I mean a great favor.”
+
+“Of course I will; only say what it is.”
+
+“Well; but I 'm about to ask more than you suspect.”
+
+“I do not retract. I am ready.”
+
+“What I want, then, is that you should wheel that barrow-ful of mould
+as far as the melon-bed. I 'd have done it myself if you had not been
+here.”
+
+With a seriousness which cost him no small effort to maintain, Conyers
+addressed himself at once to the task; and she walked along at his side,
+with a rake over her shoulder, talking with the same cool unconcern she
+would have bestowed on Darby.
+
+“I have often told Miss Barrington,” said she, “that our rock melons
+were finer than hers, because we used a peculiar composite earth, into
+which ash bark and soot entered,--what you are wheeling now, in fact,
+however hurtful it may be to your feelings. There! upset it exactly on
+that spot; and now let me see if you are equally handy with a spade.”
+
+[Illustration: 276]
+
+“I should like to know what my wages are to be after all this,” said he,
+as he spread the mould over the bed.
+
+“We give boys about eightpence a day.”
+
+“Boys! what do you mean by boys?”
+
+“Everything that is not married is boy in Ireland; so don't be angry, or
+I 'll send you off. Pick up those stones, and throw these dock-weeds to
+one side.”
+
+“You 'll send me a melon, at least, of my own raising, won't you?”
+
+“I won't promise; Heaven knows where you'll be--where I 'll be, by that
+time! Would _you_ like to pledge yourself to anything on the day the
+ripe fruit shall glow between those pale leaves?”
+
+“Perhaps I might,” said he, stealing a half-tender glance towards her.
+
+“Well, I would not,” said she, looking him full and steadfastly in the
+face.
+
+“Then that means you never cared very much for any one?”
+
+“If I remember aright, you were engaged as a gardener, not as father
+confessor. Now, you are really not very expert at the former; but you
+'ll make sad work of the latter.”
+
+“You have not a very exalted notion of my tact, Miss Dill.”
+
+“I don't know,--I'm not sure; I suspect you have at least what the
+French call 'good dispositions.' You took to your wheelbarrow very
+nicely, and you tried to dig--as little like a gentleman as need be.”
+
+“Well, if this does not bate Banagher, my name is n't Darby!” exclaimed
+a rough voice, and a hearty laugh followed his words. “By my conscience,
+Miss Polly, it's only yerself could do it; and it's truth they say of
+you, you 'd get fun out of an archdaycon!”
+
+Conyers flung away his spade, and shook the mould from his boots in
+irritation.
+
+“Come, don't be cross,” said she, slipping her arm within his, and
+leading him away; “don't spoil a very pleasant little adventure by ill
+humor. If these melons come to good, they shall be called after you.
+You know that a Duke of Montmartre gave his name to a gooseberry; so be
+good, and, like him, you shall be immortal.”
+
+“I should like very much to know one thing,” said he, thoughtfully.
+
+“And what may that be?”
+
+“I 'd like to know,--are you ever serious?”
+
+“Not what you would call serious, perhaps; but I 'm very much in
+earnest, if that will do. That delightful Saxon habit of treating all
+trifles with solemnity I have no taste for. I'm aware it constitutes
+that great idol of English veneration, Respectability; but we have not
+got that sort of thing here. Perhaps the climate is too moist for it.”
+
+[Illustration: 276]
+
+“I 'm not a bit surprised that the Colonel fell in love with you,”
+ blurted he out, with a frank abruptness.
+
+“And did he,--oh, really did he?”
+
+“Is the news so very agreeable, then?”
+
+“Of course it is. I 'd give anything for such a conquest. There 's no
+glory in capturing one of those calf elephants who walk into the snare
+out of pure stupidity; but to catch an old experienced creature who has
+been hunted scores of times, and knows every scheme and artifice, every
+bait and every pitfall, there is a real triumph in that.”
+
+“Do I represent one of the calf elephants, then?”
+
+“I cannot think so. I have seen no evidence of your capture--not to add,
+nor any presumption of my own--to engage in such a pursuit. My dear Mr.
+Conyers,” said she, seriously, “you have shown so much real kindness to
+the brother, you would not, I am certain, detract from it by one word
+which could offend the sister. We have been the best of friends up to
+this; let us part so.”
+
+The sudden assumption of gravity in this speech seemed to disconcert
+him so much that he made no answer, but strolled along at her side,
+thoughtful and silent.
+
+“What are you thinking of?” said she, at last.
+
+“I was just thinking,” said he, “that by the time I have reached my
+quarters, and begin to con over what I have accomplished by this same
+visit of mine, I 'll be not a little puzzled to say what it is.”
+
+“Perhaps I can help you. First of all, tell me what was your object in
+coming.”
+
+“Chiefly to talk about Tom.”
+
+“Well, we have done so. We have discussed the matter, and are fully
+agreed it is better he should not go to India, but stay at home here and
+follow his profession, like his father.”
+
+“But have I said nothing about Hunter's offer?”
+
+“Not a word; what is it?”
+
+“How stupid of me; what could I have been thinking of all this time?”
+
+“Heaven knows; but what was the offer you allude to?”
+
+“It was this: that if Tom would make haste and get his diploma or
+his license, or whatever it is, at once, and collect all sorts of
+testimonials as to his abilities and what not, that he'd take him out
+with him and get him an assistant-surgeoncy in a regiment, and in time,
+perhaps, a staff-appointment.”
+
+“I 'm not very certain that Tom could obtain his diploma at once.
+I 'm quite sure he could n't get any of those certificates you speak
+of. First of all, because he does not possess these same abilities you
+mention, nor, if he did, is there any to vouch for them. We are very
+humble people, Mr. Conyers, with a village for our world; and we
+contemplate a far-away country--India, for instance--pretty much as we
+should do Mars or the Pole-star.”
+
+“As to that, Bengal is more come-at-able than the Great Bear,” said he,
+laughing.
+
+“For you, perhaps, not for us. There is nothing more common in people's
+mouths than go to New Zealand or Swan River, or some far-away island in
+the Pacific, and make your fortune!--just as if every new and barbarous
+land was a sort of Aladdin's cave, where each might fill his pockets
+with gems and come out rich for life. But reflect a little. First,
+there is an outfit; next, there is a voyage; thirdly, there is need of
+a certain subsistence in the new country before plans can be matured to
+render it profitable. After all these come a host of requirements,--of
+courage, and energy, and patience, and ingenuity, and personal strength,
+and endurance, not to speak of the constitution of a horse, and some
+have said, the heartlessness of an ogre. _My_ counsel to Tom would
+be, get the 'Arabian Nights' out of your head, forget the great Caliph
+Conyers and all his promises, stay where you are, and be a village
+apothecary.”
+
+These words were uttered in a very quiet and matter-of-fact way, but
+they wounded Conyers more than the accents of passion. He was angry
+at the cold realistic turn of a mind so devoid of all heroism; he was
+annoyed at the half-implied superiority a keener view of life than
+his own seemed to assert; and he was vexed at being treated as a
+well-meaning but very inconsiderate and inexperienced young gentleman.
+
+“Am I to take this as a refusal,” said he, stiffly; “am I to tell
+Colonel Hunter that your brother does not accept his offer?”
+
+“If it depended on me,--yes; but it does not. I 'll write to-night
+and tell Tom the generous project that awaits him; he shall decide for
+himself.”
+
+“I know Hunter will be annoyed; he'll think it was through some bungling
+mismanagement of mine his plan has failed; he 'll be certain to say, If
+it was I myself bad spoken toner--”
+
+“Well, there's no harm in letting him think so,” said she, laughing.
+“Tell him I think him charming, that I hope he 'll have a delightful
+voyage and a most prosperous career after it, that I intend to read
+the Indian columns in the newspaper from this day out, and will always
+picture him to my mind as seated in the grandest of howdabs on the very
+tallest of elephants, humming 'Rule Britannia' up the slopes of the
+Himalaya, and as the penny-a-liners say, extending the blessings of
+the English rule in India.” She gave her hand to him, made a little
+salutation,--half bow, half courtesy,--and, saying “Good-bye,” turned
+back into the shrubbery and left him.
+
+He hesitated,--almost turned to follow her; waited a second or two more,
+and then, with an impatient toss of his head, walked briskly to the
+river-side and jumped into his boat. It was a sulky face that he
+wore, and a sulky spirit was at work within him. There is no greater
+discontent than that of him who cannot define the chagrin that consumes
+him. In reality, he was angry with himself, but he turned the whole
+force of his displeasure upon her.
+
+“I suppose she is clever. I 'm no judge of that sort of thing; but, for
+my own part, I'd rather see her more womanly, more delicate. She has not
+a bit of heart, that's quite clear; nor, with all her affectations, does
+she pretend it.” These were his first meditations, and after them he
+lit a cigar and smoked it. The weed was a good one; the evening was
+beautifully calm and soft, and the river scenery looked its very best.
+He tried to think of a dozen things: he imagined, for instance, what a
+picturesque thing a boat-race would be in such a spot; he fancied he
+saw a swift gig sweep round the point and head up the stream; he caught
+sight of a little open in the trees with a background of dark rock, and
+he thought what a place for a cottage. But whether it was the “match” or
+the “chalet” that occupied him, Polly Dill was a figure in the picture;
+and he muttered unconsciously, “How pretty she is, what a deal of
+expression those gray-blue eyes possess! She's as active as a fawn, and
+to the full as graceful. Fancy her an Earl's daughter; give her station
+and all the advantages station will bring with it,--what a girl it would
+be! Not that she'd ever have a heart; I'm certain of that. She's as
+worldly--as worldly as--” The exact similitude did not occur; but he
+flung the end of his cigar into the river instead, and sat brooding
+mournfully for the rest of the way.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV. DUBLIN REVISITED
+
+The first stage of the Barringtons' journey was Dublin. They alighted
+at Reynolds's Hotel, in Old Dominick Street, the once favorite resort of
+country celebrities. The house, it is true, was there, but Reynolds had
+long left for a land where there is but one summons and one reckoning;
+even the old waiter, Foster, whom people believed immortal, was gone;
+and save some cumbrous old pieces of furniture,--barbarous relics of bad
+taste in mahogany,--nothing recalled the past. The bar, where once on a
+time the “Beaux” and “Bloods” had gathered to exchange the smart things
+of the House or the hunting-field, was now a dingy little receptacle
+for umbrellas and overcoats, with a rickety case crammed full of
+unacknowledged and unclaimed letters, announcements of cattle fairs, and
+bills of houses to let. Decay and neglect were on everything, and the
+grim little waiter who ushered them upstairs seemed as much astonished
+at their coming as were they themselves with all they saw. It was not
+for some time, nor without searching inquiry, that Miss Dinah discovered
+that the tide of popular favor had long since retired from this quarter,
+and left it a mere barren strand, wreck-strewn and deserted. The house
+where formerly the great squire held his revels had now fallen to be
+the resort of the traveller by canal-boat, the cattle salesman, or the
+priest. While she by an ingenious cross-examination was eliciting these
+details, Barrington had taken a walk through the city to revisit old
+scenes and revive old memories. One needs not to be as old as Peter
+Barrington to have gone through this process and experienced all its
+pain. Unquestionably, every city of Europe has made within such a period
+as five-and-thirty or forty years immense strides of improvement.
+Wider and finer streets, more commodious thoroughfares, better bridges,
+lighter areas, more brilliant shops, strike one on every hand; while the
+more permanent monuments of architecture are more cleanly, more orderly,
+and more cared for than of old. We see these things with astonishment
+and admiration at first, and then there comes a pang of painful
+regret,--not for the old dark alley and the crooked street, or the
+tumbling arch of long ago,--but for the time when they were there, for
+the time when they entered into our daily life, when with them were
+associated friends long lost sight of, and scenes dimly fading away from
+memory. It is for our youth, for the glorious spring and elasticity of
+our once high-hearted spirit, of our lives so free of care, of our days
+undarkened by a serious sorrow,--it is for these we mourn, and to
+our eyes at such moments the spacious street is but a desert, and the
+splendid monument but a whitened sepulchre!
+
+“I don't think I ever had a sadder walk in my life, Dinah,” said Peter
+Barrington, with a weary sigh. “'Till I got into the courts of the
+College, I never chanced upon a spot that looked as I had left it.
+There, indeed, was the quaint old square as of old, and the great
+bell--bless it for its kind voice!--was ringing out a solemn call
+to something, that shook the window-frames, and made the very air
+tremulous; and a pale-faced student or two hurried past, and those
+centurions in the helmets,--ancient porters or Senior Fellows,--I forget
+which,--stood in a little knot to stare at me. That, indeed, was like
+old times, Dinah, and my heart grew very full with the memory. After
+that I strolled down to the Four Courts. I knew you 'd laugh, Dinah. I
+knew well you 'd say, 'Was there nothing going on in the King's Bench or
+the Common Pleas?' Well, there was only a Revenue case, my dear, but
+it was interesting, very interesting; and there was my old friend Harry
+Bushe sitting as the Judge. He saw me, and sent round the tipstaff
+to have me come up and sit on the bench with him, and we had many
+a pleasant remembrance of old times--as the cross-examination went
+on--between us, and I promised to dine with him on Saturday.”
+
+“And on Saturday we will dine at Antwerp, brother, if I know anything of
+myself.”
+
+“Sure enough, sister, I forgot all about it Well, well, where could my
+head have been?”
+
+“Pretty much where you have worn it of late years, Peter Barrington. And
+what of Withering? Did you see him?”
+
+“No, Dinah, he was attending a Privy Council; but I got his address, and
+I mean to go over to see him after dinner.”
+
+“Please to bear in mind that you are not to form any engagements,
+Peter,--we leave this to-morrow evening by the packet,--if it was the
+Viceroy himself that wanted your company.”
+
+“Of course, dear, I never thought of such a thing. It was only when
+Harry said, 'You 'll be glad to meet Casey and Burrowes, and a few
+others of the old set,' I clean forgot everything of the present, and
+only lived in the long-past time, when life really was a very jolly
+thing.”
+
+“How did you find your friend looking?”
+
+“Old, Dinah, very old! That vile wig has, perhaps, something to say to
+it; and being a judge, too, gives a sternness to the mouth and a haughty
+imperiousness to the brow. It spoils Harry; utterly spoils that laughing
+blue eye, and that fine rich humor that used to play about his lips.”
+
+“Which _did_, you ought to say,--which did some forty years ago. What
+are you laughing at, Peter? What is it amuses you so highly?”
+
+“It was a charge of O'Grady's, that Harry told me,--a charge to one of
+those petty juries that, he says, never will go right, do what you may.
+The case was a young student of Trinity, tried for a theft, and whose
+defence was only by witnesses to character, and O'Grady said, 'Gentlemen
+of the jury, the issue before you is easy enough. This is a young
+gentleman of pleasing manners and the very best connections, who stole
+a pair of silk stockings, and you will find accordingly.' And what d'ye
+think, Dinah? They acquitted him, just out of compliment to the Bench.”
+
+“I declare, brother Peter, such a story inspires any other sentiment
+than mirth to me.”
+
+“I laughed at it till my sides ached,” said he, wiping his eyes. “I
+took a peep into the Chancery Court and saw O'Connell, who has plenty of
+business, they tell me. He was in some altercation with the Court. Lord
+Manners was scowling at him, as if he hated him. I hear that no day
+passes without some angry passage between them.”
+
+“And is it of these jangling, quarrelsome, irritable, and insolent men
+your ideal of agreeable society is made up, brother Peter?”
+
+“Not a doubt of it, Dinah. All these displays are briefed to them.
+They cannot help investing in their client's cause the fervor of their
+natures, simply because they are human; but they know how to leave all
+the acrimony of the contest in the wig-box, when they undress and come
+back to their homes,--the most genial, hearty, and frank fellows in all
+the world. If human nature were all bad, sister, he who saw it closest
+would be, I own, most like to catch its corruption, but it is not so,
+far from it. Every day and every hour reveals something to make a man
+right proud of his fellow-men.”
+
+Miss Barrington curtly recalled her brother from these speculations to
+the practical details of their journey, reminding him of much that he
+had to consult Withering upon, and many questions of importance to put
+to him. Thoroughly impressed with the perils of a journey abroad, she
+conjured up a vast array of imaginary difficulties, and demanded special
+instructions how each of them was to be met. Had poor Peter been--what
+he certainly was not--a most accomplished casuist, he might have been
+puzzled by the ingenious complexity of some of those embarrassments.
+As it was, like a man in the labyrinth, too much bewildered to attempt
+escape, he sat down in a dogged insensibility, and actually heard
+nothing.
+
+“Are you minding me, Peter?” asked she, fretfully, at last; “are you
+paying attention to what I am saying?”
+
+“Of course I am, Dinah dear; I'm listening with all ears.”
+
+“What was it, then, that I last remarked? What was the subject to which
+I asked your attention?”
+
+Thus suddenly called on, poor Peter started and rubbed his forehead.
+Vague shadows of passport people, and custom-house folk, and waiters,
+and money-changers, and brigands; insolent postilions, importunate
+beggars, cheating innkeepers, and insinuating swindlers were passing
+through his head, with innumerable incidents of the road; and, trying to
+catch a clew at random, he said, “It was to ask the Envoy, her Majesty's
+Minister at Brussels, about a washerwoman who would not tear off my
+shirt buttons--eh, Dinah? wasn't that it?”
+
+“You are insupportable, Peter Barrington,” said she, rising in anger. “I
+believe that insensibility like this is not to be paralleled!” and she
+left the room in wrath.
+
+Peter looked at his watch, and was glad to see it was past eight
+o'clock, and about the hour he meant for his visit to Withering. He set
+out accordingly, not, indeed, quite satisfied with the way he had lately
+acquitted himself, but consoled by thinking that Dinah rarely went back
+of a morning on the dereliction of the evening before, so that they
+should meet good friends as ever at the breakfast-table. Withering was
+at home, but a most discreet-looking butler intimated that he had dined
+that day _tête-à-tête_ with a gentleman, and had left orders not to be
+disturbed on any pretext “Could you not at least, send in my name?”
+ said Barrington; “I am a very old friend of your master's, whom he would
+regret not having seen.” A little persuasion aided by an argument that
+butlers usually succumb to succeeded, and before Peter believed that his
+card could have reached its destination, his friend was warmly shaking
+him by both hands, as he hurried him into the dinner-room.
+
+“You don't know what an opportune visit you have made me, Barrington,”
+ said he; “but first, to present you to my friend, Captain Stapylton--or
+Major--which is it?”
+
+“Captain. This day week, the 'Gazette,' perhaps, may call me Major.”
+
+“Always a pleasure to me to meet a soldier, sir,” said Barrington; “and
+I own to the weakness of saying, all the greater when a Dragoon. My own
+boy was a cavalryman.”
+
+“It was exactly of him we were talking,” said Withering; “my friend here
+has had a long experience of India, and has frankly told me much I was
+totally ignorant of. From one thing to another we rambled on till we
+came to discuss our great suit with the Company, and Captain Stapylton
+assures me that we have never taken the right road in the case.”
+
+“Nay, I could hardly have had such presumption; I merely remarked, that
+without knowing India and its habits, you could scarcely be prepared
+to encounter the sort of testimony that would be opposed to you, or to
+benefit by what might tend greatly in your favor.”
+
+“Just so--continue,” said Withering, who looked as though he had got an
+admirable witness on the table.
+
+“I'm astonished to hear from the Attorney-General,” resumed Stapylton,
+“that in a case of such magnitude as this you have never thought of
+sending out an efficient agent to India to collect evidence, sift
+testimony, and make personal inquiry as to the degree of credit to be
+accorded to many of the witnesses. This inquisitorial process is the
+very first step in every Oriental suit; you start at once, in fact, by
+sapping all the enemy's works,--countermining him everywhere.”
+
+“Listen, Barrington,--listen to this; it is all new to us.”
+
+“Everything being done by documentary evidence, there is a wide field
+for all the subtlety of the linguist; and Hindostanee has complexities
+enough to gratify the most inordinate appetite for quibble. A learned
+scholar--a Moonshee of erudition--is, therefore, the very first
+requisite, great care being taken to ascertain that he is not in the pay
+of the enemy.”
+
+“What rascals!” muttered Barrington.
+
+“Very deep--very astute dogs, certainly, but perhaps not much more
+unprincipled than some fellows nearer home,” continued the Captain,
+sipping his wine; “the great peculiarity of this class is, that while
+employing them in the most palpably knavish manner, and obtaining from
+them services bought at every sacrifice of honor, they expect all the
+deference due to the most umblemished integrity.”
+
+“I'd see them--I won't say where--first,” broke out Barrington; “and I
+'d see my lawsuit after them, if only to be won by their intervention.”
+
+“Remember, sir,” said Stapylton, calmly, “that such are the weapons
+employed against you. That great Company does not, nor can it afford to,
+despise such auxiliaries. The East has its customs, and the natures of
+men are not light things to be smoothed down by conventionalities. Were
+you, for instance, to measure a testimony at Calcutta by the standard of
+Westminster Hall, you would probably do a great and grievous injustice.”
+
+“Just so,” said Withering; “you are quite right there, and I have
+frequently found myself posed by evidence that I felt must be
+assailable. Go on, and tell my friend what you were mentioning to me
+before he came in.”
+
+“I am reluctant, sir,” said Stapylton, modestly, “to obtrude upon you,
+in a matter of such grand importance as this, the mere gossip of
+a mess-table, but, as allusion has been made to it, I can scarcely
+refrain. It was when serving in another Presidency an officer of ours,
+who had been long in Bengal, one night entered upon the question of
+Colonel Barrington's claims. He quoted the words of an uncle--I think
+he said his uncle--who was a member of the Supreme Council, and said,
+'Barrington ought to have known we never could have conceded this right
+of sovereignty, but he ought also to have known that we would rather
+have given ten lacs of rupees than have it litigated.'”
+
+“Have you that gentleman's name?” asked Barrington, eagerly.
+
+“I have; but the poor fellow is no more,--he was of that fatal
+expedition to Beloochistan eight years ago.”
+
+“You know our case, then, and what we claim?” asked Barrington.
+
+“Just as every man who has served in India knows it,--popularly,
+vaguely. I know that Colonel Barrington was, as the adopted son of a
+Rajah, invested with supreme power, and only needed the ratification
+of Great Britain to establish a sovereignty; and I have heard”--he laid
+stress on the word “heard”--“that if it had not been for some allegation
+of plotting against the Company's government, he really might ultimately
+have obtained that sanction.”
+
+“Just what I have said over and over again?” burst in Barrington. “It
+was the worst of treachery that mined my poor boy.”
+
+“I have heard that also,” said Stapylton, and with a degree of feeling
+and sympathy that made the old man's heart yearn towards him.
+
+“How I wish you had known him!” said he, as he drew his hand over his
+eyes. “And do you know, sir,” said he, warming, “that if I still follow
+up this suit, devoting to it the little that is left to me of life or
+fortune, that I do so less for any hope of gain than to place my poor
+boy before the world with his honor and fame unstained.”
+
+“My old friend does himself no more than justice there!” cried
+Withering.
+
+“A noble object,--may you have all success in it!” said Stapylton. He
+paused, and then, in a tone of deeper feeling, added: “It will, perhaps,
+seem a great liberty, the favor I'm about to ask; but remember that,
+as a brother soldier with your son I have some slight claim to approach
+you. Will you allow me to offer you such knowledge as I possess of
+India, to aid your suit? Will you associate me, in fact, with your
+cause? No higher one could there be than the vindication of a brave
+man's honor.”
+
+“I thank you with all my heart and soul!” cried the old man, grasping
+his hand. “In my own name, and in that of my poor dear granddaughter, I
+thank you.”
+
+“Oh, then, Colonel Barrington has left a daughter? I was not aware of
+that,” said Stapylton, with a certain coldness.
+
+“And a daughter who knows no more of this suit than of our present
+discussion of it,” said Withering.
+
+In the frankness of a nature never happier than when indulging its own
+candor, Barrington told how it was to see and fetch back with him the
+same granddaughter he had left a spot he had not quitted for years. “She
+'s coming back to a very humble home, it is true; but if you, sir,” said
+he, addressing Stapylton, “will not despise such lowly fare as a cottage
+can afford you, and would condescend to come and see us, you shall have
+the welcome that is due to one who wishes well to my boy's memory.”
+
+“And if you do,” broke in Withering, “you'll see the prettiest cottage
+and the first hostess in Europe; and here 's to her health,--Miss Dinah
+Barrington!”
+
+“I 'm not going to refuse that toast, though I have just passed the
+decanter,” said Peter. “Here 's to the best of sisters!”
+
+“Miss Barrington!” said Stapylton, with a courteous bow; and he drained
+his glass to the bottom.
+
+“And that reminds me I promised to be back to tea with her,” said
+Barrington; and renewing with all warmth his invitation to Stapylton,
+and cordially taking leave of his old friend, he left the house and
+hastened to his hotel.
+
+“What a delightful evening I have passed, Dinah!” said he, cheerfully,
+as he entered.
+
+“Which means that the Attorney-General gave you a grand review and
+sham fight of all the legal achievements of the term; but bear in mind,
+brother, there is no professional slang so odious to me as the lawyer's,
+and I positively hate a joke which cost six-and-eightpence, or even
+three-and-fourpence.” <
+
+“Nothing of this kind was there at all, Dinah! Withering had a friend
+with him, a very distinguished soldier, who had seen much Indian
+service, and entered with a most cordial warmth into poor George's case.
+He knew it,--as all India knows it, by report,--and frankly told us
+where our chief difficulties lay, and the important things we were
+neglecting.”
+
+“How generous! of a perfect stranger too!” said she, with a scarcely
+detectable tone of scorn.
+
+“Not--so to say--an utter stranger, for George was known to him by
+reputation and character.”
+
+“And who is, I suppose I am to say, your friend, Peter?”
+
+“Captain or Major Stapylton, of the Regent's Hussars?”
+
+“Oh! I know him,--or, rather, I know of him.”
+
+“What and how, Dinah? I am very curious to hear this.”
+
+“Simply, that while young Conyers was at the cottage he showed me a
+letter from that gentleman, asking him in the Admiral's name, to Cobham,
+and containing, at the same time, a running criticism on the house and
+his guests far more flippant than creditable.”
+
+“Men do these things every day, Dinah, and there is no harm in it.”
+
+“That all depends upon whom the man is. The volatile gayety of a
+high-spirited nature, eager for effect and fond of a sensation, will
+lead to many an indiscretion; but very different from this is the
+well-weighed sarcasm of a more serious mind, who not only shots his
+gun home, but takes time to sight ere he fires it. I hear that Captain
+Stapylton is a grand, cold, thoughtful man, of five or six-and-thirty.
+Is that so?”
+
+“Perhaps he may be. He 's a splendid fellow to look at, and all the
+soldier. But you shall see for yourself, and I 'll warrant you 'll not
+harbor a prejudice against him.”
+
+“Which means, you have asked him on a visit, brother Peter?”
+
+“Scarcely fair to call it on a visit, Dinah,” blundered he out, in
+confusion; “but I have said with what pleasure we should see him under
+our roof when we returned.”
+
+“I solemnly declare my belief, that if you went to a cattle-show you 'd
+invite every one you met there, from the squire to the pig-jobber,
+never thinking the while that nothing is so valueless as indiscriminate
+hospitality, even if it were not costly. Nobody thanks you,--no one is
+grateful for it.”
+
+“And who wants them to be grateful, Dinah? The pleasure is in the
+giving, not in receiving. You see your friends with their holiday faces
+on, when they sit round the table. The slowest and dreariest of them
+tries to look cheery; and the stupid dog who has never a jest in him has
+at least a ready laugh for the wit of his neighbor.”
+
+“Does it not spoil some of your zest for this pleasantry to think how it
+is paid for, brother?”
+
+“It might, perhaps, if I were to think of it; but, thank Heaven! it's
+about one of the last things would come into my head. My dear sister,
+there's no use in always treating human nature as if it was sick, for if
+you do, it will end by being hypochondriac!”
+
+“I protest, brother Peter, I don't know where you meet all the good and
+excellent people you rave about, and I feel it very churlish of you that
+you never present any of them to _me!_” And so saying, she gathered her
+knitting materials hastily together, and reminding him that it was past
+eleven o'clock, she uttered a hurried good-night, and departed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI. A VERY SAD GOOD-BYE
+
+Conyers sat alone in his barrack-room, very sad and dispirited.
+Hunter had left that same morning, and the young soldier felt utterly
+friendless. He had obtained some weeks' leave of absence, and already
+two days of the leave had gone over, and he had not energy to set out
+if he had even a thought as to the whither. A variety of plans passed
+vaguely through his head. He would go down to Portsmouth and see Hunter
+off; or he would nestle down in the little village of Inistioge and
+dream away the days in quiet forgetfulness; or he would go over to
+Paris, which he had never seen, and try whether the gay dissipations
+of that brilliant city might not distract and amuse him. The mail from
+India had arrived and brought no letter from his father, and this,
+too, rendered him irritable and unhappy. Not that his father was a good
+correspondent; he wrote but rarely, and always like one who snatched a
+hurried moment to catch a post. Still, if this were a case of emergency,
+any great or critical event in his life, he was sure his father would
+have informed him; and thus was it that he sat balancing doubt against
+doubt, and setting probability against probability, till his very head
+grew addled with the labor of speculation.
+
+It was already late; all the usual sounds of barrack life had subsided,
+and although on the opposite side of the square the brilliant lights of
+the mess-room windows showed where the convivial spirits of the regiment
+were assembled, all around was silent and still. Suddenly there came a
+dull heavy knock to the door, quickly followed by two or three others.
+
+Not caring to admit a visitor, whom, of course, he surmised would be
+some young brother-officer full of the plans and projects of the mess,
+he made no reply to the summons, nor gave any token of his presence. The
+sounds, however, were redoubled, and with an energy that seemed to vouch
+for perseverance; and Conyers, partly in anger, and partly in curiosity,
+went to the door and opened it. It was not till after a minute or two
+that he was able to recognize the figure before him. It was Tom
+Dill, but without a hat or neckcloth, his hair dishevelled, his face
+colorless, and his clothes torn, while from a recent wound in one hand
+the blood flowed fast, and dropped on the floor. The whole air and
+appearance of the young fellow so resembled drunkenness that Conyers
+turned a stern stare upon him as he stood in the centre of the room, and
+in a voice of severity said, “By what presumption, sir, do you dare to
+present yourself in this state before me?”
+
+“You think I'm drunk, sir, but I am not,” said he, with a faltering
+accent and a look of almost imploring misery.
+
+“What is the meaning of this state, then? What disgraceful row have you
+been in?”
+
+“None, sir. I have cut my hand with the glass on the barrack-wall, and
+torn my trousers too; but it's no matter, I 'll not want them long.”
+
+“What do you mean by all this? Explain yourself.”
+
+“May I sit down, sir, for I feel very weak?” but before the permission
+could be granted, his knees tottered, and he fell in a faint on the
+floor. Conyers knelt down beside him, bathed his temples with water, and
+as soon as signs of animation returned, took him up in his arms and laid
+him at full length on a sofa.
+
+In the vacant, meaningless glance of the poor fellow as he looked first
+around him, Conyers could mark how he was struggling to find out where
+he was.
+
+“You are with me, Tom,--with your friend Conyers,” said he, holding the
+cold clammy hand between his own.
+
+“Thank you, sir. It is very good of you. I do not deserve it,” said he,
+in a faint whisper.
+
+“My poor boy, you mustn't say that; I am your friend. I told you already
+I would be so.”
+
+“But you 'll not be my friend when I tell you--when I tell you--all;”
+ and as the last word dropped, he covered his face with both his hands,
+and burst into a heavy passion of tears.
+
+“Come, come, Tom, this is not manly; bear up bravely, bear up with
+courage, man. You used to say you had plenty of pluck if it were to be
+tried.”
+
+“So I thought I had, sir, but it has all left me;” and he sobbed as if
+his heart was breaking. “But I believe I could bear anything but
+this,” said he, in a voice shaken by convulsive throes. “It is the
+disgrace,--that 's what unmans me.”
+
+“Take a glass of wine, collect yourself, and tell me all about it.”
+
+“No, sir. No wine, thank you; give me a glass of water. There, I
+am better now; my brain is not so hot. You are very good to me, Mr.
+Conyers, but it 's the last time I'll ever ask it,--the very last time,
+sir; but I 'll remember it all my life.”
+
+“If you give way in this fashion, Tom, I 'll not think you the
+stout-hearted fellow I once did.”
+
+“No, sir, nor am I. I 'll never be the same again. I feel it here. I
+feel as if something gave, something broke.” And he laid his hand over
+his heart and sighed heavily.
+
+“Well, take your own time about it, Tom, and let me hear if I cannot be
+of use to you.”
+
+“No, sir, not now. Neither you nor any one else can help me now. It's
+all over, Mr. Conyers,--it's all finished.”
+
+“What is over,--what is finished?”
+
+“And so, as I thought it would n't do for one like me to be seen
+speaking to you before people, I stole away and climbed over the
+barrack-wall. I cut my hand on the glass, too, but it's nothing. And
+here I am, and here's the money you gave me; I've no need of it now.”
+ And as he laid some crumpled bank-notes on the table, his overcharged
+heart again betrayed him, and he burst into tears. “Yes, sir, that's
+what you gave me for the College, but I was rejected.”
+
+“Rejected, Tom! How was that? Be calm, my poor fellow, and tell me all
+about it quietly.”
+
+“I'll try, sir, I will, indeed; and I'll tell you nothing but the truth,
+that you may depend upon.” He took a great drink of water, and went
+on. “If there was one man I was afraid of in the world, it was Surgeon
+Asken, of Mercer's Hospital. I used to be a dresser there, and he
+was always angry with me, exposing me before the other students, and
+ridiculing me, so that if anything was done badly in the wards, he 'd
+say, 'This is some of Master Dill's work, is n't it?' Well, sir, would
+you believe it, on the morning I went up for my examination, Dr. Coles
+takes ill, and Surgeon Asken is called on to replace him. I did n't know
+it till I was sent for to go in, and my head went round, and I could n't
+see, and a cold sweat came over me, and I was so confused that when I
+got into the room I went and sat down beside the examiners, and never
+knew what they were laughing at.
+
+“'I have no doubt, Mr. Dill, you 'll occupy one of these places at some
+future day,' says Dr. Willes, 'but for the present your seat is yonder.'
+I don't remember much more after that, till Mr. Porter said, 'Don't be
+so nervous, Mr. Dill; collect yourself; I am persuaded you know what I
+am asking you, if you will not be flurried.' And all I could say was,
+'God bless you for that speech, no matter how it goes with me' and they
+all laughed out.
+
+“It was Asken's turn now, and he began. 'You are destined for the navy,
+I understand, sir?'
+
+“'No, sir; for the army,' said I.
+
+“'From what we have seen to-day, you 'll prove an ornament to either
+service. Meanwhile, sir, it will be satisfactory to the court to have
+your opinion on gun-shot wounds. Describe to us the case of a man
+laboring under the worst form of concussion of the brain, and by what
+indications you would distinguish it from fracture of the base of the
+skull, and what circumstances might occur to render the distinction more
+difficult, and what impossible?' That was his question, and if I was to
+live a hundred years I 'll never forget a word in it,--it's written on
+my heart, I believe, for life.
+
+“'Go on, sir,' said he, 'the court is waiting for you.'
+
+“'Take the case of concussion first,' said Dr. Willes.
+
+“'I hope I may be permitted to conduct my own examination in my own
+manner,' said Asken.
+
+“That finished me, and I gave a groan that set them all laughing again.
+
+“'Well, sir, I 'm waiting,' said Asken. 'You can have no difficulty to
+describe concussion, if you only give us your present sensations.'
+
+“'That's as true as if you swore it,' said I. 'I 'm just as if I had a
+fall on the crown of my head. There's a haze over my eyes, and a ringing
+of bells in my ears, and a feeling as if my brain was too big.'
+
+“'Take my word for it, Mr. Dill,' said he, sneeringly, 'the latter is
+a purely deceptive sensation; the fault lies in the opposite direction.
+Let us, however, take something more simple;' and with that he described
+a splinter wound of the scalp, with the whole integuments torn in
+fragments, and gunpowder and sticks and sand all mixed up with the
+flap that hung down over the patient's face. 'Now,' said he, after ten
+minutes' detail of this,--'now,' said he, 'when you found the man in
+this case, you 'd take out your scalpel, perhaps, and neatly cut away
+all these bruised and torn integuments?'
+
+“'I would, sir,' cried I, eagerly.
+
+“'I knew it,' said he, with a cry of triumph,--'I knew it. I 've no more
+to ask you. You may retire.'
+
+“I got up to leave the room, but a sudden flash went through me, and I
+said out boldly,--
+
+“'Am I passed? Tell me at once. Put me out of pain, for I can't bear any
+more!'
+
+“'If you'll retire for a few minutes,' said the President--
+
+“'My heart will break, sir,' said I, 'if I 'm to be in suspense any
+more. Tell me the worst at once.'
+
+“And I suppose they did tell me, for I knew no more till I found myself
+in the housekeeper's room, with wet cloths on my head, and the money you
+see there in the palm of my hand. _That_ told everything. Many were very
+kind to me, telling how it happened to this and to that man, the first
+time; and that Asken was thought very unfair, and so on; but I just
+washed my face with cold water, and put on my hat and went away home,
+that is, to where I lodged, and I wrote to Polly just this one line:
+'Rejected; I 'm not coming back.' And then I shut the shutters and went
+to bed in my clothes as I was, and I slept sixteen hours without ever
+waking. When I awoke, I was all right. I could n't remember everything
+that happened for some time, but I knew it all at last, and so I went
+off straight to the Royal Barracks and 'listed.”
+
+“Enlisted?--enlisted?”
+
+“Yes, sir, in the Forty-ninth Regiment of Foot, now in India, and
+sending off drafts from Cork to join them on Tuesday. It was out of the
+dépôt at the bridge I made my escape to-night to come and see you once
+more, and to give you this with my hearty blessing, for you were the
+only one ever stood to me in the world,--the only one that let me think
+for a moment I _could_ be a gentleman!”
+
+“Come, come, this is all wrong and hasty and passionate, Tom. You have
+no right to repay your family in this sort; this is not the way to treat
+that fine-hearted girl who has done so much for you; this is but an
+outbreak of angry selfishness.”
+
+“These are hard words, sir, very hard words, and I wish you had not said
+them.”
+
+“Hard or not, you deserve them; and it is their justice that wounds
+you.”
+
+“I won't say that it is _not_, sir. But it isn't justice I 'm asking
+for, but forgiveness. Just one word out of your mouth to say, 'I 'm
+sorry for you, Tom;' or, 'I wish you well.'”
+
+“So I do, my poor fellow, with all my heart,” cried Con-yers, grasping
+his hand and pressing it cordially, “and I 'll get you out of this
+scrape, cost what it may.”
+
+“If you mean, sir, that I am to get my discharge, it's better to tell
+the truth at once. I would n't take it. No, sir, I 'll stand by what I
+'ve done. I see I never could be a doctor, and I have my doubts, too, if
+I ever could be a gentleman; but there's something tells me I could be a
+soldier, and I'll try.”
+
+Conyers turned from him with an impatient gesture, and walked the room
+in moody silence.
+
+“I know well enough, sir,” continued Tom, “what every one will say;
+perhaps you yourself are thinking it this very minute: 'It 's all out of
+his love of low company he 's gone and done this; he's more at home with
+those poor ignorant boys there than he would be with men of education
+and good manners.' Perhaps it's true, perhaps it is 'n't! But there 's
+one thing certain, which is, that I 'll never try again to be anything
+that I feel is clean above me, and I 'll not ask the world to give me
+credit for what I have not the least pretension to.”
+
+“Have you reflected,” said Conyers, slowly, “that if you reject my
+assistance now, it will be too late to ask for it a few weeks, or even a
+few days hence?”
+
+“I _have_ thought of all that, sir. I 'll never trouble you about myself
+again.”
+
+“My dear Tom,” said Conyers, as he laid his arm on the other's shoulder,
+“just think for one moment of all the misery this step will cause your
+sister,--that kind, true-hearted sister, who has behaved so nobly by
+you.”
+
+“I have thought of that, too, sir; and in my heart I believe, though she
+'ll fret herself at first greatly, it will all turn out best in the end.
+What could I ever be but a disgrace to her? Who 'd ever think the same
+of Polly after seeing _me?_ Don't I bring her down in spite of herself;
+and is n't it a hard trial for her to be a lady when I am in the same
+room with her? No, sir, I'll not go back; and though I haven't much hope
+in me, I feel I'm doing right.”
+
+“I know well,” said Conyers, pettishly, “that your sister will throw
+the whole blame on me. She 'll say, naturally enough, _You_ could have
+obtained his discharge,--_you_ should have insisted on his leaving.”
+
+“That's what you could not, sir,” said Tom, sturdily. “It's a poor heart
+hasn't some pride in it; and I would not go back and meet my father,
+after my disgrace, if it was to cost me my right hand,--so don't say
+another word about it. Good-bye, sir, and my blessing go with you
+wherever you are. I 'll never forget how you stood to me.”
+
+“That money there is yours, Dill,” said Conyers, half haughtily. “You
+may refuse my advice and reject my counsel, but I scarcely suppose you
+'ll ask me to take back what I once have given.”
+
+Tom tried to speak, but he faltered and moved from one foot to the
+other, in an embarrassed and hesitating way. He wanted to say how the
+sum originally intended for one object could not honestly be claimed for
+another; he wanted to say, also, that he had no longer the need of
+so much money, and that the only obligation he liked to submit to was
+gratitude for the past; but a consciousness that in attempting to
+say these things some unhappy word, some ill-advised or ungracious
+expression might escape him, stopped him, and he was silent.
+
+“You do not wish that we should part coldly, Tom?”
+
+“No, sir,--oh, no!” cried he, eagerly.
+
+“Then let not that paltry gift stand in the way of our esteem. Now,
+another thing. Will you write to me? Will you tell me how the world
+fares with you, and honestly declare whether the step you have taken
+to-day brings with it regret or satisfaction?”
+
+“I'm not over-much of a letter-writer,” said he, falter-ingly, “but I'll
+try. I must be going, Mr. Conyers,” said he, after a moment's silence;
+“I must get back before I'm missed.”
+
+“Not as you came, Tom, however. I'll pass you out of the barrack-gate.”
+
+As they walked along side by side, neither spoke till they came close to
+the gate; then Conyers halted and said, “Can you think of nothing I can
+do for you, or is there nothing you would leave to my charge after you
+have gone?”
+
+“No, sir, nothing.” He paused, and then, as if with a struggle, said,
+“Except you 'd write one line to my sister Polly, to tell her that I
+went away in good heart, that I did n't give in one bit, and that if it
+was n't for thinking that maybe I 'd never see her again--” He faltered,
+his voice grew thick, he tried to cough down the rising emotion, but
+the feeling overcame him, and he burst out into tears. Ashamed at the
+weakness he was endeavoring to deny, he sprang through the gate and
+disappeared.
+
+Conyers slowly returned to his quarters, very thoughtful and very sad.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII. THE CONVENT ON THE MEUSE
+
+While poor Tom Dill, just entering upon life, went forth in gloom and
+disappointment to his first venture, old Peter Barrington, broken by
+years and many a sorrow, set out on his journey with a high heart and a
+spirit well disposed to see everything in its best light and be pleased
+with all around him. Much of this is, doubtless, matter of temperament;
+but I suspect, too, that all of us have more in our power in this way
+than we practise. Barrington had possibly less merit than his neighbors,
+for nature had given him one of those happy dispositions upon which
+the passing vexations of life produce scarcely any other effect than
+a stimulus to humor, or a tendency to make them the matter of amusing
+memory.
+
+He had lived, besides, so long estranged from the world, that life had
+for him all the interests of a drama, and he could no more have felt
+angry with the obtrusive waiter or the roguish landlord than he would
+with their fictitious representatives on the stage. They were, in his
+eyes, parts admirably played, and no more; he watched them with a sense
+of humorous curiosity, and laughed heartily at successes of which he
+was himself the victim. Miss Barrington was no disciple of this school;
+rogues to her were simply rogues, and no histrionic sympathies dulled
+the vexation they gave her. The world, out of which she had lived so
+long, had, to her thinking, far from improved in the mean while. People
+were less deferential, less courteous than of old. There was an indecent
+haste and bustle about everything, and a selfish disregard of one's
+neighbor was the marked feature of all travel. While her brother repaid
+himself for many an inconvenience by thinking over some strange caprice,
+or some curious inconsistency in human nature,--texts for amusing
+afterthought,--she only winced under the infliction, and chafed at every
+instance of cheating or impertinence that befell them.
+
+The wonderful things she saw, the splendid galleries rich in art, the
+gorgeous palaces, the grand old cathedrals, were all marred to her
+by the presence of the loquacious lackey whose glib tongue had to be
+retained at the salary of the “vicar of our parish,” and who never
+descanted on a saint's tibia without costing the price of a dinner; so
+that old Peter at last said to himself, “I believe my sister Dinah would
+n't enjoy the garden of Eden if Adam had to go about and show her its
+beauties.”
+
+The first moment of real enjoyment of her tour was on that morning when
+they left Namur to drive to the Convent of Bramaigne, about three
+miles off, on the banks of the Meuse. A lovelier day never shone upon a
+lovelier scene. The river, one side guarded by lofty cliffs, was on the
+other bounded by a succession of rich meadows, dotted with picturesque
+homesteads half hidden in trees. Little patches of cultivation, labored
+to the perfection of a garden, varied the scene, and beautiful cattle
+lay lazily under the giant trees, solemn voluptuaries of the peaceful
+happiness of their lot.
+
+Hitherto Miss Dinah had stoutly denied that anything they had seen could
+compare with their own “vale and winding river,” but now she frankly
+owned that the stream was wider, the cliffs higher, the trees taller and
+better grown, while the variety of tint in the foliage far exceeded
+all she had any notion of; but above all these were the evidences of
+abundance, the irresistible charm that gives the poetry to peasant
+life; and the picturesque cottage, the costume, the well-stored granary,
+bespeak the condition with which we associate our ideas of rural
+happiness. The giant oxen as they marched proudly to their toil, the
+gay-caparisoned pony who jingled his bells as he trotted by, the peasant
+girls as they sat at their lace cushions before the door, the rosy
+urchins who gambolled in the deep grass, all told of plenty,--that
+blessing which to man is as the sunlight to a landscape, making the
+fertile spots more beautiful, and giving even to ruggedness an aspect of
+stern grandeur.
+
+“Oh, brother Peter, that we could see something like this at home,”
+ cried she. “See that girl yonder watering the flowers in her little
+garden,--how prettily that old vine is trained over the balcony,--mark
+the scarlet tassels in the snow-white team,--are not these signs of an
+existence not linked to daily drudgery? I wish our people could be like
+these.”
+
+“Here we are, Dinah: there is the convent!” cried Barrington, as a tall
+massive roof appeared over the tree-tops, and the little carriage now
+turned from the high-road into a shady avenue of tall elms. “What a
+grand old place it is! some great seigniorial château once on a time.”
+
+As they drew nigh, nothing bespoke the cloister. The massive old
+building, broken by many a projection and varied by many a gable, stood,
+like the mansion of some rich proprietor, in a vast wooded lawn. The
+windows lay open, the terrace was covered with orange and lemon trees
+and flowering plants, amid which seats were scattered; and in the rooms
+within, the furniture indicated habits of comfort and even of luxury.
+With all this, no living thing was to be seen; and when Barrington got
+down and entered the hall, he neither found a servant nor any means to
+summon one.
+
+“You'll have to move that little slide you see in the door there,” said
+the driver of the carriage, “and some one will come to you.”
+
+He did so; and after waiting a few moments, a somewhat ruddy, cheerful
+face, surmounted by a sort of widow's cap, appeared, and asked his
+business.
+
+“They are at dinner, but if you will enter the drawing-room she will
+come to you presently.”
+
+They waited for some time; to them it seemed very long, for they never
+spoke, but sat there in still thoughtfulness, their hearts very full,
+for there was much in that expectancy, and all the visions of many
+a wakeful night or dreary day might now receive their shock or their
+support. Their patience was to be further tested; for, when the door
+opened, there entered a grim-looking little woman in a nun's costume,
+who, without previous salutation, announced herself as Sister Lydia.
+Whether the opportunity for expansiveness was rare, or that her especial
+gift was fluency, never did a little old woman hold forth more volubly.
+As though anticipating all the worldly objections to a conventual
+existence, or rather seeming to suppose that every possible thing had
+been actually said on that ground, she assumed the defence the very
+moment she sat down. Nothing short of long practice with this argument
+could have stored her mind with all her instances, her quotations, and
+her references. Nor could anything short of a firm conviction have made
+her so courageously indifferent to the feelings she was outraging,
+for she never scrupled to arraign the two strangers before her for
+ignorance, apathy, worldliness, sordid and poor ambitions, and, last of
+all, a levity unbecoming their time of life.
+
+[Illustration: 304]
+
+“I 'm not quite sure that I understand her aright,” whispered Peter,
+whose familiarity with French was not what it had once been; “but if I
+do, Dinah, she 's giving us a rare lesson.”
+
+“She's the most insolent old woman I ever met in my life,” said his
+sister, whose violent use of her fan seemed either likely to provoke or
+to prevent a fit of apoplexy.
+
+“It is usual,” resumed Sister Lydia, “to give persons who are about to
+exercise the awful responsibility now devolving upon you the opportunity
+of well weighing and reflecting over the arguments I have somewhat
+faintly shadowed forth.”
+
+“Oh, not faintly!” groaned Barrington.
+
+But she minded nothing the interruption, and went on,--
+
+“And for this purpose a little tract has been composed, entitled 'A
+Word to the Worldling.' This, with your permission, I will place in your
+hands. You will there find at more length than I could bestow--But I
+fear I impose upon this lady's patience?”
+
+“It has left me long since, madam,” said Miss Dinah, as she actually
+gasped for breath.
+
+In the grim half-smile of the old nun might be seen the triumphant
+consciousness that placed her above the “mundane;” but she did not
+resent the speech, simply saying that, as it was the hour of recreation,
+perhaps she would like to see her young ward in the garden with her
+companions.
+
+“By all means. We thank you heartily for the offer,” cried Barrington,
+rising hastily.
+
+[Illustration: 304]
+
+With another smile, still more meaningly a reproof, Sister Lydia
+reminded him that the profane foot of a man had never transgressed the
+sacred precincts of the convent garden, and that he must remain where he
+was.
+
+“For Heaven's sake! Dinah, don't keep me a prisoner here a moment
+longer than you can help it,” cried he, “or I'll not answer for my good
+behavior.”
+
+As Barrington paced up and down the room with impatient steps, he could
+not escape the self-accusation that all his present anxiety was scarcely
+compatible with the long, long years of neglect and oblivion he had
+suffered to glide over.
+
+The years in which he had never heard of Josephine--never asked for
+her--was a charge there was no rebutting. Of course he could fall back
+upon all that special pleading ingenuity and self-love will supply about
+his own misfortunes, the crushing embarrassments that befell him, and
+such like. But it was no use, it was desertion, call it how he would;
+and poor as he was he had never been without a roof to shelter her, and
+if it had not been for false pride he would have offered her that refuge
+long ago. He was actually startled as he thought over all this. Your
+generous people, who forgive injuries with little effort, who bear no
+malice nor cherish any resentment, would be angels--downright angels--if
+we did not find that they are just as indulgent, just as merciful to
+themselves as to the world at large. They become perfect adepts in
+apologies, and with one cast of the net draw in a whole shoal of
+attenuating circumstances. To be sure, there will now and then break
+in upon them a startling suspicion that all is not right, and that
+conscience has been “cooking” the account; and when such a moment does
+come, it is a very painful one.
+
+“Egad!” muttered he to himself, “we have been very heartless all this
+time, there's no denying it; and if poor George's girl be a disciple
+of that grim old woman with the rosary and the wrinkles, it is nobody's
+fault but our own.” He looked at his watch; Dinah had been gone more
+than half an hour. What a time to keep him in suspense! Of course there
+were formalities,--the Sister Lydia described innumerable ones,--jail
+delivery was nothing to it, but surely five-and-thirty minutes would
+suffice to sign a score of documents. The place was becoming hateful to
+him. The grand old park, with its aged oaks, seemed sad as a graveyard,
+and the great silent house, where not a footfall sounded, appeared a
+tomb. “Poor child! what a dreary spot you have spent your brightest
+years in,--what a shadow to throw over the whole of a lifetime!”
+
+He had just arrived at that point wherein his granddaughter arose before
+his mind a pale, careworn, sorrow-struck girl, crushed beneath the
+dreary monotony of a joyless life, and seeming only to move in a sort
+of dreamy melancholy, when the door opened, and Miss Barrington entered
+with her arm around a young girl tall as herself, and from whose
+commanding figure even the ungainly dress she wore could not take away
+the dignity.
+
+“This is Josephine, Peter,” said Miss Dinah; and though Barrington
+rushed forward to clasp her in his arms, she merely crossed hers
+demurely on her breast and courtesied deeply.
+
+“It is your grandpapa, Josephine,” said Miss Dinah, half tartly.
+
+The young girl opened her large, full, lustrous eyes, and stared
+steadfastly at him, and then, with infinite grace, she took his hand and
+kissed it.
+
+“My own dear child,” cried the old man, throwing his arms around her,
+“it is not homage, it is your love we want.”
+
+“Take care, Peter, take care,” whispered his sister; “she is very timid
+and very strange.”
+
+“You speak English, I hope, dear?” said the old man.
+
+“Yes, sir, I like it best,” said she. And there was the very faintest
+possible foreign accent in the words.
+
+“Is n't that George's own voice, Dinah? Don't you think you heard
+himself there?”
+
+“The voice is certainly like him,” said Miss Dinah, with a marked
+emphasis.
+
+“And so are--no, not her eyes, but her brow, Dinah. Yes, darling, you
+have his own frank look, and I feel sure you have his own generous
+nature.”
+
+“They say I'm like my mother's picture,” said she, unfastening a locket
+she wore from its chain and handing it. And both Peter and his sister
+gazed eagerly at the miniature. It was of a very dark but handsome woman
+in a rich turban, and who, though profusely ornamented with costly gems,
+did, in reality, present a resemblance to the cloistered figure before
+them.
+
+“Am I like her?” asked the girl, with a shade more of earnestness in her
+voice.
+
+“You are, darling; but like your father, too, and every word you utter
+brings back his memory; and see, Dinah, if that is n't George's old
+trick,--to lay one hand in the palm of the other.”
+
+As if corrected, the young girl dropped her arms to her sides and stood
+like a statue.
+
+“Be like him in everything, dearest child,” said the old man, “if you
+would have my heart all your own.”
+
+“I must be what I am,” said she, solemnly.
+
+“Just so, Josephine; well said, my good girl. Be natural,” said Miss
+Dinah, kissing her, “and our love will never fail you.”
+
+There was the faintest little smile of acknowledgment to this speech;
+but faint as it was, it dimpled her cheek, and seemed to have left
+a pleasant expression on her face, for old Peter gazed on her with
+increased delight as he said, “That was George's own smile; just the
+way he used to look, half grave, half merry. Oh, how you bring him back
+tome!”
+
+“You see, my dear child, that you are one of us; let us hope you will
+share in the happiness this gives us.”
+
+The girl listened attentively to Miss Dinah's words, and after a pause
+of apparent thought over them, said, “I will hope so.”
+
+“May we leave this, Dinah? Are we free to get away?” whispered
+Barrington to his sister, for an unaccountable oppression seemed to
+weigh on him, both from the place and its belongings.
+
+“Yes; Josephine has only one good-bye to say; her trunks are already on
+the carriage, and there is nothing more to detain us.”
+
+“Go and say that farewell, dear child,” said he, affectionately; “and be
+speedy, for there are longing hearts here to wish for your return.”
+
+With a grave and quiet mien she walked away, and as she gained the
+door turned round and made a deep, respectful courtesy,--a movement so
+ceremonious that the old man involuntarily replied to it by a bow as
+deep and reverential.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII. GEORGE'S DAUGHTER
+
+I suppose, nay, I am certain, that the memory of our happiest moments
+ought ever to be of the very faintest and weakest, since, could we
+recall them in all their fulness and freshness, the recollection would
+only serve to deepen the gloom of age, and imbitter all its daily
+trials. Nor is it, altogether, a question of memory! It is in the very
+essence of happiness to be indescribable. Who could impart in words the
+simple pleasure he has felt as he lay day-dreaming in the deep grass,
+lulled by the humming insect, or the splash of falling water, with
+teeming fancy peopling the space around, and blending the possible with
+the actual? The more exquisite the sense of enjoyment, the more will
+it defy delineation. And so, when we come to describe the happiness of
+others, do we find our words weak, and our attempt mere failure.
+
+It is in this difficulty that I now find myself. I would tell, if I
+could, how enjoyably the Barringtons sauntered about through the old
+villages on the Rhine and up the Moselle, less travelling than strolling
+along in purposeless indolence, resting here, and halting there, always
+interested, always pleased. It was strange into what perfect harmony
+these three natures--unlike as they were--blended!
+
+Old Peter's sympathies went with all things human, and he loved to watch
+the village life and catch what he could of its ways and instincts. His
+sister, to whom the love of scenery was a passion, never wearied of the
+picturesque land they travelled; and as for Josephine, she was no longer
+the demure pensionnaire of the convent,--thoughtful and reserved,
+even to secrecy,--but a happy child, revelling in a thousand senses of
+enjoyment, and actually exulting in the beauty of all she saw around
+her. What depression must come of captivity, when even its faintest
+image, the cloister, could have weighed down a heart like hers! Such was
+Barrington's thought as he beheld her at play with the peasant children,
+weaving garlands for a village _fête_, or joyously joining the chorus of
+a peasant song. There was, besides, something singularly touching in the
+half-consciousness of her freedom, when recalled for an instant to the
+past by the tinkling bell of a church. She would seem to stop in her
+play, and bethink her how and why she was there, and then, with a cry of
+joy, bound away after her companions in wild delight.
+
+“Dearest aunt,” said she, one day, as they sat on a rocky ledge over the
+little river that traverses the Lahnech, “shall I always find the same
+enjoyment in life that I feel now, for it seems to me this is a measure
+of happiness that could not endure?”
+
+“Some share of this is owing to contrast, Fifine. Your convent life had
+not too many pleasures.”
+
+“It was, or rather it seems to me now, as I look back, a long and weary
+dream; but, at the same time, it appears more real than this; for do
+what I may I cannot imagine this to be the world of misery and sorrow
+I have heard so much of. Can any one fancy a scene more beautiful than
+this before us? Where is the perfume more exquisite than these violets
+I now crush in my hand? The peasants, as they salute us, look happy and
+contented. Is it, then, only in great cities that men make each other
+miserable?”
+
+Dinah shook her head, but did not speak.
+
+“I am so glad grandpapa does not live in a city. Aunt, I am never
+wearied of hearing you talk of that dear cottage beside the river; and
+through all my present delight I feel a sense of impatience to be there,
+to be at 'home.'”
+
+“So that you will not hold us to our pledge to bring you back to
+Bramaigne, Fifine,” said Miss Dinah, smiling.
+
+“Oh no, no! Not if you will let me live with you. Never!”
+
+“But you have been happy up to this, Fifine? You have said over and
+over again that your convent life was dear to you, and all its ways
+pleasant.”
+
+“It is just the same change to me to live as I now do, as in my heart
+I feel changed after reading out one of those delightful stories to
+grandpapa,--Rob Roy, for instance. It all tells of a world so much more
+bright and beautiful than I know of, that it seems as though new senses
+were given to me. It is so strange and so captivating, too, to hear of
+generous impulses, noble devotion,--of faith that never swerved, and
+love that never faltered.
+
+“In novels, child; these were in novels.”
+
+“True, aunt; but they had found no place there had they been incredible;
+at least, it is clear that he who tells the tale would have us believe
+it to be true.”
+
+Miss Dinah had not been a convert to her brother's notions as to
+Fifine's readings; and she was now more disposed to doubt than ever. To
+overthrow of a sudden, as though by a great shock, all the stem realism
+of a cloister existence, and supply its place with fictitious incidents
+and people, seemed rash and perilous; but old Peter only thought of
+giving a full liberty to the imprisoned spirit,--striking off chain and
+fetter, and setting the captive free,--free in all the glorious liberty
+of a young imagination.
+
+“Well, here comes grandpapa,” said Miss Dinah, “and, if I don't mistake,
+with a book in his hand for one of your morning readings.”
+
+Josephine ran eagerly to meet him, and, fondly drawing her arm within
+his own, came back at his side.
+
+“The third volume, Fifine, the third volume,” said he, holding the
+book aloft. “Only think, child, what fates are enclosed within a
+third volume! What a deal of happiness or long-living misery are here
+included!”
+
+[Illustration: 312]
+
+She straggled to take the book from his hand, but he evaded her grasp,
+and placed it in his pocket, saying,--
+
+“Not till evening, Fifine. I am bent on a long ramble up the Glen this
+morning, and you shall tell me all about the sisterhood, and sing me one
+of those little Latin canticles I'm so fond of.”
+
+“Meanwhile, I 'll go and finish my letter to Polly Dill. I told her,
+Peter, that by Thursday next, or Friday, she might expect us.”
+
+“I hope so, with all my heart; for, beautiful as all this is, it wants
+the greatest charm,--it's not home! Then I want, besides, to see Fifine
+full of household cares.”
+
+“Feeding the chickens instead of chasing the butterflies, Fifine.
+Totting up the house-bills, in lieu of sighing over 'Waverley.'”
+
+“And, if I know Fifine, she will be able to do one without relinquishing
+the other,” said Peter, gravely. “Our daily life is all the more
+beautiful when it has its landscape reliefs of light and shadow.”
+
+“I think I could, too,” cried Fifine, eagerly. “I feel as though I could
+work in the fields and be happy, just in the conscious sense of doing
+what it was good to do, and what others would praise me for.”
+
+“There's a paymaster will never fail you in such hire,” said Miss Dinah,
+pointing to her brother; and then, turning away, she walked back to the
+little inn. As she drew nigh, the landlord came to tell her that a young
+gentleman, on seeing her name in the list of strangers, had made many
+inquiries after her, and begged he might be informed of her return. On
+learning that he was in the garden, she went thither at once.
+
+“I felt it was you. I knew who had been asking for me, Mr. Conyers,”
+ said she, advancing towards Fred with her hand out. “But what strange
+chance could have led you here?”
+
+“You have just said it, Miss Barrington; a chance,--a mere chance. I
+had got a short leave fron| my regiment, and came abroad to wander about
+with no very definite object; but, growing impatient of the wearisome
+hordes of our countrymen on the Rhine, I turned aside yesterday from
+that great high-road and reached this spot, whose greatest charm--shall
+I own it?--was a fancied resemblance to a scene I loved far better.”
+
+“You are right. It was only this morning my brother said it was so like
+our own cottage.”
+
+“And he is here also?” said the young man, with a half-constraint.
+
+“Yes, and very eager to see you, and ask your forgive ness for his
+ungracious manner to you; not that I saw it, or understand what it could
+mean, but he says that he has a pardon to crave at your hands.”
+
+So confused was Conyers for an instant that he made no answer, and when
+he did speak it was falteringly and with embarrassment, “I never could
+have anticipated meeting you here. It is more good fortune than I ever
+looked for.”
+
+[Illustration: 312]
+
+“We came over to the Continent to fetch away my grand-niece, the
+daughter of that Colonel Barrington you have heard so much of.”
+
+“And is she--” He stopped, and grew scarlet with confusion; but she
+broke in, laughingly,--
+
+“No, not black, only dark-complexioned; in fact, a brunette, and no
+more.”
+
+“Oh, I don't mean,--I surely could not have said--”
+
+“No matter what you meant or said. Your unuttered question was one that
+kept occurring to my brother and myself every morning as we journeyed
+here, though neither of us had the courage to speak it. But our wonders
+are over; she is a dear good, girl, and we love her better every day we
+see her. But now a little about yourself. Why do I find you so low and
+depressed?”
+
+“I have had much to fret me, Miss Barrington. Some were things that
+could give but passing unhappiness; others were of graver import.”
+
+“Tell me so much as you may of them, and I will try to help you to bear
+up against them.”
+
+“I will tell you all,--everything!” cried he. “It is the very moment I
+have been longing for, when I could pour out all my cares before you and
+ask, What shall I do?”
+
+Miss Barrington silently drew her arm within his, and they strolled
+along the shady alley without a word.
+
+“I must begin with my great grief,--it absorbs all the rest,” said he,
+suddenly. “My father is coming home; he has lost, or thrown up, I can't
+tell which, his high employment. I have heard both versions of the
+story; and his own few words, in the only letter he has written me, do
+not confirm either. His tone is indignant; but far more it is sad and
+depressed,--he who never wrote a line but in the joyousness of his
+high-hearted nature; who met each accident of life with an undaunted
+spirit, and spurned the very thought of being cast down by fortune. See
+what he says here.” And he took a much crumpled letter from his pocket,
+and folded down a part of it “Read that. 'The time for men of my stamp
+is gone by in India. We are as much bygones as the old flint musket or
+the matchlock. Soldiers of a different temperament are the fashion now;
+and the sooner we are pensioned or die off the better. For my own part,
+I am sick of it. I have lost my liver and have not made my fortune,
+and like men who have missed their opportunities, I come away too
+discontented with myself to think well of any one. They fancied that by
+coldness and neglect they might get rid of me, as they did once before
+of a far worthier and better fellow; but though I never had the courage
+that he had, they shall not break _my_ heart.' Does it strike you to
+whom he alludes there?” asked Conyers, suddenly; “for each time that I
+read the words I am more disposed to believe that they refer to Colonel
+Barrington.”
+
+“I am sure of it!” cried she. “It is the testimony of a sorrow-stricken
+heart to an old friend's memory; but I hear my brother's voice; let me
+go and tell him you are here.” But Barrington was already coming towards
+them.
+
+“Ah, Mr. Conyers!” cried he. “If you knew how I have longed for this
+moment! I believe you are the only man in the world I ever ill treated
+on my own threshold; but the very thought of it gave me a fit of
+illness, and now the best thing I know on my recovery is, that I am here
+to ask your pardon.”
+
+“I have really nothing to forgive. I met under your roof with a kindness
+that never befell me before; nor do I know the spot on earth where I
+could look for the like to-morrow.”
+
+“Come back to it, then, and see if the charm should not be there still.”
+
+“Where 's Josephine, brother?” asked Miss Barrington, who, seeing the
+young man's agitation, wished to change the theme.
+
+“She's gone to put some ferns in water; but here she comes now.”
+
+Bounding wildly along, like a child in joyous freedom, Josephine came
+towards them, and, suddenly halting at sight of a stranger, she stopped
+and courtesied deeply, while Conyers, half ashamed at his own unhappy
+blunder about her, blushed deeply as he saluted her. Indeed, their
+meeting was more like that of two awkward timid children than of two
+young persons of their age; and they eyed each other with the distrust
+school boys and girls exchange on a first acquaintance.
+
+“Brother, I have something to tell you,” said Miss Barrington, who was
+eager to communicate the news she had just heard of General Conyers; and
+while she drew him to one side, the young people still stood there,
+each seeming to expect the other would make some advance towards
+acquaintanceship. Conyers tried to say some commonplace,--some one of
+the fifty things that would have occurred so naturally in presence of
+a young lady to whom he had been just presented; but he could think of
+none, or else those that _he_ thought of seemed inappropriate. How
+talk, for instance, of the world and its pleasures to one who had been
+estranged from it! While he thus struggled and contended with himself,
+she suddenly started as if with a flash of memory, and said, “How
+forgetful!”
+
+“Forgetful!--and of what?” asked he.
+
+“I have left the book I was reading to grandpapa on the rock where we
+were sitting. I must go and fetch it.”
+
+“May I go with you?” asked he, half timidly.
+
+“Yes, if you like.”
+
+“And your book,--what was it?”
+
+“Oh, a charming book,--such a delightful story! So many people one
+would have loved to know!--such scenes one would have loved to
+visit!--incidents, too, that keep the heart in intense anxiety, that
+you wonder how he who imagined them could have sustained the thrilling
+interest, and held his own heart so long in terrible suspense!”
+
+“And the name of this wonderful book is--”
+
+“'Waverley.'”
+
+“I have read it,” said he, coldly.
+
+“And have you not longed to be a soldier? Has not your heart bounded
+with eagerness for a life of adventure and peril?”
+
+“I am a soldier,” said he, quietly.
+
+“Indeed!” replied she, slowly, while her steadfast glance scanned him
+calmly and deliberately.
+
+“You find it hard to recognize as a soldier one dressed as I am, and
+probably wonder how such a life as this consorts with enterprise and
+danger. Is not that what is passing in your mind?”
+
+“Mayhap,” said she, in a low voice.
+
+“It is all because the world has changed a good deal since Waverley's
+time.”
+
+“How sorry I am to hear it!”
+
+“Nay, for your sake it is all the better. Young ladies have a pleasanter
+existence now than they had sixty years since. They lived then lives of
+household drudgery or utter weariness.”
+
+“And what have they now?” asked she, eagerly.
+
+“What have they not! All that can embellish life is around them; they
+are taught in a hundred ways to employ the faculties which give to
+existence its highest charm. They draw, sing, dance, ride, dress
+becomingly, read what may give to their conversation an added elegance
+and make their presence felt as an added lustre.”
+
+“How unlike all this was our convent life!” said she, slowly. “The beads
+in my rosary were not more alike than the days that followed each other,
+and but for the change of season I should have thought life a dreary
+sleep. Oh, if you but knew what a charm there is in the changeful year
+to one who lives in any bondage!”
+
+“And yet I remember to have heard how you hoped you might not be taken
+away from that convent life, and be compelled to enter the world,” said
+he, with a malicious twinkle of the eye.
+
+“True; and had I lived there still I had not asked for other. But how
+came it that you should have heard of me? I never heard of _you!_”
+
+“That is easily told. I was your aunt's guest at the time she resolved
+to come abroad to see you and fetch you home. I used to hear all her
+plans about you, so that at last--I blush to own--I talked of Josephine
+as though she were my sister.”
+
+“How strangely cold you were, then, when we met!” said she, quietly.
+“Was it that you found me so unlike what you expected?”
+
+“Unlike, indeed!”
+
+“Tell me how--tell me, I pray you, what you had pictured me.”
+
+“It was not mere fancy I drew from. There was a miniature of you as a
+child at the cottage, and I have looked at it till I could recall every
+line of it.”
+
+“Go on!” cried she, as he hesitated.
+
+“The child's face was very serious,--actually grave for childhood,--and
+had something almost stern in its expression; and yet I see nothing of
+this in yours.”
+
+“So that, like grandpapa,” said she, laughing, “you were disappointed in
+not finding me a young tiger from Bengal; but be patient, and remember
+how long it is since I left the jungle.”
+
+Sportively as the words were uttered, her eyes flashed and her cheek
+colored, and Conyers saw for the first time how she resembled her
+portrait in infancy.
+
+“Yes,” added she, as though answering what was passing in his mind, “you
+are thinking just like the sisters, 'What years and years it would take
+to discipline one of such a race!' I have heard that given as a reason
+for numberless inflictions. And now, all of a sudden, comes grandpapa
+to say, 'We love you so because you are one of us.' Can you understand
+this?”
+
+“I think I can,--that is, I think I can understand why--” he was going
+to add, “why they should love you;” but he stopped, ashamed of his own
+eagerness.
+
+She waited a moment for him to continue, and then, herself blushing, as
+though she had guessed his embarrassment, she turned away.
+
+“And this book that we have been forgetting,--let us go and search for
+it,” said she, walking on rapidly in front of him; but he was speedily
+at her side again.
+
+“Look there, brother Peter,--look there!” said Miss Dinah, as she
+pointed after them, “and see how well fitted we are to be guardians to a
+young lady!”
+
+“I see no harm in it, Dinah,--I protest, I see no harm in it.”
+
+“Possibly not, brother Peter, and it may only be a part of your system
+for making her--as you phrase it--feel a holy horror of the convent.”
+
+“Well,” said he, meditatively, “he seems a fine, frank-hearted young
+fellow, and in this world she is about to enter, her first experiences
+might easily be worse.”
+
+“I vow and declare,” cried she, warmly, “I believe it is your slipshod
+philosophy that makes me as severe as a holy inquisitor!”
+
+“Every evil calls forth its own correction, Dinah,” said he, laughing.
+“If there were no fools to skate on the Serpentine, there had been no
+Humane Society.”
+
+“One might grow tired of the task of resuscitating, Peter Barrington,”
+ said she, hardly.
+
+“Not you, not you, Dinah,--at least, if I was the drowned man,” said
+he, drawing her affectionately to his side; “and as for those young
+creatures yonder, it's like gathering dog-roses, and they 'll stop when
+they have pricked their fingers.”
+
+“I'll go and look after the nosegay myself,” said she, turning hastily
+away, and following them.
+
+A real liking for Conyers, and a sincere interest in him were the great
+correctives to the part of Dragon which Miss Dinah declared she foresaw
+to be her future lot in life. For years and years had she believed that
+the cares of a household and the rule of servants were the last trials
+of human patience. The larder, the dairy, and the garden were each
+of them departments with special opportunities for deception and
+embezzlement, and it seemed to her that new discoveries in roguery kept
+pace with the inventions of science; but she was energetic and active,
+and kept herself at what the French would call “the level of the
+situation;” and neither the cook nor the dairymaid nor Darby could be
+vainglorious over their battles with her. And now, all of a sudden, a
+new part was assigned her, with new duties, functions, and requirements;
+and she was called on to exercise qualities which had lain long dormant
+and in disuse, and renew a knowledge she had not employed for many a
+year. And what a strange blending of pleasure and pain must have come
+of that memory of long ago! Old conquests revived, old rivalries and
+jealousies and triumphs; glorious little glimpses of brilliant delight,
+and some dark hours, too, of disappointment,--almost despair!
+
+“Once a bishop, always a bishop,” says the canon; but might we not with
+almost as much truth say, “Once a beauty, always a beauty”?--not in
+lineament and feature, in downy cheek or silky tresses, but in the
+heartfelt consciousness of a once sovereign power, in that sense of
+having been able to exact a homage and enforce a tribute. And as we see
+in the deposed monarch how the dignity of kingcraft clings to him, how
+through all he does and says there runs a vein of royal graciousness as
+from one the fount of honor, so it is with beauty. There lives through
+all its wreck the splendid memory of a despotism the most absolute, the
+most fascinating of all!
+
+“I am so glad that young Conyers has no plans, Dinah,” said Barrington;
+“he says he will join us if we permit him.”
+
+“Humph!” said Miss Barrington, as she went on with her knitting.
+
+“I see nothing against it, sister.”
+
+“Of course not, Peter,” said she, snappishly; “it would surprise me much
+if you did.”
+
+“Do _you_, Dinah?” asked he, with a true simplicity of voice and look.
+
+“I see great danger in it, if that be what you mean. And what answer did
+you make him, Peter?”
+
+“The same answer that I make to every one,--I would consult my sister
+Dinah. 'Le Roi s'avisera' meant, I take it, that he 'd be led by a wiser
+head than his own.”
+
+“He was wise when he knew it,” said she, sententiously, and continued
+her work.
+
+And from that day forth they all journeyed together, and one of them
+was very happy, and some were far more than happy; and Aunt Dinah was
+anxious even beyond her wont.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX. THE RAMBLE
+
+Day after day, week after week rolled on, and they still rambled
+about among the picturesque old villages on the Moselle, almost losing
+themselves in quaint unvisited spots, whose very names were new to them.
+To Barrington and his sister this picture of a primitive peasant life,
+with its own types of costume and custom, had an indescribable charm.
+Though debarred, from his ignorance of their dialect, of anything like
+intercourse with the people, he followed them in their ways with intense
+interest, and he would pass hours in the market-place, or stroll through
+the fields watching the strange culture, and wondering at the very
+implements of their labor. And the young people all this while? They
+were never separate. They read, and walked, and sat together from dawn
+to dark. They called each other Fifine and Freddy. Sometimes she sang,
+and he was there to listen; sometimes he drew, and she was as sure to be
+leaning over him in silent wonder at his skill; but with all this there
+was no love-making between them,--that is, no vows were uttered, no
+pledges asked for. Confidences, indeed, they interchanged, and without
+end. She told the story of her friendless infancy, and the long dreary
+years of convent life passed in a dull routine that had almost barred
+the heart against a wish for change; and he gave her the story of his
+more splendid existence, charming her imagination with a picture of
+that glorious Eastern life, which seemed to possess an instinctive
+captivation for her. And at last he told her, but as a great secret
+never to be revealed, how his father and her own had been the dearest,
+closest friends; that for years and years they had lived together like
+brothers, till separated by the accidents of life. _Her_ father went
+away to a long distant station, and _his_ remained to hold a high
+military charge, from which he was now relieved and on his way back to
+Europe. “What happiness for you, Freddy,” cried she, as her eyes ran
+over, “to see him come home in honor! What had I given that such a fate
+were mine!”
+
+For an instant he accepted her words in all their flattery, but the
+hypocrisy was brief; her over-full heart was bursting for sympathy, and
+he was eager to declare that his sorrows were scarcely less than
+her own. “No, Fifine,” said he, “my father is coming back to demand
+satisfaction of a Government that has wronged him, and treated him
+with the worst ingratitude. In that Indian life men of station wield an
+almost boundless power; but if they are irresponsible as to the means,
+they are tested by the results, and whenever an adverse issue succeeds
+they fall irrevocably. What my father may have done, or have left
+undone, I know not. I have not the vaguest clew to his present
+difficulty, but, with his high spirit and his proud heart, that he would
+resent the very shadow of a reproof I can answer for, and so I believe,
+what many tell me, that it is a mere question of personal feeling,--some
+small matter in which the Council have not shown him the deference he
+felt his due, but which his haughty nature would not forego.”
+
+Now these confidences were not love-making, nor anything approaching to
+it, and yet Josephine felt a strange half-pride in thinking that she had
+been told a secret which Conyers had never revealed to any other; that
+to her he had poured forth the darkest sorrow of his heart, and actually
+confided to her the terrors that beset him, for he owned that his father
+was rash and headstrong, and if he deemed himself wronged would be
+reckless in his attempt at justification.
+
+“You do not come of a very patient stock, then,” said she, smiling.
+
+“Not very, Fifine.”
+
+“Nor I,” said she, as her eyes flashed brightly. “My poor Ayah, who died
+when I was but five years old, used to tell me such tales of my father's
+proud spirit and the lofty way he bore himself, so that I often fancy I
+have seen him and heard him speak. You have heard he was a Rajah?” asked
+she, with a touch of pride.
+
+The youth colored deeply as he muttered an assent, for he knew that she
+was ignorant of the details of her father's fate, and he dreaded any
+discussion of her story.
+
+“And these Rajahs,” resumed she, “are really great princes, with power
+of life and death, vast retinues, and splendid armies. To my mind, they
+present a more gorgeous picture than a small European sovereignty with
+some vast Protectorate looming over it. And now it is my uncle,” said
+she, suddenly, “who rules there.”
+
+“I have heard that your own claims, Fifine, are in litigation,” said he,
+with a faint smile.
+
+“Not as to the sovereignty,” said she, with a grave look, half rebukeful
+of his levity. “The suit grandpapa prosecutes in my behalf is for
+my mother's jewels and her fortune; a woman cannot reign in the
+Tannanoohr.”
+
+There was a haughty defiance in her voice as she spoke, that seemed to
+say, “This is a theme I will not suffer to be treated lightly,--beware
+how you transgress here.”
+
+“And yet it is a dignity would become you well,” said he, seriously.
+
+“It is one I would glory to possess,” said she, as proudly.
+
+“Would you give me a high post, Fifine, if you were on the
+throne?--would you make me Commander-in-Chief of your army?”
+
+“More likely that I would banish you from the realm,” said she, with
+a haughty laugh; “at least, until you learned to treat the head of the
+state more respectfully.”
+
+“Have I ever been wanting in a proper deference?” said he, bowing, with
+a mock humility.
+
+“If you had been, sir, it is not now that you had first heard of it,”
+ said she, with a proud look, and for a few seconds it seemed as though
+their jesting was to have a serious ending. She was, however, the
+earliest to make terms, and in a tone of hearty kindliness said: “Don't
+be angry, Freddy, and I 'll tell you a secret. If that theme be touched
+on, I lose my head: whether it be in the blood that circles in my veins,
+or in some early teachings that imbued my childhood, or long dreaming
+over what can never be, I cannot tell, but it is enough to speak of
+these things, and at once my imagination becomes exalted and my reason
+is routed.”
+
+“I have no doubt your Ayah was to blame for this; she must have filled
+your head with ambitions, and hopes of a grand hereafter. Even I myself
+have some experiences of this sort; for as my father held a high post
+and was surrounded with great state and pomp, I grew at a very early
+age to believe myself a very mighty personage, and gave my orders with
+despotic insolence, and suffered none to gainsay me.”
+
+“How silly!” said she, with a supercilious toss of her head that made
+Conyers flush up; and once again was peace endangered between them.
+
+“You mean that what was only a fair and reasonable assumption in _you_
+was an absurd pretension in me, Miss Barrington; is it not so?” asked
+he, in a voice tremulous with passion.
+
+“I mean that we must both have been very naughty children, and the
+less we remember of that childhood the better for us. Are we friends,
+Freddy?” and she held out her hand.
+
+“Yes, if you wish it,” said he, taking her hand half coldly in his own.
+
+“Not that way, sir. It is _I_ who have condescended; not _you_.”
+
+“As you please, Fifine,--will this do?” and kneeling with well-assumed
+reverence, he lifted her hand to his lips.
+
+“If my opinion were to be asked, Mr. Conyers, I would say it would _not_
+do at all,” said Miss Dinah, coming suddenly up, her cheeks crimson, and
+her eyes flashing.
+
+“It was a little comedy we were acting, Aunt Dinah,” said the girl,
+calmly.
+
+“I beg, then, that the piece may not be repeated,” said she, stiffly.
+
+“Considering how ill Freddy played his part, aunt, he will scarcely
+regret its withdrawal.”
+
+Conyers, however, could not get over his confusion, and looked perfectly
+miserable for very shame.
+
+“My brother has just had a letter which will call us homeward, Mr.
+Conyers,” said Miss Dinah, turning to him, and now using a tone devoid
+of all irritation. “Mr. Withering has obtained some information which
+may turn out of great consequence in our suit, and he wishes to consult
+with my brother upon it.”
+
+“I hope--I sincerely hope--you do not think--” he began, in a low voice.
+
+“I do not think anything to your disadvantage, and I hope I never may,”
+ replied she, in a whisper low as his own; “but bear in mind, Josephine
+is no finished coquette like Polly Dill, nor must she be the mark of
+little gallantries, however harmless. Josephine, grandpapa has some news
+for you; go to him.”
+
+“Poor Freddy,” whispered the girl in the youth's ear as she passed,
+“what a lecture you are in for!” “You mustn't be angry with me if I play
+Duenna a little harshly, Mr. Conyers,” said Miss Dinah; “and I am
+far more angry with myself than you can be. I never concurred with my
+brother that romance reading and a young dragoon for a companion were
+the most suitable educational means for a young lady fresh from a
+convent, and I have only myself to blame for permitting it.”
+
+Poor Conyers was so overwhelmed that he could say nothing; for though
+he might, and with a safe conscience, have answered a direct charge, yet
+against a general allegation he was powerless. He could not say that
+he was the best possible companion for a young lady, though he felt,
+honestly felt, that he was not a bad one. He had never trifled with her
+feelings, nor sought to influence her in his favor. Of all flirtation,
+such as he would have adventured with Polly Dill, for instance, he was
+guiltless. He respected her youth and ignorance of life too deeply to
+take advantage of either. He thought, perhaps, how ungenerous it would
+have been for a man of the world like himself to entrap the affections
+of a young, artless creature, almost a child in her innocence. He was
+rather fond of imagining himself “a man of the world,” old soldier, and
+what not,--a delusion which somehow very rarely befalls any but very
+young men, and of which the experience of life from thirty to forty is
+the sovereign remedy. And so overwhelmed and confused and addled was he
+with a variety of sensations, he heard very little of what Miss Dinah
+said to him, though that worthy lady talked very fluently and very well,
+concluding at last with words which awoke Conyers from his half-trance
+with a sort of shock. “It is for these reasons, my dear Mr.
+Conyers,--reasons whose force and nature you will not dispute,--that I
+am forced to do what, were the occasion less important, would be a most
+ungenerous task. I mean, I am forced to relinquish all the pleasure that
+I had promised ourselves from seeing you our guest at the cottage. If
+you but knew the pain I feel to speak these words--”
+
+“There is no occasion to say more, madam,” said he; for, unfortunately,
+so unprepared was he for the announcement, its chief effect was to
+wound his pride. “It is the second time within a few months destiny has
+stopped my step on your threshold. It only remains for me to submit to
+my fate, and not adventure upon an enterprise above my means.”
+
+“You are offended with me, and yet you ought not,” said she,
+sorrowfully; “you ought to feel that I am consulting _your_ interests
+fully as much as ours.”
+
+“I own, madam,” said he, coldly, “I am unable to take the view you have
+placed before me.”
+
+“Must I speak out, then?--must I declare my meaning in all its
+matter-of-fact harshness, and say that your family and your friends
+would have little scruple in estimating the discretion which encouraged
+your intimacy with my niece,--the son of the distinguished and
+highly favored General Conyers with the daughter of the ruined George
+Barring-ton? These are hard words to say, but I have said them.”
+
+“It is to my father you are unjust now, Miss Harrington.”
+
+“No, Mr. Conyers; there is no injustice in believing that a father loves
+his son with a love so large that it cannot exclude even worldliness.
+There is no injustice in believing that a proud and successful man
+would desire to see his son successful too; and we all know what we call
+success. I see you are very angry with me. You think me very worldly
+and very small-minded; perhaps, too, you would like to say that all the
+perils I talk of are of my own inventing; that Fifine and you could be
+the best of friends, and never think of more than friendship; and that
+I might spare my anxieties, and not fret for sorrows that have no
+existence;--and to all this I would answer, I 'll not risk the chance.
+No, Mr. Conyers, I 'll be no party to a game where the stakes are so
+unequal. What might give _you_ a month's sorrow might cost _her_ the
+misery of a life long.”
+
+“I have no choice left me. I will go,--I will go to-night, Miss
+Barrington.”
+
+“Perhaps it would be better,” said she, gravely, and walked slowly away.
+
+I will not tell the reader what harsh and cruel things Conyers said of
+every one and everything, nor how severely he railed at the world and
+its ways. Lord Byron had taught the youth of that age a very hearty
+and wholesome contempt for all manner of conventionalities, into which
+category a vast number of excellent customs were included, and Conyers
+could spout “Manfred” by heart, and imagine himself, on very small
+provocation, almost as great a man-hater; and so he set off on a long
+walk into the forest, determined not to appear at dinner, and equally
+determined to be the cause of much inquiry, and, if possible, of some
+uneasiness. “I wonder what that old-maid,”--alas for his gallantry,
+it was so he called her,--“what she would say if her harsh, ungenerous
+words had driven me to--” what he did not precisely define, though
+it was doubtless associated with snow peaks and avalanches, eternal
+solitudes and demoniac possessions. It might, indeed, have been some
+solace to him had he known how miserable and anxious old Peter became at
+his absence, and how incessantly he questioned every one about him.
+
+“I hope that no mishap has befallen that boy, Dinah; he was always
+punctual. I never knew him stray away in this fashion before.”
+
+“It would be rather a severe durance, brother Peter, if a young
+gentleman could not prolong his evening walk without permission.”
+
+“What says Fifine? I suspect she agrees with me.”
+
+“If that means that he ought to be here, grandpapa, I do.”
+
+“I must read over Withering's letter again, brother,” said Miss Dinah,
+by way of changing the subject “He writes, you say, from the Home?”
+
+“Yes; he was obliged to go down there to search for some papers he
+wanted, and he took Stapylton with him; and he says they had two capital
+days at the partridges. They bagged,--egad! I think it was eight or ten
+brace before two o'clock, the Captain or Major, I forget which, being a
+first-rate shot.”
+
+“What does he say of the place,--how is it looking?”
+
+“In perfect beauty. Your deputy, Polly, would seem to have fulfilled
+her part admirably. The garden in prime order; and that little spot next
+your own sitting-room, he says, is positively a better flower-show than
+one he paid a shilling to see in Dublin. Polly herself, too, comes in
+for a very warm share of his admiration.”
+
+“How did he see her, and where?”
+
+“At the Home. She was there the evening they arrived, and Withering
+insisted on her presiding at the tea-table for them.”
+
+“It did not require very extraordinary entreaty, I will make bold to
+say, Peter.”
+
+“He does not mention that; he only speaks of her good looks, and what
+he calls her very pretty manners. In a situation not devoid of a certain
+awkwardness he says she displayed the most perfect tact; and although
+doing the honors of the house, she, with some very nice ingenuity,
+insinuated that she was herself but a visitor.”
+
+“She could scarce have forgotten herself so far as to think anything
+else, Peter,” said Miss Dinah, bridling up. “I suspect her very pretty
+manners were successfully exercised. That old gentleman is exactly of
+the age to be fascinated by her.”
+
+“What! Withering, Dinah,--do you mean Withering?” cried he, laughing.
+
+“I do, brother; and I say that he is quite capable of making her the
+offer of his hand. You may laugh, Peter Barrington, but my observation
+of young ladies has been closer and finer than yours.” And the
+glance she gave at Josephine seemed to say that her gun had been
+double-shotted.
+
+“But your remark, sister Dinah, rather addresses itself to old gentlemen
+than to young ladies.”
+
+“Who are much the more easily read of the two,” said she, tartly. “But
+really, Peter, I will own that I am more deeply concerned to know
+what Mr. Withering has to say of our lawsuit than about Polly Dill's
+attractions.”
+
+“He speaks very hopefully,--very hopefully, indeed. In turning over
+George's papers some Hindoo documents have come to light, which
+Stapylton has translated, and it appears that there is a certain
+Moonshee, called Jokeeram, who was, or is, in the service of Meer
+Rustum, whose testimony would avail us much. Stapylton inclines to think
+he could trace this man for us. His own relations are principally in
+Madras, but he says he could manage to institute inquiries in Bengal.”
+
+“What is our claim to this gentleman's interest for us, Peter?”
+
+“Mere kindness on his part; he never knew George, except from hearsay.
+Indeed, they could not have been contemporaries. Stapylton is not, I
+should say, above five-and-thirty.”
+
+“The search after this creature with the horrid name will be, of course,
+costly, brother Peter. It means, I take it, sending some one out to
+India; that is to say, sending one fool after another. Are you prepared
+for this expense?”
+
+“Withering opines it would be money well spent. What he says is this:
+The Company will not willingly risk another inquiry before Parliament,
+and if we show fight and a firm resolve to give the case publicity, they
+will probably propose terms. This Moonshee had been in his service,
+but was dismissed, and his appearance as a witness on our side would
+occasion great uneasiness.”
+
+“You are going to play a game of brag, then, brother Peter, well aware
+that the stronger purse is with your antagonist?”
+
+“Not exactly, Dinah; not exactly. We are strengthening our position so
+far that we may say, 'You see our order of battle; would it not be as
+well to make peace?' Listen to what Withering says.” And Peter opened a
+letter of several sheets, and sought out the place he wanted.
+
+“Here it is, Dinah. 'From one of these Hindoo papers we learn that Ram
+Shamsoolah Sing was not at the Meer's residence during the feast of the
+Rhamadan, and could not possibly have signed the document to which his
+name and seal are appended. Jokeeram, who was himself the Moon-shee
+interpreter in Luckerabad, writes to his friend Cossien Aga, and
+says--'”
+
+“Brother Peter, this is like the Arabian Nights in all but the
+entertainment to me, and the jumble of these abominable names only
+drives me mad. If you flatter yourself that you can understand
+one particle of the matter, it must be that age has sharpened your
+faculties, that's all.”
+
+“I'm not quite sure of that, Dinah,” said he, laughing. “I 'm half
+disposed to believe that years are not more merciful to our brains than
+to our ankles; but I'll go and take a stroll in the shady alleys under
+the linden-trees, and who knows how bright it will make me!”
+
+“Am I to go with you, grandpapa?” said the young girl, rising.
+
+“No, Fifine; I have something to say to you here,” said Miss Dinah; and
+there was a significance in the tone that was anything but reassuring.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX. UNDER THE LINDEN
+
+That shady alley under the linden-trees was a very favorite walk with
+Peter Barrington. It was a nice cool lane, with a brawling little
+rivulet close beside it, with here and there a dark silent pool for the
+dragon-fly to skim over and see his bronzed wings reflected in the still
+water; and there was a rustic bench or two, where Peter used to sit
+and fancy he was meditating, while, in reality, he was only watching a
+speckled lizard in the grass, or listening to the mellow blackbird over
+his head. I have had occasion once before to remark on the resources of
+the man of imagination, but I really suspect that for the true luxury of
+idleness there is nothing like the temperament devoid of fancy. There is
+a grand breadth about those quiet, peaceful minds over which no shadows
+flit, and which can find sufficient occupation through the senses, and
+never have to go “within” for their resources. These men can sit the
+livelong day and watch the tide break over a rock, or see the sparrow
+teach her young to fly, or gaze on the bee as he dives into the deep cup
+of the foxglove, and actually need no more to fill the hours. For them
+there is no memory with its dark bygones, there is no looming future
+with its possible misfortunes; there is simply a half-sleepy present,
+with soft sounds and sweet odors through it,--a balmy kind of stupor,
+from which the awaking comes without a shock.
+
+When Barrington reached his favorite seat, and lighted his cigar,--it
+is painting the lily for such men to smoke,--he intended to have thought
+over the details of Withering's letter, which were both curious and
+interesting; he intended to consider attentively certain points which,
+as Withering said, “he must master before he could adopt a final
+resolve;” but they were knotty points, made knottier, too, by hard
+Hindoo words for things unknown, and names totally unpronounceable. He
+used to think that he understood “George's claim” pretty well; he had
+fancied it was a clear and very intelligible case, that half a dozen
+honest men might have come to a decision on in an hour's time; but now
+he began to have a glimmering perception that George must have been
+egregiously duped and basely betrayed, and that the Company were not
+altogether unreasonable in assuming their distrust of him. Now, all
+these considerations coming down upon him at once were overwhelming, and
+they almost stunned him. Even his late attempt to enlighten his sister
+Dinah on a matter he so imperfectly understood now recoiled upon him,
+and added to his own mystification.
+
+“Well, well,” muttered he, at last, “I hope Tom sees his way through
+it,”--Tom was Withering,--“and if _he_ does, there's no need of my
+bothering _my_ head about it. What use would there be in lawyers if they
+hadn't got faculties sharper than other folk? and as to 'making up my
+mind,' my mind is made up already, that I want to win the cause if he'll
+only show me how.” From these musings he was drawn off by watching a
+large pike,--the largest pike, he thought, he had ever seen,--which
+would from time to time dart out from beneath a bank, and after lying
+motionless in the middle of the pool for a minute or so, would, with one
+whisk of its tail, skim back again to its hiding-place. “That fellow has
+instincts of its own to warn him,” thought he; “he knows he was n't safe
+out there. _He_ sees some peril that _I_ cannot see; and that ought to
+be the way with Tom, for, after all, the lawyers are just pikes, neither
+more nor less.” At this instant a man leaped across the stream, and
+hurriedly passed into the copse. “What! Mr. Conyers--Conyers, is that
+you?” cried Barrington; and the young man turned and came towards him.
+“I am glad to see you all safe and sound again,” said Peter; “we waited
+dinner half an hour for you, and have passed all the time since in
+conjecturing what might have befallen you.”
+
+“Did n't Miss Barrington say--did not Miss Barrington know--” He stopped
+in deep confusion, and could not finish his speech.
+
+“My sister knew nothing,--at least, she did not tell me any reason for
+your absence.”
+
+“No, not for my absence,” began he once more, in the same embarrassment;
+“but as I had explained to her that I was obliged to leave this
+suddenly,--to start this evening--”
+
+“To start this evening! and whither?”
+
+“I cannot tell; I don't know,--that is, I have no plans.”
+
+“My dear boy,” said the old man, affectionately, as he laid his hand on
+the other's arm, “if you don't know where you are going, take my word
+for it there is no such great necessity to go.”
+
+“Yes, but there is,” replied he, quickly; “at least Miss Barrington
+thinks so, and at the time we spoke together she made me believe she was
+in the right.”
+
+“And are you of the same opinion _now?_” asked Peter, with a humorous
+drollery in his eye.
+
+“I am,--that is, I was a few moments back. I mean, that whenever I
+recall the words she spoke to me, I feel their full conviction.”
+
+“Come, now, sit down here beside me! It can scarcely be anything I
+may not be a party to. Just let me hear the case like a judge in
+chamber”--and he smiled at an illustration that recalled his favorite
+passion, “I won't pretend to say my sister has not a wiser head--as I
+well know she has a far better heart--than myself, but now and then she
+lets a prejudice or a caprice or even a mere apprehension run away
+with her, and it's just possible it is some whim of this kind is now
+uppermost.”
+
+Conyers only shook his head dissentingly, and said nothing.
+
+“Maybe I guess it,--I suspect that I guess it,” said Peter, with a sly
+drollery about his mouth. “My sister has a notion that a young man and
+a young woman ought no more to be in propinquity than saltpetre and
+charcoal. She has been giving me a lecture on my blindness, and asking
+if I can't see this, that, and the other; but, besides being the least
+observant of mankind, I'm one of the most hopeful as regards whatever I
+wish to be. Now we have all of us gone on so pleasantly together, with
+such a thorough good understanding--such loyalty, as the French would
+call it--that I can't, for the life of me, detect any ground for
+mistrust or dread. Have n't I hit the blot, Conyers--eh?” cried he, as
+the young fellow grew redder and redder, till his face became crimson.
+
+“I assured Miss Barrington,” began he, in a faltering, broken voice,
+“that I set too much store on the generous confidence you extended to
+me to abuse it; that, received as I was, like one of your own blood
+and kindred, I never could forget the frank trustfulness with which you
+discussed everything before me, and made me, so to say, 'One of you.'
+The moment, however, that my intimacy suggested a sense of constraint, I
+felt the whole charm of my privilege would have departed, and it is for
+this reason I am going!” The last word was closed with a deep sigh, and
+he turned away his head as he concluded.
+
+“And for this reason you shall not go one step,” said Peter, slapping
+him cordially on the shoulder. “I verily believe that women think the
+world was made for nothing but love-making, just as the crack engineer
+believed rivers were intended by Providence to feed navigable canals;
+but you and I know a little better, not to say that a young fellow with
+the stamp gentleman indelibly marked on his forehead would not think of
+making a young girl fresh from a convent--a mere child in the ways of
+life--the mark of his attentions. Am I not right?”
+
+“I hope and believe you are!”
+
+“Stay where you are, then; be happy, and help us to feel so; and the
+only pledge I ask is, that whenever you suspect Dinah to be a shrewder
+observer and a truer prophet than her brother--you understand me--you'll
+just come and say, 'Peter Barrington, I'm off; good-bye!'”
+
+“There's my hand on it,” said he, grasping the old man's with warmth.
+“There's only one point--I have told Miss Barrington that I would start
+this evening.”
+
+“She'll scarcely hold you very closely to your pledge.”
+
+“But, as I understand her, you are going back to Ireland?”
+
+“And you are coming along with us. Isn't that a very simple
+arrangement?”
+
+“I know it would be a very pleasant one.”
+
+“It shall be, if it depend on me. I want to make you a fisherman too.
+When I was a young man, it was my passion to make every one a good
+horseman. If I liked a fellow, and found out that he couldn't ride to
+hounds, it gave me a shock little short of hearing that there was a blot
+on his character, so associated in my mind had become personal dash and
+prowess in the field with every bold and manly characteristic. As I
+grew older, and the rod usurped the place of the hunting-whip, I grew to
+fancy that your angler would be the truest type of a companion; and if
+you but knew,” added he, as a glassy fulness dulled his eyes, “what a
+flattery it is to an old fellow when a young one will make a comrade
+of him,--what a smack of bygone days it brings up, and what sunshine it
+lets in on the heart,--take my word for it, you young fellows are never
+so vain of an old companion as we are of a young one! What are you so
+thoughtful about?”
+
+“I was thinking how I was to make this explanation to Miss Barrington.”
+
+“You need not make it at all; leave the whole case in my hands. My
+sister knows that I owe you an _amende_ and a heavy one. Let this go
+towards a part payment of it. But here she comes in search of me. Step
+away quietly, and when we meet at the tea-table all will have been
+settled.”
+
+Conyers had but time to make his escape, when Miss Barrington came up.
+
+“I thought I should find you mooning down here, Peter,” said she,
+sharply. “Whenever there is anything to be done or decided on, a
+Barrington is always watching a fly on a fish-pond.”
+
+“Not the women of the family, Dinah,--not the women. But what great
+emergency is before us now?”
+
+“No great emergency, as you phrase it, at all, but what to men like
+yourself is frequently just as trying,--an occasion that requires a
+little tact. I have discovered--what I long anticipated has come to
+pass--Conyers and Fifine are on very close terms of intimacy, which
+might soon become attachment. I have charged him with it, and he has not
+altogether denied it. On the whole he has behaved well, and he goes away
+to-night.”
+
+“I have just seen him, Dinah. I got at his secret, not without a little
+dexterity on my part, and learned what had passed between you. We talked
+the thing over very calmly together, and the upshot is--he's not going.”
+
+“Not going! not going! after the solemn assurance he gave me!”
+
+“But of which I absolved him, sister Dinah; or rather, which I made him
+retract.”
+
+“Peter Barrington, stop!” cried she, holding her hands to her temples.
+“I want a little time to recover myself. I must have time, or I'll not
+answer for my senses. Just reply to one question. I 'll ask you, have
+you taken an oath--are you under a vow to be the ruin of your family?”
+
+“I don't think I have, Dinah. I 'm doing everything for the best.”
+
+“If there's a phrase in the language condemns the person that uses it,
+it's 'Doing everything for the best.' What does it mean but a blind,
+uninquiring, inconsiderate act, the work of a poor brain and sickly
+conscience? Don't talk to me, sir, of doing for the best, but do the
+best, the very best, according to the lights that guide you. You know
+well, perfectly well, that Fifine has no fortune, and that this young
+man belongs to a very rich and a very ambitious family, and that to
+encourage what might lead to attachment between them would be to store
+up a cruel wrong and a great disappointment.”
+
+“My dear Dinah, you speak like a book, but I don't agree with you.”
+
+“You don't. Will you please to state why?”
+
+“In the first place, Dinah, forgive me for saying it, but we men do
+not take _your_ view of these cases. We neither think that love is as
+catching or as dangerous as the smallpox. We imagine that two young
+people can associate together every day and yet never contract a lien
+that might break their hearts to dissolve.”
+
+“Talking politics together, perhaps; or the state of the Three per
+Cents?”
+
+“Not exactly that, but talking of fifty other things that interest
+their time of life and tempers. Have they not songs, drawings, flowers,
+landscapes, and books, with all their thousand incidents, to
+discuss? Just remember what that writer who calls himself 'Author of
+Waverley'--what he alone has given us of people to talk over just as if
+we knew them.”
+
+“Brother Peter, I have no patience with you. You enumerate one by one
+all the ingredients, and you disparage the total. You tell of the flour,
+and the plums, and the suet, and the candied lemon, but you cry out
+against the pudding! Don't you see that the very themes you leave for
+them all conduce to what you ignore, and that your music and painting
+and romance-reading only lead to love-making? Don't you see this, or are
+you in reality--I didn't want to say it, but you have made me--are you
+an old fool?”
+
+“I hope not, Dinah; but I'm not so sure you don't think me one.”
+
+“It's nothing to the purpose whether I do or not,” said she; “the
+question is, have you asked this young man to come back with us to
+Ireland?”
+
+“I have, and he is coming.”
+
+“I could have sworn to it,” said she, with a sudden energy; “and if
+there was anything more stupid, you 'd have done it also.” And with this
+speech, more remarkable for its vigor than its politeness, she turned
+away and left him.
+
+Ere I close the chapter and the subject, let me glance, and only glance,
+at the room where Conyers is now standing beside Josephine. She is
+drawing, not very attentively or carefully, perhaps, and he is bending
+over her and relating, as it seems, something that has occurred to him,
+and has come to the end with the words, “And though I was to have gone
+this evening, it turns out that now I am to stay and accompany you to
+Ireland.”
+
+“Don't sigh so painfully over it, however,” said she, gravely; “for when
+you come to mention how distressing it is, I 'm sure they 'll let you
+off.”
+
+“Fifine,” said he, reproachfully, “is this fair, is this generous?”
+
+“I don't know whether it be unfair, I don't want it to be generous,”
+ said she, boldly.
+
+“In point of fact, then, you only wish for me here to quarrel with, is
+that the truth?”
+
+“I think it better fun disagreeing with you than always saying how
+accurate you are, and how wise, and how well-judging. That atmosphere of
+eternal agreement chokes me; I feel as if I were suffocating.”
+
+“It's not a very happy temperament; it's not a disposition to boast of.”
+
+“You never did hear me boast of it; but I have heard _you_ very
+vainglorious about your easy temper and your facile nature, which
+were simply indolence. Now, I have had more than enough of that in the
+convent, and I long for a little activity.”
+
+“Even if it were hazardous?”
+
+“Even if it were hazardous,” echoed she. “But here comes Aunt Dinah,
+with a face as stern as one of the sisters, and an eye that reminds me
+of penance and bread and water; so help me to put up my drawings, and
+say nothing of what we were talking.”
+
+“My brother has just told me, Mr. Conyers,” said she, in a whisper, “a
+piece of news which it only depends upon you to make a most agreeable
+arrangement.”
+
+“I trust you may count upon me, madam,” said he, in the same tone, and
+bowed low as he spoke.
+
+“Then come with me and let us talk it over,” said she, as she took his
+arm and led him away.
+
+END OF VOL. I.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrington, by Charles James Lever
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRINGTON ***
+
+***** This file should be named 34882-0.txt or 34882-0.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/8/34882/
+
+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.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
+Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation”
+ or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project
+Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
+of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/34882-0.zip b/34882-0.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..eb70406
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-0.zip
diff --git a/34882-8.txt b/34882-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d65a2ed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,12173 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrington, 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: Barrington
+       Volume I (of II)
+
+Author: Charles James Lever
+
+Illustrator: Phiz.
+
+Release Date: January 8, 2011 [EBook #34882]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRINGTON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+BARRINGTON
+
+Volume I.
+
+By Charles James Lever
+
+With Illustrations By Phiz.
+
+Boston: Little, Brown, And Company.
+
+1907.
+
+[Illustration: frontispiece]
+
+
+
+
+BARRINGTON.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. THE FISHERMAN'S HOME
+
+If there should be, at this day we live in, any one bold enough to
+confess that he fished the river Nore, in Ireland, some forty years ago,
+he might assist me by calling to mind a small inn, about two miles from
+the confluence of that river with the Barrow, a spot in great favor with
+those who followed the "gentle craft."
+
+It was a very unpretending hostel, something wherein cottage
+and farmhouse were blended, and only recognizable as a place of
+entertainment by a tin trout suspended over the doorway, with the modest
+inscription underneath,--"Fisherman's Home." Very seldom is it, indeed,
+that hotel pledges are as honestly fulfilled as they were in this
+simple announcement. The house was, in all that quiet comfort and
+unostentatious excellence can make, a veritable Home! Standing in a fine
+old orchard of pear and damson trees, it was only approachable by a path
+which led from the highroad, about two miles off, or by the river, which
+wound round the little grassy promontory beneath the cottage. On the
+opposite side of the stream arose cliffs of considerable height, their
+terraced sides covered with larch and ash, around whose stems the
+holly, the laurel, and arbutus grew in a wild and rich profusion. A high
+mountain, rugged with rock and precipice, shut in the picture, and gave
+to the river all the semblance of a narrow lake.
+
+The Home, as may be imagined, was only resorted to by fishermen, and
+of these not many; for the chosen few who knew the spot, with the
+churlishness of true anglers, were strenuously careful to keep the
+secret to themselves. But another and stronger cause contributed to this
+seclusion. The landlord was a reduced gentleman, who, only anxious to
+add a little to his narrow fortune, would not have accepted a greater
+prosperity at the cost of more publicity, and who probably only
+consented to his occupation on finding how scrupulously his guests
+respected his position.
+
+Indeed, it was only on leave-taking, and then far from painfully, you
+were reminded of being in an inn. There was no noise, no bustle; books,
+magazines, flowers, lay about; cupboards lay open, with all their
+cordials free to take. You might dine under the spreading sycamore
+beside the well, and have your dessert for the plucking. No obsequious
+waiter shook his napkin as you passed, no ringleted barmaid crossed your
+musing steps, no jingling of bells, or discordant cries, or high-voiced
+remonstrances disturbed you. The hum of the summer bee, or the flapping
+plash of a trout, were about the only sounds in the stillness, and all
+was as peaceful and as calm and as dreamy as the most world-weary could
+have wished it.
+
+Of those who frequented the spot, some merely knew that the host had
+seen better days. Others, however, were aware that Peter Barrington
+had once been a man of large fortune, and represented his county in the
+Irish Parliament. Though not eminent as a politician, he was one of
+the great convivial celebrities of a time that boasted of Curran, and
+Avanmore, and Parsons, and a score of others, any one of whom, in our
+day, would have made a society famous. Barrington, too, was the almoner
+of the monks of the screw, and "Peter's pence" was immortalized in a
+song by Ned Lysaght, of which I once possessed, but have lost a copy.
+
+One might imagine there could be no difficulty in showing how in that
+wild period of riotous living and costly rivalry an Irish gentleman ran
+through all his property and left himself penniless. It was, indeed,
+a time of utter recklessness, many seeming possessed of that
+devil-may-care spirit that drives a drowning crew to break open the
+spirit-room and go down in an orgie. But Barrington's fortune was so
+large, and his successes on the turf so considerable, that it appeared
+incredible, when his estates came to the hammer, and all his personal
+property was sold off; so complete his ruin, that, as he said himself,
+the "only shelter he had was an umbrella, and even that he borrowed from
+Dan Driscoll, the sheriff's officer."
+
+Of course there were theories in plenty to account for the disaster,
+and, as usual, so many knew, many a long day ago, how hard pressed he
+had been for money, and what ruinous interest he was obliged to pay,
+till at last rumors filtered all down to one channel, and the world
+agreed that it was all his son's doing, and that the scamp George had
+ruined his father. This son, his only child, had gone out to India in
+a cavalry regiment, and was celebrated all over the East for a costly
+splendor that rivalled the great Government officials. From every
+retired or invalided officer who came back from Bengal were heard
+stories of mad Barring-ton's extravagance: his palace on the Hooghly,
+his racing stud, his elephants, his army of retainers,--all narratives
+which, no matter in what spirit retailed, seemed to delight old Peter,
+who, at every fresh story of his son's spendthrift magnificence, would
+be sure to toast his health with a racy enthusiasm whose sincerity was
+not to be doubted.
+
+Little wonder need there be if in feeding such extravagance a vast
+estate melted away, and acre followed acre, till all that remained of
+a property that ranked next to the Ormonds' was the little cottage over
+whose door the tin-trout dangled, and the few roods of land around it:
+sorry remnant of a princely fortune!
+
+But Barrington himself had a passion, which, inordinately indulged, has
+brought many to their ruin. He was intensely fond of law. It was to him
+all that gambling is to other men. All that gamesters feel of hope
+and fear, all the intense excitement they derive from the vacillating
+fortunes of play, Barrington enjoyed in a lawsuit. Every step of the
+proceeding had for him an intense interest. The driest legal documents,
+musty declarations, demurrers, pleadings, replies, affidavits, and
+counter-affidavits were his choicest reading; and never did a young lady
+hurry to her room with the last new novel with a stronger anticipation
+of delight than did Barrington when carrying away to his little snuggery
+a roll of parchments or rough drafts, whose very iterations and jargon
+would have driven most men half crazy. This same snuggery of his was a
+curiosity, too, the walls being all decorated with portraits of legal
+celebrities, not selected with reference to their merit or distinction,
+but solely from their connection with some suit in which he had been
+engaged; and thus under the likeness of Chief Baron O'Grady might be
+read, "Barring-ton versus Brazier, 1802; a juror withdrawn:" Justice
+Moore's portrait was inscribed, "Argument in Chambers, 1808," and so on;
+even to the portraits of leading counsel, all were marked and dated only
+as they figured in the great campaign,--the more than thirty years' war
+he carried on against Fortune.
+
+Let not my reader suppose for one moment that this litigious taste grew
+out of a spirit of jarring discontent or distrust. Nothing of the kind.
+Barrington was merely a gambler; and with whatever dissatisfaction the
+declaration may be met, I am prepared to show that gambling, however
+faulty in itself, is not the vice of cold, selfish, and sordid men,
+but of warm, rash, sometimes over-generous temperaments. Be it well
+remembered that the professional play-man is, of all others, the one
+who has least of a gamester in his heart; his superiority lying in the
+simple fact that his passions are never engaged, his interest never
+stirred. Oh! beware of yourself in company with the polished antagonist,
+who only smiles when he loses, whom nothing adverse ever disturbs, but
+is calmly serene under the most pitiless pelting of luck. To come back:
+Barrington's passion for law was an intense thirst for a certain species
+of excitement; a verdict was to him the odd trick. Let him, however, but
+win the game, there never was a man so indifferent about the stakes.
+
+For many a year back he had ceased to follow the great events of the
+world. For the stupendous changes in Europe he cared next to nothing. He
+scarcely knew who reigned over this empire or that kingdom. Indifferent
+to art, science, letters, and even society, his interest was intense
+about all that went on in the law courts, and it was an interest so
+catholic that it took in everything and everybody, from the great judge
+upon the bench to the small taxing-officer who nibbled at the bill of
+costs.
+
+Fortunately for him, his sister, a maiden lady of some eighteen or
+twenty years his junior, had imbibed nothing of this passion, and, by
+her prudent opposition to it, stemmed at least the force of that current
+which was bearing him to ruin. Miss Dinah Barrington had been the great
+belle of the Irish court,--I am ashamed to say how long ago,--and though
+at the period my tale opens there was not much to revive the impression,
+her high nose, and full blue eyes, and a mass of wonderfully unchanged
+brown hair, proclaimed her to be--what she was very proud to call
+herself--a thorough Barrington, a strong type of a frank nature, with a
+bold, resolute will, and a very womanly heart beneath it.
+
+When their reverses of fortune first befell them, Miss Barrington wished
+to emigrate. She thought that in Canada, or some other far-away land,
+their altered condition might be borne less painfully, and that they
+could more easily bend themselves to humble offices where none but
+strangers were to look on them; but Barrington clung to his country
+with the tenacity of an old captain to a wreck. He declared he could not
+bring himself to the thought of leaving his bones in a strange land,
+but he never confessed what he felt to be the strongest tie of all,
+two unfinished lawsuits, the old record of Barrington v. Brazier, and
+a Privy Council case of Barrington and Lot Rammadahn Mohr against the
+India Company. To have left his country with these still undecided
+seemed to him--like the act of a commander taking flight on the morning
+of a general action--an amount of cowardice he could not contemplate.
+Not that he confided this opinion to his sister, though he did so in the
+very fullest manner to his old follower and servant, Darby Cassan. Darby
+was the last remnant of a once princely retinue, and in his master's
+choice of him to accompany his fallen fortunes, there was something
+strangely indicative of the man. Had Darby been an old butler or a
+body-servant, had he been a favorite groom, or, in some other capacity,
+one whose daily duties had made his a familiar face, and whose functions
+could still be available in an humble state, there would have seemed
+good reason for the selection; but Darby was none of these: he had never
+served in hall or pantry; he had never brushed the cobweb from a bottle,
+or led a nag to the door. Of all human professions his were about the
+last that could address themselves to the cares of a little household;
+for Darby was reared, bred, and passed fifty-odd years of his life as an
+earth-stopper!
+
+A very ingenious German writer has attempted to show that the sympathies
+of the humble classes with pursuits far above their own has always
+its origin in something of their daily life and habits, just as the
+sacristan of a cathedral comes to be occasionally a tolerable art critic
+from his continual reference to Rubens and Vandyck. It is possible
+that Darby may have illustrated the theory, and that his avocations as
+earth-stopper may have suggested what he assuredly possessed, a perfect
+passion for law. If a suit was a great game to Barrington, to Darby
+it was a hunt! and though his personal experiences never soared beyond
+Quarter Sessions, he gloried in all he saw there of violence and
+altercation, of vituperative language and impassioned abuse. Had he been
+a rich man, free to enjoy his leisure, he would have passed all his
+days listening to these hot discussions. They were to him a sort of
+intellectual bull-fight, which never could be too bloody or too cruel.
+Have I said enough, therefore, to show the secret link which bound
+the master to the man? I hope so; and that my reader is proud of a
+confidence with which Miss Barrington herself was never intrusted.
+She believed that Darby had been taken into favor from some marvellous
+ability he was supposed to possess, applicable to their new venture as
+innkeepers. Phrenology would perhaps have pronounced Darby a heaven-born
+host, for his organ of acquisitiveness was grandly developed. Amidst
+that great household, where the thriftless habits of the master had
+descended to the servants, and rendered all reckless and wasteful alike,
+Darby had thriven and grown almost rich. Was it that the Irish climate
+used its influence over him; for in his practice to "put by something
+for a rainy day," his savings had many promptings? As the reputation
+of having money soon attached to him, he was often applied to in the
+hunting-field, or at the kennel, for small loans, by the young bloods
+who frequented the Hall, and, being always repaid three or four fold, he
+grew to have a very high conception of what banking must be when done
+on a large scale. Besides all this, he quickly learned that no character
+attracts more sympathy, especially amongst the class of young squires
+and sporting-men, than a certain quaint simplicity, so flattering in its
+contrast to their own consummate acuteness. Now, he was simple to their
+hearts' content. He usually spoke of himself as "Poor Darby, God help
+him!" and, in casting up those wonderful accounts, which he kept by
+notches on a tally-stick, nothing was more amusing than to witness his
+bewilderment and confusion, the inconceivable blunders he would
+make, even to his own disadvantage, all sure to end at last in the
+heart-spoken confession that it was "clean beyand him," and "he 'd leave
+it all to your honor; pay just what ye plaze, and long life to ye!"
+
+Is it that women have some shrewd perception of character denied to men?
+Certainly Darby never imposed on Miss Barrington. She read him like a
+book, and he felt it. The consequence was a very cordial dislike, which
+strengthened with every year of their acquaintance.
+
+Though Miss Barrington ever believed that the notion of keeping an inn
+originated with her brother, it was Darby first conceived the project,
+and, indeed, by his own skill and crafty intelligence was it carried on;
+and while the words "Peter Barrington" figured in very small letters, it
+is true, over the door to comply with a legal necessity, to most of the
+visitors he was a mere myth. Now, if Peter Barrington was very happy
+to be represented by deputy,--or, better still, not represented at
+all,--Miss Dinah regarded the matter in a very different light. Her
+theory was that, in accepting the humble station to which reverse of
+fortune brought them, the world ought to see all the heroism and courage
+of the sacrifice. She insisted on being a foreground figure, just to
+show them, as she said, "that I take nothing upon me. I am the hostess
+of a little wayside inn,--no more!" How little did she know of her
+own heart, and how far was she from even suspecting that it was the
+_ci-devant_ belle making one last throw for the admiration and homage
+which once were offered her freely.
+
+Such were the three chief personages who dwelt under that secluded roof,
+half overgrown with honeysuckle and dog-roses,--specimens of that wider
+world without, where jealousies, and distrusts, and petty rivalries
+are warring: for as in one tiny globule of water are represented the
+elements which make oceans and seas, so is it in the moral world; and
+"the family" is only humanity, as the artists say, "reduced."
+
+For years back Miss Barrington had been plotting to depose Darby. With
+an ingenuity quite feminine, she managed to connect him with every
+chagrin that crossed and every annoyance that befell them. If the pig
+ploughed up the new peas in the garden, it was Darby had left the gate
+open; it was _his_ hand overwound the clock; and a very significant hint
+showed that when the thunder soured the beer, Mr. Darby knew more of
+the matter than he was likely to tell. Against such charges as these,
+iterated and reiterated to satiety, Barrington would reply by a smile,
+or a good-natured excuse, or a mere gesture to suggest patience, till
+his sister, fairly worn out, resolved on another line of action. "As she
+could not banish the rats," to use her own words, "she would scuttle the
+ship."
+
+To explain her project, I must go back in my story, and state that her
+nephew, George Barrington, had sent over to England, some fifteen years
+before, a little girl, whom he, called his daughter. She was consigned
+to the care of his banker in London, with directions that he should
+communicate with Mr. Peter Barrington, announce the child's safe
+arrival, and consult with him as to her future destination. Now,
+when the event took place, Barrington was in the very crisis of his
+disasters. Overwhelmed with debts, pursued by creditors, regularly
+hunted down, he was driven day by day to sign away most valuable
+securities for mere passing considerations, and obliged to accept any
+conditions for daily support He answered the banker's letter, briefly
+stating his great embarrassment, and begging him to give the child his
+protection for a few weeks or so, till some arrangement of his affairs
+might enable him to offer her a home.
+
+This time, however, glided over, and the hoped-for amendment never
+came,--far from it. Writs were out against him, and he was driven to
+seek a refuge in the Isle of Man, at that time the special sanctuary of
+insolvent sinners. Mr. Leonard Gower wrote again, and proposed that, if
+no objection would be made to the plan, the child should be sent to a
+certain convent near Namur, in the Netherlands, where his own daughter
+was then placed for her education. Aunt Dinah would have rejected,--ay,
+or would have resented such a proposal as an insult, had the world but
+gone on better with them. That her grand-niece should be brought up a
+Catholic was an outrage on the whole Barring-ton blood. But calamity had
+brought her low,--very low, indeed. The child, too, was a heathen,--a
+Hindoo or a Buddhist, perhaps,--for the mother was a native woman,
+reputed, indeed, to be a princess. But who could know this? Who could
+vouch that George was ever married at all, or if such a ceremony were
+possible? All these were "attenuating circumstances," and as such she
+accepted them; and the measure of her submission was filled up when she
+received a portrait of the little girl, painted by a native artist. It
+represented a dark-skinned, heavy-browed child, with wide, full eyes,
+thick lips, and an expression at once florid and sullen,--not any of
+the traits one likes to associate with infancy,--and it was with a half
+shudder Aunt Dinah closed the miniature, and declared that "the sight of
+the little savage actually frightened her."
+
+Not so poor Barrington. He professed to see a great resemblance to his
+son. It was George all over. To be sure, his eyes were deep blue, and
+his hair a rich brown; but there was something in the nose, or perhaps
+it was in the mouth,--no, it was the chin,--ay, it was the chin was
+George's. It was the Barrington chin, and no mistake about it.
+
+At all events, no opposition was made to the banker's project, and the
+little girl was sent off to the convent of the Holy Cross, on the banks
+of the Meuse. She was inscribed on the roll as the Princess Doondiah,
+and bore the name till her father's death, when Mr. Gower suggested that
+she should be called by her family name. The letter with the proposal,
+by some accident, was not acknowledged, and the writer, taking silence
+to mean consent, desired the superior to address her, henceforth, as
+Miss Barrington; the first startling intimation of the change being
+a strangely, quaintly written note, addressed to her grand-aunt, and
+signed "Josephine Barrington." It was a cold, formal letter,--so very
+formal, indeed, as to read like the copy of a document,--asking
+for leave to enter upon a novitiate of two years' duration, at the
+expiration of which she would be nineteen years of age, and in a
+position to decide upon taking the veil for life. The permission, very
+urgently pressed for by Mr. Gower in another letter, was accorded,
+and now we have arrived at that period in which but three months only
+remained of the two years whose closure was to decide her fate forever.
+
+Barrington had long yearned to see her. It was with deep and bitter
+self-reproach he thought over the cold neglect they had shown her. She
+was all that remained of poor George, his boy,--for so he called
+him, and so he thought of him,--long after the bronzed cheek and the
+prematurely whitened hair had tempered his manhood. To be sure, all the
+world said, and he knew himself, how it was chiefly through the "boy's"
+extravagance he came to ruin. But it was over now. The event that sobers
+down reproach to sorrow had come. He was dead! All that arose to memory
+of him were the traits that suggested hopes of his childhood, or gave
+triumph in his riper years; and oh, is it not better thus? for what
+hearts would be left us if we were to carry in them the petty rancors
+and jealousies which once filled them, but which, one day, we buried in
+the cold clay of the churchyard.
+
+Aunt Dinah, moved by reasons long canvassed over in her own mind, at
+last began to think of recalling her grand-niece. It was so very bold a
+project that, at first, she could scarcely entertain it. The Popery was
+very dreadful! Her imagination conjured up the cottage converted into a
+little Baal, with false gods and graven images, and holy-water fonts
+at every turn; but the doubtful legitimacy was worse again. She had
+a theory that it was by lapses of this kind the "blue blood" of old
+families grew deteriorated, and that the downfall of many an ancient
+house was traceable to these corruptions. Far better, she deemed it,
+that the Barringtons should die out forever than their line be continued
+by this base and ignoble grafting.
+
+There is a _contre_ for every _pour_ in this world. It may be a weak
+and an insufficient one, it is true; but it is a certainty that all our
+projects must come to a debtor or creditor reckoning, and the very best
+we can do is to strike an honest balance!
+
+How Miss Dinah essayed to do this we shall learn in the next chapter and
+what follows it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. A WET MORNING AT HOME
+
+If there was anything that possessed more than common terror for
+Barrington, it was a wet day at the cottage! It was on these dreary
+visitations that his sister took the opportunity of going into
+"committee of supply,"--an occasion not merely for the discussion
+of fiscal matters, but for asking the most vexatious questions and
+demanding the most unpleasant explanations.
+
+We can all, more or less, appreciate the happiness of that right
+honorable gentleman on the Treasury bench who has to reply to the crude
+and unmeaning inquiries of some aspiring Oppositionist, and who wishes
+to know if her Majesty's Government have demanded an indemnity from the
+King of Dahomey for the consul's family eaten by him at the last court
+ceremonial? What compensation is to be given to Captain Balrothery for
+his week's imprisonment at Leghorn, in consequence of his having thrown
+the customs officer and a landing waiter into the sea? Or what mark of
+her Majesty's favor will the noble lord recommend should be conferred
+upon Ensign Digges for the admirable imitation he gave of the dancing
+dervishes at Benares, and the just ridicule he thus threw upon these
+degrading and heathenish rites?
+
+It was to a torture of this order, far more reasonable and pertinent,
+however, that Barrington usually saw himself reduced whenever the
+weather was so decidedly unfavorable that egress was impossible. Poor
+fellow, what shallow pretexts would he stammer out for absenting himself
+from home, what despicable subterfuges to put off an audience! He had
+forgotten to put down the frame on that melon-bed.
+
+There was that awning over the boat not taken in. He 'd step out to
+the stable and give Billy, the pony, a touch of the white oils on that
+swelled hock. He 'd see if they had got the young lambs under cover. In
+fact, from his perturbed and agitated manner, you would have imagined
+that rain was one of the rarest incidents of an Irish climate, and only
+the very promptest measures could mitigate the calamity.
+
+"May I ask where you are off to in such haste, Peter?" asked Miss Dinah
+one morning, just as Barrington had completed all his arrangements for
+a retreat; far readier to brave the elements than the more pitiless
+pelting that awaited him within doors.
+
+"I just remembered," said he, mildly, "that I had left two night-lines
+out at the point, and with this fresh in the river it would be as well
+if I 'd step down and see--"
+
+"And see if the river was where it was yesterday," broke she in,
+sneeringly.
+
+"No, Dinah. But you see that there 's this to be remarked about
+night-lines--"
+
+"That they never catch any fish!" said she, sternly. "It's no weather
+for you to go tramping about in the wet grass. You made fuss enough
+about your lumbago last week, and I suppose you don't want it back
+again. Besides,"--and here her tongue grew authoritative,--"I have got
+up the books." And with these words she threw on the table a number of
+little greasy-looking volumes, over which poor Barrington's sad glances
+wandered, pretty much as might a victim's over the thumb-screws and the
+flesh-nippers of the Holy Inquisition.
+
+"I've a slight touch of a headache this morning, Dinah."
+
+"It won't be cured by going out in the rain. Sit down there," said she,
+peremptorily, "and see with your own eyes how much longer your means
+will enable you to continue these habits of waste and extravagance."
+
+"These what?" said he, perfectly astounded.
+
+"These habits of waste and extravagance, Peter Barring-ton. I repeat my
+words."
+
+Had a venerable divine, being asked on the conclusion of an edifying
+discourse, for how much longer it might be his intention to persist in
+such ribaldries, his astonishment could scarce have been greater than
+Barrington's.
+
+"Why, sister Dinah, are we not keeping an inn? Is not this the
+'Fisherman's Home'?"
+
+"I should think it is, Peter," said she, with scorn. "I suspect he finds
+it so. A very excellent name for it it is!"
+
+"Must I own that I don't understand you, Dinah?"
+
+"Of course you don't. You never did all your life. You never knew you
+were wet till you were half drowned, and that's what the world calls
+having such an amiable disposition! Ain't your friends nice friends?
+They are always telling you how generous you are,--how free-handed,--how
+benevolent. What a heart he has! Ay, but thank Providence there's very
+little of that charming docility about _me_, is there?"
+
+"None, Dinah,--none," said he, not in the least suspecting to what he
+was bearing testimony.
+
+She became crimson in a minute, and in a tone of some emotion said, "And
+if there had been, where should you and where should I be to-day? On the
+parish, Peter Barrington,--on the parish; for it 's neither _your_ head
+nor _your_ hands would have saved us from it."
+
+"You're right, Dinah; you're right there. You never spoke a truer word."
+And his voice trembled as he said it.
+
+"I did n't mean _that_, Peter," said she, eagerly; "but you are too
+confiding, too trustful. Perhaps it takes a woman to detect all the
+little wiles and snares that entangle us in our daily life?"
+
+"Perhaps it does," said he, with a deep sigh.
+
+"At all events, you needn't sigh over it, Peter Barring-ton. It's not
+one of those blemishes in human nature that have to be deplored so
+feelingly. I hope women are as good as men."
+
+"Fifty thousand times better, in every quality of kindliness and
+generosity."
+
+"Humph!" said she, tossing her head impatiently. "We 're not here for a
+question in ethics; it is to the very lowly task of examining the house
+accounts I would invite your attention. Matters cannot go on as they do
+now, if we mean to keep a roof over us."
+
+"But I have always supposed we were doing pretty well, Dinah. You know
+we never promised ourselves to gain a fortune by this venture; the very
+utmost we ever hoped for was to help us along,--to aid us to make both
+ends meet at the end of the year And as Darby tells me--"
+
+"Oh, Darby tells you! What a reliable authority to quote from! Oh, don't
+groan so heavily! I forgot myself. I would n't for the world impeach
+such fidelity or honesty as his."
+
+"Be reasonable, sister Dinah,--do be reasonable; and if there is
+anything to lay to his charge--"
+
+"You 'll hear the case, I suppose," cried she, in a voice high-pitched
+in passion. "You 'll sit up there, like one of your favorite judges, and
+call on Dinah Barrington against Cassan; and perhaps when the cause is
+concluded we shall reverse our places, and _I_ become the defendant! But
+if this is your intention, brother Barrington, give me a little time. I
+beg I may have a little time."
+
+Now, this was a very favorite request of Miss Barring-ton's, and she
+usually made it in the tone of a martyr; but truth obliges us to own
+that never was a demand less justifiable. Not a three-decker of the
+Channel fleet was readier for a broadside than herself. She was always
+at quarters and with a port-fire burning.
+
+Barrington did not answer this appeal; he never moved,--he scarcely
+appeared to breathe, so guarded was he lest his most unintentional
+gesture should be the subject of comment.
+
+"When you have recovered from your stupefaction," said she, calmly,
+"will you look over that line of figures, and then give a glance at this
+total? After that I will ask you what fortune could stand it."
+
+"This looks formidable, indeed," said he, poring over the page through
+his spectacles.
+
+"It is worse, Peter. It _is_ formidable."
+
+"After all, Dinah, this is expenditure. Now for the incomings!"
+
+"I suspect you 'll have to ask your prime minister for _them_. Perhaps
+he may vouchsafe to tell you how many twenty-pound notes have gone to
+America, who it was that consigned a cargo of new potatoes to Liverpool,
+and what amount he invested in yarn at the last fair of Graigue? and
+when you have learned these facts, you will know all you are ever likely
+to know of your _profits!_" I have no means of conveying the intense
+scorn with which she uttered the last word of this speech.
+
+"And he told me--not a week back--that we were going on famously!"
+
+"Why wouldn't he? I 'd like to hear what else he could say. Famously,
+indeed, for _him_ with a strong balance in the savings-bank, and a gold
+watch--yes, Peter, a gold watch--in his pocket. This is no delusion,
+nor illusion, or whatever you call it, of mine, but a fact,--a downright
+fact."
+
+"He has been toiling hard many a year for it, Dinah, don't forget that."
+
+"I believe you want to drive me mad, Peter. You know these are things
+that I can't bear, and that's the reason you say them. Toil, indeed! _I_
+never saw him do anything except sit on a gate at the Lock Meadows, with
+a pipe in his mouth; and if you asked him what he was there for, it was
+a 'track' he was watching, a 'dog-fox that went by every afternoon to
+the turnip field.' Very great toil that was!"
+
+"There was n't an earth-stopper like him in the three next counties; and
+if I was to have a pack of foxhounds tomorrow--"
+
+"You 'd just be as great a foot as ever you were, and the more sorry I
+am to hear it; but you 're not going to be tempted, Peter Barrington.
+It's not foxes we have to think of, but where we 're to find shelter for
+ourselves."
+
+"Do you know of anything we could turn to, more profitable, Dinah?"
+asked he, mildly.
+
+"There 's nothing could be much less so, I know _that!_ You are not
+very observant, Peter, but even to you it must have become apparent that
+great changes have come over the world in a few years. The persons who
+formerly indulged their leisure were all men of rank and fortune. Who
+are the people who come over here now to amuse themselves? Staleybridge
+and Manchester creatures, with factory morals and bagman manners;
+treating our house like a commercial inn, and actually disputing the
+bill and asking for items. Yes, Peter, I overheard a fellow telling
+Darby last week that the ''ouse was dearer than the Halbion!'"
+
+"Travellers will do these things, Dinah."
+
+"And if they do, they shall be shown the door for it, as sure as my name
+is Dinah Barrington."
+
+"Let us give up the inn altogether, then," said he, with a sudden
+impatience.
+
+"The very thing I was going to propose, Peter," said she, solemnly.
+
+"What!--how?" cried he, for the acceptance of what only escaped him in
+a moment of anger overwhelmed and stunned him. "How are we to live,
+Dinah?"
+
+"Better without than with it,--there's my answer to that. Let us
+look the matter fairly in the face, Peter," said she, with a calm and
+measured utterance. "This dealing with the world 'on honor' must ever
+be a losing game. To screen ourselves from the vulgar necessities of our
+condition, we must submit to any terms. So long as our intercourse
+with life gave us none but gentlemen to deal with, we escaped well and
+safely. That race would seem to have thinned off of late, however; or,
+what comes to the same, there is such a deluge of spurious coin one
+never knows what is real gold."
+
+"You may be right, Dinah; you may be right."
+
+"I know I am right; the experience has been the growth of years too. All
+our efforts to escape the odious contact of these people have multiplied
+our expenses. Where one man used to suffice, we keep three. You
+yourself, who felt it no indignity to go out a-fishing formerly with a
+chance traveller, have to own with what reserve and caution you would
+accept such companionship now."
+
+"Nay, nay, Dinah, not exactly so far as that--"
+
+"And why not? Was it not less than a fortnight ago three Birmingham men
+crossed the threshold, calling out for old Peter,--was old Peter to the
+good yet?"
+
+"They were a little elevated with wine, sister, remember that; and,
+besides, they never knew, never had heard of me in my once condition."
+
+"And are we so changed that they cannot recognize the class we pertain
+to?"
+
+"Not _you_, Dinah, certainly not you; but I frankly own I can put up
+with rudeness and incivility better than a certain showy courtesy some
+vulgar people practise towards me. In the one case I feel I am not
+known, and my secret is safe. In the other, I have to stand out as
+the ruined gentleman, and I am not always sure that I play the part as
+gracefully as I ought."
+
+"Let us leave emotions, Peter, and descend to the lowland of arithmetic,
+by giving up two boatmen, John and Terry--"
+
+"Poor Terry!" sighed he, with a faint, low accent
+
+"Oh! if it be 'poor Terry!' I 've done," said she, closing the book, and
+throwing it down with a slap that made him start.
+
+"Nay, dear Dinah; but if we could manage to let him have something,--say
+five shillings a week,--he 'd not need it long; and the port wine that
+was doing his rheumatism such good is nearly finished; he'll miss it
+sorely."
+
+"Were you giving him Henderson's wine,--the '11 vintage?" cried she,
+pale with indignation.
+
+"Just a bottle or two, Dinah; only as medicine."
+
+"As a fiddlestick, sir! I declare I have no patience with you; there
+'s no excuse for such folly, not to say the ignorance of giving these
+creatures what they never were used to. Did not Dr. Dill tell you that
+tonics, to be effective, must always have some relation to the daily
+habits of the patient?"
+
+"Very true, Dinah; but the discourse was pronounced when I saw him
+putting a bottle of old Madeira in his gig that I had left for Anne
+M'Cafferty, adding, he 'd send her something far more strengthening."
+
+"Right or wrong, I don't care; but this I know, Terry Dogherty is n't
+going to finish off Henderson's port. It is rather too much to stand,
+that we are to be treating beggars to luxuries, when we can't say
+to-morrow where we shall find salt for our potatoes." This was a
+somewhat favorite illustration of Miss Barrington,--either implying that
+the commodity was an essential to human life, or the use of it an emblem
+of extreme destitution.
+
+"I conclude we may dispense with Tom Divett's services," resumed she.
+"We can assuredly get on without a professional rat-catcher."
+
+"If we should, Dinah, we'll feel the loss; the rats make sad havoc of
+the spawn, and destroy quantities of the young fish, besides."
+
+"His two ugly terriers eat just as many chickens, and never leave us an
+egg in the place. And now for Mr. Darby--"
+
+"You surely don't think of parting with Darby, sister Dinah?"
+
+"He shall lead the way," replied she, in a firm and peremptory voice;
+"the very first of the batch! And it will, doubtless, be a great comfort
+to you to know that you need not distress yourself about any provision
+for his declining years. It is a care that he has attended to on his own
+part. He 'll go back to a very well-feathered nest, I promise you."
+
+Barrington sighed heavily, for he had a secret sorrow on that score.
+He knew, though his sister did not, that he had from year to year been
+borrowing every pound of Darby's savings to pay the cost of law charges,
+always hoping and looking for the time when a verdict in his favor would
+enable him to restore the money twice told. With a very dreary sigh,
+then, did he here allude "to the well-feathered nest" of one he had left
+bare and destitute. He cleared his throat, and made an effort to avow
+the whole matter; but his courage failed him, and he sat mournfully
+shaking his head, partly in sorrow, partly in shame. His sister noticed
+none of these signs; she was rapidly enumerating all the reductions
+that could be made,--all the dependencies cut off; there were the
+boats, which constantly required repairs; the nets, eternally being
+renewed,--all to be discarded; the island, a very pretty little object
+in the middle of the river, need no longer be rented. "Indeed," said
+she, "I don't know why we took it, except it was to give those memorable
+picnics you used to have there."
+
+"How pleasant they were, Dinah; how delightful!" said he, totally
+overlooking the spirit of her remark.
+
+"Oh! they were charming, and your own popularity was boundless; but I
+'d have you to bear in mind, brother Peter, that popularity is no more
+a poor man's luxury than champagne. It is a very costly indulgence, and
+can rarely be had on 'credit.'"
+
+Miss Barrington had pared down retrenchment to the very quick. She
+had shown that they could live not only without boatmen, rat-catchers,
+gardener, and manservant, but that, as they were to give up their daily
+newspaper, they could dispense with a full ration of candle-light;
+and yet, with all these reductions, she declared that there was still
+another encumbrance to be pruned away, and she proudly asked her brother
+if he could guess what it was?
+
+Now Barrington felt that he could not live without a certain allowance
+of food, nor would it be convenient, or even decent, to dispense with
+raiment; so he began, as a last resource, to conjecture that his sister
+was darkly hinting at something which might be a substitute for a home,
+and save house-rent; and he half testily exclaimed, "I suppose we 're to
+have a roof over us, Dinah!"
+
+"Yes," said she, dryly, "I never proposed we should go and live in the
+woods. What I meant had a reference, to Josephine--"
+
+Barrington's cheek flushed deeply in an instant, and, with a voice
+trembling with emotion, he said,--
+
+"If you mean, Dinah, that I'm to cut off that miserable pittance--that
+forty pounds a year--I give to poor George's girl--" He stopped, for he
+saw that in his sister's face which might have appalled a bolder heart
+than his own; for while her eyes flashed fire, her thin lips trembled
+with passion; and so, in a very faltering humility, he added: "But you
+never meant _that_ sister Dinah. You would be the very last in the world
+to do it."
+
+"Then why impute it to me; answer me that?" said she, crossing her hands
+behind her back, and staring haughtily at him.
+
+"Just because I 'm clean at my wits' end,--just because I neither
+understand one word I hear, or what I say in reply. If you 'll just tell
+me what it is you propose, I 'll do my best, with God's blessing,
+to follow you; but don't ask me for advice, Dinah, and don't fly out
+because I 'm not as quick-witted and as clever as yourself."
+
+There was something almost so abject in his misery that she seemed
+touched by it, and, in a voice of a very calm and kindly meaning, she
+said,--
+
+"I have been thinking a good deal over that letter of Josephine's; she
+says she wants our consent to take the veil as a nun; that, by the rules
+of the order, when her novitiate is concluded, she must go into the
+world for at least some months,--a time meant to test her faithfulness
+to her vows, and the tranquillity with which she can renounce forever
+all the joys and attractions of life. We, it is true, have no means of
+surrounding her with such temptations; but we might try and supply their
+place by some less brilliant but not less attractive ones. We might
+offer her, what we ought to have offered her years ago,--a home! What do
+you say to this, Peter?"
+
+"That I love you for it, sister Dinah, with all my heart," said he,
+kissing her on each cheek; "that it makes me happier than I knew I ever
+was to be again."
+
+"Of course, to bring Josephine here, this must not be an inn, Peter."
+
+"Certainly not, Dinah,--certainly not. But I can think of nothing but
+the joy of seeing her,--poor George's child I How I have yearned to know
+if she was like him,--if she had any of his ways, any traits of that
+quaint, dry humor he had, and, above all, of that disposition that made
+him so loved by every one."
+
+"And cheated by every one too, brother Peter; don't forget that!"
+
+"Who wants to think of it now?" said he, sorrowfully.
+
+"I never reject a thought because it has unpleasant associations. It
+would be but a sorry asylum which only admitted the well-to-do and the
+happy."
+
+"How are we to get the dear child here, Dinah? Let us consider the
+matter. It is a long journey off."
+
+"I have thought of that too," said she, sententiously, "but not made up
+my mind."
+
+"Let us ask M'Cormick about it, Dinah; he's coming up this evening
+to play his Saturday night's rubber with Dill. He knows the Continent
+well."
+
+"There will be another saving that I did n't remember, Peter. The weekly
+bottle of whiskey, and the candles, not to speak of the four or five
+shillings your pleasant companions invariably carry away with them,--all
+may be very advantageously dispensed with."
+
+"When Josephine 's here, I 'll not miss it," said he, good-humoredly.
+Then suddenly remembering that his sister might not deem the speech
+a gracious one to herself, he was about to add something; but she was
+gone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. OUR NEXT NEIGHBORS
+
+Should there be amongst my readers any one whose fortune it has been
+in life only to associate with the amiable, the interesting, and the
+agreeable, all whose experiences of mankind are rose-tinted, to him I
+would say, Skip over two people I am now about to introduce, and take
+up my story at some later stage, for I desire to be truthful, and, as is
+the misfortune of people in my situation, I may be very disagreeable.
+
+After all, I may have made more excuses than were needful. The persons
+I would present are in that large category, the commonplace, and only as
+uninviting and as tiresome as we may any day meet in a second-class on
+the railroad. Flourish, therefore, penny trumpets, and announce Major
+M'Cormick. The Major, so confidently referred to by Barrington
+in our last chapter as a high authority on matters continental, was a
+very shattered remnant of the unhappy Walcheren expedition. He was a
+small, mean-looking, narrow-faced man, with a thin, bald head, and red
+whiskers. He walked very lame from an injury to his hip; "his wound,"
+he called it, though his candor did not explain that it was incurred by
+being thrown down a hatchway by a brother officer in a drunken brawl.
+In character he was a saving, penurious creature, without one single
+sympathy outside his own immediate interests. When some sixteen or
+eighteen years before the Barringtons had settled in the neighborhood,
+the Major began to entertain thoughts of matrimony. Old soldiers are
+rather given to consider marriage as an institution especially intended
+to solace age and console rheumatism, and so M'Cormick debated with
+himself whether he had not arrived at the suitable time for this
+indulgence, and also whether Miss Dinah Barrington was not the
+individual destined to share his lot and season his gruel.
+
+But a few years back and his ambition would as soon have aspired to an
+archduchess as to the sister of Barrington, of Barrington Hall, whose
+realms of social distinction separated them; but now, fallen from their
+high estate, forgotten by the world, and poor, they had come down--at
+least, he thought so--to a level in which there would be no presumption
+in his pretensions. Indeed, I half suspect that he thought there was
+something very high-minded and generous in his intentions with regard to
+them. At all events, there was a struggle of some sort in his mind which
+went on from year to year undecided. Now, there are men--for the most
+part old bachelors--to whom an unfinished project is a positive luxury,
+who like to add, day by day, a few threads to the web of fate, but no
+more. To the Major it was quite enough that "some fine day or other"--so
+he phrased it--he 'd make his offer, just as he thought how, in the same
+propitious weather, he 'd put a new roof on his cottage, and fill up
+that quarry-hole near his gate, into which he had narrowly escaped
+tumbling some half-dozen times. But thanks to his caution and
+procrastination, the roof, and the project, and the quarry-hole were
+exactly, or very nearly, in the same state they had been eighteen years
+before.
+
+Rumor said--as rumor will always say whatever has a tinge of ill-nature
+in it--that Miss Barrington would have accepted him; vulgar report
+declared that she would "jump at the offer." Whether this be, or not,
+the appropriate way of receiving a matrimonial proposal, the lady was
+not called upon to display her activity. He never told his love.
+
+It is very hard to forgive that secretary, home or foreign, who in the
+day of his power and patronage could, but did not, make us easy for life
+with this mission or that com-missionership. It is not easy to believe
+that our uncle the bishop could not, without any undue strain upon his
+conscience, have made us something, albeit a clerical error, in his
+diocese, but infinitely more difficult is it to pardon him who, having
+suggested dreams of wedded happiness, still stands hesitating, doubting,
+and canvassing,--a timid bather, who shivers on the beach, and then puts
+on his clothes again.
+
+It took a long time--it always does in such cases--ere Miss Barrington
+came to read this man aright. Indeed, the light of her own hopes had
+dazzled her, and she never saw him clearly till they were extinguished;
+but when the knowledge did come, it came trebled with compound interest,
+and she saw him in all that displayed his miserable selfishness; and
+although her brother, who found it hard to believe any one bad who had
+not been tried for a capital felony, would explain away many a meanness
+by saying, "It is just his way,--a way, and no more!" she spoke out
+fearlessly, if not very discreetly, and declared she detested him. Of
+course she averred it was his manners, his want of breeding, and
+his familiarity that displeased her. He might be an excellent
+creature,--perhaps he was; _that_ was nothing to her. All his moral
+qualities might have an interest for his friends; she was a mere
+acquaintance, and was only concerned for what related to his bearing in
+society. Then Walcheren was positively odious to her. Some little
+solace she felt at the thought that the expedition was a failure and
+inglorious; but when she listened to the fiftieth time-told tale of
+fever and ague, she would sigh, not for those who suffered, but over the
+one that escaped. It is a great blessing to men of uneventful lives and
+scant imagination when there is any one incident to which memory can
+refer unceasingly. Like some bold headland last seen at sea, it lives in
+the mind throughout the voyage. Such was this ill-starred expedition
+to the Major. It dignified his existence to himself, though his memory
+never soared above the most ordinary details and vulgar incidents. Thus
+he would maunder on for hours, telling how the ships sailed and parted
+company, and joined again; how the old "Brennus" mistook a signal and
+put back to Hull, and how the "Sarah Reeves," his own transport, was
+sent after her. Then he grew picturesque about Flushing, as first
+seen through the dull fogs of the Scheldt, with village spires peeping
+through the heavy vapor, and the strange Dutch language, with its queer
+names for the vegetables and fruit brought by the boats alongside.
+
+"You won't believe me, Miss Dinah, but, as I sit here, the peaches was
+like little melons, and the cherries as big as walnuts."
+
+"They made cherry-bounce out of them, I hope, sir," said she, with a
+scornful smile.
+
+"No, indeed, ma'am," replied he, dull to the sarcasm; "they ate them in
+a kind of sauce with roast-pig, and mighty good too!"
+
+But enough of the Major; and now a word, and only a word, for his
+companion, already alluded to by Barrington.
+
+Dr. Dill had been a poor "Dispensary Doctor" for some thirty years, with
+a small practice, and two or three grand patrons at some miles off, who
+employed him for the servants, or for the children in "mild cases," and
+who even extended to him a sort of contemptuous courtesy that serves to
+make a proud man a bear, and an humble man a sycophant.
+
+Dill was the reverse of proud, and took to the other line with much
+kindliness. To have watched him in his daily round you would have said
+that he liked being trampled on, and actually enjoyed being crushed. He
+smiled so blandly, and looked so sweetly under it all, as though it was
+a kind of moral shampooing, from which he would come out all the fresher
+and more vigorous.
+
+The world is certainly generous in its dealings with these temperaments;
+it indulges them to the top of their hearts, and gives them humiliations
+to their heart's content. Rumor--the same wicked goddess who libelled
+Miss Barrington--hinted that the doctor was not, within his own walls
+and under his own roof, the suffering angel the world saw him, and
+that he occasionally did a little trampling there on his own account.
+However, Mrs. Dill never complained; and though the children wore a
+tremulous terror and submissiveness in their looks, they were only
+suitable family traits, which all redounded to their credit, and made
+them "so like the doctor."
+
+Such were the two worthies who slowly floated along on the current
+of the river of a calm summer's evening, to visit the Barringtons. As
+usual, the talk was of their host. They discussed his character and his
+habits and his debts, and the difficulty he had in raising that little
+loan; and in close juxtaposition with this fact, as though pinned on the
+back of it, his sister's overweening pride and pretension. It had been
+the Major's threat for years that he 'd "take her down a peg one of
+these days." But either he was mercifully unwilling to perform the act,
+or that the suitable hour for it had not come; but there she remained,
+and there he left her, not taken down one inch, but loftier and
+haughtier than ever. As the boat rounded the point from which the
+cottage was visible through the trees and some of the outhouses could
+be descried, they reverted to the ruinous state everything was falling
+into. "Straw is cheap enough, anyhow," said the Major. "He might put a
+new thatch on that cow-house, and I 'm sure a brush of paint would n't
+ruin any one." Oh, my dear reader! have you not often heard--I know that
+I have--such comments as these, such reflections on the indolence or
+indifference which only needed so very little to reform, done, too,
+without trouble or difficulty, habits that could be corrected, evil ways
+reformed, and ruinous tendencies arrested, all as it were by a "rush of
+paint," or something just as uncostly?
+
+"There does n't seem to be much doing here, Dill," said M'Cormick, as
+they landed. "All the boats are drawn up ashore. And faith! I don't
+wonder, that old woman is enough to frighten the fish out of the river."
+
+"Strangers do not always like that sort of thing," modestly remarked the
+doctor,--the "always" being peculiarly marked for emphasis. "Some will
+say, an inn should be an inn."
+
+"That's my view of it. What I say is this: I want my bit of fish, and
+my beefsteak, and my pint of wine, and I don't want to know that the
+landlord's grandfather entertained the king, or that his aunt was a
+lady-in-waiting. 'Be' as high as you like,' says I, 'but don't make
+the bill so,'--eh, Dill?" And he cackled the harsh ungenial laugh which
+seems the birthright of all sorry jesters; and the doctor gave a little
+laugh too, more from habit, however, than enjoyment.
+
+"Do you know, Dill," said the Major, disengaging himself from the arm
+which his lameness compelled him to lean on, and standing still in the
+pathway,--"do you know that I never reach thus far without having a sort
+of struggle with myself whether I won't turn back and go home again. Can
+you explain that, now?"
+
+"It is the wound, perhaps, pains you, coming up the hill."
+
+"It is not the wound. It's that woman!"
+
+"Miss Barrington?"
+
+"Just so. I have her before me now, sitting up behind the urn there, and
+saying, 'Have you had tea, Major M'Cormick?' when she knows well she did
+n't give it to me. Don't you feel that going up to the table for your
+cup is for all the world like doing homage?"
+
+"Her manners are cold,--certainly cold."
+
+"I wish they were. It's the fire that's in her I 'm afraid of! She has as
+wicked an eye in her head as ever I saw."
+
+"She was greatly admired once, I 'm told; and she has many remains of
+beauty."
+
+"Oh! for the matter of looks, there's worse. It's her nature, her
+temper,--herself, in fact, I can't endure."
+
+"What is it you can't endure, M'Cormick?" cried Barrington, emerging
+from a side walk where he had just caught the last words. "If it be
+anything in this poor place of mine, let me hear, that I may have it
+amended."
+
+"How are ye,--how are ye?" said the Major, with a very confused manner.
+"I was talking politics with Dill. I was telling him how I hated _them_
+Tories."
+
+"I believe they are all pretty much alike," said Barring-ton; "at least,
+I knew they were in my day. And though we used to abuse him, and drink
+all kind of misfortunes to him every day of our lives, there was n't a
+truer gentleman nor a finer fellow in Ireland than Lord Castlereagh."
+
+"I'm sure of it. I've often heard the same remark," chimed in Dill.
+
+"It's a pity you didn't think so at the time of the Union," said
+M'Cormick, with a sneer.
+
+"Many of us did; but it would not make us sell our country. But what
+need is there of going back to those times, and things that can't be
+helped now? Come in and have a cup of tea. I see my sister is waiting
+for us."
+
+Why was it that Miss Barrington, on that evening, was grander and
+statelier than ever? Was it some anticipation of the meditated change in
+their station had impressed her manner with more of pride? I know
+not; but true it is she received her visitors with a reserve that was
+actually chilling. To no end did Barrington exert himself to conceal or
+counteract this frigidity. In all our moral chemistry we have never yet
+hit upon an antidote to a chilling reception.
+
+[Illustration: 046]
+
+The doctor was used to this freezing process, and did not suffer
+like his companion. To him, life was a huge ice-pail; but he defied
+frost-bite, and bore it. The Major, however chafed and fidgeted under
+the treatment, and muttered to himself very vengeful sentiments about
+that peg he had determined to take her down from.
+
+"I was hoping to be able to offer you a nosegay, dear lady," said
+Dill,--this was his customary mode of address to her, an ingenious
+blending of affection with deference, but in which the stronger accent
+on the last word showed the deference to predominate,--"but the rain has
+come so late, there's not a stock in the garden fit to present to you."
+
+"It is just as well, sir. I detest gillyflowers."
+
+The Major's eyes sparkled with a spiteful delight, for he was sorely
+jealous of the doctor's ease under difficulties.
+
+"We have, indeed, a few moss-roses."
+
+"None to be compared to our own, sir. Do not think of it."
+
+The Major felt that his was not a giving disposition, and consequently
+it exempted him from rubs and rebuffs of this sort. Meanwhile, unabashed
+by failure, the doctor essayed once more: "Mrs. Dill is only waiting to
+have the car mended, to come over and pay her dutiful respects to you,
+Miss Dinah."
+
+"Pray tell her not to mind it, Dr. Dill," replied she, sharply, "or to
+wait till the fourth of next month, which will make it exactly a year
+since her last visit; and her call can be then an annual one, like the
+tax-gatherer's."
+
+"Bother them for taxes altogether," chimed in Barrington, whose ear
+only caught the last word. "You haven't done with the county cess when
+there's a fellow at you for tithes; and they're talking of a poor-rate."
+
+"You may perceive, Dr. Dill, that your medicines have not achieved a
+great success against my brother's deafness."
+
+"We were all so at Walcheren," broke in M'Cormick; "when we 'd come out
+of the trenches, we could n't hear for hours."
+
+"My voice may be a shrill one, Major M'Cormick, but I'll have you to
+believe that it has not destroyed my brother's tympanum."
+
+"It's not the tympanum is engaged, dear lady; it's the Eustachian tube
+is the cause here. There's a passage leads down from the internal ear--"
+
+"I declare, sir, I have just as little taste for anatomy as for
+fortification; and though I sincerely wish you could cure my brother, as
+I also wish these gentlemen could have taken Walcheren, I have not the
+slightest desire to know how."
+
+"I 'll beg a little more tea in this, ma'am," said the Major, holding
+out his cup.
+
+"Do you mean water, sir? Did you say it was too strong?"
+
+"With your leave, I 'll take it a trifle stronger," said he, with a
+malicious twinkle in his eye, for he knew all the offence his speech
+implied.
+
+"I'm glad to hear you say so, Major M'Cormick. I'm happy to know that
+your nerves are stronger than at the time of that expedition you quote
+with such pleasure. Is yours to your liking, sir?"
+
+"I 'll ask for some water, dear lady," broke in Dill, who began to think
+that the fire was hotter than usual. "As I said to Mrs. Dill, 'Molly,'
+says I, 'how is it that I never drink such tea anywhere as at the--'" He
+stopped, for he was going to say, the Harringtons', and he trembled at
+the liberty; and he dared not say the Fisherman's Home, lest it should
+be thought he was recalling their occupation; and so, after a pause
+and a cough, he stammered out--"'at the sweet cottage.'" Nor was his
+confusion the less at perceiving how she had appreciated his difficulty,
+and was smiling at it.
+
+"Very few strangers in these parts lately, I believe," said M'Cormick,
+who knew that his remark was a dangerous one.
+
+"I fancy none, sir," said she, calmly. "We, at least, have no customers,
+if that be the name for them."
+
+"It's natural, indeed, dear lady, you shouldn't know how they are
+called," began the doctor, in a fawning tone, "reared and brought up as
+you were."
+
+The cold, steady stare of Miss Barrington arrested his speech; and
+though he made immense efforts to recover himself, there was that in her
+look which totally overcame him. "Sit down to your rubber, sir," said
+she, in a whisper that seemed to thrill through his veins. "You will
+find yourself far more at home at the odd trick there, than attempting
+to console me about my lost honors." And with this fierce admonition,
+she gave a little nod, half in adieu, half in admonition, and swept
+haughtily out of the room.
+
+M'Cormick heaved a sigh as the door closed after her, which very plainly
+bespoke how much he felt the relief.
+
+"My poor sister is a bit out of spirits this evening," said Barrington,
+who merely saw a certain show of constraint over his company, and never
+guessed the cause. "We've had some unpleasant letters, and one thing
+or another to annoy us, and if she does n't join us at supper, you 'll
+excuse her, I know, M'Cormick."
+
+"That we will, with--" He was going to add, "with a heart and a half,"
+for he felt, what to him was a rare sentiment, "gratitude;" but Dill
+chimed in,--
+
+"Of course, we couldn't expect she'd appear. I remarked she was nervous
+when we came in. I saw an expression in her eye--"
+
+"So did I, faith," muttered M'Cormick, "and I'm not a doctor."
+
+"And here's our whist-table," said Barrington, bustling about; "and
+there 's a bit of supper ready there for us in that room, and we 'll
+help ourselves, for I 've sent Darby to bed. And now give me a hand with
+these cards, for they 've all got mixed together."
+
+Barrington's task was the very wearisome one of trying to sort out an
+available pack from some half-dozen of various sizes and colors.
+
+"Is n't this for all the world like raising a regiment out of twenty
+volunteer corps?" said M'Cormick.
+
+"Dill would call it an hospital of incurables," said Barrington. "Have
+you got a knave of spades and a seven? Oh dear, dear! the knave, with
+the head off him! I begin to suspect we must look up a new pack."
+There was a tone of misgiving in the way he said this; for it implied a
+reference to his sister, and all its consequences. Affecting to search
+for new cards in his own room, therefore, he arose and went out.
+
+"I wouldn't live in a slavery like that," muttered the Major, "to be
+King of France."
+
+"Something has occurred here. There is some latent source of
+irritation," said Dill, cautiously. "Barrington's own manner is fidgety
+and uneasy. I have my suspicion matters are going on but poorly with
+them."
+
+While this sage diagnosis was being uttered, M'Cormick had taken a short
+excursion into the adjoining room, from which he returned, eating a
+pickled onion. "It's the old story; the cold roast loin and the dish of
+salad. Listen! Did you hear that shout?"
+
+"I thought I heard one awhile back; but I fancied afterwards it was only
+the noise of the river over the stones."
+
+"It is some fellows drawing the river; they poach under his very
+windows, and he never sees them."
+
+"I 'm afraid we 're not to have our rubber this evening," said Dill,
+mournfully.
+
+"There's a thing, now, I don't understand!" said M'Cormick, in a low but
+bitter voice. "No man is obliged to see company, but when he does do
+it, he oughtn't to be running about for a tumbler here and a mustard-pot
+there. There's the noise again; it's fellows robbing the salmon-weir!"
+
+"No rubber to-night, I perceive that," reiterated the doctor, still
+intent upon the one theme.
+
+"A thousand pardons I ask from each of you," cried Barrington, coming
+hurriedly in, with a somewhat flushed face; "but I 've had such a hunt
+for these cards. When I put a thing away nowadays, it's as good as gone
+to me, for I remember nothing. But here we are, now, all right."
+
+The party, like men eager to retrieve lost time, were soon deep in their
+game, very little being uttered, save such remarks as the contest called
+for. The Major was of that order of players who firmly believe fortune
+will desert them if they don't whine and complain of their luck, and so
+everything from him was a lamentation. The doctor, who regarded whist
+pathologically, no more gave up a game than he would a patient. He had
+witnessed marvellous recoveries in the most hopeless cases, and he had
+been rescued by a "revoke" in the last hour. Unlike each, Barrington was
+one who liked to chat over his game, as he would over his wine. Not that
+he took little interest in it, but it had no power to absorb and engross
+him. If a man derive very great pleasure from a pastime in which, after
+years and years of practice, he can attain no eminence nor any mastery,
+you may be almost certain he is one of an amiable temperament Nothing
+short of real goodness of nature could go on deriving enjoyment from a
+pursuit associated with continual defeats. Such a one must be hopeful,
+he must be submissive, he must have no touch of ungenerous jealousy in
+his nature, and, withal, a zealous wish to do better. Now he who can be
+all these, in anything, is no bad fellow.
+
+If Barrington, therefore, was beaten, he bore it well. Cards were often
+enough against him, his play was always so; and though the doctor had
+words of bland consolation for disaster, such as the habits of his craft
+taught him, the Major was a pitiless adversary, who never omitted the
+opportunity of disinterring all his opponents' blunders, and singing a
+song of triumph over them. But so it is,--_tot genera hominum_,--so many
+kinds of whist-players are there!
+
+Hour after hour went over, and it was late in the night. None felt
+disposed to sup; at least, none proposed it. The stakes were small,
+it is true, but small things are great to little men, and Barrington's
+guests were always the winners.
+
+"I believe if I was to be a good player,--which I know in my heart I
+never shall," said Barrington,--"that my luck would swamp me, after all.
+Look at that hand now, and say is there a trick in it?" As he said
+this, he spread out the cards of his "dummy" on the table, with the
+dis-consolation of one thoroughly beaten.
+
+"Well, it might be worse," said Dill, consolingly. "There's a queen of
+diamonds; and I would n't say, if you could get an opportunity to trump
+the club--"
+
+"Let him try it," broke in the merciless Major; "let him just try it! My
+name isn't Dan M'Cormick if he'll win one card in that hand. There, now,
+I lead the ace of clubs. Play!"
+
+"Patience, Major, patience; let me look over my hand. I 'm bad enough at
+the best, but I 'll be worse if you hurry me. Is that a king or a knave
+I see there?"
+
+"It's neither; it 's the queen!" barked out the Major.
+
+"Doctor, you 'll have to look after my eyes as well as my ears. Indeed,
+I scarcely know which is the worst. Was not that a voice outside?"
+
+[Illustration: 052]
+
+"I should think it was; there have been fellows shouting there the whole
+evening. I suspect they don't leave you many fish in this part of the
+river."
+
+"I beg your pardon," interposed Dill, blandly, "but you 've taken up my
+card by mistake."
+
+While Barrington was excusing himself, and trying to recover his lost
+clew to the game, there came a violent knocking at the door, and a loud
+voice called out, "Holloa! Will some of ye open the door, or must I put
+my foot through it?"
+
+"There _is_ somebody there," said Barrington, quietly, for he had now
+caught the words correctly; and taking a candle, he hastened out.
+
+[Illustration: 052]
+
+"At last," cried a stranger, as the door opened,--"at last! Do you know
+that we've been full twenty minutes here, listening to your animated
+discussion over the odd trick?--I fainting with hunger, and my friend
+with pain." And so saying, he assisted another to limp forward, who
+leaned on his arm and moved with the greatest difficulty.
+
+The mere sight of one in suffering repressed any notion of a rejoinder
+to his somewhat rude speech, and Barrington led the way into the room.
+
+"Have you met with an accident?" asked he, as he placed the sufferer on
+a sofa.
+
+"Yes," interposed the first speaker; "he slipped down one of those rocks
+into the river, and has sprained, if he has not broken, something."
+
+"It is our good fortune to have advice here; this gentleman is a
+doctor."
+
+"Of the Royal College, and an M.D. of Aberdeen, besides," said Dill,
+with a professional smile, while, turning back his cuffs, he proceeded
+to remove the shoe and stocking of his patient.
+
+"Don't be afraid of hurting, but just tell me at once what's the
+matter," said the young fellow, down whose cheeks great drops were
+rolling in his agony.
+
+"There is no pronouncing at once; there is great tumefaction here. It
+may be a mere sprain, or it may be a fracture of the fibula simple, or a
+fracture with luxation."
+
+"Well, if you can't tell the injury, tell us what's to be done for it.
+Get him to bed, I suppose, first?" said the friend.
+
+"By all means, to bed, and cold applications on the affected part."
+
+"Here's a room all ready, and at hand," said Barrington, opening the
+door into a little chamber replete with comfort and propriety.
+
+"Come," said the first speaker, "Fred, all this is very snug; one might
+have fallen upon worse quarters." And so saying, he assisted his friend
+forward, and deposited him upon the bed.
+
+While the doctor busied himself with the medical cares for his patient,
+and arranged with due skill the appliances to relieve his present
+suffering, the other stranger related how they had lost their way,
+having first of all taken the wrong bank of the river, and been obliged
+to retrace their steps upwards of three miles to retrieve their mistake.
+
+"Where were you going to?" asked Barringtou.
+
+"We were in search of a little inn they had told us of, called the
+'Fisherman's Home.' I conclude we have reached it at last, and you are
+the host, I take it?"
+
+Barrington bowed assent.
+
+"And these gentlemen are visitors here?" But without waiting for any
+reply,--difficult at all times, for he spoke with great rapidity and
+continual change of topic,--he now stooped down to whisper something to
+the sick man. "My friend thinks he'll do capitally now, and, if we leave
+him, that he'll soon drop asleep; so I vote we give him the chance."
+Thus saying, he made a gesture for the others to leave, following them
+up as they went, almost like one enforcing an order.
+
+"If I am correct in my reading, you are a soldier, sir," said
+Barrington, when they reached the outer room, "and this gentleman here
+is a brother officer,--Major M'Cor-mick."
+
+"Full pay, eh?"
+
+"No, I am an old Walcheren man."
+
+"Walcheren--Walcheren--why, that sounds like Malplaquet or Blenheim!
+Where the deuce was Walcheren? Did n't believe that there was an old
+tumbril of that affair to the fore still. You were all licked there, or
+you died of the ague, or jaundice? Oh, dummy whist, as I live! Who's the
+unlucky dog has got the dummy?--bad as Walcheren, by Jove! Is n't that a
+supper I see laid out there? Don't I smell Stilton from that room?"
+
+"If you 'll do us the honor to join us--"
+
+"That I will, and astonish you with an appetite too! We breakfasted at
+a beastly hole called Graigue, and tasted nothing since, except a few
+peaches I stole out of an old fellow's garden on the riverside,--'Old
+Dan the miser,' a country fellow called him."
+
+"I have the honor to have afforded you the entertainment you speak of,"
+said M'Cormick, smarting with anger.
+
+"All right! The peaches were excellent,--would have been better if
+riper. I 'm afraid I smashed a window of yours; it was a stone I shied
+at a confounded dog,--a sort of terrier. Pickled onions and walnuts, by
+all that 's civilized! And so this is the 'Fisherman's Home,' and you
+the fisherman, eh? Well, why not show a light or a lantern over the
+door? Who the deuce is to know that this is a place of entertainment? We
+only guessed it at last."
+
+"May I help you to some mutton?" said Barrington, more amused than put
+out by his guest's discursiveness.
+
+"By all means. But don't carve it that way; cut it lengthwise, as if it
+were the saddle, which it ought to have been. You must tell me where
+you got this sherry. I have tasted nothing like it for many a day,--real
+brown sherry. I suppose you know how they brown it? It's not done by
+sugar,--that's a vulgar error. It's done by boiling; they boil down so
+many butts and reduce them to about a fourth or a fifth. You haven't got
+any currant-jelly, have you? it is just as good with cold mutton as hot.
+And then it is the wine thus reduced they use for coloring matter. I got
+up all my sherry experiences on the spot."
+
+"The wine you approve of has been in my cellar about five-and-forty
+years."
+
+"It would not if I 'd have been your neighbor, rely upon that. I'd have
+secured every bottle of it for our mess; and mind, whatever remains of
+it is mine."
+
+"Might I make bold to remark," said Dill, interposing, "that we are the
+guests of my friend here on this occasion?"
+
+"Eh, what,--guests?"
+
+"I am proud enough to believe that you will not refuse me the honor of
+your company; for though an innkeeper, I write myself gentleman," said
+Barrington, blandly, though not without emotion.
+
+"I should think you might," broke in the stranger, heartily; "and I'd
+say the man who had a doubt about your claims had very little of his
+own. And now a word of apology for the mode of our entrance here, and to
+introduce myself. I am Colonel Hunter, of the 21st Hussars; my friend is
+a young subaltern of the regiment."
+
+A moment before, and all the awkwardness of his position was painful
+to Barrington. He felt that the traveller was there by a right, free
+to order, condemn, and criticise as he pleased. The few words of
+explanation, given in all the frankness of a soldier, and with the tact
+of a gentleman, relieved this embarrassment, and he was himself again.
+As for M'Cormick and Dill, the mere announcement of the regiment he
+commanded seemed to move and impress them. It was one of those corps
+especially known in the service for the rank and fortune of its
+officers. The Prince himself was their colonel, and they had acquired
+a wide notoriety for exclusiveness and pride, which, when treated by
+unfriendly critics, assumed a shape less favorable still.
+
+Colonel Hunter, if he were to be taken as a type of his regiment, might
+have rebutted a good deal of this floating criticism; he had a fine
+honest countenance, a rich mellow voice, and a sort of easy jollity in
+manner, that spoke well both for his spirits and his temper. He did, it
+is true, occasionally chafe against some susceptible spot or other of
+those around him, but there was no malice prepense in it, any more than
+there is intentional offence in the passage of a strong man through a
+crowd; so he elbowed his way, and pushed on in conversation, never so
+much as suspecting that he jostled any one in his path.
+
+Both Barrington and Hunter were inveterate sportsmen, and they ranged
+over hunting-fields and grouse mountains and partridge stubble and trout
+streams with all the zest of men who feel a sort of mesmeric brotherhood
+in the interchange of their experiences. Long after the Major and the
+doctor had taken their leave, they sat there recounting stories of their
+several adventures, and recalling incidents of flood and field.
+
+In return for a cordial invitation to Hunter to stay and fish the river
+for some days, Barrington pledged himself to visit the Colonel the first
+time he should go up to Kilkenny.
+
+"And I 'll mount you. You shall have a horse I never lent in my life. I
+'ll put you on Trumpeter,--sire Sir Hercules,--no mistake there; would
+carry sixteen stone with the fastest hounds in England."
+
+Barrington shook his head, and smiled, as he said, "It's two-and-twenty
+years since I sat a fence. I 'm afraid I 'll not revive the fame of my
+horsemanship by appearing again in the saddle."
+
+"Why, what age do you call yourself?"
+
+"Eighty-three, if I live to August next."
+
+"I 'd not have guessed you within ten years of it. I 've just passed
+fifty, and already I begin to look for a horse with more bone beneath
+the knee, and more substance across the loins."
+
+"These are only premonitory symptoms, after all," said Barrington,
+laughing. "You've many a day before you come to a fourteen-hand cob and
+a kitchen chair to mount him."
+
+Hunter laughed at the picture, and dashed away, in his own half-reckless
+way, to other topics. He talked of his regiment proudly, and told
+Barrington what a splendid set of young fellows were his officers. "I
+'ll show you such a mess," said he, "as no corps in the service can
+match." While he talked of their high-hearted and generous natures,
+and with enthusiasm of the life of a soldier, Barrington could scarcely
+refrain from speaking of his own "boy," the son from whom he had hoped
+so much, and whose loss had been the death-blow to all his ambitions.
+There were, however, circumstances in that story which sealed his lips;
+and though the father never believed one syllable of the allegations
+against his son, though he had paid the penalty of a King's Bench
+mandamus and imprisonment for horsewhipping the editor who had aspersed
+his "boy," the world and the world's verdict were against him, and
+he did not dare to revive the memory of a name against which all the
+severities of the press had been directed, and public opinion had
+condemned with all its weight and power.
+
+"I see that I am wearying you," said Hunter, as he remarked the grave
+and saddened expression that now stole over Barrington's face. "I ought
+to have remembered what an hour it was,--more than half-past two." And
+without waiting to hear a reply, he shook his host's hand cordially and
+hurried off to his room.
+
+While Barrington busied himself in locking up the wine, and putting
+away half-finished decanters,--cares that his sister's watchfulness very
+imperatively exacted,--he heard, or fancied he heard, a voice from the
+room where the sick man lay. He opened the door very gently and looked
+in.
+
+"All right," said the youth. "I 'm not asleep, nor did I want to sleep,
+for I have been listening to you and the Colonel these two hours,
+and with rare pleasure, I can tell you. The Colonel would have gone a
+hundred miles to meet a man like yourself, so fond of the field and such
+a thorough sportsman."
+
+"Yes, I was so once," sighed Barrington, for already had come a sort of
+reaction to the late excitement.
+
+"Isn't the Colonel a fine fellow?" said the young man, as eager to
+relieve the awkwardness of a sad theme as to praise one he loved. "Don't
+you like him?"
+
+"That I do!" said Barrington, heartily. "His fine genial spirit has put
+me in better temper with myself than I fancied was in my nature to be.
+We are to have some trout-fishing together, and I promise you it sha'n't
+be my fault if _he_ doesn't like _me_."
+
+"And may I be of the party?--may I go with you?"
+
+"Only get well of your accident, and you shall do whatever you like. By
+the way, did not Colonel Hunter serve in India?"
+
+"For fifteen years. He has only left Bengal within a few months."
+
+"Then he can probably help me to some information. He may be able to
+tell me--Good-night, good-night," said he, hurriedly; "to-morrow will be
+time enough to think of this."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. FRED CONYERS
+
+Very soon after daybreak the Colonel was up and at the bedside of his
+young friend.
+
+"Sorry to wake you, Fred," said he, gently; "but I have just got an
+urgent despatch, requiring me to set out at once for Dublin, and I did
+n't like to go without asking how you get on."
+
+"Oh, much better, sir. I can move the foot a little, and I feel assured
+it 's only a severe sprain." #
+
+"That's all right. Take your own time, and don't attempt to move about
+too early. You are in capital quarters here, and will be well looked
+after. There is only one difficulty, and I don't exactly see how to deal
+with it. Our host is a reduced gentleman, brought down to keep an inn
+for support, but what benefit he can derive from it is not so very
+clear; for when I asked the man who fetched me hot water this morning
+for my bill, he replied that his master told him I was to be his guest
+here for a week, and not on any account to accept money from me. Ireland
+is a very strange place, and we are learning something new in it every
+day; but this is the strangest thing I have met yet."
+
+"In _my_ case this would be impossible. I must of necessity give a deal
+of trouble,--not to say that it would add unspeakably to my annoyance to
+feel that I could not ask freely for what I wanted."
+
+"I have no reason to suppose, mind you, that you are to be dealt with
+as I have been, but it would be well to bear in mind who and what these
+people are."
+
+"And get away from them as soon as possible," added the young fellow,
+half peevishly.
+
+"Nay, nay, Fred; don't be impatient. You'll be delighted with the old
+fellow, who is a heart-and-soul sportsman. What station he once occupied
+I can't guess; but in the remarks he makes about horses and hounds,
+all his knowing hints on stable management and the treatment of young
+cattle, one would say that he must have had a large fortune and kept a
+large establishment."
+
+In the half self-sufficient toss of the head which received this speech,
+it was plain that the young man thought his Colonel was easily imposed
+on, and that such pretensions as these would have very little success
+with _him_.
+
+"I have no doubt some of your brother officers will take a run down to
+see how you get on, and, if so, I 'll send over a hamper of wine, or
+something of the kind, that you can manage to make him accept."
+
+"It will not be very difficult, I opine," said the young man,
+laughingly.
+
+"No, no," rejoined the other, misconstruing the drift of his words. "You
+have plenty of tact, Fred. You 'll do the thing with all due delicacy.
+And now, good-bye. Let me hear how you fare here." And with a hearty
+farewell they parted.
+
+There was none astir in the cottage but Darby as the Colonel set out
+to gain the high-road, where the post-horses awaited him. From Darby,
+however, as he went along, he gathered much of his host's former
+history. It was with astonishment he learned that the splendid house of
+Barring-ton Hall, where he had been dining with an earl a few days ago,
+was the old family seat of that poor innkeeper; that the noble deer-park
+had once acknowledged him for master. "And will again, plase God!" burst
+in Darby, who thirsted for an opportunity to launch out into law, and
+all its bright hopes and prospects.
+
+"We have a record on trial in Trinity Term, and an argument before the
+twelve Judges, and the case is as plain as the nose on your honor's
+face; for it was ruled by Chief Baron Medge, in the great cause of
+'Peter against Todd, a widow,' that a settlement couldn't be broke by an
+estreat."
+
+"You are quite a lawyer, I see," said the Colonel.
+
+"I wish I was. I 'd rather be a judge on the bench than a king on his
+throne."
+
+"And yet I am beginning to suspect law may have cost your master
+dearly."
+
+"It is not ten, or twenty--no, nor thirty--thousand pounds would see
+him through it!" said Darby, with a triumph in his tone that seemed
+to proclaim a very proud declaration. "There 's families would be
+comfortable for life with just what we spent upon special juries."
+
+"Well, as you tell me he has no family, the injury has been all his
+own."
+
+"That's true. We're the last of the ould stock," said he, sorrowfully;
+and little more passed between them, till the Colonel, on parting, put a
+couple of guineas in his hand, and enjoined him to look after the young
+friend he had left behind him.
+
+It is now my task to introduce this young gentleman to my readers.
+Frederick Conyers, a cornet in his Majesty's Hussars, was the only son
+of a very distinguished officer, Lieutenant-General Conyers, a man
+who had not alone served with great reputation in the field, but held
+offices of high political trust in India, the country where all his life
+had been passed. Holding a high station as a political resident at a
+native court, wielding great power, and surrounded by an undeviating
+homage, General Conyers saw his son growing up to manhood with
+everything that could foster pride and minister to self-exaltation
+around him. It was not alone the languor and indolence of an Eastern
+life that he had to dread for him, but the haughty temper and
+overbearing spirit so sure to come out of habits of domination in very
+early life.
+
+Though he had done all that he could to educate his son, by masters
+brought at immense cost from Europe, the really important element of
+education,--the self-control and respect for other's rights,--only to
+be acquired by daily life and intercourse with equals, this he could not
+supply; and he saw, at last, that the project he had so long indulged,
+of keeping his son with him, must be abandoned. Perhaps the rough speech
+of an old comrade helped to dispel the illusion, as he asked, "Are you
+bringing up that boy to be a Rajah?" His first thought was to send him
+to one of the Universities, his great desire being that the young man
+should feel some ambition for public life and its distinctions. He
+bethought him, however, that while the youth of Oxford and Cambridge
+enter upon a college career, trained by all the discipline of our public
+schools, Fred would approach the ordeal without any such preparation
+whatever. Without one to exert authority over him, little accustomed to
+the exercise of self-restraint, the experiment was too perilous.
+
+To place him, therefore, where, from the very nature of his position,
+some guidance and control would be exercised, and where by the
+working of that model democracy--a mess--he would be taught to repress
+self-sufficiency and presumption, he determined on the army, and
+obtained a cornetcy in a regiment commanded by one who had long served
+on his own staff. To most young fellows such an opening in life would
+have seemed all that was delightful and enjoyable. To be just twenty,
+gazetted to a splendid cavalry corps, with a father rich enough and
+generous enough to say, "Live like the men about you, and don't be
+afraid that your checks will come back to you," these are great aids
+to a very pleasant existence. Whether the enervation of that life of
+Oriental indulgence had now become a nature to him, or whether he had no
+liking for the service itself, or whether the change from a condition of
+almost princely state to a position of mere equality with others, chafed
+and irritated him, but so is it, he did not "take to" the regiment, nor
+the regiment to him.
+
+Now it is a fact, and not a very agreeable fact either, that a man with
+a mass of noble qualities may fail to attract the kindliness and good
+feeling towards him which a far less worthy individual, merely by
+certain traits, or by the semblance of them, of a yielding, passive
+nature is almost sure to acquire.
+
+Conyers was generous, courageous, and loyal, in the most chivalrous
+sense of that word, to every obligation of friendship. He was eminently
+truthful and honorable; but he had two qualities whose baneful influence
+would disparage the very best of gifts. He was "imperious," and, in
+the phrase of his brother officers, "he never gave in." Some absurd
+impression had been made on him, as a child, that obstinacy and
+persistency were the noblest of attributes, and that, having said a
+thing, no event or circumstance could ever occur to induce a change of
+opinion.
+
+Such a quality is singularly unfitted to youth, and marvellously out of
+place in a regiment; hence was it that the "Rajah," as he was generally
+called by his comrades, had few intimates, and not one friend amongst
+them.
+
+If I have dwelt somewhat lengthily on these traits, it is because their
+possessor is one destined to be much before us in this history. I will
+but chronicle one other feature. I am sorry it should be a disqualifying
+one. Owing in great measure, perhaps altogether, to his having
+been brought up in the East, where Hindoo craft and subtlety were
+familiarized to his mind from infancy, he was given to suspect that few
+things were ever done from the motives ascribed to them, and that under
+the open game of life was another concealed game, which was the real
+one. As yet, this dark and pernicious distrust had only gone the length
+of impressing him with a sense of his own consummate acuteness, an
+amount of self-satisfaction, which my reader may have seen tingeing the
+few words he exchanged with his Colonel before separating.
+
+Let us see him now as he sits in a great easy-chair, his sprained ankle
+resting on another, in a little honeysuckle-covered arbor of the garden,
+a table covered with books and fresh flowers beside him, while Darby
+stands ready to serve him from the breakfast-table, where a very
+tempting meal is already spread out.
+
+"So, then, I can't see your master, it seems," said Con-yers, half
+peevishly.
+
+"Faix you can't; he's ten miles off by this. He got a letter by the
+post, and set out half an hour after for Kilkenny. He went to your
+honor's door, but seeing you was asleep he would n't wake you; 'but,
+Darby,' says he, 'take care of that young gentleman, and mind,' says he,
+'that he wants for nothing.'"
+
+"Very thoughtful of _him_,--very considerate indeed," said the youth;
+but in what precise spirit it is not easy to say.
+
+"Who lives about here? What gentlemen's places are there, I mean?"
+
+"There's Lord Carrackmore, and Sir Arthur Godfrey, and Moore of
+Ballyduff, and Mrs. Powerscroft of the Grove--"
+
+"Do any of these great folks come down here?"
+
+[Illustration: 064]
+
+Darby would like to have given a ready assent,--he would have been
+charmed to say that they came daily, that they made the place a
+continual rendezvous; but as he saw no prospect of being able to give
+his fiction even twenty-four hours' currency, he merely changed from one
+leg to the other, and, in a tone of apology, said, "Betimes they does,
+when the sayson is fine."
+
+"Who are the persons who are most frequently here?"
+
+"Those two that you saw last night,--the Major and Dr. Dill. They 're
+up here every second day, fishing, and eating their dinner with the
+master."
+
+"Is the fishing good?"
+
+"The best in Ireland."
+
+"And what shooting is there,--any partridges?"
+
+"Partridges, be gorra! You could n't see the turnips for them."
+
+"And woodcocks?"
+
+"Is it woodcocks! The sky is black with the sight of them."
+
+"Any lions?"
+
+"Well, maybe an odd one now and then," said Darby, half apologizing for
+the scarcity.
+
+There was an ineffable expression of self-satisfaction in Conyers's face
+at the subtlety with which he had drawn Darby into this admission; and
+the delight in his own acuteness led him to offer the poor fellow a
+cigar, which he took with very grateful thanks.
+
+"From what you tell me, then, I shall find this place stupid enough till
+I am able to be up and about, eh? Is there any one who can play chess
+hereabout?"
+
+"Sure there's Miss Dinah; she's a great hand at it, they tell me."
+
+"And who is Miss Dinah? Is she young,--is she pretty?"
+
+Darby gave a very cautious look all around him, and then closing one
+eye, so as to give his face a look of intense cunning, he nodded very
+significantly twice.
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"I mane that she'll never see sixty; and for the matter of beauty--"
+
+"Oh, you have said quite enough; I 'm not curious about her looks. Now
+for another point. If I should want to get away from this, what other
+inn or hotel is there in the neighborhood?"
+
+"There's Joe M'Cabe's, at Inistioge; but you are better where you are.
+Where will you see fresh butter like that? and look at the cream, the
+spoon will stand in it. Far and near it's given up to her that nobody
+can make coffee like Miss Dinah; and when you taste them trout, you 'll
+tell me if they are not fit for the king."
+
+"Everything is excellent,--could not be better; but there's a
+difficulty. There's a matter which to me at least makes a stay here most
+unpleasant. My friend tells me that he could not get his bill,--that he
+was accepted as a guest. Now I can't permit this--"
+
+"There it is, now," said Darby, approaching the table, and dropping his
+voice to a confidential whisper. "That's the master's way. If he gets a
+stranger to sit down with him to dinner or supper, he may eat and drink
+as long as he plases, and sorra sixpence he'll pay; and it's that same
+ruins us, nothing else, for it's then he 'll call for the best sherry,
+and that ould Maderia that's worth a guinea a bottle. What's the use,
+after all, of me inflaming the bill of the next traveller, and putting
+down everything maybe double? And worse than all," continued he, in a
+tone of horror, "let him only hear any one complain about his bill or
+saying, 'What's this?' or 'I didn't get that,' out he'll come, as mighty
+and as grand as the Lord-Liftinint, and say, 'I 'm sorry, sir, that we
+failed to make this place agreeable to you. Will you do me the favor not
+to mind the bill at all?' and with that he'd tear it up in little bits
+and walk away."
+
+"To me that would only be additional offence. I 'd not endure it."
+
+"What could you do? You'd maybe slip a five-pound note into my hand, and
+say, 'Darby my man, settle this little matter for me; you know the ways
+of the place.'"
+
+"I 'll not risk such an annoyance, at all events; that I 'm determined
+on."
+
+Darby began now to perceive that he had misconceived his brief, and
+must alter his pleadings as quickly as possible; in fact, he saw he was
+"stopping an earth" he had meant merely to mask. "Just leave it all to
+me, your honor,--leave it all to me, and I 'll have your bill for you
+every morning on the breakfast-table. And why would n't you? Why would
+a gentleman like your honor be behouldin' to any one for his meat and
+drink?" burst he in, with an eager rapidity. "Why would n't you say,
+'Darby, bring me this, get me that, fetch me the other; expinse is no
+object in life tome'?"
+
+There was a faint twinkle of humor in the eye of Conyers, and Darby
+stopped short, and with that half-lisping simplicity which a few
+Irishmen understand to perfection, and can exercise whenever the
+occasion requires, he said: "But sure is n't your honor laughing at me,
+is n't it just making fun of me you are? All because I'm a poor ignorant
+crayture that knows no better!"
+
+"Nothing of that kind," said Conyers, frankly. "I was only smiling at
+thoughts that went through my head at the moment."
+
+"Well, faix! there's one coming up the path now won't make you laugh,"
+said Darby, as he whispered, "It's Dr. Dill."
+
+The doctor was early with his patient; if the case was not one of
+urgency, the sufferer was in a more elevated rank than usually fell to
+the chances of Dispensary practice. Then, it promised to be one of the
+nice chronic cases, in which tact and personal agreeability--the two
+great strongholds of Dr. Dill in his own estimation--were of far more
+importance than the materia medica. Now, if Dill's world was not a very
+big one, he knew it thoroughly. He was a chronicle of all the family
+incidents of the county, and could recount every disaster of every house
+for thirty miles round.
+
+When the sprain had, therefore, been duly examined, and all the pangs of
+the patient sufficiently condoled with to establish the physician as
+a man of feeling, Dill proceeded to his task as a man of the world.
+Conyers, however, abruptly stopped him, by saying, "Tell me how I'm to
+get out of this place; some other inn, I mean."
+
+"You are not comfortable here, then?" asked Dill.
+
+"In one sense, perfectly so. I like the quietness, the delightful
+tranquillity, the scenery,--everything, in short, but one circumstance.
+I 'm afraid these worthy people--whoever they are--want to regard me
+as a guest. Now I don't know them,--never saw them,--don't care to see
+them. My Colonel has a liking for all this sort of thing. It has to his
+mind a character of adventure that amuses him. It would n't in the least
+amuse me, and so I want to get away."
+
+"Yes," repeated Dill, blandly, after him, "wants to get away; desires to
+change the air."
+
+"Not at all," broke in Conyers, peevishly; "no question of air whatever.
+I don't want to be on a visit. I want an inn. What is this place they
+tell me of up the river,--Inis--something?"
+
+"Inistioge. M'Cabe's house; the 'Spotted Duck;' very small, very poor,
+far from clean, besides."
+
+"Is there nothing else? Can't you think of some other place? For I can't
+have my servant here, circumstanced as I am now."
+
+The doctor paused to reply. The medical mind is eminently ready-witted,
+and Dill at a glance took in all the dangers of removing his patient.
+Should he transfer him to his own village, the visit which now had to
+be requited as a journey of three miles and upwards, would then be an
+affair of next door. Should he send him to Thomastown, it would be worse
+again, for then he would be within the precincts of a greater than Dill
+himself,--a practitioner who had a one-horse phaeton, and whose name was
+written on brass. "Would you dislike a comfortable lodging in a private
+family,--one of the first respectability, I may make bold to call it?"
+
+"Abhor it!--couldn't endure it! I'm not essentially troublesome or
+exacting, but I like to be able to be either, whenever the humor takes
+me."
+
+"I was thinking of a house where you might freely take these
+liberties--"
+
+"Liberties! I call them rights, doctor, not liberties! Can't you imagine
+a man, not very wilful, not very capricious, but who, if the whim
+took him, would n't stand being thwarted by any habits of a so-called
+respectable family? There, don't throw up your eyes, and misunderstand
+me. All I mean is, that my hours of eating and sleeping have no rule.
+I smoke everywhere; I make as much noise as I please; and I never brook
+any impertinent curiosity about what I do, or what I leave undone."
+
+"Under all the circumstances, you had, perhaps, better remain where you
+are," said Dill, thoughtfully.
+
+"Of course, if these people will permit me to pay for my board and
+lodging. If they 'll condescend to let me be a stranger, I ask for
+nothing better than this place."
+
+"Might I offer myself as a negotiator?" said Dill, insinuatingly; "for
+I opine that the case is not of the difficulty you suppose. Will you
+confide it to my hands?"
+
+"With all my heart. I don't exactly see why there should be a
+negotiation at all; but if there must, pray be the special envoy."
+
+When Dill arose and set out on his mission, the young fellow looked
+after him with an expression that seemed to say, "How you all imagine
+you are humbugging me, while I read every one of you like a book!"
+
+Let us follow the doctor, and see how he acquitted himself in his
+diplomacy.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. DILL AS A DIPLOMATIST
+
+Dr. Dill had knocked twice at the door of Miss Barrington's little
+sitting-room, and no answer was returned to his summons.
+
+"Is the dear lady at home?" asked he, blandly. But, though he waited for
+some seconds, no reply came.
+
+"Might Dr. Dill be permitted to make his compliments?"
+
+"Yes, come in," said a sharp voice, very much with the expression of one
+wearied out by importunity. Miss Barrington gave a brief nod in return
+for the profound obeisance of her visitor, and then turned again to a
+large map which covered the table before her.
+
+"I took the opportunity of my professional call here this morning--"
+
+"How is that young man,--is anything broken?"
+
+"I incline to say there is no fracture. The flexors, and perhaps,
+indeed, the annular ligament, are the seat of all the mischief."
+
+"A common sprain, in fact; a thing to rest for one day, and hold under
+the pump the day after."
+
+"The dear lady is always prompt, always energetic; but these sort of
+cases are often complicated, and require nice management."
+
+"And frequent visits," said she, with a dry gravity.
+
+"All the world must live, dear lady,--all the world must live."
+
+"Your profession does not always sustain your theory, sir; at least,
+popular scandal says you kill as many as you cure." "I know the dear
+lady has little faith in physic."
+
+"Say none, sir, and you will be nearer the mark; but, remember, I seek
+no converts; I ask nobody to deny himself the luxuries of senna and
+gamboge because I prefer beef and mutton. You wanted to see my brother,
+I presume," added she, sharply, "but he started early this morning for
+Kilkenny. The Solicitor-General wanted to say a few words to him on his
+way down to Cork."
+
+"That weary law! that weary law!" ejaculated Dill, fervently; for he
+well knew with what little favor Miss Barrington regarded litigation.
+
+"And why so, sir?" retorted she, sharply. "What greater absurdity is
+there in being hypochondriac about your property than your person? My
+brother's taste inclines to depletion by law; others prefer the lancet."
+
+"Always witty, always smart, the dear lady," said Dill, with a sad
+attempt at a smile. The flattery passed without acknowledgment of any
+kind, and he resumed: "I dropped in this morning to you, dear lady, on a
+matter which, perhaps, might not be altogether pleasing to you."
+
+"Then don't do it, sir."
+
+"If the dear lady would let me finish--"
+
+"I was warning you, sir, not even to begin."
+
+"Yes, madam," said he, stung into something like resistance; "but I
+would have added, had I been permitted, without any due reason for
+displeasure on your part."
+
+"And are _you_ the fitting judge of that, sir? If you know, as you say
+you know, that you are about to give me pain, by what presumption do you
+assert that it must be for my benefit? What's it all about?"
+
+"I come on the part of this young gentleman, dear lady, who, having
+learned--I cannot say where or how--that he is not to consider himself
+here at an inn, but, as a guest, feels, with all the gratitude that the
+occasion warrants, that he has no claim to the attention, and that it is
+one which would render his position here too painful to persist in."
+
+"How did he come by this impression, sir? Be frank and tell me."
+
+"I am really unable to say, Miss Dinah."
+
+"Come, sir, be honest, and own that the delusion arose from
+yourself,--yes, from yourself. It was in perceiving the courteous
+delicacy with which you declined a fee that he conceived this flattering
+notion of us; but go back to him, doctor, and say it is a pure mistake;
+that his breakfast will cost him one shilling, and his dinner two; the
+price of a boat to fetch him up to Thomastown is half a crown, and that
+the earlier he orders one the better. Listen to me, sir," said she, and
+her lips trembled with passion,--"listen to me, while I speak of this
+for the first and last time. Whenever my brother, recurring to what he
+once was, has been emboldened to treat a passing stranger as his guest,
+the choice has been so judiciously exercised as to fall upon one who
+could respect the motive and not resent the liberty; but never till
+this moment has it befallen us to be told that the possibility--the bare
+possibility--of such a presumption should be met by a declaration of
+refusal. Go back, then, to your patient, sir; assure him that he is at
+an inn, and that he has the right to be all that his purse and his want
+of manners can insure him."
+
+"Dear lady, I'm, maybe, a bad negotiator."
+
+"I trust sincerely, sir, you are a better doctor."
+
+"Nothing on earth was further from my mind than offence--"
+
+"Very possibly, sir; but, as you are aware, blisters will occasionally
+act with all the violence of caustics, so an irritating theme may be
+pressed at a very inauspicious moment. My cares as a hostess are not in
+very good favor with me just now. Counsel your young charge to a change
+of air, and I 'll think no more of the matter."
+
+Had it been a queen who had spoken, the doctor could not more palpably
+have felt that his audience had terminated, and his only duty was to
+withdraw.
+
+And so he did retire, with much bowing and graciously smiling, and
+indicating, by all imaginable contortions, gratitude for the past and
+humility forever.
+
+I rejoice that I am not obliged to record as history the low but fervent
+mutterings that fell from his lips as he closed the door after him,
+and by a gesture of menace showed his feelings towards her he had just
+quitted. "Insolent old woman!" he burst out as he went along, "how can
+she presume to forget a station that every incident of her daily life
+recalls? In the rank she once held, and can never return to, such
+manners would be an outrage; but I 'll not endure it again. It is your
+last triumph, Miss Dinah; make much of it." Thus sustained by a very
+Dutch courage,--for this national gift can come of passion as well as
+drink,--he made his way to his patient's presence, smoothing his
+brow, as he went, and recalling the medico-chimrgical serenity of his
+features.
+
+"I have not done much, but I have accomplished something," said he,
+blandly. "I am at a loss to understand what they mean by introducing
+all these caprices into their means of life; but, assuredly, it will not
+attract strangers to the house."
+
+"What are the caprices you allude to?"
+
+"Well, it is not very easy to say; perhaps I have not expressed my
+meaning quite correctly; but one thing is clear, a stranger likes to
+feel that his only obligation in an inn is to discharge the bill."
+
+"I say, doctor," broke in Conyers, "I have been thinking the matter
+over. Why should I not go back to my quarters? There might surely be
+some means contrived to convey me to the high-road; after that, there
+will be no difficulty whatever."
+
+The doctor actually shuddered at the thought. The sportsman who sees
+the bird he has just winged flutter away to his neighbor's preserve may
+understand something, at least, of Dr. Dill's discomfiture as he saw his
+wealthy patient threatening a departure. He quickly, therefore, summoned
+to his aid all those terrors which had so often done good service
+on like occasions. He gave a little graphic sketch of every evil
+consequence that might come of an imprudent journey. The catalogue was
+a bulky one; it ranged over tetanus, mortification, and disease of the
+bones. It included every sort and description of pain as classified
+by science, into "dull, weary, and incessant," or "sharp lancinating
+agony." Now Conyers was as brave as a lion, but had, withal, one of
+those temperaments which are miserably sensitive under suffering, and
+to which the mere description of pain is itself an acute pang. When,
+therefore, the doctor drew the picture of a case very like the present
+one, where amputation came too late, Conyers burst in with, "For mercy's
+sake, will you stop! I can't sit here to be cut up piece-meal; there's
+not a nerve in my body you haven't set ajar." The doctor blandly took
+out his massive watch, and laid his fingers on the young man's pulse.
+"Ninety-eight, and slightly intermittent," said he, as though to
+himself.
+
+"What does that mean?" asked Conyers, eagerly.
+
+"The irregular action of the heart implies abnormal condition of
+the nervous system, and indicates, imperatively, rest, repose, and
+tranquillity."
+
+"If lethargy itself be required, this is a capital place for it," sighed
+Conyers, drearily.
+
+"You have n't turned your thoughts to what I said awhile ago, being
+domesticated, as one might call it, in a nice quiet family, with all the
+tender attentions of a home, and a little music in the evening."
+
+Simple as these words were, Dill gave to each of them an almost honeyed
+utterance.
+
+"No; it would bore me excessively. I detest to be looked after; I abhor
+what are called attentions."
+
+"Unobtrusively offered,--tendered with a due delicacy and reserve?"
+
+"Which means a sort of simpering civility that one has to smirk for
+in return. No, no; I was bred up in quite a different school, where we
+clapped our hands twice when we wanted a servant, and the fellow's head
+paid for it if he was slow in coming. Don't tell me any more about your
+pleasant family, for they 'd neither endure me, nor I them. Get me well
+as fast as you can, and out of this confounded place, and I 'll give you
+leave to make a vascular preparation of me if you catch me here again!"
+
+The doctor smiled, as doctors know how to smile when patients think they
+have said a smartness, and now each was somewhat on better terms with
+the other.
+
+"By the way, doctor," said Conyers, suddenly, "you have n't told me what
+the old woman said. What arrangement did you come to?"
+
+"Your breakfast will cost one shilling, your dinner two. She made no
+mention of your rooms, but only hinted that, whenever you took your
+departure, the charge for the boat was half a crown."
+
+"Come, all this is very business-like, and to the purpose; but where, in
+Heaven's name, did any man live in this fashion for so little? We have
+a breakfast-mess, but it's not to be compared with this,--such a variety
+of bread, such grilled trout, such a profusion of fruit. After all,
+doctor, it is very like being a guest, the nominal charge being to
+escape the sense of a favor. But perhaps one can do here as at one of
+those 'hospices' in the Alps, and make a present at parting to requite
+the hospitality."
+
+"It is a graceful way to record gratitude," said the doctor, who liked
+to think that the practice could be extended to other reminiscences.
+
+"I must have my servant and my books, my pipes and my Spitz terrier.
+I 'll get a target up, besides, on that cherry-tree, and practise
+pistol-shooting as I sit here. Could you find out some idle fellow who
+would play chess or _�cart�_ with me,--a curate or a priest,--I 'm
+not particular; and when my man Holt comes, I 'll make him string my
+grass-mat hammock between those two elms, so that I can fish without the
+bore of standing up for it. Holt is a rare clever fellow, and you 'll
+see how he'll get things in order here before he's a day in the place."
+
+The doctor smiled again, for he saw that his patient desired to be
+deemed a marvel of resources and a mine of original thought. The
+doctor's smile was apportioned to his conversation, just as he added
+syrups in his prescriptions. It was, as he himself called it, the
+"vehicle," without special efficacy in itself, but it aided to get down
+the "active principle." But he did more than smile. He promised all
+possible assistance to carry out his patient's plans. He was
+almost certain that a friend of his, an old soldier, too,--a Major
+M'Cormick,--could play _�cart�_, though, perhaps, it might be cribbage;
+and then Father Cody, he could answer for it, was wonderful at skittles,
+though, for the present, that game might not be practicable; and as for
+books, the library at Woodstay was full of them, if the key could only
+be come at, for the family was abroad; and, in fact, he displayed a most
+generous willingness to oblige, although, when brought to the rude test
+of reality, his pictures were only dissolving views of pleasures to
+come.
+
+When he took his leave at last, he left Conyers in far better spirits
+than he found him. The young fellow had begun to castle-build about how
+he should pass his time, and in such architecture there is no room for
+ennui. And what a rare organ must constructiveness be, when even in its
+mockery it can yield such pleasure! We are very prone to envy the rich
+man, whose wealth sets no limit to his caprices; but is not a rich
+fancy, that wondrous imaginative power which unweariedly invents new
+incidents, new personages, new situations, a very covetable possession?
+And can we not, in the gratification of the very humblest exercise of
+this quality, rudely approximate to the ecstasy of him who wields it
+in all its force? Not that Fred Conyers was one of these; he was a mere
+tyro in the faculty, and could only carry himself into a region where
+he saw his Spitz terrier jump between the back rails of a chair, and
+himself sending bullet after bullet through the very centre of the
+bull's eye.
+
+Be it so. Perhaps you and I, too, my reader, have our Spitz terrier and
+bull's-eye days, and, if so, let us be grateful for them.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER
+
+Whether it was that Dr. Dill expended all the benevolence of his
+disposition in the course of his practice, and came home utterly
+exhausted, but so it was, that his family never saw him in those moods
+of blandness which he invariably appeared in to his patients. In fact,
+however loaded he went forth with these wares of a morning, he disposed
+of every item of his stock before he got back at night; and when poor
+Mrs. Dill heard, as she from time to time did hear, of the doctor's
+gentleness, his kindness in suffering, his beautiful and touching
+sympathy with sorrow, she listened with the same sort of semi-stupid
+astonishment she would have felt on hearing some one eulogizing the
+climate of Ireland, and going rapturous about the blue sky and the
+glorious sunshine. Unhappy little woman, she only saw him in his dark
+days of cloud and rain, and she never came into his presence except in a
+sort of moral mackintosh made for the worst weather.
+
+The doctor's family consisted of seven children, but our concern is only
+with the two eldest,--a son and a daughter. Tom was two years younger
+than his sister, who, at this period of our story, was verging on
+nineteen. He was an awkward, ungainly youth, large-jointed, but weakly,
+with a sandy red head and much-freckled face, just such a disparaging
+counterpart of his sister as a coarse American piracy often presents of
+one of our well-printed, richly papered English editions. "It was all
+there," but all unseemly, ungraceful, undignified; for Polly Dill was
+pretty. Her hair was auburn, her eyes a deep hazel, and her skin a
+marvel of transparent whiteness. You would never have hesitated to call
+her a very pretty girl if you had not seen her brother, but, having
+seen him, all the traits of her good looks suffered in the same way that
+Grisi's "Norma" does from the horrid recollection of Paul Bedford's.
+
+After all, the resemblance went very little further than this
+"travestie," for while he was a slow, heavy-witted, loutish creature,
+with low tastes and low ambitions, she was a clever, intelligent girl,
+very eagerly intent on making something of her advantages. Though the
+doctor was a general practitioner, and had a shop, which he called
+"Surgery," in the village, he was received at the great houses in a sort
+of half-intimate, half-patronizing fashion; as one, in short, with whom
+it was not necessary to be formal, but it might become very inconvenient
+to have a coldness. These were very sorry credentials for acceptance,
+but he made no objection to them.
+
+A few, however, of the "neighbors"--it would be ungenerous to inquire
+the motive, for in this world of ours it is just as well to regard
+one's five-pound note as convertible into five gold sovereigns, and not
+speculate as to the kind of rags it is made of--were pleased to notice
+Miss Dill, and occasionally invite her to their larger gatherings, so
+that she not only gained opportunities of cultivating her social gifts,
+but, what is often a greater spur to ambition, of comparing them with
+those of others.
+
+Now this same measuring process, if only conducted without any envy or
+ungenerous rivalry, is not without its advantage. Polly Dill made it
+really profitable. I will not presume to say that, in her heart
+of hearts, she did not envy the social accidents that gave others
+precedence before her, but into her heart of hearts neither you nor
+I have any claim to enter. Enough that we know nothing in her outward
+conduct or bearing revealed such a sentiment. As little did she maintain
+her position by flattery, which many in her ambiguous station would have
+relied upon as a stronghold. No; Polly followed a very simple policy,
+which was all the more successful that it never seemed to be a policy at
+all. She never in any way attracted towards her the attentions of those
+men who, in the marriageable market, were looked on as the choice lots;
+squires in possession, elder sons, and favorite nephews, she regarded
+as so much forbidden fruit. It was a lottery in which she never took a
+ticket It is incredible how much kindly notice and favorable recognition
+accrued to her from this line.
+
+We all know how pleasant it is to be next to the man at a promiscuous
+dinner who never eats turtle nor cares for "Cliquot;" and in the world
+at large there are people who represent the calabash and the champagne.
+
+Then Polly played well, but was quite as ready to play as to dance. She
+sang prettily, too, and had not the slightest objection that one of her
+simple ballads should be the foil to a grand performance of some young
+lady, whose artistic agonies rivalled Alboni's. So cleverly did Polly
+do all this, that even her father could not discover the secret of her
+success; and though he saw "his little girl" as he called her, more and
+more sought after and invited, he continued to be persuaded that all
+this favoritism was only the reflex of his own popularity. How, then,
+could mere acquaintances ever suspect what to the eye of those nearer
+and closer was so inscrutable?
+
+Polly Dill rode very well and very fearlessly, and occasionally was
+assisted to "a mount" by some country gentleman, who combined gallantry
+with profit, and knew that the horse he lent could never be seen
+to greater advantage. Yet, even in this, she avoided display, quite
+satisfied, as it seemed, to enjoy herself thoroughly, and not attract
+any notice that could be avoided. Indeed, she never tried for "a place,"
+but rather attached herself to some of the older and heavier weights,
+who grew to believe that they were especially in charge of her, and
+nothing was more common, at the end of a hard run, than to hear such
+self-gratulations as, "I think I took great care of you, Miss Dill?"
+"Eh, Miss Polly! you see I'm not such a bad leader!" and so on.
+
+Such was the doctor's "little girl," whom I am about to present to
+my readers under another aspect. She is at home, dressed in a neatly
+fitting but very simple cotton dress, her hair in two plain bands, and
+she is seated at a table, at the opposite of which lounges her brother
+Tom with an air of dogged and sleepy indolence, which extends from his
+ill-trimmed hair to his ill-buttoned waistcoat.
+
+"Never mind it to-day, Polly," said he, with a yawn. "I've been up all
+night, and have no head for work. There's a good girl, let's have a chat
+instead."
+
+"Impossible, Tom," said she, calmly, but with decision. "To-day is
+the third. You have only three weeks now and two days before your
+examination. We have all the bones and ligaments to go over again, and
+the whole vascular system. You 've forgotten every word of Harrison."
+
+"It does n't signify, Polly. They never take a fellow on anything but
+two arteries for the navy. Grove told me so."
+
+"Grove is an ass, and got plucked twice. It is a perfect disgrace to
+quote him."
+
+"Well, I only wish I may do as well. He's assistant-surgeon to the
+'Taurus' gun-brig on the African station; and if I was there, it's
+little I 'd care for the whole lot of bones and balderdash."
+
+"Come, don't be silly. Let us go on with the scapula. Describe the
+glenoid cavity."
+
+"If you were the girl you might be, I'd not be bored with all this
+stupid trash, Polly."
+
+"What do you mean? I don't understand you."
+
+"It's easy enough to understand me. You are as thick as thieves, you and
+that old Admiral,--that Sir Charles Cobham. I saw you talking to the
+old fellow at the meet the other morning. You 've only to say, 'There's
+Tom--my brother Tom--wants a navy appointment; he's not passed yet, but
+if the fellows at the Board got a hint, just as much as, "Don't be hard
+on him--"'"
+
+"I 'd not do it to make you a post-captain, sir," said she, severely.
+"You very much overrate my influence, and very much underrate my
+integrity, when you ask it."
+
+"Hoity-toity! ain't we dignified! So you'd rather see me plucked, eh?"
+
+"Yes, if that should be the only alternative."
+
+"Thank you, Polly, that's all! thank you," said he; and he drew his
+sleeve across his eyes.
+
+"My dear Tom," said she, laying her white soft hand on his coarse
+brown fingers, "can you not see that if I even stooped to anything so
+unworthy, that it would compromise your whole prospects in life? You'd
+obtain an assistant-surgeoncy, and never rise above it."
+
+"And do I ask to rise above it? Do I ask anything beyond getting out of
+this house, and earning bread that is not grudged me?"
+
+"Nay, nay; if you talk that way, I've done."
+
+"Well, I do talk that way. He sent me off to Kilkenny last week--you saw
+it yourself--to bring out that trash for the shop, and he would n't pay
+the car hire, and made me carry two stone of carbonate of magnesia and
+a jar of leeches fourteen miles. You were just taking that post and rail
+out of Nixon's lawn as I came by. You saw me well enough."
+
+"I am glad to say I did not," said she, sighing.
+
+"I saw you, then, and how that gray carried you! You were waving a
+handkerchief in your hand; what was that for?"
+
+"It was to show Ambrose Bushe that the ground was good; he was afraid of
+being staked!"
+
+[Illustration: 084]
+
+"That's exactly what I am. I 'm afraid of being 'staked up' at the Hall,
+and if _you_ 'd take as much trouble about your brother as you did for
+Ambrose Bushe--"
+
+"Tom, Tom, I have taken it for eight weary months. I believe I know Bell
+on the bones, and Harrison on the arteries, by heart!"
+
+"Who thanks you?" said he, doggedly. "When you read a thing twice, you
+never forget it; but it's not so with me."
+
+"Try what a little work will do, Tom; be assured there is not half
+as much disparity between people's brains as there is between their
+industry."
+
+"I'd rather have luck than either, I know that. It's the only thing,
+after all."
+
+She gave a very deep sigh, and leaned her head on her hand.
+
+"Work and toil as hard as you may," continued he, with all the fervor of
+one on a favorite theme, "if you haven't luck you 'll be beaten. Can you
+deny that, Polly?"
+
+"If you allow me to call merit what you call luck, I'll agree with you.
+But I 'd much rather go on with our work. What is the insertion of the
+deltoid? I'm sure you know _that!_"
+
+[Illustration: 84]
+
+"The deltoid! the deltoid!" muttered he. "I forget all about the
+deltoid, but, of course, it's like the rest of them. It's inserted into
+a ridge or a process, or whatever you call it--"
+
+"Oh, Tom, this is very hopeless. How can you presume to face your
+examiners with such ignorance as this?"
+
+"I'll tell you what I'll do, Polly; Grove told me he did it,--if I find
+my pluck failing me, I 'll have a go of brandy before I go in."
+
+She found it very hard not to laugh at the solemn gravity of this
+speech, and just as hard not to cry as she looked at him who spoke it At
+the same moment Dr. Dill opened the door, calling out sharply, "Where's
+that fellow, Tom? Who has seen him this morning?"
+
+"He's here, papa," said Polly. "We are brushing up the anatomy for the
+last time."
+
+"His head must be in capital order for it, after his night's exploit.
+I heard of you, sir, and your reputable wager. Noonan was up here this
+morning with the whole story!"
+
+"I 'd have won if they 'd not put snuff in the punch--"
+
+"You are a shameless hound--"
+
+"Oh, papa! If you knew how he was working,--how eager he is to pass
+his examination, and be a credit to us all, and owe his independence to
+himself--"
+
+"I know more of him than you do, miss,--far more, too, than he is aware
+of,--and I know something of myself also; and I tell him now, that if
+he's rejected at the examination, he need not come back here with the
+news."
+
+"And where am I to go, then?" asked the young fellow, half insolently.
+
+"You may go--" Where to, the doctor was not suffered to indicate, for
+already Polly had thrown herself into his arms and arrested the speech.
+
+"Well, I suppose I can 'list; a fellow need not know much about
+gallipots for that." As he said this, he snatched up his tattered old
+cap and made for the door.
+
+"Stay, sir! I have business for you to do," cried Dill, sternly.
+"There's a young gentleman at the 'Fisherman's Home' laid up with a bad
+sprain. I have prescribed twenty leeches on the part. Go down and apply
+them."
+
+"That's what old Molly Day used to do," said Tom, angrily.'
+
+"Yes, sir, and knew more of the occasion that required it than you will
+ever do. See that you apply them all to the outer ankle, and attend well
+to the bleeding; the patient is a young man of rank, with whom you had
+better take no liberties."
+
+"If I go at all--"
+
+"Tom, Tom, none of this!" said Polly, who drew very close to him, and
+looked up at him with eyes full of tears.
+
+"Am I going as your son this time? or did you tell him--as you told Mr.
+Nixon--that you 'd send your young man?"
+
+"There! listen to that!" cried the doctor, turning to Polly. "I hope you
+are proud of your pupil."
+
+She made no answer, but whispering some hurried words in her brother's
+ear, and pressing at the same time something into his hand, she shuffled
+him out of the room and closed the door.
+
+The doctor now paced the room, so engrossed by passion that he forgot he
+was not alone, and uttered threats and mumbled out dark predictions with
+a fearful energy. Meanwhile Polly put by the books and drawings, and
+removed everything which might recall the late misadventure.
+
+"What's your letter about, papa?" said she, pointing to a square-shaped
+envelope which he still held in his hand.
+
+"Oh, by the way," said he, quietly, "this is from Cob-ham. They ask us
+up there to dinner to-day, and to stop the night." The doctor tried very
+hard to utter this speech with the unconcern of one alluding to some
+every-day occurrence. Nay, he did more; he endeavored to throw into it
+a certain air of fastidious weariness, as though to say, "See how these
+people will have me; mark how they persecute me with their attentions!"
+
+Polly understood the "situation" perfectly, and it was with actual
+curiosity in her tone she asked, "Do you mean to go, sir?"
+
+"I suppose we must, dear," he said, with a deep sigh. "A professional
+man is no more the arbiter of his social hours than of his business
+ones. Cooper always said dining at home costs a thousand a year."
+
+"So much, papa?" asked she, with much semblance of innocence.
+
+"I don't mean to myself," said he, reddening, "nor to any physician in
+country practice; but we all lose by it, more or less."
+
+Polly, meanwhile, had taken the letter, and was reading it over. It was
+very brief. It had been originally begun, "Lady Cobham presents," but a
+pen was run through the words, and it ran,--
+
+     "Dear Dr. Dill,--If a short notice will not inconvenience
+     you, will you and your daughter dine here to-day at seven?
+     There is no moon, and we shall expect you to stay the night.
+
+     "Truly yours,
+
+     "Georgiana Cobham.
+
+"The Admiral hopes Miss D. will not forget to bring her music."
+
+"Then we go, sir?" asked she, with eagerness; for it was a house to
+which she had never yet been invited, though she had long wished for the
+entr�e.
+
+"I shall go, certainly," said he. "As to you, there will be the old
+discussion with your mother as to clothes, and the usual declaration
+that you have really nothing to put on."
+
+"Oh! but I have, papa. My wonderful-worked muslin, that was to have
+astonished the world at the race ball, but which arrived too late, is
+now quite ready to captivate all beholders; and I have just learned that
+new song, 'Where's the slave so lowly?' which I mean to give with a
+most rebellious fervor; and, in fact, I am dying to assault this same
+fortress of Cobham, and see what it is like inside the citadel."
+
+"Pretty much like Woodstay, and the Grove, and Mount Kelly, and the
+other places we go to," said Dill, pompously.
+
+"The same sort of rooms, the same sort of dinner, the same company;
+nothing different but the liveries."
+
+"Very true, papa; but there is always an interest in seeing how
+people behave in their own house, whom you have never seen except in
+strangers'. I have met Lady Cobham at the Beachers', where she scarcely
+noticed me. I am curious to see what sort of reception she will
+vouchsafe me at home."
+
+"Well, go and look after your things, for we have eight miles to drive,
+and Billy has already been at Dangan and over to Mooney's Mills, and he
+'s not the fresher for it."
+
+"I suppose I 'd better take my hat and habit, papa?"
+
+"What for, child?"
+
+"Just as you always carry your lancets, papa,--you don't know what may
+turn up." And she was off before he could answer her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. TOM DILL'S FIRST PATIENT
+
+Before Tom Dill had set out on his errand he had learned all about his
+father and sister's dinner engagement; nor did the contrast with the
+way in which his own time was to be passed at all improve his temper.
+Indeed, he took the opportunity of intimating to his mother how few
+favors fell to her share or his own,--a piece of information she very
+philosophically received, all her sympathies being far more interested
+for the sorrows of "Clarissa Harlowe" than for any incident that
+occurred around her. Poor old lady! she had read that story over and
+over again, till it might seem that every word and every comma in it had
+become her own; but she was blessed with a memory that retained nothing,
+and she could cry over the sorrowful bits, and pant with eagerness at
+the critical ones, just as passionately, just as fervently, as she had
+done for years and years before. Dim, vague perceptions she might
+have retained of the personages, but these only gave them a stronger
+truthfulness, and made them more like the people of the real world, whom
+she had seen, passingly, once, and was now to learn more about. I
+doubt if Mezzofanti ever derived one tenth of the pleasure from all his
+marvellous memory that she did from the want of one.
+
+Blessed with that one book, she was proof against all the common
+accidents of life. It was her sanctuary against duns, and difficulties,
+and the doctor's temper. As the miser feels a sort of ecstasy in
+the secret of his hoarded wealth, so had she an intense enjoyment in
+thinking that all dear Clarissa's trials and sufferings were only known
+to her. Neither the doctor, nor Polly, nor Tom, so much as suspected
+them. It was like a confidence between Mr. Richardson and herself, and
+for nothing on earth would she have betrayed it.
+
+Tom had no such resources, and he set out on his mission with no very
+remarkable good feeling towards the world at large. Still, Polly had
+pressed into his hand a gold half-guinea,--some very long-treasured
+keepsake, the birthday gift of a godmother in times remote, and now to
+be converted into tobacco and beer, and some articles of fishing-gear
+which he greatly needed.
+
+Seated in one of those light canoe-shaped skiffs,--"cots," as they are
+called on these rivers,--he suffered himself to be carried lazily along
+by the stream, while he tied his flies and adjusted his tackle. There
+is, sometimes, a stronger sense of unhappiness attached to what is
+called being "hardly used" by the world, than to a direct palpable
+misfortune; for though the sufferer may not be able, even to his own
+heart, to set out, with clearness, one single count in the indictment,
+yet a general sense of hard treatment, unfairness, and so forth, brings
+with it great depression, and a feeling of desolation.
+
+Like all young fellows of his stamp, Tom only saw his inflictions, not
+one of his transgressions. He knew that his father made a common drudge
+of him, employed him in all that was wearisome and even menial in his
+craft, admitted him to no confidences, gave him no counsels, and treated
+him in every way like one who was never destined to rise above the
+meanest cares and lowest duties. Even those little fleeting glances at
+a brighter future which Polly would now and then open to his ambition,
+never came from his father, who would actually ridicule the notion of
+his obtaining a degree, and make the thought of a commission in the
+service a subject for mockery.
+
+He was low in heart as he thought over these things. "If it were not for
+Polly," so he said to himself, "he 'd go and enlist;" or, as his boat
+slowly floated into a dark angle of the stream where the water was still
+and the shadow deep, he even felt he could do worse. "Poor Polly!" said
+he, as he moved his hand to and fro in the cold clear water, "you 'd be
+very, very sorry for me. You, at least, knew that I was not all bad, and
+that I wanted to be better. It was no fault of mine to have a head that
+could n't learn. I 'd be clever if I could, and do everything as well as
+she does; but when they see that I have no talents, that if they put the
+task before me I cannot master it, sure they ought to pity me, not blame
+me." And then he bent over the boat and looked down eagerly into the
+water, till, by long dint of gazing, he saw, or he thought he saw, the
+gravelly bed beneath; and again he swept his hand through it,--it was
+cold, and caused a slight shudder. Then, suddenly, with some fresh
+impulse, he threw off his cap, and kicked his shoes from him. His
+trembling hands buttoned and unbuttoned his coat with some infirm,
+uncertain purpose. He stopped and listened; he heard a sound; there was
+some one near,--quite near. He bent down and peered under the branches
+that hung over the stream, and there he saw a very old and infirm man,
+so old and infirm that he could barely creep. He had been carrying a
+little bundle of fagots for firewood, and the cord had given way, and
+his burden fallen, scattered, to the ground. This was the noise Tom
+had heard. For a few minutes the old man seemed overwhelmed with his
+disaster, and stood motionless, contemplating it; then, as it were,
+taking courage, he laid down his staff, and bending on his knees, set
+slowly to work to gather up his fagots.
+
+There are minutes in the lives of all of us when some simple
+incident will speak to our hearts with a force that human words never
+carried,--when the most trivial event will teach a lesson that all our
+wisdom never gave us. "Poor old fellow," said Tom, "he has a stout heart
+left to him still, and he 'll not leave his load behind him!" And then
+his own craven spirit flashed across him, and he hid his face in his
+hand and cried bitterly.
+
+Suddenly rousing himself with a sort of convulsive shake, he sent
+the skiff with a strong shove in shore, and gave the old fellow what
+remained to him of Polly's present; and then, with a lighter spirit than
+he had known for many a day, rowed manfully on his way.
+
+The evening--a soft, mellow, summer evening--was just falling as Tom
+reached the little boat quay at the "Fisherman's Home,"--a spot it was
+seldom his fortune to visit, but one for whose woodland beauty and trim
+comfort he had a deep admiration. He would have liked to have lingered a
+little to inspect the boat-house, and the little aviary over it, and the
+small cottage on the island, and the little terrace made to fish from;
+but Darby had caught sight of him as he landed, and came hurriedly
+down to say that the young gentleman was growing very impatient for his
+coming, and was even hinting at sending for another doctor if he should
+not soon appear.
+
+If Conyers was as impatient as Darby represented, he had, at least,
+surrounded himself with every appliance to allay the fervor of that
+spirit He had dined under a spreading sycamore-tree, and now sat with a
+table richly covered before him. Fruit, flowers, and wine abounded,
+with a profusion that might have satisfied several guests; for, as he
+understood that he was to consider himself at an inn, he resolved, by
+ordering the most costly things, to give the house all the advantage of
+his presence. The most delicious hothouse fruit had been procured from
+the gardener of an absent proprietor in the neighborhood, and several
+kinds of wine figured on the table, over which, and half shadowed by
+the leaves, a lamp had been suspended, throwing a fitful light over all,
+that imparted a most picturesque effect to the scene.
+
+And yet, amidst all these luxuries and delights, Bal-shazzar was
+discontented; his ankle pained him; he had been hobbling about on it all
+day, and increased the inflammation considerably; and, besides this, he
+was lonely; he had no one but Darby to talk to, and had grown to feel
+for that sapient functionary a perfect abhorrence,--his everlasting
+compliance, his eternal coincidence with everything, being a torment
+infinitely worse than the most dogged and mulish opposition. When,
+therefore, he heard at last the doctor's son had come with the leeches,
+he hailed him as a welcome guest.
+
+"What a time you have kept me waiting!" said he, as the loutish young
+man came forward, so astounded by the scene before him that he lost all
+presence of mind. "I have been looking out for you since three o'clock,
+and pottering down the river and back so often, that I have made the leg
+twice as thick again."
+
+"Why didn't you sit quiet?" said Tom, in a hoarse, husky tone.
+
+"Sit quiet!" replied Conyers, staring half angrily at him; and then as
+quickly perceiving that no impertinence had been intended, which the
+other's changing color and evident confusion attested, he begged him to
+take a chair and fill his glass. "That next you is some sort of Rhine
+wine: this is sherry; and here is the very best claret I ever tasted."
+
+"Well, I 'll take that," said Tom, who, accepting the recommendation
+amidst luxuries all new and strange to him, proceeded to fill his glass,
+but so tremblingly that he spilled the wine all about the table, and
+then hurriedly wiped it up with his handkerchief.
+
+Conyers did his utmost to set his guest at his ease. He passed his
+cigar-case across the table, and led him on, as well as he might, to
+talk. But Tom was awestruck, not alone by the splendors around him, but
+by the condescension of his host; and he could not divest himself of the
+notion that he must have been mistaken for somebody else, to whom all
+these blandishments might be rightfully due.
+
+"Are you fond of shooting?" asked Conyers, trying to engage a
+conversation.
+
+"Yes," was the curt reply.
+
+"There must be good sport hereabouts, I should say. Is the game well
+preserved?"
+
+"Too well for such as me. I never get a shot without the risk of a jail,
+and it would be cheaper for me to kill a cow than a woodcock!" There was
+a stern gravity in the way he said this that made it irresistibly comic,
+and Conyers laughed out in spite of himself.
+
+"Have n't you a game license?" asked he.
+
+"Haven't I a coach-and-six? Where would I get four pounds seven and ten
+to pay for it?"
+
+The appeal was awkward, and for a moment Conyers was silent At last he
+said, "You fish, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes; I kill a salmon whenever I get a quiet spot that nobody sees me,
+and I draw the river now and then with a net at night."
+
+"That's poaching, I take it."
+
+"It 's not the worse for that!" said Tom, whose pluck was by this time
+considerably assisted by the claret.
+
+"Well, it's an unfair way, at all events, and destroys real sport"
+
+"Real sport is filling your basket."
+
+"No, no; there's no real sport in doing anything that's
+unfair,--anything that's un----" He stopped short, and swallowed off a
+glass of wine to cover his confusion.
+
+"That's all mighty fine for you, who can not only pay for a license, but
+you 're just as sure to be invited here, there, and everywhere there's
+game to be killed. But think of me, that never snaps a cap, never throws
+a line, but he knows it's worse than robbing a hen-roost, and often,
+maybe, just as fond of it as yourself!"
+
+Whether it was that, coming after Darby's mawkish and servile agreement
+with everything, this rugged nature seemed more palatable, I cannot
+say; but so it was, Con-yers felt pleasure in talking to this rough
+unpolished creature, and hearing his opinions in turn. Had there been
+in Tom Dill's manner the slightest shade of any pretence, was there any
+element of that which, for want of a better word, we call "snobbery,"
+Conyers would not have endured him for a moment, but Tom was perfectly
+devoid of this vulgarity. He was often coarse in his remarks, his
+expressions were rarely measured by any rule of good manners; but it
+was easy to see that he never intended offence, nor did he so much as
+suspect that he could give that weight to any opinion which he uttered
+to make it of moment.
+
+Besides these points in Tom's favor, there was another, which also led
+Conyers to converse with him. There is some very subtle self-flattery
+in the condescension of one well to do in all the gifts of fortune
+associating, in an assumed equality, with some poor fellow to whom fate
+has assigned the shady side of the highway. Scarcely a subject can
+be touched without suggesting something for self-gratulation; every
+comparison, every contrast is in his favor, and Conyers, without being
+more of a puppy than the majority of his order, constantly felt how
+immeasurably above all his guest's views of his life and the world were
+his own,--not alone that he was more moderate in language and less prone
+to attribute evil, but with a finer sense of honor and a wider feeling
+of liberality.
+
+When Tom at last, with some shame, remembered that he had forgotten all
+about the real object of his mission, and had never so much as alluded
+to the leeches, Conyers only laughed and said, "Never mind them
+to-night. Come back to-morrow and put them on; and mind,--come to
+breakfast at ten or eleven o'clock."
+
+"What am I to say to my father?"
+
+"Say it was a whim of mine, which it is. You are quite ready to do this
+matter now. I see it; but I say no. Is n't that enough?"
+
+"I suppose so!" muttered Tom, with a sort of dogged misgiving.
+
+"It strikes me that you have a very respectable fear of your governor.
+Am I right?"
+
+"Ain't you afraid of yours?" bluntly asked the other.
+
+"Afraid of mine!" cried Conyers, with a loud laugh; "I should think not.
+Why, my father and myself are as thick as two thieves. I never was in a
+scrape that I did n't tell him. I 'd sit down this minute and write to
+him just as I would to any fellow in the regiment."
+
+"Well, there 's only one in all the world I 'd tell a secret to, and it
+is n't My father!"
+
+"Who is it, then?"
+
+"My sister Polly!" It was impossible to have uttered these words with a
+stronger sense of pride. He dwelt slowly upon each of them, and, when he
+had finished, looked as though he had said something utterly undeniable.
+
+"Here's her health,--in a bumper too!" cried Conyers.
+
+"Hurray, hurray!" shouted out Tom, as he tossed off his full glass, and
+set it on the table with a bang that smashed it. "Oh, I beg pardon! I
+didn't mean to break the tumbler."
+
+"Never mind it, Dill; it's a trifle. I half hoped you had done it on
+purpose, so that the glass should never be drained to a less honored
+toast. Is she like _you?_"
+
+"Like me,--like me?" asked he, coloring deeply. "Polly like me?"
+
+"I mean is there a family resemblance? Could you be easily known as
+brother and sister?"
+
+"Not a bit of it. Polly is the prettiest girl in this county, and she 's
+better than she 's handsome. There's nothing she can't do. I taught her
+to tie flies, and she can put wings on a green-drake now that would take
+in any salmon that ever swam. Martin Keene sent her a pound-note for a
+book of 'brown hackles,' and, by the way, she gave it to _me_. And if
+you saw her on the back of a horse!--Ambrose Bushe's gray mare, the
+wickedest devil that ever was bridled, one buck jump after another
+the length of a field, and the mare trying to get her head between her
+fore-legs, and Polly handling her so quiet, never out of temper, never
+hot, but always saying, 'Ain't you ashamed of yourself, Dido? Don't you
+see them all laughing at us?'"
+
+"I am quite curious to see her. Will you present me one of these days?"
+
+Tom mumbled out something perfectly unintelligible.
+
+"I hope that I may be permitted to make her acquaintance," repeated he,
+not feeling very certain that his former speech was quite understood.
+
+"Maybe so," grumbled he out at last, and sank back in his chair with a
+look of sulky ill-humor; for so it was that poor Tom, in his ignorance
+of life and its ways, deemed the proposal one of those free-and-easy
+suggestions which might be made to persons of very inferior station,
+and to whom the fact of acquaintanceship should be accounted as a great
+honor.
+
+Conyers was provoked at the little willingness shown to meet his
+offer,--an offer he felt to be a very courteous piece of condescension
+on his part,--and now both sat in silence. At last Tom Dill, long
+struggling with some secret impulse, gave way, and in a tone far more
+decided and firm than heretofore, said, "Maybe you think, from seeing
+what sort of a fellow I am, that my sister ought to be like me; and
+because _I_ have neither manners nor education, that she 's the same?
+But listen to me now; she 's just as little like me as you are yourself.
+You 're not more of a gentleman than she's a lady!"
+
+"I never imagined anything else."
+
+"And what made you talk of bringing her up here to present her to you,
+as you called it? Was she to be trotted out in a cavasin, like a filly?"
+
+"My dear fellow," said Conyers, good-humoredly, "you never made a
+greater mistake. I begged that you would present _me_ to your sister.
+I asked the sort of favor which is very common in the world, and in
+the language usually employed to convey such a request. I observed the
+recognized etiquette--"
+
+"What do I know about etiquette? If you'd have said, 'Tom Dill, I want
+to be introduced to your sister,' I 'd have guessed what you were at,
+and I 'd have said, 'Come back in the boat with me to-morrow, and so you
+shall.'"
+
+"It's a bargain, then, Dill. I want two or three things in the village,
+and I accept your offer gladly."
+
+Not only was peace now ratified between them, but a closer feeling of
+intimacy established; for poor Tom, not much spoiled by any excess of
+the world's sympathy, was so delighted by the kindly interest shown him,
+that he launched out freely to tell all about himself and his fortunes,
+how hardly treated he was at home, and how ill usage had made him
+despondent, and despondency made him dissolute. "It's all very well to
+rate a fellow about his taste for low pleasures and low companions; but
+what if he's not rich enough for better? He takes them just as he
+smokes cheap tobacco, because he can afford no other. And do you know,"
+continued he, "you are the first real gentleman that ever said a kind
+word to me, or asked me to sit down in his company. It's even so strange
+to me yet, that maybe when I 'm rowing home to-night I 'll think it's
+all a dream,--that it was the wine got into my head."
+
+"Is not some of this your own fault?" broke in Conyers. "What if you had
+held your head higher--"
+
+"Hold my head higher!" interrupted Tom. "With this on it, eh?" And he
+took up his ragged and worn cap from the ground, and showed it. "Pride
+is a very fine thing when you can live up to it; but if you can't it's
+only ridiculous. I don't say," added he, after a few minutes of silence,
+"but if I was far away from this, where nobody knew me, where I did n't
+owe little debts on every side, and was n't obliged to be intimate
+with every idle vagabond about--I don't say but I'd try to be something
+better. If, for instance, I could get into the navy--"
+
+"Why not the army? You 'd like it better."
+
+"Ay! but it 's far harder to get into. There's many a rough fellow like
+myself aboard ship that they would n't take in a regiment. Besides, how
+could I get in without interest?"
+
+"My father is a Lieutenant-General. I don't know whether he could be of
+service to you."
+
+"A Lieutenant-General!" repeated Tom, with the reverential awe of one
+alluding to an actual potentate.
+
+"Yes. He has a command out in India, where I feel full sure he could
+give you something. Suppose you were to go out there? I 'd write a
+letter to my father and ask him to befriend you."
+
+"It would take a fortune to pay the journey," said Tom, despondingly.
+
+"Not if you went out on service; the Government would send you free of
+cost. And even if you were not, I think we might manage it. Speak to
+your father about it."
+
+"No," said he, slowly. "No; but I 'll talk it over with Polly. Not but
+I know well she'll say, 'There you are, castle-building and romancing.
+It's all moonshine! Nobody ever took notice of you,--nobody said he 'd
+interest himself about you.'"
+
+"That's easily remedied. If you like it, I 'll tell your sister all
+about it myself. I 'll tell her it's my plan, and I 'll show her what I
+think are good reasons to believe it will be successful."
+
+"Oh! would you--would you!" cried he, with a choking sensation in the
+throat; for his gratitude had made him almost hysterical.
+
+"Yes," resumed Conyers. "When you come up here tomorrow, we 'll arrange
+it all. I 'll turn the matter all over in my mind, too, and I have
+little doubt of our being able to carry it through."
+
+"You 'll not tell my father, though?"
+
+"Not a word, if you forbid it. At the same time, you must see that he'll
+have to hear it all later on."
+
+"I suppose so," muttered Tom, moodily, and leaned his head thoughtfully
+on his hand. But one half-hour back and he would have told Conyers why
+he desired this concealment; he would have declared that his father,
+caring more for his services than his future good, would have thrown
+every obstacle to his promotion, and would even, if need were, have so
+represented him to Conyers that he would have appeared utterly unworthy
+of his interest and kindness; but now not one word of all this escaped
+him. He never hinted another reproach against his father, for already a
+purer spring had opened in his nature, the rocky heart had been smitten
+by words of gentleness, and he would have revolted against that which
+should degrade him in his own esteem.
+
+"Good night," said Conyers, with a hearty shake of the hand, "and don't
+forget your breakfast engagement tomorrow."
+
+"What 's this?" said Tom, blushing deeply, as he found a crumpled
+bank-note in his palm.
+
+"It's your fee, my good fellow, that's all," said the other, laughingly.
+
+"But I can't take a fee. I have never done so. I have no right to one. I
+am not a doctor yet."
+
+"The very first lesson in your profession is not to anger your patient;
+and if you would not provoke me, say no more on this matter." There was
+a half-semblance of haughtiness in these words that perhaps the speaker
+never intended; at all events, he was quick enough to remedy the effect,
+for he laid his hand good-naturedly on the other's shoulder and said,
+"For my sake, Dill,--for my sake."
+
+"I wish I knew what I ought to do," said Tom, whose pale cheek actually
+trembled with agitation. "I mean," said he, in a shaken voice, "I wish I
+knew what would make _you_ think best of me."
+
+"Do you attach so much value to my good opinion, then?"
+
+"Don't you think I might? When did I ever meet any one that treated me
+this way before?"
+
+The agitation in which he uttered these few words imparted such a
+semblance of weakness to him that Conyers pressed him down into a chair,
+and filled up his glass with wine.
+
+"Take that off, and you 'll be all right presently," said he, in a kind
+tone.
+
+Tom tried to carry the glass to his lips, but his hand trembled so that
+he had to set it down on the table.
+
+"I don't know how to say it," began he, "and I don't know whether I
+ought to say it, but somehow I feel as if I could give my heart's blood
+if everybody would behave to me the way you do. I don't mean, mind you,
+so generously, but treating me as if--as if--as if--" gulped he out at
+last, "as if I was a gentleman."
+
+"And why not? As there is nothing in your station that should deny that
+claim, why should any presume to treat you otherwise?"
+
+"Because I'm not one!" blurted he out; and covering his face with his
+hands, he sobbed bitterly.
+
+"Come, come, my poor fellow, don't be down-hearted. I 'm not much older
+than yourself, but I 've seen a good deal of life; and, mark _my_ words,
+the price a man puts on himself is the very highest penny the world will
+ever bid for him; he 'll not always get _that_, but he 'll never--no,
+never, get a farthing beyond it!"
+
+Tom stared vacantly at the speaker, not very sure whether he understood
+the speech, or that it had any special application to him.
+
+"When you come to know life as well as I do," continued Conyers, who had
+now launched into a very favorite theme, "you'll learn the truth of what
+I say. Hold your head high; and if the world desires to see you, it must
+at least look up!"
+
+"Ay, but it might laugh too!" said Tom, with a bitter gravity, which
+considerably disconcerted the moralist, who pitched away his cigar
+impatiently, and set about selecting another.
+
+"I suspect I understand _your_ nature. For," said he, after a moment or
+two, "I have rather a knack in reading people. Just answer me frankly a
+few questions."
+
+"Whatever you like," said the other, in a half-sulky sort of manner.
+
+"Mind," said Conyers, eagerly, "as there can be no offence intended,
+you'll not feel any by whatever I may say."
+
+"Go on," said Tom, in the same dry tone.
+
+"Ain't you obstinate?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"I knew it. We had not talked half an hour together when I detected
+it, and I said to myself, 'That fellow is one so rooted in his own
+convictions, it is scarcely possible to shake him.'"
+
+"What next?" asked Tom.
+
+"You can't readily forgive an injury; you find it very hard to pardon
+the man who has wronged you."
+
+"I do not; if he did n't go on persecuting me, I would n't think of him
+at all."
+
+"Ah, that's a mistake. Well, I know you better than you know yourself;
+you _do_ keep up the memory of an old grudge,--you can't help it."
+
+"Maybe so, but I never knew it."
+
+"You have, however, just as strong a sentiment of gratitude."
+
+"I never knew that, either," muttered he; "perhaps because it has had so
+little provocation!"
+
+"Bear in mind," said Conyers, who was rather disconcerted by the want of
+concurrence he had met with, "that I am in a great measure referring to
+latent qualities,--things which probably require time and circumstances
+to develop."
+
+"Oh, if that's it," said Dili, "I can no more object than I could if you
+talked to me about what is down a dozen fathoms in the earth under our
+feet. It may be granite or it may be gold, for what I know; the only
+thing that _I_ see is the gravel before me."
+
+"I 'll tell you a trait of your character you can't gainsay,"
+said Conyers, who was growing more irritated by the opposition so
+unexpectedly met with, "and it's one you need not dig a dozen fathoms
+down to discover,--you are very reckless."
+
+"Reckless--reckless,--you call a fellow reckless that throws away his
+chance, I suppose?"
+
+"Just so."
+
+"But what if he never had one?"
+
+"Every man has a destiny; every man has that in his fate which he may
+help to make or to mar as he inclines to. I suppose you admit that?"
+
+"I don't know," was the sullen reply.
+
+"Not know? Surely you needn't be told such a fact to recognize it!"
+
+"All I know is this," said Tom, resolutely, "that I scarcely ever did
+anything in my life that it was n't found out to be wrong, so that at
+last I 've come to be pretty careless what I do; and if it was n't for
+Polly,--if it was n't for Polly--" He stopped, drew his sleeve across
+his eyes, and turned away, unable to finish.
+
+"Come, then," said Conyers, laying his hand affectionately on the
+other's shoulder, "add my friendship to _her_ love for you, and see if
+the two will not give you encouragement; for I mean to be your friend,
+Dill."
+
+"Do you?" said Tom, with the tears in his eyes.
+
+"There 's my hand on it."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. FINE ACQUAINTANCES
+
+There is a law of compensation even for the small things of this life,
+and by the wise enactments of that law, human happiness, on the whole,
+is pretty equally distributed. The rich man, probably, never felt one
+tithe of the enjoyment in his noble demesne that it yielded to some poor
+artisan who strolled through it on a holiday, and tasted at once the
+charms of a woodland scene with all the rapturous delight of a day of
+rest.
+
+Arguing from these premises, I greatly doubt if Lady Cobham, at the
+head of her great household, with her house crowded with distinguished
+visitors, surrounded by every accessory of luxury and splendor, tasted
+anything approaching to the delight felt by one, the very humblest
+of her guests, and who for a brief twenty-four hours partook of her
+hospitality.
+
+Polly Dill, with all her desire and ambition for notice amongst
+the great people of the county, had gone to this dinner-party with
+considerable misgivings. She only knew the Admiral in the hunting-field;
+of her Ladyship she had no knowledge whatever, save in a few dry
+sentences uttered to her from a carriage one day at "the meet," when the
+Admiral, with more sailor-like frankness than politeness, presented her
+by saying, "This is the heroine of the day's run, Dr. Dill's daughter."
+And to this was responded a stare through a double eye-glass, and a
+cold smile and a few still colder words, affecting to be compliment, but
+sounding far more like a correction and a rebuke.
+
+No wonder, then, if Polly's heart was somewhat faint about approaching
+as a hostess one who could be so repelling as a mere acquaintance.
+Indeed, one less resolutely bent on her object would not have
+encountered all the mortification and misery her anticipation pictured;
+but Polly fortified herself by the philosophy that said, "There is
+but one road to this goal; I must either take that one, or abandon the
+journey." And so she did take it.
+
+Either, however, that she had exaggerated the grievance to her own mind,
+or that her Ladyship was more courteous at home than abroad; but Polly
+was charmed with the kindness of her reception. Lady Cobham had shaken
+hands with her, asked her had she been hunting lately, and was about
+to speak of her horsemanship to a grim old lady beside her, when the
+arrival of other guests cut short the compliment, and Polly passed
+on--her heart lightened of a great load--to mix with the general
+company.
+
+I have no doubt it was a pleasant country-house; it was called the
+pleasantest in the county. On the present occasion it counted amongst
+its guests not only the great families of the neighborhood, but several
+distinguished visitors from a distance, of whom two, at least, are
+noteworthy,--one, the great lyric poet; the other, the first tragic
+actress of her age and country. The occasion which assembled them was
+a project originally broached at the Admiral's table, and so frequently
+discussed afterwards that it matured itself into a congress. The plan
+was to get up theatricals for the winter season at Kilkenny, in
+which all the native dramatic ability should be aided by the first
+professional talent. Scarcely a country-house that could not boast of,
+at least, one promising performer. Ruthven and Campion and Probart had
+in their several walks been applauded by the great in art, and there
+were many others who in the estimation of friends were just as certain
+of a high success.
+
+Some passing remark on Polly's good looks, and the suitability of
+her face and style for certain small characters in comedy,--the pink
+ribboned damsels who are made love to by smart valets,--induced
+Lady Cobham to include her in her list; and thus, on these meagre
+credentials, was she present. She did not want notice or desire
+recognition; she was far too happy to be there, to hear and see and mark
+and observe all around her, to care for any especial attention. If the
+haughty Arabellas and Georgianas who swept past her without so much as
+a glance, were not, in her own estimation, superior in personal
+attractions, she knew well that they were so in all the accidents
+of station and the advantages of dress; and perhaps--who knows?--the
+reflection was not such a discouraging one.
+
+No memorable event, no incident worth recording, marked her visit. In
+the world of such society the machinery moves with regularity and
+little friction. The comedy of real life is admirably played out by
+the well-bred, and Polly was charmed to see with what courtesy, what
+consideration, what deference people behaved to each other; and all
+without an effort,--perhaps without even a thought.
+
+It was on the following day, when she got home and sat beside her
+mother's chair, that she related all she had seen. Her heart was filled
+with joy; for, just as she was taking her leave, Lady Cobham had said,
+"You have been promised to us for Tuesday next, Miss Dill. Pray don't
+forget it!" And now she was busily engaged in the cares of toilette; and
+though it was a mere question of putting bows of a sky-blue ribbon on
+a muslin dress,--one of those little travesties by which rustic beauty
+emulates ball-room splendor,--to her eyes it assumed all the importance
+of a grand preparation, and one which she could not help occasionally
+rising to contemplate at a little distance.
+
+"Won't it be lovely, mamma," she said, "with a moss-rose--a mere bud--on
+each of those bows? But I have n't told you of how he sang. He was the
+smallest little creature in the world, and he tripped across the room
+with his tiny feet like a bird, and he kissed Lady Cobham's hand with a
+sort of old-world gallantry, and pressed a little sprig of jasmine she
+gave him to his heart,--this way,--and then he sat down to the piano. I
+thought it strange to see a man play!"
+
+"Effeminate,--very," muttered the old lady, as she wiped her spectacles.
+
+"Well, I don't know, mamma,--at least, after a moment, I lost all
+thought of it, for I never heard anything like his singing before.
+He had not much voice, nor, perhaps, great skill, but there was an
+expression in the words, a rippling melody with which the verses ran
+from his lips, while the accompaniment tinkled on beside them, perfectly
+rapturous. It all seemed as if words and air were begotten of the
+moment, as if, inspired on the instant, he poured forth the verses, on
+which he half dwelt, while thinking over what was to follow, imparting
+an actual anxiety as you listened, lest he should not be ready with his
+rhyme; and through all there was a triumphant joy that lighted up his
+face and made his eyes sparkle with a fearless lustre, as of one who
+felt the genius that was within him, and could trust it." And then he
+had been so complimentary to herself, called her that charming little
+"rebel," after she had sung "Where 's the Slave," and told her that
+until he had heard the words from her lips he did not know they were
+half so treasonable. "But, mamma dearest, I have made a conquest; and
+such a conquest,--the hero of the whole society,--a Captain Stapylton,
+who did something or captured somebody at Waterloo,--a bold dragoon,
+with a gorgeous pelisse all slashed with gold, and such a mass of
+splendor that he was quite dazzling to look upon." She went on, still
+very rapturously, to picture him. "Not very young; that is to say, he
+might be thirty-five, or perhaps a little more,--tall, stately, even
+dignified in appearance, with a beard and moustache almost white,--for
+he had served much in India, and he was dark-skinned as a native." And
+this fine soldier, so sought after and so courted, had been markedly
+attentive to her, danced with her twice, and promised she should have
+his Arab, "Mahmoud," at her next visit to Cobham. It was very evident
+that his notice of her had called forth certain jealousies from young
+ladies of higher social pretensions, nor was she at all indifferent to
+the peril of such sentiments, though she did not speak of them to her
+mother, for, in good truth, that worthy woman was not one to investigate
+a subtle problem, or suggest a wise counsel; not to say that her
+interests were far more deeply engaged for Miss Harlowe than for her
+daughter Polly, seeing that in the one case every motive, and the spring
+to every motive, was familiar to her, while in the other she possessed
+but some vague and very strange notions of what was told her. Clarissa
+had made a full confidence to her: she had wept out her sorrows on
+her bosom, and sat sobbing on her shoulder. Polly came to her with
+the frivolous narrative of a ball-room flirtation, which threatened no
+despair nor ruin to any one. Here were no heart-consuming miseries,
+no agonizing terrors, no dreadful casualties that might darken a whole
+existence; and so Mrs. Dill scarcely followed Polly's story at all, and
+never with any interest.
+
+Polly went in search of her brother, but he had left home early that
+morning with the boat, no one knew whither, and the doctor was in a
+towering rage at his absence. Tom, indeed, was so full of his success
+with young Conyers that he never so much as condescended to explain his
+plans, and simply left a message to say, "It was likely he 'd be back
+by dinner-time." Now Dr. Dill was not in one of his blandest humors.
+Amongst the company at Cobham, he had found a great physician from
+Kilkenny, plainly showing him that all his social sacrifices were not to
+his professional benefit, and that if colds and catarrhs were going, his
+own services would never be called in. Captain Stapylton, too, to
+whom Polly had presented him, told him that he "feared a young brother
+officer of his, Lieutenant Conyers, had fallen into the hands of some
+small village practitioner, and that he would take immediate measures
+to get him back to headquarters," and then moved off, without giving him
+the time for a correction of the mistake.
+
+He took no note of his daughter's little triumphs, the admiration that
+she excited, or the flatteries that greeted her. It is true he did not
+possess the same means of measuring these that she had, and in all that
+dreary leisure which besets an unhonored guest, he had ample time to
+mope and fret and moralize, as gloomily as might be. If, then, he
+did not enjoy himself on his visit, he came away from it soured and
+ill-humored.
+
+He denounced "junketings"--by which unseemly title he designated the
+late entertainment--as amusements too costly for persons of his means.
+He made a rough calculation--a very rough one--of all that the
+"precious tomfoolery" had cost: the turnpike which he had paid, and
+the perquisites to servants--which he had not; the expense of Polly's
+finery,--a hazarded guess she would have been charmed to have had
+confirmed; and, ending the whole with a startling total, declared that a
+reign of rigid domestic economy must commence from that hour. The edict
+was something like what one reads from the French Government, when
+about to protest against some license of the press, and which opens by
+proclaiming that "the latitude hitherto conceded to public discussion
+has not been attended with those gratifying results so eagerly
+anticipated by the Imperial administration." Poor Mrs. Dill--like a mere
+journalist--never knew she had been enjoying blessings till she was
+told she had forfeited them forever, and she heard with a confused
+astonishment that the household charges would be still further reduced,
+and yet food and fuel and light be not excluded from the supplies.
+He denounced Polly's equestrianism as a most ruinous and extravagant
+pursuit. Poor Polly, whose field achievements had always been on a
+borrowed mount! Tom was a scapegrace, whose debts would have beggared
+half-a-dozen families,--wretched dog, to whom a guinea was a gold-mine;
+and Mrs. Dill, unhappy Mrs. Dill, who neither hunted, nor smoked,
+nor played skittles, after a moment's pause, he told her that his
+hard-earned pence should not be wasted in maintaining a "circulating
+library." Was there ever injustice like this? Talk to a man with one
+meal a day about gluttony, lecture the castaway at sea about not giving
+way to his appetites, you might just as well do so as to preach to
+Mrs. Dill--with her one book, and who never wanted another--about the
+discursive costliness of her readings.
+
+Could it be that, like the cruel jailer, who killed the spider the
+prisoner had learned to love, he had resolved to rob her of Clarissa?
+The thought was so overwhelming that it stunned her; and thus stupefied,
+she saw the doctor issue forth on his daily round, without venturing
+one word in answer. And he rode on his way,--on that strange mission
+of mercy, meanness, of honest sympathy, or mock philanthropy, as men's
+hearts and natures make of it,--and set out for the "Fisherman's Home."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. A COUNTRY DOCTOR
+
+In a story, as in a voyage, one must occasionally travel with
+uncongenial companions. Now I have no reason for hoping that any of my
+readers care to keep Dr. Dill's company, and yet it is with Dr. Dill we
+must now for a brief space foregather. He was on his way to visit his
+patient at the "Fisherman's Home," having started, intentionally very
+early, to be there before Stapylton could have interposed with any
+counsels of removing him to Kilkenny.
+
+The world, in its blind confidence in medical skill, and its unbounded
+belief in certain practitioners of medicine, is but scantily just to the
+humbler members of the craft in regard to the sensitiveness with
+which they feel the withdrawal of a patient from their care, and the
+substitution of another physician. The doctor who has not only heard,
+but felt Babington's adage, that the difference between a good physician
+and a bad one is only "the difference between a pound and a guinea,"
+naturally thinks it a hard thing that his interests are to be sacrificed
+for a mere question of five per cent. He knows, besides, that they can
+each work on the same materials with the same tools, and it can be only
+through some defect in his self-confidence that he can bring himself to
+believe that the patient's chances are not pretty much alike in _his_
+hands or his rival's. Now Dr. Dill had no feelings of this sort; no
+undervaluing of himself found a place in his nature. He regarded medical
+men as tax-gatherers, and naturally thought it mattered but little which
+received the impost; and, thus reflecting, he bore no good will towards
+that gallant Captain, who, as we have seen, stood so well in his
+daughter's favor. Even hardened men of the world--old footsore pilgrims
+of life--have their prejudices, and one of these is to be pleased at
+thinking they had augured unfavorably of any one they had afterwards
+learned to dislike. It smacks so much of acuteness to be able to say,
+"I was scarcely presented to him; we had not exchanged a dozen
+sentences when I saw this, that, and t' other." Dill knew this man
+was overbearing, insolent, and oppressive, that he was meddlesome and
+interfering, giving advice unasked for, and presuming to direct where no
+guidance was required. He suspected he was not a man of much fortune; he
+doubted he was a man of good family. All his airs of pretensions--very
+high and mighty they were--did not satisfy the doctor. As he said
+himself, he was a very old bird, but he forgot to add that he had always
+lived in an extremely small cage.
+
+The doctor had to leave his horse on the high-road and take a small
+footpath, which led through some meadows till it reached the little
+copse of beech and ilex that sheltered the cottage and effectually hid
+it from all view from the road. The doctor had just gained the last
+stile, when he suddenly came upon a man repairing a fence, and whose
+labors were being overlooked by Miss Barrington. He had scarcely uttered
+his most respectful salutations, when she said, "It is, perhaps, the
+last time you will take that path through the Lock Meadow, Dr. Dill. We
+mean to close it up after this week."
+
+"Close it up, dear lady!--a right of way that has existed Heaven knows
+how long. I remember it as a boy myself."
+
+"Very probably, sir, and what you say vouches for great antiquity; but
+things may be old and yet not respectable. Besides, it never was what
+you have called it,--a right of way. If it was, where did it go to?"
+
+"It went to the cottage, dear lady. The 'Home' was a mill in those
+days."
+
+"Well, sir, it is no longer a mill, and it will soon cease to be an
+inn."
+
+"Indeed, dear lady! And am I to hope that I may congratulate such kind
+friends as you have ever been to me on a change of fortune?"
+
+"Yes, sir; we have grown so poor that, to prevent utter destitution, we
+have determined to keep a private station; and with reference to that,
+may I ask you when this young gentleman could bear removal without
+injury?"
+
+"I have not seen him to-day, dear lady; but judging from the
+inflammatory symptoms I remarked yesterday, and the great nervous
+depression--"
+
+"I know nothing about medicine, sir; but if the nervous depression be
+indicated by a great appetite and a most noisy disposition, his case
+must be critical."
+
+"Noise, dear lady!"
+
+"Yes, sir; assisted by your son, he sat over his wine till past
+midnight, talking extremely loudly, and occasionally singing. They have
+now been at breakfast since ten o'clock, and you will very soon be
+able to judge by your own ears of the well-regulated pitch of the
+conversation."
+
+"My son, Miss Dinah! Tom Dill at breakfast here?"
+
+"I don't know whether his name be Tom or Harry, sir, nor is it to the
+purpose; but he is a red-haired youth, with a stoop in the shoulders,
+and a much-abused cap."
+
+Dill groaned over a portrait which to him was a photograph.
+
+"I 'll see to this, dear lady. This shall be looked into," muttered he,
+with the purpose of a man who pledged himself to a course of action; and
+with this he moved on. Nor had he gone many paces from the spot when he
+heard the sound of voices, at first in some confusion, but afterwards
+clearly and distinctly.
+
+"I 'll be hanged if I 'd do it, Tom," cried the loud voice of Conyers.
+"It's all very fine talking about paternal authority and all that, and
+so long as one is a boy there's no help for it; but you and I are men.
+We have a right to be treated like men, have n't we?"
+
+"I suppose so," muttered the other, half sulkily, and not exactly seeing
+what was gained by the admission.
+
+"Well, that being so," resumed Conyers, "I'd say to the governor, 'What
+allowance are you going to make me?'"
+
+"Did you do that with your father?" asked Tom, earnestly.
+
+"No, not exactly," stammered out the other. "There was not, in fact, any
+need for it, for my governor is a rare jolly fellow,--such a trump! What
+he said to me was, 'There's a check-book, George; don't spare it.'"
+
+"Which was as much as to say, 'Draw what you like.'"
+
+"Yes, of course. He knew, in leaving it to my honor, there was no risk
+of my committing any excess; so you see there was no necessity to make
+my governor 'book up.' But if I was in your place I 'd do it. I pledge
+you my word I would."
+
+Tom only shook his head very mournfully, and made no answer. He felt,
+and felt truly, that there is a worldly wisdom learned only in poverty
+and in the struggles of narrow fortune, of which the well-to-do know
+absolutely nothing. Of what avail to talk to him of an unlimited credit,
+or a credit to be bounded only by a sense of honor? It presupposed so
+much that was impossible, that he would have laughed if his heart had
+been but light enough.
+
+"Well, then," said Conyers, "if you have n't courage for this, let me do
+it; let me speak to your father."
+
+"What could you say to him?" asked Tom, doggedly.
+
+"Say to him?--what could I say to him?" repeated he, as he lighted a
+fresh cigar, and affected to be eagerly interested in the process. "It's
+clear enough what I 'd say to him."
+
+"Let us hear it, then," growled out Tom, for he had a sort of coarse
+enjoyment at the other's embarrassment. "I 'll be the doctor now, and
+listen to you." And with this he squared his chair full in front of
+Conyers, and crossed his arms imposingly on his chest "You said you
+wanted to speak to me about my son Tom, Mr. Conyers; what is it you have
+to say?"
+
+"Well, I suppose I'd open the matter delicately, and, perhaps, adroitly.
+I 'd say, 'I have remarked, doctor, that your son is a young fellow of
+very considerable abilities--'"
+
+"For what?" broke in Tom, huskily.
+
+"Come, you 're not to interrupt in this fashion, or I can't continue. I
+'d say something about your natural cleverness; and what a pity it
+would be if, with very promising talents, you should not have those fair
+advantages which lead a man to success in life."
+
+"And do you know what _he_ 'd say to all that?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, I'll tell you. He'd say 'Bother!' Just 'bother.'"
+
+"What do you mean by 'bother'?"
+
+"That what you were saying was all nonsense. That you did n't know, nor
+you never could know, the struggles of a man like himself, just to make
+the two ends meet; not to be rich, mind you, or lay by money, or have
+shares in this, or stocks in that, but just to live, and no more."
+
+"Well, I'd say, 'Give him a few hundred pounds, and start him.'"
+
+"Why don't you say a few thousands? It would sound grander, and be just
+as likely. Can't you see that everybody hasn't a Lieutenant-General for
+a father? and that what you 'd give for a horse--that would, maybe,
+be staked to-morrow--would perhaps be a fortune for a fellow like me?
+What's that I hear coming up the river? That's the doctor, I 'm sure.
+I 'll be off till he's gone." And without waiting to hear a word, he
+sprang from his chair and disappeared in the wood.
+
+Dr. Dill only waited a few seconds to compose his features, somewhat
+excited by what he had overheard; and then coughing loudly, to announce
+his approach, moved gravely along the gravel path.
+
+"And how is my respected patient?" asked he, blandly. "Is the
+inflammation subsiding, and are our pains diminished?"
+
+"My ankle is easier, if you mean that," said Conyers, bluntly.
+
+"Yes, much easier,--much easier," said the doctor, examining the limb;
+"and our cellular tissue has less effusion, the sheaths of the tendons
+freer, and we are generally better. I perceive you have had the leeches
+applied. Did Tom--my son--give you satisfaction? Was he as attentive and
+as careful as you wished?"
+
+"Yes, I liked him. I wish he 'd come up every day while I remain. Is
+there any objection to that arrangement?"
+
+"None, dear sir,--none. His time is fully at your service; he ought to
+be working hard. It is true he should be reading eight or ten hours a
+day, for his examination; but it is hard to persuade him to it. Young
+men will be young men!"
+
+"I hope so, with all my heart. At least, I, for one, don't want to be
+an old one. Will you do me a favor, doctor? and will you forgive me if
+I don't know how to ask it with all becoming delicacy? I'd like to give
+Tom a helping hand. He's a good fellow,--I 'm certain he is. Will you
+let me send him out to India, to my father? He has lots of places to
+give away, and he 'd be sure to find something to suit him. You have
+heard of General Conyers, perhaps, the political resident at Delhi?
+That's my governor." In the hurry and rapidity with which he spoke, it
+was easy to see how he struggled with a sense of shame and confusion.
+
+Dr. Dill was profuse of acknowledgments; he was even moved as he
+expressed his gratitude. "It was true," he remarked, "that his life had
+been signalled by these sort of graceful services, or rather offers of
+services; for we are proud if we are poor, sir. 'Dill aut nil' is the
+legend of our crest, which means that we are ourselves or nothing."
+
+"I conclude everybody else is in the same predicament," broke in
+Conyers, bluntly.
+
+"Not exactly, young gentleman,--not exactly. I think I could, perhaps,
+explain--"
+
+"No, no; never mind it. I 'm the stupidest fellow in the world at a nice
+distinction; besides, I'll take your word for the fact. You have heard
+of my father, have n't you?"
+
+"I heard of him so late as last night, from a brother officer of yours,
+Captain Stapylton."
+
+"Where did you meet Stapylton?" asked Conyers, quickly.
+
+"At Sir Charles Cobham's. I was presented to him by my daughter, and he
+made the most kindly inquiries after you, and said that, if possible,
+he'd come over here to-day to see you."
+
+"I hope he won't; that's all," muttered Conyers. Then, correcting
+himself suddenly, he said: "I mean, I scarcely know him; he has only
+joined us a few months back, and is a stranger to every one in the
+regiment. I hope you did n't tell him where I was."
+
+"I'm afraid that I did, for I remember his adding, 'Oh! I must carry him
+off. I must get him back to headquarters.'"
+
+"Indeed! Let us see if he will. That's the style of these 'Company's'
+officers,--he was in some Native corps or other,--they always fancy they
+can bully a subaltern; but Black Stapylton will find himself mistaken
+this time."
+
+"He was afraid that you had not fallen into skilful hands; and, of
+course, it would not have come well from me to assure him of the
+opposite."
+
+"Well, but what of Tom, doctor? You have given me no answer."
+
+"It is a case for reflection, my dear young friend, if I may be
+emboldened to call you so. It is not a matter I can say yes or no to on
+the instant. I have only two grown-up children: my daughter, the most
+affectionate, the most thoughtful of girls, educated, too, in a way to
+grace any sphere--"
+
+"You need n't tell me that Tom is a wild fellow," broke in Conyers,--for
+he well understood the antithesis that was coming; "he owned it all to
+me, himself. I have no doubt, too, that he made the worst of it; for,
+after all, what signifies a dash of extravagance, or a mad freak or two?
+You can't expect that we should all be as wise and as prudent and as
+cool-headed as Black Stapylton."
+
+"You plead very ably, young gentleman," said Dill, with his smoothest
+accent, "but you must give me a little time."
+
+"Well, I'll give you till to-morrow,--to-morrow, at this hour; for
+it wouldn't be fair to the poor fellow to keep him in a state of
+uncertainty. His heart is set on the plan; he told me so."
+
+"I 'll do my best to meet your wishes, my dear young gentleman; but
+please to bear in mind that it is the whole future fate of my son I
+am about to decide. Your father may not, possibly, prove so deeply
+interested as you are; he may--not unreasonably, either--take a colder
+view of this project; he may chance to form a lower estimate of my poor
+boy than it is your good nature to have done."
+
+"Look here, doctor; I know my governor something better than you do, and
+if I wrote to him, and said, 'I want this fellow to come home with a lac
+of rupees,' he 'd start him to-morrow with half the money. If I were to
+say, 'You are to give him the best thing in your gift,' there's nothing
+he 'd stop at; he 'd make him a judge, or a receiver, or some one of
+those fat things that send a man back to England with a fortune. What's
+that fellow whispering to you about? It's something that concerns me."
+
+This sudden interruption was caused by the approach of Darby, who had
+come to whisper something in the doctor's ear.
+
+"It is a message he has brought me; a matter of little consequence.
+I 'll look to it, Darby. Tell your mistress it shall be attended to."
+Darby lingered for a moment, but the doctor motioned him away, and did
+not speak again till he had quitted the spot. "How these fellows will
+wait to pick up what passes between their betters," said Dill, while he
+continued to follow him with his eyes. "I think I mentioned to you once,
+already, that the persons who keep this house here are reduced gentry,
+and it is now my task to add that, either from some change of fortune or
+from caprice, they are thinking of abandoning the inn, and resuming--so
+far as may be possible for them--their former standing. This project
+dates before your arrival here; and now, it would seem, they are
+growing impatient to effect it; at least, a very fussy old lady--Miss
+Barrington--has sent me word by Darby to say her brother will be back
+here tomorrow or next day, with some friends from Kilkenny, and she asks
+at what time your convalescence is likely to permit removal."
+
+"Turned out, in fact, doctor,--ordered to decamp! You must say, I 'm
+ready, of course; that is to say, that I 'll go at once. I don't exactly
+see how I 'm to be moved in this helpless state, as no carriage can
+come here; but you 'll look to all that for me. At all events, go
+immediately, and say I shall be off within an hour or so."
+
+"Leave it all to me,--leave it in my hands. I think I see what is to
+be done," said the doctor, with one of his confident little smiles, and
+moved away.
+
+There was a spice of irritation in Conyers's manner as he spoke. He was
+very little accustomed to be thwarted in anything, and scarcely knew the
+sensation of having a wish opposed, or an obstacle set against him, but
+simply because there was a reason for his quitting the place, grew all
+the stronger his desire to remain there. He looked around him, and never
+before had the foliage seemed so graceful; never had the tints of the
+copper-beech blended so harmoniously with the stone-pine and the
+larch; never had the eddies of the river laughed more joyously, nor the
+blackbirds sung with a more impetuous richness of melody. "And to say
+that I must leave all this, just when I feel myself actually clinging
+to it. I could spend my whole life here. I glory in this quiet, unbroken
+ease; this life, that slips along as waveless as the stream there! Why
+should n't I buy it; have it all my own, to come down to whenever I was
+sick and weary of the world and its dissipations? The spot is small; it
+couldn't be very costly; it would take a mere nothing to maintain. And
+to have it all one's own!" There was an actual ecstasy in the thought;
+for in that same sense of possession there is a something that resembles
+the sense of identity. The little child with his toy, the aged man with
+his proud demesne, are tasters of the same pleasure.
+
+"You are to use your own discretion, my dear young gentleman, and
+go when it suits you, and not before," said the doctor, returning
+triumphantly, for he felt like a successful envoy. "And now I will leave
+you. To-morrow you shall have my answer about Tom."
+
+Conyers nodded vaguely; for, alas! Tom, and all about him, had
+completely lapsed from his memory.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. BEING "BORED"
+
+It is a high testimony to that order of architecture which we call
+castle-building, that no man ever lived in a house so fine he could not
+build one more stately still out of his imagination. Nor is it only to
+grandeur and splendor this superiority extends, but it can invest lowly
+situations and homely places with a charm which, alas! no reality can
+rival.
+
+Conyers was a fortunate fellow in a number of ways; he was young,
+good-looking, healthy, and rich. Fate had made place for him on the very
+sunniest side of the causeway, and, with all that, he was happier on
+that day, through the mere play of his fancy, than all his wealth could
+have made him. He had fashioned out a life for himself in that cottage,
+very charming, and very enjoyable in its way. He would make it such a
+spot that it would have resources for him on every hand, and he hugged
+himself in the thought of coming down here with a friend, or, perhaps,
+two friends, to pass days of that luxurious indolence so fascinating to
+those who are, or fancy they are, wearied of life's pomps and vanities.
+
+Now there are no such scoffers at the frivolity and emptiness of human
+wishes as the well-to-do young fellows of two or three-and-twenty.
+They know the "whole thing," and its utter rottenness. They smile
+compassionately at the eagerness of all around them; they look with
+bland pity at the race, and contemptuously ask, of what value the prize
+when it is won? They do their very best to be gloomy moralists, but they
+cannot. They might as well try to shiver when they sit in the sunshine.
+The vigorous beat of young hearts, and the full tide of young pulses,
+will tell against all the mock misanthropy that ever was fabricated! It
+would not be exactly fair to rank Conyers in this school, and yet he was
+not totally exempt from some of its teachings. Who knows if these little
+imaginary glooms, these brain-created miseries, are not a kind of
+moral "alterative" which, though depressing at the instant, render the
+constitution only more vigorous after?
+
+At all events, he had resolved to have the cottage, and, going
+practically to work, he called Darby to his counsels to tell him the
+extent of the place, its boundaries, and whatever information he could
+afford as to the tenure and its rent.
+
+"You 'd be for buying it, your honor!" said Darby, with the keen
+quick-sightedness of his order.
+
+"Perhaps I had some thoughts of the kind; and, if so, I should keep you
+on."
+
+Darby bowed his gratitude very respectfully. It was too long a vista
+for him to strain his eyes at, and so he made no profuse display of
+thankfulness. With all their imaginative tendencies, the lower Irish are
+a very bird-in-the-hand sort of people.
+
+"Not more than seventeen acres!" cried Conyers, in astonishment. "Why, I
+should have guessed about forty, at least. Isn't that wood there part of
+it?"
+
+"Yes, but it's only a strip, and the trees that you see yonder is in
+Carriclough; and them two meadows below the salmon weir is n't ours at
+all; and the island itself we have only a lease of it."
+
+"It's all in capital repair, well kept, well looked after?"
+
+"Well, it is, and isn't!" said he, with a look of disagreement. "He'd
+have one thing, and she'd have another; _he_ 'd spend every shilling he
+could get on the place, and _she_ 'd grudge a brush of paint, or a coat
+of whitewash, just to keep things together."
+
+"I see nothing amiss here," said Conyers, looking around him. "Nobody
+could ask or wish a cottage to be neater, better furnished, or more
+comfortable. I confess I do not perceive anything wanting."
+
+"Oh, to be sure, it's very nate, as your honor says; but then--" And he
+scratched his head, and looked confused.
+
+"But then, what--out with it?"
+
+"The earwigs is dreadful; wherever there 's roses and sweetbrier there's
+no livin' with them. Open the window and the place is full of them."
+
+Mistaking the surprise he saw depicted in his hearer's face for terror,
+Darby launched forth into a description of insect and reptile tortures
+that might have suited the tropics; to hear him, all the stories of the
+white ant of India, or the gallinipper of Demerara, were nothing to the
+destructive powers of the Irish earwig. The place was known for them all
+over the country, and it was years and years lying empty, "by rayson of
+thim plagues."
+
+Now, if Conyers was not intimidated to the full extent Darby intended by
+this account, he was just as far from guessing the secret cause of
+this representation, which was simply a long-settled plan of succeeding
+himself to the ownership of the "Fisherman's Home," when, either from
+the course of nature or an accident, a vacancy would occur. It was the
+grand dream of Darby's life, the island of his Government, his seat in
+the Cabinet, his Judgeship, his Garter, his everything, in short, that
+makes human ambition like a cup brimful and overflowing; and what a
+terrible reverse would it be if all these hopes were to be dashed just
+to gratify the passing caprice of a mere traveller!
+
+"I don't suppose your honor cares for money, and, maybe, you 'd as soon
+pay twice over the worth of anything; but here, between our two selves,
+I can tell you, you 'd buy an estate in the county cheaper than this
+little place. They think, because they planted most of the trees and
+made the fences themselves, that it's like the King's Park. It's a fancy
+spot, and a fancy price, they'll ask for it But I know of another worth
+ten of it,--a real, elegant place; to be sure, it's a trifle out of
+repair, for the ould naygur that has it won't lay out a sixpence, but
+there 's every con-vaniency in life about it. There's the finest cup
+potatoes, the biggest turnips ever I see on it, and fish jumpin' into
+the parlor-window, and hares runnin' about like rats."
+
+"I don't care for all that; this cottage and these grounds here have
+taken my fancy."
+
+"And why would n't the other, when you seen it? The ould Major that
+lives there wants to sell it, and you 'd get it a raal bargain. Let me
+row your honor up there this evening. It's not two miles off, and the
+river beautiful all the way."
+
+Conyers rejected the proposal abruptly, haughtily. Darby had dared to
+throw down a very imposing card-edifice, and for the moment the fellow
+was odious to him. All the golden visions of his early morning, that
+poetized life he was to lead, that elegant pastoralism, which was to
+blend the splendor of Lucullus with the simplicity of a Tityrus, all
+rent, torn, and scattered by a vile hind, who had not even a conception
+of the ruin he had caused.
+
+And yet Darby had a misty consciousness of some success. He did not,
+indeed, know that his shell had exploded in a magazine; but he saw,
+from the confusion in the garrison, that his shot had told severely
+somewhere.
+
+"Maybe your honor would rather go to-morrow? or maybe you 'd like the
+Major to come up here himself, and speak to you?"
+
+"Once for all, I tell you, No! Is that plain? No! And I may add, my good
+fellow, that if you knew me a little better, you 'd not tender me any
+advice I did not ask for."
+
+"And why would I? Would n't I be a baste if I did?"
+
+"I think so," said Conyers, dryly, and turned away. He was out of temper
+with everything and everybody,--the doctor, and his abject manner;
+Tom, and his roughness; Darby, and his roguish air of self-satisfied
+craftiness; all, for the moment, displeased and offended him. "I 'll
+leave the place to-morrow; I 'm not sure I shall not go to-night D'ye
+hear?"
+
+Darby bowed respectfully.
+
+"I suppose I can reach some spot, by boat, where a carriage can be had?"
+
+"By coorse, your honor. At Hunt's Mills, or Shibna-brack, you 'll get
+a car easy enough. I won't say it will be an elegant convaniency, but a
+good horse will rowl you along into Thomastown, where you can change for
+a shay."
+
+Strange enough, this very facility of escape annoyed him. Had Darby
+only told him that there were all manner of difficulties to getting
+away,--that there were shallows in the river, or a landslip across the
+road,--he would have addressed himself to overcome the obstacles like a
+man; but to hear that the course was open, that any one might take it,
+was intolerable.
+
+"I suppose, your honor, I 'd better get the boat ready, at all events?"
+
+"Yes, certainly,--that is, not till I give further orders. I 'm the
+only stranger here, and I can't imagine there can be much difficulty in
+having a boat at any hour. Leave me, my good fellow; you only worry me.
+Go!"
+
+And Darby moved away, revolving within himself the curious problem, that
+if, having plenty of money enlarged a man's means of enjoyment, it was
+strange how little effect it produced upon his manners. As for Conyers,
+he stood moodily gazing on the river, over whose placid surface a few
+heavy raindrops were just falling; great clouds, too, rolled heavily
+over the hillsides, and gathered into ominous-looking masses over the
+stream, while a low moaning sound of very far-off thunder foretold a
+storm.
+
+Here, at least, was a good tangible grievance, and he hugged it to his
+heart. He was weather-bound! The tree-tops were already shaking wildly,
+and dark scuds flying fast over the mottled sky. It was clear that a
+severe storm was near. "No help for it now," muttered he, "if I must
+remain here till to-morrow." And hobbling as well as he could into
+the house, he seated himself at the window to watch the hurricane. Too
+closely pent up between the steep sides of the river for anything like
+destructive power, the wind only shook the trees violently, or swept
+along the stream with tiny waves, which warred against the current; but
+even these were soon beaten down by the rain,--that heavy, swooping,
+splashing rain, that seems to come from the overflowing of a lake in the
+clouds. Darker and darker grew the atmosphere as it fell, till the banks
+of the opposite side were gradually lost to view, while the river itself
+became a yellow flood, surging up amongst the willows that lined the
+banks. It was not one of those storms whose grand effects of lightning,
+aided by pealing thunder, create a sense of sublime terror, that has its
+own ecstasy; but it was one of those dreary evenings when the dull sky
+shows no streak of light, and when the moist earth gives up no perfume,
+when foliage and hillside and rock and stream are leaden-colored and
+sad, and one wishes for winter, to close the shutter and draw the
+curtain, and creep close to the chimney-corner as to a refuge.
+
+Oh, what comfortless things are these summer storms! They come upon us
+like some dire disaster in a time of festivity. They swoop down upon our
+days of sunshine like a pestilence, and turn our joy into gloom, and
+all our gladness to despondency, bringing back to our minds memories of
+comfortless journeys, weariful ploddings, long nights of suffering.
+
+I am but telling what Conyers felt at this sudden change of weather. You
+and I, my good reader, know better. We feel how gladly the parched earth
+drinks up the refreshing draught, how the seared grass bends gratefully
+to the skimming rain, and the fresh buds open with joy to catch the
+pearly drops. We know, too, how the atmosphere, long imprisoned, bursts
+forth into a joyous freedom, and comes back to us fresh from the sea and
+the mountain rich in odor and redolent of health, making the very air
+breathe an exquisite luxury. We know all this, and much more that he did
+not care for.
+
+Now Conyers was only "bored," as if anything could be much worse; that
+is to say, he was in that state of mind in which resources yield no
+distraction, and nothing is invested with an interest sufficient to make
+it even passingly amusing. He wanted to do something, though the precise
+something did not occur to him. Had he been well, and in full enjoyment
+of his strength, he 'd have sallied out into the storm and walked off
+his ennui by a wetting. Even a cold would be a good exchange for the
+dreary blue-devilism of his depression; but this escape was denied
+him, and he was left to fret, and chafe, and fever himself, moving from
+window to chimney-corner, and from chimney-corner to sofa, till at last,
+baited by self-tormentings, he opened his door and sallied forth to
+wander through the rooms, taking his chance where his steps might lead
+him.
+
+Between the gloomy influences of the storm and the shadows of a
+declining day he could mark but indistinctly the details of the rooms
+he was exploring. They presented little that was remarkable; they were
+modestly furnished, nothing costly nor expensive anywhere, but a degree
+of homely comfort rare to find in an inn. They had, above all, that
+habitable look which so seldom pertains to a house of entertainment,
+and, in the loosely scattered books, prints, and maps showed a sort of
+flattering trustfulness in the stranger who might sojourn there. His
+wanderings led him, at length, into a somewhat more pretentious room,
+with a piano and a harp, at one angle of which a little octangular
+tower opened, with windows in every face, and the spaces between them
+completely covered by miniatures in oil, or small cabinet pictures. A
+small table with a chess-board stood here, and an unfinished game yet
+remained on the board. As Conyers bent over to look, he perceived that a
+book, whose leaves were held open by a smelling-bottle, lay on the chair
+next the table. He took this up, and saw that it was a little volume
+treating of the game, and that the pieces on the board represented a
+problem. With the eagerness of a man thirsting for some occupation, he
+seated himself at the table, and set to work at the question. "A Mate in
+Six Moves" it was headed, but the pieces had been already disturbed by
+some one attempting the solution. He replaced them by the directions of
+the volume, and devoted himself earnestly to the task. He was not a good
+player, and the problem posed him. He tried it again and again, but ever
+unsuccessfully. He fancied that up to a certain point he had followed
+the right track, and repeated the same opening moves each time.
+Meanwhile the evening was fast closing in, and it was only with
+difficulty he could see the pieces on the board.
+
+[Illustration: 126]
+
+Bending low over the table, he was straining his eyes at the game, when
+a low, gentle voice from behind his chair said, "Would you not wish
+candles, sir? It is too dark to see here."
+
+Conyers turned hastily, and as hastily recognized that the person who
+addressed him was a gentlewoman. He arose at once, and made a sort of
+apology for his intruding.
+
+"Had I known you were a chess-player, sir," said she, with the demure
+gravity of a composed manner, "I believe I should have sent you a
+challenge; for my brother, who is my usual adversary, is from home."
+
+"If I should prove a very unworthy enemy, madam, you will find me a very
+grateful one, for I am sorely tired of my own company."
+
+"In that case, sir, I beg to offer you mine, and a cup of tea along with
+it."
+
+[Illustration: 126]
+
+Conyers accepted the invitation joyfully, and followed Miss Barrington
+to a small but most comfortable little room, where a tea equipage of
+exquisite old china was already prepared.
+
+"I see you are in admiration of my teacups; they are the rare Canton
+blue, for we tea-drinkers have as much epicurism in the form and color
+of a cup as wine-bibbers profess to have in a hock or a claret glass.
+Pray take the sofa; you will find it more comfortable than a chair. I am
+aware you have had an accident."
+
+Very few and simple as were her words, she threw into her manner a
+degree of courtesy that seemed actual kindness; and coming, as this did,
+after his late solitude and gloom, no wonder was it that Conyers was
+charmed with it. There was, besides, a quaint formality--a sort of
+old-world politeness in her breeding--which relieved the interview of
+awkwardness by taking it out of the common category of such events.
+
+When tea was over, they sat down to chess, at which Conyers had merely
+proficiency enough to be worth beating. Perhaps the quality stood him
+in good stead; perhaps certain others, such as his good looks and his
+pleasing manners, were even better aids to him; but certain it is, Miss
+Barrington liked her guest, and when, on arising to say good-night, he
+made a bungling attempt to apologize for having prolonged his stay at
+the cottage beyond the period which suited their plans, she stopped
+him by saying, with much courtesy, "It is true, sir, we are about to
+relinquish the inn, but pray do not deprive us of the great pleasure
+we should feel in associating its last day or two with a most agreeable
+guest. I hope you will remain till my brother comes back and makes your
+acquaintance."
+
+Conyers very cordially accepted the proposal, and went off to his bed
+far better pleased with himself and with all the world than he well
+believed it possible he could be a couple of hours before.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. A NOTE TO BE ANSWERED
+
+While Conyers was yet in bed the following morning, a messenger arrived
+at the house with a note for him, and waited for the answer. It was from
+Stapylton, and ran thus:--
+
+"Cobham Hall, Tuesday morning.
+
+"Dear Con.,--The world here--and part of it is a very pretty world, with
+silky tresses and trim ankles--has declared that you have had some sort
+of slight accident, and are laid up at a miserable wayside inn, to
+be blue-devilled and doctored _� discr�tion_. I strained my shoulder
+yesterday hunting,--my horse swerved against a tree,--or I should
+ascertain all the particulars of your disaster in person; so there is
+nothing left for it but a note.
+
+"I am here domesticated at a charming country-house, the host an old
+Admiral, the hostess a _ci-devant_ belle of London,--in times not
+very recent,--and more lately what is called in newspapers 'one of the
+ornaments of the Irish Court.' We have abundance of guests,--county dons
+and native celebrities, clerical, lyrical, and quizzical, several pretty
+women, a first-rate cellar, and a very tolerable cook. I give you the
+catalogue of our attractions, for I am commissioned by Sir Charles and
+my Lady to ask you to partake of them. The invitation is given in all
+cordiality, and I hope you will not decline it, for it is, amongst other
+matters, a good opportunity of seeing an Irish 'interior,' a thing of
+which I have always had my doubts and misgivings, some of which are now
+solved; others I should like to investigate with your assistance. In
+a word, the whole is worth seeing, and it is, besides, one of those
+experiences which can be had on very pleasant terms. There is perfect
+liberty; always something going on, and always a way to be out of it if
+you like. The people are, perhaps, not more friendly than in England,
+but they are far more familiar; and if not more disposed to be pleased,
+they tell you they are, which amounts to the same. There is a good
+deal of splendor, a wide hospitality, and, I need scarcely add, a
+considerable share of bad taste. There is, too, a costly attention to
+the wishes of a guest, which will remind you of India, though I must own
+the Irish Brahmin has not the grand, high-bred air of the Bengalee. But
+again I say, come and see.
+
+"I have been told to explain to you why they don't send their boat.
+There is something about draught of water, and something about a 'gash,'
+whatever that is: I opine it to be a rapid. And then I am directed to
+say, that if you will have yourself paddled up to Brown's Barn, the
+Cobham barge will be there to meet you.
+
+"I write this with some difficulty, lying on my back on a sofa, while a
+very pretty girl is impatiently waiting to continue her reading to me
+of a new novel called 'The Antiquary.' a capital story, but strangely
+disfigured by whole scenes in a Scottish dialect. You must read it when
+you come over.
+
+"You have heard of Hunter, of course. I am sure you will be sorry at his
+leaving us. For myself, I knew him very slightly, and shall not have to
+regret him like older friends; not to say that I have been so long in
+the service that I never believe in a Colonel. Would you go with him
+if he gave you the offer? There is such a row and uproar all around me,
+that I must leave off. Have I forgotten to say that if you stand upon
+the 'dignities,' the Admiral will go in person to invite you, though he
+has a foot in the gout. I conclude you will not exact this, and I _know_
+they will take your acceptance of this mode of invitation as a great
+favor. Say the hour and the day, and believe me yours always,
+
+"Horace Stapylton.
+
+"Sir Charles is come to say that if your accident does not interfere
+with riding, he hopes you will send for your horses. He has ample
+stabling, and is vainglorious about his beans. That short-legged
+chestnut you brought from Norris would cut a good figure here, as the
+fences lie very close, and you must be always 'in hand.' If you saw how
+the women ride! There is one here now--a 'half-bred 'un'--that pounded
+us all--a whole field of us--last Saturday. You shall see her. I won't
+promise you 'll follow her across her country."
+
+The first impression made on the mind of Conyers by this letter was
+surprise that Stapylton, with whom he had so little acquaintance, should
+write to him in this tone of intimacy; Stapylton, whose cold, almost
+stern manner seemed to repel any approach, and now he assumed all the
+free-and-easy air of a comrade of his own years and standing. Had he
+mistaken the man, or had he been misled by inferring from his bearing in
+the regiment what he must be at heart?
+
+This, however, was but a passing thought; the passage which interested
+him most of all was about Hunter. Where and for what could he have left,
+then? It was a regiment he had served in since he entered the army.
+What could have led him to exchange? and why, when he did so, had he not
+written him one line--even one--to say as much? It was to serve under
+Hunter, his father's old aide-de-camp in times back, that he had entered
+that regiment; to be with him, to have his friendship, his counsels, his
+guidance. Colonel Hunter had treated him like a son in every respect,
+and Conyers felt in his heart that this same affection and interest it
+was which formed his strongest tie to the service. The question, "Would
+you go with him if he gave you the offer?" was like a reflection on him,
+while no such option had been extended to him. What more natural, after
+all, than such an offer? so Stapylton thought,--so all the world would
+think. How he thought over the constantly recurring questions of his
+brother-officers: "Why didn't you go with Hunter?" "How came it that
+Hunter did not name you on his staff?" "Was it fair--was it generous
+in one who owed all his advancement to his father--to treat him in this
+fashion?" "Were the ties of old friendship so lax as all this?" "Was
+distance such an enemy to every obligation of affection?" "Would his
+father believe that such a slight had been passed upon him
+undeservedly? Would not the ready inference be, 'Hunter knew you to
+be incapable,--unequal to the duties he required. Hunter must have his
+reasons for passing you over'?" and such like. These reflections,
+very bitter in their way, were broken in upon by a request from Miss
+Barrington for his company at breakfast. Strange enough, he had half
+forgotten that there was such a person in the world, or that he had
+spent the preceding evening very pleasantly in her society.
+
+"I hope you have had a pleasant letter," said she, as he entered, with
+Stapylton's note still in his hand.
+
+"I can scarcely call it so, for it brings me news that our Colonel--a
+very dear and kind friend to me--is about to leave us."
+
+"Are these not the usual chances of a soldier's life? I used to be very
+familiar once on a time with such topics."
+
+"I have learned the tidings so vaguely, too, that I can make nothing of
+them. My correspondent is a mere acquaintance,--a brother officer, who
+has lately joined us, and cannot feel how deeply his news has affected
+me; in fact, the chief burden of his letter is to convey an invitation
+to me, and he is full of country-house people and pleasures. He writes
+from a place called Cobham."
+
+"Sir Charles Cobham's. One of the best houses in the county."
+
+"Do you know them?" asked Conyers, who did not, till the words were out,
+remember how awkward they might prove.
+
+She flushed slightly for a moment, but, speedily recovering herself,
+said: "Yes, we knew them once. They had just come to the country, and
+purchased that estate, when our misfortunes overtook us. They showed
+us much attention, and such kindness as strangers could show, and they
+evinced a disposition to continue it; but, of course, our relative
+positions made intercourse impossible. I am afraid," said she, hastily,
+"I am talking in riddles all this time. I ought to have told you that my
+brother once owned a good estate here. We Barringtons thought a deal of
+ourselves in those days." She tried to say these words with a playful
+levity, but her voice shook, and her lip trembled in spite of her.
+
+Conyers muttered something unintelligible about "his having heard
+before," and his sorrow to have awakened a painful theme; but she
+stopped him hastily, saying, "These are all such old stories now, one
+should be able to talk them over unconcernedly; indeed, it is easier to
+do so than to avoid the subject altogether, for there is no such egotist
+as your reduced gentleman." She made a pretext of giving him his tea,
+and helping him to something, to cover the awkward pause that followed,
+and then asked if he intended to accept the invitation to Cobham.
+
+"Not if you will allow me to remain here. The doctor says three days
+more will see me able to go back to my quarters."
+
+"I hope you will stay for a week, at least, for I scarcely expect my
+brother before Saturday. Meanwhile, if you have any fancy to visit
+Cobham, and make your acquaintance with the family there, remember you
+have all the privileges of an inn here, to come and go, and stay at your
+pleasure."
+
+"I do not want to leave this. I wish I was never to leave it," muttered
+he below his breath.
+
+"Perhaps I guess what it is that attaches you to this place," said she,
+gently. "Shall I say it? There is something quiet, something domestic
+here, that recalls 'Home.'"
+
+"But I never knew a home," said Conyers, falteringly. "My mother died
+when I was a mere infant, and I knew none of that watchful love that
+first gives the sense of home. You may be right, however, in supposing
+that I cling to this spot as what should seem to me like a home, for I
+own to you I feel very happy here."
+
+"Stay then, and be happy," said she, holding out her hand, which he
+clasped warmly, and then pressed to his lips.
+
+"Tell your friend to come over and dine with you any day that he can
+tear himself from gay company and a great house, and I will do my best
+to entertain him suitably."
+
+"No. I don't care to do that; he is a mere acquaintance; there is no
+friendship between us, and, as he is several years older than me, and
+far wiser, and more man of the world, I am more chilled than cheered
+by his company. But you shall read his letter, and I 'm certain you
+'ll make a better guess at his nature than if I were to give you my own
+version of him at any length." So saying, he handed Stapyl-ton's
+note across the table; and Miss Dinah, having deliberately put on her
+spectacles, began to read it.
+
+"It's a fine manly hand,--very bold and very legible, and says something
+for the writer's frankness. Eh? 'a miserable wayside inn!' This is less
+than just to the poor 'Fisherman's Home.' Positively, you must make him
+come to dinner, if it be only for the sake of our character. This man is
+not amiable, sir," said she, as she read on, "though I could swear he is
+pleasant company, and sometimes witty. But there is little of genial in
+his pleasantry, and less of good nature in his wit."
+
+"Go on," cried Conyers; "I 'm quite with you."
+
+"Is he a person of family?" asked she, as she read on some few lines
+further.
+
+"We know nothing about him; he joined us from a native corps, in India;
+but he has a good name and, apparently, ample means. His appearance and
+manner are equal to any station."
+
+"For all that, I don't like him, nor do I desire that you should
+like him. There is no wiser caution than that of the Psalmist against
+'sitting in the seat of the scornful.' This man is a scoffer."
+
+"And yet it is not his usual tone. He is cold, retiring, almost shy.
+This letter is not a bit like anything I ever saw in his character."
+
+"Another reason to distrust him. Set my mind at ease by saying 'No' to
+his invitation, and let me try if I cannot recompense you by homeliness
+in lieu of splendor. The young lady," added she, as she folded the
+letter, "whose horsemanship is commemorated at the expense of her
+breeding, must be our doctor's daughter. She is a very pretty girl, and
+rides admirably. Her good looks and her courage might have saved her the
+sarcasm. I have my doubts if the man that uttered it be thorough-bred."
+
+"Well, I 'll go and write my answer," said Conyers, rising. "I have
+been keeping his messenger waiting all this time. I will show it to you
+before I send it off."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. THE ANSWER
+
+"Will this do?" said Conyers, shortly after, entering the room with
+a very brief note, but which, let it be owned, cost him fully as much
+labor as more practised hands occasionally bestow on a more lengthy
+despatch. "I suppose it's all that's civil and proper, and I don't
+care to make any needless professions. Pray read it, and give me your
+opinion." It was so brief that I may quote it:--
+
+"Dear Captain Stapylton,--Don't feel any apprehensions about me. I am in
+better quarters than I ever fell into in my life, and my accident is not
+worth speaking of. I wish you had told me more of our Colonel, of
+whose movements I am entirely ignorant. I am sincerely grateful to your
+friends for thinking of me, and hope, ere I leave the neighborhood, to
+express to Sir Charles and Lady Cobham how sensible I am of their kind
+intentions towards me.
+
+"I am, most faithfully yours,
+
+"F. CONYERS."
+
+"It is very well, and tolerably legible," said Miss Barrington, dryly;
+"at least I can make out everything but the name at the end."
+
+"I own I do not shine in penmanship; the strange characters at the foot
+were meant to represent 'Conyers.'"
+
+"Conyers! Conyers! How long is it since I heard that name last, and how
+familiar I was with it once! My nephew's dearest friend was a Conyers."
+
+"He must have been a relative of mine in some degree; at least, we are
+in the habit of saying that all of the name are of one family."
+
+Not heeding what he said, the old lady had fallen back in her
+meditations to a very remote "long ago," and was thinking of a time when
+every letter from India bore the high-wrought interest of a romance, of
+which her nephew was the hero,--times of intense anxiety, indeed, but
+full of hope withal, and glowing with all the coloring with which love
+and an exalted imagination can invest the incidents of an adventurous
+life.
+
+"It was a great heart he had, a splendidly generous nature, far too
+high-souled and too exacting for common friendships, and so it was that
+he had few friends. I am talking of my nephew," said she, correcting
+herself suddenly. "What a boon for a young man to have met him, and
+formed an attachment to him. I wish you could have known him. George
+would have been a noble example for you!" She paused for some minutes,
+and then suddenly, as it were remembering herself, said, "Did you tell
+me just now, or was I only dreaming, that you knew Ormsby Conyers?"
+
+"Ormsby Conyers is my father's name," said he, quickly.
+
+"Captain in the 25th Dragoons?" asked she, eagerly.
+
+"He was so, some eighteen or twenty years ago."
+
+"Oh, then, my heart did not deceive me," cried she, taking his hand
+with both her own, "when I felt towards you like an old friend. After
+we parted last night, I asked myself, again and again, how was it that
+I already felt an interest in you? What subtle instinct was it that
+whispered this is the son of poor George's dearest friend,--this is the
+son of that dear Ormsby Conyers of whom every letter is full? Oh, the
+happiness of seeing you under this roof! And what a surprise for my
+poor brother, who clings only the closer, with every year, to all that
+reminds him of his boy!"
+
+"And you knew my father, then?" asked Conyers, proudly.
+
+"Never met him; but I believe I knew him better than many who were his
+daily intimates: for years my nephew's letters were journals of their
+joint lives--they seemed never separate. But you shall read them
+yourself. They go back to the time when they both landed at Calcutta,
+young and ardent spirits, eager for adventure, and urged by a bold
+ambition to win distinction. From that day they were inseparable. They
+hunted, travelled, lived together; and so attached had they become to
+each other, that George writes in one letter: 'They have offered me an
+appointment on the staff, but as this would separate me from Ormsby,
+it is not to be thought of.' It was to me George always wrote, for
+my brother never liked letter-writing, and thus I was my nephew's
+confidante, and intrusted with all his secrets. Nor was there one in
+which your father's name did not figure. It was, how Ormsby got him out
+of this scrape, or took his duty for him, or made this explanation, or
+raised that sum of money, that filled all these. At last--I never knew
+why or how--George ceased to write to me, and addressed all his letters
+to his father, marked 'Strictly private' too, so that I never saw
+what they contained. My brother, I believe, suffered deeply from the
+concealment, and there must have been what to him seemed a sufficient
+reason for it, or he would never have excluded me from that share in his
+confidence I had always possessed. At all events, it led to a sort of
+estrangement between us,--the only one of our lives. He would tell me
+at intervals that George was on leave; George was at the Hills; he was
+expecting his troop; he had been sent here or there; but nothing more,
+till one morning, as if unable to bear the burden longer, he said,
+'George has made up his mind to leave his regiment and take service
+with one of the native princes. It is an arrangement sanctioned by the
+Government, but it is one I grieve over and regret greatly.' I asked
+eagerly to hear further about this step, but he said he knew nothing
+beyond the bare fact. I then said, 'What does his friend Conyers think
+of it?' and my brother dryly replied, 'I am not aware that he has been
+consulted.' Our own misfortunes were fast closing around us, so that
+really we had little time to think of anything but the difficulties that
+each day brought forth. George's letters grew rarer and rarer; rumors
+of him reached us; stories of his gorgeous mode of living, his princely
+state and splendid retinue, of the high favor he enjoyed with the Rajah,
+and the influence he wielded over neighboring chiefs; and then we heard,
+still only by rumor, that he had married a native princess, who had some
+time before been converted to Christianity. The first intimation of the
+fact from himself came, when, announcing that he had sent his daughter,
+a child of about five years old, to Europe to be educated--" She paused
+here, and seemed to have fallen into a revery over the past; when
+Conyers suddenly asked,--
+
+"And what of my father all this time? Was the old intercourse kept up
+between them?"
+
+"I cannot tell you. I do not remember that his name occurred till the
+memorable case came on before the House of Commons--the inquiry, as it
+was called, into Colonel Barrington's conduct in the case of Edwardes, a
+British-born subject of his Majesty, serving in the army of the Rajah of
+Luckerabad. You have, perhaps, heard of it?"
+
+"Was that the celebrated charge of torturing a British subject?"
+
+"The same; the vilest conspiracy that ever was hatched, and the
+cruellest persecution that ever broke a noble heart. And yet there were
+men of honor, men of purest fame and most unblemished character, who
+harkened in to that infamous cry, and actually sent out emissaries to
+India to collect evidence against my poor nephew. For a while the
+whole country rang with the case. The low papers, which assailed the
+Government, made it matter of attack on the nature of the British rule
+in India, and the ministry only sought to make George the victim to
+screen themselves from public indignation. It was Admiral Byng's case
+once more. But I have no temper to speak of it, even after this lapse of
+years; my blood boils now at the bare memory of that foul and perjured
+association. If you would follow the story, I will send you the little
+published narrative to your room, but, I beseech you, do not again
+revert to it. How I have betrayed myself to speak of it I know not. For
+many a long year I have prayed to be able to forgive one man, who has
+been the bitterest enemy of our name and race. I have asked for strength
+to bear the burden of our calamity, but more earnestly a hundred-fold
+I have entreated that forgiveness might enter my heart, and that if
+vengeance for this cruel wrong was at hand, I could be able to say, 'No,
+the time for such feeling is gone by.' Let me not, then, be tempted
+by any revival of this theme to recall all the sorrow and all the
+indignation it once caused me. This infamous book contains the whole
+story as the world then believed it. You will read it with interest, for
+it concerned one whom your father dearly loved. But, again. I say, when
+we meet again let us not return to it. These letters, too, will amuse
+you; they are the diaries of your father's early life in India as much
+as George's, but of them we can talk freely."
+
+It was so evident that she was speaking with a forced calm, and that all
+her self-restraint might at any moment prove unequal to the effort
+she was making, that Conyers, affecting to have a few words to say to
+Stapylton's messenger, stole away, and hastened to his room to look over
+the letters and the volume she had given him.
+
+He had scarcely addressed himself to his task when a knock came to the
+door, and at the same instant it was opened in a slow, half-hesitating
+way, and Tom Dill stood before him. Though evidently dressed for the
+occasion, and intending to present himself in a most favorable guise,
+Tom looked far more vulgar and unprepossessing than in the worn
+costume of his every-day life, his bright-buttoned blue coat and yellow
+waistcoat being only aggravations of the low-bred air that unhappily
+beset him. Worse even than this, however, was the fact that, being
+somewhat nervous about the interview before him, Tom had taken what
+his father would have called a diffusible stimulant, in the shape of "a
+dandy of punch," and bore the evidences of it in a heightened color and
+a very lustrous but wandering eye.
+
+[Illustration: 140]
+
+"Here I am," said he, entering with a sort of easy swagger, but far more
+affected than real, notwithstanding the "dandy."
+
+"Well, and what then?" asked Conyers, haughtily, for the vulgar
+presumption of his manner was but a sorry advocate in his favor. "I
+don't remember, that I sent for you."
+
+"No; but my father told me what you said to him, and I was to come up
+and thank you, and say, 'Done!' to it all."
+
+Conyers turned a look--not a very pleased or very flattering look--at
+the loutish figure before him, and in his changing color might be seen
+the conflict it cost him to keep down his rising temper. He was, indeed,
+sorely tried, and his hand shook as he tossed over the books on his
+table, and endeavored to seem occupied in other matters.
+
+"Maybe you forget all about it," began Tom. "Perhaps you don't remember
+that you offered to fit me out for India, and send me over with a letter
+to your father--"
+
+"No, no, I forget nothing of it; I remember it all." He had almost
+said "only too well," but he coughed down the cruel speech, and went
+on hurriedly: "You have come, however, when I am engaged,--when I have
+other things to attend to. These letters here--In fact, this is not a
+moment when I can attend to you. Do you understand me?"
+
+"I believe I do," said Tom, growing very pale.
+
+"To-morrow, then, or the day after, or next week, will be time enough
+for all this. I must think over the matter again."
+
+"I see," said Tom, moodily, as he changed from one foot to the other,
+and cracked the joints of his fingers, till they seemed dislocated. "I
+see it all."
+
+"What do you mean by that?--what do you see?" asked Conyers, angrily.
+
+"I see that Polly, my sister, was right; that she knew you better than
+any of us," said Tom, boldly, for a sudden rush of courage had now
+filled his heart. "She said, 'Don't let him turn your head, Tom, with
+his fine promises. He was in good humor and good spirits when he made
+them, and perhaps meant to keep them too; but he little knows what
+misery disappointment brings, and he'll never fret himself over the
+heavy heart he's giving you, when he wakes in the morning with a change
+of mind.' And then, she said another thing," added he, after a pause.
+
+"And what was the other thing?"
+
+"She said, 'If you go up there, Tom,' says she, 'dressed out like a
+shopboy in his Sunday suit, he'll be actually shocked at his having
+taken an interest in you. He 'll forget all about your hard lot and
+your struggling fortune, and only see your vulgarity.' 'Your
+vulgarity,'--that was the word." As he said this, his lip trembled, and
+the chair he leaned on shook under his grasp.
+
+"Go back, and tell her, then, that she was mistaken," said Conyers,
+whose own voice now quavered. "Tell her that when I give my word I keep
+it; that I will maintain everything I said to you or to your father;
+and that when she imputed to me an indifference as to the feelings of
+others, she might have remembered whether she was not unjust to mine.
+Tell her that also."
+
+[Illustration: 140]
+
+"I will," said Tom, gravely. "Is there anything more?" "No, nothing
+more," said Conyers, who with difficulty suppressed a smile at the words
+and the manner of his questioner. "Good-bye, then. You 'll send for me
+when you want me," said Tom; and he was out of the room, and half-way
+across the lawn, ere Conyers could recover himself to reply.
+
+Conyers, however, flung open the window, and cried to him to come back.
+
+"I was nigh forgetting a most important part of the matter, Tom," said
+he, as the other entered, somewhat pale and anxious-looking. "You told
+me, t' other day, that there was some payment to be made,--some sum to
+be lodged before you could present yourself for examination. What about
+this? When must it be done?"
+
+"A month before I go in," said Tom, to whom the very thought of the
+ordeal seemed full of terror and heart-sinking.
+
+"And how soon do you reckon that may be?"
+
+"Polly says not before eight weeks at the earliest. She says we 'll
+have to go over Bell on the Bones all again, and brush up the Ligaments,
+besides. If it was the Navy, they 'd not mind the nerves; but they tell
+me the Army fellows often take a man on the fifth pair, and I know if
+they do me, it's mighty little of India I 'll see."
+
+"Plucked, eh?"
+
+"I don't know what you mean by 'plucked,' but I 'd be turned back, which
+is, perhaps, the same. And no great disgrace, either," added he, with
+more of courage in his voice; "Polly herself says there's days she could
+n't remember all the branches of the fifth, and the third is almost as
+bad."
+
+"I suppose if your sister could go up in your place, Tom, you 'd be
+quite sure of your diploma?"
+
+"It's many and many a day I wished that same," sighed he, heavily. "If
+you heard her going over the 'Subclavian,' you 'd swear she had the book
+in her hand."
+
+Conyers could not repress a smile at this strange piece of feminine
+accomplishment, but he was careful not to let Tom perceive it. Not,
+indeed, that the poor fellow was in a very observant mood; Polly's
+perfections, her memory, and her quickness were the themes that filled
+up his mind.
+
+"What a rare piece of luck for you to have had such a sister, Tom!"
+
+"Don't I say it to myself?--don't I repeat the very same words every
+morning when I awake? Maybe I 'll never come to any good; maybe my
+father is right, and that I 'll only be a disgrace as long as I live;
+but I hope one thing, at least, I 'll never be so bad that I 'll forget
+Polly, and all she done for me. And I'll tell you more," said he, with a
+choking fulness in his throat; "if they turn me back at my examination,
+my heart will be heavier for _her_ than for myself."
+
+"Come, cheer up, Tom; don't look on the gloomy side. You 'll pass, I 'm
+certain, and with credit too. Here 's the thirty pounds you 'll have to
+lodge--"
+
+"It is only twenty they require. And, besides, I could n't take it; it's
+my father must pay." He stammered, and hesitated, and grew pale and then
+crimson, while his lips trembled and his chest heaved and fell almost
+convulsively.
+
+"Nothing of the kind, Tom," said Conyers, who had to subdue his own
+emotion by an assumed sternness. "The plan is all my own, and I
+will stand no interference with it. I mean that you should pass your
+examination without your father knowing one word about it. You shall
+come back to him with your diploma, or whatever it is, in your hand,
+and say, 'There, sir, the men who have signed their names to that do not
+think so meanly of me as you do.'"
+
+"And he'd say, the more fools they!" said Tom, with a grim smile.
+
+"At all events," resumed Conyers, "I 'll have my own way. Put that
+note in your pocket, and whenever you are gazetted Surgeon-Major to the
+Guards, or Inspector-General of all the Hospitals in Great Britain, you
+can repay me, and with interest, besides, if you like it."
+
+"You 've given me a good long day to be in your debt," said Tom; and
+he hurried out of the room before his overfull heart should betray his
+emotion.
+
+It is marvellous how quickly a kind action done to another reconciles a
+man to himself. Doubtless conscience at such times condescends to play
+the courtier, and whispers, "What a good fellow you are! and how unjust
+the world is when it calls you cold and haughty and ungenial!" Not that
+I would assert higher and better thoughts than these do not reward him
+who, Samaritan-like, binds up the wounds of misery; but I fear me much
+that few of us resist self-flattery, or those little delicate adulations
+one can offer to his own heart when nobody overhears him.
+
+At all events, Conyers was not averse to this pleasure, and grew
+actually to feel a strong interest for Tom Dill, all because that poor
+fellow had been the recipient of his bounty; for so is it the waters
+of our nature must be stirred by some act of charity or kindness, else
+their healing virtues have small efficacy, and cure not.
+
+And then he wondered and questioned himself whether Polly might not
+possibly be right, and that his "governor" would maryel where and how he
+had picked up so strange a specimen as Tom. That poor fellow, too, like
+many an humble flower, seen not disadvantageously in its native wilds,
+would look strangely out of place when transplanted and treated as an
+exotic. Still he could trust to the wide and generous nature of his
+father to overlook small defects of manner and breeding, and take the
+humble fellow kindly.
+
+Must I own that a considerable share of his hopefulness was derived from
+thinking that the odious blue coat and brass buttons could scarcely
+make part of Tom's kit for India, and that in no other costume known to
+civilized man could his _prot�g�_ look so unprepossessingly?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII. A FEW LEAVES FROM A BLUE-BOOK
+
+The journal which Miss Barrington had placed in Conyers's hands was
+little else than the record of the sporting adventures of two young and
+very dashing fellows. There were lion and tiger hunts, so little varied
+in detail that one might serve for all, though doubtless to the narrator
+each was marked with its own especial interest. There were travelling
+incidents and accidents, and straits for money, and mishaps and arrests,
+and stories of steeple-chases and balls all mixed up together, and
+recounted so very much in the same spirit as to show how very little
+shadow mere misadventure could throw across the sunshine of their
+every-day life. But every now and then Conyers came upon some entry
+which closely touched his heart. It was how nobly Ormsby behaved. What a
+splendid fellow he was! so frank, so generous, such a horseman! "I wish
+you saw the astonishment of the Mahratta fellows as Ormsby lifted
+the tent-pegs in full career; he never missed one. Ormsby won the
+rifle-match; we all knew he would. Sir Peregrine invited Ormsby to go
+with him to the Hills, but he refused, mainly because I was not asked."
+Ormsby has been offered this, that, or t'other; in fact, that one name
+recurred in every second sentence, and always with the same marks of
+affection. How proud, too, did Barrington seem of his friend. "They have
+found out that no country-house is perfect without Ormsby, and he is
+positively persecuted with invitations. I hear the 'G.-G.' is provoked
+at Ormsby's refusal of a staff appointment. I'm in rare luck; the old
+Rajah of Tannanoohr has asked Ormsby to a grand elephant-hunt next week,
+and I 'm to go with him. I 'm to have a leave in October. Ormsby managed
+it somehow; he never fails, whatever he takes in hand. Such a fright
+as I got yesterday! There was a report in the camp Ormsby was going
+to England with despatches; it's all a mistake, however, he says. He
+believes he might have had the opportunity, had he cared for it."
+
+If there was not much in these passing notices of his father, there was
+quite enough to impart to them an intense degree of interest. There is
+a wondrous charm, besides, in reading of the young days of those we have
+only known in maturer life, in hearing of them when they were fresh,
+ardent, and impetuous; in knowing, besides, how they were regarded by
+contemporaries, how loved and valued. It was not merely that Ormsby
+recurred in almost every page of this journal, but the record bore
+testimony to his superiority and the undisputed sway he exercised over
+his companions. This same power of dominating and directing had been
+the distinguishing feature of his after-life, and many an unruly and
+turbulent spirit had been reclaimed under Ormsby Conyers's hands.
+
+As he read on, he grew also to feel a strong interest for the writer
+himself; the very heartiness of the affection he bestowed on his father,
+and the noble generosity with which he welcomed every success of that
+"dear fellow Ormsby," were more than enough to secure his interest for
+him. There was a bold, almost reckless dash, too, about Barrington which
+has a great charm occasionally for very young men. He adventured upon
+life pretty much as he would try to cross a river; he never looked for
+a shallow nor inquired for a ford, but plunged boldly in, and trusted
+to his brave heart and his strong arms for the rest. No one, indeed,
+reading even these rough notes, could hesitate to pronounce which of the
+two would "make the spoon," and which "spoil the horn." Young Conyers
+was eager to find some mention of the incident to which Miss Barrington
+had vaguely alluded. He wanted to read George Barrington's own account
+before he opened the little pamphlet she gave him, but the journal
+closed years before this event; and although some of the letters came
+down to a later date, none approached the period he wanted.
+
+It was not till after some time that he remarked how much more
+unfrequently his father's name occurred in the latter portion of the
+correspondence. Entire pages would contain no reference to him, and in
+the last letter of all there was this towards the end: "After all, I am
+almost sorry that I am first for purchase, for I believe Ormsby is most
+anxious for his troop. I say 'I believe,' for he has not told me so, and
+when I offered to give way to him, he seemed half offended with me.
+You know what a bungler I am where a matter of any delicacy is to be
+treated, and you may easily fancy either that _I_ mismanage the affair
+grossly, or that I am as grossly mistaken. One thing is certain, I 'd
+see promotion far enough, rather than let it make a coldness beween us,
+which could never occur if he were as frank as he used to be. My dear
+aunt, I wish I had your wise head to counsel me, for I have a scheme in
+my mind which I have scarcely courage for without some advice, and for
+many reasons I cannot ask O.'s opinion. Between this and the next mail I
+'ll think it over carefully, and tell you what I intend.
+
+"I told you that Ormsby was going to marry one of the Gpvernor-General's
+daughters. It is all off,--at least, I hear so,--and O. has asked for
+leave to go home. I suspect he is sorely cut up about this, but he
+is too proud a fellow to let the world see it. Report says that Sir
+Peregrine heard that he played. So he does, because he does everything,
+and everything well. If he does go to England, he will certainly pay you
+a visit. Make much of him for my sake; you could not make too much for
+his own."
+
+This was the last mention of his father, and he pondered long and
+thoughtfully over it. He saw, or fancied he saw, the first faint
+glimmerings of a coldness between them, and he hastily turned to the
+printed report of the House of Commons inquiry, to see what part his
+father had taken. His name occurred but once; it was appended to an
+extract of a letter, addressed to him by the Governor-General. It was
+a confidential report, and much of it omitted in publication. It was
+throughout, however, a warm and generous testimony to Barrington's
+character. "I never knew a man," said he, "less capable of anything mean
+or unworthy; nor am I able to imagine any temptation strong enough to
+warp him from what he believed to be right. That on a question of policy
+his judgment might be wrong, I am quite ready to admit, but I will
+maintain that, on a point of honor, he would, and must, be infallible."
+Underneath this passage there was written, in Miss Barrington's hand,
+"Poor George never saw this; it was not published till after his death."
+So interested did young Conyers feel as to the friendship between
+these two men, and what it could have been that made a breach between
+them,--if breach there were,--that he sat a long time without opening
+the little volume that related to the charge against Colonel Barrington.
+He had but to open it, however, to guess the spirit in which it was
+written. Its title was, "The Story of Samuel Ed-wardes, with an Account
+of the Persecutions and Tortures inflicted on him by Colonel George
+Barrington, when serving in command of the Forces of the Meer Nagheer
+Assahr, Rajah of Luckerabad, based on the documents produced before the
+Committee of the House, and private authentic information." Opposite to
+this lengthy title was an ill-executed wood-cut of a young fellow
+tied up to a tree, and being flogged by two native Indians, with the
+inscription at foot: "Mode of celebrating His Majesty's Birthday, 4th of
+June, 18--, at the Residence of Luckerabad."
+
+In the writhing figure of the youth, and the ferocious glee of his
+executioners, the artist had displayed all his skill in expression, and
+very unmistakably shown, besides, the spirit of the publication. I have
+no intention to inflict this upon my reader. I will simply give him--and
+as briefly as I am able--its substance.
+
+The Rajah of Luckerabad, an independent sovereign, living on the best
+of terms with the Government of the Company, had obtained permission to
+employ an English officer in the chief command of his army, a force of
+some twenty-odd thousand, of all arms. It was essential that he should
+be one not only well acquainted with the details of command, but fully
+equal to the charge of organization of a force; a man of energy and
+decision, well versed in Hindostanee, and not altogether ignorant of
+Persian, in which, occasionally, correspondence was carried on. Amongst
+the many candidates for an employment so certain to insure the fortune
+of its possessor, Major Barrington, then a brevet Lieutenant-Colonel,
+was chosen.
+
+It is not improbable that, in mere technical details of his art, he
+might have had many equal and some superior to him; it was well known
+that his personal requisites were above all rivalry. He was a man of
+great size and strength, of a most commanding presence, an accomplished
+linguist in the various dialects of Central India and a great master of
+all manly exercises. To these qualities he added an Oriental taste for
+splendor and pomp. It had always been his habit to live in a style of
+costly extravagance, with the retinue of a petty prince, and when he
+travelled it was with the following of a native chief.
+
+Though, naturally enough, such a station as a separate command gave
+might be regarded as a great object of ambition by many, there was a
+good deal of surprise felt at the time that Barrington, reputedly a man
+of large fortune, should have accepted it; the more so since, by his
+contract, he bound himself for ten years to the Rajah, and thus forever
+extinguished all prospect of advancement in his own service. There were
+all manner of guesses afloat as to his reasons. Some said that he was
+already so embarrassed by his extravagance that it was his only exit out
+of difficulty; others pretended that he was captivated by the gorgeous
+splendor of that Eastern life he loved so well; that pomp, display, and
+magnificence were bribes he could not resist; and a few, who affected
+to see more nearly, whispered that he was unhappy of late, had grown
+peevish and uncompanionable, and sought any change, so that it took him
+out of his regiment. Whatever the cause, he bade his brother-officers
+farewell without revealing it, and set out for his new destination. He
+had never anticipated a life of ease or inaction, but he was equally
+far from imagining anything like what now awaited him. Corruption,
+falsehood, robbery, on every hand! The army was little else than a
+brigand establishment, living on the peasants, and exacting, at the
+sword point, whatever they wanted. There was no obedience to discipline.
+The Rajah troubled himself about nothing but his pleasures, and, indeed,
+passed his days so drugged with opium as to be almost insensible to
+all around him. In the tribunals there was nothing but bribery, and
+the object of every one seemed to be to amass fortunes as rapidly as
+possible, and then hasten away from a country so insecure and dangerous.
+
+For some days after his arrival, Barrington hesitated whether he would
+accept a charge so apparently hopeless; his bold heart, however, decided
+the doubt, and he resolved to remain. His first care was to look about
+him for one or two more trustworthy than the masses, if such there
+should be, to assist him, and the Rajah referred him to his secretary
+for that purpose. It was with sincere pleasure Barring-ton discovered
+that this man was English,--that is, his father had been an Englishman,
+and his mother was a Malabar slave in the Rajah's household: his name
+was Edwardes, but called by the natives Ali Edwardes. He looked about
+sixty, but his real age was about forty-six when Barrington came to the
+Residence. He was a man of considerable ability, uniting all the craft
+and subtlety of the Oriental with the dogged perseverance of the Briton.
+He had enjoyed the full favor of the Rajah for nigh twenty years, and
+was strongly averse to the appointment of an English officer to the
+command of the army, knowing full well the influence it would have over
+his own fortunes. He represented to the Rajah that the Company was
+only intriguing to absorb his dominions with their own; that the new
+Commander-in-chief would be their servant and not his; that it was
+by such machinery as this they secretly possessed themselves of all
+knowledge of the native sovereigns, learned their weakness and their
+strength, and through such agencies hatched those plots and schemes by
+which many a chief had been despoiled of his state.
+
+The Rajah, however, saw that if he had a grasping Government on one
+side, he had an insolent and rebellious army on the other. There was not
+much to choose between them, but he took the side that he thought the
+least bad, and left the rest to Fate.
+
+Having failed with the Rajah, Edwardes tried what he could do with
+Barrington; and certainly, if but a tithe of what he told him were true,
+the most natural thing in the world would have been that he should give
+up his appointment, and quit forever a land so hopelessly sunk in vice
+and corruption. Cunning and crafty as he was, however, he made
+one mistake, and that an irreparable one. When dilating on the
+insubordination of the army, its lawless ways and libertine habits, he
+declared that nothing short of a superior force in the field could have
+any chance of enforcing discipline. "As to a command," said he, "it is
+simply ludicrous. Let any man try it and they will cut him down in the
+very midst of his staff."
+
+That unlucky speech decided the question; and Barring-ton simply said,--
+
+"I have heard plenty of this sort of thing in India; I never saw it,--I
+'ll stay."
+
+Stay he did; and he did more: he reformed that rabble, and made of them
+a splendid force, able, disciplined, and obedient. With the influence of
+his success, added to that derived from the confidence reposed in him
+by the Rajah, he introduced many and beneficial changes into the
+administration; he punished peculators by military law, and brought
+knavish sutlers to the drum-head. In fact, by the exercise of a salutary
+despotism, he rescued the state from an impending bankruptcy and ruin,
+placed its finances in a healthy condition, and rendered the country
+a model of prosperity and contentment. The Rajah had, like most of his
+rank and class, been in litigation, occasionally in armed contention,
+with some of his neighbors,--one especially, an uncle, whom he accused
+of having robbed him, when his guardian, of a large share of his
+heritage. This suit had gone on for years, varied at times by little
+raids into each other's territories, to burn villages and carry away
+cattle. Though with a force more than sufficient to have carried the
+question with a strong hand, Barrington preferred the more civilized
+mode of leaving the matter in dispute to others, and suggested the
+Company as arbitrator. The negotiations led to a lengthy correspondence,
+in which Edwardes and his son, a youth of seventeen or eighteen, were
+actively occupied; and although Barrington was not without certain
+misgivings as to their trustworthiness and honesty, he knew their
+capacity, and had not, besides, any one at all capable of replacing
+them. While these affairs were yet pending, Barrington married the
+daughter of the Meer, a young girl whose mother had been a convert
+to Christianity, and who had herself been educated by a Catholic
+missionary. She died in the second year of her marriage, giving birth
+to a daughter; but Barrington had now become so completely the centre of
+all action in the state, that the Rajah interfered in nothing, leaving
+in his hands the undisputed control of the Government; nay, more, he
+made him his son by adoption, leaving to him not alone all his immense
+personal property, but the inheritance to his throne. Though Barrington
+was advised by all the great legal authorities he consulted in England
+that such a bequest could not be good in law, nor a British subject
+be permitted to succeed to the rights of an Eastern sovereignty, he
+obstinately declared that the point was yet untried; that, however
+theoretically the opinion might be correct, practically the question
+had not been determined, nor had any case yet occurred to rule as a
+precedent on it. If he was not much of a lawyer, he was of a temperament
+that could not brook opposition. In fact, to make him take any
+particular road in life, you had only to erect a barricade on it. When,
+therefore, he was told the matter could not be, his answer was, "It
+shall!" Calcutta lawyers, men deep in knowledge of Oriental law and
+custom, learned Moonshees and Pundits, were despatched by him at
+enormous cost, to England, to confer with the great authorities at home.
+Agents were sent over to procure the influence of great Parliamentary
+speakers and the leaders in the press to the cause. For a matter which,
+in the beginning, he cared scarcely anything, if at all, he had now
+grown to feel the most intense and absorbing interest. Half persuading
+himself that the personal question was less to him than the great
+privilege and right of an Englishman, he declared that he would rather
+die a beggar in the defence of the cause than abandon it. So possessed
+was he, indeed, of his rights, and so resolved to maintain them,
+supported by a firm belief that they would and must be ultimately
+conceded to him, that in the correspondence with the other chiefs every
+reference which spoke of the future sovereignty of Luckerabad included
+his own name and title, and this with an ostentation quite Oriental.
+
+Whether Edwardes had been less warm and energetic in the cause than
+Barrington expected, or whether his counsels were less palatable,
+certain it is he grew daily more and more distrustful of him; but an
+event soon occurred to make this suspicion a certainty.
+
+The negotiations between the Meer and his uncle had been so successfully
+conducted by Barrington, that the latter agreed to give up three
+"Pegunnahs," or villages he had unrightfully seized upon, and to pay a
+heavy mulct, besides, for the unjust occupation of them. This settlement
+had been, as may be imagined, a work of much time and labor, and
+requiring not only immense forbearance and patience, but intense
+watchfulness and unceasing skill and craft. Edwardes, of course, was
+constantly engaged in the affair, with the details of which he had been
+for years familiar. Now, although Barrington was satisfied with the
+zeal he displayed, he was less so with his counsels, Edwardes always
+insisting that in every dealing with an Oriental you must inevitably be
+beaten if you would not make use of all the stratagem and deceit he
+is sure to employ against you. There was not a day on which the wily
+secretary did not suggest some cunning expedient, some clever trick; and
+Barrington's abrupt rejection of them only impressed him with a notion
+of his weakness and deficiency.
+
+One morning--it was after many defeats--Edwardes appeared with the draft
+of a document he had been ordered to draw out, and in which, of his own
+accord, he had made a large use of threats to the neighboring chief,
+should he continue to protract these proceedings. These threats very
+unmistakably pointed to the dire consequences of opposing the great
+Government of the Company; for, as the writer argued, the succession to
+the Ameer being already vested in an Englishman, it is perfectly clear
+the powerful nation he belongs to will take a very summary mode of
+dealing with this question, if not settled before he comes to the
+throne. He pressed, therefore, for an immediate settlement, as the best
+possible escape from difficulty.
+
+Barrington scouted the suggestion indignantly; he would not hear of it.
+
+"What," said he, "is it while these very rights are in litigation that
+I am to employ them as a menace? Who is to secure me being one day Rajah
+of Luckerabad? Not you, certainly, who have never ceased to speak coldly
+of my claims. Throw that draft into the fire, and never propose a like
+one to me again!"
+
+The rebuke was not forgotten. Another draft was, however, prepared, and
+in due time the long-pending negotiations were concluded, the Meer's
+uncle having himself come to Luckerabad to ratify the contract, which,
+being engrossed on a leaf of the Rajah's Koran, was duly signed and
+sealed by both.
+
+It was during the festivities incidental to this visit that
+Edwardes, who had of late made a display of wealth and splendor quite
+unaccountable, made a proposal to the Rajah for the hand of his only
+unmarried daughter, sister to Barrington's wife. The Rajah, long
+enervated by excess and opium, probably cared little about the matter;
+there were, indeed, but a few moments in each day when he could be
+fairly pronounced awake. He referred the question to Barrington. Not
+satisfied with an insulting rejection of the proposal, Barrington, whose
+passionate moments were almost madness, tauntingly asked by what means
+Edwardes had so suddenly acquired the wealth which had prompted this
+demand. He hinted that the sources of his fortune were more than
+suspected, and at last, carried away by anger, for the discussion grew
+violent, he drew from his desk a slip of paper, and held it up. "When
+your father was drummed out of the 4th Bengal Fusiliers for theft, of
+which this is the record, the family was scarcely so ambitious." For
+an instant Edwardes seemed overcome almost to fainting; but he rallied,
+and, with a menace of his clenched hand, but without one word, he
+hurried away before Barrington could resent the insult. It was said that
+he did not return to his house, but, taking the horse of an orderly that
+he found at the door, rode away from the palace, and on the same night
+crossed the frontier into a neighboring state.
+
+It was on the following morning, as Barrington was passing a cavalry
+regiment in review, that young Edwardes, forcing his way through the
+staff, insolently asked, "What had become of his father?" and at the
+same instant levelling a pistol, he fired. The ball passed through
+Barrington's shako, and so close to the head that it grazed it. It was
+only with a loud shout to abstain that Barrington arrested the gleaming
+sabres that now flourished over his head. "Your father has fled,
+youngster!" cried he. "When you show him _that_,"--and he struck him
+across the face with his horsewhip,--"tell him how near you were to have
+been an assassin!" With this savage taunt, he gave orders that the young
+fellow should be conducted to the nearest frontier, and turned adrift.
+Neither father nor son ever were seen there again.
+
+Little did George Barrington suspect what was to come of that morning's
+work. Through what channel Edwardes worked at first was not known,
+but that he succeeded in raising up for himself friends in England
+is certain; by their means the very gravest charges were made against
+Barrington. One allegation was that by a forged document, claiming to be
+the assent of the English Government to his succession, he had obtained
+the submission of several native chiefs to his rule and a cession of
+territory to the Rajah of Luckerabad; and another charged him with
+having cruelly tortured a British subject named Samuel Edwardes,--an
+investigation entered into by a Committee of the House, and becoming,
+while it lasted, one of the most exciting subjects of public interest.
+Nor was the anxiety lessened by the death of the elder Edwardes, which
+occurred during the inquiry, and which Barrington's enemies declared to
+be caused by a broken heart; and the martyred or murdered Edwardes was
+no uncommon heading to a paragraph of the time.
+
+Conyers turned to the massive Blue-book that contained the proceedings
+"in Committee," but only to glance at the examination of witnesses,
+whose very names were unfamiliar to him. He could perceive, however,
+that the inquiry was a long one, and, from the tone of the member at
+whose motion it was instituted, angry and vindictive.
+
+Edwardes appeared to have preferred charges of long continued
+persecution and oppression, and there was native testimony in abundance
+to sustain the allegation; while the British Commissioner sent to
+Luckerabad came back so prejudiced against Barrington, from his proud
+and haughty bearing, that his report was unfavorable to him in all
+respects. There was, it is true, letters from various high quarters,
+all speaking of Barrington's early career as both honorable and
+distinguished; and, lastly, there was one signed Ormsby Conyers, a
+warm-hearted testimony "to the most straightforward gentleman and truest
+friend I have ever known." These were words the young man read and
+re-read a dozen times.
+
+Conyers turned eagerly to read what decision had been come to by the
+Committee, but the proceedings had come abruptly to an end by George
+Barrington's death. A few lines at the close of the pamphlet mentioned
+that, being summoned to appear before the Governor-General in Council
+at Calcutta, Barrington refused. An armed force was despatched to occupy
+Luckerabad, on the approach of which Barrington rode forth to meet them,
+attended by a brilliant staff,--with what precise object none knew; but
+the sight of a considerable force, drawn up at a distance in what seemed
+order of battle, implied at least an intention to resist. Coming on
+towards the advanced pickets at a fast gallop, and not slackening
+speed when challenged, the men, who were Bengal infantry, fired, and
+Barrington fell, pierced by four bullets. He never uttered a word
+after, though he lingered on till evening. The force was commanded by
+Lieutenant-General Conyers.
+
+There was little more to tell. The Rajah, implicated in the charges
+brought against Barrington, and totally unable to defend himself,
+despatched a confidential minister, Meer Mozarjah, to Europe to do what
+he might by bribery. This unhappy blunder filled the measure of his
+ruin, and after a very brief inquiry the Rajah was declared to have
+forfeited his throne and all his rights of succession. The Company took
+possession of Luckerabad, as a portion of British India, but from a
+generous compassion towards the deposed chief, graciously accorded him a
+pension of ten thousand rupees a month during his life.
+
+My reader will bear in mind that I have given him this recital, not
+as it came before Conyers, distorted by falsehood and disfigured by
+misstatements, but have presented the facts as nearly as they might be
+derived from a candid examination of all the testimony adduced. Ere I
+return to my own tale, I ought to add that Edwardes, discredited and
+despised by some, upheld and maintained by others, left Calcutta with
+the proceeds of a handsome subscription raised in his behalf. Whether he
+went to reside in Europe, or retired to some other part of India, is not
+known. He was heard of no more.
+
+As for the Rajah, his efforts still continued to obtain a revision of
+the sentence pronounced upon him, and his case was one of those which
+newspapers slur over and privy councils try to escape from, leaving to
+Time to solve what Justice has no taste for.
+
+But every now and then a Blue-book would appear, headed "East India (the
+deposed Rajah of Luckerabad)," while a line in an evening paper would
+intimate that the Envoy of Meer Nagheer Assahr had arrived at a certain
+West-end hotel to prosecute the suit of his Highness before the Judicial
+Committee of the Lords. How pleasantly does a paragraph dispose of a
+whole life-load of sorrows and of wrongs that, perhaps, are breaking the
+hearts that carry them!
+
+While I once more apologize to my reader for the length to which this
+narrative has run, I owe it to myself to state that, had I presented it
+in the garbled and incorrect version which came before Conyers, and had
+I interpolated all the misconceptions he incurred, the mistakes he first
+fell into and then corrected, I should have been far more tedious and
+intolerable still; and now I am again under weigh, with easy canvas, but
+over a calm sea, and under a sky but slightly clouded.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. BARRINGTON'S FORD
+
+Conyers had scarcely finished his reading when he was startled by the
+galloping of horses under his window; so close, indeed, did they come
+that they seemed to shake the little cottage with their tramp. He looked
+out, but they had already swept past, and were hidden from his view
+by the copse that shut out the river. At the same instant he heard the
+confused sound of many voices, and what sounded to him like the plash of
+horses in the stream.
+
+Urged by a strong curiosity, he hurried downstairs and made straight
+for the river by a path that led through the trees; but before he could
+emerge from the cover he heard cries of "Not there! not there! Lower
+down!" "No, no! up higher! up higher! Head up the stream, or you 'll be
+caught in the gash!" "Don't hurry; you've time enough!"
+
+When he gained the bank, it was to see three horsemen, who seemed to
+be cheering, or, as it might be, warning a young girl who, mounted on a
+powerful black horse, was deep in the stream, and evidently endeavoring
+to cross it. Her hat hung on the back of her neck by its ribbon, and her
+hair had also fallen down; but one glance was enough to show that she
+was a consummate horsewoman, and whose courage was equal to her skill;
+for while steadily keeping her horse's head to the swift current, she
+was careful not to control him overmuch, or impede the free action of
+his powers. Heeding, as it seemed, very little the counsels or warnings
+showered on her by the bystanders, not one of whom, to Conyers's intense
+amazement, had ventured to accompany her, she urged her horse steadily
+forward.
+
+"Don't hurry,--take it easy!" called out one of the horsemen, as he
+looked at his watch. "You have fifty-three minutes left, and it's all
+turf."
+
+"She 'll do it,--I know she will!" "She 'll lose,--she must lose!" "It's
+ten miles to Foynes Gap!" "It's more!" "It's less!" "There!--see!--she's
+in, by Jove! she's in!" These varying comments were now arrested by the
+intense interest of the moment, the horse having impatiently plunged
+into a deep pool, and struck out to swim with all the violent exertion
+of an affrighted animal. "Keep his head up!" "Let him free, quite free!"
+"Get your foot clear of the stirrup!" cried out the bystanders, while
+in lower tones they muttered, "She would cross here!" "It's all her own
+fault!" Just at this instant she turned in her saddle, and called out
+something which, drowned in the rush of the river, did not reach them.
+
+"Don't you see," cried Conyers, passionately, for his temper could no
+longer endure the impassive attitude of this on-looking, "one of the
+reins is broken, her bridle is smashed?"
+
+And, without another word, he sprang into the river, partly wading,
+partly swimming, and soon reached the place where the horse, restrained
+by one rein alone, swam in a small circle, fretted by restraint and
+maddened by inability to resist.
+
+"Leave him to me,--let go your rein," said Conyers, as he grasped
+the bridle close to the bit; and the animal, accepting the guidance,
+suffered himself to be led quietly till he reached the shallow. Once
+there, he bounded wildly forward, and, splashing through the current,
+leaped up the bank, where he was immediately caught by the others.
+
+By the time Conyers had gained the land, the girl had quitted her saddle
+and entered the cottage, never so much as once turning a look on him who
+had rescued her. If he could not help feeling mortified at this show of
+indifference, he was not less puzzled by the manner of the others,
+who, perfectly careless of his dripping condition, discussed amongst
+themselves how the bridle broke, and what might have happened if the
+leather had proved tougher.
+
+"It's always the way with her," muttered one, sulkily.
+
+"I told her to ride the match in a ring-snaffle, but she's a mule in
+obstinacy! She 'd have won easily--ay, with five minutes to spare--if
+she'd have crossed at Nunsford. I passed there last week without wetting
+a girth."
+
+"She 'll not thank _you_ young gentleman, whoever you are," said the
+oldest of the party, turning to Conyers, "for your gallantry. She 'll
+only remember you as having helped her to lose a wager!"
+
+"That's true!" cried another. "I never got as much as thank you for
+catching her horse one day at Lyrath, though it threw me out of the
+whole run afterwards."
+
+"And this was a wager, then?" said Conyers.
+
+"Yes. An English officer that is stopping at Sir Charles's said
+yesterday that nobody could ride from Lowe's Folly to Foynes as the crow
+flies; and four of us took him up--twenty-five pounds apiece--that Polly
+Dill would do it,--and against time, too,--an hour and forty."
+
+"On a horse of mine," chimed in another,--"Bayther-shini"
+
+"I must say it does not tell very well for your chivalry in these
+parts," said Conyers, angrily. "Could no one be found to do the match
+without risking a young girl's life on it?"
+
+A very hearty burst of merriment met this speech, and the elder of the
+party rejoined,--
+
+"You must be very new to this country, or you'd not have said that, sir.
+There's not a man in the hunt could get as much out of a horse as that
+girl."
+
+"Not to say," added another, with a sly laugh, "that the Englishman gave
+five to one against her when he heard she was going to ride."
+
+Disgusted by what he could not but regard as a most disgraceful wager,
+Conyers turned away, and walked into the house.
+
+"Go and change your clothes as fast as you can," said Miss Barrington,
+as she met him in the porch. "I am quite provoked you should have wetted
+your feet in such a cause."
+
+It was no time to ask for explanations; and Conyers hurried away to his
+room, marvelling much at what he had heard, but even more astonished
+by the attitude of cool and easy indifference as to what might have
+imperilled a human life. He had often heard of the reckless habits and
+absurd extravagances of Irish life, but he fancied that they appertained
+to a time long past, and that society had gradually assumed the tone and
+the temper of the English. Then he began to wonder to what class in life
+these persons belonged. The girl, so well as he could see, was certainly
+handsome, and appeared ladylike; and yet, why had she not even by a word
+acknowledged the service he rendered her? And lastly, what could old
+Miss Barrington mean by that scornful speech? These were all great
+puzzles to him, and like many great puzzles only the more embarrassing
+the more they were thought over.
+
+The sound of voices drew him now to the window, and he saw one of the
+riding-party in converse with Darby at the door. They talked in a low
+tone together, and laughed; and then the horseman, chucking a half-crown
+towards Darby, said aloud,--
+
+"And tell her that we 'll send the boat down for her as soon as we get
+back."
+
+Darby touched his hat gratefully, and was about to retire within the
+house when he caught sight of Conyers at the window. He waited till the
+rider had turned the angle of the road, and then said,--
+
+"That's Mr. St. George. They used to call him the Slasher, he killed so
+many in duels long ago; but he 's like a lamb now."
+
+"And the young lady?"
+
+"The young lady is it!" said Darby, with the air of one not exactly
+concurring in the designation. "She's old Dill's daughter, the doctor
+that attends you."
+
+"What was it all about?"
+
+"It was a bet they made with an English captain this morning that she
+'d ride from Lowe's Folly to the Gap in an hour and a half. The Captain
+took a hundred on it, because he thought she 'd have to go round by
+the bridge; and they pretinded the same, for they gave all kinds of
+directions about clearing the carts out of the road, for it's market-day
+at Thomastown; and away went the Captain as hard as he could, to be at
+the bridge first, to 'time her,' as she passed. But he has won the
+money!" sighed he, for the thought of so much Irish coin going into a
+Saxon pocket completely overcame him; "and what's more," added he, "the
+gentleman says it was all your fault!"
+
+"All my fault!" cried Conyers, indignantly. "All my fault! Do they
+imagine that I either knew or cared for their trumpery wager! I saw a
+girl struggling in a danger from which not one of them had the manliness
+to rescue her!"
+
+"Oh, take my word for it," burst in Darby, "it's not courage they want!"
+
+"Then it is something far better than even courage, and I'd like to tell
+them so."
+
+And he turned away as much disgusted with Darby as with the rest of his
+countrymen. Now, all the anger that filled his breast was not in reality
+provoked by the want of gallantry that he condemned; a portion, at
+least, was owing to the marvellous indifference the young lady had
+manifested to her preserver. Was peril such an every-day incident of
+Irish life that no one cared for it, or was gratitude a quality not
+cultivated in this strange land? Such were the puzzles that tormented
+him as he descended to the drawing-room.
+
+As he opened the door, he heard Miss Barrington's voice, in a tone which
+he rightly guessed to be reproof, and caught the words, "Just as unwise
+as it is unbecoming," when he entered.
+
+"Mr. Conyers, Miss Dill," said the old lady, stiffly; "the young
+gentleman who saved you, the heroine you rescued!" The two allocutions
+were delivered with a gesture towards each. To cover a moment of extreme
+awkwardness, Conyers blundered out something about being too happy, and
+a slight service, and a hope of no ill consequences to herself.
+
+"Have no fears on that score, sir," broke in Miss Dinah. "Manly young
+ladies are the hardiest things in nature. They are as insensible to
+danger as they are to--" She stopped, and grew crimson, partly from
+anger and partly from the unspoken word that had almost escaped her.
+
+"Nay, madam," said Polly, quietly, "I am really very much 'ashamed.'"
+And, simple as the words were, Miss Barrington felt the poignancy of
+their application to herself, and her hand trembled over the embroidery
+she was working.
+
+She tried to appear calm, but in vain; her color came and went, and the
+stitches, in spite of her, grew irregular; so that, after a moment's
+struggle, she pushed the frame away, and left the room. While this very
+brief and painful incident was passing, Conyers was wondering to himself
+how the dashing horsewoman, with flushed cheek, flashing eye, and
+dishevelled hair, could possibly be the quiet, demure girl, with a
+downcast look, and almost Quaker-like simplicity of demeanor. It is
+but fair to add, though he himself did not discover it, that the
+contributions of Miss Dinah's wardrobe, to which poor Polly was reduced
+for dress, were not exactly of a nature to heighten her personal
+attractions; nor did a sort of short jacket, and a very much beflounced
+petticoat, set off the girl's figure to advantage. Polly never raised
+her eyes from the work she was sewing as Miss Barrington withdrew, but,
+in a low, gentle voice, said, "It was very good of you, sir, to come
+to my rescue, but you mustn't think ill of my countrymen for not having
+done so; they had given their word of honor not to lead a fence, nor
+open a gate, nor, in fact, aid me in any way."
+
+"So that, if they could win their wager, your peril was of little
+matter," broke he in.
+
+She gave a little low, quiet laugh, perhaps as much at the energy as at
+the words of his speech. "After all," said she, "a wetting is no great
+misfortune; the worst punishment of my offence was one that I never
+contemplated."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked he.
+
+"Doing penance for it in this costume," said she, drawing out the stiff
+folds of an old brocaded silk, and displaying a splendor of flowers
+that might have graced a peacock's tail; "I never so much as dreamed of
+this!"
+
+There was something so comic in the way she conveyed her distress that
+he laughed outright. She joined him; and they were at once at their ease
+together.
+
+"I think Miss Barrington called you Mr. Conyers," said she; "and if
+so, I have the happiness of feeling that my gratitude is bestowed where
+already there has been a large instalment of the sentiment. It is you
+who have been so generous and so kind to my poor brother."
+
+"Has he told you, then, what we have been planning together?"
+
+"He has told me all that _you_ had planned out for him," said she, with
+a very gracious smile, which very slightly colored her cheek, and gave
+great softness to her expression. "My only fear was that the poor boy
+should have lost his head completely, and perhaps exaggerated to himself
+your intentions towards him; for, after all, I can scarcely think--"
+
+"What is it that you can scarcely think?" asked he, after a long pause.
+
+"Not to say," resumed she, unheeding his question, "that I cannot
+imagine how this came about. What could have led him to tell _you_--a
+perfect stranger to him--his hopes and fears, his struggles and his
+sorrows? How could you--by what magic did you inspire him with that
+trustful confidence which made him open his whole heart before you? Poor
+Tom, who never before had any confessor than myself!"
+
+"Shall I tell you how it came about? It was talking of _you!_"
+
+"Of me! talking of me!" and her cheek now flushed more deeply.
+
+"Yes, we had rambled on over fifty themes, not one of which seemed to
+attach him strongly, till, in some passing allusion to his own cares and
+difficulties, he mentioned one who has never ceased to guide and comfort
+him; who shared not alone his sorrows, but his hard hours of labor, and
+turned away from her own pleasant paths to tread the dreary road of toil
+beside him."
+
+"I think he might have kept all this to himself," said she, with a tone
+of almost severity.
+
+"How could he? How was it possible to tell me his story, and not touch
+upon what imparted the few tints of better fortune that lighted it? I'm
+certain, besides, that there is a sort of pride in revealing how much of
+sympathy and affection we have derived from those better than ourselves,
+and I could see that he was actually vain of what you had done for him."
+
+"I repeat, he might have kept this to himself. But let us leave this
+matter; and now tell me,--for I own I can hardly trust my poor brother's
+triumphant tale,--tell me seriously what the plan is?"
+
+Conyers hesitated for a few seconds, embarrassed how to avoid mention of
+himself, or to allude but passingly to his own share in the project. At
+last, as though deciding to dash boldly into the question, he said, "I
+told him, if he 'd go out to India, I 'd give him such a letter to my
+father that his fortune would be secure. My governor is something of a
+swell out there,"--and he reddened, partly in shame, partly in pride, as
+he tried to disguise his feeling by an affectation of ease,--"and that
+with _him_ for a friend, Tom would be certain of success. You smile at
+my confidence, but you don't know India, and what scores of fine things
+are--so to say--to be had for asking; and although doctoring is all very
+well, there are fifty other ways to make a fortune faster. Tom could be
+a Receiver of Revenue; he might be a Political Resident. You don't know
+what they get. There's a fellow at Baroda has four thousand rupees a
+month, and I don't know how much more for d�k-money."
+
+"I can't help smiling," said she, "at the notion of poor Tom in a
+palanquin. But, seriously, sir, is all this possible? or might it not be
+feared that your father, when he came to see my brother--who, with many
+a worthy quality, has not much to prepossess in his favor,--when, I
+say, he came to see your _prot�g�_ is it not likely that he
+might--might--hold him more cheaply than you do?"
+
+"Not when he presents a letter from me; not when it's I that have taken
+him up. You 'll believe me, perhaps, when I tell you what happened when
+I was but ten years old. We were up at Rangoon, in the Hills, when a
+dreadful hurricane swept over the country, destroying everything before
+it; rice, paddy, the indigo-crop, all were carried away, and the poor
+people left totally destitute. A subscription-list was handed about
+amongst the British residents, to afford some aid in the calamity, and
+it was my tutor, a native Moonshee, who went about to collect the sums.
+One morning he came back somewhat disconsolate at his want of success.
+A payment of eight thousand rupees had to be made for grain on that day,
+and he had not, as he hoped and expected, the money ready. He talked
+freely to me of his disappointment, so that, at last, my feelings being
+worked upon, I took up my pen and wrote down my name on the list, with
+the sum of eight thousand rupees to it Shocked at what he regarded as
+an act of levity, he carried the paper to my father, who at once said,
+'Fred wrote it; his name shall not be dishonored;' and the money was
+paid. I ask you, now, am I reckoning too much on one who could do that,
+and for a mere child too?"
+
+"That was nobly done," said she, with enthusiasm; and though Conyers
+went on, with warmth, to tell more of his father's generous nature,
+she seemed less to listen than to follow out some thread of her own
+reflections. Was it some speculation as to the temperament the son of
+such a father might possess? or was it some pleasurable revery regarding
+one who might do any extravagance and yet be forgiven? My reader may
+guess this, perhaps,--I cannot. Whatever her speculation, it lent a
+very charming expression to her features,--that air of gentle, tranquil
+happiness we like to believe the lot of guileless, simple natures.
+
+Conyers, like many young men of his order, was very fond of talking of
+himself, of his ways, his habits, and his temper, and she listened to
+him very prettily,--so prettily, indeed, that when Darby, slyly peeping
+in at the half-opened door, announced that the boat had come, he felt
+well inclined to pitch the messenger into the stream.
+
+"I must go and say good-bye to Miss Barrington," said Polly, rising. "I
+hope that this rustling finery will impart some dignity to my demeanor."
+And drawing wide the massive folds, she made a very deep courtesy,
+throwing back her head haughtily as she resumed her height in admirable
+imitation of a bygone school of manners.
+
+[Illustration: 166]
+
+"Very well,--very well, indeed! Quite as like what it is meant for as is
+Miss Polly Dill for the station she counterfeits!" said Miss Dinah, as,
+throwing wide the door, she stood before them.
+
+"I am overwhelmed by your flattery, madam," said Polly, who, though
+very red, lost none of her self-possession; "but I feel that, like
+the traveller who tried on Charlemagne's armor, I am far more equal to
+combat in my every-day clothes."
+
+[Illustration: 166]
+
+"Do not enter the lists with me in either," said Miss Dinah, with a look
+of the haughtiest insolence. "Mr. Conyers, will you let me show you my
+flower-garden?"
+
+"Delighted! But I will first see Miss Dill to her boat." "As you please,
+sir," said the old lady; and she withdrew with a proud toss of her head
+that was very unmistakable in its import.
+
+"What a severe correction that was!" said Polly, half gayly, as she went
+along, leaning on his arm. "And _you_ know that, whatever my
+offending, there was no mimicry in it. I was simply thinking of some
+great-grandmother who had, perhaps, captivated the heroes of Dettingen;
+and, talking of heroes, how courageous of you to come to my rescue!"
+
+Was it that her arm only trembled slightly, or did it really press
+gently on his own as she said this? Certainly Conyers inclined to the
+latter hypothesis, for he drew her more closely to his side, and said,
+"Of course I stood by you. She was all in the wrong, and I mean to tell
+her so."
+
+"Not if you would serve me," said she, eagerly. "I have paid the
+penalty, and I strongly object to be sentenced again. Oh, here's the
+boat!"
+
+"Why it's a mere skiff. Are you safe to trust yourself in such a thing?"
+asked he, for the canoe-shaped "cot" was new to him.
+
+"Of course!" said she, lightly stepping in. "There is even room for
+another." Then, hastily changing her theme, she asked, "May I tell poor
+Tom what you have said to me, or is it just possible that you will come
+up one of these days and see us?"
+
+"If I might be permitted--"
+
+"Too much honor for us!" said she, with such a capital imitation of his
+voice and manner that he burst into a laugh in spite of himself.
+
+"Mayhap Miss Bamngton was not so far wrong: after all, you _are_ a
+terrible mimic."
+
+"Is it a promise, then? Am I to say to my brother you will come?" said
+she, seriously.
+
+"Faithfully!" said he, waving his hand, for the boatmen had already got
+the skiff under weigh, and were sending her along like an arrow from a
+bow.
+
+Polly turned and kissed her hand to him, and Conyers muttered something
+over his own stupidity for not being beside her, and then turned sulkily
+back towards the cottage. A few hours ago and he had thought he
+could have passed his life here; there was a charm in the unbroken
+tranquillity that seemed to satisfy the longings of his heart, and
+now, all of a sudden, the place appeared desolate. Have you never, dear
+reader, felt, in gazing on some fair landscape, with mountain and stream
+and forest before you, that the scene was perfect, wanting nothing in
+form or tone or color, till suddenly a flash of strong sunlight from
+behind a cloud lit up some spot with a glorious lustre, to fade away as
+quickly into the cold tint it had worn before? Have you not felt then,
+I say, that the picture had lost its marvellous attraction, and that the
+very soul of its beauty had departed? In vain you try to recall the
+past impression; your memory will mourn over the lost, and refuse to
+be comforted. And so it is often in life: the momentary charm that
+came unexpectedly can become all in all to our imaginations, and its
+departure leave a blank, like a death, behind it.
+
+Nor was he altogether satisfied with Miss Barrington. The "old
+woman"--alas! for his gallantry, it was so that he called her to
+himself--was needlessly severe. Why should a mere piece of harmless
+levity be so visited? At all events, he felt certain that he himself
+would have shown a more generous spirit. Indeed, when Polly had quizzed
+him, he took it all good-naturedly, and by thus turning his thoughts to
+his natural goodness and the merits of his character, he at length
+grew somewhat more well-disposed to the world at large. He knew he
+was naturally forgiving, and he felt he was very generous. Scores of
+fellows, bred up as he was, would have been perfectly unendurable;
+they would have presumed on their position, and done this, that, and t'
+other. Not one of them would have dreamed of taking up a poor ungainly
+bumpkin, a country doctor's cub, and making a man of him; not one of
+them would have had the heart to conceive or the energy to carry out
+such a project. And yet this he would do. Polly herself, sceptical as
+she was, should be brought to admit that he had kept his word. Selfish
+fellows would limit their plans to their own engagements, and weak
+fellows could be laughed out of their intentions; but _he_ flattered
+himself that he was neither of these, and it was really fortunate that
+the world should see how little spoiled a fine nature could be, though
+surrounded with all the temptations that are supposed to be dangerous.
+
+In this happy frame--for he was now happy--he reentered the cottage.
+"What a coxcomb!" will say my reader. Be it so. But it was a coxcomb who
+wanted to be something better.
+
+Miss Barrington met him in the porch, not a trace of her late
+displeasure on her face, but with a pleasant smile she said, "I have
+just got a few lines from my brother. He writes in excellent spirits,
+for he has gained a lawsuit; not a very important case, but it puts us
+in a position to carry out a little project we are full of. He will be
+here by Saturday, and hopes to bring with him an old and valued friend,
+the Attorney-General, to spend a few days with us. I am, therefore,
+able to promise you an ample recompense for all the loneliness of your
+present life. I have cautiously abstained from telling my brother who
+you are; I keep the delightful surprise for the moment of your meeting.
+Your name, though associated with some sad memories, will bring him back
+to the happiest period of his life."
+
+Conyers made some not very intelligible reply about his reluctance
+to impose himself on them at such a time, but she stopped him with a
+good-humored smile, and said,--
+
+"Your father's son should know that where a Barrington lived he had
+a home,--not to say you have already paid some of the tribute of this
+homeliness, and seen me very cross and ill-tempered. Well, let us not
+speak of that now. I have your word to remain here." And she left him to
+attend to her household cares, while he strolled into the garden, half
+amused, half embarrassed by all the strange and new interests that had
+grown up so suddenly around him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV. AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION
+
+Whether from simple caprice, or that Lady Cobham desired to mark her
+disapprobation of Polly Dill's share in the late wager, is not open to
+me to say, but the festivities at Cob-ham were not, on that day, graced
+or enlivened by her presence. If the comments on her absence were brief,
+they were pungent, and some wise reflections, too, were uttered as to
+the dangers that must inevitably attend all attempts to lift people into
+a sphere above their own. Poor human nature! that unlucky culprit who
+is flogged for everything and for everybody, bore the brunt of these
+severities, and it was declared that Polly had done what any other
+girl "in her rank of life" might have done; and this being settled, the
+company went to luncheon, their appetites none the worse for the small
+_auto-da-f�_ they had just celebrated.
+
+"You'd have lost your money, Captain," whispered Ambrose Bushe to
+Stapylton, as they stood talking together in a window recess, "if that
+girl had only taken the river three hundred yards higher up. Even as it
+was, she 'd have breasted her horse at the bank if the bridle had not
+given way. I suppose you have seen the place?"
+
+"I regret to say I have not. They tell me it's one of the strongest
+rapids in the river."
+
+"Let me describe it to you," replied he; and at once set about a picture
+in which certainly no elements of peril were forgotten, and all the
+dangers of rocks and rapids were given with due emphasis. Stapylton
+seemed to listen with fitting attention, throwing out the suitable
+"Indeed! is it possible!" and such-like interjections, his mind,
+however, by no means absorbed by the narrative, but dwelling solely on a
+chance name that had dropped from the narrator.
+
+"You called the place 'Barrington's Ford,'" said he, at last. "Who is
+Barrington?"
+
+"As good a gentleman by blood and descent as any in this room, but now
+reduced to keep a little wayside inn,--the 'Fisherman's Home,' it is
+called. All come of a spendthrift son, who went out to India, and ran
+through every acre of the property before he died."
+
+"What a strange vicissitude! And is the old man much broken by it?"
+
+"Some would say he was; my opinion is, that he bears up wonderfully.
+Of course, to me, he never makes any mention of the past; but while my
+father lived, he would frequently talk to him over bygones, and liked
+nothing better than to speak of his son, Mad George as they called him,
+and tell all his wildest exploits and most harebrained achievements.
+But you have served yourself in India. Have you never heard of George
+Barrington?"
+
+Stapylton shook his head, and dryly added that India was very large,
+and that even in one Presidency a man might never hear what went on in
+another.
+
+"Well, this fellow made noise enough to be heard even over here. He
+married a native woman, and he either shook off his English allegiance,
+or was suspected of doing so. At all events, he got himself into trouble
+that finished him. It's a long complicated story, that I have never
+heard correctly. The upshot was, however, old Barrington was sold out
+stick and stone, and if it was n't for the ale-house he might starve."
+
+"And his former friends and associates, do they rally round him and
+cheer him?"
+
+"Not a great deal. Perhaps, however, that's as much his fault as theirs.
+He is very proud, and very quick to resent anything like consideration
+for his changed condition. Sir Charles would have him up here,--he has
+tried it scores of times, but all in vain; and now he is left to two or
+three of his neighbors, the doctor and an old half-pay major, who lives
+on the river, and I believe really he never sees any one else. Old
+M'Cormick knew George Barrington well; not that they were friends,--two
+men less alike never lived; but that's enough to make poor Peter fond of
+talking to him, and telling all about some lawsuits George left him for
+a legacy."
+
+"This Major that you speak of, does he visit here? I don't remember to
+have seen him."
+
+"M'Cormick!" said the other, laughing. "No, he 's a miserly old fellow
+that has n't a coat fit to go out in, and he's no loss to any one. It's
+as much as old Peter Barrington can do to bear his shabby ways, and his
+cranky temper, but he puts up with everything because he knew his son
+George. That's quite enough for old Peter; and if you were to go over
+to the cottage, and say, 'I met your son up in Bombay or Madras; we were
+quartered together at Ram-something-or-other,' he 'd tell you the place
+was your own, to stop at as long as you liked, and your home for life."
+
+"Indeed!" said Stapylton, affecting to feel interested, while he
+followed out the course of his own thoughts.
+
+"Not that the Major could do even that much!" continued Bushe, who now
+believed that he had found an eager listener. "There was only one thing
+in this world he'd like to talk about,--Walcheren. Go how or when you
+liked, or where or for what,--no matter, it was Walcheren you 'd get,
+and nothing else."
+
+"Somewhat tiresome this, I take it!"
+
+"Tiresome is no name for it! And I don't know a stronger proof of old
+Peter's love for his son's memory, than that, for the sake of hearing
+about him, he can sit and listen to the 'expedition.'"
+
+There was a half-unconscious mimicry in the way he gave the last
+word that showed how the Major's accents had eaten their way into his
+sensibilities.
+
+"Your portrait of this Major is not tempting," said Stapylton, smiling.
+
+"Why would it? He's eighteen or twenty years in the neighborhood, and I
+never heard that he said a kind word or did a generous act by any one.
+But I get cross if I talk of him. Where are you going this morning? Will
+you come up to the Long Callows and look at the yearlings? The Admiral
+is very proud of his young stock, and he thinks he has some of the best
+bone and blood in Ireland there at this moment."
+
+"Thanks, no; I have some notion of a long walk this morning. I take
+shame to myself for having seen so little of the country here since I
+came that I mean to repair my fault and go off on a sort of voyage of
+discovery."
+
+"Follow the river from Brown's Barn down to Inistioge, and if you
+ever saw anything prettier I'm a Scotchman." And with this appalling
+alternative, Mr. Bushe walked away, and left the other to his own
+guidance.
+
+Perhaps Stapylton is not the companion my reader would care to stroll
+with, even along the grassy path beside that laughing river, with
+spray-like larches bending overhead, and tender water-lilies streaming,
+like pennants, in the fast-running current. It may be that he or she
+would prefer some one more impressionable to the woodland beauty of the
+spot, and more disposed to enjoy the tranquil loveliness around him; for
+it is true the swarthy soldier strode on, little heeding the picturesque
+effects which made every succeeding reach of the river a subject for a
+painter. He was bent on finding out where M'Cormick lived, and on making
+the acquaintance of that bland individual.
+
+"That's the Major's, and there's himself," said a countryman, as he
+pointed to a very shabbily dressed old man hoeing his cabbages in
+a dilapidated bit of garden-ground, but who was so absorbed in his
+occupation as not to notice the approach of a stranger.
+
+"Am I taking too great a liberty," said Stapylton, as he raised his
+hat, "if I ask leave to follow the river path through this lovely spot?"
+
+"Eh--what?--how did you come? You didn't pass round by the young wheat,
+eh?" asked M'Cormick, in his most querulous voice.
+
+"I came along by the margin of the river."
+
+"That's just it!" broke in the other. "There's no keeping them out
+that way. But I 'll have a dog as sure as my name is Dan. I'll have a
+bull-terrier that'll tackle the first of you that's trespassing there."
+
+"I fancy I'm addressing Major M'Cormick," said Stapylton, never noticing
+this rude speech; "and if so, I will ask him to accord me the privilege
+of a brother-soldier, and let me make myself known to him,--Captain
+Stapylton, of the Prince's Hussars."
+
+"By the wars!" muttered old Dan; the exclamation being a favorite one
+with him to express astonishment at any startling event. Then recovering
+himself, he added, "I think I heard there were three or four of ye
+stopping up there at Cobham; but I never go out myself anywhere. I live
+very retired down here."
+
+"I am not surprised at that. When an old soldier can nestle down in a
+lovely nook like this, he has very little to regret of what the world is
+busy about outside it."
+
+"And they are all ruining themselves, besides," said M'Cormick, with
+one of his malicious grins. "There's not a man in this county is n't
+mortgaged over head and ears. I can count them all on my fingers for
+you, and tell what they have to live on."
+
+"You amaze me," said Stapylton, with a show of interest
+
+"And the women are as bad as the men: nothing fine enough for them to
+wear; no jewels rich enough to put on! Did you ever hear them mention
+_me?_" asked he, suddenly, as though the thought flashed upon him that
+he had himself been exposed to comment of a very different kind.
+
+"They told me of an old retired officer, who owned a most picturesque
+cottage, and said, if I remember aright, that the view from one of the
+windows was accounted one of the most perfect bits of river landscape in
+the kingdom."
+
+"Just the same as where you 're standing,--no difference in life,"
+said M'Cormick, who was not to be seduced by the flattery into any
+demonstration of hospitality.
+
+"I cannot imagine anything finer," said Stapylton, as he threw himself
+at the foot of a tree, and seemed really to revel in enjoyment of the
+scene. "One might, perhaps, if disposed to be critical, ask for a little
+opening in that copse yonder. I suspect we should get a peep at the bold
+cliff whose summit peers above the tree-tops."
+
+"You'd see the quarry, to be sure," croaked out the Major, "if that's
+what you mean."
+
+"May I offer you a cigar?" said Stapylton, whose self-possession was
+pushed somewhat hard by the other. "An old campaigner is sure to be a
+smoker."
+
+"I am not. I never had a pipe in my mouth since Walcheren."
+
+"Since Walcheren! You don't say that you are an old Walcheren man?"
+
+"I am, indeed. I was in the second battalion of the 103d,--the Duke's
+Fusiliers, if ever you heard of them."
+
+"Heard of them! The whole world has heard of them; but I did n't know
+there was a man of that splendid corps surviving. Why, they lost--let me
+see--they lost every officer but--" Here a vigorous effort to keep his
+cigar alight interposed, and kept him occupied for a few seconds. "How
+many did you bring out of action,--four was it, or five? I'm certain you
+had n't six!"
+
+"We were the same as the Buffs, man for man," said M'Cormick.
+
+"The poor Buffs!--very gallant fellows too!" sighed Stapylton. "I
+have always maintained, and I always will maintain, that the Walcheren
+expedition, though not a success, was the proudest achievement of the
+British arms."
+
+"The shakes always began after sunrise, and in less than ten minutes you
+'d see your nails growing blue."
+
+"How dreadful!"
+
+"And if you felt your nose, you would n't know it was your nose; you 'd
+think it was a bit of a cold carrot."
+
+"Why was that?"
+
+"Because there was no circulation; the blood would stop going round; and
+you 'd be that way for four hours,--till the sweating took you,--just
+the same as dead."
+
+"There, don't go on,--I can't stand it,--my nerves are all ajar
+already."
+
+"And then the cramps came on," continued M'Cormick, in an ecstasy over
+a listener whose feelings he could harrow; "first in the calves of the
+legs, and then all along the spine, so that you 'd be bent like a fish."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, spare me! I've seen some rough work, but that
+description of yours is perfectly horrifying! And when one thinks it was
+the glorious old 105th--"
+
+"No, the 103d; the 105th was at Barbadoes," broke in the Major, testily.
+
+"So they were, and got their share of the yellow fever at that very time
+too," said Stapylton, hazarding a not very rash conjecture.
+
+"Maybe they did, and maybe they didn't," was the dry rejoinder.
+
+It required all Stapylton's nice tact to get the Major once more full
+swing at the expedition, but he at last accomplished the feat, and with
+such success that M'Cormick suggested an adjournment within doors,
+and faintly hinted at a possible something to drink. The wily guest,
+however, declined this. "He liked," he said, "that nice breezy spot
+under those fine old trees, and with that glorious reach of the river
+before them. Could a man but join to these enjoyments," he continued,
+"just a neighbor or two,--an old friend or so that he really liked,--one
+not alone agreeable from his tastes, but to whom the link of early
+companionship also attached us, with this addition I could call this a
+paradise."
+
+"Well, I have the village doctor," croaked out M'Cor-mick, "and there's
+Barrington--old Peter--up at the 'Fisherman's Home.' I have _them_ by
+way of society. I might have better, and I might have worse."
+
+"They told me at Cobham that there was no getting you to 'go out;' that,
+like a regular old soldier, you liked your own chimney-corner, and could
+not be tempted away from it."
+
+"They didn't try very hard, anyhow," said he, harshly. "I'll be nineteen
+years here if I live till November, and I think I got two invitations,
+and one of them to a 'dancing tea,' whatever that is; so that you may
+observe they did n't push the temptation as far as St. Anthony's!"
+
+Stapylton joined in the laugh with which M'Cormick welcomed his own
+drollery.
+
+"Your doctor," resumed he, "is, I presume, the father of the pretty girl
+who rides so cleverly?"
+
+"So they tell me. I never saw her mounted but once, and she smashed a
+melon-frame for me, and not so much as 'I ask your pardon!' afterwards."
+
+"And Barrington," resumed Stapylton, "is the ruined gentleman I have
+heard of, who has turned innkeeper. An extravagant son, I believe,
+finished him?"
+
+"His own taste for law cost him just as much," muttered M'Cormick. "He
+had a trunk full of old title-deeds and bonds and settlements, and he
+was always poring over them, discovering, by the way, flaws in this and
+omissions in that, and then he 'd draw up a case for counsel, and get
+consultations on it, and before you could turn round, there he was,
+trying to break a will or get out of a covenant, with a special jury and
+the strongest Bar in Ireland. That's what ruined him."
+
+"I gather from what you tell me that he is a bold, determined, and
+perhaps a vindictive man. Am I right?"
+
+"You are not; he's an easy-tempered fellow, and careless, like every
+one of his name and race. If you said he hadn't a wise head on his
+shoulders, you 'd be nearer the mark. Look what he 's going to do now!"
+cried he, warming with his theme: "he 's going to give up the inn--"
+
+"Give it up! And why?"
+
+"Ay, that's the question would puzzle him to answer; but it's the
+haughty old sister persuades him that he ought to take this black
+girl--George Barrington's daughter--home to live with him, and that a
+shebeen is n't the place to bring her to, and she a negress. That's more
+of the family wisdom!"
+
+"There may be affection in it."
+
+"Affection! For what,--for a black! Ay, and a black that they never set
+eyes on! If it was old Withering had the affection for her, I wouldn't
+be surprised."
+
+"What do you mean? Who is he?"
+
+"The Attorney-General, who has been fighting the East India Company for
+her these sixteen years, and making more money out of the case than
+she 'll ever get back again. Did you ever hear of Barrington and Lot
+Rammadahn Mohr against the India Company? That's the case. Twelve
+millions of rupees and the interest on them! And I believe in my heart
+and soul old Peter would be well out of it for a thousand pounds."
+
+"That is, you suspect he must be beaten in the end?"
+
+"I mean that I am sure of it! We have a saying in Ireland, 'It's not
+fair for one man to fall on twenty,' and it's just the same thing to go
+to law with a great rich Company. You 're sure to have the worst of it."
+
+"Did it never occur to them to make some sort of compromise?"
+
+"Not a bit of it. Old Peter always thinks he has the game in his hand,
+and nothing would make him throw up the cards. No; I believe if you
+offered to pay the stakes, he 'd say, 'Play the game out, and let the
+winner take the money!'"
+
+"His lawyer may, possibly, have something to say to this spirit."
+
+"Of course he has; they are always bolstering each other up. It is,
+'Barrington, my boy, you 'll turn the corner yet. You 'll drive up that
+old avenue to the house you were born in, Barrington, of Barrington
+Hall;' or, 'Withering, I never heard you greater than on that point
+before the twelve Judges;' or, 'Your last speech at Bar was finer than
+Curran.' They'd pass the evening that way, and call me a cantankerous
+old hound when my back was turned, just because I did n't hark in to the
+cry. Maybe I have the laugh at them, after all." And he broke out into
+one of his most discordant cackles to corroborate his boast.
+
+"The sound sense and experience of an old Walcheren man might have its
+weight with them. I know it would with me."
+
+"Ay," muttered the Major, half aloud, for he was thinking to
+himself whether this piece of flattery was a bait for a little
+whiskey-and-water.
+
+"I 'd rather have the unbought judgment of a shrewd man of the
+world than a score of opinions based upon the quips and cranks of an
+attorney's instructions."
+
+"Ay!" responded the other, as he mumbled to himself, "he's mighty
+thirsty."
+
+"And what's more," said Stapylton, starting to his legs, "I 'd follow
+the one as implicitly as I'd reject the other. I 'd say, 'M'Cormick is
+an old friend; we have known each other since boyhood.'"
+
+"No, we haven't I never saw Peter Barrington till I came to live here."
+
+"Well, after a close friendship of years with his son--"
+
+"Nor that, either," broke in the implacable Major. "He was always
+cutting his jokes on me, and I never could abide him, so that the close
+friendship you speak of is a mistake."
+
+"At all events," said Stapylton, sharply, "it could be no interest of
+yours to see an old--an old acquaintance lavishing his money on lawyers
+and in the pursuit of the most improbable of all results. _You_ have no
+design upon him. _You_ don't want to marry his sister!"
+
+"No, by Gemini! "--a favorite expletive of the Major's in urgent
+moments.
+
+"Nor the Meer's daughter, either, I suppose?"
+
+"The black! I think not. Not if she won the lawsuit, and was as rich
+as--she never will be."
+
+"I agree with you there, Major, though I know nothing of the case or its
+merits; but it is enough to hear that a beggared squire is on one side,
+and Leadenhall Street on the other, to predict the upshot, and, for my
+own part, I wonder they go on with it."
+
+"I'll tell you how it is," said M'Cormick, closing one eye so as to
+impart a look of intense cunning to his face. "It's the same with law as
+at a fox-hunt: when you 're tired out beating a cover, and ready to go
+off home, one dog--very often the worst in the whole pack--will yelp
+out. You know well enough he's a bad hound, and never found in his life.
+What does that signify? When you 're wishing a thing, whatever flatters
+your hopes is all right,--is n't that true?--and away you dash after the
+yelper as if he was a good hound."
+
+"You have put the matter most convincingly before me."
+
+"How thirsty he is now!" thought the Major; and grinned maliciously at
+his reflection.
+
+"And the upshot of all," said Stapylton, like one summing up a
+case,--"the upshot of all is, that this old man is not satisfied with
+his ruin if it be not complete; he must see the last timbers of the
+wreck carried away ere he leaves the scene of his disaster. Strange, sad
+infatuation!"
+
+"Ay," muttered the Major, who really had but few sympathies with merely
+moral abstractions.
+
+"Not what I should have done in a like case; nor _you_ either, Major,
+eh?"
+
+"Very likely not"
+
+"But so it is. There are men who cannot be practical, do what they will.
+This is above them."
+
+A sort of grunt gave assent to this proposition; and Stapylton, who
+began to feel it was a drawn game, arose to take his leave.
+
+"I owe you a very delightful morning, Major," said he. "I wish I could
+think it was not to be the last time I was to have this pleasure. Do you
+ever come up to Kilkenny? Does it ever occur to you to refresh your old
+mess recollections?"
+
+Had M'Cormick been asked whether he did not occasionally drop in at
+Holland House, and brush up his faculties by intercourse with the bright
+spirits who resorted there, he could scarcely have been more astounded.
+That he, old Dan M'Cormick, should figure at a mess-table,--he, whose
+wardrobe, a mere skeleton battalion thirty years ago, had never since
+been recruited,--he should mingle with the gay and splendid young
+fellows of a "crack" regiment!
+
+"I'd just as soon think of--of--" he hesitated how to measure an
+unlikelihood-- "of marrying a young wife, and taking her off to Paris!"
+
+"And I don't see any absurdity in the project There is certainly a great
+deal of brilliancy about it!"
+
+"And something bitter too!" croaked out M'Cormick, with a fearful grin.
+
+"Well, if you'll not come to see me, the chances are I'll come over and
+make _you_ another visit before I leave the neighborhood." He waited a
+second or two, not more, for some recognition of this offer; but none
+came, and he con-tinned: "I'll get you to stroll down with me, and show
+me this 'Fisherman's Home,' and its strange proprietor."
+
+"Oh, I 'll do _that!_" said the Major, who had no objection to a plan
+which by no possibility could involve himself in any cost.
+
+"As it is an inn, perhaps they 'd let us have a bit of dinner. What
+would you say to being my guest there tomorrow? Would that suit you?"
+
+"It would suit _me_ well enough!" was the strongly marked reply.
+
+"Well, we 'll do it this wise. You 'll send one of your people over
+to order dinner for two at--shall we say five o'clock?--yes,
+five--to-morrow. That will give us a longer evening, and I 'll call here
+for you about four. Is that agreed?"
+
+"Yes, that might do," was M'Cormick's half-reluctant assent, for, in
+reality, there were details in the matter that he scarcely fancied.
+First of all, he had never hitherto crossed that threshold except as an
+invited guest, and he had his misgivings about the prudence of appearing
+in any other character, and secondly, there was a responsibility in
+ordering the dinner, which he liked just as little, and, as he muttered
+to himself, "Maybe I 'll have to order the bill too!"
+
+Some unlucky experiences of casualties of this sort had, perhaps,
+shadowed his early life; for so it was, that long after Stapylton had
+taken his leave and gone off, the Major stood there ruminating over this
+unpleasant contingency, and ingeniously imagining all the pleas he
+could put in, should his apprehension prove correct, against his own
+indebtedness.
+
+"Tell Miss Dinah," said he to his messenger,--"tell her 't is an officer
+by the name of Captain Staples, or something like that, that 's up at
+Cobham, that wants a dinner for two to-morrow at five o'clock; and mind
+that you don't say who the other is, for it's nothing to her. And if
+she asks you what sort of a dinner, say the best in the house, for the
+Captain--mind you say the Captain--is to pay for it, and the other man
+only dines with him. There, now, you have your orders, and take care
+that you follow them!"
+
+There was a shrewd twinkle in the messenger's eye as he listened, which,
+if not exactly complimentary, guaranteed how thoroughly he comprehended
+the instructions that were given to him; and the Major saw him set forth
+on his mission, well assured that he could trust his envoy.
+
+In that nothing-for-nothing world Major M'Cormick had so long lived in,
+and to whose practice and ways he had adapted all his thoughts, there
+was something puzzling in the fact of a dashing Captain of Hussars of
+"the Prince's Own," seeking him out, to form his acquaintance and invite
+him to dinner. Now, though the selfishness of an unimaginative man is
+the most complete of all, it yet exposes him to fewer delusions than the
+same quality when found allied with a hopeful or fanciful temperament.
+M'Cormick had no "distractions" from such sources. He thought very ill
+of the world at large; he expected extremely little from its generosity,
+and he resolved to be "quits" with it. To his often put question, "What
+brought him here?--what did he come for?" he could find no satisfactory
+reply. He scouted the notion of "love of scenery, solitude, and so
+forth," and as fully he ridiculed to himself the idea of a stranger
+caring to hear the gossip and small-talk of a mere country neighborhood.
+"I have it!" cried he at last, as a bright thought darted through his
+brain,--"I have it at last! He wants to pump me about the 'expedition.'
+It's for that he's come. He affected surprise, to be sure, when I said
+I was a Walcheren man, and pretended to be amazed, besides; but that was
+all make-believe. He knew well enough who and what I was before he
+came. And he was so cunning, leading the conversation away in another
+direction, getting me to talk of old Peter and his son George. Wasn't
+it deep?--was n't it sly? Well, maybe we are not so innocent as we look,
+ourselves; maybe we have a trick in our sleeves too! 'With a good dinner
+and a bottle of port wine,' says he, 'I 'll have the whole story, and
+be able to write it with the signature "One who was there."' But you 're
+mistaken this time, Captain; the sorrow bit of Walcheren you 'll hear
+out of my mouth to-morrow, be as pleasant and congenial as you like.
+I 'll give you the Barringtons, father and son,--ay, and old Dinah, too,
+if you fancy her,--but not a syllable about the expedition. It's the
+Scheldt you want, but you 'll have to 'take it out' in the Ganges." And
+his uncouth joke so tickled him that he laughed till his eyes ran over;
+and in the thought that he was going to obtain a dinner under false
+pretences, he felt something as nearly like happiness as he had tasted
+for many a long day before.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI. COMING HOME
+
+Miss Barrtngton waited with impatience for Conyers's appearance at
+the breakfast-table,--she had received such a pleasant note from her
+brother, and she was so eager to read it. That notion of imparting some
+conception of a dear friend by reading his own words to a stranger is
+a very natural one. It serves so readily to corroborate all we have
+already said, to fill up that picture of which wo have but given the
+mere outline, not to speak of the inexplicable charm there is in being
+able to say, "Here is the man without reserve or disguise; here he is in
+all the freshness and warmth of genuine feeling; no tricks of style, no
+turning of phrases to mar the honest expression of his nature. You see
+him as we see him."
+
+"My brother is coming home, Mr. Conyers; he will be here to-day. Here
+is his note," said Miss Dinah, as she shook hands with her guest "I must
+read it for you:--
+
+"'At last, my dear Dinah--at last I am free, and, with all my love of
+law and lawyers, right glad to turn my steps homeward. Not but I
+have had a most brilliant week of it; dined with my old schoolfellow
+Longmore, now Chief Baron, and was the honored guest of the "Home
+Circuit," not to speak of one glorious evening with a club called the
+"Unbriefed," the pleasantest dogs that ever made good speeches for
+nothing!--an amount of dissipation upon which I can well retire and live
+for the next twelve months. How strange it seems to me to be once more
+in the "world," and listening to scores of things in which I have no
+personal interest; how small it makes my own daily life appear, but how
+secure and how homelike, Dinah! You have often heard me grumbling over
+the decline of social agreeability, and the dearth of those pleasant
+speeches that could set the table in a roar. You shall never hear the
+same complaint from me again. These fellows are just as good as their
+fathers. If I missed anything, it was that glitter of scholarship, that
+classical turn which in the olden day elevated table-talk, and made it
+racy with the smart aphorisms and happy conceits of those who, even over
+their wine, were poets and orators. But perhaps I am not quite fair
+even in this. At all events, I am not going to disparage those who have
+brought back to my old age some of the pleasant memories of my youth,
+and satisfied me that even yet I have a heart for those social joys I
+once loved so dearly!
+
+"'And we have won our suit, Dinah,--at least, a juror was withdrawn by
+consent,--and Brazier agrees to an arbitration as to the Moyalty lands,
+the whole of Clanebrach and Barrymaquilty property being released from
+the sequestration.'
+
+"This is all personal matter, and technical besides," said Miss
+Barrington; "so I skip it."
+
+"'Withering was finer than ever I heard him in the speech to evidence.
+We have been taunted with our defensive attitude so suddenly converted
+into an attack, and he compared our position to Wellington's at Torres
+Vedras. The Chief Justice said Curran, at his best, never excelled it,
+and they have called me nothing but Lord Wellington ever since. And now,
+Dinah, to answer the question your impatience has been putting these ten
+minutes: "What of the money part of all this triumph?" I fear much,
+my dear sister, we are to take little by our motion. The costs of the
+campaign cut up all but the glory! Hogan's bill extends to thirty-eight
+folio pages, and there's a codicil to it of eleven more, headed
+"Confidential between Client and Attorney," and though I have not in
+a rapid survey seen anything above five pounds, the gross total is two
+thousand seven hundred and forty-three pounds three and fourpence. I
+must and will say, however, it was a great suit, and admirably prepared.
+There was not an instruction Withering did not find substantiated,
+and Hogan is equally delighted with _him_, With all my taste for field
+sports and manly games, Dinah, I am firmly convinced that a good trial
+at bar is a far finer spectacle than the grandest tournament that
+ever was tilted. There was a skirmish yesterday that I 'd rather
+have witnessed than I 'd have seen Brian de Bois himself at
+Ashby-de-la-Zouch. And, considering that my own share for this passage
+at arms will come to a trifle above two thousand pounds, the confession
+may be taken as an honest one.
+
+"'And who is your young guest whom I shall be so delighted to see? This
+gives no clew to him, Dinah, for you know well how I would welcome any
+one who has impressed you so favorably. Entreat of him to prolong his
+stay for a week at least, and if I can persuade Withering to come down
+with me, we 'll try and make his sojourn more agreeable. Look out for
+me--at least, about five o'clock--and have the green-room ready for W.,
+and let Darby be at Holt's stile to take the trunks, for Withering likes
+that walk through the woods, and says that he leaves his wig and gown on
+the holly-bushes there till he goes back.'"
+
+The next paragraph she skimmed over to herself. It was one about an
+advance that Hogan had let him have of two hundred pounds. "Quite
+ample," W. says, "for our excursion to fetch over Josephine." Some
+details as to the route followed, and some wise hints about travelling
+on the Continent, and a hearty concurrence on the old lawyer's part with
+the whole scheme.
+
+"These are little home details," said she, hurriedly, "but you have
+heard enough to guess what my brother is like. Here is the conclusion:--
+
+"'I hope your young friend is a fisherman, which will give me more
+chance of his company than walking up the partridges, for which I am
+getting too old. Let him however understand that we mean him to enjoy
+himself in his own way, to have the most perfect liberty, and that the
+only despotism we insist upon is, not to be late for dinner.
+
+"'Your loving brother,
+
+"'Peter Barrington.
+
+"'There is no fatted calf to feast our return, Dinah, but Withering
+has an old weakness for a roast sucking-pig. Don't you think we could
+satisfy it?'"
+
+Conyers readily caught the contagion of the joy Miss Barrington felt
+at the thought of her brother's return. Short as the distance was that
+separated him from home, his absences were so rare, it seemed as
+though he had gone miles and miles away, for few people ever lived more
+dependent on each other, with interests more concentrated, and all of
+whose hopes and fears took exactly the same direction, than this brother
+and sister, and this, too, with some strong differences on the score of
+temperament, of which the reader already has an inkling.
+
+What a pleasant bustle that is of a household that prepares for the
+return of a well-loved master! What feeling pervades twenty little
+offices of every-day routine! And how dignified by affection are the
+smallest cares and the very humblest attentions! "He likes this!" "He
+is so fond of that!" are heard at every moment It is then that one marks
+how the observant eye of love has followed the most ordinary tricks of
+habit, and treasured them as things to be remembered. It is not the key
+of the street door in your pocket, nor the lease of the premises in your
+drawer, that make a home. Let us be grateful when we remember that, in
+this attribute, the humblest shealing on the hillside is not inferior to
+the palace of the king!
+
+Conyers, I have said, partook heartily of Miss Barring-ton's delight,
+and gave a willing help to the preparations that went forward. All were
+soon busy within doors and without. Some were raking the gravel before
+the door; while others were disposing the flower-pots in little pyramids
+through the grass plats; and then there were trees to be nailed up, and
+windows cleaned, and furniture changed in various ways. What superhuman
+efforts did not Conyers make to get an old jet d'eau to play which
+had not spouted for nigh twenty years; and how reluctantly he resigned
+himself to failure and assisted Betty to shake a carpet!
+
+And when all was completed, and the soft and balmy air sent the odor of
+the rose and the jessamine through the open windows, within which every
+appearance of ease and comfort prevailed, Miss Barrington sat down
+at the piano and began to refresh her memory of some Irish airs, old
+favorites of Withering's, which he was sure to ask for. There was that
+in their plaintive wildness which strongly interested Conyers; while,
+at the same time, he was astonished at the skill of one at whose touch,
+once on a time, tears had trembled in the eyes of those who listened,
+and whose fingers had not yet forgot their cunning.
+
+"Who is that standing without there?" said Miss Barrington, suddenly, as
+she saw a very poor-looking countryman who had drawn close to the
+window to listen. "Who are you? and what do you want here?" asked she,
+approaching him.
+
+"I 'm Terry, ma'am,--Terry Delany, the Major's man," said he, taking off
+his hat.
+
+"Never heard of you; and what 's your business?"
+
+"'T is how I was sent, your honor's reverence," began he, faltering at
+every word, and evidently terrified by her imperious style of address.
+"'Tis how I came here with the master's compliments,--not indeed his own
+but the other man's,--to say, that if it was plazing to you, or, indeed,
+anyhow at all, they 'd be here at five o'clock to dinner; and though
+it was yesterday I got it, I stopped with my sister's husband at Foynes
+Gap, and misremembered it all till this morning, and I hope your honor's
+reverence won't tell it on me, but have the best in the house all the
+same, for he's rich enough and can well afford it."
+
+"What can the creature mean?" cried Miss Barrington. "Who sent you
+here?"
+
+"The Major himself; but not for him, but for the other that's up at
+Cobham."
+
+"And who is this other? What is he called?"
+
+"'Twas something like Hooks, or Nails; but I can't remember," said he,
+scratching his head in sign of utter and complete bewilderment.
+
+"Did any one ever hear the like! Is the fellow an idiot?" exclaimed she,
+angrily.
+
+"No, my lady; but many a one might be that lived with ould M'Cormick!"
+burst out the man, in a rush of unguardedness.
+
+"Try and collect yourself, my good fellow," said Miss Barrington,
+smiling, in spite of herself, at his confession, "and say, if you can,
+what brought you here?"
+
+"It's just, then, what I said before," said he, gaining a little more
+courage. "It's dinner for two ye're to have; and it's to be ready at
+five o'clock; but ye 're not to look to ould Dan for the money, for he
+as good as said he would never pay sixpence of it, but 't is all to come
+out of the other chap's pocket, and well affordin' it. There it is
+now, and I defy the Pope o' Rome to say that I did n't give the message
+right!"
+
+"Mr. Conyers," began Miss Barrington, in a voice shaking with agitation,
+"it is nigh twenty years since a series of misfortunes brought us so low
+in the world that--" She stopped, partly overcome by indignation, partly
+by shame; and then, suddenly turning towards the man, she continued,
+in a firm and resolute tone, "Go back to your master and say, 'Miss
+Barrington hopes he has sent a fool on his errand, otherwise his message
+is so insolent it will be far safer he should never present himself here
+again!' Do you hear me? Do you understand me?"
+
+"If you mane you'd make them throw him in the river, the divil a straw I
+'d care, and I would n't wet my feet to pick him out of it!"
+
+"Take the message as I have given it you, and do not dare to mix up
+anything of your own with it."
+
+"Faix, I won't. It's trouble enough I have without that! I 'll tell him
+there's no dinner for him here to-day, and that, if he 's wise, he won't
+come over to look for it."
+
+"There, go--be off," cried Conyers, impatiently, for he saw that Miss
+Barrington's temper was being too sorely tried.
+
+She conquered, however, the indignation that at one moment had
+threatened to master her, and in a voice of tolerable calm said,--
+
+"May I ask you to see if Darby or any other of the workmen are in the
+garden? It is high time to take down these insignia of our traffic, and
+tell our friends how we would be regarded in future."
+
+"Will you let me do it? I ask as a favor that I may be permitted to do
+it," cried Conyers, eagerly; and without waiting for her answer, hurried
+away to fetch a ladder. He was soon back again and at work.
+
+"Take care how you remove that board, Mr. Conyers," said she. "If there
+be the tiniest sprig of jessamine broken, my brother will miss it. He
+has been watching anxiously for the time when the white bells would shut
+out every letter of his name, and I like him not to notice the change
+immediately. There, you are doing it very handily indeed. There is
+another holdfast at this corner. Ah, be careful; that is a branch of
+the passion-tree, and though it looks dead, you will see it covered with
+flowers in spring. Nothing could be better. Now for the last emblem of
+our craft,--can you reach it?"
+
+"Oh, easily," said Conyers, as he raised his eyes to where the little
+tin fish hung glittering above him. The ladder, however, was too short,
+and, standing on one of the highest rungs, still he could not reach the
+little iron stanchion. "I must have it, though," cried he; "I mean to
+claim that as my prize. It will be the only fish I ever took with my
+own hands." He now cautiously crept up another step of the ladder,
+supporting himself by the frail creepers which covered the walls. "Help
+me now with a crooked stick, and I shall catch it."
+
+[Illustration: 190]
+
+"I'll fetch you one," said she, disappearing within the porch.
+
+Still wistfully looking at the object of his pursuit, Conyers never
+turned his eyes downwards as the sound of steps apprised him some one
+was near, and, concluding it to be Miss Barrington, he said, "I'm half
+afraid that I have torn some of this jessamine-tree from the wall; but
+see here's the prize!" A slight air of wind had wafted it towards
+him, and he suatched the fish from its slender chain and held it up in
+triumph.
+
+"A poacher caught in the fact, Barrington!" said a deep voice from
+below; and Conyers, looking down, saw two men, both advanced in life,
+very gravely watching his proceedings.
+
+Not a little ashamed of a situation to which he never expected an
+audience, he hastily descended the ladder; but before he reached the
+ground Miss Barrington was in her brother's arms, and welcoming him home
+with all the warmth of true affection. This over, she next shook hands
+cordially with his companion, whom she called Mr. Withering.
+
+"And now, Peter," said she, "to present one I have been longing to make
+known to you. You, who never forget a well-known face, will recognize
+him."
+
+"My eyes are not what they used to be," said Barrington, holding out his
+hand to Conyers, "but they are good enough to see the young gentleman I
+left here when I went away."
+
+"Yes, Peter," said she, hastily; "but does the sight of him bring back
+to you no memory of poor George?"
+
+"George was dark as a Spaniard, and this gentleman--But pray, sir,
+forgive this rudeness of ours, and let us make ourselves better
+acquainted within doors. You mean to stay some time here, I hope."
+
+"I only wish I could; but I have already overstayed my leave, and waited
+here only to shake your hand before I left."
+
+[Illustration: 190]
+
+"Peter, Peter," said Miss Dinah, impatiently, "must I then tell whom you
+are speaking to?"
+
+Barrington seemed pazzled. He looked from the stranger to his sister,
+and back again.
+
+She drew near and whispered in his ear: "The son of poor George's
+dearest friend on earth,--the son of Ormsby Conyers."
+
+"Of whom?" said Barrington, in a startled and half-angry voice.
+
+"Of Ormsby Conyers."
+
+Barrington trembled from head to foot; his face, for an instant crimson,
+became suddenly of an ashy paleness, and his voice shook as he said,--
+
+"I was not--I am not--prepared for this honor. I mean, I could not have
+expected that Mr. Conyers would have desired--Say this--do this for me,
+Withering, for I am not equal to it," said the old man, as, with his
+hands pressed over his face, he hurried within the house, followed by
+his sister.
+
+"I cannot make a guess at the explanation my friend has left me to
+make," cried Withering, courteously; "but it is plain to see that your
+name has revived some sorrow connected with the great calamity of his
+life. You have heard of his son, Colonel Barrington?"
+
+"Yes, and it was because my father had been his dearest friend that Miss
+Barrington insisted on my remaining here. She told me, over and over
+again, of the joy her brother would feel on meeting me--"
+
+"Where are you going,--what's the matter?" asked Withering, as a man
+hurriedly passed out of the house and made for the river.
+
+"The master is taken bad, sir, and I 'm going to Inistioge for the
+doctor."
+
+"Let me go with you," said Conyers; and, only returning by a nod the
+good-bye of Withering, he moved past and stepped into the boat.
+
+"What an afternoon to such a morning!" muttered he to himself, as the
+tears started from his eyes and stole heavily along his cheeks.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII. A SHOCK
+
+If Conyers had been in the frame of mind to notice it, the contrast
+between the neat propriety of the "Fisherman's Home," and the disorder
+and slovenliness of the little inn at Inistioge could not have failed
+to impress itself upon him. The "Spotted Duck" was certainly, in all its
+details, the very reverse of that quiet and picturesque cottage he had
+just quitted. But what did he care at that moment for the roof that
+sheltered him, or the table that was spread before him? For days back he
+had been indulging in thoughts of that welcome which Miss Barrington had
+promised him. He fancied how, on the mere mention of his father's name,
+the old man's affection would have poured forth in a flood of kindest
+words; he had even prepared himself for a scene of such emotion as a
+father might have felt on seeing one who brought back to mind his own
+son's earlier years; and instead of all this, he found himself shunned,
+avoided, repulsed. If there was a thing on earth in which his pride was
+greatest, it was his name; and yet it was on the utterance of that word,
+"Conyers," old Barrington turned away and left him.
+
+Over and over again had he found the spell of his father's name and
+title opening to him society, securing him attentions, and obtaining
+for him that recognition and acceptance which go so far to make life
+pleasurable; and now that word, which would have had its magic at a
+palace, fell powerless and cold at the porch of a humble cottage.
+
+To say that it was part of his creed to believe his father could do
+no wrong is weak. It was his whole belief,--his entire and complete
+conviction. To his mind his father embodied all that was noble,
+high-hearted, and chivalrous. It was not alone the testimony of those
+who served under him could be appealed to. All India, the Government
+at home, his own sovereign knew it. From his earliest infancy he had
+listened to this theme, and to doubt it seemed like to dispute the fact
+of his existence. How was it, then, that this old man refused to accept
+what the whole world had stamped with its value? Was it that he impugned
+the services which had made his father's name famous throughout the
+entire East?
+
+He endeavored to recall the exact words Barrington had used towards
+him, but he could not succeed. There was something, he thought, about
+intruding, unwarrantably intruding; or it might be a mistaken impression
+of the welcome that awaited him. Which was it? or was it either of them?
+At all events, he saw himself rejected and repulsed, and the indignity
+was too great to be borne.
+
+While he thus chafed and fretted, hours went by; and Mr. M'Cabe, the
+landlord, had made more than one excursion into the room, under pretence
+of looking after the fire, or seeing that the windows were duly
+closed, but, in reality, very impatient to learn his guest's intentions
+regarding dinner.
+
+"Was it your honor said that you'd rather have the chickens roast than
+biled?" said he at last, in a very submissive tone.
+
+"I said nothing of the kind."
+
+"Ah, it was No. 5 then, and I mistook; I crave your honor's pardon."
+Hoping that the chord he had thus touched might vibrate, he stooped down
+to arrange the turf, and give time for the response, but none came. Mr.
+M'Cabe gave a faint sigh, but returned to the charge. "When there's the
+laste taste of south in the wind, there 's no making this chimney draw."
+
+Not a word of notice acknowledged this remark.
+
+"But it will do finely yet; it's just the outside of the turf is a
+little wet, and no wonder; seven weeks of rain--glory be to Him that
+sent it--has nearly desthroyed us."
+
+Still Conyers vouchsafed no reply.
+
+"And when it begins to rain here, it never laves off. It isn't like in
+your honor's country. Your honor is English?"
+
+A grunt,--it might be assent, it sounded like malediction.
+
+"'T is azy seen. When your honor came out of the boat, I said, 'Shusy,'
+says I, 'he's English; and there's a coat they could n't make in Ireland
+for a king's ransom.'"
+
+"What conveyances leave this for Kilkenny?" asked Conyers, sternly.
+
+"Just none at all, not to mislead you," said M'Cabe, in a voice quite
+devoid of its late whining intonation.
+
+"Is there not a chaise or a car to be had?"
+
+"Sorrow one. Dr. Dill has a car, to be sure, but not for hire."
+
+"Oh, Dr. Dill lives here. I forgot that. Go and tell him I wish to see
+him."
+
+The landlord withdrew in dogged silence, but returned in about ten
+minutes, to say that the doctor had been sent for to the "Fisherman's
+Home," and Mr. Barrington was so ill it was not likely he would be back
+that night.
+
+"So ill, did you say?" cried Conyers. "What was the attack,--what did
+they call it?"
+
+"'T is some kind of a 'plexy, they said. He's a full man, and advanced
+in years, besides."
+
+"Go and tell young Mr. Dill to come over here."
+
+"He's just gone off with the cuppin' instruments. I saw him steppin'
+into the boat."
+
+"Let me have a messenger; I want a man to take a note up to Miss
+Barrington, and fetch my writing-desk here."
+
+In his eager anxiety to learn how Mr. Barrington was, Conyers hastily
+scratched off a few lines; but on reading them over, he tore them up:
+they implied a degree of interest on his part which, considering the
+late treatment extended to him, was scarcely dignified. He tried again;
+the error was as marked on the other side. It was a cold and formal
+inquiry. "And yet," said he, as he tore this in fragments, "one thing
+is quite clear,--this illness is owing to _me!_ But for _my_ presence
+there, that old man had now been hale and hearty; the impressions,
+rightfully or wrongfully, which the sight of _me_ and the announcement
+of _my_ name produced are the cause of this malady. I cannot deny it."
+With this revulsion of feeling he wrote a short but kindly worded
+note to Miss Barrington, in which, with the very faintest allusion to
+himself, he begged for a few lines to say how her brother was. He would
+have added something about the sorrow he experienced in requiting all
+her kindness by this calamitous return, but he felt that if the case
+should be a serious one, all reference to himself would be misplaced and
+impertinent.
+
+The messenger despatched, he sat down beside his fire, the only light
+now in the room, which the shade of coming night had darkened. He was
+sad and dispirited, and ill at ease with his own heart. Mr. M'Cabe,
+indeed, appeared with a suggestion about candles, and a shadowy hint
+that if his guest speculated of dining at all, it was full time to
+intimate it; but Conyers dismissed him with a peremptory command not to
+dare to enter the room again until he was summoned to it. So odious to
+him was the place, the landlord, and all about him, that he would have
+set out on foot had his ankle been only strong enough to bear him. "What
+if he were to write to Stapylton to come and fetch him away? He never
+liked the man; he liked him less since the remark Miss Barrrington had
+made upon him from mere reading of his letter, but what was he to do?"
+While he was yet doubting what course to take, he heard the voices
+of some new arrivals outside, and, strange enough, one seemed to be
+Stapylton's. A minute or two after, the travellers had entered the room
+adjoining his own, and from which a very frail partition of lath and
+plaster alone separated him.
+
+"Well, Barney," said a harsh, grating voice, addressing the landlord,
+"what have you got in the larder? We mean to dine with you."
+
+"To dine here, Major!" exclaimed M'Cabe. "Well, well, wondhers will
+never cease." And then hurriedly seeking to cover a speech not very
+flattering to the Major's habits of hospitality, "Sure, I 've a loin of
+pork, and there 's two chickens and a trout fresh out of the water, and
+there's a cheese; it isn't mine, to be sure, but Father Cody's, but
+he 'll not miss a slice out of it; and barrin' you dined at the
+'Fisherman's Home,' you 'd not get betther."
+
+"That 's where we were to have dined by right," said the Major,
+crankily,--"myself and my friend here,--but we're disappointed, and so
+we stepped in here, to do the best we can."
+
+"Well, by all accounts, there won't be many dinners up there for some
+time."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"Ould Barrington was took with a fit this afternoon, and they say he
+won't get over it."
+
+"How was it?--what brought it on?"
+
+"Here's the way I had it. Ould Peter was just come home from Kilkenny,
+and had brought the Attorney-General with him to stay a few days at the
+cottage, and what was the first thing he seen but a man that come all
+the way from India with a writ out against him for some of mad George
+Barrington's debts; and he was so overcome by the shock, that he fainted
+away, and never came rightly to himself since."
+
+"This is simply impossible," said a voice Conyers well knew to be
+Stapylton's.
+
+"Be that as it may, I had it from the man that came for the doctor,
+and what's more, he was just outside the window, and could hear ould
+Barrington cursin' and swearin' about the man that ruined his son, and
+brought his poor boy to the grave; but I 'll go and look after your
+honor's dinner, for I know more about that."
+
+"I have a strange half-curiosity to know the correct version of this
+story," said Stapylton, as the host left the room. "The doctor is a
+friend of yours, I think. Would he step over here, and let us hear the
+matter accurately?"
+
+"He's up at the cottage now, but I 'll get him to come in here when he
+returns."
+
+If Conyers was shocked to hear how even this loose version of what had
+occurred served to heighten the anxiety his own fears created, he was
+also angry with himself at having learned the matter as he did. It was
+not in his nature to play the eavesdropper, and he had, in reality,
+heard what fell between his neighbors, almost ere he was aware of it. To
+apprise them, therefore, of the vicinity of a stranger, he coughed and
+sneezed, poked the fire noisily, and moved the chairs about; but though
+the disturbance served to prevent him from hearing, it did not tend to
+impress any greater caution upon them, for they talked away as before,
+and more than once above the din of his own tumult, he heard the name of
+Barrington, and even his own, uttered.
+
+Unable any longer to suffer the irritation of a position so painful, he
+took his hat, and left the house. It was now night, and so dark that
+he had to stand some minutes on the door-sill ere he could accustom his
+sight to the obscurity. By degrees, however, he was enabled to guide his
+steps, and, passing through the little square, he gained the bridge;
+and here he resolved to walk backwards and forwards till such time as
+he hoped his neighbors might have concluded their convivialities, and
+turned homeward.
+
+A thin cold rain was falling, and the night was cheerless, and without
+a star; but his heart was heavy, and the dreariness without best suited
+that within him. For more than an hour he continued his lonely walk,
+tormented by all the miseries his active ingenuity could muster. To
+have brought sorrow and mourning beneath the roof where you have been
+sheltered with kindness is sad enough, but far sadder is it to connect
+the calamity you have caused with one dearer to you than yourself, and
+whose innocence, while assured of, you cannot vindicate. "My father
+never wronged this man, for the simple reason that he has never been
+unjust to any one. It is a gross injustice to accuse him! If Colonel
+Barrington forfeited my father's friendship, who could doubt where the
+fault lay? But I will not leave the matter questionable. I will write
+to my father and ask him to send me such a reply as may set the issue
+at rest forever; and then I will come down here, and, with my father's
+letter in my hand, say, 'The mention of my name was enough, once on a
+time, to make you turn away from me on the very threshold of your own
+door--'" When he had got thus far in his intended appeal, his ear was
+suddenly struck by the word "Conyers," uttered by one of two men who
+had passed him the moment before, and now stood still in one of the
+projections of the bridge to talk. He as hastily recognized Dr. Dill
+as the speaker. He went on thus: "Of course it was mere raving, but
+one must bear in mind that memory very often is the prompter of these
+wanderings; and it was strange how persistently he held to the one
+theme, and continued to call out, 'It was not fair, sir! It was not
+manly! You know it yourself, Conyers; you cannot deny it!'"
+
+"But you attach no importance to such wanderings, doctor?" asked one
+whose deep-toned voice betrayed him to be Stapylton.
+
+"I do; that is, to the extent I have mentioned. They are incoherencies,
+but they are not without some foundation. This Conyers may have had
+his share in that famous accusation against Colonel Barrington,--that
+well-known charge I told you of; and if so, it is easy to connect the
+name with these ravings."
+
+"And the old man will die of this attack," said Stapylton, half
+musingly.
+
+"I hope not. He has great vigor of constitution; and old as he is, I
+think he will rub through it."
+
+"Young Conyers left for Kilkenny, then, immediately?" asked he.
+
+"No; he came down here, to the village. He is now at the inn."
+
+"At the inn, here? I never knew that. I am sorry I was not aware of it,
+doctor; but since it is so, I will ask of you not to speak of having
+seen me here. He would naturally take it ill, as his brother officer,
+that I did not make him out, while, as you see, I was totally ignorant
+of his vicinity."
+
+"I will say nothing on the subject, Captain," said the doctor. "And now
+one word of advice from you on a personal matter. This young gentleman
+has offered to be of service to my son--"
+
+Conyers, hitherto spellbound while the interest attached to his father,
+now turned hastily from the spot and walked away, his mind not alone
+charged with a heavy care, but full of an eager anxiety as to wherefore
+Stapylton should have felt so deeply interested in Barrington's illness,
+and the causes that led to it,--Stapylton, the most selfish of men, and
+the very last in the world to busy himself in the sorrows or misfortunes
+of a stranger. Again, too, why had he desired the doctor to preserve his
+presence there as a secret? Conyers was exactly in the frame of mind to
+exaggerate a suspicion, or make a mere doubt a grave question. While be
+thus mused, Stapylton and the doctor passed him on their way towards the
+village, deep in converse, and, to all seeming, in closest confidence.
+
+"Shall I follow him to the inn, and declare that I overheard a few
+words on the bridge which give me a claim to explanation? Shall I say,
+'Captain Stapylton, you spoke of my father, just now, sufficiently aloud
+to be overheard by me as I passed, and in your tone there was that which
+entitles me to question you? Then if he should say, 'Go on; what is it
+you ask for?' shall I not be sorely puzzled to continue? Perhaps, too,
+he might remind me that the mode in which I obtained my information
+precludes even a reference to it. He is one of those fellows not to
+throw away such an advantage, and I must prepare myself for a quarrel.
+Oh, if I only had Hunter by me! What would I not give for the brave
+Colonel's counsel at such a moment as this?"
+
+Of this sort were his thoughts as he strolled up and down for hours,
+wearing away the long "night watches," till a faint grayish tinge
+above the horizon showed that morning was not very distant. The whole
+landscape was wrapped in that cold mysterious tint in which tower and
+hill-top and spire are scarcely distinguishable from each other,
+while out of the low-lying meadows already arose the bluish vapor
+that proclaims the coming day. The village itself, overshadowed by the
+mountain behind it, lay a black, unbroken mass.
+
+Not a light twinkled from a window, save close to the river's bank,
+where a faint gleam stole forth and flickered on the water.
+
+Who has not felt the strange interest that attaches to a solitary light
+seen thus in the tranquil depth of a silent night? How readily do
+we associate it with some incident of sorrow! The watcher beside the
+sick-bed rises to the mind, or the patient sufferer himself trying to
+cheat the dull hours by a book, or perhaps some poor son of toil arising
+to his daily round of labor, and seated at that solitary meal which no
+kind word enlivens, no companionship beguiles. And as I write, in what
+corner of earth are not such scenes passing,--such dark shadows moving
+over the battlefield of life?
+
+In such a feeling did Conyers watch this light as, leaving the
+high-road, he took a path that led along the river towards it. As he
+drew nigher, he saw that the light came from the open window of a room
+which gave upon a little garden,--a mere strip of ground fenced off
+from the path by a low paling. With a curiosity he could not master, he
+stopped and looked in. At a large table, covered with books and papers,
+and on which a skull also stood, a young man was seated, his head
+leaning on his hand, apparently in deep thought, while a girl was slowly
+pacing the little chamber as she talked to him.
+
+"It does not require," said she, in a firm voice, "any great effort of
+memory to bear in mind that a nerve, an artery, and a vein always go in
+company."
+
+"Not for you, perhaps,--not for you, Polly."
+
+"Not for any one, I 'm sure. Your fine dragoon friend with the sprained
+ankle might be brought to that amount of instruction by one telling of
+it."
+
+"Oh, he 's no fool, I promise you, Polly. Don't despise him because he
+has plenty of money and can lead a life of idleness."
+
+"I neither despise nor esteem him, nor do I mean that he should divert
+our minds from what we are at. Now for the popliteal space. Can you
+describe it? Do you know where it is, or anything about it?"
+
+"I do," said he, doggedly, as he pushed his long hair back from his
+eyes, and tried to think,--"I do, but I must have time. You must n't
+hurry me."
+
+She made no reply, but continued her walk in silence.
+
+"I know all about it, Polly, but I can't describe it. I can't describe
+anything; but ask me a question about it."
+
+"Where is it,--where does it lie?"
+
+"Isn't it at the lower third of the humerus, where the flexors divide?"
+
+"You are too bad,--too stupid!" cried she, angrily. "I cannot believe
+that anything short of a purpose, a determination to be ignorant, could
+make a person so unteach-able. If we have gone over this once, we have
+done so fifty times. It haunts me in my sleep, from very iteration."
+
+"I wish it would haunt me a little when I 'm awake," said he, sulkily.
+
+"And when may that be, I'd like to know? Do you fancy, sir, that your
+present state of intelligence is a very vigilant one?"
+
+"I know one thing. I hope there won't be the like of you on the Court
+of Examiners, for I would n't bear the half of what _you've_ said to me
+from another."
+
+[Illustration: 202]
+
+"Rejection will be harder to bear, Tom. To be sent back as ignorant and
+incapable will be far heavier as a punishment than any words of mine.
+What are you laughing at, sir? Is it a matter of mirth to you?"
+
+"Look at the skull, Polly,--look at the skull." And he pointed to where
+he had stuck his short, black pipe, between the grinning teeth of the
+skeleton.
+
+She snatched it angrily away, and threw it out of the window, saying,
+"You may be ignorant, and not be able to help it. I will take care you
+shall not be irreverent, sir."
+
+"There's my short clay gone, anyhow," said Tom, submissively, "and I
+think I 'll go to bed." And he yawned drearily as he spoke.
+
+"Not till you have done this, if we sit here till breakfast-time," said
+she, resolutely. "There's the plate, and there's the reference. Read it
+till you know it!"
+
+"What a slave-driver you 'd make, Polly!" said he, with a half-bitter
+smile.
+
+"What a slave I am!" said she, turning away her head.
+
+"That's true," cried he, in a voice thick with emotion; "and when I 'm
+thousands of miles away, I 'll be longing to hear the bitterest words
+you ever said to me, rather than never see you any more."
+
+[Illustration: 202]
+
+"My poor brother," said she, laying her hand softly on his rough head,
+"I never doubted your heart, and I ought to be better tempered with you,
+and I will. Come, now, Tom,"--and she seated herself at the table next
+him,--"see, now, if I cannot make this easy to you." And then the two
+heads were bent together over the table, and the soft brown hair of the
+girl half mingled with the rough wool of the graceless numskull beside
+her.
+
+"I will stand by him, if it were only for her sake," said Conyers to
+himself. And he stole slowly away, and gained the inn.
+
+So intent upon his purpose was he that he at once set about its
+fulfilment. He began a long letter to his father, and, touching slightly
+on the accident by which he made Dr. Dill's acquaintance, professed to
+be deeply his debtor for kindness and attention. With this prelude he
+introduced Tom. Hitherto his pen had glided along flippantly enough.
+In that easy mixture of fact and fancy by which he opened his case, no
+grave difficulty presented itself; but Tom was now to be presented, and
+the task was about as puzzling as it would have been to have conducted
+him bodily into society.
+
+"I was ungenerous enough to be prejudiced against this poor fellow when
+I first met him," wrote he. "Neither his figure nor his manners are in
+his favor, and in his very diffidence there is an apparent rudeness and
+forwardness which are not really in his nature. These, however, are not
+mistakes you, my dear father, will fall into. With your own quickness
+you will see what sterling qualities exist beneath this rugged outside,
+and you will befriend him at first for my sake. Later on, I trust he
+will open his own account in your heart. Bear in mind, too, that it was
+all my scheme,--the whole plan mine. It was I persuaded him to try his
+luck in India; it was through me he made the venture; and if the poor
+fellow fail, all the fault will fall back upon _me_." From this he went
+into little details of Tom's circumstances, and the narrow means by
+which he was surrounded, adding how humble he was, and how ready to be
+satisfied with the most moderate livelihood. "In that great wide world
+of the East, what scores of things there must be for such a fellow to
+do; and even should he not turn out to be a Sydenham or a Harvey, he
+might administer justice, or collect revenue, or assist in some other
+way the process of that system which we call the British rule in India.
+In a word, get him something he may live by, and be able, in due time,
+to help those he has left behind here, in a land whose 'Paddy-fields'
+are to the full as pauperized as those of Bengal."
+
+He had intended, having disposed of Tom Dill's case, to have addressed
+some lines to his father about the Barring-tons, sufficiently vague to
+be easily answered if the subject were one distasteful or unpleasing to
+him; but just as he reached the place to open this, he was startled by
+the arrival of a jaunting-car at the inn-door, whose driver stopped to
+take a drink. It was a chance conveyance, returning to Kilkenny, and
+Conyers at once engaged it; and, leaving an order to send on the reply
+when it arrived from the cottage, he wrote a hasty note to Tom Dill and
+departed. This note was simply to say that he had already fulfilled his
+promise of interesting his father in his behalf, and that whenever Tom
+had passed his examination, and was in readiness for his voyage, he
+should come or write to him, and he would find him fully disposed to
+serve and befriend him. "Meanwhile," wrote he, "let me hear of you. I am
+really anxious to learn how you acquit yourself at the ordeal, for which
+you have the cordial good wishes of your friend, F. Conyers."
+
+Oh, if the great men of our acquaintance--and we all of us, no matter
+how hermit-like we may live, have our "great men"--could only know and
+feel what ineffable pleasure will sometimes be derived from the chance
+expressions they employ towards us,--words which, little significant in
+themselves, perhaps have some touch of good fellowship or good feeling,
+now reviving a "bygone," now far-seeing a future, tenderly thrilling
+through us by some little allusion to a trick of our temperament, noted
+and observed by one in whose interest we never till then knew we had
+a share,--if, I say, they were but aware of this, how delightful they
+might make themselves!--what charming friends!--and, it is but fair to
+own, what dangerous patrons!
+
+I leave my reader to apply the reflection to the case before him,
+and then follow me to the pleasant quarters of a well-maintained
+country-house, full of guests and abounding in gayety.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII. COBHAM
+
+My reader is already aware that I am telling of some forty years ago,
+and therefore I have no apologies to make for habits and ways which our
+more polished age has pronounced barbarous. Now, at Cobham, the men
+sat after dinner over their wine when the ladies had withdrawn, and,
+I grieve to say, fulfilled this usage with a zest and enjoyment that
+unequivocally declared it to be the best hour of the whole twenty-four.
+
+Friends could now get together, conversation could range over
+personalities, egotisms have their day, and bygones be disinterred
+without need of an explanation. Few, indeed, who did not unbend at
+such a moment, and relax in that genial atmosphere begotten of closed
+curtains, and comfort, and good claret. I am not so certain that we
+are wise in our utter abandonment of what must have often conciliated
+a difference or reconciled a grudge. How many a lurking discontent, too
+subtle for intervention, must have been dissipated in the general burst
+of a common laugh, or the racy enjoyment of a good story! Decidedly the
+decanter has often played peacemaker, though popular prejudice inclines
+to give it a different mission.
+
+On the occasion to which I would now invite my reader, the party were
+seated--by means of that genial discovery, a horseshoe-table--around
+the fire at Cobham. It was a true country-house society of neighbors who
+knew each other well, sprinkled with guests,--strangers to every one.
+There were all ages and all temperaments, from the hardy old squire,
+whose mellow cheer was known at the fox-cover, to the young heir
+fresh from Oxford and loud about Leicestershire; gentlemen-farmers and
+sportsmen, and parsons and soldiers, blended together with just enough
+disparity of pursuit to season talk and freshen experiences.
+
+The conversation, which for a while was partly on sporting matters,
+varied with little episodes of personal achievement, and those little
+boastings which end in a bet, was suddenly interrupted by a hasty call
+for Dr. Dill, who was wanted at the "Fisherman's Home."
+
+"Can't you stay to finish this bottle, Dill?" said the Admiral, who had
+not heard for whom he had been sent.
+
+"I fear not, sir. It is a long row down to the cottage."
+
+"So it 's poor Barrington again! I 'm sincerely sorry for it! And now I
+'ll not ask you to delay. By the way, take my boat. Elwes," said he to
+the servant, "tell the men to get the boat ready at once for Dr. Dill,
+and come and say when it is so."
+
+The doctor's gratitude was profuse, though probably a dim vista of the
+"tip" that might be expected from him detracted from the fulness of the
+enjoyment.
+
+"Find out if I could be of any use, Dill," whispered the Admiral, as the
+doctor arose. "Your own tact will show if there be anything I could do.
+You understand me; I have the deepest regard for old Barrington, and his
+sister too."
+
+Dill promised to give his most delicate attention to the point, and
+departed.
+
+While this little incident was occurring, Stapylton, who sat at an angle
+of the fireplace, was amusing two or three listeners by an account
+of his intended dinner at the "Home," and the haughty refusal of Miss
+Barrington to receive him.
+
+"You must tell Sir Charles the story!" cried out Mr. Bushe. "He'll soon
+recognize the old Major from your imitation of him."
+
+"Hang the old villain! he shot a dog-fox the other morning, and he knows
+well how scarce they are getting in the country," said another.
+
+"I 'll never forgive myself for letting him have a lease of that place,"
+said a third; "he's a disgrace to the neighborhood."
+
+"You're not talking of Barrington, surely," called out Sir Charles.
+
+"Of course not. I was speaking of M'Cormick. Harrington is another stamp
+of man, and here's his good health!"
+
+"He'll need all your best wishes, Jack," said the host, "for Dr. Dill
+has just been called away to see him."
+
+"To see old Peter! Why, I never knew him to have a day's illness!"
+
+"He's dangerously ill now," said the Admiral, gravely. "Dill tells me
+that he came home from the Assizes hale and hearty, in high spirits
+at some verdict in his favor, and brought back the Attorney-General to
+spend a day or two with him; but that, on arriving, he found a young
+fellow whose father or grandfather--for I have n't it correctly--had
+been concerned in some way against George Barrington, and that high
+words passed between old Peter and this youth, who was turned out on the
+spot, while poor Barrington, overcome by emotion, was struck down with
+a sort of paralysis. As I have said, I don't know the story accurately,
+for even Dill himself only picked it up from the servants at the
+cottage, neither Miss Barrington nor Withering having told him one word
+on the subject."
+
+"That is the very same story I heard at the village where we dined,"
+broke in Stapylton, "and M'Cormick added that he remembered the name.
+Conyers--the young man is called Conyers--did occur in a certain famous
+accusation against Colonel Barrington."
+
+"Well, but," interposed Bushe, "isn't all that an old story now? Is n't
+the whole thing a matter of twenty years ago?"
+
+"Not so much as that," said Sir Charles. "I remember reading it all when
+I was in command of the 'Madagascar,'--I forget the exact year, but I
+was at Corfu."
+
+"At all events," said Bushe, "it's long enough past to be forgotten or
+forgiven; and old Peter was the very last man I could ever have supposed
+likely to carry on an ancient grudge against any one."
+
+"Not where his son was concerned. Wherever George's name entered,
+forgiveness of the man that wronged him was impossible," said another.
+
+"You are scarcely just to my old friend," interposed the Admiral. "First
+of all, we have not the facts before us. Many of us here have never
+seen, some have never heard of the great Barrington Inquiry, and of such
+as have, if their memories be not better than mine, they can't discuss
+the matter with much profit."
+
+"I followed the case when it occurred," chimed in the former speaker,
+"but I own, with Sir Charles, that it has gone clean out of my head
+since that time."
+
+"You talk of injustice, Cobham, injustice to old Peter Barrington," said
+an old man from the end of the table; "but I would ask, are we quite
+just to poor George? I knew him well. My son served in the same regiment
+with him before he went out to India, and no finer nor nobler-hearted
+fellow than George Barrington ever lived. Talk of him ruining his father
+by his extravagance! Why, he'd have cut off his right hand rather
+than caused him one pang, one moment of displeasure. Barrington ruined
+himself; that insane passion for law has cost him far more than half
+what he was worth in the world. Ask Withering; he 'll tell you something
+about it. Why, Withering's own fees in that case before 'the Lords'
+amount to upwards of two thousand guineas."
+
+"I won't dispute the question with you, Fowndes," said the Admiral.
+"Scandal says you have a taste for a trial at bar yourself."
+
+The hit told, and called for a hearty laugh, in which Fowndes himself
+joined freely.
+
+"_I_'m a burned child, however, and keep away from the fire," said he,
+good-humoredly; "but old Peter seems rather to like being singed. There
+he is again with his Privy Council case for next term, and with, I
+suppose, as much chance of success as I should have in a suit to recover
+a Greek estate of some of my Phoenician ancestors."
+
+It was not a company to sympathize deeply with such a litigious spirit.
+The hearty and vigorous tone of squiredom, young and old, could not
+understand it as a passion or a pursuit, and they mainly agreed that
+nothing but some strange perversion could have made the generous nature
+of old Barrington so fond of law. Gradually the younger members of
+the party slipped away to the drawing-room, till, in the changes that
+ensued, Stapylton found himself next to Mr. Fowndes.
+
+"I'm glad to see, Captain," said the old squire, "that modern fashion of
+deserting the claret-jug has not invaded your mess. I own I like a man
+who lingers over his wine."
+
+"We have no pretext for leaving it, remember that," said Stapylton,
+smiling.
+
+"Very true. The _placeus uxor_ is sadly out of place in a soldier's
+life. Your married officer is but a sorry comrade; besides, how is a
+fellow to be a hero to the enemy who is daily bullied by his wife?"
+
+"I think you said that you had served?" interposed Stapylton.
+
+"No. My son was in the army; he is so still, but holds a Governorship
+in the West Indies. He it was who knew this Barrington we were speaking
+of."
+
+"Just so," said Stapylton, drawing his chair closer, so as to converse
+more confidentially.
+
+"You may imagine what very uneventful lives we country gentlemen live,"
+said the old squire, "when we can continue to talk over one memorable
+case for something like twenty years, just because one of the parties to
+it was our neighbor."
+
+"You appear to have taken a lively interest in it," said Stapylton, who
+rightly conjectured it was a favorite theme with the old squire.
+
+"Yes. Barrington and my son were friends; they came down to my house
+together to shoot; and with all his eccentricities--and they were
+many--I liked Mad George, as they called him."
+
+"He was a good fellow, then?"
+
+"A thoroughly good fellow, but the shyest that ever lived; to all
+outward seeming rough and careless, but sensitive as a woman all the
+while. He would have walked up to a cannon's mouth with a calm step,
+but an affecting story would bring tears to his eyes; and then, to
+cover this weakness, which he was well ashamed of, he 'd rush into fifty
+follies and extravagances. As he said himself to me one day, alluding
+to some feat of rash absurdity, 'I have been taking another inch off the
+dog's tail,'--he referred to the story of Alcibiades, who docked his dog
+to take off public attention from his heavier transgressions."
+
+"There was no truth in these accusations against him?"
+
+"Who knows? George was a passionate fellow, and he 'd have made short
+work of the man that angered him. I myself never so entirely acquitted
+him as many who loved him less. At all events, he was hardly treated; he
+was regularly hunted down. I imagine he must have made many enemies,
+for witnesses sprung up against him on all sides, and he was too proud
+a fellow to ask for one single testimony in his favor! If ever a man met
+death broken-hearted, he did!"
+
+A pause of several minutes occurred, after which the old squire
+resumed,--
+
+"My son told me that after Barrington's death there was a strong
+revulsion in his favor, and a great feeling that he had been hardly
+dealt by. Some of the Supreme Council, it is said, too, were disposed
+to behave generously towards his child, but old Peter, in an evil hour,
+would hear of nothing short of restitution of all the territory, and a
+regular rehabilitation of George's memory, besides; in fact, he made the
+most extravagant demands, and disgusted the two or three who were
+kindly and well disposed towards his cause. Had they, indeed,--as he
+said,--driven his son to desperation, he could scarcely ask them to
+declare it to the world; and yet nothing short of this would satisfy
+him! 'Come forth,' wrote he,--I read the letter myself,--'come forth and
+confess that your evidence was forged and your witnesses suborned; that
+you wanted to annex the territory, and the only road to your object was
+to impute treason to the most loyal heart that ever served the King!'
+Imagine what chance of favorable consideration remained to the man who
+penned such words as these."
+
+"And he prosecutes the case still?"
+
+"Ay, and will do to the day of his death. Withering--who was an old
+schoolfellow of mine--has got me to try what I could do to persuade him
+to come to some terms; and, indeed, to do old Peter justice, it is
+not the money part of the matter he is so obstinate about; it is the
+question of what he calls George's fair fame and honor; and one cannot
+exactly say to him, 'Who on earth cares a brass button whether George
+Barrington was a rebel or a true man? Whether he deserved to die an
+independent Rajah of some place with a hard name, or the loyal subject
+of his Majesty George the Third?' I own I, one day, did go so close to
+the wind, on that subject, that the old man started up and said, 'I hope
+I misapprehend you, Harry Fowndes. I hope sincerely that I do so, for if
+not, I 'll have a shot at you, as sure as my name is Peter Barrington.'
+Of course I 'tried back' at once, and assured him it was a pure
+misconception of my meaning, and that until the East India folk fairly
+acknowledged that they had wronged his son, _he_ could not, with honor,
+approach the question of a compromise in the money matter."
+
+"That day, it may be presumed, is very far off," said Stapylton, half
+languidly.
+
+"Well, Withering opines not. He says that they are weary of the whole
+case. They have had, perhaps, some misgivings as to the entire justice
+of what they did. Perhaps they have learned something during the course
+of the proceedings which may have influenced their judgment; and not
+impossible is it that they pity the old man fighting out his life; and
+perhaps, too, Barrington himself may have softened a little, since he
+has begun to feel that his granddaughter--for George left a child--had
+interests which his own indignation could not rightfully sacrifice; so
+that amongst all these perhapses, who knows but some happy issue may
+come at last?"
+
+"That Barrington race is not a very pliant one," said Stapylton,
+half dreamily; and then, in some haste, added, "at least, such is the
+character they give them here."
+
+"Some truth there may be in that. Men of a strong temperament and with
+a large share of self-dependence generally get credit from the world for
+obstinacy, just because the road _they_ see out of difficulties is
+not the popular one. But even with all this, I 'd not call old Peter
+self-willed; at least, Withering tells me that from time to time, as he
+has conveyed to him the opinions and experiences of old Indian officers,
+some of whom had either met with or heard of George, he has listened
+with much and even respectful attention. And as all their counsels have
+gone against his own convictions, it is something to give them a patient
+hearing."
+
+"He has thus permitted strangers to come and speak with him on these
+topics?" asked Stapylton, eagerly.
+
+"No, no,--not he. These men had called on Withering,--met him, perhaps,
+in society,--heard of his interest in George Barrington's case, and
+came good-naturedly to volunteer a word of counsel in favor of an old
+comrade. Nothing more natural, I think."
+
+"Nothing. I quite agree with you; so much so, indeed, that having served
+some years in India, and in close proximity, too, to one of the
+native courts, I was going to ask you to present me to your friend
+Mr. Withering, as one not altogether incapable of affording him some
+information."
+
+"With a heart and a half. I 'll do it."
+
+"I say, Harry," cried out the host, "if you and Captain Stapylton will
+neither fill your glasses nor pass the wine, I think we had better join
+the ladies."
+
+And now there was a general move to the drawing-room, where several
+evening guests had already assembled, making a somewhat numerous
+company. Polly Dill was there, too,--not the wearied-looking, careworn
+figure we last saw her, when her talk was of "dead anatomies," but
+the lively, sparkling, bright-eyed Polly, who sang the Melodies to the
+accompaniment of him who could make every note thrill with the sentiment
+his own genius had linked to it. I half wish I had not a story to
+tell,--that is, that I had not a certain road to take,--that I might
+wander at will through by-path and lane, and linger on the memories thus
+by a chance awakened! Ah, it was no small triumph to lift out of obscure
+companionship and vulgar associations the music of our land, and wed it
+to words immortal, to show us that the pebble at our feet was a gem to
+be worn on the neck of beauty, and to prove to us, besides, that our
+language could be as lyrical as Anacreon's own!
+
+"I am enchanted with your singing," whispered Stapylton, in Polly's ear;
+"but I 'd forego all the enjoyment not to see you so pleased with your
+companion. I begin to detest the little Poet."
+
+"I 'll tell him so," said she, half gravely; "and he 'll know well that
+it is the coarse hate of the Saxon."
+
+"I'm no Saxon!" said he, flushing and darkening at the same time. And
+then, recovering his calm, he added, "There are no Saxons left amongst
+us, nor any Celts for us to honor with our contempt; but come away from
+the piano, and don't let him fancy he has bound you by a spell."
+
+"But he has," said she, eagerly,--"he has, and I don't care to break
+it."
+
+But the little Poet, running his fingers lightly over the keys, warbled
+out, in a half-plaintive whisper,--
+
+     "Oh, tell me, dear Polly, why is it thine eyes
+     Through their brightness have something of sorrow?
+     I cannot suppose that the glow of such skies
+     Should ever mean gloom for the morrow;
+
+     "Or must I believe that your heart is afar,
+     And you only make semblance to hear me,
+     While your thoughts are away to that splendid hussar,
+     And 't is only your image is near me?"
+
+"An unpublished melody, I fancy," said Stapylton, with a malicious
+twinkle of his eye.
+
+"Not even corrected as yet," said the Poet, with a glance at Polly.
+
+What a triumph it was for a mere village beauty to be thus tilted for
+by such gallant knights; but Polly was practical as well as vain, and a
+certain unmistakable something in Lady Cobham's eye told her that two of
+the most valued guests of the house were not to be thus withdrawn from
+circulation; and with this wise impression on her mind, she slipped
+hastily away, on the pretext of something to say to her father. And
+although it was a mere pretence on her part, there was that in her look
+as they talked together that betokened their conversation to be serious.
+
+"I tell you again," said he, in a sharp but low whisper, "she will not
+suffer it. You used not to make mistakes of this kind formerly, and I
+cannot conceive why you should do so now."
+
+"But, dear papa," said she, with a strange half-smile, "don't you
+remember your own story of the gentleman who got tipsy because he
+foresaw he would never be invited again?"
+
+But the doctor was in no jesting mood, and would not accept of the
+illustration. He spoke now even more angrily than before.
+
+"You have only to see how much they make of him to know well that he is
+out of our reach," said he, bitterly.
+
+"A long shot, Sir Lucius; there is such honor in a long shot," said she,
+with infinite drollery; and then with a sudden gravity, added, "I have
+never forgotten the man you cured, just because your hand shook and you
+gave him a double dose of laudanum."
+
+This was too much for his patience, and he turned away in disgust at her
+frivolity. In doing so, however, he came in front of Lady Cobham, who
+had come up to request Miss Dill to play a certain Spanish dance for two
+young ladies of the company.
+
+"Of course, your Ladyship,--too much honor for her,--she will be
+charmed; my little girl is overjoyed when she can contribute even thus
+humbly to the pleasure of your delightful house."
+
+Never did a misdemeanist take his "six weeks" with a more complete
+consciousness of penalty than did Polly sit down to that piano. She
+well understood it as a sentence, and, let me own, submitted well and
+gracefully to her fate. Nor was it, after all, such a slight trial, for
+the fandango was her own speciality; she had herself brought the dance
+and the music to Cobham. They who were about to dance it were her own
+pupils, and not very proficient ones, either. And with all this she did
+her part well and loyally. Never had she played with more spirit; never
+marked the time with a firmer precision; never threw more tenderness
+into the graceful parts, nor more of triumphant daring into the proud
+ones. Amid the shower of "Bravos!" that closed the performance,--for
+none thought of the dancers,--the little Poet drew nigh and whispered,
+"How naughty!"
+
+"Why so?" asked she, innocently.
+
+"What a blaze of light to throw over a sorry picture!" said he, dangling
+his eyeglass, and playing that part of middle-aged Cupid he was so fond
+of assuming.
+
+"Do you know, sir," said Lady Cobham, coming hastily towards him, "that
+I will not permit you to turn the heads of my young ladies? Dr. Dill
+is already so afraid of your fascinations that he has ordered his
+carriage,--is it not so?" she went on appealing to the doctor, with
+increased rapidity. "But you will certainly keep your promise to us. We
+shall expect you on Thursday at dinner."
+
+Overwhelmed with confusion, Dill answered--he knew not what--about
+pleasure, punctuality, and so forth; and then turned away to ring for
+that carriage he had not ordered before.
+
+"And so you tell me Barrington is better?" said the Admiral, taking him
+by the arm and leading him away. "The danger is over, then?"
+
+"I believe so; his mind is calm, and he is only suffering now from
+debility. What with the Assizes, and a week's dissipation at Kilkenny,
+and this shock,--for it was a shock,--the whole thing was far more of a
+mental than a bodily ailment."
+
+"You gave him my message? You said how anxious I felt to know if I could
+be of any use to him?"
+
+"Yes; and he charged Mr. Withering to come and thank you, for he is
+passing by Cobham to-morrow on his way to Kilkenny."
+
+"Indeed! Georgiana, don't forget that. Withering will call here
+to-morrow; try and keep him to dine, at least, if we cannot secure him
+for longer. He's one of those fellows I am always delighted to meet
+Where are you going, Dill? Not taking your daughter away at this hour,
+are you?"
+
+The doctor sighed, and muttered something about dissipations that were
+only too fascinating, too engrossing. He did not exactly like to
+say that his passports had been sent him, and the authorities duly
+instructed to give him "every aid and assistance possible." For a
+moment, indeed, Polly looked as though she would make some explanation
+of the matter; but it was only for a moment, and the slight flush on
+her cheek gave way quickly, and she looked somewhat paler than her wont.
+Meanwhile, the little Poet had fetched her shawl, and led her away,
+humming, "Buona notte,--buona sera!" as he went, in that half-caressing,
+half-quizzing way he could assume so jauntily. Stapylton walked behind
+with the doctor, and whispered as he went, "If not inconvenient, might I
+ask the favor of a few minutes with you to-morrow?"
+
+Dill assured him he was devotedly his servant; and having fixed the
+interview for two o'clock, away they drove. The night was calm and
+starlight, and they had long passed beyond the grounds of Cobham, and
+were full two miles on their road before a word was uttered by either.
+
+"What was it her Ladyship said about Thursday next, at dinner?" asked
+the doctor, half pettishly.
+
+"Nothing to me, papa."
+
+"If I remember, it was that we had accepted the invitation already, and
+begging me not to forget it."
+
+"Perhaps so," said she, dryly.
+
+"You are usually more mindful about these matters," said he, tartly,
+"and not so likely to forget promised festivities."
+
+"They certainly were not promised to me," said she, "nor, if they had
+been, should I accept of them."
+
+"What do you mean?" said he, angrily.
+
+"Simply, papa, that it is a house I will not re-enter, that's all."
+
+"Why, your head is turned, your brains are destroyed by flattery,
+girl. You seem totally to forget that we go to these places merely
+by courtesy,--we are received only on sufferance; we are not _their_
+equals."
+
+"The more reason to treat us with deference, and not render our position
+more painful than it need be."
+
+"Folly and nonsense! Deference, indeed! How much deference is due from
+eight thousand a year to a dispensary doctor, or his daughter? I 'll
+have none of these absurd notions. If they made any mistake towards you,
+it was by over-attention,--too much notice."
+
+"That is very possible, papa; and it was not always very flattering for
+that reason."
+
+"Why, what is your head full of? Do you fancy you are one of Lord
+Carricklough's daughters, eh?"
+
+"No, papa; for they are shockingly freckled, and very plain."
+
+"Do you know your real station?" cried he, more angrily, "and that if,
+by the courtesy of society, my position secures acceptance anywhere, it
+entails nothing--positively nothing--to those belonging to me?"
+
+"Such being the case, is it not wise of us not to want anything,--not to
+look for it,--not to pine after it? You shall see, papa, whether I fret
+over my exclusion from Cobham."
+
+The doctor was not in a mood to approve of such philosophy, and he drove
+on, only showing--by an extra cut of his whip--the tone and temper that
+beset him.
+
+"You are to have a visit from Captain Stapylton tomorrow, papa?" said
+she, in the manner of a half question.
+
+"Who told you so?" said he, with a touch of eagerness in his voice;
+for suddenly it occurred to him if Polly knew of this appointment, she
+herself might be interested in its object.
+
+"He asked me what was the most likely time to find you at home, and also
+if he might venture to hope he should be presented to mamma."
+
+That was, as the doctor thought, a very significant speech; it might
+mean a great deal,--a very great deal, indeed; and so he turned it over
+and over in his mind for some time before he spoke again. At last he
+said,--
+
+"I haven't a notion what he's coming about, Polly,--have you?"
+
+"No, sir; except, perhaps, it be to consult you. He told me he had
+sprained his arm, or his shoulder, the other day, when his horse
+swerved."
+
+"Oh no, it can't be that, Polly; it can't be that."
+
+"Why not the pleasure of a morning call, then? He is an idle man, and
+finds time heavy on his hands."
+
+A short "humph" showed that this explanation was not more successful
+than the former, and the doctor, rather irritated with this game of
+fence, for so he deemed it, said bluntly,--
+
+"Has he been showing you any marked attentions of late? Have you noticed
+anything peculiar in his manner towards you?"
+
+"Nothing whatever, sir," said she, with a frank boldness. "He has
+chatted and flirted with me, just as every one else presumes he has a
+right to do with a girl in a station below their own; but he has never
+been more impertinent in this way than any other young man of fashion."
+
+"But there have been"--he was sorely puzzled for the word he wanted, and
+it was only as a resource, not out of choice, he said--"attentions?"
+
+"Of course, papa, what many would call in the cognate phrase, marked
+attentions; but girls who go into the world as I do no more mistake what
+these mean than would you yourself, papa, if passingly asked what was
+good for a sore-throat fancy that the inquirer intended to fee you."
+
+"I see, Polly, I see," muttered he, as the illustration came home to
+him. Still, after ruminating for some time, a change seemed to come over
+his thoughts, for he said,--
+
+"But you might be wrong this time, Polly: it is by no means impossible
+that you might be wrong."
+
+"My dear papa," said she, gravely, "when a man of his rank is disposed
+to think seriously of a girl in mine, he does not begin by flattery;
+he rather takes the line of correction and warning, telling her fifty
+little platitudes about trifles in manner, and so forth, by her docile
+acceptance of which he conceives a high notion of _himself_, and a half
+liking for _her_. But I have no need to go into these things; enough if
+I assure you Captain Stapylton's visit has no concern for me; he either
+comes out of pure idleness, or he wants to make use of _you_."
+
+The last words opened a new channel to Dill's thoughts, and he drove on
+in silent meditation over them.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX. THE HOUR OF LUNCHEON
+
+If there be a special agreeability about all the meal-times of a
+pleasant country-house, there is not one of them which, in the charm
+of an easy, unconstrained gayety, can rival the hour of luncheon. At
+breakfast, one is too fresh; at dinner, too formal; but luncheon, like
+an opening manhood, is full of its own bright projects. The plans of the
+day have already reached a certain maturity, and fixtures have been made
+for riding-parties, or phaeton drives, or flirtations in the garden. The
+very strangers who looked coldly at each other over their morning papers
+have shaken into a semi-intimacy, and little traits of character and
+temperament, which would have been studiously shrouded in the more
+solemn festivals of the day, are now displayed with a frank and fearless
+confidence. The half-toilette and the tweed coat, mutton broth and
+"Balmorals," seem infinitely more congenial to acquaintanceship than
+the full-blown splendor of evening dress and the grander discipline of
+dinner.
+
+Irish social life permits of a practice of which I do not, while
+recording, constitute myself the advocate or the apologist,--a sort
+of good-tempered banter called quizzing,--a habit I scarcely believe
+practicable in other lands; that is, I know of no country where it could
+be carried on as harmlessly and as gracefully, where as much wit could
+be expended innocuously, as little good feeling jeopardized in the
+display. The happiest hour of the day for such passages as these was
+that of luncheon, and it was in the very clash and clatter of the combat
+that a servant announced the Attorney-General!
+
+What a damper did the name prove! Short of a bishop himself, no
+announcement could have spread more terror over the younger members
+of the company, embodying as it seemed to do all that could be
+inquisitorial, intolerant, and overbearing. Great, however, was
+the astonishment to see, instead of the stern incarnation of Crown
+prosecutions and arbitrary commitments, a tall, thin, slightly stooped
+man, dressed in a gray shooting-jacket, and with a hat plentifully
+garnished with fishing-flies. He came lightly into the room, and kissed
+the hand of his hostess with a mixture of cordiality and old-fashioned
+gallantry that became him well.
+
+"My old luck, Cobham!" said he, as he seated himself at table. "I have
+fished the stream all the way from the Red House to this, and never so
+much as a rise to reward me.
+
+"They knew you,--they knew you, Withering," chirped out the Poet, "and
+they took good care not to put in an appearance, with the certainty of a
+'detainer.'"
+
+"Ah! you here! That decanter of sherry screened you completely from my
+view," said Withering, whose sarcasm on his size touched the very sorest
+of the other's susceptibilities. "And talking of recognizances,
+how comes it you are here, and a large party at Lord Dunraney's all
+assembled to meet you?"
+
+The Poet, as not infrequent with him, had forgotten everything of this
+prior engagement, and was now overwhelmed with his forgetfulness. The
+ladies, however, pressed eagerly around him with consolation so like
+caresses, that he was speedily himself again.
+
+"How natural a mistake, after all!" said the lawyer. "The old song
+says,--
+
+     'Tell me where beauty and wit and wine
+     Are met, and I 'll say where I 'm asked to dine.'
+
+Ah! Tommy, yours _is_ the profession, after all; always sure of your
+retainer, and never but one brief to sustain--'T. M. _versus_ the Heart
+of Woman.'"
+
+"One is occasionally nonsuited, however," said the other, half
+pettishly. "By the way, how was it you got that verdict for old
+Barrington t'other day? Was it true that Plowden got hold of _your_ bag
+by mistake?"
+
+"Not only that, but he made a point for us none of us had discovered."
+
+"How historical the blunder:--
+
+     'The case is classical, as I and you know;
+     He came from Venus, but made love to Juno.'"
+
+"If Peter Barrington gained his cause by it I 'm heartily rejoiced, and
+I wish him health and years to enjoy it." The Admiral said this with a
+cordial good will as he drank off his glass.
+
+"He's all right again," said Withering. "I left him working away with
+a hoe and a rake this morning, looking as hale and hearty as he did a
+dozen years ago."
+
+"A man must have really high deserts in whose good fortune so many are
+well-wishers," said Stapylton; and by the courteous tone of the remark
+Withering's attention was attracted, and he speedily begged the Admiral
+to present him to his guest. They continued to converse together as
+they arose from table, and with such common pleasure that when Withering
+expressed a hope the acquaintance might not end there, Stapylton replied
+by a request that he would allow him to be his fellow-traveller to
+Kilkenny, whither he was about to go on a regimental affair. The
+arrangement was quickly made, to the satisfaction of each; and as they
+drove away, while many bewailed the departure of such pleasant members
+of the party, the little Poet simperingly said,--
+
+     "Shall I own that my heart is relieved of a care?--
+     Though you 'll think the confession is petty--
+     I cannot but feel, as I look on the pair,
+     It is 'Peebles' gone off with 'Dalgetty.'"
+
+As for the fellow-travellers, they jogged along very pleasantly on their
+way, as two consummate men of the world are sure to do when they meet.
+For what Freemasonry equals that of two shrewd students of life? How
+flippantly do they discuss each theme! how easily read each character,
+and unravel each motive that presents itself! What the lawyer gained by
+the technical subtlety of his profession, the soldier made up for by
+his wider experience of mankind. There were, besides, a variety of
+experiences to exchange. Toga could tell of much that interested the
+"man of war," and he, in turn, made himself extremely agreeable by his
+Eastern information, not to say, that he was able to give a correct
+version of many Hindostanee phrases and words which the old lawyer
+eagerly desired to acquire.
+
+"All you have been telling me has a strong interest for me, Captain
+Stapylton," said he, as they drove into Kilkenny. "I have a case which
+has engaged my attention for years, and is likely to occupy what remains
+to me of life,--a suit of which India is the scene, and Orientals figure
+as some of the chief actors,--so that I can scarcely say how fortunate I
+feel this chance meeting with you."
+
+"I shall deem myself greatly honored if the acquaintance does not end
+here."
+
+"It shall not, if it depend upon me," said Withering, cordially. "You
+said something of a visit you were about to make to Dublin. Will you do
+me a great--a very great--favor, and make my house your home while you
+stay? This is my address: '18 Merrion Square.' It is a bachelor's hall;
+and you can come and go without ceremony."
+
+"The plan is too tempting to hesitate about. I accept your invitation
+with all the frankness you have given it. Meanwhile you will be my guest
+here." "'That is impossible. I must start for Cork this evening." And
+now they parted,--not like men who had been strangers a few hours back,
+but like old acquaintances, only needing the occasion to feel as old
+friends.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX. AN INTERIOR AT THE DOCTOR'S
+
+When Captain Stapylton made his appointment to wait on Dr. Dill, he was
+not aware that the Attorney-General was expected at Cobham. No sooner,
+however, had he learned that fact than he changed his purpose, and
+intimated his intention of running up for a day to Kilkenny, to hear
+what was going on in the regiment. No regret for any disappointment he
+might be giving to the village doctor, no self-reproach for the breach
+of an engagement--all of his own making--crossed his mind. It is,
+indeed, a theme for a moralist to explore, the ease with which a certain
+superiority in station can divest its possessor of all care for the
+sensibilities of those below him; and yet in the little household of
+the doctor that promised visit was the source of no small discomfort and
+trouble. The doctor's study--the sanctum in which the interview should
+be held--had to be dusted and smartened up. Old boots, and
+overcoats, and smashed driving-whips, and odd stirrup-leathers, and
+stable-lanterns, and garden implements had all to be banished. The
+great table in front of the doctor's chair had also to be professionally
+littered with notes and cards and periodicals, not forgetting an
+ingenious admixture of strange instruments of torture, quaint screws,
+and inscrutable-looking scissors, destined, doubtless, to make many a
+faint heart the fainter in their dread presence. All these details
+had to be carried out in various ways through the rest of the
+establishment,--in the drawing-room, wherein the great man was to be
+ushered; in the dining-room, where he was to lunch. Upon Polly did the
+greater part of these cares devolve; not alone attending to the due
+disposal of chairs and sofas and tables, but to the preparation of
+certain culinary delicacies, which were to make the Captain forget the
+dainty luxuries of Cobham. And, in truth, there is a marvellous _esprit
+du corps_ in the way a woman will fag and slave herself to make the
+humble household she belongs to look its best, even to the very guest
+she has least at heart; for Polly did not like Stapylton. Flattered
+at first by his notice, she was offended afterwards at the sort of
+conscious condescension of his manner,--a something which seemed to
+say, I can be charming, positively fascinating, but don't imagine for
+a moment that there is anything especial in it. I captivate--just as I
+fish, hunt, sketch, or shoot--to amuse myself. And with all this, how
+was it he was really not a coxcomb? Was it the grave dignity of his
+address, or the quiet state-liness of his person, or was it a certain
+uniformity, a keeping, that pervaded all he said or did? I am not quite
+sure whether all three did not contribute to this end, and make him what
+the world confessed,--a most well-bred gentleman.
+
+Polly was, in her way, a shrewd observer, and she felt that Stapylton's
+manner towards her was that species of urbane condescension with which a
+great master of a game deigns to play with a very humble proficient. He
+moved about the board with an assumption that said, I can checkmate you
+when I will! Now this is hard enough to bear when the pieces at stake
+are stained ivory, but it is less endurable: still when they are our
+emotions and our wishes. And yet with all this before her, Polly ordered
+and arranged and superintended and directed with an energy that never
+tired, and an activity that never relaxed.
+
+As for Mrs. Dill, no similar incident in the life of Clarissa had
+prepared her for the bustle and preparation she saw on every side, and
+she was fairly perplexed between the thought of a seizure for rent and
+a fire,--casualties which, grave as they were, she felt she could meet
+with Mr. Richardson beside her. The doctor himself was unusually fidgety
+and anxious. Perhaps he ascribed considerable importance to this visit;
+perhaps he thought Polly had not been candid with him, and that, in
+reality, she knew more of its object than she had avowed; and so he
+walked hurriedly from room to room, and out into the garden, and across
+the road to the river's side, and once as far as the bridge, consulting
+his watch, and calculating that as it now only wanted eight minutes of
+two o'clock, the arrival could scarcely be long delayed.
+
+It was on his return he entered the drawing-room and found Polly, now
+plainly but becomingly dressed, seated at her work, with a seeming
+quietude and repose about her, strangely at variance with her late
+display of activity. "I 've had a look down the Graigue Road," said he,
+"but can see nothing. You are certain he said two o'clock?"
+
+"Quite certain, sir."
+
+"To be sure he might come by the river; there's water enough now for the
+Cobham barge."
+
+She made no answer, though she half suspected some reply was expected.
+
+"And of course," continued the doctor, "they'd have offered him the use
+of it. They seem to make a great deal of him up there."
+
+"A great deal, indeed, sir," said she; but in a voice that was a mere
+echo of his own.
+
+"And I suspect they know why. I 'm sure they know why. People in their
+condition make no mistakes about each other; and if he receives much
+attention, it is because it's his due."
+
+No answer followed this speech, and he walked feverishly up and down the
+room, holding his watch in his closed hand. "I have a notion you must
+have mistaken him. It was not two he said."
+
+"I 'm positive it was two, sir. But it can scarcely be much past that
+hour now."
+
+"It is seventeen minutes past two," said he, solemnly. And then, as if
+some fresh thought had just occurred to him, asked, "Where 's Tom? I
+never saw him this morning."
+
+"He 's gone out to take a walk, sir. The poor fellow is dead beat by
+work, and had such a headache that I told him to go as far as the Red
+House or Snow's Mill."
+
+"And I 'll wager he did not want to be told twice. Anything for idleness
+with _him!_"
+
+"Well, papa, he is really doing his very best now. He is not naturally
+quick, and he has a bad memory, so that labor is no common toil; but his
+heart is in it, and I never saw him really anxious for success before."
+
+"To go out to India, I suppose," said Dill, sneeringly, "that notable
+project of the other good-for-nothing; for, except in the matter of
+fortune, there's not much to choose between them. There 's the half-hour
+striking now!"
+
+"The project has done this for him, at least," said she, firmly,--"it
+has given him hope!"
+
+"How I like to hear about hope!" said he, with a peculiarly sarcastic
+bitterness. "I never knew a fellow worth sixpence that had that cant
+of 'hope' in his mouth! How much hope had I when I began the world! How
+much have I now?"
+
+"Don't you hope Captain Stapylton may not have forgotten his
+appointment, papa?" said she, with a quick drollery, which sparkled in
+her eye, but brought no smile to her lips.
+
+"Well, here he is at last," said Dill, as he heard the sharp click made
+by the wicket of the little garden; and he started up, and rushed to the
+window. "May I never!" cried he, in horror, "if it isn't M'Cormick! Say
+we're out,--that I'm at Graigue,--that I won't be home till evening!"
+
+But while he was multiplying these excuses, the old Major had caught
+sight of him, and was waving his hand in salutation from below.
+"It's too late,--it's too late!" sighed Dill, bitterly; "he sees me
+now,--there's no help for it!"
+
+What benevolent and benedictory expressions were muttered below his
+breath, it is not for this history to record; but so vexed and irritated
+was he, that the Major had already entered the room ere he could compose
+his features into even a faint show of welcome.
+
+"I was down at the Dispensary," croaked out M'Cormick, "and they told
+me you were not expected there to-day, and so I said, maybe he's ill,
+or maybe,"--and here he looked shrewdly around him,--"maybe there 's
+something going on up at the house."
+
+"What should there be going on, as you call it?" responded Dill,
+angrily, for he was now at home, in presence of the family, and could
+not compound for that tone of servile acquiescence he employed on
+foreign service.
+
+"And, faix, I believe I was right; Miss Polly isn't so smart this
+morning for nothing, no more than the saving cover is off the sofa, and
+the piece of gauze taken down from before the looking-glass, and the
+'Times' newspaper away from the rug!"
+
+"Are there any other domestic changes you 'd like to remark upon, Major
+M'Cormick?" said Dill, pale with rage.
+
+"Indeed, yes," rejoined the other; "there 's yourself, in the elegant
+black coat that I never saw since Lord Kilraney's funeral, and looking
+pretty much as lively and pleasant as you did at the ceremony."
+
+"A gentleman has made an appointment with papa," broke in Polly, "and
+may be here at any moment."
+
+"I know who it is," said M'Cormick, with a finger on the side of his
+nose to imply intense cunning. "I know all about it."
+
+"What do you know?--what do you mean by all about it?" said Dill, with
+an eagerness he could not repress.
+
+"Just as much as yourselves,--there now! Just as much as yourselves!"
+said he, sententiously.
+
+"But apparently, Major, you know far more," said Polly.
+
+"Maybe I do, maybe I don't; but I 'll tell you one thing, Dill, for
+your edification, and mind me if I 'm not right: you 're all mistaken
+about him, every one of ye!"
+
+"Whom are you talking of?" asked the doctor, sternly.
+
+"Just the very man you mean yourself, and no other! Oh, you need n't
+fuss and fume, I don't want to pry into your family secrets. Not that
+they 'll be such secrets tomorrow or next day,--the whole town will be
+talking of them,--but as an old friend that could, maybe, give a word of
+advice--"
+
+"Advice about what? Will you just tell me about what?" cried Dill, now
+bursting with anger.
+
+"I 've done now. Not another word passes my lips about it from this
+minute. Follow your own road, and see where it will lead ye?"
+
+"Cannot you understand, Major M'Cormick, that we are totally unable to
+guess what you allude to? Neither papa nor I have the very faintest clew
+to your meaning, and if you really desire to serve us, you will speak
+out plainly."
+
+"Not another syllable, if I sat here for two years!"
+
+The possibility of such an infliction seemed so terrible to poor Polly
+that she actually shuddered as she heard it.
+
+"Is n't that your mother I see sitting up there, with all the fine
+ribbons in her cap?" whispered M'Cormick, as he pointed to a small room
+which opened off an angle of the larger one. "That 's 'the boodoo,' is
+n't it?" said he, with a grin. This, I must inform my reader, was the
+M'Cormick for "boudoir." "Well, I'll go and pay my respects to her."
+
+So little interest did Mrs. Dill take in the stir and movement around
+her that the Major utterly failed in his endeavors to torture her by all
+his covert allusions and ingeniously drawn inferences. No matter what
+hints he dropped or doubts he suggested, _she_ knew "Clarissa" would
+come well out of her trials; and beyond a little unmeaning simper, and a
+muttered "To be sure," "No doubt of it," and, "Why not?" M'Cormick could
+obtain nothing from her.
+
+Meanwhile, in the outer room the doctor continued to stride up and
+down with impatience, while Polly sat quietly working on, not the less
+anxious, perhaps, though her peaceful air betokened a mind at rest.
+
+"That must be a boat, papa," said she, without lifting her head, "that
+has just come up to the landing-place. I heard the plash of the oars,
+and now all is still again."
+
+"You 're right; so it is!" cried he, as he stopped before the window.
+"But how is this! That 's a lady I see yonder, and a gentleman along
+with her. That's not Stapylton, surely!"
+
+"He is scarcely so tall," said she, rising to look out, "but not very
+unlike him. But the lady, papa,--the lady is Miss Barrington."
+
+Bad as M'Cormick's visit was, it was nothing to the possibility of such
+an advent as this, and Dill's expressions of anger were now neither
+measured nor muttered.
+
+"This is to be a day of disasters. I see it well, and no help for it,"
+exclaimed he, passionately. "If there was one human being I 'd hate to
+come here this morning, it's that old woman! She's never civil. She's
+not commonly decent in her manner towards me in her own house, and what
+she 'll be in mine, is clean beyond me to guess. That's herself! There
+she goes! Look at her remarking,--I see, she's remarking on the weeds
+over the beds, and the smashed paling. She's laughing too! Oh, to be
+sure, it's fine laughing at people that's poor; and she might know
+something of that same herself. I know who the man is now. That 's
+the Colonel, who came to the 'Fisherman's Home' on the night of the
+accident."
+
+"It would seem we are to hold a levee to-day," said Polly, giving a very
+fleeting glance at herself in the glass. And now a knock came to the
+door, and the man who acted gardener and car-driver and valet to the
+doctor announced that Miss Barrington and Colonel Hunter were below.
+
+"Show them up," said Dill, with the peremptory voice of one ordering
+a very usual event, and intentionally loud enough to be heard below
+stairs.
+
+If Polly's last parting with Miss Barrington gave little promise of
+pleasure to their next meeting, the first look she caught of the old
+lady on entering the room dispelled all uneasiness on that score. Miss
+Dinah entered with a pleasing smile, and presented her friend, Colonel
+Hunter, as one come to thank the doctor for much kindness to his young
+subaltern. "Whom, by the way," added he, "we thought to find here. It is
+only since we landed that we learned he had left the inn for Kilkenny."
+
+While the Colonel continued to talk to the doctor, Miss Dinah had seated
+herself On the sofa, with Polly at her side.
+
+"My visit this morning is to you," said she. "I have come to ask your
+forgiveness. Don't interrupt me, child; your forgiveness was the very
+word I used. I was very rude to you t' other morning, and being all in
+the wrong,--like most people in such circumstances,--I was very angry
+with the person who placed me so."
+
+"But, my dear madam," said Polly, "you had such good reason to suppose
+you were in the right that this _amende_ on your part is far too
+generous."
+
+"It is not at all generous,--it is simply just. I was sorely vexed with
+you about that stupid wager, which you were very wrong to have had any
+share in; vexed with your father, vexed with your brother,--not that I
+believed his counsel would have been absolute wisdom,--and I was even
+vexed with my young friend Conyers, because he had not the bad taste
+to be as angry with you as I was. When I was a young lady," said she,
+bridling up, and looking at once haughty and defiant, "no man would have
+dared to approach me with such a proposal as complicity in a wager. But
+I am told that my ideas are antiquated, and the world has grown much
+wiser since that day."
+
+"Nay, madam," said Polly, "but there is another difference that your
+politeness has prevented you from appreciating. I mean the difference in
+station between Miss Barrington and Polly Dill."
+
+It was a well-directed shot, and told powerfully, for Miss Barrington's
+eyes became clouded, and she turned her head away, while she pressed
+Polly's hand within her own with a cordial warmth. "Ah!" said she,
+feelingly, "I hope there are many points of resemblance between us. I
+have always tried to be a good sister. I know well what you have been to
+your brother."
+
+A very jolly burst of laughter from the inner room, where Hunter had
+already penetrated, broke in upon them, and the merry tones of his voice
+were heard saying, "Take my word for it, madam, nobody could spare time
+nowadays to make love in nine volumes. Life 's too short for it. Ask my
+old brother-officer here if he could endure such a thirty years' war; or
+rather let me turn here for an opinion. What does your daughter say on
+the subject?"
+
+"Ay, ay," croaked out M'Cormick. "Marry in haste--"
+
+"Or repent that you did n't. That 's the true reading of the adage."
+
+"The Major would rather apply leisure to the marriage, and make the
+repentance come--"
+
+"As soon as possible afterwards," said Miss Dinah, tartly.
+
+"Faix, I 'll do better still; I won't provoke the repentance at all."
+
+"Oh, Major, is it thus you treat me?" said Polly, affecting to wipe her
+eyes. "Are my hopes to be dashed thus cruelly?"
+
+But the doctor, who knew how savagely M'Cormick could resent even the
+most harmless jesting, quickly interposed, with a question whether Polly
+had thought of ordering luncheon.
+
+It is but fair to Dr. Dill to record the bland but careless way he
+ordered some entertainment for his visitors. He did it like the lord of
+a well-appointed household, who, when he said "serve," they served.
+It was in the easy confidence of one whose knowledge told him that the
+train was laid, and only waited for the match to explode it.
+
+"May I have the honor, dear lady?" said he, offering his arm to Miss
+Barrington.
+
+Now, Miss Dinah had just observed that she had various small matters
+to transact in the village, and was about to issue forth for their
+performance; but such is the force of a speciality, that she could not
+tear herself away without a peep into the dining-room, and a glance, at
+least, at arrangements that appeared so magically conjured up. Nor was
+Dill insensible to the astonishment expressed in her face as her eyes
+ranged over the table.
+
+"If your daughter be your housekeeper, Dr. Dill," said she, in a
+whisper, "I must give her my very heartiest approbation. These are
+matters I can speak of with authority, and I pronounce her worthy of
+high commendation."
+
+"What admirable salmon cutlets!" cried the Colonel. "Why, doctor, these
+tell of a French cook."
+
+"There she is beside you, the French cook!" said the Major, with a
+malicious twinkle.
+
+"Yes," said Polly, smiling, though with a slight flush on her face, "if
+Major M'Cormick will be indiscreet enough to tell tales, let us hope
+they will never be more damaging in their import."
+
+"And do you say--do you mean to tell me that this curry is your
+handiwork? Why, this is high art."
+
+"Oh, she 's artful enough, if it 's that ye 're wanting," muttered the
+Major.
+
+Miss Barrington, having apparently satisfied the curiosity she felt
+about the details of the doctor's housekeeping, now took her leave, not,
+however, without Dr. Dill offering his arm on one side, while Polly,
+with polite observance, walked on the other.
+
+"Look at that now," whispered the Major. "They 're as much afraid of
+that old woman as if she were the Queen of Sheba! And all because she
+was once a fine lady living at Barrington Hall."
+
+"Here's their health for it," said the Colonel, filling his glass,--"and
+in a bumper too! By the way," added he, looking around, "does not Mrs.
+Dill lunch with us?"
+
+"Oh, she seldom comes to her meals! She's a little touched here." And he
+laid his finger on the centre of his forehead. "And, indeed, no wonder
+if she is." The benevolent Major was about to give some details of
+secret family history, when the doctor and his daughter returned to the
+room.
+
+The Colonel ate and talked untiringly. He was delighted with everything,
+and charmed with himself for his good luck in chancing upon such
+agreeable people. He liked the scenery, the village, the beetroot salad,
+the bridge, the pickled oysters, the evergreen oaks before the door.
+He was not astonished Conyers should linger on such a spot; and then it
+suddenly occurred to him to ask when he had left the village, and how.
+
+The doctor could give no information on the point, and while he was
+surmising one thing and guessing another, M'Cormick whispered in the
+Colonel's ear, "Maybe it's a delicate point. How do you know what went
+on with--" And a significant nod towards Polly finished the remark.
+
+"I wish I heard what Major M'Cormick has just said," said Polly.
+
+"And it is exactly what I cannot repeat to you."
+
+"I suspected as much. So that my only request will be that you never
+remember it."
+
+"Isn't she sharp!--sharp as a needle!" chimed in the Major.
+
+Checking, and not without some effort, a smart reprimand on the last
+speaker, the Colonel looked hastily at his watch, and arose from table.
+
+"Past three o'clock, and to be in Kilkenny by six."
+
+"Do you want a car? There's one of Rice's men now in the village; shall
+I get him for you?"
+
+"Would you really do me the kindness?" While the Major bustled off
+on his errand, the Colonel withdrew the doctor inside the recess of a
+window. "I had a word I wished to say to you in private, Dr. Dill; but
+it must really be in private,--you understand me?"
+
+"Strictly confidential, Colonel Hunter," said Dill, bowing.
+
+"It is this: a young officer of mine, Lieutenant Conyers, has written
+to me a letter mentioning a plan he had conceived for the future
+advancement of your son, a young gentleman for whom, it would appear,
+he had formed a sudden but strong attachment. His project was, as I
+understand it, to accredit him to his father with such a letter as must
+secure the General's powerful influence in his behalf. Just the sort of
+thing a warm-hearted young fellow would think of doing for a friend he
+determined to serve, but exactly the kind of proceeding that might have
+a very unfortunate ending. I can very well imagine, from my own short
+experience here, that your son's claims to notice and distinction may be
+the very highest; I can believe readily what very little extraneous aid
+he would require to secure his success; but you and I are old men of the
+world, and are bound to look at things cautiously, and to ask, 'Is this
+scheme a very safe one?' 'Will General Conyers enter as heartily into
+it as his son?' 'Will the young surgeon be as sure to captivate the old
+soldier as the young one?' In a word, would it be quite wise to set a
+man's whole venture in life on such a cast, and is it the sort of risk
+that, with your experience of the world, you would sanction?"
+
+It was evident, from the pause the Colonel left after these words, that
+he expected Dill to say something; but, with the sage reserve of his
+order, the doctor stood still, and never uttered a syllable. Let us be
+just to his acuteness, he never did take to the project from the first;
+he thought ill of it, in every way, but yet he did not relinquish the
+idea of making the surrender of it "conditional;" and so he slowly
+shook his head with an air of doubt, and smoothly rolled his hands
+one over the other, as though to imply a moment of hesitation and
+indecision.
+
+"Yes, yes," muttered he, talking only to himself,--"disappointment, to
+be sure!--very great disappointment too! And his heart so set upon it,
+that's the hardship."
+
+"Naturally enough," broke in Hunter, hastily. "Who would n't be
+disappointed under such circumstances? Better even that, however,
+than utter failure later on." The doctor sighed, but over what precise
+calamity was not so clear; and Hunter continued,--
+
+"Now, as I have made this communication to you in strictest confidence,
+and not in any concert with Conyers, I only ask you to accept the view
+as a mere matter of opinion. I think you would be wrong to suffer your
+son to engage in such a venture. That's all I mean by my interference,
+and I have done."
+
+Dill was, perhaps, scarcely prepared for the sudden summing up of the
+Colonel, and looked strangely puzzled and embarrassed.
+
+"Might I talk the matter over with my daughter Polly? She has a good
+head for one so little versed in the world."
+
+"By all means. It is exactly what I would have proposed. Or, better
+still, shall I repeat what I have just told you?"
+
+"Do so," said the doctor, "for I just remember Miss Barrington will call
+here in a few moments for that medicine I have ordered for her brother,
+and which is not yet made up."
+
+"Give me five minutes of your time and attention, Miss Dill," said
+Hunter, "on a point for which your father has referred me to your
+counsel."
+
+"To mine?"
+
+"Yes," said he, smiling at her astonishment. "We want your quick
+faculties to come to the aid of our slow ones. And here's the case." And
+in a few sentences he put the matter before her, as he had done to her
+father. While he thus talked, they had strolled out into the garden, and
+walked slowly side by side down one of the alleys.
+
+"Poor Tom!--poor fellow!" was all that Polly said, as she listened; but
+once or twice her handkerchief was raised to her eyes, and her chest
+heaved heavily.
+
+"I am heartily sorry for him--that is, if his heart be bent on it--if he
+really should have built upon the scheme already."
+
+"Of course he has, sir. You don't suppose that in such lives as ours
+these are common incidents? If we chance upon a treasure, or fancy that
+we have, once in a whole existence, it is great fortune."
+
+"It was a brief, a very brief acquaintance,--a few hours, I believe.
+The--What was that? Did you hear any one cough there?"
+
+"No, sir; we are quite alone. There is no one in the garden but
+ourselves."
+
+"So that, as I was saying, the project could scarcely have taken a very
+deep root, and--and--in fact, better the first annoyance than a mistake
+that should give its color to a whole lifetime. I'm certain I heard a
+step in that walk yonder."
+
+"No, sir; we are all alone."
+
+"I half wish I had never come on this same errand. I have done an
+ungracious thing, evidently very ill, and with the usual fate of those
+who say disagreeable things, I am involved in the disgrace I came to
+avert."
+
+"But I accept your view."
+
+"There! I knew there was some one there!" said Hunter, springing across
+a bed and coming suddenly to the side of M'Cormick, who was affecting to
+be making a nosegay.
+
+"The car is ready at the door, Colonel," said he, in some confusion.
+"Maybe you 'd oblige me with a seat as far as Lyrath?"
+
+"Yes, yes; of course. And how late it is!" cried he, looking at his
+watch. "Time does fly fast in these regions, no doubt of it."
+
+"You see, Miss Polly, you have made the Colonel forget himself," said
+M'Cormick, maliciously.
+
+"Don't be severe on an error so often your own, Major M'Cormick," said
+she, fiercely, and turned away into the house.
+
+The Colonel, however, was speedily at her side, and in an earnest voice
+said: "I could hate myself for the impression I am leaving behind me
+here. I came with those excellent intentions which so often make a
+man odious, and I am going away with those regrets which follow all
+failures; but I mean to come back again one of these days, and erase, if
+I can, the ill impression."
+
+"One who has come out of his way to befriend those who had no claim upon
+his kindness can have no fear for the estimation he will be held in;
+for my part, I thank you heartily, even though I do not exactly see the
+direct road out of this difficulty."
+
+"Let me write to you. One letter--only one," said Hunter.
+
+But M'Cormick had heard the request, and she flushed up with anger at
+the malicious glee his face exhibited.
+
+"You 'll have to say my good-byes for me to your father, for I am sorely
+pressed for time; and, even as it is, shall be late for my appointment
+in Kilkenny." And before Polly could do more than exchange his cordial
+shake hands, he was gone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI. DARK TIDINGS
+
+If I am not wholly without self-reproach when I bring my reader into
+uncongenial company, and make him pass time with Major M'Cormick he had
+far rather bestow upon a pleasanter companion, I am sustained by the
+fact--unpalatable fact though it be--that the highway of life is not
+always smooth, nor its banks flowery, and that, as an old Derry woman
+once remarked to me, "It takes a' kind o' folk to mak' a world."
+
+Now, although Colonel Hunter did drive twelve weary miles of road with
+the Major for a fellow-traveller,--thanks to that unsocial conveniency
+called an Irish jaunting-car,--they rode back to back, and conversed
+but little. One might actually believe that unpopular men grow to feel
+a sort of liking for their unpopularity, and become at length delighted
+with the snubbings they meet with, as though an evidence of the amount
+of that discomfort they can scatter over the world at large; just, in
+fact, as a wasp or a scorpion might have a sort of triumphant joy in the
+consciousness of its power for mischief, and exult in the terror caused
+by its vicinity.
+
+"Splendid road--one of the best I ever travelled on," said the Colonel,
+after about ten miles, during which he smoked on without a word.
+
+"Why wouldn't it be, when they can assess the county for it? They're on
+the Grand Jury, and high up, all about here," croaked out the Major.
+
+"It is a fine country, and abounds in handsome places." "And well
+mortgaged, too, the most of them." "You 'd not see better farming than
+that in Norfolk, cleaner wheat or neater drills; in fact, one might
+imagine himself in England."
+
+"So he might, for the matter of taxes. I don't see much difference."
+
+"Why don't you smoke? Things look pleasanter through the blue haze of a
+good Havannah," said Hunter, smiling.
+
+"I don't want them to look pleasanter than they are," was the dry
+rejoinder.
+
+Whether Hunter did or did not, he scarcely liked his counsellor, and,
+re-lighting a cigar, he turned his back once more on him.
+
+"I'm one of those old-fashioned fellows," continued the Major, leaning
+over towards his companion, "who would rather see things as they are,
+not as they might be; and when I remarked you awhile ago so pleased with
+the elegant luncheon and Miss Polly's talents for housekeeping, I was
+laughing to myself over it all."
+
+"How do you mean? What did you laugh at?" said Hunter, half fiercely.
+
+"Just at the way you were taken in, that's all."
+
+"Taken in?--taken in? A very strange expression for an hospitable
+reception and a most agreeable visit."
+
+"Well, it's the very word for it, after all; for as to the hospitable
+reception, it was n't meant for us, but for that tall Captain,--the
+dark-complexioned fellow,--Staples, I think they call him."
+
+"Captain Stapylton?"
+
+"Yes, that's the man. He ordered Healey's car to take him over here; and
+I knew when the Dills sent over to Mrs. Brierley for a loan of the two
+cut decanters and the silver cruet-stand, something was up; and so I
+strolled down, by way of--to reconnoitre the premises, and see what old
+Dill was after."
+
+"Well, and then?"
+
+"Just that I saw it all,--the elegant luncheon, and the two bottles of
+wine, and the ginger cordials, all laid out for the man that never
+came; for it would seem he changed his mind about it, and went back to
+head-quarters."
+
+"You puzzle me more and more at every word. What change of mind do you
+allude to? What purpose do you infer he had in coming over here to-day?"
+
+The only answer M'Cormick vouchsafed to this was by closing one eye and
+putting his finger significantly to the tip of his nose, while he said,
+"Catch a weasel asleep!"
+
+"I more than suspect," said Hunter, sternly, "that this half-pay life
+works badly for a man's habits, and throws him upon very petty and
+contemptible modes of getting through his time. What possible business
+could it be of yours to inquire why Stapylton came, or did not come here
+to-day, no more than for the reason of _my_ visit?"
+
+"Maybe I could guess that, too, if I was hard pushed," said M'Cormick,
+whose tone showed no unusual irritation from the late rebuke. "I was in
+the garden all the time, and heard everything."
+
+"Listened to what I was saying to Miss Dill!" cried Hunter, whose voice
+of indignation could not now be mistaken.
+
+"Every word of it," replied the unabashed Major. "I heard all you said
+about a short acquaintance--a few hours you called it--but that your
+heart was bent upon it, all the same. And then you went on about India;
+what an elegant place it was, and the fine pay and the great allowances.
+And ready enough she was to believe it all, for I suppose she was
+sworn at Highgate, and would n't take the Captain if she could get the
+Colonel."
+
+By this time, and not an instant earlier, it flashed upon Hunter's mind
+that M'Cormick imagined he had overheard a proposal of marriage; and
+so amused was he by the blunder, that he totally drowned his anger in a
+hearty burst of laughter.
+
+"I hope that, as an old brother-officer, you 'll be discreet, at all
+events," said he, at last. "You have not come by the secret quite
+legitimately, and I trust you will preserve it."
+
+"My hearing is good, and my eyesight too, and I mean to use them both as
+long as they 're spared to me."
+
+"It was your tongue that I referred to," said Hunter, more gravely.
+
+"Ay, I know it was," said the Major, crankily. "My tongue will take care
+of itself also."
+
+"In order to make its task the easier, then," said Hunter, speaking in
+a slow and serious voice, "let me tell you that your eaves-dropping
+has, for once at least, misled you. I made no proposal, such as you
+suspected, to Miss Dill. Nor did she give me the slightest encouragement
+to do so. The conversation you so unwarrantably and imperfectly
+overheard had a totally different object, and I am not at all sorry you
+should not have guessed it. So much for the past. Now one word for the
+future. Omit my name, and all that concerns me, from the narrative with
+which you amuse your friends, or, take my word for it, you 'll have
+to record more than you have any fancy for. This is strictly between
+ourselves; but if you have a desire to impart it, bear in mind that I
+shall be at my quarters in Kilkenny till Tuesday next."
+
+"You may spend your life there, for anything I care," said the Major.
+"Stop, Billy; pull up. I'll get down here." And shuffling off the car,
+he muttered a "Good-day" without turning his head, and bent his steps
+towards a narrow lane that led from the high-road.
+
+[Illustration: 242]
+
+"Is this the place they call Lyrath?" asked the Colonel of the driver.
+
+"No, your honor. We're a good four miles from it yet."
+
+The answer showed Hunter that his fellow-traveller had departed in
+anger; and such was the generosity of his nature, he found it hard not
+to overtake him and make his peace with him.
+
+"After all," thought he, "he 's a crusty old fellow, and has hugged
+his ill-temper so long, it may be more congenial to him now than a
+pleasanter humor." And he turned his mind to other interests that more
+closely touched him. Nor was he without cares,--heavier ones, too, than
+his happy nature had ever yet been called to deal with. There are
+few more painful situations in life than to find our advancement--the
+long-wished and strived-for promotion--achieved at the cost of some
+dearly loved friend; to know that our road to fortune had led us across
+the fallen figure of an old comrade, and that he who would have been the
+first to hail our success is already bewailing his own defeat. This was
+Hunter's lot at the present moment. He had been sent for to hear of a
+marvellous piece of good-fortune. His name and character, well known in
+India, had recommended him for an office of high trust,--the Political
+Resident of a great native court; a position not alone of power and
+influence, but as certain to secure, and within a very few years, a
+considerable fortune. It was the Governor-General who had made choice
+of him; and the Prince of Wales, in the brief interview he accorded
+him, was delighted with his frank and soldierlike manner, his natural
+cheerfulness, and high spirit. "We 're not going to unfrock you,
+Hunter," said he, gayly, in dismissing him. "You shall have your
+military rank, and all the steps of your promotion. We only make you a
+civilian till you have saved some lacs of rupees, which is what I hear
+your predecessor has forgotten to do."
+
+It was some time before Hunter, overjoyed as he was, even bethought him
+of asking who that predecessor was. What was his misery when he heard
+the name of Ormsby Conyers, his oldest, best friend; the man at whose
+table he had sat for years, whose confidence he had shared, whose heart
+was open to him to its last secret! "No," said he, "this is impossible.
+Advancement at such a price has no temptation for me. I will not accept
+it" He wrote his refusal at once, not assigning any definite reasons,
+but declaring that, after much thought and consideration, he had
+decided the post was one he could not accept of. The Secretary, in
+whose province the affairs of India lay, sent for him, and, after much
+pressing and some ingenious cross-questioning, got at his reasons.
+"These may be all reasonable scruples on your part," said he, "but they
+will avail your friend nothing. Conyers must go; for his own interest
+and character's sake, he must come home and meet the charges made
+against him, and which, from their very contradictions, we all hope to
+see him treat triumphantly: some alleging that he has amassed untold
+wealth; others that it is, as a ruined man, he has involved himself in
+the intrigues of the native rulers. All who know him say that at the
+first whisper of a charge against him he will throw up his post and come
+to England to meet his accusers. And now let me own to you that it is
+the friendship in which he held you lay one of the suggestions for your
+choice. We all felt that if a man ill-disposed or ungenerously minded to
+Conyers should go out to Agra, numerous petty and vexatious accusations
+might be forthcoming; the little local injuries and pressure, so sure to
+beget grudges, would all rise up as charges, and enemies to the fallen
+man spring up in every quarter. It is as a successor, then, you can best
+serve your friend." I need not dwell on the force and ingenuity with
+which this view was presented; enough that I say it was successful, and
+Hunter returned to Ireland to take leave of his regiment, and prepare
+for a speedy departure to India.
+
+Having heard, in a brief note from young Conyers, his intentions
+respecting Tom Dill, Hunter had hastened off to prevent the possibility
+of such a scheme being carried out. Not wishing, however, to divulge the
+circumstances of his friend's fortune, he had in his interview with the
+doctor confined himself to arguments on the score of prudence. His next
+charge was to break to Fred the tidings of his father's troubles, and
+it was an office he shrunk from with a coward's fear. With every mile
+he went his heart grew heavier. The more he thought over the matter the
+more difficult it appeared. To treat the case lightly, might savor of
+heartlessness and levity; to approach it more seriously, might seem a
+needless severity. Perhaps, too, Conyers might have written to his son;
+he almost hoped he had, and that the first news of disaster should not
+come from him.
+
+That combination of high-heartedness and bashfulness, a blended temerity
+and timidity,--by no means an uncommon temperament,--renders a man's
+position in the embarrassments of life one of downright suffering. There
+are operators who feel the knife more sensitively than the patients. Few
+know what torments such men conceal under a manner of seeming slap-dash
+and carelessness. Hunter was of this order, and would, any day of his
+life, far rather have confronted a real peril than met a contingency
+that demanded such an address. It was, then, with a sense of relief he
+learned, on arrival at the barracks, that Conyers had gone out for
+a walk, so that there was a reprieve at least of a few hours of the
+penalty that overhung him.
+
+The trumpet-call for the mess had just sounded as Conyers gained the
+door of the Colonel's quarters, and Hunter taking Fred's arm, they
+crossed the barrack-square together.
+
+"I have a great deal to say to you, Conyers," said he, hurriedly; "part
+of it unpleasant,--none of it, indeed, very gratifying--"
+
+"I know you are going to leave us, sir," said Fred, who perceived the
+more than common emotion in the other's manner. "And for myself, I own I
+have no longer any desire to remain in the regiment. I might go further,
+and say no more zest for the service. It was through your friendship for
+me I learned to curb many and many promptings to resistance, and when
+_you_ go--"
+
+"I am very sorry,--very, very sorry to leave you all," said Hunter,
+with a broken voice. "It is not every man that proudly can point to
+seven-and-twenty-years' service in a regiment without one incident to
+break the hearty cordiality that bound us. We had no bickerings, no
+petty jealousies amongst us. If a man joined us who wanted partisanship
+and a set, he soon found it better to exchange. I never expect again
+to lead the happy life I have here, and I 'd rather have led our bold
+squadrons in the field than have been a General of Division." Who could
+have believed that he, whose eyes ran over, as he spoke these broken
+words, was, five minutes after, the gay and rattling Colonel his
+officers always saw him, full of life, spirit, and animation, jocularly
+alluding to his speedy departure, and gayly speculating on the
+comparisons that would be formed between himself and his successor? "I'm
+leaving him the horses in good condition," said he; "and when Hargrave
+learns to give the word of command above a whisper, and Eyreton can ride
+without a backboard, he 'll scarcely report you for inefficiency." It
+is fair to add, that the first-mentioned officer had a voice like a
+bassoon, and the second was the beau-ideal of dragoon horsemanship.
+
+It would not have consisted with military etiquette to have asked
+the Colonel the nature of his promotion, nor as to what new sphere of
+service he was called. Even the old Major, his contemporary, dared not
+have come directly to the question; and while all were eager to hear
+it, the utmost approach was by an insinuation or an innuendo. Hunter was
+known for no quality more remarkably than for his outspoken frankness,
+and some surprise was felt that in his returning thanks for his health
+being drank, not a word should escape him on this point; but the anxiety
+was not lessened by the last words he spoke. "It may be, it is more than
+likely, I shall never see the regiment again; but the sight of a hussar
+jacket or a scarlet busby will bring you all back to my memory, and you
+may rely on it, that whether around the mess-table or the bivouac fire
+my heart will be with you."
+
+Scarcely had the cheer that greeted the words subsided, when a deep
+voice from the extreme end of the table said,--
+
+"If only a new-comer in the regiment, Colonel Hunter, I am too proud
+of my good fortune not to associate myself with the feelings of my
+comrades, and, while partaking of their deep regrets, I feel it a duty
+to contribute, if in my power, by whatever may lighten the grief of our
+loss. Am I at liberty to do so? Have I your free permission, I mean?"
+
+"I am fairly puzzled by your question, Captain Stapylton. I have not
+the very vaguest clew to your meaning, but, of course, you have my
+permission to mention whatever you deem proper."
+
+"It is a toast I would propose, sir."
+
+"By all means. The thing is not very regular, perhaps, but we are not
+exactly remarkable for regularity this evening. Fill, gentlemen, for
+Captain Stapylton's toast!"
+
+"Few words will propose it," said Stapylton. "We have just drank Colonel
+Hunter's health with all the enthusiasm that befits the toast, but in
+doing so our tribute has been paid to the past; of the present and the
+future we have taken no note whatever, and it is to these I would now
+recall you. I say, therefore, bumpers to the health, happiness, and
+success of Major-General Hunter, Political Resident and Minister at the
+Court of Agra!"
+
+"No, no!" cried young Conyers, loudly, "this is a mistake. It is my
+father--it is Lieutenant-General Conyers--who resides at Agra. Am I not
+right, sir?" cried he, turning to the Colonel.
+
+But Hunter's face, pale as death even to the lips, and the agitation
+with which he grasped Fred's hand, so overcame the youth that with a
+sudden cry he sprang from his seat, and rushed out of the room. Hunter
+as quickly followed him; and now all were grouped around Stapylton,
+eagerly questioning and inquiring what his tidings might mean.
+
+"The old story, gentlemen,--the old story, with which we are all more or
+less familiar in this best of all possible worlds: General Hunter
+goes out in honor, and General Conyers comes home in--well, under a
+cloud,--of course one that he is sure and certain to dispel. I
+conclude the Colonel would rather have had his advancement under other
+circumstances; but in this game of leap-frog that we call life, we must
+occasionally jump over our friends as well as our enemies."
+
+"How and where did you get the news?"
+
+"It came to me from town. I heard it this morning, and of course I
+imagined that the Colonel had told it to Conyers, whom it so intimately
+concerned. I hope I may not have been indiscreet in what I meant as a
+compliment."
+
+None cared to offer their consolings to one so fully capable of
+supplying the commodity to himself, and the party broke up in twos or
+threes, moodily seeking their own quarters, and brooding gloomily over
+what they had just witnessed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII. LEAVING HOME
+
+I will ask my reader now to turn for a brief space to the "Fisherman's
+Home," which is a scene of somewhat unusual bustle. The Barringtons are
+preparing for a journey, and old Peter's wardrobe has been displayed for
+inspection along a hedge of sweet-brier in the garden,--an arrangement
+devised by the genius of Darby, who passes up and down, with an
+expression of admiration on his face, the sincerity of which could not
+be questioned. A more reflective mind than his might have been carried
+away, at the sight to thoughts of the strange passages in the late
+history of Ireland, so curiously typified in that motley display.
+There, was the bright green dress-coat of Daly's club, recalling days of
+political excitement, and all the plottings and cabals of a once famous
+opposition. There was, in somewhat faded splendor it must be owned, a
+court suit of the Duke of Portland's day, when Irish gentlemen were as
+gorgeous as the courtiers of Versailles. Here came a grand colonel's
+uniform, when Barrington commanded a regiment of Volunteers; and yonder
+lay a friar's frock and cowl, relics of those "attic nights" with the
+Monks of the Screw, and recalling memories of Avonmore and Curran,
+and Day and Parsons; and with them were mixed hunting-coats, and
+shooting-jackets, and masonic robes, and "friendly brother" emblems,
+and long-waisted garments, and swallow-tailed affectations of all shades
+and tints,--reminders of a time when Buck Whalley was the eccentric, and
+Lord Llandaff the beau of Irish society. I am not certain that Monmouth
+Street would have endorsed Darby's sentiment as he said, "There was
+clothes there for a king on his throne!" but it was an honestly uttered
+speech, and came out of the fulness of an admiring heart, and although
+in truth he was nothing less than an historian, he was forcibly struck
+by the thought that Ireland must have been a grand country to live in,
+in those old days when men went about their ordinary avocations in such
+splendor as he saw there.
+
+[Illustration: 252]
+
+Nor was Peter Barrington himself an unmoved spectator of these old
+remnants of the past Old garments, like old letters, bring oftentimes
+very forcible memories of a long ago; and as he turned over the
+purple-stained flap of a waistcoat, he bethought him of a night at
+Daly's, when, in returning thanks for his health, his shaking hand had
+spilled that identical glass of Burgundy; and in the dun-colored tinge
+of a hunting-coat he remembered the day he had plunged into the Nore
+at Corrig O'Neal, himself and the huntsman, alone of all the field, to
+follow the dogs!
+
+"Take them away, Darby, take them away; they only set me a-thinking
+about the pleasant companions of my early life. It was in that suit
+there I moved the amendment in '82, when Henry Grattan crossed over and
+said, 'Barrington will lead us here, as he does in the hunting-field.'
+Do you see that peach-colored waistcoat? It was Lady Caher embroidered
+every stitch of it with her own hands, for me."
+
+"Them 's elegant black satin breeches," said Darby, whose eyes of
+covetousness were actually rooted on the object of his desire.
+
+"I never wore them," said Barrington, with a sigh. "I got them for a
+duel with Mat Fortescue, but Sir Toby Blake shot him that morning. Poor
+Mat!"
+
+"And I suppose you'll never wear them now. You couldn't bear the sight
+then," said Darby, insinuatingly.
+
+"Most likely not," said Barrington, as he turned away with a heavy sigh.
+Darby sighed also, but not precisely in the same spirit.
+
+Let me passingly remark that the total unsuitability to his condition
+of any object seems rather to enhance its virtue in the eyes of a lower
+Irishman, and a hat or a coat which he could not, by any possibility,
+wear in public, might still be to him things to covet and desire.
+
+"What is the meaning of all this rag fair?" cried Miss Barrington, as
+she suddenly came in front of the exposed wardrobe. "You are not surely
+making any selections from these tawdry absurdities, brother, for your
+journey?"
+
+[Illustration: 252]
+
+"Well, indeed," said Barrington, with a droll twinkle of his eye, "it
+was a point that Darby and I were discussing as you came up. Darby
+opines that to make a suitable impression upon the Continent, I must not
+despise the assistance of dress, and he inclines much to that Corbeau
+coat with the cherry-colored lining."
+
+"If Darby 's an ass, brother, I don't imagine it is a good reason to
+consult him," said she, angrily. "Put all that trash where you found it.
+Lay out your master's black clothes and the gray shooting-coat, see that
+his strong boots are in good repair, and get a serviceable lock on that
+valise."
+
+It was little short of magic the spell these few and distinctly uttered
+words seemed to work on Darby, who at once descended from a realm of
+speculation and scheming to the commonplace world of duty and obedience.
+"I really wonder how you let yourself be imposed on, brother, by the
+assumed simplicity of that shrewd fellow."
+
+"I like it, Dinah, I positively like it," said he, with a smile. "I
+watch him playing the game with a pleasure almost as great as his
+own; and as I know that the stakes are small, I 'm never vexed at his
+winning."
+
+"But you seem to forget the encouragement this impunity suggests."
+
+"Perhaps it does, Dinah; and very likely his little rogueries are
+as much triumphs to him as are all the great political intrigues the
+glories of some grand statesman."
+
+"Which means that you rather like to be cheated," said she, scoffingly.
+
+"When the loss is a mere trifle, I don't always think it ill laid out."
+
+"And I," said she, resolutely, "so far from participating in your
+sentiment, feel it to be an insult and an outrage. There is a sense of
+inferiority attached to the position of a dupe that would drive me to
+any reprisals."
+
+"I always said it; I always said it," cried he, laughing. "The women of
+our family monopolized all the com-bativeness."
+
+Miss Barrington's eyes sparkled, and her cheek glowed, and she looked
+like one stung to the point of a very angry rejoinder, when by an effort
+she controlled her passion, and, taking a letter from her pocket, she
+opened it, and said, "This is from Withering. He has managed to obtain
+all the information we need for our journey. We are to sail for Ostend
+by the regular packet, two of which go every week from Dover. From
+thence there are stages or canal-boats to Bruges and Brussels, cheap
+and commodious, he says. He gives us the names of two hotels, one of
+which--the 'Lamb,' at Brussels--he recommends highly; and the Pension of
+a certain Madame Ochteroogen, at Namur, will, he opines, suit us better
+than an inn. In fact, this letter is a little road book, with the
+expenses marked down, and we can quietly count the cost of our venture
+before we make it."
+
+"I 'd rather not, Dinah. The very thought of a limit is torture to me.
+Give me bread and water every day, if you like, but don't rob me of the
+notion that some fine day I am to be regaled with beef and pudding."
+
+"I don't wonder that we have come to beggary," said she, passionately.
+"I don't know what fortune and what wealth could compensate for a
+temperament like yours."
+
+"You may be right, Dinah. It may go far to make a man squander his
+substance, but take my word for it, it will help him to bear up under
+the loss."
+
+If Barrington could have seen the gleam of affection that filled his
+sister's eyes, he would have felt what love her heart bore him; but he
+had stooped down to take a caterpillar off a flower, and did not mark
+it.
+
+"Withering has seen young Conyers," she continued, as her eyes ran over
+the letter "He called upon him." Barrington made no rejoinder, though
+she waited for one. "The poor lad was in great affliction; some
+distressing news from India--of what kind Withering could not guess--had
+just reached him, and he appeared overwhelmed by it."
+
+"He is very young for sorrow," said Barrington, feelingly.
+
+"Just what Withering said;" and she read out, "'When I told him that
+I had come to make an _amende_ for the reception he had met with at the
+cottage, he stopped me at once, and said, "Great grief s are the cure
+of small ones, and you find me under a very heavy affliction. Tell Miss
+Barrington that I have no other memories of the 'Fisherman's Home' than
+of all her kindness towards me."'"
+
+"Poor boy!" said Barrington, with emotion. "And how did Withering leave
+him?"
+
+"Still sad and suffering. Struggling too, Withering thought, between
+a proud attempt to conceal his grief and an ardent impulse to tell all
+about it 'Had _you_ been there,' he writes, 'you'd have had the whole
+story; but I saw that he could n't stoop to open his heart to a man.'"
+
+"Write to him, Dinah. Write and ask him down here for a couple of days."
+
+"You forget that we are to leave this the day after tomorrow, brother."
+
+"So I did. I forgot it completely. Well, what if he were to come for one
+day? What if you were to say come over and wish us good-bye?"
+
+"It is so like a man and a man's selfishness never to consider a
+domestic difficulty," said she, tartly. "So long as a house has a roof
+over it, you fancy it may be available for hospitalities. You never take
+into account the carpets to be taken up, and the beds that are taken
+down, the plate-chest that is packed, and the cellar that is walled up.
+You forget, in a word, that to make that life you find so very easy,
+some one else must pass an existence full of cares and duties."
+
+"There 's not a doubt of it, Dinah. There 's truth and reason in every
+word you 've said."
+
+"I will write to him if you like, and say that we mean to be at home by
+an early day in October, and that if he is disposed to see how our woods
+look in autumn, we will be well pleased to have him for our guest."
+
+"Nothing could be better. Do so, Dinah. I owe the young fellow a
+reparation, and I shall not have an easy conscience till I make it."
+
+"Ah, brother Peter, if your moneyed debts had only given you one-half
+the torment of your moral ones, what a rich man you might have been
+to-day!"
+
+Long after his sister had gone away and left him, Peter Barrington
+continued to muse over this speech. He felt it, felt it keenly too, but
+in no bitterness of spirit.
+
+Like most men of a lax and easy temper, he could mete out to himself the
+same merciful measure he accorded to others, and be as forgiving to his
+own faults as to theirs. "I suppose Dinah is right, though," said he to
+himself. "I never did know that sensitive irritability under debt which
+insures solvency. And whenever a man can laugh at a dun, he is pretty
+sure to be on the high-road to bankruptcy! Well, well, it is somewhat
+late to try and reform, but I'll do my best!" And thus comforted, he set
+about tying up fallen rose-trees and removing noxious insects with all
+his usual zeal.
+
+"I half wish the place did not look in such beauty, just as I must leave
+it for a while. I don't think that japonica ever had as many flowers
+before; and what a season for tulips! Not to speak of the fruit There
+are peaches enough to stock a market. I wonder what Dinah means to do
+with them? She 'll be sorely grieved to make them over as perquisites to
+Darby, and I know she 'll never consent to have them sold. No, that is
+the one concession she cannot stoop to. Oh, here she comes! What a grand
+year for the wall fruit, Dinah!" cried he, aloud.
+
+"The apricots have all failed, and fully one-half of the peaches are
+worm-eaten," said she, dryly.
+
+Peter sighed as he thought, how she does dispel an illusion, what a
+terrible realist is this same sister! "Still, my dear Dinah, one-half of
+such a crop is a goodly yield."
+
+"Out with it, Peter Barrington. Out with the question that is burning
+for utterance. What's to be done with them? I have thought of that
+already. I have told Polly Dill to preserve a quantity for us, and to
+take as much more as she pleases for her own use, and make presents to
+her friends of the remainder. She is to be mistress here while we are
+away, and has promised to come up two or three times a week, and see
+after everything, for I neither desire to have the flower-roots sold,
+nor the pigeons eaten before our return."
+
+"That is an admirable arrangement, sister. I don't know a better girl
+than Polly!"
+
+"She is better than I gave her credit for," said Miss Barrington, who
+was not fully pleased at any praise not bestowed by herself. A man's
+estimate of a young woman's goodness is not so certain of finding
+acceptance from her own sex! "And as for that girl, the wonder is that
+with a fool for a mother, and a crafty old knave for a father, she
+really should possess one good trait or one amiable quality." Barrington
+muttered what sounded like concurrence, and she went on: "And it is for
+this reason I have taken an interest in her, and hope, by occupying her
+mind with useful cares and filling her hours with commendable duties,
+she will estrange herself from that going about to fine houses, and
+frequenting society where she is exposed to innumerable humiliations,
+and worse."
+
+"Worse, Dinah!--what could be worse?"
+
+"Temptations are worse, Peter Barrington, even when not yielded to; for
+like a noxious climate, which, though it fails to kill, it is certain to
+injure the constitution during a lifetime. Take my word for it, she
+'ll not be the better wife to the Curate for the memory of all the fine
+speeches she once heard from the Captain. Very old and ascetic notions
+I am quite aware, Peter; but please to bear in mind all the trouble we
+take that the roots of a favorite tree should not strike into a sour
+soil, and bethink you how very indifferent we are as to the daily
+associates of our children!"
+
+"There you are right, Dinah, there you are right,--at least, as regards
+girls."
+
+"And the rule applies fully as much to boys. All those manly
+accomplishments and out-of-door habits you lay such store by, could
+be acquired without the intimacy of the groom or the friendship of the
+gamekeeper. What are you muttering there about old-maids' children? Say
+it out, sir, and defend it, if you have the courage!"
+
+But either that he had not said it, or failed in the requisite boldness
+to maintain it, he blundered out a very confused assurance of agreement
+on every point.
+
+A woman is seldom merciful in argument; the consciousness that she owes
+victory to her violence far more than to her logic, prompts persistence
+in the course she has followed so successfully, and so was it that Miss
+Dinah contrived to gallop over the battlefield long after the enemy was
+routed! But Barrington was not in a mood to be vexed; the thought of the
+journey filled him with so many pleasant anticipations, the brightest
+of all being the sight of poor George's child! Not that this thought had
+not its dark side, in contrition for the long, long years he had left
+her unnoticed and neglected. Of course he had his own excuses
+and apologies for all this: he could refer to his overwhelming
+embarrassments, and the heavy cares that surrounded him; but then
+she--that poor friendless girl, that orphan--could have known nothing
+of these things; and what opinion might she not have formed of those
+relatives who had so coldly and heartlessly abandoned her! Barrington
+took down her miniature, painted when she was a mere infant, and scanned
+it well, as though to divine what nature might possess her! There was
+little for speculation there,--perhaps even less for hope! The eyes were
+large and lustrous, it is true, but the brow was heavy, and the
+mouth, even in infancy, had something that seemed like firmness and
+decision,--strangely at variance with the lips of childhood.
+
+Now, old Barrington's heart was deeply set on that lawsuit--that great
+cause against the Indian Government--that had formed the grand campaign
+of his life. It was his first waking thought of a morning, his last at
+night. All his faculties were engaged in revolving the various points
+of evidence, and imagining how this and that missing link might be
+supplied; and yet, with all these objects of desire before him, he would
+have given them up, each and all, to be sure of one thing,--that his
+granddaughter might be handsome! It was not that he did not value far
+above the graces of person a number of other gifts; he would not, for an
+instant, have hesitated, had he to choose between mere beauty and a
+good disposition. If he knew anything of himself, it was his thorough
+appreciation of a kindly nature, a temper to bear well, and a spirit
+to soar nobly; but somehow he imagined these were gifts she was likely
+enough to possess. George's child would resemble him; she would have his
+light-heartedness and his happy nature, but would she be handsome? It
+is, trust me, no superficial view of life that attaches a great price
+to personal atractions, and Barrington was one to give these their full
+value. Had she been brought up from childhood under his roof, he had
+probably long since ceased to think of such a point; he would have
+attached himself to her by the ties of that daily domesticity which
+grow into a nature. The hundred little cares and offices that would
+have fallen to her lot to meet, would have served as links to bind their
+hearts; but she was coming to them a perfect stranger, and he wished
+ardently that his first impression should be all in her favor.
+
+Now, while such were Barrington's reveries, his sister took a different
+turn. She had already pictured to herself the dark-orbed, heavy-browed
+child, expanded into a sallow-complexioned, heavy-featured girl,
+ungainly and ungraceful, her figure neglected, her very feet spoiled by
+the uncouth shoes of the convent, her great red hands untrained to all
+occupation save the coarse cares of that half-menial existence. "As my
+brother would say," muttered she, "a most unpromising filly, if it were
+not for the breeding."
+
+Both brother and sister, however, kept their impressions to themselves,
+and of all the subjects discussed between them not one word betrayed
+what each forecast about Josephine. I am half sorry it is no part of my
+task to follow them on the road, and yet I feel I could not impart to my
+reader the almost boylike enjoyment old Peter felt at every stage of the
+journey. He had made the grand tour of Europe more than half a century
+before, and he was in ecstasy to find so much that was unchanged around
+him. There were the long-eared caps, and the monstrous earrings, and
+the sabots, and the heavily tasselled team horses, and the chiming
+church-bells, and the old-world equipages, and the strangely undersized
+soldiers,--all just as he saw them last! And every one was so polite
+and ceremonious, and so idle and so unoccupied, and the theatres were so
+large and the newspapers so small, and the current coin so defaced, and
+the order of the meats at dinner so inscrutable, and every one seemed
+contented just because he had nothing to do.
+
+"Isn't it all I have told you, Dinah dear? Don't you perceive
+how accurate my picture has been? And is it not very charming and
+enjoyable?"
+
+"They are the greatest cheats I ever met in my life, brother Peter; and
+when I think that every grin that greets us is a matter of five francs,
+it mars considerably the pleasure I derive from the hilarity."
+
+It was in this spirit they journeyed till they arrived at Brussels.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII. THE COLONEL'S COUNSELS
+
+When Conyers had learned from Colonel Hunter all that he knew of
+his father's involvement, it went no further than this, that the
+Lieutenant-General had either resigned or been deprived of his civil
+appointments, and Hunter was called upon to replace him. With all his
+habit of hasty and impetuous action, there was no injustice in
+Fred's nature, and he frankly recognized that, however painful to him
+personally, Hunter could not refuse to accede to what the Prince had
+distinctly pressed him to accept.
+
+Young Conyers had heard over and over again the astonishment expressed
+by old Indian officials how his father's treatment of the Company's
+orders had been so long endured. Some prescriptive immunity seemed to
+attach to him, or some great patronage to protect him, for he appeared
+to do exactly as he pleased, and the despotic sway of his rule was known
+far and near. With the changes in the constitution of the Board, some
+members might have succeeded less disposed to recognize the General's
+former services, or endure so tolerantly his present encroachments, and
+Fred well could estimate the resistance his father would oppose to the
+very mildest remonstrance, and how indignantly he would reject whatever
+came in the shape of a command. Great as was the blow to the young man,
+it was not heavier in anything than the doubt and uncertainty about it,
+and he waited with a restless impatience for his father's letter,
+which should explain it all. Nor was his position less painful from
+the estrangement in which he lived, and the little intercourse he
+maintained with his brother-officers. When Hunter left, he knew that he
+had not one he could call friend amongst them, and Hunter was to go in a
+very few days, and even of these he could scarcely spare him more than a
+few chance moments!
+
+It was in one of these flitting visits that Hunter bethought him of
+young Dill, of whom, it is only truth to confess, young Conyers had
+forgotten everything. "I took time by the forelock, Fred, about that
+affair," said he, "and I trust I have freed you from all embarrassment
+about it."
+
+"As how, sir?" asked Conyers, half in pique.
+
+"When I missed you at the 'Fisherman's Home,' I set off to pay the
+doctor a visit, and a very charming visit it turned out; a better
+pigeon-pie I never ate, nor a prettier girl than the maker of it would
+I ask to meet with. We became great friends, talked of everything,
+from love at first sight to bone spavins, and found that we agreed to
+a miracle. I don't think I ever saw a girl before who suited me so
+perfectly in all her notions. She gave me a hint about what they call
+'mouth lameness' our Vet would give his eye for. Well, to come back
+to her brother,--a dull dog, I take it, though I have not seen him,--I
+said, 'Don't let him go to India, they 've lots of clever fellows out
+there; pack him off to Australia; send him to New Zealand.' And when she
+interrupted me, 'But young Mr. Conyers insisted,--he would have it so;
+his father is to make Tom's fortune, and to send him back as rich as a
+Begum,' I said, 'He has fallen in love with you, Miss Polly, that's the
+fact, and lost his head altogether; and I don't wonder at it, for here
+am I, close upon forty-eight,--I might have said forty-nine, but no
+matter,--close upon forty-eight, and I 'm in the same book!' Yes, if
+it was the sister, _vice_ the brother, who wanted to make a fortune in
+India, I almost think I could say, 'Come and share mine!'"
+
+"But I don't exactly understand. Am I to believe that they wish Tom to
+be off--to refuse my offer--and that the rejection comes from them?"
+
+"No, not exactly. I said it was a bad spec, that you had taken a far too
+sanguine view of the whole thing, and that as I was an old soldier, and
+knew more of the world,--that is to say, had met a great many more
+hard rubs and disappointments,--my advice was, not to risk it. 'Young
+Conyers,' said I, 'will do all that he has promised to the letter.
+You may rely upon every word that he has ever uttered. But bear in mind
+that he's only a mortal man; he's not one of those heathen gods who used
+to make fellows invincible in a battle, or smuggle them off in a cloud,
+out of the way of demons, or duns, or whatever difficulties beset them.
+He might die, his father might die, any of us might die.' Yes, by Jove!
+there's nothing so uncertain as life, except the Horse Guards.' And
+putting one thing with another, Miss Polly,' said I, 'tell him to
+stay where he is,'--open a shop at home, or go to one of the
+colonies,--Heligoland, for instance, a charming spot for the
+bathing-season."
+
+"And she, what did she say?"
+
+"May I be cashiered if I remember! I never do remember very clearly what
+any one says. Where I am much interested on my own side, I have no time
+for the other fellow's arguments. But I know if she was n't convinced
+she ought to have been. I put the thing beyond a question, and I made
+her cry."
+
+"Made her cry!"
+
+"Not cry,--that is, she did not blubber; but she looked glassy about
+the lids, and turned away her head. But to be sure we were parting,--a
+rather soft bit of parting, too,--and I said something about my coming
+back with a wooden leg, and she said, 'No! have it of cork, they make
+them so cleverly now.' And I was going to say something more, when a
+confounded old half-pay Major came up and interrupted us, and--and, in
+fact, there it rests."
+
+"I 'm not at all easy in mind as to this affair. I mean, I don't like
+how I stand in it."
+
+"But you stand out of it,--out of it altogether! Can't you imagine that
+your father may have quite enough cares of his own to occupy him without
+needing the embarrassment of looking after this bumpkin, who, for aught
+you know, might repay very badly all the interest taken in him? If
+it had been the girl,--if it had been Polly--" "I own frankly," said
+Conyers, tartly, "it did not occur to me to make such an offer to
+_her!_"
+
+"Faith! then, Master Fred, I was deuced near doing it,--so near, that
+when I came away I scarcely knew whether I had or had not done so."
+
+"Well, sir, there is only an hour's drive on a good road required to
+repair the omission."
+
+"That's true, Fred,--that's true; but have you never, by an accident,
+chanced to come up with a stunning fence,--a regular rasper that you
+took in a fly a few days before with the dogs, and as you looked at
+the place, have you not said, 'What on earth persuaded me to ride at
+_that?_'"
+
+"Which means, sir, that your cold-blooded reflections are against the
+project?"
+
+"Not exactly that, either," said he, in a sort of confusion; "but when
+a man speculates on doing something for which the first step must be an
+explanation to this fellow, a half apology to that,--with a whimpering
+kind of entreaty not to be judged hastily, not to be condemned unheard,
+not to be set down as an old fool who couldn't stand the fire of a pair
+of bright eyes,--I say when it comes to this, he ought to feel that his
+best safeguard is his own misgiving!"
+
+"If I do not agree with you, sir, it is because I incline to follow my
+own lead, and care very little for what the world says of it."
+
+"Don't believe a word of that, Fred; it's all brag,--all nonsense! The
+very effrontery with which you fancy you are braving public opinion is
+only Dutch courage. What each of us in his heart thinks of himself
+is only the reflex of the world's estimate of him; at least, what
+he imagines it to be. Now, for my own part, I 'd rather ride up to a
+battery in full fire than I'd sit down and write to my old aunt Dorothy
+Hunter a formal letter announcing my approaching marriage, telling her
+that the lady of my choice was twenty or thereabouts, not to add
+that her family name was Dill. Believe me, Fred, that if you want the
+concentrated essence of public opinion, you have only to do something
+which shall irritate and astonish the half-dozen people with whom you
+live in intimacy. Won't they remind you about the mortgages on your
+lands and the gray in your whiskers, that last loan you raised from
+Solomon Hymans, and that front tooth you got replaced by Cartwright,
+though it was the week before they told you you were a miracle of order
+and good management, and actually looking younger than you did five
+years ago! You're not minding me, Fred,--not following me; you 're
+thinking of your _prot�g�_, Tom Dill, and what he 'll think and say of
+your desertion of him."
+
+"You have hit it, sir. It was exactly what I was asking myself."
+
+"Well, if nothing better offers, tell him to get himself in readiness,
+and come out with me. I cannot make him a Rajah, nor even a Zemindar;
+but I 'll stick him into a regimental surgeoncy, and leave him to
+fashion out his own future. He must look sharp, however, and lose no
+time. The 'Ganges' is getting ready in all haste, and will be round
+at Portsmouth by the 8th, and we expect to sail on the 12th or 13th at
+furthest."
+
+"I 'll write to him to-day. I 'll write this moment."
+
+"Add a word of remembrance on my part to the sister, and tell bumpkin to
+supply himself with no end of letters, recommendatory and laudatory, to
+muzzle our Medical Board at Calcutta, and lots of light clothing, and
+all the torturing instruments he 'll need, and a large stock of good
+humor, for he'll be chaffed unmercifully all the voyage." And, with
+these comprehensive directions, the Colonel concluded his counsels, and
+bustled away to look after his own personal interests.
+
+Fred Conyers was not over-pleased with the task assigned him. The
+part he liked to fill in life, and, indeed, that which he had usually
+performed, was the Benefactor and the Patron, and it was but an
+ungracious office for him to have to cut the wings and disfigure
+the plumage of his generosity. He made two, three, four attempts at
+conveying his intentions, but with none was he satisfied; so he ended by
+simply saying, "I have something of importance to tell you, and which,
+not being altogether pleasant, it will be better to say than to write;
+so I have to beg you will come up here at once, and see me." Scarcely
+was this letter sealed and addressed than he bethought him of the
+awkwardness of presenting Tom to his brother-officers, or the still
+greater indecorum of not presenting him. "How shall I ask him to the
+mess, with the certainty of all the impertinences he will be exposed
+to?--and what pretext have I for not offering him the ordinary attention
+shown to every stranger?" He was, in fact, wincing under that public
+opinion he had only a few moments before declared he could afford to
+despise. "No," said he, "I have no right to expose poor Tom to this. I
+'ll drive over myself to the village, and if any advice or counsel be
+needed, he will be amongst those who can aid him."
+
+He ordered his servant to harness his handsome roan, a thoroughbred
+of surpassing style and action, to the dog-cart,--not over-sorry to
+astonish his friend Tom by the splendor of a turn-out that had won the
+suffrages of Tattersall's,--and prepared for his mission to Inistioge.
+
+Was it with the same intention of "astonishing" Tom Dill that Conyers
+bestowed such unusual attention upon his dress? At his first visit to
+the "Fisherman's Home" he had worn the homely shooting-jacket and felt
+hat which, however comfortable and conventional, do not always redound
+to the advantage of the wearer, or, if they do, it is by something,
+perhaps, in the contrast presented to his ordinary appearance, and
+the impression ingeniously insinuated that he is one so unmistakably a
+gentleman, no travesty of costume can efface the stamp.
+
+It was in this garb Polly had seen him, and if Polly Dill had been a
+duchess it was in some such garb she would have been accustomed to see
+her brother or her cousin some six out of every seven mornings of the
+week; but Polly was not a duchess: she was the daughter of a village
+doctor, and might, not impossibly, have acquired a very erroneous
+estimate of his real pretensions from having beheld him thus attired.
+It was, therefore, entirely by a consideration for her ignorance of the
+world and its ways that he determined to enlighten her.
+
+At the time of which I am writing, the dress of the British army was a
+favorite study with that Prince whose taste, however questionable, never
+exposed him to censure on grounds of over-simplicity and plainness. As
+the Colonel of the regiment Conyers belonged to, he had bestowed upon
+his own especial corps an unusual degree of splendor in equipment, and
+amongst other extravagances had given them an almost boundless liberty
+of combining different details of dress. Availing himself of this
+privilege, our young Lieutenant invented a costume which, however
+unmilitary and irregular, was not deficient in becomingness. Under
+a plain blue jacket very sparingly braided he wore the rich scarlet
+waistcoat, all slashed with gold, they had introduced at their mess. A
+simple foraging-cap and overalls, seamed with a thin gold line, made up
+a dress that might have passed for the easy costume of the barrack-yard,
+while, in reality, it was eminently suited to set off the wearer.
+
+Am I to confess that he looked at himself in the glass with very
+considerable satisfaction, and muttered, as he turned away, "Yes, Miss
+Polly, this is in better style than that Quakerish drab livery you saw
+me last in, and I have little doubt that you 'll think so!"
+
+"Is this our best harness, Holt?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"All right!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV. CONYERS MAKES A MORNING CALL
+
+When Conyers, to the astonishment and wonder of an admiring village
+public, drove his seventeen-hand-high roan into the market square of
+Inistioge, he learned that all of the doctor's family were from home
+except Mrs. Dill. Indeed, he saw the respectable lady at the window
+with a book in her hand, from which not all the noise and clatter of his
+arrival for one moment diverted her. Though not especially anxious to
+attract her attention, he was half piqued at her show of indifference.
+A dog-cart by Adams and a thoroughbred like Boanerges were, after all,
+worth a glance at. Little did he know what a competitor be had in that
+much-thumbed old volume, whose quaintly told miseries were to her as
+her own sorrows. Could he have assembled underneath that window all the
+glories of a Derby Day, Mr. Richardson's "Clarissa" would have beaten
+the field. While he occupied himself in dexterously tapping the
+flies from his horse with the fine extremity of his whip, and thus
+necessitating that amount of impatience which made the spirited animal
+stamp and champ his bit, the old lady read on undisturbed.
+
+"Ask at what hour the doctor will be at home, Holt," cried he,
+peevishly.
+
+"Not till to-morrow, sir; he has gone to Castle Durrow."
+
+"And Miss Dill, is she not in the house?"
+
+"No, sir; she has gone down to the 'Fisherman's Home' to look after the
+garden,--the family having left that place this morning."
+
+After a few minutes' reflection, Conyers ordered his servant to put up
+the horse at the inn, and wait for him there; and then engaging a "cot,"
+he set out for the "Fisherman's Home." "After having come so far, it
+would be absurd to go back without doing something in this business,"
+thought he. "Polly, besides, is the brains carrier of these people. The
+matter would be referred to her; and why should I not go at once, and
+directly address her myself? With her womanly tact, too, she will see
+that for any reserve in my manner there must be a corresponding reason,
+and she'll not press me with awkward questions or painful inquiries, as
+the underbred brother might do. It will be enough when I intimate to
+her that my plan is not so practicable as when I first projected it." He
+reassured himself with a variety of reasonings of this stamp, which had
+the double effect of convincing his own mind and elevating Miss Polly in
+his estimation. There is a very subtle self-flattery in believing that
+the true order of person to deal with us--to understand and appreciate
+us--is one possessed of considerable ability united with the very finest
+sensibility. Thus dreaming and "mooning," he reached the "Fisherman's
+Home." The air of desertion struck him even as he landed; and is there
+not some secret magic in the vicinity of life, of living people, which
+gives the soul to the dwelling-place? Have we to more than cross the
+threshold of the forsaken house to feel its desertion,--to know that our
+echoing step will track us along stair and corridor, and that through
+the thin streaks of light between the shutters phantoms of the absent
+will flit or hover, while the dimly descried objects of the room will
+bring memories of bright mornings and of happy eves? It is strange
+to measure the sadness of this effect upon us when caused even by the
+aspect of houses which we frequented not as friends but mere visitors;
+just as the sight of death thrills us, even though we had not loved the
+departed in his lifetime. But so it is: there is unutterable bitterness
+attached to the past, and there is no such sorrow as over the bygone!
+
+All about the little cottage was silent and desolate; even the shrill
+peacock, so wont to announce the coming stranger with his cry, sat
+voiceless and brooding on a branch; and except the dull flow of the
+river, not a sound was heard. After tapping lightly at the door and
+peering through the partially closed shutters, Conyers turned towards
+the garden at the back, passing as he went his favorite seat under the
+great sycamore-tree. It was not a widely separated "long ago" since
+he had sat there, and yet how different had life become to him in the
+interval! With what a protective air he had talked to poor Tom on
+that spot,--how princely were the promises of his patronage, yet not
+exaggerated beyond his conscious power of performance! He hurried on,
+and came to the little wicket of the garden; it was open, and he
+passed in. A spade in some fresh-turned earth showed where some one had
+recently been at work, but still, as he went, he could find none. Alley
+after alley did he traverse, but to no purpose; and at last, in his
+ramblings, he came to a little copse which separated the main garden
+from a small flower-plat, known as Miss Dinah's, and on which the
+windows of her own little sitting-room opened. He had but seen this spot
+from the windows, and never entered it; indeed, it was a sort of sacred
+enclosure, within which the profane step of man was not often permitted
+to intrude. Nor was Conyers without a sting of self-reproach as he now
+passed in. He had not gone many steps when the reason of the seclusion
+seemed revealed to him. It was a small obelisk of white marble under a
+large willow-tree, bearing for inscription on its side, "To the Memory
+of George Barrington, the Truehearted, the Truthful, and the Brave,
+killed on the 19th February, 18--, at Agra, in the East Indies."
+
+How strange that he should be standing there beside the tomb of his
+father's dearest friend, his more than brother! That George who shared
+his joys and perils, the comrade of his heart! No two men had ever lived
+in closer bonds of affection, and yet somehow of all that love he had
+never heard his father speak, nor of the terrible fate that befell his
+friend had one syllable escaped him. "Who knows if friendships ever
+survive early manhood?" said Fred, bitterly, as he sat himself down
+at the base of the monument: "and yet might not this same George
+Barrington, had he lived, been of priceless value to my father now? Is
+it not some such manly affection, such generous devotion as his, that he
+may stand in need of?" Thus thinking, his imagination led him over the
+wide sea to that far-distant land of his childhood, and scenes of vast
+arid plains and far-away mountains, and wild ghauts, and barren-looking
+nullahs, intersected with yellow, sluggish streams, on whose muddy shore
+the alligator basked, rose before him, contrasted with the gorgeous
+splendors of retinue and the glittering host of gold-adorned followers.
+It was in a vision of grand but dreary despotism, power almost
+limitless, but without one ray of enjoyment, that he lost himself and
+let the hours glide by. At length, as though dreamily, he thought he
+was listening to some faint but delicious music; sounds seemed to come
+floating towards him through the leaves, as if meant to steep him in a
+continued languor, and imparted a strange half-fear that he was under a
+spell. With an effort he aroused himself and sprang to his legs; and now
+he could plainly perceive that the sounds came through an open window,
+where a low but exquisitely sweet voice was singing to the accompaniment
+of a piano. The melody was sad and plaintive; the very words came
+dropping slowly, like the drops of a distilled grief; and they sank into
+his heart with a feeling of actual poignancy, for they were as though
+steeped in sorrow. When of a sudden the singer ceased, the hands ran
+boldly, almost wildly, over the keys; one, two, three great massive
+chords were struck, and then, in a strain joyous as the skylark, the
+clear voice carolled forth with,--
+
+     "But why should we mourn for the grief of the morrow?
+     Who knows in what frame it may find us?
+     Meeker, perhaps, to bend under our sorrow,
+     Or more boldly to fling it behind us."
+
+And then, with a loud bang, the piano was closed, and Polly Dill,
+swinging her garden hat by its ribbon, bounded forth into the walk,
+calling for her terrier, Scratch, to follow.
+
+"Mr. Conyers here!" cried she, in astonishment. "What miracle could have
+led you to this spot?"
+
+"To meet you."
+
+"To meet me!"
+
+"With no other object. I came from Kilkenny this morning expressly
+to see you, and learning at your house that you had come on here, I
+followed. You still look astonished,--incredulous--"
+
+"Oh, no; not incredulous, but very much astonished. I am, it is true,
+sufficiently accustomed to find myself in request in my own narrow home
+circle, but that any one out of it should come three yards--not to say
+three miles--to speak to me, is, I own, very new and very strange."
+
+"Is not this profession of humility a little--a very little--bit of
+exaggeration, Miss Dill?"
+
+"Is not the remark you have made on it a little--a very little--bit of a
+liberty, Mr. Conyers?"
+
+So little was he prepared for this retort that he flushed up to his
+forehead, and for an instant was unable to recover himself: meanwhile,
+she was busy in rescuing Scratch from a long bramble that had most
+uncomfortably associated itself with his tail, in gratitude for which
+service the beast jumped up on her with all the uncouth activity of his
+race.
+
+"He at least, Miss Dill, can take liberties unrebuked," said Conyers,
+with irritation.
+
+"We are very old friends, sir, and understand each other's humors,
+not to say that Scratch knows well he 'd be tied up if he were to
+transgress."
+
+Conyers smiled; an almost irresistible desire to utter a smartness
+crossed his mind, and he found it all but impossible to resist saying
+something about accepting the bonds if he could but accomplish the
+transgression; but he bethought in time how unequal the war of banter
+would be between them, and it was with a quiet gravity he began: "I came
+to speak to you about Tom--"
+
+"Why, is that not all off? Colonel Hunter represented the matter so
+forcibly to my father, put all the difficulties so clearly before him,
+that I actually wrote to my brother, who had started for Dublin, begging
+him on no account to hasten the day of his examination, but to come home
+and devote himself carefully to the task of preparation."
+
+"It is true, the Colonel never regarded the project as I did, and saw
+obstacles to its success which never occurred to me; with all that,
+however, he never convinced me I was wrong."
+
+"Perhaps not always an easy thing to do," said she, dryly.
+
+"Indeed! You seem to have formed a strong opinion on the score of my
+firmness."
+
+"I was expecting you to say obstinacy," said she, laughing, "and was
+half prepared with a most abject retractation. At all events, I was
+aware that you did not give way."
+
+"And is the quality such a bad one?"
+
+"Just as a wind may be said to be a good or a bad one; due west, for
+instance, would be very unfavorable if you were bound to New York."
+
+It was the second time he had angled for a compliment, and failed;
+and he walked along at her side, fretful and discontented. "I begin to
+suspect," said he, at last, "that the Colonel was far more eager to make
+himself agreeable here than to give fair play to my reasons."
+
+"He was delightful, if you mean that; he possesses the inestimable boon
+of good spirits, which is the next thing to a good heart."
+
+"You don't like depressed people, then?"
+
+"I won't say I dislike, but I dread them. The dear friends who go about
+with such histories of misfortune and gloomy reflections on every one's
+conduct always give me the idea of a person who should carry with him
+a watering-pot to sprinkle his friends in this Irish climate, where it
+rains ten months out of the twelve. There is a deal to like in life,--a
+deal to enjoy, as well as a deal to see and to do; and the spirit which
+we bring to it is even of more moment than the incidents that befall
+us."
+
+"That was the burden of your song awhile ago," said he, smiling; "could
+I persuade you to sing it again?"
+
+"What are you dreaming of, Mr. Conyers? Is not this meeting here--this
+strolling about a garden with a young gentleman, a Hussar!--compromising
+enough, not to ask me to sit down at a piano and sing for him? Indeed,
+the only relief my conscience gives me for the imprudence of this
+interview is the seeing how miserable it makes _you_."
+
+"Miserable!--makes _me_ miserable!"
+
+"Well, embarrassed,--uncomfortable,--ill at ease; I don't care for the
+word. You came here to say a variety of things, and you don't like to
+say them. You are balked in certain very kind intentions towards us, and
+you don't know how very little of even intended good nature has befallen
+us in life to make us deeply your debtor for the mere project. Why, your
+very notice of poor Tom has done more to raise him in his own esteem and
+disgust him with low associates than all the wise arguments of all his
+family. There, now, if you have not done us all the good you meant, be
+satisfied with what you really have done."
+
+"This is very far short of what I intended."
+
+"Of course it is; but do not dwell upon that. I have a great stock of
+very fine intentions, too, but I shall not be in the least discouraged
+if I find them take wing and leave me."
+
+"What would you do then?"
+
+"Raise another brood. They tell us that if one seed of every million
+of acorns should grow to be a tree, all Europe would be a dense forest
+within a century. Take heart, therefore, about scattered projects; fully
+their share of them come to maturity. Oh dear! what a dreary sigh you
+gave! Don't you imagine yourself very unhappy?"
+
+"If I did, I'd scarcely come to you for sympathy, certainly," said he,
+with a half-bitter smile.
+
+"You are quite right there; not but that I could really condole with
+some of what I opine are your great afflictions: for instance, I could
+bestow very honest grief on that splint that your charger has just
+thrown out on his back tendon; I could even cry over the threatened
+blindness of that splendid steeple-chaser; but I 'd not fret about the
+way your pelisse was braided, nor because your new phaeton made so much
+noise with the axles."
+
+"By the way," said Conyers, "I have such a horse to show you! He is in
+the village. Might I drive him up here? Would you allow me to take you
+back?"
+
+"Not on any account, sir! I have grave misgivings about talking to you
+so long here, and I am mainly reconciled by remembering how disagreeable
+I have proved myself."
+
+"How I wish I had your good spirits!"
+
+"Why don't you rather wish for my fortunate lot in life,--so secure from
+casualties, so surrounded with life's comforts, so certain to attach to
+it consideration and respect? Take my word for it, Mr. Conyers, your
+own position is not utterly wretched; it is rather a nice thing to be
+a Lieutenant of Hussars, with good health, a good fortune, and a fair
+promise of mustachios. There, now, enough of impertinence for one day.
+I have a deal to do, and you 'll not help me to do it. I have a whole
+tulip-bed to transplant, and several trees to remove, and a new walk to
+plan through the beech shrubbery, not to speak of a change of domicile
+for the pigs,--if such creatures can be spoken of in your presence. Only
+think, three o'clock, and that weary Darby not got back from his dinner!
+has it ever occurred to you to wonder at the interminable time people
+can devote to a meal of potatoes?"
+
+"I cannot say that I have thought upon the matter."
+
+"Pray do so, then; divide the matter, as a German would, into all
+its 'Bearbeitungen,' and consider it ethnologically, esculently,
+and aesthetically, and you'll be surprised how puzzled you 'll be!
+Meanwhile, would you do me a favor?--I mean a great favor."
+
+"Of course I will; only say what it is."
+
+"Well; but I 'm about to ask more than you suspect."
+
+"I do not retract. I am ready."
+
+"What I want, then, is that you should wheel that barrow-ful of mould
+as far as the melon-bed. I 'd have done it myself if you had not been
+here."
+
+With a seriousness which cost him no small effort to maintain, Conyers
+addressed himself at once to the task; and she walked along at his side,
+with a rake over her shoulder, talking with the same cool unconcern she
+would have bestowed on Darby.
+
+"I have often told Miss Barrington," said she, "that our rock melons
+were finer than hers, because we used a peculiar composite earth, into
+which ash bark and soot entered,--what you are wheeling now, in fact,
+however hurtful it may be to your feelings. There! upset it exactly on
+that spot; and now let me see if you are equally handy with a spade."
+
+[Illustration: 276]
+
+"I should like to know what my wages are to be after all this," said he,
+as he spread the mould over the bed.
+
+"We give boys about eightpence a day."
+
+"Boys! what do you mean by boys?"
+
+"Everything that is not married is boy in Ireland; so don't be angry, or
+I 'll send you off. Pick up those stones, and throw these dock-weeds to
+one side."
+
+"You 'll send me a melon, at least, of my own raising, won't you?"
+
+"I won't promise; Heaven knows where you'll be--where I 'll be, by that
+time! Would _you_ like to pledge yourself to anything on the day the
+ripe fruit shall glow between those pale leaves?"
+
+"Perhaps I might," said he, stealing a half-tender glance towards her.
+
+"Well, I would not," said she, looking him full and steadfastly in the
+face.
+
+"Then that means you never cared very much for any one?"
+
+"If I remember aright, you were engaged as a gardener, not as father
+confessor. Now, you are really not very expert at the former; but you
+'ll make sad work of the latter."
+
+"You have not a very exalted notion of my tact, Miss Dill."
+
+"I don't know,--I'm not sure; I suspect you have at least what the
+French call 'good dispositions.' You took to your wheelbarrow very
+nicely, and you tried to dig--as little like a gentleman as need be."
+
+"Well, if this does not bate Banagher, my name is n't Darby!" exclaimed
+a rough voice, and a hearty laugh followed his words. "By my conscience,
+Miss Polly, it's only yerself could do it; and it's truth they say of
+you, you 'd get fun out of an archdaycon!"
+
+Conyers flung away his spade, and shook the mould from his boots in
+irritation.
+
+"Come, don't be cross," said she, slipping her arm within his, and
+leading him away; "don't spoil a very pleasant little adventure by ill
+humor. If these melons come to good, they shall be called after you.
+You know that a Duke of Montmartre gave his name to a gooseberry; so be
+good, and, like him, you shall be immortal."
+
+"I should like very much to know one thing," said he, thoughtfully.
+
+"And what may that be?"
+
+"I 'd like to know,--are you ever serious?"
+
+"Not what you would call serious, perhaps; but I 'm very much in
+earnest, if that will do. That delightful Saxon habit of treating all
+trifles with solemnity I have no taste for. I'm aware it constitutes
+that great idol of English veneration, Respectability; but we have not
+got that sort of thing here. Perhaps the climate is too moist for it."
+
+[Illustration: 276]
+
+"I 'm not a bit surprised that the Colonel fell in love with you,"
+blurted he out, with a frank abruptness.
+
+"And did he,--oh, really did he?"
+
+"Is the news so very agreeable, then?"
+
+"Of course it is. I 'd give anything for such a conquest. There 's no
+glory in capturing one of those calf elephants who walk into the snare
+out of pure stupidity; but to catch an old experienced creature who has
+been hunted scores of times, and knows every scheme and artifice, every
+bait and every pitfall, there is a real triumph in that."
+
+"Do I represent one of the calf elephants, then?"
+
+"I cannot think so. I have seen no evidence of your capture--not to add,
+nor any presumption of my own--to engage in such a pursuit. My dear Mr.
+Conyers," said she, seriously, "you have shown so much real kindness to
+the brother, you would not, I am certain, detract from it by one word
+which could offend the sister. We have been the best of friends up to
+this; let us part so."
+
+The sudden assumption of gravity in this speech seemed to disconcert
+him so much that he made no answer, but strolled along at her side,
+thoughtful and silent.
+
+"What are you thinking of?" said she, at last.
+
+"I was just thinking," said he, "that by the time I have reached my
+quarters, and begin to con over what I have accomplished by this same
+visit of mine, I 'll be not a little puzzled to say what it is."
+
+"Perhaps I can help you. First of all, tell me what was your object in
+coming."
+
+"Chiefly to talk about Tom."
+
+"Well, we have done so. We have discussed the matter, and are fully
+agreed it is better he should not go to India, but stay at home here and
+follow his profession, like his father."
+
+"But have I said nothing about Hunter's offer?"
+
+"Not a word; what is it?"
+
+"How stupid of me; what could I have been thinking of all this time?"
+
+"Heaven knows; but what was the offer you allude to?"
+
+"It was this: that if Tom would make haste and get his diploma or
+his license, or whatever it is, at once, and collect all sorts of
+testimonials as to his abilities and what not, that he'd take him out
+with him and get him an assistant-surgeoncy in a regiment, and in time,
+perhaps, a staff-appointment."
+
+"I 'm not very certain that Tom could obtain his diploma at once.
+I 'm quite sure he could n't get any of those certificates you speak
+of. First of all, because he does not possess these same abilities you
+mention, nor, if he did, is there any to vouch for them. We are very
+humble people, Mr. Conyers, with a village for our world; and we
+contemplate a far-away country--India, for instance--pretty much as we
+should do Mars or the Pole-star."
+
+"As to that, Bengal is more come-at-able than the Great Bear," said he,
+laughing.
+
+"For you, perhaps, not for us. There is nothing more common in people's
+mouths than go to New Zealand or Swan River, or some far-away island in
+the Pacific, and make your fortune!--just as if every new and barbarous
+land was a sort of Aladdin's cave, where each might fill his pockets
+with gems and come out rich for life. But reflect a little. First,
+there is an outfit; next, there is a voyage; thirdly, there is need of
+a certain subsistence in the new country before plans can be matured to
+render it profitable. After all these come a host of requirements,--of
+courage, and energy, and patience, and ingenuity, and personal strength,
+and endurance, not to speak of the constitution of a horse, and some
+have said, the heartlessness of an ogre. _My_ counsel to Tom would
+be, get the 'Arabian Nights' out of your head, forget the great Caliph
+Conyers and all his promises, stay where you are, and be a village
+apothecary."
+
+These words were uttered in a very quiet and matter-of-fact way, but
+they wounded Conyers more than the accents of passion. He was angry
+at the cold realistic turn of a mind so devoid of all heroism; he was
+annoyed at the half-implied superiority a keener view of life than
+his own seemed to assert; and he was vexed at being treated as a
+well-meaning but very inconsiderate and inexperienced young gentleman.
+
+"Am I to take this as a refusal," said he, stiffly; "am I to tell
+Colonel Hunter that your brother does not accept his offer?"
+
+"If it depended on me,--yes; but it does not. I 'll write to-night
+and tell Tom the generous project that awaits him; he shall decide for
+himself."
+
+"I know Hunter will be annoyed; he'll think it was through some bungling
+mismanagement of mine his plan has failed; he 'll be certain to say, If
+it was I myself bad spoken toner--"
+
+"Well, there's no harm in letting him think so," said she, laughing.
+"Tell him I think him charming, that I hope he 'll have a delightful
+voyage and a most prosperous career after it, that I intend to read
+the Indian columns in the newspaper from this day out, and will always
+picture him to my mind as seated in the grandest of howdabs on the very
+tallest of elephants, humming 'Rule Britannia' up the slopes of the
+Himalaya, and as the penny-a-liners say, extending the blessings of
+the English rule in India." She gave her hand to him, made a little
+salutation,--half bow, half courtesy,--and, saying "Good-bye," turned
+back into the shrubbery and left him.
+
+He hesitated,--almost turned to follow her; waited a second or two more,
+and then, with an impatient toss of his head, walked briskly to the
+river-side and jumped into his boat. It was a sulky face that he
+wore, and a sulky spirit was at work within him. There is no greater
+discontent than that of him who cannot define the chagrin that consumes
+him. In reality, he was angry with himself, but he turned the whole
+force of his displeasure upon her.
+
+"I suppose she is clever. I 'm no judge of that sort of thing; but, for
+my own part, I'd rather see her more womanly, more delicate. She has not
+a bit of heart, that's quite clear; nor, with all her affectations, does
+she pretend it." These were his first meditations, and after them he
+lit a cigar and smoked it. The weed was a good one; the evening was
+beautifully calm and soft, and the river scenery looked its very best.
+He tried to think of a dozen things: he imagined, for instance, what a
+picturesque thing a boat-race would be in such a spot; he fancied he
+saw a swift gig sweep round the point and head up the stream; he caught
+sight of a little open in the trees with a background of dark rock, and
+he thought what a place for a cottage. But whether it was the "match" or
+the "chalet" that occupied him, Polly Dill was a figure in the picture;
+and he muttered unconsciously, "How pretty she is, what a deal of
+expression those gray-blue eyes possess! She's as active as a fawn, and
+to the full as graceful. Fancy her an Earl's daughter; give her station
+and all the advantages station will bring with it,--what a girl it would
+be! Not that she'd ever have a heart; I'm certain of that. She's as
+worldly--as worldly as--" The exact similitude did not occur; but he
+flung the end of his cigar into the river instead, and sat brooding
+mournfully for the rest of the way.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV. DUBLIN REVISITED
+
+The first stage of the Barringtons' journey was Dublin. They alighted
+at Reynolds's Hotel, in Old Dominick Street, the once favorite resort of
+country celebrities. The house, it is true, was there, but Reynolds had
+long left for a land where there is but one summons and one reckoning;
+even the old waiter, Foster, whom people believed immortal, was gone;
+and save some cumbrous old pieces of furniture,--barbarous relics of bad
+taste in mahogany,--nothing recalled the past. The bar, where once on a
+time the "Beaux" and "Bloods" had gathered to exchange the smart things
+of the House or the hunting-field, was now a dingy little receptacle
+for umbrellas and overcoats, with a rickety case crammed full of
+unacknowledged and unclaimed letters, announcements of cattle fairs, and
+bills of houses to let. Decay and neglect were on everything, and the
+grim little waiter who ushered them upstairs seemed as much astonished
+at their coming as were they themselves with all they saw. It was not
+for some time, nor without searching inquiry, that Miss Dinah discovered
+that the tide of popular favor had long since retired from this quarter,
+and left it a mere barren strand, wreck-strewn and deserted. The house
+where formerly the great squire held his revels had now fallen to be
+the resort of the traveller by canal-boat, the cattle salesman, or the
+priest. While she by an ingenious cross-examination was eliciting these
+details, Barrington had taken a walk through the city to revisit old
+scenes and revive old memories. One needs not to be as old as Peter
+Barrington to have gone through this process and experienced all its
+pain. Unquestionably, every city of Europe has made within such a period
+as five-and-thirty or forty years immense strides of improvement.
+Wider and finer streets, more commodious thoroughfares, better bridges,
+lighter areas, more brilliant shops, strike one on every hand; while the
+more permanent monuments of architecture are more cleanly, more orderly,
+and more cared for than of old. We see these things with astonishment
+and admiration at first, and then there comes a pang of painful
+regret,--not for the old dark alley and the crooked street, or the
+tumbling arch of long ago,--but for the time when they were there, for
+the time when they entered into our daily life, when with them were
+associated friends long lost sight of, and scenes dimly fading away from
+memory. It is for our youth, for the glorious spring and elasticity of
+our once high-hearted spirit, of our lives so free of care, of our days
+undarkened by a serious sorrow,--it is for these we mourn, and to
+our eyes at such moments the spacious street is but a desert, and the
+splendid monument but a whitened sepulchre!
+
+"I don't think I ever had a sadder walk in my life, Dinah," said Peter
+Barrington, with a weary sigh. "'Till I got into the courts of the
+College, I never chanced upon a spot that looked as I had left it.
+There, indeed, was the quaint old square as of old, and the great
+bell--bless it for its kind voice!--was ringing out a solemn call
+to something, that shook the window-frames, and made the very air
+tremulous; and a pale-faced student or two hurried past, and those
+centurions in the helmets,--ancient porters or Senior Fellows,--I forget
+which,--stood in a little knot to stare at me. That, indeed, was like
+old times, Dinah, and my heart grew very full with the memory. After
+that I strolled down to the Four Courts. I knew you 'd laugh, Dinah. I
+knew well you 'd say, 'Was there nothing going on in the King's Bench or
+the Common Pleas?' Well, there was only a Revenue case, my dear, but
+it was interesting, very interesting; and there was my old friend Harry
+Bushe sitting as the Judge. He saw me, and sent round the tipstaff
+to have me come up and sit on the bench with him, and we had many
+a pleasant remembrance of old times--as the cross-examination went
+on--between us, and I promised to dine with him on Saturday."
+
+"And on Saturday we will dine at Antwerp, brother, if I know anything of
+myself."
+
+"Sure enough, sister, I forgot all about it Well, well, where could my
+head have been?"
+
+"Pretty much where you have worn it of late years, Peter Barrington. And
+what of Withering? Did you see him?"
+
+"No, Dinah, he was attending a Privy Council; but I got his address, and
+I mean to go over to see him after dinner."
+
+"Please to bear in mind that you are not to form any engagements,
+Peter,--we leave this to-morrow evening by the packet,--if it was the
+Viceroy himself that wanted your company."
+
+"Of course, dear, I never thought of such a thing. It was only when
+Harry said, 'You 'll be glad to meet Casey and Burrowes, and a few
+others of the old set,' I clean forgot everything of the present, and
+only lived in the long-past time, when life really was a very jolly
+thing."
+
+"How did you find your friend looking?"
+
+"Old, Dinah, very old! That vile wig has, perhaps, something to say to
+it; and being a judge, too, gives a sternness to the mouth and a haughty
+imperiousness to the brow. It spoils Harry; utterly spoils that laughing
+blue eye, and that fine rich humor that used to play about his lips."
+
+"Which _did_, you ought to say,--which did some forty years ago. What
+are you laughing at, Peter? What is it amuses you so highly?"
+
+"It was a charge of O'Grady's, that Harry told me,--a charge to one of
+those petty juries that, he says, never will go right, do what you may.
+The case was a young student of Trinity, tried for a theft, and whose
+defence was only by witnesses to character, and O'Grady said, 'Gentlemen
+of the jury, the issue before you is easy enough. This is a young
+gentleman of pleasing manners and the very best connections, who stole
+a pair of silk stockings, and you will find accordingly.' And what d'ye
+think, Dinah? They acquitted him, just out of compliment to the Bench."
+
+"I declare, brother Peter, such a story inspires any other sentiment
+than mirth to me."
+
+"I laughed at it till my sides ached," said he, wiping his eyes. "I
+took a peep into the Chancery Court and saw O'Connell, who has plenty of
+business, they tell me. He was in some altercation with the Court. Lord
+Manners was scowling at him, as if he hated him. I hear that no day
+passes without some angry passage between them."
+
+"And is it of these jangling, quarrelsome, irritable, and insolent men
+your ideal of agreeable society is made up, brother Peter?"
+
+"Not a doubt of it, Dinah. All these displays are briefed to them.
+They cannot help investing in their client's cause the fervor of their
+natures, simply because they are human; but they know how to leave all
+the acrimony of the contest in the wig-box, when they undress and come
+back to their homes,--the most genial, hearty, and frank fellows in all
+the world. If human nature were all bad, sister, he who saw it closest
+would be, I own, most like to catch its corruption, but it is not so,
+far from it. Every day and every hour reveals something to make a man
+right proud of his fellow-men."
+
+Miss Barrington curtly recalled her brother from these speculations to
+the practical details of their journey, reminding him of much that he
+had to consult Withering upon, and many questions of importance to put
+to him. Thoroughly impressed with the perils of a journey abroad, she
+conjured up a vast array of imaginary difficulties, and demanded special
+instructions how each of them was to be met. Had poor Peter been--what
+he certainly was not--a most accomplished casuist, he might have been
+puzzled by the ingenious complexity of some of those embarrassments.
+As it was, like a man in the labyrinth, too much bewildered to attempt
+escape, he sat down in a dogged insensibility, and actually heard
+nothing.
+
+"Are you minding me, Peter?" asked she, fretfully, at last; "are you
+paying attention to what I am saying?"
+
+"Of course I am, Dinah dear; I'm listening with all ears."
+
+"What was it, then, that I last remarked? What was the subject to which
+I asked your attention?"
+
+Thus suddenly called on, poor Peter started and rubbed his forehead.
+Vague shadows of passport people, and custom-house folk, and waiters,
+and money-changers, and brigands; insolent postilions, importunate
+beggars, cheating innkeepers, and insinuating swindlers were passing
+through his head, with innumerable incidents of the road; and, trying to
+catch a clew at random, he said, "It was to ask the Envoy, her Majesty's
+Minister at Brussels, about a washerwoman who would not tear off my
+shirt buttons--eh, Dinah? wasn't that it?"
+
+"You are insupportable, Peter Barrington," said she, rising in anger. "I
+believe that insensibility like this is not to be paralleled!" and she
+left the room in wrath.
+
+Peter looked at his watch, and was glad to see it was past eight
+o'clock, and about the hour he meant for his visit to Withering. He set
+out accordingly, not, indeed, quite satisfied with the way he had lately
+acquitted himself, but consoled by thinking that Dinah rarely went back
+of a morning on the dereliction of the evening before, so that they
+should meet good friends as ever at the breakfast-table. Withering was
+at home, but a most discreet-looking butler intimated that he had dined
+that day _t�te-�-t�te_ with a gentleman, and had left orders not to be
+disturbed on any pretext "Could you not at least, send in my name?"
+said Barrington; "I am a very old friend of your master's, whom he would
+regret not having seen." A little persuasion aided by an argument that
+butlers usually succumb to succeeded, and before Peter believed that his
+card could have reached its destination, his friend was warmly shaking
+him by both hands, as he hurried him into the dinner-room.
+
+"You don't know what an opportune visit you have made me, Barrington,"
+said he; "but first, to present you to my friend, Captain Stapylton--or
+Major--which is it?"
+
+"Captain. This day week, the 'Gazette,' perhaps, may call me Major."
+
+"Always a pleasure to me to meet a soldier, sir," said Barrington; "and
+I own to the weakness of saying, all the greater when a Dragoon. My own
+boy was a cavalryman."
+
+"It was exactly of him we were talking," said Withering; "my friend here
+has had a long experience of India, and has frankly told me much I was
+totally ignorant of. From one thing to another we rambled on till we
+came to discuss our great suit with the Company, and Captain Stapylton
+assures me that we have never taken the right road in the case."
+
+"Nay, I could hardly have had such presumption; I merely remarked, that
+without knowing India and its habits, you could scarcely be prepared
+to encounter the sort of testimony that would be opposed to you, or to
+benefit by what might tend greatly in your favor."
+
+"Just so--continue," said Withering, who looked as though he had got an
+admirable witness on the table.
+
+"I'm astonished to hear from the Attorney-General," resumed Stapylton,
+"that in a case of such magnitude as this you have never thought of
+sending out an efficient agent to India to collect evidence, sift
+testimony, and make personal inquiry as to the degree of credit to be
+accorded to many of the witnesses. This inquisitorial process is the
+very first step in every Oriental suit; you start at once, in fact, by
+sapping all the enemy's works,--countermining him everywhere."
+
+"Listen, Barrington,--listen to this; it is all new to us."
+
+"Everything being done by documentary evidence, there is a wide field
+for all the subtlety of the linguist; and Hindostanee has complexities
+enough to gratify the most inordinate appetite for quibble. A learned
+scholar--a Moonshee of erudition--is, therefore, the very first
+requisite, great care being taken to ascertain that he is not in the pay
+of the enemy."
+
+"What rascals!" muttered Barrington.
+
+"Very deep--very astute dogs, certainly, but perhaps not much more
+unprincipled than some fellows nearer home," continued the Captain,
+sipping his wine; "the great peculiarity of this class is, that while
+employing them in the most palpably knavish manner, and obtaining from
+them services bought at every sacrifice of honor, they expect all the
+deference due to the most umblemished integrity."
+
+"I'd see them--I won't say where--first," broke out Barrington; "and I
+'d see my lawsuit after them, if only to be won by their intervention."
+
+"Remember, sir," said Stapylton, calmly, "that such are the weapons
+employed against you. That great Company does not, nor can it afford to,
+despise such auxiliaries. The East has its customs, and the natures of
+men are not light things to be smoothed down by conventionalities. Were
+you, for instance, to measure a testimony at Calcutta by the standard of
+Westminster Hall, you would probably do a great and grievous injustice."
+
+"Just so," said Withering; "you are quite right there, and I have
+frequently found myself posed by evidence that I felt must be
+assailable. Go on, and tell my friend what you were mentioning to me
+before he came in."
+
+"I am reluctant, sir," said Stapylton, modestly, "to obtrude upon you,
+in a matter of such grand importance as this, the mere gossip of
+a mess-table, but, as allusion has been made to it, I can scarcely
+refrain. It was when serving in another Presidency an officer of ours,
+who had been long in Bengal, one night entered upon the question of
+Colonel Barrington's claims. He quoted the words of an uncle--I think
+he said his uncle--who was a member of the Supreme Council, and said,
+'Barrington ought to have known we never could have conceded this right
+of sovereignty, but he ought also to have known that we would rather
+have given ten lacs of rupees than have it litigated.'"
+
+"Have you that gentleman's name?" asked Barrington, eagerly.
+
+"I have; but the poor fellow is no more,--he was of that fatal
+expedition to Beloochistan eight years ago."
+
+"You know our case, then, and what we claim?" asked Barrington.
+
+"Just as every man who has served in India knows it,--popularly,
+vaguely. I know that Colonel Barrington was, as the adopted son of a
+Rajah, invested with supreme power, and only needed the ratification
+of Great Britain to establish a sovereignty; and I have heard"--he laid
+stress on the word "heard"--"that if it had not been for some allegation
+of plotting against the Company's government, he really might ultimately
+have obtained that sanction."
+
+"Just what I have said over and over again?" burst in Barrington. "It
+was the worst of treachery that mined my poor boy."
+
+"I have heard that also," said Stapylton, and with a degree of feeling
+and sympathy that made the old man's heart yearn towards him.
+
+"How I wish you had known him!" said he, as he drew his hand over his
+eyes. "And do you know, sir," said he, warming, "that if I still follow
+up this suit, devoting to it the little that is left to me of life or
+fortune, that I do so less for any hope of gain than to place my poor
+boy before the world with his honor and fame unstained."
+
+"My old friend does himself no more than justice there!" cried
+Withering.
+
+"A noble object,--may you have all success in it!" said Stapylton. He
+paused, and then, in a tone of deeper feeling, added: "It will, perhaps,
+seem a great liberty, the favor I'm about to ask; but remember that,
+as a brother soldier with your son I have some slight claim to approach
+you. Will you allow me to offer you such knowledge as I possess of
+India, to aid your suit? Will you associate me, in fact, with your
+cause? No higher one could there be than the vindication of a brave
+man's honor."
+
+"I thank you with all my heart and soul!" cried the old man, grasping
+his hand. "In my own name, and in that of my poor dear granddaughter, I
+thank you."
+
+"Oh, then, Colonel Barrington has left a daughter? I was not aware of
+that," said Stapylton, with a certain coldness.
+
+"And a daughter who knows no more of this suit than of our present
+discussion of it," said Withering.
+
+In the frankness of a nature never happier than when indulging its own
+candor, Barrington told how it was to see and fetch back with him the
+same granddaughter he had left a spot he had not quitted for years. "She
+'s coming back to a very humble home, it is true; but if you, sir," said
+he, addressing Stapylton, "will not despise such lowly fare as a cottage
+can afford you, and would condescend to come and see us, you shall have
+the welcome that is due to one who wishes well to my boy's memory."
+
+"And if you do," broke in Withering, "you'll see the prettiest cottage
+and the first hostess in Europe; and here 's to her health,--Miss Dinah
+Barrington!"
+
+"I 'm not going to refuse that toast, though I have just passed the
+decanter," said Peter. "Here 's to the best of sisters!"
+
+"Miss Barrington!" said Stapylton, with a courteous bow; and he drained
+his glass to the bottom.
+
+"And that reminds me I promised to be back to tea with her," said
+Barrington; and renewing with all warmth his invitation to Stapylton,
+and cordially taking leave of his old friend, he left the house and
+hastened to his hotel.
+
+"What a delightful evening I have passed, Dinah!" said he, cheerfully,
+as he entered.
+
+"Which means that the Attorney-General gave you a grand review and
+sham fight of all the legal achievements of the term; but bear in mind,
+brother, there is no professional slang so odious to me as the lawyer's,
+and I positively hate a joke which cost six-and-eightpence, or even
+three-and-fourpence." <
+
+"Nothing of this kind was there at all, Dinah! Withering had a friend
+with him, a very distinguished soldier, who had seen much Indian
+service, and entered with a most cordial warmth into poor George's case.
+He knew it,--as all India knows it, by report,--and frankly told us
+where our chief difficulties lay, and the important things we were
+neglecting."
+
+"How generous! of a perfect stranger too!" said she, with a scarcely
+detectable tone of scorn.
+
+"Not--so to say--an utter stranger, for George was known to him by
+reputation and character."
+
+"And who is, I suppose I am to say, your friend, Peter?"
+
+"Captain or Major Stapylton, of the Regent's Hussars?"
+
+"Oh! I know him,--or, rather, I know of him."
+
+"What and how, Dinah? I am very curious to hear this."
+
+"Simply, that while young Conyers was at the cottage he showed me a
+letter from that gentleman, asking him in the Admiral's name, to Cobham,
+and containing, at the same time, a running criticism on the house and
+his guests far more flippant than creditable."
+
+"Men do these things every day, Dinah, and there is no harm in it."
+
+"That all depends upon whom the man is. The volatile gayety of a
+high-spirited nature, eager for effect and fond of a sensation, will
+lead to many an indiscretion; but very different from this is the
+well-weighed sarcasm of a more serious mind, who not only shots his
+gun home, but takes time to sight ere he fires it. I hear that Captain
+Stapylton is a grand, cold, thoughtful man, of five or six-and-thirty.
+Is that so?"
+
+"Perhaps he may be. He 's a splendid fellow to look at, and all the
+soldier. But you shall see for yourself, and I 'll warrant you 'll not
+harbor a prejudice against him."
+
+"Which means, you have asked him on a visit, brother Peter?"
+
+"Scarcely fair to call it on a visit, Dinah," blundered he out, in
+confusion; "but I have said with what pleasure we should see him under
+our roof when we returned."
+
+"I solemnly declare my belief, that if you went to a cattle-show you 'd
+invite every one you met there, from the squire to the pig-jobber,
+never thinking the while that nothing is so valueless as indiscriminate
+hospitality, even if it were not costly. Nobody thanks you,--no one is
+grateful for it."
+
+"And who wants them to be grateful, Dinah? The pleasure is in the
+giving, not in receiving. You see your friends with their holiday faces
+on, when they sit round the table. The slowest and dreariest of them
+tries to look cheery; and the stupid dog who has never a jest in him has
+at least a ready laugh for the wit of his neighbor."
+
+"Does it not spoil some of your zest for this pleasantry to think how it
+is paid for, brother?"
+
+"It might, perhaps, if I were to think of it; but, thank Heaven! it's
+about one of the last things would come into my head. My dear sister,
+there's no use in always treating human nature as if it was sick, for if
+you do, it will end by being hypochondriac!"
+
+"I protest, brother Peter, I don't know where you meet all the good and
+excellent people you rave about, and I feel it very churlish of you that
+you never present any of them to _me!_" And so saying, she gathered her
+knitting materials hastily together, and reminding him that it was past
+eleven o'clock, she uttered a hurried good-night, and departed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI. A VERY SAD GOOD-BYE
+
+Conyers sat alone in his barrack-room, very sad and dispirited.
+Hunter had left that same morning, and the young soldier felt utterly
+friendless. He had obtained some weeks' leave of absence, and already
+two days of the leave had gone over, and he had not energy to set out
+if he had even a thought as to the whither. A variety of plans passed
+vaguely through his head. He would go down to Portsmouth and see Hunter
+off; or he would nestle down in the little village of Inistioge and
+dream away the days in quiet forgetfulness; or he would go over to
+Paris, which he had never seen, and try whether the gay dissipations
+of that brilliant city might not distract and amuse him. The mail from
+India had arrived and brought no letter from his father, and this,
+too, rendered him irritable and unhappy. Not that his father was a good
+correspondent; he wrote but rarely, and always like one who snatched a
+hurried moment to catch a post. Still, if this were a case of emergency,
+any great or critical event in his life, he was sure his father would
+have informed him; and thus was it that he sat balancing doubt against
+doubt, and setting probability against probability, till his very head
+grew addled with the labor of speculation.
+
+It was already late; all the usual sounds of barrack life had subsided,
+and although on the opposite side of the square the brilliant lights of
+the mess-room windows showed where the convivial spirits of the regiment
+were assembled, all around was silent and still. Suddenly there came a
+dull heavy knock to the door, quickly followed by two or three others.
+
+Not caring to admit a visitor, whom, of course, he surmised would be
+some young brother-officer full of the plans and projects of the mess,
+he made no reply to the summons, nor gave any token of his presence. The
+sounds, however, were redoubled, and with an energy that seemed to vouch
+for perseverance; and Conyers, partly in anger, and partly in curiosity,
+went to the door and opened it. It was not till after a minute or two
+that he was able to recognize the figure before him. It was Tom
+Dill, but without a hat or neckcloth, his hair dishevelled, his face
+colorless, and his clothes torn, while from a recent wound in one hand
+the blood flowed fast, and dropped on the floor. The whole air and
+appearance of the young fellow so resembled drunkenness that Conyers
+turned a stern stare upon him as he stood in the centre of the room, and
+in a voice of severity said, "By what presumption, sir, do you dare to
+present yourself in this state before me?"
+
+"You think I'm drunk, sir, but I am not," said he, with a faltering
+accent and a look of almost imploring misery.
+
+"What is the meaning of this state, then? What disgraceful row have you
+been in?"
+
+"None, sir. I have cut my hand with the glass on the barrack-wall, and
+torn my trousers too; but it's no matter, I 'll not want them long."
+
+"What do you mean by all this? Explain yourself."
+
+"May I sit down, sir, for I feel very weak?" but before the permission
+could be granted, his knees tottered, and he fell in a faint on the
+floor. Conyers knelt down beside him, bathed his temples with water, and
+as soon as signs of animation returned, took him up in his arms and laid
+him at full length on a sofa.
+
+In the vacant, meaningless glance of the poor fellow as he looked first
+around him, Conyers could mark how he was struggling to find out where
+he was.
+
+"You are with me, Tom,--with your friend Conyers," said he, holding the
+cold clammy hand between his own.
+
+"Thank you, sir. It is very good of you. I do not deserve it," said he,
+in a faint whisper.
+
+"My poor boy, you mustn't say that; I am your friend. I told you already
+I would be so."
+
+"But you 'll not be my friend when I tell you--when I tell you--all;"
+and as the last word dropped, he covered his face with both his hands,
+and burst into a heavy passion of tears.
+
+"Come, come, Tom, this is not manly; bear up bravely, bear up with
+courage, man. You used to say you had plenty of pluck if it were to be
+tried."
+
+"So I thought I had, sir, but it has all left me;" and he sobbed as if
+his heart was breaking. "But I believe I could bear anything but
+this," said he, in a voice shaken by convulsive throes. "It is the
+disgrace,--that 's what unmans me."
+
+"Take a glass of wine, collect yourself, and tell me all about it."
+
+"No, sir. No wine, thank you; give me a glass of water. There, I
+am better now; my brain is not so hot. You are very good to me, Mr.
+Conyers, but it 's the last time I'll ever ask it,--the very last time,
+sir; but I 'll remember it all my life."
+
+"If you give way in this fashion, Tom, I 'll not think you the
+stout-hearted fellow I once did."
+
+"No, sir, nor am I. I 'll never be the same again. I feel it here. I
+feel as if something gave, something broke." And he laid his hand over
+his heart and sighed heavily.
+
+"Well, take your own time about it, Tom, and let me hear if I cannot be
+of use to you."
+
+"No, sir, not now. Neither you nor any one else can help me now. It's
+all over, Mr. Conyers,--it's all finished."
+
+"What is over,--what is finished?"
+
+"And so, as I thought it would n't do for one like me to be seen
+speaking to you before people, I stole away and climbed over the
+barrack-wall. I cut my hand on the glass, too, but it's nothing. And
+here I am, and here's the money you gave me; I've no need of it now."
+And as he laid some crumpled bank-notes on the table, his overcharged
+heart again betrayed him, and he burst into tears. "Yes, sir, that's
+what you gave me for the College, but I was rejected."
+
+"Rejected, Tom! How was that? Be calm, my poor fellow, and tell me all
+about it quietly."
+
+"I'll try, sir, I will, indeed; and I'll tell you nothing but the truth,
+that you may depend upon." He took a great drink of water, and went
+on. "If there was one man I was afraid of in the world, it was Surgeon
+Asken, of Mercer's Hospital. I used to be a dresser there, and he
+was always angry with me, exposing me before the other students, and
+ridiculing me, so that if anything was done badly in the wards, he 'd
+say, 'This is some of Master Dill's work, is n't it?' Well, sir, would
+you believe it, on the morning I went up for my examination, Dr. Coles
+takes ill, and Surgeon Asken is called on to replace him. I did n't know
+it till I was sent for to go in, and my head went round, and I could n't
+see, and a cold sweat came over me, and I was so confused that when I
+got into the room I went and sat down beside the examiners, and never
+knew what they were laughing at.
+
+"'I have no doubt, Mr. Dill, you 'll occupy one of these places at some
+future day,' says Dr. Willes, 'but for the present your seat is yonder.'
+I don't remember much more after that, till Mr. Porter said, 'Don't be
+so nervous, Mr. Dill; collect yourself; I am persuaded you know what I
+am asking you, if you will not be flurried.' And all I could say was,
+'God bless you for that speech, no matter how it goes with me' and they
+all laughed out.
+
+"It was Asken's turn now, and he began. 'You are destined for the navy,
+I understand, sir?'
+
+"'No, sir; for the army,' said I.
+
+"'From what we have seen to-day, you 'll prove an ornament to either
+service. Meanwhile, sir, it will be satisfactory to the court to have
+your opinion on gun-shot wounds. Describe to us the case of a man
+laboring under the worst form of concussion of the brain, and by what
+indications you would distinguish it from fracture of the base of the
+skull, and what circumstances might occur to render the distinction more
+difficult, and what impossible?' That was his question, and if I was to
+live a hundred years I 'll never forget a word in it,--it's written on
+my heart, I believe, for life.
+
+"'Go on, sir,' said he, 'the court is waiting for you.'
+
+"'Take the case of concussion first,' said Dr. Willes.
+
+"'I hope I may be permitted to conduct my own examination in my own
+manner,' said Asken.
+
+"That finished me, and I gave a groan that set them all laughing again.
+
+"'Well, sir, I 'm waiting,' said Asken. 'You can have no difficulty to
+describe concussion, if you only give us your present sensations.'
+
+"'That's as true as if you swore it,' said I. 'I 'm just as if I had a
+fall on the crown of my head. There's a haze over my eyes, and a ringing
+of bells in my ears, and a feeling as if my brain was too big.'
+
+"'Take my word for it, Mr. Dill,' said he, sneeringly, 'the latter is
+a purely deceptive sensation; the fault lies in the opposite direction.
+Let us, however, take something more simple;' and with that he described
+a splinter wound of the scalp, with the whole integuments torn in
+fragments, and gunpowder and sticks and sand all mixed up with the
+flap that hung down over the patient's face. 'Now,' said he, after ten
+minutes' detail of this,--'now,' said he, 'when you found the man in
+this case, you 'd take out your scalpel, perhaps, and neatly cut away
+all these bruised and torn integuments?'
+
+"'I would, sir,' cried I, eagerly.
+
+"'I knew it,' said he, with a cry of triumph,--'I knew it. I 've no more
+to ask you. You may retire.'
+
+"I got up to leave the room, but a sudden flash went through me, and I
+said out boldly,--
+
+"'Am I passed? Tell me at once. Put me out of pain, for I can't bear any
+more!'
+
+"'If you'll retire for a few minutes,' said the President--
+
+"'My heart will break, sir,' said I, 'if I 'm to be in suspense any
+more. Tell me the worst at once.'
+
+"And I suppose they did tell me, for I knew no more till I found myself
+in the housekeeper's room, with wet cloths on my head, and the money you
+see there in the palm of my hand. _That_ told everything. Many were very
+kind to me, telling how it happened to this and to that man, the first
+time; and that Asken was thought very unfair, and so on; but I just
+washed my face with cold water, and put on my hat and went away home,
+that is, to where I lodged, and I wrote to Polly just this one line:
+'Rejected; I 'm not coming back.' And then I shut the shutters and went
+to bed in my clothes as I was, and I slept sixteen hours without ever
+waking. When I awoke, I was all right. I could n't remember everything
+that happened for some time, but I knew it all at last, and so I went
+off straight to the Royal Barracks and 'listed."
+
+"Enlisted?--enlisted?"
+
+"Yes, sir, in the Forty-ninth Regiment of Foot, now in India, and
+sending off drafts from Cork to join them on Tuesday. It was out of the
+d�p�t at the bridge I made my escape to-night to come and see you once
+more, and to give you this with my hearty blessing, for you were the
+only one ever stood to me in the world,--the only one that let me think
+for a moment I _could_ be a gentleman!"
+
+"Come, come, this is all wrong and hasty and passionate, Tom. You have
+no right to repay your family in this sort; this is not the way to treat
+that fine-hearted girl who has done so much for you; this is but an
+outbreak of angry selfishness."
+
+"These are hard words, sir, very hard words, and I wish you had not said
+them."
+
+"Hard or not, you deserve them; and it is their justice that wounds
+you."
+
+"I won't say that it is _not_, sir. But it isn't justice I 'm asking
+for, but forgiveness. Just one word out of your mouth to say, 'I 'm
+sorry for you, Tom;' or, 'I wish you well.'"
+
+"So I do, my poor fellow, with all my heart," cried Con-yers, grasping
+his hand and pressing it cordially, "and I 'll get you out of this
+scrape, cost what it may."
+
+"If you mean, sir, that I am to get my discharge, it's better to tell
+the truth at once. I would n't take it. No, sir, I 'll stand by what I
+'ve done. I see I never could be a doctor, and I have my doubts, too, if
+I ever could be a gentleman; but there's something tells me I could be a
+soldier, and I'll try."
+
+Conyers turned from him with an impatient gesture, and walked the room
+in moody silence.
+
+"I know well enough, sir," continued Tom, "what every one will say;
+perhaps you yourself are thinking it this very minute: 'It 's all out of
+his love of low company he 's gone and done this; he's more at home with
+those poor ignorant boys there than he would be with men of education
+and good manners.' Perhaps it's true, perhaps it is 'n't! But there 's
+one thing certain, which is, that I 'll never try again to be anything
+that I feel is clean above me, and I 'll not ask the world to give me
+credit for what I have not the least pretension to."
+
+"Have you reflected," said Conyers, slowly, "that if you reject my
+assistance now, it will be too late to ask for it a few weeks, or even a
+few days hence?"
+
+"I _have_ thought of all that, sir. I 'll never trouble you about myself
+again."
+
+"My dear Tom," said Conyers, as he laid his arm on the other's shoulder,
+"just think for one moment of all the misery this step will cause your
+sister,--that kind, true-hearted sister, who has behaved so nobly by
+you."
+
+"I have thought of that, too, sir; and in my heart I believe, though she
+'ll fret herself at first greatly, it will all turn out best in the end.
+What could I ever be but a disgrace to her? Who 'd ever think the same
+of Polly after seeing _me?_ Don't I bring her down in spite of herself;
+and is n't it a hard trial for her to be a lady when I am in the same
+room with her? No, sir, I'll not go back; and though I haven't much hope
+in me, I feel I'm doing right."
+
+"I know well," said Conyers, pettishly, "that your sister will throw
+the whole blame on me. She 'll say, naturally enough, _You_ could have
+obtained his discharge,--_you_ should have insisted on his leaving."
+
+"That's what you could not, sir," said Tom, sturdily. "It's a poor heart
+hasn't some pride in it; and I would not go back and meet my father,
+after my disgrace, if it was to cost me my right hand,--so don't say
+another word about it. Good-bye, sir, and my blessing go with you
+wherever you are. I 'll never forget how you stood to me."
+
+"That money there is yours, Dill," said Conyers, half haughtily. "You
+may refuse my advice and reject my counsel, but I scarcely suppose you
+'ll ask me to take back what I once have given."
+
+Tom tried to speak, but he faltered and moved from one foot to the
+other, in an embarrassed and hesitating way. He wanted to say how the
+sum originally intended for one object could not honestly be claimed for
+another; he wanted to say, also, that he had no longer the need of
+so much money, and that the only obligation he liked to submit to was
+gratitude for the past; but a consciousness that in attempting to
+say these things some unhappy word, some ill-advised or ungracious
+expression might escape him, stopped him, and he was silent.
+
+"You do not wish that we should part coldly, Tom?"
+
+"No, sir,--oh, no!" cried he, eagerly.
+
+"Then let not that paltry gift stand in the way of our esteem. Now,
+another thing. Will you write to me? Will you tell me how the world
+fares with you, and honestly declare whether the step you have taken
+to-day brings with it regret or satisfaction?"
+
+"I'm not over-much of a letter-writer," said he, falter-ingly, "but I'll
+try. I must be going, Mr. Conyers," said he, after a moment's silence;
+"I must get back before I'm missed."
+
+"Not as you came, Tom, however. I'll pass you out of the barrack-gate."
+
+As they walked along side by side, neither spoke till they came close to
+the gate; then Conyers halted and said, "Can you think of nothing I can
+do for you, or is there nothing you would leave to my charge after you
+have gone?"
+
+"No, sir, nothing." He paused, and then, as if with a struggle, said,
+"Except you 'd write one line to my sister Polly, to tell her that I
+went away in good heart, that I did n't give in one bit, and that if it
+was n't for thinking that maybe I 'd never see her again--" He faltered,
+his voice grew thick, he tried to cough down the rising emotion, but
+the feeling overcame him, and he burst out into tears. Ashamed at the
+weakness he was endeavoring to deny, he sprang through the gate and
+disappeared.
+
+Conyers slowly returned to his quarters, very thoughtful and very sad.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII. THE CONVENT ON THE MEUSE
+
+While poor Tom Dill, just entering upon life, went forth in gloom and
+disappointment to his first venture, old Peter Barrington, broken by
+years and many a sorrow, set out on his journey with a high heart and a
+spirit well disposed to see everything in its best light and be pleased
+with all around him. Much of this is, doubtless, matter of temperament;
+but I suspect, too, that all of us have more in our power in this way
+than we practise. Barrington had possibly less merit than his neighbors,
+for nature had given him one of those happy dispositions upon which
+the passing vexations of life produce scarcely any other effect than
+a stimulus to humor, or a tendency to make them the matter of amusing
+memory.
+
+He had lived, besides, so long estranged from the world, that life had
+for him all the interests of a drama, and he could no more have felt
+angry with the obtrusive waiter or the roguish landlord than he would
+with their fictitious representatives on the stage. They were, in his
+eyes, parts admirably played, and no more; he watched them with a sense
+of humorous curiosity, and laughed heartily at successes of which he
+was himself the victim. Miss Barrington was no disciple of this school;
+rogues to her were simply rogues, and no histrionic sympathies dulled
+the vexation they gave her. The world, out of which she had lived so
+long, had, to her thinking, far from improved in the mean while. People
+were less deferential, less courteous than of old. There was an indecent
+haste and bustle about everything, and a selfish disregard of one's
+neighbor was the marked feature of all travel. While her brother repaid
+himself for many an inconvenience by thinking over some strange caprice,
+or some curious inconsistency in human nature,--texts for amusing
+afterthought,--she only winced under the infliction, and chafed at every
+instance of cheating or impertinence that befell them.
+
+The wonderful things she saw, the splendid galleries rich in art, the
+gorgeous palaces, the grand old cathedrals, were all marred to her
+by the presence of the loquacious lackey whose glib tongue had to be
+retained at the salary of the "vicar of our parish," and who never
+descanted on a saint's tibia without costing the price of a dinner; so
+that old Peter at last said to himself, "I believe my sister Dinah would
+n't enjoy the garden of Eden if Adam had to go about and show her its
+beauties."
+
+The first moment of real enjoyment of her tour was on that morning when
+they left Namur to drive to the Convent of Bramaigne, about three
+miles off, on the banks of the Meuse. A lovelier day never shone upon a
+lovelier scene. The river, one side guarded by lofty cliffs, was on the
+other bounded by a succession of rich meadows, dotted with picturesque
+homesteads half hidden in trees. Little patches of cultivation, labored
+to the perfection of a garden, varied the scene, and beautiful cattle
+lay lazily under the giant trees, solemn voluptuaries of the peaceful
+happiness of their lot.
+
+Hitherto Miss Dinah had stoutly denied that anything they had seen could
+compare with their own "vale and winding river," but now she frankly
+owned that the stream was wider, the cliffs higher, the trees taller and
+better grown, while the variety of tint in the foliage far exceeded
+all she had any notion of; but above all these were the evidences of
+abundance, the irresistible charm that gives the poetry to peasant
+life; and the picturesque cottage, the costume, the well-stored granary,
+bespeak the condition with which we associate our ideas of rural
+happiness. The giant oxen as they marched proudly to their toil, the
+gay-caparisoned pony who jingled his bells as he trotted by, the peasant
+girls as they sat at their lace cushions before the door, the rosy
+urchins who gambolled in the deep grass, all told of plenty,--that
+blessing which to man is as the sunlight to a landscape, making the
+fertile spots more beautiful, and giving even to ruggedness an aspect of
+stern grandeur.
+
+"Oh, brother Peter, that we could see something like this at home,"
+cried she. "See that girl yonder watering the flowers in her little
+garden,--how prettily that old vine is trained over the balcony,--mark
+the scarlet tassels in the snow-white team,--are not these signs of an
+existence not linked to daily drudgery? I wish our people could be like
+these."
+
+"Here we are, Dinah: there is the convent!" cried Barrington, as a tall
+massive roof appeared over the tree-tops, and the little carriage now
+turned from the high-road into a shady avenue of tall elms. "What a
+grand old place it is! some great seigniorial ch�teau once on a time."
+
+As they drew nigh, nothing bespoke the cloister. The massive old
+building, broken by many a projection and varied by many a gable, stood,
+like the mansion of some rich proprietor, in a vast wooded lawn. The
+windows lay open, the terrace was covered with orange and lemon trees
+and flowering plants, amid which seats were scattered; and in the rooms
+within, the furniture indicated habits of comfort and even of luxury.
+With all this, no living thing was to be seen; and when Barrington got
+down and entered the hall, he neither found a servant nor any means to
+summon one.
+
+"You'll have to move that little slide you see in the door there," said
+the driver of the carriage, "and some one will come to you."
+
+He did so; and after waiting a few moments, a somewhat ruddy, cheerful
+face, surmounted by a sort of widow's cap, appeared, and asked his
+business.
+
+"They are at dinner, but if you will enter the drawing-room she will
+come to you presently."
+
+They waited for some time; to them it seemed very long, for they never
+spoke, but sat there in still thoughtfulness, their hearts very full,
+for there was much in that expectancy, and all the visions of many
+a wakeful night or dreary day might now receive their shock or their
+support. Their patience was to be further tested; for, when the door
+opened, there entered a grim-looking little woman in a nun's costume,
+who, without previous salutation, announced herself as Sister Lydia.
+Whether the opportunity for expansiveness was rare, or that her especial
+gift was fluency, never did a little old woman hold forth more volubly.
+As though anticipating all the worldly objections to a conventual
+existence, or rather seeming to suppose that every possible thing had
+been actually said on that ground, she assumed the defence the very
+moment she sat down. Nothing short of long practice with this argument
+could have stored her mind with all her instances, her quotations, and
+her references. Nor could anything short of a firm conviction have made
+her so courageously indifferent to the feelings she was outraging,
+for she never scrupled to arraign the two strangers before her for
+ignorance, apathy, worldliness, sordid and poor ambitions, and, last of
+all, a levity unbecoming their time of life.
+
+[Illustration: 304]
+
+"I 'm not quite sure that I understand her aright," whispered Peter,
+whose familiarity with French was not what it had once been; "but if I
+do, Dinah, she 's giving us a rare lesson."
+
+"She's the most insolent old woman I ever met in my life," said his
+sister, whose violent use of her fan seemed either likely to provoke or
+to prevent a fit of apoplexy.
+
+"It is usual," resumed Sister Lydia, "to give persons who are about to
+exercise the awful responsibility now devolving upon you the opportunity
+of well weighing and reflecting over the arguments I have somewhat
+faintly shadowed forth."
+
+"Oh, not faintly!" groaned Barrington.
+
+But she minded nothing the interruption, and went on,--
+
+"And for this purpose a little tract has been composed, entitled 'A
+Word to the Worldling.' This, with your permission, I will place in your
+hands. You will there find at more length than I could bestow--But I
+fear I impose upon this lady's patience?"
+
+"It has left me long since, madam," said Miss Dinah, as she actually
+gasped for breath.
+
+In the grim half-smile of the old nun might be seen the triumphant
+consciousness that placed her above the "mundane;" but she did not
+resent the speech, simply saying that, as it was the hour of recreation,
+perhaps she would like to see her young ward in the garden with her
+companions.
+
+"By all means. We thank you heartily for the offer," cried Barrington,
+rising hastily.
+
+[Illustration: 304]
+
+With another smile, still more meaningly a reproof, Sister Lydia
+reminded him that the profane foot of a man had never transgressed the
+sacred precincts of the convent garden, and that he must remain where he
+was.
+
+"For Heaven's sake! Dinah, don't keep me a prisoner here a moment
+longer than you can help it," cried he, "or I'll not answer for my good
+behavior."
+
+As Barrington paced up and down the room with impatient steps, he could
+not escape the self-accusation that all his present anxiety was scarcely
+compatible with the long, long years of neglect and oblivion he had
+suffered to glide over.
+
+The years in which he had never heard of Josephine--never asked for
+her--was a charge there was no rebutting. Of course he could fall back
+upon all that special pleading ingenuity and self-love will supply about
+his own misfortunes, the crushing embarrassments that befell him, and
+such like. But it was no use, it was desertion, call it how he would;
+and poor as he was he had never been without a roof to shelter her, and
+if it had not been for false pride he would have offered her that refuge
+long ago. He was actually startled as he thought over all this. Your
+generous people, who forgive injuries with little effort, who bear no
+malice nor cherish any resentment, would be angels--downright angels--if
+we did not find that they are just as indulgent, just as merciful to
+themselves as to the world at large. They become perfect adepts in
+apologies, and with one cast of the net draw in a whole shoal of
+attenuating circumstances. To be sure, there will now and then break
+in upon them a startling suspicion that all is not right, and that
+conscience has been "cooking" the account; and when such a moment does
+come, it is a very painful one.
+
+"Egad!" muttered he to himself, "we have been very heartless all this
+time, there's no denying it; and if poor George's girl be a disciple
+of that grim old woman with the rosary and the wrinkles, it is nobody's
+fault but our own." He looked at his watch; Dinah had been gone more
+than half an hour. What a time to keep him in suspense! Of course there
+were formalities,--the Sister Lydia described innumerable ones,--jail
+delivery was nothing to it, but surely five-and-thirty minutes would
+suffice to sign a score of documents. The place was becoming hateful to
+him. The grand old park, with its aged oaks, seemed sad as a graveyard,
+and the great silent house, where not a footfall sounded, appeared a
+tomb. "Poor child! what a dreary spot you have spent your brightest
+years in,--what a shadow to throw over the whole of a lifetime!"
+
+He had just arrived at that point wherein his granddaughter arose before
+his mind a pale, careworn, sorrow-struck girl, crushed beneath the
+dreary monotony of a joyless life, and seeming only to move in a sort
+of dreamy melancholy, when the door opened, and Miss Barrington entered
+with her arm around a young girl tall as herself, and from whose
+commanding figure even the ungainly dress she wore could not take away
+the dignity.
+
+"This is Josephine, Peter," said Miss Dinah; and though Barrington
+rushed forward to clasp her in his arms, she merely crossed hers
+demurely on her breast and courtesied deeply.
+
+"It is your grandpapa, Josephine," said Miss Dinah, half tartly.
+
+The young girl opened her large, full, lustrous eyes, and stared
+steadfastly at him, and then, with infinite grace, she took his hand and
+kissed it.
+
+"My own dear child," cried the old man, throwing his arms around her,
+"it is not homage, it is your love we want."
+
+"Take care, Peter, take care," whispered his sister; "she is very timid
+and very strange."
+
+"You speak English, I hope, dear?" said the old man.
+
+"Yes, sir, I like it best," said she. And there was the very faintest
+possible foreign accent in the words.
+
+"Is n't that George's own voice, Dinah? Don't you think you heard
+himself there?"
+
+"The voice is certainly like him," said Miss Dinah, with a marked
+emphasis.
+
+"And so are--no, not her eyes, but her brow, Dinah. Yes, darling, you
+have his own frank look, and I feel sure you have his own generous
+nature."
+
+"They say I'm like my mother's picture," said she, unfastening a locket
+she wore from its chain and handing it. And both Peter and his sister
+gazed eagerly at the miniature. It was of a very dark but handsome woman
+in a rich turban, and who, though profusely ornamented with costly gems,
+did, in reality, present a resemblance to the cloistered figure before
+them.
+
+"Am I like her?" asked the girl, with a shade more of earnestness in her
+voice.
+
+"You are, darling; but like your father, too, and every word you utter
+brings back his memory; and see, Dinah, if that is n't George's old
+trick,--to lay one hand in the palm of the other."
+
+As if corrected, the young girl dropped her arms to her sides and stood
+like a statue.
+
+"Be like him in everything, dearest child," said the old man, "if you
+would have my heart all your own."
+
+"I must be what I am," said she, solemnly.
+
+"Just so, Josephine; well said, my good girl. Be natural," said Miss
+Dinah, kissing her, "and our love will never fail you."
+
+There was the faintest little smile of acknowledgment to this speech;
+but faint as it was, it dimpled her cheek, and seemed to have left
+a pleasant expression on her face, for old Peter gazed on her with
+increased delight as he said, "That was George's own smile; just the
+way he used to look, half grave, half merry. Oh, how you bring him back
+tome!"
+
+"You see, my dear child, that you are one of us; let us hope you will
+share in the happiness this gives us."
+
+The girl listened attentively to Miss Dinah's words, and after a pause
+of apparent thought over them, said, "I will hope so."
+
+"May we leave this, Dinah? Are we free to get away?" whispered
+Barrington to his sister, for an unaccountable oppression seemed to
+weigh on him, both from the place and its belongings.
+
+"Yes; Josephine has only one good-bye to say; her trunks are already on
+the carriage, and there is nothing more to detain us."
+
+"Go and say that farewell, dear child," said he, affectionately; "and be
+speedy, for there are longing hearts here to wish for your return."
+
+With a grave and quiet mien she walked away, and as she gained the
+door turned round and made a deep, respectful courtesy,--a movement so
+ceremonious that the old man involuntarily replied to it by a bow as
+deep and reverential.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII. GEORGE'S DAUGHTER
+
+I suppose, nay, I am certain, that the memory of our happiest moments
+ought ever to be of the very faintest and weakest, since, could we
+recall them in all their fulness and freshness, the recollection would
+only serve to deepen the gloom of age, and imbitter all its daily
+trials. Nor is it, altogether, a question of memory! It is in the very
+essence of happiness to be indescribable. Who could impart in words the
+simple pleasure he has felt as he lay day-dreaming in the deep grass,
+lulled by the humming insect, or the splash of falling water, with
+teeming fancy peopling the space around, and blending the possible with
+the actual? The more exquisite the sense of enjoyment, the more will
+it defy delineation. And so, when we come to describe the happiness of
+others, do we find our words weak, and our attempt mere failure.
+
+It is in this difficulty that I now find myself. I would tell, if I
+could, how enjoyably the Barringtons sauntered about through the old
+villages on the Rhine and up the Moselle, less travelling than strolling
+along in purposeless indolence, resting here, and halting there, always
+interested, always pleased. It was strange into what perfect harmony
+these three natures--unlike as they were--blended!
+
+Old Peter's sympathies went with all things human, and he loved to watch
+the village life and catch what he could of its ways and instincts. His
+sister, to whom the love of scenery was a passion, never wearied of the
+picturesque land they travelled; and as for Josephine, she was no longer
+the demure pensionnaire of the convent,--thoughtful and reserved,
+even to secrecy,--but a happy child, revelling in a thousand senses of
+enjoyment, and actually exulting in the beauty of all she saw around
+her. What depression must come of captivity, when even its faintest
+image, the cloister, could have weighed down a heart like hers! Such was
+Barrington's thought as he beheld her at play with the peasant children,
+weaving garlands for a village _f�te_, or joyously joining the chorus of
+a peasant song. There was, besides, something singularly touching in the
+half-consciousness of her freedom, when recalled for an instant to the
+past by the tinkling bell of a church. She would seem to stop in her
+play, and bethink her how and why she was there, and then, with a cry of
+joy, bound away after her companions in wild delight.
+
+"Dearest aunt," said she, one day, as they sat on a rocky ledge over the
+little river that traverses the Lahnech, "shall I always find the same
+enjoyment in life that I feel now, for it seems to me this is a measure
+of happiness that could not endure?"
+
+"Some share of this is owing to contrast, Fifine. Your convent life had
+not too many pleasures."
+
+"It was, or rather it seems to me now, as I look back, a long and weary
+dream; but, at the same time, it appears more real than this; for do
+what I may I cannot imagine this to be the world of misery and sorrow
+I have heard so much of. Can any one fancy a scene more beautiful than
+this before us? Where is the perfume more exquisite than these violets
+I now crush in my hand? The peasants, as they salute us, look happy and
+contented. Is it, then, only in great cities that men make each other
+miserable?"
+
+Dinah shook her head, but did not speak.
+
+"I am so glad grandpapa does not live in a city. Aunt, I am never
+wearied of hearing you talk of that dear cottage beside the river; and
+through all my present delight I feel a sense of impatience to be there,
+to be at 'home.'"
+
+"So that you will not hold us to our pledge to bring you back to
+Bramaigne, Fifine," said Miss Dinah, smiling.
+
+"Oh no, no! Not if you will let me live with you. Never!"
+
+"But you have been happy up to this, Fifine? You have said over and
+over again that your convent life was dear to you, and all its ways
+pleasant."
+
+"It is just the same change to me to live as I now do, as in my heart
+I feel changed after reading out one of those delightful stories to
+grandpapa,--Rob Roy, for instance. It all tells of a world so much more
+bright and beautiful than I know of, that it seems as though new senses
+were given to me. It is so strange and so captivating, too, to hear of
+generous impulses, noble devotion,--of faith that never swerved, and
+love that never faltered.
+
+"In novels, child; these were in novels."
+
+"True, aunt; but they had found no place there had they been incredible;
+at least, it is clear that he who tells the tale would have us believe
+it to be true."
+
+Miss Dinah had not been a convert to her brother's notions as to
+Fifine's readings; and she was now more disposed to doubt than ever. To
+overthrow of a sudden, as though by a great shock, all the stem realism
+of a cloister existence, and supply its place with fictitious incidents
+and people, seemed rash and perilous; but old Peter only thought of
+giving a full liberty to the imprisoned spirit,--striking off chain and
+fetter, and setting the captive free,--free in all the glorious liberty
+of a young imagination.
+
+"Well, here comes grandpapa," said Miss Dinah, "and, if I don't mistake,
+with a book in his hand for one of your morning readings."
+
+Josephine ran eagerly to meet him, and, fondly drawing her arm within
+his own, came back at his side.
+
+"The third volume, Fifine, the third volume," said he, holding the
+book aloft. "Only think, child, what fates are enclosed within a
+third volume! What a deal of happiness or long-living misery are here
+included!"
+
+[Illustration: 312]
+
+She straggled to take the book from his hand, but he evaded her grasp,
+and placed it in his pocket, saying,--
+
+"Not till evening, Fifine. I am bent on a long ramble up the Glen this
+morning, and you shall tell me all about the sisterhood, and sing me one
+of those little Latin canticles I'm so fond of."
+
+"Meanwhile, I 'll go and finish my letter to Polly Dill. I told her,
+Peter, that by Thursday next, or Friday, she might expect us."
+
+"I hope so, with all my heart; for, beautiful as all this is, it wants
+the greatest charm,--it's not home! Then I want, besides, to see Fifine
+full of household cares."
+
+"Feeding the chickens instead of chasing the butterflies, Fifine.
+Totting up the house-bills, in lieu of sighing over 'Waverley.'"
+
+"And, if I know Fifine, she will be able to do one without relinquishing
+the other," said Peter, gravely. "Our daily life is all the more
+beautiful when it has its landscape reliefs of light and shadow."
+
+"I think I could, too," cried Fifine, eagerly. "I feel as though I could
+work in the fields and be happy, just in the conscious sense of doing
+what it was good to do, and what others would praise me for."
+
+"There's a paymaster will never fail you in such hire," said Miss Dinah,
+pointing to her brother; and then, turning away, she walked back to the
+little inn. As she drew nigh, the landlord came to tell her that a young
+gentleman, on seeing her name in the list of strangers, had made many
+inquiries after her, and begged he might be informed of her return. On
+learning that he was in the garden, she went thither at once.
+
+"I felt it was you. I knew who had been asking for me, Mr. Conyers,"
+said she, advancing towards Fred with her hand out. "But what strange
+chance could have led you here?"
+
+"You have just said it, Miss Barrington; a chance,--a mere chance. I
+had got a short leave fron| my regiment, and came abroad to wander about
+with no very definite object; but, growing impatient of the wearisome
+hordes of our countrymen on the Rhine, I turned aside yesterday from
+that great high-road and reached this spot, whose greatest charm--shall
+I own it?--was a fancied resemblance to a scene I loved far better."
+
+"You are right. It was only this morning my brother said it was so like
+our own cottage."
+
+"And he is here also?" said the young man, with a half-constraint.
+
+"Yes, and very eager to see you, and ask your forgive ness for his
+ungracious manner to you; not that I saw it, or understand what it could
+mean, but he says that he has a pardon to crave at your hands."
+
+So confused was Conyers for an instant that he made no answer, and when
+he did speak it was falteringly and with embarrassment, "I never could
+have anticipated meeting you here. It is more good fortune than I ever
+looked for."
+
+[Illustration: 312]
+
+"We came over to the Continent to fetch away my grand-niece, the
+daughter of that Colonel Barrington you have heard so much of."
+
+"And is she--" He stopped, and grew scarlet with confusion; but she
+broke in, laughingly,--
+
+"No, not black, only dark-complexioned; in fact, a brunette, and no
+more."
+
+"Oh, I don't mean,--I surely could not have said--"
+
+"No matter what you meant or said. Your unuttered question was one that
+kept occurring to my brother and myself every morning as we journeyed
+here, though neither of us had the courage to speak it. But our wonders
+are over; she is a dear good, girl, and we love her better every day we
+see her. But now a little about yourself. Why do I find you so low and
+depressed?"
+
+"I have had much to fret me, Miss Barrington. Some were things that
+could give but passing unhappiness; others were of graver import."
+
+"Tell me so much as you may of them, and I will try to help you to bear
+up against them."
+
+"I will tell you all,--everything!" cried he. "It is the very moment I
+have been longing for, when I could pour out all my cares before you and
+ask, What shall I do?"
+
+Miss Barrington silently drew her arm within his, and they strolled
+along the shady alley without a word.
+
+"I must begin with my great grief,--it absorbs all the rest," said he,
+suddenly. "My father is coming home; he has lost, or thrown up, I can't
+tell which, his high employment. I have heard both versions of the
+story; and his own few words, in the only letter he has written me, do
+not confirm either. His tone is indignant; but far more it is sad and
+depressed,--he who never wrote a line but in the joyousness of his
+high-hearted nature; who met each accident of life with an undaunted
+spirit, and spurned the very thought of being cast down by fortune. See
+what he says here." And he took a much crumpled letter from his pocket,
+and folded down a part of it "Read that. 'The time for men of my stamp
+is gone by in India. We are as much bygones as the old flint musket or
+the matchlock. Soldiers of a different temperament are the fashion now;
+and the sooner we are pensioned or die off the better. For my own part,
+I am sick of it. I have lost my liver and have not made my fortune,
+and like men who have missed their opportunities, I come away too
+discontented with myself to think well of any one. They fancied that by
+coldness and neglect they might get rid of me, as they did once before
+of a far worthier and better fellow; but though I never had the courage
+that he had, they shall not break _my_ heart.' Does it strike you to
+whom he alludes there?" asked Conyers, suddenly; "for each time that I
+read the words I am more disposed to believe that they refer to Colonel
+Barrington."
+
+"I am sure of it!" cried she. "It is the testimony of a sorrow-stricken
+heart to an old friend's memory; but I hear my brother's voice; let me
+go and tell him you are here." But Barrington was already coming towards
+them.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Conyers!" cried he. "If you knew how I have longed for this
+moment! I believe you are the only man in the world I ever ill treated
+on my own threshold; but the very thought of it gave me a fit of
+illness, and now the best thing I know on my recovery is, that I am here
+to ask your pardon."
+
+"I have really nothing to forgive. I met under your roof with a kindness
+that never befell me before; nor do I know the spot on earth where I
+could look for the like to-morrow."
+
+"Come back to it, then, and see if the charm should not be there still."
+
+"Where 's Josephine, brother?" asked Miss Barrington, who, seeing the
+young man's agitation, wished to change the theme.
+
+"She's gone to put some ferns in water; but here she comes now."
+
+Bounding wildly along, like a child in joyous freedom, Josephine came
+towards them, and, suddenly halting at sight of a stranger, she stopped
+and courtesied deeply, while Conyers, half ashamed at his own unhappy
+blunder about her, blushed deeply as he saluted her. Indeed, their
+meeting was more like that of two awkward timid children than of two
+young persons of their age; and they eyed each other with the distrust
+school boys and girls exchange on a first acquaintance.
+
+"Brother, I have something to tell you," said Miss Barrington, who was
+eager to communicate the news she had just heard of General Conyers; and
+while she drew him to one side, the young people still stood there,
+each seeming to expect the other would make some advance towards
+acquaintanceship. Conyers tried to say some commonplace,--some one of
+the fifty things that would have occurred so naturally in presence of
+a young lady to whom he had been just presented; but he could think of
+none, or else those that _he_ thought of seemed inappropriate. How
+talk, for instance, of the world and its pleasures to one who had been
+estranged from it! While he thus struggled and contended with himself,
+she suddenly started as if with a flash of memory, and said, "How
+forgetful!"
+
+"Forgetful!--and of what?" asked he.
+
+"I have left the book I was reading to grandpapa on the rock where we
+were sitting. I must go and fetch it."
+
+"May I go with you?" asked he, half timidly.
+
+"Yes, if you like."
+
+"And your book,--what was it?"
+
+"Oh, a charming book,--such a delightful story! So many people one
+would have loved to know!--such scenes one would have loved to
+visit!--incidents, too, that keep the heart in intense anxiety, that
+you wonder how he who imagined them could have sustained the thrilling
+interest, and held his own heart so long in terrible suspense!"
+
+"And the name of this wonderful book is--"
+
+"'Waverley.'"
+
+"I have read it," said he, coldly.
+
+"And have you not longed to be a soldier? Has not your heart bounded
+with eagerness for a life of adventure and peril?"
+
+"I am a soldier," said he, quietly.
+
+"Indeed!" replied she, slowly, while her steadfast glance scanned him
+calmly and deliberately.
+
+"You find it hard to recognize as a soldier one dressed as I am, and
+probably wonder how such a life as this consorts with enterprise and
+danger. Is not that what is passing in your mind?"
+
+"Mayhap," said she, in a low voice.
+
+"It is all because the world has changed a good deal since Waverley's
+time."
+
+"How sorry I am to hear it!"
+
+"Nay, for your sake it is all the better. Young ladies have a pleasanter
+existence now than they had sixty years since. They lived then lives of
+household drudgery or utter weariness."
+
+"And what have they now?" asked she, eagerly.
+
+"What have they not! All that can embellish life is around them; they
+are taught in a hundred ways to employ the faculties which give to
+existence its highest charm. They draw, sing, dance, ride, dress
+becomingly, read what may give to their conversation an added elegance
+and make their presence felt as an added lustre."
+
+"How unlike all this was our convent life!" said she, slowly. "The beads
+in my rosary were not more alike than the days that followed each other,
+and but for the change of season I should have thought life a dreary
+sleep. Oh, if you but knew what a charm there is in the changeful year
+to one who lives in any bondage!"
+
+"And yet I remember to have heard how you hoped you might not be taken
+away from that convent life, and be compelled to enter the world," said
+he, with a malicious twinkle of the eye.
+
+"True; and had I lived there still I had not asked for other. But how
+came it that you should have heard of me? I never heard of _you!_"
+
+"That is easily told. I was your aunt's guest at the time she resolved
+to come abroad to see you and fetch you home. I used to hear all her
+plans about you, so that at last--I blush to own--I talked of Josephine
+as though she were my sister."
+
+"How strangely cold you were, then, when we met!" said she, quietly.
+"Was it that you found me so unlike what you expected?"
+
+"Unlike, indeed!"
+
+"Tell me how--tell me, I pray you, what you had pictured me."
+
+"It was not mere fancy I drew from. There was a miniature of you as a
+child at the cottage, and I have looked at it till I could recall every
+line of it."
+
+"Go on!" cried she, as he hesitated.
+
+"The child's face was very serious,--actually grave for childhood,--and
+had something almost stern in its expression; and yet I see nothing of
+this in yours."
+
+"So that, like grandpapa," said she, laughing, "you were disappointed in
+not finding me a young tiger from Bengal; but be patient, and remember
+how long it is since I left the jungle."
+
+Sportively as the words were uttered, her eyes flashed and her cheek
+colored, and Conyers saw for the first time how she resembled her
+portrait in infancy.
+
+"Yes," added she, as though answering what was passing in his mind, "you
+are thinking just like the sisters, 'What years and years it would take
+to discipline one of such a race!' I have heard that given as a reason
+for numberless inflictions. And now, all of a sudden, comes grandpapa
+to say, 'We love you so because you are one of us.' Can you understand
+this?"
+
+"I think I can,--that is, I think I can understand why--" he was going
+to add, "why they should love you;" but he stopped, ashamed of his own
+eagerness.
+
+She waited a moment for him to continue, and then, herself blushing, as
+though she had guessed his embarrassment, she turned away.
+
+"And this book that we have been forgetting,--let us go and search for
+it," said she, walking on rapidly in front of him; but he was speedily
+at her side again.
+
+"Look there, brother Peter,--look there!" said Miss Dinah, as she
+pointed after them, "and see how well fitted we are to be guardians to a
+young lady!"
+
+"I see no harm in it, Dinah,--I protest, I see no harm in it."
+
+"Possibly not, brother Peter, and it may only be a part of your system
+for making her--as you phrase it--feel a holy horror of the convent."
+
+"Well," said he, meditatively, "he seems a fine, frank-hearted young
+fellow, and in this world she is about to enter, her first experiences
+might easily be worse."
+
+"I vow and declare," cried she, warmly, "I believe it is your slipshod
+philosophy that makes me as severe as a holy inquisitor!"
+
+"Every evil calls forth its own correction, Dinah," said he, laughing.
+"If there were no fools to skate on the Serpentine, there had been no
+Humane Society."
+
+"One might grow tired of the task of resuscitating, Peter Barrington,"
+said she, hardly.
+
+"Not you, not you, Dinah,--at least, if I was the drowned man," said
+he, drawing her affectionately to his side; "and as for those young
+creatures yonder, it's like gathering dog-roses, and they 'll stop when
+they have pricked their fingers."
+
+"I'll go and look after the nosegay myself," said she, turning hastily
+away, and following them.
+
+A real liking for Conyers, and a sincere interest in him were the great
+correctives to the part of Dragon which Miss Dinah declared she foresaw
+to be her future lot in life. For years and years had she believed that
+the cares of a household and the rule of servants were the last trials
+of human patience. The larder, the dairy, and the garden were each
+of them departments with special opportunities for deception and
+embezzlement, and it seemed to her that new discoveries in roguery kept
+pace with the inventions of science; but she was energetic and active,
+and kept herself at what the French would call "the level of the
+situation;" and neither the cook nor the dairymaid nor Darby could be
+vainglorious over their battles with her. And now, all of a sudden, a
+new part was assigned her, with new duties, functions, and requirements;
+and she was called on to exercise qualities which had lain long dormant
+and in disuse, and renew a knowledge she had not employed for many a
+year. And what a strange blending of pleasure and pain must have come
+of that memory of long ago! Old conquests revived, old rivalries and
+jealousies and triumphs; glorious little glimpses of brilliant delight,
+and some dark hours, too, of disappointment,--almost despair!
+
+"Once a bishop, always a bishop," says the canon; but might we not with
+almost as much truth say, "Once a beauty, always a beauty"?--not in
+lineament and feature, in downy cheek or silky tresses, but in the
+heartfelt consciousness of a once sovereign power, in that sense of
+having been able to exact a homage and enforce a tribute. And as we see
+in the deposed monarch how the dignity of kingcraft clings to him, how
+through all he does and says there runs a vein of royal graciousness as
+from one the fount of honor, so it is with beauty. There lives through
+all its wreck the splendid memory of a despotism the most absolute, the
+most fascinating of all!
+
+"I am so glad that young Conyers has no plans, Dinah," said Barrington;
+"he says he will join us if we permit him."
+
+"Humph!" said Miss Barrington, as she went on with her knitting.
+
+"I see nothing against it, sister."
+
+"Of course not, Peter," said she, snappishly; "it would surprise me much
+if you did."
+
+"Do _you_, Dinah?" asked he, with a true simplicity of voice and look.
+
+"I see great danger in it, if that be what you mean. And what answer did
+you make him, Peter?"
+
+"The same answer that I make to every one,--I would consult my sister
+Dinah. 'Le Roi s'avisera' meant, I take it, that he 'd be led by a wiser
+head than his own."
+
+"He was wise when he knew it," said she, sententiously, and continued
+her work.
+
+And from that day forth they all journeyed together, and one of them
+was very happy, and some were far more than happy; and Aunt Dinah was
+anxious even beyond her wont.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX. THE RAMBLE
+
+Day after day, week after week rolled on, and they still rambled
+about among the picturesque old villages on the Moselle, almost losing
+themselves in quaint unvisited spots, whose very names were new to them.
+To Barrington and his sister this picture of a primitive peasant life,
+with its own types of costume and custom, had an indescribable charm.
+Though debarred, from his ignorance of their dialect, of anything like
+intercourse with the people, he followed them in their ways with intense
+interest, and he would pass hours in the market-place, or stroll through
+the fields watching the strange culture, and wondering at the very
+implements of their labor. And the young people all this while? They
+were never separate. They read, and walked, and sat together from dawn
+to dark. They called each other Fifine and Freddy. Sometimes she sang,
+and he was there to listen; sometimes he drew, and she was as sure to be
+leaning over him in silent wonder at his skill; but with all this there
+was no love-making between them,--that is, no vows were uttered, no
+pledges asked for. Confidences, indeed, they interchanged, and without
+end. She told the story of her friendless infancy, and the long dreary
+years of convent life passed in a dull routine that had almost barred
+the heart against a wish for change; and he gave her the story of his
+more splendid existence, charming her imagination with a picture of
+that glorious Eastern life, which seemed to possess an instinctive
+captivation for her. And at last he told her, but as a great secret
+never to be revealed, how his father and her own had been the dearest,
+closest friends; that for years and years they had lived together like
+brothers, till separated by the accidents of life. _Her_ father went
+away to a long distant station, and _his_ remained to hold a high
+military charge, from which he was now relieved and on his way back to
+Europe. "What happiness for you, Freddy," cried she, as her eyes ran
+over, "to see him come home in honor! What had I given that such a fate
+were mine!"
+
+For an instant he accepted her words in all their flattery, but the
+hypocrisy was brief; her over-full heart was bursting for sympathy, and
+he was eager to declare that his sorrows were scarcely less than
+her own. "No, Fifine," said he, "my father is coming back to demand
+satisfaction of a Government that has wronged him, and treated him
+with the worst ingratitude. In that Indian life men of station wield an
+almost boundless power; but if they are irresponsible as to the means,
+they are tested by the results, and whenever an adverse issue succeeds
+they fall irrevocably. What my father may have done, or have left
+undone, I know not. I have not the vaguest clew to his present
+difficulty, but, with his high spirit and his proud heart, that he would
+resent the very shadow of a reproof I can answer for, and so I believe,
+what many tell me, that it is a mere question of personal feeling,--some
+small matter in which the Council have not shown him the deference he
+felt his due, but which his haughty nature would not forego."
+
+Now these confidences were not love-making, nor anything approaching to
+it, and yet Josephine felt a strange half-pride in thinking that she had
+been told a secret which Conyers had never revealed to any other; that
+to her he had poured forth the darkest sorrow of his heart, and actually
+confided to her the terrors that beset him, for he owned that his father
+was rash and headstrong, and if he deemed himself wronged would be
+reckless in his attempt at justification.
+
+"You do not come of a very patient stock, then," said she, smiling.
+
+"Not very, Fifine."
+
+"Nor I," said she, as her eyes flashed brightly. "My poor Ayah, who died
+when I was but five years old, used to tell me such tales of my father's
+proud spirit and the lofty way he bore himself, so that I often fancy I
+have seen him and heard him speak. You have heard he was a Rajah?" asked
+she, with a touch of pride.
+
+The youth colored deeply as he muttered an assent, for he knew that she
+was ignorant of the details of her father's fate, and he dreaded any
+discussion of her story.
+
+"And these Rajahs," resumed she, "are really great princes, with power
+of life and death, vast retinues, and splendid armies. To my mind, they
+present a more gorgeous picture than a small European sovereignty with
+some vast Protectorate looming over it. And now it is my uncle," said
+she, suddenly, "who rules there."
+
+"I have heard that your own claims, Fifine, are in litigation," said he,
+with a faint smile.
+
+"Not as to the sovereignty," said she, with a grave look, half rebukeful
+of his levity. "The suit grandpapa prosecutes in my behalf is for
+my mother's jewels and her fortune; a woman cannot reign in the
+Tannanoohr."
+
+There was a haughty defiance in her voice as she spoke, that seemed to
+say, "This is a theme I will not suffer to be treated lightly,--beware
+how you transgress here."
+
+"And yet it is a dignity would become you well," said he, seriously.
+
+"It is one I would glory to possess," said she, as proudly.
+
+"Would you give me a high post, Fifine, if you were on the
+throne?--would you make me Commander-in-Chief of your army?"
+
+"More likely that I would banish you from the realm," said she, with
+a haughty laugh; "at least, until you learned to treat the head of the
+state more respectfully."
+
+"Have I ever been wanting in a proper deference?" said he, bowing, with
+a mock humility.
+
+"If you had been, sir, it is not now that you had first heard of it,"
+said she, with a proud look, and for a few seconds it seemed as though
+their jesting was to have a serious ending. She was, however, the
+earliest to make terms, and in a tone of hearty kindliness said: "Don't
+be angry, Freddy, and I 'll tell you a secret. If that theme be touched
+on, I lose my head: whether it be in the blood that circles in my veins,
+or in some early teachings that imbued my childhood, or long dreaming
+over what can never be, I cannot tell, but it is enough to speak of
+these things, and at once my imagination becomes exalted and my reason
+is routed."
+
+"I have no doubt your Ayah was to blame for this; she must have filled
+your head with ambitions, and hopes of a grand hereafter. Even I myself
+have some experiences of this sort; for as my father held a high post
+and was surrounded with great state and pomp, I grew at a very early
+age to believe myself a very mighty personage, and gave my orders with
+despotic insolence, and suffered none to gainsay me."
+
+"How silly!" said she, with a supercilious toss of her head that made
+Conyers flush up; and once again was peace endangered between them.
+
+"You mean that what was only a fair and reasonable assumption in _you_
+was an absurd pretension in me, Miss Barrington; is it not so?" asked
+he, in a voice tremulous with passion.
+
+"I mean that we must both have been very naughty children, and the
+less we remember of that childhood the better for us. Are we friends,
+Freddy?" and she held out her hand.
+
+"Yes, if you wish it," said he, taking her hand half coldly in his own.
+
+"Not that way, sir. It is _I_ who have condescended; not _you_."
+
+"As you please, Fifine,--will this do?" and kneeling with well-assumed
+reverence, he lifted her hand to his lips.
+
+"If my opinion were to be asked, Mr. Conyers, I would say it would _not_
+do at all," said Miss Dinah, coming suddenly up, her cheeks crimson, and
+her eyes flashing.
+
+"It was a little comedy we were acting, Aunt Dinah," said the girl,
+calmly.
+
+"I beg, then, that the piece may not be repeated," said she, stiffly.
+
+"Considering how ill Freddy played his part, aunt, he will scarcely
+regret its withdrawal."
+
+Conyers, however, could not get over his confusion, and looked perfectly
+miserable for very shame.
+
+"My brother has just had a letter which will call us homeward, Mr.
+Conyers," said Miss Dinah, turning to him, and now using a tone devoid
+of all irritation. "Mr. Withering has obtained some information which
+may turn out of great consequence in our suit, and he wishes to consult
+with my brother upon it."
+
+"I hope--I sincerely hope--you do not think--" he began, in a low voice.
+
+"I do not think anything to your disadvantage, and I hope I never may,"
+replied she, in a whisper low as his own; "but bear in mind, Josephine
+is no finished coquette like Polly Dill, nor must she be the mark of
+little gallantries, however harmless. Josephine, grandpapa has some news
+for you; go to him."
+
+"Poor Freddy," whispered the girl in the youth's ear as she passed,
+"what a lecture you are in for!" "You mustn't be angry with me if I play
+Duenna a little harshly, Mr. Conyers," said Miss Dinah; "and I am
+far more angry with myself than you can be. I never concurred with my
+brother that romance reading and a young dragoon for a companion were
+the most suitable educational means for a young lady fresh from a
+convent, and I have only myself to blame for permitting it."
+
+Poor Conyers was so overwhelmed that he could say nothing; for though
+he might, and with a safe conscience, have answered a direct charge, yet
+against a general allegation he was powerless. He could not say that
+he was the best possible companion for a young lady, though he felt,
+honestly felt, that he was not a bad one. He had never trifled with her
+feelings, nor sought to influence her in his favor. Of all flirtation,
+such as he would have adventured with Polly Dill, for instance, he was
+guiltless. He respected her youth and ignorance of life too deeply to
+take advantage of either. He thought, perhaps, how ungenerous it would
+have been for a man of the world like himself to entrap the affections
+of a young, artless creature, almost a child in her innocence. He was
+rather fond of imagining himself "a man of the world," old soldier, and
+what not,--a delusion which somehow very rarely befalls any but very
+young men, and of which the experience of life from thirty to forty is
+the sovereign remedy. And so overwhelmed and confused and addled was he
+with a variety of sensations, he heard very little of what Miss Dinah
+said to him, though that worthy lady talked very fluently and very well,
+concluding at last with words which awoke Conyers from his half-trance
+with a sort of shock. "It is for these reasons, my dear Mr.
+Conyers,--reasons whose force and nature you will not dispute,--that I
+am forced to do what, were the occasion less important, would be a most
+ungenerous task. I mean, I am forced to relinquish all the pleasure that
+I had promised ourselves from seeing you our guest at the cottage. If
+you but knew the pain I feel to speak these words--"
+
+"There is no occasion to say more, madam," said he; for, unfortunately,
+so unprepared was he for the announcement, its chief effect was to
+wound his pride. "It is the second time within a few months destiny has
+stopped my step on your threshold. It only remains for me to submit to
+my fate, and not adventure upon an enterprise above my means."
+
+"You are offended with me, and yet you ought not," said she,
+sorrowfully; "you ought to feel that I am consulting _your_ interests
+fully as much as ours."
+
+"I own, madam," said he, coldly, "I am unable to take the view you have
+placed before me."
+
+"Must I speak out, then?--must I declare my meaning in all its
+matter-of-fact harshness, and say that your family and your friends
+would have little scruple in estimating the discretion which encouraged
+your intimacy with my niece,--the son of the distinguished and
+highly favored General Conyers with the daughter of the ruined George
+Barring-ton? These are hard words to say, but I have said them."
+
+"It is to my father you are unjust now, Miss Harrington."
+
+"No, Mr. Conyers; there is no injustice in believing that a father loves
+his son with a love so large that it cannot exclude even worldliness.
+There is no injustice in believing that a proud and successful man
+would desire to see his son successful too; and we all know what we call
+success. I see you are very angry with me. You think me very worldly
+and very small-minded; perhaps, too, you would like to say that all the
+perils I talk of are of my own inventing; that Fifine and you could be
+the best of friends, and never think of more than friendship; and that
+I might spare my anxieties, and not fret for sorrows that have no
+existence;--and to all this I would answer, I 'll not risk the chance.
+No, Mr. Conyers, I 'll be no party to a game where the stakes are so
+unequal. What might give _you_ a month's sorrow might cost _her_ the
+misery of a life long."
+
+"I have no choice left me. I will go,--I will go to-night, Miss
+Barrington."
+
+"Perhaps it would be better," said she, gravely, and walked slowly away.
+
+I will not tell the reader what harsh and cruel things Conyers said of
+every one and everything, nor how severely he railed at the world and
+its ways. Lord Byron had taught the youth of that age a very hearty
+and wholesome contempt for all manner of conventionalities, into which
+category a vast number of excellent customs were included, and Conyers
+could spout "Manfred" by heart, and imagine himself, on very small
+provocation, almost as great a man-hater; and so he set off on a long
+walk into the forest, determined not to appear at dinner, and equally
+determined to be the cause of much inquiry, and, if possible, of some
+uneasiness. "I wonder what that old-maid,"--alas for his gallantry,
+it was so he called her,--"what she would say if her harsh, ungenerous
+words had driven me to--" what he did not precisely define, though
+it was doubtless associated with snow peaks and avalanches, eternal
+solitudes and demoniac possessions. It might, indeed, have been some
+solace to him had he known how miserable and anxious old Peter became at
+his absence, and how incessantly he questioned every one about him.
+
+"I hope that no mishap has befallen that boy, Dinah; he was always
+punctual. I never knew him stray away in this fashion before."
+
+"It would be rather a severe durance, brother Peter, if a young
+gentleman could not prolong his evening walk without permission."
+
+"What says Fifine? I suspect she agrees with me."
+
+"If that means that he ought to be here, grandpapa, I do."
+
+"I must read over Withering's letter again, brother," said Miss Dinah,
+by way of changing the subject "He writes, you say, from the Home?"
+
+"Yes; he was obliged to go down there to search for some papers he
+wanted, and he took Stapylton with him; and he says they had two capital
+days at the partridges. They bagged,--egad! I think it was eight or ten
+brace before two o'clock, the Captain or Major, I forget which, being a
+first-rate shot."
+
+"What does he say of the place,--how is it looking?"
+
+"In perfect beauty. Your deputy, Polly, would seem to have fulfilled
+her part admirably. The garden in prime order; and that little spot next
+your own sitting-room, he says, is positively a better flower-show than
+one he paid a shilling to see in Dublin. Polly herself, too, comes in
+for a very warm share of his admiration."
+
+"How did he see her, and where?"
+
+"At the Home. She was there the evening they arrived, and Withering
+insisted on her presiding at the tea-table for them."
+
+"It did not require very extraordinary entreaty, I will make bold to
+say, Peter."
+
+"He does not mention that; he only speaks of her good looks, and what
+he calls her very pretty manners. In a situation not devoid of a certain
+awkwardness he says she displayed the most perfect tact; and although
+doing the honors of the house, she, with some very nice ingenuity,
+insinuated that she was herself but a visitor."
+
+"She could scarce have forgotten herself so far as to think anything
+else, Peter," said Miss Dinah, bridling up. "I suspect her very pretty
+manners were successfully exercised. That old gentleman is exactly of
+the age to be fascinated by her."
+
+"What! Withering, Dinah,--do you mean Withering?" cried he, laughing.
+
+"I do, brother; and I say that he is quite capable of making her the
+offer of his hand. You may laugh, Peter Barrington, but my observation
+of young ladies has been closer and finer than yours." And the
+glance she gave at Josephine seemed to say that her gun had been
+double-shotted.
+
+"But your remark, sister Dinah, rather addresses itself to old gentlemen
+than to young ladies."
+
+"Who are much the more easily read of the two," said she, tartly. "But
+really, Peter, I will own that I am more deeply concerned to know
+what Mr. Withering has to say of our lawsuit than about Polly Dill's
+attractions."
+
+"He speaks very hopefully,--very hopefully, indeed. In turning over
+George's papers some Hindoo documents have come to light, which
+Stapylton has translated, and it appears that there is a certain
+Moonshee, called Jokeeram, who was, or is, in the service of Meer
+Rustum, whose testimony would avail us much. Stapylton inclines to think
+he could trace this man for us. His own relations are principally in
+Madras, but he says he could manage to institute inquiries in Bengal."
+
+"What is our claim to this gentleman's interest for us, Peter?"
+
+"Mere kindness on his part; he never knew George, except from hearsay.
+Indeed, they could not have been contemporaries. Stapylton is not, I
+should say, above five-and-thirty."
+
+"The search after this creature with the horrid name will be, of course,
+costly, brother Peter. It means, I take it, sending some one out to
+India; that is to say, sending one fool after another. Are you prepared
+for this expense?"
+
+"Withering opines it would be money well spent. What he says is this:
+The Company will not willingly risk another inquiry before Parliament,
+and if we show fight and a firm resolve to give the case publicity, they
+will probably propose terms. This Moonshee had been in his service,
+but was dismissed, and his appearance as a witness on our side would
+occasion great uneasiness."
+
+"You are going to play a game of brag, then, brother Peter, well aware
+that the stronger purse is with your antagonist?"
+
+"Not exactly, Dinah; not exactly. We are strengthening our position so
+far that we may say, 'You see our order of battle; would it not be as
+well to make peace?' Listen to what Withering says." And Peter opened a
+letter of several sheets, and sought out the place he wanted.
+
+"Here it is, Dinah. 'From one of these Hindoo papers we learn that Ram
+Shamsoolah Sing was not at the Meer's residence during the feast of the
+Rhamadan, and could not possibly have signed the document to which his
+name and seal are appended. Jokeeram, who was himself the Moon-shee
+interpreter in Luckerabad, writes to his friend Cossien Aga, and
+says--'"
+
+"Brother Peter, this is like the Arabian Nights in all but the
+entertainment to me, and the jumble of these abominable names only
+drives me mad. If you flatter yourself that you can understand
+one particle of the matter, it must be that age has sharpened your
+faculties, that's all."
+
+"I'm not quite sure of that, Dinah," said he, laughing. "I 'm half
+disposed to believe that years are not more merciful to our brains than
+to our ankles; but I'll go and take a stroll in the shady alleys under
+the linden-trees, and who knows how bright it will make me!"
+
+"Am I to go with you, grandpapa?" said the young girl, rising.
+
+"No, Fifine; I have something to say to you here," said Miss Dinah; and
+there was a significance in the tone that was anything but reassuring.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX. UNDER THE LINDEN
+
+That shady alley under the linden-trees was a very favorite walk with
+Peter Barrington. It was a nice cool lane, with a brawling little
+rivulet close beside it, with here and there a dark silent pool for the
+dragon-fly to skim over and see his bronzed wings reflected in the still
+water; and there was a rustic bench or two, where Peter used to sit
+and fancy he was meditating, while, in reality, he was only watching a
+speckled lizard in the grass, or listening to the mellow blackbird over
+his head. I have had occasion once before to remark on the resources of
+the man of imagination, but I really suspect that for the true luxury of
+idleness there is nothing like the temperament devoid of fancy. There is
+a grand breadth about those quiet, peaceful minds over which no shadows
+flit, and which can find sufficient occupation through the senses, and
+never have to go "within" for their resources. These men can sit the
+livelong day and watch the tide break over a rock, or see the sparrow
+teach her young to fly, or gaze on the bee as he dives into the deep cup
+of the foxglove, and actually need no more to fill the hours. For them
+there is no memory with its dark bygones, there is no looming future
+with its possible misfortunes; there is simply a half-sleepy present,
+with soft sounds and sweet odors through it,--a balmy kind of stupor,
+from which the awaking comes without a shock.
+
+When Barrington reached his favorite seat, and lighted his cigar,--it
+is painting the lily for such men to smoke,--he intended to have thought
+over the details of Withering's letter, which were both curious and
+interesting; he intended to consider attentively certain points which,
+as Withering said, "he must master before he could adopt a final
+resolve;" but they were knotty points, made knottier, too, by hard
+Hindoo words for things unknown, and names totally unpronounceable. He
+used to think that he understood "George's claim" pretty well; he had
+fancied it was a clear and very intelligible case, that half a dozen
+honest men might have come to a decision on in an hour's time; but now
+he began to have a glimmering perception that George must have been
+egregiously duped and basely betrayed, and that the Company were not
+altogether unreasonable in assuming their distrust of him. Now, all
+these considerations coming down upon him at once were overwhelming, and
+they almost stunned him. Even his late attempt to enlighten his sister
+Dinah on a matter he so imperfectly understood now recoiled upon him,
+and added to his own mystification.
+
+"Well, well," muttered he, at last, "I hope Tom sees his way through
+it,"--Tom was Withering,--"and if _he_ does, there's no need of my
+bothering _my_ head about it. What use would there be in lawyers if they
+hadn't got faculties sharper than other folk? and as to 'making up my
+mind,' my mind is made up already, that I want to win the cause if he'll
+only show me how." From these musings he was drawn off by watching a
+large pike,--the largest pike, he thought, he had ever seen,--which
+would from time to time dart out from beneath a bank, and after lying
+motionless in the middle of the pool for a minute or so, would, with one
+whisk of its tail, skim back again to its hiding-place. "That fellow has
+instincts of its own to warn him," thought he; "he knows he was n't safe
+out there. _He_ sees some peril that _I_ cannot see; and that ought to
+be the way with Tom, for, after all, the lawyers are just pikes, neither
+more nor less." At this instant a man leaped across the stream, and
+hurriedly passed into the copse. "What! Mr. Conyers--Conyers, is that
+you?" cried Barrington; and the young man turned and came towards him.
+"I am glad to see you all safe and sound again," said Peter; "we waited
+dinner half an hour for you, and have passed all the time since in
+conjecturing what might have befallen you."
+
+"Did n't Miss Barrington say--did not Miss Barrington know--" He stopped
+in deep confusion, and could not finish his speech.
+
+"My sister knew nothing,--at least, she did not tell me any reason for
+your absence."
+
+"No, not for my absence," began he once more, in the same embarrassment;
+"but as I had explained to her that I was obliged to leave this
+suddenly,--to start this evening--"
+
+"To start this evening! and whither?"
+
+"I cannot tell; I don't know,--that is, I have no plans."
+
+"My dear boy," said the old man, affectionately, as he laid his hand on
+the other's arm, "if you don't know where you are going, take my word
+for it there is no such great necessity to go."
+
+"Yes, but there is," replied he, quickly; "at least Miss Barrington
+thinks so, and at the time we spoke together she made me believe she was
+in the right."
+
+"And are you of the same opinion _now?_" asked Peter, with a humorous
+drollery in his eye.
+
+"I am,--that is, I was a few moments back. I mean, that whenever I
+recall the words she spoke to me, I feel their full conviction."
+
+"Come, now, sit down here beside me! It can scarcely be anything I
+may not be a party to. Just let me hear the case like a judge in
+chamber"--and he smiled at an illustration that recalled his favorite
+passion, "I won't pretend to say my sister has not a wiser head--as I
+well know she has a far better heart--than myself, but now and then she
+lets a prejudice or a caprice or even a mere apprehension run away
+with her, and it's just possible it is some whim of this kind is now
+uppermost."
+
+Conyers only shook his head dissentingly, and said nothing.
+
+"Maybe I guess it,--I suspect that I guess it," said Peter, with a sly
+drollery about his mouth. "My sister has a notion that a young man and
+a young woman ought no more to be in propinquity than saltpetre and
+charcoal. She has been giving me a lecture on my blindness, and asking
+if I can't see this, that, and the other; but, besides being the least
+observant of mankind, I'm one of the most hopeful as regards whatever I
+wish to be. Now we have all of us gone on so pleasantly together, with
+such a thorough good understanding--such loyalty, as the French would
+call it--that I can't, for the life of me, detect any ground for
+mistrust or dread. Have n't I hit the blot, Conyers--eh?" cried he, as
+the young fellow grew redder and redder, till his face became crimson.
+
+"I assured Miss Barrington," began he, in a faltering, broken voice,
+"that I set too much store on the generous confidence you extended to
+me to abuse it; that, received as I was, like one of your own blood
+and kindred, I never could forget the frank trustfulness with which you
+discussed everything before me, and made me, so to say, 'One of you.'
+The moment, however, that my intimacy suggested a sense of constraint, I
+felt the whole charm of my privilege would have departed, and it is for
+this reason I am going!" The last word was closed with a deep sigh, and
+he turned away his head as he concluded.
+
+"And for this reason you shall not go one step," said Peter, slapping
+him cordially on the shoulder. "I verily believe that women think the
+world was made for nothing but love-making, just as the crack engineer
+believed rivers were intended by Providence to feed navigable canals;
+but you and I know a little better, not to say that a young fellow with
+the stamp gentleman indelibly marked on his forehead would not think of
+making a young girl fresh from a convent--a mere child in the ways of
+life--the mark of his attentions. Am I not right?"
+
+"I hope and believe you are!"
+
+"Stay where you are, then; be happy, and help us to feel so; and the
+only pledge I ask is, that whenever you suspect Dinah to be a shrewder
+observer and a truer prophet than her brother--you understand me--you'll
+just come and say, 'Peter Barrington, I'm off; good-bye!'"
+
+"There's my hand on it," said he, grasping the old man's with warmth.
+"There's only one point--I have told Miss Barrington that I would start
+this evening."
+
+"She'll scarcely hold you very closely to your pledge."
+
+"But, as I understand her, you are going back to Ireland?"
+
+"And you are coming along with us. Isn't that a very simple
+arrangement?"
+
+"I know it would be a very pleasant one."
+
+"It shall be, if it depend on me. I want to make you a fisherman too.
+When I was a young man, it was my passion to make every one a good
+horseman. If I liked a fellow, and found out that he couldn't ride to
+hounds, it gave me a shock little short of hearing that there was a blot
+on his character, so associated in my mind had become personal dash and
+prowess in the field with every bold and manly characteristic. As I
+grew older, and the rod usurped the place of the hunting-whip, I grew to
+fancy that your angler would be the truest type of a companion; and if
+you but knew," added he, as a glassy fulness dulled his eyes, "what a
+flattery it is to an old fellow when a young one will make a comrade
+of him,--what a smack of bygone days it brings up, and what sunshine it
+lets in on the heart,--take my word for it, you young fellows are never
+so vain of an old companion as we are of a young one! What are you so
+thoughtful about?"
+
+"I was thinking how I was to make this explanation to Miss Barrington."
+
+"You need not make it at all; leave the whole case in my hands. My
+sister knows that I owe you an _amende_ and a heavy one. Let this go
+towards a part payment of it. But here she comes in search of me. Step
+away quietly, and when we meet at the tea-table all will have been
+settled."
+
+Conyers had but time to make his escape, when Miss Barrington came up.
+
+"I thought I should find you mooning down here, Peter," said she,
+sharply. "Whenever there is anything to be done or decided on, a
+Barrington is always watching a fly on a fish-pond."
+
+"Not the women of the family, Dinah,--not the women. But what great
+emergency is before us now?"
+
+"No great emergency, as you phrase it, at all, but what to men like
+yourself is frequently just as trying,--an occasion that requires a
+little tact. I have discovered--what I long anticipated has come to
+pass--Conyers and Fifine are on very close terms of intimacy, which
+might soon become attachment. I have charged him with it, and he has not
+altogether denied it. On the whole he has behaved well, and he goes away
+to-night."
+
+"I have just seen him, Dinah. I got at his secret, not without a little
+dexterity on my part, and learned what had passed between you. We talked
+the thing over very calmly together, and the upshot is--he's not going."
+
+"Not going! not going! after the solemn assurance he gave me!"
+
+"But of which I absolved him, sister Dinah; or rather, which I made him
+retract."
+
+"Peter Barrington, stop!" cried she, holding her hands to her temples.
+"I want a little time to recover myself. I must have time, or I'll not
+answer for my senses. Just reply to one question. I 'll ask you, have
+you taken an oath--are you under a vow to be the ruin of your family?"
+
+"I don't think I have, Dinah. I 'm doing everything for the best."
+
+"If there's a phrase in the language condemns the person that uses it,
+it's 'Doing everything for the best.' What does it mean but a blind,
+uninquiring, inconsiderate act, the work of a poor brain and sickly
+conscience? Don't talk to me, sir, of doing for the best, but do the
+best, the very best, according to the lights that guide you. You know
+well, perfectly well, that Fifine has no fortune, and that this young
+man belongs to a very rich and a very ambitious family, and that to
+encourage what might lead to attachment between them would be to store
+up a cruel wrong and a great disappointment."
+
+"My dear Dinah, you speak like a book, but I don't agree with you."
+
+"You don't. Will you please to state why?"
+
+"In the first place, Dinah, forgive me for saying it, but we men do
+not take _your_ view of these cases. We neither think that love is as
+catching or as dangerous as the smallpox. We imagine that two young
+people can associate together every day and yet never contract a lien
+that might break their hearts to dissolve."
+
+"Talking politics together, perhaps; or the state of the Three per
+Cents?"
+
+"Not exactly that, but talking of fifty other things that interest
+their time of life and tempers. Have they not songs, drawings, flowers,
+landscapes, and books, with all their thousand incidents, to
+discuss? Just remember what that writer who calls himself 'Author of
+Waverley'--what he alone has given us of people to talk over just as if
+we knew them."
+
+"Brother Peter, I have no patience with you. You enumerate one by one
+all the ingredients, and you disparage the total. You tell of the flour,
+and the plums, and the suet, and the candied lemon, but you cry out
+against the pudding! Don't you see that the very themes you leave for
+them all conduce to what you ignore, and that your music and painting
+and romance-reading only lead to love-making? Don't you see this, or are
+you in reality--I didn't want to say it, but you have made me--are you
+an old fool?"
+
+"I hope not, Dinah; but I'm not so sure you don't think me one."
+
+"It's nothing to the purpose whether I do or not," said she; "the
+question is, have you asked this young man to come back with us to
+Ireland?"
+
+"I have, and he is coming."
+
+"I could have sworn to it," said she, with a sudden energy; "and if
+there was anything more stupid, you 'd have done it also." And with this
+speech, more remarkable for its vigor than its politeness, she turned
+away and left him.
+
+Ere I close the chapter and the subject, let me glance, and only glance,
+at the room where Conyers is now standing beside Josephine. She is
+drawing, not very attentively or carefully, perhaps, and he is bending
+over her and relating, as it seems, something that has occurred to him,
+and has come to the end with the words, "And though I was to have gone
+this evening, it turns out that now I am to stay and accompany you to
+Ireland."
+
+"Don't sigh so painfully over it, however," said she, gravely; "for when
+you come to mention how distressing it is, I 'm sure they 'll let you
+off."
+
+"Fifine," said he, reproachfully, "is this fair, is this generous?"
+
+"I don't know whether it be unfair, I don't want it to be generous,"
+said she, boldly.
+
+"In point of fact, then, you only wish for me here to quarrel with, is
+that the truth?"
+
+"I think it better fun disagreeing with you than always saying how
+accurate you are, and how wise, and how well-judging. That atmosphere of
+eternal agreement chokes me; I feel as if I were suffocating."
+
+"It's not a very happy temperament; it's not a disposition to boast of."
+
+"You never did hear me boast of it; but I have heard _you_ very
+vainglorious about your easy temper and your facile nature, which
+were simply indolence. Now, I have had more than enough of that in the
+convent, and I long for a little activity."
+
+"Even if it were hazardous?"
+
+"Even if it were hazardous," echoed she. "But here comes Aunt Dinah,
+with a face as stern as one of the sisters, and an eye that reminds me
+of penance and bread and water; so help me to put up my drawings, and
+say nothing of what we were talking."
+
+"My brother has just told me, Mr. Conyers," said she, in a whisper, "a
+piece of news which it only depends upon you to make a most agreeable
+arrangement."
+
+"I trust you may count upon me, madam," said he, in the same tone, and
+bowed low as he spoke.
+
+"Then come with me and let us talk it over," said she, as she took his
+arm and led him away.
+
+END OF VOL. I.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrington, by Charles James Lever
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRINGTON ***
+
+***** This file should be named 34882-8.txt or 34882-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/8/34882/
+
+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.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/34882-8.zip b/34882-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e110a10
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-8.zip
diff --git a/34882-h.zip b/34882-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..afcd923
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h.zip
diff --git a/34882-h/34882-h.htm b/34882-h/34882-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ed81122
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/34882-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,14500 @@
+<?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>
+    <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" />
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" />
+    <title>
+      Barrington, Vol I. 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 Barrington, 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: Barrington
+       Volume I (of II)
+
+Author: Charles James Lever
+
+Illustrator: Phiz.
+
+Release Date: January 8, 2011 [EBook #34882]
+Last Updated: February 27, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRINGTON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<h1>
+BARRINGTON
+</h1>
+<h3>
+Volume I.
+</h3>
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+<h2>
+By Charles James Lever
+</h2>
+<h3>
+With Illustrations By Phiz.
+</h3>
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+<h3>
+Boston: Little, Brown, And Company.
+</h3>
+<h4>
+1907.
+</h4>
+<p>
+<br /> <br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<br /> <br /> <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="100%" alt="Frontispiece " />
+</div>
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img alt="titlepage (27K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="100%" />
+</div>
+<p>
+<br /> <br /> <br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<br /> <br />
+</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class="toc">
+<big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE
+FISHERMAN'S HOME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;A
+WET MORNING AT HOME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.
+</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;OUR NEXT NEIGHBORS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004">
+CHAPTER IV. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;FRED CONYERS <br /><br /> <a
+href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;DILL AS A DIPLOMATIST
+<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE
+DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;TOM
+DILL'S FIRST PATIENT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.
+</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;FINE ACQUAINTANCES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009">
+CHAPTER IX. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;A COUNTRY DOCTOR <br /><br /> <a
+href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;BEING &ldquo;BORED&rdquo; <br /><br />
+<a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;A NOTE TO BE
+ANSWERED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE
+ANSWER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;A
+FEW LEAVES FROM A BLUE-BOOK <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER
+XIV. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;BARRINGTON'S FORD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015">
+CHAPTER XV. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION <br /><br /> <a
+href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;COMING HOME <br /><br />
+<a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;A SHOCK <br /><br />
+<a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;COBHAM <br /><br />
+<a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE HOUR OF
+LUNCHEON <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;AN
+INTERIOR AT THE DOCTOR'S <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER
+XXI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;DARK TIDINGS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022">
+CHAPTER XXII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;LEAVING HOME <br /><br /> <a
+href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE COLONEL'S
+COUNSELS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;CONYERS
+MAKES A MORNING CALL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV.
+</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;DUBLIN REVISITED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026">
+CHAPTER XXVI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;A VERY SAD GOOD-BYE <br /><br /> <a
+href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE CONVENT ON THE
+MEUSE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. &nbsp;</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;GEORGE'S
+DAUGHTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE
+RAMBLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;UNDER
+THE LINDEN <br /><br />
+</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>
+<br /> <br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<br /> <br />
+</p>
+<h1>
+BARRINGTON.
+</h1>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER I. THE FISHERMAN'S HOME
+</h2>
+<p>
+If there should be, at this day we live in, any one bold enough to confess
+that he fished the river Nore, in Ireland, some forty years ago, he might
+assist me by calling to mind a small inn, about two miles from the
+confluence of that river with the Barrow, a spot in great favor with those
+who followed the &ldquo;gentle craft.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was a very unpretending hostel, something wherein cottage and farmhouse
+were blended, and only recognizable as a place of entertainment by a tin
+trout suspended over the doorway, with the modest inscription underneath,&mdash;&ldquo;Fisherman's
+Home.&rdquo; Very seldom is it, indeed, that hotel pledges are as honestly
+fulfilled as they were in this simple announcement. The house was, in all
+that quiet comfort and unostentatious excellence can make, a veritable
+Home! Standing in a fine old orchard of pear and damson trees, it was only
+approachable by a path which led from the highroad, about two miles off,
+or by the river, which wound round the little grassy promontory beneath
+the cottage. On the opposite side of the stream arose cliffs of
+considerable height, their terraced sides covered with larch and ash,
+around whose stems the holly, the laurel, and arbutus grew in a wild and
+rich profusion. A high mountain, rugged with rock and precipice, shut in
+the picture, and gave to the river all the semblance of a narrow lake.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Home, as may be imagined, was only resorted to by fishermen, and of
+these not many; for the chosen few who knew the spot, with the
+churlishness of true anglers, were strenuously careful to keep the secret
+to themselves. But another and stronger cause contributed to this
+seclusion. The landlord was a reduced gentleman, who, only anxious to add
+a little to his narrow fortune, would not have accepted a greater
+prosperity at the cost of more publicity, and who probably only consented
+to his occupation on finding how scrupulously his guests respected his
+position.
+</p>
+<p>
+Indeed, it was only on leave-taking, and then far from painfully, you were
+reminded of being in an inn. There was no noise, no bustle; books,
+magazines, flowers, lay about; cupboards lay open, with all their cordials
+free to take. You might dine under the spreading sycamore beside the well,
+and have your dessert for the plucking. No obsequious waiter shook his
+napkin as you passed, no ringleted barmaid crossed your musing steps, no
+jingling of bells, or discordant cries, or high-voiced remonstrances
+disturbed you. The hum of the summer bee, or the flapping plash of a
+trout, were about the only sounds in the stillness, and all was as
+peaceful and as calm and as dreamy as the most world-weary could have
+wished it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Of those who frequented the spot, some merely knew that the host had seen
+better days. Others, however, were aware that Peter Barrington had once
+been a man of large fortune, and represented his county in the Irish
+Parliament. Though not eminent as a politician, he was one of the great
+convivial celebrities of a time that boasted of Curran, and Avanmore, and
+Parsons, and a score of others, any one of whom, in our day, would have
+made a society famous. Barrington, too, was the almoner of the monks of
+the screw, and &ldquo;Peter's pence&rdquo; was immortalized in a song by Ned Lysaght,
+of which I once possessed, but have lost a copy.
+</p>
+<p>
+One might imagine there could be no difficulty in showing how in that wild
+period of riotous living and costly rivalry an Irish gentleman ran through
+all his property and left himself penniless. It was, indeed, a time of
+utter recklessness, many seeming possessed of that devil-may-care spirit
+that drives a drowning crew to break open the spirit-room and go down in
+an orgie. But Barrington's fortune was so large, and his successes on the
+turf so considerable, that it appeared incredible, when his estates came
+to the hammer, and all his personal property was sold off; so complete his
+ruin, that, as he said himself, the &ldquo;only shelter he had was an umbrella,
+and even that he borrowed from Dan Driscoll, the sheriff's officer.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Of course there were theories in plenty to account for the disaster, and,
+as usual, so many knew, many a long day ago, how hard pressed he had been
+for money, and what ruinous interest he was obliged to pay, till at last
+rumors filtered all down to one channel, and the world agreed that it was
+all his son's doing, and that the scamp George had ruined his father. This
+son, his only child, had gone out to India in a cavalry regiment, and was
+celebrated all over the East for a costly splendor that rivalled the great
+Government officials. From every retired or invalided officer who came
+back from Bengal were heard stories of mad Barring-ton's extravagance: his
+palace on the Hooghly, his racing stud, his elephants, his army of
+retainers,&mdash;all narratives which, no matter in what spirit retailed,
+seemed to delight old Peter, who, at every fresh story of his son's
+spendthrift magnificence, would be sure to toast his health with a racy
+enthusiasm whose sincerity was not to be doubted.
+</p>
+<p>
+Little wonder need there be if in feeding such extravagance a vast estate
+melted away, and acre followed acre, till all that remained of a property
+that ranked next to the Ormonds' was the little cottage over whose door
+the tin-trout dangled, and the few roods of land around it: sorry remnant
+of a princely fortune!
+</p>
+<p>
+But Barrington himself had a passion, which, inordinately indulged, has
+brought many to their ruin. He was intensely fond of law. It was to him
+all that gambling is to other men. All that gamesters feel of hope and
+fear, all the intense excitement they derive from the vacillating fortunes
+of play, Barrington enjoyed in a lawsuit. Every step of the proceeding had
+for him an intense interest. The driest legal documents, musty
+declarations, demurrers, pleadings, replies, affidavits, and
+counter-affidavits were his choicest reading; and never did a young lady
+hurry to her room with the last new novel with a stronger anticipation of
+delight than did Barrington when carrying away to his little snuggery a
+roll of parchments or rough drafts, whose very iterations and jargon would
+have driven most men half crazy. This same snuggery of his was a
+curiosity, too, the walls being all decorated with portraits of legal
+celebrities, not selected with reference to their merit or distinction,
+but solely from their connection with some suit in which he had been
+engaged; and thus under the likeness of Chief Baron O'Grady might be read,
+&ldquo;Barring-ton versus Brazier, 1802; a juror withdrawn:&rdquo; Justice Moore's
+portrait was inscribed, &ldquo;Argument in Chambers, 1808,&rdquo; and so on; even to
+the portraits of leading counsel, all were marked and dated only as they
+figured in the great campaign,&mdash;the more than thirty years' war he
+carried on against Fortune.
+</p>
+<p>
+Let not my reader suppose for one moment that this litigious taste grew
+out of a spirit of jarring discontent or distrust. Nothing of the kind.
+Barrington was merely a gambler; and with whatever dissatisfaction the
+declaration may be met, I am prepared to show that gambling, however
+faulty in itself, is not the vice of cold, selfish, and sordid men, but of
+warm, rash, sometimes over-generous temperaments. Be it well remembered
+that the professional play-man is, of all others, the one who has least of
+a gamester in his heart; his superiority lying in the simple fact that his
+passions are never engaged, his interest never stirred. Oh! beware of
+yourself in company with the polished antagonist, who only smiles when he
+loses, whom nothing adverse ever disturbs, but is calmly serene under the
+most pitiless pelting of luck. To come back: Barrington's passion for law
+was an intense thirst for a certain species of excitement; a verdict was
+to him the odd trick. Let him, however, but win the game, there never was
+a man so indifferent about the stakes.
+</p>
+<p>
+For many a year back he had ceased to follow the great events of the
+world. For the stupendous changes in Europe he cared next to nothing. He
+scarcely knew who reigned over this empire or that kingdom. Indifferent to
+art, science, letters, and even society, his interest was intense about
+all that went on in the law courts, and it was an interest so catholic
+that it took in everything and everybody, from the great judge upon the
+bench to the small taxing-officer who nibbled at the bill of costs.
+</p>
+<p>
+Fortunately for him, his sister, a maiden lady of some eighteen or twenty
+years his junior, had imbibed nothing of this passion, and, by her prudent
+opposition to it, stemmed at least the force of that current which was
+bearing him to ruin. Miss Dinah Barrington had been the great belle of the
+Irish court,&mdash;I am ashamed to say how long ago,&mdash;and though at
+the period my tale opens there was not much to revive the impression, her
+high nose, and full blue eyes, and a mass of wonderfully unchanged brown
+hair, proclaimed her to be&mdash;what she was very proud to call herself&mdash;a
+thorough Barrington, a strong type of a frank nature, with a bold,
+resolute will, and a very womanly heart beneath it.
+</p>
+<p>
+When their reverses of fortune first befell them, Miss Barrington wished
+to emigrate. She thought that in Canada, or some other far-away land,
+their altered condition might be borne less painfully, and that they could
+more easily bend themselves to humble offices where none but strangers
+were to look on them; but Barrington clung to his country with the
+tenacity of an old captain to a wreck. He declared he could not bring
+himself to the thought of leaving his bones in a strange land, but he
+never confessed what he felt to be the strongest tie of all, two
+unfinished lawsuits, the old record of Barrington v. Brazier, and a Privy
+Council case of Barrington and Lot Rammadahn Mohr against the India
+Company. To have left his country with these still undecided seemed to him&mdash;like
+the act of a commander taking flight on the morning of a general action&mdash;an
+amount of cowardice he could not contemplate. Not that he confided this
+opinion to his sister, though he did so in the very fullest manner to his
+old follower and servant, Darby Cassan. Darby was the last remnant of a
+once princely retinue, and in his master's choice of him to accompany his
+fallen fortunes, there was something strangely indicative of the man. Had
+Darby been an old butler or a body-servant, had he been a favorite groom,
+or, in some other capacity, one whose daily duties had made his a familiar
+face, and whose functions could still be available in an humble state,
+there would have seemed good reason for the selection; but Darby was none
+of these: he had never served in hall or pantry; he had never brushed the
+cobweb from a bottle, or led a nag to the door. Of all human professions
+his were about the last that could address themselves to the cares of a
+little household; for Darby was reared, bred, and passed fifty-odd years
+of his life as an earth-stopper!
+</p>
+<p>
+A very ingenious German writer has attempted to show that the sympathies
+of the humble classes with pursuits far above their own has always its
+origin in something of their daily life and habits, just as the sacristan
+of a cathedral comes to be occasionally a tolerable art critic from his
+continual reference to Rubens and Vandyck. It is possible that Darby may
+have illustrated the theory, and that his avocations as earth-stopper may
+have suggested what he assuredly possessed, a perfect passion for law. If
+a suit was a great game to Barrington, to Darby it was a hunt! and though
+his personal experiences never soared beyond Quarter Sessions, he gloried
+in all he saw there of violence and altercation, of vituperative language
+and impassioned abuse. Had he been a rich man, free to enjoy his leisure,
+he would have passed all his days listening to these hot discussions. They
+were to him a sort of intellectual bull-fight, which never could be too
+bloody or too cruel. Have I said enough, therefore, to show the secret
+link which bound the master to the man? I hope so; and that my reader is
+proud of a confidence with which Miss Barrington herself was never
+intrusted. She believed that Darby had been taken into favor from some
+marvellous ability he was supposed to possess, applicable to their new
+venture as innkeepers. Phrenology would perhaps have pronounced Darby a
+heaven-born host, for his organ of acquisitiveness was grandly developed.
+Amidst that great household, where the thriftless habits of the master had
+descended to the servants, and rendered all reckless and wasteful alike,
+Darby had thriven and grown almost rich. Was it that the Irish climate
+used its influence over him; for in his practice to &ldquo;put by something for
+a rainy day,&rdquo; his savings had many promptings? As the reputation of having
+money soon attached to him, he was often applied to in the hunting-field,
+or at the kennel, for small loans, by the young bloods who frequented the
+Hall, and, being always repaid three or four fold, he grew to have a very
+high conception of what banking must be when done on a large scale.
+Besides all this, he quickly learned that no character attracts more
+sympathy, especially amongst the class of young squires and sporting-men,
+than a certain quaint simplicity, so flattering in its contrast to their
+own consummate acuteness. Now, he was simple to their hearts' content. He
+usually spoke of himself as &ldquo;Poor Darby, God help him!&rdquo; and, in casting up
+those wonderful accounts, which he kept by notches on a tally-stick,
+nothing was more amusing than to witness his bewilderment and confusion,
+the inconceivable blunders he would make, even to his own disadvantage,
+all sure to end at last in the heart-spoken confession that it was &ldquo;clean
+beyand him,&rdquo; and &ldquo;he 'd leave it all to your honor; pay just what ye
+plaze, and long life to ye!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Is it that women have some shrewd perception of character denied to men?
+Certainly Darby never imposed on Miss Barrington. She read him like a
+book, and he felt it. The consequence was a very cordial dislike, which
+strengthened with every year of their acquaintance.
+</p>
+<p>
+Though Miss Barrington ever believed that the notion of keeping an inn
+originated with her brother, it was Darby first conceived the project,
+and, indeed, by his own skill and crafty intelligence was it carried on;
+and while the words &ldquo;Peter Barrington&rdquo; figured in very small letters, it
+is true, over the door to comply with a legal necessity, to most of the
+visitors he was a mere myth. Now, if Peter Barrington was very happy to be
+represented by deputy,&mdash;or, better still, not represented at all,&mdash;Miss
+Dinah regarded the matter in a very different light. Her theory was that,
+in accepting the humble station to which reverse of fortune brought them,
+the world ought to see all the heroism and courage of the sacrifice. She
+insisted on being a foreground figure, just to show them, as she said,
+&ldquo;that I take nothing upon me. I am the hostess of a little wayside inn,&mdash;no
+more!&rdquo; How little did she know of her own heart, and how far was she from
+even suspecting that it was the <i>ci-devant</i> belle making one last
+throw for the admiration and homage which once were offered her freely.
+</p>
+<p>
+Such were the three chief personages who dwelt under that secluded roof,
+half overgrown with honeysuckle and dog-roses,&mdash;specimens of that
+wider world without, where jealousies, and distrusts, and petty rivalries
+are warring: for as in one tiny globule of water are represented the
+elements which make oceans and seas, so is it in the moral world; and &ldquo;the
+family&rdquo; is only humanity, as the artists say, &ldquo;reduced.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+For years back Miss Barrington had been plotting to depose Darby. With an
+ingenuity quite feminine, she managed to connect him with every chagrin
+that crossed and every annoyance that befell them. If the pig ploughed up
+the new peas in the garden, it was Darby had left the gate open; it was <i>his</i>
+hand overwound the clock; and a very significant hint showed that when the
+thunder soured the beer, Mr. Darby knew more of the matter than he was
+likely to tell. Against such charges as these, iterated and reiterated to
+satiety, Barrington would reply by a smile, or a good-natured excuse, or a
+mere gesture to suggest patience, till his sister, fairly worn out,
+resolved on another line of action. &ldquo;As she could not banish the rats,&rdquo; to
+use her own words, &ldquo;she would scuttle the ship.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+To explain her project, I must go back in my story, and state that her
+nephew, George Barrington, had sent over to England, some fifteen years
+before, a little girl, whom he, called his daughter. She was consigned to
+the care of his banker in London, with directions that he should
+communicate with Mr. Peter Barrington, announce the child's safe arrival,
+and consult with him as to her future destination. Now, when the event
+took place, Barrington was in the very crisis of his disasters.
+Overwhelmed with debts, pursued by creditors, regularly hunted down, he
+was driven day by day to sign away most valuable securities for mere
+passing considerations, and obliged to accept any conditions for daily
+support He answered the banker's letter, briefly stating his great
+embarrassment, and begging him to give the child his protection for a few
+weeks or so, till some arrangement of his affairs might enable him to
+offer her a home.
+</p>
+<p>
+This time, however, glided over, and the hoped-for amendment never came,&mdash;far
+from it. Writs were out against him, and he was driven to seek a refuge in
+the Isle of Man, at that time the special sanctuary of insolvent sinners.
+Mr. Leonard Gower wrote again, and proposed that, if no objection would be
+made to the plan, the child should be sent to a certain convent near
+Namur, in the Netherlands, where his own daughter was then placed for her
+education. Aunt Dinah would have rejected,&mdash;ay, or would have
+resented such a proposal as an insult, had the world but gone on better
+with them. That her grand-niece should be brought up a Catholic was an
+outrage on the whole Barring-ton blood. But calamity had brought her low,&mdash;very
+low, indeed. The child, too, was a heathen,&mdash;a Hindoo or a Buddhist,
+perhaps,&mdash;for the mother was a native woman, reputed, indeed, to be a
+princess. But who could know this? Who could vouch that George was ever
+married at all, or if such a ceremony were possible? All these were
+&ldquo;attenuating circumstances,&rdquo; and as such she accepted them; and the
+measure of her submission was filled up when she received a portrait of
+the little girl, painted by a native artist. It represented a
+dark-skinned, heavy-browed child, with wide, full eyes, thick lips, and an
+expression at once florid and sullen,&mdash;not any of the traits one
+likes to associate with infancy,&mdash;and it was with a half shudder Aunt
+Dinah closed the miniature, and declared that &ldquo;the sight of the little
+savage actually frightened her.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Not so poor Barrington. He professed to see a great resemblance to his
+son. It was George all over. To be sure, his eyes were deep blue, and his
+hair a rich brown; but there was something in the nose, or perhaps it was
+in the mouth,&mdash;no, it was the chin,&mdash;ay, it was the chin was
+George's. It was the Barrington chin, and no mistake about it.
+</p>
+<p>
+At all events, no opposition was made to the banker's project, and the
+little girl was sent off to the convent of the Holy Cross, on the banks of
+the Meuse. She was inscribed on the roll as the Princess Doondiah, and
+bore the name till her father's death, when Mr. Gower suggested that she
+should be called by her family name. The letter with the proposal, by some
+accident, was not acknowledged, and the writer, taking silence to mean
+consent, desired the superior to address her, henceforth, as Miss
+Barrington; the first startling intimation of the change being a
+strangely, quaintly written note, addressed to her grand-aunt, and signed
+&ldquo;Josephine Barrington.&rdquo; It was a cold, formal letter,&mdash;so very
+formal, indeed, as to read like the copy of a document,&mdash;asking for
+leave to enter upon a novitiate of two years' duration, at the expiration
+of which she would be nineteen years of age, and in a position to decide
+upon taking the veil for life. The permission, very urgently pressed for
+by Mr. Gower in another letter, was accorded, and now we have arrived at
+that period in which but three months only remained of the two years whose
+closure was to decide her fate forever.
+</p>
+<p>
+Barrington had long yearned to see her. It was with deep and bitter
+self-reproach he thought over the cold neglect they had shown her. She was
+all that remained of poor George, his boy,&mdash;for so he called him, and
+so he thought of him,&mdash;long after the bronzed cheek and the
+prematurely whitened hair had tempered his manhood. To be sure, all the
+world said, and he knew himself, how it was chiefly through the &ldquo;boy's&rdquo;
+ extravagance he came to ruin. But it was over now. The event that sobers
+down reproach to sorrow had come. He was dead! All that arose to memory of
+him were the traits that suggested hopes of his childhood, or gave triumph
+in his riper years; and oh, is it not better thus? for what hearts would
+be left us if we were to carry in them the petty rancors and jealousies
+which once filled them, but which, one day, we buried in the cold clay of
+the churchyard.
+</p>
+<p>
+Aunt Dinah, moved by reasons long canvassed over in her own mind, at last
+began to think of recalling her grand-niece. It was so very bold a project
+that, at first, she could scarcely entertain it. The Popery was very
+dreadful! Her imagination conjured up the cottage converted into a little
+Baal, with false gods and graven images, and holy-water fonts at every
+turn; but the doubtful legitimacy was worse again. She had a theory that
+it was by lapses of this kind the &ldquo;blue blood&rdquo; of old families grew
+deteriorated, and that the downfall of many an ancient house was traceable
+to these corruptions. Far better, she deemed it, that the Barringtons
+should die out forever than their line be continued by this base and
+ignoble grafting.
+</p>
+<p>
+There is a <i>contre</i> for every <i>pour</i> in this world. It may be a
+weak and an insufficient one, it is true; but it is a certainty that all
+our projects must come to a debtor or creditor reckoning, and the very
+best we can do is to strike an honest balance!
+</p>
+<p>
+How Miss Dinah essayed to do this we shall learn in the next chapter and
+what follows it.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER II. A WET MORNING AT HOME
+</h2>
+<p>
+If there was anything that possessed more than common terror for
+Barrington, it was a wet day at the cottage! It was on these dreary
+visitations that his sister took the opportunity of going into &ldquo;committee
+of supply,&rdquo;&mdash;an occasion not merely for the discussion of fiscal
+matters, but for asking the most vexatious questions and demanding the
+most unpleasant explanations.
+</p>
+<p>
+We can all, more or less, appreciate the happiness of that right honorable
+gentleman on the Treasury bench who has to reply to the crude and
+unmeaning inquiries of some aspiring Oppositionist, and who wishes to know
+if her Majesty's Government have demanded an indemnity from the King of
+Dahomey for the consul's family eaten by him at the last court ceremonial?
+What compensation is to be given to Captain Balrothery for his week's
+imprisonment at Leghorn, in consequence of his having thrown the customs
+officer and a landing waiter into the sea? Or what mark of her Majesty's
+favor will the noble lord recommend should be conferred upon Ensign Digges
+for the admirable imitation he gave of the dancing dervishes at Benares,
+and the just ridicule he thus threw upon these degrading and heathenish
+rites?
+</p>
+<p>
+It was to a torture of this order, far more reasonable and pertinent,
+however, that Barrington usually saw himself reduced whenever the weather
+was so decidedly unfavorable that egress was impossible. Poor fellow, what
+shallow pretexts would he stammer out for absenting himself from home,
+what despicable subterfuges to put off an audience! He had forgotten to
+put down the frame on that melon-bed.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was that awning over the boat not taken in. He 'd step out to the
+stable and give Billy, the pony, a touch of the white oils on that swelled
+hock. He 'd see if they had got the young lambs under cover. In fact, from
+his perturbed and agitated manner, you would have imagined that rain was
+one of the rarest incidents of an Irish climate, and only the very
+promptest measures could mitigate the calamity.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I ask where you are off to in such haste, Peter?&rdquo; asked Miss Dinah
+one morning, just as Barrington had completed all his arrangements for a
+retreat; far readier to brave the elements than the more pitiless pelting
+that awaited him within doors.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I just remembered,&rdquo; said he, mildly, &ldquo;that I had left two night-lines out
+at the point, and with this fresh in the river it would be as well if I 'd
+step down and see&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And see if the river was where it was yesterday,&rdquo; broke she in,
+sneeringly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Dinah. But you see that there 's this to be remarked about
+night-lines&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That they never catch any fish!&rdquo; said she, sternly. &ldquo;It's no weather for
+you to go tramping about in the wet grass. You made fuss enough about your
+lumbago last week, and I suppose you don't want it back again. Besides,&rdquo;&mdash;and
+here her tongue grew authoritative,&mdash;&ldquo;I have got up the books.&rdquo; And
+with these words she threw on the table a number of little greasy-looking
+volumes, over which poor Barrington's sad glances wandered, pretty much as
+might a victim's over the thumb-screws and the flesh-nippers of the Holy
+Inquisition.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I've a slight touch of a headache this morning, Dinah.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It won't be cured by going out in the rain. Sit down there,&rdquo; said she,
+peremptorily, &ldquo;and see with your own eyes how much longer your means will
+enable you to continue these habits of waste and extravagance.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;These what?&rdquo; said he, perfectly astounded.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;These habits of waste and extravagance, Peter Barring-ton. I repeat my
+words.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Had a venerable divine, being asked on the conclusion of an edifying
+discourse, for how much longer it might be his intention to persist in
+such ribaldries, his astonishment could scarce have been greater than
+Barrington's.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, sister Dinah, are we not keeping an inn? Is not this the
+'Fisherman's Home'?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should think it is, Peter,&rdquo; said she, with scorn. &ldquo;I suspect he finds
+it so. A very excellent name for it it is!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Must I own that I don't understand you, Dinah?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course you don't. You never did all your life. You never knew you were
+wet till you were half drowned, and that's what the world calls having
+such an amiable disposition! Ain't your friends nice friends? They are
+always telling you how generous you are,&mdash;how free-handed,&mdash;how
+benevolent. What a heart he has! Ay, but thank Providence there's very
+little of that charming docility about <i>me</i>, is there?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;None, Dinah,&mdash;none,&rdquo; said he, not in the least suspecting to what he
+was bearing testimony.
+</p>
+<p>
+She became crimson in a minute, and in a tone of some emotion said, &ldquo;And
+if there had been, where should you and where should I be to-day? On the
+parish, Peter Barrington,&mdash;on the parish; for it 's neither <i>your</i>
+head nor <i>your</i> hands would have saved us from it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You're right, Dinah; you're right there. You never spoke a truer word.&rdquo;
+ And his voice trembled as he said it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did n't mean <i>that</i>, Peter,&rdquo; said she, eagerly; &ldquo;but you are too
+confiding, too trustful. Perhaps it takes a woman to detect all the little
+wiles and snares that entangle us in our daily life?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps it does,&rdquo; said he, with a deep sigh.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At all events, you needn't sigh over it, Peter Barring-ton. It's not one
+of those blemishes in human nature that have to be deplored so feelingly.
+I hope women are as good as men.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fifty thousand times better, in every quality of kindliness and
+generosity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said she, tossing her head impatiently. &ldquo;We 're not here for a
+question in ethics; it is to the very lowly task of examining the house
+accounts I would invite your attention. Matters cannot go on as they do
+now, if we mean to keep a roof over us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I have always supposed we were doing pretty well, Dinah. You know we
+never promised ourselves to gain a fortune by this venture; the very
+utmost we ever hoped for was to help us along,&mdash;to aid us to make
+both ends meet at the end of the year And as Darby tells me&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Darby tells you! What a reliable authority to quote from! Oh, don't
+groan so heavily! I forgot myself. I would n't for the world impeach such
+fidelity or honesty as his.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be reasonable, sister Dinah,&mdash;do be reasonable; and if there is
+anything to lay to his charge&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 'll hear the case, I suppose,&rdquo; cried she, in a voice high-pitched in
+passion. &ldquo;You 'll sit up there, like one of your favorite judges, and call
+on Dinah Barrington against Cassan; and perhaps when the cause is
+concluded we shall reverse our places, and <i>I</i> become the defendant!
+But if this is your intention, brother Barrington, give me a little time.
+I beg I may have a little time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Now, this was a very favorite request of Miss Barring-ton's, and she
+usually made it in the tone of a martyr; but truth obliges us to own that
+never was a demand less justifiable. Not a three-decker of the Channel
+fleet was readier for a broadside than herself. She was always at quarters
+and with a port-fire burning.
+</p>
+<p>
+Barrington did not answer this appeal; he never moved,&mdash;he scarcely
+appeared to breathe, so guarded was he lest his most unintentional gesture
+should be the subject of comment.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;When you have recovered from your stupefaction,&rdquo; said she, calmly, &ldquo;will
+you look over that line of figures, and then give a glance at this total?
+After that I will ask you what fortune could stand it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This looks formidable, indeed,&rdquo; said he, poring over the page through his
+spectacles.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is worse, Peter. It <i>is</i> formidable.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;After all, Dinah, this is expenditure. Now for the incomings!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suspect you 'll have to ask your prime minister for <i>them</i>.
+Perhaps he may vouchsafe to tell you how many twenty-pound notes have gone
+to America, who it was that consigned a cargo of new potatoes to
+Liverpool, and what amount he invested in yarn at the last fair of
+Graigue? and when you have learned these facts, you will know all you are
+ever likely to know of your <i>profits!</i>&rdquo; I have no means of conveying
+the intense scorn with which she uttered the last word of this speech.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he told me&mdash;not a week back&mdash;that we were going on
+famously!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why wouldn't he? I 'd like to hear what else he could say. Famously,
+indeed, for <i>him</i> with a strong balance in the savings-bank, and a
+gold watch&mdash;yes, Peter, a gold watch&mdash;in his pocket. This is no
+delusion, nor illusion, or whatever you call it, of mine, but a fact,&mdash;a
+downright fact.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He has been toiling hard many a year for it, Dinah, don't forget that.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe you want to drive me mad, Peter. You know these are things that
+I can't bear, and that's the reason you say them. Toil, indeed! <i>I</i>
+never saw him do anything except sit on a gate at the Lock Meadows, with a
+pipe in his mouth; and if you asked him what he was there for, it was a
+'track' he was watching, a 'dog-fox that went by every afternoon to the
+turnip field.' Very great toil that was!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was n't an earth-stopper like him in the three next counties; and
+if I was to have a pack of foxhounds tomorrow&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 'd just be as great a foot as ever you were, and the more sorry I am
+to hear it; but you 're not going to be tempted, Peter Barrington. It's
+not foxes we have to think of, but where we 're to find shelter for
+ourselves.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know of anything we could turn to, more profitable, Dinah?&rdquo; asked
+he, mildly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There 's nothing could be much less so, I know <i>that!</i> You are not
+very observant, Peter, but even to you it must have become apparent that
+great changes have come over the world in a few years. The persons who
+formerly indulged their leisure were all men of rank and fortune. Who are
+the people who come over here now to amuse themselves? Staleybridge and
+Manchester creatures, with factory morals and bagman manners; treating our
+house like a commercial inn, and actually disputing the bill and asking
+for items. Yes, Peter, I overheard a fellow telling Darby last week that
+the ''ouse was dearer than the Halbion!'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Travellers will do these things, Dinah.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if they do, they shall be shown the door for it, as sure as my name
+is Dinah Barrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let us give up the inn altogether, then,&rdquo; said he, with a sudden
+impatience.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The very thing I was going to propose, Peter,&rdquo; said she, solemnly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What!&mdash;how?&rdquo; cried he, for the acceptance of what only escaped him
+in a moment of anger overwhelmed and stunned him. &ldquo;How are we to live,
+Dinah?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Better without than with it,&mdash;there's my answer to that. Let us look
+the matter fairly in the face, Peter,&rdquo; said she, with a calm and measured
+utterance. &ldquo;This dealing with the world 'on honor' must ever be a losing
+game. To screen ourselves from the vulgar necessities of our condition, we
+must submit to any terms. So long as our intercourse with life gave us
+none but gentlemen to deal with, we escaped well and safely. That race
+would seem to have thinned off of late, however; or, what comes to the
+same, there is such a deluge of spurious coin one never knows what is real
+gold.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may be right, Dinah; you may be right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know I am right; the experience has been the growth of years too. All
+our efforts to escape the odious contact of these people have multiplied
+our expenses. Where one man used to suffice, we keep three. You yourself,
+who felt it no indignity to go out a-fishing formerly with a chance
+traveller, have to own with what reserve and caution you would accept such
+companionship now.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, nay, Dinah, not exactly so far as that&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And why not? Was it not less than a fortnight ago three Birmingham men
+crossed the threshold, calling out for old Peter,&mdash;was old Peter to
+the good yet?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They were a little elevated with wine, sister, remember that; and,
+besides, they never knew, never had heard of me in my once condition.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And are we so changed that they cannot recognize the class we pertain
+to?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not <i>you</i>, Dinah, certainly not you; but I frankly own I can put up
+with rudeness and incivility better than a certain showy courtesy some
+vulgar people practise towards me. In the one case I feel I am not known,
+and my secret is safe. In the other, I have to stand out as the ruined
+gentleman, and I am not always sure that I play the part as gracefully as
+I ought.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let us leave emotions, Peter, and descend to the lowland of arithmetic,
+by giving up two boatmen, John and Terry&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor Terry!&rdquo; sighed he, with a faint, low accent
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! if it be 'poor Terry!' I 've done,&rdquo; said she, closing the book, and
+throwing it down with a slap that made him start.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, dear Dinah; but if we could manage to let him have something,&mdash;say
+five shillings a week,&mdash;he 'd not need it long; and the port wine
+that was doing his rheumatism such good is nearly finished; he'll miss it
+sorely.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Were you giving him Henderson's wine,&mdash;the '11 vintage?&rdquo; cried she,
+pale with indignation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just a bottle or two, Dinah; only as medicine.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As a fiddlestick, sir! I declare I have no patience with you; there 's no
+excuse for such folly, not to say the ignorance of giving these creatures
+what they never were used to. Did not Dr. Dill tell you that tonics, to be
+effective, must always have some relation to the daily habits of the
+patient?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very true, Dinah; but the discourse was pronounced when I saw him putting
+a bottle of old Madeira in his gig that I had left for Anne M'Cafferty,
+adding, he 'd send her something far more strengthening.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right or wrong, I don't care; but this I know, Terry Dogherty is n't
+going to finish off Henderson's port. It is rather too much to stand, that
+we are to be treating beggars to luxuries, when we can't say to-morrow
+where we shall find salt for our potatoes.&rdquo; This was a somewhat favorite
+illustration of Miss Barrington,&mdash;either implying that the commodity
+was an essential to human life, or the use of it an emblem of extreme
+destitution.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I conclude we may dispense with Tom Divett's services,&rdquo; resumed she. &ldquo;We
+can assuredly get on without a professional rat-catcher.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If we should, Dinah, we'll feel the loss; the rats make sad havoc of the
+spawn, and destroy quantities of the young fish, besides.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;His two ugly terriers eat just as many chickens, and never leave us an
+egg in the place. And now for Mr. Darby&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You surely don't think of parting with Darby, sister Dinah?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He shall lead the way,&rdquo; replied she, in a firm and peremptory voice; &ldquo;the
+very first of the batch! And it will, doubtless, be a great comfort to you
+to know that you need not distress yourself about any provision for his
+declining years. It is a care that he has attended to on his own part. He
+'ll go back to a very well-feathered nest, I promise you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington sighed heavily, for he had a secret sorrow on that score. He
+knew, though his sister did not, that he had from year to year been
+borrowing every pound of Darby's savings to pay the cost of law charges,
+always hoping and looking for the time when a verdict in his favor would
+enable him to restore the money twice told. With a very dreary sigh, then,
+did he here allude &ldquo;to the well-feathered nest&rdquo; of one he had left bare
+and destitute. He cleared his throat, and made an effort to avow the whole
+matter; but his courage failed him, and he sat mournfully shaking his
+head, partly in sorrow, partly in shame. His sister noticed none of these
+signs; she was rapidly enumerating all the reductions that could be made,&mdash;all
+the dependencies cut off; there were the boats, which constantly required
+repairs; the nets, eternally being renewed,&mdash;all to be discarded; the
+island, a very pretty little object in the middle of the river, need no
+longer be rented. &ldquo;Indeed,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I don't know why we took it, except
+it was to give those memorable picnics you used to have there.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How pleasant they were, Dinah; how delightful!&rdquo; said he, totally
+overlooking the spirit of her remark.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! they were charming, and your own popularity was boundless; but I 'd
+have you to bear in mind, brother Peter, that popularity is no more a poor
+man's luxury than champagne. It is a very costly indulgence, and can
+rarely be had on 'credit.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Miss Barrington had pared down retrenchment to the very quick. She had
+shown that they could live not only without boatmen, rat-catchers,
+gardener, and manservant, but that, as they were to give up their daily
+newspaper, they could dispense with a full ration of candle-light; and
+yet, with all these reductions, she declared that there was still another
+encumbrance to be pruned away, and she proudly asked her brother if he
+could guess what it was?
+</p>
+<p>
+Now Barrington felt that he could not live without a certain allowance of
+food, nor would it be convenient, or even decent, to dispense with
+raiment; so he began, as a last resource, to conjecture that his sister
+was darkly hinting at something which might be a substitute for a home,
+and save house-rent; and he half testily exclaimed, &ldquo;I suppose we 're to
+have a roof over us, Dinah!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said she, dryly, &ldquo;I never proposed we should go and live in the
+woods. What I meant had a reference, to Josephine&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington's cheek flushed deeply in an instant, and, with a voice
+trembling with emotion, he said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you mean, Dinah, that I'm to cut off that miserable pittance&mdash;that
+forty pounds a year&mdash;I give to poor George's girl&mdash;&rdquo; He stopped,
+for he saw that in his sister's face which might have appalled a bolder
+heart than his own; for while her eyes flashed fire, her thin lips
+trembled with passion; and so, in a very faltering humility, he added:
+&ldquo;But you never meant <i>that</i> sister Dinah. You would be the very last
+in the world to do it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then why impute it to me; answer me that?&rdquo; said she, crossing her hands
+behind her back, and staring haughtily at him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just because I 'm clean at my wits' end,&mdash;just because I neither
+understand one word I hear, or what I say in reply. If you 'll just tell
+me what it is you propose, I 'll do my best, with God's blessing, to
+follow you; but don't ask me for advice, Dinah, and don't fly out because
+I 'm not as quick-witted and as clever as yourself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was something almost so abject in his misery that she seemed touched
+by it, and, in a voice of a very calm and kindly meaning, she said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have been thinking a good deal over that letter of Josephine's; she
+says she wants our consent to take the veil as a nun; that, by the rules
+of the order, when her novitiate is concluded, she must go into the world
+for at least some months,&mdash;a time meant to test her faithfulness to
+her vows, and the tranquillity with which she can renounce forever all the
+joys and attractions of life. We, it is true, have no means of surrounding
+her with such temptations; but we might try and supply their place by some
+less brilliant but not less attractive ones. We might offer her, what we
+ought to have offered her years ago,&mdash;a home! What do you say to
+this, Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That I love you for it, sister Dinah, with all my heart,&rdquo; said he,
+kissing her on each cheek; &ldquo;that it makes me happier than I knew I ever
+was to be again.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, to bring Josephine here, this must not be an inn, Peter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly not, Dinah,&mdash;certainly not. But I can think of nothing but
+the joy of seeing her,&mdash;poor George's child I How I have yearned to
+know if she was like him,&mdash;if she had any of his ways, any traits of
+that quaint, dry humor he had, and, above all, of that disposition that
+made him so loved by every one.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And cheated by every one too, brother Peter; don't forget that!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who wants to think of it now?&rdquo; said he, sorrowfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never reject a thought because it has unpleasant associations. It would
+be but a sorry asylum which only admitted the well-to-do and the happy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How are we to get the dear child here, Dinah? Let us consider the matter.
+It is a long journey off.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have thought of that too,&rdquo; said she, sententiously, &ldquo;but not made up my
+mind.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let us ask M'Cormick about it, Dinah; he's coming up this evening to play
+his Saturday night's rubber with Dill. He knows the Continent well.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There will be another saving that I did n't remember, Peter. The weekly
+bottle of whiskey, and the candles, not to speak of the four or five
+shillings your pleasant companions invariably carry away with them,&mdash;all
+may be very advantageously dispensed with.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;When Josephine 's here, I 'll not miss it,&rdquo; said he, good-humoredly. Then
+suddenly remembering that his sister might not deem the speech a gracious
+one to herself, he was about to add something; but she was gone.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER III. OUR NEXT NEIGHBORS
+</h2>
+<p>
+Should there be amongst my readers any one whose fortune it has been in
+life only to associate with the amiable, the interesting, and the
+agreeable, all whose experiences of mankind are rose-tinted, to him I
+would say, Skip over two people I am now about to introduce, and take up
+my story at some later stage, for I desire to be truthful, and, as is the
+misfortune of people in my situation, I may be very disagreeable.
+</p>
+<p>
+After all, I may have made more excuses than were needful. The persons I
+would present are in that large category, the commonplace, and only as
+uninviting and as tiresome as we may any day meet in a second-class on the
+railroad. Flourish, therefore, penny trumpets, and announce Major
+M'Cormick. The Major, so confidently referred to by Barrington in our last
+chapter as a high authority on matters continental, was a very shattered
+remnant of the unhappy Walcheren expedition. He was a small, mean-looking,
+narrow-faced man, with a thin, bald head, and red whiskers. He walked very
+lame from an injury to his hip; &ldquo;his wound,&rdquo; he called it, though his
+candor did not explain that it was incurred by being thrown down a
+hatchway by a brother officer in a drunken brawl. In character he was a
+saving, penurious creature, without one single sympathy outside his own
+immediate interests. When some sixteen or eighteen years before the
+Barringtons had settled in the neighborhood, the Major began to entertain
+thoughts of matrimony. Old soldiers are rather given to consider marriage
+as an institution especially intended to solace age and console
+rheumatism, and so M'Cormick debated with himself whether he had not
+arrived at the suitable time for this indulgence, and also whether Miss
+Dinah Barrington was not the individual destined to share his lot and
+season his gruel.
+</p>
+<p>
+But a few years back and his ambition would as soon have aspired to an
+archduchess as to the sister of Barrington, of Barrington Hall, whose
+realms of social distinction separated them; but now, fallen from their
+high estate, forgotten by the world, and poor, they had come down&mdash;at
+least, he thought so&mdash;to a level in which there would be no
+presumption in his pretensions. Indeed, I half suspect that he thought
+there was something very high-minded and generous in his intentions with
+regard to them. At all events, there was a struggle of some sort in his
+mind which went on from year to year undecided. Now, there are men&mdash;for
+the most part old bachelors&mdash;to whom an unfinished project is a
+positive luxury, who like to add, day by day, a few threads to the web of
+fate, but no more. To the Major it was quite enough that &ldquo;some fine day or
+other&rdquo;&mdash;so he phrased it&mdash;he 'd make his offer, just as he
+thought how, in the same propitious weather, he 'd put a new roof on his
+cottage, and fill up that quarry-hole near his gate, into which he had
+narrowly escaped tumbling some half-dozen times. But thanks to his caution
+and procrastination, the roof, and the project, and the quarry-hole were
+exactly, or very nearly, in the same state they had been eighteen years
+before.
+</p>
+<p>
+Rumor said&mdash;as rumor will always say whatever has a tinge of
+ill-nature in it&mdash;that Miss Barrington would have accepted him;
+vulgar report declared that she would &ldquo;jump at the offer.&rdquo; Whether this
+be, or not, the appropriate way of receiving a matrimonial proposal, the
+lady was not called upon to display her activity. He never told his love.
+</p>
+<p>
+It is very hard to forgive that secretary, home or foreign, who in the day
+of his power and patronage could, but did not, make us easy for life with
+this mission or that com-missionership. It is not easy to believe that our
+uncle the bishop could not, without any undue strain upon his conscience,
+have made us something, albeit a clerical error, in his diocese, but
+infinitely more difficult is it to pardon him who, having suggested dreams
+of wedded happiness, still stands hesitating, doubting, and canvassing,&mdash;a
+timid bather, who shivers on the beach, and then puts on his clothes
+again.
+</p>
+<p>
+It took a long time&mdash;it always does in such cases&mdash;ere Miss
+Barrington came to read this man aright. Indeed, the light of her own
+hopes had dazzled her, and she never saw him clearly till they were
+extinguished; but when the knowledge did come, it came trebled with
+compound interest, and she saw him in all that displayed his miserable
+selfishness; and although her brother, who found it hard to believe any
+one bad who had not been tried for a capital felony, would explain away
+many a meanness by saying, &ldquo;It is just his way,&mdash;a way, and no more!&rdquo;
+ she spoke out fearlessly, if not very discreetly, and declared she
+detested him. Of course she averred it was his manners, his want of
+breeding, and his familiarity that displeased her. He might be an
+excellent creature,&mdash;perhaps he was; <i>that</i> was nothing to her.
+All his moral qualities might have an interest for his friends; she was a
+mere acquaintance, and was only concerned for what related to his bearing
+in society. Then Walcheren was positively odious to her. Some little
+solace she felt at the thought that the expedition was a failure and
+inglorious; but when she listened to the fiftieth time-told tale of fever
+and ague, she would sigh, not for those who suffered, but over the one
+that escaped. It is a great blessing to men of uneventful lives and scant
+imagination when there is any one incident to which memory can refer
+unceasingly. Like some bold headland last seen at sea, it lives in the
+mind throughout the voyage. Such was this ill-starred expedition to the
+Major. It dignified his existence to himself, though his memory never
+soared above the most ordinary details and vulgar incidents. Thus he would
+maunder on for hours, telling how the ships sailed and parted company, and
+joined again; how the old &ldquo;Brennus&rdquo; mistook a signal and put back to Hull,
+and how the &ldquo;Sarah Reeves,&rdquo; his own transport, was sent after her. Then he
+grew picturesque about Flushing, as first seen through the dull fogs of
+the Scheldt, with village spires peeping through the heavy vapor, and the
+strange Dutch language, with its queer names for the vegetables and fruit
+brought by the boats alongside.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You won't believe me, Miss Dinah, but, as I sit here, the peaches was
+like little melons, and the cherries as big as walnuts.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They made cherry-bounce out of them, I hope, sir,&rdquo; said she, with a
+scornful smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, indeed, ma'am,&rdquo; replied he, dull to the sarcasm; &ldquo;they ate them in a
+kind of sauce with roast-pig, and mighty good too!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But enough of the Major; and now a word, and only a word, for his
+companion, already alluded to by Barrington.
+</p>
+<p>
+Dr. Dill had been a poor &ldquo;Dispensary Doctor&rdquo; for some thirty years, with a
+small practice, and two or three grand patrons at some miles off, who
+employed him for the servants, or for the children in &ldquo;mild cases,&rdquo; and
+who even extended to him a sort of contemptuous courtesy that serves to
+make a proud man a bear, and an humble man a sycophant.
+</p>
+<p>
+Dill was the reverse of proud, and took to the other line with much
+kindliness. To have watched him in his daily round you would have said
+that he liked being trampled on, and actually enjoyed being crushed. He
+smiled so blandly, and looked so sweetly under it all, as though it was a
+kind of moral shampooing, from which he would come out all the fresher and
+more vigorous.
+</p>
+<p>
+The world is certainly generous in its dealings with these temperaments;
+it indulges them to the top of their hearts, and gives them humiliations
+to their heart's content. Rumor&mdash;the same wicked goddess who libelled
+Miss Barrington&mdash;hinted that the doctor was not, within his own walls
+and under his own roof, the suffering angel the world saw him, and that he
+occasionally did a little trampling there on his own account. However,
+Mrs. Dill never complained; and though the children wore a tremulous
+terror and submissiveness in their looks, they were only suitable family
+traits, which all redounded to their credit, and made them &ldquo;so like the
+doctor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Such were the two worthies who slowly floated along on the current of the
+river of a calm summer's evening, to visit the Barringtons. As usual, the
+talk was of their host. They discussed his character and his habits and
+his debts, and the difficulty he had in raising that little loan; and in
+close juxtaposition with this fact, as though pinned on the back of it,
+his sister's overweening pride and pretension. It had been the Major's
+threat for years that he 'd &ldquo;take her down a peg one of these days.&rdquo; But
+either he was mercifully unwilling to perform the act, or that the
+suitable hour for it had not come; but there she remained, and there he
+left her, not taken down one inch, but loftier and haughtier than ever. As
+the boat rounded the point from which the cottage was visible through the
+trees and some of the outhouses could be descried, they reverted to the
+ruinous state everything was falling into. &ldquo;Straw is cheap enough,
+anyhow,&rdquo; said the Major. &ldquo;He might put a new thatch on that cow-house, and
+I 'm sure a brush of paint would n't ruin any one.&rdquo; Oh, my dear reader!
+have you not often heard&mdash;I know that I have&mdash;such comments as
+these, such reflections on the indolence or indifference which only needed
+so very little to reform, done, too, without trouble or difficulty, habits
+that could be corrected, evil ways reformed, and ruinous tendencies
+arrested, all as it were by a &ldquo;rush of paint,&rdquo; or something just as
+uncostly?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There does n't seem to be much doing here, Dill,&rdquo; said M'Cormick, as they
+landed. &ldquo;All the boats are drawn up ashore. And faith! I don't wonder,
+that old woman is enough to frighten the fish out of the river.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Strangers do not always like that sort of thing,&rdquo; modestly remarked the
+doctor,&mdash;the &ldquo;always&rdquo; being peculiarly marked for emphasis. &ldquo;Some
+will say, an inn should be an inn.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's my view of it. What I say is this: I want my bit of fish, and my
+beefsteak, and my pint of wine, and I don't want to know that the
+landlord's grandfather entertained the king, or that his aunt was a
+lady-in-waiting. 'Be' as high as you like,' says I, 'but don't make the
+bill so,'&mdash;eh, Dill?&rdquo; And he cackled the harsh ungenial laugh which
+seems the birthright of all sorry jesters; and the doctor gave a little
+laugh too, more from habit, however, than enjoyment.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know, Dill,&rdquo; said the Major, disengaging himself from the arm
+which his lameness compelled him to lean on, and standing still in the
+pathway,&mdash;&ldquo;do you know that I never reach thus far without having a
+sort of struggle with myself whether I won't turn back and go home again.
+Can you explain that, now?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is the wound, perhaps, pains you, coming up the hill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is not the wound. It's that woman!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Barrington?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just so. I have her before me now, sitting up behind the urn there, and
+saying, 'Have you had tea, Major M'Cormick?' when she knows well she did
+n't give it to me. Don't you feel that going up to the table for your cup
+is for all the world like doing homage?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Her manners are cold,&mdash;certainly cold.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish they were. It's the fire that's in her I 'm afraid of! She has as
+wicked an eye in her head as ever I saw.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She was greatly admired once, I 'm told; and she has many remains of
+beauty.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! for the matter of looks, there's worse. It's her nature, her temper,&mdash;herself,
+in fact, I can't endure.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it you can't endure, M'Cormick?&rdquo; cried Barrington, emerging from
+a side walk where he had just caught the last words. &ldquo;If it be anything in
+this poor place of mine, let me hear, that I may have it amended.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How are ye,&mdash;how are ye?&rdquo; said the Major, with a very confused
+manner. &ldquo;I was talking politics with Dill. I was telling him how I hated
+<i>them</i> Tories.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe they are all pretty much alike,&rdquo; said Barring-ton; &ldquo;at least, I
+knew they were in my day. And though we used to abuse him, and drink all
+kind of misfortunes to him every day of our lives, there was n't a truer
+gentleman nor a finer fellow in Ireland than Lord Castlereagh.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm sure of it. I've often heard the same remark,&rdquo; chimed in Dill.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's a pity you didn't think so at the time of the Union,&rdquo; said
+M'Cormick, with a sneer.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Many of us did; but it would not make us sell our country. But what need
+is there of going back to those times, and things that can't be helped
+now? Come in and have a cup of tea. I see my sister is waiting for us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Why was it that Miss Barrington, on that evening, was grander and
+statelier than ever? Was it some anticipation of the meditated change in
+their station had impressed her manner with more of pride? I know not; but
+true it is she received her visitors with a reserve that was actually
+chilling. To no end did Barrington exert himself to conceal or counteract
+this frigidity. In all our moral chemistry we have never yet hit upon an
+antidote to a chilling reception.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/046.jpg" width="100%" alt="046 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+The doctor was used to this freezing process, and did not suffer like his
+companion. To him, life was a huge ice-pail; but he defied frost-bite, and
+bore it. The Major, however chafed and fidgeted under the treatment, and
+muttered to himself very vengeful sentiments about that peg he had
+determined to take her down from.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was hoping to be able to offer you a nosegay, dear lady,&rdquo; said Dill,&mdash;this
+was his customary mode of address to her, an ingenious blending of
+affection with deference, but in which the stronger accent on the last
+word showed the deference to predominate,&mdash;&ldquo;but the rain has come so
+late, there's not a stock in the garden fit to present to you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is just as well, sir. I detest gillyflowers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The Major's eyes sparkled with a spiteful delight, for he was sorely
+jealous of the doctor's ease under difficulties.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We have, indeed, a few moss-roses.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;None to be compared to our own, sir. Do not think of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The Major felt that his was not a giving disposition, and consequently it
+exempted him from rubs and rebuffs of this sort. Meanwhile, unabashed by
+failure, the doctor essayed once more: &ldquo;Mrs. Dill is only waiting to have
+the car mended, to come over and pay her dutiful respects to you, Miss
+Dinah.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pray tell her not to mind it, Dr. Dill,&rdquo; replied she, sharply, &ldquo;or to
+wait till the fourth of next month, which will make it exactly a year
+since her last visit; and her call can be then an annual one, like the
+tax-gatherer's.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bother them for taxes altogether,&rdquo; chimed in Barrington, whose ear only
+caught the last word. &ldquo;You haven't done with the county cess when there's
+a fellow at you for tithes; and they're talking of a poor-rate.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may perceive, Dr. Dill, that your medicines have not achieved a great
+success against my brother's deafness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We were all so at Walcheren,&rdquo; broke in M'Cormick; &ldquo;when we 'd come out of
+the trenches, we could n't hear for hours.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My voice may be a shrill one, Major M'Cormick, but I'll have you to
+believe that it has not destroyed my brother's tympanum.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's not the tympanum is engaged, dear lady; it's the Eustachian tube is
+the cause here. There's a passage leads down from the internal ear&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I declare, sir, I have just as little taste for anatomy as for
+fortification; and though I sincerely wish you could cure my brother, as I
+also wish these gentlemen could have taken Walcheren, I have not the
+slightest desire to know how.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll beg a little more tea in this, ma'am,&rdquo; said the Major, holding out
+his cup.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you mean water, sir? Did you say it was too strong?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;With your leave, I 'll take it a trifle stronger,&rdquo; said he, with a
+malicious twinkle in his eye, for he knew all the offence his speech
+implied.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm glad to hear you say so, Major M'Cormick. I'm happy to know that your
+nerves are stronger than at the time of that expedition you quote with
+such pleasure. Is yours to your liking, sir?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll ask for some water, dear lady,&rdquo; broke in Dill, who began to think
+that the fire was hotter than usual. &ldquo;As I said to Mrs. Dill, 'Molly,'
+says I, 'how is it that I never drink such tea anywhere as at the&mdash;'&rdquo;
+ He stopped, for he was going to say, the Harringtons', and he trembled at
+the liberty; and he dared not say the Fisherman's Home, lest it should be
+thought he was recalling their occupation; and so, after a pause and a
+cough, he stammered out&mdash;&ldquo;'at the sweet cottage.'&rdquo; Nor was his
+confusion the less at perceiving how she had appreciated his difficulty,
+and was smiling at it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very few strangers in these parts lately, I believe,&rdquo; said M'Cormick, who
+knew that his remark was a dangerous one.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I fancy none, sir,&rdquo; said she, calmly. &ldquo;We, at least, have no customers,
+if that be the name for them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's natural, indeed, dear lady, you shouldn't know how they are called,&rdquo;
+ began the doctor, in a fawning tone, &ldquo;reared and brought up as you were.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The cold, steady stare of Miss Barrington arrested his speech; and though
+he made immense efforts to recover himself, there was that in her look
+which totally overcame him. &ldquo;Sit down to your rubber, sir,&rdquo; said she, in a
+whisper that seemed to thrill through his veins. &ldquo;You will find yourself
+far more at home at the odd trick there, than attempting to console me
+about my lost honors.&rdquo; And with this fierce admonition, she gave a little
+nod, half in adieu, half in admonition, and swept haughtily out of the
+room.
+</p>
+<p>
+M'Cormick heaved a sigh as the door closed after her, which very plainly
+bespoke how much he felt the relief.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My poor sister is a bit out of spirits this evening,&rdquo; said Barrington,
+who merely saw a certain show of constraint over his company, and never
+guessed the cause. &ldquo;We've had some unpleasant letters, and one thing or
+another to annoy us, and if she does n't join us at supper, you 'll excuse
+her, I know, M'Cormick.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That we will, with&mdash;&rdquo; He was going to add, &ldquo;with a heart and a
+half,&rdquo; for he felt, what to him was a rare sentiment, &ldquo;gratitude;&rdquo; but
+Dill chimed in,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, we couldn't expect she'd appear. I remarked she was nervous
+when we came in. I saw an expression in her eye&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So did I, faith,&rdquo; muttered M'Cormick, &ldquo;and I'm not a doctor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And here's our whist-table,&rdquo; said Barrington, bustling about; &ldquo;and there
+'s a bit of supper ready there for us in that room, and we 'll help
+ourselves, for I 've sent Darby to bed. And now give me a hand with these
+cards, for they 've all got mixed together.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington's task was the very wearisome one of trying to sort out an
+available pack from some half-dozen of various sizes and colors.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is n't this for all the world like raising a regiment out of twenty
+volunteer corps?&rdquo; said M'Cormick.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dill would call it an hospital of incurables,&rdquo; said Barrington. &ldquo;Have you
+got a knave of spades and a seven? Oh dear, dear! the knave, with the head
+off him! I begin to suspect we must look up a new pack.&rdquo; There was a tone
+of misgiving in the way he said this; for it implied a reference to his
+sister, and all its consequences. Affecting to search for new cards in his
+own room, therefore, he arose and went out.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wouldn't live in a slavery like that,&rdquo; muttered the Major, &ldquo;to be King
+of France.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Something has occurred here. There is some latent source of irritation,&rdquo;
+ said Dill, cautiously. &ldquo;Barrington's own manner is fidgety and uneasy. I
+have my suspicion matters are going on but poorly with them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+While this sage diagnosis was being uttered, M'Cormick had taken a short
+excursion into the adjoining room, from which he returned, eating a
+pickled onion. &ldquo;It's the old story; the cold roast loin and the dish of
+salad. Listen! Did you hear that shout?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought I heard one awhile back; but I fancied afterwards it was only
+the noise of the river over the stones.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is some fellows drawing the river; they poach under his very windows,
+and he never sees them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm afraid we 're not to have our rubber this evening,&rdquo; said Dill,
+mournfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There's a thing, now, I don't understand!&rdquo; said M'Cormick, in a low but
+bitter voice. &ldquo;No man is obliged to see company, but when he does do it,
+he oughtn't to be running about for a tumbler here and a mustard-pot
+there. There's the noise again; it's fellows robbing the salmon-weir!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No rubber to-night, I perceive that,&rdquo; reiterated the doctor, still intent
+upon the one theme.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A thousand pardons I ask from each of you,&rdquo; cried Barrington, coming
+hurriedly in, with a somewhat flushed face; &ldquo;but I 've had such a hunt for
+these cards. When I put a thing away nowadays, it's as good as gone to me,
+for I remember nothing. But here we are, now, all right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The party, like men eager to retrieve lost time, were soon deep in their
+game, very little being uttered, save such remarks as the contest called
+for. The Major was of that order of players who firmly believe fortune
+will desert them if they don't whine and complain of their luck, and so
+everything from him was a lamentation. The doctor, who regarded whist
+pathologically, no more gave up a game than he would a patient. He had
+witnessed marvellous recoveries in the most hopeless cases, and he had
+been rescued by a &ldquo;revoke&rdquo; in the last hour. Unlike each, Barrington was
+one who liked to chat over his game, as he would over his wine. Not that
+he took little interest in it, but it had no power to absorb and engross
+him. If a man derive very great pleasure from a pastime in which, after
+years and years of practice, he can attain no eminence nor any mastery,
+you may be almost certain he is one of an amiable temperament Nothing
+short of real goodness of nature could go on deriving enjoyment from a
+pursuit associated with continual defeats. Such a one must be hopeful, he
+must be submissive, he must have no touch of ungenerous jealousy in his
+nature, and, withal, a zealous wish to do better. Now he who can be all
+these, in anything, is no bad fellow.
+</p>
+<p>
+If Barrington, therefore, was beaten, he bore it well. Cards were often
+enough against him, his play was always so; and though the doctor had
+words of bland consolation for disaster, such as the habits of his craft
+taught him, the Major was a pitiless adversary, who never omitted the
+opportunity of disinterring all his opponents' blunders, and singing a
+song of triumph over them. But so it is,&mdash;<i>tot genera hominum</i>,&mdash;so
+many kinds of whist-players are there!
+</p>
+<p>
+Hour after hour went over, and it was late in the night. None felt
+disposed to sup; at least, none proposed it. The stakes were small, it is
+true, but small things are great to little men, and Barrington's guests
+were always the winners.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe if I was to be a good player,&mdash;which I know in my heart I
+never shall,&rdquo; said Barrington,&mdash;&ldquo;that my luck would swamp me, after
+all. Look at that hand now, and say is there a trick in it?&rdquo; As he said
+this, he spread out the cards of his &ldquo;dummy&rdquo; on the table, with the
+dis-consolation of one thoroughly beaten.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it might be worse,&rdquo; said Dill, consolingly. &ldquo;There's a queen of
+diamonds; and I would n't say, if you could get an opportunity to trump
+the club&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let him try it,&rdquo; broke in the merciless Major; &ldquo;let him just try it! My
+name isn't Dan M'Cormick if he'll win one card in that hand. There, now, I
+lead the ace of clubs. Play!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Patience, Major, patience; let me look over my hand. I 'm bad enough at
+the best, but I 'll be worse if you hurry me. Is that a king or a knave I
+see there?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's neither; it 's the queen!&rdquo; barked out the Major.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Doctor, you 'll have to look after my eyes as well as my ears. Indeed, I
+scarcely know which is the worst. Was not that a voice outside?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/052.jpg" width="100%" alt="052 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should think it was; there have been fellows shouting there the whole
+evening. I suspect they don't leave you many fish in this part of the
+river.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; interposed Dill, blandly, &ldquo;but you 've taken up my
+card by mistake.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+While Barrington was excusing himself, and trying to recover his lost clew
+to the game, there came a violent knocking at the door, and a loud voice
+called out, &ldquo;Holloa! Will some of ye open the door, or must I put my foot
+through it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There <i>is</i> somebody there,&rdquo; said Barrington, quietly, for he had now
+caught the words correctly; and taking a candle, he hastened out.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At last,&rdquo; cried a stranger, as the door opened,&mdash;&ldquo;at last! Do you
+know that we've been full twenty minutes here, listening to your animated
+discussion over the odd trick?&mdash;I fainting with hunger, and my friend
+with pain.&rdquo; And so saying, he assisted another to limp forward, who leaned
+on his arm and moved with the greatest difficulty.
+</p>
+<p>
+The mere sight of one in suffering repressed any notion of a rejoinder to
+his somewhat rude speech, and Barrington led the way into the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you met with an accident?&rdquo; asked he, as he placed the sufferer on a
+sofa.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; interposed the first speaker; &ldquo;he slipped down one of those rocks
+into the river, and has sprained, if he has not broken, something.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is our good fortune to have advice here; this gentleman is a doctor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of the Royal College, and an M.D. of Aberdeen, besides,&rdquo; said Dill, with
+a professional smile, while, turning back his cuffs, he proceeded to
+remove the shoe and stocking of his patient.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't be afraid of hurting, but just tell me at once what's the matter,&rdquo;
+ said the young fellow, down whose cheeks great drops were rolling in his
+agony.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is no pronouncing at once; there is great tumefaction here. It may
+be a mere sprain, or it may be a fracture of the fibula simple, or a
+fracture with luxation.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if you can't tell the injury, tell us what's to be done for it. Get
+him to bed, I suppose, first?&rdquo; said the friend.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By all means, to bed, and cold applications on the affected part.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here's a room all ready, and at hand,&rdquo; said Barrington, opening the door
+into a little chamber replete with comfort and propriety.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said the first speaker, &ldquo;Fred, all this is very snug; one might
+have fallen upon worse quarters.&rdquo; And so saying, he assisted his friend
+forward, and deposited him upon the bed.
+</p>
+<p>
+While the doctor busied himself with the medical cares for his patient,
+and arranged with due skill the appliances to relieve his present
+suffering, the other stranger related how they had lost their way, having
+first of all taken the wrong bank of the river, and been obliged to
+retrace their steps upwards of three miles to retrieve their mistake.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where were you going to?&rdquo; asked Barringtou.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We were in search of a little inn they had told us of, called the
+'Fisherman's Home.' I conclude we have reached it at last, and you are the
+host, I take it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington bowed assent.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And these gentlemen are visitors here?&rdquo; But without waiting for any
+reply,&mdash;difficult at all times, for he spoke with great rapidity and
+continual change of topic,&mdash;he now stooped down to whisper something
+to the sick man. &ldquo;My friend thinks he'll do capitally now, and, if we
+leave him, that he'll soon drop asleep; so I vote we give him the chance.&rdquo;
+ Thus saying, he made a gesture for the others to leave, following them up
+as they went, almost like one enforcing an order.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I am correct in my reading, you are a soldier, sir,&rdquo; said Barrington,
+when they reached the outer room, &ldquo;and this gentleman here is a brother
+officer,&mdash;Major M'Cor-mick.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Full pay, eh?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I am an old Walcheren man.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Walcheren&mdash;Walcheren&mdash;why, that sounds like Malplaquet or
+Blenheim! Where the deuce was Walcheren? Did n't believe that there was an
+old tumbril of that affair to the fore still. You were all licked there,
+or you died of the ague, or jaundice? Oh, dummy whist, as I live! Who's
+the unlucky dog has got the dummy?&mdash;bad as Walcheren, by Jove! Is n't
+that a supper I see laid out there? Don't I smell Stilton from that room?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you 'll do us the honor to join us&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That I will, and astonish you with an appetite too! We breakfasted at a
+beastly hole called Graigue, and tasted nothing since, except a few
+peaches I stole out of an old fellow's garden on the riverside,&mdash;'Old
+Dan the miser,' a country fellow called him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have the honor to have afforded you the entertainment you speak of,&rdquo;
+ said M'Cormick, smarting with anger.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right! The peaches were excellent,&mdash;would have been better if
+riper. I 'm afraid I smashed a window of yours; it was a stone I shied at
+a confounded dog,&mdash;a sort of terrier. Pickled onions and walnuts, by
+all that 's civilized! And so this is the 'Fisherman's Home,' and you the
+fisherman, eh? Well, why not show a light or a lantern over the door? Who
+the deuce is to know that this is a place of entertainment? We only
+guessed it at last.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I help you to some mutton?&rdquo; said Barrington, more amused than put out
+by his guest's discursiveness.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By all means. But don't carve it that way; cut it lengthwise, as if it
+were the saddle, which it ought to have been. You must tell me where you
+got this sherry. I have tasted nothing like it for many a day,&mdash;real
+brown sherry. I suppose you know how they brown it? It's not done by
+sugar,&mdash;that's a vulgar error. It's done by boiling; they boil down
+so many butts and reduce them to about a fourth or a fifth. You haven't
+got any currant-jelly, have you? it is just as good with cold mutton as
+hot. And then it is the wine thus reduced they use for coloring matter. I
+got up all my sherry experiences on the spot.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The wine you approve of has been in my cellar about five-and-forty
+years.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would not if I 'd have been your neighbor, rely upon that. I'd have
+secured every bottle of it for our mess; and mind, whatever remains of it
+is mine.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Might I make bold to remark,&rdquo; said Dill, interposing, &ldquo;that we are the
+guests of my friend here on this occasion?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Eh, what,&mdash;guests?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am proud enough to believe that you will not refuse me the honor of
+your company; for though an innkeeper, I write myself gentleman,&rdquo; said
+Barrington, blandly, though not without emotion.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should think you might,&rdquo; broke in the stranger, heartily; &ldquo;and I'd say
+the man who had a doubt about your claims had very little of his own. And
+now a word of apology for the mode of our entrance here, and to introduce
+myself. I am Colonel Hunter, of the 21st Hussars; my friend is a young
+subaltern of the regiment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A moment before, and all the awkwardness of his position was painful to
+Barrington. He felt that the traveller was there by a right, free to
+order, condemn, and criticise as he pleased. The few words of explanation,
+given in all the frankness of a soldier, and with the tact of a gentleman,
+relieved this embarrassment, and he was himself again. As for M'Cormick
+and Dill, the mere announcement of the regiment he commanded seemed to
+move and impress them. It was one of those corps especially known in the
+service for the rank and fortune of its officers. The Prince himself was
+their colonel, and they had acquired a wide notoriety for exclusiveness
+and pride, which, when treated by unfriendly critics, assumed a shape less
+favorable still.
+</p>
+<p>
+Colonel Hunter, if he were to be taken as a type of his regiment, might
+have rebutted a good deal of this floating criticism; he had a fine honest
+countenance, a rich mellow voice, and a sort of easy jollity in manner,
+that spoke well both for his spirits and his temper. He did, it is true,
+occasionally chafe against some susceptible spot or other of those around
+him, but there was no malice prepense in it, any more than there is
+intentional offence in the passage of a strong man through a crowd; so he
+elbowed his way, and pushed on in conversation, never so much as
+suspecting that he jostled any one in his path.
+</p>
+<p>
+Both Barrington and Hunter were inveterate sportsmen, and they ranged over
+hunting-fields and grouse mountains and partridge stubble and trout
+streams with all the zest of men who feel a sort of mesmeric brotherhood
+in the interchange of their experiences. Long after the Major and the
+doctor had taken their leave, they sat there recounting stories of their
+several adventures, and recalling incidents of flood and field.
+</p>
+<p>
+In return for a cordial invitation to Hunter to stay and fish the river
+for some days, Barrington pledged himself to visit the Colonel the first
+time he should go up to Kilkenny.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I 'll mount you. You shall have a horse I never lent in my life. I
+'ll put you on Trumpeter,&mdash;sire Sir Hercules,&mdash;no mistake there;
+would carry sixteen stone with the fastest hounds in England.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington shook his head, and smiled, as he said, &ldquo;It's two-and-twenty
+years since I sat a fence. I 'm afraid I 'll not revive the fame of my
+horsemanship by appearing again in the saddle.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, what age do you call yourself?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Eighty-three, if I live to August next.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'd not have guessed you within ten years of it. I 've just passed
+fifty, and already I begin to look for a horse with more bone beneath the
+knee, and more substance across the loins.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;These are only premonitory symptoms, after all,&rdquo; said Barrington,
+laughing. &ldquo;You've many a day before you come to a fourteen-hand cob and a
+kitchen chair to mount him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Hunter laughed at the picture, and dashed away, in his own half-reckless
+way, to other topics. He talked of his regiment proudly, and told
+Barrington what a splendid set of young fellows were his officers. &ldquo;I 'll
+show you such a mess,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;as no corps in the service can match.&rdquo;
+ While he talked of their high-hearted and generous natures, and with
+enthusiasm of the life of a soldier, Barrington could scarcely refrain
+from speaking of his own &ldquo;boy,&rdquo; the son from whom he had hoped so much,
+and whose loss had been the death-blow to all his ambitions. There were,
+however, circumstances in that story which sealed his lips; and though the
+father never believed one syllable of the allegations against his son,
+though he had paid the penalty of a King's Bench mandamus and imprisonment
+for horsewhipping the editor who had aspersed his &ldquo;boy,&rdquo; the world and the
+world's verdict were against him, and he did not dare to revive the memory
+of a name against which all the severities of the press had been directed,
+and public opinion had condemned with all its weight and power.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see that I am wearying you,&rdquo; said Hunter, as he remarked the grave and
+saddened expression that now stole over Barrington's face. &ldquo;I ought to
+have remembered what an hour it was,&mdash;more than half-past two.&rdquo; And
+without waiting to hear a reply, he shook his host's hand cordially and
+hurried off to his room.
+</p>
+<p>
+While Barrington busied himself in locking up the wine, and putting away
+half-finished decanters,&mdash;cares that his sister's watchfulness very
+imperatively exacted,&mdash;he heard, or fancied he heard, a voice from
+the room where the sick man lay. He opened the door very gently and looked
+in.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said the youth. &ldquo;I 'm not asleep, nor did I want to sleep,
+for I have been listening to you and the Colonel these two hours, and with
+rare pleasure, I can tell you. The Colonel would have gone a hundred miles
+to meet a man like yourself, so fond of the field and such a thorough
+sportsman.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I was so once,&rdquo; sighed Barrington, for already had come a sort of
+reaction to the late excitement.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn't the Colonel a fine fellow?&rdquo; said the young man, as eager to relieve
+the awkwardness of a sad theme as to praise one he loved. &ldquo;Don't you like
+him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That I do!&rdquo; said Barrington, heartily. &ldquo;His fine genial spirit has put me
+in better temper with myself than I fancied was in my nature to be. We are
+to have some trout-fishing together, and I promise you it sha'n't be my
+fault if <i>he</i> doesn't like <i>me</i>.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And may I be of the party?&mdash;may I go with you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only get well of your accident, and you shall do whatever you like. By
+the way, did not Colonel Hunter serve in India?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;For fifteen years. He has only left Bengal within a few months.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then he can probably help me to some information. He may be able to tell
+me&mdash;Good-night, good-night,&rdquo; said he, hurriedly; &ldquo;to-morrow will be
+time enough to think of this.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER IV. FRED CONYERS
+</h2>
+<p>
+Very soon after daybreak the Colonel was up and at the bedside of his
+young friend.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sorry to wake you, Fred,&rdquo; said he, gently; &ldquo;but I have just got an urgent
+despatch, requiring me to set out at once for Dublin, and I did n't like
+to go without asking how you get on.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, much better, sir. I can move the foot a little, and I feel assured it
+'s only a severe sprain.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's all right. Take your own time, and don't attempt to move about too
+early. You are in capital quarters here, and will be well looked after.
+There is only one difficulty, and I don't exactly see how to deal with it.
+Our host is a reduced gentleman, brought down to keep an inn for support,
+but what benefit he can derive from it is not so very clear; for when I
+asked the man who fetched me hot water this morning for my bill, he
+replied that his master told him I was to be his guest here for a week,
+and not on any account to accept money from me. Ireland is a very strange
+place, and we are learning something new in it every day; but this is the
+strangest thing I have met yet.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In <i>my</i> case this would be impossible. I must of necessity give a
+deal of trouble,&mdash;not to say that it would add unspeakably to my
+annoyance to feel that I could not ask freely for what I wanted.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no reason to suppose, mind you, that you are to be dealt with as I
+have been, but it would be well to bear in mind who and what these people
+are.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And get away from them as soon as possible,&rdquo; added the young fellow, half
+peevishly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, nay, Fred; don't be impatient. You'll be delighted with the old
+fellow, who is a heart-and-soul sportsman. What station he once occupied I
+can't guess; but in the remarks he makes about horses and hounds, all his
+knowing hints on stable management and the treatment of young cattle, one
+would say that he must have had a large fortune and kept a large
+establishment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+In the half self-sufficient toss of the head which received this speech,
+it was plain that the young man thought his Colonel was easily imposed on,
+and that such pretensions as these would have very little success with <i>him</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no doubt some of your brother officers will take a run down to see
+how you get on, and, if so, I 'll send over a hamper of wine, or something
+of the kind, that you can manage to make him accept.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It will not be very difficult, I opine,&rdquo; said the young man, laughingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; rejoined the other, misconstruing the drift of his words. &ldquo;You
+have plenty of tact, Fred. You 'll do the thing with all due delicacy. And
+now, good-bye. Let me hear how you fare here.&rdquo; And with a hearty farewell
+they parted.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was none astir in the cottage but Darby as the Colonel set out to
+gain the high-road, where the post-horses awaited him. From Darby,
+however, as he went along, he gathered much of his host's former history.
+It was with astonishment he learned that the splendid house of Barring-ton
+Hall, where he had been dining with an earl a few days ago, was the old
+family seat of that poor innkeeper; that the noble deer-park had once
+acknowledged him for master. &ldquo;And will again, plase God!&rdquo; burst in Darby,
+who thirsted for an opportunity to launch out into law, and all its bright
+hopes and prospects.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We have a record on trial in Trinity Term, and an argument before the
+twelve Judges, and the case is as plain as the nose on your honor's face;
+for it was ruled by Chief Baron Medge, in the great cause of 'Peter
+against Todd, a widow,' that a settlement couldn't be broke by an
+estreat.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are quite a lawyer, I see,&rdquo; said the Colonel.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish I was. I 'd rather be a judge on the bench than a king on his
+throne.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And yet I am beginning to suspect law may have cost your master dearly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is not ten, or twenty&mdash;no, nor thirty&mdash;thousand pounds would
+see him through it!&rdquo; said Darby, with a triumph in his tone that seemed to
+proclaim a very proud declaration. &ldquo;There 's families would be comfortable
+for life with just what we spent upon special juries.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, as you tell me he has no family, the injury has been all his own.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's true. We're the last of the ould stock,&rdquo; said he, sorrowfully; and
+little more passed between them, till the Colonel, on parting, put a
+couple of guineas in his hand, and enjoined him to look after the young
+friend he had left behind him.
+</p>
+<p>
+It is now my task to introduce this young gentleman to my readers.
+Frederick Conyers, a cornet in his Majesty's Hussars, was the only son of
+a very distinguished officer, Lieutenant-General Conyers, a man who had
+not alone served with great reputation in the field, but held offices of
+high political trust in India, the country where all his life had been
+passed. Holding a high station as a political resident at a native court,
+wielding great power, and surrounded by an undeviating homage, General
+Conyers saw his son growing up to manhood with everything that could
+foster pride and minister to self-exaltation around him. It was not alone
+the languor and indolence of an Eastern life that he had to dread for him,
+but the haughty temper and overbearing spirit so sure to come out of
+habits of domination in very early life.
+</p>
+<p>
+Though he had done all that he could to educate his son, by masters
+brought at immense cost from Europe, the really important element of
+education,&mdash;the self-control and respect for other's rights,&mdash;only
+to be acquired by daily life and intercourse with equals, this he could
+not supply; and he saw, at last, that the project he had so long indulged,
+of keeping his son with him, must be abandoned. Perhaps the rough speech
+of an old comrade helped to dispel the illusion, as he asked, &ldquo;Are you
+bringing up that boy to be a Rajah?&rdquo; His first thought was to send him to
+one of the Universities, his great desire being that the young man should
+feel some ambition for public life and its distinctions. He bethought him,
+however, that while the youth of Oxford and Cambridge enter upon a college
+career, trained by all the discipline of our public schools, Fred would
+approach the ordeal without any such preparation whatever. Without one to
+exert authority over him, little accustomed to the exercise of
+self-restraint, the experiment was too perilous.
+</p>
+<p>
+To place him, therefore, where, from the very nature of his position, some
+guidance and control would be exercised, and where by the working of that
+model democracy&mdash;a mess&mdash;he would be taught to repress
+self-sufficiency and presumption, he determined on the army, and obtained
+a cornetcy in a regiment commanded by one who had long served on his own
+staff. To most young fellows such an opening in life would have seemed all
+that was delightful and enjoyable. To be just twenty, gazetted to a
+splendid cavalry corps, with a father rich enough and generous enough to
+say, &ldquo;Live like the men about you, and don't be afraid that your checks
+will come back to you,&rdquo; these are great aids to a very pleasant existence.
+Whether the enervation of that life of Oriental indulgence had now become
+a nature to him, or whether he had no liking for the service itself, or
+whether the change from a condition of almost princely state to a position
+of mere equality with others, chafed and irritated him, but so is it, he
+did not &ldquo;take to&rdquo; the regiment, nor the regiment to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now it is a fact, and not a very agreeable fact either, that a man with a
+mass of noble qualities may fail to attract the kindliness and good
+feeling towards him which a far less worthy individual, merely by certain
+traits, or by the semblance of them, of a yielding, passive nature is
+almost sure to acquire.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers was generous, courageous, and loyal, in the most chivalrous sense
+of that word, to every obligation of friendship. He was eminently truthful
+and honorable; but he had two qualities whose baneful influence would
+disparage the very best of gifts. He was &ldquo;imperious,&rdquo; and, in the phrase
+of his brother officers, &ldquo;he never gave in.&rdquo; Some absurd impression had
+been made on him, as a child, that obstinacy and persistency were the
+noblest of attributes, and that, having said a thing, no event or
+circumstance could ever occur to induce a change of opinion.
+</p>
+<p>
+Such a quality is singularly unfitted to youth, and marvellously out of
+place in a regiment; hence was it that the &ldquo;Rajah,&rdquo; as he was generally
+called by his comrades, had few intimates, and not one friend amongst
+them.
+</p>
+<p>
+If I have dwelt somewhat lengthily on these traits, it is because their
+possessor is one destined to be much before us in this history. I will but
+chronicle one other feature. I am sorry it should be a disqualifying one.
+Owing in great measure, perhaps altogether, to his having been brought up
+in the East, where Hindoo craft and subtlety were familiarized to his mind
+from infancy, he was given to suspect that few things were ever done from
+the motives ascribed to them, and that under the open game of life was
+another concealed game, which was the real one. As yet, this dark and
+pernicious distrust had only gone the length of impressing him with a
+sense of his own consummate acuteness, an amount of self-satisfaction,
+which my reader may have seen tingeing the few words he exchanged with his
+Colonel before separating.
+</p>
+<p>
+Let us see him now as he sits in a great easy-chair, his sprained ankle
+resting on another, in a little honeysuckle-covered arbor of the garden, a
+table covered with books and fresh flowers beside him, while Darby stands
+ready to serve him from the breakfast-table, where a very tempting meal is
+already spread out.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So, then, I can't see your master, it seems,&rdquo; said Con-yers, half
+peevishly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Faix you can't; he's ten miles off by this. He got a letter by the post,
+and set out half an hour after for Kilkenny. He went to your honor's door,
+but seeing you was asleep he would n't wake you; 'but, Darby,' says he,
+'take care of that young gentleman, and mind,' says he, 'that he wants for
+nothing.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very thoughtful of <i>him</i>,&mdash;very considerate indeed,&rdquo; said the
+youth; but in what precise spirit it is not easy to say.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who lives about here? What gentlemen's places are there, I mean?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There's Lord Carrackmore, and Sir Arthur Godfrey, and Moore of Ballyduff,
+and Mrs. Powerscroft of the Grove&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do any of these great folks come down here?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/064.jpg" width="100%" alt="064 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+Darby would like to have given a ready assent,&mdash;he would have been
+charmed to say that they came daily, that they made the place a continual
+rendezvous; but as he saw no prospect of being able to give his fiction
+even twenty-four hours' currency, he merely changed from one leg to the
+other, and, in a tone of apology, said, &ldquo;Betimes they does, when the
+sayson is fine.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who are the persons who are most frequently here?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Those two that you saw last night,&mdash;the Major and Dr. Dill. They 're
+up here every second day, fishing, and eating their dinner with the
+master.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is the fishing good?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The best in Ireland.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what shooting is there,&mdash;any partridges?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Partridges, be gorra! You could n't see the turnips for them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And woodcocks?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it woodcocks! The sky is black with the sight of them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Any lions?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, maybe an odd one now and then,&rdquo; said Darby, half apologizing for
+the scarcity.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was an ineffable expression of self-satisfaction in Conyers's face
+at the subtlety with which he had drawn Darby into this admission; and the
+delight in his own acuteness led him to offer the poor fellow a cigar,
+which he took with very grateful thanks.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;From what you tell me, then, I shall find this place stupid enough till I
+am able to be up and about, eh? Is there any one who can play chess
+hereabout?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure there's Miss Dinah; she's a great hand at it, they tell me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And who is Miss Dinah? Is she young,&mdash;is she pretty?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Darby gave a very cautious look all around him, and then closing one eye,
+so as to give his face a look of intense cunning, he nodded very
+significantly twice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean by that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mane that she'll never see sixty; and for the matter of beauty&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, you have said quite enough; I 'm not curious about her looks. Now for
+another point. If I should want to get away from this, what other inn or
+hotel is there in the neighborhood?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There's Joe M'Cabe's, at Inistioge; but you are better where you are.
+Where will you see fresh butter like that? and look at the cream, the
+spoon will stand in it. Far and near it's given up to her that nobody can
+make coffee like Miss Dinah; and when you taste them trout, you 'll tell
+me if they are not fit for the king.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Everything is excellent,&mdash;could not be better; but there's a
+difficulty. There's a matter which to me at least makes a stay here most
+unpleasant. My friend tells me that he could not get his bill,&mdash;that
+he was accepted as a guest. Now I can't permit this&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There it is, now,&rdquo; said Darby, approaching the table, and dropping his
+voice to a confidential whisper. &ldquo;That's the master's way. If he gets a
+stranger to sit down with him to dinner or supper, he may eat and drink as
+long as he plases, and sorra sixpence he'll pay; and it's that same ruins
+us, nothing else, for it's then he 'll call for the best sherry, and that
+ould Maderia that's worth a guinea a bottle. What's the use, after all, of
+me inflaming the bill of the next traveller, and putting down everything
+maybe double? And worse than all,&rdquo; continued he, in a tone of horror, &ldquo;let
+him only hear any one complain about his bill or saying, 'What's this?' or
+'I didn't get that,' out he'll come, as mighty and as grand as the
+Lord-Liftinint, and say, 'I 'm sorry, sir, that we failed to make this
+place agreeable to you. Will you do me the favor not to mind the bill at
+all?' and with that he'd tear it up in little bits and walk away.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To me that would only be additional offence. I 'd not endure it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What could you do? You'd maybe slip a five-pound note into my hand, and
+say, 'Darby my man, settle this little matter for me; you know the ways of
+the place.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll not risk such an annoyance, at all events; that I 'm determined
+on.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Darby began now to perceive that he had misconceived his brief, and must
+alter his pleadings as quickly as possible; in fact, he saw he was
+&ldquo;stopping an earth&rdquo; he had meant merely to mask. &ldquo;Just leave it all to me,
+your honor,&mdash;leave it all to me, and I 'll have your bill for you
+every morning on the breakfast-table. And why would n't you? Why would a
+gentleman like your honor be behouldin' to any one for his meat and
+drink?&rdquo; burst he in, with an eager rapidity. &ldquo;Why would n't you say,
+'Darby, bring me this, get me that, fetch me the other; expinse is no
+object in life tome'?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was a faint twinkle of humor in the eye of Conyers, and Darby
+stopped short, and with that half-lisping simplicity which a few Irishmen
+understand to perfection, and can exercise whenever the occasion requires,
+he said: &ldquo;But sure is n't your honor laughing at me, is n't it just making
+fun of me you are? All because I'm a poor ignorant crayture that knows no
+better!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing of that kind,&rdquo; said Conyers, frankly. &ldquo;I was only smiling at
+thoughts that went through my head at the moment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, faix! there's one coming up the path now won't make you laugh,&rdquo;
+ said Darby, as he whispered, &ldquo;It's Dr. Dill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor was early with his patient; if the case was not one of urgency,
+the sufferer was in a more elevated rank than usually fell to the chances
+of Dispensary practice. Then, it promised to be one of the nice chronic
+cases, in which tact and personal agreeability&mdash;the two great
+strongholds of Dr. Dill in his own estimation&mdash;were of far more
+importance than the materia medica. Now, if Dill's world was not a very
+big one, he knew it thoroughly. He was a chronicle of all the family
+incidents of the county, and could recount every disaster of every house
+for thirty miles round.
+</p>
+<p>
+When the sprain had, therefore, been duly examined, and all the pangs of
+the patient sufficiently condoled with to establish the physician as a man
+of feeling, Dill proceeded to his task as a man of the world. Conyers,
+however, abruptly stopped him, by saying, &ldquo;Tell me how I'm to get out of
+this place; some other inn, I mean.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are not comfortable here, then?&rdquo; asked Dill.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In one sense, perfectly so. I like the quietness, the delightful
+tranquillity, the scenery,&mdash;everything, in short, but one
+circumstance. I 'm afraid these worthy people&mdash;whoever they are&mdash;want
+to regard me as a guest. Now I don't know them,&mdash;never saw them,&mdash;don't
+care to see them. My Colonel has a liking for all this sort of thing. It
+has to his mind a character of adventure that amuses him. It would n't in
+the least amuse me, and so I want to get away.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; repeated Dill, blandly, after him, &ldquo;wants to get away; desires to
+change the air.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; broke in Conyers, peevishly; &ldquo;no question of air whatever. I
+don't want to be on a visit. I want an inn. What is this place they tell
+me of up the river,&mdash;Inis&mdash;something?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Inistioge. M'Cabe's house; the 'Spotted Duck;' very small, very poor, far
+from clean, besides.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is there nothing else? Can't you think of some other place? For I can't
+have my servant here, circumstanced as I am now.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor paused to reply. The medical mind is eminently ready-witted,
+and Dill at a glance took in all the dangers of removing his patient.
+Should he transfer him to his own village, the visit which now had to be
+requited as a journey of three miles and upwards, would then be an affair
+of next door. Should he send him to Thomastown, it would be worse again,
+for then he would be within the precincts of a greater than Dill himself,&mdash;a
+practitioner who had a one-horse phaeton, and whose name was written on
+brass. &ldquo;Would you dislike a comfortable lodging in a private family,&mdash;one
+of the first respectability, I may make bold to call it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Abhor it!&mdash;couldn't endure it! I'm not essentially troublesome or
+exacting, but I like to be able to be either, whenever the humor takes
+me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was thinking of a house where you might freely take these liberties&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Liberties! I call them rights, doctor, not liberties! Can't you imagine a
+man, not very wilful, not very capricious, but who, if the whim took him,
+would n't stand being thwarted by any habits of a so-called respectable
+family? There, don't throw up your eyes, and misunderstand me. All I mean
+is, that my hours of eating and sleeping have no rule. I smoke everywhere;
+I make as much noise as I please; and I never brook any impertinent
+curiosity about what I do, or what I leave undone.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Under all the circumstances, you had, perhaps, better remain where you
+are,&rdquo; said Dill, thoughtfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, if these people will permit me to pay for my board and
+lodging. If they 'll condescend to let me be a stranger, I ask for nothing
+better than this place.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Might I offer myself as a negotiator?&rdquo; said Dill, insinuatingly; &ldquo;for I
+opine that the case is not of the difficulty you suppose. Will you confide
+it to my hands?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;With all my heart. I don't exactly see why there should be a negotiation
+at all; but if there must, pray be the special envoy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+When Dill arose and set out on his mission, the young fellow looked after
+him with an expression that seemed to say, &ldquo;How you all imagine you are
+humbugging me, while I read every one of you like a book!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Let us follow the doctor, and see how he acquitted himself in his
+diplomacy.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER V. DILL AS A DIPLOMATIST
+</h2>
+<p>
+Dr. Dill had knocked twice at the door of Miss Barrington's little
+sitting-room, and no answer was returned to his summons.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is the dear lady at home?&rdquo; asked he, blandly. But, though he waited for
+some seconds, no reply came.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Might Dr. Dill be permitted to make his compliments?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, come in,&rdquo; said a sharp voice, very much with the expression of one
+wearied out by importunity. Miss Barrington gave a brief nod in return for
+the profound obeisance of her visitor, and then turned again to a large
+map which covered the table before her.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I took the opportunity of my professional call here this morning&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How is that young man,&mdash;is anything broken?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I incline to say there is no fracture. The flexors, and perhaps, indeed,
+the annular ligament, are the seat of all the mischief.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A common sprain, in fact; a thing to rest for one day, and hold under the
+pump the day after.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The dear lady is always prompt, always energetic; but these sort of cases
+are often complicated, and require nice management.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And frequent visits,&rdquo; said she, with a dry gravity.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All the world must live, dear lady,&mdash;all the world must live.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your profession does not always sustain your theory, sir; at least,
+popular scandal says you kill as many as you cure.&rdquo; &ldquo;I know the dear lady
+has little faith in physic.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Say none, sir, and you will be nearer the mark; but, remember, I seek no
+converts; I ask nobody to deny himself the luxuries of senna and gamboge
+because I prefer beef and mutton. You wanted to see my brother, I
+presume,&rdquo; added she, sharply, &ldquo;but he started early this morning for
+Kilkenny. The Solicitor-General wanted to say a few words to him on his
+way down to Cork.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That weary law! that weary law!&rdquo; ejaculated Dill, fervently; for he well
+knew with what little favor Miss Barrington regarded litigation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And why so, sir?&rdquo; retorted she, sharply. &ldquo;What greater absurdity is there
+in being hypochondriac about your property than your person? My brother's
+taste inclines to depletion by law; others prefer the lancet.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Always witty, always smart, the dear lady,&rdquo; said Dill, with a sad attempt
+at a smile. The flattery passed without acknowledgment of any kind, and he
+resumed: &ldquo;I dropped in this morning to you, dear lady, on a matter which,
+perhaps, might not be altogether pleasing to you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then don't do it, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If the dear lady would let me finish&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was warning you, sir, not even to begin.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, madam,&rdquo; said he, stung into something like resistance; &ldquo;but I would
+have added, had I been permitted, without any due reason for displeasure
+on your part.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And are <i>you</i> the fitting judge of that, sir? If you know, as you
+say you know, that you are about to give me pain, by what presumption do
+you assert that it must be for my benefit? What's it all about?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I come on the part of this young gentleman, dear lady, who, having
+learned&mdash;I cannot say where or how&mdash;that he is not to consider
+himself here at an inn, but, as a guest, feels, with all the gratitude
+that the occasion warrants, that he has no claim to the attention, and
+that it is one which would render his position here too painful to persist
+in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did he come by this impression, sir? Be frank and tell me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am really unable to say, Miss Dinah.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, sir, be honest, and own that the delusion arose from yourself,&mdash;yes,
+from yourself. It was in perceiving the courteous delicacy with which you
+declined a fee that he conceived this flattering notion of us; but go back
+to him, doctor, and say it is a pure mistake; that his breakfast will cost
+him one shilling, and his dinner two; the price of a boat to fetch him up
+to Thomastown is half a crown, and that the earlier he orders one the
+better. Listen to me, sir,&rdquo; said she, and her lips trembled with passion,&mdash;&ldquo;listen
+to me, while I speak of this for the first and last time. Whenever my
+brother, recurring to what he once was, has been emboldened to treat a
+passing stranger as his guest, the choice has been so judiciously
+exercised as to fall upon one who could respect the motive and not resent
+the liberty; but never till this moment has it befallen us to be told that
+the possibility&mdash;the bare possibility&mdash;of such a presumption
+should be met by a declaration of refusal. Go back, then, to your patient,
+sir; assure him that he is at an inn, and that he has the right to be all
+that his purse and his want of manners can insure him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear lady, I'm, maybe, a bad negotiator.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I trust sincerely, sir, you are a better doctor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing on earth was further from my mind than offence&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very possibly, sir; but, as you are aware, blisters will occasionally act
+with all the violence of caustics, so an irritating theme may be pressed
+at a very inauspicious moment. My cares as a hostess are not in very good
+favor with me just now. Counsel your young charge to a change of air, and
+I 'll think no more of the matter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Had it been a queen who had spoken, the doctor could not more palpably
+have felt that his audience had terminated, and his only duty was to
+withdraw.
+</p>
+<p>
+And so he did retire, with much bowing and graciously smiling, and
+indicating, by all imaginable contortions, gratitude for the past and
+humility forever.
+</p>
+<p>
+I rejoice that I am not obliged to record as history the low but fervent
+mutterings that fell from his lips as he closed the door after him, and by
+a gesture of menace showed his feelings towards her he had just quitted.
+&ldquo;Insolent old woman!&rdquo; he burst out as he went along, &ldquo;how can she presume
+to forget a station that every incident of her daily life recalls? In the
+rank she once held, and can never return to, such manners would be an
+outrage; but I 'll not endure it again. It is your last triumph, Miss
+Dinah; make much of it.&rdquo; Thus sustained by a very Dutch courage,&mdash;for
+this national gift can come of passion as well as drink,&mdash;he made his
+way to his patient's presence, smoothing his brow, as he went, and
+recalling the medico-chimrgical serenity of his features.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have not done much, but I have accomplished something,&rdquo; said he,
+blandly. &ldquo;I am at a loss to understand what they mean by introducing all
+these caprices into their means of life; but, assuredly, it will not
+attract strangers to the house.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are the caprices you allude to?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it is not very easy to say; perhaps I have not expressed my meaning
+quite correctly; but one thing is clear, a stranger likes to feel that his
+only obligation in an inn is to discharge the bill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, doctor,&rdquo; broke in Conyers, &ldquo;I have been thinking the matter over.
+Why should I not go back to my quarters? There might surely be some means
+contrived to convey me to the high-road; after that, there will be no
+difficulty whatever.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor actually shuddered at the thought. The sportsman who sees the
+bird he has just winged flutter away to his neighbor's preserve may
+understand something, at least, of Dr. Dill's discomfiture as he saw his
+wealthy patient threatening a departure. He quickly, therefore, summoned
+to his aid all those terrors which had so often done good service on like
+occasions. He gave a little graphic sketch of every evil consequence that
+might come of an imprudent journey. The catalogue was a bulky one; it
+ranged over tetanus, mortification, and disease of the bones. It included
+every sort and description of pain as classified by science, into &ldquo;dull,
+weary, and incessant,&rdquo; or &ldquo;sharp lancinating agony.&rdquo; Now Conyers was as
+brave as a lion, but had, withal, one of those temperaments which are
+miserably sensitive under suffering, and to which the mere description of
+pain is itself an acute pang. When, therefore, the doctor drew the picture
+of a case very like the present one, where amputation came too late,
+Conyers burst in with, &ldquo;For mercy's sake, will you stop! I can't sit here
+to be cut up piece-meal; there's not a nerve in my body you haven't set
+ajar.&rdquo; The doctor blandly took out his massive watch, and laid his fingers
+on the young man's pulse. &ldquo;Ninety-eight, and slightly intermittent,&rdquo; said
+he, as though to himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What does that mean?&rdquo; asked Conyers, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The irregular action of the heart implies abnormal condition of the
+nervous system, and indicates, imperatively, rest, repose, and
+tranquillity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If lethargy itself be required, this is a capital place for it,&rdquo; sighed
+Conyers, drearily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have n't turned your thoughts to what I said awhile ago, being
+domesticated, as one might call it, in a nice quiet family, with all the
+tender attentions of a home, and a little music in the evening.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Simple as these words were, Dill gave to each of them an almost honeyed
+utterance.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; it would bore me excessively. I detest to be looked after; I abhor
+what are called attentions.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Unobtrusively offered,&mdash;tendered with a due delicacy and reserve?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which means a sort of simpering civility that one has to smirk for in
+return. No, no; I was bred up in quite a different school, where we
+clapped our hands twice when we wanted a servant, and the fellow's head
+paid for it if he was slow in coming. Don't tell me any more about your
+pleasant family, for they 'd neither endure me, nor I them. Get me well as
+fast as you can, and out of this confounded place, and I 'll give you
+leave to make a vascular preparation of me if you catch me here again!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor smiled, as doctors know how to smile when patients think they
+have said a smartness, and now each was somewhat on better terms with the
+other.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By the way, doctor,&rdquo; said Conyers, suddenly, &ldquo;you have n't told me what
+the old woman said. What arrangement did you come to?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your breakfast will cost one shilling, your dinner two. She made no
+mention of your rooms, but only hinted that, whenever you took your
+departure, the charge for the boat was half a crown.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, all this is very business-like, and to the purpose; but where, in
+Heaven's name, did any man live in this fashion for so little? We have a
+breakfast-mess, but it's not to be compared with this,&mdash;such a
+variety of bread, such grilled trout, such a profusion of fruit. After
+all, doctor, it is very like being a guest, the nominal charge being to
+escape the sense of a favor. But perhaps one can do here as at one of
+those 'hospices' in the Alps, and make a present at parting to requite the
+hospitality.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is a graceful way to record gratitude,&rdquo; said the doctor, who liked to
+think that the practice could be extended to other reminiscences.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must have my servant and my books, my pipes and my Spitz terrier. I 'll
+get a target up, besides, on that cherry-tree, and practise
+pistol-shooting as I sit here. Could you find out some idle fellow who
+would play chess or <i>écarté</i> with me,&mdash;a curate or a priest,&mdash;I
+'m not particular; and when my man Holt comes, I 'll make him string my
+grass-mat hammock between those two elms, so that I can fish without the
+bore of standing up for it. Holt is a rare clever fellow, and you 'll see
+how he'll get things in order here before he's a day in the place.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor smiled again, for he saw that his patient desired to be deemed
+a marvel of resources and a mine of original thought. The doctor's smile
+was apportioned to his conversation, just as he added syrups in his
+prescriptions. It was, as he himself called it, the &ldquo;vehicle,&rdquo; without
+special efficacy in itself, but it aided to get down the &ldquo;active
+principle.&rdquo; But he did more than smile. He promised all possible
+assistance to carry out his patient's plans. He was almost certain that a
+friend of his, an old soldier, too,&mdash;a Major M'Cormick,&mdash;could
+play <i>écarté</i>, though, perhaps, it might be cribbage; and then Father
+Cody, he could answer for it, was wonderful at skittles, though, for the
+present, that game might not be practicable; and as for books, the library
+at Woodstay was full of them, if the key could only be come at, for the
+family was abroad; and, in fact, he displayed a most generous willingness
+to oblige, although, when brought to the rude test of reality, his
+pictures were only dissolving views of pleasures to come.
+</p>
+<p>
+When he took his leave at last, he left Conyers in far better spirits than
+he found him. The young fellow had begun to castle-build about how he
+should pass his time, and in such architecture there is no room for ennui.
+And what a rare organ must constructiveness be, when even in its mockery
+it can yield such pleasure! We are very prone to envy the rich man, whose
+wealth sets no limit to his caprices; but is not a rich fancy, that
+wondrous imaginative power which unweariedly invents new incidents, new
+personages, new situations, a very covetable possession? And can we not,
+in the gratification of the very humblest exercise of this quality, rudely
+approximate to the ecstasy of him who wields it in all its force? Not that
+Fred Conyers was one of these; he was a mere tyro in the faculty, and
+could only carry himself into a region where he saw his Spitz terrier jump
+between the back rails of a chair, and himself sending bullet after bullet
+through the very centre of the bull's eye.
+</p>
+<p>
+Be it so. Perhaps you and I, too, my reader, have our Spitz terrier and
+bull's-eye days, and, if so, let us be grateful for them.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER VI. THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER
+</h2>
+<p>
+Whether it was that Dr. Dill expended all the benevolence of his
+disposition in the course of his practice, and came home utterly
+exhausted, but so it was, that his family never saw him in those moods of
+blandness which he invariably appeared in to his patients. In fact,
+however loaded he went forth with these wares of a morning, he disposed of
+every item of his stock before he got back at night; and when poor Mrs.
+Dill heard, as she from time to time did hear, of the doctor's gentleness,
+his kindness in suffering, his beautiful and touching sympathy with
+sorrow, she listened with the same sort of semi-stupid astonishment she
+would have felt on hearing some one eulogizing the climate of Ireland, and
+going rapturous about the blue sky and the glorious sunshine. Unhappy
+little woman, she only saw him in his dark days of cloud and rain, and she
+never came into his presence except in a sort of moral mackintosh made for
+the worst weather.
+</p>
+<p>
+The doctor's family consisted of seven children, but our concern is only
+with the two eldest,&mdash;a son and a daughter. Tom was two years younger
+than his sister, who, at this period of our story, was verging on
+nineteen. He was an awkward, ungainly youth, large-jointed, but weakly,
+with a sandy red head and much-freckled face, just such a disparaging
+counterpart of his sister as a coarse American piracy often presents of
+one of our well-printed, richly papered English editions. &ldquo;It was all
+there,&rdquo; but all unseemly, ungraceful, undignified; for Polly Dill was
+pretty. Her hair was auburn, her eyes a deep hazel, and her skin a marvel
+of transparent whiteness. You would never have hesitated to call her a
+very pretty girl if you had not seen her brother, but, having seen him,
+all the traits of her good looks suffered in the same way that Grisi's
+&ldquo;Norma&rdquo; does from the horrid recollection of Paul Bedford's.
+</p>
+<p>
+After all, the resemblance went very little further than this &ldquo;travestie,&rdquo;
+ for while he was a slow, heavy-witted, loutish creature, with low tastes
+and low ambitions, she was a clever, intelligent girl, very eagerly intent
+on making something of her advantages. Though the doctor was a general
+practitioner, and had a shop, which he called &ldquo;Surgery,&rdquo; in the village,
+he was received at the great houses in a sort of half-intimate,
+half-patronizing fashion; as one, in short, with whom it was not necessary
+to be formal, but it might become very inconvenient to have a coldness.
+These were very sorry credentials for acceptance, but he made no objection
+to them.
+</p>
+<p>
+A few, however, of the &ldquo;neighbors&rdquo;&mdash;it would be ungenerous to inquire
+the motive, for in this world of ours it is just as well to regard one's
+five-pound note as convertible into five gold sovereigns, and not
+speculate as to the kind of rags it is made of&mdash;were pleased to
+notice Miss Dill, and occasionally invite her to their larger gatherings,
+so that she not only gained opportunities of cultivating her social gifts,
+but, what is often a greater spur to ambition, of comparing them with
+those of others.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now this same measuring process, if only conducted without any envy or
+ungenerous rivalry, is not without its advantage. Polly Dill made it
+really profitable. I will not presume to say that, in her heart of hearts,
+she did not envy the social accidents that gave others precedence before
+her, but into her heart of hearts neither you nor I have any claim to
+enter. Enough that we know nothing in her outward conduct or bearing
+revealed such a sentiment. As little did she maintain her position by
+flattery, which many in her ambiguous station would have relied upon as a
+stronghold. No; Polly followed a very simple policy, which was all the
+more successful that it never seemed to be a policy at all. She never in
+any way attracted towards her the attentions of those men who, in the
+marriageable market, were looked on as the choice lots; squires in
+possession, elder sons, and favorite nephews, she regarded as so much
+forbidden fruit. It was a lottery in which she never took a ticket It is
+incredible how much kindly notice and favorable recognition accrued to her
+from this line.
+</p>
+<p>
+We all know how pleasant it is to be next to the man at a promiscuous
+dinner who never eats turtle nor cares for &ldquo;Cliquot;&rdquo; and in the world at
+large there are people who represent the calabash and the champagne.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then Polly played well, but was quite as ready to play as to dance. She
+sang prettily, too, and had not the slightest objection that one of her
+simple ballads should be the foil to a grand performance of some young
+lady, whose artistic agonies rivalled Alboni's. So cleverly did Polly do
+all this, that even her father could not discover the secret of her
+success; and though he saw &ldquo;his little girl&rdquo; as he called her, more and
+more sought after and invited, he continued to be persuaded that all this
+favoritism was only the reflex of his own popularity. How, then, could
+mere acquaintances ever suspect what to the eye of those nearer and closer
+was so inscrutable?
+</p>
+<p>
+Polly Dill rode very well and very fearlessly, and occasionally was
+assisted to &ldquo;a mount&rdquo; by some country gentleman, who combined gallantry
+with profit, and knew that the horse he lent could never be seen to
+greater advantage. Yet, even in this, she avoided display, quite
+satisfied, as it seemed, to enjoy herself thoroughly, and not attract any
+notice that could be avoided. Indeed, she never tried for &ldquo;a place,&rdquo; but
+rather attached herself to some of the older and heavier weights, who grew
+to believe that they were especially in charge of her, and nothing was
+more common, at the end of a hard run, than to hear such self-gratulations
+as, &ldquo;I think I took great care of you, Miss Dill?&rdquo; &ldquo;Eh, Miss Polly! you
+see I'm not such a bad leader!&rdquo; and so on.
+</p>
+<p>
+Such was the doctor's &ldquo;little girl,&rdquo; whom I am about to present to my
+readers under another aspect. She is at home, dressed in a neatly fitting
+but very simple cotton dress, her hair in two plain bands, and she is
+seated at a table, at the opposite of which lounges her brother Tom with
+an air of dogged and sleepy indolence, which extends from his ill-trimmed
+hair to his ill-buttoned waistcoat.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind it to-day, Polly,&rdquo; said he, with a yawn. &ldquo;I've been up all
+night, and have no head for work. There's a good girl, let's have a chat
+instead.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Impossible, Tom,&rdquo; said she, calmly, but with decision. &ldquo;To-day is the
+third. You have only three weeks now and two days before your examination.
+We have all the bones and ligaments to go over again, and the whole
+vascular system. You 've forgotten every word of Harrison.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It does n't signify, Polly. They never take a fellow on anything but two
+arteries for the navy. Grove told me so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Grove is an ass, and got plucked twice. It is a perfect disgrace to quote
+him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I only wish I may do as well. He's assistant-surgeon to the
+'Taurus' gun-brig on the African station; and if I was there, it's little
+I 'd care for the whole lot of bones and balderdash.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, don't be silly. Let us go on with the scapula. Describe the glenoid
+cavity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you were the girl you might be, I'd not be bored with all this stupid
+trash, Polly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean? I don't understand you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's easy enough to understand me. You are as thick as thieves, you and
+that old Admiral,&mdash;that Sir Charles Cobham. I saw you talking to the
+old fellow at the meet the other morning. You 've only to say, 'There's
+Tom&mdash;my brother Tom&mdash;wants a navy appointment; he's not passed
+yet, but if the fellows at the Board got a hint, just as much as, &ldquo;Don't
+be hard on him&mdash;&ldquo;'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'd not do it to make you a post-captain, sir,&rdquo; said she, severely. &ldquo;You
+very much overrate my influence, and very much underrate my integrity,
+when you ask it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hoity-toity! ain't we dignified! So you'd rather see me plucked, eh?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, if that should be the only alternative.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, Polly, that's all! thank you,&rdquo; said he; and he drew his sleeve
+across his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Tom,&rdquo; said she, laying her white soft hand on his coarse brown
+fingers, &ldquo;can you not see that if I even stooped to anything so unworthy,
+that it would compromise your whole prospects in life? You'd obtain an
+assistant-surgeoncy, and never rise above it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And do I ask to rise above it? Do I ask anything beyond getting out of
+this house, and earning bread that is not grudged me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, nay; if you talk that way, I've done.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I do talk that way. He sent me off to Kilkenny last week&mdash;you
+saw it yourself&mdash;to bring out that trash for the shop, and he would
+n't pay the car hire, and made me carry two stone of carbonate of magnesia
+and a jar of leeches fourteen miles. You were just taking that post and
+rail out of Nixon's lawn as I came by. You saw me well enough.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am glad to say I did not,&rdquo; said she, sighing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I saw you, then, and how that gray carried you! You were waving a
+handkerchief in your hand; what was that for?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was to show Ambrose Bushe that the ground was good; he was afraid of
+being staked!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/084.jpg" width="100%" alt="084 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's exactly what I am. I 'm afraid of being 'staked up' at the Hall,
+and if <i>you</i> 'd take as much trouble about your brother as you did
+for Ambrose Bushe&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tom, Tom, I have taken it for eight weary months. I believe I know Bell
+on the bones, and Harrison on the arteries, by heart!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who thanks you?&rdquo; said he, doggedly. &ldquo;When you read a thing twice, you
+never forget it; but it's not so with me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Try what a little work will do, Tom; be assured there is not half as much
+disparity between people's brains as there is between their industry.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'd rather have luck than either, I know that. It's the only thing, after
+all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She gave a very deep sigh, and leaned her head on her hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Work and toil as hard as you may,&rdquo; continued he, with all the fervor of
+one on a favorite theme, &ldquo;if you haven't luck you 'll be beaten. Can you
+deny that, Polly?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you allow me to call merit what you call luck, I'll agree with you.
+But I 'd much rather go on with our work. What is the insertion of the
+deltoid? I'm sure you know <i>that!</i>&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The deltoid! the deltoid!&rdquo; muttered he. &ldquo;I forget all about the deltoid,
+but, of course, it's like the rest of them. It's inserted into a ridge or
+a process, or whatever you call it&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Tom, this is very hopeless. How can you presume to face your
+examiners with such ignorance as this?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'll tell you what I'll do, Polly; Grove told me he did it,&mdash;if I
+find my pluck failing me, I 'll have a go of brandy before I go in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She found it very hard not to laugh at the solemn gravity of this speech,
+and just as hard not to cry as she looked at him who spoke it At the same
+moment Dr. Dill opened the door, calling out sharply, &ldquo;Where's that
+fellow, Tom? Who has seen him this morning?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He's here, papa,&rdquo; said Polly. &ldquo;We are brushing up the anatomy for the
+last time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;His head must be in capital order for it, after his night's exploit. I
+heard of you, sir, and your reputable wager. Noonan was up here this
+morning with the whole story!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'd have won if they 'd not put snuff in the punch&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are a shameless hound&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, papa! If you knew how he was working,&mdash;how eager he is to pass
+his examination, and be a credit to us all, and owe his independence to
+himself&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know more of him than you do, miss,&mdash;far more, too, than he is
+aware of,&mdash;and I know something of myself also; and I tell him now,
+that if he's rejected at the examination, he need not come back here with
+the news.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And where am I to go, then?&rdquo; asked the young fellow, half insolently.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may go&mdash;&rdquo; Where to, the doctor was not suffered to indicate, for
+already Polly had thrown herself into his arms and arrested the speech.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I suppose I can 'list; a fellow need not know much about gallipots
+for that.&rdquo; As he said this, he snatched up his tattered old cap and made
+for the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stay, sir! I have business for you to do,&rdquo; cried Dill, sternly. &ldquo;There's
+a young gentleman at the 'Fisherman's Home' laid up with a bad sprain. I
+have prescribed twenty leeches on the part. Go down and apply them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's what old Molly Day used to do,&rdquo; said Tom, angrily.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir, and knew more of the occasion that required it than you will
+ever do. See that you apply them all to the outer ankle, and attend well
+to the bleeding; the patient is a young man of rank, with whom you had
+better take no liberties.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I go at all&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tom, Tom, none of this!&rdquo; said Polly, who drew very close to him, and
+looked up at him with eyes full of tears.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I going as your son this time? or did you tell him&mdash;as you told
+Mr. Nixon&mdash;that you 'd send your young man?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There! listen to that!&rdquo; cried the doctor, turning to Polly. &ldquo;I hope you
+are proud of your pupil.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She made no answer, but whispering some hurried words in her brother's
+ear, and pressing at the same time something into his hand, she shuffled
+him out of the room and closed the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+The doctor now paced the room, so engrossed by passion that he forgot he
+was not alone, and uttered threats and mumbled out dark predictions with a
+fearful energy. Meanwhile Polly put by the books and drawings, and removed
+everything which might recall the late misadventure.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What's your letter about, papa?&rdquo; said she, pointing to a square-shaped
+envelope which he still held in his hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, by the way,&rdquo; said he, quietly, &ldquo;this is from Cob-ham. They ask us up
+there to dinner to-day, and to stop the night.&rdquo; The doctor tried very hard
+to utter this speech with the unconcern of one alluding to some every-day
+occurrence. Nay, he did more; he endeavored to throw into it a certain air
+of fastidious weariness, as though to say, &ldquo;See how these people will have
+me; mark how they persecute me with their attentions!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Polly understood the &ldquo;situation&rdquo; perfectly, and it was with actual
+curiosity in her tone she asked, &ldquo;Do you mean to go, sir?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose we must, dear,&rdquo; he said, with a deep sigh. &ldquo;A professional man
+is no more the arbiter of his social hours than of his business ones.
+Cooper always said dining at home costs a thousand a year.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So much, papa?&rdquo; asked she, with much semblance of innocence.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't mean to myself,&rdquo; said he, reddening, &ldquo;nor to any physician in
+country practice; but we all lose by it, more or less.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Polly, meanwhile, had taken the letter, and was reading it over. It was
+very brief. It had been originally begun, &ldquo;Lady Cobham presents,&rdquo; but a
+pen was run through the words, and it ran,&mdash;
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+&ldquo;Dear Dr. Dill,&mdash;If a short notice will not inconvenience
+you, will you and your daughter dine here to-day at seven?
+There is no moon, and we shall expect you to stay the night.
+
+&ldquo;Truly yours,
+
+&ldquo;Georgiana Cobham.
+</pre>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Admiral hopes Miss D. will not forget to bring her music.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then we go, sir?&rdquo; asked she, with eagerness; for it was a house to which
+she had never yet been invited, though she had long wished for the entrée.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall go, certainly,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;As to you, there will be the old
+discussion with your mother as to clothes, and the usual declaration that
+you have really nothing to put on.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! but I have, papa. My wonderful-worked muslin, that was to have
+astonished the world at the race ball, but which arrived too late, is now
+quite ready to captivate all beholders; and I have just learned that new
+song, 'Where's the slave so lowly?' which I mean to give with a most
+rebellious fervor; and, in fact, I am dying to assault this same fortress
+of Cobham, and see what it is like inside the citadel.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pretty much like Woodstay, and the Grove, and Mount Kelly, and the other
+places we go to,&rdquo; said Dill, pompously.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The same sort of rooms, the same sort of dinner, the same company;
+nothing different but the liveries.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very true, papa; but there is always an interest in seeing how people
+behave in their own house, whom you have never seen except in strangers'.
+I have met Lady Cobham at the Beachers', where she scarcely noticed me. I
+am curious to see what sort of reception she will vouchsafe me at home.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, go and look after your things, for we have eight miles to drive,
+and Billy has already been at Dangan and over to Mooney's Mills, and he 's
+not the fresher for it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose I 'd better take my hat and habit, papa?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What for, child?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just as you always carry your lancets, papa,&mdash;you don't know what
+may turn up.&rdquo; And she was off before he could answer her.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER VII. TOM DILL'S FIRST PATIENT
+</h2>
+<p>
+Before Tom Dill had set out on his errand he had learned all about his
+father and sister's dinner engagement; nor did the contrast with the way
+in which his own time was to be passed at all improve his temper. Indeed,
+he took the opportunity of intimating to his mother how few favors fell to
+her share or his own,&mdash;a piece of information she very
+philosophically received, all her sympathies being far more interested for
+the sorrows of &ldquo;Clarissa Harlowe&rdquo; than for any incident that occurred
+around her. Poor old lady! she had read that story over and over again,
+till it might seem that every word and every comma in it had become her
+own; but she was blessed with a memory that retained nothing, and she
+could cry over the sorrowful bits, and pant with eagerness at the critical
+ones, just as passionately, just as fervently, as she had done for years
+and years before. Dim, vague perceptions she might have retained of the
+personages, but these only gave them a stronger truthfulness, and made
+them more like the people of the real world, whom she had seen, passingly,
+once, and was now to learn more about. I doubt if Mezzofanti ever derived
+one tenth of the pleasure from all his marvellous memory that she did from
+the want of one.
+</p>
+<p>
+Blessed with that one book, she was proof against all the common accidents
+of life. It was her sanctuary against duns, and difficulties, and the
+doctor's temper. As the miser feels a sort of ecstasy in the secret of his
+hoarded wealth, so had she an intense enjoyment in thinking that all dear
+Clarissa's trials and sufferings were only known to her. Neither the
+doctor, nor Polly, nor Tom, so much as suspected them. It was like a
+confidence between Mr. Richardson and herself, and for nothing on earth
+would she have betrayed it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tom had no such resources, and he set out on his mission with no very
+remarkable good feeling towards the world at large. Still, Polly had
+pressed into his hand a gold half-guinea,&mdash;some very long-treasured
+keepsake, the birthday gift of a godmother in times remote, and now to be
+converted into tobacco and beer, and some articles of fishing-gear which
+he greatly needed.
+</p>
+<p>
+Seated in one of those light canoe-shaped skiffs,&mdash;&ldquo;cots,&rdquo; as they
+are called on these rivers,&mdash;he suffered himself to be carried lazily
+along by the stream, while he tied his flies and adjusted his tackle.
+There is, sometimes, a stronger sense of unhappiness attached to what is
+called being &ldquo;hardly used&rdquo; by the world, than to a direct palpable
+misfortune; for though the sufferer may not be able, even to his own
+heart, to set out, with clearness, one single count in the indictment, yet
+a general sense of hard treatment, unfairness, and so forth, brings with
+it great depression, and a feeling of desolation.
+</p>
+<p>
+Like all young fellows of his stamp, Tom only saw his inflictions, not one
+of his transgressions. He knew that his father made a common drudge of
+him, employed him in all that was wearisome and even menial in his craft,
+admitted him to no confidences, gave him no counsels, and treated him in
+every way like one who was never destined to rise above the meanest cares
+and lowest duties. Even those little fleeting glances at a brighter future
+which Polly would now and then open to his ambition, never came from his
+father, who would actually ridicule the notion of his obtaining a degree,
+and make the thought of a commission in the service a subject for mockery.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was low in heart as he thought over these things. &ldquo;If it were not for
+Polly,&rdquo; so he said to himself, &ldquo;he 'd go and enlist;&rdquo; or, as his boat
+slowly floated into a dark angle of the stream where the water was still
+and the shadow deep, he even felt he could do worse. &ldquo;Poor Polly!&rdquo; said
+he, as he moved his hand to and fro in the cold clear water, &ldquo;you 'd be
+very, very sorry for me. You, at least, knew that I was not all bad, and
+that I wanted to be better. It was no fault of mine to have a head that
+could n't learn. I 'd be clever if I could, and do everything as well as
+she does; but when they see that I have no talents, that if they put the
+task before me I cannot master it, sure they ought to pity me, not blame
+me.&rdquo; And then he bent over the boat and looked down eagerly into the
+water, till, by long dint of gazing, he saw, or he thought he saw, the
+gravelly bed beneath; and again he swept his hand through it,&mdash;it was
+cold, and caused a slight shudder. Then, suddenly, with some fresh
+impulse, he threw off his cap, and kicked his shoes from him. His
+trembling hands buttoned and unbuttoned his coat with some infirm,
+uncertain purpose. He stopped and listened; he heard a sound; there was
+some one near,&mdash;quite near. He bent down and peered under the
+branches that hung over the stream, and there he saw a very old and infirm
+man, so old and infirm that he could barely creep. He had been carrying a
+little bundle of fagots for firewood, and the cord had given way, and his
+burden fallen, scattered, to the ground. This was the noise Tom had heard.
+For a few minutes the old man seemed overwhelmed with his disaster, and
+stood motionless, contemplating it; then, as it were, taking courage, he
+laid down his staff, and bending on his knees, set slowly to work to
+gather up his fagots.
+</p>
+<p>
+There are minutes in the lives of all of us when some simple incident will
+speak to our hearts with a force that human words never carried,&mdash;when
+the most trivial event will teach a lesson that all our wisdom never gave
+us. &ldquo;Poor old fellow,&rdquo; said Tom, &ldquo;he has a stout heart left to him still,
+and he 'll not leave his load behind him!&rdquo; And then his own craven spirit
+flashed across him, and he hid his face in his hand and cried bitterly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Suddenly rousing himself with a sort of convulsive shake, he sent the
+skiff with a strong shove in shore, and gave the old fellow what remained
+to him of Polly's present; and then, with a lighter spirit than he had
+known for many a day, rowed manfully on his way.
+</p>
+<p>
+The evening&mdash;a soft, mellow, summer evening&mdash;was just falling as
+Tom reached the little boat quay at the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home,&rdquo;&mdash;a spot
+it was seldom his fortune to visit, but one for whose woodland beauty and
+trim comfort he had a deep admiration. He would have liked to have
+lingered a little to inspect the boat-house, and the little aviary over
+it, and the small cottage on the island, and the little terrace made to
+fish from; but Darby had caught sight of him as he landed, and came
+hurriedly down to say that the young gentleman was growing very impatient
+for his coming, and was even hinting at sending for another doctor if he
+should not soon appear.
+</p>
+<p>
+If Conyers was as impatient as Darby represented, he had, at least,
+surrounded himself with every appliance to allay the fervor of that spirit
+He had dined under a spreading sycamore-tree, and now sat with a table
+richly covered before him. Fruit, flowers, and wine abounded, with a
+profusion that might have satisfied several guests; for, as he understood
+that he was to consider himself at an inn, he resolved, by ordering the
+most costly things, to give the house all the advantage of his presence.
+The most delicious hothouse fruit had been procured from the gardener of
+an absent proprietor in the neighborhood, and several kinds of wine
+figured on the table, over which, and half shadowed by the leaves, a lamp
+had been suspended, throwing a fitful light over all, that imparted a most
+picturesque effect to the scene.
+</p>
+<p>
+And yet, amidst all these luxuries and delights, Bal-shazzar was
+discontented; his ankle pained him; he had been hobbling about on it all
+day, and increased the inflammation considerably; and, besides this, he
+was lonely; he had no one but Darby to talk to, and had grown to feel for
+that sapient functionary a perfect abhorrence,&mdash;his everlasting
+compliance, his eternal coincidence with everything, being a torment
+infinitely worse than the most dogged and mulish opposition. When,
+therefore, he heard at last the doctor's son had come with the leeches, he
+hailed him as a welcome guest.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a time you have kept me waiting!&rdquo; said he, as the loutish young man
+came forward, so astounded by the scene before him that he lost all
+presence of mind. &ldquo;I have been looking out for you since three o'clock,
+and pottering down the river and back so often, that I have made the leg
+twice as thick again.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why didn't you sit quiet?&rdquo; said Tom, in a hoarse, husky tone.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sit quiet!&rdquo; replied Conyers, staring half angrily at him; and then as
+quickly perceiving that no impertinence had been intended, which the
+other's changing color and evident confusion attested, he begged him to
+take a chair and fill his glass. &ldquo;That next you is some sort of Rhine
+wine: this is sherry; and here is the very best claret I ever tasted.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I 'll take that,&rdquo; said Tom, who, accepting the recommendation
+amidst luxuries all new and strange to him, proceeded to fill his glass,
+but so tremblingly that he spilled the wine all about the table, and then
+hurriedly wiped it up with his handkerchief.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers did his utmost to set his guest at his ease. He passed his
+cigar-case across the table, and led him on, as well as he might, to talk.
+But Tom was awestruck, not alone by the splendors around him, but by the
+condescension of his host; and he could not divest himself of the notion
+that he must have been mistaken for somebody else, to whom all these
+blandishments might be rightfully due.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you fond of shooting?&rdquo; asked Conyers, trying to engage a
+conversation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the curt reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There must be good sport hereabouts, I should say. Is the game well
+preserved?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Too well for such as me. I never get a shot without the risk of a jail,
+and it would be cheaper for me to kill a cow than a woodcock!&rdquo; There was a
+stern gravity in the way he said this that made it irresistibly comic, and
+Conyers laughed out in spite of himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have n't you a game license?&rdquo; asked he.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Haven't I a coach-and-six? Where would I get four pounds seven and ten to
+pay for it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The appeal was awkward, and for a moment Conyers was silent At last he
+said, &ldquo;You fish, I suppose?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; I kill a salmon whenever I get a quiet spot that nobody sees me, and
+I draw the river now and then with a net at night.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's poaching, I take it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It 's not the worse for that!&rdquo; said Tom, whose pluck was by this time
+considerably assisted by the claret.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it's an unfair way, at all events, and destroys real sport&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Real sport is filling your basket.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no; there's no real sport in doing anything that's unfair,&mdash;anything
+that's un&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; He stopped short, and swallowed off a glass of
+wine to cover his confusion.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's all mighty fine for you, who can not only pay for a license, but
+you 're just as sure to be invited here, there, and everywhere there's
+game to be killed. But think of me, that never snaps a cap, never throws a
+line, but he knows it's worse than robbing a hen-roost, and often, maybe,
+just as fond of it as yourself!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Whether it was that, coming after Darby's mawkish and servile agreement
+with everything, this rugged nature seemed more palatable, I cannot say;
+but so it was, Con-yers felt pleasure in talking to this rough unpolished
+creature, and hearing his opinions in turn. Had there been in Tom Dill's
+manner the slightest shade of any pretence, was there any element of that
+which, for want of a better word, we call &ldquo;snobbery,&rdquo; Conyers would not
+have endured him for a moment, but Tom was perfectly devoid of this
+vulgarity. He was often coarse in his remarks, his expressions were rarely
+measured by any rule of good manners; but it was easy to see that he never
+intended offence, nor did he so much as suspect that he could give that
+weight to any opinion which he uttered to make it of moment.
+</p>
+<p>
+Besides these points in Tom's favor, there was another, which also led
+Conyers to converse with him. There is some very subtle self-flattery in
+the condescension of one well to do in all the gifts of fortune
+associating, in an assumed equality, with some poor fellow to whom fate
+has assigned the shady side of the highway. Scarcely a subject can be
+touched without suggesting something for self-gratulation; every
+comparison, every contrast is in his favor, and Conyers, without being
+more of a puppy than the majority of his order, constantly felt how
+immeasurably above all his guest's views of his life and the world were
+his own,&mdash;not alone that he was more moderate in language and less
+prone to attribute evil, but with a finer sense of honor and a wider
+feeling of liberality.
+</p>
+<p>
+When Tom at last, with some shame, remembered that he had forgotten all
+about the real object of his mission, and had never so much as alluded to
+the leeches, Conyers only laughed and said, &ldquo;Never mind them to-night.
+Come back to-morrow and put them on; and mind,&mdash;come to breakfast at
+ten or eleven o'clock.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What am I to say to my father?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Say it was a whim of mine, which it is. You are quite ready to do this
+matter now. I see it; but I say no. Is n't that enough?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose so!&rdquo; muttered Tom, with a sort of dogged misgiving.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It strikes me that you have a very respectable fear of your governor. Am
+I right?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ain't you afraid of yours?&rdquo; bluntly asked the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Afraid of mine!&rdquo; cried Conyers, with a loud laugh; &ldquo;I should think not.
+Why, my father and myself are as thick as two thieves. I never was in a
+scrape that I did n't tell him. I 'd sit down this minute and write to him
+just as I would to any fellow in the regiment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, there 's only one in all the world I 'd tell a secret to, and it is
+n't My father!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is it, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My sister Polly!&rdquo; It was impossible to have uttered these words with a
+stronger sense of pride. He dwelt slowly upon each of them, and, when he
+had finished, looked as though he had said something utterly undeniable.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here's her health,&mdash;in a bumper too!&rdquo; cried Conyers.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hurray, hurray!&rdquo; shouted out Tom, as he tossed off his full glass, and
+set it on the table with a bang that smashed it. &ldquo;Oh, I beg pardon! I
+didn't mean to break the tumbler.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind it, Dill; it's a trifle. I half hoped you had done it on
+purpose, so that the glass should never be drained to a less honored
+toast. Is she like <i>you?</i>&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Like me,&mdash;like me?&rdquo; asked he, coloring deeply. &ldquo;Polly like me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean is there a family resemblance? Could you be easily known as
+brother and sister?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a bit of it. Polly is the prettiest girl in this county, and she 's
+better than she 's handsome. There's nothing she can't do. I taught her to
+tie flies, and she can put wings on a green-drake now that would take in
+any salmon that ever swam. Martin Keene sent her a pound-note for a book
+of 'brown hackles,' and, by the way, she gave it to <i>me</i>. And if you
+saw her on the back of a horse!&mdash;Ambrose Bushe's gray mare, the
+wickedest devil that ever was bridled, one buck jump after another the
+length of a field, and the mare trying to get her head between her
+fore-legs, and Polly handling her so quiet, never out of temper, never
+hot, but always saying, 'Ain't you ashamed of yourself, Dido? Don't you
+see them all laughing at us?'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am quite curious to see her. Will you present me one of these days?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Tom mumbled out something perfectly unintelligible.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope that I may be permitted to make her acquaintance,&rdquo; repeated he,
+not feeling very certain that his former speech was quite understood.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe so,&rdquo; grumbled he out at last, and sank back in his chair with a
+look of sulky ill-humor; for so it was that poor Tom, in his ignorance of
+life and its ways, deemed the proposal one of those free-and-easy
+suggestions which might be made to persons of very inferior station, and
+to whom the fact of acquaintanceship should be accounted as a great honor.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers was provoked at the little willingness shown to meet his offer,&mdash;an
+offer he felt to be a very courteous piece of condescension on his part,&mdash;and
+now both sat in silence. At last Tom Dill, long struggling with some
+secret impulse, gave way, and in a tone far more decided and firm than
+heretofore, said, &ldquo;Maybe you think, from seeing what sort of a fellow I
+am, that my sister ought to be like me; and because <i>I</i> have neither
+manners nor education, that she 's the same? But listen to me now; she 's
+just as little like me as you are yourself. You 're not more of a
+gentleman than she's a lady!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never imagined anything else.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what made you talk of bringing her up here to present her to you, as
+you called it? Was she to be trotted out in a cavasin, like a filly?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear fellow,&rdquo; said Conyers, good-humoredly, &ldquo;you never made a greater
+mistake. I begged that you would present <i>me</i> to your sister. I asked
+the sort of favor which is very common in the world, and in the language
+usually employed to convey such a request. I observed the recognized
+etiquette&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do I know about etiquette? If you'd have said, 'Tom Dill, I want to
+be introduced to your sister,' I 'd have guessed what you were at, and I
+'d have said, 'Come back in the boat with me to-morrow, and so you
+shall.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's a bargain, then, Dill. I want two or three things in the village,
+and I accept your offer gladly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Not only was peace now ratified between them, but a closer feeling of
+intimacy established; for poor Tom, not much spoiled by any excess of the
+world's sympathy, was so delighted by the kindly interest shown him, that
+he launched out freely to tell all about himself and his fortunes, how
+hardly treated he was at home, and how ill usage had made him despondent,
+and despondency made him dissolute. &ldquo;It's all very well to rate a fellow
+about his taste for low pleasures and low companions; but what if he's not
+rich enough for better? He takes them just as he smokes cheap tobacco,
+because he can afford no other. And do you know,&rdquo; continued he, &ldquo;you are
+the first real gentleman that ever said a kind word to me, or asked me to
+sit down in his company. It's even so strange to me yet, that maybe when I
+'m rowing home to-night I 'll think it's all a dream,&mdash;that it was
+the wine got into my head.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is not some of this your own fault?&rdquo; broke in Conyers. &ldquo;What if you had
+held your head higher&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hold my head higher!&rdquo; interrupted Tom. &ldquo;With this on it, eh?&rdquo; And he took
+up his ragged and worn cap from the ground, and showed it. &ldquo;Pride is a
+very fine thing when you can live up to it; but if you can't it's only
+ridiculous. I don't say,&rdquo; added he, after a few minutes of silence, &ldquo;but
+if I was far away from this, where nobody knew me, where I did n't owe
+little debts on every side, and was n't obliged to be intimate with every
+idle vagabond about&mdash;I don't say but I'd try to be something better.
+If, for instance, I could get into the navy&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not the army? You 'd like it better.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay! but it 's far harder to get into. There's many a rough fellow like
+myself aboard ship that they would n't take in a regiment. Besides, how
+could I get in without interest?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My father is a Lieutenant-General. I don't know whether he could be of
+service to you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A Lieutenant-General!&rdquo; repeated Tom, with the reverential awe of one
+alluding to an actual potentate.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. He has a command out in India, where I feel full sure he could give
+you something. Suppose you were to go out there? I 'd write a letter to my
+father and ask him to befriend you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would take a fortune to pay the journey,&rdquo; said Tom, despondingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not if you went out on service; the Government would send you free of
+cost. And even if you were not, I think we might manage it. Speak to your
+father about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he, slowly. &ldquo;No; but I 'll talk it over with Polly. Not but I
+know well she'll say, 'There you are, castle-building and romancing. It's
+all moonshine! Nobody ever took notice of you,&mdash;nobody said he 'd
+interest himself about you.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's easily remedied. If you like it, I 'll tell your sister all about
+it myself. I 'll tell her it's my plan, and I 'll show her what I think
+are good reasons to believe it will be successful.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! would you&mdash;would you!&rdquo; cried he, with a choking sensation in the
+throat; for his gratitude had made him almost hysterical.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; resumed Conyers. &ldquo;When you come up here tomorrow, we 'll arrange it
+all. I 'll turn the matter all over in my mind, too, and I have little
+doubt of our being able to carry it through.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 'll not tell my father, though?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a word, if you forbid it. At the same time, you must see that he'll
+have to hear it all later on.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose so,&rdquo; muttered Tom, moodily, and leaned his head thoughtfully on
+his hand. But one half-hour back and he would have told Conyers why he
+desired this concealment; he would have declared that his father, caring
+more for his services than his future good, would have thrown every
+obstacle to his promotion, and would even, if need were, have so
+represented him to Conyers that he would have appeared utterly unworthy of
+his interest and kindness; but now not one word of all this escaped him.
+He never hinted another reproach against his father, for already a purer
+spring had opened in his nature, the rocky heart had been smitten by words
+of gentleness, and he would have revolted against that which should
+degrade him in his own esteem.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good night,&rdquo; said Conyers, with a hearty shake of the hand, &ldquo;and don't
+forget your breakfast engagement tomorrow.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What 's this?&rdquo; said Tom, blushing deeply, as he found a crumpled
+bank-note in his palm.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's your fee, my good fellow, that's all,&rdquo; said the other, laughingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I can't take a fee. I have never done so. I have no right to one. I
+am not a doctor yet.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The very first lesson in your profession is not to anger your patient;
+and if you would not provoke me, say no more on this matter.&rdquo; There was a
+half-semblance of haughtiness in these words that perhaps the speaker
+never intended; at all events, he was quick enough to remedy the effect,
+for he laid his hand good-naturedly on the other's shoulder and said, &ldquo;For
+my sake, Dill,&mdash;for my sake.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish I knew what I ought to do,&rdquo; said Tom, whose pale cheek actually
+trembled with agitation. &ldquo;I mean,&rdquo; said he, in a shaken voice, &ldquo;I wish I
+knew what would make <i>you</i> think best of me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you attach so much value to my good opinion, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't you think I might? When did I ever meet any one that treated me
+this way before?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The agitation in which he uttered these few words imparted such a
+semblance of weakness to him that Conyers pressed him down into a chair,
+and filled up his glass with wine.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take that off, and you 'll be all right presently,&rdquo; said he, in a kind
+tone.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tom tried to carry the glass to his lips, but his hand trembled so that he
+had to set it down on the table.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't know how to say it,&rdquo; began he, &ldquo;and I don't know whether I ought
+to say it, but somehow I feel as if I could give my heart's blood if
+everybody would behave to me the way you do. I don't mean, mind you, so
+generously, but treating me as if&mdash;as if&mdash;as if&mdash;&rdquo; gulped
+he out at last, &ldquo;as if I was a gentleman.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And why not? As there is nothing in your station that should deny that
+claim, why should any presume to treat you otherwise?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because I'm not one!&rdquo; blurted he out; and covering his face with his
+hands, he sobbed bitterly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, come, my poor fellow, don't be down-hearted. I 'm not much older
+than yourself, but I 've seen a good deal of life; and, mark <i>my</i>
+words, the price a man puts on himself is the very highest penny the world
+will ever bid for him; he 'll not always get <i>that</i>, but he 'll never&mdash;no,
+never, get a farthing beyond it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Tom stared vacantly at the speaker, not very sure whether he understood
+the speech, or that it had any special application to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;When you come to know life as well as I do,&rdquo; continued Conyers, who had
+now launched into a very favorite theme, &ldquo;you'll learn the truth of what I
+say. Hold your head high; and if the world desires to see you, it must at
+least look up!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay, but it might laugh too!&rdquo; said Tom, with a bitter gravity, which
+considerably disconcerted the moralist, who pitched away his cigar
+impatiently, and set about selecting another.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suspect I understand <i>your</i> nature. For,&rdquo; said he, after a moment
+or two, &ldquo;I have rather a knack in reading people. Just answer me frankly a
+few questions.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whatever you like,&rdquo; said the other, in a half-sulky sort of manner.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mind,&rdquo; said Conyers, eagerly, &ldquo;as there can be no offence intended,
+you'll not feel any by whatever I may say.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; said Tom, in the same dry tone.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ain't you obstinate?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I knew it. We had not talked half an hour together when I detected it,
+and I said to myself, 'That fellow is one so rooted in his own
+convictions, it is scarcely possible to shake him.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What next?&rdquo; asked Tom.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can't readily forgive an injury; you find it very hard to pardon the
+man who has wronged you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not; if he did n't go on persecuting me, I would n't think of him at
+all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, that's a mistake. Well, I know you better than you know yourself; you
+<i>do</i> keep up the memory of an old grudge,&mdash;you can't help it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe so, but I never knew it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have, however, just as strong a sentiment of gratitude.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never knew that, either,&rdquo; muttered he; &ldquo;perhaps because it has had so
+little provocation!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bear in mind,&rdquo; said Conyers, who was rather disconcerted by the want of
+concurrence he had met with, &ldquo;that I am in a great measure referring to
+latent qualities,&mdash;things which probably require time and
+circumstances to develop.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, if that's it,&rdquo; said Dili, &ldquo;I can no more object than I could if you
+talked to me about what is down a dozen fathoms in the earth under our
+feet. It may be granite or it may be gold, for what I know; the only thing
+that <i>I</i> see is the gravel before me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll tell you a trait of your character you can't gainsay,&rdquo; said
+Conyers, who was growing more irritated by the opposition so unexpectedly
+met with, &ldquo;and it's one you need not dig a dozen fathoms down to discover,&mdash;you
+are very reckless.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Reckless&mdash;reckless,&mdash;you call a fellow reckless that throws
+away his chance, I suppose?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what if he never had one?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Every man has a destiny; every man has that in his fate which he may help
+to make or to mar as he inclines to. I suppose you admit that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; was the sullen reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not know? Surely you needn't be told such a fact to recognize it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All I know is this,&rdquo; said Tom, resolutely, &ldquo;that I scarcely ever did
+anything in my life that it was n't found out to be wrong, so that at last
+I 've come to be pretty careless what I do; and if it was n't for Polly,&mdash;if
+it was n't for Polly&mdash;&rdquo; He stopped, drew his sleeve across his eyes,
+and turned away, unable to finish.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, then,&rdquo; said Conyers, laying his hand affectionately on the other's
+shoulder, &ldquo;add my friendship to <i>her</i> love for you, and see if the
+two will not give you encouragement; for I mean to be your friend, Dill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you?&rdquo; said Tom, with the tears in his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There 's my hand on it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER VIII. FINE ACQUAINTANCES
+</h2>
+<p>
+There is a law of compensation even for the small things of this life, and
+by the wise enactments of that law, human happiness, on the whole, is
+pretty equally distributed. The rich man, probably, never felt one tithe
+of the enjoyment in his noble demesne that it yielded to some poor artisan
+who strolled through it on a holiday, and tasted at once the charms of a
+woodland scene with all the rapturous delight of a day of rest.
+</p>
+<p>
+Arguing from these premises, I greatly doubt if Lady Cobham, at the head
+of her great household, with her house crowded with distinguished
+visitors, surrounded by every accessory of luxury and splendor, tasted
+anything approaching to the delight felt by one, the very humblest of her
+guests, and who for a brief twenty-four hours partook of her hospitality.
+</p>
+<p>
+Polly Dill, with all her desire and ambition for notice amongst the great
+people of the county, had gone to this dinner-party with considerable
+misgivings. She only knew the Admiral in the hunting-field; of her
+Ladyship she had no knowledge whatever, save in a few dry sentences
+uttered to her from a carriage one day at &ldquo;the meet,&rdquo; when the Admiral,
+with more sailor-like frankness than politeness, presented her by saying,
+&ldquo;This is the heroine of the day's run, Dr. Dill's daughter.&rdquo; And to this
+was responded a stare through a double eye-glass, and a cold smile and a
+few still colder words, affecting to be compliment, but sounding far more
+like a correction and a rebuke.
+</p>
+<p>
+No wonder, then, if Polly's heart was somewhat faint about approaching as
+a hostess one who could be so repelling as a mere acquaintance. Indeed,
+one less resolutely bent on her object would not have encountered all the
+mortification and misery her anticipation pictured; but Polly fortified
+herself by the philosophy that said, &ldquo;There is but one road to this goal;
+I must either take that one, or abandon the journey.&rdquo; And so she did take
+it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Either, however, that she had exaggerated the grievance to her own mind,
+or that her Ladyship was more courteous at home than abroad; but Polly was
+charmed with the kindness of her reception. Lady Cobham had shaken hands
+with her, asked her had she been hunting lately, and was about to speak of
+her horsemanship to a grim old lady beside her, when the arrival of other
+guests cut short the compliment, and Polly passed on&mdash;her heart
+lightened of a great load&mdash;to mix with the general company.
+</p>
+<p>
+I have no doubt it was a pleasant country-house; it was called the
+pleasantest in the county. On the present occasion it counted amongst its
+guests not only the great families of the neighborhood, but several
+distinguished visitors from a distance, of whom two, at least, are
+noteworthy,&mdash;one, the great lyric poet; the other, the first tragic
+actress of her age and country. The occasion which assembled them was a
+project originally broached at the Admiral's table, and so frequently
+discussed afterwards that it matured itself into a congress. The plan was
+to get up theatricals for the winter season at Kilkenny, in which all the
+native dramatic ability should be aided by the first professional talent.
+Scarcely a country-house that could not boast of, at least, one promising
+performer. Ruthven and Campion and Probart had in their several walks been
+applauded by the great in art, and there were many others who in the
+estimation of friends were just as certain of a high success.
+</p>
+<p>
+Some passing remark on Polly's good looks, and the suitability of her face
+and style for certain small characters in comedy,&mdash;the pink ribboned
+damsels who are made love to by smart valets,&mdash;induced Lady Cobham to
+include her in her list; and thus, on these meagre credentials, was she
+present. She did not want notice or desire recognition; she was far too
+happy to be there, to hear and see and mark and observe all around her, to
+care for any especial attention. If the haughty Arabellas and Georgianas
+who swept past her without so much as a glance, were not, in her own
+estimation, superior in personal attractions, she knew well that they were
+so in all the accidents of station and the advantages of dress; and
+perhaps&mdash;who knows?&mdash;the reflection was not such a discouraging
+one.
+</p>
+<p>
+No memorable event, no incident worth recording, marked her visit. In the
+world of such society the machinery moves with regularity and little
+friction. The comedy of real life is admirably played out by the
+well-bred, and Polly was charmed to see with what courtesy, what
+consideration, what deference people behaved to each other; and all
+without an effort,&mdash;perhaps without even a thought.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was on the following day, when she got home and sat beside her mother's
+chair, that she related all she had seen. Her heart was filled with joy;
+for, just as she was taking her leave, Lady Cobham had said, &ldquo;You have
+been promised to us for Tuesday next, Miss Dill. Pray don't forget it!&rdquo;
+ And now she was busily engaged in the cares of toilette; and though it was
+a mere question of putting bows of a sky-blue ribbon on a muslin dress,&mdash;one
+of those little travesties by which rustic beauty emulates ball-room
+splendor,&mdash;to her eyes it assumed all the importance of a grand
+preparation, and one which she could not help occasionally rising to
+contemplate at a little distance.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Won't it be lovely, mamma,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;with a moss-rose&mdash;a mere bud&mdash;on
+each of those bows? But I have n't told you of how he sang. He was the
+smallest little creature in the world, and he tripped across the room with
+his tiny feet like a bird, and he kissed Lady Cobham's hand with a sort of
+old-world gallantry, and pressed a little sprig of jasmine she gave him to
+his heart,&mdash;this way,&mdash;and then he sat down to the piano. I
+thought it strange to see a man play!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Effeminate,&mdash;very,&rdquo; muttered the old lady, as she wiped her
+spectacles.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I don't know, mamma,&mdash;at least, after a moment, I lost all
+thought of it, for I never heard anything like his singing before. He had
+not much voice, nor, perhaps, great skill, but there was an expression in
+the words, a rippling melody with which the verses ran from his lips,
+while the accompaniment tinkled on beside them, perfectly rapturous. It
+all seemed as if words and air were begotten of the moment, as if,
+inspired on the instant, he poured forth the verses, on which he half
+dwelt, while thinking over what was to follow, imparting an actual anxiety
+as you listened, lest he should not be ready with his rhyme; and through
+all there was a triumphant joy that lighted up his face and made his eyes
+sparkle with a fearless lustre, as of one who felt the genius that was
+within him, and could trust it.&rdquo; And then he had been so complimentary to
+herself, called her that charming little &ldquo;rebel,&rdquo; after she had sung
+&ldquo;Where 's the Slave,&rdquo; and told her that until he had heard the words from
+her lips he did not know they were half so treasonable. &ldquo;But, mamma
+dearest, I have made a conquest; and such a conquest,&mdash;the hero of
+the whole society,&mdash;a Captain Stapylton, who did something or
+captured somebody at Waterloo,&mdash;a bold dragoon, with a gorgeous
+pelisse all slashed with gold, and such a mass of splendor that he was
+quite dazzling to look upon.&rdquo; She went on, still very rapturously, to
+picture him. &ldquo;Not very young; that is to say, he might be thirty-five, or
+perhaps a little more,&mdash;tall, stately, even dignified in appearance,
+with a beard and moustache almost white,&mdash;for he had served much in
+India, and he was dark-skinned as a native.&rdquo; And this fine soldier, so
+sought after and so courted, had been markedly attentive to her, danced
+with her twice, and promised she should have his Arab, &ldquo;Mahmoud,&rdquo; at her
+next visit to Cobham. It was very evident that his notice of her had
+called forth certain jealousies from young ladies of higher social
+pretensions, nor was she at all indifferent to the peril of such
+sentiments, though she did not speak of them to her mother, for, in good
+truth, that worthy woman was not one to investigate a subtle problem, or
+suggest a wise counsel; not to say that her interests were far more deeply
+engaged for Miss Harlowe than for her daughter Polly, seeing that in the
+one case every motive, and the spring to every motive, was familiar to
+her, while in the other she possessed but some vague and very strange
+notions of what was told her. Clarissa had made a full confidence to her:
+she had wept out her sorrows on her bosom, and sat sobbing on her
+shoulder. Polly came to her with the frivolous narrative of a ball-room
+flirtation, which threatened no despair nor ruin to any one. Here were no
+heart-consuming miseries, no agonizing terrors, no dreadful casualties
+that might darken a whole existence; and so Mrs. Dill scarcely followed
+Polly's story at all, and never with any interest.
+</p>
+<p>
+Polly went in search of her brother, but he had left home early that
+morning with the boat, no one knew whither, and the doctor was in a
+towering rage at his absence. Tom, indeed, was so full of his success with
+young Conyers that he never so much as condescended to explain his plans,
+and simply left a message to say, &ldquo;It was likely he 'd be back by
+dinner-time.&rdquo; Now Dr. Dill was not in one of his blandest humors. Amongst
+the company at Cobham, he had found a great physician from Kilkenny,
+plainly showing him that all his social sacrifices were not to his
+professional benefit, and that if colds and catarrhs were going, his own
+services would never be called in. Captain Stapylton, too, to whom Polly
+had presented him, told him that he &ldquo;feared a young brother officer of
+his, Lieutenant Conyers, had fallen into the hands of some small village
+practitioner, and that he would take immediate measures to get him back to
+headquarters,&rdquo; and then moved off, without giving him the time for a
+correction of the mistake.
+</p>
+<p>
+He took no note of his daughter's little triumphs, the admiration that she
+excited, or the flatteries that greeted her. It is true he did not possess
+the same means of measuring these that she had, and in all that dreary
+leisure which besets an unhonored guest, he had ample time to mope and
+fret and moralize, as gloomily as might be. If, then, he did not enjoy
+himself on his visit, he came away from it soured and ill-humored.
+</p>
+<p>
+He denounced &ldquo;junketings&rdquo;&mdash;by which unseemly title he designated the
+late entertainment&mdash;as amusements too costly for persons of his
+means. He made a rough calculation&mdash;a very rough one&mdash;of all
+that the &ldquo;precious tomfoolery&rdquo; had cost: the turnpike which he had paid,
+and the perquisites to servants&mdash;which he had not; the expense of
+Polly's finery,&mdash;a hazarded guess she would have been charmed to have
+had confirmed; and, ending the whole with a startling total, declared that
+a reign of rigid domestic economy must commence from that hour. The edict
+was something like what one reads from the French Government, when about
+to protest against some license of the press, and which opens by
+proclaiming that &ldquo;the latitude hitherto conceded to public discussion has
+not been attended with those gratifying results so eagerly anticipated by
+the Imperial administration.&rdquo; Poor Mrs. Dill&mdash;like a mere journalist&mdash;never
+knew she had been enjoying blessings till she was told she had forfeited
+them forever, and she heard with a confused astonishment that the
+household charges would be still further reduced, and yet food and fuel
+and light be not excluded from the supplies. He denounced Polly's
+equestrianism as a most ruinous and extravagant pursuit. Poor Polly, whose
+field achievements had always been on a borrowed mount! Tom was a
+scapegrace, whose debts would have beggared half-a-dozen families,&mdash;wretched
+dog, to whom a guinea was a gold-mine; and Mrs. Dill, unhappy Mrs. Dill,
+who neither hunted, nor smoked, nor played skittles, after a moment's
+pause, he told her that his hard-earned pence should not be wasted in
+maintaining a &ldquo;circulating library.&rdquo; Was there ever injustice like this?
+Talk to a man with one meal a day about gluttony, lecture the castaway at
+sea about not giving way to his appetites, you might just as well do so as
+to preach to Mrs. Dill&mdash;with her one book, and who never wanted
+another&mdash;about the discursive costliness of her readings.
+</p>
+<p>
+Could it be that, like the cruel jailer, who killed the spider the
+prisoner had learned to love, he had resolved to rob her of Clarissa? The
+thought was so overwhelming that it stunned her; and thus stupefied, she
+saw the doctor issue forth on his daily round, without venturing one word
+in answer. And he rode on his way,&mdash;on that strange mission of mercy,
+meanness, of honest sympathy, or mock philanthropy, as men's hearts and
+natures make of it,&mdash;and set out for the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER IX. A COUNTRY DOCTOR
+</h2>
+<p>
+In a story, as in a voyage, one must occasionally travel with uncongenial
+companions. Now I have no reason for hoping that any of my readers care to
+keep Dr. Dill's company, and yet it is with Dr. Dill we must now for a
+brief space foregather. He was on his way to visit his patient at the
+&ldquo;Fisherman's Home,&rdquo; having started, intentionally very early, to be there
+before Stapylton could have interposed with any counsels of removing him
+to Kilkenny.
+</p>
+<p>
+The world, in its blind confidence in medical skill, and its unbounded
+belief in certain practitioners of medicine, is but scantily just to the
+humbler members of the craft in regard to the sensitiveness with which
+they feel the withdrawal of a patient from their care, and the
+substitution of another physician. The doctor who has not only heard, but
+felt Babington's adage, that the difference between a good physician and a
+bad one is only &ldquo;the difference between a pound and a guinea,&rdquo; naturally
+thinks it a hard thing that his interests are to be sacrificed for a mere
+question of five per cent. He knows, besides, that they can each work on
+the same materials with the same tools, and it can be only through some
+defect in his self-confidence that he can bring himself to believe that
+the patient's chances are not pretty much alike in <i>his</i> hands or his
+rival's. Now Dr. Dill had no feelings of this sort; no undervaluing of
+himself found a place in his nature. He regarded medical men as
+tax-gatherers, and naturally thought it mattered but little which received
+the impost; and, thus reflecting, he bore no good will towards that
+gallant Captain, who, as we have seen, stood so well in his daughter's
+favor. Even hardened men of the world&mdash;old footsore pilgrims of life&mdash;have
+their prejudices, and one of these is to be pleased at thinking they had
+augured unfavorably of any one they had afterwards learned to dislike. It
+smacks so much of acuteness to be able to say, &ldquo;I was scarcely presented
+to him; we had not exchanged a dozen sentences when I saw this, that, and
+t' other.&rdquo; Dill knew this man was overbearing, insolent, and oppressive,
+that he was meddlesome and interfering, giving advice unasked for, and
+presuming to direct where no guidance was required. He suspected he was
+not a man of much fortune; he doubted he was a man of good family. All his
+airs of pretensions&mdash;very high and mighty they were&mdash;did not
+satisfy the doctor. As he said himself, he was a very old bird, but he
+forgot to add that he had always lived in an extremely small cage.
+</p>
+<p>
+The doctor had to leave his horse on the high-road and take a small
+footpath, which led through some meadows till it reached the little copse
+of beech and ilex that sheltered the cottage and effectually hid it from
+all view from the road. The doctor had just gained the last stile, when he
+suddenly came upon a man repairing a fence, and whose labors were being
+overlooked by Miss Barrington. He had scarcely uttered his most respectful
+salutations, when she said, &ldquo;It is, perhaps, the last time you will take
+that path through the Lock Meadow, Dr. Dill. We mean to close it up after
+this week.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Close it up, dear lady!&mdash;a right of way that has existed Heaven
+knows how long. I remember it as a boy myself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very probably, sir, and what you say vouches for great antiquity; but
+things may be old and yet not respectable. Besides, it never was what you
+have called it,&mdash;a right of way. If it was, where did it go to?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It went to the cottage, dear lady. The 'Home' was a mill in those days.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, it is no longer a mill, and it will soon cease to be an inn.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed, dear lady! And am I to hope that I may congratulate such kind
+friends as you have ever been to me on a change of fortune?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir; we have grown so poor that, to prevent utter destitution, we
+have determined to keep a private station; and with reference to that, may
+I ask you when this young gentleman could bear removal without injury?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have not seen him to-day, dear lady; but judging from the inflammatory
+symptoms I remarked yesterday, and the great nervous depression&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know nothing about medicine, sir; but if the nervous depression be
+indicated by a great appetite and a most noisy disposition, his case must
+be critical.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Noise, dear lady!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir; assisted by your son, he sat over his wine till past midnight,
+talking extremely loudly, and occasionally singing. They have now been at
+breakfast since ten o'clock, and you will very soon be able to judge by
+your own ears of the well-regulated pitch of the conversation.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My son, Miss Dinah! Tom Dill at breakfast here?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't know whether his name be Tom or Harry, sir, nor is it to the
+purpose; but he is a red-haired youth, with a stoop in the shoulders, and
+a much-abused cap.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Dill groaned over a portrait which to him was a photograph.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll see to this, dear lady. This shall be looked into,&rdquo; muttered he,
+with the purpose of a man who pledged himself to a course of action; and
+with this he moved on. Nor had he gone many paces from the spot when he
+heard the sound of voices, at first in some confusion, but afterwards
+clearly and distinctly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll be hanged if I 'd do it, Tom,&rdquo; cried the loud voice of Conyers.
+&ldquo;It's all very fine talking about paternal authority and all that, and so
+long as one is a boy there's no help for it; but you and I are men. We
+have a right to be treated like men, have n't we?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose so,&rdquo; muttered the other, half sulkily, and not exactly seeing
+what was gained by the admission.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that being so,&rdquo; resumed Conyers, &ldquo;I'd say to the governor, 'What
+allowance are you going to make me?'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you do that with your father?&rdquo; asked Tom, earnestly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, not exactly,&rdquo; stammered out the other. &ldquo;There was not, in fact, any
+need for it, for my governor is a rare jolly fellow,&mdash;such a trump!
+What he said to me was, 'There's a check-book, George; don't spare it.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which was as much as to say, 'Draw what you like.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, of course. He knew, in leaving it to my honor, there was no risk of
+my committing any excess; so you see there was no necessity to make my
+governor 'book up.' But if I was in your place I 'd do it. I pledge you my
+word I would.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Tom only shook his head very mournfully, and made no answer. He felt, and
+felt truly, that there is a worldly wisdom learned only in poverty and in
+the struggles of narrow fortune, of which the well-to-do know absolutely
+nothing. Of what avail to talk to him of an unlimited credit, or a credit
+to be bounded only by a sense of honor? It presupposed so much that was
+impossible, that he would have laughed if his heart had been but light
+enough.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; said Conyers, &ldquo;if you have n't courage for this, let me do
+it; let me speak to your father.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What could you say to him?&rdquo; asked Tom, doggedly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Say to him?&mdash;what could I say to him?&rdquo; repeated he, as he lighted a
+fresh cigar, and affected to be eagerly interested in the process. &ldquo;It's
+clear enough what I 'd say to him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let us hear it, then,&rdquo; growled out Tom, for he had a sort of coarse
+enjoyment at the other's embarrassment. &ldquo;I 'll be the doctor now, and
+listen to you.&rdquo; And with this he squared his chair full in front of
+Conyers, and crossed his arms imposingly on his chest &ldquo;You said you wanted
+to speak to me about my son Tom, Mr. Conyers; what is it you have to say?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I suppose I'd open the matter delicately, and, perhaps, adroitly. I
+'d say, 'I have remarked, doctor, that your son is a young fellow of very
+considerable abilities&mdash;'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;For what?&rdquo; broke in Tom, huskily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, you 're not to interrupt in this fashion, or I can't continue. I 'd
+say something about your natural cleverness; and what a pity it would be
+if, with very promising talents, you should not have those fair advantages
+which lead a man to success in life.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And do you know what <i>he</i> 'd say to all that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I'll tell you. He'd say 'Bother!' Just 'bother.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean by 'bother'?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That what you were saying was all nonsense. That you did n't know, nor
+you never could know, the struggles of a man like himself, just to make
+the two ends meet; not to be rich, mind you, or lay by money, or have
+shares in this, or stocks in that, but just to live, and no more.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I'd say, 'Give him a few hundred pounds, and start him.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why don't you say a few thousands? It would sound grander, and be just as
+likely. Can't you see that everybody hasn't a Lieutenant-General for a
+father? and that what you 'd give for a horse&mdash;that would, maybe, be
+staked to-morrow&mdash;would perhaps be a fortune for a fellow like me?
+What's that I hear coming up the river? That's the doctor, I 'm sure. I
+'ll be off till he's gone.&rdquo; And without waiting to hear a word, he sprang
+from his chair and disappeared in the wood.
+</p>
+<p>
+Dr. Dill only waited a few seconds to compose his features, somewhat
+excited by what he had overheard; and then coughing loudly, to announce
+his approach, moved gravely along the gravel path.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And how is my respected patient?&rdquo; asked he, blandly. &ldquo;Is the inflammation
+subsiding, and are our pains diminished?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My ankle is easier, if you mean that,&rdquo; said Conyers, bluntly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, much easier,&mdash;much easier,&rdquo; said the doctor, examining the
+limb; &ldquo;and our cellular tissue has less effusion, the sheaths of the
+tendons freer, and we are generally better. I perceive you have had the
+leeches applied. Did Tom&mdash;my son&mdash;give you satisfaction? Was he
+as attentive and as careful as you wished?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I liked him. I wish he 'd come up every day while I remain. Is there
+any objection to that arrangement?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;None, dear sir,&mdash;none. His time is fully at your service; he ought
+to be working hard. It is true he should be reading eight or ten hours a
+day, for his examination; but it is hard to persuade him to it. Young men
+will be young men!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope so, with all my heart. At least, I, for one, don't want to be an
+old one. Will you do me a favor, doctor? and will you forgive me if I
+don't know how to ask it with all becoming delicacy? I'd like to give Tom
+a helping hand. He's a good fellow,&mdash;I 'm certain he is. Will you let
+me send him out to India, to my father? He has lots of places to give
+away, and he 'd be sure to find something to suit him. You have heard of
+General Conyers, perhaps, the political resident at Delhi? That's my
+governor.&rdquo; In the hurry and rapidity with which he spoke, it was easy to
+see how he struggled with a sense of shame and confusion.
+</p>
+<p>
+Dr. Dill was profuse of acknowledgments; he was even moved as he expressed
+his gratitude. &ldquo;It was true,&rdquo; he remarked, &ldquo;that his life had been
+signalled by these sort of graceful services, or rather offers of
+services; for we are proud if we are poor, sir. 'Dill aut nil' is the
+legend of our crest, which means that we are ourselves or nothing.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I conclude everybody else is in the same predicament,&rdquo; broke in Conyers,
+bluntly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not exactly, young gentleman,&mdash;not exactly. I think I could,
+perhaps, explain&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no; never mind it. I 'm the stupidest fellow in the world at a nice
+distinction; besides, I'll take your word for the fact. You have heard of
+my father, have n't you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I heard of him so late as last night, from a brother officer of yours,
+Captain Stapylton.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where did you meet Stapylton?&rdquo; asked Conyers, quickly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At Sir Charles Cobham's. I was presented to him by my daughter, and he
+made the most kindly inquiries after you, and said that, if possible, he'd
+come over here to-day to see you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope he won't; that's all,&rdquo; muttered Conyers. Then, correcting himself
+suddenly, he said: &ldquo;I mean, I scarcely know him; he has only joined us a
+few months back, and is a stranger to every one in the regiment. I hope
+you did n't tell him where I was.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm afraid that I did, for I remember his adding, 'Oh! I must carry him
+off. I must get him back to headquarters.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed! Let us see if he will. That's the style of these 'Company's'
+officers,&mdash;he was in some Native corps or other,&mdash;they always
+fancy they can bully a subaltern; but Black Stapylton will find himself
+mistaken this time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was afraid that you had not fallen into skilful hands; and, of course,
+it would not have come well from me to assure him of the opposite.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, but what of Tom, doctor? You have given me no answer.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is a case for reflection, my dear young friend, if I may be emboldened
+to call you so. It is not a matter I can say yes or no to on the instant.
+I have only two grown-up children: my daughter, the most affectionate, the
+most thoughtful of girls, educated, too, in a way to grace any sphere&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You need n't tell me that Tom is a wild fellow,&rdquo; broke in Conyers,&mdash;for
+he well understood the antithesis that was coming; &ldquo;he owned it all to me,
+himself. I have no doubt, too, that he made the worst of it; for, after
+all, what signifies a dash of extravagance, or a mad freak or two? You
+can't expect that we should all be as wise and as prudent and as
+cool-headed as Black Stapylton.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You plead very ably, young gentleman,&rdquo; said Dill, with his smoothest
+accent, &ldquo;but you must give me a little time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I'll give you till to-morrow,&mdash;to-morrow, at this hour; for it
+wouldn't be fair to the poor fellow to keep him in a state of uncertainty.
+His heart is set on the plan; he told me so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll do my best to meet your wishes, my dear young gentleman; but please
+to bear in mind that it is the whole future fate of my son I am about to
+decide. Your father may not, possibly, prove so deeply interested as you
+are; he may&mdash;not unreasonably, either&mdash;take a colder view of
+this project; he may chance to form a lower estimate of my poor boy than
+it is your good nature to have done.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look here, doctor; I know my governor something better than you do, and
+if I wrote to him, and said, 'I want this fellow to come home with a lac
+of rupees,' he 'd start him to-morrow with half the money. If I were to
+say, 'You are to give him the best thing in your gift,' there's nothing he
+'d stop at; he 'd make him a judge, or a receiver, or some one of those
+fat things that send a man back to England with a fortune. What's that
+fellow whispering to you about? It's something that concerns me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+This sudden interruption was caused by the approach of Darby, who had come
+to whisper something in the doctor's ear.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is a message he has brought me; a matter of little consequence. I 'll
+look to it, Darby. Tell your mistress it shall be attended to.&rdquo; Darby
+lingered for a moment, but the doctor motioned him away, and did not speak
+again till he had quitted the spot. &ldquo;How these fellows will wait to pick
+up what passes between their betters,&rdquo; said Dill, while he continued to
+follow him with his eyes. &ldquo;I think I mentioned to you once, already, that
+the persons who keep this house here are reduced gentry, and it is now my
+task to add that, either from some change of fortune or from caprice, they
+are thinking of abandoning the inn, and resuming&mdash;so far as may be
+possible for them&mdash;their former standing. This project dates before
+your arrival here; and now, it would seem, they are growing impatient to
+effect it; at least, a very fussy old lady&mdash;Miss Barrington&mdash;has
+sent me word by Darby to say her brother will be back here tomorrow or
+next day, with some friends from Kilkenny, and she asks at what time your
+convalescence is likely to permit removal.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Turned out, in fact, doctor,&mdash;ordered to decamp! You must say, I 'm
+ready, of course; that is to say, that I 'll go at once. I don't exactly
+see how I 'm to be moved in this helpless state, as no carriage can come
+here; but you 'll look to all that for me. At all events, go immediately,
+and say I shall be off within an hour or so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Leave it all to me,&mdash;leave it in my hands. I think I see what is to
+be done,&rdquo; said the doctor, with one of his confident little smiles, and
+moved away.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a spice of irritation in Conyers's manner as he spoke. He was
+very little accustomed to be thwarted in anything, and scarcely knew the
+sensation of having a wish opposed, or an obstacle set against him, but
+simply because there was a reason for his quitting the place, grew all the
+stronger his desire to remain there. He looked around him, and never
+before had the foliage seemed so graceful; never had the tints of the
+copper-beech blended so harmoniously with the stone-pine and the larch;
+never had the eddies of the river laughed more joyously, nor the
+blackbirds sung with a more impetuous richness of melody. &ldquo;And to say that
+I must leave all this, just when I feel myself actually clinging to it. I
+could spend my whole life here. I glory in this quiet, unbroken ease; this
+life, that slips along as waveless as the stream there! Why should n't I
+buy it; have it all my own, to come down to whenever I was sick and weary
+of the world and its dissipations? The spot is small; it couldn't be very
+costly; it would take a mere nothing to maintain. And to have it all one's
+own!&rdquo; There was an actual ecstasy in the thought; for in that same sense
+of possession there is a something that resembles the sense of identity.
+The little child with his toy, the aged man with his proud demesne, are
+tasters of the same pleasure.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are to use your own discretion, my dear young gentleman, and go when
+it suits you, and not before,&rdquo; said the doctor, returning triumphantly,
+for he felt like a successful envoy. &ldquo;And now I will leave you. To-morrow
+you shall have my answer about Tom.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers nodded vaguely; for, alas! Tom, and all about him, had completely
+lapsed from his memory.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER X. BEING &ldquo;BORED&rdquo;
+ </h2>
+<p>
+It is a high testimony to that order of architecture which we call
+castle-building, that no man ever lived in a house so fine he could not
+build one more stately still out of his imagination. Nor is it only to
+grandeur and splendor this superiority extends, but it can invest lowly
+situations and homely places with a charm which, alas! no reality can
+rival.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers was a fortunate fellow in a number of ways; he was young,
+good-looking, healthy, and rich. Fate had made place for him on the very
+sunniest side of the causeway, and, with all that, he was happier on that
+day, through the mere play of his fancy, than all his wealth could have
+made him. He had fashioned out a life for himself in that cottage, very
+charming, and very enjoyable in its way. He would make it such a spot that
+it would have resources for him on every hand, and he hugged himself in
+the thought of coming down here with a friend, or, perhaps, two friends,
+to pass days of that luxurious indolence so fascinating to those who are,
+or fancy they are, wearied of life's pomps and vanities.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now there are no such scoffers at the frivolity and emptiness of human
+wishes as the well-to-do young fellows of two or three-and-twenty. They
+know the &ldquo;whole thing,&rdquo; and its utter rottenness. They smile
+compassionately at the eagerness of all around them; they look with bland
+pity at the race, and contemptuously ask, of what value the prize when it
+is won? They do their very best to be gloomy moralists, but they cannot.
+They might as well try to shiver when they sit in the sunshine. The
+vigorous beat of young hearts, and the full tide of young pulses, will
+tell against all the mock misanthropy that ever was fabricated! It would
+not be exactly fair to rank Conyers in this school, and yet he was not
+totally exempt from some of its teachings. Who knows if these little
+imaginary glooms, these brain-created miseries, are not a kind of moral
+&ldquo;alterative&rdquo; which, though depressing at the instant, render the
+constitution only more vigorous after?
+</p>
+<p>
+At all events, he had resolved to have the cottage, and, going practically
+to work, he called Darby to his counsels to tell him the extent of the
+place, its boundaries, and whatever information he could afford as to the
+tenure and its rent.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 'd be for buying it, your honor!&rdquo; said Darby, with the keen
+quick-sightedness of his order.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps I had some thoughts of the kind; and, if so, I should keep you
+on.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Darby bowed his gratitude very respectfully. It was too long a vista for
+him to strain his eyes at, and so he made no profuse display of
+thankfulness. With all their imaginative tendencies, the lower Irish are a
+very bird-in-the-hand sort of people.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not more than seventeen acres!&rdquo; cried Conyers, in astonishment. &ldquo;Why, I
+should have guessed about forty, at least. Isn't that wood there part of
+it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but it's only a strip, and the trees that you see yonder is in
+Carriclough; and them two meadows below the salmon weir is n't ours at
+all; and the island itself we have only a lease of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's all in capital repair, well kept, well looked after?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it is, and isn't!&rdquo; said he, with a look of disagreement. &ldquo;He'd have
+one thing, and she'd have another; <i>he</i> 'd spend every shilling he
+could get on the place, and <i>she</i> 'd grudge a brush of paint, or a
+coat of whitewash, just to keep things together.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see nothing amiss here,&rdquo; said Conyers, looking around him. &ldquo;Nobody
+could ask or wish a cottage to be neater, better furnished, or more
+comfortable. I confess I do not perceive anything wanting.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, to be sure, it's very nate, as your honor says; but then&mdash;&rdquo; And
+he scratched his head, and looked confused.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But then, what&mdash;out with it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The earwigs is dreadful; wherever there 's roses and sweetbrier there's
+no livin' with them. Open the window and the place is full of them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Mistaking the surprise he saw depicted in his hearer's face for terror,
+Darby launched forth into a description of insect and reptile tortures
+that might have suited the tropics; to hear him, all the stories of the
+white ant of India, or the gallinipper of Demerara, were nothing to the
+destructive powers of the Irish earwig. The place was known for them all
+over the country, and it was years and years lying empty, &ldquo;by rayson of
+thim plagues.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Now, if Conyers was not intimidated to the full extent Darby intended by
+this account, he was just as far from guessing the secret cause of this
+representation, which was simply a long-settled plan of succeeding himself
+to the ownership of the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home,&rdquo; when, either from the course
+of nature or an accident, a vacancy would occur. It was the grand dream of
+Darby's life, the island of his Government, his seat in the Cabinet, his
+Judgeship, his Garter, his everything, in short, that makes human ambition
+like a cup brimful and overflowing; and what a terrible reverse would it
+be if all these hopes were to be dashed just to gratify the passing
+caprice of a mere traveller!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't suppose your honor cares for money, and, maybe, you 'd as soon
+pay twice over the worth of anything; but here, between our two selves, I
+can tell you, you 'd buy an estate in the county cheaper than this little
+place. They think, because they planted most of the trees and made the
+fences themselves, that it's like the King's Park. It's a fancy spot, and
+a fancy price, they'll ask for it But I know of another worth ten of it,&mdash;a
+real, elegant place; to be sure, it's a trifle out of repair, for the ould
+naygur that has it won't lay out a sixpence, but there 's every
+con-vaniency in life about it. There's the finest cup potatoes, the
+biggest turnips ever I see on it, and fish jumpin' into the parlor-window,
+and hares runnin' about like rats.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't care for all that; this cottage and these grounds here have taken
+my fancy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And why would n't the other, when you seen it? The ould Major that lives
+there wants to sell it, and you 'd get it a raal bargain. Let me row your
+honor up there this evening. It's not two miles off, and the river
+beautiful all the way.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers rejected the proposal abruptly, haughtily. Darby had dared to
+throw down a very imposing card-edifice, and for the moment the fellow was
+odious to him. All the golden visions of his early morning, that poetized
+life he was to lead, that elegant pastoralism, which was to blend the
+splendor of Lucullus with the simplicity of a Tityrus, all rent, torn, and
+scattered by a vile hind, who had not even a conception of the ruin he had
+caused.
+</p>
+<p>
+And yet Darby had a misty consciousness of some success. He did not,
+indeed, know that his shell had exploded in a magazine; but he saw, from
+the confusion in the garrison, that his shot had told severely somewhere.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe your honor would rather go to-morrow? or maybe you 'd like the
+Major to come up here himself, and speak to you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Once for all, I tell you, No! Is that plain? No! And I may add, my good
+fellow, that if you knew me a little better, you 'd not tender me any
+advice I did not ask for.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And why would I? Would n't I be a baste if I did?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think so,&rdquo; said Conyers, dryly, and turned away. He was out of temper
+with everything and everybody,&mdash;the doctor, and his abject manner;
+Tom, and his roughness; Darby, and his roguish air of self-satisfied
+craftiness; all, for the moment, displeased and offended him. &ldquo;I 'll leave
+the place to-morrow; I 'm not sure I shall not go to-night D'ye hear?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Darby bowed respectfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose I can reach some spot, by boat, where a carriage can be had?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By coorse, your honor. At Hunt's Mills, or Shibna-brack, you 'll get a
+car easy enough. I won't say it will be an elegant convaniency, but a good
+horse will rowl you along into Thomastown, where you can change for a
+shay.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Strange enough, this very facility of escape annoyed him. Had Darby only
+told him that there were all manner of difficulties to getting away,&mdash;that
+there were shallows in the river, or a landslip across the road,&mdash;he
+would have addressed himself to overcome the obstacles like a man; but to
+hear that the course was open, that any one might take it, was
+intolerable.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose, your honor, I 'd better get the boat ready, at all events?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, certainly,&mdash;that is, not till I give further orders. I 'm the
+only stranger here, and I can't imagine there can be much difficulty in
+having a boat at any hour. Leave me, my good fellow; you only worry me.
+Go!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Darby moved away, revolving within himself the curious problem, that
+if, having plenty of money enlarged a man's means of enjoyment, it was
+strange how little effect it produced upon his manners. As for Conyers, he
+stood moodily gazing on the river, over whose placid surface a few heavy
+raindrops were just falling; great clouds, too, rolled heavily over the
+hillsides, and gathered into ominous-looking masses over the stream, while
+a low moaning sound of very far-off thunder foretold a storm.
+</p>
+<p>
+Here, at least, was a good tangible grievance, and he hugged it to his
+heart. He was weather-bound! The tree-tops were already shaking wildly,
+and dark scuds flying fast over the mottled sky. It was clear that a
+severe storm was near. &ldquo;No help for it now,&rdquo; muttered he, &ldquo;if I must
+remain here till to-morrow.&rdquo; And hobbling as well as he could into the
+house, he seated himself at the window to watch the hurricane. Too closely
+pent up between the steep sides of the river for anything like destructive
+power, the wind only shook the trees violently, or swept along the stream
+with tiny waves, which warred against the current; but even these were
+soon beaten down by the rain,&mdash;that heavy, swooping, splashing rain,
+that seems to come from the overflowing of a lake in the clouds. Darker
+and darker grew the atmosphere as it fell, till the banks of the opposite
+side were gradually lost to view, while the river itself became a yellow
+flood, surging up amongst the willows that lined the banks. It was not one
+of those storms whose grand effects of lightning, aided by pealing
+thunder, create a sense of sublime terror, that has its own ecstasy; but
+it was one of those dreary evenings when the dull sky shows no streak of
+light, and when the moist earth gives up no perfume, when foliage and
+hillside and rock and stream are leaden-colored and sad, and one wishes
+for winter, to close the shutter and draw the curtain, and creep close to
+the chimney-corner as to a refuge.
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh, what comfortless things are these summer storms! They come upon us
+like some dire disaster in a time of festivity. They swoop down upon our
+days of sunshine like a pestilence, and turn our joy into gloom, and all
+our gladness to despondency, bringing back to our minds memories of
+comfortless journeys, weariful ploddings, long nights of suffering.
+</p>
+<p>
+I am but telling what Conyers felt at this sudden change of weather. You
+and I, my good reader, know better. We feel how gladly the parched earth
+drinks up the refreshing draught, how the seared grass bends gratefully to
+the skimming rain, and the fresh buds open with joy to catch the pearly
+drops. We know, too, how the atmosphere, long imprisoned, bursts forth
+into a joyous freedom, and comes back to us fresh from the sea and the
+mountain rich in odor and redolent of health, making the very air breathe
+an exquisite luxury. We know all this, and much more that he did not care
+for.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now Conyers was only &ldquo;bored,&rdquo; as if anything could be much worse; that is
+to say, he was in that state of mind in which resources yield no
+distraction, and nothing is invested with an interest sufficient to make
+it even passingly amusing. He wanted to do something, though the precise
+something did not occur to him. Had he been well, and in full enjoyment of
+his strength, he 'd have sallied out into the storm and walked off his
+ennui by a wetting. Even a cold would be a good exchange for the dreary
+blue-devilism of his depression; but this escape was denied him, and he
+was left to fret, and chafe, and fever himself, moving from window to
+chimney-corner, and from chimney-corner to sofa, till at last, baited by
+self-tormentings, he opened his door and sallied forth to wander through
+the rooms, taking his chance where his steps might lead him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Between the gloomy influences of the storm and the shadows of a declining
+day he could mark but indistinctly the details of the rooms he was
+exploring. They presented little that was remarkable; they were modestly
+furnished, nothing costly nor expensive anywhere, but a degree of homely
+comfort rare to find in an inn. They had, above all, that habitable look
+which so seldom pertains to a house of entertainment, and, in the loosely
+scattered books, prints, and maps showed a sort of flattering trustfulness
+in the stranger who might sojourn there. His wanderings led him, at
+length, into a somewhat more pretentious room, with a piano and a harp, at
+one angle of which a little octangular tower opened, with windows in every
+face, and the spaces between them completely covered by miniatures in oil,
+or small cabinet pictures. A small table with a chess-board stood here,
+and an unfinished game yet remained on the board. As Conyers bent over to
+look, he perceived that a book, whose leaves were held open by a
+smelling-bottle, lay on the chair next the table. He took this up, and saw
+that it was a little volume treating of the game, and that the pieces on
+the board represented a problem. With the eagerness of a man thirsting for
+some occupation, he seated himself at the table, and set to work at the
+question. &ldquo;A Mate in Six Moves&rdquo; it was headed, but the pieces had been
+already disturbed by some one attempting the solution. He replaced them by
+the directions of the volume, and devoted himself earnestly to the task.
+He was not a good player, and the problem posed him. He tried it again and
+again, but ever unsuccessfully. He fancied that up to a certain point he
+had followed the right track, and repeated the same opening moves each
+time. Meanwhile the evening was fast closing in, and it was only with
+difficulty he could see the pieces on the board.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/126.jpg" width="100%" alt="126 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+Bending low over the table, he was straining his eyes at the game, when a
+low, gentle voice from behind his chair said, &ldquo;Would you not wish candles,
+sir? It is too dark to see here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers turned hastily, and as hastily recognized that the person who
+addressed him was a gentlewoman. He arose at once, and made a sort of
+apology for his intruding.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Had I known you were a chess-player, sir,&rdquo; said she, with the demure
+gravity of a composed manner, &ldquo;I believe I should have sent you a
+challenge; for my brother, who is my usual adversary, is from home.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I should prove a very unworthy enemy, madam, you will find me a very
+grateful one, for I am sorely tired of my own company.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In that case, sir, I beg to offer you mine, and a cup of tea along with
+it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers accepted the invitation joyfully, and followed Miss Barrington to
+a small but most comfortable little room, where a tea equipage of
+exquisite old china was already prepared.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see you are in admiration of my teacups; they are the rare Canton blue,
+for we tea-drinkers have as much epicurism in the form and color of a cup
+as wine-bibbers profess to have in a hock or a claret glass. Pray take the
+sofa; you will find it more comfortable than a chair. I am aware you have
+had an accident.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Very few and simple as were her words, she threw into her manner a degree
+of courtesy that seemed actual kindness; and coming, as this did, after
+his late solitude and gloom, no wonder was it that Conyers was charmed
+with it. There was, besides, a quaint formality&mdash;a sort of old-world
+politeness in her breeding&mdash;which relieved the interview of
+awkwardness by taking it out of the common category of such events.
+</p>
+<p>
+When tea was over, they sat down to chess, at which Conyers had merely
+proficiency enough to be worth beating. Perhaps the quality stood him in
+good stead; perhaps certain others, such as his good looks and his
+pleasing manners, were even better aids to him; but certain it is, Miss
+Barrington liked her guest, and when, on arising to say good-night, he
+made a bungling attempt to apologize for having prolonged his stay at the
+cottage beyond the period which suited their plans, she stopped him by
+saying, with much courtesy, &ldquo;It is true, sir, we are about to relinquish
+the inn, but pray do not deprive us of the great pleasure we should feel
+in associating its last day or two with a most agreeable guest. I hope you
+will remain till my brother comes back and makes your acquaintance.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers very cordially accepted the proposal, and went off to his bed far
+better pleased with himself and with all the world than he well believed
+it possible he could be a couple of hours before.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XI. A NOTE TO BE ANSWERED
+</h2>
+<p>
+While Conyers was yet in bed the following morning, a messenger arrived at
+the house with a note for him, and waited for the answer. It was from
+Stapylton, and ran thus:&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cobham Hall, Tuesday morning.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear Con.,&mdash;The world here&mdash;and part of it is a very pretty
+world, with silky tresses and trim ankles&mdash;has declared that you have
+had some sort of slight accident, and are laid up at a miserable wayside
+inn, to be blue-devilled and doctored <i>à discrétion</i>. I strained my
+shoulder yesterday hunting,&mdash;my horse swerved against a tree,&mdash;or
+I should ascertain all the particulars of your disaster in person; so
+there is nothing left for it but a note.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am here domesticated at a charming country-house, the host an old
+Admiral, the hostess a <i>ci-devant</i> belle of London,&mdash;in times
+not very recent,&mdash;and more lately what is called in newspapers 'one
+of the ornaments of the Irish Court.' We have abundance of guests,&mdash;county
+dons and native celebrities, clerical, lyrical, and quizzical, several
+pretty women, a first-rate cellar, and a very tolerable cook. I give you
+the catalogue of our attractions, for I am commissioned by Sir Charles and
+my Lady to ask you to partake of them. The invitation is given in all
+cordiality, and I hope you will not decline it, for it is, amongst other
+matters, a good opportunity of seeing an Irish 'interior,' a thing of
+which I have always had my doubts and misgivings, some of which are now
+solved; others I should like to investigate with your assistance. In a
+word, the whole is worth seeing, and it is, besides, one of those
+experiences which can be had on very pleasant terms. There is perfect
+liberty; always something going on, and always a way to be out of it if
+you like. The people are, perhaps, not more friendly than in England, but
+they are far more familiar; and if not more disposed to be pleased, they
+tell you they are, which amounts to the same. There is a good deal of
+splendor, a wide hospitality, and, I need scarcely add, a considerable
+share of bad taste. There is, too, a costly attention to the wishes of a
+guest, which will remind you of India, though I must own the Irish Brahmin
+has not the grand, high-bred air of the Bengalee. But again I say, come
+and see.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have been told to explain to you why they don't send their boat. There
+is something about draught of water, and something about a 'gash,'
+whatever that is: I opine it to be a rapid. And then I am directed to say,
+that if you will have yourself paddled up to Brown's Barn, the Cobham
+barge will be there to meet you.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I write this with some difficulty, lying on my back on a sofa, while a
+very pretty girl is impatiently waiting to continue her reading to me of a
+new novel called 'The Antiquary.' a capital story, but strangely
+disfigured by whole scenes in a Scottish dialect. You must read it when
+you come over.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have heard of Hunter, of course. I am sure you will be sorry at his
+leaving us. For myself, I knew him very slightly, and shall not have to
+regret him like older friends; not to say that I have been so long in the
+service that I never believe in a Colonel. Would you go with him if he
+gave you the offer? There is such a row and uproar all around me, that I
+must leave off. Have I forgotten to say that if you stand upon the
+'dignities,' the Admiral will go in person to invite you, though he has a
+foot in the gout. I conclude you will not exact this, and I <i>know</i>
+they will take your acceptance of this mode of invitation as a great
+favor. Say the hour and the day, and believe me yours always,
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Horace Stapylton.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sir Charles is come to say that if your accident does not interfere with
+riding, he hopes you will send for your horses. He has ample stabling, and
+is vainglorious about his beans. That short-legged chestnut you brought
+from Norris would cut a good figure here, as the fences lie very close,
+and you must be always 'in hand.' If you saw how the women ride! There is
+one here now&mdash;a 'half-bred 'un'&mdash;that pounded us all&mdash;a
+whole field of us&mdash;last Saturday. You shall see her. I won't promise
+you 'll follow her across her country.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The first impression made on the mind of Conyers by this letter was
+surprise that Stapylton, with whom he had so little acquaintance, should
+write to him in this tone of intimacy; Stapylton, whose cold, almost stern
+manner seemed to repel any approach, and now he assumed all the
+free-and-easy air of a comrade of his own years and standing. Had he
+mistaken the man, or had he been misled by inferring from his bearing in
+the regiment what he must be at heart?
+</p>
+<p>
+This, however, was but a passing thought; the passage which interested him
+most of all was about Hunter. Where and for what could he have left, then?
+It was a regiment he had served in since he entered the army. What could
+have led him to exchange? and why, when he did so, had he not written him
+one line&mdash;even one&mdash;to say as much? It was to serve under
+Hunter, his father's old aide-de-camp in times back, that he had entered
+that regiment; to be with him, to have his friendship, his counsels, his
+guidance. Colonel Hunter had treated him like a son in every respect, and
+Conyers felt in his heart that this same affection and interest it was
+which formed his strongest tie to the service. The question, &ldquo;Would you go
+with him if he gave you the offer?&rdquo; was like a reflection on him, while no
+such option had been extended to him. What more natural, after all, than
+such an offer? so Stapylton thought,&mdash;so all the world would think.
+How he thought over the constantly recurring questions of his
+brother-officers: &ldquo;Why didn't you go with Hunter?&rdquo; &ldquo;How came it that
+Hunter did not name you on his staff?&rdquo; &ldquo;Was it fair&mdash;was it generous
+in one who owed all his advancement to his father&mdash;to treat him in
+this fashion?&rdquo; &ldquo;Were the ties of old friendship so lax as all this?&rdquo; &ldquo;Was
+distance such an enemy to every obligation of affection?&rdquo; &ldquo;Would his
+father believe that such a slight had been passed upon him undeservedly?
+Would not the ready inference be, 'Hunter knew you to be incapable,&mdash;unequal
+to the duties he required. Hunter must have his reasons for passing you
+over'?&rdquo; and such like. These reflections, very bitter in their way, were
+broken in upon by a request from Miss Barrington for his company at
+breakfast. Strange enough, he had half forgotten that there was such a
+person in the world, or that he had spent the preceding evening very
+pleasantly in her society.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you have had a pleasant letter,&rdquo; said she, as he entered, with
+Stapylton's note still in his hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can scarcely call it so, for it brings me news that our Colonel&mdash;a
+very dear and kind friend to me&mdash;is about to leave us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are these not the usual chances of a soldier's life? I used to be very
+familiar once on a time with such topics.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have learned the tidings so vaguely, too, that I can make nothing of
+them. My correspondent is a mere acquaintance,&mdash;a brother officer,
+who has lately joined us, and cannot feel how deeply his news has affected
+me; in fact, the chief burden of his letter is to convey an invitation to
+me, and he is full of country-house people and pleasures. He writes from a
+place called Cobham.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sir Charles Cobham's. One of the best houses in the county.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know them?&rdquo; asked Conyers, who did not, till the words were out,
+remember how awkward they might prove.
+</p>
+<p>
+She flushed slightly for a moment, but, speedily recovering herself, said:
+&ldquo;Yes, we knew them once. They had just come to the country, and purchased
+that estate, when our misfortunes overtook us. They showed us much
+attention, and such kindness as strangers could show, and they evinced a
+disposition to continue it; but, of course, our relative positions made
+intercourse impossible. I am afraid,&rdquo; said she, hastily, &ldquo;I am talking in
+riddles all this time. I ought to have told you that my brother once owned
+a good estate here. We Barringtons thought a deal of ourselves in those
+days.&rdquo; She tried to say these words with a playful levity, but her voice
+shook, and her lip trembled in spite of her.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers muttered something unintelligible about &ldquo;his having heard before,&rdquo;
+ and his sorrow to have awakened a painful theme; but she stopped him
+hastily, saying, &ldquo;These are all such old stories now, one should be able
+to talk them over unconcernedly; indeed, it is easier to do so than to
+avoid the subject altogether, for there is no such egotist as your reduced
+gentleman.&rdquo; She made a pretext of giving him his tea, and helping him to
+something, to cover the awkward pause that followed, and then asked if he
+intended to accept the invitation to Cobham.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not if you will allow me to remain here. The doctor says three days more
+will see me able to go back to my quarters.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you will stay for a week, at least, for I scarcely expect my
+brother before Saturday. Meanwhile, if you have any fancy to visit Cobham,
+and make your acquaintance with the family there, remember you have all
+the privileges of an inn here, to come and go, and stay at your pleasure.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not want to leave this. I wish I was never to leave it,&rdquo; muttered he
+below his breath.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps I guess what it is that attaches you to this place,&rdquo; said she,
+gently. &ldquo;Shall I say it? There is something quiet, something domestic
+here, that recalls 'Home.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I never knew a home,&rdquo; said Conyers, falteringly. &ldquo;My mother died when
+I was a mere infant, and I knew none of that watchful love that first
+gives the sense of home. You may be right, however, in supposing that I
+cling to this spot as what should seem to me like a home, for I own to you
+I feel very happy here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stay then, and be happy,&rdquo; said she, holding out her hand, which he
+clasped warmly, and then pressed to his lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell your friend to come over and dine with you any day that he can tear
+himself from gay company and a great house, and I will do my best to
+entertain him suitably.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I don't care to do that; he is a mere acquaintance; there is no
+friendship between us, and, as he is several years older than me, and far
+wiser, and more man of the world, I am more chilled than cheered by his
+company. But you shall read his letter, and I 'm certain you 'll make a
+better guess at his nature than if I were to give you my own version of
+him at any length.&rdquo; So saying, he handed Stapyl-ton's note across the
+table; and Miss Dinah, having deliberately put on her spectacles, began to
+read it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's a fine manly hand,&mdash;very bold and very legible, and says
+something for the writer's frankness. Eh? 'a miserable wayside inn!' This
+is less than just to the poor 'Fisherman's Home.' Positively, you must
+make him come to dinner, if it be only for the sake of our character. This
+man is not amiable, sir,&rdquo; said she, as she read on, &ldquo;though I could swear
+he is pleasant company, and sometimes witty. But there is little of genial
+in his pleasantry, and less of good nature in his wit.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; cried Conyers; &ldquo;I 'm quite with you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is he a person of family?&rdquo; asked she, as she read on some few lines
+further.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We know nothing about him; he joined us from a native corps, in India;
+but he has a good name and, apparently, ample means. His appearance and
+manner are equal to any station.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;For all that, I don't like him, nor do I desire that you should like him.
+There is no wiser caution than that of the Psalmist against 'sitting in
+the seat of the scornful.' This man is a scoffer.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And yet it is not his usual tone. He is cold, retiring, almost shy. This
+letter is not a bit like anything I ever saw in his character.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Another reason to distrust him. Set my mind at ease by saying 'No' to his
+invitation, and let me try if I cannot recompense you by homeliness in
+lieu of splendor. The young lady,&rdquo; added she, as she folded the letter,
+&ldquo;whose horsemanship is commemorated at the expense of her breeding, must
+be our doctor's daughter. She is a very pretty girl, and rides admirably.
+Her good looks and her courage might have saved her the sarcasm. I have my
+doubts if the man that uttered it be thorough-bred.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I 'll go and write my answer,&rdquo; said Conyers, rising. &ldquo;I have been
+keeping his messenger waiting all this time. I will show it to you before
+I send it off.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XII. THE ANSWER
+</h2>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will this do?&rdquo; said Conyers, shortly after, entering the room with a very
+brief note, but which, let it be owned, cost him fully as much labor as
+more practised hands occasionally bestow on a more lengthy despatch. &ldquo;I
+suppose it's all that's civil and proper, and I don't care to make any
+needless professions. Pray read it, and give me your opinion.&rdquo; It was so
+brief that I may quote it:&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear Captain Stapylton,&mdash;Don't feel any apprehensions about me. I am
+in better quarters than I ever fell into in my life, and my accident is
+not worth speaking of. I wish you had told me more of our Colonel, of
+whose movements I am entirely ignorant. I am sincerely grateful to your
+friends for thinking of me, and hope, ere I leave the neighborhood, to
+express to Sir Charles and Lady Cobham how sensible I am of their kind
+intentions towards me.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am, most faithfully yours,
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;F. CONYERS.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is very well, and tolerably legible,&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, dryly; &ldquo;at
+least I can make out everything but the name at the end.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I own I do not shine in penmanship; the strange characters at the foot
+were meant to represent 'Conyers.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Conyers! Conyers! How long is it since I heard that name last, and how
+familiar I was with it once! My nephew's dearest friend was a Conyers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He must have been a relative of mine in some degree; at least, we are in
+the habit of saying that all of the name are of one family.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Not heeding what he said, the old lady had fallen back in her meditations
+to a very remote &ldquo;long ago,&rdquo; and was thinking of a time when every letter
+from India bore the high-wrought interest of a romance, of which her
+nephew was the hero,&mdash;times of intense anxiety, indeed, but full of
+hope withal, and glowing with all the coloring with which love and an
+exalted imagination can invest the incidents of an adventurous life.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a great heart he had, a splendidly generous nature, far too
+high-souled and too exacting for common friendships, and so it was that he
+had few friends. I am talking of my nephew,&rdquo; said she, correcting herself
+suddenly. &ldquo;What a boon for a young man to have met him, and formed an
+attachment to him. I wish you could have known him. George would have been
+a noble example for you!&rdquo; She paused for some minutes, and then suddenly,
+as it were remembering herself, said, &ldquo;Did you tell me just now, or was I
+only dreaming, that you knew Ormsby Conyers?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ormsby Conyers is my father's name,&rdquo; said he, quickly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Captain in the 25th Dragoons?&rdquo; asked she, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was so, some eighteen or twenty years ago.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, then, my heart did not deceive me,&rdquo; cried she, taking his hand with
+both her own, &ldquo;when I felt towards you like an old friend. After we parted
+last night, I asked myself, again and again, how was it that I already
+felt an interest in you? What subtle instinct was it that whispered this
+is the son of poor George's dearest friend,&mdash;this is the son of that
+dear Ormsby Conyers of whom every letter is full? Oh, the happiness of
+seeing you under this roof! And what a surprise for my poor brother, who
+clings only the closer, with every year, to all that reminds him of his
+boy!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you knew my father, then?&rdquo; asked Conyers, proudly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never met him; but I believe I knew him better than many who were his
+daily intimates: for years my nephew's letters were journals of their
+joint lives&mdash;they seemed never separate. But you shall read them
+yourself. They go back to the time when they both landed at Calcutta,
+young and ardent spirits, eager for adventure, and urged by a bold
+ambition to win distinction. From that day they were inseparable. They
+hunted, travelled, lived together; and so attached had they become to each
+other, that George writes in one letter: 'They have offered me an
+appointment on the staff, but as this would separate me from Ormsby, it is
+not to be thought of.' It was to me George always wrote, for my brother
+never liked letter-writing, and thus I was my nephew's confidante, and
+intrusted with all his secrets. Nor was there one in which your father's
+name did not figure. It was, how Ormsby got him out of this scrape, or
+took his duty for him, or made this explanation, or raised that sum of
+money, that filled all these. At last&mdash;I never knew why or how&mdash;George
+ceased to write to me, and addressed all his letters to his father, marked
+'Strictly private' too, so that I never saw what they contained. My
+brother, I believe, suffered deeply from the concealment, and there must
+have been what to him seemed a sufficient reason for it, or he would never
+have excluded me from that share in his confidence I had always possessed.
+At all events, it led to a sort of estrangement between us,&mdash;the only
+one of our lives. He would tell me at intervals that George was on leave;
+George was at the Hills; he was expecting his troop; he had been sent here
+or there; but nothing more, till one morning, as if unable to bear the
+burden longer, he said, 'George has made up his mind to leave his regiment
+and take service with one of the native princes. It is an arrangement
+sanctioned by the Government, but it is one I grieve over and regret
+greatly.' I asked eagerly to hear further about this step, but he said he
+knew nothing beyond the bare fact. I then said, 'What does his friend
+Conyers think of it?' and my brother dryly replied, 'I am not aware that
+he has been consulted.' Our own misfortunes were fast closing around us,
+so that really we had little time to think of anything but the
+difficulties that each day brought forth. George's letters grew rarer and
+rarer; rumors of him reached us; stories of his gorgeous mode of living,
+his princely state and splendid retinue, of the high favor he enjoyed with
+the Rajah, and the influence he wielded over neighboring chiefs; and then
+we heard, still only by rumor, that he had married a native princess, who
+had some time before been converted to Christianity. The first intimation
+of the fact from himself came, when, announcing that he had sent his
+daughter, a child of about five years old, to Europe to be educated&mdash;&rdquo;
+ She paused here, and seemed to have fallen into a revery over the past;
+when Conyers suddenly asked,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what of my father all this time? Was the old intercourse kept up
+between them?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot tell you. I do not remember that his name occurred till the
+memorable case came on before the House of Commons&mdash;the inquiry, as
+it was called, into Colonel Barrington's conduct in the case of Edwardes,
+a British-born subject of his Majesty, serving in the army of the Rajah of
+Luckerabad. You have, perhaps, heard of it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was that the celebrated charge of torturing a British subject?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The same; the vilest conspiracy that ever was hatched, and the cruellest
+persecution that ever broke a noble heart. And yet there were men of
+honor, men of purest fame and most unblemished character, who harkened in
+to that infamous cry, and actually sent out emissaries to India to collect
+evidence against my poor nephew. For a while the whole country rang with
+the case. The low papers, which assailed the Government, made it matter of
+attack on the nature of the British rule in India, and the ministry only
+sought to make George the victim to screen themselves from public
+indignation. It was Admiral Byng's case once more. But I have no temper to
+speak of it, even after this lapse of years; my blood boils now at the
+bare memory of that foul and perjured association. If you would follow the
+story, I will send you the little published narrative to your room, but, I
+beseech you, do not again revert to it. How I have betrayed myself to
+speak of it I know not. For many a long year I have prayed to be able to
+forgive one man, who has been the bitterest enemy of our name and race. I
+have asked for strength to bear the burden of our calamity, but more
+earnestly a hundred-fold I have entreated that forgiveness might enter my
+heart, and that if vengeance for this cruel wrong was at hand, I could be
+able to say, 'No, the time for such feeling is gone by.' Let me not, then,
+be tempted by any revival of this theme to recall all the sorrow and all
+the indignation it once caused me. This infamous book contains the whole
+story as the world then believed it. You will read it with interest, for
+it concerned one whom your father dearly loved. But, again. I say, when we
+meet again let us not return to it. These letters, too, will amuse you;
+they are the diaries of your father's early life in India as much as
+George's, but of them we can talk freely.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was so evident that she was speaking with a forced calm, and that all
+her self-restraint might at any moment prove unequal to the effort she was
+making, that Conyers, affecting to have a few words to say to Stapylton's
+messenger, stole away, and hastened to his room to look over the letters
+and the volume she had given him.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had scarcely addressed himself to his task when a knock came to the
+door, and at the same instant it was opened in a slow, half-hesitating
+way, and Tom Dill stood before him. Though evidently dressed for the
+occasion, and intending to present himself in a most favorable guise, Tom
+looked far more vulgar and unprepossessing than in the worn costume of his
+every-day life, his bright-buttoned blue coat and yellow waistcoat being
+only aggravations of the low-bred air that unhappily beset him. Worse even
+than this, however, was the fact that, being somewhat nervous about the
+interview before him, Tom had taken what his father would have called a
+diffusible stimulant, in the shape of &ldquo;a dandy of punch,&rdquo; and bore the
+evidences of it in a heightened color and a very lustrous but wandering
+eye.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/140.jpg" width="100%" alt="140 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here I am,&rdquo; said he, entering with a sort of easy swagger, but far more
+affected than real, notwithstanding the &ldquo;dandy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, and what then?&rdquo; asked Conyers, haughtily, for the vulgar
+presumption of his manner was but a sorry advocate in his favor. &ldquo;I don't
+remember, that I sent for you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; but my father told me what you said to him, and I was to come up and
+thank you, and say, 'Done!' to it all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers turned a look&mdash;not a very pleased or very flattering look&mdash;at
+the loutish figure before him, and in his changing color might be seen the
+conflict it cost him to keep down his rising temper. He was, indeed,
+sorely tried, and his hand shook as he tossed over the books on his table,
+and endeavored to seem occupied in other matters.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe you forget all about it,&rdquo; began Tom. &ldquo;Perhaps you don't remember
+that you offered to fit me out for India, and send me over with a letter
+to your father&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no, I forget nothing of it; I remember it all.&rdquo; He had almost said
+&ldquo;only too well,&rdquo; but he coughed down the cruel speech, and went on
+hurriedly: &ldquo;You have come, however, when I am engaged,&mdash;when I have
+other things to attend to. These letters here&mdash;In fact, this is not a
+moment when I can attend to you. Do you understand me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe I do,&rdquo; said Tom, growing very pale.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To-morrow, then, or the day after, or next week, will be time enough for
+all this. I must think over the matter again.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said Tom, moodily, as he changed from one foot to the other, and
+cracked the joints of his fingers, till they seemed dislocated. &ldquo;I see it
+all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean by that?&mdash;what do you see?&rdquo; asked Conyers, angrily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see that Polly, my sister, was right; that she knew you better than any
+of us,&rdquo; said Tom, boldly, for a sudden rush of courage had now filled his
+heart. &ldquo;She said, 'Don't let him turn your head, Tom, with his fine
+promises. He was in good humor and good spirits when he made them, and
+perhaps meant to keep them too; but he little knows what misery
+disappointment brings, and he'll never fret himself over the heavy heart
+he's giving you, when he wakes in the morning with a change of mind.' And
+then, she said another thing,&rdquo; added he, after a pause.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what was the other thing?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She said, 'If you go up there, Tom,' says she, 'dressed out like a
+shopboy in his Sunday suit, he'll be actually shocked at his having taken
+an interest in you. He 'll forget all about your hard lot and your
+struggling fortune, and only see your vulgarity.' 'Your vulgarity,'&mdash;that
+was the word.&rdquo; As he said this, his lip trembled, and the chair he leaned
+on shook under his grasp.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go back, and tell her, then, that she was mistaken,&rdquo; said Conyers, whose
+own voice now quavered. &ldquo;Tell her that when I give my word I keep it; that
+I will maintain everything I said to you or to your father; and that when
+she imputed to me an indifference as to the feelings of others, she might
+have remembered whether she was not unjust to mine. Tell her that also.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will,&rdquo; said Tom, gravely. &ldquo;Is there anything more?&rdquo; &ldquo;No, nothing more,&rdquo;
+ said Conyers, who with difficulty suppressed a smile at the words and the
+manner of his questioner. &ldquo;Good-bye, then. You 'll send for me when you
+want me,&rdquo; said Tom; and he was out of the room, and half-way across the
+lawn, ere Conyers could recover himself to reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers, however, flung open the window, and cried to him to come back.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was nigh forgetting a most important part of the matter, Tom,&rdquo; said he,
+as the other entered, somewhat pale and anxious-looking. &ldquo;You told me, t'
+other day, that there was some payment to be made,&mdash;some sum to be
+lodged before you could present yourself for examination. What about this?
+When must it be done?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A month before I go in,&rdquo; said Tom, to whom the very thought of the ordeal
+seemed full of terror and heart-sinking.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And how soon do you reckon that may be?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Polly says not before eight weeks at the earliest. She says we 'll have
+to go over Bell on the Bones all again, and brush up the Ligaments,
+besides. If it was the Navy, they 'd not mind the nerves; but they tell me
+the Army fellows often take a man on the fifth pair, and I know if they do
+me, it's mighty little of India I 'll see.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Plucked, eh?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't know what you mean by 'plucked,' but I 'd be turned back, which
+is, perhaps, the same. And no great disgrace, either,&rdquo; added he, with more
+of courage in his voice; &ldquo;Polly herself says there's days she could n't
+remember all the branches of the fifth, and the third is almost as bad.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose if your sister could go up in your place, Tom, you 'd be quite
+sure of your diploma?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's many and many a day I wished that same,&rdquo; sighed he, heavily. &ldquo;If you
+heard her going over the 'Subclavian,' you 'd swear she had the book in
+her hand.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers could not repress a smile at this strange piece of feminine
+accomplishment, but he was careful not to let Tom perceive it. Not,
+indeed, that the poor fellow was in a very observant mood; Polly's
+perfections, her memory, and her quickness were the themes that filled up
+his mind.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a rare piece of luck for you to have had such a sister, Tom!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't I say it to myself?&mdash;don't I repeat the very same words every
+morning when I awake? Maybe I 'll never come to any good; maybe my father
+is right, and that I 'll only be a disgrace as long as I live; but I hope
+one thing, at least, I 'll never be so bad that I 'll forget Polly, and
+all she done for me. And I'll tell you more,&rdquo; said he, with a choking
+fulness in his throat; &ldquo;if they turn me back at my examination, my heart
+will be heavier for <i>her</i> than for myself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, cheer up, Tom; don't look on the gloomy side. You 'll pass, I 'm
+certain, and with credit too. Here 's the thirty pounds you 'll have to
+lodge&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is only twenty they require. And, besides, I could n't take it; it's
+my father must pay.&rdquo; He stammered, and hesitated, and grew pale and then
+crimson, while his lips trembled and his chest heaved and fell almost
+convulsively.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing of the kind, Tom,&rdquo; said Conyers, who had to subdue his own
+emotion by an assumed sternness. &ldquo;The plan is all my own, and I will stand
+no interference with it. I mean that you should pass your examination
+without your father knowing one word about it. You shall come back to him
+with your diploma, or whatever it is, in your hand, and say, 'There, sir,
+the men who have signed their names to that do not think so meanly of me
+as you do.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he'd say, the more fools they!&rdquo; said Tom, with a grim smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At all events,&rdquo; resumed Conyers, &ldquo;I 'll have my own way. Put that note in
+your pocket, and whenever you are gazetted Surgeon-Major to the Guards, or
+Inspector-General of all the Hospitals in Great Britain, you can repay me,
+and with interest, besides, if you like it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 've given me a good long day to be in your debt,&rdquo; said Tom; and he
+hurried out of the room before his overfull heart should betray his
+emotion.
+</p>
+<p>
+It is marvellous how quickly a kind action done to another reconciles a
+man to himself. Doubtless conscience at such times condescends to play the
+courtier, and whispers, &ldquo;What a good fellow you are! and how unjust the
+world is when it calls you cold and haughty and ungenial!&rdquo; Not that I
+would assert higher and better thoughts than these do not reward him who,
+Samaritan-like, binds up the wounds of misery; but I fear me much that few
+of us resist self-flattery, or those little delicate adulations one can
+offer to his own heart when nobody overhears him.
+</p>
+<p>
+At all events, Conyers was not averse to this pleasure, and grew actually
+to feel a strong interest for Tom Dill, all because that poor fellow had
+been the recipient of his bounty; for so is it the waters of our nature
+must be stirred by some act of charity or kindness, else their healing
+virtues have small efficacy, and cure not.
+</p>
+<p>
+And then he wondered and questioned himself whether Polly might not
+possibly be right, and that his &ldquo;governor&rdquo; would maryel where and how he
+had picked up so strange a specimen as Tom. That poor fellow, too, like
+many an humble flower, seen not disadvantageously in its native wilds,
+would look strangely out of place when transplanted and treated as an
+exotic. Still he could trust to the wide and generous nature of his father
+to overlook small defects of manner and breeding, and take the humble
+fellow kindly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Must I own that a considerable share of his hopefulness was derived from
+thinking that the odious blue coat and brass buttons could scarcely make
+part of Tom's kit for India, and that in no other costume known to
+civilized man could his <i>protégé</i> look so unprepossessingly?
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XIII. A FEW LEAVES FROM A BLUE-BOOK
+</h2>
+<p>
+The journal which Miss Barrington had placed in Conyers's hands was little
+else than the record of the sporting adventures of two young and very
+dashing fellows. There were lion and tiger hunts, so little varied in
+detail that one might serve for all, though doubtless to the narrator each
+was marked with its own especial interest. There were travelling incidents
+and accidents, and straits for money, and mishaps and arrests, and stories
+of steeple-chases and balls all mixed up together, and recounted so very
+much in the same spirit as to show how very little shadow mere
+misadventure could throw across the sunshine of their every-day life. But
+every now and then Conyers came upon some entry which closely touched his
+heart. It was how nobly Ormsby behaved. What a splendid fellow he was! so
+frank, so generous, such a horseman! &ldquo;I wish you saw the astonishment of
+the Mahratta fellows as Ormsby lifted the tent-pegs in full career; he
+never missed one. Ormsby won the rifle-match; we all knew he would. Sir
+Peregrine invited Ormsby to go with him to the Hills, but he refused,
+mainly because I was not asked.&rdquo; Ormsby has been offered this, that, or
+t'other; in fact, that one name recurred in every second sentence, and
+always with the same marks of affection. How proud, too, did Barrington
+seem of his friend. &ldquo;They have found out that no country-house is perfect
+without Ormsby, and he is positively persecuted with invitations. I hear
+the 'G.-G.' is provoked at Ormsby's refusal of a staff appointment. I'm in
+rare luck; the old Rajah of Tannanoohr has asked Ormsby to a grand
+elephant-hunt next week, and I 'm to go with him. I 'm to have a leave in
+October. Ormsby managed it somehow; he never fails, whatever he takes in
+hand. Such a fright as I got yesterday! There was a report in the camp
+Ormsby was going to England with despatches; it's all a mistake, however,
+he says. He believes he might have had the opportunity, had he cared for
+it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+If there was not much in these passing notices of his father, there was
+quite enough to impart to them an intense degree of interest. There is a
+wondrous charm, besides, in reading of the young days of those we have
+only known in maturer life, in hearing of them when they were fresh,
+ardent, and impetuous; in knowing, besides, how they were regarded by
+contemporaries, how loved and valued. It was not merely that Ormsby
+recurred in almost every page of this journal, but the record bore
+testimony to his superiority and the undisputed sway he exercised over his
+companions. This same power of dominating and directing had been the
+distinguishing feature of his after-life, and many an unruly and turbulent
+spirit had been reclaimed under Ormsby Conyers's hands.
+</p>
+<p>
+As he read on, he grew also to feel a strong interest for the writer
+himself; the very heartiness of the affection he bestowed on his father,
+and the noble generosity with which he welcomed every success of that
+&ldquo;dear fellow Ormsby,&rdquo; were more than enough to secure his interest for
+him. There was a bold, almost reckless dash, too, about Barrington which
+has a great charm occasionally for very young men. He adventured upon life
+pretty much as he would try to cross a river; he never looked for a
+shallow nor inquired for a ford, but plunged boldly in, and trusted to his
+brave heart and his strong arms for the rest. No one, indeed, reading even
+these rough notes, could hesitate to pronounce which of the two would
+&ldquo;make the spoon,&rdquo; and which &ldquo;spoil the horn.&rdquo; Young Conyers was eager to
+find some mention of the incident to which Miss Barrington had vaguely
+alluded. He wanted to read George Barrington's own account before he
+opened the little pamphlet she gave him, but the journal closed years
+before this event; and although some of the letters came down to a later
+date, none approached the period he wanted.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was not till after some time that he remarked how much more
+unfrequently his father's name occurred in the latter portion of the
+correspondence. Entire pages would contain no reference to him, and in the
+last letter of all there was this towards the end: &ldquo;After all, I am almost
+sorry that I am first for purchase, for I believe Ormsby is most anxious
+for his troop. I say 'I believe,' for he has not told me so, and when I
+offered to give way to him, he seemed half offended with me. You know what
+a bungler I am where a matter of any delicacy is to be treated, and you
+may easily fancy either that <i>I</i> mismanage the affair grossly, or
+that I am as grossly mistaken. One thing is certain, I 'd see promotion
+far enough, rather than let it make a coldness beween us, which could
+never occur if he were as frank as he used to be. My dear aunt, I wish I
+had your wise head to counsel me, for I have a scheme in my mind which I
+have scarcely courage for without some advice, and for many reasons I
+cannot ask O.'s opinion. Between this and the next mail I 'll think it
+over carefully, and tell you what I intend.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I told you that Ormsby was going to marry one of the Gpvernor-General's
+daughters. It is all off,&mdash;at least, I hear so,&mdash;and O. has
+asked for leave to go home. I suspect he is sorely cut up about this, but
+he is too proud a fellow to let the world see it. Report says that Sir
+Peregrine heard that he played. So he does, because he does everything,
+and everything well. If he does go to England, he will certainly pay you a
+visit. Make much of him for my sake; you could not make too much for his
+own.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+This was the last mention of his father, and he pondered long and
+thoughtfully over it. He saw, or fancied he saw, the first faint
+glimmerings of a coldness between them, and he hastily turned to the
+printed report of the House of Commons inquiry, to see what part his
+father had taken. His name occurred but once; it was appended to an
+extract of a letter, addressed to him by the Governor-General. It was a
+confidential report, and much of it omitted in publication. It was
+throughout, however, a warm and generous testimony to Barrington's
+character. &ldquo;I never knew a man,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;less capable of anything mean
+or unworthy; nor am I able to imagine any temptation strong enough to warp
+him from what he believed to be right. That on a question of policy his
+judgment might be wrong, I am quite ready to admit, but I will maintain
+that, on a point of honor, he would, and must, be infallible.&rdquo; Underneath
+this passage there was written, in Miss Barrington's hand, &ldquo;Poor George
+never saw this; it was not published till after his death.&rdquo; So interested
+did young Conyers feel as to the friendship between these two men, and
+what it could have been that made a breach between them,&mdash;if breach
+there were,&mdash;that he sat a long time without opening the little
+volume that related to the charge against Colonel Barrington. He had but
+to open it, however, to guess the spirit in which it was written. Its
+title was, &ldquo;The Story of Samuel Ed-wardes, with an Account of the
+Persecutions and Tortures inflicted on him by Colonel George Barrington,
+when serving in command of the Forces of the Meer Nagheer Assahr, Rajah of
+Luckerabad, based on the documents produced before the Committee of the
+House, and private authentic information.&rdquo; Opposite to this lengthy title
+was an ill-executed wood-cut of a young fellow tied up to a tree, and
+being flogged by two native Indians, with the inscription at foot: &ldquo;Mode
+of celebrating His Majesty's Birthday, 4th of June, 18&mdash;, at the
+Residence of Luckerabad.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+In the writhing figure of the youth, and the ferocious glee of his
+executioners, the artist had displayed all his skill in expression, and
+very unmistakably shown, besides, the spirit of the publication. I have no
+intention to inflict this upon my reader. I will simply give him&mdash;and
+as briefly as I am able&mdash;its substance.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Rajah of Luckerabad, an independent sovereign, living on the best of
+terms with the Government of the Company, had obtained permission to
+employ an English officer in the chief command of his army, a force of
+some twenty-odd thousand, of all arms. It was essential that he should be
+one not only well acquainted with the details of command, but fully equal
+to the charge of organization of a force; a man of energy and decision,
+well versed in Hindostanee, and not altogether ignorant of Persian, in
+which, occasionally, correspondence was carried on. Amongst the many
+candidates for an employment so certain to insure the fortune of its
+possessor, Major Barrington, then a brevet Lieutenant-Colonel, was chosen.
+</p>
+<p>
+It is not improbable that, in mere technical details of his art, he might
+have had many equal and some superior to him; it was well known that his
+personal requisites were above all rivalry. He was a man of great size and
+strength, of a most commanding presence, an accomplished linguist in the
+various dialects of Central India and a great master of all manly
+exercises. To these qualities he added an Oriental taste for splendor and
+pomp. It had always been his habit to live in a style of costly
+extravagance, with the retinue of a petty prince, and when he travelled it
+was with the following of a native chief.
+</p>
+<p>
+Though, naturally enough, such a station as a separate command gave might
+be regarded as a great object of ambition by many, there was a good deal
+of surprise felt at the time that Barrington, reputedly a man of large
+fortune, should have accepted it; the more so since, by his contract, he
+bound himself for ten years to the Rajah, and thus forever extinguished
+all prospect of advancement in his own service. There were all manner of
+guesses afloat as to his reasons. Some said that he was already so
+embarrassed by his extravagance that it was his only exit out of
+difficulty; others pretended that he was captivated by the gorgeous
+splendor of that Eastern life he loved so well; that pomp, display, and
+magnificence were bribes he could not resist; and a few, who affected to
+see more nearly, whispered that he was unhappy of late, had grown peevish
+and uncompanionable, and sought any change, so that it took him out of his
+regiment. Whatever the cause, he bade his brother-officers farewell
+without revealing it, and set out for his new destination. He had never
+anticipated a life of ease or inaction, but he was equally far from
+imagining anything like what now awaited him. Corruption, falsehood,
+robbery, on every hand! The army was little else than a brigand
+establishment, living on the peasants, and exacting, at the sword point,
+whatever they wanted. There was no obedience to discipline. The Rajah
+troubled himself about nothing but his pleasures, and, indeed, passed his
+days so drugged with opium as to be almost insensible to all around him.
+In the tribunals there was nothing but bribery, and the object of every
+one seemed to be to amass fortunes as rapidly as possible, and then hasten
+away from a country so insecure and dangerous.
+</p>
+<p>
+For some days after his arrival, Barrington hesitated whether he would
+accept a charge so apparently hopeless; his bold heart, however, decided
+the doubt, and he resolved to remain. His first care was to look about him
+for one or two more trustworthy than the masses, if such there should be,
+to assist him, and the Rajah referred him to his secretary for that
+purpose. It was with sincere pleasure Barring-ton discovered that this man
+was English,&mdash;that is, his father had been an Englishman, and his
+mother was a Malabar slave in the Rajah's household: his name was
+Edwardes, but called by the natives Ali Edwardes. He looked about sixty,
+but his real age was about forty-six when Barrington came to the
+Residence. He was a man of considerable ability, uniting all the craft and
+subtlety of the Oriental with the dogged perseverance of the Briton. He
+had enjoyed the full favor of the Rajah for nigh twenty years, and was
+strongly averse to the appointment of an English officer to the command of
+the army, knowing full well the influence it would have over his own
+fortunes. He represented to the Rajah that the Company was only intriguing
+to absorb his dominions with their own; that the new Commander-in-chief
+would be their servant and not his; that it was by such machinery as this
+they secretly possessed themselves of all knowledge of the native
+sovereigns, learned their weakness and their strength, and through such
+agencies hatched those plots and schemes by which many a chief had been
+despoiled of his state.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Rajah, however, saw that if he had a grasping Government on one side,
+he had an insolent and rebellious army on the other. There was not much to
+choose between them, but he took the side that he thought the least bad,
+and left the rest to Fate.
+</p>
+<p>
+Having failed with the Rajah, Edwardes tried what he could do with
+Barrington; and certainly, if but a tithe of what he told him were true,
+the most natural thing in the world would have been that he should give up
+his appointment, and quit forever a land so hopelessly sunk in vice and
+corruption. Cunning and crafty as he was, however, he made one mistake,
+and that an irreparable one. When dilating on the insubordination of the
+army, its lawless ways and libertine habits, he declared that nothing
+short of a superior force in the field could have any chance of enforcing
+discipline. &ldquo;As to a command,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;it is simply ludicrous. Let any
+man try it and they will cut him down in the very midst of his staff.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That unlucky speech decided the question; and Barring-ton simply said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have heard plenty of this sort of thing in India; I never saw it,&mdash;I
+'ll stay.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Stay he did; and he did more: he reformed that rabble, and made of them a
+splendid force, able, disciplined, and obedient. With the influence of his
+success, added to that derived from the confidence reposed in him by the
+Rajah, he introduced many and beneficial changes into the administration;
+he punished peculators by military law, and brought knavish sutlers to the
+drum-head. In fact, by the exercise of a salutary despotism, he rescued
+the state from an impending bankruptcy and ruin, placed its finances in a
+healthy condition, and rendered the country a model of prosperity and
+contentment. The Rajah had, like most of his rank and class, been in
+litigation, occasionally in armed contention, with some of his neighbors,&mdash;one
+especially, an uncle, whom he accused of having robbed him, when his
+guardian, of a large share of his heritage. This suit had gone on for
+years, varied at times by little raids into each other's territories, to
+burn villages and carry away cattle. Though with a force more than
+sufficient to have carried the question with a strong hand, Barrington
+preferred the more civilized mode of leaving the matter in dispute to
+others, and suggested the Company as arbitrator. The negotiations led to a
+lengthy correspondence, in which Edwardes and his son, a youth of
+seventeen or eighteen, were actively occupied; and although Barrington was
+not without certain misgivings as to their trustworthiness and honesty, he
+knew their capacity, and had not, besides, any one at all capable of
+replacing them. While these affairs were yet pending, Barrington married
+the daughter of the Meer, a young girl whose mother had been a convert to
+Christianity, and who had herself been educated by a Catholic missionary.
+She died in the second year of her marriage, giving birth to a daughter;
+but Barrington had now become so completely the centre of all action in
+the state, that the Rajah interfered in nothing, leaving in his hands the
+undisputed control of the Government; nay, more, he made him his son by
+adoption, leaving to him not alone all his immense personal property, but
+the inheritance to his throne. Though Barrington was advised by all the
+great legal authorities he consulted in England that such a bequest could
+not be good in law, nor a British subject be permitted to succeed to the
+rights of an Eastern sovereignty, he obstinately declared that the point
+was yet untried; that, however theoretically the opinion might be correct,
+practically the question had not been determined, nor had any case yet
+occurred to rule as a precedent on it. If he was not much of a lawyer, he
+was of a temperament that could not brook opposition. In fact, to make him
+take any particular road in life, you had only to erect a barricade on it.
+When, therefore, he was told the matter could not be, his answer was, &ldquo;It
+shall!&rdquo; Calcutta lawyers, men deep in knowledge of Oriental law and
+custom, learned Moonshees and Pundits, were despatched by him at enormous
+cost, to England, to confer with the great authorities at home. Agents
+were sent over to procure the influence of great Parliamentary speakers
+and the leaders in the press to the cause. For a matter which, in the
+beginning, he cared scarcely anything, if at all, he had now grown to feel
+the most intense and absorbing interest. Half persuading himself that the
+personal question was less to him than the great privilege and right of an
+Englishman, he declared that he would rather die a beggar in the defence
+of the cause than abandon it. So possessed was he, indeed, of his rights,
+and so resolved to maintain them, supported by a firm belief that they
+would and must be ultimately conceded to him, that in the correspondence
+with the other chiefs every reference which spoke of the future
+sovereignty of Luckerabad included his own name and title, and this with
+an ostentation quite Oriental.
+</p>
+<p>
+Whether Edwardes had been less warm and energetic in the cause than
+Barrington expected, or whether his counsels were less palatable, certain
+it is he grew daily more and more distrustful of him; but an event soon
+occurred to make this suspicion a certainty.
+</p>
+<p>
+The negotiations between the Meer and his uncle had been so successfully
+conducted by Barrington, that the latter agreed to give up three
+&ldquo;Pegunnahs,&rdquo; or villages he had unrightfully seized upon, and to pay a
+heavy mulct, besides, for the unjust occupation of them. This settlement
+had been, as may be imagined, a work of much time and labor, and requiring
+not only immense forbearance and patience, but intense watchfulness and
+unceasing skill and craft. Edwardes, of course, was constantly engaged in
+the affair, with the details of which he had been for years familiar. Now,
+although Barrington was satisfied with the zeal he displayed, he was less
+so with his counsels, Edwardes always insisting that in every dealing with
+an Oriental you must inevitably be beaten if you would not make use of all
+the stratagem and deceit he is sure to employ against you. There was not a
+day on which the wily secretary did not suggest some cunning expedient,
+some clever trick; and Barrington's abrupt rejection of them only
+impressed him with a notion of his weakness and deficiency.
+</p>
+<p>
+One morning&mdash;it was after many defeats&mdash;Edwardes appeared with
+the draft of a document he had been ordered to draw out, and in which, of
+his own accord, he had made a large use of threats to the neighboring
+chief, should he continue to protract these proceedings. These threats
+very unmistakably pointed to the dire consequences of opposing the great
+Government of the Company; for, as the writer argued, the succession to
+the Ameer being already vested in an Englishman, it is perfectly clear the
+powerful nation he belongs to will take a very summary mode of dealing
+with this question, if not settled before he comes to the throne. He
+pressed, therefore, for an immediate settlement, as the best possible
+escape from difficulty.
+</p>
+<p>
+Barrington scouted the suggestion indignantly; he would not hear of it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;is it while these very rights are in litigation that I
+am to employ them as a menace? Who is to secure me being one day Rajah of
+Luckerabad? Not you, certainly, who have never ceased to speak coldly of
+my claims. Throw that draft into the fire, and never propose a like one to
+me again!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The rebuke was not forgotten. Another draft was, however, prepared, and in
+due time the long-pending negotiations were concluded, the Meer's uncle
+having himself come to Luckerabad to ratify the contract, which, being
+engrossed on a leaf of the Rajah's Koran, was duly signed and sealed by
+both.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was during the festivities incidental to this visit that Edwardes, who
+had of late made a display of wealth and splendor quite unaccountable,
+made a proposal to the Rajah for the hand of his only unmarried daughter,
+sister to Barrington's wife. The Rajah, long enervated by excess and
+opium, probably cared little about the matter; there were, indeed, but a
+few moments in each day when he could be fairly pronounced awake. He
+referred the question to Barrington. Not satisfied with an insulting
+rejection of the proposal, Barrington, whose passionate moments were
+almost madness, tauntingly asked by what means Edwardes had so suddenly
+acquired the wealth which had prompted this demand. He hinted that the
+sources of his fortune were more than suspected, and at last, carried away
+by anger, for the discussion grew violent, he drew from his desk a slip of
+paper, and held it up. &ldquo;When your father was drummed out of the 4th Bengal
+Fusiliers for theft, of which this is the record, the family was scarcely
+so ambitious.&rdquo; For an instant Edwardes seemed overcome almost to fainting;
+but he rallied, and, with a menace of his clenched hand, but without one
+word, he hurried away before Barrington could resent the insult. It was
+said that he did not return to his house, but, taking the horse of an
+orderly that he found at the door, rode away from the palace, and on the
+same night crossed the frontier into a neighboring state.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was on the following morning, as Barrington was passing a cavalry
+regiment in review, that young Edwardes, forcing his way through the
+staff, insolently asked, &ldquo;What had become of his father?&rdquo; and at the same
+instant levelling a pistol, he fired. The ball passed through Barrington's
+shako, and so close to the head that it grazed it. It was only with a loud
+shout to abstain that Barrington arrested the gleaming sabres that now
+flourished over his head. &ldquo;Your father has fled, youngster!&rdquo; cried he.
+&ldquo;When you show him <i>that</i>,&rdquo;&mdash;and he struck him across the face
+with his horsewhip,&mdash;&ldquo;tell him how near you were to have been an
+assassin!&rdquo; With this savage taunt, he gave orders that the young fellow
+should be conducted to the nearest frontier, and turned adrift. Neither
+father nor son ever were seen there again.
+</p>
+<p>
+Little did George Barrington suspect what was to come of that morning's
+work. Through what channel Edwardes worked at first was not known, but
+that he succeeded in raising up for himself friends in England is certain;
+by their means the very gravest charges were made against Barrington. One
+allegation was that by a forged document, claiming to be the assent of the
+English Government to his succession, he had obtained the submission of
+several native chiefs to his rule and a cession of territory to the Rajah
+of Luckerabad; and another charged him with having cruelly tortured a
+British subject named Samuel Edwardes,&mdash;an investigation entered into
+by a Committee of the House, and becoming, while it lasted, one of the
+most exciting subjects of public interest. Nor was the anxiety lessened by
+the death of the elder Edwardes, which occurred during the inquiry, and
+which Barrington's enemies declared to be caused by a broken heart; and
+the martyred or murdered Edwardes was no uncommon heading to a paragraph
+of the time.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers turned to the massive Blue-book that contained the proceedings &ldquo;in
+Committee,&rdquo; but only to glance at the examination of witnesses, whose very
+names were unfamiliar to him. He could perceive, however, that the inquiry
+was a long one, and, from the tone of the member at whose motion it was
+instituted, angry and vindictive.
+</p>
+<p>
+Edwardes appeared to have preferred charges of long continued persecution
+and oppression, and there was native testimony in abundance to sustain the
+allegation; while the British Commissioner sent to Luckerabad came back so
+prejudiced against Barrington, from his proud and haughty bearing, that
+his report was unfavorable to him in all respects. There was, it is true,
+letters from various high quarters, all speaking of Barrington's early
+career as both honorable and distinguished; and, lastly, there was one
+signed Ormsby Conyers, a warm-hearted testimony &ldquo;to the most
+straightforward gentleman and truest friend I have ever known.&rdquo; These were
+words the young man read and re-read a dozen times.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers turned eagerly to read what decision had been come to by the
+Committee, but the proceedings had come abruptly to an end by George
+Barrington's death. A few lines at the close of the pamphlet mentioned
+that, being summoned to appear before the Governor-General in Council at
+Calcutta, Barrington refused. An armed force was despatched to occupy
+Luckerabad, on the approach of which Barrington rode forth to meet them,
+attended by a brilliant staff,&mdash;with what precise object none knew;
+but the sight of a considerable force, drawn up at a distance in what
+seemed order of battle, implied at least an intention to resist. Coming on
+towards the advanced pickets at a fast gallop, and not slackening speed
+when challenged, the men, who were Bengal infantry, fired, and Barrington
+fell, pierced by four bullets. He never uttered a word after, though he
+lingered on till evening. The force was commanded by Lieutenant-General
+Conyers.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was little more to tell. The Rajah, implicated in the charges
+brought against Barrington, and totally unable to defend himself,
+despatched a confidential minister, Meer Mozarjah, to Europe to do what he
+might by bribery. This unhappy blunder filled the measure of his ruin, and
+after a very brief inquiry the Rajah was declared to have forfeited his
+throne and all his rights of succession. The Company took possession of
+Luckerabad, as a portion of British India, but from a generous compassion
+towards the deposed chief, graciously accorded him a pension of ten
+thousand rupees a month during his life.
+</p>
+<p>
+My reader will bear in mind that I have given him this recital, not as it
+came before Conyers, distorted by falsehood and disfigured by
+misstatements, but have presented the facts as nearly as they might be
+derived from a candid examination of all the testimony adduced. Ere I
+return to my own tale, I ought to add that Edwardes, discredited and
+despised by some, upheld and maintained by others, left Calcutta with the
+proceeds of a handsome subscription raised in his behalf. Whether he went
+to reside in Europe, or retired to some other part of India, is not known.
+He was heard of no more.
+</p>
+<p>
+As for the Rajah, his efforts still continued to obtain a revision of the
+sentence pronounced upon him, and his case was one of those which
+newspapers slur over and privy councils try to escape from, leaving to
+Time to solve what Justice has no taste for.
+</p>
+<p>
+But every now and then a Blue-book would appear, headed &ldquo;East India (the
+deposed Rajah of Luckerabad),&rdquo; while a line in an evening paper would
+intimate that the Envoy of Meer Nagheer Assahr had arrived at a certain
+West-end hotel to prosecute the suit of his Highness before the Judicial
+Committee of the Lords. How pleasantly does a paragraph dispose of a whole
+life-load of sorrows and of wrongs that, perhaps, are breaking the hearts
+that carry them!
+</p>
+<p>
+While I once more apologize to my reader for the length to which this
+narrative has run, I owe it to myself to state that, had I presented it in
+the garbled and incorrect version which came before Conyers, and had I
+interpolated all the misconceptions he incurred, the mistakes he first
+fell into and then corrected, I should have been far more tedious and
+intolerable still; and now I am again under weigh, with easy canvas, but
+over a calm sea, and under a sky but slightly clouded.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XIV. BARRINGTON'S FORD
+</h2>
+<p>
+Conyers had scarcely finished his reading when he was startled by the
+galloping of horses under his window; so close, indeed, did they come that
+they seemed to shake the little cottage with their tramp. He looked out,
+but they had already swept past, and were hidden from his view by the
+copse that shut out the river. At the same instant he heard the confused
+sound of many voices, and what sounded to him like the plash of horses in
+the stream.
+</p>
+<p>
+Urged by a strong curiosity, he hurried downstairs and made straight for
+the river by a path that led through the trees; but before he could emerge
+from the cover he heard cries of &ldquo;Not there! not there! Lower down!&rdquo; &ldquo;No,
+no! up higher! up higher! Head up the stream, or you 'll be caught in the
+gash!&rdquo; &ldquo;Don't hurry; you've time enough!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+When he gained the bank, it was to see three horsemen, who seemed to be
+cheering, or, as it might be, warning a young girl who, mounted on a
+powerful black horse, was deep in the stream, and evidently endeavoring to
+cross it. Her hat hung on the back of her neck by its ribbon, and her hair
+had also fallen down; but one glance was enough to show that she was a
+consummate horsewoman, and whose courage was equal to her skill; for while
+steadily keeping her horse's head to the swift current, she was careful
+not to control him overmuch, or impede the free action of his powers.
+Heeding, as it seemed, very little the counsels or warnings showered on
+her by the bystanders, not one of whom, to Conyers's intense amazement,
+had ventured to accompany her, she urged her horse steadily forward.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't hurry,&mdash;take it easy!&rdquo; called out one of the horsemen, as he
+looked at his watch. &ldquo;You have fifty-three minutes left, and it's all
+turf.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She 'll do it,&mdash;I know she will!&rdquo; &ldquo;She 'll lose,&mdash;she must
+lose!&rdquo; &ldquo;It's ten miles to Foynes Gap!&rdquo; &ldquo;It's more!&rdquo; &ldquo;It's less!&rdquo; &ldquo;There!&mdash;see!&mdash;she's
+in, by Jove! she's in!&rdquo; These varying comments were now arrested by the
+intense interest of the moment, the horse having impatiently plunged into
+a deep pool, and struck out to swim with all the violent exertion of an
+affrighted animal. &ldquo;Keep his head up!&rdquo; &ldquo;Let him free, quite free!&rdquo; &ldquo;Get
+your foot clear of the stirrup!&rdquo; cried out the bystanders, while in lower
+tones they muttered, &ldquo;She would cross here!&rdquo; &ldquo;It's all her own fault!&rdquo;
+ Just at this instant she turned in her saddle, and called out something
+which, drowned in the rush of the river, did not reach them.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't you see,&rdquo; cried Conyers, passionately, for his temper could no
+longer endure the impassive attitude of this on-looking, &ldquo;one of the reins
+is broken, her bridle is smashed?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And, without another word, he sprang into the river, partly wading, partly
+swimming, and soon reached the place where the horse, restrained by one
+rein alone, swam in a small circle, fretted by restraint and maddened by
+inability to resist.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Leave him to me,&mdash;let go your rein,&rdquo; said Conyers, as he grasped the
+bridle close to the bit; and the animal, accepting the guidance, suffered
+himself to be led quietly till he reached the shallow. Once there, he
+bounded wildly forward, and, splashing through the current, leaped up the
+bank, where he was immediately caught by the others.
+</p>
+<p>
+By the time Conyers had gained the land, the girl had quitted her saddle
+and entered the cottage, never so much as once turning a look on him who
+had rescued her. If he could not help feeling mortified at this show of
+indifference, he was not less puzzled by the manner of the others, who,
+perfectly careless of his dripping condition, discussed amongst themselves
+how the bridle broke, and what might have happened if the leather had
+proved tougher.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's always the way with her,&rdquo; muttered one, sulkily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I told her to ride the match in a ring-snaffle, but she's a mule in
+obstinacy! She 'd have won easily&mdash;ay, with five minutes to spare&mdash;if
+she'd have crossed at Nunsford. I passed there last week without wetting a
+girth.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She 'll not thank <i>you</i> young gentleman, whoever you are,&rdquo; said the
+oldest of the party, turning to Conyers, &ldquo;for your gallantry. She 'll only
+remember you as having helped her to lose a wager!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's true!&rdquo; cried another. &ldquo;I never got as much as thank you for
+catching her horse one day at Lyrath, though it threw me out of the whole
+run afterwards.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And this was a wager, then?&rdquo; said Conyers.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. An English officer that is stopping at Sir Charles's said yesterday
+that nobody could ride from Lowe's Folly to Foynes as the crow flies; and
+four of us took him up&mdash;twenty-five pounds apiece&mdash;that Polly
+Dill would do it,&mdash;and against time, too,&mdash;an hour and forty.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;On a horse of mine,&rdquo; chimed in another,&mdash;&ldquo;Bayther-shini&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must say it does not tell very well for your chivalry in these parts,&rdquo;
+ said Conyers, angrily. &ldquo;Could no one be found to do the match without
+risking a young girl's life on it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A very hearty burst of merriment met this speech, and the elder of the
+party rejoined,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must be very new to this country, or you'd not have said that, sir.
+There's not a man in the hunt could get as much out of a horse as that
+girl.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not to say,&rdquo; added another, with a sly laugh, &ldquo;that the Englishman gave
+five to one against her when he heard she was going to ride.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Disgusted by what he could not but regard as a most disgraceful wager,
+Conyers turned away, and walked into the house.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go and change your clothes as fast as you can,&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, as
+she met him in the porch. &ldquo;I am quite provoked you should have wetted your
+feet in such a cause.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was no time to ask for explanations; and Conyers hurried away to his
+room, marvelling much at what he had heard, but even more astonished by
+the attitude of cool and easy indifference as to what might have
+imperilled a human life. He had often heard of the reckless habits and
+absurd extravagances of Irish life, but he fancied that they appertained
+to a time long past, and that society had gradually assumed the tone and
+the temper of the English. Then he began to wonder to what class in life
+these persons belonged. The girl, so well as he could see, was certainly
+handsome, and appeared ladylike; and yet, why had she not even by a word
+acknowledged the service he rendered her? And lastly, what could old Miss
+Barrington mean by that scornful speech? These were all great puzzles to
+him, and like many great puzzles only the more embarrassing the more they
+were thought over.
+</p>
+<p>
+The sound of voices drew him now to the window, and he saw one of the
+riding-party in converse with Darby at the door. They talked in a low tone
+together, and laughed; and then the horseman, chucking a half-crown
+towards Darby, said aloud,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And tell her that we 'll send the boat down for her as soon as we get
+back.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Darby touched his hat gratefully, and was about to retire within the house
+when he caught sight of Conyers at the window. He waited till the rider
+had turned the angle of the road, and then said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's Mr. St. George. They used to call him the Slasher, he killed so
+many in duels long ago; but he 's like a lamb now.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the young lady?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The young lady is it!&rdquo; said Darby, with the air of one not exactly
+concurring in the designation. &ldquo;She's old Dill's daughter, the doctor that
+attends you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was it all about?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a bet they made with an English captain this morning that she 'd
+ride from Lowe's Folly to the Gap in an hour and a half. The Captain took
+a hundred on it, because he thought she 'd have to go round by the bridge;
+and they pretinded the same, for they gave all kinds of directions about
+clearing the carts out of the road, for it's market-day at Thomastown; and
+away went the Captain as hard as he could, to be at the bridge first, to
+'time her,' as she passed. But he has won the money!&rdquo; sighed he, for the
+thought of so much Irish coin going into a Saxon pocket completely
+overcame him; &ldquo;and what's more,&rdquo; added he, &ldquo;the gentleman says it was all
+your fault!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All my fault!&rdquo; cried Conyers, indignantly. &ldquo;All my fault! Do they imagine
+that I either knew or cared for their trumpery wager! I saw a girl
+struggling in a danger from which not one of them had the manliness to
+rescue her!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, take my word for it,&rdquo; burst in Darby, &ldquo;it's not courage they want!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then it is something far better than even courage, and I'd like to tell
+them so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And he turned away as much disgusted with Darby as with the rest of his
+countrymen. Now, all the anger that filled his breast was not in reality
+provoked by the want of gallantry that he condemned; a portion, at least,
+was owing to the marvellous indifference the young lady had manifested to
+her preserver. Was peril such an every-day incident of Irish life that no
+one cared for it, or was gratitude a quality not cultivated in this
+strange land? Such were the puzzles that tormented him as he descended to
+the drawing-room.
+</p>
+<p>
+As he opened the door, he heard Miss Barrington's voice, in a tone which
+he rightly guessed to be reproof, and caught the words, &ldquo;Just as unwise as
+it is unbecoming,&rdquo; when he entered.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Conyers, Miss Dill,&rdquo; said the old lady, stiffly; &ldquo;the young gentleman
+who saved you, the heroine you rescued!&rdquo; The two allocutions were
+delivered with a gesture towards each. To cover a moment of extreme
+awkwardness, Conyers blundered out something about being too happy, and a
+slight service, and a hope of no ill consequences to herself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have no fears on that score, sir,&rdquo; broke in Miss Dinah. &ldquo;Manly young
+ladies are the hardiest things in nature. They are as insensible to danger
+as they are to&mdash;&rdquo; She stopped, and grew crimson, partly from anger
+and partly from the unspoken word that had almost escaped her.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, madam,&rdquo; said Polly, quietly, &ldquo;I am really very much 'ashamed.'&rdquo; And,
+simple as the words were, Miss Barrington felt the poignancy of their
+application to herself, and her hand trembled over the embroidery she was
+working.
+</p>
+<p>
+She tried to appear calm, but in vain; her color came and went, and the
+stitches, in spite of her, grew irregular; so that, after a moment's
+struggle, she pushed the frame away, and left the room. While this very
+brief and painful incident was passing, Conyers was wondering to himself
+how the dashing horsewoman, with flushed cheek, flashing eye, and
+dishevelled hair, could possibly be the quiet, demure girl, with a
+downcast look, and almost Quaker-like simplicity of demeanor. It is but
+fair to add, though he himself did not discover it, that the contributions
+of Miss Dinah's wardrobe, to which poor Polly was reduced for dress, were
+not exactly of a nature to heighten her personal attractions; nor did a
+sort of short jacket, and a very much beflounced petticoat, set off the
+girl's figure to advantage. Polly never raised her eyes from the work she
+was sewing as Miss Barrington withdrew, but, in a low, gentle voice, said,
+&ldquo;It was very good of you, sir, to come to my rescue, but you mustn't think
+ill of my countrymen for not having done so; they had given their word of
+honor not to lead a fence, nor open a gate, nor, in fact, aid me in any
+way.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that, if they could win their wager, your peril was of little matter,&rdquo;
+ broke he in.
+</p>
+<p>
+She gave a little low, quiet laugh, perhaps as much at the energy as at
+the words of his speech. &ldquo;After all,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;a wetting is no great
+misfortune; the worst punishment of my offence was one that I never
+contemplated.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; asked he.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Doing penance for it in this costume,&rdquo; said she, drawing out the stiff
+folds of an old brocaded silk, and displaying a splendor of flowers that
+might have graced a peacock's tail; &ldquo;I never so much as dreamed of this!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was something so comic in the way she conveyed her distress that he
+laughed outright. She joined him; and they were at once at their ease
+together.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think Miss Barrington called you Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;and if so, I
+have the happiness of feeling that my gratitude is bestowed where already
+there has been a large instalment of the sentiment. It is you who have
+been so generous and so kind to my poor brother.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Has he told you, then, what we have been planning together?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He has told me all that <i>you</i> had planned out for him,&rdquo; said she,
+with a very gracious smile, which very slightly colored her cheek, and
+gave great softness to her expression. &ldquo;My only fear was that the poor boy
+should have lost his head completely, and perhaps exaggerated to himself
+your intentions towards him; for, after all, I can scarcely think&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it that you can scarcely think?&rdquo; asked he, after a long pause.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not to say,&rdquo; resumed she, unheeding his question, &ldquo;that I cannot imagine
+how this came about. What could have led him to tell <i>you</i>&mdash;a
+perfect stranger to him&mdash;his hopes and fears, his struggles and his
+sorrows? How could you&mdash;by what magic did you inspire him with that
+trustful confidence which made him open his whole heart before you? Poor
+Tom, who never before had any confessor than myself!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shall I tell you how it came about? It was talking of <i>you!</i>&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of me! talking of me!&rdquo; and her cheek now flushed more deeply.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, we had rambled on over fifty themes, not one of which seemed to
+attach him strongly, till, in some passing allusion to his own cares and
+difficulties, he mentioned one who has never ceased to guide and comfort
+him; who shared not alone his sorrows, but his hard hours of labor, and
+turned away from her own pleasant paths to tread the dreary road of toil
+beside him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think he might have kept all this to himself,&rdquo; said she, with a tone of
+almost severity.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How could he? How was it possible to tell me his story, and not touch
+upon what imparted the few tints of better fortune that lighted it? I'm
+certain, besides, that there is a sort of pride in revealing how much of
+sympathy and affection we have derived from those better than ourselves,
+and I could see that he was actually vain of what you had done for him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I repeat, he might have kept this to himself. But let us leave this
+matter; and now tell me,&mdash;for I own I can hardly trust my poor
+brother's triumphant tale,&mdash;tell me seriously what the plan is?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers hesitated for a few seconds, embarrassed how to avoid mention of
+himself, or to allude but passingly to his own share in the project. At
+last, as though deciding to dash boldly into the question, he said, &ldquo;I
+told him, if he 'd go out to India, I 'd give him such a letter to my
+father that his fortune would be secure. My governor is something of a
+swell out there,&rdquo;&mdash;and he reddened, partly in shame, partly in pride,
+as he tried to disguise his feeling by an affectation of ease,&mdash;&ldquo;and
+that with <i>him</i> for a friend, Tom would be certain of success. You
+smile at my confidence, but you don't know India, and what scores of fine
+things are&mdash;so to say&mdash;to be had for asking; and although
+doctoring is all very well, there are fifty other ways to make a fortune
+faster. Tom could be a Receiver of Revenue; he might be a Political
+Resident. You don't know what they get. There's a fellow at Baroda has
+four thousand rupees a month, and I don't know how much more for
+dâk-money.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can't help smiling,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;at the notion of poor Tom in a
+palanquin. But, seriously, sir, is all this possible? or might it not be
+feared that your father, when he came to see my brother&mdash;who, with
+many a worthy quality, has not much to prepossess in his favor,&mdash;when,
+I say, he came to see your <i>protégé</i> is it not likely that he might&mdash;might&mdash;hold
+him more cheaply than you do?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not when he presents a letter from me; not when it's I that have taken
+him up. You 'll believe me, perhaps, when I tell you what happened when I
+was but ten years old. We were up at Rangoon, in the Hills, when a
+dreadful hurricane swept over the country, destroying everything before
+it; rice, paddy, the indigo-crop, all were carried away, and the poor
+people left totally destitute. A subscription-list was handed about
+amongst the British residents, to afford some aid in the calamity, and it
+was my tutor, a native Moonshee, who went about to collect the sums. One
+morning he came back somewhat disconsolate at his want of success. A
+payment of eight thousand rupees had to be made for grain on that day, and
+he had not, as he hoped and expected, the money ready. He talked freely to
+me of his disappointment, so that, at last, my feelings being worked upon,
+I took up my pen and wrote down my name on the list, with the sum of eight
+thousand rupees to it Shocked at what he regarded as an act of levity, he
+carried the paper to my father, who at once said, 'Fred wrote it; his name
+shall not be dishonored;' and the money was paid. I ask you, now, am I
+reckoning too much on one who could do that, and for a mere child too?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was nobly done,&rdquo; said she, with enthusiasm; and though Conyers went
+on, with warmth, to tell more of his father's generous nature, she seemed
+less to listen than to follow out some thread of her own reflections. Was
+it some speculation as to the temperament the son of such a father might
+possess? or was it some pleasurable revery regarding one who might do any
+extravagance and yet be forgiven? My reader may guess this, perhaps,&mdash;I
+cannot. Whatever her speculation, it lent a very charming expression to
+her features,&mdash;that air of gentle, tranquil happiness we like to
+believe the lot of guileless, simple natures.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers, like many young men of his order, was very fond of talking of
+himself, of his ways, his habits, and his temper, and she listened to him
+very prettily,&mdash;so prettily, indeed, that when Darby, slyly peeping
+in at the half-opened door, announced that the boat had come, he felt well
+inclined to pitch the messenger into the stream.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must go and say good-bye to Miss Barrington,&rdquo; said Polly, rising. &ldquo;I
+hope that this rustling finery will impart some dignity to my demeanor.&rdquo;
+ And drawing wide the massive folds, she made a very deep courtesy,
+throwing back her head haughtily as she resumed her height in admirable
+imitation of a bygone school of manners.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/166.jpg" width="100%" alt="166 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well,&mdash;very well, indeed! Quite as like what it is meant for as
+is Miss Polly Dill for the station she counterfeits!&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, as,
+throwing wide the door, she stood before them.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am overwhelmed by your flattery, madam,&rdquo; said Polly, who, though very
+red, lost none of her self-possession; &ldquo;but I feel that, like the
+traveller who tried on Charlemagne's armor, I am far more equal to combat
+in my every-day clothes.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do not enter the lists with me in either,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, with a look
+of the haughtiest insolence. &ldquo;Mr. Conyers, will you let me show you my
+flower-garden?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Delighted! But I will first see Miss Dill to her boat.&rdquo; &ldquo;As you please,
+sir,&rdquo; said the old lady; and she withdrew with a proud toss of her head
+that was very unmistakable in its import.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a severe correction that was!&rdquo; said Polly, half gayly, as she went
+along, leaning on his arm. &ldquo;And <i>you</i> know that, whatever my
+offending, there was no mimicry in it. I was simply thinking of some
+great-grandmother who had, perhaps, captivated the heroes of Dettingen;
+and, talking of heroes, how courageous of you to come to my rescue!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Was it that her arm only trembled slightly, or did it really press gently
+on his own as she said this? Certainly Conyers inclined to the latter
+hypothesis, for he drew her more closely to his side, and said, &ldquo;Of course
+I stood by you. She was all in the wrong, and I mean to tell her so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not if you would serve me,&rdquo; said she, eagerly. &ldquo;I have paid the penalty,
+and I strongly object to be sentenced again. Oh, here's the boat!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why it's a mere skiff. Are you safe to trust yourself in such a thing?&rdquo;
+ asked he, for the canoe-shaped &ldquo;cot&rdquo; was new to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course!&rdquo; said she, lightly stepping in. &ldquo;There is even room for
+another.&rdquo; Then, hastily changing her theme, she asked, &ldquo;May I tell poor
+Tom what you have said to me, or is it just possible that you will come up
+one of these days and see us?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I might be permitted&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Too much honor for us!&rdquo; said she, with such a capital imitation of his
+voice and manner that he burst into a laugh in spite of himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mayhap Miss Bamngton was not so far wrong: after all, you <i>are</i> a
+terrible mimic.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it a promise, then? Am I to say to my brother you will come?&rdquo; said
+she, seriously.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Faithfully!&rdquo; said he, waving his hand, for the boatmen had already got
+the skiff under weigh, and were sending her along like an arrow from a
+bow.
+</p>
+<p>
+Polly turned and kissed her hand to him, and Conyers muttered something
+over his own stupidity for not being beside her, and then turned sulkily
+back towards the cottage. A few hours ago and he had thought he could have
+passed his life here; there was a charm in the unbroken tranquillity that
+seemed to satisfy the longings of his heart, and now, all of a sudden, the
+place appeared desolate. Have you never, dear reader, felt, in gazing on
+some fair landscape, with mountain and stream and forest before you, that
+the scene was perfect, wanting nothing in form or tone or color, till
+suddenly a flash of strong sunlight from behind a cloud lit up some spot
+with a glorious lustre, to fade away as quickly into the cold tint it had
+worn before? Have you not felt then, I say, that the picture had lost its
+marvellous attraction, and that the very soul of its beauty had departed?
+In vain you try to recall the past impression; your memory will mourn over
+the lost, and refuse to be comforted. And so it is often in life: the
+momentary charm that came unexpectedly can become all in all to our
+imaginations, and its departure leave a blank, like a death, behind it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Nor was he altogether satisfied with Miss Barrington. The &ldquo;old woman&rdquo;&mdash;alas!
+for his gallantry, it was so that he called her to himself&mdash;was
+needlessly severe. Why should a mere piece of harmless levity be so
+visited? At all events, he felt certain that he himself would have shown a
+more generous spirit. Indeed, when Polly had quizzed him, he took it all
+good-naturedly, and by thus turning his thoughts to his natural goodness
+and the merits of his character, he at length grew somewhat more
+well-disposed to the world at large. He knew he was naturally forgiving,
+and he felt he was very generous. Scores of fellows, bred up as he was,
+would have been perfectly unendurable; they would have presumed on their
+position, and done this, that, and t' other. Not one of them would have
+dreamed of taking up a poor ungainly bumpkin, a country doctor's cub, and
+making a man of him; not one of them would have had the heart to conceive
+or the energy to carry out such a project. And yet this he would do. Polly
+herself, sceptical as she was, should be brought to admit that he had kept
+his word. Selfish fellows would limit their plans to their own
+engagements, and weak fellows could be laughed out of their intentions;
+but <i>he</i> flattered himself that he was neither of these, and it was
+really fortunate that the world should see how little spoiled a fine
+nature could be, though surrounded with all the temptations that are
+supposed to be dangerous.
+</p>
+<p>
+In this happy frame&mdash;for he was now happy&mdash;he reentered the
+cottage. &ldquo;What a coxcomb!&rdquo; will say my reader. Be it so. But it was a
+coxcomb who wanted to be something better.
+</p>
+<p>
+Miss Barrington met him in the porch, not a trace of her late displeasure
+on her face, but with a pleasant smile she said, &ldquo;I have just got a few
+lines from my brother. He writes in excellent spirits, for he has gained a
+lawsuit; not a very important case, but it puts us in a position to carry
+out a little project we are full of. He will be here by Saturday, and
+hopes to bring with him an old and valued friend, the Attorney-General, to
+spend a few days with us. I am, therefore, able to promise you an ample
+recompense for all the loneliness of your present life. I have cautiously
+abstained from telling my brother who you are; I keep the delightful
+surprise for the moment of your meeting. Your name, though associated with
+some sad memories, will bring him back to the happiest period of his
+life.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers made some not very intelligible reply about his reluctance to
+impose himself on them at such a time, but she stopped him with a
+good-humored smile, and said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your father's son should know that where a Barrington lived he had a
+home,&mdash;not to say you have already paid some of the tribute of this
+homeliness, and seen me very cross and ill-tempered. Well, let us not
+speak of that now. I have your word to remain here.&rdquo; And she left him to
+attend to her household cares, while he strolled into the garden, half
+amused, half embarrassed by all the strange and new interests that had
+grown up so suddenly around him.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XV. AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION
+</h2>
+<p>
+Whether from simple caprice, or that Lady Cobham desired to mark her
+disapprobation of Polly Dill's share in the late wager, is not open to me
+to say, but the festivities at Cob-ham were not, on that day, graced or
+enlivened by her presence. If the comments on her absence were brief, they
+were pungent, and some wise reflections, too, were uttered as to the
+dangers that must inevitably attend all attempts to lift people into a
+sphere above their own. Poor human nature! that unlucky culprit who is
+flogged for everything and for everybody, bore the brunt of these
+severities, and it was declared that Polly had done what any other girl
+&ldquo;in her rank of life&rdquo; might have done; and this being settled, the company
+went to luncheon, their appetites none the worse for the small <i>auto-da-fé</i>
+they had just celebrated.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You'd have lost your money, Captain,&rdquo; whispered Ambrose Bushe to
+Stapylton, as they stood talking together in a window recess, &ldquo;if that
+girl had only taken the river three hundred yards higher up. Even as it
+was, she 'd have breasted her horse at the bank if the bridle had not
+given way. I suppose you have seen the place?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I regret to say I have not. They tell me it's one of the strongest rapids
+in the river.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me describe it to you,&rdquo; replied he; and at once set about a picture
+in which certainly no elements of peril were forgotten, and all the
+dangers of rocks and rapids were given with due emphasis. Stapylton seemed
+to listen with fitting attention, throwing out the suitable &ldquo;Indeed! is it
+possible!&rdquo; and such-like interjections, his mind, however, by no means
+absorbed by the narrative, but dwelling solely on a chance name that had
+dropped from the narrator.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You called the place 'Barrington's Ford,'&rdquo; said he, at last. &ldquo;Who is
+Barrington?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As good a gentleman by blood and descent as any in this room, but now
+reduced to keep a little wayside inn,&mdash;the 'Fisherman's Home,' it is
+called. All come of a spendthrift son, who went out to India, and ran
+through every acre of the property before he died.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a strange vicissitude! And is the old man much broken by it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some would say he was; my opinion is, that he bears up wonderfully. Of
+course, to me, he never makes any mention of the past; but while my father
+lived, he would frequently talk to him over bygones, and liked nothing
+better than to speak of his son, Mad George as they called him, and tell
+all his wildest exploits and most harebrained achievements. But you have
+served yourself in India. Have you never heard of George Barrington?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Stapylton shook his head, and dryly added that India was very large, and
+that even in one Presidency a man might never hear what went on in
+another.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, this fellow made noise enough to be heard even over here. He
+married a native woman, and he either shook off his English allegiance, or
+was suspected of doing so. At all events, he got himself into trouble that
+finished him. It's a long complicated story, that I have never heard
+correctly. The upshot was, however, old Barrington was sold out stick and
+stone, and if it was n't for the ale-house he might starve.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And his former friends and associates, do they rally round him and cheer
+him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a great deal. Perhaps, however, that's as much his fault as theirs.
+He is very proud, and very quick to resent anything like consideration for
+his changed condition. Sir Charles would have him up here,&mdash;he has
+tried it scores of times, but all in vain; and now he is left to two or
+three of his neighbors, the doctor and an old half-pay major, who lives on
+the river, and I believe really he never sees any one else. Old M'Cormick
+knew George Barrington well; not that they were friends,&mdash;two men
+less alike never lived; but that's enough to make poor Peter fond of
+talking to him, and telling all about some lawsuits George left him for a
+legacy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This Major that you speak of, does he visit here? I don't remember to
+have seen him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;M'Cormick!&rdquo; said the other, laughing. &ldquo;No, he 's a miserly old fellow
+that has n't a coat fit to go out in, and he's no loss to any one. It's as
+much as old Peter Barrington can do to bear his shabby ways, and his
+cranky temper, but he puts up with everything because he knew his son
+George. That's quite enough for old Peter; and if you were to go over to
+the cottage, and say, 'I met your son up in Bombay or Madras; we were
+quartered together at Ram-something-or-other,' he 'd tell you the place
+was your own, to stop at as long as you liked, and your home for life.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said Stapylton, affecting to feel interested, while he followed
+out the course of his own thoughts.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not that the Major could do even that much!&rdquo; continued Bushe, who now
+believed that he had found an eager listener. &ldquo;There was only one thing in
+this world he'd like to talk about,&mdash;Walcheren. Go how or when you
+liked, or where or for what,&mdash;no matter, it was Walcheren you 'd get,
+and nothing else.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Somewhat tiresome this, I take it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tiresome is no name for it! And I don't know a stronger proof of old
+Peter's love for his son's memory, than that, for the sake of hearing
+about him, he can sit and listen to the 'expedition.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was a half-unconscious mimicry in the way he gave the last word that
+showed how the Major's accents had eaten their way into his sensibilities.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your portrait of this Major is not tempting,&rdquo; said Stapylton, smiling.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why would it? He's eighteen or twenty years in the neighborhood, and I
+never heard that he said a kind word or did a generous act by any one. But
+I get cross if I talk of him. Where are you going this morning? Will you
+come up to the Long Callows and look at the yearlings? The Admiral is very
+proud of his young stock, and he thinks he has some of the best bone and
+blood in Ireland there at this moment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks, no; I have some notion of a long walk this morning. I take shame
+to myself for having seen so little of the country here since I came that
+I mean to repair my fault and go off on a sort of voyage of discovery.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Follow the river from Brown's Barn down to Inistioge, and if you ever saw
+anything prettier I'm a Scotchman.&rdquo; And with this appalling alternative,
+Mr. Bushe walked away, and left the other to his own guidance.
+</p>
+<p>
+Perhaps Stapylton is not the companion my reader would care to stroll
+with, even along the grassy path beside that laughing river, with
+spray-like larches bending overhead, and tender water-lilies streaming,
+like pennants, in the fast-running current. It may be that he or she would
+prefer some one more impressionable to the woodland beauty of the spot,
+and more disposed to enjoy the tranquil loveliness around him; for it is
+true the swarthy soldier strode on, little heeding the picturesque effects
+which made every succeeding reach of the river a subject for a painter. He
+was bent on finding out where M'Cormick lived, and on making the
+acquaintance of that bland individual.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's the Major's, and there's himself,&rdquo; said a countryman, as he
+pointed to a very shabbily dressed old man hoeing his cabbages in a
+dilapidated bit of garden-ground, but who was so absorbed in his
+occupation as not to notice the approach of a stranger.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I taking too great a liberty,&rdquo; said Stapylton, as he raised his hat,
+&ldquo;if I ask leave to follow the river path through this lovely spot?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Eh&mdash;what?&mdash;how did you come? You didn't pass round by the young
+wheat, eh?&rdquo; asked M'Cormick, in his most querulous voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I came along by the margin of the river.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's just it!&rdquo; broke in the other. &ldquo;There's no keeping them out that
+way. But I 'll have a dog as sure as my name is Dan. I'll have a
+bull-terrier that'll tackle the first of you that's trespassing there.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I fancy I'm addressing Major M'Cormick,&rdquo; said Stapylton, never noticing
+this rude speech; &ldquo;and if so, I will ask him to accord me the privilege of
+a brother-soldier, and let me make myself known to him,&mdash;Captain
+Stapylton, of the Prince's Hussars.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By the wars!&rdquo; muttered old Dan; the exclamation being a favorite one with
+him to express astonishment at any startling event. Then recovering
+himself, he added, &ldquo;I think I heard there were three or four of ye
+stopping up there at Cobham; but I never go out myself anywhere. I live
+very retired down here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am not surprised at that. When an old soldier can nestle down in a
+lovely nook like this, he has very little to regret of what the world is
+busy about outside it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And they are all ruining themselves, besides,&rdquo; said M'Cormick, with one
+of his malicious grins. &ldquo;There's not a man in this county is n't mortgaged
+over head and ears. I can count them all on my fingers for you, and tell
+what they have to live on.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You amaze me,&rdquo; said Stapylton, with a show of interest
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the women are as bad as the men: nothing fine enough for them to
+wear; no jewels rich enough to put on! Did you ever hear them mention <i>me?</i>&rdquo;
+ asked he, suddenly, as though the thought flashed upon him that he had
+himself been exposed to comment of a very different kind.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They told me of an old retired officer, who owned a most picturesque
+cottage, and said, if I remember aright, that the view from one of the
+windows was accounted one of the most perfect bits of river landscape in
+the kingdom.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just the same as where you 're standing,&mdash;no difference in life,&rdquo;
+ said M'Cormick, who was not to be seduced by the flattery into any
+demonstration of hospitality.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot imagine anything finer,&rdquo; said Stapylton, as he threw himself at
+the foot of a tree, and seemed really to revel in enjoyment of the scene.
+&ldquo;One might, perhaps, if disposed to be critical, ask for a little opening
+in that copse yonder. I suspect we should get a peep at the bold cliff
+whose summit peers above the tree-tops.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You'd see the quarry, to be sure,&rdquo; croaked out the Major, &ldquo;if that's what
+you mean.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I offer you a cigar?&rdquo; said Stapylton, whose self-possession was
+pushed somewhat hard by the other. &ldquo;An old campaigner is sure to be a
+smoker.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am not. I never had a pipe in my mouth since Walcheren.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Since Walcheren! You don't say that you are an old Walcheren man?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am, indeed. I was in the second battalion of the 103d,&mdash;the Duke's
+Fusiliers, if ever you heard of them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Heard of them! The whole world has heard of them; but I did n't know
+there was a man of that splendid corps surviving. Why, they lost&mdash;let
+me see&mdash;they lost every officer but&mdash;&rdquo; Here a vigorous effort to
+keep his cigar alight interposed, and kept him occupied for a few seconds.
+&ldquo;How many did you bring out of action,&mdash;four was it, or five? I'm
+certain you had n't six!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We were the same as the Buffs, man for man,&rdquo; said M'Cormick.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The poor Buffs!&mdash;very gallant fellows too!&rdquo; sighed Stapylton. &ldquo;I
+have always maintained, and I always will maintain, that the Walcheren
+expedition, though not a success, was the proudest achievement of the
+British arms.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The shakes always began after sunrise, and in less than ten minutes you
+'d see your nails growing blue.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How dreadful!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if you felt your nose, you would n't know it was your nose; you 'd
+think it was a bit of a cold carrot.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why was that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because there was no circulation; the blood would stop going round; and
+you 'd be that way for four hours,&mdash;till the sweating took you,&mdash;just
+the same as dead.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There, don't go on,&mdash;I can't stand it,&mdash;my nerves are all ajar
+already.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And then the cramps came on,&rdquo; continued M'Cormick, in an ecstasy over a
+listener whose feelings he could harrow; &ldquo;first in the calves of the legs,
+and then all along the spine, so that you 'd be bent like a fish.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;For Heaven's sake, spare me! I've seen some rough work, but that
+description of yours is perfectly horrifying! And when one thinks it was
+the glorious old 105th&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, the 103d; the 105th was at Barbadoes,&rdquo; broke in the Major, testily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So they were, and got their share of the yellow fever at that very time
+too,&rdquo; said Stapylton, hazarding a not very rash conjecture.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe they did, and maybe they didn't,&rdquo; was the dry rejoinder.
+</p>
+<p>
+It required all Stapylton's nice tact to get the Major once more full
+swing at the expedition, but he at last accomplished the feat, and with
+such success that M'Cormick suggested an adjournment within doors, and
+faintly hinted at a possible something to drink. The wily guest, however,
+declined this. &ldquo;He liked,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that nice breezy spot under those
+fine old trees, and with that glorious reach of the river before them.
+Could a man but join to these enjoyments,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;just a neighbor
+or two,&mdash;an old friend or so that he really liked,&mdash;one not
+alone agreeable from his tastes, but to whom the link of early
+companionship also attached us, with this addition I could call this a
+paradise.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I have the village doctor,&rdquo; croaked out M'Cor-mick, &ldquo;and there's
+Barrington&mdash;old Peter&mdash;up at the 'Fisherman's Home.' I have <i>them</i>
+by way of society. I might have better, and I might have worse.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They told me at Cobham that there was no getting you to 'go out;' that,
+like a regular old soldier, you liked your own chimney-corner, and could
+not be tempted away from it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They didn't try very hard, anyhow,&rdquo; said he, harshly. &ldquo;I'll be nineteen
+years here if I live till November, and I think I got two invitations, and
+one of them to a 'dancing tea,' whatever that is; so that you may observe
+they did n't push the temptation as far as St. Anthony's!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Stapylton joined in the laugh with which M'Cormick welcomed his own
+drollery.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your doctor,&rdquo; resumed he, &ldquo;is, I presume, the father of the pretty girl
+who rides so cleverly?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So they tell me. I never saw her mounted but once, and she smashed a
+melon-frame for me, and not so much as 'I ask your pardon!' afterwards.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Barrington,&rdquo; resumed Stapylton, &ldquo;is the ruined gentleman I have heard
+of, who has turned innkeeper. An extravagant son, I believe, finished
+him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;His own taste for law cost him just as much,&rdquo; muttered M'Cormick. &ldquo;He had
+a trunk full of old title-deeds and bonds and settlements, and he was
+always poring over them, discovering, by the way, flaws in this and
+omissions in that, and then he 'd draw up a case for counsel, and get
+consultations on it, and before you could turn round, there he was, trying
+to break a will or get out of a covenant, with a special jury and the
+strongest Bar in Ireland. That's what ruined him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I gather from what you tell me that he is a bold, determined, and perhaps
+a vindictive man. Am I right?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are not; he's an easy-tempered fellow, and careless, like every one
+of his name and race. If you said he hadn't a wise head on his shoulders,
+you 'd be nearer the mark. Look what he 's going to do now!&rdquo; cried he,
+warming with his theme: &ldquo;he 's going to give up the inn&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Give it up! And why?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay, that's the question would puzzle him to answer; but it's the haughty
+old sister persuades him that he ought to take this black girl&mdash;George
+Barrington's daughter&mdash;home to live with him, and that a shebeen is
+n't the place to bring her to, and she a negress. That's more of the
+family wisdom!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There may be affection in it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Affection! For what,&mdash;for a black! Ay, and a black that they never
+set eyes on! If it was old Withering had the affection for her, I wouldn't
+be surprised.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean? Who is he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Attorney-General, who has been fighting the East India Company for
+her these sixteen years, and making more money out of the case than she
+'ll ever get back again. Did you ever hear of Barrington and Lot Rammadahn
+Mohr against the India Company? That's the case. Twelve millions of rupees
+and the interest on them! And I believe in my heart and soul old Peter
+would be well out of it for a thousand pounds.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is, you suspect he must be beaten in the end?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean that I am sure of it! We have a saying in Ireland, 'It's not fair
+for one man to fall on twenty,' and it's just the same thing to go to law
+with a great rich Company. You 're sure to have the worst of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did it never occur to them to make some sort of compromise?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a bit of it. Old Peter always thinks he has the game in his hand, and
+nothing would make him throw up the cards. No; I believe if you offered to
+pay the stakes, he 'd say, 'Play the game out, and let the winner take the
+money!'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;His lawyer may, possibly, have something to say to this spirit.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course he has; they are always bolstering each other up. It is,
+'Barrington, my boy, you 'll turn the corner yet. You 'll drive up that
+old avenue to the house you were born in, Barrington, of Barrington Hall;'
+or, 'Withering, I never heard you greater than on that point before the
+twelve Judges;' or, 'Your last speech at Bar was finer than Curran.'
+They'd pass the evening that way, and call me a cantankerous old hound
+when my back was turned, just because I did n't hark in to the cry. Maybe
+I have the laugh at them, after all.&rdquo; And he broke out into one of his
+most discordant cackles to corroborate his boast.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The sound sense and experience of an old Walcheren man might have its
+weight with them. I know it would with me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay,&rdquo; muttered the Major, half aloud, for he was thinking to himself
+whether this piece of flattery was a bait for a little whiskey-and-water.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'd rather have the unbought judgment of a shrewd man of the world than
+a score of opinions based upon the quips and cranks of an attorney's
+instructions.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay!&rdquo; responded the other, as he mumbled to himself, &ldquo;he's mighty
+thirsty.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what's more,&rdquo; said Stapylton, starting to his legs, &ldquo;I 'd follow the
+one as implicitly as I'd reject the other. I 'd say, 'M'Cormick is an old
+friend; we have known each other since boyhood.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, we haven't I never saw Peter Barrington till I came to live here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, after a close friendship of years with his son&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor that, either,&rdquo; broke in the implacable Major. &ldquo;He was always cutting
+his jokes on me, and I never could abide him, so that the close friendship
+you speak of is a mistake.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At all events,&rdquo; said Stapylton, sharply, &ldquo;it could be no interest of
+yours to see an old&mdash;an old acquaintance lavishing his money on
+lawyers and in the pursuit of the most improbable of all results. <i>You</i>
+have no design upon him. <i>You</i> don't want to marry his sister!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, by Gemini! &ldquo;&mdash;a favorite expletive of the Major's in urgent
+moments.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor the Meer's daughter, either, I suppose?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The black! I think not. Not if she won the lawsuit, and was as rich as&mdash;she
+never will be.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I agree with you there, Major, though I know nothing of the case or its
+merits; but it is enough to hear that a beggared squire is on one side,
+and Leadenhall Street on the other, to predict the upshot, and, for my own
+part, I wonder they go on with it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'll tell you how it is,&rdquo; said M'Cormick, closing one eye so as to impart
+a look of intense cunning to his face. &ldquo;It's the same with law as at a
+fox-hunt: when you 're tired out beating a cover, and ready to go off
+home, one dog&mdash;very often the worst in the whole pack&mdash;will yelp
+out. You know well enough he's a bad hound, and never found in his life.
+What does that signify? When you 're wishing a thing, whatever flatters
+your hopes is all right,&mdash;is n't that true?&mdash;and away you dash
+after the yelper as if he was a good hound.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have put the matter most convincingly before me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How thirsty he is now!&rdquo; thought the Major; and grinned maliciously at his
+reflection.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the upshot of all,&rdquo; said Stapylton, like one summing up a case,&mdash;&ldquo;the
+upshot of all is, that this old man is not satisfied with his ruin if it
+be not complete; he must see the last timbers of the wreck carried away
+ere he leaves the scene of his disaster. Strange, sad infatuation!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay,&rdquo; muttered the Major, who really had but few sympathies with merely
+moral abstractions.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not what I should have done in a like case; nor <i>you</i> either, Major,
+eh?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very likely not&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But so it is. There are men who cannot be practical, do what they will.
+This is above them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A sort of grunt gave assent to this proposition; and Stapylton, who began
+to feel it was a drawn game, arose to take his leave.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I owe you a very delightful morning, Major,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I wish I could
+think it was not to be the last time I was to have this pleasure. Do you
+ever come up to Kilkenny? Does it ever occur to you to refresh your old
+mess recollections?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Had M'Cormick been asked whether he did not occasionally drop in at
+Holland House, and brush up his faculties by intercourse with the bright
+spirits who resorted there, he could scarcely have been more astounded.
+That he, old Dan M'Cormick, should figure at a mess-table,&mdash;he, whose
+wardrobe, a mere skeleton battalion thirty years ago, had never since been
+recruited,&mdash;he should mingle with the gay and splendid young fellows
+of a &ldquo;crack&rdquo; regiment!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'd just as soon think of&mdash;of&mdash;&rdquo; he hesitated how to measure an
+unlikelihood&mdash; &ldquo;of marrying a young wife, and taking her off to
+Paris!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I don't see any absurdity in the project There is certainly a great
+deal of brilliancy about it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And something bitter too!&rdquo; croaked out M'Cormick, with a fearful grin.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if you'll not come to see me, the chances are I'll come over and
+make <i>you</i> another visit before I leave the neighborhood.&rdquo; He waited
+a second or two, not more, for some recognition of this offer; but none
+came, and he con-tinned: &ldquo;I'll get you to stroll down with me, and show me
+this 'Fisherman's Home,' and its strange proprietor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I 'll do <i>that!</i>&rdquo; said the Major, who had no objection to a plan
+which by no possibility could involve himself in any cost.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As it is an inn, perhaps they 'd let us have a bit of dinner. What would
+you say to being my guest there tomorrow? Would that suit you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would suit <i>me</i> well enough!&rdquo; was the strongly marked reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, we 'll do it this wise. You 'll send one of your people over to
+order dinner for two at&mdash;shall we say five o'clock?&mdash;yes, five&mdash;to-morrow.
+That will give us a longer evening, and I 'll call here for you about
+four. Is that agreed?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that might do,&rdquo; was M'Cormick's half-reluctant assent, for, in
+reality, there were details in the matter that he scarcely fancied. First
+of all, he had never hitherto crossed that threshold except as an invited
+guest, and he had his misgivings about the prudence of appearing in any
+other character, and secondly, there was a responsibility in ordering the
+dinner, which he liked just as little, and, as he muttered to himself,
+&ldquo;Maybe I 'll have to order the bill too!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Some unlucky experiences of casualties of this sort had, perhaps, shadowed
+his early life; for so it was, that long after Stapylton had taken his
+leave and gone off, the Major stood there ruminating over this unpleasant
+contingency, and ingeniously imagining all the pleas he could put in,
+should his apprehension prove correct, against his own indebtedness.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell Miss Dinah,&rdquo; said he to his messenger,&mdash;&ldquo;tell her 't is an
+officer by the name of Captain Staples, or something like that, that 's up
+at Cobham, that wants a dinner for two to-morrow at five o'clock; and mind
+that you don't say who the other is, for it's nothing to her. And if she
+asks you what sort of a dinner, say the best in the house, for the Captain&mdash;mind
+you say the Captain&mdash;is to pay for it, and the other man only dines
+with him. There, now, you have your orders, and take care that you follow
+them!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was a shrewd twinkle in the messenger's eye as he listened, which,
+if not exactly complimentary, guaranteed how thoroughly he comprehended
+the instructions that were given to him; and the Major saw him set forth
+on his mission, well assured that he could trust his envoy.
+</p>
+<p>
+In that nothing-for-nothing world Major M'Cormick had so long lived in,
+and to whose practice and ways he had adapted all his thoughts, there was
+something puzzling in the fact of a dashing Captain of Hussars of &ldquo;the
+Prince's Own,&rdquo; seeking him out, to form his acquaintance and invite him to
+dinner. Now, though the selfishness of an unimaginative man is the most
+complete of all, it yet exposes him to fewer delusions than the same
+quality when found allied with a hopeful or fanciful temperament.
+M'Cormick had no &ldquo;distractions&rdquo; from such sources. He thought very ill of
+the world at large; he expected extremely little from its generosity, and
+he resolved to be &ldquo;quits&rdquo; with it. To his often put question, &ldquo;What
+brought him here?&mdash;what did he come for?&rdquo; he could find no
+satisfactory reply. He scouted the notion of &ldquo;love of scenery, solitude,
+and so forth,&rdquo; and as fully he ridiculed to himself the idea of a stranger
+caring to hear the gossip and small-talk of a mere country neighborhood.
+&ldquo;I have it!&rdquo; cried he at last, as a bright thought darted through his
+brain,&mdash;&ldquo;I have it at last! He wants to pump me about the
+'expedition.' It's for that he's come. He affected surprise, to be sure,
+when I said I was a Walcheren man, and pretended to be amazed, besides;
+but that was all make-believe. He knew well enough who and what I was
+before he came. And he was so cunning, leading the conversation away in
+another direction, getting me to talk of old Peter and his son George.
+Wasn't it deep?&mdash;was n't it sly? Well, maybe we are not so innocent
+as we look, ourselves; maybe we have a trick in our sleeves too! 'With a
+good dinner and a bottle of port wine,' says he, 'I 'll have the whole
+story, and be able to write it with the signature &ldquo;One who was there.&rdquo;'
+But you 're mistaken this time, Captain; the sorrow bit of Walcheren you
+'ll hear out of my mouth to-morrow, be as pleasant and congenial as you
+like. I 'll give you the Barringtons, father and son,&mdash;ay, and old
+Dinah, too, if you fancy her,&mdash;but not a syllable about the
+expedition. It's the Scheldt you want, but you 'll have to 'take it out'
+in the Ganges.&rdquo; And his uncouth joke so tickled him that he laughed till
+his eyes ran over; and in the thought that he was going to obtain a dinner
+under false pretences, he felt something as nearly like happiness as he
+had tasted for many a long day before.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XVI. COMING HOME
+</h2>
+<p>
+Miss Barrtngton waited with impatience for Conyers's appearance at the
+breakfast-table,&mdash;she had received such a pleasant note from her
+brother, and she was so eager to read it. That notion of imparting some
+conception of a dear friend by reading his own words to a stranger is a
+very natural one. It serves so readily to corroborate all we have already
+said, to fill up that picture of which wo have but given the mere outline,
+not to speak of the inexplicable charm there is in being able to say,
+&ldquo;Here is the man without reserve or disguise; here he is in all the
+freshness and warmth of genuine feeling; no tricks of style, no turning of
+phrases to mar the honest expression of his nature. You see him as we see
+him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My brother is coming home, Mr. Conyers; he will be here to-day. Here is
+his note,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, as she shook hands with her guest &ldquo;I must read
+it for you:&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'At last, my dear Dinah&mdash;at last I am free, and, with all my love of
+law and lawyers, right glad to turn my steps homeward. Not but I have had
+a most brilliant week of it; dined with my old schoolfellow Longmore, now
+Chief Baron, and was the honored guest of the &ldquo;Home Circuit,&rdquo; not to speak
+of one glorious evening with a club called the &ldquo;Unbriefed,&rdquo; the
+pleasantest dogs that ever made good speeches for nothing!&mdash;an amount
+of dissipation upon which I can well retire and live for the next twelve
+months. How strange it seems to me to be once more in the &ldquo;world,&rdquo; and
+listening to scores of things in which I have no personal interest; how
+small it makes my own daily life appear, but how secure and how homelike,
+Dinah! You have often heard me grumbling over the decline of social
+agreeability, and the dearth of those pleasant speeches that could set the
+table in a roar. You shall never hear the same complaint from me again.
+These fellows are just as good as their fathers. If I missed anything, it
+was that glitter of scholarship, that classical turn which in the olden
+day elevated table-talk, and made it racy with the smart aphorisms and
+happy conceits of those who, even over their wine, were poets and orators.
+But perhaps I am not quite fair even in this. At all events, I am not
+going to disparage those who have brought back to my old age some of the
+pleasant memories of my youth, and satisfied me that even yet I have a
+heart for those social joys I once loved so dearly!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'And we have won our suit, Dinah,&mdash;at least, a juror was withdrawn
+by consent,&mdash;and Brazier agrees to an arbitration as to the Moyalty
+lands, the whole of Clanebrach and Barrymaquilty property being released
+from the sequestration.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is all personal matter, and technical besides,&rdquo; said Miss
+Barrington; &ldquo;so I skip it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Withering was finer than ever I heard him in the speech to evidence. We
+have been taunted with our defensive attitude so suddenly converted into
+an attack, and he compared our position to Wellington's at Torres Vedras.
+The Chief Justice said Curran, at his best, never excelled it, and they
+have called me nothing but Lord Wellington ever since. And now, Dinah, to
+answer the question your impatience has been putting these ten minutes:
+&ldquo;What of the money part of all this triumph?&rdquo; I fear much, my dear sister,
+we are to take little by our motion. The costs of the campaign cut up all
+but the glory! Hogan's bill extends to thirty-eight folio pages, and
+there's a codicil to it of eleven more, headed &ldquo;Confidential between
+Client and Attorney,&rdquo; and though I have not in a rapid survey seen
+anything above five pounds, the gross total is two thousand seven hundred
+and forty-three pounds three and fourpence. I must and will say, however,
+it was a great suit, and admirably prepared. There was not an instruction
+Withering did not find substantiated, and Hogan is equally delighted with
+<i>him</i>, With all my taste for field sports and manly games, Dinah, I
+am firmly convinced that a good trial at bar is a far finer spectacle than
+the grandest tournament that ever was tilted. There was a skirmish
+yesterday that I 'd rather have witnessed than I 'd have seen Brian de
+Bois himself at Ashby-de-la-Zouch. And, considering that my own share for
+this passage at arms will come to a trifle above two thousand pounds, the
+confession may be taken as an honest one.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'And who is your young guest whom I shall be so delighted to see? This
+gives no clew to him, Dinah, for you know well how I would welcome any one
+who has impressed you so favorably. Entreat of him to prolong his stay for
+a week at least, and if I can persuade Withering to come down with me, we
+'ll try and make his sojourn more agreeable. Look out for me&mdash;at
+least, about five o'clock&mdash;and have the green-room ready for W., and
+let Darby be at Holt's stile to take the trunks, for Withering likes that
+walk through the woods, and says that he leaves his wig and gown on the
+holly-bushes there till he goes back.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The next paragraph she skimmed over to herself. It was one about an
+advance that Hogan had let him have of two hundred pounds. &ldquo;Quite ample,&rdquo;
+ W. says, &ldquo;for our excursion to fetch over Josephine.&rdquo; Some details as to
+the route followed, and some wise hints about travelling on the Continent,
+and a hearty concurrence on the old lawyer's part with the whole scheme.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;These are little home details,&rdquo; said she, hurriedly, &ldquo;but you have heard
+enough to guess what my brother is like. Here is the conclusion:&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'I hope your young friend is a fisherman, which will give me more chance
+of his company than walking up the partridges, for which I am getting too
+old. Let him however understand that we mean him to enjoy himself in his
+own way, to have the most perfect liberty, and that the only despotism we
+insist upon is, not to be late for dinner.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Your loving brother,
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Peter Barrington.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'There is no fatted calf to feast our return, Dinah, but Withering has an
+old weakness for a roast sucking-pig. Don't you think we could satisfy
+it?'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers readily caught the contagion of the joy Miss Barrington felt at
+the thought of her brother's return. Short as the distance was that
+separated him from home, his absences were so rare, it seemed as though he
+had gone miles and miles away, for few people ever lived more dependent on
+each other, with interests more concentrated, and all of whose hopes and
+fears took exactly the same direction, than this brother and sister, and
+this, too, with some strong differences on the score of temperament, of
+which the reader already has an inkling.
+</p>
+<p>
+What a pleasant bustle that is of a household that prepares for the return
+of a well-loved master! What feeling pervades twenty little offices of
+every-day routine! And how dignified by affection are the smallest cares
+and the very humblest attentions! &ldquo;He likes this!&rdquo; &ldquo;He is so fond of
+that!&rdquo; are heard at every moment It is then that one marks how the
+observant eye of love has followed the most ordinary tricks of habit, and
+treasured them as things to be remembered. It is not the key of the street
+door in your pocket, nor the lease of the premises in your drawer, that
+make a home. Let us be grateful when we remember that, in this attribute,
+the humblest shealing on the hillside is not inferior to the palace of the
+king!
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers, I have said, partook heartily of Miss Barring-ton's delight, and
+gave a willing help to the preparations that went forward. All were soon
+busy within doors and without. Some were raking the gravel before the
+door; while others were disposing the flower-pots in little pyramids
+through the grass plats; and then there were trees to be nailed up, and
+windows cleaned, and furniture changed in various ways. What superhuman
+efforts did not Conyers make to get an old jet d'eau to play which had not
+spouted for nigh twenty years; and how reluctantly he resigned himself to
+failure and assisted Betty to shake a carpet!
+</p>
+<p>
+And when all was completed, and the soft and balmy air sent the odor of
+the rose and the jessamine through the open windows, within which every
+appearance of ease and comfort prevailed, Miss Barrington sat down at the
+piano and began to refresh her memory of some Irish airs, old favorites of
+Withering's, which he was sure to ask for. There was that in their
+plaintive wildness which strongly interested Conyers; while, at the same
+time, he was astonished at the skill of one at whose touch, once on a
+time, tears had trembled in the eyes of those who listened, and whose
+fingers had not yet forgot their cunning.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is that standing without there?&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, suddenly, as
+she saw a very poor-looking countryman who had drawn close to the window
+to listen. &ldquo;Who are you? and what do you want here?&rdquo; asked she,
+approaching him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm Terry, ma'am,&mdash;Terry Delany, the Major's man,&rdquo; said he, taking
+off his hat.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never heard of you; and what 's your business?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'T is how I was sent, your honor's reverence,&rdquo; began he, faltering at
+every word, and evidently terrified by her imperious style of address.
+&ldquo;'Tis how I came here with the master's compliments,&mdash;not indeed his
+own but the other man's,&mdash;to say, that if it was plazing to you, or,
+indeed, anyhow at all, they 'd be here at five o'clock to dinner; and
+though it was yesterday I got it, I stopped with my sister's husband at
+Foynes Gap, and misremembered it all till this morning, and I hope your
+honor's reverence won't tell it on me, but have the best in the house all
+the same, for he's rich enough and can well afford it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What can the creature mean?&rdquo; cried Miss Barrington. &ldquo;Who sent you here?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Major himself; but not for him, but for the other that's up at
+Cobham.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And who is this other? What is he called?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Twas something like Hooks, or Nails; but I can't remember,&rdquo; said he,
+scratching his head in sign of utter and complete bewilderment.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did any one ever hear the like! Is the fellow an idiot?&rdquo; exclaimed she,
+angrily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, my lady; but many a one might be that lived with ould M'Cormick!&rdquo;
+ burst out the man, in a rush of unguardedness.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Try and collect yourself, my good fellow,&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, smiling,
+in spite of herself, at his confession, &ldquo;and say, if you can, what brought
+you here?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's just, then, what I said before,&rdquo; said he, gaining a little more
+courage. &ldquo;It's dinner for two ye're to have; and it's to be ready at five
+o'clock; but ye 're not to look to ould Dan for the money, for he as good
+as said he would never pay sixpence of it, but 't is all to come out of
+the other chap's pocket, and well affordin' it. There it is now, and I
+defy the Pope o' Rome to say that I did n't give the message right!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; began Miss Barrington, in a voice shaking with agitation,
+&ldquo;it is nigh twenty years since a series of misfortunes brought us so low
+in the world that&mdash;&rdquo; She stopped, partly overcome by indignation,
+partly by shame; and then, suddenly turning towards the man, she
+continued, in a firm and resolute tone, &ldquo;Go back to your master and say,
+'Miss Barrington hopes he has sent a fool on his errand, otherwise his
+message is so insolent it will be far safer he should never present
+himself here again!' Do you hear me? Do you understand me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you mane you'd make them throw him in the river, the divil a straw I
+'d care, and I would n't wet my feet to pick him out of it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take the message as I have given it you, and do not dare to mix up
+anything of your own with it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Faix, I won't. It's trouble enough I have without that! I 'll tell him
+there's no dinner for him here to-day, and that, if he 's wise, he won't
+come over to look for it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There, go&mdash;be off,&rdquo; cried Conyers, impatiently, for he saw that Miss
+Barrington's temper was being too sorely tried.
+</p>
+<p>
+She conquered, however, the indignation that at one moment had threatened
+to master her, and in a voice of tolerable calm said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I ask you to see if Darby or any other of the workmen are in the
+garden? It is high time to take down these insignia of our traffic, and
+tell our friends how we would be regarded in future.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you let me do it? I ask as a favor that I may be permitted to do
+it,&rdquo; cried Conyers, eagerly; and without waiting for her answer, hurried
+away to fetch a ladder. He was soon back again and at work.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take care how you remove that board, Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;If there be
+the tiniest sprig of jessamine broken, my brother will miss it. He has
+been watching anxiously for the time when the white bells would shut out
+every letter of his name, and I like him not to notice the change
+immediately. There, you are doing it very handily indeed. There is another
+holdfast at this corner. Ah, be careful; that is a branch of the
+passion-tree, and though it looks dead, you will see it covered with
+flowers in spring. Nothing could be better. Now for the last emblem of our
+craft,&mdash;can you reach it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, easily,&rdquo; said Conyers, as he raised his eyes to where the little tin
+fish hung glittering above him. The ladder, however, was too short, and,
+standing on one of the highest rungs, still he could not reach the little
+iron stanchion. &ldquo;I must have it, though,&rdquo; cried he; &ldquo;I mean to claim that
+as my prize. It will be the only fish I ever took with my own hands.&rdquo; He
+now cautiously crept up another step of the ladder, supporting himself by
+the frail creepers which covered the walls. &ldquo;Help me now with a crooked
+stick, and I shall catch it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/190.jpg" width="100%" alt="190 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'll fetch you one,&rdquo; said she, disappearing within the porch.
+</p>
+<p>
+Still wistfully looking at the object of his pursuit, Conyers never turned
+his eyes downwards as the sound of steps apprised him some one was near,
+and, concluding it to be Miss Barrington, he said, &ldquo;I'm half afraid that I
+have torn some of this jessamine-tree from the wall; but see here's the
+prize!&rdquo; A slight air of wind had wafted it towards him, and he suatched
+the fish from its slender chain and held it up in triumph.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A poacher caught in the fact, Barrington!&rdquo; said a deep voice from below;
+and Conyers, looking down, saw two men, both advanced in life, very
+gravely watching his proceedings.
+</p>
+<p>
+Not a little ashamed of a situation to which he never expected an
+audience, he hastily descended the ladder; but before he reached the
+ground Miss Barrington was in her brother's arms, and welcoming him home
+with all the warmth of true affection. This over, she next shook hands
+cordially with his companion, whom she called Mr. Withering.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And now, Peter,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;to present one I have been longing to make
+known to you. You, who never forget a well-known face, will recognize
+him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My eyes are not what they used to be,&rdquo; said Barrington, holding out his
+hand to Conyers, &ldquo;but they are good enough to see the young gentleman I
+left here when I went away.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Peter,&rdquo; said she, hastily; &ldquo;but does the sight of him bring back to
+you no memory of poor George?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;George was dark as a Spaniard, and this gentleman&mdash;But pray, sir,
+forgive this rudeness of ours, and let us make ourselves better acquainted
+within doors. You mean to stay some time here, I hope.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I only wish I could; but I have already overstayed my leave, and waited
+here only to shake your hand before I left.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter, Peter,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, impatiently, &ldquo;must I then tell whom you
+are speaking to?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington seemed pazzled. He looked from the stranger to his sister, and
+back again.
+</p>
+<p>
+She drew near and whispered in his ear: &ldquo;The son of poor George's dearest
+friend on earth,&mdash;the son of Ormsby Conyers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of whom?&rdquo; said Barrington, in a startled and half-angry voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of Ormsby Conyers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington trembled from head to foot; his face, for an instant crimson,
+became suddenly of an ashy paleness, and his voice shook as he said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was not&mdash;I am not&mdash;prepared for this honor. I mean, I could
+not have expected that Mr. Conyers would have desired&mdash;Say this&mdash;do
+this for me, Withering, for I am not equal to it,&rdquo; said the old man, as,
+with his hands pressed over his face, he hurried within the house,
+followed by his sister.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot make a guess at the explanation my friend has left me to make,&rdquo;
+ cried Withering, courteously; &ldquo;but it is plain to see that your name has
+revived some sorrow connected with the great calamity of his life. You
+have heard of his son, Colonel Barrington?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, and it was because my father had been his dearest friend that Miss
+Barrington insisted on my remaining here. She told me, over and over
+again, of the joy her brother would feel on meeting me&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where are you going,&mdash;what's the matter?&rdquo; asked Withering, as a man
+hurriedly passed out of the house and made for the river.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The master is taken bad, sir, and I 'm going to Inistioge for the
+doctor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me go with you,&rdquo; said Conyers; and, only returning by a nod the
+good-bye of Withering, he moved past and stepped into the boat.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What an afternoon to such a morning!&rdquo; muttered he to himself, as the
+tears started from his eyes and stole heavily along his cheeks.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XVII. A SHOCK
+</h2>
+<p>
+If Conyers had been in the frame of mind to notice it, the contrast
+between the neat propriety of the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home,&rdquo; and the disorder and
+slovenliness of the little inn at Inistioge could not have failed to
+impress itself upon him. The &ldquo;Spotted Duck&rdquo; was certainly, in all its
+details, the very reverse of that quiet and picturesque cottage he had
+just quitted. But what did he care at that moment for the roof that
+sheltered him, or the table that was spread before him? For days back he
+had been indulging in thoughts of that welcome which Miss Barrington had
+promised him. He fancied how, on the mere mention of his father's name,
+the old man's affection would have poured forth in a flood of kindest
+words; he had even prepared himself for a scene of such emotion as a
+father might have felt on seeing one who brought back to mind his own
+son's earlier years; and instead of all this, he found himself shunned,
+avoided, repulsed. If there was a thing on earth in which his pride was
+greatest, it was his name; and yet it was on the utterance of that word,
+&ldquo;Conyers,&rdquo; old Barrington turned away and left him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Over and over again had he found the spell of his father's name and title
+opening to him society, securing him attentions, and obtaining for him
+that recognition and acceptance which go so far to make life pleasurable;
+and now that word, which would have had its magic at a palace, fell
+powerless and cold at the porch of a humble cottage.
+</p>
+<p>
+To say that it was part of his creed to believe his father could do no
+wrong is weak. It was his whole belief,&mdash;his entire and complete
+conviction. To his mind his father embodied all that was noble,
+high-hearted, and chivalrous. It was not alone the testimony of those who
+served under him could be appealed to. All India, the Government at home,
+his own sovereign knew it. From his earliest infancy he had listened to
+this theme, and to doubt it seemed like to dispute the fact of his
+existence. How was it, then, that this old man refused to accept what the
+whole world had stamped with its value? Was it that he impugned the
+services which had made his father's name famous throughout the entire
+East?
+</p>
+<p>
+He endeavored to recall the exact words Barrington had used towards him,
+but he could not succeed. There was something, he thought, about
+intruding, unwarrantably intruding; or it might be a mistaken impression
+of the welcome that awaited him. Which was it? or was it either of them?
+At all events, he saw himself rejected and repulsed, and the indignity was
+too great to be borne.
+</p>
+<p>
+While he thus chafed and fretted, hours went by; and Mr. M'Cabe, the
+landlord, had made more than one excursion into the room, under pretence
+of looking after the fire, or seeing that the windows were duly closed,
+but, in reality, very impatient to learn his guest's intentions regarding
+dinner.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was it your honor said that you'd rather have the chickens roast than
+biled?&rdquo; said he at last, in a very submissive tone.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I said nothing of the kind.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, it was No. 5 then, and I mistook; I crave your honor's pardon.&rdquo;
+ Hoping that the chord he had thus touched might vibrate, he stooped down
+to arrange the turf, and give time for the response, but none came. Mr.
+M'Cabe gave a faint sigh, but returned to the charge. &ldquo;When there's the
+laste taste of south in the wind, there 's no making this chimney draw.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Not a word of notice acknowledged this remark.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it will do finely yet; it's just the outside of the turf is a little
+wet, and no wonder; seven weeks of rain&mdash;glory be to Him that sent it&mdash;has
+nearly desthroyed us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Still Conyers vouchsafed no reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And when it begins to rain here, it never laves off. It isn't like in
+your honor's country. Your honor is English?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A grunt,&mdash;it might be assent, it sounded like malediction.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'T is azy seen. When your honor came out of the boat, I said, 'Shusy,'
+says I, 'he's English; and there's a coat they could n't make in Ireland
+for a king's ransom.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What conveyances leave this for Kilkenny?&rdquo; asked Conyers, sternly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just none at all, not to mislead you,&rdquo; said M'Cabe, in a voice quite
+devoid of its late whining intonation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is there not a chaise or a car to be had?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sorrow one. Dr. Dill has a car, to be sure, but not for hire.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Dr. Dill lives here. I forgot that. Go and tell him I wish to see
+him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The landlord withdrew in dogged silence, but returned in about ten
+minutes, to say that the doctor had been sent for to the &ldquo;Fisherman's
+Home,&rdquo; and Mr. Barrington was so ill it was not likely he would be back
+that night.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So ill, did you say?&rdquo; cried Conyers. &ldquo;What was the attack,&mdash;what did
+they call it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'T is some kind of a 'plexy, they said. He's a full man, and advanced in
+years, besides.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go and tell young Mr. Dill to come over here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He's just gone off with the cuppin' instruments. I saw him steppin' into
+the boat.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me have a messenger; I want a man to take a note up to Miss
+Barrington, and fetch my writing-desk here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+In his eager anxiety to learn how Mr. Barrington was, Conyers hastily
+scratched off a few lines; but on reading them over, he tore them up: they
+implied a degree of interest on his part which, considering the late
+treatment extended to him, was scarcely dignified. He tried again; the
+error was as marked on the other side. It was a cold and formal inquiry.
+&ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; said he, as he tore this in fragments, &ldquo;one thing is quite
+clear,&mdash;this illness is owing to <i>me!</i> But for <i>my</i>
+presence there, that old man had now been hale and hearty; the
+impressions, rightfully or wrongfully, which the sight of <i>me</i> and
+the announcement of <i>my</i> name produced are the cause of this malady.
+I cannot deny it.&rdquo; With this revulsion of feeling he wrote a short but
+kindly worded note to Miss Barrington, in which, with the very faintest
+allusion to himself, he begged for a few lines to say how her brother was.
+He would have added something about the sorrow he experienced in requiting
+all her kindness by this calamitous return, but he felt that if the case
+should be a serious one, all reference to himself would be misplaced and
+impertinent.
+</p>
+<p>
+The messenger despatched, he sat down beside his fire, the only light now
+in the room, which the shade of coming night had darkened. He was sad and
+dispirited, and ill at ease with his own heart. Mr. M'Cabe, indeed,
+appeared with a suggestion about candles, and a shadowy hint that if his
+guest speculated of dining at all, it was full time to intimate it; but
+Conyers dismissed him with a peremptory command not to dare to enter the
+room again until he was summoned to it. So odious to him was the place,
+the landlord, and all about him, that he would have set out on foot had
+his ankle been only strong enough to bear him. &ldquo;What if he were to write
+to Stapylton to come and fetch him away? He never liked the man; he liked
+him less since the remark Miss Barrrington had made upon him from mere
+reading of his letter, but what was he to do?&rdquo; While he was yet doubting
+what course to take, he heard the voices of some new arrivals outside,
+and, strange enough, one seemed to be Stapylton's. A minute or two after,
+the travellers had entered the room adjoining his own, and from which a
+very frail partition of lath and plaster alone separated him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Barney,&rdquo; said a harsh, grating voice, addressing the landlord,
+&ldquo;what have you got in the larder? We mean to dine with you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To dine here, Major!&rdquo; exclaimed M'Cabe. &ldquo;Well, well, wondhers will never
+cease.&rdquo; And then hurriedly seeking to cover a speech not very flattering
+to the Major's habits of hospitality, &ldquo;Sure, I 've a loin of pork, and
+there 's two chickens and a trout fresh out of the water, and there's a
+cheese; it isn't mine, to be sure, but Father Cody's, but he 'll not miss
+a slice out of it; and barrin' you dined at the 'Fisherman's Home,' you 'd
+not get betther.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That 's where we were to have dined by right,&rdquo; said the Major, crankily,&mdash;&ldquo;myself
+and my friend here,&mdash;but we're disappointed, and so we stepped in
+here, to do the best we can.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, by all accounts, there won't be many dinners up there for some
+time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why so?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ould Barrington was took with a fit this afternoon, and they say he won't
+get over it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How was it?&mdash;what brought it on?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here's the way I had it. Ould Peter was just come home from Kilkenny, and
+had brought the Attorney-General with him to stay a few days at the
+cottage, and what was the first thing he seen but a man that come all the
+way from India with a writ out against him for some of mad George
+Barrington's debts; and he was so overcome by the shock, that he fainted
+away, and never came rightly to himself since.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is simply impossible,&rdquo; said a voice Conyers well knew to be
+Stapylton's.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be that as it may, I had it from the man that came for the doctor, and
+what's more, he was just outside the window, and could hear ould
+Barrington cursin' and swearin' about the man that ruined his son, and
+brought his poor boy to the grave; but I 'll go and look after your
+honor's dinner, for I know more about that.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have a strange half-curiosity to know the correct version of this
+story,&rdquo; said Stapylton, as the host left the room. &ldquo;The doctor is a friend
+of yours, I think. Would he step over here, and let us hear the matter
+accurately?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He's up at the cottage now, but I 'll get him to come in here when he
+returns.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+If Conyers was shocked to hear how even this loose version of what had
+occurred served to heighten the anxiety his own fears created, he was also
+angry with himself at having learned the matter as he did. It was not in
+his nature to play the eavesdropper, and he had, in reality, heard what
+fell between his neighbors, almost ere he was aware of it. To apprise
+them, therefore, of the vicinity of a stranger, he coughed and sneezed,
+poked the fire noisily, and moved the chairs about; but though the
+disturbance served to prevent him from hearing, it did not tend to impress
+any greater caution upon them, for they talked away as before, and more
+than once above the din of his own tumult, he heard the name of
+Barrington, and even his own, uttered.
+</p>
+<p>
+Unable any longer to suffer the irritation of a position so painful, he
+took his hat, and left the house. It was now night, and so dark that he
+had to stand some minutes on the door-sill ere he could accustom his sight
+to the obscurity. By degrees, however, he was enabled to guide his steps,
+and, passing through the little square, he gained the bridge; and here he
+resolved to walk backwards and forwards till such time as he hoped his
+neighbors might have concluded their convivialities, and turned homeward.
+</p>
+<p>
+A thin cold rain was falling, and the night was cheerless, and without a
+star; but his heart was heavy, and the dreariness without best suited that
+within him. For more than an hour he continued his lonely walk, tormented
+by all the miseries his active ingenuity could muster. To have brought
+sorrow and mourning beneath the roof where you have been sheltered with
+kindness is sad enough, but far sadder is it to connect the calamity you
+have caused with one dearer to you than yourself, and whose innocence,
+while assured of, you cannot vindicate. &ldquo;My father never wronged this man,
+for the simple reason that he has never been unjust to any one. It is a
+gross injustice to accuse him! If Colonel Barrington forfeited my father's
+friendship, who could doubt where the fault lay? But I will not leave the
+matter questionable. I will write to my father and ask him to send me such
+a reply as may set the issue at rest forever; and then I will come down
+here, and, with my father's letter in my hand, say, 'The mention of my
+name was enough, once on a time, to make you turn away from me on the very
+threshold of your own door&mdash;'&rdquo; When he had got thus far in his
+intended appeal, his ear was suddenly struck by the word &ldquo;Conyers,&rdquo;
+ uttered by one of two men who had passed him the moment before, and now
+stood still in one of the projections of the bridge to talk. He as hastily
+recognized Dr. Dill as the speaker. He went on thus: &ldquo;Of course it was
+mere raving, but one must bear in mind that memory very often is the
+prompter of these wanderings; and it was strange how persistently he held
+to the one theme, and continued to call out, 'It was not fair, sir! It was
+not manly! You know it yourself, Conyers; you cannot deny it!'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you attach no importance to such wanderings, doctor?&rdquo; asked one whose
+deep-toned voice betrayed him to be Stapylton.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do; that is, to the extent I have mentioned. They are incoherencies,
+but they are not without some foundation. This Conyers may have had his
+share in that famous accusation against Colonel Barrington,&mdash;that
+well-known charge I told you of; and if so, it is easy to connect the name
+with these ravings.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the old man will die of this attack,&rdquo; said Stapylton, half musingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope not. He has great vigor of constitution; and old as he is, I think
+he will rub through it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Young Conyers left for Kilkenny, then, immediately?&rdquo; asked he.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; he came down here, to the village. He is now at the inn.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At the inn, here? I never knew that. I am sorry I was not aware of it,
+doctor; but since it is so, I will ask of you not to speak of having seen
+me here. He would naturally take it ill, as his brother officer, that I
+did not make him out, while, as you see, I was totally ignorant of his
+vicinity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will say nothing on the subject, Captain,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;And now
+one word of advice from you on a personal matter. This young gentleman has
+offered to be of service to my son&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers, hitherto spellbound while the interest attached to his father,
+now turned hastily from the spot and walked away, his mind not alone
+charged with a heavy care, but full of an eager anxiety as to wherefore
+Stapylton should have felt so deeply interested in Barrington's illness,
+and the causes that led to it,&mdash;Stapylton, the most selfish of men,
+and the very last in the world to busy himself in the sorrows or
+misfortunes of a stranger. Again, too, why had he desired the doctor to
+preserve his presence there as a secret? Conyers was exactly in the frame
+of mind to exaggerate a suspicion, or make a mere doubt a grave question.
+While be thus mused, Stapylton and the doctor passed him on their way
+towards the village, deep in converse, and, to all seeming, in closest
+confidence.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shall I follow him to the inn, and declare that I overheard a few words
+on the bridge which give me a claim to explanation? Shall I say, 'Captain
+Stapylton, you spoke of my father, just now, sufficiently aloud to be
+overheard by me as I passed, and in your tone there was that which
+entitles me to question you? Then if he should say, 'Go on; what is it you
+ask for?' shall I not be sorely puzzled to continue? Perhaps, too, he
+might remind me that the mode in which I obtained my information precludes
+even a reference to it. He is one of those fellows not to throw away such
+an advantage, and I must prepare myself for a quarrel. Oh, if I only had
+Hunter by me! What would I not give for the brave Colonel's counsel at
+such a moment as this?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Of this sort were his thoughts as he strolled up and down for hours,
+wearing away the long &ldquo;night watches,&rdquo; till a faint grayish tinge above
+the horizon showed that morning was not very distant. The whole landscape
+was wrapped in that cold mysterious tint in which tower and hill-top and
+spire are scarcely distinguishable from each other, while out of the
+low-lying meadows already arose the bluish vapor that proclaims the coming
+day. The village itself, overshadowed by the mountain behind it, lay a
+black, unbroken mass.
+</p>
+<p>
+Not a light twinkled from a window, save close to the river's bank, where
+a faint gleam stole forth and flickered on the water.
+</p>
+<p>
+Who has not felt the strange interest that attaches to a solitary light
+seen thus in the tranquil depth of a silent night? How readily do we
+associate it with some incident of sorrow! The watcher beside the sick-bed
+rises to the mind, or the patient sufferer himself trying to cheat the
+dull hours by a book, or perhaps some poor son of toil arising to his
+daily round of labor, and seated at that solitary meal which no kind word
+enlivens, no companionship beguiles. And as I write, in what corner of
+earth are not such scenes passing,&mdash;such dark shadows moving over the
+battlefield of life?
+</p>
+<p>
+In such a feeling did Conyers watch this light as, leaving the high-road,
+he took a path that led along the river towards it. As he drew nigher, he
+saw that the light came from the open window of a room which gave upon a
+little garden,&mdash;a mere strip of ground fenced off from the path by a
+low paling. With a curiosity he could not master, he stopped and looked
+in. At a large table, covered with books and papers, and on which a skull
+also stood, a young man was seated, his head leaning on his hand,
+apparently in deep thought, while a girl was slowly pacing the little
+chamber as she talked to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It does not require,&rdquo; said she, in a firm voice, &ldquo;any great effort of
+memory to bear in mind that a nerve, an artery, and a vein always go in
+company.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not for you, perhaps,&mdash;not for you, Polly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not for any one, I 'm sure. Your fine dragoon friend with the sprained
+ankle might be brought to that amount of instruction by one telling of
+it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, he 's no fool, I promise you, Polly. Don't despise him because he has
+plenty of money and can lead a life of idleness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I neither despise nor esteem him, nor do I mean that he should divert our
+minds from what we are at. Now for the popliteal space. Can you describe
+it? Do you know where it is, or anything about it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do,&rdquo; said he, doggedly, as he pushed his long hair back from his eyes,
+and tried to think,&mdash;&ldquo;I do, but I must have time. You must n't hurry
+me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She made no reply, but continued her walk in silence.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know all about it, Polly, but I can't describe it. I can't describe
+anything; but ask me a question about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where is it,&mdash;where does it lie?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn't it at the lower third of the humerus, where the flexors divide?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are too bad,&mdash;too stupid!&rdquo; cried she, angrily. &ldquo;I cannot believe
+that anything short of a purpose, a determination to be ignorant, could
+make a person so unteach-able. If we have gone over this once, we have
+done so fifty times. It haunts me in my sleep, from very iteration.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish it would haunt me a little when I 'm awake,&rdquo; said he, sulkily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And when may that be, I'd like to know? Do you fancy, sir, that your
+present state of intelligence is a very vigilant one?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know one thing. I hope there won't be the like of you on the Court of
+Examiners, for I would n't bear the half of what <i>you've</i> said to me
+from another.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/202.jpg" width="100%" alt="202 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rejection will be harder to bear, Tom. To be sent back as ignorant and
+incapable will be far heavier as a punishment than any words of mine. What
+are you laughing at, sir? Is it a matter of mirth to you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look at the skull, Polly,&mdash;look at the skull.&rdquo; And he pointed to
+where he had stuck his short, black pipe, between the grinning teeth of
+the skeleton.
+</p>
+<p>
+She snatched it angrily away, and threw it out of the window, saying, &ldquo;You
+may be ignorant, and not be able to help it. I will take care you shall
+not be irreverent, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There's my short clay gone, anyhow,&rdquo; said Tom, submissively, &ldquo;and I think
+I 'll go to bed.&rdquo; And he yawned drearily as he spoke.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not till you have done this, if we sit here till breakfast-time,&rdquo; said
+she, resolutely. &ldquo;There's the plate, and there's the reference. Read it
+till you know it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a slave-driver you 'd make, Polly!&rdquo; said he, with a half-bitter
+smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a slave I am!&rdquo; said she, turning away her head.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's true,&rdquo; cried he, in a voice thick with emotion; &ldquo;and when I 'm
+thousands of miles away, I 'll be longing to hear the bitterest words you
+ever said to me, rather than never see you any more.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My poor brother,&rdquo; said she, laying her hand softly on his rough head, &ldquo;I
+never doubted your heart, and I ought to be better tempered with you, and
+I will. Come, now, Tom,&rdquo;&mdash;and she seated herself at the table next
+him,&mdash;&ldquo;see, now, if I cannot make this easy to you.&rdquo; And then the two
+heads were bent together over the table, and the soft brown hair of the
+girl half mingled with the rough wool of the graceless numskull beside
+her.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will stand by him, if it were only for her sake,&rdquo; said Conyers to
+himself. And he stole slowly away, and gained the inn.
+</p>
+<p>
+So intent upon his purpose was he that he at once set about its
+fulfilment. He began a long letter to his father, and, touching slightly
+on the accident by which he made Dr. Dill's acquaintance, professed to be
+deeply his debtor for kindness and attention. With this prelude he
+introduced Tom. Hitherto his pen had glided along flippantly enough. In
+that easy mixture of fact and fancy by which he opened his case, no grave
+difficulty presented itself; but Tom was now to be presented, and the task
+was about as puzzling as it would have been to have conducted him bodily
+into society.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was ungenerous enough to be prejudiced against this poor fellow when I
+first met him,&rdquo; wrote he. &ldquo;Neither his figure nor his manners are in his
+favor, and in his very diffidence there is an apparent rudeness and
+forwardness which are not really in his nature. These, however, are not
+mistakes you, my dear father, will fall into. With your own quickness you
+will see what sterling qualities exist beneath this rugged outside, and
+you will befriend him at first for my sake. Later on, I trust he will open
+his own account in your heart. Bear in mind, too, that it was all my
+scheme,&mdash;the whole plan mine. It was I persuaded him to try his luck
+in India; it was through me he made the venture; and if the poor fellow
+fail, all the fault will fall back upon <i>me</i>.&rdquo; From this he went into
+little details of Tom's circumstances, and the narrow means by which he
+was surrounded, adding how humble he was, and how ready to be satisfied
+with the most moderate livelihood. &ldquo;In that great wide world of the East,
+what scores of things there must be for such a fellow to do; and even
+should he not turn out to be a Sydenham or a Harvey, he might administer
+justice, or collect revenue, or assist in some other way the process of
+that system which we call the British rule in India. In a word, get him
+something he may live by, and be able, in due time, to help those he has
+left behind here, in a land whose 'Paddy-fields' are to the full as
+pauperized as those of Bengal.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He had intended, having disposed of Tom Dill's case, to have addressed
+some lines to his father about the Barring-tons, sufficiently vague to be
+easily answered if the subject were one distasteful or unpleasing to him;
+but just as he reached the place to open this, he was startled by the
+arrival of a jaunting-car at the inn-door, whose driver stopped to take a
+drink. It was a chance conveyance, returning to Kilkenny, and Conyers at
+once engaged it; and, leaving an order to send on the reply when it
+arrived from the cottage, he wrote a hasty note to Tom Dill and departed.
+This note was simply to say that he had already fulfilled his promise of
+interesting his father in his behalf, and that whenever Tom had passed his
+examination, and was in readiness for his voyage, he should come or write
+to him, and he would find him fully disposed to serve and befriend him.
+&ldquo;Meanwhile,&rdquo; wrote he, &ldquo;let me hear of you. I am really anxious to learn
+how you acquit yourself at the ordeal, for which you have the cordial good
+wishes of your friend, F. Conyers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Oh, if the great men of our acquaintance&mdash;and we all of us, no matter
+how hermit-like we may live, have our &ldquo;great men&rdquo;&mdash;could only know
+and feel what ineffable pleasure will sometimes be derived from the chance
+expressions they employ towards us,&mdash;words which, little significant
+in themselves, perhaps have some touch of good fellowship or good feeling,
+now reviving a &ldquo;bygone,&rdquo; now far-seeing a future, tenderly thrilling
+through us by some little allusion to a trick of our temperament, noted
+and observed by one in whose interest we never till then knew we had a
+share,&mdash;if, I say, they were but aware of this, how delightful they
+might make themselves!&mdash;what charming friends!&mdash;and, it is but
+fair to own, what dangerous patrons!
+</p>
+<p>
+I leave my reader to apply the reflection to the case before him, and then
+follow me to the pleasant quarters of a well-maintained country-house,
+full of guests and abounding in gayety.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XVIII. COBHAM
+</h2>
+<p>
+My reader is already aware that I am telling of some forty years ago, and
+therefore I have no apologies to make for habits and ways which our more
+polished age has pronounced barbarous. Now, at Cobham, the men sat after
+dinner over their wine when the ladies had withdrawn, and, I grieve to
+say, fulfilled this usage with a zest and enjoyment that unequivocally
+declared it to be the best hour of the whole twenty-four.
+</p>
+<p>
+Friends could now get together, conversation could range over
+personalities, egotisms have their day, and bygones be disinterred without
+need of an explanation. Few, indeed, who did not unbend at such a moment,
+and relax in that genial atmosphere begotten of closed curtains, and
+comfort, and good claret. I am not so certain that we are wise in our
+utter abandonment of what must have often conciliated a difference or
+reconciled a grudge. How many a lurking discontent, too subtle for
+intervention, must have been dissipated in the general burst of a common
+laugh, or the racy enjoyment of a good story! Decidedly the decanter has
+often played peacemaker, though popular prejudice inclines to give it a
+different mission.
+</p>
+<p>
+On the occasion to which I would now invite my reader, the party were
+seated&mdash;by means of that genial discovery, a horseshoe-table&mdash;around
+the fire at Cobham. It was a true country-house society of neighbors who
+knew each other well, sprinkled with guests,&mdash;strangers to every one.
+There were all ages and all temperaments, from the hardy old squire, whose
+mellow cheer was known at the fox-cover, to the young heir fresh from
+Oxford and loud about Leicestershire; gentlemen-farmers and sportsmen, and
+parsons and soldiers, blended together with just enough disparity of
+pursuit to season talk and freshen experiences.
+</p>
+<p>
+The conversation, which for a while was partly on sporting matters, varied
+with little episodes of personal achievement, and those little boastings
+which end in a bet, was suddenly interrupted by a hasty call for Dr. Dill,
+who was wanted at the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can't you stay to finish this bottle, Dill?&rdquo; said the Admiral, who had
+not heard for whom he had been sent.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I fear not, sir. It is a long row down to the cottage.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So it 's poor Barrington again! I 'm sincerely sorry for it! And now I
+'ll not ask you to delay. By the way, take my boat. Elwes,&rdquo; said he to the
+servant, &ldquo;tell the men to get the boat ready at once for Dr. Dill, and
+come and say when it is so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor's gratitude was profuse, though probably a dim vista of the
+&ldquo;tip&rdquo; that might be expected from him detracted from the fulness of the
+enjoyment.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Find out if I could be of any use, Dill,&rdquo; whispered the Admiral, as the
+doctor arose. &ldquo;Your own tact will show if there be anything I could do.
+You understand me; I have the deepest regard for old Barrington, and his
+sister too.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Dill promised to give his most delicate attention to the point, and
+departed.
+</p>
+<p>
+While this little incident was occurring, Stapylton, who sat at an angle
+of the fireplace, was amusing two or three listeners by an account of his
+intended dinner at the &ldquo;Home,&rdquo; and the haughty refusal of Miss Barrington
+to receive him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must tell Sir Charles the story!&rdquo; cried out Mr. Bushe. &ldquo;He'll soon
+recognize the old Major from your imitation of him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hang the old villain! he shot a dog-fox the other morning, and he knows
+well how scarce they are getting in the country,&rdquo; said another.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll never forgive myself for letting him have a lease of that place,&rdquo;
+ said a third; &ldquo;he's a disgrace to the neighborhood.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You're not talking of Barrington, surely,&rdquo; called out Sir Charles.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course not. I was speaking of M'Cormick. Harrington is another stamp
+of man, and here's his good health!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He'll need all your best wishes, Jack,&rdquo; said the host, &ldquo;for Dr. Dill has
+just been called away to see him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To see old Peter! Why, I never knew him to have a day's illness!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He's dangerously ill now,&rdquo; said the Admiral, gravely. &ldquo;Dill tells me that
+he came home from the Assizes hale and hearty, in high spirits at some
+verdict in his favor, and brought back the Attorney-General to spend a day
+or two with him; but that, on arriving, he found a young fellow whose
+father or grandfather&mdash;for I have n't it correctly&mdash;had been
+concerned in some way against George Barrington, and that high words
+passed between old Peter and this youth, who was turned out on the spot,
+while poor Barrington, overcome by emotion, was struck down with a sort of
+paralysis. As I have said, I don't know the story accurately, for even
+Dill himself only picked it up from the servants at the cottage, neither
+Miss Barrington nor Withering having told him one word on the subject.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is the very same story I heard at the village where we dined,&rdquo; broke
+in Stapylton, &ldquo;and M'Cormick added that he remembered the name. Conyers&mdash;the
+young man is called Conyers&mdash;did occur in a certain famous accusation
+against Colonel Barrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, but,&rdquo; interposed Bushe, &ldquo;isn't all that an old story now? Is n't
+the whole thing a matter of twenty years ago?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not so much as that,&rdquo; said Sir Charles. &ldquo;I remember reading it all when I
+was in command of the 'Madagascar,'&mdash;I forget the exact year, but I
+was at Corfu.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At all events,&rdquo; said Bushe, &ldquo;it's long enough past to be forgotten or
+forgiven; and old Peter was the very last man I could ever have supposed
+likely to carry on an ancient grudge against any one.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not where his son was concerned. Wherever George's name entered,
+forgiveness of the man that wronged him was impossible,&rdquo; said another.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are scarcely just to my old friend,&rdquo; interposed the Admiral. &ldquo;First
+of all, we have not the facts before us. Many of us here have never seen,
+some have never heard of the great Barrington Inquiry, and of such as
+have, if their memories be not better than mine, they can't discuss the
+matter with much profit.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I followed the case when it occurred,&rdquo; chimed in the former speaker, &ldquo;but
+I own, with Sir Charles, that it has gone clean out of my head since that
+time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You talk of injustice, Cobham, injustice to old Peter Barrington,&rdquo; said
+an old man from the end of the table; &ldquo;but I would ask, are we quite just
+to poor George? I knew him well. My son served in the same regiment with
+him before he went out to India, and no finer nor nobler-hearted fellow
+than George Barrington ever lived. Talk of him ruining his father by his
+extravagance! Why, he'd have cut off his right hand rather than caused him
+one pang, one moment of displeasure. Barrington ruined himself; that
+insane passion for law has cost him far more than half what he was worth
+in the world. Ask Withering; he 'll tell you something about it. Why,
+Withering's own fees in that case before 'the Lords' amount to upwards of
+two thousand guineas.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won't dispute the question with you, Fowndes,&rdquo; said the Admiral.
+&ldquo;Scandal says you have a taste for a trial at bar yourself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The hit told, and called for a hearty laugh, in which Fowndes himself
+joined freely.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>I</i> 'm a burned child, however, and keep away from the fire,&rdquo; said
+he, good-humoredly; &ldquo;but old Peter seems rather to like being singed.
+There he is again with his Privy Council case for next term, and with, I
+suppose, as much chance of success as I should have in a suit to recover a
+Greek estate of some of my Phoenician ancestors.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was not a company to sympathize deeply with such a litigious spirit.
+The hearty and vigorous tone of squiredom, young and old, could not
+understand it as a passion or a pursuit, and they mainly agreed that
+nothing but some strange perversion could have made the generous nature of
+old Barrington so fond of law. Gradually the younger members of the party
+slipped away to the drawing-room, till, in the changes that ensued,
+Stapylton found himself next to Mr. Fowndes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm glad to see, Captain,&rdquo; said the old squire, &ldquo;that modern fashion of
+deserting the claret-jug has not invaded your mess. I own I like a man who
+lingers over his wine.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We have no pretext for leaving it, remember that,&rdquo; said Stapylton,
+smiling.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very true. The <i>placeus uxor</i> is sadly out of place in a soldier's
+life. Your married officer is but a sorry comrade; besides, how is a
+fellow to be a hero to the enemy who is daily bullied by his wife?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think you said that you had served?&rdquo; interposed Stapylton.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. My son was in the army; he is so still, but holds a Governorship in
+the West Indies. He it was who knew this Barrington we were speaking of.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just so,&rdquo; said Stapylton, drawing his chair closer, so as to converse
+more confidentially.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may imagine what very uneventful lives we country gentlemen live,&rdquo;
+ said the old squire, &ldquo;when we can continue to talk over one memorable case
+for something like twenty years, just because one of the parties to it was
+our neighbor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You appear to have taken a lively interest in it,&rdquo; said Stapylton, who
+rightly conjectured it was a favorite theme with the old squire.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Barrington and my son were friends; they came down to my house
+together to shoot; and with all his eccentricities&mdash;and they were
+many&mdash;I liked Mad George, as they called him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was a good fellow, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A thoroughly good fellow, but the shyest that ever lived; to all outward
+seeming rough and careless, but sensitive as a woman all the while. He
+would have walked up to a cannon's mouth with a calm step, but an
+affecting story would bring tears to his eyes; and then, to cover this
+weakness, which he was well ashamed of, he 'd rush into fifty follies and
+extravagances. As he said himself to me one day, alluding to some feat of
+rash absurdity, 'I have been taking another inch off the dog's tail,'&mdash;he
+referred to the story of Alcibiades, who docked his dog to take off public
+attention from his heavier transgressions.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was no truth in these accusations against him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who knows? George was a passionate fellow, and he 'd have made short work
+of the man that angered him. I myself never so entirely acquitted him as
+many who loved him less. At all events, he was hardly treated; he was
+regularly hunted down. I imagine he must have made many enemies, for
+witnesses sprung up against him on all sides, and he was too proud a
+fellow to ask for one single testimony in his favor! If ever a man met
+death broken-hearted, he did!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A pause of several minutes occurred, after which the old squire resumed,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My son told me that after Barrington's death there was a strong revulsion
+in his favor, and a great feeling that he had been hardly dealt by. Some
+of the Supreme Council, it is said, too, were disposed to behave
+generously towards his child, but old Peter, in an evil hour, would hear
+of nothing short of restitution of all the territory, and a regular
+rehabilitation of George's memory, besides; in fact, he made the most
+extravagant demands, and disgusted the two or three who were kindly and
+well disposed towards his cause. Had they, indeed,&mdash;as he said,&mdash;driven
+his son to desperation, he could scarcely ask them to declare it to the
+world; and yet nothing short of this would satisfy him! 'Come forth,'
+wrote he,&mdash;I read the letter myself,&mdash;'come forth and confess
+that your evidence was forged and your witnesses suborned; that you wanted
+to annex the territory, and the only road to your object was to impute
+treason to the most loyal heart that ever served the King!' Imagine what
+chance of favorable consideration remained to the man who penned such
+words as these.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he prosecutes the case still?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay, and will do to the day of his death. Withering&mdash;who was an old
+schoolfellow of mine&mdash;has got me to try what I could do to persuade
+him to come to some terms; and, indeed, to do old Peter justice, it is not
+the money part of the matter he is so obstinate about; it is the question
+of what he calls George's fair fame and honor; and one cannot exactly say
+to him, 'Who on earth cares a brass button whether George Barrington was a
+rebel or a true man? Whether he deserved to die an independent Rajah of
+some place with a hard name, or the loyal subject of his Majesty George
+the Third?' I own I, one day, did go so close to the wind, on that
+subject, that the old man started up and said, 'I hope I misapprehend you,
+Harry Fowndes. I hope sincerely that I do so, for if not, I 'll have a
+shot at you, as sure as my name is Peter Barrington.' Of course I 'tried
+back' at once, and assured him it was a pure misconception of my meaning,
+and that until the East India folk fairly acknowledged that they had
+wronged his son, <i>he</i> could not, with honor, approach the question of
+a compromise in the money matter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That day, it may be presumed, is very far off,&rdquo; said Stapylton, half
+languidly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Withering opines not. He says that they are weary of the whole
+case. They have had, perhaps, some misgivings as to the entire justice of
+what they did. Perhaps they have learned something during the course of
+the proceedings which may have influenced their judgment; and not
+impossible is it that they pity the old man fighting out his life; and
+perhaps, too, Barrington himself may have softened a little, since he has
+begun to feel that his granddaughter&mdash;for George left a child&mdash;had
+interests which his own indignation could not rightfully sacrifice; so
+that amongst all these perhapses, who knows but some happy issue may come
+at last?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That Barrington race is not a very pliant one,&rdquo; said Stapylton, half
+dreamily; and then, in some haste, added, &ldquo;at least, such is the character
+they give them here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some truth there may be in that. Men of a strong temperament and with a
+large share of self-dependence generally get credit from the world for
+obstinacy, just because the road <i>they</i> see out of difficulties is
+not the popular one. But even with all this, I 'd not call old Peter
+self-willed; at least, Withering tells me that from time to time, as he
+has conveyed to him the opinions and experiences of old Indian officers,
+some of whom had either met with or heard of George, he has listened with
+much and even respectful attention. And as all their counsels have gone
+against his own convictions, it is something to give them a patient
+hearing.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He has thus permitted strangers to come and speak with him on these
+topics?&rdquo; asked Stapylton, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no,&mdash;not he. These men had called on Withering,&mdash;met him,
+perhaps, in society,&mdash;heard of his interest in George Barrington's
+case, and came good-naturedly to volunteer a word of counsel in favor of
+an old comrade. Nothing more natural, I think.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing. I quite agree with you; so much so, indeed, that having served
+some years in India, and in close proximity, too, to one of the native
+courts, I was going to ask you to present me to your friend Mr. Withering,
+as one not altogether incapable of affording him some information.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;With a heart and a half. I 'll do it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, Harry,&rdquo; cried out the host, &ldquo;if you and Captain Stapylton will
+neither fill your glasses nor pass the wine, I think we had better join
+the ladies.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And now there was a general move to the drawing-room, where several
+evening guests had already assembled, making a somewhat numerous company.
+Polly Dill was there, too,&mdash;not the wearied-looking, careworn figure
+we last saw her, when her talk was of &ldquo;dead anatomies,&rdquo; but the lively,
+sparkling, bright-eyed Polly, who sang the Melodies to the accompaniment
+of him who could make every note thrill with the sentiment his own genius
+had linked to it. I half wish I had not a story to tell,&mdash;that is,
+that I had not a certain road to take,&mdash;that I might wander at will
+through by-path and lane, and linger on the memories thus by a chance
+awakened! Ah, it was no small triumph to lift out of obscure companionship
+and vulgar associations the music of our land, and wed it to words
+immortal, to show us that the pebble at our feet was a gem to be worn on
+the neck of beauty, and to prove to us, besides, that our language could
+be as lyrical as Anacreon's own!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am enchanted with your singing,&rdquo; whispered Stapylton, in Polly's ear;
+&ldquo;but I 'd forego all the enjoyment not to see you so pleased with your
+companion. I begin to detest the little Poet.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll tell him so,&rdquo; said she, half gravely; &ldquo;and he 'll know well that it
+is the coarse hate of the Saxon.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm no Saxon!&rdquo; said he, flushing and darkening at the same time. And
+then, recovering his calm, he added, &ldquo;There are no Saxons left amongst us,
+nor any Celts for us to honor with our contempt; but come away from the
+piano, and don't let him fancy he has bound you by a spell.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But he has,&rdquo; said she, eagerly,&mdash;&ldquo;he has, and I don't care to break
+it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But the little Poet, running his fingers lightly over the keys, warbled
+out, in a half-plaintive whisper,&mdash;
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+&ldquo;Oh, tell me, dear Polly, why is it thine eyes
+Through their brightness have something of sorrow?
+I cannot suppose that the glow of such skies
+Should ever mean gloom for the morrow;
+
+&ldquo;Or must I believe that your heart is afar,
+And you only make semblance to hear me,
+While your thoughts are away to that splendid hussar,
+And 't is only your image is near me?&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+<p>
+&ldquo;An unpublished melody, I fancy,&rdquo; said Stapylton, with a malicious twinkle
+of his eye.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not even corrected as yet,&rdquo; said the Poet, with a glance at Polly.
+</p>
+<p>
+What a triumph it was for a mere village beauty to be thus tilted for by
+such gallant knights; but Polly was practical as well as vain, and a
+certain unmistakable something in Lady Cobham's eye told her that two of
+the most valued guests of the house were not to be thus withdrawn from
+circulation; and with this wise impression on her mind, she slipped
+hastily away, on the pretext of something to say to her father. And
+although it was a mere pretence on her part, there was that in her look as
+they talked together that betokened their conversation to be serious.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I tell you again,&rdquo; said he, in a sharp but low whisper, &ldquo;she will not
+suffer it. You used not to make mistakes of this kind formerly, and I
+cannot conceive why you should do so now.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, dear papa,&rdquo; said she, with a strange half-smile, &ldquo;don't you remember
+your own story of the gentleman who got tipsy because he foresaw he would
+never be invited again?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But the doctor was in no jesting mood, and would not accept of the
+illustration. He spoke now even more angrily than before.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have only to see how much they make of him to know well that he is
+out of our reach,&rdquo; said he, bitterly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A long shot, Sir Lucius; there is such honor in a long shot,&rdquo; said she,
+with infinite drollery; and then with a sudden gravity, added, &ldquo;I have
+never forgotten the man you cured, just because your hand shook and you
+gave him a double dose of laudanum.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+This was too much for his patience, and he turned away in disgust at her
+frivolity. In doing so, however, he came in front of Lady Cobham, who had
+come up to request Miss Dill to play a certain Spanish dance for two young
+ladies of the company.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, your Ladyship,&mdash;too much honor for her,&mdash;she will be
+charmed; my little girl is overjoyed when she can contribute even thus
+humbly to the pleasure of your delightful house.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Never did a misdemeanist take his &ldquo;six weeks&rdquo; with a more complete
+consciousness of penalty than did Polly sit down to that piano. She well
+understood it as a sentence, and, let me own, submitted well and
+gracefully to her fate. Nor was it, after all, such a slight trial, for
+the fandango was her own speciality; she had herself brought the dance and
+the music to Cobham. They who were about to dance it were her own pupils,
+and not very proficient ones, either. And with all this she did her part
+well and loyally. Never had she played with more spirit; never marked the
+time with a firmer precision; never threw more tenderness into the
+graceful parts, nor more of triumphant daring into the proud ones. Amid
+the shower of &ldquo;Bravos!&rdquo; that closed the performance,&mdash;for none
+thought of the dancers,&mdash;the little Poet drew nigh and whispered,
+&ldquo;How naughty!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why so?&rdquo; asked she, innocently.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a blaze of light to throw over a sorry picture!&rdquo; said he, dangling
+his eyeglass, and playing that part of middle-aged Cupid he was so fond of
+assuming.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know, sir,&rdquo; said Lady Cobham, coming hastily towards him, &ldquo;that I
+will not permit you to turn the heads of my young ladies? Dr. Dill is
+already so afraid of your fascinations that he has ordered his carriage,&mdash;is
+it not so?&rdquo; she went on appealing to the doctor, with increased rapidity.
+&ldquo;But you will certainly keep your promise to us. We shall expect you on
+Thursday at dinner.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Overwhelmed with confusion, Dill answered&mdash;he knew not what&mdash;about
+pleasure, punctuality, and so forth; and then turned away to ring for that
+carriage he had not ordered before.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And so you tell me Barrington is better?&rdquo; said the Admiral, taking him by
+the arm and leading him away. &ldquo;The danger is over, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe so; his mind is calm, and he is only suffering now from
+debility. What with the Assizes, and a week's dissipation at Kilkenny, and
+this shock,&mdash;for it was a shock,&mdash;the whole thing was far more
+of a mental than a bodily ailment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You gave him my message? You said how anxious I felt to know if I could
+be of any use to him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; and he charged Mr. Withering to come and thank you, for he is
+passing by Cobham to-morrow on his way to Kilkenny.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed! Georgiana, don't forget that. Withering will call here to-morrow;
+try and keep him to dine, at least, if we cannot secure him for longer.
+He's one of those fellows I am always delighted to meet Where are you
+going, Dill? Not taking your daughter away at this hour, are you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor sighed, and muttered something about dissipations that were
+only too fascinating, too engrossing. He did not exactly like to say that
+his passports had been sent him, and the authorities duly instructed to
+give him &ldquo;every aid and assistance possible.&rdquo; For a moment, indeed, Polly
+looked as though she would make some explanation of the matter; but it was
+only for a moment, and the slight flush on her cheek gave way quickly, and
+she looked somewhat paler than her wont. Meanwhile, the little Poet had
+fetched her shawl, and led her away, humming, &ldquo;Buona notte,&mdash;buona
+sera!&rdquo; as he went, in that half-caressing, half-quizzing way he could
+assume so jauntily. Stapylton walked behind with the doctor, and whispered
+as he went, &ldquo;If not inconvenient, might I ask the favor of a few minutes
+with you to-morrow?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Dill assured him he was devotedly his servant; and having fixed the
+interview for two o'clock, away they drove. The night was calm and
+starlight, and they had long passed beyond the grounds of Cobham, and were
+full two miles on their road before a word was uttered by either.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was it her Ladyship said about Thursday next, at dinner?&rdquo; asked the
+doctor, half pettishly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing to me, papa.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I remember, it was that we had accepted the invitation already, and
+begging me not to forget it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps so,&rdquo; said she, dryly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are usually more mindful about these matters,&rdquo; said he, tartly, &ldquo;and
+not so likely to forget promised festivities.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They certainly were not promised to me,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;nor, if they had
+been, should I accept of them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; said he, angrily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Simply, papa, that it is a house I will not re-enter, that's all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, your head is turned, your brains are destroyed by flattery, girl.
+You seem totally to forget that we go to these places merely by courtesy,&mdash;we
+are received only on sufferance; we are not <i>their</i> equals.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The more reason to treat us with deference, and not render our position
+more painful than it need be.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Folly and nonsense! Deference, indeed! How much deference is due from
+eight thousand a year to a dispensary doctor, or his daughter? I 'll have
+none of these absurd notions. If they made any mistake towards you, it was
+by over-attention,&mdash;too much notice.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is very possible, papa; and it was not always very flattering for
+that reason.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, what is your head full of? Do you fancy you are one of Lord
+Carricklough's daughters, eh?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, papa; for they are shockingly freckled, and very plain.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know your real station?&rdquo; cried he, more angrily, &ldquo;and that if, by
+the courtesy of society, my position secures acceptance anywhere, it
+entails nothing&mdash;positively nothing&mdash;to those belonging to me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Such being the case, is it not wise of us not to want anything,&mdash;not
+to look for it,&mdash;not to pine after it? You shall see, papa, whether I
+fret over my exclusion from Cobham.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor was not in a mood to approve of such philosophy, and he drove
+on, only showing&mdash;by an extra cut of his whip&mdash;the tone and
+temper that beset him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are to have a visit from Captain Stapylton tomorrow, papa?&rdquo; said she,
+in the manner of a half question.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who told you so?&rdquo; said he, with a touch of eagerness in his voice; for
+suddenly it occurred to him if Polly knew of this appointment, she herself
+might be interested in its object.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He asked me what was the most likely time to find you at home, and also
+if he might venture to hope he should be presented to mamma.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That was, as the doctor thought, a very significant speech; it might mean
+a great deal,&mdash;a very great deal, indeed; and so he turned it over
+and over in his mind for some time before he spoke again. At last he said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven't a notion what he's coming about, Polly,&mdash;have you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir; except, perhaps, it be to consult you. He told me he had
+sprained his arm, or his shoulder, the other day, when his horse swerved.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh no, it can't be that, Polly; it can't be that.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not the pleasure of a morning call, then? He is an idle man, and
+finds time heavy on his hands.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A short &ldquo;humph&rdquo; showed that this explanation was not more successful than
+the former, and the doctor, rather irritated with this game of fence, for
+so he deemed it, said bluntly,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Has he been showing you any marked attentions of late? Have you noticed
+anything peculiar in his manner towards you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing whatever, sir,&rdquo; said she, with a frank boldness. &ldquo;He has chatted
+and flirted with me, just as every one else presumes he has a right to do
+with a girl in a station below their own; but he has never been more
+impertinent in this way than any other young man of fashion.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But there have been&rdquo;&mdash;he was sorely puzzled for the word he wanted,
+and it was only as a resource, not out of choice, he said&mdash;&ldquo;attentions?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, papa, what many would call in the cognate phrase, marked
+attentions; but girls who go into the world as I do no more mistake what
+these mean than would you yourself, papa, if passingly asked what was good
+for a sore-throat fancy that the inquirer intended to fee you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see, Polly, I see,&rdquo; muttered he, as the illustration came home to him.
+Still, after ruminating for some time, a change seemed to come over his
+thoughts, for he said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you might be wrong this time, Polly: it is by no means impossible
+that you might be wrong.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear papa,&rdquo; said she, gravely, &ldquo;when a man of his rank is disposed to
+think seriously of a girl in mine, he does not begin by flattery; he
+rather takes the line of correction and warning, telling her fifty little
+platitudes about trifles in manner, and so forth, by her docile acceptance
+of which he conceives a high notion of <i>himself</i>, and a half liking
+for <i>her</i>. But I have no need to go into these things; enough if I
+assure you Captain Stapylton's visit has no concern for me; he either
+comes out of pure idleness, or he wants to make use of <i>you</i>.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The last words opened a new channel to Dill's thoughts, and he drove on in
+silent meditation over them.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XIX. THE HOUR OF LUNCHEON
+</h2>
+<p>
+If there be a special agreeability about all the meal-times of a pleasant
+country-house, there is not one of them which, in the charm of an easy,
+unconstrained gayety, can rival the hour of luncheon. At breakfast, one is
+too fresh; at dinner, too formal; but luncheon, like an opening manhood,
+is full of its own bright projects. The plans of the day have already
+reached a certain maturity, and fixtures have been made for
+riding-parties, or phaeton drives, or flirtations in the garden. The very
+strangers who looked coldly at each other over their morning papers have
+shaken into a semi-intimacy, and little traits of character and
+temperament, which would have been studiously shrouded in the more solemn
+festivals of the day, are now displayed with a frank and fearless
+confidence. The half-toilette and the tweed coat, mutton broth and
+&ldquo;Balmorals,&rdquo; seem infinitely more congenial to acquaintanceship than the
+full-blown splendor of evening dress and the grander discipline of dinner.
+</p>
+<p>
+Irish social life permits of a practice of which I do not, while
+recording, constitute myself the advocate or the apologist,&mdash;a sort
+of good-tempered banter called quizzing,&mdash;a habit I scarcely believe
+practicable in other lands; that is, I know of no country where it could
+be carried on as harmlessly and as gracefully, where as much wit could be
+expended innocuously, as little good feeling jeopardized in the display.
+The happiest hour of the day for such passages as these was that of
+luncheon, and it was in the very clash and clatter of the combat that a
+servant announced the Attorney-General!
+</p>
+<p>
+What a damper did the name prove! Short of a bishop himself, no
+announcement could have spread more terror over the younger members of the
+company, embodying as it seemed to do all that could be inquisitorial,
+intolerant, and overbearing. Great, however, was the astonishment to see,
+instead of the stern incarnation of Crown prosecutions and arbitrary
+commitments, a tall, thin, slightly stooped man, dressed in a gray
+shooting-jacket, and with a hat plentifully garnished with fishing-flies.
+He came lightly into the room, and kissed the hand of his hostess with a
+mixture of cordiality and old-fashioned gallantry that became him well.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My old luck, Cobham!&rdquo; said he, as he seated himself at table. &ldquo;I have
+fished the stream all the way from the Red House to this, and never so
+much as a rise to reward me.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They knew you,&mdash;they knew you, Withering,&rdquo; chirped out the Poet,
+&ldquo;and they took good care not to put in an appearance, with the certainty
+of a 'detainer.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah! you here! That decanter of sherry screened you completely from my
+view,&rdquo; said Withering, whose sarcasm on his size touched the very sorest
+of the other's susceptibilities. &ldquo;And talking of recognizances, how comes
+it you are here, and a large party at Lord Dunraney's all assembled to
+meet you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The Poet, as not infrequent with him, had forgotten everything of this
+prior engagement, and was now overwhelmed with his forgetfulness. The
+ladies, however, pressed eagerly around him with consolation so like
+caresses, that he was speedily himself again.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How natural a mistake, after all!&rdquo; said the lawyer. &ldquo;The old song says,&mdash;
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+'Tell me where beauty and wit and wine
+Are met, and I 'll say where I 'm asked to dine.'
+</pre>
+<p>
+Ah! Tommy, yours <i>is</i> the profession, after all; always sure of your
+retainer, and never but one brief to sustain&mdash;'T. M. <i>versus</i>
+the Heart of Woman.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;One is occasionally nonsuited, however,&rdquo; said the other, half pettishly.
+&ldquo;By the way, how was it you got that verdict for old Barrington t'other
+day? Was it true that Plowden got hold of <i>your</i> bag by mistake?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not only that, but he made a point for us none of us had discovered.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How historical the blunder:&mdash;
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+'The case is classical, as I and you know;
+He came from Venus, but made love to Juno.'&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If Peter Barrington gained his cause by it I 'm heartily rejoiced, and I
+wish him health and years to enjoy it.&rdquo; The Admiral said this with a
+cordial good will as he drank off his glass.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He's all right again,&rdquo; said Withering. &ldquo;I left him working away with a
+hoe and a rake this morning, looking as hale and hearty as he did a dozen
+years ago.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A man must have really high deserts in whose good fortune so many are
+well-wishers,&rdquo; said Stapylton; and by the courteous tone of the remark
+Withering's attention was attracted, and he speedily begged the Admiral to
+present him to his guest. They continued to converse together as they
+arose from table, and with such common pleasure that when Withering
+expressed a hope the acquaintance might not end there, Stapylton replied
+by a request that he would allow him to be his fellow-traveller to
+Kilkenny, whither he was about to go on a regimental affair. The
+arrangement was quickly made, to the satisfaction of each; and as they
+drove away, while many bewailed the departure of such pleasant members of
+the party, the little Poet simperingly said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+&ldquo;Shall I own that my heart is relieved of a care?&mdash;
+Though you 'll think the confession is petty&mdash;
+I cannot but feel, as I look on the pair,
+It is 'Peebles' gone off with 'Dalgetty.'&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+<p>
+As for the fellow-travellers, they jogged along very pleasantly on their
+way, as two consummate men of the world are sure to do when they meet. For
+what Freemasonry equals that of two shrewd students of life? How
+flippantly do they discuss each theme! how easily read each character, and
+unravel each motive that presents itself! What the lawyer gained by the
+technical subtlety of his profession, the soldier made up for by his wider
+experience of mankind. There were, besides, a variety of experiences to
+exchange. Toga could tell of much that interested the &ldquo;man of war,&rdquo; and
+he, in turn, made himself extremely agreeable by his Eastern information,
+not to say, that he was able to give a correct version of many Hindostanee
+phrases and words which the old lawyer eagerly desired to acquire.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All you have been telling me has a strong interest for me, Captain
+Stapylton,&rdquo; said he, as they drove into Kilkenny. &ldquo;I have a case which has
+engaged my attention for years, and is likely to occupy what remains to me
+of life,&mdash;a suit of which India is the scene, and Orientals figure as
+some of the chief actors,&mdash;so that I can scarcely say how fortunate I
+feel this chance meeting with you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall deem myself greatly honored if the acquaintance does not end
+here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It shall not, if it depend upon me,&rdquo; said Withering, cordially. &ldquo;You said
+something of a visit you were about to make to Dublin. Will you do me a
+great&mdash;a very great&mdash;favor, and make my house your home while
+you stay? This is my address: '18 Merrion Square.' It is a bachelor's
+hall; and you can come and go without ceremony.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The plan is too tempting to hesitate about. I accept your invitation with
+all the frankness you have given it. Meanwhile you will be my guest here.&rdquo;
+ &ldquo;'That is impossible. I must start for Cork this evening.&rdquo; And now they
+parted,&mdash;not like men who had been strangers a few hours back, but
+like old acquaintances, only needing the occasion to feel as old friends.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XX. AN INTERIOR AT THE DOCTOR'S
+</h2>
+<p>
+When Captain Stapylton made his appointment to wait on Dr. Dill, he was
+not aware that the Attorney-General was expected at Cobham. No sooner,
+however, had he learned that fact than he changed his purpose, and
+intimated his intention of running up for a day to Kilkenny, to hear what
+was going on in the regiment. No regret for any disappointment he might be
+giving to the village doctor, no self-reproach for the breach of an
+engagement&mdash;all of his own making&mdash;crossed his mind. It is,
+indeed, a theme for a moralist to explore, the ease with which a certain
+superiority in station can divest its possessor of all care for the
+sensibilities of those below him; and yet in the little household of the
+doctor that promised visit was the source of no small discomfort and
+trouble. The doctor's study&mdash;the sanctum in which the interview
+should be held&mdash;had to be dusted and smartened up. Old boots, and
+overcoats, and smashed driving-whips, and odd stirrup-leathers, and
+stable-lanterns, and garden implements had all to be banished. The great
+table in front of the doctor's chair had also to be professionally
+littered with notes and cards and periodicals, not forgetting an ingenious
+admixture of strange instruments of torture, quaint screws, and
+inscrutable-looking scissors, destined, doubtless, to make many a faint
+heart the fainter in their dread presence. All these details had to be
+carried out in various ways through the rest of the establishment,&mdash;in
+the drawing-room, wherein the great man was to be ushered; in the
+dining-room, where he was to lunch. Upon Polly did the greater part of
+these cares devolve; not alone attending to the due disposal of chairs and
+sofas and tables, but to the preparation of certain culinary delicacies,
+which were to make the Captain forget the dainty luxuries of Cobham. And,
+in truth, there is a marvellous <i>esprit du corps</i> in the way a woman
+will fag and slave herself to make the humble household she belongs to
+look its best, even to the very guest she has least at heart; for Polly
+did not like Stapylton. Flattered at first by his notice, she was offended
+afterwards at the sort of conscious condescension of his manner,&mdash;a
+something which seemed to say, I can be charming, positively fascinating,
+but don't imagine for a moment that there is anything especial in it. I
+captivate&mdash;just as I fish, hunt, sketch, or shoot&mdash;to amuse
+myself. And with all this, how was it he was really not a coxcomb? Was it
+the grave dignity of his address, or the quiet state-liness of his person,
+or was it a certain uniformity, a keeping, that pervaded all he said or
+did? I am not quite sure whether all three did not contribute to this end,
+and make him what the world confessed,&mdash;a most well-bred gentleman.
+</p>
+<p>
+Polly was, in her way, a shrewd observer, and she felt that Stapylton's
+manner towards her was that species of urbane condescension with which a
+great master of a game deigns to play with a very humble proficient. He
+moved about the board with an assumption that said, I can checkmate you
+when I will! Now this is hard enough to bear when the pieces at stake are
+stained ivory, but it is less endurable: still when they are our emotions
+and our wishes. And yet with all this before her, Polly ordered and
+arranged and superintended and directed with an energy that never tired,
+and an activity that never relaxed.
+</p>
+<p>
+As for Mrs. Dill, no similar incident in the life of Clarissa had prepared
+her for the bustle and preparation she saw on every side, and she was
+fairly perplexed between the thought of a seizure for rent and a fire,&mdash;casualties
+which, grave as they were, she felt she could meet with Mr. Richardson
+beside her. The doctor himself was unusually fidgety and anxious. Perhaps
+he ascribed considerable importance to this visit; perhaps he thought
+Polly had not been candid with him, and that, in reality, she knew more of
+its object than she had avowed; and so he walked hurriedly from room to
+room, and out into the garden, and across the road to the river's side,
+and once as far as the bridge, consulting his watch, and calculating that
+as it now only wanted eight minutes of two o'clock, the arrival could
+scarcely be long delayed.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was on his return he entered the drawing-room and found Polly, now
+plainly but becomingly dressed, seated at her work, with a seeming
+quietude and repose about her, strangely at variance with her late display
+of activity. &ldquo;I 've had a look down the Graigue Road,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but can
+see nothing. You are certain he said two o'clock?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite certain, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To be sure he might come by the river; there's water enough now for the
+Cobham barge.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She made no answer, though she half suspected some reply was expected.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And of course,&rdquo; continued the doctor, &ldquo;they'd have offered him the use of
+it. They seem to make a great deal of him up there.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A great deal, indeed, sir,&rdquo; said she; but in a voice that was a mere echo
+of his own.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I suspect they know why. I 'm sure they know why. People in their
+condition make no mistakes about each other; and if he receives much
+attention, it is because it's his due.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+No answer followed this speech, and he walked feverishly up and down the
+room, holding his watch in his closed hand. &ldquo;I have a notion you must have
+mistaken him. It was not two he said.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm positive it was two, sir. But it can scarcely be much past that hour
+now.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is seventeen minutes past two,&rdquo; said he, solemnly. And then, as if
+some fresh thought had just occurred to him, asked, &ldquo;Where 's Tom? I never
+saw him this morning.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He 's gone out to take a walk, sir. The poor fellow is dead beat by work,
+and had such a headache that I told him to go as far as the Red House or
+Snow's Mill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I 'll wager he did not want to be told twice. Anything for idleness
+with <i>him!</i>&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, papa, he is really doing his very best now. He is not naturally
+quick, and he has a bad memory, so that labor is no common toil; but his
+heart is in it, and I never saw him really anxious for success before.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To go out to India, I suppose,&rdquo; said Dill, sneeringly, &ldquo;that notable
+project of the other good-for-nothing; for, except in the matter of
+fortune, there's not much to choose between them. There 's the half-hour
+striking now!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The project has done this for him, at least,&rdquo; said she, firmly,&mdash;&ldquo;it
+has given him hope!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How I like to hear about hope!&rdquo; said he, with a peculiarly sarcastic
+bitterness. &ldquo;I never knew a fellow worth sixpence that had that cant of
+'hope' in his mouth! How much hope had I when I began the world! How much
+have I now?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't you hope Captain Stapylton may not have forgotten his appointment,
+papa?&rdquo; said she, with a quick drollery, which sparkled in her eye, but
+brought no smile to her lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, here he is at last,&rdquo; said Dill, as he heard the sharp click made by
+the wicket of the little garden; and he started up, and rushed to the
+window. &ldquo;May I never!&rdquo; cried he, in horror, &ldquo;if it isn't M'Cormick! Say
+we're out,&mdash;that I'm at Graigue,&mdash;that I won't be home till
+evening!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But while he was multiplying these excuses, the old Major had caught sight
+of him, and was waving his hand in salutation from below. &ldquo;It's too late,&mdash;it's
+too late!&rdquo; sighed Dill, bitterly; &ldquo;he sees me now,&mdash;there's no help
+for it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+What benevolent and benedictory expressions were muttered below his
+breath, it is not for this history to record; but so vexed and irritated
+was he, that the Major had already entered the room ere he could compose
+his features into even a faint show of welcome.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was down at the Dispensary,&rdquo; croaked out M'Cormick, &ldquo;and they told me
+you were not expected there to-day, and so I said, maybe he's ill, or
+maybe,&rdquo;&mdash;and here he looked shrewdly around him,&mdash;&ldquo;maybe there
+'s something going on up at the house.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What should there be going on, as you call it?&rdquo; responded Dill, angrily,
+for he was now at home, in presence of the family, and could not compound
+for that tone of servile acquiescence he employed on foreign service.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And, faix, I believe I was right; Miss Polly isn't so smart this morning
+for nothing, no more than the saving cover is off the sofa, and the piece
+of gauze taken down from before the looking-glass, and the 'Times'
+newspaper away from the rug!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are there any other domestic changes you 'd like to remark upon, Major
+M'Cormick?&rdquo; said Dill, pale with rage.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed, yes,&rdquo; rejoined the other; &ldquo;there 's yourself, in the elegant
+black coat that I never saw since Lord Kilraney's funeral, and looking
+pretty much as lively and pleasant as you did at the ceremony.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A gentleman has made an appointment with papa,&rdquo; broke in Polly, &ldquo;and may
+be here at any moment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know who it is,&rdquo; said M'Cormick, with a finger on the side of his nose
+to imply intense cunning. &ldquo;I know all about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you know?&mdash;what do you mean by all about it?&rdquo; said Dill,
+with an eagerness he could not repress.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just as much as yourselves,&mdash;there now! Just as much as yourselves!&rdquo;
+ said he, sententiously.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But apparently, Major, you know far more,&rdquo; said Polly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe I do, maybe I don't; but I 'll tell you one thing, Dill, for your
+edification, and mind me if I 'm not right: you 're all mistaken about
+him, every one of ye!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whom are you talking of?&rdquo; asked the doctor, sternly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just the very man you mean yourself, and no other! Oh, you need n't fuss
+and fume, I don't want to pry into your family secrets. Not that they 'll
+be such secrets tomorrow or next day,&mdash;the whole town will be talking
+of them,&mdash;but as an old friend that could, maybe, give a word of
+advice&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Advice about what? Will you just tell me about what?&rdquo; cried Dill, now
+bursting with anger.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 've done now. Not another word passes my lips about it from this
+minute. Follow your own road, and see where it will lead ye?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cannot you understand, Major M'Cormick, that we are totally unable to
+guess what you allude to? Neither papa nor I have the very faintest clew
+to your meaning, and if you really desire to serve us, you will speak out
+plainly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not another syllable, if I sat here for two years!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The possibility of such an infliction seemed so terrible to poor Polly
+that she actually shuddered as she heard it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is n't that your mother I see sitting up there, with all the fine ribbons
+in her cap?&rdquo; whispered M'Cormick, as he pointed to a small room which
+opened off an angle of the larger one. &ldquo;That 's 'the boodoo,' is n't it?&rdquo;
+ said he, with a grin. This, I must inform my reader, was the M'Cormick for
+&ldquo;boudoir.&rdquo; &ldquo;Well, I'll go and pay my respects to her.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So little interest did Mrs. Dill take in the stir and movement around her
+that the Major utterly failed in his endeavors to torture her by all his
+covert allusions and ingeniously drawn inferences. No matter what hints he
+dropped or doubts he suggested, <i>she</i> knew &ldquo;Clarissa&rdquo; would come well
+out of her trials; and beyond a little unmeaning simper, and a muttered
+&ldquo;To be sure,&rdquo; &ldquo;No doubt of it,&rdquo; and, &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; M'Cormick could obtain
+nothing from her.
+</p>
+<p>
+Meanwhile, in the outer room the doctor continued to stride up and down
+with impatience, while Polly sat quietly working on, not the less anxious,
+perhaps, though her peaceful air betokened a mind at rest.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That must be a boat, papa,&rdquo; said she, without lifting her head, &ldquo;that has
+just come up to the landing-place. I heard the plash of the oars, and now
+all is still again.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 're right; so it is!&rdquo; cried he, as he stopped before the window. &ldquo;But
+how is this! That 's a lady I see yonder, and a gentleman along with her.
+That's not Stapylton, surely!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is scarcely so tall,&rdquo; said she, rising to look out, &ldquo;but not very
+unlike him. But the lady, papa,&mdash;the lady is Miss Barrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Bad as M'Cormick's visit was, it was nothing to the possibility of such an
+advent as this, and Dill's expressions of anger were now neither measured
+nor muttered.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is to be a day of disasters. I see it well, and no help for it,&rdquo;
+ exclaimed he, passionately. &ldquo;If there was one human being I 'd hate to
+come here this morning, it's that old woman! She's never civil. She's not
+commonly decent in her manner towards me in her own house, and what she
+'ll be in mine, is clean beyond me to guess. That's herself! There she
+goes! Look at her remarking,&mdash;I see, she's remarking on the weeds
+over the beds, and the smashed paling. She's laughing too! Oh, to be sure,
+it's fine laughing at people that's poor; and she might know something of
+that same herself. I know who the man is now. That 's the Colonel, who
+came to the 'Fisherman's Home' on the night of the accident.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would seem we are to hold a levee to-day,&rdquo; said Polly, giving a very
+fleeting glance at herself in the glass. And now a knock came to the door,
+and the man who acted gardener and car-driver and valet to the doctor
+announced that Miss Barrington and Colonel Hunter were below.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Show them up,&rdquo; said Dill, with the peremptory voice of one ordering a
+very usual event, and intentionally loud enough to be heard below stairs.
+</p>
+<p>
+If Polly's last parting with Miss Barrington gave little promise of
+pleasure to their next meeting, the first look she caught of the old lady
+on entering the room dispelled all uneasiness on that score. Miss Dinah
+entered with a pleasing smile, and presented her friend, Colonel Hunter,
+as one come to thank the doctor for much kindness to his young subaltern.
+&ldquo;Whom, by the way,&rdquo; added he, &ldquo;we thought to find here. It is only since
+we landed that we learned he had left the inn for Kilkenny.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+While the Colonel continued to talk to the doctor, Miss Dinah had seated
+herself On the sofa, with Polly at her side.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My visit this morning is to you,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;I have come to ask your
+forgiveness. Don't interrupt me, child; your forgiveness was the very word
+I used. I was very rude to you t' other morning, and being all in the
+wrong,&mdash;like most people in such circumstances,&mdash;I was very
+angry with the person who placed me so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, my dear madam,&rdquo; said Polly, &ldquo;you had such good reason to suppose you
+were in the right that this <i>amende</i> on your part is far too
+generous.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is not at all generous,&mdash;it is simply just. I was sorely vexed
+with you about that stupid wager, which you were very wrong to have had
+any share in; vexed with your father, vexed with your brother,&mdash;not
+that I believed his counsel would have been absolute wisdom,&mdash;and I
+was even vexed with my young friend Conyers, because he had not the bad
+taste to be as angry with you as I was. When I was a young lady,&rdquo; said
+she, bridling up, and looking at once haughty and defiant, &ldquo;no man would
+have dared to approach me with such a proposal as complicity in a wager.
+But I am told that my ideas are antiquated, and the world has grown much
+wiser since that day.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, madam,&rdquo; said Polly, &ldquo;but there is another difference that your
+politeness has prevented you from appreciating. I mean the difference in
+station between Miss Barrington and Polly Dill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was a well-directed shot, and told powerfully, for Miss Barrington's
+eyes became clouded, and she turned her head away, while she pressed
+Polly's hand within her own with a cordial warmth. &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said she,
+feelingly, &ldquo;I hope there are many points of resemblance between us. I have
+always tried to be a good sister. I know well what you have been to your
+brother.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A very jolly burst of laughter from the inner room, where Hunter had
+already penetrated, broke in upon them, and the merry tones of his voice
+were heard saying, &ldquo;Take my word for it, madam, nobody could spare time
+nowadays to make love in nine volumes. Life 's too short for it. Ask my
+old brother-officer here if he could endure such a thirty years' war; or
+rather let me turn here for an opinion. What does your daughter say on the
+subject?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay, ay,&rdquo; croaked out M'Cormick. &ldquo;Marry in haste&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Or repent that you did n't. That 's the true reading of the adage.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Major would rather apply leisure to the marriage, and make the
+repentance come&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As soon as possible afterwards,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, tartly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Faix, I 'll do better still; I won't provoke the repentance at all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Major, is it thus you treat me?&rdquo; said Polly, affecting to wipe her
+eyes. &ldquo;Are my hopes to be dashed thus cruelly?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But the doctor, who knew how savagely M'Cormick could resent even the most
+harmless jesting, quickly interposed, with a question whether Polly had
+thought of ordering luncheon.
+</p>
+<p>
+It is but fair to Dr. Dill to record the bland but careless way he ordered
+some entertainment for his visitors. He did it like the lord of a
+well-appointed household, who, when he said &ldquo;serve,&rdquo; they served. It was
+in the easy confidence of one whose knowledge told him that the train was
+laid, and only waited for the match to explode it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I have the honor, dear lady?&rdquo; said he, offering his arm to Miss
+Barrington.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now, Miss Dinah had just observed that she had various small matters to
+transact in the village, and was about to issue forth for their
+performance; but such is the force of a speciality, that she could not
+tear herself away without a peep into the dining-room, and a glance, at
+least, at arrangements that appeared so magically conjured up. Nor was
+Dill insensible to the astonishment expressed in her face as her eyes
+ranged over the table.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If your daughter be your housekeeper, Dr. Dill,&rdquo; said she, in a whisper,
+&ldquo;I must give her my very heartiest approbation. These are matters I can
+speak of with authority, and I pronounce her worthy of high commendation.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What admirable salmon cutlets!&rdquo; cried the Colonel. &ldquo;Why, doctor, these
+tell of a French cook.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There she is beside you, the French cook!&rdquo; said the Major, with a
+malicious twinkle.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Polly, smiling, though with a slight flush on her face, &ldquo;if
+Major M'Cormick will be indiscreet enough to tell tales, let us hope they
+will never be more damaging in their import.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And do you say&mdash;do you mean to tell me that this curry is your
+handiwork? Why, this is high art.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, she 's artful enough, if it 's that ye 're wanting,&rdquo; muttered the
+Major.
+</p>
+<p>
+Miss Barrington, having apparently satisfied the curiosity she felt about
+the details of the doctor's housekeeping, now took her leave, not,
+however, without Dr. Dill offering his arm on one side, while Polly, with
+polite observance, walked on the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look at that now,&rdquo; whispered the Major. &ldquo;They 're as much afraid of that
+old woman as if she were the Queen of Sheba! And all because she was once
+a fine lady living at Barrington Hall.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here's their health for it,&rdquo; said the Colonel, filling his glass,&mdash;&ldquo;and
+in a bumper too! By the way,&rdquo; added he, looking around, &ldquo;does not Mrs.
+Dill lunch with us?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, she seldom comes to her meals! She's a little touched here.&rdquo; And he
+laid his finger on the centre of his forehead. &ldquo;And, indeed, no wonder if
+she is.&rdquo; The benevolent Major was about to give some details of secret
+family history, when the doctor and his daughter returned to the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Colonel ate and talked untiringly. He was delighted with everything,
+and charmed with himself for his good luck in chancing upon such agreeable
+people. He liked the scenery, the village, the beetroot salad, the bridge,
+the pickled oysters, the evergreen oaks before the door. He was not
+astonished Conyers should linger on such a spot; and then it suddenly
+occurred to him to ask when he had left the village, and how.
+</p>
+<p>
+The doctor could give no information on the point, and while he was
+surmising one thing and guessing another, M'Cormick whispered in the
+Colonel's ear, &ldquo;Maybe it's a delicate point. How do you know what went on
+with&mdash;&rdquo; And a significant nod towards Polly finished the remark.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish I heard what Major M'Cormick has just said,&rdquo; said Polly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And it is exactly what I cannot repeat to you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suspected as much. So that my only request will be that you never
+remember it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn't she sharp!&mdash;sharp as a needle!&rdquo; chimed in the Major.
+</p>
+<p>
+Checking, and not without some effort, a smart reprimand on the last
+speaker, the Colonel looked hastily at his watch, and arose from table.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Past three o'clock, and to be in Kilkenny by six.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you want a car? There's one of Rice's men now in the village; shall I
+get him for you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would you really do me the kindness?&rdquo; While the Major bustled off on his
+errand, the Colonel withdrew the doctor inside the recess of a window. &ldquo;I
+had a word I wished to say to you in private, Dr. Dill; but it must really
+be in private,&mdash;you understand me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Strictly confidential, Colonel Hunter,&rdquo; said Dill, bowing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is this: a young officer of mine, Lieutenant Conyers, has written to
+me a letter mentioning a plan he had conceived for the future advancement
+of your son, a young gentleman for whom, it would appear, he had formed a
+sudden but strong attachment. His project was, as I understand it, to
+accredit him to his father with such a letter as must secure the General's
+powerful influence in his behalf. Just the sort of thing a warm-hearted
+young fellow would think of doing for a friend he determined to serve, but
+exactly the kind of proceeding that might have a very unfortunate ending.
+I can very well imagine, from my own short experience here, that your
+son's claims to notice and distinction may be the very highest; I can
+believe readily what very little extraneous aid he would require to secure
+his success; but you and I are old men of the world, and are bound to look
+at things cautiously, and to ask, 'Is this scheme a very safe one?' 'Will
+General Conyers enter as heartily into it as his son?' 'Will the young
+surgeon be as sure to captivate the old soldier as the young one?' In a
+word, would it be quite wise to set a man's whole venture in life on such
+a cast, and is it the sort of risk that, with your experience of the
+world, you would sanction?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was evident, from the pause the Colonel left after these words, that he
+expected Dill to say something; but, with the sage reserve of his order,
+the doctor stood still, and never uttered a syllable. Let us be just to
+his acuteness, he never did take to the project from the first; he thought
+ill of it, in every way, but yet he did not relinquish the idea of making
+the surrender of it &ldquo;conditional;&rdquo; and so he slowly shook his head with an
+air of doubt, and smoothly rolled his hands one over the other, as though
+to imply a moment of hesitation and indecision.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; muttered he, talking only to himself,&mdash;&ldquo;disappointment,
+to be sure!&mdash;very great disappointment too! And his heart so set upon
+it, that's the hardship.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Naturally enough,&rdquo; broke in Hunter, hastily. &ldquo;Who would n't be
+disappointed under such circumstances? Better even that, however, than
+utter failure later on.&rdquo; The doctor sighed, but over what precise calamity
+was not so clear; and Hunter continued,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, as I have made this communication to you in strictest confidence,
+and not in any concert with Conyers, I only ask you to accept the view as
+a mere matter of opinion. I think you would be wrong to suffer your son to
+engage in such a venture. That's all I mean by my interference, and I have
+done.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Dill was, perhaps, scarcely prepared for the sudden summing up of the
+Colonel, and looked strangely puzzled and embarrassed.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Might I talk the matter over with my daughter Polly? She has a good head
+for one so little versed in the world.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By all means. It is exactly what I would have proposed. Or, better still,
+shall I repeat what I have just told you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do so,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;for I just remember Miss Barrington will call
+here in a few moments for that medicine I have ordered for her brother,
+and which is not yet made up.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Give me five minutes of your time and attention, Miss Dill,&rdquo; said Hunter,
+&ldquo;on a point for which your father has referred me to your counsel.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To mine?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said he, smiling at her astonishment. &ldquo;We want your quick faculties
+to come to the aid of our slow ones. And here's the case.&rdquo; And in a few
+sentences he put the matter before her, as he had done to her father.
+While he thus talked, they had strolled out into the garden, and walked
+slowly side by side down one of the alleys.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor Tom!&mdash;poor fellow!&rdquo; was all that Polly said, as she listened;
+but once or twice her handkerchief was raised to her eyes, and her chest
+heaved heavily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am heartily sorry for him&mdash;that is, if his heart be bent on it&mdash;if
+he really should have built upon the scheme already.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course he has, sir. You don't suppose that in such lives as ours these
+are common incidents? If we chance upon a treasure, or fancy that we have,
+once in a whole existence, it is great fortune.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a brief, a very brief acquaintance,&mdash;a few hours, I believe.
+The&mdash;What was that? Did you hear any one cough there?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir; we are quite alone. There is no one in the garden but
+ourselves.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that, as I was saying, the project could scarcely have taken a very
+deep root, and&mdash;and&mdash;in fact, better the first annoyance than a
+mistake that should give its color to a whole lifetime. I'm certain I
+heard a step in that walk yonder.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir; we are all alone.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I half wish I had never come on this same errand. I have done an
+ungracious thing, evidently very ill, and with the usual fate of those who
+say disagreeable things, I am involved in the disgrace I came to avert.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I accept your view.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There! I knew there was some one there!&rdquo; said Hunter, springing across a
+bed and coming suddenly to the side of M'Cormick, who was affecting to be
+making a nosegay.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The car is ready at the door, Colonel,&rdquo; said he, in some confusion.
+&ldquo;Maybe you 'd oblige me with a seat as far as Lyrath?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes; of course. And how late it is!&rdquo; cried he, looking at his watch.
+&ldquo;Time does fly fast in these regions, no doubt of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You see, Miss Polly, you have made the Colonel forget himself,&rdquo; said
+M'Cormick, maliciously.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't be severe on an error so often your own, Major M'Cormick,&rdquo; said
+she, fiercely, and turned away into the house.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Colonel, however, was speedily at her side, and in an earnest voice
+said: &ldquo;I could hate myself for the impression I am leaving behind me here.
+I came with those excellent intentions which so often make a man odious,
+and I am going away with those regrets which follow all failures; but I
+mean to come back again one of these days, and erase, if I can, the ill
+impression.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;One who has come out of his way to befriend those who had no claim upon
+his kindness can have no fear for the estimation he will be held in; for
+my part, I thank you heartily, even though I do not exactly see the direct
+road out of this difficulty.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me write to you. One letter&mdash;only one,&rdquo; said Hunter.
+</p>
+<p>
+But M'Cormick had heard the request, and she flushed up with anger at the
+malicious glee his face exhibited.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 'll have to say my good-byes for me to your father, for I am sorely
+pressed for time; and, even as it is, shall be late for my appointment in
+Kilkenny.&rdquo; And before Polly could do more than exchange his cordial shake
+hands, he was gone.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXI. DARK TIDINGS
+</h2>
+<p>
+If I am not wholly without self-reproach when I bring my reader into
+uncongenial company, and make him pass time with Major M'Cormick he had
+far rather bestow upon a pleasanter companion, I am sustained by the fact&mdash;unpalatable
+fact though it be&mdash;that the highway of life is not always smooth, nor
+its banks flowery, and that, as an old Derry woman once remarked to me,
+&ldquo;It takes a' kind o' folk to mak' a world.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Now, although Colonel Hunter did drive twelve weary miles of road with the
+Major for a fellow-traveller,&mdash;thanks to that unsocial conveniency
+called an Irish jaunting-car,&mdash;they rode back to back, and conversed
+but little. One might actually believe that unpopular men grow to feel a
+sort of liking for their unpopularity, and become at length delighted with
+the snubbings they meet with, as though an evidence of the amount of that
+discomfort they can scatter over the world at large; just, in fact, as a
+wasp or a scorpion might have a sort of triumphant joy in the
+consciousness of its power for mischief, and exult in the terror caused by
+its vicinity.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Splendid road&mdash;one of the best I ever travelled on,&rdquo; said the
+Colonel, after about ten miles, during which he smoked on without a word.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why wouldn't it be, when they can assess the county for it? They're on
+the Grand Jury, and high up, all about here,&rdquo; croaked out the Major.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is a fine country, and abounds in handsome places.&rdquo; &ldquo;And well
+mortgaged, too, the most of them.&rdquo; &ldquo;You 'd not see better farming than
+that in Norfolk, cleaner wheat or neater drills; in fact, one might
+imagine himself in England.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So he might, for the matter of taxes. I don't see much difference.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why don't you smoke? Things look pleasanter through the blue haze of a
+good Havannah,&rdquo; said Hunter, smiling.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't want them to look pleasanter than they are,&rdquo; was the dry
+rejoinder.
+</p>
+<p>
+Whether Hunter did or did not, he scarcely liked his counsellor, and,
+re-lighting a cigar, he turned his back once more on him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm one of those old-fashioned fellows,&rdquo; continued the Major, leaning
+over towards his companion, &ldquo;who would rather see things as they are, not
+as they might be; and when I remarked you awhile ago so pleased with the
+elegant luncheon and Miss Polly's talents for housekeeping, I was laughing
+to myself over it all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you mean? What did you laugh at?&rdquo; said Hunter, half fiercely.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just at the way you were taken in, that's all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Taken in?&mdash;taken in? A very strange expression for an hospitable
+reception and a most agreeable visit.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it's the very word for it, after all; for as to the hospitable
+reception, it was n't meant for us, but for that tall Captain,&mdash;the
+dark-complexioned fellow,&mdash;Staples, I think they call him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Captain Stapylton?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that's the man. He ordered Healey's car to take him over here; and I
+knew when the Dills sent over to Mrs. Brierley for a loan of the two cut
+decanters and the silver cruet-stand, something was up; and so I strolled
+down, by way of&mdash;to reconnoitre the premises, and see what old Dill
+was after.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, and then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just that I saw it all,&mdash;the elegant luncheon, and the two bottles
+of wine, and the ginger cordials, all laid out for the man that never
+came; for it would seem he changed his mind about it, and went back to
+head-quarters.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You puzzle me more and more at every word. What change of mind do you
+allude to? What purpose do you infer he had in coming over here to-day?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The only answer M'Cormick vouchsafed to this was by closing one eye and
+putting his finger significantly to the tip of his nose, while he said,
+&ldquo;Catch a weasel asleep!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I more than suspect,&rdquo; said Hunter, sternly, &ldquo;that this half-pay life
+works badly for a man's habits, and throws him upon very petty and
+contemptible modes of getting through his time. What possible business
+could it be of yours to inquire why Stapylton came, or did not come here
+to-day, no more than for the reason of <i>my</i> visit?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe I could guess that, too, if I was hard pushed,&rdquo; said M'Cormick,
+whose tone showed no unusual irritation from the late rebuke. &ldquo;I was in
+the garden all the time, and heard everything.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Listened to what I was saying to Miss Dill!&rdquo; cried Hunter, whose voice of
+indignation could not now be mistaken.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Every word of it,&rdquo; replied the unabashed Major. &ldquo;I heard all you said
+about a short acquaintance&mdash;a few hours you called it&mdash;but that
+your heart was bent upon it, all the same. And then you went on about
+India; what an elegant place it was, and the fine pay and the great
+allowances. And ready enough she was to believe it all, for I suppose she
+was sworn at Highgate, and would n't take the Captain if she could get the
+Colonel.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+By this time, and not an instant earlier, it flashed upon Hunter's mind
+that M'Cormick imagined he had overheard a proposal of marriage; and so
+amused was he by the blunder, that he totally drowned his anger in a
+hearty burst of laughter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope that, as an old brother-officer, you 'll be discreet, at all
+events,&rdquo; said he, at last. &ldquo;You have not come by the secret quite
+legitimately, and I trust you will preserve it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My hearing is good, and my eyesight too, and I mean to use them both as
+long as they 're spared to me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was your tongue that I referred to,&rdquo; said Hunter, more gravely.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay, I know it was,&rdquo; said the Major, crankily. &ldquo;My tongue will take care
+of itself also.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In order to make its task the easier, then,&rdquo; said Hunter, speaking in a
+slow and serious voice, &ldquo;let me tell you that your eaves-dropping has, for
+once at least, misled you. I made no proposal, such as you suspected, to
+Miss Dill. Nor did she give me the slightest encouragement to do so. The
+conversation you so unwarrantably and imperfectly overheard had a totally
+different object, and I am not at all sorry you should not have guessed
+it. So much for the past. Now one word for the future. Omit my name, and
+all that concerns me, from the narrative with which you amuse your
+friends, or, take my word for it, you 'll have to record more than you
+have any fancy for. This is strictly between ourselves; but if you have a
+desire to impart it, bear in mind that I shall be at my quarters in
+Kilkenny till Tuesday next.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may spend your life there, for anything I care,&rdquo; said the Major.
+&ldquo;Stop, Billy; pull up. I'll get down here.&rdquo; And shuffling off the car, he
+muttered a &ldquo;Good-day&rdquo; without turning his head, and bent his steps towards
+a narrow lane that led from the high-road.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0018" id="linkimage-0018">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/242.jpg" width="100%" alt="242 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is this the place they call Lyrath?&rdquo; asked the Colonel of the driver.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, your honor. We're a good four miles from it yet.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The answer showed Hunter that his fellow-traveller had departed in anger;
+and such was the generosity of his nature, he found it hard not to
+overtake him and make his peace with him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;After all,&rdquo; thought he, &ldquo;he 's a crusty old fellow, and has hugged his
+ill-temper so long, it may be more congenial to him now than a pleasanter
+humor.&rdquo; And he turned his mind to other interests that more closely
+touched him. Nor was he without cares,&mdash;heavier ones, too, than his
+happy nature had ever yet been called to deal with. There are few more
+painful situations in life than to find our advancement&mdash;the
+long-wished and strived-for promotion&mdash;achieved at the cost of some
+dearly loved friend; to know that our road to fortune had led us across
+the fallen figure of an old comrade, and that he who would have been the
+first to hail our success is already bewailing his own defeat. This was
+Hunter's lot at the present moment. He had been sent for to hear of a
+marvellous piece of good-fortune. His name and character, well known in
+India, had recommended him for an office of high trust,&mdash;the
+Political Resident of a great native court; a position not alone of power
+and influence, but as certain to secure, and within a very few years, a
+considerable fortune. It was the Governor-General who had made choice of
+him; and the Prince of Wales, in the brief interview he accorded him, was
+delighted with his frank and soldierlike manner, his natural cheerfulness,
+and high spirit. &ldquo;We 're not going to unfrock you, Hunter,&rdquo; said he,
+gayly, in dismissing him. &ldquo;You shall have your military rank, and all the
+steps of your promotion. We only make you a civilian till you have saved
+some lacs of rupees, which is what I hear your predecessor has forgotten
+to do.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was some time before Hunter, overjoyed as he was, even bethought him of
+asking who that predecessor was. What was his misery when he heard the
+name of Ormsby Conyers, his oldest, best friend; the man at whose table he
+had sat for years, whose confidence he had shared, whose heart was open to
+him to its last secret! &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;this is impossible. Advancement at
+such a price has no temptation for me. I will not accept it&rdquo; He wrote his
+refusal at once, not assigning any definite reasons, but declaring that,
+after much thought and consideration, he had decided the post was one he
+could not accept of. The Secretary, in whose province the affairs of India
+lay, sent for him, and, after much pressing and some ingenious
+cross-questioning, got at his reasons. &ldquo;These may be all reasonable
+scruples on your part,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but they will avail your friend nothing.
+Conyers must go; for his own interest and character's sake, he must come
+home and meet the charges made against him, and which, from their very
+contradictions, we all hope to see him treat triumphantly: some alleging
+that he has amassed untold wealth; others that it is, as a ruined man, he
+has involved himself in the intrigues of the native rulers. All who know
+him say that at the first whisper of a charge against him he will throw up
+his post and come to England to meet his accusers. And now let me own to
+you that it is the friendship in which he held you lay one of the
+suggestions for your choice. We all felt that if a man ill-disposed or
+ungenerously minded to Conyers should go out to Agra, numerous petty and
+vexatious accusations might be forthcoming; the little local injuries and
+pressure, so sure to beget grudges, would all rise up as charges, and
+enemies to the fallen man spring up in every quarter. It is as a
+successor, then, you can best serve your friend.&rdquo; I need not dwell on the
+force and ingenuity with which this view was presented; enough that I say
+it was successful, and Hunter returned to Ireland to take leave of his
+regiment, and prepare for a speedy departure to India.
+</p>
+<p>
+Having heard, in a brief note from young Conyers, his intentions
+respecting Tom Dill, Hunter had hastened off to prevent the possibility of
+such a scheme being carried out. Not wishing, however, to divulge the
+circumstances of his friend's fortune, he had in his interview with the
+doctor confined himself to arguments on the score of prudence. His next
+charge was to break to Fred the tidings of his father's troubles, and it
+was an office he shrunk from with a coward's fear. With every mile he went
+his heart grew heavier. The more he thought over the matter the more
+difficult it appeared. To treat the case lightly, might savor of
+heartlessness and levity; to approach it more seriously, might seem a
+needless severity. Perhaps, too, Conyers might have written to his son; he
+almost hoped he had, and that the first news of disaster should not come
+from him.
+</p>
+<p>
+That combination of high-heartedness and bashfulness, a blended temerity
+and timidity,&mdash;by no means an uncommon temperament,&mdash;renders a
+man's position in the embarrassments of life one of downright suffering.
+There are operators who feel the knife more sensitively than the patients.
+Few know what torments such men conceal under a manner of seeming
+slap-dash and carelessness. Hunter was of this order, and would, any day
+of his life, far rather have confronted a real peril than met a
+contingency that demanded such an address. It was, then, with a sense of
+relief he learned, on arrival at the barracks, that Conyers had gone out
+for a walk, so that there was a reprieve at least of a few hours of the
+penalty that overhung him.
+</p>
+<p>
+The trumpet-call for the mess had just sounded as Conyers gained the door
+of the Colonel's quarters, and Hunter taking Fred's arm, they crossed the
+barrack-square together.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have a great deal to say to you, Conyers,&rdquo; said he, hurriedly; &ldquo;part of
+it unpleasant,&mdash;none of it, indeed, very gratifying&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know you are going to leave us, sir,&rdquo; said Fred, who perceived the more
+than common emotion in the other's manner. &ldquo;And for myself, I own I have
+no longer any desire to remain in the regiment. I might go further, and
+say no more zest for the service. It was through your friendship for me I
+learned to curb many and many promptings to resistance, and when <i>you</i>
+go&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am very sorry,&mdash;very, very sorry to leave you all,&rdquo; said Hunter,
+with a broken voice. &ldquo;It is not every man that proudly can point to
+seven-and-twenty-years' service in a regiment without one incident to
+break the hearty cordiality that bound us. We had no bickerings, no petty
+jealousies amongst us. If a man joined us who wanted partisanship and a
+set, he soon found it better to exchange. I never expect again to lead the
+happy life I have here, and I 'd rather have led our bold squadrons in the
+field than have been a General of Division.&rdquo; Who could have believed that
+he, whose eyes ran over, as he spoke these broken words, was, five minutes
+after, the gay and rattling Colonel his officers always saw him, full of
+life, spirit, and animation, jocularly alluding to his speedy departure,
+and gayly speculating on the comparisons that would be formed between
+himself and his successor? &ldquo;I'm leaving him the horses in good condition,&rdquo;
+ said he; &ldquo;and when Hargrave learns to give the word of command above a
+whisper, and Eyreton can ride without a backboard, he 'll scarcely report
+you for inefficiency.&rdquo; It is fair to add, that the first-mentioned officer
+had a voice like a bassoon, and the second was the beau-ideal of dragoon
+horsemanship.
+</p>
+<p>
+It would not have consisted with military etiquette to have asked the
+Colonel the nature of his promotion, nor as to what new sphere of service
+he was called. Even the old Major, his contemporary, dared not have come
+directly to the question; and while all were eager to hear it, the utmost
+approach was by an insinuation or an innuendo. Hunter was known for no
+quality more remarkably than for his outspoken frankness, and some
+surprise was felt that in his returning thanks for his health being drank,
+not a word should escape him on this point; but the anxiety was not
+lessened by the last words he spoke. &ldquo;It may be, it is more than likely, I
+shall never see the regiment again; but the sight of a hussar jacket or a
+scarlet busby will bring you all back to my memory, and you may rely on
+it, that whether around the mess-table or the bivouac fire my heart will
+be with you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Scarcely had the cheer that greeted the words subsided, when a deep voice
+from the extreme end of the table said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If only a new-comer in the regiment, Colonel Hunter, I am too proud of my
+good fortune not to associate myself with the feelings of my comrades,
+and, while partaking of their deep regrets, I feel it a duty to
+contribute, if in my power, by whatever may lighten the grief of our loss.
+Am I at liberty to do so? Have I your free permission, I mean?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am fairly puzzled by your question, Captain Stapylton. I have not the
+very vaguest clew to your meaning, but, of course, you have my permission
+to mention whatever you deem proper.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is a toast I would propose, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By all means. The thing is not very regular, perhaps, but we are not
+exactly remarkable for regularity this evening. Fill, gentlemen, for
+Captain Stapylton's toast!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Few words will propose it,&rdquo; said Stapylton. &ldquo;We have just drank Colonel
+Hunter's health with all the enthusiasm that befits the toast, but in
+doing so our tribute has been paid to the past; of the present and the
+future we have taken no note whatever, and it is to these I would now
+recall you. I say, therefore, bumpers to the health, happiness, and
+success of Major-General Hunter, Political Resident and Minister at the
+Court of Agra!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; cried young Conyers, loudly, &ldquo;this is a mistake. It is my father&mdash;it
+is Lieutenant-General Conyers&mdash;who resides at Agra. Am I not right,
+sir?&rdquo; cried he, turning to the Colonel.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Hunter's face, pale as death even to the lips, and the agitation with
+which he grasped Fred's hand, so overcame the youth that with a sudden cry
+he sprang from his seat, and rushed out of the room. Hunter as quickly
+followed him; and now all were grouped around Stapylton, eagerly
+questioning and inquiring what his tidings might mean.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The old story, gentlemen,&mdash;the old story, with which we are all more
+or less familiar in this best of all possible worlds: General Hunter goes
+out in honor, and General Conyers comes home in&mdash;well, under a cloud,&mdash;of
+course one that he is sure and certain to dispel. I conclude the Colonel
+would rather have had his advancement under other circumstances; but in
+this game of leap-frog that we call life, we must occasionally jump over
+our friends as well as our enemies.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How and where did you get the news?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It came to me from town. I heard it this morning, and of course I
+imagined that the Colonel had told it to Conyers, whom it so intimately
+concerned. I hope I may not have been indiscreet in what I meant as a
+compliment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+None cared to offer their consolings to one so fully capable of supplying
+the commodity to himself, and the party broke up in twos or threes,
+moodily seeking their own quarters, and brooding gloomily over what they
+had just witnessed.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXII. LEAVING HOME
+</h2>
+<p>
+I will ask my reader now to turn for a brief space to the &ldquo;Fisherman's
+Home,&rdquo; which is a scene of somewhat unusual bustle. The Barringtons are
+preparing for a journey, and old Peter's wardrobe has been displayed for
+inspection along a hedge of sweet-brier in the garden,&mdash;an
+arrangement devised by the genius of Darby, who passes up and down, with
+an expression of admiration on his face, the sincerity of which could not
+be questioned. A more reflective mind than his might have been carried
+away, at the sight to thoughts of the strange passages in the late history
+of Ireland, so curiously typified in that motley display. There, was the
+bright green dress-coat of Daly's club, recalling days of political
+excitement, and all the plottings and cabals of a once famous opposition.
+There was, in somewhat faded splendor it must be owned, a court suit of
+the Duke of Portland's day, when Irish gentlemen were as gorgeous as the
+courtiers of Versailles. Here came a grand colonel's uniform, when
+Barrington commanded a regiment of Volunteers; and yonder lay a friar's
+frock and cowl, relics of those &ldquo;attic nights&rdquo; with the Monks of the
+Screw, and recalling memories of Avonmore and Curran, and Day and Parsons;
+and with them were mixed hunting-coats, and shooting-jackets, and masonic
+robes, and &ldquo;friendly brother&rdquo; emblems, and long-waisted garments, and
+swallow-tailed affectations of all shades and tints,&mdash;reminders of a
+time when Buck Whalley was the eccentric, and Lord Llandaff the beau of
+Irish society. I am not certain that Monmouth Street would have endorsed
+Darby's sentiment as he said, &ldquo;There was clothes there for a king on his
+throne!&rdquo; but it was an honestly uttered speech, and came out of the
+fulness of an admiring heart, and although in truth he was nothing less
+than an historian, he was forcibly struck by the thought that Ireland must
+have been a grand country to live in, in those old days when men went
+about their ordinary avocations in such splendor as he saw there.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0019" id="linkimage-0019">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/252.jpg" width="100%" alt="252 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+Nor was Peter Barrington himself an unmoved spectator of these old
+remnants of the past Old garments, like old letters, bring oftentimes very
+forcible memories of a long ago; and as he turned over the purple-stained
+flap of a waistcoat, he bethought him of a night at Daly's, when, in
+returning thanks for his health, his shaking hand had spilled that
+identical glass of Burgundy; and in the dun-colored tinge of a
+hunting-coat he remembered the day he had plunged into the Nore at Corrig
+O'Neal, himself and the huntsman, alone of all the field, to follow the
+dogs!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take them away, Darby, take them away; they only set me a-thinking about
+the pleasant companions of my early life. It was in that suit there I
+moved the amendment in '82, when Henry Grattan crossed over and said,
+'Barrington will lead us here, as he does in the hunting-field.' Do you
+see that peach-colored waistcoat? It was Lady Caher embroidered every
+stitch of it with her own hands, for me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Them 's elegant black satin breeches,&rdquo; said Darby, whose eyes of
+covetousness were actually rooted on the object of his desire.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never wore them,&rdquo; said Barrington, with a sigh. &ldquo;I got them for a duel
+with Mat Fortescue, but Sir Toby Blake shot him that morning. Poor Mat!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I suppose you'll never wear them now. You couldn't bear the sight
+then,&rdquo; said Darby, insinuatingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Most likely not,&rdquo; said Barrington, as he turned away with a heavy sigh.
+Darby sighed also, but not precisely in the same spirit.
+</p>
+<p>
+Let me passingly remark that the total unsuitability to his condition of
+any object seems rather to enhance its virtue in the eyes of a lower
+Irishman, and a hat or a coat which he could not, by any possibility, wear
+in public, might still be to him things to covet and desire.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is the meaning of all this rag fair?&rdquo; cried Miss Barrington, as she
+suddenly came in front of the exposed wardrobe. &ldquo;You are not surely making
+any selections from these tawdry absurdities, brother, for your journey?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, indeed,&rdquo; said Barrington, with a droll twinkle of his eye, &ldquo;it was
+a point that Darby and I were discussing as you came up. Darby opines that
+to make a suitable impression upon the Continent, I must not despise the
+assistance of dress, and he inclines much to that Corbeau coat with the
+cherry-colored lining.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If Darby 's an ass, brother, I don't imagine it is a good reason to
+consult him,&rdquo; said she, angrily. &ldquo;Put all that trash where you found it.
+Lay out your master's black clothes and the gray shooting-coat, see that
+his strong boots are in good repair, and get a serviceable lock on that
+valise.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was little short of magic the spell these few and distinctly uttered
+words seemed to work on Darby, who at once descended from a realm of
+speculation and scheming to the commonplace world of duty and obedience.
+&ldquo;I really wonder how you let yourself be imposed on, brother, by the
+assumed simplicity of that shrewd fellow.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I like it, Dinah, I positively like it,&rdquo; said he, with a smile. &ldquo;I watch
+him playing the game with a pleasure almost as great as his own; and as I
+know that the stakes are small, I 'm never vexed at his winning.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you seem to forget the encouragement this impunity suggests.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps it does, Dinah; and very likely his little rogueries are as much
+triumphs to him as are all the great political intrigues the glories of
+some grand statesman.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which means that you rather like to be cheated,&rdquo; said she, scoffingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;When the loss is a mere trifle, I don't always think it ill laid out.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I,&rdquo; said she, resolutely, &ldquo;so far from participating in your
+sentiment, feel it to be an insult and an outrage. There is a sense of
+inferiority attached to the position of a dupe that would drive me to any
+reprisals.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I always said it; I always said it,&rdquo; cried he, laughing. &ldquo;The women of
+our family monopolized all the com-bativeness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Miss Barrington's eyes sparkled, and her cheek glowed, and she looked like
+one stung to the point of a very angry rejoinder, when by an effort she
+controlled her passion, and, taking a letter from her pocket, she opened
+it, and said, &ldquo;This is from Withering. He has managed to obtain all the
+information we need for our journey. We are to sail for Ostend by the
+regular packet, two of which go every week from Dover. From thence there
+are stages or canal-boats to Bruges and Brussels, cheap and commodious, he
+says. He gives us the names of two hotels, one of which&mdash;the 'Lamb,'
+at Brussels&mdash;he recommends highly; and the Pension of a certain
+Madame Ochteroogen, at Namur, will, he opines, suit us better than an inn.
+In fact, this letter is a little road book, with the expenses marked down,
+and we can quietly count the cost of our venture before we make it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'd rather not, Dinah. The very thought of a limit is torture to me.
+Give me bread and water every day, if you like, but don't rob me of the
+notion that some fine day I am to be regaled with beef and pudding.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't wonder that we have come to beggary,&rdquo; said she, passionately. &ldquo;I
+don't know what fortune and what wealth could compensate for a temperament
+like yours.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may be right, Dinah. It may go far to make a man squander his
+substance, but take my word for it, it will help him to bear up under the
+loss.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+If Barrington could have seen the gleam of affection that filled his
+sister's eyes, he would have felt what love her heart bore him; but he had
+stooped down to take a caterpillar off a flower, and did not mark it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Withering has seen young Conyers,&rdquo; she continued, as her eyes ran over
+the letter &ldquo;He called upon him.&rdquo; Barrington made no rejoinder, though she
+waited for one. &ldquo;The poor lad was in great affliction; some distressing
+news from India&mdash;of what kind Withering could not guess&mdash;had
+just reached him, and he appeared overwhelmed by it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is very young for sorrow,&rdquo; said Barrington, feelingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just what Withering said;&rdquo; and she read out, &ldquo;'When I told him that I had
+come to make an <i>amende</i> for the reception he had met with at the
+cottage, he stopped me at once, and said, &ldquo;Great grief s are the cure of
+small ones, and you find me under a very heavy affliction. Tell Miss
+Barrington that I have no other memories of the 'Fisherman's Home' than of
+all her kindness towards me.&rdquo;'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor boy!&rdquo; said Barrington, with emotion. &ldquo;And how did Withering leave
+him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still sad and suffering. Struggling too, Withering thought, between a
+proud attempt to conceal his grief and an ardent impulse to tell all about
+it 'Had <i>you</i> been there,' he writes, 'you'd have had the whole
+story; but I saw that he could n't stoop to open his heart to a man.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Write to him, Dinah. Write and ask him down here for a couple of days.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You forget that we are to leave this the day after tomorrow, brother.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So I did. I forgot it completely. Well, what if he were to come for one
+day? What if you were to say come over and wish us good-bye?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is so like a man and a man's selfishness never to consider a domestic
+difficulty,&rdquo; said she, tartly. &ldquo;So long as a house has a roof over it, you
+fancy it may be available for hospitalities. You never take into account
+the carpets to be taken up, and the beds that are taken down, the
+plate-chest that is packed, and the cellar that is walled up. You forget,
+in a word, that to make that life you find so very easy, some one else
+must pass an existence full of cares and duties.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There 's not a doubt of it, Dinah. There 's truth and reason in every
+word you 've said.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will write to him if you like, and say that we mean to be at home by an
+early day in October, and that if he is disposed to see how our woods look
+in autumn, we will be well pleased to have him for our guest.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing could be better. Do so, Dinah. I owe the young fellow a
+reparation, and I shall not have an easy conscience till I make it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, brother Peter, if your moneyed debts had only given you one-half the
+torment of your moral ones, what a rich man you might have been to-day!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Long after his sister had gone away and left him, Peter Barrington
+continued to muse over this speech. He felt it, felt it keenly too, but in
+no bitterness of spirit.
+</p>
+<p>
+Like most men of a lax and easy temper, he could mete out to himself the
+same merciful measure he accorded to others, and be as forgiving to his
+own faults as to theirs. &ldquo;I suppose Dinah is right, though,&rdquo; said he to
+himself. &ldquo;I never did know that sensitive irritability under debt which
+insures solvency. And whenever a man can laugh at a dun, he is pretty sure
+to be on the high-road to bankruptcy! Well, well, it is somewhat late to
+try and reform, but I'll do my best!&rdquo; And thus comforted, he set about
+tying up fallen rose-trees and removing noxious insects with all his usual
+zeal.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I half wish the place did not look in such beauty, just as I must leave
+it for a while. I don't think that japonica ever had as many flowers
+before; and what a season for tulips! Not to speak of the fruit There are
+peaches enough to stock a market. I wonder what Dinah means to do with
+them? She 'll be sorely grieved to make them over as perquisites to Darby,
+and I know she 'll never consent to have them sold. No, that is the one
+concession she cannot stoop to. Oh, here she comes! What a grand year for
+the wall fruit, Dinah!&rdquo; cried he, aloud.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The apricots have all failed, and fully one-half of the peaches are
+worm-eaten,&rdquo; said she, dryly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter sighed as he thought, how she does dispel an illusion, what a
+terrible realist is this same sister! &ldquo;Still, my dear Dinah, one-half of
+such a crop is a goodly yield.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Out with it, Peter Barrington. Out with the question that is burning for
+utterance. What's to be done with them? I have thought of that already. I
+have told Polly Dill to preserve a quantity for us, and to take as much
+more as she pleases for her own use, and make presents to her friends of
+the remainder. She is to be mistress here while we are away, and has
+promised to come up two or three times a week, and see after everything,
+for I neither desire to have the flower-roots sold, nor the pigeons eaten
+before our return.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is an admirable arrangement, sister. I don't know a better girl than
+Polly!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She is better than I gave her credit for,&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, who was
+not fully pleased at any praise not bestowed by herself. A man's estimate
+of a young woman's goodness is not so certain of finding acceptance from
+her own sex! &ldquo;And as for that girl, the wonder is that with a fool for a
+mother, and a crafty old knave for a father, she really should possess one
+good trait or one amiable quality.&rdquo; Barrington muttered what sounded like
+concurrence, and she went on: &ldquo;And it is for this reason I have taken an
+interest in her, and hope, by occupying her mind with useful cares and
+filling her hours with commendable duties, she will estrange herself from
+that going about to fine houses, and frequenting society where she is
+exposed to innumerable humiliations, and worse.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Worse, Dinah!&mdash;what could be worse?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Temptations are worse, Peter Barrington, even when not yielded to; for
+like a noxious climate, which, though it fails to kill, it is certain to
+injure the constitution during a lifetime. Take my word for it, she 'll
+not be the better wife to the Curate for the memory of all the fine
+speeches she once heard from the Captain. Very old and ascetic notions I
+am quite aware, Peter; but please to bear in mind all the trouble we take
+that the roots of a favorite tree should not strike into a sour soil, and
+bethink you how very indifferent we are as to the daily associates of our
+children!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There you are right, Dinah, there you are right,&mdash;at least, as
+regards girls.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the rule applies fully as much to boys. All those manly
+accomplishments and out-of-door habits you lay such store by, could be
+acquired without the intimacy of the groom or the friendship of the
+gamekeeper. What are you muttering there about old-maids' children? Say it
+out, sir, and defend it, if you have the courage!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But either that he had not said it, or failed in the requisite boldness to
+maintain it, he blundered out a very confused assurance of agreement on
+every point.
+</p>
+<p>
+A woman is seldom merciful in argument; the consciousness that she owes
+victory to her violence far more than to her logic, prompts persistence in
+the course she has followed so successfully, and so was it that Miss Dinah
+contrived to gallop over the battlefield long after the enemy was routed!
+But Barrington was not in a mood to be vexed; the thought of the journey
+filled him with so many pleasant anticipations, the brightest of all being
+the sight of poor George's child! Not that this thought had not its dark
+side, in contrition for the long, long years he had left her unnoticed and
+neglected. Of course he had his own excuses and apologies for all this: he
+could refer to his overwhelming embarrassments, and the heavy cares that
+surrounded him; but then she&mdash;that poor friendless girl, that orphan&mdash;could
+have known nothing of these things; and what opinion might she not have
+formed of those relatives who had so coldly and heartlessly abandoned her!
+Barrington took down her miniature, painted when she was a mere infant,
+and scanned it well, as though to divine what nature might possess her!
+There was little for speculation there,&mdash;perhaps even less for hope!
+The eyes were large and lustrous, it is true, but the brow was heavy, and
+the mouth, even in infancy, had something that seemed like firmness and
+decision,&mdash;strangely at variance with the lips of childhood.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now, old Barrington's heart was deeply set on that lawsuit&mdash;that
+great cause against the Indian Government&mdash;that had formed the grand
+campaign of his life. It was his first waking thought of a morning, his
+last at night. All his faculties were engaged in revolving the various
+points of evidence, and imagining how this and that missing link might be
+supplied; and yet, with all these objects of desire before him, he would
+have given them up, each and all, to be sure of one thing,&mdash;that his
+granddaughter might be handsome! It was not that he did not value far
+above the graces of person a number of other gifts; he would not, for an
+instant, have hesitated, had he to choose between mere beauty and a good
+disposition. If he knew anything of himself, it was his thorough
+appreciation of a kindly nature, a temper to bear well, and a spirit to
+soar nobly; but somehow he imagined these were gifts she was likely enough
+to possess. George's child would resemble him; she would have his
+light-heartedness and his happy nature, but would she be handsome? It is,
+trust me, no superficial view of life that attaches a great price to
+personal atractions, and Barrington was one to give these their full
+value. Had she been brought up from childhood under his roof, he had
+probably long since ceased to think of such a point; he would have
+attached himself to her by the ties of that daily domesticity which grow
+into a nature. The hundred little cares and offices that would have fallen
+to her lot to meet, would have served as links to bind their hearts; but
+she was coming to them a perfect stranger, and he wished ardently that his
+first impression should be all in her favor.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now, while such were Barrington's reveries, his sister took a different
+turn. She had already pictured to herself the dark-orbed, heavy-browed
+child, expanded into a sallow-complexioned, heavy-featured girl, ungainly
+and ungraceful, her figure neglected, her very feet spoiled by the uncouth
+shoes of the convent, her great red hands untrained to all occupation save
+the coarse cares of that half-menial existence. &ldquo;As my brother would say,&rdquo;
+ muttered she, &ldquo;a most unpromising filly, if it were not for the breeding.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Both brother and sister, however, kept their impressions to themselves,
+and of all the subjects discussed between them not one word betrayed what
+each forecast about Josephine. I am half sorry it is no part of my task to
+follow them on the road, and yet I feel I could not impart to my reader
+the almost boylike enjoyment old Peter felt at every stage of the journey.
+He had made the grand tour of Europe more than half a century before, and
+he was in ecstasy to find so much that was unchanged around him. There
+were the long-eared caps, and the monstrous earrings, and the sabots, and
+the heavily tasselled team horses, and the chiming church-bells, and the
+old-world equipages, and the strangely undersized soldiers,&mdash;all just
+as he saw them last! And every one was so polite and ceremonious, and so
+idle and so unoccupied, and the theatres were so large and the newspapers
+so small, and the current coin so defaced, and the order of the meats at
+dinner so inscrutable, and every one seemed contented just because he had
+nothing to do.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn't it all I have told you, Dinah dear? Don't you perceive how accurate
+my picture has been? And is it not very charming and enjoyable?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They are the greatest cheats I ever met in my life, brother Peter; and
+when I think that every grin that greets us is a matter of five francs, it
+mars considerably the pleasure I derive from the hilarity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was in this spirit they journeyed till they arrived at Brussels.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXIII. THE COLONEL'S COUNSELS
+</h2>
+<p>
+When Conyers had learned from Colonel Hunter all that he knew of his
+father's involvement, it went no further than this, that the
+Lieutenant-General had either resigned or been deprived of his civil
+appointments, and Hunter was called upon to replace him. With all his
+habit of hasty and impetuous action, there was no injustice in Fred's
+nature, and he frankly recognized that, however painful to him personally,
+Hunter could not refuse to accede to what the Prince had distinctly
+pressed him to accept.
+</p>
+<p>
+Young Conyers had heard over and over again the astonishment expressed by
+old Indian officials how his father's treatment of the Company's orders
+had been so long endured. Some prescriptive immunity seemed to attach to
+him, or some great patronage to protect him, for he appeared to do exactly
+as he pleased, and the despotic sway of his rule was known far and near.
+With the changes in the constitution of the Board, some members might have
+succeeded less disposed to recognize the General's former services, or
+endure so tolerantly his present encroachments, and Fred well could
+estimate the resistance his father would oppose to the very mildest
+remonstrance, and how indignantly he would reject whatever came in the
+shape of a command. Great as was the blow to the young man, it was not
+heavier in anything than the doubt and uncertainty about it, and he waited
+with a restless impatience for his father's letter, which should explain
+it all. Nor was his position less painful from the estrangement in which
+he lived, and the little intercourse he maintained with his
+brother-officers. When Hunter left, he knew that he had not one he could
+call friend amongst them, and Hunter was to go in a very few days, and
+even of these he could scarcely spare him more than a few chance moments!
+</p>
+<p>
+It was in one of these flitting visits that Hunter bethought him of young
+Dill, of whom, it is only truth to confess, young Conyers had forgotten
+everything. &ldquo;I took time by the forelock, Fred, about that affair,&rdquo; said
+he, &ldquo;and I trust I have freed you from all embarrassment about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As how, sir?&rdquo; asked Conyers, half in pique.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;When I missed you at the 'Fisherman's Home,' I set off to pay the doctor
+a visit, and a very charming visit it turned out; a better pigeon-pie I
+never ate, nor a prettier girl than the maker of it would I ask to meet
+with. We became great friends, talked of everything, from love at first
+sight to bone spavins, and found that we agreed to a miracle. I don't
+think I ever saw a girl before who suited me so perfectly in all her
+notions. She gave me a hint about what they call 'mouth lameness' our Vet
+would give his eye for. Well, to come back to her brother,&mdash;a dull
+dog, I take it, though I have not seen him,&mdash;I said, 'Don't let him
+go to India, they 've lots of clever fellows out there; pack him off to
+Australia; send him to New Zealand.' And when she interrupted me, 'But
+young Mr. Conyers insisted,&mdash;he would have it so; his father is to
+make Tom's fortune, and to send him back as rich as a Begum,' I said, 'He
+has fallen in love with you, Miss Polly, that's the fact, and lost his
+head altogether; and I don't wonder at it, for here am I, close upon
+forty-eight,&mdash;I might have said forty-nine, but no matter,&mdash;close
+upon forty-eight, and I 'm in the same book!' Yes, if it was the sister,
+<i>vice</i> the brother, who wanted to make a fortune in India, I almost
+think I could say, 'Come and share mine!'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I don't exactly understand. Am I to believe that they wish Tom to be
+off&mdash;to refuse my offer&mdash;and that the rejection comes from
+them?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, not exactly. I said it was a bad spec, that you had taken a far too
+sanguine view of the whole thing, and that as I was an old soldier, and
+knew more of the world,&mdash;that is to say, had met a great many more
+hard rubs and disappointments,&mdash;my advice was, not to risk it. 'Young
+Conyers,' said I, 'will do all that he has promised to the letter. You may
+rely upon every word that he has ever uttered. But bear in mind that he's
+only a mortal man; he's not one of those heathen gods who used to make
+fellows invincible in a battle, or smuggle them off in a cloud, out of the
+way of demons, or duns, or whatever difficulties beset them. He might die,
+his father might die, any of us might die.' Yes, by Jove! there's nothing
+so uncertain as life, except the Horse Guards.' And putting one thing with
+another, Miss Polly,' said I, 'tell him to stay where he is,'&mdash;open a
+shop at home, or go to one of the colonies,&mdash;Heligoland, for
+instance, a charming spot for the bathing-season.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And she, what did she say?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I be cashiered if I remember! I never do remember very clearly what
+any one says. Where I am much interested on my own side, I have no time
+for the other fellow's arguments. But I know if she was n't convinced she
+ought to have been. I put the thing beyond a question, and I made her
+cry.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Made her cry!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not cry,&mdash;that is, she did not blubber; but she looked glassy about
+the lids, and turned away her head. But to be sure we were parting,&mdash;a
+rather soft bit of parting, too,&mdash;and I said something about my
+coming back with a wooden leg, and she said, 'No! have it of cork, they
+make them so cleverly now.' And I was going to say something more, when a
+confounded old half-pay Major came up and interrupted us, and&mdash;and,
+in fact, there it rests.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm not at all easy in mind as to this affair. I mean, I don't like how
+I stand in it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you stand out of it,&mdash;out of it altogether! Can't you imagine
+that your father may have quite enough cares of his own to occupy him
+without needing the embarrassment of looking after this bumpkin, who, for
+aught you know, might repay very badly all the interest taken in him? If
+it had been the girl,&mdash;if it had been Polly&mdash;&rdquo; &ldquo;I own frankly,&rdquo;
+ said Conyers, tartly, &ldquo;it did not occur to me to make such an offer to <i>her!</i>&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Faith! then, Master Fred, I was deuced near doing it,&mdash;so near, that
+when I came away I scarcely knew whether I had or had not done so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, there is only an hour's drive on a good road required to
+repair the omission.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's true, Fred,&mdash;that's true; but have you never, by an accident,
+chanced to come up with a stunning fence,&mdash;a regular rasper that you
+took in a fly a few days before with the dogs, and as you looked at the
+place, have you not said, 'What on earth persuaded me to ride at <i>that?</i>'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which means, sir, that your cold-blooded reflections are against the
+project?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not exactly that, either,&rdquo; said he, in a sort of confusion; &ldquo;but when a
+man speculates on doing something for which the first step must be an
+explanation to this fellow, a half apology to that,&mdash;with a
+whimpering kind of entreaty not to be judged hastily, not to be condemned
+unheard, not to be set down as an old fool who couldn't stand the fire of
+a pair of bright eyes,&mdash;I say when it comes to this, he ought to feel
+that his best safeguard is his own misgiving!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I do not agree with you, sir, it is because I incline to follow my own
+lead, and care very little for what the world says of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't believe a word of that, Fred; it's all brag,&mdash;all nonsense!
+The very effrontery with which you fancy you are braving public opinion is
+only Dutch courage. What each of us in his heart thinks of himself is only
+the reflex of the world's estimate of him; at least, what he imagines it
+to be. Now, for my own part, I 'd rather ride up to a battery in full fire
+than I'd sit down and write to my old aunt Dorothy Hunter a formal letter
+announcing my approaching marriage, telling her that the lady of my choice
+was twenty or thereabouts, not to add that her family name was Dill.
+Believe me, Fred, that if you want the concentrated essence of public
+opinion, you have only to do something which shall irritate and astonish
+the half-dozen people with whom you live in intimacy. Won't they remind
+you about the mortgages on your lands and the gray in your whiskers, that
+last loan you raised from Solomon Hymans, and that front tooth you got
+replaced by Cartwright, though it was the week before they told you you
+were a miracle of order and good management, and actually looking younger
+than you did five years ago! You're not minding me, Fred,&mdash;not
+following me; you 're thinking of your <i>protégé</i>, Tom Dill, and what
+he 'll think and say of your desertion of him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have hit it, sir. It was exactly what I was asking myself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if nothing better offers, tell him to get himself in readiness, and
+come out with me. I cannot make him a Rajah, nor even a Zemindar; but I
+'ll stick him into a regimental surgeoncy, and leave him to fashion out
+his own future. He must look sharp, however, and lose no time. The
+'Ganges' is getting ready in all haste, and will be round at Portsmouth by
+the 8th, and we expect to sail on the 12th or 13th at furthest.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll write to him to-day. I 'll write this moment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Add a word of remembrance on my part to the sister, and tell bumpkin to
+supply himself with no end of letters, recommendatory and laudatory, to
+muzzle our Medical Board at Calcutta, and lots of light clothing, and all
+the torturing instruments he 'll need, and a large stock of good humor,
+for he'll be chaffed unmercifully all the voyage.&rdquo; And, with these
+comprehensive directions, the Colonel concluded his counsels, and bustled
+away to look after his own personal interests.
+</p>
+<p>
+Fred Conyers was not over-pleased with the task assigned him. The part he
+liked to fill in life, and, indeed, that which he had usually performed,
+was the Benefactor and the Patron, and it was but an ungracious office for
+him to have to cut the wings and disfigure the plumage of his generosity.
+He made two, three, four attempts at conveying his intentions, but with
+none was he satisfied; so he ended by simply saying, &ldquo;I have something of
+importance to tell you, and which, not being altogether pleasant, it will
+be better to say than to write; so I have to beg you will come up here at
+once, and see me.&rdquo; Scarcely was this letter sealed and addressed than he
+bethought him of the awkwardness of presenting Tom to his
+brother-officers, or the still greater indecorum of not presenting him.
+&ldquo;How shall I ask him to the mess, with the certainty of all the
+impertinences he will be exposed to?&mdash;and what pretext have I for not
+offering him the ordinary attention shown to every stranger?&rdquo; He was, in
+fact, wincing under that public opinion he had only a few moments before
+declared he could afford to despise. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I have no right to
+expose poor Tom to this. I 'll drive over myself to the village, and if
+any advice or counsel be needed, he will be amongst those who can aid
+him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He ordered his servant to harness his handsome roan, a thoroughbred of
+surpassing style and action, to the dog-cart,&mdash;not over-sorry to
+astonish his friend Tom by the splendor of a turn-out that had won the
+suffrages of Tattersall's,&mdash;and prepared for his mission to
+Inistioge.
+</p>
+<p>
+Was it with the same intention of &ldquo;astonishing&rdquo; Tom Dill that Conyers
+bestowed such unusual attention upon his dress? At his first visit to the
+&ldquo;Fisherman's Home&rdquo; he had worn the homely shooting-jacket and felt hat
+which, however comfortable and conventional, do not always redound to the
+advantage of the wearer, or, if they do, it is by something, perhaps, in
+the contrast presented to his ordinary appearance, and the impression
+ingeniously insinuated that he is one so unmistakably a gentleman, no
+travesty of costume can efface the stamp.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was in this garb Polly had seen him, and if Polly Dill had been a
+duchess it was in some such garb she would have been accustomed to see her
+brother or her cousin some six out of every seven mornings of the week;
+but Polly was not a duchess: she was the daughter of a village doctor, and
+might, not impossibly, have acquired a very erroneous estimate of his real
+pretensions from having beheld him thus attired. It was, therefore,
+entirely by a consideration for her ignorance of the world and its ways
+that he determined to enlighten her.
+</p>
+<p>
+At the time of which I am writing, the dress of the British army was a
+favorite study with that Prince whose taste, however questionable, never
+exposed him to censure on grounds of over-simplicity and plainness. As the
+Colonel of the regiment Conyers belonged to, he had bestowed upon his own
+especial corps an unusual degree of splendor in equipment, and amongst
+other extravagances had given them an almost boundless liberty of
+combining different details of dress. Availing himself of this privilege,
+our young Lieutenant invented a costume which, however unmilitary and
+irregular, was not deficient in becomingness. Under a plain blue jacket
+very sparingly braided he wore the rich scarlet waistcoat, all slashed
+with gold, they had introduced at their mess. A simple foraging-cap and
+overalls, seamed with a thin gold line, made up a dress that might have
+passed for the easy costume of the barrack-yard, while, in reality, it was
+eminently suited to set off the wearer.
+</p>
+<p>
+Am I to confess that he looked at himself in the glass with very
+considerable satisfaction, and muttered, as he turned away, &ldquo;Yes, Miss
+Polly, this is in better style than that Quakerish drab livery you saw me
+last in, and I have little doubt that you 'll think so!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is this our best harness, Holt?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXIV. CONYERS MAKES A MORNING CALL
+</h2>
+<p>
+When Conyers, to the astonishment and wonder of an admiring village
+public, drove his seventeen-hand-high roan into the market square of
+Inistioge, he learned that all of the doctor's family were from home
+except Mrs. Dill. Indeed, he saw the respectable lady at the window with a
+book in her hand, from which not all the noise and clatter of his arrival
+for one moment diverted her. Though not especially anxious to attract her
+attention, he was half piqued at her show of indifference. A dog-cart by
+Adams and a thoroughbred like Boanerges were, after all, worth a glance
+at. Little did he know what a competitor be had in that much-thumbed old
+volume, whose quaintly told miseries were to her as her own sorrows. Could
+he have assembled underneath that window all the glories of a Derby Day,
+Mr. Richardson's &ldquo;Clarissa&rdquo; would have beaten the field. While he occupied
+himself in dexterously tapping the flies from his horse with the fine
+extremity of his whip, and thus necessitating that amount of impatience
+which made the spirited animal stamp and champ his bit, the old lady read
+on undisturbed.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ask at what hour the doctor will be at home, Holt,&rdquo; cried he, peevishly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not till to-morrow, sir; he has gone to Castle Durrow.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Miss Dill, is she not in the house?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir; she has gone down to the 'Fisherman's Home' to look after the
+garden,&mdash;the family having left that place this morning.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+After a few minutes' reflection, Conyers ordered his servant to put up the
+horse at the inn, and wait for him there; and then engaging a &ldquo;cot,&rdquo; he
+set out for the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home.&rdquo; &ldquo;After having come so far, it would be
+absurd to go back without doing something in this business,&rdquo; thought he.
+&ldquo;Polly, besides, is the brains carrier of these people. The matter would
+be referred to her; and why should I not go at once, and directly address
+her myself? With her womanly tact, too, she will see that for any reserve
+in my manner there must be a corresponding reason, and she'll not press me
+with awkward questions or painful inquiries, as the underbred brother
+might do. It will be enough when I intimate to her that my plan is not so
+practicable as when I first projected it.&rdquo; He reassured himself with a
+variety of reasonings of this stamp, which had the double effect of
+convincing his own mind and elevating Miss Polly in his estimation. There
+is a very subtle self-flattery in believing that the true order of person
+to deal with us&mdash;to understand and appreciate us&mdash;is one
+possessed of considerable ability united with the very finest sensibility.
+Thus dreaming and &ldquo;mooning,&rdquo; he reached the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home.&rdquo; The air of
+desertion struck him even as he landed; and is there not some secret magic
+in the vicinity of life, of living people, which gives the soul to the
+dwelling-place? Have we to more than cross the threshold of the forsaken
+house to feel its desertion,&mdash;to know that our echoing step will
+track us along stair and corridor, and that through the thin streaks of
+light between the shutters phantoms of the absent will flit or hover,
+while the dimly descried objects of the room will bring memories of bright
+mornings and of happy eves? It is strange to measure the sadness of this
+effect upon us when caused even by the aspect of houses which we
+frequented not as friends but mere visitors; just as the sight of death
+thrills us, even though we had not loved the departed in his lifetime. But
+so it is: there is unutterable bitterness attached to the past, and there
+is no such sorrow as over the bygone!
+</p>
+<p>
+All about the little cottage was silent and desolate; even the shrill
+peacock, so wont to announce the coming stranger with his cry, sat
+voiceless and brooding on a branch; and except the dull flow of the river,
+not a sound was heard. After tapping lightly at the door and peering
+through the partially closed shutters, Conyers turned towards the garden
+at the back, passing as he went his favorite seat under the great
+sycamore-tree. It was not a widely separated &ldquo;long ago&rdquo; since he had sat
+there, and yet how different had life become to him in the interval! With
+what a protective air he had talked to poor Tom on that spot,&mdash;how
+princely were the promises of his patronage, yet not exaggerated beyond
+his conscious power of performance! He hurried on, and came to the little
+wicket of the garden; it was open, and he passed in. A spade in some
+fresh-turned earth showed where some one had recently been at work, but
+still, as he went, he could find none. Alley after alley did he traverse,
+but to no purpose; and at last, in his ramblings, he came to a little
+copse which separated the main garden from a small flower-plat, known as
+Miss Dinah's, and on which the windows of her own little sitting-room
+opened. He had but seen this spot from the windows, and never entered it;
+indeed, it was a sort of sacred enclosure, within which the profane step
+of man was not often permitted to intrude. Nor was Conyers without a sting
+of self-reproach as he now passed in. He had not gone many steps when the
+reason of the seclusion seemed revealed to him. It was a small obelisk of
+white marble under a large willow-tree, bearing for inscription on its
+side, &ldquo;To the Memory of George Barrington, the Truehearted, the Truthful,
+and the Brave, killed on the 19th February, 18&mdash;, at Agra, in the
+East Indies.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+How strange that he should be standing there beside the tomb of his
+father's dearest friend, his more than brother! That George who shared his
+joys and perils, the comrade of his heart! No two men had ever lived in
+closer bonds of affection, and yet somehow of all that love he had never
+heard his father speak, nor of the terrible fate that befell his friend
+had one syllable escaped him. &ldquo;Who knows if friendships ever survive early
+manhood?&rdquo; said Fred, bitterly, as he sat himself down at the base of the
+monument: &ldquo;and yet might not this same George Barrington, had he lived,
+been of priceless value to my father now? Is it not some such manly
+affection, such generous devotion as his, that he may stand in need of?&rdquo;
+ Thus thinking, his imagination led him over the wide sea to that
+far-distant land of his childhood, and scenes of vast arid plains and
+far-away mountains, and wild ghauts, and barren-looking nullahs,
+intersected with yellow, sluggish streams, on whose muddy shore the
+alligator basked, rose before him, contrasted with the gorgeous splendors
+of retinue and the glittering host of gold-adorned followers. It was in a
+vision of grand but dreary despotism, power almost limitless, but without
+one ray of enjoyment, that he lost himself and let the hours glide by. At
+length, as though dreamily, he thought he was listening to some faint but
+delicious music; sounds seemed to come floating towards him through the
+leaves, as if meant to steep him in a continued languor, and imparted a
+strange half-fear that he was under a spell. With an effort he aroused
+himself and sprang to his legs; and now he could plainly perceive that the
+sounds came through an open window, where a low but exquisitely sweet
+voice was singing to the accompaniment of a piano. The melody was sad and
+plaintive; the very words came dropping slowly, like the drops of a
+distilled grief; and they sank into his heart with a feeling of actual
+poignancy, for they were as though steeped in sorrow. When of a sudden the
+singer ceased, the hands ran boldly, almost wildly, over the keys; one,
+two, three great massive chords were struck, and then, in a strain joyous
+as the skylark, the clear voice carolled forth with,&mdash;
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+&ldquo;But why should we mourn for the grief of the morrow?
+Who knows in what frame it may find us?
+Meeker, perhaps, to bend under our sorrow,
+Or more boldly to fling it behind us.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+<p>
+And then, with a loud bang, the piano was closed, and Polly Dill, swinging
+her garden hat by its ribbon, bounded forth into the walk, calling for her
+terrier, Scratch, to follow.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Conyers here!&rdquo; cried she, in astonishment. &ldquo;What miracle could have
+led you to this spot?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To meet you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To meet me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;With no other object. I came from Kilkenny this morning expressly to see
+you, and learning at your house that you had come on here, I followed. You
+still look astonished,&mdash;incredulous&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no; not incredulous, but very much astonished. I am, it is true,
+sufficiently accustomed to find myself in request in my own narrow home
+circle, but that any one out of it should come three yards&mdash;not to
+say three miles&mdash;to speak to me, is, I own, very new and very
+strange.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is not this profession of humility a little&mdash;a very little&mdash;bit
+of exaggeration, Miss Dill?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is not the remark you have made on it a little&mdash;a very little&mdash;bit
+of a liberty, Mr. Conyers?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So little was he prepared for this retort that he flushed up to his
+forehead, and for an instant was unable to recover himself: meanwhile, she
+was busy in rescuing Scratch from a long bramble that had most
+uncomfortably associated itself with his tail, in gratitude for which
+service the beast jumped up on her with all the uncouth activity of his
+race.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He at least, Miss Dill, can take liberties unrebuked,&rdquo; said Conyers, with
+irritation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We are very old friends, sir, and understand each other's humors, not to
+say that Scratch knows well he 'd be tied up if he were to transgress.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers smiled; an almost irresistible desire to utter a smartness crossed
+his mind, and he found it all but impossible to resist saying something
+about accepting the bonds if he could but accomplish the transgression;
+but he bethought in time how unequal the war of banter would be between
+them, and it was with a quiet gravity he began: &ldquo;I came to speak to you
+about Tom&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, is that not all off? Colonel Hunter represented the matter so
+forcibly to my father, put all the difficulties so clearly before him,
+that I actually wrote to my brother, who had started for Dublin, begging
+him on no account to hasten the day of his examination, but to come home
+and devote himself carefully to the task of preparation.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is true, the Colonel never regarded the project as I did, and saw
+obstacles to its success which never occurred to me; with all that,
+however, he never convinced me I was wrong.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps not always an easy thing to do,&rdquo; said she, dryly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed! You seem to have formed a strong opinion on the score of my
+firmness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was expecting you to say obstinacy,&rdquo; said she, laughing, &ldquo;and was half
+prepared with a most abject retractation. At all events, I was aware that
+you did not give way.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And is the quality such a bad one?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just as a wind may be said to be a good or a bad one; due west, for
+instance, would be very unfavorable if you were bound to New York.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was the second time he had angled for a compliment, and failed; and he
+walked along at her side, fretful and discontented. &ldquo;I begin to suspect,&rdquo;
+ said he, at last, &ldquo;that the Colonel was far more eager to make himself
+agreeable here than to give fair play to my reasons.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was delightful, if you mean that; he possesses the inestimable boon of
+good spirits, which is the next thing to a good heart.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don't like depressed people, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won't say I dislike, but I dread them. The dear friends who go about
+with such histories of misfortune and gloomy reflections on every one's
+conduct always give me the idea of a person who should carry with him a
+watering-pot to sprinkle his friends in this Irish climate, where it rains
+ten months out of the twelve. There is a deal to like in life,&mdash;a
+deal to enjoy, as well as a deal to see and to do; and the spirit which we
+bring to it is even of more moment than the incidents that befall us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was the burden of your song awhile ago,&rdquo; said he, smiling; &ldquo;could I
+persuade you to sing it again?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are you dreaming of, Mr. Conyers? Is not this meeting here&mdash;this
+strolling about a garden with a young gentleman, a Hussar!&mdash;compromising
+enough, not to ask me to sit down at a piano and sing for him? Indeed, the
+only relief my conscience gives me for the imprudence of this interview is
+the seeing how miserable it makes <i>you</i>.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miserable!&mdash;makes <i>me</i> miserable!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, embarrassed,&mdash;uncomfortable,&mdash;ill at ease; I don't care
+for the word. You came here to say a variety of things, and you don't like
+to say them. You are balked in certain very kind intentions towards us,
+and you don't know how very little of even intended good nature has
+befallen us in life to make us deeply your debtor for the mere project.
+Why, your very notice of poor Tom has done more to raise him in his own
+esteem and disgust him with low associates than all the wise arguments of
+all his family. There, now, if you have not done us all the good you
+meant, be satisfied with what you really have done.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is very far short of what I intended.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course it is; but do not dwell upon that. I have a great stock of very
+fine intentions, too, but I shall not be in the least discouraged if I
+find them take wing and leave me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What would you do then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Raise another brood. They tell us that if one seed of every million of
+acorns should grow to be a tree, all Europe would be a dense forest within
+a century. Take heart, therefore, about scattered projects; fully their
+share of them come to maturity. Oh dear! what a dreary sigh you gave!
+Don't you imagine yourself very unhappy?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I did, I'd scarcely come to you for sympathy, certainly,&rdquo; said he,
+with a half-bitter smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are quite right there; not but that I could really condole with some
+of what I opine are your great afflictions: for instance, I could bestow
+very honest grief on that splint that your charger has just thrown out on
+his back tendon; I could even cry over the threatened blindness of that
+splendid steeple-chaser; but I 'd not fret about the way your pelisse was
+braided, nor because your new phaeton made so much noise with the axles.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; said Conyers, &ldquo;I have such a horse to show you! He is in the
+village. Might I drive him up here? Would you allow me to take you back?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not on any account, sir! I have grave misgivings about talking to you so
+long here, and I am mainly reconciled by remembering how disagreeable I
+have proved myself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How I wish I had your good spirits!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why don't you rather wish for my fortunate lot in life,&mdash;so secure
+from casualties, so surrounded with life's comforts, so certain to attach
+to it consideration and respect? Take my word for it, Mr. Conyers, your
+own position is not utterly wretched; it is rather a nice thing to be a
+Lieutenant of Hussars, with good health, a good fortune, and a fair
+promise of mustachios. There, now, enough of impertinence for one day. I
+have a deal to do, and you 'll not help me to do it. I have a whole
+tulip-bed to transplant, and several trees to remove, and a new walk to
+plan through the beech shrubbery, not to speak of a change of domicile for
+the pigs,&mdash;if such creatures can be spoken of in your presence. Only
+think, three o'clock, and that weary Darby not got back from his dinner!
+has it ever occurred to you to wonder at the interminable time people can
+devote to a meal of potatoes?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot say that I have thought upon the matter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pray do so, then; divide the matter, as a German would, into all its
+'Bearbeitungen,' and consider it ethnologically, esculently, and
+aesthetically, and you'll be surprised how puzzled you 'll be! Meanwhile,
+would you do me a favor?&mdash;I mean a great favor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I will; only say what it is.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well; but I 'm about to ask more than you suspect.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not retract. I am ready.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What I want, then, is that you should wheel that barrow-ful of mould as
+far as the melon-bed. I 'd have done it myself if you had not been here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+With a seriousness which cost him no small effort to maintain, Conyers
+addressed himself at once to the task; and she walked along at his side,
+with a rake over her shoulder, talking with the same cool unconcern she
+would have bestowed on Darby.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have often told Miss Barrington,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;that our rock melons were
+finer than hers, because we used a peculiar composite earth, into which
+ash bark and soot entered,&mdash;what you are wheeling now, in fact,
+however hurtful it may be to your feelings. There! upset it exactly on
+that spot; and now let me see if you are equally handy with a spade.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0021" id="linkimage-0021">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/276.jpg" width="100%" alt="276 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should like to know what my wages are to be after all this,&rdquo; said he,
+as he spread the mould over the bed.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We give boys about eightpence a day.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Boys! what do you mean by boys?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Everything that is not married is boy in Ireland; so don't be angry, or I
+'ll send you off. Pick up those stones, and throw these dock-weeds to one
+side.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 'll send me a melon, at least, of my own raising, won't you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won't promise; Heaven knows where you'll be&mdash;where I 'll be, by
+that time! Would <i>you</i> like to pledge yourself to anything on the day
+the ripe fruit shall glow between those pale leaves?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps I might,&rdquo; said he, stealing a half-tender glance towards her.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I would not,&rdquo; said she, looking him full and steadfastly in the
+face.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then that means you never cared very much for any one?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I remember aright, you were engaged as a gardener, not as father
+confessor. Now, you are really not very expert at the former; but you 'll
+make sad work of the latter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have not a very exalted notion of my tact, Miss Dill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't know,&mdash;I'm not sure; I suspect you have at least what the
+French call 'good dispositions.' You took to your wheelbarrow very nicely,
+and you tried to dig&mdash;as little like a gentleman as need be.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if this does not bate Banagher, my name is n't Darby!&rdquo; exclaimed a
+rough voice, and a hearty laugh followed his words. &ldquo;By my conscience,
+Miss Polly, it's only yerself could do it; and it's truth they say of you,
+you 'd get fun out of an archdaycon!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers flung away his spade, and shook the mould from his boots in
+irritation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, don't be cross,&rdquo; said she, slipping her arm within his, and leading
+him away; &ldquo;don't spoil a very pleasant little adventure by ill humor. If
+these melons come to good, they shall be called after you. You know that a
+Duke of Montmartre gave his name to a gooseberry; so be good, and, like
+him, you shall be immortal.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should like very much to know one thing,&rdquo; said he, thoughtfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what may that be?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'd like to know,&mdash;are you ever serious?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not what you would call serious, perhaps; but I 'm very much in earnest,
+if that will do. That delightful Saxon habit of treating all trifles with
+solemnity I have no taste for. I'm aware it constitutes that great idol of
+English veneration, Respectability; but we have not got that sort of thing
+here. Perhaps the climate is too moist for it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm not a bit surprised that the Colonel fell in love with you,&rdquo; blurted
+he out, with a frank abruptness.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And did he,&mdash;oh, really did he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is the news so very agreeable, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course it is. I 'd give anything for such a conquest. There 's no
+glory in capturing one of those calf elephants who walk into the snare out
+of pure stupidity; but to catch an old experienced creature who has been
+hunted scores of times, and knows every scheme and artifice, every bait
+and every pitfall, there is a real triumph in that.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do I represent one of the calf elephants, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot think so. I have seen no evidence of your capture&mdash;not to
+add, nor any presumption of my own&mdash;to engage in such a pursuit. My
+dear Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said she, seriously, &ldquo;you have shown so much real
+kindness to the brother, you would not, I am certain, detract from it by
+one word which could offend the sister. We have been the best of friends
+up to this; let us part so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The sudden assumption of gravity in this speech seemed to disconcert him
+so much that he made no answer, but strolled along at her side, thoughtful
+and silent.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are you thinking of?&rdquo; said she, at last.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was just thinking,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;that by the time I have reached my
+quarters, and begin to con over what I have accomplished by this same
+visit of mine, I 'll be not a little puzzled to say what it is.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps I can help you. First of all, tell me what was your object in
+coming.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Chiefly to talk about Tom.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, we have done so. We have discussed the matter, and are fully agreed
+it is better he should not go to India, but stay at home here and follow
+his profession, like his father.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But have I said nothing about Hunter's offer?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a word; what is it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How stupid of me; what could I have been thinking of all this time?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Heaven knows; but what was the offer you allude to?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was this: that if Tom would make haste and get his diploma or his
+license, or whatever it is, at once, and collect all sorts of testimonials
+as to his abilities and what not, that he'd take him out with him and get
+him an assistant-surgeoncy in a regiment, and in time, perhaps, a
+staff-appointment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm not very certain that Tom could obtain his diploma at once. I 'm
+quite sure he could n't get any of those certificates you speak of. First
+of all, because he does not possess these same abilities you mention, nor,
+if he did, is there any to vouch for them. We are very humble people, Mr.
+Conyers, with a village for our world; and we contemplate a far-away
+country&mdash;India, for instance&mdash;pretty much as we should do Mars
+or the Pole-star.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As to that, Bengal is more come-at-able than the Great Bear,&rdquo; said he,
+laughing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;For you, perhaps, not for us. There is nothing more common in people's
+mouths than go to New Zealand or Swan River, or some far-away island in
+the Pacific, and make your fortune!&mdash;just as if every new and
+barbarous land was a sort of Aladdin's cave, where each might fill his
+pockets with gems and come out rich for life. But reflect a little. First,
+there is an outfit; next, there is a voyage; thirdly, there is need of a
+certain subsistence in the new country before plans can be matured to
+render it profitable. After all these come a host of requirements,&mdash;of
+courage, and energy, and patience, and ingenuity, and personal strength,
+and endurance, not to speak of the constitution of a horse, and some have
+said, the heartlessness of an ogre. <i>My</i> counsel to Tom would be, get
+the 'Arabian Nights' out of your head, forget the great Caliph Conyers and
+all his promises, stay where you are, and be a village apothecary.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+These words were uttered in a very quiet and matter-of-fact way, but they
+wounded Conyers more than the accents of passion. He was angry at the cold
+realistic turn of a mind so devoid of all heroism; he was annoyed at the
+half-implied superiority a keener view of life than his own seemed to
+assert; and he was vexed at being treated as a well-meaning but very
+inconsiderate and inexperienced young gentleman.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I to take this as a refusal,&rdquo; said he, stiffly; &ldquo;am I to tell Colonel
+Hunter that your brother does not accept his offer?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If it depended on me,&mdash;yes; but it does not. I 'll write to-night
+and tell Tom the generous project that awaits him; he shall decide for
+himself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know Hunter will be annoyed; he'll think it was through some bungling
+mismanagement of mine his plan has failed; he 'll be certain to say, If it
+was I myself bad spoken toner&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, there's no harm in letting him think so,&rdquo; said she, laughing. &ldquo;Tell
+him I think him charming, that I hope he 'll have a delightful voyage and
+a most prosperous career after it, that I intend to read the Indian
+columns in the newspaper from this day out, and will always picture him to
+my mind as seated in the grandest of howdabs on the very tallest of
+elephants, humming 'Rule Britannia' up the slopes of the Himalaya, and as
+the penny-a-liners say, extending the blessings of the English rule in
+India.&rdquo; She gave her hand to him, made a little salutation,&mdash;half
+bow, half courtesy,&mdash;and, saying &ldquo;Good-bye,&rdquo; turned back into the
+shrubbery and left him.
+</p>
+<p>
+He hesitated,&mdash;almost turned to follow her; waited a second or two
+more, and then, with an impatient toss of his head, walked briskly to the
+river-side and jumped into his boat. It was a sulky face that he wore, and
+a sulky spirit was at work within him. There is no greater discontent than
+that of him who cannot define the chagrin that consumes him. In reality,
+he was angry with himself, but he turned the whole force of his
+displeasure upon her.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose she is clever. I 'm no judge of that sort of thing; but, for my
+own part, I'd rather see her more womanly, more delicate. She has not a
+bit of heart, that's quite clear; nor, with all her affectations, does she
+pretend it.&rdquo; These were his first meditations, and after them he lit a
+cigar and smoked it. The weed was a good one; the evening was beautifully
+calm and soft, and the river scenery looked its very best. He tried to
+think of a dozen things: he imagined, for instance, what a picturesque
+thing a boat-race would be in such a spot; he fancied he saw a swift gig
+sweep round the point and head up the stream; he caught sight of a little
+open in the trees with a background of dark rock, and he thought what a
+place for a cottage. But whether it was the &ldquo;match&rdquo; or the &ldquo;chalet&rdquo; that
+occupied him, Polly Dill was a figure in the picture; and he muttered
+unconsciously, &ldquo;How pretty she is, what a deal of expression those
+gray-blue eyes possess! She's as active as a fawn, and to the full as
+graceful. Fancy her an Earl's daughter; give her station and all the
+advantages station will bring with it,&mdash;what a girl it would be! Not
+that she'd ever have a heart; I'm certain of that. She's as worldly&mdash;as
+worldly as&mdash;&rdquo; The exact similitude did not occur; but he flung the
+end of his cigar into the river instead, and sat brooding mournfully for
+the rest of the way.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXV. DUBLIN REVISITED
+</h2>
+<p>
+The first stage of the Barringtons' journey was Dublin. They alighted at
+Reynolds's Hotel, in Old Dominick Street, the once favorite resort of
+country celebrities. The house, it is true, was there, but Reynolds had
+long left for a land where there is but one summons and one reckoning;
+even the old waiter, Foster, whom people believed immortal, was gone; and
+save some cumbrous old pieces of furniture,&mdash;barbarous relics of bad
+taste in mahogany,&mdash;nothing recalled the past. The bar, where once on
+a time the &ldquo;Beaux&rdquo; and &ldquo;Bloods&rdquo; had gathered to exchange the smart things
+of the House or the hunting-field, was now a dingy little receptacle for
+umbrellas and overcoats, with a rickety case crammed full of
+unacknowledged and unclaimed letters, announcements of cattle fairs, and
+bills of houses to let. Decay and neglect were on everything, and the grim
+little waiter who ushered them upstairs seemed as much astonished at their
+coming as were they themselves with all they saw. It was not for some
+time, nor without searching inquiry, that Miss Dinah discovered that the
+tide of popular favor had long since retired from this quarter, and left
+it a mere barren strand, wreck-strewn and deserted. The house where
+formerly the great squire held his revels had now fallen to be the resort
+of the traveller by canal-boat, the cattle salesman, or the priest. While
+she by an ingenious cross-examination was eliciting these details,
+Barrington had taken a walk through the city to revisit old scenes and
+revive old memories. One needs not to be as old as Peter Barrington to
+have gone through this process and experienced all its pain.
+Unquestionably, every city of Europe has made within such a period as
+five-and-thirty or forty years immense strides of improvement. Wider and
+finer streets, more commodious thoroughfares, better bridges, lighter
+areas, more brilliant shops, strike one on every hand; while the more
+permanent monuments of architecture are more cleanly, more orderly, and
+more cared for than of old. We see these things with astonishment and
+admiration at first, and then there comes a pang of painful regret,&mdash;not
+for the old dark alley and the crooked street, or the tumbling arch of
+long ago,&mdash;but for the time when they were there, for the time when
+they entered into our daily life, when with them were associated friends
+long lost sight of, and scenes dimly fading away from memory. It is for
+our youth, for the glorious spring and elasticity of our once high-hearted
+spirit, of our lives so free of care, of our days undarkened by a serious
+sorrow,&mdash;it is for these we mourn, and to our eyes at such moments
+the spacious street is but a desert, and the splendid monument but a
+whitened sepulchre!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't think I ever had a sadder walk in my life, Dinah,&rdquo; said Peter
+Barrington, with a weary sigh. &ldquo;'Till I got into the courts of the
+College, I never chanced upon a spot that looked as I had left it. There,
+indeed, was the quaint old square as of old, and the great bell&mdash;bless
+it for its kind voice!&mdash;was ringing out a solemn call to something,
+that shook the window-frames, and made the very air tremulous; and a
+pale-faced student or two hurried past, and those centurions in the
+helmets,&mdash;ancient porters or Senior Fellows,&mdash;I forget which,&mdash;stood
+in a little knot to stare at me. That, indeed, was like old times, Dinah,
+and my heart grew very full with the memory. After that I strolled down to
+the Four Courts. I knew you 'd laugh, Dinah. I knew well you 'd say, 'Was
+there nothing going on in the King's Bench or the Common Pleas?' Well,
+there was only a Revenue case, my dear, but it was interesting, very
+interesting; and there was my old friend Harry Bushe sitting as the Judge.
+He saw me, and sent round the tipstaff to have me come up and sit on the
+bench with him, and we had many a pleasant remembrance of old times&mdash;as
+the cross-examination went on&mdash;between us, and I promised to dine
+with him on Saturday.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And on Saturday we will dine at Antwerp, brother, if I know anything of
+myself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure enough, sister, I forgot all about it Well, well, where could my
+head have been?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pretty much where you have worn it of late years, Peter Barrington. And
+what of Withering? Did you see him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Dinah, he was attending a Privy Council; but I got his address, and I
+mean to go over to see him after dinner.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please to bear in mind that you are not to form any engagements, Peter,&mdash;we
+leave this to-morrow evening by the packet,&mdash;if it was the Viceroy
+himself that wanted your company.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, dear, I never thought of such a thing. It was only when Harry
+said, 'You 'll be glad to meet Casey and Burrowes, and a few others of the
+old set,' I clean forgot everything of the present, and only lived in the
+long-past time, when life really was a very jolly thing.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did you find your friend looking?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Old, Dinah, very old! That vile wig has, perhaps, something to say to it;
+and being a judge, too, gives a sternness to the mouth and a haughty
+imperiousness to the brow. It spoils Harry; utterly spoils that laughing
+blue eye, and that fine rich humor that used to play about his lips.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which <i>did</i>, you ought to say,&mdash;which did some forty years ago.
+What are you laughing at, Peter? What is it amuses you so highly?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a charge of O'Grady's, that Harry told me,&mdash;a charge to one
+of those petty juries that, he says, never will go right, do what you may.
+The case was a young student of Trinity, tried for a theft, and whose
+defence was only by witnesses to character, and O'Grady said, 'Gentlemen
+of the jury, the issue before you is easy enough. This is a young
+gentleman of pleasing manners and the very best connections, who stole a
+pair of silk stockings, and you will find accordingly.' And what d'ye
+think, Dinah? They acquitted him, just out of compliment to the Bench.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I declare, brother Peter, such a story inspires any other sentiment than
+mirth to me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I laughed at it till my sides ached,&rdquo; said he, wiping his eyes. &ldquo;I took a
+peep into the Chancery Court and saw O'Connell, who has plenty of
+business, they tell me. He was in some altercation with the Court. Lord
+Manners was scowling at him, as if he hated him. I hear that no day passes
+without some angry passage between them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And is it of these jangling, quarrelsome, irritable, and insolent men
+your ideal of agreeable society is made up, brother Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a doubt of it, Dinah. All these displays are briefed to them. They
+cannot help investing in their client's cause the fervor of their natures,
+simply because they are human; but they know how to leave all the acrimony
+of the contest in the wig-box, when they undress and come back to their
+homes,&mdash;the most genial, hearty, and frank fellows in all the world.
+If human nature were all bad, sister, he who saw it closest would be, I
+own, most like to catch its corruption, but it is not so, far from it.
+Every day and every hour reveals something to make a man right proud of
+his fellow-men.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Miss Barrington curtly recalled her brother from these speculations to the
+practical details of their journey, reminding him of much that he had to
+consult Withering upon, and many questions of importance to put to him.
+Thoroughly impressed with the perils of a journey abroad, she conjured up
+a vast array of imaginary difficulties, and demanded special instructions
+how each of them was to be met. Had poor Peter been&mdash;what he
+certainly was not&mdash;a most accomplished casuist, he might have been
+puzzled by the ingenious complexity of some of those embarrassments. As it
+was, like a man in the labyrinth, too much bewildered to attempt escape,
+he sat down in a dogged insensibility, and actually heard nothing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you minding me, Peter?&rdquo; asked she, fretfully, at last; &ldquo;are you
+paying attention to what I am saying?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I am, Dinah dear; I'm listening with all ears.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was it, then, that I last remarked? What was the subject to which I
+asked your attention?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Thus suddenly called on, poor Peter started and rubbed his forehead. Vague
+shadows of passport people, and custom-house folk, and waiters, and
+money-changers, and brigands; insolent postilions, importunate beggars,
+cheating innkeepers, and insinuating swindlers were passing through his
+head, with innumerable incidents of the road; and, trying to catch a clew
+at random, he said, &ldquo;It was to ask the Envoy, her Majesty's Minister at
+Brussels, about a washerwoman who would not tear off my shirt buttons&mdash;eh,
+Dinah? wasn't that it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are insupportable, Peter Barrington,&rdquo; said she, rising in anger. &ldquo;I
+believe that insensibility like this is not to be paralleled!&rdquo; and she
+left the room in wrath.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter looked at his watch, and was glad to see it was past eight o'clock,
+and about the hour he meant for his visit to Withering. He set out
+accordingly, not, indeed, quite satisfied with the way he had lately
+acquitted himself, but consoled by thinking that Dinah rarely went back of
+a morning on the dereliction of the evening before, so that they should
+meet good friends as ever at the breakfast-table. Withering was at home,
+but a most discreet-looking butler intimated that he had dined that day <i>tête-à-tête</i>
+with a gentleman, and had left orders not to be disturbed on any pretext
+&ldquo;Could you not at least, send in my name?&rdquo; said Barrington; &ldquo;I am a very
+old friend of your master's, whom he would regret not having seen.&rdquo; A
+little persuasion aided by an argument that butlers usually succumb to
+succeeded, and before Peter believed that his card could have reached its
+destination, his friend was warmly shaking him by both hands, as he
+hurried him into the dinner-room.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don't know what an opportune visit you have made me, Barrington,&rdquo;
+ said he; &ldquo;but first, to present you to my friend, Captain Stapylton&mdash;or
+Major&mdash;which is it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Captain. This day week, the 'Gazette,' perhaps, may call me Major.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Always a pleasure to me to meet a soldier, sir,&rdquo; said Barrington; &ldquo;and I
+own to the weakness of saying, all the greater when a Dragoon. My own boy
+was a cavalryman.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was exactly of him we were talking,&rdquo; said Withering; &ldquo;my friend here
+has had a long experience of India, and has frankly told me much I was
+totally ignorant of. From one thing to another we rambled on till we came
+to discuss our great suit with the Company, and Captain Stapylton assures
+me that we have never taken the right road in the case.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, I could hardly have had such presumption; I merely remarked, that
+without knowing India and its habits, you could scarcely be prepared to
+encounter the sort of testimony that would be opposed to you, or to
+benefit by what might tend greatly in your favor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just so&mdash;continue,&rdquo; said Withering, who looked as though he had got
+an admirable witness on the table.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm astonished to hear from the Attorney-General,&rdquo; resumed Stapylton,
+&ldquo;that in a case of such magnitude as this you have never thought of
+sending out an efficient agent to India to collect evidence, sift
+testimony, and make personal inquiry as to the degree of credit to be
+accorded to many of the witnesses. This inquisitorial process is the very
+first step in every Oriental suit; you start at once, in fact, by sapping
+all the enemy's works,&mdash;countermining him everywhere.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Listen, Barrington,&mdash;listen to this; it is all new to us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Everything being done by documentary evidence, there is a wide field for
+all the subtlety of the linguist; and Hindostanee has complexities enough
+to gratify the most inordinate appetite for quibble. A learned scholar&mdash;a
+Moonshee of erudition&mdash;is, therefore, the very first requisite, great
+care being taken to ascertain that he is not in the pay of the enemy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What rascals!&rdquo; muttered Barrington.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very deep&mdash;very astute dogs, certainly, but perhaps not much more
+unprincipled than some fellows nearer home,&rdquo; continued the Captain,
+sipping his wine; &ldquo;the great peculiarity of this class is, that while
+employing them in the most palpably knavish manner, and obtaining from
+them services bought at every sacrifice of honor, they expect all the
+deference due to the most umblemished integrity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'd see them&mdash;I won't say where&mdash;first,&rdquo; broke out Barrington;
+&ldquo;and I 'd see my lawsuit after them, if only to be won by their
+intervention.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Remember, sir,&rdquo; said Stapylton, calmly, &ldquo;that such are the weapons
+employed against you. That great Company does not, nor can it afford to,
+despise such auxiliaries. The East has its customs, and the natures of men
+are not light things to be smoothed down by conventionalities. Were you,
+for instance, to measure a testimony at Calcutta by the standard of
+Westminster Hall, you would probably do a great and grievous injustice.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just so,&rdquo; said Withering; &ldquo;you are quite right there, and I have
+frequently found myself posed by evidence that I felt must be assailable.
+Go on, and tell my friend what you were mentioning to me before he came
+in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am reluctant, sir,&rdquo; said Stapylton, modestly, &ldquo;to obtrude upon you, in
+a matter of such grand importance as this, the mere gossip of a
+mess-table, but, as allusion has been made to it, I can scarcely refrain.
+It was when serving in another Presidency an officer of ours, who had been
+long in Bengal, one night entered upon the question of Colonel
+Barrington's claims. He quoted the words of an uncle&mdash;I think he said
+his uncle&mdash;who was a member of the Supreme Council, and said,
+'Barrington ought to have known we never could have conceded this right of
+sovereignty, but he ought also to have known that we would rather have
+given ten lacs of rupees than have it litigated.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you that gentleman's name?&rdquo; asked Barrington, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have; but the poor fellow is no more,&mdash;he was of that fatal
+expedition to Beloochistan eight years ago.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know our case, then, and what we claim?&rdquo; asked Barrington.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just as every man who has served in India knows it,&mdash;popularly,
+vaguely. I know that Colonel Barrington was, as the adopted son of a
+Rajah, invested with supreme power, and only needed the ratification of
+Great Britain to establish a sovereignty; and I have heard&rdquo;&mdash;he laid
+stress on the word &ldquo;heard&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;that if it had not been for some
+allegation of plotting against the Company's government, he really might
+ultimately have obtained that sanction.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just what I have said over and over again?&rdquo; burst in Barrington. &ldquo;It was
+the worst of treachery that mined my poor boy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have heard that also,&rdquo; said Stapylton, and with a degree of feeling and
+sympathy that made the old man's heart yearn towards him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How I wish you had known him!&rdquo; said he, as he drew his hand over his
+eyes. &ldquo;And do you know, sir,&rdquo; said he, warming, &ldquo;that if I still follow up
+this suit, devoting to it the little that is left to me of life or
+fortune, that I do so less for any hope of gain than to place my poor boy
+before the world with his honor and fame unstained.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My old friend does himself no more than justice there!&rdquo; cried Withering.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A noble object,&mdash;may you have all success in it!&rdquo; said Stapylton. He
+paused, and then, in a tone of deeper feeling, added: &ldquo;It will, perhaps,
+seem a great liberty, the favor I'm about to ask; but remember that, as a
+brother soldier with your son I have some slight claim to approach you.
+Will you allow me to offer you such knowledge as I possess of India, to
+aid your suit? Will you associate me, in fact, with your cause? No higher
+one could there be than the vindication of a brave man's honor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thank you with all my heart and soul!&rdquo; cried the old man, grasping his
+hand. &ldquo;In my own name, and in that of my poor dear granddaughter, I thank
+you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, then, Colonel Barrington has left a daughter? I was not aware of
+that,&rdquo; said Stapylton, with a certain coldness.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And a daughter who knows no more of this suit than of our present
+discussion of it,&rdquo; said Withering.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the frankness of a nature never happier than when indulging its own
+candor, Barrington told how it was to see and fetch back with him the same
+granddaughter he had left a spot he had not quitted for years. &ldquo;She 's
+coming back to a very humble home, it is true; but if you, sir,&rdquo; said he,
+addressing Stapylton, &ldquo;will not despise such lowly fare as a cottage can
+afford you, and would condescend to come and see us, you shall have the
+welcome that is due to one who wishes well to my boy's memory.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if you do,&rdquo; broke in Withering, &ldquo;you'll see the prettiest cottage and
+the first hostess in Europe; and here 's to her health,&mdash;Miss Dinah
+Barrington!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm not going to refuse that toast, though I have just passed the
+decanter,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Here 's to the best of sisters!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Barrington!&rdquo; said Stapylton, with a courteous bow; and he drained
+his glass to the bottom.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And that reminds me I promised to be back to tea with her,&rdquo; said
+Barrington; and renewing with all warmth his invitation to Stapylton, and
+cordially taking leave of his old friend, he left the house and hastened
+to his hotel.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a delightful evening I have passed, Dinah!&rdquo; said he, cheerfully, as
+he entered.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which means that the Attorney-General gave you a grand review and sham
+fight of all the legal achievements of the term; but bear in mind,
+brother, there is no professional slang so odious to me as the lawyer's,
+and I positively hate a joke which cost six-and-eightpence, or even
+three-and-fourpence.&rdquo; &lt;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing of this kind was there at all, Dinah! Withering had a friend with
+him, a very distinguished soldier, who had seen much Indian service, and
+entered with a most cordial warmth into poor George's case. He knew it,&mdash;as
+all India knows it, by report,&mdash;and frankly told us where our chief
+difficulties lay, and the important things we were neglecting.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How generous! of a perfect stranger too!&rdquo; said she, with a scarcely
+detectable tone of scorn.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not&mdash;so to say&mdash;an utter stranger, for George was known to him
+by reputation and character.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And who is, I suppose I am to say, your friend, Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Captain or Major Stapylton, of the Regent's Hussars?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! I know him,&mdash;or, rather, I know of him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What and how, Dinah? I am very curious to hear this.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Simply, that while young Conyers was at the cottage he showed me a letter
+from that gentleman, asking him in the Admiral's name, to Cobham, and
+containing, at the same time, a running criticism on the house and his
+guests far more flippant than creditable.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Men do these things every day, Dinah, and there is no harm in it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That all depends upon whom the man is. The volatile gayety of a
+high-spirited nature, eager for effect and fond of a sensation, will lead
+to many an indiscretion; but very different from this is the well-weighed
+sarcasm of a more serious mind, who not only shots his gun home, but takes
+time to sight ere he fires it. I hear that Captain Stapylton is a grand,
+cold, thoughtful man, of five or six-and-thirty. Is that so?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps he may be. He 's a splendid fellow to look at, and all the
+soldier. But you shall see for yourself, and I 'll warrant you 'll not
+harbor a prejudice against him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which means, you have asked him on a visit, brother Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Scarcely fair to call it on a visit, Dinah,&rdquo; blundered he out, in
+confusion; &ldquo;but I have said with what pleasure we should see him under our
+roof when we returned.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I solemnly declare my belief, that if you went to a cattle-show you 'd
+invite every one you met there, from the squire to the pig-jobber, never
+thinking the while that nothing is so valueless as indiscriminate
+hospitality, even if it were not costly. Nobody thanks you,&mdash;no one
+is grateful for it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And who wants them to be grateful, Dinah? The pleasure is in the giving,
+not in receiving. You see your friends with their holiday faces on, when
+they sit round the table. The slowest and dreariest of them tries to look
+cheery; and the stupid dog who has never a jest in him has at least a
+ready laugh for the wit of his neighbor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Does it not spoil some of your zest for this pleasantry to think how it
+is paid for, brother?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It might, perhaps, if I were to think of it; but, thank Heaven! it's
+about one of the last things would come into my head. My dear sister,
+there's no use in always treating human nature as if it was sick, for if
+you do, it will end by being hypochondriac!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I protest, brother Peter, I don't know where you meet all the good and
+excellent people you rave about, and I feel it very churlish of you that
+you never present any of them to <i>me!</i>&rdquo; And so saying, she gathered
+her knitting materials hastily together, and reminding him that it was
+past eleven o'clock, she uttered a hurried good-night, and departed.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXVI. A VERY SAD GOOD-BYE
+</h2>
+<p>
+Conyers sat alone in his barrack-room, very sad and dispirited. Hunter had
+left that same morning, and the young soldier felt utterly friendless. He
+had obtained some weeks' leave of absence, and already two days of the
+leave had gone over, and he had not energy to set out if he had even a
+thought as to the whither. A variety of plans passed vaguely through his
+head. He would go down to Portsmouth and see Hunter off; or he would
+nestle down in the little village of Inistioge and dream away the days in
+quiet forgetfulness; or he would go over to Paris, which he had never
+seen, and try whether the gay dissipations of that brilliant city might
+not distract and amuse him. The mail from India had arrived and brought no
+letter from his father, and this, too, rendered him irritable and unhappy.
+Not that his father was a good correspondent; he wrote but rarely, and
+always like one who snatched a hurried moment to catch a post. Still, if
+this were a case of emergency, any great or critical event in his life, he
+was sure his father would have informed him; and thus was it that he sat
+balancing doubt against doubt, and setting probability against
+probability, till his very head grew addled with the labor of speculation.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was already late; all the usual sounds of barrack life had subsided,
+and although on the opposite side of the square the brilliant lights of
+the mess-room windows showed where the convivial spirits of the regiment
+were assembled, all around was silent and still. Suddenly there came a
+dull heavy knock to the door, quickly followed by two or three others.
+</p>
+<p>
+Not caring to admit a visitor, whom, of course, he surmised would be some
+young brother-officer full of the plans and projects of the mess, he made
+no reply to the summons, nor gave any token of his presence. The sounds,
+however, were redoubled, and with an energy that seemed to vouch for
+perseverance; and Conyers, partly in anger, and partly in curiosity, went
+to the door and opened it. It was not till after a minute or two that he
+was able to recognize the figure before him. It was Tom Dill, but without
+a hat or neckcloth, his hair dishevelled, his face colorless, and his
+clothes torn, while from a recent wound in one hand the blood flowed fast,
+and dropped on the floor. The whole air and appearance of the young fellow
+so resembled drunkenness that Conyers turned a stern stare upon him as he
+stood in the centre of the room, and in a voice of severity said, &ldquo;By what
+presumption, sir, do you dare to present yourself in this state before
+me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You think I'm drunk, sir, but I am not,&rdquo; said he, with a faltering accent
+and a look of almost imploring misery.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is the meaning of this state, then? What disgraceful row have you
+been in?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;None, sir. I have cut my hand with the glass on the barrack-wall, and
+torn my trousers too; but it's no matter, I 'll not want them long.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean by all this? Explain yourself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I sit down, sir, for I feel very weak?&rdquo; but before the permission
+could be granted, his knees tottered, and he fell in a faint on the floor.
+Conyers knelt down beside him, bathed his temples with water, and as soon
+as signs of animation returned, took him up in his arms and laid him at
+full length on a sofa.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the vacant, meaningless glance of the poor fellow as he looked first
+around him, Conyers could mark how he was struggling to find out where he
+was.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are with me, Tom,&mdash;with your friend Conyers,&rdquo; said he, holding
+the cold clammy hand between his own.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, sir. It is very good of you. I do not deserve it,&rdquo; said he, in
+a faint whisper.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My poor boy, you mustn't say that; I am your friend. I told you already I
+would be so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you 'll not be my friend when I tell you&mdash;when I tell you&mdash;all;&rdquo;
+ and as the last word dropped, he covered his face with both his hands, and
+burst into a heavy passion of tears.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, come, Tom, this is not manly; bear up bravely, bear up with
+courage, man. You used to say you had plenty of pluck if it were to be
+tried.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So I thought I had, sir, but it has all left me;&rdquo; and he sobbed as if his
+heart was breaking. &ldquo;But I believe I could bear anything but this,&rdquo; said
+he, in a voice shaken by convulsive throes. &ldquo;It is the disgrace,&mdash;that
+'s what unmans me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take a glass of wine, collect yourself, and tell me all about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir. No wine, thank you; give me a glass of water. There, I am better
+now; my brain is not so hot. You are very good to me, Mr. Conyers, but it
+'s the last time I'll ever ask it,&mdash;the very last time, sir; but I
+'ll remember it all my life.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you give way in this fashion, Tom, I 'll not think you the
+stout-hearted fellow I once did.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir, nor am I. I 'll never be the same again. I feel it here. I feel
+as if something gave, something broke.&rdquo; And he laid his hand over his
+heart and sighed heavily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, take your own time about it, Tom, and let me hear if I cannot be of
+use to you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir, not now. Neither you nor any one else can help me now. It's all
+over, Mr. Conyers,&mdash;it's all finished.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is over,&mdash;what is finished?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And so, as I thought it would n't do for one like me to be seen speaking
+to you before people, I stole away and climbed over the barrack-wall. I
+cut my hand on the glass, too, but it's nothing. And here I am, and here's
+the money you gave me; I've no need of it now.&rdquo; And as he laid some
+crumpled bank-notes on the table, his overcharged heart again betrayed
+him, and he burst into tears. &ldquo;Yes, sir, that's what you gave me for the
+College, but I was rejected.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rejected, Tom! How was that? Be calm, my poor fellow, and tell me all
+about it quietly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'll try, sir, I will, indeed; and I'll tell you nothing but the truth,
+that you may depend upon.&rdquo; He took a great drink of water, and went on.
+&ldquo;If there was one man I was afraid of in the world, it was Surgeon Asken,
+of Mercer's Hospital. I used to be a dresser there, and he was always
+angry with me, exposing me before the other students, and ridiculing me,
+so that if anything was done badly in the wards, he 'd say, 'This is some
+of Master Dill's work, is n't it?' Well, sir, would you believe it, on the
+morning I went up for my examination, Dr. Coles takes ill, and Surgeon
+Asken is called on to replace him. I did n't know it till I was sent for
+to go in, and my head went round, and I could n't see, and a cold sweat
+came over me, and I was so confused that when I got into the room I went
+and sat down beside the examiners, and never knew what they were laughing
+at.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'I have no doubt, Mr. Dill, you 'll occupy one of these places at some
+future day,' says Dr. Willes, 'but for the present your seat is yonder.' I
+don't remember much more after that, till Mr. Porter said, 'Don't be so
+nervous, Mr. Dill; collect yourself; I am persuaded you know what I am
+asking you, if you will not be flurried.' And all I could say was, 'God
+bless you for that speech, no matter how it goes with me' and they all
+laughed out.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was Asken's turn now, and he began. 'You are destined for the navy, I
+understand, sir?'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'No, sir; for the army,' said I.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'From what we have seen to-day, you 'll prove an ornament to either
+service. Meanwhile, sir, it will be satisfactory to the court to have your
+opinion on gun-shot wounds. Describe to us the case of a man laboring
+under the worst form of concussion of the brain, and by what indications
+you would distinguish it from fracture of the base of the skull, and what
+circumstances might occur to render the distinction more difficult, and
+what impossible?' That was his question, and if I was to live a hundred
+years I 'll never forget a word in it,&mdash;it's written on my heart, I
+believe, for life.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Go on, sir,' said he, 'the court is waiting for you.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Take the case of concussion first,' said Dr. Willes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'I hope I may be permitted to conduct my own examination in my own
+manner,' said Asken.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That finished me, and I gave a groan that set them all laughing again.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Well, sir, I 'm waiting,' said Asken. 'You can have no difficulty to
+describe concussion, if you only give us your present sensations.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'That's as true as if you swore it,' said I. 'I 'm just as if I had a
+fall on the crown of my head. There's a haze over my eyes, and a ringing
+of bells in my ears, and a feeling as if my brain was too big.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Take my word for it, Mr. Dill,' said he, sneeringly, 'the latter is a
+purely deceptive sensation; the fault lies in the opposite direction. Let
+us, however, take something more simple;' and with that he described a
+splinter wound of the scalp, with the whole integuments torn in fragments,
+and gunpowder and sticks and sand all mixed up with the flap that hung
+down over the patient's face. 'Now,' said he, after ten minutes' detail of
+this,&mdash;'now,' said he, 'when you found the man in this case, you 'd
+take out your scalpel, perhaps, and neatly cut away all these bruised and
+torn integuments?'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'I would, sir,' cried I, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'I knew it,' said he, with a cry of triumph,&mdash;'I knew it. I 've no
+more to ask you. You may retire.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I got up to leave the room, but a sudden flash went through me, and I
+said out boldly,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Am I passed? Tell me at once. Put me out of pain, for I can't bear any
+more!'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'If you'll retire for a few minutes,' said the President&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'My heart will break, sir,' said I, 'if I 'm to be in suspense any more.
+Tell me the worst at once.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I suppose they did tell me, for I knew no more till I found myself in
+the housekeeper's room, with wet cloths on my head, and the money you see
+there in the palm of my hand. <i>That</i> told everything. Many were very
+kind to me, telling how it happened to this and to that man, the first
+time; and that Asken was thought very unfair, and so on; but I just washed
+my face with cold water, and put on my hat and went away home, that is, to
+where I lodged, and I wrote to Polly just this one line: 'Rejected; I 'm
+not coming back.' And then I shut the shutters and went to bed in my
+clothes as I was, and I slept sixteen hours without ever waking. When I
+awoke, I was all right. I could n't remember everything that happened for
+some time, but I knew it all at last, and so I went off straight to the
+Royal Barracks and 'listed.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Enlisted?&mdash;enlisted?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir, in the Forty-ninth Regiment of Foot, now in India, and sending
+off drafts from Cork to join them on Tuesday. It was out of the dépôt at
+the bridge I made my escape to-night to come and see you once more, and to
+give you this with my hearty blessing, for you were the only one ever
+stood to me in the world,&mdash;the only one that let me think for a
+moment I <i>could</i> be a gentleman!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, come, this is all wrong and hasty and passionate, Tom. You have no
+right to repay your family in this sort; this is not the way to treat that
+fine-hearted girl who has done so much for you; this is but an outbreak of
+angry selfishness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;These are hard words, sir, very hard words, and I wish you had not said
+them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hard or not, you deserve them; and it is their justice that wounds you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won't say that it is <i>not</i>, sir. But it isn't justice I 'm asking
+for, but forgiveness. Just one word out of your mouth to say, 'I 'm sorry
+for you, Tom;' or, 'I wish you well.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So I do, my poor fellow, with all my heart,&rdquo; cried Con-yers, grasping his
+hand and pressing it cordially, &ldquo;and I 'll get you out of this scrape,
+cost what it may.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you mean, sir, that I am to get my discharge, it's better to tell the
+truth at once. I would n't take it. No, sir, I 'll stand by what I 've
+done. I see I never could be a doctor, and I have my doubts, too, if I
+ever could be a gentleman; but there's something tells me I could be a
+soldier, and I'll try.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers turned from him with an impatient gesture, and walked the room in
+moody silence.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know well enough, sir,&rdquo; continued Tom, &ldquo;what every one will say;
+perhaps you yourself are thinking it this very minute: 'It 's all out of
+his love of low company he 's gone and done this; he's more at home with
+those poor ignorant boys there than he would be with men of education and
+good manners.' Perhaps it's true, perhaps it is 'n't! But there 's one
+thing certain, which is, that I 'll never try again to be anything that I
+feel is clean above me, and I 'll not ask the world to give me credit for
+what I have not the least pretension to.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you reflected,&rdquo; said Conyers, slowly, &ldquo;that if you reject my
+assistance now, it will be too late to ask for it a few weeks, or even a
+few days hence?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I <i>have</i> thought of all that, sir. I 'll never trouble you about
+myself again.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Tom,&rdquo; said Conyers, as he laid his arm on the other's shoulder,
+&ldquo;just think for one moment of all the misery this step will cause your
+sister,&mdash;that kind, true-hearted sister, who has behaved so nobly by
+you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have thought of that, too, sir; and in my heart I believe, though she
+'ll fret herself at first greatly, it will all turn out best in the end.
+What could I ever be but a disgrace to her? Who 'd ever think the same of
+Polly after seeing <i>me?</i> Don't I bring her down in spite of herself;
+and is n't it a hard trial for her to be a lady when I am in the same room
+with her? No, sir, I'll not go back; and though I haven't much hope in me,
+I feel I'm doing right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know well,&rdquo; said Conyers, pettishly, &ldquo;that your sister will throw the
+whole blame on me. She 'll say, naturally enough, <i>You</i> could have
+obtained his discharge,&mdash;<i>you</i> should have insisted on his
+leaving.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's what you could not, sir,&rdquo; said Tom, sturdily. &ldquo;It's a poor heart
+hasn't some pride in it; and I would not go back and meet my father, after
+my disgrace, if it was to cost me my right hand,&mdash;so don't say
+another word about it. Good-bye, sir, and my blessing go with you wherever
+you are. I 'll never forget how you stood to me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That money there is yours, Dill,&rdquo; said Conyers, half haughtily. &ldquo;You may
+refuse my advice and reject my counsel, but I scarcely suppose you 'll ask
+me to take back what I once have given.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Tom tried to speak, but he faltered and moved from one foot to the other,
+in an embarrassed and hesitating way. He wanted to say how the sum
+originally intended for one object could not honestly be claimed for
+another; he wanted to say, also, that he had no longer the need of so much
+money, and that the only obligation he liked to submit to was gratitude
+for the past; but a consciousness that in attempting to say these things
+some unhappy word, some ill-advised or ungracious expression might escape
+him, stopped him, and he was silent.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You do not wish that we should part coldly, Tom?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir,&mdash;oh, no!&rdquo; cried he, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then let not that paltry gift stand in the way of our esteem. Now,
+another thing. Will you write to me? Will you tell me how the world fares
+with you, and honestly declare whether the step you have taken to-day
+brings with it regret or satisfaction?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm not over-much of a letter-writer,&rdquo; said he, falter-ingly, &ldquo;but I'll
+try. I must be going, Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said he, after a moment's silence; &ldquo;I
+must get back before I'm missed.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not as you came, Tom, however. I'll pass you out of the barrack-gate.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+As they walked along side by side, neither spoke till they came close to
+the gate; then Conyers halted and said, &ldquo;Can you think of nothing I can do
+for you, or is there nothing you would leave to my charge after you have
+gone?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir, nothing.&rdquo; He paused, and then, as if with a struggle, said,
+&ldquo;Except you 'd write one line to my sister Polly, to tell her that I went
+away in good heart, that I did n't give in one bit, and that if it was n't
+for thinking that maybe I 'd never see her again&mdash;&rdquo; He faltered, his
+voice grew thick, he tried to cough down the rising emotion, but the
+feeling overcame him, and he burst out into tears. Ashamed at the weakness
+he was endeavoring to deny, he sprang through the gate and disappeared.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers slowly returned to his quarters, very thoughtful and very sad.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXVII. THE CONVENT ON THE MEUSE
+</h2>
+<p>
+While poor Tom Dill, just entering upon life, went forth in gloom and
+disappointment to his first venture, old Peter Barrington, broken by years
+and many a sorrow, set out on his journey with a high heart and a spirit
+well disposed to see everything in its best light and be pleased with all
+around him. Much of this is, doubtless, matter of temperament; but I
+suspect, too, that all of us have more in our power in this way than we
+practise. Barrington had possibly less merit than his neighbors, for
+nature had given him one of those happy dispositions upon which the
+passing vexations of life produce scarcely any other effect than a
+stimulus to humor, or a tendency to make them the matter of amusing
+memory.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had lived, besides, so long estranged from the world, that life had for
+him all the interests of a drama, and he could no more have felt angry
+with the obtrusive waiter or the roguish landlord than he would with their
+fictitious representatives on the stage. They were, in his eyes, parts
+admirably played, and no more; he watched them with a sense of humorous
+curiosity, and laughed heartily at successes of which he was himself the
+victim. Miss Barrington was no disciple of this school; rogues to her were
+simply rogues, and no histrionic sympathies dulled the vexation they gave
+her. The world, out of which she had lived so long, had, to her thinking,
+far from improved in the mean while. People were less deferential, less
+courteous than of old. There was an indecent haste and bustle about
+everything, and a selfish disregard of one's neighbor was the marked
+feature of all travel. While her brother repaid himself for many an
+inconvenience by thinking over some strange caprice, or some curious
+inconsistency in human nature,&mdash;texts for amusing afterthought,&mdash;she
+only winced under the infliction, and chafed at every instance of cheating
+or impertinence that befell them.
+</p>
+<p>
+The wonderful things she saw, the splendid galleries rich in art, the
+gorgeous palaces, the grand old cathedrals, were all marred to her by the
+presence of the loquacious lackey whose glib tongue had to be retained at
+the salary of the &ldquo;vicar of our parish,&rdquo; and who never descanted on a
+saint's tibia without costing the price of a dinner; so that old Peter at
+last said to himself, &ldquo;I believe my sister Dinah would n't enjoy the
+garden of Eden if Adam had to go about and show her its beauties.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The first moment of real enjoyment of her tour was on that morning when
+they left Namur to drive to the Convent of Bramaigne, about three miles
+off, on the banks of the Meuse. A lovelier day never shone upon a lovelier
+scene. The river, one side guarded by lofty cliffs, was on the other
+bounded by a succession of rich meadows, dotted with picturesque
+homesteads half hidden in trees. Little patches of cultivation, labored to
+the perfection of a garden, varied the scene, and beautiful cattle lay
+lazily under the giant trees, solemn voluptuaries of the peaceful
+happiness of their lot.
+</p>
+<p>
+Hitherto Miss Dinah had stoutly denied that anything they had seen could
+compare with their own &ldquo;vale and winding river,&rdquo; but now she frankly owned
+that the stream was wider, the cliffs higher, the trees taller and better
+grown, while the variety of tint in the foliage far exceeded all she had
+any notion of; but above all these were the evidences of abundance, the
+irresistible charm that gives the poetry to peasant life; and the
+picturesque cottage, the costume, the well-stored granary, bespeak the
+condition with which we associate our ideas of rural happiness. The giant
+oxen as they marched proudly to their toil, the gay-caparisoned pony who
+jingled his bells as he trotted by, the peasant girls as they sat at their
+lace cushions before the door, the rosy urchins who gambolled in the deep
+grass, all told of plenty,&mdash;that blessing which to man is as the
+sunlight to a landscape, making the fertile spots more beautiful, and
+giving even to ruggedness an aspect of stern grandeur.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, brother Peter, that we could see something like this at home,&rdquo; cried
+she. &ldquo;See that girl yonder watering the flowers in her little garden,&mdash;how
+prettily that old vine is trained over the balcony,&mdash;mark the scarlet
+tassels in the snow-white team,&mdash;are not these signs of an existence
+not linked to daily drudgery? I wish our people could be like these.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here we are, Dinah: there is the convent!&rdquo; cried Barrington, as a tall
+massive roof appeared over the tree-tops, and the little carriage now
+turned from the high-road into a shady avenue of tall elms. &ldquo;What a grand
+old place it is! some great seigniorial château once on a time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+As they drew nigh, nothing bespoke the cloister. The massive old building,
+broken by many a projection and varied by many a gable, stood, like the
+mansion of some rich proprietor, in a vast wooded lawn. The windows lay
+open, the terrace was covered with orange and lemon trees and flowering
+plants, amid which seats were scattered; and in the rooms within, the
+furniture indicated habits of comfort and even of luxury. With all this,
+no living thing was to be seen; and when Barrington got down and entered
+the hall, he neither found a servant nor any means to summon one.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You'll have to move that little slide you see in the door there,&rdquo; said
+the driver of the carriage, &ldquo;and some one will come to you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He did so; and after waiting a few moments, a somewhat ruddy, cheerful
+face, surmounted by a sort of widow's cap, appeared, and asked his
+business.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They are at dinner, but if you will enter the drawing-room she will come
+to you presently.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+They waited for some time; to them it seemed very long, for they never
+spoke, but sat there in still thoughtfulness, their hearts very full, for
+there was much in that expectancy, and all the visions of many a wakeful
+night or dreary day might now receive their shock or their support. Their
+patience was to be further tested; for, when the door opened, there
+entered a grim-looking little woman in a nun's costume, who, without
+previous salutation, announced herself as Sister Lydia. Whether the
+opportunity for expansiveness was rare, or that her especial gift was
+fluency, never did a little old woman hold forth more volubly. As though
+anticipating all the worldly objections to a conventual existence, or
+rather seeming to suppose that every possible thing had been actually said
+on that ground, she assumed the defence the very moment she sat down.
+Nothing short of long practice with this argument could have stored her
+mind with all her instances, her quotations, and her references. Nor could
+anything short of a firm conviction have made her so courageously
+indifferent to the feelings she was outraging, for she never scrupled to
+arraign the two strangers before her for ignorance, apathy, worldliness,
+sordid and poor ambitions, and, last of all, a levity unbecoming their
+time of life.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0023" id="linkimage-0023">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/304.jpg" width="100%" alt="304 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm not quite sure that I understand her aright,&rdquo; whispered Peter, whose
+familiarity with French was not what it had once been; &ldquo;but if I do,
+Dinah, she 's giving us a rare lesson.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She's the most insolent old woman I ever met in my life,&rdquo; said his
+sister, whose violent use of her fan seemed either likely to provoke or to
+prevent a fit of apoplexy.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is usual,&rdquo; resumed Sister Lydia, &ldquo;to give persons who are about to
+exercise the awful responsibility now devolving upon you the opportunity
+of well weighing and reflecting over the arguments I have somewhat faintly
+shadowed forth.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, not faintly!&rdquo; groaned Barrington.
+</p>
+<p>
+But she minded nothing the interruption, and went on,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And for this purpose a little tract has been composed, entitled 'A Word
+to the Worldling.' This, with your permission, I will place in your hands.
+You will there find at more length than I could bestow&mdash;But I fear I
+impose upon this lady's patience?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It has left me long since, madam,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, as she actually
+gasped for breath.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the grim half-smile of the old nun might be seen the triumphant
+consciousness that placed her above the &ldquo;mundane;&rdquo; but she did not resent
+the speech, simply saying that, as it was the hour of recreation, perhaps
+she would like to see her young ward in the garden with her companions.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By all means. We thank you heartily for the offer,&rdquo; cried Barrington,
+rising hastily.
+</p>
+<p>
+With another smile, still more meaningly a reproof, Sister Lydia reminded
+him that the profane foot of a man had never transgressed the sacred
+precincts of the convent garden, and that he must remain where he was.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;For Heaven's sake! Dinah, don't keep me a prisoner here a moment longer
+than you can help it,&rdquo; cried he, &ldquo;or I'll not answer for my good
+behavior.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+As Barrington paced up and down the room with impatient steps, he could
+not escape the self-accusation that all his present anxiety was scarcely
+compatible with the long, long years of neglect and oblivion he had
+suffered to glide over.
+</p>
+<p>
+The years in which he had never heard of Josephine&mdash;never asked for
+her&mdash;was a charge there was no rebutting. Of course he could fall
+back upon all that special pleading ingenuity and self-love will supply
+about his own misfortunes, the crushing embarrassments that befell him,
+and such like. But it was no use, it was desertion, call it how he would;
+and poor as he was he had never been without a roof to shelter her, and if
+it had not been for false pride he would have offered her that refuge long
+ago. He was actually startled as he thought over all this. Your generous
+people, who forgive injuries with little effort, who bear no malice nor
+cherish any resentment, would be angels&mdash;downright angels&mdash;if we
+did not find that they are just as indulgent, just as merciful to
+themselves as to the world at large. They become perfect adepts in
+apologies, and with one cast of the net draw in a whole shoal of
+attenuating circumstances. To be sure, there will now and then break in
+upon them a startling suspicion that all is not right, and that conscience
+has been &ldquo;cooking&rdquo; the account; and when such a moment does come, it is a
+very painful one.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Egad!&rdquo; muttered he to himself, &ldquo;we have been very heartless all this
+time, there's no denying it; and if poor George's girl be a disciple of
+that grim old woman with the rosary and the wrinkles, it is nobody's fault
+but our own.&rdquo; He looked at his watch; Dinah had been gone more than half
+an hour. What a time to keep him in suspense! Of course there were
+formalities,&mdash;the Sister Lydia described innumerable ones,&mdash;jail
+delivery was nothing to it, but surely five-and-thirty minutes would
+suffice to sign a score of documents. The place was becoming hateful to
+him. The grand old park, with its aged oaks, seemed sad as a graveyard,
+and the great silent house, where not a footfall sounded, appeared a tomb.
+&ldquo;Poor child! what a dreary spot you have spent your brightest years in,&mdash;what
+a shadow to throw over the whole of a lifetime!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He had just arrived at that point wherein his granddaughter arose before
+his mind a pale, careworn, sorrow-struck girl, crushed beneath the dreary
+monotony of a joyless life, and seeming only to move in a sort of dreamy
+melancholy, when the door opened, and Miss Barrington entered with her arm
+around a young girl tall as herself, and from whose commanding figure even
+the ungainly dress she wore could not take away the dignity.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is Josephine, Peter,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah; and though Barrington rushed
+forward to clasp her in his arms, she merely crossed hers demurely on her
+breast and courtesied deeply.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is your grandpapa, Josephine,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, half tartly.
+</p>
+<p>
+The young girl opened her large, full, lustrous eyes, and stared
+steadfastly at him, and then, with infinite grace, she took his hand and
+kissed it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My own dear child,&rdquo; cried the old man, throwing his arms around her, &ldquo;it
+is not homage, it is your love we want.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take care, Peter, take care,&rdquo; whispered his sister; &ldquo;she is very timid
+and very strange.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You speak English, I hope, dear?&rdquo; said the old man.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir, I like it best,&rdquo; said she. And there was the very faintest
+possible foreign accent in the words.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is n't that George's own voice, Dinah? Don't you think you heard himself
+there?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The voice is certainly like him,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, with a marked
+emphasis.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And so are&mdash;no, not her eyes, but her brow, Dinah. Yes, darling, you
+have his own frank look, and I feel sure you have his own generous
+nature.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They say I'm like my mother's picture,&rdquo; said she, unfastening a locket
+she wore from its chain and handing it. And both Peter and his sister
+gazed eagerly at the miniature. It was of a very dark but handsome woman
+in a rich turban, and who, though profusely ornamented with costly gems,
+did, in reality, present a resemblance to the cloistered figure before
+them.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I like her?&rdquo; asked the girl, with a shade more of earnestness in her
+voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are, darling; but like your father, too, and every word you utter
+brings back his memory; and see, Dinah, if that is n't George's old trick,&mdash;to
+lay one hand in the palm of the other.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+As if corrected, the young girl dropped her arms to her sides and stood
+like a statue.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be like him in everything, dearest child,&rdquo; said the old man, &ldquo;if you
+would have my heart all your own.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must be what I am,&rdquo; said she, solemnly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just so, Josephine; well said, my good girl. Be natural,&rdquo; said Miss
+Dinah, kissing her, &ldquo;and our love will never fail you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was the faintest little smile of acknowledgment to this speech; but
+faint as it was, it dimpled her cheek, and seemed to have left a pleasant
+expression on her face, for old Peter gazed on her with increased delight
+as he said, &ldquo;That was George's own smile; just the way he used to look,
+half grave, half merry. Oh, how you bring him back tome!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You see, my dear child, that you are one of us; let us hope you will
+share in the happiness this gives us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The girl listened attentively to Miss Dinah's words, and after a pause of
+apparent thought over them, said, &ldquo;I will hope so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May we leave this, Dinah? Are we free to get away?&rdquo; whispered Barrington
+to his sister, for an unaccountable oppression seemed to weigh on him,
+both from the place and its belongings.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; Josephine has only one good-bye to say; her trunks are already on
+the carriage, and there is nothing more to detain us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go and say that farewell, dear child,&rdquo; said he, affectionately; &ldquo;and be
+speedy, for there are longing hearts here to wish for your return.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+With a grave and quiet mien she walked away, and as she gained the door
+turned round and made a deep, respectful courtesy,&mdash;a movement so
+ceremonious that the old man involuntarily replied to it by a bow as deep
+and reverential.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXVIII. GEORGE'S DAUGHTER
+</h2>
+<p>
+I suppose, nay, I am certain, that the memory of our happiest moments
+ought ever to be of the very faintest and weakest, since, could we recall
+them in all their fulness and freshness, the recollection would only serve
+to deepen the gloom of age, and imbitter all its daily trials. Nor is it,
+altogether, a question of memory! It is in the very essence of happiness
+to be indescribable. Who could impart in words the simple pleasure he has
+felt as he lay day-dreaming in the deep grass, lulled by the humming
+insect, or the splash of falling water, with teeming fancy peopling the
+space around, and blending the possible with the actual? The more
+exquisite the sense of enjoyment, the more will it defy delineation. And
+so, when we come to describe the happiness of others, do we find our words
+weak, and our attempt mere failure.
+</p>
+<p>
+It is in this difficulty that I now find myself. I would tell, if I could,
+how enjoyably the Barringtons sauntered about through the old villages on
+the Rhine and up the Moselle, less travelling than strolling along in
+purposeless indolence, resting here, and halting there, always interested,
+always pleased. It was strange into what perfect harmony these three
+natures&mdash;unlike as they were&mdash;blended!
+</p>
+<p>
+Old Peter's sympathies went with all things human, and he loved to watch
+the village life and catch what he could of its ways and instincts. His
+sister, to whom the love of scenery was a passion, never wearied of the
+picturesque land they travelled; and as for Josephine, she was no longer
+the demure pensionnaire of the convent,&mdash;thoughtful and reserved,
+even to secrecy,&mdash;but a happy child, revelling in a thousand senses
+of enjoyment, and actually exulting in the beauty of all she saw around
+her. What depression must come of captivity, when even its faintest image,
+the cloister, could have weighed down a heart like hers! Such was
+Barrington's thought as he beheld her at play with the peasant children,
+weaving garlands for a village <i>fête</i>, or joyously joining the chorus
+of a peasant song. There was, besides, something singularly touching in
+the half-consciousness of her freedom, when recalled for an instant to the
+past by the tinkling bell of a church. She would seem to stop in her play,
+and bethink her how and why she was there, and then, with a cry of joy,
+bound away after her companions in wild delight.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dearest aunt,&rdquo; said she, one day, as they sat on a rocky ledge over the
+little river that traverses the Lahnech, &ldquo;shall I always find the same
+enjoyment in life that I feel now, for it seems to me this is a measure of
+happiness that could not endure?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some share of this is owing to contrast, Fifine. Your convent life had
+not too many pleasures.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was, or rather it seems to me now, as I look back, a long and weary
+dream; but, at the same time, it appears more real than this; for do what
+I may I cannot imagine this to be the world of misery and sorrow I have
+heard so much of. Can any one fancy a scene more beautiful than this
+before us? Where is the perfume more exquisite than these violets I now
+crush in my hand? The peasants, as they salute us, look happy and
+contented. Is it, then, only in great cities that men make each other
+miserable?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Dinah shook her head, but did not speak.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am so glad grandpapa does not live in a city. Aunt, I am never wearied
+of hearing you talk of that dear cottage beside the river; and through all
+my present delight I feel a sense of impatience to be there, to be at
+'home.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that you will not hold us to our pledge to bring you back to
+Bramaigne, Fifine,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, smiling.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh no, no! Not if you will let me live with you. Never!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you have been happy up to this, Fifine? You have said over and over
+again that your convent life was dear to you, and all its ways pleasant.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is just the same change to me to live as I now do, as in my heart I
+feel changed after reading out one of those delightful stories to
+grandpapa,&mdash;Rob Roy, for instance. It all tells of a world so much
+more bright and beautiful than I know of, that it seems as though new
+senses were given to me. It is so strange and so captivating, too, to hear
+of generous impulses, noble devotion,&mdash;of faith that never swerved,
+and love that never faltered.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In novels, child; these were in novels.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;True, aunt; but they had found no place there had they been incredible;
+at least, it is clear that he who tells the tale would have us believe it
+to be true.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Miss Dinah had not been a convert to her brother's notions as to Fifine's
+readings; and she was now more disposed to doubt than ever. To overthrow
+of a sudden, as though by a great shock, all the stem realism of a
+cloister existence, and supply its place with fictitious incidents and
+people, seemed rash and perilous; but old Peter only thought of giving a
+full liberty to the imprisoned spirit,&mdash;striking off chain and
+fetter, and setting the captive free,&mdash;free in all the glorious
+liberty of a young imagination.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, here comes grandpapa,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, &ldquo;and, if I don't mistake,
+with a book in his hand for one of your morning readings.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Josephine ran eagerly to meet him, and, fondly drawing her arm within his
+own, came back at his side.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The third volume, Fifine, the third volume,&rdquo; said he, holding the book
+aloft. &ldquo;Only think, child, what fates are enclosed within a third volume!
+What a deal of happiness or long-living misery are here included!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0025" id="linkimage-0025">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/312.jpg" width="100%" alt="312 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+She straggled to take the book from his hand, but he evaded her grasp, and
+placed it in his pocket, saying,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not till evening, Fifine. I am bent on a long ramble up the Glen this
+morning, and you shall tell me all about the sisterhood, and sing me one
+of those little Latin canticles I'm so fond of.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Meanwhile, I 'll go and finish my letter to Polly Dill. I told her,
+Peter, that by Thursday next, or Friday, she might expect us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope so, with all my heart; for, beautiful as all this is, it wants the
+greatest charm,&mdash;it's not home! Then I want, besides, to see Fifine
+full of household cares.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Feeding the chickens instead of chasing the butterflies, Fifine. Totting
+up the house-bills, in lieu of sighing over 'Waverley.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And, if I know Fifine, she will be able to do one without relinquishing
+the other,&rdquo; said Peter, gravely. &ldquo;Our daily life is all the more beautiful
+when it has its landscape reliefs of light and shadow.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I could, too,&rdquo; cried Fifine, eagerly. &ldquo;I feel as though I could
+work in the fields and be happy, just in the conscious sense of doing what
+it was good to do, and what others would praise me for.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There's a paymaster will never fail you in such hire,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah,
+pointing to her brother; and then, turning away, she walked back to the
+little inn. As she drew nigh, the landlord came to tell her that a young
+gentleman, on seeing her name in the list of strangers, had made many
+inquiries after her, and begged he might be informed of her return. On
+learning that he was in the garden, she went thither at once.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I felt it was you. I knew who had been asking for me, Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said
+she, advancing towards Fred with her hand out. &ldquo;But what strange chance
+could have led you here?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have just said it, Miss Barrington; a chance,&mdash;a mere chance. I
+had got a short leave fron| my regiment, and came abroad to wander about
+with no very definite object; but, growing impatient of the wearisome
+hordes of our countrymen on the Rhine, I turned aside yesterday from that
+great high-road and reached this spot, whose greatest charm&mdash;shall I
+own it?&mdash;was a fancied resemblance to a scene I loved far better.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are right. It was only this morning my brother said it was so like
+our own cottage.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he is here also?&rdquo; said the young man, with a half-constraint.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, and very eager to see you, and ask your forgive ness for his
+ungracious manner to you; not that I saw it, or understand what it could
+mean, but he says that he has a pardon to crave at your hands.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So confused was Conyers for an instant that he made no answer, and when he
+did speak it was falteringly and with embarrassment, &ldquo;I never could have
+anticipated meeting you here. It is more good fortune than I ever looked
+for.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We came over to the Continent to fetch away my grand-niece, the daughter
+of that Colonel Barrington you have heard so much of.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And is she&mdash;&rdquo; He stopped, and grew scarlet with confusion; but she
+broke in, laughingly,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, not black, only dark-complexioned; in fact, a brunette, and no more.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I don't mean,&mdash;I surely could not have said&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No matter what you meant or said. Your unuttered question was one that
+kept occurring to my brother and myself every morning as we journeyed
+here, though neither of us had the courage to speak it. But our wonders
+are over; she is a dear good, girl, and we love her better every day we
+see her. But now a little about yourself. Why do I find you so low and
+depressed?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have had much to fret me, Miss Barrington. Some were things that could
+give but passing unhappiness; others were of graver import.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me so much as you may of them, and I will try to help you to bear up
+against them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will tell you all,&mdash;everything!&rdquo; cried he. &ldquo;It is the very moment
+I have been longing for, when I could pour out all my cares before you and
+ask, What shall I do?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Miss Barrington silently drew her arm within his, and they strolled along
+the shady alley without a word.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must begin with my great grief,&mdash;it absorbs all the rest,&rdquo; said
+he, suddenly. &ldquo;My father is coming home; he has lost, or thrown up, I
+can't tell which, his high employment. I have heard both versions of the
+story; and his own few words, in the only letter he has written me, do not
+confirm either. His tone is indignant; but far more it is sad and
+depressed,&mdash;he who never wrote a line but in the joyousness of his
+high-hearted nature; who met each accident of life with an undaunted
+spirit, and spurned the very thought of being cast down by fortune. See
+what he says here.&rdquo; And he took a much crumpled letter from his pocket,
+and folded down a part of it &ldquo;Read that. 'The time for men of my stamp is
+gone by in India. We are as much bygones as the old flint musket or the
+matchlock. Soldiers of a different temperament are the fashion now; and
+the sooner we are pensioned or die off the better. For my own part, I am
+sick of it. I have lost my liver and have not made my fortune, and like
+men who have missed their opportunities, I come away too discontented with
+myself to think well of any one. They fancied that by coldness and neglect
+they might get rid of me, as they did once before of a far worthier and
+better fellow; but though I never had the courage that he had, they shall
+not break <i>my</i> heart.' Does it strike you to whom he alludes there?&rdquo;
+ asked Conyers, suddenly; &ldquo;for each time that I read the words I am more
+disposed to believe that they refer to Colonel Barrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am sure of it!&rdquo; cried she. &ldquo;It is the testimony of a sorrow-stricken
+heart to an old friend's memory; but I hear my brother's voice; let me go
+and tell him you are here.&rdquo; But Barrington was already coming towards
+them.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, Mr. Conyers!&rdquo; cried he. &ldquo;If you knew how I have longed for this
+moment! I believe you are the only man in the world I ever ill treated on
+my own threshold; but the very thought of it gave me a fit of illness, and
+now the best thing I know on my recovery is, that I am here to ask your
+pardon.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have really nothing to forgive. I met under your roof with a kindness
+that never befell me before; nor do I know the spot on earth where I could
+look for the like to-morrow.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come back to it, then, and see if the charm should not be there still.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where 's Josephine, brother?&rdquo; asked Miss Barrington, who, seeing the
+young man's agitation, wished to change the theme.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She's gone to put some ferns in water; but here she comes now.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Bounding wildly along, like a child in joyous freedom, Josephine came
+towards them, and, suddenly halting at sight of a stranger, she stopped
+and courtesied deeply, while Conyers, half ashamed at his own unhappy
+blunder about her, blushed deeply as he saluted her. Indeed, their meeting
+was more like that of two awkward timid children than of two young persons
+of their age; and they eyed each other with the distrust school boys and
+girls exchange on a first acquaintance.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Brother, I have something to tell you,&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, who was
+eager to communicate the news she had just heard of General Conyers; and
+while she drew him to one side, the young people still stood there, each
+seeming to expect the other would make some advance towards
+acquaintanceship. Conyers tried to say some commonplace,&mdash;some one of
+the fifty things that would have occurred so naturally in presence of a
+young lady to whom he had been just presented; but he could think of none,
+or else those that <i>he</i> thought of seemed inappropriate. How talk,
+for instance, of the world and its pleasures to one who had been estranged
+from it! While he thus struggled and contended with himself, she suddenly
+started as if with a flash of memory, and said, &ldquo;How forgetful!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Forgetful!&mdash;and of what?&rdquo; asked he.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have left the book I was reading to grandpapa on the rock where we were
+sitting. I must go and fetch it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I go with you?&rdquo; asked he, half timidly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, if you like.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And your book,&mdash;what was it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, a charming book,&mdash;such a delightful story! So many people one
+would have loved to know!&mdash;such scenes one would have loved to visit!&mdash;incidents,
+too, that keep the heart in intense anxiety, that you wonder how he who
+imagined them could have sustained the thrilling interest, and held his
+own heart so long in terrible suspense!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the name of this wonderful book is&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Waverley.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have read it,&rdquo; said he, coldly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And have you not longed to be a soldier? Has not your heart bounded with
+eagerness for a life of adventure and peril?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am a soldier,&rdquo; said he, quietly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; replied she, slowly, while her steadfast glance scanned him
+calmly and deliberately.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You find it hard to recognize as a soldier one dressed as I am, and
+probably wonder how such a life as this consorts with enterprise and
+danger. Is not that what is passing in your mind?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mayhap,&rdquo; said she, in a low voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is all because the world has changed a good deal since Waverley's
+time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How sorry I am to hear it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, for your sake it is all the better. Young ladies have a pleasanter
+existence now than they had sixty years since. They lived then lives of
+household drudgery or utter weariness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what have they now?&rdquo; asked she, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What have they not! All that can embellish life is around them; they are
+taught in a hundred ways to employ the faculties which give to existence
+its highest charm. They draw, sing, dance, ride, dress becomingly, read
+what may give to their conversation an added elegance and make their
+presence felt as an added lustre.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How unlike all this was our convent life!&rdquo; said she, slowly. &ldquo;The beads
+in my rosary were not more alike than the days that followed each other,
+and but for the change of season I should have thought life a dreary
+sleep. Oh, if you but knew what a charm there is in the changeful year to
+one who lives in any bondage!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And yet I remember to have heard how you hoped you might not be taken
+away from that convent life, and be compelled to enter the world,&rdquo; said
+he, with a malicious twinkle of the eye.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;True; and had I lived there still I had not asked for other. But how came
+it that you should have heard of me? I never heard of <i>you!</i>&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is easily told. I was your aunt's guest at the time she resolved to
+come abroad to see you and fetch you home. I used to hear all her plans
+about you, so that at last&mdash;I blush to own&mdash;I talked of
+Josephine as though she were my sister.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How strangely cold you were, then, when we met!&rdquo; said she, quietly. &ldquo;Was
+it that you found me so unlike what you expected?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Unlike, indeed!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me how&mdash;tell me, I pray you, what you had pictured me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was not mere fancy I drew from. There was a miniature of you as a
+child at the cottage, and I have looked at it till I could recall every
+line of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on!&rdquo; cried she, as he hesitated.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The child's face was very serious,&mdash;actually grave for childhood,&mdash;and
+had something almost stern in its expression; and yet I see nothing of
+this in yours.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that, like grandpapa,&rdquo; said she, laughing, &ldquo;you were disappointed in
+not finding me a young tiger from Bengal; but be patient, and remember how
+long it is since I left the jungle.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Sportively as the words were uttered, her eyes flashed and her cheek
+colored, and Conyers saw for the first time how she resembled her portrait
+in infancy.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; added she, as though answering what was passing in his mind, &ldquo;you
+are thinking just like the sisters, 'What years and years it would take to
+discipline one of such a race!' I have heard that given as a reason for
+numberless inflictions. And now, all of a sudden, comes grandpapa to say,
+'We love you so because you are one of us.' Can you understand this?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I can,&mdash;that is, I think I can understand why&mdash;&rdquo; he was
+going to add, &ldquo;why they should love you;&rdquo; but he stopped, ashamed of his
+own eagerness.
+</p>
+<p>
+She waited a moment for him to continue, and then, herself blushing, as
+though she had guessed his embarrassment, she turned away.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And this book that we have been forgetting,&mdash;let us go and search
+for it,&rdquo; said she, walking on rapidly in front of him; but he was speedily
+at her side again.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look there, brother Peter,&mdash;look there!&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, as she
+pointed after them, &ldquo;and see how well fitted we are to be guardians to a
+young lady!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see no harm in it, Dinah,&mdash;I protest, I see no harm in it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Possibly not, brother Peter, and it may only be a part of your system for
+making her&mdash;as you phrase it&mdash;feel a holy horror of the
+convent.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said he, meditatively, &ldquo;he seems a fine, frank-hearted young
+fellow, and in this world she is about to enter, her first experiences
+might easily be worse.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I vow and declare,&rdquo; cried she, warmly, &ldquo;I believe it is your slipshod
+philosophy that makes me as severe as a holy inquisitor!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Every evil calls forth its own correction, Dinah,&rdquo; said he, laughing. &ldquo;If
+there were no fools to skate on the Serpentine, there had been no Humane
+Society.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;One might grow tired of the task of resuscitating, Peter Barrington,&rdquo;
+ said she, hardly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not you, not you, Dinah,&mdash;at least, if I was the drowned man,&rdquo; said
+he, drawing her affectionately to his side; &ldquo;and as for those young
+creatures yonder, it's like gathering dog-roses, and they 'll stop when
+they have pricked their fingers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'll go and look after the nosegay myself,&rdquo; said she, turning hastily
+away, and following them.
+</p>
+<p>
+A real liking for Conyers, and a sincere interest in him were the great
+correctives to the part of Dragon which Miss Dinah declared she foresaw to
+be her future lot in life. For years and years had she believed that the
+cares of a household and the rule of servants were the last trials of
+human patience. The larder, the dairy, and the garden were each of them
+departments with special opportunities for deception and embezzlement, and
+it seemed to her that new discoveries in roguery kept pace with the
+inventions of science; but she was energetic and active, and kept herself
+at what the French would call &ldquo;the level of the situation;&rdquo; and neither
+the cook nor the dairymaid nor Darby could be vainglorious over their
+battles with her. And now, all of a sudden, a new part was assigned her,
+with new duties, functions, and requirements; and she was called on to
+exercise qualities which had lain long dormant and in disuse, and renew a
+knowledge she had not employed for many a year. And what a strange
+blending of pleasure and pain must have come of that memory of long ago!
+Old conquests revived, old rivalries and jealousies and triumphs; glorious
+little glimpses of brilliant delight, and some dark hours, too, of
+disappointment,&mdash;almost despair!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Once a bishop, always a bishop,&rdquo; says the canon; but might we not with
+almost as much truth say, &ldquo;Once a beauty, always a beauty&rdquo;?&mdash;not in
+lineament and feature, in downy cheek or silky tresses, but in the
+heartfelt consciousness of a once sovereign power, in that sense of having
+been able to exact a homage and enforce a tribute. And as we see in the
+deposed monarch how the dignity of kingcraft clings to him, how through
+all he does and says there runs a vein of royal graciousness as from one
+the fount of honor, so it is with beauty. There lives through all its
+wreck the splendid memory of a despotism the most absolute, the most
+fascinating of all!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am so glad that young Conyers has no plans, Dinah,&rdquo; said Barrington;
+&ldquo;he says he will join us if we permit him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, as she went on with her knitting.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see nothing against it, sister.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course not, Peter,&rdquo; said she, snappishly; &ldquo;it would surprise me much
+if you did.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do <i>you</i>, Dinah?&rdquo; asked he, with a true simplicity of voice and
+look.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see great danger in it, if that be what you mean. And what answer did
+you make him, Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The same answer that I make to every one,&mdash;I would consult my sister
+Dinah. 'Le Roi s'avisera' meant, I take it, that he 'd be led by a wiser
+head than his own.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was wise when he knew it,&rdquo; said she, sententiously, and continued her
+work.
+</p>
+<p>
+And from that day forth they all journeyed together, and one of them was
+very happy, and some were far more than happy; and Aunt Dinah was anxious
+even beyond her wont.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXIX. THE RAMBLE
+</h2>
+<p>
+Day after day, week after week rolled on, and they still rambled about
+among the picturesque old villages on the Moselle, almost losing
+themselves in quaint unvisited spots, whose very names were new to them.
+To Barrington and his sister this picture of a primitive peasant life,
+with its own types of costume and custom, had an indescribable charm.
+Though debarred, from his ignorance of their dialect, of anything like
+intercourse with the people, he followed them in their ways with intense
+interest, and he would pass hours in the market-place, or stroll through
+the fields watching the strange culture, and wondering at the very
+implements of their labor. And the young people all this while? They were
+never separate. They read, and walked, and sat together from dawn to dark.
+They called each other Fifine and Freddy. Sometimes she sang, and he was
+there to listen; sometimes he drew, and she was as sure to be leaning over
+him in silent wonder at his skill; but with all this there was no
+love-making between them,&mdash;that is, no vows were uttered, no pledges
+asked for. Confidences, indeed, they interchanged, and without end. She
+told the story of her friendless infancy, and the long dreary years of
+convent life passed in a dull routine that had almost barred the heart
+against a wish for change; and he gave her the story of his more splendid
+existence, charming her imagination with a picture of that glorious
+Eastern life, which seemed to possess an instinctive captivation for her.
+And at last he told her, but as a great secret never to be revealed, how
+his father and her own had been the dearest, closest friends; that for
+years and years they had lived together like brothers, till separated by
+the accidents of life. <i>Her</i> father went away to a long distant
+station, and <i>his</i> remained to hold a high military charge, from
+which he was now relieved and on his way back to Europe. &ldquo;What happiness
+for you, Freddy,&rdquo; cried she, as her eyes ran over, &ldquo;to see him come home
+in honor! What had I given that such a fate were mine!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+For an instant he accepted her words in all their flattery, but the
+hypocrisy was brief; her over-full heart was bursting for sympathy, and he
+was eager to declare that his sorrows were scarcely less than her own.
+&ldquo;No, Fifine,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;my father is coming back to demand satisfaction of
+a Government that has wronged him, and treated him with the worst
+ingratitude. In that Indian life men of station wield an almost boundless
+power; but if they are irresponsible as to the means, they are tested by
+the results, and whenever an adverse issue succeeds they fall irrevocably.
+What my father may have done, or have left undone, I know not. I have not
+the vaguest clew to his present difficulty, but, with his high spirit and
+his proud heart, that he would resent the very shadow of a reproof I can
+answer for, and so I believe, what many tell me, that it is a mere
+question of personal feeling,&mdash;some small matter in which the Council
+have not shown him the deference he felt his due, but which his haughty
+nature would not forego.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Now these confidences were not love-making, nor anything approaching to
+it, and yet Josephine felt a strange half-pride in thinking that she had
+been told a secret which Conyers had never revealed to any other; that to
+her he had poured forth the darkest sorrow of his heart, and actually
+confided to her the terrors that beset him, for he owned that his father
+was rash and headstrong, and if he deemed himself wronged would be
+reckless in his attempt at justification.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You do not come of a very patient stock, then,&rdquo; said she, smiling.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not very, Fifine.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor I,&rdquo; said she, as her eyes flashed brightly. &ldquo;My poor Ayah, who died
+when I was but five years old, used to tell me such tales of my father's
+proud spirit and the lofty way he bore himself, so that I often fancy I
+have seen him and heard him speak. You have heard he was a Rajah?&rdquo; asked
+she, with a touch of pride.
+</p>
+<p>
+The youth colored deeply as he muttered an assent, for he knew that she
+was ignorant of the details of her father's fate, and he dreaded any
+discussion of her story.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And these Rajahs,&rdquo; resumed she, &ldquo;are really great princes, with power of
+life and death, vast retinues, and splendid armies. To my mind, they
+present a more gorgeous picture than a small European sovereignty with
+some vast Protectorate looming over it. And now it is my uncle,&rdquo; said she,
+suddenly, &ldquo;who rules there.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have heard that your own claims, Fifine, are in litigation,&rdquo; said he,
+with a faint smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not as to the sovereignty,&rdquo; said she, with a grave look, half rebukeful
+of his levity. &ldquo;The suit grandpapa prosecutes in my behalf is for my
+mother's jewels and her fortune; a woman cannot reign in the Tannanoohr.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was a haughty defiance in her voice as she spoke, that seemed to
+say, &ldquo;This is a theme I will not suffer to be treated lightly,&mdash;beware
+how you transgress here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And yet it is a dignity would become you well,&rdquo; said he, seriously.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is one I would glory to possess,&rdquo; said she, as proudly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would you give me a high post, Fifine, if you were on the throne?&mdash;would
+you make me Commander-in-Chief of your army?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;More likely that I would banish you from the realm,&rdquo; said she, with a
+haughty laugh; &ldquo;at least, until you learned to treat the head of the state
+more respectfully.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have I ever been wanting in a proper deference?&rdquo; said he, bowing, with a
+mock humility.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you had been, sir, it is not now that you had first heard of it,&rdquo; said
+she, with a proud look, and for a few seconds it seemed as though their
+jesting was to have a serious ending. She was, however, the earliest to
+make terms, and in a tone of hearty kindliness said: &ldquo;Don't be angry,
+Freddy, and I 'll tell you a secret. If that theme be touched on, I lose
+my head: whether it be in the blood that circles in my veins, or in some
+early teachings that imbued my childhood, or long dreaming over what can
+never be, I cannot tell, but it is enough to speak of these things, and at
+once my imagination becomes exalted and my reason is routed.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no doubt your Ayah was to blame for this; she must have filled
+your head with ambitions, and hopes of a grand hereafter. Even I myself
+have some experiences of this sort; for as my father held a high post and
+was surrounded with great state and pomp, I grew at a very early age to
+believe myself a very mighty personage, and gave my orders with despotic
+insolence, and suffered none to gainsay me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How silly!&rdquo; said she, with a supercilious toss of her head that made
+Conyers flush up; and once again was peace endangered between them.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean that what was only a fair and reasonable assumption in <i>you</i>
+was an absurd pretension in me, Miss Barrington; is it not so?&rdquo; asked he,
+in a voice tremulous with passion.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean that we must both have been very naughty children, and the less we
+remember of that childhood the better for us. Are we friends, Freddy?&rdquo; and
+she held out her hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, if you wish it,&rdquo; said he, taking her hand half coldly in his own.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not that way, sir. It is <i>I</i> who have condescended; not <i>you</i>.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As you please, Fifine,&mdash;will this do?&rdquo; and kneeling with
+well-assumed reverence, he lifted her hand to his lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If my opinion were to be asked, Mr. Conyers, I would say it would <i>not</i>
+do at all,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, coming suddenly up, her cheeks crimson, and
+her eyes flashing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a little comedy we were acting, Aunt Dinah,&rdquo; said the girl,
+calmly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I beg, then, that the piece may not be repeated,&rdquo; said she, stiffly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Considering how ill Freddy played his part, aunt, he will scarcely regret
+its withdrawal.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers, however, could not get over his confusion, and looked perfectly
+miserable for very shame.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My brother has just had a letter which will call us homeward, Mr.
+Conyers,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, turning to him, and now using a tone devoid of
+all irritation. &ldquo;Mr. Withering has obtained some information which may
+turn out of great consequence in our suit, and he wishes to consult with
+my brother upon it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope&mdash;I sincerely hope&mdash;you do not think&mdash;&rdquo; he began, in
+a low voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not think anything to your disadvantage, and I hope I never may,&rdquo;
+ replied she, in a whisper low as his own; &ldquo;but bear in mind, Josephine is
+no finished coquette like Polly Dill, nor must she be the mark of little
+gallantries, however harmless. Josephine, grandpapa has some news for you;
+go to him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor Freddy,&rdquo; whispered the girl in the youth's ear as she passed, &ldquo;what
+a lecture you are in for!&rdquo; &ldquo;You mustn't be angry with me if I play Duenna
+a little harshly, Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah; &ldquo;and I am far more angry
+with myself than you can be. I never concurred with my brother that
+romance reading and a young dragoon for a companion were the most suitable
+educational means for a young lady fresh from a convent, and I have only
+myself to blame for permitting it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Poor Conyers was so overwhelmed that he could say nothing; for though he
+might, and with a safe conscience, have answered a direct charge, yet
+against a general allegation he was powerless. He could not say that he
+was the best possible companion for a young lady, though he felt, honestly
+felt, that he was not a bad one. He had never trifled with her feelings,
+nor sought to influence her in his favor. Of all flirtation, such as he
+would have adventured with Polly Dill, for instance, he was guiltless. He
+respected her youth and ignorance of life too deeply to take advantage of
+either. He thought, perhaps, how ungenerous it would have been for a man
+of the world like himself to entrap the affections of a young, artless
+creature, almost a child in her innocence. He was rather fond of imagining
+himself &ldquo;a man of the world,&rdquo; old soldier, and what not,&mdash;a delusion
+which somehow very rarely befalls any but very young men, and of which the
+experience of life from thirty to forty is the sovereign remedy. And so
+overwhelmed and confused and addled was he with a variety of sensations,
+he heard very little of what Miss Dinah said to him, though that worthy
+lady talked very fluently and very well, concluding at last with words
+which awoke Conyers from his half-trance with a sort of shock. &ldquo;It is for
+these reasons, my dear Mr. Conyers,&mdash;reasons whose force and nature
+you will not dispute,&mdash;that I am forced to do what, were the occasion
+less important, would be a most ungenerous task. I mean, I am forced to
+relinquish all the pleasure that I had promised ourselves from seeing you
+our guest at the cottage. If you but knew the pain I feel to speak these
+words&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is no occasion to say more, madam,&rdquo; said he; for, unfortunately, so
+unprepared was he for the announcement, its chief effect was to wound his
+pride. &ldquo;It is the second time within a few months destiny has stopped my
+step on your threshold. It only remains for me to submit to my fate, and
+not adventure upon an enterprise above my means.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are offended with me, and yet you ought not,&rdquo; said she, sorrowfully;
+&ldquo;you ought to feel that I am consulting <i>your</i> interests fully as
+much as ours.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I own, madam,&rdquo; said he, coldly, &ldquo;I am unable to take the view you have
+placed before me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Must I speak out, then?&mdash;must I declare my meaning in all its
+matter-of-fact harshness, and say that your family and your friends would
+have little scruple in estimating the discretion which encouraged your
+intimacy with my niece,&mdash;the son of the distinguished and highly
+favored General Conyers with the daughter of the ruined George
+Barring-ton? These are hard words to say, but I have said them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is to my father you are unjust now, Miss Harrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Mr. Conyers; there is no injustice in believing that a father loves
+his son with a love so large that it cannot exclude even worldliness.
+There is no injustice in believing that a proud and successful man would
+desire to see his son successful too; and we all know what we call
+success. I see you are very angry with me. You think me very worldly and
+very small-minded; perhaps, too, you would like to say that all the perils
+I talk of are of my own inventing; that Fifine and you could be the best
+of friends, and never think of more than friendship; and that I might
+spare my anxieties, and not fret for sorrows that have no existence;&mdash;and
+to all this I would answer, I 'll not risk the chance. No, Mr. Conyers, I
+'ll be no party to a game where the stakes are so unequal. What might give
+<i>you</i> a month's sorrow might cost <i>her</i> the misery of a life
+long.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no choice left me. I will go,&mdash;I will go to-night, Miss
+Barrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps it would be better,&rdquo; said she, gravely, and walked slowly away.
+</p>
+<p>
+I will not tell the reader what harsh and cruel things Conyers said of
+every one and everything, nor how severely he railed at the world and its
+ways. Lord Byron had taught the youth of that age a very hearty and
+wholesome contempt for all manner of conventionalities, into which
+category a vast number of excellent customs were included, and Conyers
+could spout &ldquo;Manfred&rdquo; by heart, and imagine himself, on very small
+provocation, almost as great a man-hater; and so he set off on a long walk
+into the forest, determined not to appear at dinner, and equally
+determined to be the cause of much inquiry, and, if possible, of some
+uneasiness. &ldquo;I wonder what that old-maid,&rdquo;&mdash;alas for his gallantry,
+it was so he called her,&mdash;&ldquo;what she would say if her harsh,
+ungenerous words had driven me to&mdash;&rdquo; what he did not precisely
+define, though it was doubtless associated with snow peaks and avalanches,
+eternal solitudes and demoniac possessions. It might, indeed, have been
+some solace to him had he known how miserable and anxious old Peter became
+at his absence, and how incessantly he questioned every one about him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope that no mishap has befallen that boy, Dinah; he was always
+punctual. I never knew him stray away in this fashion before.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would be rather a severe durance, brother Peter, if a young gentleman
+could not prolong his evening walk without permission.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What says Fifine? I suspect she agrees with me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If that means that he ought to be here, grandpapa, I do.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must read over Withering's letter again, brother,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, by
+way of changing the subject &ldquo;He writes, you say, from the Home?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; he was obliged to go down there to search for some papers he wanted,
+and he took Stapylton with him; and he says they had two capital days at
+the partridges. They bagged,&mdash;egad! I think it was eight or ten brace
+before two o'clock, the Captain or Major, I forget which, being a
+first-rate shot.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What does he say of the place,&mdash;how is it looking?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In perfect beauty. Your deputy, Polly, would seem to have fulfilled her
+part admirably. The garden in prime order; and that little spot next your
+own sitting-room, he says, is positively a better flower-show than one he
+paid a shilling to see in Dublin. Polly herself, too, comes in for a very
+warm share of his admiration.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did he see her, and where?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At the Home. She was there the evening they arrived, and Withering
+insisted on her presiding at the tea-table for them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It did not require very extraordinary entreaty, I will make bold to say,
+Peter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He does not mention that; he only speaks of her good looks, and what he
+calls her very pretty manners. In a situation not devoid of a certain
+awkwardness he says she displayed the most perfect tact; and although
+doing the honors of the house, she, with some very nice ingenuity,
+insinuated that she was herself but a visitor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She could scarce have forgotten herself so far as to think anything else,
+Peter,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, bridling up. &ldquo;I suspect her very pretty manners
+were successfully exercised. That old gentleman is exactly of the age to
+be fascinated by her.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What! Withering, Dinah,&mdash;do you mean Withering?&rdquo; cried he, laughing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do, brother; and I say that he is quite capable of making her the offer
+of his hand. You may laugh, Peter Barrington, but my observation of young
+ladies has been closer and finer than yours.&rdquo; And the glance she gave at
+Josephine seemed to say that her gun had been double-shotted.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But your remark, sister Dinah, rather addresses itself to old gentlemen
+than to young ladies.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who are much the more easily read of the two,&rdquo; said she, tartly. &ldquo;But
+really, Peter, I will own that I am more deeply concerned to know what Mr.
+Withering has to say of our lawsuit than about Polly Dill's attractions.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He speaks very hopefully,&mdash;very hopefully, indeed. In turning over
+George's papers some Hindoo documents have come to light, which Stapylton
+has translated, and it appears that there is a certain Moonshee, called
+Jokeeram, who was, or is, in the service of Meer Rustum, whose testimony
+would avail us much. Stapylton inclines to think he could trace this man
+for us. His own relations are principally in Madras, but he says he could
+manage to institute inquiries in Bengal.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is our claim to this gentleman's interest for us, Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mere kindness on his part; he never knew George, except from hearsay.
+Indeed, they could not have been contemporaries. Stapylton is not, I
+should say, above five-and-thirty.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The search after this creature with the horrid name will be, of course,
+costly, brother Peter. It means, I take it, sending some one out to India;
+that is to say, sending one fool after another. Are you prepared for this
+expense?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Withering opines it would be money well spent. What he says is this: The
+Company will not willingly risk another inquiry before Parliament, and if
+we show fight and a firm resolve to give the case publicity, they will
+probably propose terms. This Moonshee had been in his service, but was
+dismissed, and his appearance as a witness on our side would occasion
+great uneasiness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are going to play a game of brag, then, brother Peter, well aware
+that the stronger purse is with your antagonist?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not exactly, Dinah; not exactly. We are strengthening our position so far
+that we may say, 'You see our order of battle; would it not be as well to
+make peace?' Listen to what Withering says.&rdquo; And Peter opened a letter of
+several sheets, and sought out the place he wanted.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here it is, Dinah. 'From one of these Hindoo papers we learn that Ram
+Shamsoolah Sing was not at the Meer's residence during the feast of the
+Rhamadan, and could not possibly have signed the document to which his
+name and seal are appended. Jokeeram, who was himself the Moon-shee
+interpreter in Luckerabad, writes to his friend Cossien Aga, and says&mdash;'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Brother Peter, this is like the Arabian Nights in all but the
+entertainment to me, and the jumble of these abominable names only drives
+me mad. If you flatter yourself that you can understand one particle of
+the matter, it must be that age has sharpened your faculties, that's all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm not quite sure of that, Dinah,&rdquo; said he, laughing. &ldquo;I 'm half
+disposed to believe that years are not more merciful to our brains than to
+our ankles; but I'll go and take a stroll in the shady alleys under the
+linden-trees, and who knows how bright it will make me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I to go with you, grandpapa?&rdquo; said the young girl, rising.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Fifine; I have something to say to you here,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah; and
+there was a significance in the tone that was anything but reassuring.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXX. UNDER THE LINDEN
+</h2>
+<p>
+That shady alley under the linden-trees was a very favorite walk with
+Peter Barrington. It was a nice cool lane, with a brawling little rivulet
+close beside it, with here and there a dark silent pool for the dragon-fly
+to skim over and see his bronzed wings reflected in the still water; and
+there was a rustic bench or two, where Peter used to sit and fancy he was
+meditating, while, in reality, he was only watching a speckled lizard in
+the grass, or listening to the mellow blackbird over his head. I have had
+occasion once before to remark on the resources of the man of imagination,
+but I really suspect that for the true luxury of idleness there is nothing
+like the temperament devoid of fancy. There is a grand breadth about those
+quiet, peaceful minds over which no shadows flit, and which can find
+sufficient occupation through the senses, and never have to go &ldquo;within&rdquo;
+ for their resources. These men can sit the livelong day and watch the tide
+break over a rock, or see the sparrow teach her young to fly, or gaze on
+the bee as he dives into the deep cup of the foxglove, and actually need
+no more to fill the hours. For them there is no memory with its dark
+bygones, there is no looming future with its possible misfortunes; there
+is simply a half-sleepy present, with soft sounds and sweet odors through
+it,&mdash;a balmy kind of stupor, from which the awaking comes without a
+shock.
+</p>
+<p>
+When Barrington reached his favorite seat, and lighted his cigar,&mdash;it
+is painting the lily for such men to smoke,&mdash;he intended to have
+thought over the details of Withering's letter, which were both curious
+and interesting; he intended to consider attentively certain points which,
+as Withering said, &ldquo;he must master before he could adopt a final resolve;&rdquo;
+ but they were knotty points, made knottier, too, by hard Hindoo words for
+things unknown, and names totally unpronounceable. He used to think that
+he understood &ldquo;George's claim&rdquo; pretty well; he had fancied it was a clear
+and very intelligible case, that half a dozen honest men might have come
+to a decision on in an hour's time; but now he began to have a glimmering
+perception that George must have been egregiously duped and basely
+betrayed, and that the Company were not altogether unreasonable in
+assuming their distrust of him. Now, all these considerations coming down
+upon him at once were overwhelming, and they almost stunned him. Even his
+late attempt to enlighten his sister Dinah on a matter he so imperfectly
+understood now recoiled upon him, and added to his own mystification.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, well,&rdquo; muttered he, at last, &ldquo;I hope Tom sees his way through it,&rdquo;&mdash;Tom
+was Withering,&mdash;&ldquo;and if <i>he</i> does, there's no need of my
+bothering <i>my</i> head about it. What use would there be in lawyers if
+they hadn't got faculties sharper than other folk? and as to 'making up my
+mind,' my mind is made up already, that I want to win the cause if he'll
+only show me how.&rdquo; From these musings he was drawn off by watching a large
+pike,&mdash;the largest pike, he thought, he had ever seen,&mdash;which
+would from time to time dart out from beneath a bank, and after lying
+motionless in the middle of the pool for a minute or so, would, with one
+whisk of its tail, skim back again to its hiding-place. &ldquo;That fellow has
+instincts of its own to warn him,&rdquo; thought he; &ldquo;he knows he was n't safe
+out there. <i>He</i> sees some peril that <i>I</i> cannot see; and that
+ought to be the way with Tom, for, after all, the lawyers are just pikes,
+neither more nor less.&rdquo; At this instant a man leaped across the stream,
+and hurriedly passed into the copse. &ldquo;What! Mr. Conyers&mdash;Conyers, is
+that you?&rdquo; cried Barrington; and the young man turned and came towards
+him. &ldquo;I am glad to see you all safe and sound again,&rdquo; said Peter; &ldquo;we
+waited dinner half an hour for you, and have passed all the time since in
+conjecturing what might have befallen you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did n't Miss Barrington say&mdash;did not Miss Barrington know&mdash;&rdquo; He
+stopped in deep confusion, and could not finish his speech.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My sister knew nothing,&mdash;at least, she did not tell me any reason
+for your absence.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, not for my absence,&rdquo; began he once more, in the same embarrassment;
+&ldquo;but as I had explained to her that I was obliged to leave this suddenly,&mdash;to
+start this evening&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To start this evening! and whither?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot tell; I don't know,&mdash;that is, I have no plans.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear boy,&rdquo; said the old man, affectionately, as he laid his hand on
+the other's arm, &ldquo;if you don't know where you are going, take my word for
+it there is no such great necessity to go.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but there is,&rdquo; replied he, quickly; &ldquo;at least Miss Barrington thinks
+so, and at the time we spoke together she made me believe she was in the
+right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And are you of the same opinion <i>now?</i>&rdquo; asked Peter, with a humorous
+drollery in his eye.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am,&mdash;that is, I was a few moments back. I mean, that whenever I
+recall the words she spoke to me, I feel their full conviction.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, now, sit down here beside me! It can scarcely be anything I may not
+be a party to. Just let me hear the case like a judge in chamber&rdquo;&mdash;and
+he smiled at an illustration that recalled his favorite passion, &ldquo;I won't
+pretend to say my sister has not a wiser head&mdash;as I well know she has
+a far better heart&mdash;than myself, but now and then she lets a
+prejudice or a caprice or even a mere apprehension run away with her, and
+it's just possible it is some whim of this kind is now uppermost.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers only shook his head dissentingly, and said nothing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe I guess it,&mdash;I suspect that I guess it,&rdquo; said Peter, with a
+sly drollery about his mouth. &ldquo;My sister has a notion that a young man and
+a young woman ought no more to be in propinquity than saltpetre and
+charcoal. She has been giving me a lecture on my blindness, and asking if
+I can't see this, that, and the other; but, besides being the least
+observant of mankind, I'm one of the most hopeful as regards whatever I
+wish to be. Now we have all of us gone on so pleasantly together, with
+such a thorough good understanding&mdash;such loyalty, as the French would
+call it&mdash;that I can't, for the life of me, detect any ground for
+mistrust or dread. Have n't I hit the blot, Conyers&mdash;eh?&rdquo; cried he,
+as the young fellow grew redder and redder, till his face became crimson.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I assured Miss Barrington,&rdquo; began he, in a faltering, broken voice, &ldquo;that
+I set too much store on the generous confidence you extended to me to
+abuse it; that, received as I was, like one of your own blood and kindred,
+I never could forget the frank trustfulness with which you discussed
+everything before me, and made me, so to say, 'One of you.' The moment,
+however, that my intimacy suggested a sense of constraint, I felt the
+whole charm of my privilege would have departed, and it is for this reason
+I am going!&rdquo; The last word was closed with a deep sigh, and he turned away
+his head as he concluded.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And for this reason you shall not go one step,&rdquo; said Peter, slapping him
+cordially on the shoulder. &ldquo;I verily believe that women think the world
+was made for nothing but love-making, just as the crack engineer believed
+rivers were intended by Providence to feed navigable canals; but you and I
+know a little better, not to say that a young fellow with the stamp
+gentleman indelibly marked on his forehead would not think of making a
+young girl fresh from a convent&mdash;a mere child in the ways of life&mdash;the
+mark of his attentions. Am I not right?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope and believe you are!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stay where you are, then; be happy, and help us to feel so; and the only
+pledge I ask is, that whenever you suspect Dinah to be a shrewder observer
+and a truer prophet than her brother&mdash;you understand me&mdash;you'll
+just come and say, 'Peter Barrington, I'm off; good-bye!'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There's my hand on it,&rdquo; said he, grasping the old man's with warmth.
+&ldquo;There's only one point&mdash;I have told Miss Barrington that I would
+start this evening.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She'll scarcely hold you very closely to your pledge.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, as I understand her, you are going back to Ireland?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you are coming along with us. Isn't that a very simple arrangement?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know it would be a very pleasant one.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It shall be, if it depend on me. I want to make you a fisherman too. When
+I was a young man, it was my passion to make every one a good horseman. If
+I liked a fellow, and found out that he couldn't ride to hounds, it gave
+me a shock little short of hearing that there was a blot on his character,
+so associated in my mind had become personal dash and prowess in the field
+with every bold and manly characteristic. As I grew older, and the rod
+usurped the place of the hunting-whip, I grew to fancy that your angler
+would be the truest type of a companion; and if you but knew,&rdquo; added he,
+as a glassy fulness dulled his eyes, &ldquo;what a flattery it is to an old
+fellow when a young one will make a comrade of him,&mdash;what a smack of
+bygone days it brings up, and what sunshine it lets in on the heart,&mdash;take
+my word for it, you young fellows are never so vain of an old companion as
+we are of a young one! What are you so thoughtful about?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was thinking how I was to make this explanation to Miss Barrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You need not make it at all; leave the whole case in my hands. My sister
+knows that I owe you an <i>amende</i> and a heavy one. Let this go towards
+a part payment of it. But here she comes in search of me. Step away
+quietly, and when we meet at the tea-table all will have been settled.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers had but time to make his escape, when Miss Barrington came up.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought I should find you mooning down here, Peter,&rdquo; said she, sharply.
+&ldquo;Whenever there is anything to be done or decided on, a Barrington is
+always watching a fly on a fish-pond.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not the women of the family, Dinah,&mdash;not the women. But what great
+emergency is before us now?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No great emergency, as you phrase it, at all, but what to men like
+yourself is frequently just as trying,&mdash;an occasion that requires a
+little tact. I have discovered&mdash;what I long anticipated has come to
+pass&mdash;Conyers and Fifine are on very close terms of intimacy, which
+might soon become attachment. I have charged him with it, and he has not
+altogether denied it. On the whole he has behaved well, and he goes away
+to-night.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have just seen him, Dinah. I got at his secret, not without a little
+dexterity on my part, and learned what had passed between you. We talked
+the thing over very calmly together, and the upshot is&mdash;he's not
+going.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not going! not going! after the solemn assurance he gave me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But of which I absolved him, sister Dinah; or rather, which I made him
+retract.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter Barrington, stop!&rdquo; cried she, holding her hands to her temples. &ldquo;I
+want a little time to recover myself. I must have time, or I'll not answer
+for my senses. Just reply to one question. I 'll ask you, have you taken
+an oath&mdash;are you under a vow to be the ruin of your family?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't think I have, Dinah. I 'm doing everything for the best.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If there's a phrase in the language condemns the person that uses it,
+it's 'Doing everything for the best.' What does it mean but a blind,
+uninquiring, inconsiderate act, the work of a poor brain and sickly
+conscience? Don't talk to me, sir, of doing for the best, but do the best,
+the very best, according to the lights that guide you. You know well,
+perfectly well, that Fifine has no fortune, and that this young man
+belongs to a very rich and a very ambitious family, and that to encourage
+what might lead to attachment between them would be to store up a cruel
+wrong and a great disappointment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Dinah, you speak like a book, but I don't agree with you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don't. Will you please to state why?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In the first place, Dinah, forgive me for saying it, but we men do not
+take <i>your</i> view of these cases. We neither think that love is as
+catching or as dangerous as the smallpox. We imagine that two young people
+can associate together every day and yet never contract a lien that might
+break their hearts to dissolve.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Talking politics together, perhaps; or the state of the Three per Cents?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not exactly that, but talking of fifty other things that interest their
+time of life and tempers. Have they not songs, drawings, flowers,
+landscapes, and books, with all their thousand incidents, to discuss? Just
+remember what that writer who calls himself 'Author of Waverley'&mdash;what
+he alone has given us of people to talk over just as if we knew them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Brother Peter, I have no patience with you. You enumerate one by one all
+the ingredients, and you disparage the total. You tell of the flour, and
+the plums, and the suet, and the candied lemon, but you cry out against
+the pudding! Don't you see that the very themes you leave for them all
+conduce to what you ignore, and that your music and painting and
+romance-reading only lead to love-making? Don't you see this, or are you
+in reality&mdash;I didn't want to say it, but you have made me&mdash;are
+you an old fool?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope not, Dinah; but I'm not so sure you don't think me one.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's nothing to the purpose whether I do or not,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;the question
+is, have you asked this young man to come back with us to Ireland?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have, and he is coming.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I could have sworn to it,&rdquo; said she, with a sudden energy; &ldquo;and if there
+was anything more stupid, you 'd have done it also.&rdquo; And with this speech,
+more remarkable for its vigor than its politeness, she turned away and
+left him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ere I close the chapter and the subject, let me glance, and only glance,
+at the room where Conyers is now standing beside Josephine. She is
+drawing, not very attentively or carefully, perhaps, and he is bending
+over her and relating, as it seems, something that has occurred to him,
+and has come to the end with the words, &ldquo;And though I was to have gone
+this evening, it turns out that now I am to stay and accompany you to
+Ireland.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't sigh so painfully over it, however,&rdquo; said she, gravely; &ldquo;for when
+you come to mention how distressing it is, I 'm sure they 'll let you
+off.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fifine,&rdquo; said he, reproachfully, &ldquo;is this fair, is this generous?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't know whether it be unfair, I don't want it to be generous,&rdquo; said
+she, boldly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In point of fact, then, you only wish for me here to quarrel with, is
+that the truth?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think it better fun disagreeing with you than always saying how
+accurate you are, and how wise, and how well-judging. That atmosphere of
+eternal agreement chokes me; I feel as if I were suffocating.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's not a very happy temperament; it's not a disposition to boast of.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You never did hear me boast of it; but I have heard <i>you</i> very
+vainglorious about your easy temper and your facile nature, which were
+simply indolence. Now, I have had more than enough of that in the convent,
+and I long for a little activity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Even if it were hazardous?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Even if it were hazardous,&rdquo; echoed she. &ldquo;But here comes Aunt Dinah, with
+a face as stern as one of the sisters, and an eye that reminds me of
+penance and bread and water; so help me to put up my drawings, and say
+nothing of what we were talking.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My brother has just told me, Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said she, in a whisper, &ldquo;a
+piece of news which it only depends upon you to make a most agreeable
+arrangement.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I trust you may count upon me, madam,&rdquo; said he, in the same tone, and
+bowed low as he spoke.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then come with me and let us talk it over,&rdquo; said she, as she took his arm
+and led him away.
+</p>
+<p>
+END OF VOL. I. <br /><br />
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrington, by Charles James Lever
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRINGTON ***
+
+***** This file should be named 34882-h.htm or 34882-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/8/34882/
+
+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.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase &ldquo;Project
+Gutenberg&rdquo;), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  &ldquo;Project Gutenberg&rdquo; is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (&ldquo;the Foundation&rdquo;
+ or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase &ldquo;Project Gutenberg&rdquo; appears, or with which the phrase &ldquo;Project
+Gutenberg&rdquo; is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase &ldquo;Project Gutenberg&rdquo; associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+&ldquo;Plain Vanilla ASCII&rdquo; or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original &ldquo;Plain Vanilla ASCII&rdquo; or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+address specified in Section 4, &ldquo;Information about donations to
+the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.&rdquo;
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License.  You must require such a user to return or
+destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+&ldquo;Defects,&rdquo; such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the &ldquo;Right
+of Replacement or Refund&rdquo; described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+Chief Executive and Director
+gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/34882-h/images/046.jpg b/34882-h/images/046.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1fe5b8e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/046.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/052.jpg b/34882-h/images/052.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..73f8a96
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/052.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/064.jpg b/34882-h/images/064.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..749c4ed
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/064.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/084.jpg b/34882-h/images/084.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3a3c44b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/084.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/126.jpg b/34882-h/images/126.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..931eb67
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/126.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/140.jpg b/34882-h/images/140.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9ac8f26
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/140.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/166.jpg b/34882-h/images/166.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3946c9e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/166.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/190.jpg b/34882-h/images/190.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0bec5d4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/190.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/202.jpg b/34882-h/images/202.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b3799b6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/202.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/242.jpg b/34882-h/images/242.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8ed2cc3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/242.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/252.jpg b/34882-h/images/252.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9f1d025
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/252.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/276.jpg b/34882-h/images/276.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a8df26d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/276.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/304.jpg b/34882-h/images/304.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6456d2c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/304.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/312.jpg b/34882-h/images/312.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5afc065
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/312.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/frontispiece.jpg b/34882-h/images/frontispiece.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..811c28f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/frontispiece.jpg
diff --git a/34882-h/images/titlepage.jpg b/34882-h/images/titlepage.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd6a6f6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882-h/images/titlepage.jpg
diff --git a/34882.txt b/34882.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..25df38c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,12173 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrington, 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: Barrington
+       Volume I (of II)
+
+Author: Charles James Lever
+
+Illustrator: Phiz.
+
+Release Date: January 8, 2011 [EBook #34882]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRINGTON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+BARRINGTON
+
+Volume I.
+
+By Charles James Lever
+
+With Illustrations By Phiz.
+
+Boston: Little, Brown, And Company.
+
+1907.
+
+[Illustration: frontispiece]
+
+
+
+
+BARRINGTON.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. THE FISHERMAN'S HOME
+
+If there should be, at this day we live in, any one bold enough to
+confess that he fished the river Nore, in Ireland, some forty years ago,
+he might assist me by calling to mind a small inn, about two miles from
+the confluence of that river with the Barrow, a spot in great favor with
+those who followed the "gentle craft."
+
+It was a very unpretending hostel, something wherein cottage
+and farmhouse were blended, and only recognizable as a place of
+entertainment by a tin trout suspended over the doorway, with the modest
+inscription underneath,--"Fisherman's Home." Very seldom is it, indeed,
+that hotel pledges are as honestly fulfilled as they were in this
+simple announcement. The house was, in all that quiet comfort and
+unostentatious excellence can make, a veritable Home! Standing in a fine
+old orchard of pear and damson trees, it was only approachable by a path
+which led from the highroad, about two miles off, or by the river, which
+wound round the little grassy promontory beneath the cottage. On the
+opposite side of the stream arose cliffs of considerable height, their
+terraced sides covered with larch and ash, around whose stems the
+holly, the laurel, and arbutus grew in a wild and rich profusion. A high
+mountain, rugged with rock and precipice, shut in the picture, and gave
+to the river all the semblance of a narrow lake.
+
+The Home, as may be imagined, was only resorted to by fishermen, and
+of these not many; for the chosen few who knew the spot, with the
+churlishness of true anglers, were strenuously careful to keep the
+secret to themselves. But another and stronger cause contributed to this
+seclusion. The landlord was a reduced gentleman, who, only anxious to
+add a little to his narrow fortune, would not have accepted a greater
+prosperity at the cost of more publicity, and who probably only
+consented to his occupation on finding how scrupulously his guests
+respected his position.
+
+Indeed, it was only on leave-taking, and then far from painfully, you
+were reminded of being in an inn. There was no noise, no bustle; books,
+magazines, flowers, lay about; cupboards lay open, with all their
+cordials free to take. You might dine under the spreading sycamore
+beside the well, and have your dessert for the plucking. No obsequious
+waiter shook his napkin as you passed, no ringleted barmaid crossed your
+musing steps, no jingling of bells, or discordant cries, or high-voiced
+remonstrances disturbed you. The hum of the summer bee, or the flapping
+plash of a trout, were about the only sounds in the stillness, and all
+was as peaceful and as calm and as dreamy as the most world-weary could
+have wished it.
+
+Of those who frequented the spot, some merely knew that the host had
+seen better days. Others, however, were aware that Peter Barrington
+had once been a man of large fortune, and represented his county in the
+Irish Parliament. Though not eminent as a politician, he was one of
+the great convivial celebrities of a time that boasted of Curran, and
+Avanmore, and Parsons, and a score of others, any one of whom, in our
+day, would have made a society famous. Barrington, too, was the almoner
+of the monks of the screw, and "Peter's pence" was immortalized in a
+song by Ned Lysaght, of which I once possessed, but have lost a copy.
+
+One might imagine there could be no difficulty in showing how in that
+wild period of riotous living and costly rivalry an Irish gentleman ran
+through all his property and left himself penniless. It was, indeed,
+a time of utter recklessness, many seeming possessed of that
+devil-may-care spirit that drives a drowning crew to break open the
+spirit-room and go down in an orgie. But Barrington's fortune was so
+large, and his successes on the turf so considerable, that it appeared
+incredible, when his estates came to the hammer, and all his personal
+property was sold off; so complete his ruin, that, as he said himself,
+the "only shelter he had was an umbrella, and even that he borrowed from
+Dan Driscoll, the sheriff's officer."
+
+Of course there were theories in plenty to account for the disaster,
+and, as usual, so many knew, many a long day ago, how hard pressed he
+had been for money, and what ruinous interest he was obliged to pay,
+till at last rumors filtered all down to one channel, and the world
+agreed that it was all his son's doing, and that the scamp George had
+ruined his father. This son, his only child, had gone out to India in
+a cavalry regiment, and was celebrated all over the East for a costly
+splendor that rivalled the great Government officials. From every
+retired or invalided officer who came back from Bengal were heard
+stories of mad Barring-ton's extravagance: his palace on the Hooghly,
+his racing stud, his elephants, his army of retainers,--all narratives
+which, no matter in what spirit retailed, seemed to delight old Peter,
+who, at every fresh story of his son's spendthrift magnificence, would
+be sure to toast his health with a racy enthusiasm whose sincerity was
+not to be doubted.
+
+Little wonder need there be if in feeding such extravagance a vast
+estate melted away, and acre followed acre, till all that remained of
+a property that ranked next to the Ormonds' was the little cottage over
+whose door the tin-trout dangled, and the few roods of land around it:
+sorry remnant of a princely fortune!
+
+But Barrington himself had a passion, which, inordinately indulged, has
+brought many to their ruin. He was intensely fond of law. It was to him
+all that gambling is to other men. All that gamesters feel of hope
+and fear, all the intense excitement they derive from the vacillating
+fortunes of play, Barrington enjoyed in a lawsuit. Every step of the
+proceeding had for him an intense interest. The driest legal documents,
+musty declarations, demurrers, pleadings, replies, affidavits, and
+counter-affidavits were his choicest reading; and never did a young lady
+hurry to her room with the last new novel with a stronger anticipation
+of delight than did Barrington when carrying away to his little snuggery
+a roll of parchments or rough drafts, whose very iterations and jargon
+would have driven most men half crazy. This same snuggery of his was a
+curiosity, too, the walls being all decorated with portraits of legal
+celebrities, not selected with reference to their merit or distinction,
+but solely from their connection with some suit in which he had been
+engaged; and thus under the likeness of Chief Baron O'Grady might be
+read, "Barring-ton versus Brazier, 1802; a juror withdrawn:" Justice
+Moore's portrait was inscribed, "Argument in Chambers, 1808," and so on;
+even to the portraits of leading counsel, all were marked and dated only
+as they figured in the great campaign,--the more than thirty years' war
+he carried on against Fortune.
+
+Let not my reader suppose for one moment that this litigious taste grew
+out of a spirit of jarring discontent or distrust. Nothing of the kind.
+Barrington was merely a gambler; and with whatever dissatisfaction the
+declaration may be met, I am prepared to show that gambling, however
+faulty in itself, is not the vice of cold, selfish, and sordid men,
+but of warm, rash, sometimes over-generous temperaments. Be it well
+remembered that the professional play-man is, of all others, the one
+who has least of a gamester in his heart; his superiority lying in the
+simple fact that his passions are never engaged, his interest never
+stirred. Oh! beware of yourself in company with the polished antagonist,
+who only smiles when he loses, whom nothing adverse ever disturbs, but
+is calmly serene under the most pitiless pelting of luck. To come back:
+Barrington's passion for law was an intense thirst for a certain species
+of excitement; a verdict was to him the odd trick. Let him, however, but
+win the game, there never was a man so indifferent about the stakes.
+
+For many a year back he had ceased to follow the great events of the
+world. For the stupendous changes in Europe he cared next to nothing. He
+scarcely knew who reigned over this empire or that kingdom. Indifferent
+to art, science, letters, and even society, his interest was intense
+about all that went on in the law courts, and it was an interest so
+catholic that it took in everything and everybody, from the great judge
+upon the bench to the small taxing-officer who nibbled at the bill of
+costs.
+
+Fortunately for him, his sister, a maiden lady of some eighteen or
+twenty years his junior, had imbibed nothing of this passion, and, by
+her prudent opposition to it, stemmed at least the force of that current
+which was bearing him to ruin. Miss Dinah Barrington had been the great
+belle of the Irish court,--I am ashamed to say how long ago,--and though
+at the period my tale opens there was not much to revive the impression,
+her high nose, and full blue eyes, and a mass of wonderfully unchanged
+brown hair, proclaimed her to be--what she was very proud to call
+herself--a thorough Barrington, a strong type of a frank nature, with a
+bold, resolute will, and a very womanly heart beneath it.
+
+When their reverses of fortune first befell them, Miss Barrington wished
+to emigrate. She thought that in Canada, or some other far-away land,
+their altered condition might be borne less painfully, and that they
+could more easily bend themselves to humble offices where none but
+strangers were to look on them; but Barrington clung to his country
+with the tenacity of an old captain to a wreck. He declared he could not
+bring himself to the thought of leaving his bones in a strange land,
+but he never confessed what he felt to be the strongest tie of all,
+two unfinished lawsuits, the old record of Barrington v. Brazier, and
+a Privy Council case of Barrington and Lot Rammadahn Mohr against the
+India Company. To have left his country with these still undecided
+seemed to him--like the act of a commander taking flight on the morning
+of a general action--an amount of cowardice he could not contemplate.
+Not that he confided this opinion to his sister, though he did so in the
+very fullest manner to his old follower and servant, Darby Cassan. Darby
+was the last remnant of a once princely retinue, and in his master's
+choice of him to accompany his fallen fortunes, there was something
+strangely indicative of the man. Had Darby been an old butler or a
+body-servant, had he been a favorite groom, or, in some other capacity,
+one whose daily duties had made his a familiar face, and whose functions
+could still be available in an humble state, there would have seemed
+good reason for the selection; but Darby was none of these: he had never
+served in hall or pantry; he had never brushed the cobweb from a bottle,
+or led a nag to the door. Of all human professions his were about the
+last that could address themselves to the cares of a little household;
+for Darby was reared, bred, and passed fifty-odd years of his life as an
+earth-stopper!
+
+A very ingenious German writer has attempted to show that the sympathies
+of the humble classes with pursuits far above their own has always
+its origin in something of their daily life and habits, just as the
+sacristan of a cathedral comes to be occasionally a tolerable art critic
+from his continual reference to Rubens and Vandyck. It is possible
+that Darby may have illustrated the theory, and that his avocations as
+earth-stopper may have suggested what he assuredly possessed, a perfect
+passion for law. If a suit was a great game to Barrington, to Darby
+it was a hunt! and though his personal experiences never soared beyond
+Quarter Sessions, he gloried in all he saw there of violence and
+altercation, of vituperative language and impassioned abuse. Had he been
+a rich man, free to enjoy his leisure, he would have passed all his
+days listening to these hot discussions. They were to him a sort of
+intellectual bull-fight, which never could be too bloody or too cruel.
+Have I said enough, therefore, to show the secret link which bound
+the master to the man? I hope so; and that my reader is proud of a
+confidence with which Miss Barrington herself was never intrusted.
+She believed that Darby had been taken into favor from some marvellous
+ability he was supposed to possess, applicable to their new venture as
+innkeepers. Phrenology would perhaps have pronounced Darby a heaven-born
+host, for his organ of acquisitiveness was grandly developed. Amidst
+that great household, where the thriftless habits of the master had
+descended to the servants, and rendered all reckless and wasteful alike,
+Darby had thriven and grown almost rich. Was it that the Irish climate
+used its influence over him; for in his practice to "put by something
+for a rainy day," his savings had many promptings? As the reputation
+of having money soon attached to him, he was often applied to in the
+hunting-field, or at the kennel, for small loans, by the young bloods
+who frequented the Hall, and, being always repaid three or four fold, he
+grew to have a very high conception of what banking must be when done
+on a large scale. Besides all this, he quickly learned that no character
+attracts more sympathy, especially amongst the class of young squires
+and sporting-men, than a certain quaint simplicity, so flattering in its
+contrast to their own consummate acuteness. Now, he was simple to their
+hearts' content. He usually spoke of himself as "Poor Darby, God help
+him!" and, in casting up those wonderful accounts, which he kept by
+notches on a tally-stick, nothing was more amusing than to witness his
+bewilderment and confusion, the inconceivable blunders he would
+make, even to his own disadvantage, all sure to end at last in the
+heart-spoken confession that it was "clean beyand him," and "he 'd leave
+it all to your honor; pay just what ye plaze, and long life to ye!"
+
+Is it that women have some shrewd perception of character denied to men?
+Certainly Darby never imposed on Miss Barrington. She read him like a
+book, and he felt it. The consequence was a very cordial dislike, which
+strengthened with every year of their acquaintance.
+
+Though Miss Barrington ever believed that the notion of keeping an inn
+originated with her brother, it was Darby first conceived the project,
+and, indeed, by his own skill and crafty intelligence was it carried on;
+and while the words "Peter Barrington" figured in very small letters, it
+is true, over the door to comply with a legal necessity, to most of the
+visitors he was a mere myth. Now, if Peter Barrington was very happy
+to be represented by deputy,--or, better still, not represented at
+all,--Miss Dinah regarded the matter in a very different light. Her
+theory was that, in accepting the humble station to which reverse of
+fortune brought them, the world ought to see all the heroism and courage
+of the sacrifice. She insisted on being a foreground figure, just to
+show them, as she said, "that I take nothing upon me. I am the hostess
+of a little wayside inn,--no more!" How little did she know of her
+own heart, and how far was she from even suspecting that it was the
+_ci-devant_ belle making one last throw for the admiration and homage
+which once were offered her freely.
+
+Such were the three chief personages who dwelt under that secluded roof,
+half overgrown with honeysuckle and dog-roses,--specimens of that wider
+world without, where jealousies, and distrusts, and petty rivalries
+are warring: for as in one tiny globule of water are represented the
+elements which make oceans and seas, so is it in the moral world; and
+"the family" is only humanity, as the artists say, "reduced."
+
+For years back Miss Barrington had been plotting to depose Darby. With
+an ingenuity quite feminine, she managed to connect him with every
+chagrin that crossed and every annoyance that befell them. If the pig
+ploughed up the new peas in the garden, it was Darby had left the gate
+open; it was _his_ hand overwound the clock; and a very significant hint
+showed that when the thunder soured the beer, Mr. Darby knew more of
+the matter than he was likely to tell. Against such charges as these,
+iterated and reiterated to satiety, Barrington would reply by a smile,
+or a good-natured excuse, or a mere gesture to suggest patience, till
+his sister, fairly worn out, resolved on another line of action. "As she
+could not banish the rats," to use her own words, "she would scuttle the
+ship."
+
+To explain her project, I must go back in my story, and state that her
+nephew, George Barrington, had sent over to England, some fifteen years
+before, a little girl, whom he, called his daughter. She was consigned
+to the care of his banker in London, with directions that he should
+communicate with Mr. Peter Barrington, announce the child's safe
+arrival, and consult with him as to her future destination. Now,
+when the event took place, Barrington was in the very crisis of his
+disasters. Overwhelmed with debts, pursued by creditors, regularly
+hunted down, he was driven day by day to sign away most valuable
+securities for mere passing considerations, and obliged to accept any
+conditions for daily support He answered the banker's letter, briefly
+stating his great embarrassment, and begging him to give the child his
+protection for a few weeks or so, till some arrangement of his affairs
+might enable him to offer her a home.
+
+This time, however, glided over, and the hoped-for amendment never
+came,--far from it. Writs were out against him, and he was driven to
+seek a refuge in the Isle of Man, at that time the special sanctuary of
+insolvent sinners. Mr. Leonard Gower wrote again, and proposed that, if
+no objection would be made to the plan, the child should be sent to a
+certain convent near Namur, in the Netherlands, where his own daughter
+was then placed for her education. Aunt Dinah would have rejected,--ay,
+or would have resented such a proposal as an insult, had the world but
+gone on better with them. That her grand-niece should be brought up a
+Catholic was an outrage on the whole Barring-ton blood. But calamity had
+brought her low,--very low, indeed. The child, too, was a heathen,--a
+Hindoo or a Buddhist, perhaps,--for the mother was a native woman,
+reputed, indeed, to be a princess. But who could know this? Who could
+vouch that George was ever married at all, or if such a ceremony were
+possible? All these were "attenuating circumstances," and as such she
+accepted them; and the measure of her submission was filled up when she
+received a portrait of the little girl, painted by a native artist. It
+represented a dark-skinned, heavy-browed child, with wide, full eyes,
+thick lips, and an expression at once florid and sullen,--not any of
+the traits one likes to associate with infancy,--and it was with a half
+shudder Aunt Dinah closed the miniature, and declared that "the sight of
+the little savage actually frightened her."
+
+Not so poor Barrington. He professed to see a great resemblance to his
+son. It was George all over. To be sure, his eyes were deep blue, and
+his hair a rich brown; but there was something in the nose, or perhaps
+it was in the mouth,--no, it was the chin,--ay, it was the chin was
+George's. It was the Barrington chin, and no mistake about it.
+
+At all events, no opposition was made to the banker's project, and the
+little girl was sent off to the convent of the Holy Cross, on the banks
+of the Meuse. She was inscribed on the roll as the Princess Doondiah,
+and bore the name till her father's death, when Mr. Gower suggested that
+she should be called by her family name. The letter with the proposal,
+by some accident, was not acknowledged, and the writer, taking silence
+to mean consent, desired the superior to address her, henceforth, as
+Miss Barrington; the first startling intimation of the change being
+a strangely, quaintly written note, addressed to her grand-aunt, and
+signed "Josephine Barrington." It was a cold, formal letter,--so very
+formal, indeed, as to read like the copy of a document,--asking
+for leave to enter upon a novitiate of two years' duration, at the
+expiration of which she would be nineteen years of age, and in a
+position to decide upon taking the veil for life. The permission, very
+urgently pressed for by Mr. Gower in another letter, was accorded,
+and now we have arrived at that period in which but three months only
+remained of the two years whose closure was to decide her fate forever.
+
+Barrington had long yearned to see her. It was with deep and bitter
+self-reproach he thought over the cold neglect they had shown her. She
+was all that remained of poor George, his boy,--for so he called
+him, and so he thought of him,--long after the bronzed cheek and the
+prematurely whitened hair had tempered his manhood. To be sure, all the
+world said, and he knew himself, how it was chiefly through the "boy's"
+extravagance he came to ruin. But it was over now. The event that sobers
+down reproach to sorrow had come. He was dead! All that arose to memory
+of him were the traits that suggested hopes of his childhood, or gave
+triumph in his riper years; and oh, is it not better thus? for what
+hearts would be left us if we were to carry in them the petty rancors
+and jealousies which once filled them, but which, one day, we buried in
+the cold clay of the churchyard.
+
+Aunt Dinah, moved by reasons long canvassed over in her own mind, at
+last began to think of recalling her grand-niece. It was so very bold a
+project that, at first, she could scarcely entertain it. The Popery was
+very dreadful! Her imagination conjured up the cottage converted into a
+little Baal, with false gods and graven images, and holy-water fonts
+at every turn; but the doubtful legitimacy was worse again. She had
+a theory that it was by lapses of this kind the "blue blood" of old
+families grew deteriorated, and that the downfall of many an ancient
+house was traceable to these corruptions. Far better, she deemed it,
+that the Barringtons should die out forever than their line be continued
+by this base and ignoble grafting.
+
+There is a _contre_ for every _pour_ in this world. It may be a weak
+and an insufficient one, it is true; but it is a certainty that all our
+projects must come to a debtor or creditor reckoning, and the very best
+we can do is to strike an honest balance!
+
+How Miss Dinah essayed to do this we shall learn in the next chapter and
+what follows it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. A WET MORNING AT HOME
+
+If there was anything that possessed more than common terror for
+Barrington, it was a wet day at the cottage! It was on these dreary
+visitations that his sister took the opportunity of going into
+"committee of supply,"--an occasion not merely for the discussion
+of fiscal matters, but for asking the most vexatious questions and
+demanding the most unpleasant explanations.
+
+We can all, more or less, appreciate the happiness of that right
+honorable gentleman on the Treasury bench who has to reply to the crude
+and unmeaning inquiries of some aspiring Oppositionist, and who wishes
+to know if her Majesty's Government have demanded an indemnity from the
+King of Dahomey for the consul's family eaten by him at the last court
+ceremonial? What compensation is to be given to Captain Balrothery for
+his week's imprisonment at Leghorn, in consequence of his having thrown
+the customs officer and a landing waiter into the sea? Or what mark of
+her Majesty's favor will the noble lord recommend should be conferred
+upon Ensign Digges for the admirable imitation he gave of the dancing
+dervishes at Benares, and the just ridicule he thus threw upon these
+degrading and heathenish rites?
+
+It was to a torture of this order, far more reasonable and pertinent,
+however, that Barrington usually saw himself reduced whenever the
+weather was so decidedly unfavorable that egress was impossible. Poor
+fellow, what shallow pretexts would he stammer out for absenting himself
+from home, what despicable subterfuges to put off an audience! He had
+forgotten to put down the frame on that melon-bed.
+
+There was that awning over the boat not taken in. He 'd step out to
+the stable and give Billy, the pony, a touch of the white oils on that
+swelled hock. He 'd see if they had got the young lambs under cover. In
+fact, from his perturbed and agitated manner, you would have imagined
+that rain was one of the rarest incidents of an Irish climate, and only
+the very promptest measures could mitigate the calamity.
+
+"May I ask where you are off to in such haste, Peter?" asked Miss Dinah
+one morning, just as Barrington had completed all his arrangements for
+a retreat; far readier to brave the elements than the more pitiless
+pelting that awaited him within doors.
+
+"I just remembered," said he, mildly, "that I had left two night-lines
+out at the point, and with this fresh in the river it would be as well
+if I 'd step down and see--"
+
+"And see if the river was where it was yesterday," broke she in,
+sneeringly.
+
+"No, Dinah. But you see that there 's this to be remarked about
+night-lines--"
+
+"That they never catch any fish!" said she, sternly. "It's no weather
+for you to go tramping about in the wet grass. You made fuss enough
+about your lumbago last week, and I suppose you don't want it back
+again. Besides,"--and here her tongue grew authoritative,--"I have got
+up the books." And with these words she threw on the table a number of
+little greasy-looking volumes, over which poor Barrington's sad glances
+wandered, pretty much as might a victim's over the thumb-screws and the
+flesh-nippers of the Holy Inquisition.
+
+"I've a slight touch of a headache this morning, Dinah."
+
+"It won't be cured by going out in the rain. Sit down there," said she,
+peremptorily, "and see with your own eyes how much longer your means
+will enable you to continue these habits of waste and extravagance."
+
+"These what?" said he, perfectly astounded.
+
+"These habits of waste and extravagance, Peter Barring-ton. I repeat my
+words."
+
+Had a venerable divine, being asked on the conclusion of an edifying
+discourse, for how much longer it might be his intention to persist in
+such ribaldries, his astonishment could scarce have been greater than
+Barrington's.
+
+"Why, sister Dinah, are we not keeping an inn? Is not this the
+'Fisherman's Home'?"
+
+"I should think it is, Peter," said she, with scorn. "I suspect he finds
+it so. A very excellent name for it it is!"
+
+"Must I own that I don't understand you, Dinah?"
+
+"Of course you don't. You never did all your life. You never knew you
+were wet till you were half drowned, and that's what the world calls
+having such an amiable disposition! Ain't your friends nice friends?
+They are always telling you how generous you are,--how free-handed,--how
+benevolent. What a heart he has! Ay, but thank Providence there's very
+little of that charming docility about _me_, is there?"
+
+"None, Dinah,--none," said he, not in the least suspecting to what he
+was bearing testimony.
+
+She became crimson in a minute, and in a tone of some emotion said, "And
+if there had been, where should you and where should I be to-day? On the
+parish, Peter Barrington,--on the parish; for it 's neither _your_ head
+nor _your_ hands would have saved us from it."
+
+"You're right, Dinah; you're right there. You never spoke a truer word."
+And his voice trembled as he said it.
+
+"I did n't mean _that_, Peter," said she, eagerly; "but you are too
+confiding, too trustful. Perhaps it takes a woman to detect all the
+little wiles and snares that entangle us in our daily life?"
+
+"Perhaps it does," said he, with a deep sigh.
+
+"At all events, you needn't sigh over it, Peter Barring-ton. It's not
+one of those blemishes in human nature that have to be deplored so
+feelingly. I hope women are as good as men."
+
+"Fifty thousand times better, in every quality of kindliness and
+generosity."
+
+"Humph!" said she, tossing her head impatiently. "We 're not here for a
+question in ethics; it is to the very lowly task of examining the house
+accounts I would invite your attention. Matters cannot go on as they do
+now, if we mean to keep a roof over us."
+
+"But I have always supposed we were doing pretty well, Dinah. You know
+we never promised ourselves to gain a fortune by this venture; the very
+utmost we ever hoped for was to help us along,--to aid us to make both
+ends meet at the end of the year And as Darby tells me--"
+
+"Oh, Darby tells you! What a reliable authority to quote from! Oh, don't
+groan so heavily! I forgot myself. I would n't for the world impeach
+such fidelity or honesty as his."
+
+"Be reasonable, sister Dinah,--do be reasonable; and if there is
+anything to lay to his charge--"
+
+"You 'll hear the case, I suppose," cried she, in a voice high-pitched
+in passion. "You 'll sit up there, like one of your favorite judges, and
+call on Dinah Barrington against Cassan; and perhaps when the cause is
+concluded we shall reverse our places, and _I_ become the defendant! But
+if this is your intention, brother Barrington, give me a little time. I
+beg I may have a little time."
+
+Now, this was a very favorite request of Miss Barring-ton's, and she
+usually made it in the tone of a martyr; but truth obliges us to own
+that never was a demand less justifiable. Not a three-decker of the
+Channel fleet was readier for a broadside than herself. She was always
+at quarters and with a port-fire burning.
+
+Barrington did not answer this appeal; he never moved,--he scarcely
+appeared to breathe, so guarded was he lest his most unintentional
+gesture should be the subject of comment.
+
+"When you have recovered from your stupefaction," said she, calmly,
+"will you look over that line of figures, and then give a glance at this
+total? After that I will ask you what fortune could stand it."
+
+"This looks formidable, indeed," said he, poring over the page through
+his spectacles.
+
+"It is worse, Peter. It _is_ formidable."
+
+"After all, Dinah, this is expenditure. Now for the incomings!"
+
+"I suspect you 'll have to ask your prime minister for _them_. Perhaps
+he may vouchsafe to tell you how many twenty-pound notes have gone to
+America, who it was that consigned a cargo of new potatoes to Liverpool,
+and what amount he invested in yarn at the last fair of Graigue? and
+when you have learned these facts, you will know all you are ever likely
+to know of your _profits!_" I have no means of conveying the intense
+scorn with which she uttered the last word of this speech.
+
+"And he told me--not a week back--that we were going on famously!"
+
+"Why wouldn't he? I 'd like to hear what else he could say. Famously,
+indeed, for _him_ with a strong balance in the savings-bank, and a gold
+watch--yes, Peter, a gold watch--in his pocket. This is no delusion,
+nor illusion, or whatever you call it, of mine, but a fact,--a downright
+fact."
+
+"He has been toiling hard many a year for it, Dinah, don't forget that."
+
+"I believe you want to drive me mad, Peter. You know these are things
+that I can't bear, and that's the reason you say them. Toil, indeed! _I_
+never saw him do anything except sit on a gate at the Lock Meadows, with
+a pipe in his mouth; and if you asked him what he was there for, it was
+a 'track' he was watching, a 'dog-fox that went by every afternoon to
+the turnip field.' Very great toil that was!"
+
+"There was n't an earth-stopper like him in the three next counties; and
+if I was to have a pack of foxhounds tomorrow--"
+
+"You 'd just be as great a foot as ever you were, and the more sorry I
+am to hear it; but you 're not going to be tempted, Peter Barrington.
+It's not foxes we have to think of, but where we 're to find shelter for
+ourselves."
+
+"Do you know of anything we could turn to, more profitable, Dinah?"
+asked he, mildly.
+
+"There 's nothing could be much less so, I know _that!_ You are not
+very observant, Peter, but even to you it must have become apparent that
+great changes have come over the world in a few years. The persons who
+formerly indulged their leisure were all men of rank and fortune. Who
+are the people who come over here now to amuse themselves? Staleybridge
+and Manchester creatures, with factory morals and bagman manners;
+treating our house like a commercial inn, and actually disputing the
+bill and asking for items. Yes, Peter, I overheard a fellow telling
+Darby last week that the ''ouse was dearer than the Halbion!'"
+
+"Travellers will do these things, Dinah."
+
+"And if they do, they shall be shown the door for it, as sure as my name
+is Dinah Barrington."
+
+"Let us give up the inn altogether, then," said he, with a sudden
+impatience.
+
+"The very thing I was going to propose, Peter," said she, solemnly.
+
+"What!--how?" cried he, for the acceptance of what only escaped him in
+a moment of anger overwhelmed and stunned him. "How are we to live,
+Dinah?"
+
+"Better without than with it,--there's my answer to that. Let us
+look the matter fairly in the face, Peter," said she, with a calm and
+measured utterance. "This dealing with the world 'on honor' must ever
+be a losing game. To screen ourselves from the vulgar necessities of our
+condition, we must submit to any terms. So long as our intercourse
+with life gave us none but gentlemen to deal with, we escaped well and
+safely. That race would seem to have thinned off of late, however; or,
+what comes to the same, there is such a deluge of spurious coin one
+never knows what is real gold."
+
+"You may be right, Dinah; you may be right."
+
+"I know I am right; the experience has been the growth of years too. All
+our efforts to escape the odious contact of these people have multiplied
+our expenses. Where one man used to suffice, we keep three. You
+yourself, who felt it no indignity to go out a-fishing formerly with a
+chance traveller, have to own with what reserve and caution you would
+accept such companionship now."
+
+"Nay, nay, Dinah, not exactly so far as that--"
+
+"And why not? Was it not less than a fortnight ago three Birmingham men
+crossed the threshold, calling out for old Peter,--was old Peter to the
+good yet?"
+
+"They were a little elevated with wine, sister, remember that; and,
+besides, they never knew, never had heard of me in my once condition."
+
+"And are we so changed that they cannot recognize the class we pertain
+to?"
+
+"Not _you_, Dinah, certainly not you; but I frankly own I can put up
+with rudeness and incivility better than a certain showy courtesy some
+vulgar people practise towards me. In the one case I feel I am not
+known, and my secret is safe. In the other, I have to stand out as
+the ruined gentleman, and I am not always sure that I play the part as
+gracefully as I ought."
+
+"Let us leave emotions, Peter, and descend to the lowland of arithmetic,
+by giving up two boatmen, John and Terry--"
+
+"Poor Terry!" sighed he, with a faint, low accent
+
+"Oh! if it be 'poor Terry!' I 've done," said she, closing the book, and
+throwing it down with a slap that made him start.
+
+"Nay, dear Dinah; but if we could manage to let him have something,--say
+five shillings a week,--he 'd not need it long; and the port wine that
+was doing his rheumatism such good is nearly finished; he'll miss it
+sorely."
+
+"Were you giving him Henderson's wine,--the '11 vintage?" cried she,
+pale with indignation.
+
+"Just a bottle or two, Dinah; only as medicine."
+
+"As a fiddlestick, sir! I declare I have no patience with you; there
+'s no excuse for such folly, not to say the ignorance of giving these
+creatures what they never were used to. Did not Dr. Dill tell you that
+tonics, to be effective, must always have some relation to the daily
+habits of the patient?"
+
+"Very true, Dinah; but the discourse was pronounced when I saw him
+putting a bottle of old Madeira in his gig that I had left for Anne
+M'Cafferty, adding, he 'd send her something far more strengthening."
+
+"Right or wrong, I don't care; but this I know, Terry Dogherty is n't
+going to finish off Henderson's port. It is rather too much to stand,
+that we are to be treating beggars to luxuries, when we can't say
+to-morrow where we shall find salt for our potatoes." This was a
+somewhat favorite illustration of Miss Barrington,--either implying that
+the commodity was an essential to human life, or the use of it an emblem
+of extreme destitution.
+
+"I conclude we may dispense with Tom Divett's services," resumed she.
+"We can assuredly get on without a professional rat-catcher."
+
+"If we should, Dinah, we'll feel the loss; the rats make sad havoc of
+the spawn, and destroy quantities of the young fish, besides."
+
+"His two ugly terriers eat just as many chickens, and never leave us an
+egg in the place. And now for Mr. Darby--"
+
+"You surely don't think of parting with Darby, sister Dinah?"
+
+"He shall lead the way," replied she, in a firm and peremptory voice;
+"the very first of the batch! And it will, doubtless, be a great comfort
+to you to know that you need not distress yourself about any provision
+for his declining years. It is a care that he has attended to on his own
+part. He 'll go back to a very well-feathered nest, I promise you."
+
+Barrington sighed heavily, for he had a secret sorrow on that score.
+He knew, though his sister did not, that he had from year to year been
+borrowing every pound of Darby's savings to pay the cost of law charges,
+always hoping and looking for the time when a verdict in his favor would
+enable him to restore the money twice told. With a very dreary sigh,
+then, did he here allude "to the well-feathered nest" of one he had left
+bare and destitute. He cleared his throat, and made an effort to avow
+the whole matter; but his courage failed him, and he sat mournfully
+shaking his head, partly in sorrow, partly in shame. His sister noticed
+none of these signs; she was rapidly enumerating all the reductions
+that could be made,--all the dependencies cut off; there were the
+boats, which constantly required repairs; the nets, eternally being
+renewed,--all to be discarded; the island, a very pretty little object
+in the middle of the river, need no longer be rented. "Indeed," said
+she, "I don't know why we took it, except it was to give those memorable
+picnics you used to have there."
+
+"How pleasant they were, Dinah; how delightful!" said he, totally
+overlooking the spirit of her remark.
+
+"Oh! they were charming, and your own popularity was boundless; but I
+'d have you to bear in mind, brother Peter, that popularity is no more
+a poor man's luxury than champagne. It is a very costly indulgence, and
+can rarely be had on 'credit.'"
+
+Miss Barrington had pared down retrenchment to the very quick. She
+had shown that they could live not only without boatmen, rat-catchers,
+gardener, and manservant, but that, as they were to give up their daily
+newspaper, they could dispense with a full ration of candle-light;
+and yet, with all these reductions, she declared that there was still
+another encumbrance to be pruned away, and she proudly asked her brother
+if he could guess what it was?
+
+Now Barrington felt that he could not live without a certain allowance
+of food, nor would it be convenient, or even decent, to dispense with
+raiment; so he began, as a last resource, to conjecture that his sister
+was darkly hinting at something which might be a substitute for a home,
+and save house-rent; and he half testily exclaimed, "I suppose we 're to
+have a roof over us, Dinah!"
+
+"Yes," said she, dryly, "I never proposed we should go and live in the
+woods. What I meant had a reference, to Josephine--"
+
+Barrington's cheek flushed deeply in an instant, and, with a voice
+trembling with emotion, he said,--
+
+"If you mean, Dinah, that I'm to cut off that miserable pittance--that
+forty pounds a year--I give to poor George's girl--" He stopped, for he
+saw that in his sister's face which might have appalled a bolder heart
+than his own; for while her eyes flashed fire, her thin lips trembled
+with passion; and so, in a very faltering humility, he added: "But you
+never meant _that_ sister Dinah. You would be the very last in the world
+to do it."
+
+"Then why impute it to me; answer me that?" said she, crossing her hands
+behind her back, and staring haughtily at him.
+
+"Just because I 'm clean at my wits' end,--just because I neither
+understand one word I hear, or what I say in reply. If you 'll just tell
+me what it is you propose, I 'll do my best, with God's blessing,
+to follow you; but don't ask me for advice, Dinah, and don't fly out
+because I 'm not as quick-witted and as clever as yourself."
+
+There was something almost so abject in his misery that she seemed
+touched by it, and, in a voice of a very calm and kindly meaning, she
+said,--
+
+"I have been thinking a good deal over that letter of Josephine's; she
+says she wants our consent to take the veil as a nun; that, by the rules
+of the order, when her novitiate is concluded, she must go into the
+world for at least some months,--a time meant to test her faithfulness
+to her vows, and the tranquillity with which she can renounce forever
+all the joys and attractions of life. We, it is true, have no means of
+surrounding her with such temptations; but we might try and supply their
+place by some less brilliant but not less attractive ones. We might
+offer her, what we ought to have offered her years ago,--a home! What do
+you say to this, Peter?"
+
+"That I love you for it, sister Dinah, with all my heart," said he,
+kissing her on each cheek; "that it makes me happier than I knew I ever
+was to be again."
+
+"Of course, to bring Josephine here, this must not be an inn, Peter."
+
+"Certainly not, Dinah,--certainly not. But I can think of nothing but
+the joy of seeing her,--poor George's child I How I have yearned to know
+if she was like him,--if she had any of his ways, any traits of that
+quaint, dry humor he had, and, above all, of that disposition that made
+him so loved by every one."
+
+"And cheated by every one too, brother Peter; don't forget that!"
+
+"Who wants to think of it now?" said he, sorrowfully.
+
+"I never reject a thought because it has unpleasant associations. It
+would be but a sorry asylum which only admitted the well-to-do and the
+happy."
+
+"How are we to get the dear child here, Dinah? Let us consider the
+matter. It is a long journey off."
+
+"I have thought of that too," said she, sententiously, "but not made up
+my mind."
+
+"Let us ask M'Cormick about it, Dinah; he's coming up this evening
+to play his Saturday night's rubber with Dill. He knows the Continent
+well."
+
+"There will be another saving that I did n't remember, Peter. The weekly
+bottle of whiskey, and the candles, not to speak of the four or five
+shillings your pleasant companions invariably carry away with them,--all
+may be very advantageously dispensed with."
+
+"When Josephine 's here, I 'll not miss it," said he, good-humoredly.
+Then suddenly remembering that his sister might not deem the speech
+a gracious one to herself, he was about to add something; but she was
+gone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. OUR NEXT NEIGHBORS
+
+Should there be amongst my readers any one whose fortune it has been
+in life only to associate with the amiable, the interesting, and the
+agreeable, all whose experiences of mankind are rose-tinted, to him I
+would say, Skip over two people I am now about to introduce, and take
+up my story at some later stage, for I desire to be truthful, and, as is
+the misfortune of people in my situation, I may be very disagreeable.
+
+After all, I may have made more excuses than were needful. The persons
+I would present are in that large category, the commonplace, and only as
+uninviting and as tiresome as we may any day meet in a second-class on
+the railroad. Flourish, therefore, penny trumpets, and announce Major
+M'Cormick. The Major, so confidently referred to by Barrington
+in our last chapter as a high authority on matters continental, was a
+very shattered remnant of the unhappy Walcheren expedition. He was a
+small, mean-looking, narrow-faced man, with a thin, bald head, and red
+whiskers. He walked very lame from an injury to his hip; "his wound,"
+he called it, though his candor did not explain that it was incurred by
+being thrown down a hatchway by a brother officer in a drunken brawl.
+In character he was a saving, penurious creature, without one single
+sympathy outside his own immediate interests. When some sixteen or
+eighteen years before the Barringtons had settled in the neighborhood,
+the Major began to entertain thoughts of matrimony. Old soldiers are
+rather given to consider marriage as an institution especially intended
+to solace age and console rheumatism, and so M'Cormick debated with
+himself whether he had not arrived at the suitable time for this
+indulgence, and also whether Miss Dinah Barrington was not the
+individual destined to share his lot and season his gruel.
+
+But a few years back and his ambition would as soon have aspired to an
+archduchess as to the sister of Barrington, of Barrington Hall, whose
+realms of social distinction separated them; but now, fallen from their
+high estate, forgotten by the world, and poor, they had come down--at
+least, he thought so--to a level in which there would be no presumption
+in his pretensions. Indeed, I half suspect that he thought there was
+something very high-minded and generous in his intentions with regard to
+them. At all events, there was a struggle of some sort in his mind which
+went on from year to year undecided. Now, there are men--for the most
+part old bachelors--to whom an unfinished project is a positive luxury,
+who like to add, day by day, a few threads to the web of fate, but no
+more. To the Major it was quite enough that "some fine day or other"--so
+he phrased it--he 'd make his offer, just as he thought how, in the same
+propitious weather, he 'd put a new roof on his cottage, and fill up
+that quarry-hole near his gate, into which he had narrowly escaped
+tumbling some half-dozen times. But thanks to his caution and
+procrastination, the roof, and the project, and the quarry-hole were
+exactly, or very nearly, in the same state they had been eighteen years
+before.
+
+Rumor said--as rumor will always say whatever has a tinge of ill-nature
+in it--that Miss Barrington would have accepted him; vulgar report
+declared that she would "jump at the offer." Whether this be, or not,
+the appropriate way of receiving a matrimonial proposal, the lady was
+not called upon to display her activity. He never told his love.
+
+It is very hard to forgive that secretary, home or foreign, who in the
+day of his power and patronage could, but did not, make us easy for life
+with this mission or that com-missionership. It is not easy to believe
+that our uncle the bishop could not, without any undue strain upon his
+conscience, have made us something, albeit a clerical error, in his
+diocese, but infinitely more difficult is it to pardon him who, having
+suggested dreams of wedded happiness, still stands hesitating, doubting,
+and canvassing,--a timid bather, who shivers on the beach, and then puts
+on his clothes again.
+
+It took a long time--it always does in such cases--ere Miss Barrington
+came to read this man aright. Indeed, the light of her own hopes had
+dazzled her, and she never saw him clearly till they were extinguished;
+but when the knowledge did come, it came trebled with compound interest,
+and she saw him in all that displayed his miserable selfishness; and
+although her brother, who found it hard to believe any one bad who had
+not been tried for a capital felony, would explain away many a meanness
+by saying, "It is just his way,--a way, and no more!" she spoke out
+fearlessly, if not very discreetly, and declared she detested him. Of
+course she averred it was his manners, his want of breeding, and
+his familiarity that displeased her. He might be an excellent
+creature,--perhaps he was; _that_ was nothing to her. All his moral
+qualities might have an interest for his friends; she was a mere
+acquaintance, and was only concerned for what related to his bearing in
+society. Then Walcheren was positively odious to her. Some little
+solace she felt at the thought that the expedition was a failure and
+inglorious; but when she listened to the fiftieth time-told tale of
+fever and ague, she would sigh, not for those who suffered, but over the
+one that escaped. It is a great blessing to men of uneventful lives and
+scant imagination when there is any one incident to which memory can
+refer unceasingly. Like some bold headland last seen at sea, it lives in
+the mind throughout the voyage. Such was this ill-starred expedition
+to the Major. It dignified his existence to himself, though his memory
+never soared above the most ordinary details and vulgar incidents. Thus
+he would maunder on for hours, telling how the ships sailed and parted
+company, and joined again; how the old "Brennus" mistook a signal and
+put back to Hull, and how the "Sarah Reeves," his own transport, was
+sent after her. Then he grew picturesque about Flushing, as first
+seen through the dull fogs of the Scheldt, with village spires peeping
+through the heavy vapor, and the strange Dutch language, with its queer
+names for the vegetables and fruit brought by the boats alongside.
+
+"You won't believe me, Miss Dinah, but, as I sit here, the peaches was
+like little melons, and the cherries as big as walnuts."
+
+"They made cherry-bounce out of them, I hope, sir," said she, with a
+scornful smile.
+
+"No, indeed, ma'am," replied he, dull to the sarcasm; "they ate them in
+a kind of sauce with roast-pig, and mighty good too!"
+
+But enough of the Major; and now a word, and only a word, for his
+companion, already alluded to by Barrington.
+
+Dr. Dill had been a poor "Dispensary Doctor" for some thirty years, with
+a small practice, and two or three grand patrons at some miles off, who
+employed him for the servants, or for the children in "mild cases," and
+who even extended to him a sort of contemptuous courtesy that serves to
+make a proud man a bear, and an humble man a sycophant.
+
+Dill was the reverse of proud, and took to the other line with much
+kindliness. To have watched him in his daily round you would have said
+that he liked being trampled on, and actually enjoyed being crushed. He
+smiled so blandly, and looked so sweetly under it all, as though it was
+a kind of moral shampooing, from which he would come out all the fresher
+and more vigorous.
+
+The world is certainly generous in its dealings with these temperaments;
+it indulges them to the top of their hearts, and gives them humiliations
+to their heart's content. Rumor--the same wicked goddess who libelled
+Miss Barrington--hinted that the doctor was not, within his own walls
+and under his own roof, the suffering angel the world saw him, and
+that he occasionally did a little trampling there on his own account.
+However, Mrs. Dill never complained; and though the children wore a
+tremulous terror and submissiveness in their looks, they were only
+suitable family traits, which all redounded to their credit, and made
+them "so like the doctor."
+
+Such were the two worthies who slowly floated along on the current
+of the river of a calm summer's evening, to visit the Barringtons. As
+usual, the talk was of their host. They discussed his character and his
+habits and his debts, and the difficulty he had in raising that little
+loan; and in close juxtaposition with this fact, as though pinned on the
+back of it, his sister's overweening pride and pretension. It had been
+the Major's threat for years that he 'd "take her down a peg one of
+these days." But either he was mercifully unwilling to perform the act,
+or that the suitable hour for it had not come; but there she remained,
+and there he left her, not taken down one inch, but loftier and
+haughtier than ever. As the boat rounded the point from which the
+cottage was visible through the trees and some of the outhouses could
+be descried, they reverted to the ruinous state everything was falling
+into. "Straw is cheap enough, anyhow," said the Major. "He might put a
+new thatch on that cow-house, and I 'm sure a brush of paint would n't
+ruin any one." Oh, my dear reader! have you not often heard--I know that
+I have--such comments as these, such reflections on the indolence or
+indifference which only needed so very little to reform, done, too,
+without trouble or difficulty, habits that could be corrected, evil ways
+reformed, and ruinous tendencies arrested, all as it were by a "rush of
+paint," or something just as uncostly?
+
+"There does n't seem to be much doing here, Dill," said M'Cormick, as
+they landed. "All the boats are drawn up ashore. And faith! I don't
+wonder, that old woman is enough to frighten the fish out of the river."
+
+"Strangers do not always like that sort of thing," modestly remarked the
+doctor,--the "always" being peculiarly marked for emphasis. "Some will
+say, an inn should be an inn."
+
+"That's my view of it. What I say is this: I want my bit of fish, and
+my beefsteak, and my pint of wine, and I don't want to know that the
+landlord's grandfather entertained the king, or that his aunt was a
+lady-in-waiting. 'Be' as high as you like,' says I, 'but don't make
+the bill so,'--eh, Dill?" And he cackled the harsh ungenial laugh which
+seems the birthright of all sorry jesters; and the doctor gave a little
+laugh too, more from habit, however, than enjoyment.
+
+"Do you know, Dill," said the Major, disengaging himself from the arm
+which his lameness compelled him to lean on, and standing still in the
+pathway,--"do you know that I never reach thus far without having a sort
+of struggle with myself whether I won't turn back and go home again. Can
+you explain that, now?"
+
+"It is the wound, perhaps, pains you, coming up the hill."
+
+"It is not the wound. It's that woman!"
+
+"Miss Barrington?"
+
+"Just so. I have her before me now, sitting up behind the urn there, and
+saying, 'Have you had tea, Major M'Cormick?' when she knows well she did
+n't give it to me. Don't you feel that going up to the table for your
+cup is for all the world like doing homage?"
+
+"Her manners are cold,--certainly cold."
+
+"I wish they were. It's the fire that's in her I 'm afraid of! She has as
+wicked an eye in her head as ever I saw."
+
+"She was greatly admired once, I 'm told; and she has many remains of
+beauty."
+
+"Oh! for the matter of looks, there's worse. It's her nature, her
+temper,--herself, in fact, I can't endure."
+
+"What is it you can't endure, M'Cormick?" cried Barrington, emerging
+from a side walk where he had just caught the last words. "If it be
+anything in this poor place of mine, let me hear, that I may have it
+amended."
+
+"How are ye,--how are ye?" said the Major, with a very confused manner.
+"I was talking politics with Dill. I was telling him how I hated _them_
+Tories."
+
+"I believe they are all pretty much alike," said Barring-ton; "at least,
+I knew they were in my day. And though we used to abuse him, and drink
+all kind of misfortunes to him every day of our lives, there was n't a
+truer gentleman nor a finer fellow in Ireland than Lord Castlereagh."
+
+"I'm sure of it. I've often heard the same remark," chimed in Dill.
+
+"It's a pity you didn't think so at the time of the Union," said
+M'Cormick, with a sneer.
+
+"Many of us did; but it would not make us sell our country. But what
+need is there of going back to those times, and things that can't be
+helped now? Come in and have a cup of tea. I see my sister is waiting
+for us."
+
+Why was it that Miss Barrington, on that evening, was grander and
+statelier than ever? Was it some anticipation of the meditated change in
+their station had impressed her manner with more of pride? I know
+not; but true it is she received her visitors with a reserve that was
+actually chilling. To no end did Barrington exert himself to conceal or
+counteract this frigidity. In all our moral chemistry we have never yet
+hit upon an antidote to a chilling reception.
+
+[Illustration: 046]
+
+The doctor was used to this freezing process, and did not suffer
+like his companion. To him, life was a huge ice-pail; but he defied
+frost-bite, and bore it. The Major, however chafed and fidgeted under
+the treatment, and muttered to himself very vengeful sentiments about
+that peg he had determined to take her down from.
+
+"I was hoping to be able to offer you a nosegay, dear lady," said
+Dill,--this was his customary mode of address to her, an ingenious
+blending of affection with deference, but in which the stronger accent
+on the last word showed the deference to predominate,--"but the rain has
+come so late, there's not a stock in the garden fit to present to you."
+
+"It is just as well, sir. I detest gillyflowers."
+
+The Major's eyes sparkled with a spiteful delight, for he was sorely
+jealous of the doctor's ease under difficulties.
+
+"We have, indeed, a few moss-roses."
+
+"None to be compared to our own, sir. Do not think of it."
+
+The Major felt that his was not a giving disposition, and consequently
+it exempted him from rubs and rebuffs of this sort. Meanwhile, unabashed
+by failure, the doctor essayed once more: "Mrs. Dill is only waiting to
+have the car mended, to come over and pay her dutiful respects to you,
+Miss Dinah."
+
+"Pray tell her not to mind it, Dr. Dill," replied she, sharply, "or to
+wait till the fourth of next month, which will make it exactly a year
+since her last visit; and her call can be then an annual one, like the
+tax-gatherer's."
+
+"Bother them for taxes altogether," chimed in Barrington, whose ear
+only caught the last word. "You haven't done with the county cess when
+there's a fellow at you for tithes; and they're talking of a poor-rate."
+
+"You may perceive, Dr. Dill, that your medicines have not achieved a
+great success against my brother's deafness."
+
+"We were all so at Walcheren," broke in M'Cormick; "when we 'd come out
+of the trenches, we could n't hear for hours."
+
+"My voice may be a shrill one, Major M'Cormick, but I'll have you to
+believe that it has not destroyed my brother's tympanum."
+
+"It's not the tympanum is engaged, dear lady; it's the Eustachian tube
+is the cause here. There's a passage leads down from the internal ear--"
+
+"I declare, sir, I have just as little taste for anatomy as for
+fortification; and though I sincerely wish you could cure my brother, as
+I also wish these gentlemen could have taken Walcheren, I have not the
+slightest desire to know how."
+
+"I 'll beg a little more tea in this, ma'am," said the Major, holding
+out his cup.
+
+"Do you mean water, sir? Did you say it was too strong?"
+
+"With your leave, I 'll take it a trifle stronger," said he, with a
+malicious twinkle in his eye, for he knew all the offence his speech
+implied.
+
+"I'm glad to hear you say so, Major M'Cormick. I'm happy to know that
+your nerves are stronger than at the time of that expedition you quote
+with such pleasure. Is yours to your liking, sir?"
+
+"I 'll ask for some water, dear lady," broke in Dill, who began to think
+that the fire was hotter than usual. "As I said to Mrs. Dill, 'Molly,'
+says I, 'how is it that I never drink such tea anywhere as at the--'" He
+stopped, for he was going to say, the Harringtons', and he trembled at
+the liberty; and he dared not say the Fisherman's Home, lest it should
+be thought he was recalling their occupation; and so, after a pause
+and a cough, he stammered out--"'at the sweet cottage.'" Nor was his
+confusion the less at perceiving how she had appreciated his difficulty,
+and was smiling at it.
+
+"Very few strangers in these parts lately, I believe," said M'Cormick,
+who knew that his remark was a dangerous one.
+
+"I fancy none, sir," said she, calmly. "We, at least, have no customers,
+if that be the name for them."
+
+"It's natural, indeed, dear lady, you shouldn't know how they are
+called," began the doctor, in a fawning tone, "reared and brought up as
+you were."
+
+The cold, steady stare of Miss Barrington arrested his speech; and
+though he made immense efforts to recover himself, there was that in her
+look which totally overcame him. "Sit down to your rubber, sir," said
+she, in a whisper that seemed to thrill through his veins. "You will
+find yourself far more at home at the odd trick there, than attempting
+to console me about my lost honors." And with this fierce admonition,
+she gave a little nod, half in adieu, half in admonition, and swept
+haughtily out of the room.
+
+M'Cormick heaved a sigh as the door closed after her, which very plainly
+bespoke how much he felt the relief.
+
+"My poor sister is a bit out of spirits this evening," said Barrington,
+who merely saw a certain show of constraint over his company, and never
+guessed the cause. "We've had some unpleasant letters, and one thing
+or another to annoy us, and if she does n't join us at supper, you 'll
+excuse her, I know, M'Cormick."
+
+"That we will, with--" He was going to add, "with a heart and a half,"
+for he felt, what to him was a rare sentiment, "gratitude;" but Dill
+chimed in,--
+
+"Of course, we couldn't expect she'd appear. I remarked she was nervous
+when we came in. I saw an expression in her eye--"
+
+"So did I, faith," muttered M'Cormick, "and I'm not a doctor."
+
+"And here's our whist-table," said Barrington, bustling about; "and
+there 's a bit of supper ready there for us in that room, and we 'll
+help ourselves, for I 've sent Darby to bed. And now give me a hand with
+these cards, for they 've all got mixed together."
+
+Barrington's task was the very wearisome one of trying to sort out an
+available pack from some half-dozen of various sizes and colors.
+
+"Is n't this for all the world like raising a regiment out of twenty
+volunteer corps?" said M'Cormick.
+
+"Dill would call it an hospital of incurables," said Barrington. "Have
+you got a knave of spades and a seven? Oh dear, dear! the knave, with
+the head off him! I begin to suspect we must look up a new pack."
+There was a tone of misgiving in the way he said this; for it implied a
+reference to his sister, and all its consequences. Affecting to search
+for new cards in his own room, therefore, he arose and went out.
+
+"I wouldn't live in a slavery like that," muttered the Major, "to be
+King of France."
+
+"Something has occurred here. There is some latent source of
+irritation," said Dill, cautiously. "Barrington's own manner is fidgety
+and uneasy. I have my suspicion matters are going on but poorly with
+them."
+
+While this sage diagnosis was being uttered, M'Cormick had taken a short
+excursion into the adjoining room, from which he returned, eating a
+pickled onion. "It's the old story; the cold roast loin and the dish of
+salad. Listen! Did you hear that shout?"
+
+"I thought I heard one awhile back; but I fancied afterwards it was only
+the noise of the river over the stones."
+
+"It is some fellows drawing the river; they poach under his very
+windows, and he never sees them."
+
+"I 'm afraid we 're not to have our rubber this evening," said Dill,
+mournfully.
+
+"There's a thing, now, I don't understand!" said M'Cormick, in a low but
+bitter voice. "No man is obliged to see company, but when he does do
+it, he oughtn't to be running about for a tumbler here and a mustard-pot
+there. There's the noise again; it's fellows robbing the salmon-weir!"
+
+"No rubber to-night, I perceive that," reiterated the doctor, still
+intent upon the one theme.
+
+"A thousand pardons I ask from each of you," cried Barrington, coming
+hurriedly in, with a somewhat flushed face; "but I 've had such a hunt
+for these cards. When I put a thing away nowadays, it's as good as gone
+to me, for I remember nothing. But here we are, now, all right."
+
+The party, like men eager to retrieve lost time, were soon deep in their
+game, very little being uttered, save such remarks as the contest called
+for. The Major was of that order of players who firmly believe fortune
+will desert them if they don't whine and complain of their luck, and so
+everything from him was a lamentation. The doctor, who regarded whist
+pathologically, no more gave up a game than he would a patient. He had
+witnessed marvellous recoveries in the most hopeless cases, and he had
+been rescued by a "revoke" in the last hour. Unlike each, Barrington was
+one who liked to chat over his game, as he would over his wine. Not that
+he took little interest in it, but it had no power to absorb and engross
+him. If a man derive very great pleasure from a pastime in which, after
+years and years of practice, he can attain no eminence nor any mastery,
+you may be almost certain he is one of an amiable temperament Nothing
+short of real goodness of nature could go on deriving enjoyment from a
+pursuit associated with continual defeats. Such a one must be hopeful,
+he must be submissive, he must have no touch of ungenerous jealousy in
+his nature, and, withal, a zealous wish to do better. Now he who can be
+all these, in anything, is no bad fellow.
+
+If Barrington, therefore, was beaten, he bore it well. Cards were often
+enough against him, his play was always so; and though the doctor had
+words of bland consolation for disaster, such as the habits of his craft
+taught him, the Major was a pitiless adversary, who never omitted the
+opportunity of disinterring all his opponents' blunders, and singing a
+song of triumph over them. But so it is,--_tot genera hominum_,--so many
+kinds of whist-players are there!
+
+Hour after hour went over, and it was late in the night. None felt
+disposed to sup; at least, none proposed it. The stakes were small,
+it is true, but small things are great to little men, and Barrington's
+guests were always the winners.
+
+"I believe if I was to be a good player,--which I know in my heart I
+never shall," said Barrington,--"that my luck would swamp me, after all.
+Look at that hand now, and say is there a trick in it?" As he said
+this, he spread out the cards of his "dummy" on the table, with the
+dis-consolation of one thoroughly beaten.
+
+"Well, it might be worse," said Dill, consolingly. "There's a queen of
+diamonds; and I would n't say, if you could get an opportunity to trump
+the club--"
+
+"Let him try it," broke in the merciless Major; "let him just try it! My
+name isn't Dan M'Cormick if he'll win one card in that hand. There, now,
+I lead the ace of clubs. Play!"
+
+"Patience, Major, patience; let me look over my hand. I 'm bad enough at
+the best, but I 'll be worse if you hurry me. Is that a king or a knave
+I see there?"
+
+"It's neither; it 's the queen!" barked out the Major.
+
+"Doctor, you 'll have to look after my eyes as well as my ears. Indeed,
+I scarcely know which is the worst. Was not that a voice outside?"
+
+[Illustration: 052]
+
+"I should think it was; there have been fellows shouting there the whole
+evening. I suspect they don't leave you many fish in this part of the
+river."
+
+"I beg your pardon," interposed Dill, blandly, "but you 've taken up my
+card by mistake."
+
+While Barrington was excusing himself, and trying to recover his lost
+clew to the game, there came a violent knocking at the door, and a loud
+voice called out, "Holloa! Will some of ye open the door, or must I put
+my foot through it?"
+
+"There _is_ somebody there," said Barrington, quietly, for he had now
+caught the words correctly; and taking a candle, he hastened out.
+
+[Illustration: 052]
+
+"At last," cried a stranger, as the door opened,--"at last! Do you know
+that we've been full twenty minutes here, listening to your animated
+discussion over the odd trick?--I fainting with hunger, and my friend
+with pain." And so saying, he assisted another to limp forward, who
+leaned on his arm and moved with the greatest difficulty.
+
+The mere sight of one in suffering repressed any notion of a rejoinder
+to his somewhat rude speech, and Barrington led the way into the room.
+
+"Have you met with an accident?" asked he, as he placed the sufferer on
+a sofa.
+
+"Yes," interposed the first speaker; "he slipped down one of those rocks
+into the river, and has sprained, if he has not broken, something."
+
+"It is our good fortune to have advice here; this gentleman is a
+doctor."
+
+"Of the Royal College, and an M.D. of Aberdeen, besides," said Dill,
+with a professional smile, while, turning back his cuffs, he proceeded
+to remove the shoe and stocking of his patient.
+
+"Don't be afraid of hurting, but just tell me at once what's the
+matter," said the young fellow, down whose cheeks great drops were
+rolling in his agony.
+
+"There is no pronouncing at once; there is great tumefaction here. It
+may be a mere sprain, or it may be a fracture of the fibula simple, or a
+fracture with luxation."
+
+"Well, if you can't tell the injury, tell us what's to be done for it.
+Get him to bed, I suppose, first?" said the friend.
+
+"By all means, to bed, and cold applications on the affected part."
+
+"Here's a room all ready, and at hand," said Barrington, opening the
+door into a little chamber replete with comfort and propriety.
+
+"Come," said the first speaker, "Fred, all this is very snug; one might
+have fallen upon worse quarters." And so saying, he assisted his friend
+forward, and deposited him upon the bed.
+
+While the doctor busied himself with the medical cares for his patient,
+and arranged with due skill the appliances to relieve his present
+suffering, the other stranger related how they had lost their way,
+having first of all taken the wrong bank of the river, and been obliged
+to retrace their steps upwards of three miles to retrieve their mistake.
+
+"Where were you going to?" asked Barringtou.
+
+"We were in search of a little inn they had told us of, called the
+'Fisherman's Home.' I conclude we have reached it at last, and you are
+the host, I take it?"
+
+Barrington bowed assent.
+
+"And these gentlemen are visitors here?" But without waiting for any
+reply,--difficult at all times, for he spoke with great rapidity and
+continual change of topic,--he now stooped down to whisper something to
+the sick man. "My friend thinks he'll do capitally now, and, if we leave
+him, that he'll soon drop asleep; so I vote we give him the chance."
+Thus saying, he made a gesture for the others to leave, following them
+up as they went, almost like one enforcing an order.
+
+"If I am correct in my reading, you are a soldier, sir," said
+Barrington, when they reached the outer room, "and this gentleman here
+is a brother officer,--Major M'Cor-mick."
+
+"Full pay, eh?"
+
+"No, I am an old Walcheren man."
+
+"Walcheren--Walcheren--why, that sounds like Malplaquet or Blenheim!
+Where the deuce was Walcheren? Did n't believe that there was an old
+tumbril of that affair to the fore still. You were all licked there, or
+you died of the ague, or jaundice? Oh, dummy whist, as I live! Who's the
+unlucky dog has got the dummy?--bad as Walcheren, by Jove! Is n't that a
+supper I see laid out there? Don't I smell Stilton from that room?"
+
+"If you 'll do us the honor to join us--"
+
+"That I will, and astonish you with an appetite too! We breakfasted at
+a beastly hole called Graigue, and tasted nothing since, except a few
+peaches I stole out of an old fellow's garden on the riverside,--'Old
+Dan the miser,' a country fellow called him."
+
+"I have the honor to have afforded you the entertainment you speak of,"
+said M'Cormick, smarting with anger.
+
+"All right! The peaches were excellent,--would have been better if
+riper. I 'm afraid I smashed a window of yours; it was a stone I shied
+at a confounded dog,--a sort of terrier. Pickled onions and walnuts, by
+all that 's civilized! And so this is the 'Fisherman's Home,' and you
+the fisherman, eh? Well, why not show a light or a lantern over the
+door? Who the deuce is to know that this is a place of entertainment? We
+only guessed it at last."
+
+"May I help you to some mutton?" said Barrington, more amused than put
+out by his guest's discursiveness.
+
+"By all means. But don't carve it that way; cut it lengthwise, as if it
+were the saddle, which it ought to have been. You must tell me where
+you got this sherry. I have tasted nothing like it for many a day,--real
+brown sherry. I suppose you know how they brown it? It's not done by
+sugar,--that's a vulgar error. It's done by boiling; they boil down so
+many butts and reduce them to about a fourth or a fifth. You haven't got
+any currant-jelly, have you? it is just as good with cold mutton as hot.
+And then it is the wine thus reduced they use for coloring matter. I got
+up all my sherry experiences on the spot."
+
+"The wine you approve of has been in my cellar about five-and-forty
+years."
+
+"It would not if I 'd have been your neighbor, rely upon that. I'd have
+secured every bottle of it for our mess; and mind, whatever remains of
+it is mine."
+
+"Might I make bold to remark," said Dill, interposing, "that we are the
+guests of my friend here on this occasion?"
+
+"Eh, what,--guests?"
+
+"I am proud enough to believe that you will not refuse me the honor of
+your company; for though an innkeeper, I write myself gentleman," said
+Barrington, blandly, though not without emotion.
+
+"I should think you might," broke in the stranger, heartily; "and I'd
+say the man who had a doubt about your claims had very little of his
+own. And now a word of apology for the mode of our entrance here, and to
+introduce myself. I am Colonel Hunter, of the 21st Hussars; my friend is
+a young subaltern of the regiment."
+
+A moment before, and all the awkwardness of his position was painful
+to Barrington. He felt that the traveller was there by a right, free
+to order, condemn, and criticise as he pleased. The few words of
+explanation, given in all the frankness of a soldier, and with the tact
+of a gentleman, relieved this embarrassment, and he was himself again.
+As for M'Cormick and Dill, the mere announcement of the regiment he
+commanded seemed to move and impress them. It was one of those corps
+especially known in the service for the rank and fortune of its
+officers. The Prince himself was their colonel, and they had acquired
+a wide notoriety for exclusiveness and pride, which, when treated by
+unfriendly critics, assumed a shape less favorable still.
+
+Colonel Hunter, if he were to be taken as a type of his regiment, might
+have rebutted a good deal of this floating criticism; he had a fine
+honest countenance, a rich mellow voice, and a sort of easy jollity in
+manner, that spoke well both for his spirits and his temper. He did, it
+is true, occasionally chafe against some susceptible spot or other of
+those around him, but there was no malice prepense in it, any more than
+there is intentional offence in the passage of a strong man through a
+crowd; so he elbowed his way, and pushed on in conversation, never so
+much as suspecting that he jostled any one in his path.
+
+Both Barrington and Hunter were inveterate sportsmen, and they ranged
+over hunting-fields and grouse mountains and partridge stubble and trout
+streams with all the zest of men who feel a sort of mesmeric brotherhood
+in the interchange of their experiences. Long after the Major and the
+doctor had taken their leave, they sat there recounting stories of their
+several adventures, and recalling incidents of flood and field.
+
+In return for a cordial invitation to Hunter to stay and fish the river
+for some days, Barrington pledged himself to visit the Colonel the first
+time he should go up to Kilkenny.
+
+"And I 'll mount you. You shall have a horse I never lent in my life. I
+'ll put you on Trumpeter,--sire Sir Hercules,--no mistake there; would
+carry sixteen stone with the fastest hounds in England."
+
+Barrington shook his head, and smiled, as he said, "It's two-and-twenty
+years since I sat a fence. I 'm afraid I 'll not revive the fame of my
+horsemanship by appearing again in the saddle."
+
+"Why, what age do you call yourself?"
+
+"Eighty-three, if I live to August next."
+
+"I 'd not have guessed you within ten years of it. I 've just passed
+fifty, and already I begin to look for a horse with more bone beneath
+the knee, and more substance across the loins."
+
+"These are only premonitory symptoms, after all," said Barrington,
+laughing. "You've many a day before you come to a fourteen-hand cob and
+a kitchen chair to mount him."
+
+Hunter laughed at the picture, and dashed away, in his own half-reckless
+way, to other topics. He talked of his regiment proudly, and told
+Barrington what a splendid set of young fellows were his officers. "I
+'ll show you such a mess," said he, "as no corps in the service can
+match." While he talked of their high-hearted and generous natures,
+and with enthusiasm of the life of a soldier, Barrington could scarcely
+refrain from speaking of his own "boy," the son from whom he had hoped
+so much, and whose loss had been the death-blow to all his ambitions.
+There were, however, circumstances in that story which sealed his lips;
+and though the father never believed one syllable of the allegations
+against his son, though he had paid the penalty of a King's Bench
+mandamus and imprisonment for horsewhipping the editor who had aspersed
+his "boy," the world and the world's verdict were against him, and
+he did not dare to revive the memory of a name against which all the
+severities of the press had been directed, and public opinion had
+condemned with all its weight and power.
+
+"I see that I am wearying you," said Hunter, as he remarked the grave
+and saddened expression that now stole over Barrington's face. "I ought
+to have remembered what an hour it was,--more than half-past two." And
+without waiting to hear a reply, he shook his host's hand cordially and
+hurried off to his room.
+
+While Barrington busied himself in locking up the wine, and putting
+away half-finished decanters,--cares that his sister's watchfulness very
+imperatively exacted,--he heard, or fancied he heard, a voice from the
+room where the sick man lay. He opened the door very gently and looked
+in.
+
+"All right," said the youth. "I 'm not asleep, nor did I want to sleep,
+for I have been listening to you and the Colonel these two hours,
+and with rare pleasure, I can tell you. The Colonel would have gone a
+hundred miles to meet a man like yourself, so fond of the field and such
+a thorough sportsman."
+
+"Yes, I was so once," sighed Barrington, for already had come a sort of
+reaction to the late excitement.
+
+"Isn't the Colonel a fine fellow?" said the young man, as eager to
+relieve the awkwardness of a sad theme as to praise one he loved. "Don't
+you like him?"
+
+"That I do!" said Barrington, heartily. "His fine genial spirit has put
+me in better temper with myself than I fancied was in my nature to be.
+We are to have some trout-fishing together, and I promise you it sha'n't
+be my fault if _he_ doesn't like _me_."
+
+"And may I be of the party?--may I go with you?"
+
+"Only get well of your accident, and you shall do whatever you like. By
+the way, did not Colonel Hunter serve in India?"
+
+"For fifteen years. He has only left Bengal within a few months."
+
+"Then he can probably help me to some information. He may be able to
+tell me--Good-night, good-night," said he, hurriedly; "to-morrow will be
+time enough to think of this."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. FRED CONYERS
+
+Very soon after daybreak the Colonel was up and at the bedside of his
+young friend.
+
+"Sorry to wake you, Fred," said he, gently; "but I have just got an
+urgent despatch, requiring me to set out at once for Dublin, and I did
+n't like to go without asking how you get on."
+
+"Oh, much better, sir. I can move the foot a little, and I feel assured
+it 's only a severe sprain." #
+
+"That's all right. Take your own time, and don't attempt to move about
+too early. You are in capital quarters here, and will be well looked
+after. There is only one difficulty, and I don't exactly see how to deal
+with it. Our host is a reduced gentleman, brought down to keep an inn
+for support, but what benefit he can derive from it is not so very
+clear; for when I asked the man who fetched me hot water this morning
+for my bill, he replied that his master told him I was to be his guest
+here for a week, and not on any account to accept money from me. Ireland
+is a very strange place, and we are learning something new in it every
+day; but this is the strangest thing I have met yet."
+
+"In _my_ case this would be impossible. I must of necessity give a deal
+of trouble,--not to say that it would add unspeakably to my annoyance to
+feel that I could not ask freely for what I wanted."
+
+"I have no reason to suppose, mind you, that you are to be dealt with
+as I have been, but it would be well to bear in mind who and what these
+people are."
+
+"And get away from them as soon as possible," added the young fellow,
+half peevishly.
+
+"Nay, nay, Fred; don't be impatient. You'll be delighted with the old
+fellow, who is a heart-and-soul sportsman. What station he once occupied
+I can't guess; but in the remarks he makes about horses and hounds,
+all his knowing hints on stable management and the treatment of young
+cattle, one would say that he must have had a large fortune and kept a
+large establishment."
+
+In the half self-sufficient toss of the head which received this speech,
+it was plain that the young man thought his Colonel was easily imposed
+on, and that such pretensions as these would have very little success
+with _him_.
+
+"I have no doubt some of your brother officers will take a run down to
+see how you get on, and, if so, I 'll send over a hamper of wine, or
+something of the kind, that you can manage to make him accept."
+
+"It will not be very difficult, I opine," said the young man,
+laughingly.
+
+"No, no," rejoined the other, misconstruing the drift of his words. "You
+have plenty of tact, Fred. You 'll do the thing with all due delicacy.
+And now, good-bye. Let me hear how you fare here." And with a hearty
+farewell they parted.
+
+There was none astir in the cottage but Darby as the Colonel set out
+to gain the high-road, where the post-horses awaited him. From Darby,
+however, as he went along, he gathered much of his host's former
+history. It was with astonishment he learned that the splendid house of
+Barring-ton Hall, where he had been dining with an earl a few days ago,
+was the old family seat of that poor innkeeper; that the noble deer-park
+had once acknowledged him for master. "And will again, plase God!" burst
+in Darby, who thirsted for an opportunity to launch out into law, and
+all its bright hopes and prospects.
+
+"We have a record on trial in Trinity Term, and an argument before the
+twelve Judges, and the case is as plain as the nose on your honor's
+face; for it was ruled by Chief Baron Medge, in the great cause of
+'Peter against Todd, a widow,' that a settlement couldn't be broke by an
+estreat."
+
+"You are quite a lawyer, I see," said the Colonel.
+
+"I wish I was. I 'd rather be a judge on the bench than a king on his
+throne."
+
+"And yet I am beginning to suspect law may have cost your master
+dearly."
+
+"It is not ten, or twenty--no, nor thirty--thousand pounds would see
+him through it!" said Darby, with a triumph in his tone that seemed
+to proclaim a very proud declaration. "There 's families would be
+comfortable for life with just what we spent upon special juries."
+
+"Well, as you tell me he has no family, the injury has been all his
+own."
+
+"That's true. We're the last of the ould stock," said he, sorrowfully;
+and little more passed between them, till the Colonel, on parting, put a
+couple of guineas in his hand, and enjoined him to look after the young
+friend he had left behind him.
+
+It is now my task to introduce this young gentleman to my readers.
+Frederick Conyers, a cornet in his Majesty's Hussars, was the only son
+of a very distinguished officer, Lieutenant-General Conyers, a man
+who had not alone served with great reputation in the field, but held
+offices of high political trust in India, the country where all his life
+had been passed. Holding a high station as a political resident at a
+native court, wielding great power, and surrounded by an undeviating
+homage, General Conyers saw his son growing up to manhood with
+everything that could foster pride and minister to self-exaltation
+around him. It was not alone the languor and indolence of an Eastern
+life that he had to dread for him, but the haughty temper and
+overbearing spirit so sure to come out of habits of domination in very
+early life.
+
+Though he had done all that he could to educate his son, by masters
+brought at immense cost from Europe, the really important element of
+education,--the self-control and respect for other's rights,--only to
+be acquired by daily life and intercourse with equals, this he could not
+supply; and he saw, at last, that the project he had so long indulged,
+of keeping his son with him, must be abandoned. Perhaps the rough speech
+of an old comrade helped to dispel the illusion, as he asked, "Are you
+bringing up that boy to be a Rajah?" His first thought was to send him
+to one of the Universities, his great desire being that the young man
+should feel some ambition for public life and its distinctions. He
+bethought him, however, that while the youth of Oxford and Cambridge
+enter upon a college career, trained by all the discipline of our public
+schools, Fred would approach the ordeal without any such preparation
+whatever. Without one to exert authority over him, little accustomed to
+the exercise of self-restraint, the experiment was too perilous.
+
+To place him, therefore, where, from the very nature of his position,
+some guidance and control would be exercised, and where by the
+working of that model democracy--a mess--he would be taught to repress
+self-sufficiency and presumption, he determined on the army, and
+obtained a cornetcy in a regiment commanded by one who had long served
+on his own staff. To most young fellows such an opening in life would
+have seemed all that was delightful and enjoyable. To be just twenty,
+gazetted to a splendid cavalry corps, with a father rich enough and
+generous enough to say, "Live like the men about you, and don't be
+afraid that your checks will come back to you," these are great aids
+to a very pleasant existence. Whether the enervation of that life of
+Oriental indulgence had now become a nature to him, or whether he had no
+liking for the service itself, or whether the change from a condition of
+almost princely state to a position of mere equality with others, chafed
+and irritated him, but so is it, he did not "take to" the regiment, nor
+the regiment to him.
+
+Now it is a fact, and not a very agreeable fact either, that a man with
+a mass of noble qualities may fail to attract the kindliness and good
+feeling towards him which a far less worthy individual, merely by
+certain traits, or by the semblance of them, of a yielding, passive
+nature is almost sure to acquire.
+
+Conyers was generous, courageous, and loyal, in the most chivalrous
+sense of that word, to every obligation of friendship. He was eminently
+truthful and honorable; but he had two qualities whose baneful influence
+would disparage the very best of gifts. He was "imperious," and, in
+the phrase of his brother officers, "he never gave in." Some absurd
+impression had been made on him, as a child, that obstinacy and
+persistency were the noblest of attributes, and that, having said a
+thing, no event or circumstance could ever occur to induce a change of
+opinion.
+
+Such a quality is singularly unfitted to youth, and marvellously out of
+place in a regiment; hence was it that the "Rajah," as he was generally
+called by his comrades, had few intimates, and not one friend amongst
+them.
+
+If I have dwelt somewhat lengthily on these traits, it is because their
+possessor is one destined to be much before us in this history. I will
+but chronicle one other feature. I am sorry it should be a disqualifying
+one. Owing in great measure, perhaps altogether, to his having
+been brought up in the East, where Hindoo craft and subtlety were
+familiarized to his mind from infancy, he was given to suspect that few
+things were ever done from the motives ascribed to them, and that under
+the open game of life was another concealed game, which was the real
+one. As yet, this dark and pernicious distrust had only gone the length
+of impressing him with a sense of his own consummate acuteness, an
+amount of self-satisfaction, which my reader may have seen tingeing the
+few words he exchanged with his Colonel before separating.
+
+Let us see him now as he sits in a great easy-chair, his sprained ankle
+resting on another, in a little honeysuckle-covered arbor of the garden,
+a table covered with books and fresh flowers beside him, while Darby
+stands ready to serve him from the breakfast-table, where a very
+tempting meal is already spread out.
+
+"So, then, I can't see your master, it seems," said Con-yers, half
+peevishly.
+
+"Faix you can't; he's ten miles off by this. He got a letter by the
+post, and set out half an hour after for Kilkenny. He went to your
+honor's door, but seeing you was asleep he would n't wake you; 'but,
+Darby,' says he, 'take care of that young gentleman, and mind,' says he,
+'that he wants for nothing.'"
+
+"Very thoughtful of _him_,--very considerate indeed," said the youth;
+but in what precise spirit it is not easy to say.
+
+"Who lives about here? What gentlemen's places are there, I mean?"
+
+"There's Lord Carrackmore, and Sir Arthur Godfrey, and Moore of
+Ballyduff, and Mrs. Powerscroft of the Grove--"
+
+"Do any of these great folks come down here?"
+
+[Illustration: 064]
+
+Darby would like to have given a ready assent,--he would have been
+charmed to say that they came daily, that they made the place a
+continual rendezvous; but as he saw no prospect of being able to give
+his fiction even twenty-four hours' currency, he merely changed from one
+leg to the other, and, in a tone of apology, said, "Betimes they does,
+when the sayson is fine."
+
+"Who are the persons who are most frequently here?"
+
+"Those two that you saw last night,--the Major and Dr. Dill. They 're
+up here every second day, fishing, and eating their dinner with the
+master."
+
+"Is the fishing good?"
+
+"The best in Ireland."
+
+"And what shooting is there,--any partridges?"
+
+"Partridges, be gorra! You could n't see the turnips for them."
+
+"And woodcocks?"
+
+"Is it woodcocks! The sky is black with the sight of them."
+
+"Any lions?"
+
+"Well, maybe an odd one now and then," said Darby, half apologizing for
+the scarcity.
+
+There was an ineffable expression of self-satisfaction in Conyers's face
+at the subtlety with which he had drawn Darby into this admission; and
+the delight in his own acuteness led him to offer the poor fellow a
+cigar, which he took with very grateful thanks.
+
+"From what you tell me, then, I shall find this place stupid enough till
+I am able to be up and about, eh? Is there any one who can play chess
+hereabout?"
+
+"Sure there's Miss Dinah; she's a great hand at it, they tell me."
+
+"And who is Miss Dinah? Is she young,--is she pretty?"
+
+Darby gave a very cautious look all around him, and then closing one
+eye, so as to give his face a look of intense cunning, he nodded very
+significantly twice.
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"I mane that she'll never see sixty; and for the matter of beauty--"
+
+"Oh, you have said quite enough; I 'm not curious about her looks. Now
+for another point. If I should want to get away from this, what other
+inn or hotel is there in the neighborhood?"
+
+"There's Joe M'Cabe's, at Inistioge; but you are better where you are.
+Where will you see fresh butter like that? and look at the cream, the
+spoon will stand in it. Far and near it's given up to her that nobody
+can make coffee like Miss Dinah; and when you taste them trout, you 'll
+tell me if they are not fit for the king."
+
+"Everything is excellent,--could not be better; but there's a
+difficulty. There's a matter which to me at least makes a stay here most
+unpleasant. My friend tells me that he could not get his bill,--that he
+was accepted as a guest. Now I can't permit this--"
+
+"There it is, now," said Darby, approaching the table, and dropping his
+voice to a confidential whisper. "That's the master's way. If he gets a
+stranger to sit down with him to dinner or supper, he may eat and drink
+as long as he plases, and sorra sixpence he'll pay; and it's that same
+ruins us, nothing else, for it's then he 'll call for the best sherry,
+and that ould Maderia that's worth a guinea a bottle. What's the use,
+after all, of me inflaming the bill of the next traveller, and putting
+down everything maybe double? And worse than all," continued he, in a
+tone of horror, "let him only hear any one complain about his bill or
+saying, 'What's this?' or 'I didn't get that,' out he'll come, as mighty
+and as grand as the Lord-Liftinint, and say, 'I 'm sorry, sir, that we
+failed to make this place agreeable to you. Will you do me the favor not
+to mind the bill at all?' and with that he'd tear it up in little bits
+and walk away."
+
+"To me that would only be additional offence. I 'd not endure it."
+
+"What could you do? You'd maybe slip a five-pound note into my hand, and
+say, 'Darby my man, settle this little matter for me; you know the ways
+of the place.'"
+
+"I 'll not risk such an annoyance, at all events; that I 'm determined
+on."
+
+Darby began now to perceive that he had misconceived his brief, and
+must alter his pleadings as quickly as possible; in fact, he saw he was
+"stopping an earth" he had meant merely to mask. "Just leave it all to
+me, your honor,--leave it all to me, and I 'll have your bill for you
+every morning on the breakfast-table. And why would n't you? Why would
+a gentleman like your honor be behouldin' to any one for his meat and
+drink?" burst he in, with an eager rapidity. "Why would n't you say,
+'Darby, bring me this, get me that, fetch me the other; expinse is no
+object in life tome'?"
+
+There was a faint twinkle of humor in the eye of Conyers, and Darby
+stopped short, and with that half-lisping simplicity which a few
+Irishmen understand to perfection, and can exercise whenever the
+occasion requires, he said: "But sure is n't your honor laughing at me,
+is n't it just making fun of me you are? All because I'm a poor ignorant
+crayture that knows no better!"
+
+"Nothing of that kind," said Conyers, frankly. "I was only smiling at
+thoughts that went through my head at the moment."
+
+"Well, faix! there's one coming up the path now won't make you laugh,"
+said Darby, as he whispered, "It's Dr. Dill."
+
+The doctor was early with his patient; if the case was not one of
+urgency, the sufferer was in a more elevated rank than usually fell to
+the chances of Dispensary practice. Then, it promised to be one of the
+nice chronic cases, in which tact and personal agreeability--the two
+great strongholds of Dr. Dill in his own estimation--were of far more
+importance than the materia medica. Now, if Dill's world was not a very
+big one, he knew it thoroughly. He was a chronicle of all the family
+incidents of the county, and could recount every disaster of every house
+for thirty miles round.
+
+When the sprain had, therefore, been duly examined, and all the pangs of
+the patient sufficiently condoled with to establish the physician as
+a man of feeling, Dill proceeded to his task as a man of the world.
+Conyers, however, abruptly stopped him, by saying, "Tell me how I'm to
+get out of this place; some other inn, I mean."
+
+"You are not comfortable here, then?" asked Dill.
+
+"In one sense, perfectly so. I like the quietness, the delightful
+tranquillity, the scenery,--everything, in short, but one circumstance.
+I 'm afraid these worthy people--whoever they are--want to regard me
+as a guest. Now I don't know them,--never saw them,--don't care to see
+them. My Colonel has a liking for all this sort of thing. It has to his
+mind a character of adventure that amuses him. It would n't in the least
+amuse me, and so I want to get away."
+
+"Yes," repeated Dill, blandly, after him, "wants to get away; desires to
+change the air."
+
+"Not at all," broke in Conyers, peevishly; "no question of air whatever.
+I don't want to be on a visit. I want an inn. What is this place they
+tell me of up the river,--Inis--something?"
+
+"Inistioge. M'Cabe's house; the 'Spotted Duck;' very small, very poor,
+far from clean, besides."
+
+"Is there nothing else? Can't you think of some other place? For I can't
+have my servant here, circumstanced as I am now."
+
+The doctor paused to reply. The medical mind is eminently ready-witted,
+and Dill at a glance took in all the dangers of removing his patient.
+Should he transfer him to his own village, the visit which now had to
+be requited as a journey of three miles and upwards, would then be an
+affair of next door. Should he send him to Thomastown, it would be worse
+again, for then he would be within the precincts of a greater than Dill
+himself,--a practitioner who had a one-horse phaeton, and whose name was
+written on brass. "Would you dislike a comfortable lodging in a private
+family,--one of the first respectability, I may make bold to call it?"
+
+"Abhor it!--couldn't endure it! I'm not essentially troublesome or
+exacting, but I like to be able to be either, whenever the humor takes
+me."
+
+"I was thinking of a house where you might freely take these
+liberties--"
+
+"Liberties! I call them rights, doctor, not liberties! Can't you imagine
+a man, not very wilful, not very capricious, but who, if the whim
+took him, would n't stand being thwarted by any habits of a so-called
+respectable family? There, don't throw up your eyes, and misunderstand
+me. All I mean is, that my hours of eating and sleeping have no rule.
+I smoke everywhere; I make as much noise as I please; and I never brook
+any impertinent curiosity about what I do, or what I leave undone."
+
+"Under all the circumstances, you had, perhaps, better remain where you
+are," said Dill, thoughtfully.
+
+"Of course, if these people will permit me to pay for my board and
+lodging. If they 'll condescend to let me be a stranger, I ask for
+nothing better than this place."
+
+"Might I offer myself as a negotiator?" said Dill, insinuatingly; "for
+I opine that the case is not of the difficulty you suppose. Will you
+confide it to my hands?"
+
+"With all my heart. I don't exactly see why there should be a
+negotiation at all; but if there must, pray be the special envoy."
+
+When Dill arose and set out on his mission, the young fellow looked
+after him with an expression that seemed to say, "How you all imagine
+you are humbugging me, while I read every one of you like a book!"
+
+Let us follow the doctor, and see how he acquitted himself in his
+diplomacy.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. DILL AS A DIPLOMATIST
+
+Dr. Dill had knocked twice at the door of Miss Barrington's little
+sitting-room, and no answer was returned to his summons.
+
+"Is the dear lady at home?" asked he, blandly. But, though he waited for
+some seconds, no reply came.
+
+"Might Dr. Dill be permitted to make his compliments?"
+
+"Yes, come in," said a sharp voice, very much with the expression of one
+wearied out by importunity. Miss Barrington gave a brief nod in return
+for the profound obeisance of her visitor, and then turned again to a
+large map which covered the table before her.
+
+"I took the opportunity of my professional call here this morning--"
+
+"How is that young man,--is anything broken?"
+
+"I incline to say there is no fracture. The flexors, and perhaps,
+indeed, the annular ligament, are the seat of all the mischief."
+
+"A common sprain, in fact; a thing to rest for one day, and hold under
+the pump the day after."
+
+"The dear lady is always prompt, always energetic; but these sort of
+cases are often complicated, and require nice management."
+
+"And frequent visits," said she, with a dry gravity.
+
+"All the world must live, dear lady,--all the world must live."
+
+"Your profession does not always sustain your theory, sir; at least,
+popular scandal says you kill as many as you cure." "I know the dear
+lady has little faith in physic."
+
+"Say none, sir, and you will be nearer the mark; but, remember, I seek
+no converts; I ask nobody to deny himself the luxuries of senna and
+gamboge because I prefer beef and mutton. You wanted to see my brother,
+I presume," added she, sharply, "but he started early this morning for
+Kilkenny. The Solicitor-General wanted to say a few words to him on his
+way down to Cork."
+
+"That weary law! that weary law!" ejaculated Dill, fervently; for he
+well knew with what little favor Miss Barrington regarded litigation.
+
+"And why so, sir?" retorted she, sharply. "What greater absurdity is
+there in being hypochondriac about your property than your person? My
+brother's taste inclines to depletion by law; others prefer the lancet."
+
+"Always witty, always smart, the dear lady," said Dill, with a sad
+attempt at a smile. The flattery passed without acknowledgment of any
+kind, and he resumed: "I dropped in this morning to you, dear lady, on a
+matter which, perhaps, might not be altogether pleasing to you."
+
+"Then don't do it, sir."
+
+"If the dear lady would let me finish--"
+
+"I was warning you, sir, not even to begin."
+
+"Yes, madam," said he, stung into something like resistance; "but I
+would have added, had I been permitted, without any due reason for
+displeasure on your part."
+
+"And are _you_ the fitting judge of that, sir? If you know, as you say
+you know, that you are about to give me pain, by what presumption do you
+assert that it must be for my benefit? What's it all about?"
+
+"I come on the part of this young gentleman, dear lady, who, having
+learned--I cannot say where or how--that he is not to consider himself
+here at an inn, but, as a guest, feels, with all the gratitude that the
+occasion warrants, that he has no claim to the attention, and that it is
+one which would render his position here too painful to persist in."
+
+"How did he come by this impression, sir? Be frank and tell me."
+
+"I am really unable to say, Miss Dinah."
+
+"Come, sir, be honest, and own that the delusion arose from
+yourself,--yes, from yourself. It was in perceiving the courteous
+delicacy with which you declined a fee that he conceived this flattering
+notion of us; but go back to him, doctor, and say it is a pure mistake;
+that his breakfast will cost him one shilling, and his dinner two; the
+price of a boat to fetch him up to Thomastown is half a crown, and that
+the earlier he orders one the better. Listen to me, sir," said she, and
+her lips trembled with passion,--"listen to me, while I speak of this
+for the first and last time. Whenever my brother, recurring to what he
+once was, has been emboldened to treat a passing stranger as his guest,
+the choice has been so judiciously exercised as to fall upon one who
+could respect the motive and not resent the liberty; but never till
+this moment has it befallen us to be told that the possibility--the bare
+possibility--of such a presumption should be met by a declaration of
+refusal. Go back, then, to your patient, sir; assure him that he is at
+an inn, and that he has the right to be all that his purse and his want
+of manners can insure him."
+
+"Dear lady, I'm, maybe, a bad negotiator."
+
+"I trust sincerely, sir, you are a better doctor."
+
+"Nothing on earth was further from my mind than offence--"
+
+"Very possibly, sir; but, as you are aware, blisters will occasionally
+act with all the violence of caustics, so an irritating theme may be
+pressed at a very inauspicious moment. My cares as a hostess are not in
+very good favor with me just now. Counsel your young charge to a change
+of air, and I 'll think no more of the matter."
+
+Had it been a queen who had spoken, the doctor could not more palpably
+have felt that his audience had terminated, and his only duty was to
+withdraw.
+
+And so he did retire, with much bowing and graciously smiling, and
+indicating, by all imaginable contortions, gratitude for the past and
+humility forever.
+
+I rejoice that I am not obliged to record as history the low but fervent
+mutterings that fell from his lips as he closed the door after him,
+and by a gesture of menace showed his feelings towards her he had just
+quitted. "Insolent old woman!" he burst out as he went along, "how can
+she presume to forget a station that every incident of her daily life
+recalls? In the rank she once held, and can never return to, such
+manners would be an outrage; but I 'll not endure it again. It is your
+last triumph, Miss Dinah; make much of it." Thus sustained by a very
+Dutch courage,--for this national gift can come of passion as well as
+drink,--he made his way to his patient's presence, smoothing his
+brow, as he went, and recalling the medico-chimrgical serenity of his
+features.
+
+"I have not done much, but I have accomplished something," said he,
+blandly. "I am at a loss to understand what they mean by introducing
+all these caprices into their means of life; but, assuredly, it will not
+attract strangers to the house."
+
+"What are the caprices you allude to?"
+
+"Well, it is not very easy to say; perhaps I have not expressed my
+meaning quite correctly; but one thing is clear, a stranger likes to
+feel that his only obligation in an inn is to discharge the bill."
+
+"I say, doctor," broke in Conyers, "I have been thinking the matter
+over. Why should I not go back to my quarters? There might surely be
+some means contrived to convey me to the high-road; after that, there
+will be no difficulty whatever."
+
+The doctor actually shuddered at the thought. The sportsman who sees
+the bird he has just winged flutter away to his neighbor's preserve may
+understand something, at least, of Dr. Dill's discomfiture as he saw his
+wealthy patient threatening a departure. He quickly, therefore, summoned
+to his aid all those terrors which had so often done good service
+on like occasions. He gave a little graphic sketch of every evil
+consequence that might come of an imprudent journey. The catalogue was
+a bulky one; it ranged over tetanus, mortification, and disease of the
+bones. It included every sort and description of pain as classified
+by science, into "dull, weary, and incessant," or "sharp lancinating
+agony." Now Conyers was as brave as a lion, but had, withal, one of
+those temperaments which are miserably sensitive under suffering, and
+to which the mere description of pain is itself an acute pang. When,
+therefore, the doctor drew the picture of a case very like the present
+one, where amputation came too late, Conyers burst in with, "For mercy's
+sake, will you stop! I can't sit here to be cut up piece-meal; there's
+not a nerve in my body you haven't set ajar." The doctor blandly took
+out his massive watch, and laid his fingers on the young man's pulse.
+"Ninety-eight, and slightly intermittent," said he, as though to
+himself.
+
+"What does that mean?" asked Conyers, eagerly.
+
+"The irregular action of the heart implies abnormal condition of
+the nervous system, and indicates, imperatively, rest, repose, and
+tranquillity."
+
+"If lethargy itself be required, this is a capital place for it," sighed
+Conyers, drearily.
+
+"You have n't turned your thoughts to what I said awhile ago, being
+domesticated, as one might call it, in a nice quiet family, with all the
+tender attentions of a home, and a little music in the evening."
+
+Simple as these words were, Dill gave to each of them an almost honeyed
+utterance.
+
+"No; it would bore me excessively. I detest to be looked after; I abhor
+what are called attentions."
+
+"Unobtrusively offered,--tendered with a due delicacy and reserve?"
+
+"Which means a sort of simpering civility that one has to smirk for
+in return. No, no; I was bred up in quite a different school, where we
+clapped our hands twice when we wanted a servant, and the fellow's head
+paid for it if he was slow in coming. Don't tell me any more about your
+pleasant family, for they 'd neither endure me, nor I them. Get me well
+as fast as you can, and out of this confounded place, and I 'll give you
+leave to make a vascular preparation of me if you catch me here again!"
+
+The doctor smiled, as doctors know how to smile when patients think they
+have said a smartness, and now each was somewhat on better terms with
+the other.
+
+"By the way, doctor," said Conyers, suddenly, "you have n't told me what
+the old woman said. What arrangement did you come to?"
+
+"Your breakfast will cost one shilling, your dinner two. She made no
+mention of your rooms, but only hinted that, whenever you took your
+departure, the charge for the boat was half a crown."
+
+"Come, all this is very business-like, and to the purpose; but where, in
+Heaven's name, did any man live in this fashion for so little? We have
+a breakfast-mess, but it's not to be compared with this,--such a variety
+of bread, such grilled trout, such a profusion of fruit. After all,
+doctor, it is very like being a guest, the nominal charge being to
+escape the sense of a favor. But perhaps one can do here as at one of
+those 'hospices' in the Alps, and make a present at parting to requite
+the hospitality."
+
+"It is a graceful way to record gratitude," said the doctor, who liked
+to think that the practice could be extended to other reminiscences.
+
+"I must have my servant and my books, my pipes and my Spitz terrier.
+I 'll get a target up, besides, on that cherry-tree, and practise
+pistol-shooting as I sit here. Could you find out some idle fellow who
+would play chess or _ecarte_ with me,--a curate or a priest,--I 'm
+not particular; and when my man Holt comes, I 'll make him string my
+grass-mat hammock between those two elms, so that I can fish without the
+bore of standing up for it. Holt is a rare clever fellow, and you 'll
+see how he'll get things in order here before he's a day in the place."
+
+The doctor smiled again, for he saw that his patient desired to be
+deemed a marvel of resources and a mine of original thought. The
+doctor's smile was apportioned to his conversation, just as he added
+syrups in his prescriptions. It was, as he himself called it, the
+"vehicle," without special efficacy in itself, but it aided to get down
+the "active principle." But he did more than smile. He promised all
+possible assistance to carry out his patient's plans. He was
+almost certain that a friend of his, an old soldier, too,--a Major
+M'Cormick,--could play _ecarte_, though, perhaps, it might be cribbage;
+and then Father Cody, he could answer for it, was wonderful at skittles,
+though, for the present, that game might not be practicable; and as for
+books, the library at Woodstay was full of them, if the key could only
+be come at, for the family was abroad; and, in fact, he displayed a most
+generous willingness to oblige, although, when brought to the rude test
+of reality, his pictures were only dissolving views of pleasures to
+come.
+
+When he took his leave at last, he left Conyers in far better spirits
+than he found him. The young fellow had begun to castle-build about how
+he should pass his time, and in such architecture there is no room for
+ennui. And what a rare organ must constructiveness be, when even in its
+mockery it can yield such pleasure! We are very prone to envy the rich
+man, whose wealth sets no limit to his caprices; but is not a rich
+fancy, that wondrous imaginative power which unweariedly invents new
+incidents, new personages, new situations, a very covetable possession?
+And can we not, in the gratification of the very humblest exercise of
+this quality, rudely approximate to the ecstasy of him who wields it
+in all its force? Not that Fred Conyers was one of these; he was a mere
+tyro in the faculty, and could only carry himself into a region where
+he saw his Spitz terrier jump between the back rails of a chair, and
+himself sending bullet after bullet through the very centre of the
+bull's eye.
+
+Be it so. Perhaps you and I, too, my reader, have our Spitz terrier and
+bull's-eye days, and, if so, let us be grateful for them.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER
+
+Whether it was that Dr. Dill expended all the benevolence of his
+disposition in the course of his practice, and came home utterly
+exhausted, but so it was, that his family never saw him in those moods
+of blandness which he invariably appeared in to his patients. In fact,
+however loaded he went forth with these wares of a morning, he disposed
+of every item of his stock before he got back at night; and when poor
+Mrs. Dill heard, as she from time to time did hear, of the doctor's
+gentleness, his kindness in suffering, his beautiful and touching
+sympathy with sorrow, she listened with the same sort of semi-stupid
+astonishment she would have felt on hearing some one eulogizing the
+climate of Ireland, and going rapturous about the blue sky and the
+glorious sunshine. Unhappy little woman, she only saw him in his dark
+days of cloud and rain, and she never came into his presence except in a
+sort of moral mackintosh made for the worst weather.
+
+The doctor's family consisted of seven children, but our concern is only
+with the two eldest,--a son and a daughter. Tom was two years younger
+than his sister, who, at this period of our story, was verging on
+nineteen. He was an awkward, ungainly youth, large-jointed, but weakly,
+with a sandy red head and much-freckled face, just such a disparaging
+counterpart of his sister as a coarse American piracy often presents of
+one of our well-printed, richly papered English editions. "It was all
+there," but all unseemly, ungraceful, undignified; for Polly Dill was
+pretty. Her hair was auburn, her eyes a deep hazel, and her skin a
+marvel of transparent whiteness. You would never have hesitated to call
+her a very pretty girl if you had not seen her brother, but, having
+seen him, all the traits of her good looks suffered in the same way that
+Grisi's "Norma" does from the horrid recollection of Paul Bedford's.
+
+After all, the resemblance went very little further than this
+"travestie," for while he was a slow, heavy-witted, loutish creature,
+with low tastes and low ambitions, she was a clever, intelligent girl,
+very eagerly intent on making something of her advantages. Though the
+doctor was a general practitioner, and had a shop, which he called
+"Surgery," in the village, he was received at the great houses in a sort
+of half-intimate, half-patronizing fashion; as one, in short, with whom
+it was not necessary to be formal, but it might become very inconvenient
+to have a coldness. These were very sorry credentials for acceptance,
+but he made no objection to them.
+
+A few, however, of the "neighbors"--it would be ungenerous to inquire
+the motive, for in this world of ours it is just as well to regard
+one's five-pound note as convertible into five gold sovereigns, and not
+speculate as to the kind of rags it is made of--were pleased to notice
+Miss Dill, and occasionally invite her to their larger gatherings, so
+that she not only gained opportunities of cultivating her social gifts,
+but, what is often a greater spur to ambition, of comparing them with
+those of others.
+
+Now this same measuring process, if only conducted without any envy or
+ungenerous rivalry, is not without its advantage. Polly Dill made it
+really profitable. I will not presume to say that, in her heart
+of hearts, she did not envy the social accidents that gave others
+precedence before her, but into her heart of hearts neither you nor
+I have any claim to enter. Enough that we know nothing in her outward
+conduct or bearing revealed such a sentiment. As little did she maintain
+her position by flattery, which many in her ambiguous station would have
+relied upon as a stronghold. No; Polly followed a very simple policy,
+which was all the more successful that it never seemed to be a policy at
+all. She never in any way attracted towards her the attentions of those
+men who, in the marriageable market, were looked on as the choice lots;
+squires in possession, elder sons, and favorite nephews, she regarded
+as so much forbidden fruit. It was a lottery in which she never took a
+ticket It is incredible how much kindly notice and favorable recognition
+accrued to her from this line.
+
+We all know how pleasant it is to be next to the man at a promiscuous
+dinner who never eats turtle nor cares for "Cliquot;" and in the world
+at large there are people who represent the calabash and the champagne.
+
+Then Polly played well, but was quite as ready to play as to dance. She
+sang prettily, too, and had not the slightest objection that one of her
+simple ballads should be the foil to a grand performance of some young
+lady, whose artistic agonies rivalled Alboni's. So cleverly did Polly
+do all this, that even her father could not discover the secret of her
+success; and though he saw "his little girl" as he called her, more and
+more sought after and invited, he continued to be persuaded that all
+this favoritism was only the reflex of his own popularity. How, then,
+could mere acquaintances ever suspect what to the eye of those nearer
+and closer was so inscrutable?
+
+Polly Dill rode very well and very fearlessly, and occasionally was
+assisted to "a mount" by some country gentleman, who combined gallantry
+with profit, and knew that the horse he lent could never be seen
+to greater advantage. Yet, even in this, she avoided display, quite
+satisfied, as it seemed, to enjoy herself thoroughly, and not attract
+any notice that could be avoided. Indeed, she never tried for "a place,"
+but rather attached herself to some of the older and heavier weights,
+who grew to believe that they were especially in charge of her, and
+nothing was more common, at the end of a hard run, than to hear such
+self-gratulations as, "I think I took great care of you, Miss Dill?"
+"Eh, Miss Polly! you see I'm not such a bad leader!" and so on.
+
+Such was the doctor's "little girl," whom I am about to present to
+my readers under another aspect. She is at home, dressed in a neatly
+fitting but very simple cotton dress, her hair in two plain bands, and
+she is seated at a table, at the opposite of which lounges her brother
+Tom with an air of dogged and sleepy indolence, which extends from his
+ill-trimmed hair to his ill-buttoned waistcoat.
+
+"Never mind it to-day, Polly," said he, with a yawn. "I've been up all
+night, and have no head for work. There's a good girl, let's have a chat
+instead."
+
+"Impossible, Tom," said she, calmly, but with decision. "To-day is
+the third. You have only three weeks now and two days before your
+examination. We have all the bones and ligaments to go over again, and
+the whole vascular system. You 've forgotten every word of Harrison."
+
+"It does n't signify, Polly. They never take a fellow on anything but
+two arteries for the navy. Grove told me so."
+
+"Grove is an ass, and got plucked twice. It is a perfect disgrace to
+quote him."
+
+"Well, I only wish I may do as well. He's assistant-surgeon to the
+'Taurus' gun-brig on the African station; and if I was there, it's
+little I 'd care for the whole lot of bones and balderdash."
+
+"Come, don't be silly. Let us go on with the scapula. Describe the
+glenoid cavity."
+
+"If you were the girl you might be, I'd not be bored with all this
+stupid trash, Polly."
+
+"What do you mean? I don't understand you."
+
+"It's easy enough to understand me. You are as thick as thieves, you and
+that old Admiral,--that Sir Charles Cobham. I saw you talking to the
+old fellow at the meet the other morning. You 've only to say, 'There's
+Tom--my brother Tom--wants a navy appointment; he's not passed yet, but
+if the fellows at the Board got a hint, just as much as, "Don't be hard
+on him--"'"
+
+"I 'd not do it to make you a post-captain, sir," said she, severely.
+"You very much overrate my influence, and very much underrate my
+integrity, when you ask it."
+
+"Hoity-toity! ain't we dignified! So you'd rather see me plucked, eh?"
+
+"Yes, if that should be the only alternative."
+
+"Thank you, Polly, that's all! thank you," said he; and he drew his
+sleeve across his eyes.
+
+"My dear Tom," said she, laying her white soft hand on his coarse
+brown fingers, "can you not see that if I even stooped to anything so
+unworthy, that it would compromise your whole prospects in life? You'd
+obtain an assistant-surgeoncy, and never rise above it."
+
+"And do I ask to rise above it? Do I ask anything beyond getting out of
+this house, and earning bread that is not grudged me?"
+
+"Nay, nay; if you talk that way, I've done."
+
+"Well, I do talk that way. He sent me off to Kilkenny last week--you saw
+it yourself--to bring out that trash for the shop, and he would n't pay
+the car hire, and made me carry two stone of carbonate of magnesia and
+a jar of leeches fourteen miles. You were just taking that post and rail
+out of Nixon's lawn as I came by. You saw me well enough."
+
+"I am glad to say I did not," said she, sighing.
+
+"I saw you, then, and how that gray carried you! You were waving a
+handkerchief in your hand; what was that for?"
+
+"It was to show Ambrose Bushe that the ground was good; he was afraid of
+being staked!"
+
+[Illustration: 084]
+
+"That's exactly what I am. I 'm afraid of being 'staked up' at the Hall,
+and if _you_ 'd take as much trouble about your brother as you did for
+Ambrose Bushe--"
+
+"Tom, Tom, I have taken it for eight weary months. I believe I know Bell
+on the bones, and Harrison on the arteries, by heart!"
+
+"Who thanks you?" said he, doggedly. "When you read a thing twice, you
+never forget it; but it's not so with me."
+
+"Try what a little work will do, Tom; be assured there is not half
+as much disparity between people's brains as there is between their
+industry."
+
+"I'd rather have luck than either, I know that. It's the only thing,
+after all."
+
+She gave a very deep sigh, and leaned her head on her hand.
+
+"Work and toil as hard as you may," continued he, with all the fervor of
+one on a favorite theme, "if you haven't luck you 'll be beaten. Can you
+deny that, Polly?"
+
+"If you allow me to call merit what you call luck, I'll agree with you.
+But I 'd much rather go on with our work. What is the insertion of the
+deltoid? I'm sure you know _that!_"
+
+[Illustration: 84]
+
+"The deltoid! the deltoid!" muttered he. "I forget all about the
+deltoid, but, of course, it's like the rest of them. It's inserted into
+a ridge or a process, or whatever you call it--"
+
+"Oh, Tom, this is very hopeless. How can you presume to face your
+examiners with such ignorance as this?"
+
+"I'll tell you what I'll do, Polly; Grove told me he did it,--if I find
+my pluck failing me, I 'll have a go of brandy before I go in."
+
+She found it very hard not to laugh at the solemn gravity of this
+speech, and just as hard not to cry as she looked at him who spoke it At
+the same moment Dr. Dill opened the door, calling out sharply, "Where's
+that fellow, Tom? Who has seen him this morning?"
+
+"He's here, papa," said Polly. "We are brushing up the anatomy for the
+last time."
+
+"His head must be in capital order for it, after his night's exploit.
+I heard of you, sir, and your reputable wager. Noonan was up here this
+morning with the whole story!"
+
+"I 'd have won if they 'd not put snuff in the punch--"
+
+"You are a shameless hound--"
+
+"Oh, papa! If you knew how he was working,--how eager he is to pass
+his examination, and be a credit to us all, and owe his independence to
+himself--"
+
+"I know more of him than you do, miss,--far more, too, than he is aware
+of,--and I know something of myself also; and I tell him now, that if
+he's rejected at the examination, he need not come back here with the
+news."
+
+"And where am I to go, then?" asked the young fellow, half insolently.
+
+"You may go--" Where to, the doctor was not suffered to indicate, for
+already Polly had thrown herself into his arms and arrested the speech.
+
+"Well, I suppose I can 'list; a fellow need not know much about
+gallipots for that." As he said this, he snatched up his tattered old
+cap and made for the door.
+
+"Stay, sir! I have business for you to do," cried Dill, sternly.
+"There's a young gentleman at the 'Fisherman's Home' laid up with a bad
+sprain. I have prescribed twenty leeches on the part. Go down and apply
+them."
+
+"That's what old Molly Day used to do," said Tom, angrily.'
+
+"Yes, sir, and knew more of the occasion that required it than you will
+ever do. See that you apply them all to the outer ankle, and attend well
+to the bleeding; the patient is a young man of rank, with whom you had
+better take no liberties."
+
+"If I go at all--"
+
+"Tom, Tom, none of this!" said Polly, who drew very close to him, and
+looked up at him with eyes full of tears.
+
+"Am I going as your son this time? or did you tell him--as you told Mr.
+Nixon--that you 'd send your young man?"
+
+"There! listen to that!" cried the doctor, turning to Polly. "I hope you
+are proud of your pupil."
+
+She made no answer, but whispering some hurried words in her brother's
+ear, and pressing at the same time something into his hand, she shuffled
+him out of the room and closed the door.
+
+The doctor now paced the room, so engrossed by passion that he forgot he
+was not alone, and uttered threats and mumbled out dark predictions with
+a fearful energy. Meanwhile Polly put by the books and drawings, and
+removed everything which might recall the late misadventure.
+
+"What's your letter about, papa?" said she, pointing to a square-shaped
+envelope which he still held in his hand.
+
+"Oh, by the way," said he, quietly, "this is from Cob-ham. They ask us
+up there to dinner to-day, and to stop the night." The doctor tried very
+hard to utter this speech with the unconcern of one alluding to some
+every-day occurrence. Nay, he did more; he endeavored to throw into it
+a certain air of fastidious weariness, as though to say, "See how these
+people will have me; mark how they persecute me with their attentions!"
+
+Polly understood the "situation" perfectly, and it was with actual
+curiosity in her tone she asked, "Do you mean to go, sir?"
+
+"I suppose we must, dear," he said, with a deep sigh. "A professional
+man is no more the arbiter of his social hours than of his business
+ones. Cooper always said dining at home costs a thousand a year."
+
+"So much, papa?" asked she, with much semblance of innocence.
+
+"I don't mean to myself," said he, reddening, "nor to any physician in
+country practice; but we all lose by it, more or less."
+
+Polly, meanwhile, had taken the letter, and was reading it over. It was
+very brief. It had been originally begun, "Lady Cobham presents," but a
+pen was run through the words, and it ran,--
+
+     "Dear Dr. Dill,--If a short notice will not inconvenience
+     you, will you and your daughter dine here to-day at seven?
+     There is no moon, and we shall expect you to stay the night.
+
+     "Truly yours,
+
+     "Georgiana Cobham.
+
+"The Admiral hopes Miss D. will not forget to bring her music."
+
+"Then we go, sir?" asked she, with eagerness; for it was a house to
+which she had never yet been invited, though she had long wished for the
+entree.
+
+"I shall go, certainly," said he. "As to you, there will be the old
+discussion with your mother as to clothes, and the usual declaration
+that you have really nothing to put on."
+
+"Oh! but I have, papa. My wonderful-worked muslin, that was to have
+astonished the world at the race ball, but which arrived too late, is
+now quite ready to captivate all beholders; and I have just learned that
+new song, 'Where's the slave so lowly?' which I mean to give with a
+most rebellious fervor; and, in fact, I am dying to assault this same
+fortress of Cobham, and see what it is like inside the citadel."
+
+"Pretty much like Woodstay, and the Grove, and Mount Kelly, and the
+other places we go to," said Dill, pompously.
+
+"The same sort of rooms, the same sort of dinner, the same company;
+nothing different but the liveries."
+
+"Very true, papa; but there is always an interest in seeing how
+people behave in their own house, whom you have never seen except in
+strangers'. I have met Lady Cobham at the Beachers', where she scarcely
+noticed me. I am curious to see what sort of reception she will
+vouchsafe me at home."
+
+"Well, go and look after your things, for we have eight miles to drive,
+and Billy has already been at Dangan and over to Mooney's Mills, and he
+'s not the fresher for it."
+
+"I suppose I 'd better take my hat and habit, papa?"
+
+"What for, child?"
+
+"Just as you always carry your lancets, papa,--you don't know what may
+turn up." And she was off before he could answer her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. TOM DILL'S FIRST PATIENT
+
+Before Tom Dill had set out on his errand he had learned all about his
+father and sister's dinner engagement; nor did the contrast with the
+way in which his own time was to be passed at all improve his temper.
+Indeed, he took the opportunity of intimating to his mother how few
+favors fell to her share or his own,--a piece of information she very
+philosophically received, all her sympathies being far more interested
+for the sorrows of "Clarissa Harlowe" than for any incident that
+occurred around her. Poor old lady! she had read that story over and
+over again, till it might seem that every word and every comma in it had
+become her own; but she was blessed with a memory that retained nothing,
+and she could cry over the sorrowful bits, and pant with eagerness at
+the critical ones, just as passionately, just as fervently, as she had
+done for years and years before. Dim, vague perceptions she might
+have retained of the personages, but these only gave them a stronger
+truthfulness, and made them more like the people of the real world, whom
+she had seen, passingly, once, and was now to learn more about. I
+doubt if Mezzofanti ever derived one tenth of the pleasure from all his
+marvellous memory that she did from the want of one.
+
+Blessed with that one book, she was proof against all the common
+accidents of life. It was her sanctuary against duns, and difficulties,
+and the doctor's temper. As the miser feels a sort of ecstasy in
+the secret of his hoarded wealth, so had she an intense enjoyment in
+thinking that all dear Clarissa's trials and sufferings were only known
+to her. Neither the doctor, nor Polly, nor Tom, so much as suspected
+them. It was like a confidence between Mr. Richardson and herself, and
+for nothing on earth would she have betrayed it.
+
+Tom had no such resources, and he set out on his mission with no very
+remarkable good feeling towards the world at large. Still, Polly had
+pressed into his hand a gold half-guinea,--some very long-treasured
+keepsake, the birthday gift of a godmother in times remote, and now to
+be converted into tobacco and beer, and some articles of fishing-gear
+which he greatly needed.
+
+Seated in one of those light canoe-shaped skiffs,--"cots," as they are
+called on these rivers,--he suffered himself to be carried lazily along
+by the stream, while he tied his flies and adjusted his tackle. There
+is, sometimes, a stronger sense of unhappiness attached to what is
+called being "hardly used" by the world, than to a direct palpable
+misfortune; for though the sufferer may not be able, even to his own
+heart, to set out, with clearness, one single count in the indictment,
+yet a general sense of hard treatment, unfairness, and so forth, brings
+with it great depression, and a feeling of desolation.
+
+Like all young fellows of his stamp, Tom only saw his inflictions, not
+one of his transgressions. He knew that his father made a common drudge
+of him, employed him in all that was wearisome and even menial in his
+craft, admitted him to no confidences, gave him no counsels, and treated
+him in every way like one who was never destined to rise above the
+meanest cares and lowest duties. Even those little fleeting glances at
+a brighter future which Polly would now and then open to his ambition,
+never came from his father, who would actually ridicule the notion of
+his obtaining a degree, and make the thought of a commission in the
+service a subject for mockery.
+
+He was low in heart as he thought over these things. "If it were not for
+Polly," so he said to himself, "he 'd go and enlist;" or, as his boat
+slowly floated into a dark angle of the stream where the water was still
+and the shadow deep, he even felt he could do worse. "Poor Polly!" said
+he, as he moved his hand to and fro in the cold clear water, "you 'd be
+very, very sorry for me. You, at least, knew that I was not all bad, and
+that I wanted to be better. It was no fault of mine to have a head that
+could n't learn. I 'd be clever if I could, and do everything as well as
+she does; but when they see that I have no talents, that if they put the
+task before me I cannot master it, sure they ought to pity me, not blame
+me." And then he bent over the boat and looked down eagerly into the
+water, till, by long dint of gazing, he saw, or he thought he saw, the
+gravelly bed beneath; and again he swept his hand through it,--it was
+cold, and caused a slight shudder. Then, suddenly, with some fresh
+impulse, he threw off his cap, and kicked his shoes from him. His
+trembling hands buttoned and unbuttoned his coat with some infirm,
+uncertain purpose. He stopped and listened; he heard a sound; there was
+some one near,--quite near. He bent down and peered under the branches
+that hung over the stream, and there he saw a very old and infirm man,
+so old and infirm that he could barely creep. He had been carrying a
+little bundle of fagots for firewood, and the cord had given way, and
+his burden fallen, scattered, to the ground. This was the noise Tom
+had heard. For a few minutes the old man seemed overwhelmed with his
+disaster, and stood motionless, contemplating it; then, as it were,
+taking courage, he laid down his staff, and bending on his knees, set
+slowly to work to gather up his fagots.
+
+There are minutes in the lives of all of us when some simple
+incident will speak to our hearts with a force that human words never
+carried,--when the most trivial event will teach a lesson that all our
+wisdom never gave us. "Poor old fellow," said Tom, "he has a stout heart
+left to him still, and he 'll not leave his load behind him!" And then
+his own craven spirit flashed across him, and he hid his face in his
+hand and cried bitterly.
+
+Suddenly rousing himself with a sort of convulsive shake, he sent
+the skiff with a strong shove in shore, and gave the old fellow what
+remained to him of Polly's present; and then, with a lighter spirit than
+he had known for many a day, rowed manfully on his way.
+
+The evening--a soft, mellow, summer evening--was just falling as Tom
+reached the little boat quay at the "Fisherman's Home,"--a spot it was
+seldom his fortune to visit, but one for whose woodland beauty and trim
+comfort he had a deep admiration. He would have liked to have lingered a
+little to inspect the boat-house, and the little aviary over it, and the
+small cottage on the island, and the little terrace made to fish from;
+but Darby had caught sight of him as he landed, and came hurriedly
+down to say that the young gentleman was growing very impatient for his
+coming, and was even hinting at sending for another doctor if he should
+not soon appear.
+
+If Conyers was as impatient as Darby represented, he had, at least,
+surrounded himself with every appliance to allay the fervor of that
+spirit He had dined under a spreading sycamore-tree, and now sat with a
+table richly covered before him. Fruit, flowers, and wine abounded,
+with a profusion that might have satisfied several guests; for, as he
+understood that he was to consider himself at an inn, he resolved, by
+ordering the most costly things, to give the house all the advantage of
+his presence. The most delicious hothouse fruit had been procured from
+the gardener of an absent proprietor in the neighborhood, and several
+kinds of wine figured on the table, over which, and half shadowed by
+the leaves, a lamp had been suspended, throwing a fitful light over all,
+that imparted a most picturesque effect to the scene.
+
+And yet, amidst all these luxuries and delights, Bal-shazzar was
+discontented; his ankle pained him; he had been hobbling about on it all
+day, and increased the inflammation considerably; and, besides this, he
+was lonely; he had no one but Darby to talk to, and had grown to feel
+for that sapient functionary a perfect abhorrence,--his everlasting
+compliance, his eternal coincidence with everything, being a torment
+infinitely worse than the most dogged and mulish opposition. When,
+therefore, he heard at last the doctor's son had come with the leeches,
+he hailed him as a welcome guest.
+
+"What a time you have kept me waiting!" said he, as the loutish young
+man came forward, so astounded by the scene before him that he lost all
+presence of mind. "I have been looking out for you since three o'clock,
+and pottering down the river and back so often, that I have made the leg
+twice as thick again."
+
+"Why didn't you sit quiet?" said Tom, in a hoarse, husky tone.
+
+"Sit quiet!" replied Conyers, staring half angrily at him; and then as
+quickly perceiving that no impertinence had been intended, which the
+other's changing color and evident confusion attested, he begged him to
+take a chair and fill his glass. "That next you is some sort of Rhine
+wine: this is sherry; and here is the very best claret I ever tasted."
+
+"Well, I 'll take that," said Tom, who, accepting the recommendation
+amidst luxuries all new and strange to him, proceeded to fill his glass,
+but so tremblingly that he spilled the wine all about the table, and
+then hurriedly wiped it up with his handkerchief.
+
+Conyers did his utmost to set his guest at his ease. He passed his
+cigar-case across the table, and led him on, as well as he might, to
+talk. But Tom was awestruck, not alone by the splendors around him, but
+by the condescension of his host; and he could not divest himself of the
+notion that he must have been mistaken for somebody else, to whom all
+these blandishments might be rightfully due.
+
+"Are you fond of shooting?" asked Conyers, trying to engage a
+conversation.
+
+"Yes," was the curt reply.
+
+"There must be good sport hereabouts, I should say. Is the game well
+preserved?"
+
+"Too well for such as me. I never get a shot without the risk of a jail,
+and it would be cheaper for me to kill a cow than a woodcock!" There was
+a stern gravity in the way he said this that made it irresistibly comic,
+and Conyers laughed out in spite of himself.
+
+"Have n't you a game license?" asked he.
+
+"Haven't I a coach-and-six? Where would I get four pounds seven and ten
+to pay for it?"
+
+The appeal was awkward, and for a moment Conyers was silent At last he
+said, "You fish, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes; I kill a salmon whenever I get a quiet spot that nobody sees me,
+and I draw the river now and then with a net at night."
+
+"That's poaching, I take it."
+
+"It 's not the worse for that!" said Tom, whose pluck was by this time
+considerably assisted by the claret.
+
+"Well, it's an unfair way, at all events, and destroys real sport"
+
+"Real sport is filling your basket."
+
+"No, no; there's no real sport in doing anything that's
+unfair,--anything that's un----" He stopped short, and swallowed off a
+glass of wine to cover his confusion.
+
+"That's all mighty fine for you, who can not only pay for a license, but
+you 're just as sure to be invited here, there, and everywhere there's
+game to be killed. But think of me, that never snaps a cap, never throws
+a line, but he knows it's worse than robbing a hen-roost, and often,
+maybe, just as fond of it as yourself!"
+
+Whether it was that, coming after Darby's mawkish and servile agreement
+with everything, this rugged nature seemed more palatable, I cannot
+say; but so it was, Con-yers felt pleasure in talking to this rough
+unpolished creature, and hearing his opinions in turn. Had there been
+in Tom Dill's manner the slightest shade of any pretence, was there any
+element of that which, for want of a better word, we call "snobbery,"
+Conyers would not have endured him for a moment, but Tom was perfectly
+devoid of this vulgarity. He was often coarse in his remarks, his
+expressions were rarely measured by any rule of good manners; but it
+was easy to see that he never intended offence, nor did he so much as
+suspect that he could give that weight to any opinion which he uttered
+to make it of moment.
+
+Besides these points in Tom's favor, there was another, which also led
+Conyers to converse with him. There is some very subtle self-flattery
+in the condescension of one well to do in all the gifts of fortune
+associating, in an assumed equality, with some poor fellow to whom fate
+has assigned the shady side of the highway. Scarcely a subject can
+be touched without suggesting something for self-gratulation; every
+comparison, every contrast is in his favor, and Conyers, without being
+more of a puppy than the majority of his order, constantly felt how
+immeasurably above all his guest's views of his life and the world were
+his own,--not alone that he was more moderate in language and less prone
+to attribute evil, but with a finer sense of honor and a wider feeling
+of liberality.
+
+When Tom at last, with some shame, remembered that he had forgotten all
+about the real object of his mission, and had never so much as alluded
+to the leeches, Conyers only laughed and said, "Never mind them
+to-night. Come back to-morrow and put them on; and mind,--come to
+breakfast at ten or eleven o'clock."
+
+"What am I to say to my father?"
+
+"Say it was a whim of mine, which it is. You are quite ready to do this
+matter now. I see it; but I say no. Is n't that enough?"
+
+"I suppose so!" muttered Tom, with a sort of dogged misgiving.
+
+"It strikes me that you have a very respectable fear of your governor.
+Am I right?"
+
+"Ain't you afraid of yours?" bluntly asked the other.
+
+"Afraid of mine!" cried Conyers, with a loud laugh; "I should think not.
+Why, my father and myself are as thick as two thieves. I never was in a
+scrape that I did n't tell him. I 'd sit down this minute and write to
+him just as I would to any fellow in the regiment."
+
+"Well, there 's only one in all the world I 'd tell a secret to, and it
+is n't My father!"
+
+"Who is it, then?"
+
+"My sister Polly!" It was impossible to have uttered these words with a
+stronger sense of pride. He dwelt slowly upon each of them, and, when he
+had finished, looked as though he had said something utterly undeniable.
+
+"Here's her health,--in a bumper too!" cried Conyers.
+
+"Hurray, hurray!" shouted out Tom, as he tossed off his full glass, and
+set it on the table with a bang that smashed it. "Oh, I beg pardon! I
+didn't mean to break the tumbler."
+
+"Never mind it, Dill; it's a trifle. I half hoped you had done it on
+purpose, so that the glass should never be drained to a less honored
+toast. Is she like _you?_"
+
+"Like me,--like me?" asked he, coloring deeply. "Polly like me?"
+
+"I mean is there a family resemblance? Could you be easily known as
+brother and sister?"
+
+"Not a bit of it. Polly is the prettiest girl in this county, and she 's
+better than she 's handsome. There's nothing she can't do. I taught her
+to tie flies, and she can put wings on a green-drake now that would take
+in any salmon that ever swam. Martin Keene sent her a pound-note for a
+book of 'brown hackles,' and, by the way, she gave it to _me_. And if
+you saw her on the back of a horse!--Ambrose Bushe's gray mare, the
+wickedest devil that ever was bridled, one buck jump after another
+the length of a field, and the mare trying to get her head between her
+fore-legs, and Polly handling her so quiet, never out of temper, never
+hot, but always saying, 'Ain't you ashamed of yourself, Dido? Don't you
+see them all laughing at us?'"
+
+"I am quite curious to see her. Will you present me one of these days?"
+
+Tom mumbled out something perfectly unintelligible.
+
+"I hope that I may be permitted to make her acquaintance," repeated he,
+not feeling very certain that his former speech was quite understood.
+
+"Maybe so," grumbled he out at last, and sank back in his chair with a
+look of sulky ill-humor; for so it was that poor Tom, in his ignorance
+of life and its ways, deemed the proposal one of those free-and-easy
+suggestions which might be made to persons of very inferior station,
+and to whom the fact of acquaintanceship should be accounted as a great
+honor.
+
+Conyers was provoked at the little willingness shown to meet his
+offer,--an offer he felt to be a very courteous piece of condescension
+on his part,--and now both sat in silence. At last Tom Dill, long
+struggling with some secret impulse, gave way, and in a tone far more
+decided and firm than heretofore, said, "Maybe you think, from seeing
+what sort of a fellow I am, that my sister ought to be like me; and
+because _I_ have neither manners nor education, that she 's the same?
+But listen to me now; she 's just as little like me as you are yourself.
+You 're not more of a gentleman than she's a lady!"
+
+"I never imagined anything else."
+
+"And what made you talk of bringing her up here to present her to you,
+as you called it? Was she to be trotted out in a cavasin, like a filly?"
+
+"My dear fellow," said Conyers, good-humoredly, "you never made a
+greater mistake. I begged that you would present _me_ to your sister.
+I asked the sort of favor which is very common in the world, and in
+the language usually employed to convey such a request. I observed the
+recognized etiquette--"
+
+"What do I know about etiquette? If you'd have said, 'Tom Dill, I want
+to be introduced to your sister,' I 'd have guessed what you were at,
+and I 'd have said, 'Come back in the boat with me to-morrow, and so you
+shall.'"
+
+"It's a bargain, then, Dill. I want two or three things in the village,
+and I accept your offer gladly."
+
+Not only was peace now ratified between them, but a closer feeling of
+intimacy established; for poor Tom, not much spoiled by any excess of
+the world's sympathy, was so delighted by the kindly interest shown him,
+that he launched out freely to tell all about himself and his fortunes,
+how hardly treated he was at home, and how ill usage had made him
+despondent, and despondency made him dissolute. "It's all very well to
+rate a fellow about his taste for low pleasures and low companions; but
+what if he's not rich enough for better? He takes them just as he
+smokes cheap tobacco, because he can afford no other. And do you know,"
+continued he, "you are the first real gentleman that ever said a kind
+word to me, or asked me to sit down in his company. It's even so strange
+to me yet, that maybe when I 'm rowing home to-night I 'll think it's
+all a dream,--that it was the wine got into my head."
+
+"Is not some of this your own fault?" broke in Conyers. "What if you had
+held your head higher--"
+
+"Hold my head higher!" interrupted Tom. "With this on it, eh?" And he
+took up his ragged and worn cap from the ground, and showed it. "Pride
+is a very fine thing when you can live up to it; but if you can't it's
+only ridiculous. I don't say," added he, after a few minutes of silence,
+"but if I was far away from this, where nobody knew me, where I did n't
+owe little debts on every side, and was n't obliged to be intimate
+with every idle vagabond about--I don't say but I'd try to be something
+better. If, for instance, I could get into the navy--"
+
+"Why not the army? You 'd like it better."
+
+"Ay! but it 's far harder to get into. There's many a rough fellow like
+myself aboard ship that they would n't take in a regiment. Besides, how
+could I get in without interest?"
+
+"My father is a Lieutenant-General. I don't know whether he could be of
+service to you."
+
+"A Lieutenant-General!" repeated Tom, with the reverential awe of one
+alluding to an actual potentate.
+
+"Yes. He has a command out in India, where I feel full sure he could
+give you something. Suppose you were to go out there? I 'd write a
+letter to my father and ask him to befriend you."
+
+"It would take a fortune to pay the journey," said Tom, despondingly.
+
+"Not if you went out on service; the Government would send you free of
+cost. And even if you were not, I think we might manage it. Speak to
+your father about it."
+
+"No," said he, slowly. "No; but I 'll talk it over with Polly. Not but
+I know well she'll say, 'There you are, castle-building and romancing.
+It's all moonshine! Nobody ever took notice of you,--nobody said he 'd
+interest himself about you.'"
+
+"That's easily remedied. If you like it, I 'll tell your sister all
+about it myself. I 'll tell her it's my plan, and I 'll show her what I
+think are good reasons to believe it will be successful."
+
+"Oh! would you--would you!" cried he, with a choking sensation in the
+throat; for his gratitude had made him almost hysterical.
+
+"Yes," resumed Conyers. "When you come up here tomorrow, we 'll arrange
+it all. I 'll turn the matter all over in my mind, too, and I have
+little doubt of our being able to carry it through."
+
+"You 'll not tell my father, though?"
+
+"Not a word, if you forbid it. At the same time, you must see that he'll
+have to hear it all later on."
+
+"I suppose so," muttered Tom, moodily, and leaned his head thoughtfully
+on his hand. But one half-hour back and he would have told Conyers why
+he desired this concealment; he would have declared that his father,
+caring more for his services than his future good, would have thrown
+every obstacle to his promotion, and would even, if need were, have so
+represented him to Conyers that he would have appeared utterly unworthy
+of his interest and kindness; but now not one word of all this escaped
+him. He never hinted another reproach against his father, for already a
+purer spring had opened in his nature, the rocky heart had been smitten
+by words of gentleness, and he would have revolted against that which
+should degrade him in his own esteem.
+
+"Good night," said Conyers, with a hearty shake of the hand, "and don't
+forget your breakfast engagement tomorrow."
+
+"What 's this?" said Tom, blushing deeply, as he found a crumpled
+bank-note in his palm.
+
+"It's your fee, my good fellow, that's all," said the other, laughingly.
+
+"But I can't take a fee. I have never done so. I have no right to one. I
+am not a doctor yet."
+
+"The very first lesson in your profession is not to anger your patient;
+and if you would not provoke me, say no more on this matter." There was
+a half-semblance of haughtiness in these words that perhaps the speaker
+never intended; at all events, he was quick enough to remedy the effect,
+for he laid his hand good-naturedly on the other's shoulder and said,
+"For my sake, Dill,--for my sake."
+
+"I wish I knew what I ought to do," said Tom, whose pale cheek actually
+trembled with agitation. "I mean," said he, in a shaken voice, "I wish I
+knew what would make _you_ think best of me."
+
+"Do you attach so much value to my good opinion, then?"
+
+"Don't you think I might? When did I ever meet any one that treated me
+this way before?"
+
+The agitation in which he uttered these few words imparted such a
+semblance of weakness to him that Conyers pressed him down into a chair,
+and filled up his glass with wine.
+
+"Take that off, and you 'll be all right presently," said he, in a kind
+tone.
+
+Tom tried to carry the glass to his lips, but his hand trembled so that
+he had to set it down on the table.
+
+"I don't know how to say it," began he, "and I don't know whether I
+ought to say it, but somehow I feel as if I could give my heart's blood
+if everybody would behave to me the way you do. I don't mean, mind you,
+so generously, but treating me as if--as if--as if--" gulped he out at
+last, "as if I was a gentleman."
+
+"And why not? As there is nothing in your station that should deny that
+claim, why should any presume to treat you otherwise?"
+
+"Because I'm not one!" blurted he out; and covering his face with his
+hands, he sobbed bitterly.
+
+"Come, come, my poor fellow, don't be down-hearted. I 'm not much older
+than yourself, but I 've seen a good deal of life; and, mark _my_ words,
+the price a man puts on himself is the very highest penny the world will
+ever bid for him; he 'll not always get _that_, but he 'll never--no,
+never, get a farthing beyond it!"
+
+Tom stared vacantly at the speaker, not very sure whether he understood
+the speech, or that it had any special application to him.
+
+"When you come to know life as well as I do," continued Conyers, who had
+now launched into a very favorite theme, "you'll learn the truth of what
+I say. Hold your head high; and if the world desires to see you, it must
+at least look up!"
+
+"Ay, but it might laugh too!" said Tom, with a bitter gravity, which
+considerably disconcerted the moralist, who pitched away his cigar
+impatiently, and set about selecting another.
+
+"I suspect I understand _your_ nature. For," said he, after a moment or
+two, "I have rather a knack in reading people. Just answer me frankly a
+few questions."
+
+"Whatever you like," said the other, in a half-sulky sort of manner.
+
+"Mind," said Conyers, eagerly, "as there can be no offence intended,
+you'll not feel any by whatever I may say."
+
+"Go on," said Tom, in the same dry tone.
+
+"Ain't you obstinate?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"I knew it. We had not talked half an hour together when I detected
+it, and I said to myself, 'That fellow is one so rooted in his own
+convictions, it is scarcely possible to shake him.'"
+
+"What next?" asked Tom.
+
+"You can't readily forgive an injury; you find it very hard to pardon
+the man who has wronged you."
+
+"I do not; if he did n't go on persecuting me, I would n't think of him
+at all."
+
+"Ah, that's a mistake. Well, I know you better than you know yourself;
+you _do_ keep up the memory of an old grudge,--you can't help it."
+
+"Maybe so, but I never knew it."
+
+"You have, however, just as strong a sentiment of gratitude."
+
+"I never knew that, either," muttered he; "perhaps because it has had so
+little provocation!"
+
+"Bear in mind," said Conyers, who was rather disconcerted by the want of
+concurrence he had met with, "that I am in a great measure referring to
+latent qualities,--things which probably require time and circumstances
+to develop."
+
+"Oh, if that's it," said Dili, "I can no more object than I could if you
+talked to me about what is down a dozen fathoms in the earth under our
+feet. It may be granite or it may be gold, for what I know; the only
+thing that _I_ see is the gravel before me."
+
+"I 'll tell you a trait of your character you can't gainsay,"
+said Conyers, who was growing more irritated by the opposition so
+unexpectedly met with, "and it's one you need not dig a dozen fathoms
+down to discover,--you are very reckless."
+
+"Reckless--reckless,--you call a fellow reckless that throws away his
+chance, I suppose?"
+
+"Just so."
+
+"But what if he never had one?"
+
+"Every man has a destiny; every man has that in his fate which he may
+help to make or to mar as he inclines to. I suppose you admit that?"
+
+"I don't know," was the sullen reply.
+
+"Not know? Surely you needn't be told such a fact to recognize it!"
+
+"All I know is this," said Tom, resolutely, "that I scarcely ever did
+anything in my life that it was n't found out to be wrong, so that at
+last I 've come to be pretty careless what I do; and if it was n't for
+Polly,--if it was n't for Polly--" He stopped, drew his sleeve across
+his eyes, and turned away, unable to finish.
+
+"Come, then," said Conyers, laying his hand affectionately on the
+other's shoulder, "add my friendship to _her_ love for you, and see if
+the two will not give you encouragement; for I mean to be your friend,
+Dill."
+
+"Do you?" said Tom, with the tears in his eyes.
+
+"There 's my hand on it."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. FINE ACQUAINTANCES
+
+There is a law of compensation even for the small things of this life,
+and by the wise enactments of that law, human happiness, on the whole,
+is pretty equally distributed. The rich man, probably, never felt one
+tithe of the enjoyment in his noble demesne that it yielded to some poor
+artisan who strolled through it on a holiday, and tasted at once the
+charms of a woodland scene with all the rapturous delight of a day of
+rest.
+
+Arguing from these premises, I greatly doubt if Lady Cobham, at the
+head of her great household, with her house crowded with distinguished
+visitors, surrounded by every accessory of luxury and splendor, tasted
+anything approaching to the delight felt by one, the very humblest
+of her guests, and who for a brief twenty-four hours partook of her
+hospitality.
+
+Polly Dill, with all her desire and ambition for notice amongst
+the great people of the county, had gone to this dinner-party with
+considerable misgivings. She only knew the Admiral in the hunting-field;
+of her Ladyship she had no knowledge whatever, save in a few dry
+sentences uttered to her from a carriage one day at "the meet," when the
+Admiral, with more sailor-like frankness than politeness, presented her
+by saying, "This is the heroine of the day's run, Dr. Dill's daughter."
+And to this was responded a stare through a double eye-glass, and a
+cold smile and a few still colder words, affecting to be compliment, but
+sounding far more like a correction and a rebuke.
+
+No wonder, then, if Polly's heart was somewhat faint about approaching
+as a hostess one who could be so repelling as a mere acquaintance.
+Indeed, one less resolutely bent on her object would not have
+encountered all the mortification and misery her anticipation pictured;
+but Polly fortified herself by the philosophy that said, "There is
+but one road to this goal; I must either take that one, or abandon the
+journey." And so she did take it.
+
+Either, however, that she had exaggerated the grievance to her own mind,
+or that her Ladyship was more courteous at home than abroad; but Polly
+was charmed with the kindness of her reception. Lady Cobham had shaken
+hands with her, asked her had she been hunting lately, and was about
+to speak of her horsemanship to a grim old lady beside her, when the
+arrival of other guests cut short the compliment, and Polly passed
+on--her heart lightened of a great load--to mix with the general
+company.
+
+I have no doubt it was a pleasant country-house; it was called the
+pleasantest in the county. On the present occasion it counted amongst
+its guests not only the great families of the neighborhood, but several
+distinguished visitors from a distance, of whom two, at least, are
+noteworthy,--one, the great lyric poet; the other, the first tragic
+actress of her age and country. The occasion which assembled them was
+a project originally broached at the Admiral's table, and so frequently
+discussed afterwards that it matured itself into a congress. The plan
+was to get up theatricals for the winter season at Kilkenny, in
+which all the native dramatic ability should be aided by the first
+professional talent. Scarcely a country-house that could not boast of,
+at least, one promising performer. Ruthven and Campion and Probart had
+in their several walks been applauded by the great in art, and there
+were many others who in the estimation of friends were just as certain
+of a high success.
+
+Some passing remark on Polly's good looks, and the suitability of
+her face and style for certain small characters in comedy,--the pink
+ribboned damsels who are made love to by smart valets,--induced
+Lady Cobham to include her in her list; and thus, on these meagre
+credentials, was she present. She did not want notice or desire
+recognition; she was far too happy to be there, to hear and see and mark
+and observe all around her, to care for any especial attention. If the
+haughty Arabellas and Georgianas who swept past her without so much as
+a glance, were not, in her own estimation, superior in personal
+attractions, she knew well that they were so in all the accidents
+of station and the advantages of dress; and perhaps--who knows?--the
+reflection was not such a discouraging one.
+
+No memorable event, no incident worth recording, marked her visit. In
+the world of such society the machinery moves with regularity and
+little friction. The comedy of real life is admirably played out by
+the well-bred, and Polly was charmed to see with what courtesy, what
+consideration, what deference people behaved to each other; and all
+without an effort,--perhaps without even a thought.
+
+It was on the following day, when she got home and sat beside her
+mother's chair, that she related all she had seen. Her heart was filled
+with joy; for, just as she was taking her leave, Lady Cobham had said,
+"You have been promised to us for Tuesday next, Miss Dill. Pray don't
+forget it!" And now she was busily engaged in the cares of toilette; and
+though it was a mere question of putting bows of a sky-blue ribbon on
+a muslin dress,--one of those little travesties by which rustic beauty
+emulates ball-room splendor,--to her eyes it assumed all the importance
+of a grand preparation, and one which she could not help occasionally
+rising to contemplate at a little distance.
+
+"Won't it be lovely, mamma," she said, "with a moss-rose--a mere bud--on
+each of those bows? But I have n't told you of how he sang. He was the
+smallest little creature in the world, and he tripped across the room
+with his tiny feet like a bird, and he kissed Lady Cobham's hand with a
+sort of old-world gallantry, and pressed a little sprig of jasmine she
+gave him to his heart,--this way,--and then he sat down to the piano. I
+thought it strange to see a man play!"
+
+"Effeminate,--very," muttered the old lady, as she wiped her spectacles.
+
+"Well, I don't know, mamma,--at least, after a moment, I lost all
+thought of it, for I never heard anything like his singing before.
+He had not much voice, nor, perhaps, great skill, but there was an
+expression in the words, a rippling melody with which the verses ran
+from his lips, while the accompaniment tinkled on beside them, perfectly
+rapturous. It all seemed as if words and air were begotten of the
+moment, as if, inspired on the instant, he poured forth the verses, on
+which he half dwelt, while thinking over what was to follow, imparting
+an actual anxiety as you listened, lest he should not be ready with his
+rhyme; and through all there was a triumphant joy that lighted up his
+face and made his eyes sparkle with a fearless lustre, as of one who
+felt the genius that was within him, and could trust it." And then he
+had been so complimentary to herself, called her that charming little
+"rebel," after she had sung "Where 's the Slave," and told her that
+until he had heard the words from her lips he did not know they were
+half so treasonable. "But, mamma dearest, I have made a conquest; and
+such a conquest,--the hero of the whole society,--a Captain Stapylton,
+who did something or captured somebody at Waterloo,--a bold dragoon,
+with a gorgeous pelisse all slashed with gold, and such a mass of
+splendor that he was quite dazzling to look upon." She went on, still
+very rapturously, to picture him. "Not very young; that is to say, he
+might be thirty-five, or perhaps a little more,--tall, stately, even
+dignified in appearance, with a beard and moustache almost white,--for
+he had served much in India, and he was dark-skinned as a native." And
+this fine soldier, so sought after and so courted, had been markedly
+attentive to her, danced with her twice, and promised she should have
+his Arab, "Mahmoud," at her next visit to Cobham. It was very evident
+that his notice of her had called forth certain jealousies from young
+ladies of higher social pretensions, nor was she at all indifferent to
+the peril of such sentiments, though she did not speak of them to her
+mother, for, in good truth, that worthy woman was not one to investigate
+a subtle problem, or suggest a wise counsel; not to say that her
+interests were far more deeply engaged for Miss Harlowe than for her
+daughter Polly, seeing that in the one case every motive, and the spring
+to every motive, was familiar to her, while in the other she possessed
+but some vague and very strange notions of what was told her. Clarissa
+had made a full confidence to her: she had wept out her sorrows on
+her bosom, and sat sobbing on her shoulder. Polly came to her with
+the frivolous narrative of a ball-room flirtation, which threatened no
+despair nor ruin to any one. Here were no heart-consuming miseries,
+no agonizing terrors, no dreadful casualties that might darken a whole
+existence; and so Mrs. Dill scarcely followed Polly's story at all, and
+never with any interest.
+
+Polly went in search of her brother, but he had left home early that
+morning with the boat, no one knew whither, and the doctor was in a
+towering rage at his absence. Tom, indeed, was so full of his success
+with young Conyers that he never so much as condescended to explain his
+plans, and simply left a message to say, "It was likely he 'd be back
+by dinner-time." Now Dr. Dill was not in one of his blandest humors.
+Amongst the company at Cobham, he had found a great physician from
+Kilkenny, plainly showing him that all his social sacrifices were not to
+his professional benefit, and that if colds and catarrhs were going, his
+own services would never be called in. Captain Stapylton, too, to
+whom Polly had presented him, told him that he "feared a young brother
+officer of his, Lieutenant Conyers, had fallen into the hands of some
+small village practitioner, and that he would take immediate measures
+to get him back to headquarters," and then moved off, without giving him
+the time for a correction of the mistake.
+
+He took no note of his daughter's little triumphs, the admiration that
+she excited, or the flatteries that greeted her. It is true he did not
+possess the same means of measuring these that she had, and in all that
+dreary leisure which besets an unhonored guest, he had ample time to
+mope and fret and moralize, as gloomily as might be. If, then, he
+did not enjoy himself on his visit, he came away from it soured and
+ill-humored.
+
+He denounced "junketings"--by which unseemly title he designated the
+late entertainment--as amusements too costly for persons of his means.
+He made a rough calculation--a very rough one--of all that the
+"precious tomfoolery" had cost: the turnpike which he had paid, and
+the perquisites to servants--which he had not; the expense of Polly's
+finery,--a hazarded guess she would have been charmed to have had
+confirmed; and, ending the whole with a startling total, declared that a
+reign of rigid domestic economy must commence from that hour. The edict
+was something like what one reads from the French Government, when
+about to protest against some license of the press, and which opens by
+proclaiming that "the latitude hitherto conceded to public discussion
+has not been attended with those gratifying results so eagerly
+anticipated by the Imperial administration." Poor Mrs. Dill--like a mere
+journalist--never knew she had been enjoying blessings till she was
+told she had forfeited them forever, and she heard with a confused
+astonishment that the household charges would be still further reduced,
+and yet food and fuel and light be not excluded from the supplies.
+He denounced Polly's equestrianism as a most ruinous and extravagant
+pursuit. Poor Polly, whose field achievements had always been on a
+borrowed mount! Tom was a scapegrace, whose debts would have beggared
+half-a-dozen families,--wretched dog, to whom a guinea was a gold-mine;
+and Mrs. Dill, unhappy Mrs. Dill, who neither hunted, nor smoked,
+nor played skittles, after a moment's pause, he told her that his
+hard-earned pence should not be wasted in maintaining a "circulating
+library." Was there ever injustice like this? Talk to a man with one
+meal a day about gluttony, lecture the castaway at sea about not giving
+way to his appetites, you might just as well do so as to preach to
+Mrs. Dill--with her one book, and who never wanted another--about the
+discursive costliness of her readings.
+
+Could it be that, like the cruel jailer, who killed the spider the
+prisoner had learned to love, he had resolved to rob her of Clarissa?
+The thought was so overwhelming that it stunned her; and thus stupefied,
+she saw the doctor issue forth on his daily round, without venturing
+one word in answer. And he rode on his way,--on that strange mission
+of mercy, meanness, of honest sympathy, or mock philanthropy, as men's
+hearts and natures make of it,--and set out for the "Fisherman's Home."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. A COUNTRY DOCTOR
+
+In a story, as in a voyage, one must occasionally travel with
+uncongenial companions. Now I have no reason for hoping that any of my
+readers care to keep Dr. Dill's company, and yet it is with Dr. Dill we
+must now for a brief space foregather. He was on his way to visit his
+patient at the "Fisherman's Home," having started, intentionally very
+early, to be there before Stapylton could have interposed with any
+counsels of removing him to Kilkenny.
+
+The world, in its blind confidence in medical skill, and its unbounded
+belief in certain practitioners of medicine, is but scantily just to the
+humbler members of the craft in regard to the sensitiveness with
+which they feel the withdrawal of a patient from their care, and the
+substitution of another physician. The doctor who has not only heard,
+but felt Babington's adage, that the difference between a good physician
+and a bad one is only "the difference between a pound and a guinea,"
+naturally thinks it a hard thing that his interests are to be sacrificed
+for a mere question of five per cent. He knows, besides, that they can
+each work on the same materials with the same tools, and it can be only
+through some defect in his self-confidence that he can bring himself to
+believe that the patient's chances are not pretty much alike in _his_
+hands or his rival's. Now Dr. Dill had no feelings of this sort; no
+undervaluing of himself found a place in his nature. He regarded medical
+men as tax-gatherers, and naturally thought it mattered but little which
+received the impost; and, thus reflecting, he bore no good will towards
+that gallant Captain, who, as we have seen, stood so well in his
+daughter's favor. Even hardened men of the world--old footsore pilgrims
+of life--have their prejudices, and one of these is to be pleased at
+thinking they had augured unfavorably of any one they had afterwards
+learned to dislike. It smacks so much of acuteness to be able to say,
+"I was scarcely presented to him; we had not exchanged a dozen
+sentences when I saw this, that, and t' other." Dill knew this man
+was overbearing, insolent, and oppressive, that he was meddlesome and
+interfering, giving advice unasked for, and presuming to direct where no
+guidance was required. He suspected he was not a man of much fortune; he
+doubted he was a man of good family. All his airs of pretensions--very
+high and mighty they were--did not satisfy the doctor. As he said
+himself, he was a very old bird, but he forgot to add that he had always
+lived in an extremely small cage.
+
+The doctor had to leave his horse on the high-road and take a small
+footpath, which led through some meadows till it reached the little
+copse of beech and ilex that sheltered the cottage and effectually hid
+it from all view from the road. The doctor had just gained the last
+stile, when he suddenly came upon a man repairing a fence, and whose
+labors were being overlooked by Miss Barrington. He had scarcely uttered
+his most respectful salutations, when she said, "It is, perhaps, the
+last time you will take that path through the Lock Meadow, Dr. Dill. We
+mean to close it up after this week."
+
+"Close it up, dear lady!--a right of way that has existed Heaven knows
+how long. I remember it as a boy myself."
+
+"Very probably, sir, and what you say vouches for great antiquity; but
+things may be old and yet not respectable. Besides, it never was what
+you have called it,--a right of way. If it was, where did it go to?"
+
+"It went to the cottage, dear lady. The 'Home' was a mill in those
+days."
+
+"Well, sir, it is no longer a mill, and it will soon cease to be an
+inn."
+
+"Indeed, dear lady! And am I to hope that I may congratulate such kind
+friends as you have ever been to me on a change of fortune?"
+
+"Yes, sir; we have grown so poor that, to prevent utter destitution, we
+have determined to keep a private station; and with reference to that,
+may I ask you when this young gentleman could bear removal without
+injury?"
+
+"I have not seen him to-day, dear lady; but judging from the
+inflammatory symptoms I remarked yesterday, and the great nervous
+depression--"
+
+"I know nothing about medicine, sir; but if the nervous depression be
+indicated by a great appetite and a most noisy disposition, his case
+must be critical."
+
+"Noise, dear lady!"
+
+"Yes, sir; assisted by your son, he sat over his wine till past
+midnight, talking extremely loudly, and occasionally singing. They have
+now been at breakfast since ten o'clock, and you will very soon be
+able to judge by your own ears of the well-regulated pitch of the
+conversation."
+
+"My son, Miss Dinah! Tom Dill at breakfast here?"
+
+"I don't know whether his name be Tom or Harry, sir, nor is it to the
+purpose; but he is a red-haired youth, with a stoop in the shoulders,
+and a much-abused cap."
+
+Dill groaned over a portrait which to him was a photograph.
+
+"I 'll see to this, dear lady. This shall be looked into," muttered he,
+with the purpose of a man who pledged himself to a course of action; and
+with this he moved on. Nor had he gone many paces from the spot when he
+heard the sound of voices, at first in some confusion, but afterwards
+clearly and distinctly.
+
+"I 'll be hanged if I 'd do it, Tom," cried the loud voice of Conyers.
+"It's all very fine talking about paternal authority and all that, and
+so long as one is a boy there's no help for it; but you and I are men.
+We have a right to be treated like men, have n't we?"
+
+"I suppose so," muttered the other, half sulkily, and not exactly seeing
+what was gained by the admission.
+
+"Well, that being so," resumed Conyers, "I'd say to the governor, 'What
+allowance are you going to make me?'"
+
+"Did you do that with your father?" asked Tom, earnestly.
+
+"No, not exactly," stammered out the other. "There was not, in fact, any
+need for it, for my governor is a rare jolly fellow,--such a trump! What
+he said to me was, 'There's a check-book, George; don't spare it.'"
+
+"Which was as much as to say, 'Draw what you like.'"
+
+"Yes, of course. He knew, in leaving it to my honor, there was no risk
+of my committing any excess; so you see there was no necessity to make
+my governor 'book up.' But if I was in your place I 'd do it. I pledge
+you my word I would."
+
+Tom only shook his head very mournfully, and made no answer. He felt,
+and felt truly, that there is a worldly wisdom learned only in poverty
+and in the struggles of narrow fortune, of which the well-to-do know
+absolutely nothing. Of what avail to talk to him of an unlimited credit,
+or a credit to be bounded only by a sense of honor? It presupposed so
+much that was impossible, that he would have laughed if his heart had
+been but light enough.
+
+"Well, then," said Conyers, "if you have n't courage for this, let me do
+it; let me speak to your father."
+
+"What could you say to him?" asked Tom, doggedly.
+
+"Say to him?--what could I say to him?" repeated he, as he lighted a
+fresh cigar, and affected to be eagerly interested in the process. "It's
+clear enough what I 'd say to him."
+
+"Let us hear it, then," growled out Tom, for he had a sort of coarse
+enjoyment at the other's embarrassment. "I 'll be the doctor now, and
+listen to you." And with this he squared his chair full in front of
+Conyers, and crossed his arms imposingly on his chest "You said you
+wanted to speak to me about my son Tom, Mr. Conyers; what is it you have
+to say?"
+
+"Well, I suppose I'd open the matter delicately, and, perhaps, adroitly.
+I 'd say, 'I have remarked, doctor, that your son is a young fellow of
+very considerable abilities--'"
+
+"For what?" broke in Tom, huskily.
+
+"Come, you 're not to interrupt in this fashion, or I can't continue. I
+'d say something about your natural cleverness; and what a pity it
+would be if, with very promising talents, you should not have those fair
+advantages which lead a man to success in life."
+
+"And do you know what _he_ 'd say to all that?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, I'll tell you. He'd say 'Bother!' Just 'bother.'"
+
+"What do you mean by 'bother'?"
+
+"That what you were saying was all nonsense. That you did n't know, nor
+you never could know, the struggles of a man like himself, just to make
+the two ends meet; not to be rich, mind you, or lay by money, or have
+shares in this, or stocks in that, but just to live, and no more."
+
+"Well, I'd say, 'Give him a few hundred pounds, and start him.'"
+
+"Why don't you say a few thousands? It would sound grander, and be just
+as likely. Can't you see that everybody hasn't a Lieutenant-General for
+a father? and that what you 'd give for a horse--that would, maybe,
+be staked to-morrow--would perhaps be a fortune for a fellow like me?
+What's that I hear coming up the river? That's the doctor, I 'm sure.
+I 'll be off till he's gone." And without waiting to hear a word, he
+sprang from his chair and disappeared in the wood.
+
+Dr. Dill only waited a few seconds to compose his features, somewhat
+excited by what he had overheard; and then coughing loudly, to announce
+his approach, moved gravely along the gravel path.
+
+"And how is my respected patient?" asked he, blandly. "Is the
+inflammation subsiding, and are our pains diminished?"
+
+"My ankle is easier, if you mean that," said Conyers, bluntly.
+
+"Yes, much easier,--much easier," said the doctor, examining the limb;
+"and our cellular tissue has less effusion, the sheaths of the tendons
+freer, and we are generally better. I perceive you have had the leeches
+applied. Did Tom--my son--give you satisfaction? Was he as attentive and
+as careful as you wished?"
+
+"Yes, I liked him. I wish he 'd come up every day while I remain. Is
+there any objection to that arrangement?"
+
+"None, dear sir,--none. His time is fully at your service; he ought to
+be working hard. It is true he should be reading eight or ten hours a
+day, for his examination; but it is hard to persuade him to it. Young
+men will be young men!"
+
+"I hope so, with all my heart. At least, I, for one, don't want to be
+an old one. Will you do me a favor, doctor? and will you forgive me if
+I don't know how to ask it with all becoming delicacy? I'd like to give
+Tom a helping hand. He's a good fellow,--I 'm certain he is. Will you
+let me send him out to India, to my father? He has lots of places to
+give away, and he 'd be sure to find something to suit him. You have
+heard of General Conyers, perhaps, the political resident at Delhi?
+That's my governor." In the hurry and rapidity with which he spoke, it
+was easy to see how he struggled with a sense of shame and confusion.
+
+Dr. Dill was profuse of acknowledgments; he was even moved as he
+expressed his gratitude. "It was true," he remarked, "that his life had
+been signalled by these sort of graceful services, or rather offers of
+services; for we are proud if we are poor, sir. 'Dill aut nil' is the
+legend of our crest, which means that we are ourselves or nothing."
+
+"I conclude everybody else is in the same predicament," broke in
+Conyers, bluntly.
+
+"Not exactly, young gentleman,--not exactly. I think I could, perhaps,
+explain--"
+
+"No, no; never mind it. I 'm the stupidest fellow in the world at a nice
+distinction; besides, I'll take your word for the fact. You have heard
+of my father, have n't you?"
+
+"I heard of him so late as last night, from a brother officer of yours,
+Captain Stapylton."
+
+"Where did you meet Stapylton?" asked Conyers, quickly.
+
+"At Sir Charles Cobham's. I was presented to him by my daughter, and he
+made the most kindly inquiries after you, and said that, if possible,
+he'd come over here to-day to see you."
+
+"I hope he won't; that's all," muttered Conyers. Then, correcting
+himself suddenly, he said: "I mean, I scarcely know him; he has only
+joined us a few months back, and is a stranger to every one in the
+regiment. I hope you did n't tell him where I was."
+
+"I'm afraid that I did, for I remember his adding, 'Oh! I must carry him
+off. I must get him back to headquarters.'"
+
+"Indeed! Let us see if he will. That's the style of these 'Company's'
+officers,--he was in some Native corps or other,--they always fancy they
+can bully a subaltern; but Black Stapylton will find himself mistaken
+this time."
+
+"He was afraid that you had not fallen into skilful hands; and, of
+course, it would not have come well from me to assure him of the
+opposite."
+
+"Well, but what of Tom, doctor? You have given me no answer."
+
+"It is a case for reflection, my dear young friend, if I may be
+emboldened to call you so. It is not a matter I can say yes or no to on
+the instant. I have only two grown-up children: my daughter, the most
+affectionate, the most thoughtful of girls, educated, too, in a way to
+grace any sphere--"
+
+"You need n't tell me that Tom is a wild fellow," broke in Conyers,--for
+he well understood the antithesis that was coming; "he owned it all to
+me, himself. I have no doubt, too, that he made the worst of it; for,
+after all, what signifies a dash of extravagance, or a mad freak or two?
+You can't expect that we should all be as wise and as prudent and as
+cool-headed as Black Stapylton."
+
+"You plead very ably, young gentleman," said Dill, with his smoothest
+accent, "but you must give me a little time."
+
+"Well, I'll give you till to-morrow,--to-morrow, at this hour; for
+it wouldn't be fair to the poor fellow to keep him in a state of
+uncertainty. His heart is set on the plan; he told me so."
+
+"I 'll do my best to meet your wishes, my dear young gentleman; but
+please to bear in mind that it is the whole future fate of my son I
+am about to decide. Your father may not, possibly, prove so deeply
+interested as you are; he may--not unreasonably, either--take a colder
+view of this project; he may chance to form a lower estimate of my poor
+boy than it is your good nature to have done."
+
+"Look here, doctor; I know my governor something better than you do, and
+if I wrote to him, and said, 'I want this fellow to come home with a lac
+of rupees,' he 'd start him to-morrow with half the money. If I were to
+say, 'You are to give him the best thing in your gift,' there's nothing
+he 'd stop at; he 'd make him a judge, or a receiver, or some one of
+those fat things that send a man back to England with a fortune. What's
+that fellow whispering to you about? It's something that concerns me."
+
+This sudden interruption was caused by the approach of Darby, who had
+come to whisper something in the doctor's ear.
+
+"It is a message he has brought me; a matter of little consequence.
+I 'll look to it, Darby. Tell your mistress it shall be attended to."
+Darby lingered for a moment, but the doctor motioned him away, and did
+not speak again till he had quitted the spot. "How these fellows will
+wait to pick up what passes between their betters," said Dill, while he
+continued to follow him with his eyes. "I think I mentioned to you once,
+already, that the persons who keep this house here are reduced gentry,
+and it is now my task to add that, either from some change of fortune or
+from caprice, they are thinking of abandoning the inn, and resuming--so
+far as may be possible for them--their former standing. This project
+dates before your arrival here; and now, it would seem, they are
+growing impatient to effect it; at least, a very fussy old lady--Miss
+Barrington--has sent me word by Darby to say her brother will be back
+here tomorrow or next day, with some friends from Kilkenny, and she asks
+at what time your convalescence is likely to permit removal."
+
+"Turned out, in fact, doctor,--ordered to decamp! You must say, I 'm
+ready, of course; that is to say, that I 'll go at once. I don't exactly
+see how I 'm to be moved in this helpless state, as no carriage can
+come here; but you 'll look to all that for me. At all events, go
+immediately, and say I shall be off within an hour or so."
+
+"Leave it all to me,--leave it in my hands. I think I see what is to
+be done," said the doctor, with one of his confident little smiles, and
+moved away.
+
+There was a spice of irritation in Conyers's manner as he spoke. He was
+very little accustomed to be thwarted in anything, and scarcely knew the
+sensation of having a wish opposed, or an obstacle set against him, but
+simply because there was a reason for his quitting the place, grew all
+the stronger his desire to remain there. He looked around him, and never
+before had the foliage seemed so graceful; never had the tints of the
+copper-beech blended so harmoniously with the stone-pine and the
+larch; never had the eddies of the river laughed more joyously, nor the
+blackbirds sung with a more impetuous richness of melody. "And to say
+that I must leave all this, just when I feel myself actually clinging
+to it. I could spend my whole life here. I glory in this quiet, unbroken
+ease; this life, that slips along as waveless as the stream there! Why
+should n't I buy it; have it all my own, to come down to whenever I was
+sick and weary of the world and its dissipations? The spot is small; it
+couldn't be very costly; it would take a mere nothing to maintain. And
+to have it all one's own!" There was an actual ecstasy in the thought;
+for in that same sense of possession there is a something that resembles
+the sense of identity. The little child with his toy, the aged man with
+his proud demesne, are tasters of the same pleasure.
+
+"You are to use your own discretion, my dear young gentleman, and
+go when it suits you, and not before," said the doctor, returning
+triumphantly, for he felt like a successful envoy. "And now I will leave
+you. To-morrow you shall have my answer about Tom."
+
+Conyers nodded vaguely; for, alas! Tom, and all about him, had
+completely lapsed from his memory.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. BEING "BORED"
+
+It is a high testimony to that order of architecture which we call
+castle-building, that no man ever lived in a house so fine he could not
+build one more stately still out of his imagination. Nor is it only to
+grandeur and splendor this superiority extends, but it can invest lowly
+situations and homely places with a charm which, alas! no reality can
+rival.
+
+Conyers was a fortunate fellow in a number of ways; he was young,
+good-looking, healthy, and rich. Fate had made place for him on the very
+sunniest side of the causeway, and, with all that, he was happier on
+that day, through the mere play of his fancy, than all his wealth could
+have made him. He had fashioned out a life for himself in that cottage,
+very charming, and very enjoyable in its way. He would make it such a
+spot that it would have resources for him on every hand, and he hugged
+himself in the thought of coming down here with a friend, or, perhaps,
+two friends, to pass days of that luxurious indolence so fascinating to
+those who are, or fancy they are, wearied of life's pomps and vanities.
+
+Now there are no such scoffers at the frivolity and emptiness of human
+wishes as the well-to-do young fellows of two or three-and-twenty.
+They know the "whole thing," and its utter rottenness. They smile
+compassionately at the eagerness of all around them; they look with
+bland pity at the race, and contemptuously ask, of what value the prize
+when it is won? They do their very best to be gloomy moralists, but they
+cannot. They might as well try to shiver when they sit in the sunshine.
+The vigorous beat of young hearts, and the full tide of young pulses,
+will tell against all the mock misanthropy that ever was fabricated! It
+would not be exactly fair to rank Conyers in this school, and yet he was
+not totally exempt from some of its teachings. Who knows if these little
+imaginary glooms, these brain-created miseries, are not a kind of
+moral "alterative" which, though depressing at the instant, render the
+constitution only more vigorous after?
+
+At all events, he had resolved to have the cottage, and, going
+practically to work, he called Darby to his counsels to tell him the
+extent of the place, its boundaries, and whatever information he could
+afford as to the tenure and its rent.
+
+"You 'd be for buying it, your honor!" said Darby, with the keen
+quick-sightedness of his order.
+
+"Perhaps I had some thoughts of the kind; and, if so, I should keep you
+on."
+
+Darby bowed his gratitude very respectfully. It was too long a vista
+for him to strain his eyes at, and so he made no profuse display of
+thankfulness. With all their imaginative tendencies, the lower Irish are
+a very bird-in-the-hand sort of people.
+
+"Not more than seventeen acres!" cried Conyers, in astonishment. "Why, I
+should have guessed about forty, at least. Isn't that wood there part of
+it?"
+
+"Yes, but it's only a strip, and the trees that you see yonder is in
+Carriclough; and them two meadows below the salmon weir is n't ours at
+all; and the island itself we have only a lease of it."
+
+"It's all in capital repair, well kept, well looked after?"
+
+"Well, it is, and isn't!" said he, with a look of disagreement. "He'd
+have one thing, and she'd have another; _he_ 'd spend every shilling he
+could get on the place, and _she_ 'd grudge a brush of paint, or a coat
+of whitewash, just to keep things together."
+
+"I see nothing amiss here," said Conyers, looking around him. "Nobody
+could ask or wish a cottage to be neater, better furnished, or more
+comfortable. I confess I do not perceive anything wanting."
+
+"Oh, to be sure, it's very nate, as your honor says; but then--" And he
+scratched his head, and looked confused.
+
+"But then, what--out with it?"
+
+"The earwigs is dreadful; wherever there 's roses and sweetbrier there's
+no livin' with them. Open the window and the place is full of them."
+
+Mistaking the surprise he saw depicted in his hearer's face for terror,
+Darby launched forth into a description of insect and reptile tortures
+that might have suited the tropics; to hear him, all the stories of the
+white ant of India, or the gallinipper of Demerara, were nothing to the
+destructive powers of the Irish earwig. The place was known for them all
+over the country, and it was years and years lying empty, "by rayson of
+thim plagues."
+
+Now, if Conyers was not intimidated to the full extent Darby intended by
+this account, he was just as far from guessing the secret cause of
+this representation, which was simply a long-settled plan of succeeding
+himself to the ownership of the "Fisherman's Home," when, either from
+the course of nature or an accident, a vacancy would occur. It was the
+grand dream of Darby's life, the island of his Government, his seat in
+the Cabinet, his Judgeship, his Garter, his everything, in short, that
+makes human ambition like a cup brimful and overflowing; and what a
+terrible reverse would it be if all these hopes were to be dashed just
+to gratify the passing caprice of a mere traveller!
+
+"I don't suppose your honor cares for money, and, maybe, you 'd as soon
+pay twice over the worth of anything; but here, between our two selves,
+I can tell you, you 'd buy an estate in the county cheaper than this
+little place. They think, because they planted most of the trees and
+made the fences themselves, that it's like the King's Park. It's a fancy
+spot, and a fancy price, they'll ask for it But I know of another worth
+ten of it,--a real, elegant place; to be sure, it's a trifle out of
+repair, for the ould naygur that has it won't lay out a sixpence, but
+there 's every con-vaniency in life about it. There's the finest cup
+potatoes, the biggest turnips ever I see on it, and fish jumpin' into
+the parlor-window, and hares runnin' about like rats."
+
+"I don't care for all that; this cottage and these grounds here have
+taken my fancy."
+
+"And why would n't the other, when you seen it? The ould Major that
+lives there wants to sell it, and you 'd get it a raal bargain. Let me
+row your honor up there this evening. It's not two miles off, and the
+river beautiful all the way."
+
+Conyers rejected the proposal abruptly, haughtily. Darby had dared to
+throw down a very imposing card-edifice, and for the moment the fellow
+was odious to him. All the golden visions of his early morning, that
+poetized life he was to lead, that elegant pastoralism, which was to
+blend the splendor of Lucullus with the simplicity of a Tityrus, all
+rent, torn, and scattered by a vile hind, who had not even a conception
+of the ruin he had caused.
+
+And yet Darby had a misty consciousness of some success. He did not,
+indeed, know that his shell had exploded in a magazine; but he saw,
+from the confusion in the garrison, that his shot had told severely
+somewhere.
+
+"Maybe your honor would rather go to-morrow? or maybe you 'd like the
+Major to come up here himself, and speak to you?"
+
+"Once for all, I tell you, No! Is that plain? No! And I may add, my good
+fellow, that if you knew me a little better, you 'd not tender me any
+advice I did not ask for."
+
+"And why would I? Would n't I be a baste if I did?"
+
+"I think so," said Conyers, dryly, and turned away. He was out of temper
+with everything and everybody,--the doctor, and his abject manner;
+Tom, and his roughness; Darby, and his roguish air of self-satisfied
+craftiness; all, for the moment, displeased and offended him. "I 'll
+leave the place to-morrow; I 'm not sure I shall not go to-night D'ye
+hear?"
+
+Darby bowed respectfully.
+
+"I suppose I can reach some spot, by boat, where a carriage can be had?"
+
+"By coorse, your honor. At Hunt's Mills, or Shibna-brack, you 'll get
+a car easy enough. I won't say it will be an elegant convaniency, but a
+good horse will rowl you along into Thomastown, where you can change for
+a shay."
+
+Strange enough, this very facility of escape annoyed him. Had Darby
+only told him that there were all manner of difficulties to getting
+away,--that there were shallows in the river, or a landslip across the
+road,--he would have addressed himself to overcome the obstacles like a
+man; but to hear that the course was open, that any one might take it,
+was intolerable.
+
+"I suppose, your honor, I 'd better get the boat ready, at all events?"
+
+"Yes, certainly,--that is, not till I give further orders. I 'm the
+only stranger here, and I can't imagine there can be much difficulty in
+having a boat at any hour. Leave me, my good fellow; you only worry me.
+Go!"
+
+And Darby moved away, revolving within himself the curious problem, that
+if, having plenty of money enlarged a man's means of enjoyment, it was
+strange how little effect it produced upon his manners. As for Conyers,
+he stood moodily gazing on the river, over whose placid surface a few
+heavy raindrops were just falling; great clouds, too, rolled heavily
+over the hillsides, and gathered into ominous-looking masses over the
+stream, while a low moaning sound of very far-off thunder foretold a
+storm.
+
+Here, at least, was a good tangible grievance, and he hugged it to his
+heart. He was weather-bound! The tree-tops were already shaking wildly,
+and dark scuds flying fast over the mottled sky. It was clear that a
+severe storm was near. "No help for it now," muttered he, "if I must
+remain here till to-morrow." And hobbling as well as he could into
+the house, he seated himself at the window to watch the hurricane. Too
+closely pent up between the steep sides of the river for anything like
+destructive power, the wind only shook the trees violently, or swept
+along the stream with tiny waves, which warred against the current; but
+even these were soon beaten down by the rain,--that heavy, swooping,
+splashing rain, that seems to come from the overflowing of a lake in the
+clouds. Darker and darker grew the atmosphere as it fell, till the banks
+of the opposite side were gradually lost to view, while the river itself
+became a yellow flood, surging up amongst the willows that lined the
+banks. It was not one of those storms whose grand effects of lightning,
+aided by pealing thunder, create a sense of sublime terror, that has its
+own ecstasy; but it was one of those dreary evenings when the dull sky
+shows no streak of light, and when the moist earth gives up no perfume,
+when foliage and hillside and rock and stream are leaden-colored and
+sad, and one wishes for winter, to close the shutter and draw the
+curtain, and creep close to the chimney-corner as to a refuge.
+
+Oh, what comfortless things are these summer storms! They come upon us
+like some dire disaster in a time of festivity. They swoop down upon our
+days of sunshine like a pestilence, and turn our joy into gloom, and
+all our gladness to despondency, bringing back to our minds memories of
+comfortless journeys, weariful ploddings, long nights of suffering.
+
+I am but telling what Conyers felt at this sudden change of weather. You
+and I, my good reader, know better. We feel how gladly the parched earth
+drinks up the refreshing draught, how the seared grass bends gratefully
+to the skimming rain, and the fresh buds open with joy to catch the
+pearly drops. We know, too, how the atmosphere, long imprisoned, bursts
+forth into a joyous freedom, and comes back to us fresh from the sea and
+the mountain rich in odor and redolent of health, making the very air
+breathe an exquisite luxury. We know all this, and much more that he did
+not care for.
+
+Now Conyers was only "bored," as if anything could be much worse; that
+is to say, he was in that state of mind in which resources yield no
+distraction, and nothing is invested with an interest sufficient to make
+it even passingly amusing. He wanted to do something, though the precise
+something did not occur to him. Had he been well, and in full enjoyment
+of his strength, he 'd have sallied out into the storm and walked off
+his ennui by a wetting. Even a cold would be a good exchange for the
+dreary blue-devilism of his depression; but this escape was denied
+him, and he was left to fret, and chafe, and fever himself, moving from
+window to chimney-corner, and from chimney-corner to sofa, till at last,
+baited by self-tormentings, he opened his door and sallied forth to
+wander through the rooms, taking his chance where his steps might lead
+him.
+
+Between the gloomy influences of the storm and the shadows of a
+declining day he could mark but indistinctly the details of the rooms
+he was exploring. They presented little that was remarkable; they were
+modestly furnished, nothing costly nor expensive anywhere, but a degree
+of homely comfort rare to find in an inn. They had, above all, that
+habitable look which so seldom pertains to a house of entertainment,
+and, in the loosely scattered books, prints, and maps showed a sort of
+flattering trustfulness in the stranger who might sojourn there. His
+wanderings led him, at length, into a somewhat more pretentious room,
+with a piano and a harp, at one angle of which a little octangular
+tower opened, with windows in every face, and the spaces between them
+completely covered by miniatures in oil, or small cabinet pictures. A
+small table with a chess-board stood here, and an unfinished game yet
+remained on the board. As Conyers bent over to look, he perceived that a
+book, whose leaves were held open by a smelling-bottle, lay on the chair
+next the table. He took this up, and saw that it was a little volume
+treating of the game, and that the pieces on the board represented a
+problem. With the eagerness of a man thirsting for some occupation, he
+seated himself at the table, and set to work at the question. "A Mate in
+Six Moves" it was headed, but the pieces had been already disturbed by
+some one attempting the solution. He replaced them by the directions of
+the volume, and devoted himself earnestly to the task. He was not a good
+player, and the problem posed him. He tried it again and again, but ever
+unsuccessfully. He fancied that up to a certain point he had followed
+the right track, and repeated the same opening moves each time.
+Meanwhile the evening was fast closing in, and it was only with
+difficulty he could see the pieces on the board.
+
+[Illustration: 126]
+
+Bending low over the table, he was straining his eyes at the game, when
+a low, gentle voice from behind his chair said, "Would you not wish
+candles, sir? It is too dark to see here."
+
+Conyers turned hastily, and as hastily recognized that the person who
+addressed him was a gentlewoman. He arose at once, and made a sort of
+apology for his intruding.
+
+"Had I known you were a chess-player, sir," said she, with the demure
+gravity of a composed manner, "I believe I should have sent you a
+challenge; for my brother, who is my usual adversary, is from home."
+
+"If I should prove a very unworthy enemy, madam, you will find me a very
+grateful one, for I am sorely tired of my own company."
+
+"In that case, sir, I beg to offer you mine, and a cup of tea along with
+it."
+
+[Illustration: 126]
+
+Conyers accepted the invitation joyfully, and followed Miss Barrington
+to a small but most comfortable little room, where a tea equipage of
+exquisite old china was already prepared.
+
+"I see you are in admiration of my teacups; they are the rare Canton
+blue, for we tea-drinkers have as much epicurism in the form and color
+of a cup as wine-bibbers profess to have in a hock or a claret glass.
+Pray take the sofa; you will find it more comfortable than a chair. I am
+aware you have had an accident."
+
+Very few and simple as were her words, she threw into her manner a
+degree of courtesy that seemed actual kindness; and coming, as this did,
+after his late solitude and gloom, no wonder was it that Conyers was
+charmed with it. There was, besides, a quaint formality--a sort of
+old-world politeness in her breeding--which relieved the interview of
+awkwardness by taking it out of the common category of such events.
+
+When tea was over, they sat down to chess, at which Conyers had merely
+proficiency enough to be worth beating. Perhaps the quality stood him
+in good stead; perhaps certain others, such as his good looks and his
+pleasing manners, were even better aids to him; but certain it is, Miss
+Barrington liked her guest, and when, on arising to say good-night, he
+made a bungling attempt to apologize for having prolonged his stay at
+the cottage beyond the period which suited their plans, she stopped
+him by saying, with much courtesy, "It is true, sir, we are about to
+relinquish the inn, but pray do not deprive us of the great pleasure
+we should feel in associating its last day or two with a most agreeable
+guest. I hope you will remain till my brother comes back and makes your
+acquaintance."
+
+Conyers very cordially accepted the proposal, and went off to his bed
+far better pleased with himself and with all the world than he well
+believed it possible he could be a couple of hours before.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. A NOTE TO BE ANSWERED
+
+While Conyers was yet in bed the following morning, a messenger arrived
+at the house with a note for him, and waited for the answer. It was from
+Stapylton, and ran thus:--
+
+"Cobham Hall, Tuesday morning.
+
+"Dear Con.,--The world here--and part of it is a very pretty world, with
+silky tresses and trim ankles--has declared that you have had some sort
+of slight accident, and are laid up at a miserable wayside inn, to
+be blue-devilled and doctored _a discretion_. I strained my shoulder
+yesterday hunting,--my horse swerved against a tree,--or I should
+ascertain all the particulars of your disaster in person; so there is
+nothing left for it but a note.
+
+"I am here domesticated at a charming country-house, the host an old
+Admiral, the hostess a _ci-devant_ belle of London,--in times not
+very recent,--and more lately what is called in newspapers 'one of the
+ornaments of the Irish Court.' We have abundance of guests,--county dons
+and native celebrities, clerical, lyrical, and quizzical, several pretty
+women, a first-rate cellar, and a very tolerable cook. I give you the
+catalogue of our attractions, for I am commissioned by Sir Charles and
+my Lady to ask you to partake of them. The invitation is given in all
+cordiality, and I hope you will not decline it, for it is, amongst other
+matters, a good opportunity of seeing an Irish 'interior,' a thing of
+which I have always had my doubts and misgivings, some of which are now
+solved; others I should like to investigate with your assistance. In
+a word, the whole is worth seeing, and it is, besides, one of those
+experiences which can be had on very pleasant terms. There is perfect
+liberty; always something going on, and always a way to be out of it if
+you like. The people are, perhaps, not more friendly than in England,
+but they are far more familiar; and if not more disposed to be pleased,
+they tell you they are, which amounts to the same. There is a good
+deal of splendor, a wide hospitality, and, I need scarcely add, a
+considerable share of bad taste. There is, too, a costly attention to
+the wishes of a guest, which will remind you of India, though I must own
+the Irish Brahmin has not the grand, high-bred air of the Bengalee. But
+again I say, come and see.
+
+"I have been told to explain to you why they don't send their boat.
+There is something about draught of water, and something about a 'gash,'
+whatever that is: I opine it to be a rapid. And then I am directed to
+say, that if you will have yourself paddled up to Brown's Barn, the
+Cobham barge will be there to meet you.
+
+"I write this with some difficulty, lying on my back on a sofa, while a
+very pretty girl is impatiently waiting to continue her reading to me
+of a new novel called 'The Antiquary.' a capital story, but strangely
+disfigured by whole scenes in a Scottish dialect. You must read it when
+you come over.
+
+"You have heard of Hunter, of course. I am sure you will be sorry at his
+leaving us. For myself, I knew him very slightly, and shall not have to
+regret him like older friends; not to say that I have been so long in
+the service that I never believe in a Colonel. Would you go with him
+if he gave you the offer? There is such a row and uproar all around me,
+that I must leave off. Have I forgotten to say that if you stand upon
+the 'dignities,' the Admiral will go in person to invite you, though he
+has a foot in the gout. I conclude you will not exact this, and I _know_
+they will take your acceptance of this mode of invitation as a great
+favor. Say the hour and the day, and believe me yours always,
+
+"Horace Stapylton.
+
+"Sir Charles is come to say that if your accident does not interfere
+with riding, he hopes you will send for your horses. He has ample
+stabling, and is vainglorious about his beans. That short-legged
+chestnut you brought from Norris would cut a good figure here, as the
+fences lie very close, and you must be always 'in hand.' If you saw how
+the women ride! There is one here now--a 'half-bred 'un'--that pounded
+us all--a whole field of us--last Saturday. You shall see her. I won't
+promise you 'll follow her across her country."
+
+The first impression made on the mind of Conyers by this letter was
+surprise that Stapylton, with whom he had so little acquaintance, should
+write to him in this tone of intimacy; Stapylton, whose cold, almost
+stern manner seemed to repel any approach, and now he assumed all the
+free-and-easy air of a comrade of his own years and standing. Had he
+mistaken the man, or had he been misled by inferring from his bearing in
+the regiment what he must be at heart?
+
+This, however, was but a passing thought; the passage which interested
+him most of all was about Hunter. Where and for what could he have left,
+then? It was a regiment he had served in since he entered the army.
+What could have led him to exchange? and why, when he did so, had he not
+written him one line--even one--to say as much? It was to serve under
+Hunter, his father's old aide-de-camp in times back, that he had entered
+that regiment; to be with him, to have his friendship, his counsels, his
+guidance. Colonel Hunter had treated him like a son in every respect,
+and Conyers felt in his heart that this same affection and interest it
+was which formed his strongest tie to the service. The question, "Would
+you go with him if he gave you the offer?" was like a reflection on him,
+while no such option had been extended to him. What more natural, after
+all, than such an offer? so Stapylton thought,--so all the world would
+think. How he thought over the constantly recurring questions of his
+brother-officers: "Why didn't you go with Hunter?" "How came it that
+Hunter did not name you on his staff?" "Was it fair--was it generous
+in one who owed all his advancement to his father--to treat him in this
+fashion?" "Were the ties of old friendship so lax as all this?" "Was
+distance such an enemy to every obligation of affection?" "Would his
+father believe that such a slight had been passed upon him
+undeservedly? Would not the ready inference be, 'Hunter knew you to
+be incapable,--unequal to the duties he required. Hunter must have his
+reasons for passing you over'?" and such like. These reflections,
+very bitter in their way, were broken in upon by a request from Miss
+Barrington for his company at breakfast. Strange enough, he had half
+forgotten that there was such a person in the world, or that he had
+spent the preceding evening very pleasantly in her society.
+
+"I hope you have had a pleasant letter," said she, as he entered, with
+Stapylton's note still in his hand.
+
+"I can scarcely call it so, for it brings me news that our Colonel--a
+very dear and kind friend to me--is about to leave us."
+
+"Are these not the usual chances of a soldier's life? I used to be very
+familiar once on a time with such topics."
+
+"I have learned the tidings so vaguely, too, that I can make nothing of
+them. My correspondent is a mere acquaintance,--a brother officer, who
+has lately joined us, and cannot feel how deeply his news has affected
+me; in fact, the chief burden of his letter is to convey an invitation
+to me, and he is full of country-house people and pleasures. He writes
+from a place called Cobham."
+
+"Sir Charles Cobham's. One of the best houses in the county."
+
+"Do you know them?" asked Conyers, who did not, till the words were out,
+remember how awkward they might prove.
+
+She flushed slightly for a moment, but, speedily recovering herself,
+said: "Yes, we knew them once. They had just come to the country, and
+purchased that estate, when our misfortunes overtook us. They showed
+us much attention, and such kindness as strangers could show, and they
+evinced a disposition to continue it; but, of course, our relative
+positions made intercourse impossible. I am afraid," said she, hastily,
+"I am talking in riddles all this time. I ought to have told you that my
+brother once owned a good estate here. We Barringtons thought a deal of
+ourselves in those days." She tried to say these words with a playful
+levity, but her voice shook, and her lip trembled in spite of her.
+
+Conyers muttered something unintelligible about "his having heard
+before," and his sorrow to have awakened a painful theme; but she
+stopped him hastily, saying, "These are all such old stories now, one
+should be able to talk them over unconcernedly; indeed, it is easier to
+do so than to avoid the subject altogether, for there is no such egotist
+as your reduced gentleman." She made a pretext of giving him his tea,
+and helping him to something, to cover the awkward pause that followed,
+and then asked if he intended to accept the invitation to Cobham.
+
+"Not if you will allow me to remain here. The doctor says three days
+more will see me able to go back to my quarters."
+
+"I hope you will stay for a week, at least, for I scarcely expect my
+brother before Saturday. Meanwhile, if you have any fancy to visit
+Cobham, and make your acquaintance with the family there, remember you
+have all the privileges of an inn here, to come and go, and stay at your
+pleasure."
+
+"I do not want to leave this. I wish I was never to leave it," muttered
+he below his breath.
+
+"Perhaps I guess what it is that attaches you to this place," said she,
+gently. "Shall I say it? There is something quiet, something domestic
+here, that recalls 'Home.'"
+
+"But I never knew a home," said Conyers, falteringly. "My mother died
+when I was a mere infant, and I knew none of that watchful love that
+first gives the sense of home. You may be right, however, in supposing
+that I cling to this spot as what should seem to me like a home, for I
+own to you I feel very happy here."
+
+"Stay then, and be happy," said she, holding out her hand, which he
+clasped warmly, and then pressed to his lips.
+
+"Tell your friend to come over and dine with you any day that he can
+tear himself from gay company and a great house, and I will do my best
+to entertain him suitably."
+
+"No. I don't care to do that; he is a mere acquaintance; there is no
+friendship between us, and, as he is several years older than me, and
+far wiser, and more man of the world, I am more chilled than cheered
+by his company. But you shall read his letter, and I 'm certain you
+'ll make a better guess at his nature than if I were to give you my own
+version of him at any length." So saying, he handed Stapyl-ton's
+note across the table; and Miss Dinah, having deliberately put on her
+spectacles, began to read it.
+
+"It's a fine manly hand,--very bold and very legible, and says something
+for the writer's frankness. Eh? 'a miserable wayside inn!' This is less
+than just to the poor 'Fisherman's Home.' Positively, you must make him
+come to dinner, if it be only for the sake of our character. This man is
+not amiable, sir," said she, as she read on, "though I could swear he is
+pleasant company, and sometimes witty. But there is little of genial in
+his pleasantry, and less of good nature in his wit."
+
+"Go on," cried Conyers; "I 'm quite with you."
+
+"Is he a person of family?" asked she, as she read on some few lines
+further.
+
+"We know nothing about him; he joined us from a native corps, in India;
+but he has a good name and, apparently, ample means. His appearance and
+manner are equal to any station."
+
+"For all that, I don't like him, nor do I desire that you should
+like him. There is no wiser caution than that of the Psalmist against
+'sitting in the seat of the scornful.' This man is a scoffer."
+
+"And yet it is not his usual tone. He is cold, retiring, almost shy.
+This letter is not a bit like anything I ever saw in his character."
+
+"Another reason to distrust him. Set my mind at ease by saying 'No' to
+his invitation, and let me try if I cannot recompense you by homeliness
+in lieu of splendor. The young lady," added she, as she folded the
+letter, "whose horsemanship is commemorated at the expense of her
+breeding, must be our doctor's daughter. She is a very pretty girl, and
+rides admirably. Her good looks and her courage might have saved her the
+sarcasm. I have my doubts if the man that uttered it be thorough-bred."
+
+"Well, I 'll go and write my answer," said Conyers, rising. "I have
+been keeping his messenger waiting all this time. I will show it to you
+before I send it off."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. THE ANSWER
+
+"Will this do?" said Conyers, shortly after, entering the room with
+a very brief note, but which, let it be owned, cost him fully as much
+labor as more practised hands occasionally bestow on a more lengthy
+despatch. "I suppose it's all that's civil and proper, and I don't
+care to make any needless professions. Pray read it, and give me your
+opinion." It was so brief that I may quote it:--
+
+"Dear Captain Stapylton,--Don't feel any apprehensions about me. I am in
+better quarters than I ever fell into in my life, and my accident is not
+worth speaking of. I wish you had told me more of our Colonel, of
+whose movements I am entirely ignorant. I am sincerely grateful to your
+friends for thinking of me, and hope, ere I leave the neighborhood, to
+express to Sir Charles and Lady Cobham how sensible I am of their kind
+intentions towards me.
+
+"I am, most faithfully yours,
+
+"F. CONYERS."
+
+"It is very well, and tolerably legible," said Miss Barrington, dryly;
+"at least I can make out everything but the name at the end."
+
+"I own I do not shine in penmanship; the strange characters at the foot
+were meant to represent 'Conyers.'"
+
+"Conyers! Conyers! How long is it since I heard that name last, and how
+familiar I was with it once! My nephew's dearest friend was a Conyers."
+
+"He must have been a relative of mine in some degree; at least, we are
+in the habit of saying that all of the name are of one family."
+
+Not heeding what he said, the old lady had fallen back in her
+meditations to a very remote "long ago," and was thinking of a time when
+every letter from India bore the high-wrought interest of a romance, of
+which her nephew was the hero,--times of intense anxiety, indeed, but
+full of hope withal, and glowing with all the coloring with which love
+and an exalted imagination can invest the incidents of an adventurous
+life.
+
+"It was a great heart he had, a splendidly generous nature, far too
+high-souled and too exacting for common friendships, and so it was that
+he had few friends. I am talking of my nephew," said she, correcting
+herself suddenly. "What a boon for a young man to have met him, and
+formed an attachment to him. I wish you could have known him. George
+would have been a noble example for you!" She paused for some minutes,
+and then suddenly, as it were remembering herself, said, "Did you tell
+me just now, or was I only dreaming, that you knew Ormsby Conyers?"
+
+"Ormsby Conyers is my father's name," said he, quickly.
+
+"Captain in the 25th Dragoons?" asked she, eagerly.
+
+"He was so, some eighteen or twenty years ago."
+
+"Oh, then, my heart did not deceive me," cried she, taking his hand
+with both her own, "when I felt towards you like an old friend. After
+we parted last night, I asked myself, again and again, how was it that
+I already felt an interest in you? What subtle instinct was it that
+whispered this is the son of poor George's dearest friend,--this is the
+son of that dear Ormsby Conyers of whom every letter is full? Oh, the
+happiness of seeing you under this roof! And what a surprise for my
+poor brother, who clings only the closer, with every year, to all that
+reminds him of his boy!"
+
+"And you knew my father, then?" asked Conyers, proudly.
+
+"Never met him; but I believe I knew him better than many who were his
+daily intimates: for years my nephew's letters were journals of their
+joint lives--they seemed never separate. But you shall read them
+yourself. They go back to the time when they both landed at Calcutta,
+young and ardent spirits, eager for adventure, and urged by a bold
+ambition to win distinction. From that day they were inseparable. They
+hunted, travelled, lived together; and so attached had they become to
+each other, that George writes in one letter: 'They have offered me an
+appointment on the staff, but as this would separate me from Ormsby,
+it is not to be thought of.' It was to me George always wrote, for
+my brother never liked letter-writing, and thus I was my nephew's
+confidante, and intrusted with all his secrets. Nor was there one in
+which your father's name did not figure. It was, how Ormsby got him out
+of this scrape, or took his duty for him, or made this explanation, or
+raised that sum of money, that filled all these. At last--I never knew
+why or how--George ceased to write to me, and addressed all his letters
+to his father, marked 'Strictly private' too, so that I never saw
+what they contained. My brother, I believe, suffered deeply from the
+concealment, and there must have been what to him seemed a sufficient
+reason for it, or he would never have excluded me from that share in his
+confidence I had always possessed. At all events, it led to a sort of
+estrangement between us,--the only one of our lives. He would tell me
+at intervals that George was on leave; George was at the Hills; he was
+expecting his troop; he had been sent here or there; but nothing more,
+till one morning, as if unable to bear the burden longer, he said,
+'George has made up his mind to leave his regiment and take service
+with one of the native princes. It is an arrangement sanctioned by the
+Government, but it is one I grieve over and regret greatly.' I asked
+eagerly to hear further about this step, but he said he knew nothing
+beyond the bare fact. I then said, 'What does his friend Conyers think
+of it?' and my brother dryly replied, 'I am not aware that he has been
+consulted.' Our own misfortunes were fast closing around us, so that
+really we had little time to think of anything but the difficulties that
+each day brought forth. George's letters grew rarer and rarer; rumors
+of him reached us; stories of his gorgeous mode of living, his princely
+state and splendid retinue, of the high favor he enjoyed with the Rajah,
+and the influence he wielded over neighboring chiefs; and then we heard,
+still only by rumor, that he had married a native princess, who had some
+time before been converted to Christianity. The first intimation of the
+fact from himself came, when, announcing that he had sent his daughter,
+a child of about five years old, to Europe to be educated--" She paused
+here, and seemed to have fallen into a revery over the past; when
+Conyers suddenly asked,--
+
+"And what of my father all this time? Was the old intercourse kept up
+between them?"
+
+"I cannot tell you. I do not remember that his name occurred till the
+memorable case came on before the House of Commons--the inquiry, as it
+was called, into Colonel Barrington's conduct in the case of Edwardes, a
+British-born subject of his Majesty, serving in the army of the Rajah of
+Luckerabad. You have, perhaps, heard of it?"
+
+"Was that the celebrated charge of torturing a British subject?"
+
+"The same; the vilest conspiracy that ever was hatched, and the
+cruellest persecution that ever broke a noble heart. And yet there were
+men of honor, men of purest fame and most unblemished character, who
+harkened in to that infamous cry, and actually sent out emissaries to
+India to collect evidence against my poor nephew. For a while the
+whole country rang with the case. The low papers, which assailed the
+Government, made it matter of attack on the nature of the British rule
+in India, and the ministry only sought to make George the victim to
+screen themselves from public indignation. It was Admiral Byng's case
+once more. But I have no temper to speak of it, even after this lapse of
+years; my blood boils now at the bare memory of that foul and perjured
+association. If you would follow the story, I will send you the little
+published narrative to your room, but, I beseech you, do not again
+revert to it. How I have betrayed myself to speak of it I know not. For
+many a long year I have prayed to be able to forgive one man, who has
+been the bitterest enemy of our name and race. I have asked for strength
+to bear the burden of our calamity, but more earnestly a hundred-fold
+I have entreated that forgiveness might enter my heart, and that if
+vengeance for this cruel wrong was at hand, I could be able to say, 'No,
+the time for such feeling is gone by.' Let me not, then, be tempted
+by any revival of this theme to recall all the sorrow and all the
+indignation it once caused me. This infamous book contains the whole
+story as the world then believed it. You will read it with interest, for
+it concerned one whom your father dearly loved. But, again. I say, when
+we meet again let us not return to it. These letters, too, will amuse
+you; they are the diaries of your father's early life in India as much
+as George's, but of them we can talk freely."
+
+It was so evident that she was speaking with a forced calm, and that all
+her self-restraint might at any moment prove unequal to the effort
+she was making, that Conyers, affecting to have a few words to say to
+Stapylton's messenger, stole away, and hastened to his room to look over
+the letters and the volume she had given him.
+
+He had scarcely addressed himself to his task when a knock came to the
+door, and at the same instant it was opened in a slow, half-hesitating
+way, and Tom Dill stood before him. Though evidently dressed for the
+occasion, and intending to present himself in a most favorable guise,
+Tom looked far more vulgar and unprepossessing than in the worn
+costume of his every-day life, his bright-buttoned blue coat and yellow
+waistcoat being only aggravations of the low-bred air that unhappily
+beset him. Worse even than this, however, was the fact that, being
+somewhat nervous about the interview before him, Tom had taken what
+his father would have called a diffusible stimulant, in the shape of "a
+dandy of punch," and bore the evidences of it in a heightened color and
+a very lustrous but wandering eye.
+
+[Illustration: 140]
+
+"Here I am," said he, entering with a sort of easy swagger, but far more
+affected than real, notwithstanding the "dandy."
+
+"Well, and what then?" asked Conyers, haughtily, for the vulgar
+presumption of his manner was but a sorry advocate in his favor. "I
+don't remember, that I sent for you."
+
+"No; but my father told me what you said to him, and I was to come up
+and thank you, and say, 'Done!' to it all."
+
+Conyers turned a look--not a very pleased or very flattering look--at
+the loutish figure before him, and in his changing color might be seen
+the conflict it cost him to keep down his rising temper. He was, indeed,
+sorely tried, and his hand shook as he tossed over the books on his
+table, and endeavored to seem occupied in other matters.
+
+"Maybe you forget all about it," began Tom. "Perhaps you don't remember
+that you offered to fit me out for India, and send me over with a letter
+to your father--"
+
+"No, no, I forget nothing of it; I remember it all." He had almost
+said "only too well," but he coughed down the cruel speech, and went
+on hurriedly: "You have come, however, when I am engaged,--when I have
+other things to attend to. These letters here--In fact, this is not a
+moment when I can attend to you. Do you understand me?"
+
+"I believe I do," said Tom, growing very pale.
+
+"To-morrow, then, or the day after, or next week, will be time enough
+for all this. I must think over the matter again."
+
+"I see," said Tom, moodily, as he changed from one foot to the other,
+and cracked the joints of his fingers, till they seemed dislocated. "I
+see it all."
+
+"What do you mean by that?--what do you see?" asked Conyers, angrily.
+
+"I see that Polly, my sister, was right; that she knew you better than
+any of us," said Tom, boldly, for a sudden rush of courage had now
+filled his heart. "She said, 'Don't let him turn your head, Tom, with
+his fine promises. He was in good humor and good spirits when he made
+them, and perhaps meant to keep them too; but he little knows what
+misery disappointment brings, and he'll never fret himself over the
+heavy heart he's giving you, when he wakes in the morning with a change
+of mind.' And then, she said another thing," added he, after a pause.
+
+"And what was the other thing?"
+
+"She said, 'If you go up there, Tom,' says she, 'dressed out like a
+shopboy in his Sunday suit, he'll be actually shocked at his having
+taken an interest in you. He 'll forget all about your hard lot and
+your struggling fortune, and only see your vulgarity.' 'Your
+vulgarity,'--that was the word." As he said this, his lip trembled, and
+the chair he leaned on shook under his grasp.
+
+"Go back, and tell her, then, that she was mistaken," said Conyers,
+whose own voice now quavered. "Tell her that when I give my word I keep
+it; that I will maintain everything I said to you or to your father;
+and that when she imputed to me an indifference as to the feelings of
+others, she might have remembered whether she was not unjust to mine.
+Tell her that also."
+
+[Illustration: 140]
+
+"I will," said Tom, gravely. "Is there anything more?" "No, nothing
+more," said Conyers, who with difficulty suppressed a smile at the words
+and the manner of his questioner. "Good-bye, then. You 'll send for me
+when you want me," said Tom; and he was out of the room, and half-way
+across the lawn, ere Conyers could recover himself to reply.
+
+Conyers, however, flung open the window, and cried to him to come back.
+
+"I was nigh forgetting a most important part of the matter, Tom," said
+he, as the other entered, somewhat pale and anxious-looking. "You told
+me, t' other day, that there was some payment to be made,--some sum to
+be lodged before you could present yourself for examination. What about
+this? When must it be done?"
+
+"A month before I go in," said Tom, to whom the very thought of the
+ordeal seemed full of terror and heart-sinking.
+
+"And how soon do you reckon that may be?"
+
+"Polly says not before eight weeks at the earliest. She says we 'll
+have to go over Bell on the Bones all again, and brush up the Ligaments,
+besides. If it was the Navy, they 'd not mind the nerves; but they tell
+me the Army fellows often take a man on the fifth pair, and I know if
+they do me, it's mighty little of India I 'll see."
+
+"Plucked, eh?"
+
+"I don't know what you mean by 'plucked,' but I 'd be turned back, which
+is, perhaps, the same. And no great disgrace, either," added he, with
+more of courage in his voice; "Polly herself says there's days she could
+n't remember all the branches of the fifth, and the third is almost as
+bad."
+
+"I suppose if your sister could go up in your place, Tom, you 'd be
+quite sure of your diploma?"
+
+"It's many and many a day I wished that same," sighed he, heavily. "If
+you heard her going over the 'Subclavian,' you 'd swear she had the book
+in her hand."
+
+Conyers could not repress a smile at this strange piece of feminine
+accomplishment, but he was careful not to let Tom perceive it. Not,
+indeed, that the poor fellow was in a very observant mood; Polly's
+perfections, her memory, and her quickness were the themes that filled
+up his mind.
+
+"What a rare piece of luck for you to have had such a sister, Tom!"
+
+"Don't I say it to myself?--don't I repeat the very same words every
+morning when I awake? Maybe I 'll never come to any good; maybe my
+father is right, and that I 'll only be a disgrace as long as I live;
+but I hope one thing, at least, I 'll never be so bad that I 'll forget
+Polly, and all she done for me. And I'll tell you more," said he, with a
+choking fulness in his throat; "if they turn me back at my examination,
+my heart will be heavier for _her_ than for myself."
+
+"Come, cheer up, Tom; don't look on the gloomy side. You 'll pass, I 'm
+certain, and with credit too. Here 's the thirty pounds you 'll have to
+lodge--"
+
+"It is only twenty they require. And, besides, I could n't take it; it's
+my father must pay." He stammered, and hesitated, and grew pale and then
+crimson, while his lips trembled and his chest heaved and fell almost
+convulsively.
+
+"Nothing of the kind, Tom," said Conyers, who had to subdue his own
+emotion by an assumed sternness. "The plan is all my own, and I
+will stand no interference with it. I mean that you should pass your
+examination without your father knowing one word about it. You shall
+come back to him with your diploma, or whatever it is, in your hand,
+and say, 'There, sir, the men who have signed their names to that do not
+think so meanly of me as you do.'"
+
+"And he'd say, the more fools they!" said Tom, with a grim smile.
+
+"At all events," resumed Conyers, "I 'll have my own way. Put that
+note in your pocket, and whenever you are gazetted Surgeon-Major to the
+Guards, or Inspector-General of all the Hospitals in Great Britain, you
+can repay me, and with interest, besides, if you like it."
+
+"You 've given me a good long day to be in your debt," said Tom; and
+he hurried out of the room before his overfull heart should betray his
+emotion.
+
+It is marvellous how quickly a kind action done to another reconciles a
+man to himself. Doubtless conscience at such times condescends to play
+the courtier, and whispers, "What a good fellow you are! and how unjust
+the world is when it calls you cold and haughty and ungenial!" Not that
+I would assert higher and better thoughts than these do not reward him
+who, Samaritan-like, binds up the wounds of misery; but I fear me much
+that few of us resist self-flattery, or those little delicate adulations
+one can offer to his own heart when nobody overhears him.
+
+At all events, Conyers was not averse to this pleasure, and grew
+actually to feel a strong interest for Tom Dill, all because that poor
+fellow had been the recipient of his bounty; for so is it the waters
+of our nature must be stirred by some act of charity or kindness, else
+their healing virtues have small efficacy, and cure not.
+
+And then he wondered and questioned himself whether Polly might not
+possibly be right, and that his "governor" would maryel where and how he
+had picked up so strange a specimen as Tom. That poor fellow, too, like
+many an humble flower, seen not disadvantageously in its native wilds,
+would look strangely out of place when transplanted and treated as an
+exotic. Still he could trust to the wide and generous nature of his
+father to overlook small defects of manner and breeding, and take the
+humble fellow kindly.
+
+Must I own that a considerable share of his hopefulness was derived from
+thinking that the odious blue coat and brass buttons could scarcely
+make part of Tom's kit for India, and that in no other costume known to
+civilized man could his _protege_ look so unprepossessingly?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII. A FEW LEAVES FROM A BLUE-BOOK
+
+The journal which Miss Barrington had placed in Conyers's hands was
+little else than the record of the sporting adventures of two young and
+very dashing fellows. There were lion and tiger hunts, so little varied
+in detail that one might serve for all, though doubtless to the narrator
+each was marked with its own especial interest. There were travelling
+incidents and accidents, and straits for money, and mishaps and arrests,
+and stories of steeple-chases and balls all mixed up together, and
+recounted so very much in the same spirit as to show how very little
+shadow mere misadventure could throw across the sunshine of their
+every-day life. But every now and then Conyers came upon some entry
+which closely touched his heart. It was how nobly Ormsby behaved. What a
+splendid fellow he was! so frank, so generous, such a horseman! "I wish
+you saw the astonishment of the Mahratta fellows as Ormsby lifted
+the tent-pegs in full career; he never missed one. Ormsby won the
+rifle-match; we all knew he would. Sir Peregrine invited Ormsby to go
+with him to the Hills, but he refused, mainly because I was not asked."
+Ormsby has been offered this, that, or t'other; in fact, that one name
+recurred in every second sentence, and always with the same marks of
+affection. How proud, too, did Barrington seem of his friend. "They have
+found out that no country-house is perfect without Ormsby, and he is
+positively persecuted with invitations. I hear the 'G.-G.' is provoked
+at Ormsby's refusal of a staff appointment. I'm in rare luck; the old
+Rajah of Tannanoohr has asked Ormsby to a grand elephant-hunt next week,
+and I 'm to go with him. I 'm to have a leave in October. Ormsby managed
+it somehow; he never fails, whatever he takes in hand. Such a fright
+as I got yesterday! There was a report in the camp Ormsby was going
+to England with despatches; it's all a mistake, however, he says. He
+believes he might have had the opportunity, had he cared for it."
+
+If there was not much in these passing notices of his father, there was
+quite enough to impart to them an intense degree of interest. There is
+a wondrous charm, besides, in reading of the young days of those we have
+only known in maturer life, in hearing of them when they were fresh,
+ardent, and impetuous; in knowing, besides, how they were regarded by
+contemporaries, how loved and valued. It was not merely that Ormsby
+recurred in almost every page of this journal, but the record bore
+testimony to his superiority and the undisputed sway he exercised over
+his companions. This same power of dominating and directing had been
+the distinguishing feature of his after-life, and many an unruly and
+turbulent spirit had been reclaimed under Ormsby Conyers's hands.
+
+As he read on, he grew also to feel a strong interest for the writer
+himself; the very heartiness of the affection he bestowed on his father,
+and the noble generosity with which he welcomed every success of that
+"dear fellow Ormsby," were more than enough to secure his interest for
+him. There was a bold, almost reckless dash, too, about Barrington which
+has a great charm occasionally for very young men. He adventured upon
+life pretty much as he would try to cross a river; he never looked for
+a shallow nor inquired for a ford, but plunged boldly in, and trusted
+to his brave heart and his strong arms for the rest. No one, indeed,
+reading even these rough notes, could hesitate to pronounce which of the
+two would "make the spoon," and which "spoil the horn." Young Conyers
+was eager to find some mention of the incident to which Miss Barrington
+had vaguely alluded. He wanted to read George Barrington's own account
+before he opened the little pamphlet she gave him, but the journal
+closed years before this event; and although some of the letters came
+down to a later date, none approached the period he wanted.
+
+It was not till after some time that he remarked how much more
+unfrequently his father's name occurred in the latter portion of the
+correspondence. Entire pages would contain no reference to him, and in
+the last letter of all there was this towards the end: "After all, I am
+almost sorry that I am first for purchase, for I believe Ormsby is most
+anxious for his troop. I say 'I believe,' for he has not told me so, and
+when I offered to give way to him, he seemed half offended with me.
+You know what a bungler I am where a matter of any delicacy is to be
+treated, and you may easily fancy either that _I_ mismanage the affair
+grossly, or that I am as grossly mistaken. One thing is certain, I 'd
+see promotion far enough, rather than let it make a coldness beween us,
+which could never occur if he were as frank as he used to be. My dear
+aunt, I wish I had your wise head to counsel me, for I have a scheme in
+my mind which I have scarcely courage for without some advice, and for
+many reasons I cannot ask O.'s opinion. Between this and the next mail I
+'ll think it over carefully, and tell you what I intend.
+
+"I told you that Ormsby was going to marry one of the Gpvernor-General's
+daughters. It is all off,--at least, I hear so,--and O. has asked for
+leave to go home. I suspect he is sorely cut up about this, but he
+is too proud a fellow to let the world see it. Report says that Sir
+Peregrine heard that he played. So he does, because he does everything,
+and everything well. If he does go to England, he will certainly pay you
+a visit. Make much of him for my sake; you could not make too much for
+his own."
+
+This was the last mention of his father, and he pondered long and
+thoughtfully over it. He saw, or fancied he saw, the first faint
+glimmerings of a coldness between them, and he hastily turned to the
+printed report of the House of Commons inquiry, to see what part his
+father had taken. His name occurred but once; it was appended to an
+extract of a letter, addressed to him by the Governor-General. It was
+a confidential report, and much of it omitted in publication. It was
+throughout, however, a warm and generous testimony to Barrington's
+character. "I never knew a man," said he, "less capable of anything mean
+or unworthy; nor am I able to imagine any temptation strong enough to
+warp him from what he believed to be right. That on a question of policy
+his judgment might be wrong, I am quite ready to admit, but I will
+maintain that, on a point of honor, he would, and must, be infallible."
+Underneath this passage there was written, in Miss Barrington's hand,
+"Poor George never saw this; it was not published till after his death."
+So interested did young Conyers feel as to the friendship between
+these two men, and what it could have been that made a breach between
+them,--if breach there were,--that he sat a long time without opening
+the little volume that related to the charge against Colonel Barrington.
+He had but to open it, however, to guess the spirit in which it was
+written. Its title was, "The Story of Samuel Ed-wardes, with an Account
+of the Persecutions and Tortures inflicted on him by Colonel George
+Barrington, when serving in command of the Forces of the Meer Nagheer
+Assahr, Rajah of Luckerabad, based on the documents produced before the
+Committee of the House, and private authentic information." Opposite to
+this lengthy title was an ill-executed wood-cut of a young fellow
+tied up to a tree, and being flogged by two native Indians, with the
+inscription at foot: "Mode of celebrating His Majesty's Birthday, 4th of
+June, 18--, at the Residence of Luckerabad."
+
+In the writhing figure of the youth, and the ferocious glee of his
+executioners, the artist had displayed all his skill in expression, and
+very unmistakably shown, besides, the spirit of the publication. I have
+no intention to inflict this upon my reader. I will simply give him--and
+as briefly as I am able--its substance.
+
+The Rajah of Luckerabad, an independent sovereign, living on the best
+of terms with the Government of the Company, had obtained permission to
+employ an English officer in the chief command of his army, a force of
+some twenty-odd thousand, of all arms. It was essential that he should
+be one not only well acquainted with the details of command, but fully
+equal to the charge of organization of a force; a man of energy and
+decision, well versed in Hindostanee, and not altogether ignorant of
+Persian, in which, occasionally, correspondence was carried on. Amongst
+the many candidates for an employment so certain to insure the fortune
+of its possessor, Major Barrington, then a brevet Lieutenant-Colonel,
+was chosen.
+
+It is not improbable that, in mere technical details of his art, he
+might have had many equal and some superior to him; it was well known
+that his personal requisites were above all rivalry. He was a man of
+great size and strength, of a most commanding presence, an accomplished
+linguist in the various dialects of Central India and a great master of
+all manly exercises. To these qualities he added an Oriental taste for
+splendor and pomp. It had always been his habit to live in a style of
+costly extravagance, with the retinue of a petty prince, and when he
+travelled it was with the following of a native chief.
+
+Though, naturally enough, such a station as a separate command gave
+might be regarded as a great object of ambition by many, there was a
+good deal of surprise felt at the time that Barrington, reputedly a man
+of large fortune, should have accepted it; the more so since, by his
+contract, he bound himself for ten years to the Rajah, and thus forever
+extinguished all prospect of advancement in his own service. There were
+all manner of guesses afloat as to his reasons. Some said that he was
+already so embarrassed by his extravagance that it was his only exit out
+of difficulty; others pretended that he was captivated by the gorgeous
+splendor of that Eastern life he loved so well; that pomp, display, and
+magnificence were bribes he could not resist; and a few, who affected
+to see more nearly, whispered that he was unhappy of late, had grown
+peevish and uncompanionable, and sought any change, so that it took him
+out of his regiment. Whatever the cause, he bade his brother-officers
+farewell without revealing it, and set out for his new destination. He
+had never anticipated a life of ease or inaction, but he was equally
+far from imagining anything like what now awaited him. Corruption,
+falsehood, robbery, on every hand! The army was little else than a
+brigand establishment, living on the peasants, and exacting, at the
+sword point, whatever they wanted. There was no obedience to discipline.
+The Rajah troubled himself about nothing but his pleasures, and, indeed,
+passed his days so drugged with opium as to be almost insensible to
+all around him. In the tribunals there was nothing but bribery, and
+the object of every one seemed to be to amass fortunes as rapidly as
+possible, and then hasten away from a country so insecure and dangerous.
+
+For some days after his arrival, Barrington hesitated whether he would
+accept a charge so apparently hopeless; his bold heart, however, decided
+the doubt, and he resolved to remain. His first care was to look about
+him for one or two more trustworthy than the masses, if such there
+should be, to assist him, and the Rajah referred him to his secretary
+for that purpose. It was with sincere pleasure Barring-ton discovered
+that this man was English,--that is, his father had been an Englishman,
+and his mother was a Malabar slave in the Rajah's household: his name
+was Edwardes, but called by the natives Ali Edwardes. He looked about
+sixty, but his real age was about forty-six when Barrington came to the
+Residence. He was a man of considerable ability, uniting all the craft
+and subtlety of the Oriental with the dogged perseverance of the Briton.
+He had enjoyed the full favor of the Rajah for nigh twenty years, and
+was strongly averse to the appointment of an English officer to the
+command of the army, knowing full well the influence it would have over
+his own fortunes. He represented to the Rajah that the Company was
+only intriguing to absorb his dominions with their own; that the new
+Commander-in-chief would be their servant and not his; that it was
+by such machinery as this they secretly possessed themselves of all
+knowledge of the native sovereigns, learned their weakness and their
+strength, and through such agencies hatched those plots and schemes by
+which many a chief had been despoiled of his state.
+
+The Rajah, however, saw that if he had a grasping Government on one
+side, he had an insolent and rebellious army on the other. There was not
+much to choose between them, but he took the side that he thought the
+least bad, and left the rest to Fate.
+
+Having failed with the Rajah, Edwardes tried what he could do with
+Barrington; and certainly, if but a tithe of what he told him were true,
+the most natural thing in the world would have been that he should give
+up his appointment, and quit forever a land so hopelessly sunk in vice
+and corruption. Cunning and crafty as he was, however, he made
+one mistake, and that an irreparable one. When dilating on the
+insubordination of the army, its lawless ways and libertine habits, he
+declared that nothing short of a superior force in the field could have
+any chance of enforcing discipline. "As to a command," said he, "it is
+simply ludicrous. Let any man try it and they will cut him down in the
+very midst of his staff."
+
+That unlucky speech decided the question; and Barring-ton simply said,--
+
+"I have heard plenty of this sort of thing in India; I never saw it,--I
+'ll stay."
+
+Stay he did; and he did more: he reformed that rabble, and made of them
+a splendid force, able, disciplined, and obedient. With the influence of
+his success, added to that derived from the confidence reposed in him
+by the Rajah, he introduced many and beneficial changes into the
+administration; he punished peculators by military law, and brought
+knavish sutlers to the drum-head. In fact, by the exercise of a salutary
+despotism, he rescued the state from an impending bankruptcy and ruin,
+placed its finances in a healthy condition, and rendered the country
+a model of prosperity and contentment. The Rajah had, like most of his
+rank and class, been in litigation, occasionally in armed contention,
+with some of his neighbors,--one especially, an uncle, whom he accused
+of having robbed him, when his guardian, of a large share of his
+heritage. This suit had gone on for years, varied at times by little
+raids into each other's territories, to burn villages and carry away
+cattle. Though with a force more than sufficient to have carried the
+question with a strong hand, Barrington preferred the more civilized
+mode of leaving the matter in dispute to others, and suggested the
+Company as arbitrator. The negotiations led to a lengthy correspondence,
+in which Edwardes and his son, a youth of seventeen or eighteen, were
+actively occupied; and although Barrington was not without certain
+misgivings as to their trustworthiness and honesty, he knew their
+capacity, and had not, besides, any one at all capable of replacing
+them. While these affairs were yet pending, Barrington married the
+daughter of the Meer, a young girl whose mother had been a convert
+to Christianity, and who had herself been educated by a Catholic
+missionary. She died in the second year of her marriage, giving birth
+to a daughter; but Barrington had now become so completely the centre of
+all action in the state, that the Rajah interfered in nothing, leaving
+in his hands the undisputed control of the Government; nay, more, he
+made him his son by adoption, leaving to him not alone all his immense
+personal property, but the inheritance to his throne. Though Barrington
+was advised by all the great legal authorities he consulted in England
+that such a bequest could not be good in law, nor a British subject
+be permitted to succeed to the rights of an Eastern sovereignty, he
+obstinately declared that the point was yet untried; that, however
+theoretically the opinion might be correct, practically the question
+had not been determined, nor had any case yet occurred to rule as a
+precedent on it. If he was not much of a lawyer, he was of a temperament
+that could not brook opposition. In fact, to make him take any
+particular road in life, you had only to erect a barricade on it. When,
+therefore, he was told the matter could not be, his answer was, "It
+shall!" Calcutta lawyers, men deep in knowledge of Oriental law and
+custom, learned Moonshees and Pundits, were despatched by him at
+enormous cost, to England, to confer with the great authorities at home.
+Agents were sent over to procure the influence of great Parliamentary
+speakers and the leaders in the press to the cause. For a matter which,
+in the beginning, he cared scarcely anything, if at all, he had now
+grown to feel the most intense and absorbing interest. Half persuading
+himself that the personal question was less to him than the great
+privilege and right of an Englishman, he declared that he would rather
+die a beggar in the defence of the cause than abandon it. So possessed
+was he, indeed, of his rights, and so resolved to maintain them,
+supported by a firm belief that they would and must be ultimately
+conceded to him, that in the correspondence with the other chiefs every
+reference which spoke of the future sovereignty of Luckerabad included
+his own name and title, and this with an ostentation quite Oriental.
+
+Whether Edwardes had been less warm and energetic in the cause than
+Barrington expected, or whether his counsels were less palatable,
+certain it is he grew daily more and more distrustful of him; but an
+event soon occurred to make this suspicion a certainty.
+
+The negotiations between the Meer and his uncle had been so successfully
+conducted by Barrington, that the latter agreed to give up three
+"Pegunnahs," or villages he had unrightfully seized upon, and to pay a
+heavy mulct, besides, for the unjust occupation of them. This settlement
+had been, as may be imagined, a work of much time and labor, and
+requiring not only immense forbearance and patience, but intense
+watchfulness and unceasing skill and craft. Edwardes, of course, was
+constantly engaged in the affair, with the details of which he had been
+for years familiar. Now, although Barrington was satisfied with the
+zeal he displayed, he was less so with his counsels, Edwardes always
+insisting that in every dealing with an Oriental you must inevitably be
+beaten if you would not make use of all the stratagem and deceit he
+is sure to employ against you. There was not a day on which the wily
+secretary did not suggest some cunning expedient, some clever trick; and
+Barrington's abrupt rejection of them only impressed him with a notion
+of his weakness and deficiency.
+
+One morning--it was after many defeats--Edwardes appeared with the draft
+of a document he had been ordered to draw out, and in which, of his own
+accord, he had made a large use of threats to the neighboring chief,
+should he continue to protract these proceedings. These threats very
+unmistakably pointed to the dire consequences of opposing the great
+Government of the Company; for, as the writer argued, the succession to
+the Ameer being already vested in an Englishman, it is perfectly clear
+the powerful nation he belongs to will take a very summary mode of
+dealing with this question, if not settled before he comes to the
+throne. He pressed, therefore, for an immediate settlement, as the best
+possible escape from difficulty.
+
+Barrington scouted the suggestion indignantly; he would not hear of it.
+
+"What," said he, "is it while these very rights are in litigation that
+I am to employ them as a menace? Who is to secure me being one day Rajah
+of Luckerabad? Not you, certainly, who have never ceased to speak coldly
+of my claims. Throw that draft into the fire, and never propose a like
+one to me again!"
+
+The rebuke was not forgotten. Another draft was, however, prepared, and
+in due time the long-pending negotiations were concluded, the Meer's
+uncle having himself come to Luckerabad to ratify the contract, which,
+being engrossed on a leaf of the Rajah's Koran, was duly signed and
+sealed by both.
+
+It was during the festivities incidental to this visit that
+Edwardes, who had of late made a display of wealth and splendor quite
+unaccountable, made a proposal to the Rajah for the hand of his only
+unmarried daughter, sister to Barrington's wife. The Rajah, long
+enervated by excess and opium, probably cared little about the matter;
+there were, indeed, but a few moments in each day when he could be
+fairly pronounced awake. He referred the question to Barrington. Not
+satisfied with an insulting rejection of the proposal, Barrington, whose
+passionate moments were almost madness, tauntingly asked by what means
+Edwardes had so suddenly acquired the wealth which had prompted this
+demand. He hinted that the sources of his fortune were more than
+suspected, and at last, carried away by anger, for the discussion grew
+violent, he drew from his desk a slip of paper, and held it up. "When
+your father was drummed out of the 4th Bengal Fusiliers for theft, of
+which this is the record, the family was scarcely so ambitious." For
+an instant Edwardes seemed overcome almost to fainting; but he rallied,
+and, with a menace of his clenched hand, but without one word, he
+hurried away before Barrington could resent the insult. It was said that
+he did not return to his house, but, taking the horse of an orderly that
+he found at the door, rode away from the palace, and on the same night
+crossed the frontier into a neighboring state.
+
+It was on the following morning, as Barrington was passing a cavalry
+regiment in review, that young Edwardes, forcing his way through the
+staff, insolently asked, "What had become of his father?" and at the
+same instant levelling a pistol, he fired. The ball passed through
+Barrington's shako, and so close to the head that it grazed it. It was
+only with a loud shout to abstain that Barrington arrested the gleaming
+sabres that now flourished over his head. "Your father has fled,
+youngster!" cried he. "When you show him _that_,"--and he struck him
+across the face with his horsewhip,--"tell him how near you were to have
+been an assassin!" With this savage taunt, he gave orders that the young
+fellow should be conducted to the nearest frontier, and turned adrift.
+Neither father nor son ever were seen there again.
+
+Little did George Barrington suspect what was to come of that morning's
+work. Through what channel Edwardes worked at first was not known,
+but that he succeeded in raising up for himself friends in England
+is certain; by their means the very gravest charges were made against
+Barrington. One allegation was that by a forged document, claiming to be
+the assent of the English Government to his succession, he had obtained
+the submission of several native chiefs to his rule and a cession of
+territory to the Rajah of Luckerabad; and another charged him with
+having cruelly tortured a British subject named Samuel Edwardes,--an
+investigation entered into by a Committee of the House, and becoming,
+while it lasted, one of the most exciting subjects of public interest.
+Nor was the anxiety lessened by the death of the elder Edwardes, which
+occurred during the inquiry, and which Barrington's enemies declared to
+be caused by a broken heart; and the martyred or murdered Edwardes was
+no uncommon heading to a paragraph of the time.
+
+Conyers turned to the massive Blue-book that contained the proceedings
+"in Committee," but only to glance at the examination of witnesses,
+whose very names were unfamiliar to him. He could perceive, however,
+that the inquiry was a long one, and, from the tone of the member at
+whose motion it was instituted, angry and vindictive.
+
+Edwardes appeared to have preferred charges of long continued
+persecution and oppression, and there was native testimony in abundance
+to sustain the allegation; while the British Commissioner sent to
+Luckerabad came back so prejudiced against Barrington, from his proud
+and haughty bearing, that his report was unfavorable to him in all
+respects. There was, it is true, letters from various high quarters,
+all speaking of Barrington's early career as both honorable and
+distinguished; and, lastly, there was one signed Ormsby Conyers, a
+warm-hearted testimony "to the most straightforward gentleman and truest
+friend I have ever known." These were words the young man read and
+re-read a dozen times.
+
+Conyers turned eagerly to read what decision had been come to by the
+Committee, but the proceedings had come abruptly to an end by George
+Barrington's death. A few lines at the close of the pamphlet mentioned
+that, being summoned to appear before the Governor-General in Council
+at Calcutta, Barrington refused. An armed force was despatched to occupy
+Luckerabad, on the approach of which Barrington rode forth to meet them,
+attended by a brilliant staff,--with what precise object none knew; but
+the sight of a considerable force, drawn up at a distance in what seemed
+order of battle, implied at least an intention to resist. Coming on
+towards the advanced pickets at a fast gallop, and not slackening
+speed when challenged, the men, who were Bengal infantry, fired, and
+Barrington fell, pierced by four bullets. He never uttered a word
+after, though he lingered on till evening. The force was commanded by
+Lieutenant-General Conyers.
+
+There was little more to tell. The Rajah, implicated in the charges
+brought against Barrington, and totally unable to defend himself,
+despatched a confidential minister, Meer Mozarjah, to Europe to do what
+he might by bribery. This unhappy blunder filled the measure of his
+ruin, and after a very brief inquiry the Rajah was declared to have
+forfeited his throne and all his rights of succession. The Company took
+possession of Luckerabad, as a portion of British India, but from a
+generous compassion towards the deposed chief, graciously accorded him a
+pension of ten thousand rupees a month during his life.
+
+My reader will bear in mind that I have given him this recital, not
+as it came before Conyers, distorted by falsehood and disfigured by
+misstatements, but have presented the facts as nearly as they might be
+derived from a candid examination of all the testimony adduced. Ere I
+return to my own tale, I ought to add that Edwardes, discredited and
+despised by some, upheld and maintained by others, left Calcutta with
+the proceeds of a handsome subscription raised in his behalf. Whether he
+went to reside in Europe, or retired to some other part of India, is not
+known. He was heard of no more.
+
+As for the Rajah, his efforts still continued to obtain a revision of
+the sentence pronounced upon him, and his case was one of those which
+newspapers slur over and privy councils try to escape from, leaving to
+Time to solve what Justice has no taste for.
+
+But every now and then a Blue-book would appear, headed "East India (the
+deposed Rajah of Luckerabad)," while a line in an evening paper would
+intimate that the Envoy of Meer Nagheer Assahr had arrived at a certain
+West-end hotel to prosecute the suit of his Highness before the Judicial
+Committee of the Lords. How pleasantly does a paragraph dispose of a
+whole life-load of sorrows and of wrongs that, perhaps, are breaking the
+hearts that carry them!
+
+While I once more apologize to my reader for the length to which this
+narrative has run, I owe it to myself to state that, had I presented it
+in the garbled and incorrect version which came before Conyers, and had
+I interpolated all the misconceptions he incurred, the mistakes he first
+fell into and then corrected, I should have been far more tedious and
+intolerable still; and now I am again under weigh, with easy canvas, but
+over a calm sea, and under a sky but slightly clouded.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. BARRINGTON'S FORD
+
+Conyers had scarcely finished his reading when he was startled by the
+galloping of horses under his window; so close, indeed, did they come
+that they seemed to shake the little cottage with their tramp. He looked
+out, but they had already swept past, and were hidden from his view
+by the copse that shut out the river. At the same instant he heard the
+confused sound of many voices, and what sounded to him like the plash of
+horses in the stream.
+
+Urged by a strong curiosity, he hurried downstairs and made straight
+for the river by a path that led through the trees; but before he could
+emerge from the cover he heard cries of "Not there! not there! Lower
+down!" "No, no! up higher! up higher! Head up the stream, or you 'll be
+caught in the gash!" "Don't hurry; you've time enough!"
+
+When he gained the bank, it was to see three horsemen, who seemed to
+be cheering, or, as it might be, warning a young girl who, mounted on a
+powerful black horse, was deep in the stream, and evidently endeavoring
+to cross it. Her hat hung on the back of her neck by its ribbon, and her
+hair had also fallen down; but one glance was enough to show that she
+was a consummate horsewoman, and whose courage was equal to her skill;
+for while steadily keeping her horse's head to the swift current, she
+was careful not to control him overmuch, or impede the free action of
+his powers. Heeding, as it seemed, very little the counsels or warnings
+showered on her by the bystanders, not one of whom, to Conyers's intense
+amazement, had ventured to accompany her, she urged her horse steadily
+forward.
+
+"Don't hurry,--take it easy!" called out one of the horsemen, as he
+looked at his watch. "You have fifty-three minutes left, and it's all
+turf."
+
+"She 'll do it,--I know she will!" "She 'll lose,--she must lose!" "It's
+ten miles to Foynes Gap!" "It's more!" "It's less!" "There!--see!--she's
+in, by Jove! she's in!" These varying comments were now arrested by the
+intense interest of the moment, the horse having impatiently plunged
+into a deep pool, and struck out to swim with all the violent exertion
+of an affrighted animal. "Keep his head up!" "Let him free, quite free!"
+"Get your foot clear of the stirrup!" cried out the bystanders, while
+in lower tones they muttered, "She would cross here!" "It's all her own
+fault!" Just at this instant she turned in her saddle, and called out
+something which, drowned in the rush of the river, did not reach them.
+
+"Don't you see," cried Conyers, passionately, for his temper could no
+longer endure the impassive attitude of this on-looking, "one of the
+reins is broken, her bridle is smashed?"
+
+And, without another word, he sprang into the river, partly wading,
+partly swimming, and soon reached the place where the horse, restrained
+by one rein alone, swam in a small circle, fretted by restraint and
+maddened by inability to resist.
+
+"Leave him to me,--let go your rein," said Conyers, as he grasped
+the bridle close to the bit; and the animal, accepting the guidance,
+suffered himself to be led quietly till he reached the shallow. Once
+there, he bounded wildly forward, and, splashing through the current,
+leaped up the bank, where he was immediately caught by the others.
+
+By the time Conyers had gained the land, the girl had quitted her saddle
+and entered the cottage, never so much as once turning a look on him who
+had rescued her. If he could not help feeling mortified at this show of
+indifference, he was not less puzzled by the manner of the others,
+who, perfectly careless of his dripping condition, discussed amongst
+themselves how the bridle broke, and what might have happened if the
+leather had proved tougher.
+
+"It's always the way with her," muttered one, sulkily.
+
+"I told her to ride the match in a ring-snaffle, but she's a mule in
+obstinacy! She 'd have won easily--ay, with five minutes to spare--if
+she'd have crossed at Nunsford. I passed there last week without wetting
+a girth."
+
+"She 'll not thank _you_ young gentleman, whoever you are," said the
+oldest of the party, turning to Conyers, "for your gallantry. She 'll
+only remember you as having helped her to lose a wager!"
+
+"That's true!" cried another. "I never got as much as thank you for
+catching her horse one day at Lyrath, though it threw me out of the
+whole run afterwards."
+
+"And this was a wager, then?" said Conyers.
+
+"Yes. An English officer that is stopping at Sir Charles's said
+yesterday that nobody could ride from Lowe's Folly to Foynes as the crow
+flies; and four of us took him up--twenty-five pounds apiece--that Polly
+Dill would do it,--and against time, too,--an hour and forty."
+
+"On a horse of mine," chimed in another,--"Bayther-shini"
+
+"I must say it does not tell very well for your chivalry in these
+parts," said Conyers, angrily. "Could no one be found to do the match
+without risking a young girl's life on it?"
+
+A very hearty burst of merriment met this speech, and the elder of the
+party rejoined,--
+
+"You must be very new to this country, or you'd not have said that, sir.
+There's not a man in the hunt could get as much out of a horse as that
+girl."
+
+"Not to say," added another, with a sly laugh, "that the Englishman gave
+five to one against her when he heard she was going to ride."
+
+Disgusted by what he could not but regard as a most disgraceful wager,
+Conyers turned away, and walked into the house.
+
+"Go and change your clothes as fast as you can," said Miss Barrington,
+as she met him in the porch. "I am quite provoked you should have wetted
+your feet in such a cause."
+
+It was no time to ask for explanations; and Conyers hurried away to his
+room, marvelling much at what he had heard, but even more astonished
+by the attitude of cool and easy indifference as to what might have
+imperilled a human life. He had often heard of the reckless habits and
+absurd extravagances of Irish life, but he fancied that they appertained
+to a time long past, and that society had gradually assumed the tone and
+the temper of the English. Then he began to wonder to what class in life
+these persons belonged. The girl, so well as he could see, was certainly
+handsome, and appeared ladylike; and yet, why had she not even by a word
+acknowledged the service he rendered her? And lastly, what could old
+Miss Barrington mean by that scornful speech? These were all great
+puzzles to him, and like many great puzzles only the more embarrassing
+the more they were thought over.
+
+The sound of voices drew him now to the window, and he saw one of the
+riding-party in converse with Darby at the door. They talked in a low
+tone together, and laughed; and then the horseman, chucking a half-crown
+towards Darby, said aloud,--
+
+"And tell her that we 'll send the boat down for her as soon as we get
+back."
+
+Darby touched his hat gratefully, and was about to retire within the
+house when he caught sight of Conyers at the window. He waited till the
+rider had turned the angle of the road, and then said,--
+
+"That's Mr. St. George. They used to call him the Slasher, he killed so
+many in duels long ago; but he 's like a lamb now."
+
+"And the young lady?"
+
+"The young lady is it!" said Darby, with the air of one not exactly
+concurring in the designation. "She's old Dill's daughter, the doctor
+that attends you."
+
+"What was it all about?"
+
+"It was a bet they made with an English captain this morning that she
+'d ride from Lowe's Folly to the Gap in an hour and a half. The Captain
+took a hundred on it, because he thought she 'd have to go round by
+the bridge; and they pretinded the same, for they gave all kinds of
+directions about clearing the carts out of the road, for it's market-day
+at Thomastown; and away went the Captain as hard as he could, to be at
+the bridge first, to 'time her,' as she passed. But he has won the
+money!" sighed he, for the thought of so much Irish coin going into a
+Saxon pocket completely overcame him; "and what's more," added he, "the
+gentleman says it was all your fault!"
+
+"All my fault!" cried Conyers, indignantly. "All my fault! Do they
+imagine that I either knew or cared for their trumpery wager! I saw a
+girl struggling in a danger from which not one of them had the manliness
+to rescue her!"
+
+"Oh, take my word for it," burst in Darby, "it's not courage they want!"
+
+"Then it is something far better than even courage, and I'd like to tell
+them so."
+
+And he turned away as much disgusted with Darby as with the rest of his
+countrymen. Now, all the anger that filled his breast was not in reality
+provoked by the want of gallantry that he condemned; a portion, at
+least, was owing to the marvellous indifference the young lady had
+manifested to her preserver. Was peril such an every-day incident of
+Irish life that no one cared for it, or was gratitude a quality not
+cultivated in this strange land? Such were the puzzles that tormented
+him as he descended to the drawing-room.
+
+As he opened the door, he heard Miss Barrington's voice, in a tone which
+he rightly guessed to be reproof, and caught the words, "Just as unwise
+as it is unbecoming," when he entered.
+
+"Mr. Conyers, Miss Dill," said the old lady, stiffly; "the young
+gentleman who saved you, the heroine you rescued!" The two allocutions
+were delivered with a gesture towards each. To cover a moment of extreme
+awkwardness, Conyers blundered out something about being too happy, and
+a slight service, and a hope of no ill consequences to herself.
+
+"Have no fears on that score, sir," broke in Miss Dinah. "Manly young
+ladies are the hardiest things in nature. They are as insensible to
+danger as they are to--" She stopped, and grew crimson, partly from
+anger and partly from the unspoken word that had almost escaped her.
+
+"Nay, madam," said Polly, quietly, "I am really very much 'ashamed.'"
+And, simple as the words were, Miss Barrington felt the poignancy of
+their application to herself, and her hand trembled over the embroidery
+she was working.
+
+She tried to appear calm, but in vain; her color came and went, and the
+stitches, in spite of her, grew irregular; so that, after a moment's
+struggle, she pushed the frame away, and left the room. While this very
+brief and painful incident was passing, Conyers was wondering to himself
+how the dashing horsewoman, with flushed cheek, flashing eye, and
+dishevelled hair, could possibly be the quiet, demure girl, with a
+downcast look, and almost Quaker-like simplicity of demeanor. It is
+but fair to add, though he himself did not discover it, that the
+contributions of Miss Dinah's wardrobe, to which poor Polly was reduced
+for dress, were not exactly of a nature to heighten her personal
+attractions; nor did a sort of short jacket, and a very much beflounced
+petticoat, set off the girl's figure to advantage. Polly never raised
+her eyes from the work she was sewing as Miss Barrington withdrew, but,
+in a low, gentle voice, said, "It was very good of you, sir, to come
+to my rescue, but you mustn't think ill of my countrymen for not having
+done so; they had given their word of honor not to lead a fence, nor
+open a gate, nor, in fact, aid me in any way."
+
+"So that, if they could win their wager, your peril was of little
+matter," broke he in.
+
+She gave a little low, quiet laugh, perhaps as much at the energy as at
+the words of his speech. "After all," said she, "a wetting is no great
+misfortune; the worst punishment of my offence was one that I never
+contemplated."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked he.
+
+"Doing penance for it in this costume," said she, drawing out the stiff
+folds of an old brocaded silk, and displaying a splendor of flowers
+that might have graced a peacock's tail; "I never so much as dreamed of
+this!"
+
+There was something so comic in the way she conveyed her distress that
+he laughed outright. She joined him; and they were at once at their ease
+together.
+
+"I think Miss Barrington called you Mr. Conyers," said she; "and if
+so, I have the happiness of feeling that my gratitude is bestowed where
+already there has been a large instalment of the sentiment. It is you
+who have been so generous and so kind to my poor brother."
+
+"Has he told you, then, what we have been planning together?"
+
+"He has told me all that _you_ had planned out for him," said she, with
+a very gracious smile, which very slightly colored her cheek, and gave
+great softness to her expression. "My only fear was that the poor boy
+should have lost his head completely, and perhaps exaggerated to himself
+your intentions towards him; for, after all, I can scarcely think--"
+
+"What is it that you can scarcely think?" asked he, after a long pause.
+
+"Not to say," resumed she, unheeding his question, "that I cannot
+imagine how this came about. What could have led him to tell _you_--a
+perfect stranger to him--his hopes and fears, his struggles and his
+sorrows? How could you--by what magic did you inspire him with that
+trustful confidence which made him open his whole heart before you? Poor
+Tom, who never before had any confessor than myself!"
+
+"Shall I tell you how it came about? It was talking of _you!_"
+
+"Of me! talking of me!" and her cheek now flushed more deeply.
+
+"Yes, we had rambled on over fifty themes, not one of which seemed to
+attach him strongly, till, in some passing allusion to his own cares and
+difficulties, he mentioned one who has never ceased to guide and comfort
+him; who shared not alone his sorrows, but his hard hours of labor, and
+turned away from her own pleasant paths to tread the dreary road of toil
+beside him."
+
+"I think he might have kept all this to himself," said she, with a tone
+of almost severity.
+
+"How could he? How was it possible to tell me his story, and not touch
+upon what imparted the few tints of better fortune that lighted it? I'm
+certain, besides, that there is a sort of pride in revealing how much of
+sympathy and affection we have derived from those better than ourselves,
+and I could see that he was actually vain of what you had done for him."
+
+"I repeat, he might have kept this to himself. But let us leave this
+matter; and now tell me,--for I own I can hardly trust my poor brother's
+triumphant tale,--tell me seriously what the plan is?"
+
+Conyers hesitated for a few seconds, embarrassed how to avoid mention of
+himself, or to allude but passingly to his own share in the project. At
+last, as though deciding to dash boldly into the question, he said, "I
+told him, if he 'd go out to India, I 'd give him such a letter to my
+father that his fortune would be secure. My governor is something of a
+swell out there,"--and he reddened, partly in shame, partly in pride, as
+he tried to disguise his feeling by an affectation of ease,--"and that
+with _him_ for a friend, Tom would be certain of success. You smile at
+my confidence, but you don't know India, and what scores of fine things
+are--so to say--to be had for asking; and although doctoring is all very
+well, there are fifty other ways to make a fortune faster. Tom could be
+a Receiver of Revenue; he might be a Political Resident. You don't know
+what they get. There's a fellow at Baroda has four thousand rupees a
+month, and I don't know how much more for dak-money."
+
+"I can't help smiling," said she, "at the notion of poor Tom in a
+palanquin. But, seriously, sir, is all this possible? or might it not be
+feared that your father, when he came to see my brother--who, with many
+a worthy quality, has not much to prepossess in his favor,--when, I
+say, he came to see your _protege_ is it not likely that he
+might--might--hold him more cheaply than you do?"
+
+"Not when he presents a letter from me; not when it's I that have taken
+him up. You 'll believe me, perhaps, when I tell you what happened when
+I was but ten years old. We were up at Rangoon, in the Hills, when a
+dreadful hurricane swept over the country, destroying everything before
+it; rice, paddy, the indigo-crop, all were carried away, and the poor
+people left totally destitute. A subscription-list was handed about
+amongst the British residents, to afford some aid in the calamity, and
+it was my tutor, a native Moonshee, who went about to collect the sums.
+One morning he came back somewhat disconsolate at his want of success.
+A payment of eight thousand rupees had to be made for grain on that day,
+and he had not, as he hoped and expected, the money ready. He talked
+freely to me of his disappointment, so that, at last, my feelings being
+worked upon, I took up my pen and wrote down my name on the list, with
+the sum of eight thousand rupees to it Shocked at what he regarded as
+an act of levity, he carried the paper to my father, who at once said,
+'Fred wrote it; his name shall not be dishonored;' and the money was
+paid. I ask you, now, am I reckoning too much on one who could do that,
+and for a mere child too?"
+
+"That was nobly done," said she, with enthusiasm; and though Conyers
+went on, with warmth, to tell more of his father's generous nature,
+she seemed less to listen than to follow out some thread of her own
+reflections. Was it some speculation as to the temperament the son of
+such a father might possess? or was it some pleasurable revery regarding
+one who might do any extravagance and yet be forgiven? My reader may
+guess this, perhaps,--I cannot. Whatever her speculation, it lent a
+very charming expression to her features,--that air of gentle, tranquil
+happiness we like to believe the lot of guileless, simple natures.
+
+Conyers, like many young men of his order, was very fond of talking of
+himself, of his ways, his habits, and his temper, and she listened to
+him very prettily,--so prettily, indeed, that when Darby, slyly peeping
+in at the half-opened door, announced that the boat had come, he felt
+well inclined to pitch the messenger into the stream.
+
+"I must go and say good-bye to Miss Barrington," said Polly, rising. "I
+hope that this rustling finery will impart some dignity to my demeanor."
+And drawing wide the massive folds, she made a very deep courtesy,
+throwing back her head haughtily as she resumed her height in admirable
+imitation of a bygone school of manners.
+
+[Illustration: 166]
+
+"Very well,--very well, indeed! Quite as like what it is meant for as is
+Miss Polly Dill for the station she counterfeits!" said Miss Dinah, as,
+throwing wide the door, she stood before them.
+
+"I am overwhelmed by your flattery, madam," said Polly, who, though
+very red, lost none of her self-possession; "but I feel that, like
+the traveller who tried on Charlemagne's armor, I am far more equal to
+combat in my every-day clothes."
+
+[Illustration: 166]
+
+"Do not enter the lists with me in either," said Miss Dinah, with a look
+of the haughtiest insolence. "Mr. Conyers, will you let me show you my
+flower-garden?"
+
+"Delighted! But I will first see Miss Dill to her boat." "As you please,
+sir," said the old lady; and she withdrew with a proud toss of her head
+that was very unmistakable in its import.
+
+"What a severe correction that was!" said Polly, half gayly, as she went
+along, leaning on his arm. "And _you_ know that, whatever my
+offending, there was no mimicry in it. I was simply thinking of some
+great-grandmother who had, perhaps, captivated the heroes of Dettingen;
+and, talking of heroes, how courageous of you to come to my rescue!"
+
+Was it that her arm only trembled slightly, or did it really press
+gently on his own as she said this? Certainly Conyers inclined to the
+latter hypothesis, for he drew her more closely to his side, and said,
+"Of course I stood by you. She was all in the wrong, and I mean to tell
+her so."
+
+"Not if you would serve me," said she, eagerly. "I have paid the
+penalty, and I strongly object to be sentenced again. Oh, here's the
+boat!"
+
+"Why it's a mere skiff. Are you safe to trust yourself in such a thing?"
+asked he, for the canoe-shaped "cot" was new to him.
+
+"Of course!" said she, lightly stepping in. "There is even room for
+another." Then, hastily changing her theme, she asked, "May I tell poor
+Tom what you have said to me, or is it just possible that you will come
+up one of these days and see us?"
+
+"If I might be permitted--"
+
+"Too much honor for us!" said she, with such a capital imitation of his
+voice and manner that he burst into a laugh in spite of himself.
+
+"Mayhap Miss Bamngton was not so far wrong: after all, you _are_ a
+terrible mimic."
+
+"Is it a promise, then? Am I to say to my brother you will come?" said
+she, seriously.
+
+"Faithfully!" said he, waving his hand, for the boatmen had already got
+the skiff under weigh, and were sending her along like an arrow from a
+bow.
+
+Polly turned and kissed her hand to him, and Conyers muttered something
+over his own stupidity for not being beside her, and then turned sulkily
+back towards the cottage. A few hours ago and he had thought he
+could have passed his life here; there was a charm in the unbroken
+tranquillity that seemed to satisfy the longings of his heart, and
+now, all of a sudden, the place appeared desolate. Have you never, dear
+reader, felt, in gazing on some fair landscape, with mountain and stream
+and forest before you, that the scene was perfect, wanting nothing in
+form or tone or color, till suddenly a flash of strong sunlight from
+behind a cloud lit up some spot with a glorious lustre, to fade away as
+quickly into the cold tint it had worn before? Have you not felt then,
+I say, that the picture had lost its marvellous attraction, and that the
+very soul of its beauty had departed? In vain you try to recall the
+past impression; your memory will mourn over the lost, and refuse to
+be comforted. And so it is often in life: the momentary charm that
+came unexpectedly can become all in all to our imaginations, and its
+departure leave a blank, like a death, behind it.
+
+Nor was he altogether satisfied with Miss Barrington. The "old
+woman"--alas! for his gallantry, it was so that he called her to
+himself--was needlessly severe. Why should a mere piece of harmless
+levity be so visited? At all events, he felt certain that he himself
+would have shown a more generous spirit. Indeed, when Polly had quizzed
+him, he took it all good-naturedly, and by thus turning his thoughts to
+his natural goodness and the merits of his character, he at length
+grew somewhat more well-disposed to the world at large. He knew he
+was naturally forgiving, and he felt he was very generous. Scores of
+fellows, bred up as he was, would have been perfectly unendurable;
+they would have presumed on their position, and done this, that, and t'
+other. Not one of them would have dreamed of taking up a poor ungainly
+bumpkin, a country doctor's cub, and making a man of him; not one of
+them would have had the heart to conceive or the energy to carry out
+such a project. And yet this he would do. Polly herself, sceptical as
+she was, should be brought to admit that he had kept his word. Selfish
+fellows would limit their plans to their own engagements, and weak
+fellows could be laughed out of their intentions; but _he_ flattered
+himself that he was neither of these, and it was really fortunate that
+the world should see how little spoiled a fine nature could be, though
+surrounded with all the temptations that are supposed to be dangerous.
+
+In this happy frame--for he was now happy--he reentered the cottage.
+"What a coxcomb!" will say my reader. Be it so. But it was a coxcomb who
+wanted to be something better.
+
+Miss Barrington met him in the porch, not a trace of her late
+displeasure on her face, but with a pleasant smile she said, "I have
+just got a few lines from my brother. He writes in excellent spirits,
+for he has gained a lawsuit; not a very important case, but it puts us
+in a position to carry out a little project we are full of. He will be
+here by Saturday, and hopes to bring with him an old and valued friend,
+the Attorney-General, to spend a few days with us. I am, therefore,
+able to promise you an ample recompense for all the loneliness of your
+present life. I have cautiously abstained from telling my brother who
+you are; I keep the delightful surprise for the moment of your meeting.
+Your name, though associated with some sad memories, will bring him back
+to the happiest period of his life."
+
+Conyers made some not very intelligible reply about his reluctance
+to impose himself on them at such a time, but she stopped him with a
+good-humored smile, and said,--
+
+"Your father's son should know that where a Barrington lived he had
+a home,--not to say you have already paid some of the tribute of this
+homeliness, and seen me very cross and ill-tempered. Well, let us not
+speak of that now. I have your word to remain here." And she left him to
+attend to her household cares, while he strolled into the garden, half
+amused, half embarrassed by all the strange and new interests that had
+grown up so suddenly around him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV. AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION
+
+Whether from simple caprice, or that Lady Cobham desired to mark her
+disapprobation of Polly Dill's share in the late wager, is not open to
+me to say, but the festivities at Cob-ham were not, on that day, graced
+or enlivened by her presence. If the comments on her absence were brief,
+they were pungent, and some wise reflections, too, were uttered as to
+the dangers that must inevitably attend all attempts to lift people into
+a sphere above their own. Poor human nature! that unlucky culprit who
+is flogged for everything and for everybody, bore the brunt of these
+severities, and it was declared that Polly had done what any other
+girl "in her rank of life" might have done; and this being settled, the
+company went to luncheon, their appetites none the worse for the small
+_auto-da-fe_ they had just celebrated.
+
+"You'd have lost your money, Captain," whispered Ambrose Bushe to
+Stapylton, as they stood talking together in a window recess, "if that
+girl had only taken the river three hundred yards higher up. Even as it
+was, she 'd have breasted her horse at the bank if the bridle had not
+given way. I suppose you have seen the place?"
+
+"I regret to say I have not. They tell me it's one of the strongest
+rapids in the river."
+
+"Let me describe it to you," replied he; and at once set about a picture
+in which certainly no elements of peril were forgotten, and all the
+dangers of rocks and rapids were given with due emphasis. Stapylton
+seemed to listen with fitting attention, throwing out the suitable
+"Indeed! is it possible!" and such-like interjections, his mind,
+however, by no means absorbed by the narrative, but dwelling solely on a
+chance name that had dropped from the narrator.
+
+"You called the place 'Barrington's Ford,'" said he, at last. "Who is
+Barrington?"
+
+"As good a gentleman by blood and descent as any in this room, but now
+reduced to keep a little wayside inn,--the 'Fisherman's Home,' it is
+called. All come of a spendthrift son, who went out to India, and ran
+through every acre of the property before he died."
+
+"What a strange vicissitude! And is the old man much broken by it?"
+
+"Some would say he was; my opinion is, that he bears up wonderfully.
+Of course, to me, he never makes any mention of the past; but while my
+father lived, he would frequently talk to him over bygones, and liked
+nothing better than to speak of his son, Mad George as they called him,
+and tell all his wildest exploits and most harebrained achievements.
+But you have served yourself in India. Have you never heard of George
+Barrington?"
+
+Stapylton shook his head, and dryly added that India was very large,
+and that even in one Presidency a man might never hear what went on in
+another.
+
+"Well, this fellow made noise enough to be heard even over here. He
+married a native woman, and he either shook off his English allegiance,
+or was suspected of doing so. At all events, he got himself into trouble
+that finished him. It's a long complicated story, that I have never
+heard correctly. The upshot was, however, old Barrington was sold out
+stick and stone, and if it was n't for the ale-house he might starve."
+
+"And his former friends and associates, do they rally round him and
+cheer him?"
+
+"Not a great deal. Perhaps, however, that's as much his fault as theirs.
+He is very proud, and very quick to resent anything like consideration
+for his changed condition. Sir Charles would have him up here,--he has
+tried it scores of times, but all in vain; and now he is left to two or
+three of his neighbors, the doctor and an old half-pay major, who lives
+on the river, and I believe really he never sees any one else. Old
+M'Cormick knew George Barrington well; not that they were friends,--two
+men less alike never lived; but that's enough to make poor Peter fond of
+talking to him, and telling all about some lawsuits George left him for
+a legacy."
+
+"This Major that you speak of, does he visit here? I don't remember to
+have seen him."
+
+"M'Cormick!" said the other, laughing. "No, he 's a miserly old fellow
+that has n't a coat fit to go out in, and he's no loss to any one. It's
+as much as old Peter Barrington can do to bear his shabby ways, and his
+cranky temper, but he puts up with everything because he knew his son
+George. That's quite enough for old Peter; and if you were to go over
+to the cottage, and say, 'I met your son up in Bombay or Madras; we were
+quartered together at Ram-something-or-other,' he 'd tell you the place
+was your own, to stop at as long as you liked, and your home for life."
+
+"Indeed!" said Stapylton, affecting to feel interested, while he
+followed out the course of his own thoughts.
+
+"Not that the Major could do even that much!" continued Bushe, who now
+believed that he had found an eager listener. "There was only one thing
+in this world he'd like to talk about,--Walcheren. Go how or when you
+liked, or where or for what,--no matter, it was Walcheren you 'd get,
+and nothing else."
+
+"Somewhat tiresome this, I take it!"
+
+"Tiresome is no name for it! And I don't know a stronger proof of old
+Peter's love for his son's memory, than that, for the sake of hearing
+about him, he can sit and listen to the 'expedition.'"
+
+There was a half-unconscious mimicry in the way he gave the last
+word that showed how the Major's accents had eaten their way into his
+sensibilities.
+
+"Your portrait of this Major is not tempting," said Stapylton, smiling.
+
+"Why would it? He's eighteen or twenty years in the neighborhood, and I
+never heard that he said a kind word or did a generous act by any one.
+But I get cross if I talk of him. Where are you going this morning? Will
+you come up to the Long Callows and look at the yearlings? The Admiral
+is very proud of his young stock, and he thinks he has some of the best
+bone and blood in Ireland there at this moment."
+
+"Thanks, no; I have some notion of a long walk this morning. I take
+shame to myself for having seen so little of the country here since I
+came that I mean to repair my fault and go off on a sort of voyage of
+discovery."
+
+"Follow the river from Brown's Barn down to Inistioge, and if you
+ever saw anything prettier I'm a Scotchman." And with this appalling
+alternative, Mr. Bushe walked away, and left the other to his own
+guidance.
+
+Perhaps Stapylton is not the companion my reader would care to stroll
+with, even along the grassy path beside that laughing river, with
+spray-like larches bending overhead, and tender water-lilies streaming,
+like pennants, in the fast-running current. It may be that he or she
+would prefer some one more impressionable to the woodland beauty of the
+spot, and more disposed to enjoy the tranquil loveliness around him; for
+it is true the swarthy soldier strode on, little heeding the picturesque
+effects which made every succeeding reach of the river a subject for a
+painter. He was bent on finding out where M'Cormick lived, and on making
+the acquaintance of that bland individual.
+
+"That's the Major's, and there's himself," said a countryman, as he
+pointed to a very shabbily dressed old man hoeing his cabbages in
+a dilapidated bit of garden-ground, but who was so absorbed in his
+occupation as not to notice the approach of a stranger.
+
+"Am I taking too great a liberty," said Stapylton, as he raised his
+hat, "if I ask leave to follow the river path through this lovely spot?"
+
+"Eh--what?--how did you come? You didn't pass round by the young wheat,
+eh?" asked M'Cormick, in his most querulous voice.
+
+"I came along by the margin of the river."
+
+"That's just it!" broke in the other. "There's no keeping them out
+that way. But I 'll have a dog as sure as my name is Dan. I'll have a
+bull-terrier that'll tackle the first of you that's trespassing there."
+
+"I fancy I'm addressing Major M'Cormick," said Stapylton, never noticing
+this rude speech; "and if so, I will ask him to accord me the privilege
+of a brother-soldier, and let me make myself known to him,--Captain
+Stapylton, of the Prince's Hussars."
+
+"By the wars!" muttered old Dan; the exclamation being a favorite one
+with him to express astonishment at any startling event. Then recovering
+himself, he added, "I think I heard there were three or four of ye
+stopping up there at Cobham; but I never go out myself anywhere. I live
+very retired down here."
+
+"I am not surprised at that. When an old soldier can nestle down in a
+lovely nook like this, he has very little to regret of what the world is
+busy about outside it."
+
+"And they are all ruining themselves, besides," said M'Cormick, with
+one of his malicious grins. "There's not a man in this county is n't
+mortgaged over head and ears. I can count them all on my fingers for
+you, and tell what they have to live on."
+
+"You amaze me," said Stapylton, with a show of interest
+
+"And the women are as bad as the men: nothing fine enough for them to
+wear; no jewels rich enough to put on! Did you ever hear them mention
+_me?_" asked he, suddenly, as though the thought flashed upon him that
+he had himself been exposed to comment of a very different kind.
+
+"They told me of an old retired officer, who owned a most picturesque
+cottage, and said, if I remember aright, that the view from one of the
+windows was accounted one of the most perfect bits of river landscape in
+the kingdom."
+
+"Just the same as where you 're standing,--no difference in life,"
+said M'Cormick, who was not to be seduced by the flattery into any
+demonstration of hospitality.
+
+"I cannot imagine anything finer," said Stapylton, as he threw himself
+at the foot of a tree, and seemed really to revel in enjoyment of the
+scene. "One might, perhaps, if disposed to be critical, ask for a little
+opening in that copse yonder. I suspect we should get a peep at the bold
+cliff whose summit peers above the tree-tops."
+
+"You'd see the quarry, to be sure," croaked out the Major, "if that's
+what you mean."
+
+"May I offer you a cigar?" said Stapylton, whose self-possession was
+pushed somewhat hard by the other. "An old campaigner is sure to be a
+smoker."
+
+"I am not. I never had a pipe in my mouth since Walcheren."
+
+"Since Walcheren! You don't say that you are an old Walcheren man?"
+
+"I am, indeed. I was in the second battalion of the 103d,--the Duke's
+Fusiliers, if ever you heard of them."
+
+"Heard of them! The whole world has heard of them; but I did n't know
+there was a man of that splendid corps surviving. Why, they lost--let me
+see--they lost every officer but--" Here a vigorous effort to keep his
+cigar alight interposed, and kept him occupied for a few seconds. "How
+many did you bring out of action,--four was it, or five? I'm certain you
+had n't six!"
+
+"We were the same as the Buffs, man for man," said M'Cormick.
+
+"The poor Buffs!--very gallant fellows too!" sighed Stapylton. "I
+have always maintained, and I always will maintain, that the Walcheren
+expedition, though not a success, was the proudest achievement of the
+British arms."
+
+"The shakes always began after sunrise, and in less than ten minutes you
+'d see your nails growing blue."
+
+"How dreadful!"
+
+"And if you felt your nose, you would n't know it was your nose; you 'd
+think it was a bit of a cold carrot."
+
+"Why was that?"
+
+"Because there was no circulation; the blood would stop going round; and
+you 'd be that way for four hours,--till the sweating took you,--just
+the same as dead."
+
+"There, don't go on,--I can't stand it,--my nerves are all ajar
+already."
+
+"And then the cramps came on," continued M'Cormick, in an ecstasy over
+a listener whose feelings he could harrow; "first in the calves of the
+legs, and then all along the spine, so that you 'd be bent like a fish."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, spare me! I've seen some rough work, but that
+description of yours is perfectly horrifying! And when one thinks it was
+the glorious old 105th--"
+
+"No, the 103d; the 105th was at Barbadoes," broke in the Major, testily.
+
+"So they were, and got their share of the yellow fever at that very time
+too," said Stapylton, hazarding a not very rash conjecture.
+
+"Maybe they did, and maybe they didn't," was the dry rejoinder.
+
+It required all Stapylton's nice tact to get the Major once more full
+swing at the expedition, but he at last accomplished the feat, and with
+such success that M'Cormick suggested an adjournment within doors,
+and faintly hinted at a possible something to drink. The wily guest,
+however, declined this. "He liked," he said, "that nice breezy spot
+under those fine old trees, and with that glorious reach of the river
+before them. Could a man but join to these enjoyments," he continued,
+"just a neighbor or two,--an old friend or so that he really liked,--one
+not alone agreeable from his tastes, but to whom the link of early
+companionship also attached us, with this addition I could call this a
+paradise."
+
+"Well, I have the village doctor," croaked out M'Cor-mick, "and there's
+Barrington--old Peter--up at the 'Fisherman's Home.' I have _them_ by
+way of society. I might have better, and I might have worse."
+
+"They told me at Cobham that there was no getting you to 'go out;' that,
+like a regular old soldier, you liked your own chimney-corner, and could
+not be tempted away from it."
+
+"They didn't try very hard, anyhow," said he, harshly. "I'll be nineteen
+years here if I live till November, and I think I got two invitations,
+and one of them to a 'dancing tea,' whatever that is; so that you may
+observe they did n't push the temptation as far as St. Anthony's!"
+
+Stapylton joined in the laugh with which M'Cormick welcomed his own
+drollery.
+
+"Your doctor," resumed he, "is, I presume, the father of the pretty girl
+who rides so cleverly?"
+
+"So they tell me. I never saw her mounted but once, and she smashed a
+melon-frame for me, and not so much as 'I ask your pardon!' afterwards."
+
+"And Barrington," resumed Stapylton, "is the ruined gentleman I have
+heard of, who has turned innkeeper. An extravagant son, I believe,
+finished him?"
+
+"His own taste for law cost him just as much," muttered M'Cormick. "He
+had a trunk full of old title-deeds and bonds and settlements, and he
+was always poring over them, discovering, by the way, flaws in this and
+omissions in that, and then he 'd draw up a case for counsel, and get
+consultations on it, and before you could turn round, there he was,
+trying to break a will or get out of a covenant, with a special jury and
+the strongest Bar in Ireland. That's what ruined him."
+
+"I gather from what you tell me that he is a bold, determined, and
+perhaps a vindictive man. Am I right?"
+
+"You are not; he's an easy-tempered fellow, and careless, like every
+one of his name and race. If you said he hadn't a wise head on his
+shoulders, you 'd be nearer the mark. Look what he 's going to do now!"
+cried he, warming with his theme: "he 's going to give up the inn--"
+
+"Give it up! And why?"
+
+"Ay, that's the question would puzzle him to answer; but it's the
+haughty old sister persuades him that he ought to take this black
+girl--George Barrington's daughter--home to live with him, and that a
+shebeen is n't the place to bring her to, and she a negress. That's more
+of the family wisdom!"
+
+"There may be affection in it."
+
+"Affection! For what,--for a black! Ay, and a black that they never set
+eyes on! If it was old Withering had the affection for her, I wouldn't
+be surprised."
+
+"What do you mean? Who is he?"
+
+"The Attorney-General, who has been fighting the East India Company for
+her these sixteen years, and making more money out of the case than
+she 'll ever get back again. Did you ever hear of Barrington and Lot
+Rammadahn Mohr against the India Company? That's the case. Twelve
+millions of rupees and the interest on them! And I believe in my heart
+and soul old Peter would be well out of it for a thousand pounds."
+
+"That is, you suspect he must be beaten in the end?"
+
+"I mean that I am sure of it! We have a saying in Ireland, 'It's not
+fair for one man to fall on twenty,' and it's just the same thing to go
+to law with a great rich Company. You 're sure to have the worst of it."
+
+"Did it never occur to them to make some sort of compromise?"
+
+"Not a bit of it. Old Peter always thinks he has the game in his hand,
+and nothing would make him throw up the cards. No; I believe if you
+offered to pay the stakes, he 'd say, 'Play the game out, and let the
+winner take the money!'"
+
+"His lawyer may, possibly, have something to say to this spirit."
+
+"Of course he has; they are always bolstering each other up. It is,
+'Barrington, my boy, you 'll turn the corner yet. You 'll drive up that
+old avenue to the house you were born in, Barrington, of Barrington
+Hall;' or, 'Withering, I never heard you greater than on that point
+before the twelve Judges;' or, 'Your last speech at Bar was finer than
+Curran.' They'd pass the evening that way, and call me a cantankerous
+old hound when my back was turned, just because I did n't hark in to the
+cry. Maybe I have the laugh at them, after all." And he broke out into
+one of his most discordant cackles to corroborate his boast.
+
+"The sound sense and experience of an old Walcheren man might have its
+weight with them. I know it would with me."
+
+"Ay," muttered the Major, half aloud, for he was thinking to
+himself whether this piece of flattery was a bait for a little
+whiskey-and-water.
+
+"I 'd rather have the unbought judgment of a shrewd man of the
+world than a score of opinions based upon the quips and cranks of an
+attorney's instructions."
+
+"Ay!" responded the other, as he mumbled to himself, "he's mighty
+thirsty."
+
+"And what's more," said Stapylton, starting to his legs, "I 'd follow
+the one as implicitly as I'd reject the other. I 'd say, 'M'Cormick is
+an old friend; we have known each other since boyhood.'"
+
+"No, we haven't I never saw Peter Barrington till I came to live here."
+
+"Well, after a close friendship of years with his son--"
+
+"Nor that, either," broke in the implacable Major. "He was always
+cutting his jokes on me, and I never could abide him, so that the close
+friendship you speak of is a mistake."
+
+"At all events," said Stapylton, sharply, "it could be no interest of
+yours to see an old--an old acquaintance lavishing his money on lawyers
+and in the pursuit of the most improbable of all results. _You_ have no
+design upon him. _You_ don't want to marry his sister!"
+
+"No, by Gemini! "--a favorite expletive of the Major's in urgent
+moments.
+
+"Nor the Meer's daughter, either, I suppose?"
+
+"The black! I think not. Not if she won the lawsuit, and was as rich
+as--she never will be."
+
+"I agree with you there, Major, though I know nothing of the case or its
+merits; but it is enough to hear that a beggared squire is on one side,
+and Leadenhall Street on the other, to predict the upshot, and, for my
+own part, I wonder they go on with it."
+
+"I'll tell you how it is," said M'Cormick, closing one eye so as to
+impart a look of intense cunning to his face. "It's the same with law as
+at a fox-hunt: when you 're tired out beating a cover, and ready to go
+off home, one dog--very often the worst in the whole pack--will yelp
+out. You know well enough he's a bad hound, and never found in his life.
+What does that signify? When you 're wishing a thing, whatever flatters
+your hopes is all right,--is n't that true?--and away you dash after the
+yelper as if he was a good hound."
+
+"You have put the matter most convincingly before me."
+
+"How thirsty he is now!" thought the Major; and grinned maliciously at
+his reflection.
+
+"And the upshot of all," said Stapylton, like one summing up a
+case,--"the upshot of all is, that this old man is not satisfied with
+his ruin if it be not complete; he must see the last timbers of the
+wreck carried away ere he leaves the scene of his disaster. Strange, sad
+infatuation!"
+
+"Ay," muttered the Major, who really had but few sympathies with merely
+moral abstractions.
+
+"Not what I should have done in a like case; nor _you_ either, Major,
+eh?"
+
+"Very likely not"
+
+"But so it is. There are men who cannot be practical, do what they will.
+This is above them."
+
+A sort of grunt gave assent to this proposition; and Stapylton, who
+began to feel it was a drawn game, arose to take his leave.
+
+"I owe you a very delightful morning, Major," said he. "I wish I could
+think it was not to be the last time I was to have this pleasure. Do you
+ever come up to Kilkenny? Does it ever occur to you to refresh your old
+mess recollections?"
+
+Had M'Cormick been asked whether he did not occasionally drop in at
+Holland House, and brush up his faculties by intercourse with the bright
+spirits who resorted there, he could scarcely have been more astounded.
+That he, old Dan M'Cormick, should figure at a mess-table,--he, whose
+wardrobe, a mere skeleton battalion thirty years ago, had never since
+been recruited,--he should mingle with the gay and splendid young
+fellows of a "crack" regiment!
+
+"I'd just as soon think of--of--" he hesitated how to measure an
+unlikelihood-- "of marrying a young wife, and taking her off to Paris!"
+
+"And I don't see any absurdity in the project There is certainly a great
+deal of brilliancy about it!"
+
+"And something bitter too!" croaked out M'Cormick, with a fearful grin.
+
+"Well, if you'll not come to see me, the chances are I'll come over and
+make _you_ another visit before I leave the neighborhood." He waited a
+second or two, not more, for some recognition of this offer; but none
+came, and he con-tinned: "I'll get you to stroll down with me, and show
+me this 'Fisherman's Home,' and its strange proprietor."
+
+"Oh, I 'll do _that!_" said the Major, who had no objection to a plan
+which by no possibility could involve himself in any cost.
+
+"As it is an inn, perhaps they 'd let us have a bit of dinner. What
+would you say to being my guest there tomorrow? Would that suit you?"
+
+"It would suit _me_ well enough!" was the strongly marked reply.
+
+"Well, we 'll do it this wise. You 'll send one of your people over
+to order dinner for two at--shall we say five o'clock?--yes,
+five--to-morrow. That will give us a longer evening, and I 'll call here
+for you about four. Is that agreed?"
+
+"Yes, that might do," was M'Cormick's half-reluctant assent, for, in
+reality, there were details in the matter that he scarcely fancied.
+First of all, he had never hitherto crossed that threshold except as an
+invited guest, and he had his misgivings about the prudence of appearing
+in any other character, and secondly, there was a responsibility in
+ordering the dinner, which he liked just as little, and, as he muttered
+to himself, "Maybe I 'll have to order the bill too!"
+
+Some unlucky experiences of casualties of this sort had, perhaps,
+shadowed his early life; for so it was, that long after Stapylton had
+taken his leave and gone off, the Major stood there ruminating over this
+unpleasant contingency, and ingeniously imagining all the pleas he
+could put in, should his apprehension prove correct, against his own
+indebtedness.
+
+"Tell Miss Dinah," said he to his messenger,--"tell her 't is an officer
+by the name of Captain Staples, or something like that, that 's up at
+Cobham, that wants a dinner for two to-morrow at five o'clock; and mind
+that you don't say who the other is, for it's nothing to her. And if
+she asks you what sort of a dinner, say the best in the house, for the
+Captain--mind you say the Captain--is to pay for it, and the other man
+only dines with him. There, now, you have your orders, and take care
+that you follow them!"
+
+There was a shrewd twinkle in the messenger's eye as he listened, which,
+if not exactly complimentary, guaranteed how thoroughly he comprehended
+the instructions that were given to him; and the Major saw him set forth
+on his mission, well assured that he could trust his envoy.
+
+In that nothing-for-nothing world Major M'Cormick had so long lived in,
+and to whose practice and ways he had adapted all his thoughts, there
+was something puzzling in the fact of a dashing Captain of Hussars of
+"the Prince's Own," seeking him out, to form his acquaintance and invite
+him to dinner. Now, though the selfishness of an unimaginative man is
+the most complete of all, it yet exposes him to fewer delusions than the
+same quality when found allied with a hopeful or fanciful temperament.
+M'Cormick had no "distractions" from such sources. He thought very ill
+of the world at large; he expected extremely little from its generosity,
+and he resolved to be "quits" with it. To his often put question, "What
+brought him here?--what did he come for?" he could find no satisfactory
+reply. He scouted the notion of "love of scenery, solitude, and so
+forth," and as fully he ridiculed to himself the idea of a stranger
+caring to hear the gossip and small-talk of a mere country neighborhood.
+"I have it!" cried he at last, as a bright thought darted through his
+brain,--"I have it at last! He wants to pump me about the 'expedition.'
+It's for that he's come. He affected surprise, to be sure, when I said
+I was a Walcheren man, and pretended to be amazed, besides; but that was
+all make-believe. He knew well enough who and what I was before he
+came. And he was so cunning, leading the conversation away in another
+direction, getting me to talk of old Peter and his son George. Wasn't
+it deep?--was n't it sly? Well, maybe we are not so innocent as we look,
+ourselves; maybe we have a trick in our sleeves too! 'With a good dinner
+and a bottle of port wine,' says he, 'I 'll have the whole story, and
+be able to write it with the signature "One who was there."' But you 're
+mistaken this time, Captain; the sorrow bit of Walcheren you 'll hear
+out of my mouth to-morrow, be as pleasant and congenial as you like.
+I 'll give you the Barringtons, father and son,--ay, and old Dinah, too,
+if you fancy her,--but not a syllable about the expedition. It's the
+Scheldt you want, but you 'll have to 'take it out' in the Ganges." And
+his uncouth joke so tickled him that he laughed till his eyes ran over;
+and in the thought that he was going to obtain a dinner under false
+pretences, he felt something as nearly like happiness as he had tasted
+for many a long day before.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI. COMING HOME
+
+Miss Barrtngton waited with impatience for Conyers's appearance at
+the breakfast-table,--she had received such a pleasant note from her
+brother, and she was so eager to read it. That notion of imparting some
+conception of a dear friend by reading his own words to a stranger is
+a very natural one. It serves so readily to corroborate all we have
+already said, to fill up that picture of which wo have but given the
+mere outline, not to speak of the inexplicable charm there is in being
+able to say, "Here is the man without reserve or disguise; here he is in
+all the freshness and warmth of genuine feeling; no tricks of style, no
+turning of phrases to mar the honest expression of his nature. You see
+him as we see him."
+
+"My brother is coming home, Mr. Conyers; he will be here to-day. Here
+is his note," said Miss Dinah, as she shook hands with her guest "I must
+read it for you:--
+
+"'At last, my dear Dinah--at last I am free, and, with all my love of
+law and lawyers, right glad to turn my steps homeward. Not but I
+have had a most brilliant week of it; dined with my old schoolfellow
+Longmore, now Chief Baron, and was the honored guest of the "Home
+Circuit," not to speak of one glorious evening with a club called the
+"Unbriefed," the pleasantest dogs that ever made good speeches for
+nothing!--an amount of dissipation upon which I can well retire and live
+for the next twelve months. How strange it seems to me to be once more
+in the "world," and listening to scores of things in which I have no
+personal interest; how small it makes my own daily life appear, but how
+secure and how homelike, Dinah! You have often heard me grumbling over
+the decline of social agreeability, and the dearth of those pleasant
+speeches that could set the table in a roar. You shall never hear the
+same complaint from me again. These fellows are just as good as their
+fathers. If I missed anything, it was that glitter of scholarship, that
+classical turn which in the olden day elevated table-talk, and made it
+racy with the smart aphorisms and happy conceits of those who, even over
+their wine, were poets and orators. But perhaps I am not quite fair
+even in this. At all events, I am not going to disparage those who have
+brought back to my old age some of the pleasant memories of my youth,
+and satisfied me that even yet I have a heart for those social joys I
+once loved so dearly!
+
+"'And we have won our suit, Dinah,--at least, a juror was withdrawn by
+consent,--and Brazier agrees to an arbitration as to the Moyalty lands,
+the whole of Clanebrach and Barrymaquilty property being released from
+the sequestration.'
+
+"This is all personal matter, and technical besides," said Miss
+Barrington; "so I skip it."
+
+"'Withering was finer than ever I heard him in the speech to evidence.
+We have been taunted with our defensive attitude so suddenly converted
+into an attack, and he compared our position to Wellington's at Torres
+Vedras. The Chief Justice said Curran, at his best, never excelled it,
+and they have called me nothing but Lord Wellington ever since. And now,
+Dinah, to answer the question your impatience has been putting these ten
+minutes: "What of the money part of all this triumph?" I fear much,
+my dear sister, we are to take little by our motion. The costs of the
+campaign cut up all but the glory! Hogan's bill extends to thirty-eight
+folio pages, and there's a codicil to it of eleven more, headed
+"Confidential between Client and Attorney," and though I have not in
+a rapid survey seen anything above five pounds, the gross total is two
+thousand seven hundred and forty-three pounds three and fourpence. I
+must and will say, however, it was a great suit, and admirably prepared.
+There was not an instruction Withering did not find substantiated,
+and Hogan is equally delighted with _him_, With all my taste for field
+sports and manly games, Dinah, I am firmly convinced that a good trial
+at bar is a far finer spectacle than the grandest tournament that
+ever was tilted. There was a skirmish yesterday that I 'd rather
+have witnessed than I 'd have seen Brian de Bois himself at
+Ashby-de-la-Zouch. And, considering that my own share for this passage
+at arms will come to a trifle above two thousand pounds, the confession
+may be taken as an honest one.
+
+"'And who is your young guest whom I shall be so delighted to see? This
+gives no clew to him, Dinah, for you know well how I would welcome any
+one who has impressed you so favorably. Entreat of him to prolong his
+stay for a week at least, and if I can persuade Withering to come down
+with me, we 'll try and make his sojourn more agreeable. Look out for
+me--at least, about five o'clock--and have the green-room ready for W.,
+and let Darby be at Holt's stile to take the trunks, for Withering likes
+that walk through the woods, and says that he leaves his wig and gown on
+the holly-bushes there till he goes back.'"
+
+The next paragraph she skimmed over to herself. It was one about an
+advance that Hogan had let him have of two hundred pounds. "Quite
+ample," W. says, "for our excursion to fetch over Josephine." Some
+details as to the route followed, and some wise hints about travelling
+on the Continent, and a hearty concurrence on the old lawyer's part with
+the whole scheme.
+
+"These are little home details," said she, hurriedly, "but you have
+heard enough to guess what my brother is like. Here is the conclusion:--
+
+"'I hope your young friend is a fisherman, which will give me more
+chance of his company than walking up the partridges, for which I am
+getting too old. Let him however understand that we mean him to enjoy
+himself in his own way, to have the most perfect liberty, and that the
+only despotism we insist upon is, not to be late for dinner.
+
+"'Your loving brother,
+
+"'Peter Barrington.
+
+"'There is no fatted calf to feast our return, Dinah, but Withering
+has an old weakness for a roast sucking-pig. Don't you think we could
+satisfy it?'"
+
+Conyers readily caught the contagion of the joy Miss Barrington felt
+at the thought of her brother's return. Short as the distance was that
+separated him from home, his absences were so rare, it seemed as
+though he had gone miles and miles away, for few people ever lived more
+dependent on each other, with interests more concentrated, and all of
+whose hopes and fears took exactly the same direction, than this brother
+and sister, and this, too, with some strong differences on the score of
+temperament, of which the reader already has an inkling.
+
+What a pleasant bustle that is of a household that prepares for the
+return of a well-loved master! What feeling pervades twenty little
+offices of every-day routine! And how dignified by affection are the
+smallest cares and the very humblest attentions! "He likes this!" "He
+is so fond of that!" are heard at every moment It is then that one marks
+how the observant eye of love has followed the most ordinary tricks of
+habit, and treasured them as things to be remembered. It is not the key
+of the street door in your pocket, nor the lease of the premises in your
+drawer, that make a home. Let us be grateful when we remember that, in
+this attribute, the humblest shealing on the hillside is not inferior to
+the palace of the king!
+
+Conyers, I have said, partook heartily of Miss Barring-ton's delight,
+and gave a willing help to the preparations that went forward. All were
+soon busy within doors and without. Some were raking the gravel before
+the door; while others were disposing the flower-pots in little pyramids
+through the grass plats; and then there were trees to be nailed up, and
+windows cleaned, and furniture changed in various ways. What superhuman
+efforts did not Conyers make to get an old jet d'eau to play which
+had not spouted for nigh twenty years; and how reluctantly he resigned
+himself to failure and assisted Betty to shake a carpet!
+
+And when all was completed, and the soft and balmy air sent the odor of
+the rose and the jessamine through the open windows, within which every
+appearance of ease and comfort prevailed, Miss Barrington sat down
+at the piano and began to refresh her memory of some Irish airs, old
+favorites of Withering's, which he was sure to ask for. There was that
+in their plaintive wildness which strongly interested Conyers; while,
+at the same time, he was astonished at the skill of one at whose touch,
+once on a time, tears had trembled in the eyes of those who listened,
+and whose fingers had not yet forgot their cunning.
+
+"Who is that standing without there?" said Miss Barrington, suddenly, as
+she saw a very poor-looking countryman who had drawn close to the
+window to listen. "Who are you? and what do you want here?" asked she,
+approaching him.
+
+"I 'm Terry, ma'am,--Terry Delany, the Major's man," said he, taking off
+his hat.
+
+"Never heard of you; and what 's your business?"
+
+"'T is how I was sent, your honor's reverence," began he, faltering at
+every word, and evidently terrified by her imperious style of address.
+"'Tis how I came here with the master's compliments,--not indeed his own
+but the other man's,--to say, that if it was plazing to you, or, indeed,
+anyhow at all, they 'd be here at five o'clock to dinner; and though
+it was yesterday I got it, I stopped with my sister's husband at Foynes
+Gap, and misremembered it all till this morning, and I hope your honor's
+reverence won't tell it on me, but have the best in the house all the
+same, for he's rich enough and can well afford it."
+
+"What can the creature mean?" cried Miss Barrington. "Who sent you
+here?"
+
+"The Major himself; but not for him, but for the other that's up at
+Cobham."
+
+"And who is this other? What is he called?"
+
+"'Twas something like Hooks, or Nails; but I can't remember," said he,
+scratching his head in sign of utter and complete bewilderment.
+
+"Did any one ever hear the like! Is the fellow an idiot?" exclaimed she,
+angrily.
+
+"No, my lady; but many a one might be that lived with ould M'Cormick!"
+burst out the man, in a rush of unguardedness.
+
+"Try and collect yourself, my good fellow," said Miss Barrington,
+smiling, in spite of herself, at his confession, "and say, if you can,
+what brought you here?"
+
+"It's just, then, what I said before," said he, gaining a little more
+courage. "It's dinner for two ye're to have; and it's to be ready at
+five o'clock; but ye 're not to look to ould Dan for the money, for he
+as good as said he would never pay sixpence of it, but 't is all to come
+out of the other chap's pocket, and well affordin' it. There it is
+now, and I defy the Pope o' Rome to say that I did n't give the message
+right!"
+
+"Mr. Conyers," began Miss Barrington, in a voice shaking with agitation,
+"it is nigh twenty years since a series of misfortunes brought us so low
+in the world that--" She stopped, partly overcome by indignation, partly
+by shame; and then, suddenly turning towards the man, she continued,
+in a firm and resolute tone, "Go back to your master and say, 'Miss
+Barrington hopes he has sent a fool on his errand, otherwise his message
+is so insolent it will be far safer he should never present himself here
+again!' Do you hear me? Do you understand me?"
+
+"If you mane you'd make them throw him in the river, the divil a straw I
+'d care, and I would n't wet my feet to pick him out of it!"
+
+"Take the message as I have given it you, and do not dare to mix up
+anything of your own with it."
+
+"Faix, I won't. It's trouble enough I have without that! I 'll tell him
+there's no dinner for him here to-day, and that, if he 's wise, he won't
+come over to look for it."
+
+"There, go--be off," cried Conyers, impatiently, for he saw that Miss
+Barrington's temper was being too sorely tried.
+
+She conquered, however, the indignation that at one moment had
+threatened to master her, and in a voice of tolerable calm said,--
+
+"May I ask you to see if Darby or any other of the workmen are in the
+garden? It is high time to take down these insignia of our traffic, and
+tell our friends how we would be regarded in future."
+
+"Will you let me do it? I ask as a favor that I may be permitted to do
+it," cried Conyers, eagerly; and without waiting for her answer, hurried
+away to fetch a ladder. He was soon back again and at work.
+
+"Take care how you remove that board, Mr. Conyers," said she. "If there
+be the tiniest sprig of jessamine broken, my brother will miss it. He
+has been watching anxiously for the time when the white bells would shut
+out every letter of his name, and I like him not to notice the change
+immediately. There, you are doing it very handily indeed. There is
+another holdfast at this corner. Ah, be careful; that is a branch of
+the passion-tree, and though it looks dead, you will see it covered with
+flowers in spring. Nothing could be better. Now for the last emblem of
+our craft,--can you reach it?"
+
+"Oh, easily," said Conyers, as he raised his eyes to where the little
+tin fish hung glittering above him. The ladder, however, was too short,
+and, standing on one of the highest rungs, still he could not reach the
+little iron stanchion. "I must have it, though," cried he; "I mean to
+claim that as my prize. It will be the only fish I ever took with my
+own hands." He now cautiously crept up another step of the ladder,
+supporting himself by the frail creepers which covered the walls. "Help
+me now with a crooked stick, and I shall catch it."
+
+[Illustration: 190]
+
+"I'll fetch you one," said she, disappearing within the porch.
+
+Still wistfully looking at the object of his pursuit, Conyers never
+turned his eyes downwards as the sound of steps apprised him some one
+was near, and, concluding it to be Miss Barrington, he said, "I'm half
+afraid that I have torn some of this jessamine-tree from the wall; but
+see here's the prize!" A slight air of wind had wafted it towards
+him, and he suatched the fish from its slender chain and held it up in
+triumph.
+
+"A poacher caught in the fact, Barrington!" said a deep voice from
+below; and Conyers, looking down, saw two men, both advanced in life,
+very gravely watching his proceedings.
+
+Not a little ashamed of a situation to which he never expected an
+audience, he hastily descended the ladder; but before he reached the
+ground Miss Barrington was in her brother's arms, and welcoming him home
+with all the warmth of true affection. This over, she next shook hands
+cordially with his companion, whom she called Mr. Withering.
+
+"And now, Peter," said she, "to present one I have been longing to make
+known to you. You, who never forget a well-known face, will recognize
+him."
+
+"My eyes are not what they used to be," said Barrington, holding out his
+hand to Conyers, "but they are good enough to see the young gentleman I
+left here when I went away."
+
+"Yes, Peter," said she, hastily; "but does the sight of him bring back
+to you no memory of poor George?"
+
+"George was dark as a Spaniard, and this gentleman--But pray, sir,
+forgive this rudeness of ours, and let us make ourselves better
+acquainted within doors. You mean to stay some time here, I hope."
+
+"I only wish I could; but I have already overstayed my leave, and waited
+here only to shake your hand before I left."
+
+[Illustration: 190]
+
+"Peter, Peter," said Miss Dinah, impatiently, "must I then tell whom you
+are speaking to?"
+
+Barrington seemed pazzled. He looked from the stranger to his sister,
+and back again.
+
+She drew near and whispered in his ear: "The son of poor George's
+dearest friend on earth,--the son of Ormsby Conyers."
+
+"Of whom?" said Barrington, in a startled and half-angry voice.
+
+"Of Ormsby Conyers."
+
+Barrington trembled from head to foot; his face, for an instant crimson,
+became suddenly of an ashy paleness, and his voice shook as he said,--
+
+"I was not--I am not--prepared for this honor. I mean, I could not have
+expected that Mr. Conyers would have desired--Say this--do this for me,
+Withering, for I am not equal to it," said the old man, as, with his
+hands pressed over his face, he hurried within the house, followed by
+his sister.
+
+"I cannot make a guess at the explanation my friend has left me to
+make," cried Withering, courteously; "but it is plain to see that your
+name has revived some sorrow connected with the great calamity of his
+life. You have heard of his son, Colonel Barrington?"
+
+"Yes, and it was because my father had been his dearest friend that Miss
+Barrington insisted on my remaining here. She told me, over and over
+again, of the joy her brother would feel on meeting me--"
+
+"Where are you going,--what's the matter?" asked Withering, as a man
+hurriedly passed out of the house and made for the river.
+
+"The master is taken bad, sir, and I 'm going to Inistioge for the
+doctor."
+
+"Let me go with you," said Conyers; and, only returning by a nod the
+good-bye of Withering, he moved past and stepped into the boat.
+
+"What an afternoon to such a morning!" muttered he to himself, as the
+tears started from his eyes and stole heavily along his cheeks.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII. A SHOCK
+
+If Conyers had been in the frame of mind to notice it, the contrast
+between the neat propriety of the "Fisherman's Home," and the disorder
+and slovenliness of the little inn at Inistioge could not have failed
+to impress itself upon him. The "Spotted Duck" was certainly, in all its
+details, the very reverse of that quiet and picturesque cottage he had
+just quitted. But what did he care at that moment for the roof that
+sheltered him, or the table that was spread before him? For days back he
+had been indulging in thoughts of that welcome which Miss Barrington had
+promised him. He fancied how, on the mere mention of his father's name,
+the old man's affection would have poured forth in a flood of kindest
+words; he had even prepared himself for a scene of such emotion as a
+father might have felt on seeing one who brought back to mind his own
+son's earlier years; and instead of all this, he found himself shunned,
+avoided, repulsed. If there was a thing on earth in which his pride was
+greatest, it was his name; and yet it was on the utterance of that word,
+"Conyers," old Barrington turned away and left him.
+
+Over and over again had he found the spell of his father's name and
+title opening to him society, securing him attentions, and obtaining
+for him that recognition and acceptance which go so far to make life
+pleasurable; and now that word, which would have had its magic at a
+palace, fell powerless and cold at the porch of a humble cottage.
+
+To say that it was part of his creed to believe his father could do
+no wrong is weak. It was his whole belief,--his entire and complete
+conviction. To his mind his father embodied all that was noble,
+high-hearted, and chivalrous. It was not alone the testimony of those
+who served under him could be appealed to. All India, the Government
+at home, his own sovereign knew it. From his earliest infancy he had
+listened to this theme, and to doubt it seemed like to dispute the fact
+of his existence. How was it, then, that this old man refused to accept
+what the whole world had stamped with its value? Was it that he impugned
+the services which had made his father's name famous throughout the
+entire East?
+
+He endeavored to recall the exact words Barrington had used towards
+him, but he could not succeed. There was something, he thought, about
+intruding, unwarrantably intruding; or it might be a mistaken impression
+of the welcome that awaited him. Which was it? or was it either of them?
+At all events, he saw himself rejected and repulsed, and the indignity
+was too great to be borne.
+
+While he thus chafed and fretted, hours went by; and Mr. M'Cabe, the
+landlord, had made more than one excursion into the room, under pretence
+of looking after the fire, or seeing that the windows were duly
+closed, but, in reality, very impatient to learn his guest's intentions
+regarding dinner.
+
+"Was it your honor said that you'd rather have the chickens roast than
+biled?" said he at last, in a very submissive tone.
+
+"I said nothing of the kind."
+
+"Ah, it was No. 5 then, and I mistook; I crave your honor's pardon."
+Hoping that the chord he had thus touched might vibrate, he stooped down
+to arrange the turf, and give time for the response, but none came. Mr.
+M'Cabe gave a faint sigh, but returned to the charge. "When there's the
+laste taste of south in the wind, there 's no making this chimney draw."
+
+Not a word of notice acknowledged this remark.
+
+"But it will do finely yet; it's just the outside of the turf is a
+little wet, and no wonder; seven weeks of rain--glory be to Him that
+sent it--has nearly desthroyed us."
+
+Still Conyers vouchsafed no reply.
+
+"And when it begins to rain here, it never laves off. It isn't like in
+your honor's country. Your honor is English?"
+
+A grunt,--it might be assent, it sounded like malediction.
+
+"'T is azy seen. When your honor came out of the boat, I said, 'Shusy,'
+says I, 'he's English; and there's a coat they could n't make in Ireland
+for a king's ransom.'"
+
+"What conveyances leave this for Kilkenny?" asked Conyers, sternly.
+
+"Just none at all, not to mislead you," said M'Cabe, in a voice quite
+devoid of its late whining intonation.
+
+"Is there not a chaise or a car to be had?"
+
+"Sorrow one. Dr. Dill has a car, to be sure, but not for hire."
+
+"Oh, Dr. Dill lives here. I forgot that. Go and tell him I wish to see
+him."
+
+The landlord withdrew in dogged silence, but returned in about ten
+minutes, to say that the doctor had been sent for to the "Fisherman's
+Home," and Mr. Barrington was so ill it was not likely he would be back
+that night.
+
+"So ill, did you say?" cried Conyers. "What was the attack,--what did
+they call it?"
+
+"'T is some kind of a 'plexy, they said. He's a full man, and advanced
+in years, besides."
+
+"Go and tell young Mr. Dill to come over here."
+
+"He's just gone off with the cuppin' instruments. I saw him steppin'
+into the boat."
+
+"Let me have a messenger; I want a man to take a note up to Miss
+Barrington, and fetch my writing-desk here."
+
+In his eager anxiety to learn how Mr. Barrington was, Conyers hastily
+scratched off a few lines; but on reading them over, he tore them up:
+they implied a degree of interest on his part which, considering the
+late treatment extended to him, was scarcely dignified. He tried again;
+the error was as marked on the other side. It was a cold and formal
+inquiry. "And yet," said he, as he tore this in fragments, "one thing
+is quite clear,--this illness is owing to _me!_ But for _my_ presence
+there, that old man had now been hale and hearty; the impressions,
+rightfully or wrongfully, which the sight of _me_ and the announcement
+of _my_ name produced are the cause of this malady. I cannot deny it."
+With this revulsion of feeling he wrote a short but kindly worded
+note to Miss Barrington, in which, with the very faintest allusion to
+himself, he begged for a few lines to say how her brother was. He would
+have added something about the sorrow he experienced in requiting all
+her kindness by this calamitous return, but he felt that if the case
+should be a serious one, all reference to himself would be misplaced and
+impertinent.
+
+The messenger despatched, he sat down beside his fire, the only light
+now in the room, which the shade of coming night had darkened. He was
+sad and dispirited, and ill at ease with his own heart. Mr. M'Cabe,
+indeed, appeared with a suggestion about candles, and a shadowy hint
+that if his guest speculated of dining at all, it was full time to
+intimate it; but Conyers dismissed him with a peremptory command not to
+dare to enter the room again until he was summoned to it. So odious to
+him was the place, the landlord, and all about him, that he would have
+set out on foot had his ankle been only strong enough to bear him. "What
+if he were to write to Stapylton to come and fetch him away? He never
+liked the man; he liked him less since the remark Miss Barrrington had
+made upon him from mere reading of his letter, but what was he to do?"
+While he was yet doubting what course to take, he heard the voices
+of some new arrivals outside, and, strange enough, one seemed to be
+Stapylton's. A minute or two after, the travellers had entered the room
+adjoining his own, and from which a very frail partition of lath and
+plaster alone separated him.
+
+"Well, Barney," said a harsh, grating voice, addressing the landlord,
+"what have you got in the larder? We mean to dine with you."
+
+"To dine here, Major!" exclaimed M'Cabe. "Well, well, wondhers will
+never cease." And then hurriedly seeking to cover a speech not very
+flattering to the Major's habits of hospitality, "Sure, I 've a loin of
+pork, and there 's two chickens and a trout fresh out of the water, and
+there's a cheese; it isn't mine, to be sure, but Father Cody's, but
+he 'll not miss a slice out of it; and barrin' you dined at the
+'Fisherman's Home,' you 'd not get betther."
+
+"That 's where we were to have dined by right," said the Major,
+crankily,--"myself and my friend here,--but we're disappointed, and so
+we stepped in here, to do the best we can."
+
+"Well, by all accounts, there won't be many dinners up there for some
+time."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"Ould Barrington was took with a fit this afternoon, and they say he
+won't get over it."
+
+"How was it?--what brought it on?"
+
+"Here's the way I had it. Ould Peter was just come home from Kilkenny,
+and had brought the Attorney-General with him to stay a few days at the
+cottage, and what was the first thing he seen but a man that come all
+the way from India with a writ out against him for some of mad George
+Barrington's debts; and he was so overcome by the shock, that he fainted
+away, and never came rightly to himself since."
+
+"This is simply impossible," said a voice Conyers well knew to be
+Stapylton's.
+
+"Be that as it may, I had it from the man that came for the doctor,
+and what's more, he was just outside the window, and could hear ould
+Barrington cursin' and swearin' about the man that ruined his son, and
+brought his poor boy to the grave; but I 'll go and look after your
+honor's dinner, for I know more about that."
+
+"I have a strange half-curiosity to know the correct version of this
+story," said Stapylton, as the host left the room. "The doctor is a
+friend of yours, I think. Would he step over here, and let us hear the
+matter accurately?"
+
+"He's up at the cottage now, but I 'll get him to come in here when he
+returns."
+
+If Conyers was shocked to hear how even this loose version of what had
+occurred served to heighten the anxiety his own fears created, he was
+also angry with himself at having learned the matter as he did. It was
+not in his nature to play the eavesdropper, and he had, in reality,
+heard what fell between his neighbors, almost ere he was aware of it. To
+apprise them, therefore, of the vicinity of a stranger, he coughed and
+sneezed, poked the fire noisily, and moved the chairs about; but though
+the disturbance served to prevent him from hearing, it did not tend to
+impress any greater caution upon them, for they talked away as before,
+and more than once above the din of his own tumult, he heard the name of
+Barrington, and even his own, uttered.
+
+Unable any longer to suffer the irritation of a position so painful, he
+took his hat, and left the house. It was now night, and so dark that
+he had to stand some minutes on the door-sill ere he could accustom his
+sight to the obscurity. By degrees, however, he was enabled to guide his
+steps, and, passing through the little square, he gained the bridge;
+and here he resolved to walk backwards and forwards till such time as
+he hoped his neighbors might have concluded their convivialities, and
+turned homeward.
+
+A thin cold rain was falling, and the night was cheerless, and without
+a star; but his heart was heavy, and the dreariness without best suited
+that within him. For more than an hour he continued his lonely walk,
+tormented by all the miseries his active ingenuity could muster. To
+have brought sorrow and mourning beneath the roof where you have been
+sheltered with kindness is sad enough, but far sadder is it to connect
+the calamity you have caused with one dearer to you than yourself, and
+whose innocence, while assured of, you cannot vindicate. "My father
+never wronged this man, for the simple reason that he has never been
+unjust to any one. It is a gross injustice to accuse him! If Colonel
+Barrington forfeited my father's friendship, who could doubt where the
+fault lay? But I will not leave the matter questionable. I will write
+to my father and ask him to send me such a reply as may set the issue
+at rest forever; and then I will come down here, and, with my father's
+letter in my hand, say, 'The mention of my name was enough, once on a
+time, to make you turn away from me on the very threshold of your own
+door--'" When he had got thus far in his intended appeal, his ear was
+suddenly struck by the word "Conyers," uttered by one of two men who
+had passed him the moment before, and now stood still in one of the
+projections of the bridge to talk. He as hastily recognized Dr. Dill
+as the speaker. He went on thus: "Of course it was mere raving, but
+one must bear in mind that memory very often is the prompter of these
+wanderings; and it was strange how persistently he held to the one
+theme, and continued to call out, 'It was not fair, sir! It was not
+manly! You know it yourself, Conyers; you cannot deny it!'"
+
+"But you attach no importance to such wanderings, doctor?" asked one
+whose deep-toned voice betrayed him to be Stapylton.
+
+"I do; that is, to the extent I have mentioned. They are incoherencies,
+but they are not without some foundation. This Conyers may have had
+his share in that famous accusation against Colonel Barrington,--that
+well-known charge I told you of; and if so, it is easy to connect the
+name with these ravings."
+
+"And the old man will die of this attack," said Stapylton, half
+musingly.
+
+"I hope not. He has great vigor of constitution; and old as he is, I
+think he will rub through it."
+
+"Young Conyers left for Kilkenny, then, immediately?" asked he.
+
+"No; he came down here, to the village. He is now at the inn."
+
+"At the inn, here? I never knew that. I am sorry I was not aware of it,
+doctor; but since it is so, I will ask of you not to speak of having
+seen me here. He would naturally take it ill, as his brother officer,
+that I did not make him out, while, as you see, I was totally ignorant
+of his vicinity."
+
+"I will say nothing on the subject, Captain," said the doctor. "And now
+one word of advice from you on a personal matter. This young gentleman
+has offered to be of service to my son--"
+
+Conyers, hitherto spellbound while the interest attached to his father,
+now turned hastily from the spot and walked away, his mind not alone
+charged with a heavy care, but full of an eager anxiety as to wherefore
+Stapylton should have felt so deeply interested in Barrington's illness,
+and the causes that led to it,--Stapylton, the most selfish of men, and
+the very last in the world to busy himself in the sorrows or misfortunes
+of a stranger. Again, too, why had he desired the doctor to preserve his
+presence there as a secret? Conyers was exactly in the frame of mind to
+exaggerate a suspicion, or make a mere doubt a grave question. While be
+thus mused, Stapylton and the doctor passed him on their way towards the
+village, deep in converse, and, to all seeming, in closest confidence.
+
+"Shall I follow him to the inn, and declare that I overheard a few
+words on the bridge which give me a claim to explanation? Shall I say,
+'Captain Stapylton, you spoke of my father, just now, sufficiently aloud
+to be overheard by me as I passed, and in your tone there was that which
+entitles me to question you? Then if he should say, 'Go on; what is it
+you ask for?' shall I not be sorely puzzled to continue? Perhaps, too,
+he might remind me that the mode in which I obtained my information
+precludes even a reference to it. He is one of those fellows not to
+throw away such an advantage, and I must prepare myself for a quarrel.
+Oh, if I only had Hunter by me! What would I not give for the brave
+Colonel's counsel at such a moment as this?"
+
+Of this sort were his thoughts as he strolled up and down for hours,
+wearing away the long "night watches," till a faint grayish tinge
+above the horizon showed that morning was not very distant. The whole
+landscape was wrapped in that cold mysterious tint in which tower and
+hill-top and spire are scarcely distinguishable from each other,
+while out of the low-lying meadows already arose the bluish vapor
+that proclaims the coming day. The village itself, overshadowed by the
+mountain behind it, lay a black, unbroken mass.
+
+Not a light twinkled from a window, save close to the river's bank,
+where a faint gleam stole forth and flickered on the water.
+
+Who has not felt the strange interest that attaches to a solitary light
+seen thus in the tranquil depth of a silent night? How readily do
+we associate it with some incident of sorrow! The watcher beside the
+sick-bed rises to the mind, or the patient sufferer himself trying to
+cheat the dull hours by a book, or perhaps some poor son of toil arising
+to his daily round of labor, and seated at that solitary meal which no
+kind word enlivens, no companionship beguiles. And as I write, in what
+corner of earth are not such scenes passing,--such dark shadows moving
+over the battlefield of life?
+
+In such a feeling did Conyers watch this light as, leaving the
+high-road, he took a path that led along the river towards it. As he
+drew nigher, he saw that the light came from the open window of a room
+which gave upon a little garden,--a mere strip of ground fenced off
+from the path by a low paling. With a curiosity he could not master, he
+stopped and looked in. At a large table, covered with books and papers,
+and on which a skull also stood, a young man was seated, his head
+leaning on his hand, apparently in deep thought, while a girl was slowly
+pacing the little chamber as she talked to him.
+
+"It does not require," said she, in a firm voice, "any great effort of
+memory to bear in mind that a nerve, an artery, and a vein always go in
+company."
+
+"Not for you, perhaps,--not for you, Polly."
+
+"Not for any one, I 'm sure. Your fine dragoon friend with the sprained
+ankle might be brought to that amount of instruction by one telling of
+it."
+
+"Oh, he 's no fool, I promise you, Polly. Don't despise him because he
+has plenty of money and can lead a life of idleness."
+
+"I neither despise nor esteem him, nor do I mean that he should divert
+our minds from what we are at. Now for the popliteal space. Can you
+describe it? Do you know where it is, or anything about it?"
+
+"I do," said he, doggedly, as he pushed his long hair back from his
+eyes, and tried to think,--"I do, but I must have time. You must n't
+hurry me."
+
+She made no reply, but continued her walk in silence.
+
+"I know all about it, Polly, but I can't describe it. I can't describe
+anything; but ask me a question about it."
+
+"Where is it,--where does it lie?"
+
+"Isn't it at the lower third of the humerus, where the flexors divide?"
+
+"You are too bad,--too stupid!" cried she, angrily. "I cannot believe
+that anything short of a purpose, a determination to be ignorant, could
+make a person so unteach-able. If we have gone over this once, we have
+done so fifty times. It haunts me in my sleep, from very iteration."
+
+"I wish it would haunt me a little when I 'm awake," said he, sulkily.
+
+"And when may that be, I'd like to know? Do you fancy, sir, that your
+present state of intelligence is a very vigilant one?"
+
+"I know one thing. I hope there won't be the like of you on the Court
+of Examiners, for I would n't bear the half of what _you've_ said to me
+from another."
+
+[Illustration: 202]
+
+"Rejection will be harder to bear, Tom. To be sent back as ignorant and
+incapable will be far heavier as a punishment than any words of mine.
+What are you laughing at, sir? Is it a matter of mirth to you?"
+
+"Look at the skull, Polly,--look at the skull." And he pointed to where
+he had stuck his short, black pipe, between the grinning teeth of the
+skeleton.
+
+She snatched it angrily away, and threw it out of the window, saying,
+"You may be ignorant, and not be able to help it. I will take care you
+shall not be irreverent, sir."
+
+"There's my short clay gone, anyhow," said Tom, submissively, "and I
+think I 'll go to bed." And he yawned drearily as he spoke.
+
+"Not till you have done this, if we sit here till breakfast-time," said
+she, resolutely. "There's the plate, and there's the reference. Read it
+till you know it!"
+
+"What a slave-driver you 'd make, Polly!" said he, with a half-bitter
+smile.
+
+"What a slave I am!" said she, turning away her head.
+
+"That's true," cried he, in a voice thick with emotion; "and when I 'm
+thousands of miles away, I 'll be longing to hear the bitterest words
+you ever said to me, rather than never see you any more."
+
+[Illustration: 202]
+
+"My poor brother," said she, laying her hand softly on his rough head,
+"I never doubted your heart, and I ought to be better tempered with you,
+and I will. Come, now, Tom,"--and she seated herself at the table next
+him,--"see, now, if I cannot make this easy to you." And then the two
+heads were bent together over the table, and the soft brown hair of the
+girl half mingled with the rough wool of the graceless numskull beside
+her.
+
+"I will stand by him, if it were only for her sake," said Conyers to
+himself. And he stole slowly away, and gained the inn.
+
+So intent upon his purpose was he that he at once set about its
+fulfilment. He began a long letter to his father, and, touching slightly
+on the accident by which he made Dr. Dill's acquaintance, professed to
+be deeply his debtor for kindness and attention. With this prelude he
+introduced Tom. Hitherto his pen had glided along flippantly enough.
+In that easy mixture of fact and fancy by which he opened his case, no
+grave difficulty presented itself; but Tom was now to be presented, and
+the task was about as puzzling as it would have been to have conducted
+him bodily into society.
+
+"I was ungenerous enough to be prejudiced against this poor fellow when
+I first met him," wrote he. "Neither his figure nor his manners are in
+his favor, and in his very diffidence there is an apparent rudeness and
+forwardness which are not really in his nature. These, however, are not
+mistakes you, my dear father, will fall into. With your own quickness
+you will see what sterling qualities exist beneath this rugged outside,
+and you will befriend him at first for my sake. Later on, I trust he
+will open his own account in your heart. Bear in mind, too, that it was
+all my scheme,--the whole plan mine. It was I persuaded him to try his
+luck in India; it was through me he made the venture; and if the poor
+fellow fail, all the fault will fall back upon _me_." From this he went
+into little details of Tom's circumstances, and the narrow means by
+which he was surrounded, adding how humble he was, and how ready to be
+satisfied with the most moderate livelihood. "In that great wide world
+of the East, what scores of things there must be for such a fellow to
+do; and even should he not turn out to be a Sydenham or a Harvey, he
+might administer justice, or collect revenue, or assist in some other
+way the process of that system which we call the British rule in India.
+In a word, get him something he may live by, and be able, in due time,
+to help those he has left behind here, in a land whose 'Paddy-fields'
+are to the full as pauperized as those of Bengal."
+
+He had intended, having disposed of Tom Dill's case, to have addressed
+some lines to his father about the Barring-tons, sufficiently vague to
+be easily answered if the subject were one distasteful or unpleasing to
+him; but just as he reached the place to open this, he was startled by
+the arrival of a jaunting-car at the inn-door, whose driver stopped to
+take a drink. It was a chance conveyance, returning to Kilkenny, and
+Conyers at once engaged it; and, leaving an order to send on the reply
+when it arrived from the cottage, he wrote a hasty note to Tom Dill and
+departed. This note was simply to say that he had already fulfilled his
+promise of interesting his father in his behalf, and that whenever Tom
+had passed his examination, and was in readiness for his voyage, he
+should come or write to him, and he would find him fully disposed to
+serve and befriend him. "Meanwhile," wrote he, "let me hear of you. I am
+really anxious to learn how you acquit yourself at the ordeal, for which
+you have the cordial good wishes of your friend, F. Conyers."
+
+Oh, if the great men of our acquaintance--and we all of us, no matter
+how hermit-like we may live, have our "great men"--could only know and
+feel what ineffable pleasure will sometimes be derived from the chance
+expressions they employ towards us,--words which, little significant in
+themselves, perhaps have some touch of good fellowship or good feeling,
+now reviving a "bygone," now far-seeing a future, tenderly thrilling
+through us by some little allusion to a trick of our temperament, noted
+and observed by one in whose interest we never till then knew we had
+a share,--if, I say, they were but aware of this, how delightful they
+might make themselves!--what charming friends!--and, it is but fair to
+own, what dangerous patrons!
+
+I leave my reader to apply the reflection to the case before him,
+and then follow me to the pleasant quarters of a well-maintained
+country-house, full of guests and abounding in gayety.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII. COBHAM
+
+My reader is already aware that I am telling of some forty years ago,
+and therefore I have no apologies to make for habits and ways which our
+more polished age has pronounced barbarous. Now, at Cobham, the men
+sat after dinner over their wine when the ladies had withdrawn, and,
+I grieve to say, fulfilled this usage with a zest and enjoyment that
+unequivocally declared it to be the best hour of the whole twenty-four.
+
+Friends could now get together, conversation could range over
+personalities, egotisms have their day, and bygones be disinterred
+without need of an explanation. Few, indeed, who did not unbend at
+such a moment, and relax in that genial atmosphere begotten of closed
+curtains, and comfort, and good claret. I am not so certain that we
+are wise in our utter abandonment of what must have often conciliated
+a difference or reconciled a grudge. How many a lurking discontent, too
+subtle for intervention, must have been dissipated in the general burst
+of a common laugh, or the racy enjoyment of a good story! Decidedly the
+decanter has often played peacemaker, though popular prejudice inclines
+to give it a different mission.
+
+On the occasion to which I would now invite my reader, the party were
+seated--by means of that genial discovery, a horseshoe-table--around
+the fire at Cobham. It was a true country-house society of neighbors who
+knew each other well, sprinkled with guests,--strangers to every one.
+There were all ages and all temperaments, from the hardy old squire,
+whose mellow cheer was known at the fox-cover, to the young heir
+fresh from Oxford and loud about Leicestershire; gentlemen-farmers and
+sportsmen, and parsons and soldiers, blended together with just enough
+disparity of pursuit to season talk and freshen experiences.
+
+The conversation, which for a while was partly on sporting matters,
+varied with little episodes of personal achievement, and those little
+boastings which end in a bet, was suddenly interrupted by a hasty call
+for Dr. Dill, who was wanted at the "Fisherman's Home."
+
+"Can't you stay to finish this bottle, Dill?" said the Admiral, who had
+not heard for whom he had been sent.
+
+"I fear not, sir. It is a long row down to the cottage."
+
+"So it 's poor Barrington again! I 'm sincerely sorry for it! And now I
+'ll not ask you to delay. By the way, take my boat. Elwes," said he to
+the servant, "tell the men to get the boat ready at once for Dr. Dill,
+and come and say when it is so."
+
+The doctor's gratitude was profuse, though probably a dim vista of the
+"tip" that might be expected from him detracted from the fulness of the
+enjoyment.
+
+"Find out if I could be of any use, Dill," whispered the Admiral, as the
+doctor arose. "Your own tact will show if there be anything I could do.
+You understand me; I have the deepest regard for old Barrington, and his
+sister too."
+
+Dill promised to give his most delicate attention to the point, and
+departed.
+
+While this little incident was occurring, Stapylton, who sat at an angle
+of the fireplace, was amusing two or three listeners by an account
+of his intended dinner at the "Home," and the haughty refusal of Miss
+Barrington to receive him.
+
+"You must tell Sir Charles the story!" cried out Mr. Bushe. "He'll soon
+recognize the old Major from your imitation of him."
+
+"Hang the old villain! he shot a dog-fox the other morning, and he knows
+well how scarce they are getting in the country," said another.
+
+"I 'll never forgive myself for letting him have a lease of that place,"
+said a third; "he's a disgrace to the neighborhood."
+
+"You're not talking of Barrington, surely," called out Sir Charles.
+
+"Of course not. I was speaking of M'Cormick. Harrington is another stamp
+of man, and here's his good health!"
+
+"He'll need all your best wishes, Jack," said the host, "for Dr. Dill
+has just been called away to see him."
+
+"To see old Peter! Why, I never knew him to have a day's illness!"
+
+"He's dangerously ill now," said the Admiral, gravely. "Dill tells me
+that he came home from the Assizes hale and hearty, in high spirits
+at some verdict in his favor, and brought back the Attorney-General to
+spend a day or two with him; but that, on arriving, he found a young
+fellow whose father or grandfather--for I have n't it correctly--had
+been concerned in some way against George Barrington, and that high
+words passed between old Peter and this youth, who was turned out on the
+spot, while poor Barrington, overcome by emotion, was struck down with
+a sort of paralysis. As I have said, I don't know the story accurately,
+for even Dill himself only picked it up from the servants at the
+cottage, neither Miss Barrington nor Withering having told him one word
+on the subject."
+
+"That is the very same story I heard at the village where we dined,"
+broke in Stapylton, "and M'Cormick added that he remembered the name.
+Conyers--the young man is called Conyers--did occur in a certain famous
+accusation against Colonel Barrington."
+
+"Well, but," interposed Bushe, "isn't all that an old story now? Is n't
+the whole thing a matter of twenty years ago?"
+
+"Not so much as that," said Sir Charles. "I remember reading it all when
+I was in command of the 'Madagascar,'--I forget the exact year, but I
+was at Corfu."
+
+"At all events," said Bushe, "it's long enough past to be forgotten or
+forgiven; and old Peter was the very last man I could ever have supposed
+likely to carry on an ancient grudge against any one."
+
+"Not where his son was concerned. Wherever George's name entered,
+forgiveness of the man that wronged him was impossible," said another.
+
+"You are scarcely just to my old friend," interposed the Admiral. "First
+of all, we have not the facts before us. Many of us here have never
+seen, some have never heard of the great Barrington Inquiry, and of such
+as have, if their memories be not better than mine, they can't discuss
+the matter with much profit."
+
+"I followed the case when it occurred," chimed in the former speaker,
+"but I own, with Sir Charles, that it has gone clean out of my head
+since that time."
+
+"You talk of injustice, Cobham, injustice to old Peter Barrington," said
+an old man from the end of the table; "but I would ask, are we quite
+just to poor George? I knew him well. My son served in the same regiment
+with him before he went out to India, and no finer nor nobler-hearted
+fellow than George Barrington ever lived. Talk of him ruining his father
+by his extravagance! Why, he'd have cut off his right hand rather
+than caused him one pang, one moment of displeasure. Barrington ruined
+himself; that insane passion for law has cost him far more than half
+what he was worth in the world. Ask Withering; he 'll tell you something
+about it. Why, Withering's own fees in that case before 'the Lords'
+amount to upwards of two thousand guineas."
+
+"I won't dispute the question with you, Fowndes," said the Admiral.
+"Scandal says you have a taste for a trial at bar yourself."
+
+The hit told, and called for a hearty laugh, in which Fowndes himself
+joined freely.
+
+"_I_'m a burned child, however, and keep away from the fire," said he,
+good-humoredly; "but old Peter seems rather to like being singed. There
+he is again with his Privy Council case for next term, and with, I
+suppose, as much chance of success as I should have in a suit to recover
+a Greek estate of some of my Phoenician ancestors."
+
+It was not a company to sympathize deeply with such a litigious spirit.
+The hearty and vigorous tone of squiredom, young and old, could not
+understand it as a passion or a pursuit, and they mainly agreed that
+nothing but some strange perversion could have made the generous nature
+of old Barrington so fond of law. Gradually the younger members of
+the party slipped away to the drawing-room, till, in the changes that
+ensued, Stapylton found himself next to Mr. Fowndes.
+
+"I'm glad to see, Captain," said the old squire, "that modern fashion of
+deserting the claret-jug has not invaded your mess. I own I like a man
+who lingers over his wine."
+
+"We have no pretext for leaving it, remember that," said Stapylton,
+smiling.
+
+"Very true. The _placeus uxor_ is sadly out of place in a soldier's
+life. Your married officer is but a sorry comrade; besides, how is a
+fellow to be a hero to the enemy who is daily bullied by his wife?"
+
+"I think you said that you had served?" interposed Stapylton.
+
+"No. My son was in the army; he is so still, but holds a Governorship
+in the West Indies. He it was who knew this Barrington we were speaking
+of."
+
+"Just so," said Stapylton, drawing his chair closer, so as to converse
+more confidentially.
+
+"You may imagine what very uneventful lives we country gentlemen live,"
+said the old squire, "when we can continue to talk over one memorable
+case for something like twenty years, just because one of the parties to
+it was our neighbor."
+
+"You appear to have taken a lively interest in it," said Stapylton, who
+rightly conjectured it was a favorite theme with the old squire.
+
+"Yes. Barrington and my son were friends; they came down to my house
+together to shoot; and with all his eccentricities--and they were
+many--I liked Mad George, as they called him."
+
+"He was a good fellow, then?"
+
+"A thoroughly good fellow, but the shyest that ever lived; to all
+outward seeming rough and careless, but sensitive as a woman all the
+while. He would have walked up to a cannon's mouth with a calm step,
+but an affecting story would bring tears to his eyes; and then, to
+cover this weakness, which he was well ashamed of, he 'd rush into fifty
+follies and extravagances. As he said himself to me one day, alluding
+to some feat of rash absurdity, 'I have been taking another inch off the
+dog's tail,'--he referred to the story of Alcibiades, who docked his dog
+to take off public attention from his heavier transgressions."
+
+"There was no truth in these accusations against him?"
+
+"Who knows? George was a passionate fellow, and he 'd have made short
+work of the man that angered him. I myself never so entirely acquitted
+him as many who loved him less. At all events, he was hardly treated; he
+was regularly hunted down. I imagine he must have made many enemies,
+for witnesses sprung up against him on all sides, and he was too proud
+a fellow to ask for one single testimony in his favor! If ever a man met
+death broken-hearted, he did!"
+
+A pause of several minutes occurred, after which the old squire
+resumed,--
+
+"My son told me that after Barrington's death there was a strong
+revulsion in his favor, and a great feeling that he had been hardly
+dealt by. Some of the Supreme Council, it is said, too, were disposed
+to behave generously towards his child, but old Peter, in an evil hour,
+would hear of nothing short of restitution of all the territory, and a
+regular rehabilitation of George's memory, besides; in fact, he made the
+most extravagant demands, and disgusted the two or three who were
+kindly and well disposed towards his cause. Had they, indeed,--as he
+said,--driven his son to desperation, he could scarcely ask them to
+declare it to the world; and yet nothing short of this would satisfy
+him! 'Come forth,' wrote he,--I read the letter myself,--'come forth and
+confess that your evidence was forged and your witnesses suborned; that
+you wanted to annex the territory, and the only road to your object was
+to impute treason to the most loyal heart that ever served the King!'
+Imagine what chance of favorable consideration remained to the man who
+penned such words as these."
+
+"And he prosecutes the case still?"
+
+"Ay, and will do to the day of his death. Withering--who was an old
+schoolfellow of mine--has got me to try what I could do to persuade him
+to come to some terms; and, indeed, to do old Peter justice, it is
+not the money part of the matter he is so obstinate about; it is the
+question of what he calls George's fair fame and honor; and one cannot
+exactly say to him, 'Who on earth cares a brass button whether George
+Barrington was a rebel or a true man? Whether he deserved to die an
+independent Rajah of some place with a hard name, or the loyal subject
+of his Majesty George the Third?' I own I, one day, did go so close to
+the wind, on that subject, that the old man started up and said, 'I hope
+I misapprehend you, Harry Fowndes. I hope sincerely that I do so, for if
+not, I 'll have a shot at you, as sure as my name is Peter Barrington.'
+Of course I 'tried back' at once, and assured him it was a pure
+misconception of my meaning, and that until the East India folk fairly
+acknowledged that they had wronged his son, _he_ could not, with honor,
+approach the question of a compromise in the money matter."
+
+"That day, it may be presumed, is very far off," said Stapylton, half
+languidly.
+
+"Well, Withering opines not. He says that they are weary of the whole
+case. They have had, perhaps, some misgivings as to the entire justice
+of what they did. Perhaps they have learned something during the course
+of the proceedings which may have influenced their judgment; and not
+impossible is it that they pity the old man fighting out his life; and
+perhaps, too, Barrington himself may have softened a little, since he
+has begun to feel that his granddaughter--for George left a child--had
+interests which his own indignation could not rightfully sacrifice; so
+that amongst all these perhapses, who knows but some happy issue may
+come at last?"
+
+"That Barrington race is not a very pliant one," said Stapylton,
+half dreamily; and then, in some haste, added, "at least, such is the
+character they give them here."
+
+"Some truth there may be in that. Men of a strong temperament and with
+a large share of self-dependence generally get credit from the world for
+obstinacy, just because the road _they_ see out of difficulties is
+not the popular one. But even with all this, I 'd not call old Peter
+self-willed; at least, Withering tells me that from time to time, as he
+has conveyed to him the opinions and experiences of old Indian officers,
+some of whom had either met with or heard of George, he has listened
+with much and even respectful attention. And as all their counsels have
+gone against his own convictions, it is something to give them a patient
+hearing."
+
+"He has thus permitted strangers to come and speak with him on these
+topics?" asked Stapylton, eagerly.
+
+"No, no,--not he. These men had called on Withering,--met him, perhaps,
+in society,--heard of his interest in George Barrington's case, and
+came good-naturedly to volunteer a word of counsel in favor of an old
+comrade. Nothing more natural, I think."
+
+"Nothing. I quite agree with you; so much so, indeed, that having served
+some years in India, and in close proximity, too, to one of the
+native courts, I was going to ask you to present me to your friend
+Mr. Withering, as one not altogether incapable of affording him some
+information."
+
+"With a heart and a half. I 'll do it."
+
+"I say, Harry," cried out the host, "if you and Captain Stapylton will
+neither fill your glasses nor pass the wine, I think we had better join
+the ladies."
+
+And now there was a general move to the drawing-room, where several
+evening guests had already assembled, making a somewhat numerous
+company. Polly Dill was there, too,--not the wearied-looking, careworn
+figure we last saw her, when her talk was of "dead anatomies," but
+the lively, sparkling, bright-eyed Polly, who sang the Melodies to the
+accompaniment of him who could make every note thrill with the sentiment
+his own genius had linked to it. I half wish I had not a story to
+tell,--that is, that I had not a certain road to take,--that I might
+wander at will through by-path and lane, and linger on the memories thus
+by a chance awakened! Ah, it was no small triumph to lift out of obscure
+companionship and vulgar associations the music of our land, and wed it
+to words immortal, to show us that the pebble at our feet was a gem to
+be worn on the neck of beauty, and to prove to us, besides, that our
+language could be as lyrical as Anacreon's own!
+
+"I am enchanted with your singing," whispered Stapylton, in Polly's ear;
+"but I 'd forego all the enjoyment not to see you so pleased with your
+companion. I begin to detest the little Poet."
+
+"I 'll tell him so," said she, half gravely; "and he 'll know well that
+it is the coarse hate of the Saxon."
+
+"I'm no Saxon!" said he, flushing and darkening at the same time. And
+then, recovering his calm, he added, "There are no Saxons left amongst
+us, nor any Celts for us to honor with our contempt; but come away from
+the piano, and don't let him fancy he has bound you by a spell."
+
+"But he has," said she, eagerly,--"he has, and I don't care to break
+it."
+
+But the little Poet, running his fingers lightly over the keys, warbled
+out, in a half-plaintive whisper,--
+
+     "Oh, tell me, dear Polly, why is it thine eyes
+     Through their brightness have something of sorrow?
+     I cannot suppose that the glow of such skies
+     Should ever mean gloom for the morrow;
+
+     "Or must I believe that your heart is afar,
+     And you only make semblance to hear me,
+     While your thoughts are away to that splendid hussar,
+     And 't is only your image is near me?"
+
+"An unpublished melody, I fancy," said Stapylton, with a malicious
+twinkle of his eye.
+
+"Not even corrected as yet," said the Poet, with a glance at Polly.
+
+What a triumph it was for a mere village beauty to be thus tilted for
+by such gallant knights; but Polly was practical as well as vain, and a
+certain unmistakable something in Lady Cobham's eye told her that two of
+the most valued guests of the house were not to be thus withdrawn from
+circulation; and with this wise impression on her mind, she slipped
+hastily away, on the pretext of something to say to her father. And
+although it was a mere pretence on her part, there was that in her look
+as they talked together that betokened their conversation to be serious.
+
+"I tell you again," said he, in a sharp but low whisper, "she will not
+suffer it. You used not to make mistakes of this kind formerly, and I
+cannot conceive why you should do so now."
+
+"But, dear papa," said she, with a strange half-smile, "don't you
+remember your own story of the gentleman who got tipsy because he
+foresaw he would never be invited again?"
+
+But the doctor was in no jesting mood, and would not accept of the
+illustration. He spoke now even more angrily than before.
+
+"You have only to see how much they make of him to know well that he is
+out of our reach," said he, bitterly.
+
+"A long shot, Sir Lucius; there is such honor in a long shot," said she,
+with infinite drollery; and then with a sudden gravity, added, "I have
+never forgotten the man you cured, just because your hand shook and you
+gave him a double dose of laudanum."
+
+This was too much for his patience, and he turned away in disgust at her
+frivolity. In doing so, however, he came in front of Lady Cobham, who
+had come up to request Miss Dill to play a certain Spanish dance for two
+young ladies of the company.
+
+"Of course, your Ladyship,--too much honor for her,--she will be
+charmed; my little girl is overjoyed when she can contribute even thus
+humbly to the pleasure of your delightful house."
+
+Never did a misdemeanist take his "six weeks" with a more complete
+consciousness of penalty than did Polly sit down to that piano. She
+well understood it as a sentence, and, let me own, submitted well and
+gracefully to her fate. Nor was it, after all, such a slight trial, for
+the fandango was her own speciality; she had herself brought the dance
+and the music to Cobham. They who were about to dance it were her own
+pupils, and not very proficient ones, either. And with all this she did
+her part well and loyally. Never had she played with more spirit; never
+marked the time with a firmer precision; never threw more tenderness
+into the graceful parts, nor more of triumphant daring into the proud
+ones. Amid the shower of "Bravos!" that closed the performance,--for
+none thought of the dancers,--the little Poet drew nigh and whispered,
+"How naughty!"
+
+"Why so?" asked she, innocently.
+
+"What a blaze of light to throw over a sorry picture!" said he, dangling
+his eyeglass, and playing that part of middle-aged Cupid he was so fond
+of assuming.
+
+"Do you know, sir," said Lady Cobham, coming hastily towards him, "that
+I will not permit you to turn the heads of my young ladies? Dr. Dill
+is already so afraid of your fascinations that he has ordered his
+carriage,--is it not so?" she went on appealing to the doctor, with
+increased rapidity. "But you will certainly keep your promise to us. We
+shall expect you on Thursday at dinner."
+
+Overwhelmed with confusion, Dill answered--he knew not what--about
+pleasure, punctuality, and so forth; and then turned away to ring for
+that carriage he had not ordered before.
+
+"And so you tell me Barrington is better?" said the Admiral, taking him
+by the arm and leading him away. "The danger is over, then?"
+
+"I believe so; his mind is calm, and he is only suffering now from
+debility. What with the Assizes, and a week's dissipation at Kilkenny,
+and this shock,--for it was a shock,--the whole thing was far more of a
+mental than a bodily ailment."
+
+"You gave him my message? You said how anxious I felt to know if I could
+be of any use to him?"
+
+"Yes; and he charged Mr. Withering to come and thank you, for he is
+passing by Cobham to-morrow on his way to Kilkenny."
+
+"Indeed! Georgiana, don't forget that. Withering will call here
+to-morrow; try and keep him to dine, at least, if we cannot secure him
+for longer. He's one of those fellows I am always delighted to meet
+Where are you going, Dill? Not taking your daughter away at this hour,
+are you?"
+
+The doctor sighed, and muttered something about dissipations that were
+only too fascinating, too engrossing. He did not exactly like to
+say that his passports had been sent him, and the authorities duly
+instructed to give him "every aid and assistance possible." For a
+moment, indeed, Polly looked as though she would make some explanation
+of the matter; but it was only for a moment, and the slight flush on
+her cheek gave way quickly, and she looked somewhat paler than her wont.
+Meanwhile, the little Poet had fetched her shawl, and led her away,
+humming, "Buona notte,--buona sera!" as he went, in that half-caressing,
+half-quizzing way he could assume so jauntily. Stapylton walked behind
+with the doctor, and whispered as he went, "If not inconvenient, might I
+ask the favor of a few minutes with you to-morrow?"
+
+Dill assured him he was devotedly his servant; and having fixed the
+interview for two o'clock, away they drove. The night was calm and
+starlight, and they had long passed beyond the grounds of Cobham, and
+were full two miles on their road before a word was uttered by either.
+
+"What was it her Ladyship said about Thursday next, at dinner?" asked
+the doctor, half pettishly.
+
+"Nothing to me, papa."
+
+"If I remember, it was that we had accepted the invitation already, and
+begging me not to forget it."
+
+"Perhaps so," said she, dryly.
+
+"You are usually more mindful about these matters," said he, tartly,
+"and not so likely to forget promised festivities."
+
+"They certainly were not promised to me," said she, "nor, if they had
+been, should I accept of them."
+
+"What do you mean?" said he, angrily.
+
+"Simply, papa, that it is a house I will not re-enter, that's all."
+
+"Why, your head is turned, your brains are destroyed by flattery,
+girl. You seem totally to forget that we go to these places merely
+by courtesy,--we are received only on sufferance; we are not _their_
+equals."
+
+"The more reason to treat us with deference, and not render our position
+more painful than it need be."
+
+"Folly and nonsense! Deference, indeed! How much deference is due from
+eight thousand a year to a dispensary doctor, or his daughter? I 'll
+have none of these absurd notions. If they made any mistake towards you,
+it was by over-attention,--too much notice."
+
+"That is very possible, papa; and it was not always very flattering for
+that reason."
+
+"Why, what is your head full of? Do you fancy you are one of Lord
+Carricklough's daughters, eh?"
+
+"No, papa; for they are shockingly freckled, and very plain."
+
+"Do you know your real station?" cried he, more angrily, "and that if,
+by the courtesy of society, my position secures acceptance anywhere, it
+entails nothing--positively nothing--to those belonging to me?"
+
+"Such being the case, is it not wise of us not to want anything,--not to
+look for it,--not to pine after it? You shall see, papa, whether I fret
+over my exclusion from Cobham."
+
+The doctor was not in a mood to approve of such philosophy, and he drove
+on, only showing--by an extra cut of his whip--the tone and temper that
+beset him.
+
+"You are to have a visit from Captain Stapylton tomorrow, papa?" said
+she, in the manner of a half question.
+
+"Who told you so?" said he, with a touch of eagerness in his voice;
+for suddenly it occurred to him if Polly knew of this appointment, she
+herself might be interested in its object.
+
+"He asked me what was the most likely time to find you at home, and also
+if he might venture to hope he should be presented to mamma."
+
+That was, as the doctor thought, a very significant speech; it might
+mean a great deal,--a very great deal, indeed; and so he turned it over
+and over in his mind for some time before he spoke again. At last he
+said,--
+
+"I haven't a notion what he's coming about, Polly,--have you?"
+
+"No, sir; except, perhaps, it be to consult you. He told me he had
+sprained his arm, or his shoulder, the other day, when his horse
+swerved."
+
+"Oh no, it can't be that, Polly; it can't be that."
+
+"Why not the pleasure of a morning call, then? He is an idle man, and
+finds time heavy on his hands."
+
+A short "humph" showed that this explanation was not more successful
+than the former, and the doctor, rather irritated with this game of
+fence, for so he deemed it, said bluntly,--
+
+"Has he been showing you any marked attentions of late? Have you noticed
+anything peculiar in his manner towards you?"
+
+"Nothing whatever, sir," said she, with a frank boldness. "He has
+chatted and flirted with me, just as every one else presumes he has a
+right to do with a girl in a station below their own; but he has never
+been more impertinent in this way than any other young man of fashion."
+
+"But there have been"--he was sorely puzzled for the word he wanted, and
+it was only as a resource, not out of choice, he said--"attentions?"
+
+"Of course, papa, what many would call in the cognate phrase, marked
+attentions; but girls who go into the world as I do no more mistake what
+these mean than would you yourself, papa, if passingly asked what was
+good for a sore-throat fancy that the inquirer intended to fee you."
+
+"I see, Polly, I see," muttered he, as the illustration came home to
+him. Still, after ruminating for some time, a change seemed to come over
+his thoughts, for he said,--
+
+"But you might be wrong this time, Polly: it is by no means impossible
+that you might be wrong."
+
+"My dear papa," said she, gravely, "when a man of his rank is disposed
+to think seriously of a girl in mine, he does not begin by flattery;
+he rather takes the line of correction and warning, telling her fifty
+little platitudes about trifles in manner, and so forth, by her docile
+acceptance of which he conceives a high notion of _himself_, and a half
+liking for _her_. But I have no need to go into these things; enough if
+I assure you Captain Stapylton's visit has no concern for me; he either
+comes out of pure idleness, or he wants to make use of _you_."
+
+The last words opened a new channel to Dill's thoughts, and he drove on
+in silent meditation over them.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX. THE HOUR OF LUNCHEON
+
+If there be a special agreeability about all the meal-times of a
+pleasant country-house, there is not one of them which, in the charm
+of an easy, unconstrained gayety, can rival the hour of luncheon. At
+breakfast, one is too fresh; at dinner, too formal; but luncheon, like
+an opening manhood, is full of its own bright projects. The plans of the
+day have already reached a certain maturity, and fixtures have been made
+for riding-parties, or phaeton drives, or flirtations in the garden. The
+very strangers who looked coldly at each other over their morning papers
+have shaken into a semi-intimacy, and little traits of character and
+temperament, which would have been studiously shrouded in the more
+solemn festivals of the day, are now displayed with a frank and fearless
+confidence. The half-toilette and the tweed coat, mutton broth and
+"Balmorals," seem infinitely more congenial to acquaintanceship than
+the full-blown splendor of evening dress and the grander discipline of
+dinner.
+
+Irish social life permits of a practice of which I do not, while
+recording, constitute myself the advocate or the apologist,--a sort
+of good-tempered banter called quizzing,--a habit I scarcely believe
+practicable in other lands; that is, I know of no country where it could
+be carried on as harmlessly and as gracefully, where as much wit could
+be expended innocuously, as little good feeling jeopardized in the
+display. The happiest hour of the day for such passages as these was
+that of luncheon, and it was in the very clash and clatter of the combat
+that a servant announced the Attorney-General!
+
+What a damper did the name prove! Short of a bishop himself, no
+announcement could have spread more terror over the younger members
+of the company, embodying as it seemed to do all that could be
+inquisitorial, intolerant, and overbearing. Great, however, was
+the astonishment to see, instead of the stern incarnation of Crown
+prosecutions and arbitrary commitments, a tall, thin, slightly stooped
+man, dressed in a gray shooting-jacket, and with a hat plentifully
+garnished with fishing-flies. He came lightly into the room, and kissed
+the hand of his hostess with a mixture of cordiality and old-fashioned
+gallantry that became him well.
+
+"My old luck, Cobham!" said he, as he seated himself at table. "I have
+fished the stream all the way from the Red House to this, and never so
+much as a rise to reward me.
+
+"They knew you,--they knew you, Withering," chirped out the Poet, "and
+they took good care not to put in an appearance, with the certainty of a
+'detainer.'"
+
+"Ah! you here! That decanter of sherry screened you completely from my
+view," said Withering, whose sarcasm on his size touched the very sorest
+of the other's susceptibilities. "And talking of recognizances,
+how comes it you are here, and a large party at Lord Dunraney's all
+assembled to meet you?"
+
+The Poet, as not infrequent with him, had forgotten everything of this
+prior engagement, and was now overwhelmed with his forgetfulness. The
+ladies, however, pressed eagerly around him with consolation so like
+caresses, that he was speedily himself again.
+
+"How natural a mistake, after all!" said the lawyer. "The old song
+says,--
+
+     'Tell me where beauty and wit and wine
+     Are met, and I 'll say where I 'm asked to dine.'
+
+Ah! Tommy, yours _is_ the profession, after all; always sure of your
+retainer, and never but one brief to sustain--'T. M. _versus_ the Heart
+of Woman.'"
+
+"One is occasionally nonsuited, however," said the other, half
+pettishly. "By the way, how was it you got that verdict for old
+Barrington t'other day? Was it true that Plowden got hold of _your_ bag
+by mistake?"
+
+"Not only that, but he made a point for us none of us had discovered."
+
+"How historical the blunder:--
+
+     'The case is classical, as I and you know;
+     He came from Venus, but made love to Juno.'"
+
+"If Peter Barrington gained his cause by it I 'm heartily rejoiced, and
+I wish him health and years to enjoy it." The Admiral said this with a
+cordial good will as he drank off his glass.
+
+"He's all right again," said Withering. "I left him working away with
+a hoe and a rake this morning, looking as hale and hearty as he did a
+dozen years ago."
+
+"A man must have really high deserts in whose good fortune so many are
+well-wishers," said Stapylton; and by the courteous tone of the remark
+Withering's attention was attracted, and he speedily begged the Admiral
+to present him to his guest. They continued to converse together as
+they arose from table, and with such common pleasure that when Withering
+expressed a hope the acquaintance might not end there, Stapylton replied
+by a request that he would allow him to be his fellow-traveller to
+Kilkenny, whither he was about to go on a regimental affair. The
+arrangement was quickly made, to the satisfaction of each; and as they
+drove away, while many bewailed the departure of such pleasant members
+of the party, the little Poet simperingly said,--
+
+     "Shall I own that my heart is relieved of a care?--
+     Though you 'll think the confession is petty--
+     I cannot but feel, as I look on the pair,
+     It is 'Peebles' gone off with 'Dalgetty.'"
+
+As for the fellow-travellers, they jogged along very pleasantly on their
+way, as two consummate men of the world are sure to do when they meet.
+For what Freemasonry equals that of two shrewd students of life? How
+flippantly do they discuss each theme! how easily read each character,
+and unravel each motive that presents itself! What the lawyer gained by
+the technical subtlety of his profession, the soldier made up for by
+his wider experience of mankind. There were, besides, a variety of
+experiences to exchange. Toga could tell of much that interested the
+"man of war," and he, in turn, made himself extremely agreeable by his
+Eastern information, not to say, that he was able to give a correct
+version of many Hindostanee phrases and words which the old lawyer
+eagerly desired to acquire.
+
+"All you have been telling me has a strong interest for me, Captain
+Stapylton," said he, as they drove into Kilkenny. "I have a case which
+has engaged my attention for years, and is likely to occupy what remains
+to me of life,--a suit of which India is the scene, and Orientals figure
+as some of the chief actors,--so that I can scarcely say how fortunate I
+feel this chance meeting with you."
+
+"I shall deem myself greatly honored if the acquaintance does not end
+here."
+
+"It shall not, if it depend upon me," said Withering, cordially. "You
+said something of a visit you were about to make to Dublin. Will you do
+me a great--a very great--favor, and make my house your home while you
+stay? This is my address: '18 Merrion Square.' It is a bachelor's hall;
+and you can come and go without ceremony."
+
+"The plan is too tempting to hesitate about. I accept your invitation
+with all the frankness you have given it. Meanwhile you will be my guest
+here." "'That is impossible. I must start for Cork this evening." And
+now they parted,--not like men who had been strangers a few hours back,
+but like old acquaintances, only needing the occasion to feel as old
+friends.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX. AN INTERIOR AT THE DOCTOR'S
+
+When Captain Stapylton made his appointment to wait on Dr. Dill, he was
+not aware that the Attorney-General was expected at Cobham. No sooner,
+however, had he learned that fact than he changed his purpose, and
+intimated his intention of running up for a day to Kilkenny, to hear
+what was going on in the regiment. No regret for any disappointment he
+might be giving to the village doctor, no self-reproach for the breach
+of an engagement--all of his own making--crossed his mind. It is,
+indeed, a theme for a moralist to explore, the ease with which a certain
+superiority in station can divest its possessor of all care for the
+sensibilities of those below him; and yet in the little household of
+the doctor that promised visit was the source of no small discomfort and
+trouble. The doctor's study--the sanctum in which the interview should
+be held--had to be dusted and smartened up. Old boots, and
+overcoats, and smashed driving-whips, and odd stirrup-leathers, and
+stable-lanterns, and garden implements had all to be banished. The
+great table in front of the doctor's chair had also to be professionally
+littered with notes and cards and periodicals, not forgetting an
+ingenious admixture of strange instruments of torture, quaint screws,
+and inscrutable-looking scissors, destined, doubtless, to make many a
+faint heart the fainter in their dread presence. All these details
+had to be carried out in various ways through the rest of the
+establishment,--in the drawing-room, wherein the great man was to be
+ushered; in the dining-room, where he was to lunch. Upon Polly did the
+greater part of these cares devolve; not alone attending to the due
+disposal of chairs and sofas and tables, but to the preparation of
+certain culinary delicacies, which were to make the Captain forget the
+dainty luxuries of Cobham. And, in truth, there is a marvellous _esprit
+du corps_ in the way a woman will fag and slave herself to make the
+humble household she belongs to look its best, even to the very guest
+she has least at heart; for Polly did not like Stapylton. Flattered
+at first by his notice, she was offended afterwards at the sort of
+conscious condescension of his manner,--a something which seemed to
+say, I can be charming, positively fascinating, but don't imagine for
+a moment that there is anything especial in it. I captivate--just as I
+fish, hunt, sketch, or shoot--to amuse myself. And with all this, how
+was it he was really not a coxcomb? Was it the grave dignity of his
+address, or the quiet state-liness of his person, or was it a certain
+uniformity, a keeping, that pervaded all he said or did? I am not quite
+sure whether all three did not contribute to this end, and make him what
+the world confessed,--a most well-bred gentleman.
+
+Polly was, in her way, a shrewd observer, and she felt that Stapylton's
+manner towards her was that species of urbane condescension with which a
+great master of a game deigns to play with a very humble proficient. He
+moved about the board with an assumption that said, I can checkmate you
+when I will! Now this is hard enough to bear when the pieces at stake
+are stained ivory, but it is less endurable: still when they are our
+emotions and our wishes. And yet with all this before her, Polly ordered
+and arranged and superintended and directed with an energy that never
+tired, and an activity that never relaxed.
+
+As for Mrs. Dill, no similar incident in the life of Clarissa had
+prepared her for the bustle and preparation she saw on every side, and
+she was fairly perplexed between the thought of a seizure for rent and
+a fire,--casualties which, grave as they were, she felt she could meet
+with Mr. Richardson beside her. The doctor himself was unusually fidgety
+and anxious. Perhaps he ascribed considerable importance to this visit;
+perhaps he thought Polly had not been candid with him, and that, in
+reality, she knew more of its object than she had avowed; and so he
+walked hurriedly from room to room, and out into the garden, and across
+the road to the river's side, and once as far as the bridge, consulting
+his watch, and calculating that as it now only wanted eight minutes of
+two o'clock, the arrival could scarcely be long delayed.
+
+It was on his return he entered the drawing-room and found Polly, now
+plainly but becomingly dressed, seated at her work, with a seeming
+quietude and repose about her, strangely at variance with her late
+display of activity. "I 've had a look down the Graigue Road," said he,
+"but can see nothing. You are certain he said two o'clock?"
+
+"Quite certain, sir."
+
+"To be sure he might come by the river; there's water enough now for the
+Cobham barge."
+
+She made no answer, though she half suspected some reply was expected.
+
+"And of course," continued the doctor, "they'd have offered him the use
+of it. They seem to make a great deal of him up there."
+
+"A great deal, indeed, sir," said she; but in a voice that was a mere
+echo of his own.
+
+"And I suspect they know why. I 'm sure they know why. People in their
+condition make no mistakes about each other; and if he receives much
+attention, it is because it's his due."
+
+No answer followed this speech, and he walked feverishly up and down the
+room, holding his watch in his closed hand. "I have a notion you must
+have mistaken him. It was not two he said."
+
+"I 'm positive it was two, sir. But it can scarcely be much past that
+hour now."
+
+"It is seventeen minutes past two," said he, solemnly. And then, as if
+some fresh thought had just occurred to him, asked, "Where 's Tom? I
+never saw him this morning."
+
+"He 's gone out to take a walk, sir. The poor fellow is dead beat by
+work, and had such a headache that I told him to go as far as the Red
+House or Snow's Mill."
+
+"And I 'll wager he did not want to be told twice. Anything for idleness
+with _him!_"
+
+"Well, papa, he is really doing his very best now. He is not naturally
+quick, and he has a bad memory, so that labor is no common toil; but his
+heart is in it, and I never saw him really anxious for success before."
+
+"To go out to India, I suppose," said Dill, sneeringly, "that notable
+project of the other good-for-nothing; for, except in the matter of
+fortune, there's not much to choose between them. There 's the half-hour
+striking now!"
+
+"The project has done this for him, at least," said she, firmly,--"it
+has given him hope!"
+
+"How I like to hear about hope!" said he, with a peculiarly sarcastic
+bitterness. "I never knew a fellow worth sixpence that had that cant
+of 'hope' in his mouth! How much hope had I when I began the world! How
+much have I now?"
+
+"Don't you hope Captain Stapylton may not have forgotten his
+appointment, papa?" said she, with a quick drollery, which sparkled in
+her eye, but brought no smile to her lips.
+
+"Well, here he is at last," said Dill, as he heard the sharp click made
+by the wicket of the little garden; and he started up, and rushed to the
+window. "May I never!" cried he, in horror, "if it isn't M'Cormick! Say
+we're out,--that I'm at Graigue,--that I won't be home till evening!"
+
+But while he was multiplying these excuses, the old Major had caught
+sight of him, and was waving his hand in salutation from below.
+"It's too late,--it's too late!" sighed Dill, bitterly; "he sees me
+now,--there's no help for it!"
+
+What benevolent and benedictory expressions were muttered below his
+breath, it is not for this history to record; but so vexed and irritated
+was he, that the Major had already entered the room ere he could compose
+his features into even a faint show of welcome.
+
+"I was down at the Dispensary," croaked out M'Cormick, "and they told
+me you were not expected there to-day, and so I said, maybe he's ill,
+or maybe,"--and here he looked shrewdly around him,--"maybe there 's
+something going on up at the house."
+
+"What should there be going on, as you call it?" responded Dill,
+angrily, for he was now at home, in presence of the family, and could
+not compound for that tone of servile acquiescence he employed on
+foreign service.
+
+"And, faix, I believe I was right; Miss Polly isn't so smart this
+morning for nothing, no more than the saving cover is off the sofa, and
+the piece of gauze taken down from before the looking-glass, and the
+'Times' newspaper away from the rug!"
+
+"Are there any other domestic changes you 'd like to remark upon, Major
+M'Cormick?" said Dill, pale with rage.
+
+"Indeed, yes," rejoined the other; "there 's yourself, in the elegant
+black coat that I never saw since Lord Kilraney's funeral, and looking
+pretty much as lively and pleasant as you did at the ceremony."
+
+"A gentleman has made an appointment with papa," broke in Polly, "and
+may be here at any moment."
+
+"I know who it is," said M'Cormick, with a finger on the side of his
+nose to imply intense cunning. "I know all about it."
+
+"What do you know?--what do you mean by all about it?" said Dill, with
+an eagerness he could not repress.
+
+"Just as much as yourselves,--there now! Just as much as yourselves!"
+said he, sententiously.
+
+"But apparently, Major, you know far more," said Polly.
+
+"Maybe I do, maybe I don't; but I 'll tell you one thing, Dill, for
+your edification, and mind me if I 'm not right: you 're all mistaken
+about him, every one of ye!"
+
+"Whom are you talking of?" asked the doctor, sternly.
+
+"Just the very man you mean yourself, and no other! Oh, you need n't
+fuss and fume, I don't want to pry into your family secrets. Not that
+they 'll be such secrets tomorrow or next day,--the whole town will be
+talking of them,--but as an old friend that could, maybe, give a word of
+advice--"
+
+"Advice about what? Will you just tell me about what?" cried Dill, now
+bursting with anger.
+
+"I 've done now. Not another word passes my lips about it from this
+minute. Follow your own road, and see where it will lead ye?"
+
+"Cannot you understand, Major M'Cormick, that we are totally unable to
+guess what you allude to? Neither papa nor I have the very faintest clew
+to your meaning, and if you really desire to serve us, you will speak
+out plainly."
+
+"Not another syllable, if I sat here for two years!"
+
+The possibility of such an infliction seemed so terrible to poor Polly
+that she actually shuddered as she heard it.
+
+"Is n't that your mother I see sitting up there, with all the fine
+ribbons in her cap?" whispered M'Cormick, as he pointed to a small room
+which opened off an angle of the larger one. "That 's 'the boodoo,' is
+n't it?" said he, with a grin. This, I must inform my reader, was the
+M'Cormick for "boudoir." "Well, I'll go and pay my respects to her."
+
+So little interest did Mrs. Dill take in the stir and movement around
+her that the Major utterly failed in his endeavors to torture her by all
+his covert allusions and ingeniously drawn inferences. No matter what
+hints he dropped or doubts he suggested, _she_ knew "Clarissa" would
+come well out of her trials; and beyond a little unmeaning simper, and a
+muttered "To be sure," "No doubt of it," and, "Why not?" M'Cormick could
+obtain nothing from her.
+
+Meanwhile, in the outer room the doctor continued to stride up and
+down with impatience, while Polly sat quietly working on, not the less
+anxious, perhaps, though her peaceful air betokened a mind at rest.
+
+"That must be a boat, papa," said she, without lifting her head, "that
+has just come up to the landing-place. I heard the plash of the oars,
+and now all is still again."
+
+"You 're right; so it is!" cried he, as he stopped before the window.
+"But how is this! That 's a lady I see yonder, and a gentleman along
+with her. That's not Stapylton, surely!"
+
+"He is scarcely so tall," said she, rising to look out, "but not very
+unlike him. But the lady, papa,--the lady is Miss Barrington."
+
+Bad as M'Cormick's visit was, it was nothing to the possibility of such
+an advent as this, and Dill's expressions of anger were now neither
+measured nor muttered.
+
+"This is to be a day of disasters. I see it well, and no help for it,"
+exclaimed he, passionately. "If there was one human being I 'd hate to
+come here this morning, it's that old woman! She's never civil. She's
+not commonly decent in her manner towards me in her own house, and what
+she 'll be in mine, is clean beyond me to guess. That's herself! There
+she goes! Look at her remarking,--I see, she's remarking on the weeds
+over the beds, and the smashed paling. She's laughing too! Oh, to be
+sure, it's fine laughing at people that's poor; and she might know
+something of that same herself. I know who the man is now. That 's
+the Colonel, who came to the 'Fisherman's Home' on the night of the
+accident."
+
+"It would seem we are to hold a levee to-day," said Polly, giving a very
+fleeting glance at herself in the glass. And now a knock came to the
+door, and the man who acted gardener and car-driver and valet to the
+doctor announced that Miss Barrington and Colonel Hunter were below.
+
+"Show them up," said Dill, with the peremptory voice of one ordering
+a very usual event, and intentionally loud enough to be heard below
+stairs.
+
+If Polly's last parting with Miss Barrington gave little promise of
+pleasure to their next meeting, the first look she caught of the old
+lady on entering the room dispelled all uneasiness on that score. Miss
+Dinah entered with a pleasing smile, and presented her friend, Colonel
+Hunter, as one come to thank the doctor for much kindness to his young
+subaltern. "Whom, by the way," added he, "we thought to find here. It is
+only since we landed that we learned he had left the inn for Kilkenny."
+
+While the Colonel continued to talk to the doctor, Miss Dinah had seated
+herself On the sofa, with Polly at her side.
+
+"My visit this morning is to you," said she. "I have come to ask your
+forgiveness. Don't interrupt me, child; your forgiveness was the very
+word I used. I was very rude to you t' other morning, and being all in
+the wrong,--like most people in such circumstances,--I was very angry
+with the person who placed me so."
+
+"But, my dear madam," said Polly, "you had such good reason to suppose
+you were in the right that this _amende_ on your part is far too
+generous."
+
+"It is not at all generous,--it is simply just. I was sorely vexed with
+you about that stupid wager, which you were very wrong to have had any
+share in; vexed with your father, vexed with your brother,--not that I
+believed his counsel would have been absolute wisdom,--and I was even
+vexed with my young friend Conyers, because he had not the bad taste
+to be as angry with you as I was. When I was a young lady," said she,
+bridling up, and looking at once haughty and defiant, "no man would have
+dared to approach me with such a proposal as complicity in a wager. But
+I am told that my ideas are antiquated, and the world has grown much
+wiser since that day."
+
+"Nay, madam," said Polly, "but there is another difference that your
+politeness has prevented you from appreciating. I mean the difference in
+station between Miss Barrington and Polly Dill."
+
+It was a well-directed shot, and told powerfully, for Miss Barrington's
+eyes became clouded, and she turned her head away, while she pressed
+Polly's hand within her own with a cordial warmth. "Ah!" said she,
+feelingly, "I hope there are many points of resemblance between us. I
+have always tried to be a good sister. I know well what you have been to
+your brother."
+
+A very jolly burst of laughter from the inner room, where Hunter had
+already penetrated, broke in upon them, and the merry tones of his voice
+were heard saying, "Take my word for it, madam, nobody could spare time
+nowadays to make love in nine volumes. Life 's too short for it. Ask my
+old brother-officer here if he could endure such a thirty years' war; or
+rather let me turn here for an opinion. What does your daughter say on
+the subject?"
+
+"Ay, ay," croaked out M'Cormick. "Marry in haste--"
+
+"Or repent that you did n't. That 's the true reading of the adage."
+
+"The Major would rather apply leisure to the marriage, and make the
+repentance come--"
+
+"As soon as possible afterwards," said Miss Dinah, tartly.
+
+"Faix, I 'll do better still; I won't provoke the repentance at all."
+
+"Oh, Major, is it thus you treat me?" said Polly, affecting to wipe her
+eyes. "Are my hopes to be dashed thus cruelly?"
+
+But the doctor, who knew how savagely M'Cormick could resent even the
+most harmless jesting, quickly interposed, with a question whether Polly
+had thought of ordering luncheon.
+
+It is but fair to Dr. Dill to record the bland but careless way he
+ordered some entertainment for his visitors. He did it like the lord of
+a well-appointed household, who, when he said "serve," they served.
+It was in the easy confidence of one whose knowledge told him that the
+train was laid, and only waited for the match to explode it.
+
+"May I have the honor, dear lady?" said he, offering his arm to Miss
+Barrington.
+
+Now, Miss Dinah had just observed that she had various small matters
+to transact in the village, and was about to issue forth for their
+performance; but such is the force of a speciality, that she could not
+tear herself away without a peep into the dining-room, and a glance, at
+least, at arrangements that appeared so magically conjured up. Nor was
+Dill insensible to the astonishment expressed in her face as her eyes
+ranged over the table.
+
+"If your daughter be your housekeeper, Dr. Dill," said she, in a
+whisper, "I must give her my very heartiest approbation. These are
+matters I can speak of with authority, and I pronounce her worthy of
+high commendation."
+
+"What admirable salmon cutlets!" cried the Colonel. "Why, doctor, these
+tell of a French cook."
+
+"There she is beside you, the French cook!" said the Major, with a
+malicious twinkle.
+
+"Yes," said Polly, smiling, though with a slight flush on her face, "if
+Major M'Cormick will be indiscreet enough to tell tales, let us hope
+they will never be more damaging in their import."
+
+"And do you say--do you mean to tell me that this curry is your
+handiwork? Why, this is high art."
+
+"Oh, she 's artful enough, if it 's that ye 're wanting," muttered the
+Major.
+
+Miss Barrington, having apparently satisfied the curiosity she felt
+about the details of the doctor's housekeeping, now took her leave, not,
+however, without Dr. Dill offering his arm on one side, while Polly,
+with polite observance, walked on the other.
+
+"Look at that now," whispered the Major. "They 're as much afraid of
+that old woman as if she were the Queen of Sheba! And all because she
+was once a fine lady living at Barrington Hall."
+
+"Here's their health for it," said the Colonel, filling his glass,--"and
+in a bumper too! By the way," added he, looking around, "does not Mrs.
+Dill lunch with us?"
+
+"Oh, she seldom comes to her meals! She's a little touched here." And he
+laid his finger on the centre of his forehead. "And, indeed, no wonder
+if she is." The benevolent Major was about to give some details of
+secret family history, when the doctor and his daughter returned to the
+room.
+
+The Colonel ate and talked untiringly. He was delighted with everything,
+and charmed with himself for his good luck in chancing upon such
+agreeable people. He liked the scenery, the village, the beetroot salad,
+the bridge, the pickled oysters, the evergreen oaks before the door.
+He was not astonished Conyers should linger on such a spot; and then it
+suddenly occurred to him to ask when he had left the village, and how.
+
+The doctor could give no information on the point, and while he was
+surmising one thing and guessing another, M'Cormick whispered in the
+Colonel's ear, "Maybe it's a delicate point. How do you know what went
+on with--" And a significant nod towards Polly finished the remark.
+
+"I wish I heard what Major M'Cormick has just said," said Polly.
+
+"And it is exactly what I cannot repeat to you."
+
+"I suspected as much. So that my only request will be that you never
+remember it."
+
+"Isn't she sharp!--sharp as a needle!" chimed in the Major.
+
+Checking, and not without some effort, a smart reprimand on the last
+speaker, the Colonel looked hastily at his watch, and arose from table.
+
+"Past three o'clock, and to be in Kilkenny by six."
+
+"Do you want a car? There's one of Rice's men now in the village; shall
+I get him for you?"
+
+"Would you really do me the kindness?" While the Major bustled off
+on his errand, the Colonel withdrew the doctor inside the recess of a
+window. "I had a word I wished to say to you in private, Dr. Dill; but
+it must really be in private,--you understand me?"
+
+"Strictly confidential, Colonel Hunter," said Dill, bowing.
+
+"It is this: a young officer of mine, Lieutenant Conyers, has written
+to me a letter mentioning a plan he had conceived for the future
+advancement of your son, a young gentleman for whom, it would appear,
+he had formed a sudden but strong attachment. His project was, as I
+understand it, to accredit him to his father with such a letter as must
+secure the General's powerful influence in his behalf. Just the sort of
+thing a warm-hearted young fellow would think of doing for a friend he
+determined to serve, but exactly the kind of proceeding that might have
+a very unfortunate ending. I can very well imagine, from my own short
+experience here, that your son's claims to notice and distinction may be
+the very highest; I can believe readily what very little extraneous aid
+he would require to secure his success; but you and I are old men of the
+world, and are bound to look at things cautiously, and to ask, 'Is this
+scheme a very safe one?' 'Will General Conyers enter as heartily into
+it as his son?' 'Will the young surgeon be as sure to captivate the old
+soldier as the young one?' In a word, would it be quite wise to set a
+man's whole venture in life on such a cast, and is it the sort of risk
+that, with your experience of the world, you would sanction?"
+
+It was evident, from the pause the Colonel left after these words, that
+he expected Dill to say something; but, with the sage reserve of his
+order, the doctor stood still, and never uttered a syllable. Let us be
+just to his acuteness, he never did take to the project from the first;
+he thought ill of it, in every way, but yet he did not relinquish the
+idea of making the surrender of it "conditional;" and so he slowly
+shook his head with an air of doubt, and smoothly rolled his hands
+one over the other, as though to imply a moment of hesitation and
+indecision.
+
+"Yes, yes," muttered he, talking only to himself,--"disappointment, to
+be sure!--very great disappointment too! And his heart so set upon it,
+that's the hardship."
+
+"Naturally enough," broke in Hunter, hastily. "Who would n't be
+disappointed under such circumstances? Better even that, however,
+than utter failure later on." The doctor sighed, but over what precise
+calamity was not so clear; and Hunter continued,--
+
+"Now, as I have made this communication to you in strictest confidence,
+and not in any concert with Conyers, I only ask you to accept the view
+as a mere matter of opinion. I think you would be wrong to suffer your
+son to engage in such a venture. That's all I mean by my interference,
+and I have done."
+
+Dill was, perhaps, scarcely prepared for the sudden summing up of the
+Colonel, and looked strangely puzzled and embarrassed.
+
+"Might I talk the matter over with my daughter Polly? She has a good
+head for one so little versed in the world."
+
+"By all means. It is exactly what I would have proposed. Or, better
+still, shall I repeat what I have just told you?"
+
+"Do so," said the doctor, "for I just remember Miss Barrington will call
+here in a few moments for that medicine I have ordered for her brother,
+and which is not yet made up."
+
+"Give me five minutes of your time and attention, Miss Dill," said
+Hunter, "on a point for which your father has referred me to your
+counsel."
+
+"To mine?"
+
+"Yes," said he, smiling at her astonishment. "We want your quick
+faculties to come to the aid of our slow ones. And here's the case." And
+in a few sentences he put the matter before her, as he had done to her
+father. While he thus talked, they had strolled out into the garden, and
+walked slowly side by side down one of the alleys.
+
+"Poor Tom!--poor fellow!" was all that Polly said, as she listened; but
+once or twice her handkerchief was raised to her eyes, and her chest
+heaved heavily.
+
+"I am heartily sorry for him--that is, if his heart be bent on it--if he
+really should have built upon the scheme already."
+
+"Of course he has, sir. You don't suppose that in such lives as ours
+these are common incidents? If we chance upon a treasure, or fancy that
+we have, once in a whole existence, it is great fortune."
+
+"It was a brief, a very brief acquaintance,--a few hours, I believe.
+The--What was that? Did you hear any one cough there?"
+
+"No, sir; we are quite alone. There is no one in the garden but
+ourselves."
+
+"So that, as I was saying, the project could scarcely have taken a very
+deep root, and--and--in fact, better the first annoyance than a mistake
+that should give its color to a whole lifetime. I'm certain I heard a
+step in that walk yonder."
+
+"No, sir; we are all alone."
+
+"I half wish I had never come on this same errand. I have done an
+ungracious thing, evidently very ill, and with the usual fate of those
+who say disagreeable things, I am involved in the disgrace I came to
+avert."
+
+"But I accept your view."
+
+"There! I knew there was some one there!" said Hunter, springing across
+a bed and coming suddenly to the side of M'Cormick, who was affecting to
+be making a nosegay.
+
+"The car is ready at the door, Colonel," said he, in some confusion.
+"Maybe you 'd oblige me with a seat as far as Lyrath?"
+
+"Yes, yes; of course. And how late it is!" cried he, looking at his
+watch. "Time does fly fast in these regions, no doubt of it."
+
+"You see, Miss Polly, you have made the Colonel forget himself," said
+M'Cormick, maliciously.
+
+"Don't be severe on an error so often your own, Major M'Cormick," said
+she, fiercely, and turned away into the house.
+
+The Colonel, however, was speedily at her side, and in an earnest voice
+said: "I could hate myself for the impression I am leaving behind me
+here. I came with those excellent intentions which so often make a
+man odious, and I am going away with those regrets which follow all
+failures; but I mean to come back again one of these days, and erase, if
+I can, the ill impression."
+
+"One who has come out of his way to befriend those who had no claim upon
+his kindness can have no fear for the estimation he will be held in;
+for my part, I thank you heartily, even though I do not exactly see the
+direct road out of this difficulty."
+
+"Let me write to you. One letter--only one," said Hunter.
+
+But M'Cormick had heard the request, and she flushed up with anger at
+the malicious glee his face exhibited.
+
+"You 'll have to say my good-byes for me to your father, for I am sorely
+pressed for time; and, even as it is, shall be late for my appointment
+in Kilkenny." And before Polly could do more than exchange his cordial
+shake hands, he was gone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI. DARK TIDINGS
+
+If I am not wholly without self-reproach when I bring my reader into
+uncongenial company, and make him pass time with Major M'Cormick he had
+far rather bestow upon a pleasanter companion, I am sustained by the
+fact--unpalatable fact though it be--that the highway of life is not
+always smooth, nor its banks flowery, and that, as an old Derry woman
+once remarked to me, "It takes a' kind o' folk to mak' a world."
+
+Now, although Colonel Hunter did drive twelve weary miles of road with
+the Major for a fellow-traveller,--thanks to that unsocial conveniency
+called an Irish jaunting-car,--they rode back to back, and conversed
+but little. One might actually believe that unpopular men grow to feel
+a sort of liking for their unpopularity, and become at length delighted
+with the snubbings they meet with, as though an evidence of the amount
+of that discomfort they can scatter over the world at large; just, in
+fact, as a wasp or a scorpion might have a sort of triumphant joy in the
+consciousness of its power for mischief, and exult in the terror caused
+by its vicinity.
+
+"Splendid road--one of the best I ever travelled on," said the Colonel,
+after about ten miles, during which he smoked on without a word.
+
+"Why wouldn't it be, when they can assess the county for it? They're on
+the Grand Jury, and high up, all about here," croaked out the Major.
+
+"It is a fine country, and abounds in handsome places." "And well
+mortgaged, too, the most of them." "You 'd not see better farming than
+that in Norfolk, cleaner wheat or neater drills; in fact, one might
+imagine himself in England."
+
+"So he might, for the matter of taxes. I don't see much difference."
+
+"Why don't you smoke? Things look pleasanter through the blue haze of a
+good Havannah," said Hunter, smiling.
+
+"I don't want them to look pleasanter than they are," was the dry
+rejoinder.
+
+Whether Hunter did or did not, he scarcely liked his counsellor, and,
+re-lighting a cigar, he turned his back once more on him.
+
+"I'm one of those old-fashioned fellows," continued the Major, leaning
+over towards his companion, "who would rather see things as they are,
+not as they might be; and when I remarked you awhile ago so pleased with
+the elegant luncheon and Miss Polly's talents for housekeeping, I was
+laughing to myself over it all."
+
+"How do you mean? What did you laugh at?" said Hunter, half fiercely.
+
+"Just at the way you were taken in, that's all."
+
+"Taken in?--taken in? A very strange expression for an hospitable
+reception and a most agreeable visit."
+
+"Well, it's the very word for it, after all; for as to the hospitable
+reception, it was n't meant for us, but for that tall Captain,--the
+dark-complexioned fellow,--Staples, I think they call him."
+
+"Captain Stapylton?"
+
+"Yes, that's the man. He ordered Healey's car to take him over here; and
+I knew when the Dills sent over to Mrs. Brierley for a loan of the two
+cut decanters and the silver cruet-stand, something was up; and so I
+strolled down, by way of--to reconnoitre the premises, and see what old
+Dill was after."
+
+"Well, and then?"
+
+"Just that I saw it all,--the elegant luncheon, and the two bottles of
+wine, and the ginger cordials, all laid out for the man that never
+came; for it would seem he changed his mind about it, and went back to
+head-quarters."
+
+"You puzzle me more and more at every word. What change of mind do you
+allude to? What purpose do you infer he had in coming over here to-day?"
+
+The only answer M'Cormick vouchsafed to this was by closing one eye and
+putting his finger significantly to the tip of his nose, while he said,
+"Catch a weasel asleep!"
+
+"I more than suspect," said Hunter, sternly, "that this half-pay life
+works badly for a man's habits, and throws him upon very petty and
+contemptible modes of getting through his time. What possible business
+could it be of yours to inquire why Stapylton came, or did not come here
+to-day, no more than for the reason of _my_ visit?"
+
+"Maybe I could guess that, too, if I was hard pushed," said M'Cormick,
+whose tone showed no unusual irritation from the late rebuke. "I was in
+the garden all the time, and heard everything."
+
+"Listened to what I was saying to Miss Dill!" cried Hunter, whose voice
+of indignation could not now be mistaken.
+
+"Every word of it," replied the unabashed Major. "I heard all you said
+about a short acquaintance--a few hours you called it--but that your
+heart was bent upon it, all the same. And then you went on about India;
+what an elegant place it was, and the fine pay and the great allowances.
+And ready enough she was to believe it all, for I suppose she was
+sworn at Highgate, and would n't take the Captain if she could get the
+Colonel."
+
+By this time, and not an instant earlier, it flashed upon Hunter's mind
+that M'Cormick imagined he had overheard a proposal of marriage; and
+so amused was he by the blunder, that he totally drowned his anger in a
+hearty burst of laughter.
+
+"I hope that, as an old brother-officer, you 'll be discreet, at all
+events," said he, at last. "You have not come by the secret quite
+legitimately, and I trust you will preserve it."
+
+"My hearing is good, and my eyesight too, and I mean to use them both as
+long as they 're spared to me."
+
+"It was your tongue that I referred to," said Hunter, more gravely.
+
+"Ay, I know it was," said the Major, crankily. "My tongue will take care
+of itself also."
+
+"In order to make its task the easier, then," said Hunter, speaking in
+a slow and serious voice, "let me tell you that your eaves-dropping
+has, for once at least, misled you. I made no proposal, such as you
+suspected, to Miss Dill. Nor did she give me the slightest encouragement
+to do so. The conversation you so unwarrantably and imperfectly
+overheard had a totally different object, and I am not at all sorry you
+should not have guessed it. So much for the past. Now one word for the
+future. Omit my name, and all that concerns me, from the narrative with
+which you amuse your friends, or, take my word for it, you 'll have
+to record more than you have any fancy for. This is strictly between
+ourselves; but if you have a desire to impart it, bear in mind that I
+shall be at my quarters in Kilkenny till Tuesday next."
+
+"You may spend your life there, for anything I care," said the Major.
+"Stop, Billy; pull up. I'll get down here." And shuffling off the car,
+he muttered a "Good-day" without turning his head, and bent his steps
+towards a narrow lane that led from the high-road.
+
+[Illustration: 242]
+
+"Is this the place they call Lyrath?" asked the Colonel of the driver.
+
+"No, your honor. We're a good four miles from it yet."
+
+The answer showed Hunter that his fellow-traveller had departed in
+anger; and such was the generosity of his nature, he found it hard not
+to overtake him and make his peace with him.
+
+"After all," thought he, "he 's a crusty old fellow, and has hugged
+his ill-temper so long, it may be more congenial to him now than a
+pleasanter humor." And he turned his mind to other interests that more
+closely touched him. Nor was he without cares,--heavier ones, too, than
+his happy nature had ever yet been called to deal with. There are
+few more painful situations in life than to find our advancement--the
+long-wished and strived-for promotion--achieved at the cost of some
+dearly loved friend; to know that our road to fortune had led us across
+the fallen figure of an old comrade, and that he who would have been the
+first to hail our success is already bewailing his own defeat. This was
+Hunter's lot at the present moment. He had been sent for to hear of a
+marvellous piece of good-fortune. His name and character, well known in
+India, had recommended him for an office of high trust,--the Political
+Resident of a great native court; a position not alone of power and
+influence, but as certain to secure, and within a very few years, a
+considerable fortune. It was the Governor-General who had made choice
+of him; and the Prince of Wales, in the brief interview he accorded
+him, was delighted with his frank and soldierlike manner, his natural
+cheerfulness, and high spirit. "We 're not going to unfrock you,
+Hunter," said he, gayly, in dismissing him. "You shall have your
+military rank, and all the steps of your promotion. We only make you a
+civilian till you have saved some lacs of rupees, which is what I hear
+your predecessor has forgotten to do."
+
+It was some time before Hunter, overjoyed as he was, even bethought him
+of asking who that predecessor was. What was his misery when he heard
+the name of Ormsby Conyers, his oldest, best friend; the man at whose
+table he had sat for years, whose confidence he had shared, whose heart
+was open to him to its last secret! "No," said he, "this is impossible.
+Advancement at such a price has no temptation for me. I will not accept
+it" He wrote his refusal at once, not assigning any definite reasons,
+but declaring that, after much thought and consideration, he had
+decided the post was one he could not accept of. The Secretary, in
+whose province the affairs of India lay, sent for him, and, after much
+pressing and some ingenious cross-questioning, got at his reasons.
+"These may be all reasonable scruples on your part," said he, "but they
+will avail your friend nothing. Conyers must go; for his own interest
+and character's sake, he must come home and meet the charges made
+against him, and which, from their very contradictions, we all hope to
+see him treat triumphantly: some alleging that he has amassed untold
+wealth; others that it is, as a ruined man, he has involved himself in
+the intrigues of the native rulers. All who know him say that at the
+first whisper of a charge against him he will throw up his post and come
+to England to meet his accusers. And now let me own to you that it is
+the friendship in which he held you lay one of the suggestions for your
+choice. We all felt that if a man ill-disposed or ungenerously minded to
+Conyers should go out to Agra, numerous petty and vexatious accusations
+might be forthcoming; the little local injuries and pressure, so sure to
+beget grudges, would all rise up as charges, and enemies to the fallen
+man spring up in every quarter. It is as a successor, then, you can best
+serve your friend." I need not dwell on the force and ingenuity with
+which this view was presented; enough that I say it was successful, and
+Hunter returned to Ireland to take leave of his regiment, and prepare
+for a speedy departure to India.
+
+Having heard, in a brief note from young Conyers, his intentions
+respecting Tom Dill, Hunter had hastened off to prevent the possibility
+of such a scheme being carried out. Not wishing, however, to divulge the
+circumstances of his friend's fortune, he had in his interview with the
+doctor confined himself to arguments on the score of prudence. His next
+charge was to break to Fred the tidings of his father's troubles, and
+it was an office he shrunk from with a coward's fear. With every mile
+he went his heart grew heavier. The more he thought over the matter the
+more difficult it appeared. To treat the case lightly, might savor of
+heartlessness and levity; to approach it more seriously, might seem a
+needless severity. Perhaps, too, Conyers might have written to his son;
+he almost hoped he had, and that the first news of disaster should not
+come from him.
+
+That combination of high-heartedness and bashfulness, a blended temerity
+and timidity,--by no means an uncommon temperament,--renders a man's
+position in the embarrassments of life one of downright suffering. There
+are operators who feel the knife more sensitively than the patients. Few
+know what torments such men conceal under a manner of seeming slap-dash
+and carelessness. Hunter was of this order, and would, any day of his
+life, far rather have confronted a real peril than met a contingency
+that demanded such an address. It was, then, with a sense of relief he
+learned, on arrival at the barracks, that Conyers had gone out for
+a walk, so that there was a reprieve at least of a few hours of the
+penalty that overhung him.
+
+The trumpet-call for the mess had just sounded as Conyers gained the
+door of the Colonel's quarters, and Hunter taking Fred's arm, they
+crossed the barrack-square together.
+
+"I have a great deal to say to you, Conyers," said he, hurriedly; "part
+of it unpleasant,--none of it, indeed, very gratifying--"
+
+"I know you are going to leave us, sir," said Fred, who perceived the
+more than common emotion in the other's manner. "And for myself, I own I
+have no longer any desire to remain in the regiment. I might go further,
+and say no more zest for the service. It was through your friendship for
+me I learned to curb many and many promptings to resistance, and when
+_you_ go--"
+
+"I am very sorry,--very, very sorry to leave you all," said Hunter,
+with a broken voice. "It is not every man that proudly can point to
+seven-and-twenty-years' service in a regiment without one incident to
+break the hearty cordiality that bound us. We had no bickerings, no
+petty jealousies amongst us. If a man joined us who wanted partisanship
+and a set, he soon found it better to exchange. I never expect again
+to lead the happy life I have here, and I 'd rather have led our bold
+squadrons in the field than have been a General of Division." Who could
+have believed that he, whose eyes ran over, as he spoke these broken
+words, was, five minutes after, the gay and rattling Colonel his
+officers always saw him, full of life, spirit, and animation, jocularly
+alluding to his speedy departure, and gayly speculating on the
+comparisons that would be formed between himself and his successor? "I'm
+leaving him the horses in good condition," said he; "and when Hargrave
+learns to give the word of command above a whisper, and Eyreton can ride
+without a backboard, he 'll scarcely report you for inefficiency." It
+is fair to add, that the first-mentioned officer had a voice like a
+bassoon, and the second was the beau-ideal of dragoon horsemanship.
+
+It would not have consisted with military etiquette to have asked
+the Colonel the nature of his promotion, nor as to what new sphere of
+service he was called. Even the old Major, his contemporary, dared not
+have come directly to the question; and while all were eager to hear
+it, the utmost approach was by an insinuation or an innuendo. Hunter was
+known for no quality more remarkably than for his outspoken frankness,
+and some surprise was felt that in his returning thanks for his health
+being drank, not a word should escape him on this point; but the anxiety
+was not lessened by the last words he spoke. "It may be, it is more than
+likely, I shall never see the regiment again; but the sight of a hussar
+jacket or a scarlet busby will bring you all back to my memory, and you
+may rely on it, that whether around the mess-table or the bivouac fire
+my heart will be with you."
+
+Scarcely had the cheer that greeted the words subsided, when a deep
+voice from the extreme end of the table said,--
+
+"If only a new-comer in the regiment, Colonel Hunter, I am too proud
+of my good fortune not to associate myself with the feelings of my
+comrades, and, while partaking of their deep regrets, I feel it a duty
+to contribute, if in my power, by whatever may lighten the grief of our
+loss. Am I at liberty to do so? Have I your free permission, I mean?"
+
+"I am fairly puzzled by your question, Captain Stapylton. I have not
+the very vaguest clew to your meaning, but, of course, you have my
+permission to mention whatever you deem proper."
+
+"It is a toast I would propose, sir."
+
+"By all means. The thing is not very regular, perhaps, but we are not
+exactly remarkable for regularity this evening. Fill, gentlemen, for
+Captain Stapylton's toast!"
+
+"Few words will propose it," said Stapylton. "We have just drank Colonel
+Hunter's health with all the enthusiasm that befits the toast, but in
+doing so our tribute has been paid to the past; of the present and the
+future we have taken no note whatever, and it is to these I would now
+recall you. I say, therefore, bumpers to the health, happiness, and
+success of Major-General Hunter, Political Resident and Minister at the
+Court of Agra!"
+
+"No, no!" cried young Conyers, loudly, "this is a mistake. It is my
+father--it is Lieutenant-General Conyers--who resides at Agra. Am I not
+right, sir?" cried he, turning to the Colonel.
+
+But Hunter's face, pale as death even to the lips, and the agitation
+with which he grasped Fred's hand, so overcame the youth that with a
+sudden cry he sprang from his seat, and rushed out of the room. Hunter
+as quickly followed him; and now all were grouped around Stapylton,
+eagerly questioning and inquiring what his tidings might mean.
+
+"The old story, gentlemen,--the old story, with which we are all more or
+less familiar in this best of all possible worlds: General Hunter
+goes out in honor, and General Conyers comes home in--well, under a
+cloud,--of course one that he is sure and certain to dispel. I
+conclude the Colonel would rather have had his advancement under other
+circumstances; but in this game of leap-frog that we call life, we must
+occasionally jump over our friends as well as our enemies."
+
+"How and where did you get the news?"
+
+"It came to me from town. I heard it this morning, and of course I
+imagined that the Colonel had told it to Conyers, whom it so intimately
+concerned. I hope I may not have been indiscreet in what I meant as a
+compliment."
+
+None cared to offer their consolings to one so fully capable of
+supplying the commodity to himself, and the party broke up in twos or
+threes, moodily seeking their own quarters, and brooding gloomily over
+what they had just witnessed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII. LEAVING HOME
+
+I will ask my reader now to turn for a brief space to the "Fisherman's
+Home," which is a scene of somewhat unusual bustle. The Barringtons are
+preparing for a journey, and old Peter's wardrobe has been displayed for
+inspection along a hedge of sweet-brier in the garden,--an arrangement
+devised by the genius of Darby, who passes up and down, with an
+expression of admiration on his face, the sincerity of which could not
+be questioned. A more reflective mind than his might have been carried
+away, at the sight to thoughts of the strange passages in the late
+history of Ireland, so curiously typified in that motley display.
+There, was the bright green dress-coat of Daly's club, recalling days of
+political excitement, and all the plottings and cabals of a once famous
+opposition. There was, in somewhat faded splendor it must be owned, a
+court suit of the Duke of Portland's day, when Irish gentlemen were as
+gorgeous as the courtiers of Versailles. Here came a grand colonel's
+uniform, when Barrington commanded a regiment of Volunteers; and yonder
+lay a friar's frock and cowl, relics of those "attic nights" with the
+Monks of the Screw, and recalling memories of Avonmore and Curran,
+and Day and Parsons; and with them were mixed hunting-coats, and
+shooting-jackets, and masonic robes, and "friendly brother" emblems,
+and long-waisted garments, and swallow-tailed affectations of all shades
+and tints,--reminders of a time when Buck Whalley was the eccentric, and
+Lord Llandaff the beau of Irish society. I am not certain that Monmouth
+Street would have endorsed Darby's sentiment as he said, "There was
+clothes there for a king on his throne!" but it was an honestly uttered
+speech, and came out of the fulness of an admiring heart, and although
+in truth he was nothing less than an historian, he was forcibly struck
+by the thought that Ireland must have been a grand country to live in,
+in those old days when men went about their ordinary avocations in such
+splendor as he saw there.
+
+[Illustration: 252]
+
+Nor was Peter Barrington himself an unmoved spectator of these old
+remnants of the past Old garments, like old letters, bring oftentimes
+very forcible memories of a long ago; and as he turned over the
+purple-stained flap of a waistcoat, he bethought him of a night at
+Daly's, when, in returning thanks for his health, his shaking hand had
+spilled that identical glass of Burgundy; and in the dun-colored tinge
+of a hunting-coat he remembered the day he had plunged into the Nore
+at Corrig O'Neal, himself and the huntsman, alone of all the field, to
+follow the dogs!
+
+"Take them away, Darby, take them away; they only set me a-thinking
+about the pleasant companions of my early life. It was in that suit
+there I moved the amendment in '82, when Henry Grattan crossed over and
+said, 'Barrington will lead us here, as he does in the hunting-field.'
+Do you see that peach-colored waistcoat? It was Lady Caher embroidered
+every stitch of it with her own hands, for me."
+
+"Them 's elegant black satin breeches," said Darby, whose eyes of
+covetousness were actually rooted on the object of his desire.
+
+"I never wore them," said Barrington, with a sigh. "I got them for a
+duel with Mat Fortescue, but Sir Toby Blake shot him that morning. Poor
+Mat!"
+
+"And I suppose you'll never wear them now. You couldn't bear the sight
+then," said Darby, insinuatingly.
+
+"Most likely not," said Barrington, as he turned away with a heavy sigh.
+Darby sighed also, but not precisely in the same spirit.
+
+Let me passingly remark that the total unsuitability to his condition
+of any object seems rather to enhance its virtue in the eyes of a lower
+Irishman, and a hat or a coat which he could not, by any possibility,
+wear in public, might still be to him things to covet and desire.
+
+"What is the meaning of all this rag fair?" cried Miss Barrington, as
+she suddenly came in front of the exposed wardrobe. "You are not surely
+making any selections from these tawdry absurdities, brother, for your
+journey?"
+
+[Illustration: 252]
+
+"Well, indeed," said Barrington, with a droll twinkle of his eye, "it
+was a point that Darby and I were discussing as you came up. Darby
+opines that to make a suitable impression upon the Continent, I must not
+despise the assistance of dress, and he inclines much to that Corbeau
+coat with the cherry-colored lining."
+
+"If Darby 's an ass, brother, I don't imagine it is a good reason to
+consult him," said she, angrily. "Put all that trash where you found it.
+Lay out your master's black clothes and the gray shooting-coat, see that
+his strong boots are in good repair, and get a serviceable lock on that
+valise."
+
+It was little short of magic the spell these few and distinctly uttered
+words seemed to work on Darby, who at once descended from a realm of
+speculation and scheming to the commonplace world of duty and obedience.
+"I really wonder how you let yourself be imposed on, brother, by the
+assumed simplicity of that shrewd fellow."
+
+"I like it, Dinah, I positively like it," said he, with a smile. "I
+watch him playing the game with a pleasure almost as great as his
+own; and as I know that the stakes are small, I 'm never vexed at his
+winning."
+
+"But you seem to forget the encouragement this impunity suggests."
+
+"Perhaps it does, Dinah; and very likely his little rogueries are
+as much triumphs to him as are all the great political intrigues the
+glories of some grand statesman."
+
+"Which means that you rather like to be cheated," said she, scoffingly.
+
+"When the loss is a mere trifle, I don't always think it ill laid out."
+
+"And I," said she, resolutely, "so far from participating in your
+sentiment, feel it to be an insult and an outrage. There is a sense of
+inferiority attached to the position of a dupe that would drive me to
+any reprisals."
+
+"I always said it; I always said it," cried he, laughing. "The women of
+our family monopolized all the com-bativeness."
+
+Miss Barrington's eyes sparkled, and her cheek glowed, and she looked
+like one stung to the point of a very angry rejoinder, when by an effort
+she controlled her passion, and, taking a letter from her pocket, she
+opened it, and said, "This is from Withering. He has managed to obtain
+all the information we need for our journey. We are to sail for Ostend
+by the regular packet, two of which go every week from Dover. From
+thence there are stages or canal-boats to Bruges and Brussels, cheap
+and commodious, he says. He gives us the names of two hotels, one of
+which--the 'Lamb,' at Brussels--he recommends highly; and the Pension of
+a certain Madame Ochteroogen, at Namur, will, he opines, suit us better
+than an inn. In fact, this letter is a little road book, with the
+expenses marked down, and we can quietly count the cost of our venture
+before we make it."
+
+"I 'd rather not, Dinah. The very thought of a limit is torture to me.
+Give me bread and water every day, if you like, but don't rob me of the
+notion that some fine day I am to be regaled with beef and pudding."
+
+"I don't wonder that we have come to beggary," said she, passionately.
+"I don't know what fortune and what wealth could compensate for a
+temperament like yours."
+
+"You may be right, Dinah. It may go far to make a man squander his
+substance, but take my word for it, it will help him to bear up under
+the loss."
+
+If Barrington could have seen the gleam of affection that filled his
+sister's eyes, he would have felt what love her heart bore him; but he
+had stooped down to take a caterpillar off a flower, and did not mark
+it.
+
+"Withering has seen young Conyers," she continued, as her eyes ran over
+the letter "He called upon him." Barrington made no rejoinder, though
+she waited for one. "The poor lad was in great affliction; some
+distressing news from India--of what kind Withering could not guess--had
+just reached him, and he appeared overwhelmed by it."
+
+"He is very young for sorrow," said Barrington, feelingly.
+
+"Just what Withering said;" and she read out, "'When I told him that
+I had come to make an _amende_ for the reception he had met with at the
+cottage, he stopped me at once, and said, "Great grief s are the cure
+of small ones, and you find me under a very heavy affliction. Tell Miss
+Barrington that I have no other memories of the 'Fisherman's Home' than
+of all her kindness towards me."'"
+
+"Poor boy!" said Barrington, with emotion. "And how did Withering leave
+him?"
+
+"Still sad and suffering. Struggling too, Withering thought, between
+a proud attempt to conceal his grief and an ardent impulse to tell all
+about it 'Had _you_ been there,' he writes, 'you'd have had the whole
+story; but I saw that he could n't stoop to open his heart to a man.'"
+
+"Write to him, Dinah. Write and ask him down here for a couple of days."
+
+"You forget that we are to leave this the day after tomorrow, brother."
+
+"So I did. I forgot it completely. Well, what if he were to come for one
+day? What if you were to say come over and wish us good-bye?"
+
+"It is so like a man and a man's selfishness never to consider a
+domestic difficulty," said she, tartly. "So long as a house has a roof
+over it, you fancy it may be available for hospitalities. You never take
+into account the carpets to be taken up, and the beds that are taken
+down, the plate-chest that is packed, and the cellar that is walled up.
+You forget, in a word, that to make that life you find so very easy,
+some one else must pass an existence full of cares and duties."
+
+"There 's not a doubt of it, Dinah. There 's truth and reason in every
+word you 've said."
+
+"I will write to him if you like, and say that we mean to be at home by
+an early day in October, and that if he is disposed to see how our woods
+look in autumn, we will be well pleased to have him for our guest."
+
+"Nothing could be better. Do so, Dinah. I owe the young fellow a
+reparation, and I shall not have an easy conscience till I make it."
+
+"Ah, brother Peter, if your moneyed debts had only given you one-half
+the torment of your moral ones, what a rich man you might have been
+to-day!"
+
+Long after his sister had gone away and left him, Peter Barrington
+continued to muse over this speech. He felt it, felt it keenly too, but
+in no bitterness of spirit.
+
+Like most men of a lax and easy temper, he could mete out to himself the
+same merciful measure he accorded to others, and be as forgiving to his
+own faults as to theirs. "I suppose Dinah is right, though," said he to
+himself. "I never did know that sensitive irritability under debt which
+insures solvency. And whenever a man can laugh at a dun, he is pretty
+sure to be on the high-road to bankruptcy! Well, well, it is somewhat
+late to try and reform, but I'll do my best!" And thus comforted, he set
+about tying up fallen rose-trees and removing noxious insects with all
+his usual zeal.
+
+"I half wish the place did not look in such beauty, just as I must leave
+it for a while. I don't think that japonica ever had as many flowers
+before; and what a season for tulips! Not to speak of the fruit There
+are peaches enough to stock a market. I wonder what Dinah means to do
+with them? She 'll be sorely grieved to make them over as perquisites to
+Darby, and I know she 'll never consent to have them sold. No, that is
+the one concession she cannot stoop to. Oh, here she comes! What a grand
+year for the wall fruit, Dinah!" cried he, aloud.
+
+"The apricots have all failed, and fully one-half of the peaches are
+worm-eaten," said she, dryly.
+
+Peter sighed as he thought, how she does dispel an illusion, what a
+terrible realist is this same sister! "Still, my dear Dinah, one-half of
+such a crop is a goodly yield."
+
+"Out with it, Peter Barrington. Out with the question that is burning
+for utterance. What's to be done with them? I have thought of that
+already. I have told Polly Dill to preserve a quantity for us, and to
+take as much more as she pleases for her own use, and make presents to
+her friends of the remainder. She is to be mistress here while we are
+away, and has promised to come up two or three times a week, and see
+after everything, for I neither desire to have the flower-roots sold,
+nor the pigeons eaten before our return."
+
+"That is an admirable arrangement, sister. I don't know a better girl
+than Polly!"
+
+"She is better than I gave her credit for," said Miss Barrington, who
+was not fully pleased at any praise not bestowed by herself. A man's
+estimate of a young woman's goodness is not so certain of finding
+acceptance from her own sex! "And as for that girl, the wonder is that
+with a fool for a mother, and a crafty old knave for a father, she
+really should possess one good trait or one amiable quality." Barrington
+muttered what sounded like concurrence, and she went on: "And it is for
+this reason I have taken an interest in her, and hope, by occupying her
+mind with useful cares and filling her hours with commendable duties,
+she will estrange herself from that going about to fine houses, and
+frequenting society where she is exposed to innumerable humiliations,
+and worse."
+
+"Worse, Dinah!--what could be worse?"
+
+"Temptations are worse, Peter Barrington, even when not yielded to; for
+like a noxious climate, which, though it fails to kill, it is certain to
+injure the constitution during a lifetime. Take my word for it, she
+'ll not be the better wife to the Curate for the memory of all the fine
+speeches she once heard from the Captain. Very old and ascetic notions
+I am quite aware, Peter; but please to bear in mind all the trouble we
+take that the roots of a favorite tree should not strike into a sour
+soil, and bethink you how very indifferent we are as to the daily
+associates of our children!"
+
+"There you are right, Dinah, there you are right,--at least, as regards
+girls."
+
+"And the rule applies fully as much to boys. All those manly
+accomplishments and out-of-door habits you lay such store by, could
+be acquired without the intimacy of the groom or the friendship of the
+gamekeeper. What are you muttering there about old-maids' children? Say
+it out, sir, and defend it, if you have the courage!"
+
+But either that he had not said it, or failed in the requisite boldness
+to maintain it, he blundered out a very confused assurance of agreement
+on every point.
+
+A woman is seldom merciful in argument; the consciousness that she owes
+victory to her violence far more than to her logic, prompts persistence
+in the course she has followed so successfully, and so was it that Miss
+Dinah contrived to gallop over the battlefield long after the enemy was
+routed! But Barrington was not in a mood to be vexed; the thought of the
+journey filled him with so many pleasant anticipations, the brightest
+of all being the sight of poor George's child! Not that this thought had
+not its dark side, in contrition for the long, long years he had left
+her unnoticed and neglected. Of course he had his own excuses
+and apologies for all this: he could refer to his overwhelming
+embarrassments, and the heavy cares that surrounded him; but then
+she--that poor friendless girl, that orphan--could have known nothing
+of these things; and what opinion might she not have formed of those
+relatives who had so coldly and heartlessly abandoned her! Barrington
+took down her miniature, painted when she was a mere infant, and scanned
+it well, as though to divine what nature might possess her! There was
+little for speculation there,--perhaps even less for hope! The eyes were
+large and lustrous, it is true, but the brow was heavy, and the
+mouth, even in infancy, had something that seemed like firmness and
+decision,--strangely at variance with the lips of childhood.
+
+Now, old Barrington's heart was deeply set on that lawsuit--that great
+cause against the Indian Government--that had formed the grand campaign
+of his life. It was his first waking thought of a morning, his last at
+night. All his faculties were engaged in revolving the various points
+of evidence, and imagining how this and that missing link might be
+supplied; and yet, with all these objects of desire before him, he would
+have given them up, each and all, to be sure of one thing,--that his
+granddaughter might be handsome! It was not that he did not value far
+above the graces of person a number of other gifts; he would not, for an
+instant, have hesitated, had he to choose between mere beauty and a
+good disposition. If he knew anything of himself, it was his thorough
+appreciation of a kindly nature, a temper to bear well, and a spirit
+to soar nobly; but somehow he imagined these were gifts she was likely
+enough to possess. George's child would resemble him; she would have his
+light-heartedness and his happy nature, but would she be handsome? It
+is, trust me, no superficial view of life that attaches a great price
+to personal atractions, and Barrington was one to give these their full
+value. Had she been brought up from childhood under his roof, he had
+probably long since ceased to think of such a point; he would have
+attached himself to her by the ties of that daily domesticity which
+grow into a nature. The hundred little cares and offices that would
+have fallen to her lot to meet, would have served as links to bind their
+hearts; but she was coming to them a perfect stranger, and he wished
+ardently that his first impression should be all in her favor.
+
+Now, while such were Barrington's reveries, his sister took a different
+turn. She had already pictured to herself the dark-orbed, heavy-browed
+child, expanded into a sallow-complexioned, heavy-featured girl,
+ungainly and ungraceful, her figure neglected, her very feet spoiled by
+the uncouth shoes of the convent, her great red hands untrained to all
+occupation save the coarse cares of that half-menial existence. "As my
+brother would say," muttered she, "a most unpromising filly, if it were
+not for the breeding."
+
+Both brother and sister, however, kept their impressions to themselves,
+and of all the subjects discussed between them not one word betrayed
+what each forecast about Josephine. I am half sorry it is no part of my
+task to follow them on the road, and yet I feel I could not impart to my
+reader the almost boylike enjoyment old Peter felt at every stage of the
+journey. He had made the grand tour of Europe more than half a century
+before, and he was in ecstasy to find so much that was unchanged around
+him. There were the long-eared caps, and the monstrous earrings, and
+the sabots, and the heavily tasselled team horses, and the chiming
+church-bells, and the old-world equipages, and the strangely undersized
+soldiers,--all just as he saw them last! And every one was so polite
+and ceremonious, and so idle and so unoccupied, and the theatres were so
+large and the newspapers so small, and the current coin so defaced, and
+the order of the meats at dinner so inscrutable, and every one seemed
+contented just because he had nothing to do.
+
+"Isn't it all I have told you, Dinah dear? Don't you perceive
+how accurate my picture has been? And is it not very charming and
+enjoyable?"
+
+"They are the greatest cheats I ever met in my life, brother Peter; and
+when I think that every grin that greets us is a matter of five francs,
+it mars considerably the pleasure I derive from the hilarity."
+
+It was in this spirit they journeyed till they arrived at Brussels.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII. THE COLONEL'S COUNSELS
+
+When Conyers had learned from Colonel Hunter all that he knew of
+his father's involvement, it went no further than this, that the
+Lieutenant-General had either resigned or been deprived of his civil
+appointments, and Hunter was called upon to replace him. With all his
+habit of hasty and impetuous action, there was no injustice in
+Fred's nature, and he frankly recognized that, however painful to him
+personally, Hunter could not refuse to accede to what the Prince had
+distinctly pressed him to accept.
+
+Young Conyers had heard over and over again the astonishment expressed
+by old Indian officials how his father's treatment of the Company's
+orders had been so long endured. Some prescriptive immunity seemed to
+attach to him, or some great patronage to protect him, for he appeared
+to do exactly as he pleased, and the despotic sway of his rule was known
+far and near. With the changes in the constitution of the Board, some
+members might have succeeded less disposed to recognize the General's
+former services, or endure so tolerantly his present encroachments, and
+Fred well could estimate the resistance his father would oppose to the
+very mildest remonstrance, and how indignantly he would reject whatever
+came in the shape of a command. Great as was the blow to the young man,
+it was not heavier in anything than the doubt and uncertainty about it,
+and he waited with a restless impatience for his father's letter,
+which should explain it all. Nor was his position less painful from
+the estrangement in which he lived, and the little intercourse he
+maintained with his brother-officers. When Hunter left, he knew that he
+had not one he could call friend amongst them, and Hunter was to go in a
+very few days, and even of these he could scarcely spare him more than a
+few chance moments!
+
+It was in one of these flitting visits that Hunter bethought him of
+young Dill, of whom, it is only truth to confess, young Conyers had
+forgotten everything. "I took time by the forelock, Fred, about that
+affair," said he, "and I trust I have freed you from all embarrassment
+about it."
+
+"As how, sir?" asked Conyers, half in pique.
+
+"When I missed you at the 'Fisherman's Home,' I set off to pay the
+doctor a visit, and a very charming visit it turned out; a better
+pigeon-pie I never ate, nor a prettier girl than the maker of it would
+I ask to meet with. We became great friends, talked of everything,
+from love at first sight to bone spavins, and found that we agreed to
+a miracle. I don't think I ever saw a girl before who suited me so
+perfectly in all her notions. She gave me a hint about what they call
+'mouth lameness' our Vet would give his eye for. Well, to come back
+to her brother,--a dull dog, I take it, though I have not seen him,--I
+said, 'Don't let him go to India, they 've lots of clever fellows out
+there; pack him off to Australia; send him to New Zealand.' And when she
+interrupted me, 'But young Mr. Conyers insisted,--he would have it so;
+his father is to make Tom's fortune, and to send him back as rich as a
+Begum,' I said, 'He has fallen in love with you, Miss Polly, that's the
+fact, and lost his head altogether; and I don't wonder at it, for here
+am I, close upon forty-eight,--I might have said forty-nine, but no
+matter,--close upon forty-eight, and I 'm in the same book!' Yes, if
+it was the sister, _vice_ the brother, who wanted to make a fortune in
+India, I almost think I could say, 'Come and share mine!'"
+
+"But I don't exactly understand. Am I to believe that they wish Tom to
+be off--to refuse my offer--and that the rejection comes from them?"
+
+"No, not exactly. I said it was a bad spec, that you had taken a far too
+sanguine view of the whole thing, and that as I was an old soldier, and
+knew more of the world,--that is to say, had met a great many more
+hard rubs and disappointments,--my advice was, not to risk it. 'Young
+Conyers,' said I, 'will do all that he has promised to the letter.
+You may rely upon every word that he has ever uttered. But bear in mind
+that he's only a mortal man; he's not one of those heathen gods who used
+to make fellows invincible in a battle, or smuggle them off in a cloud,
+out of the way of demons, or duns, or whatever difficulties beset them.
+He might die, his father might die, any of us might die.' Yes, by Jove!
+there's nothing so uncertain as life, except the Horse Guards.' And
+putting one thing with another, Miss Polly,' said I, 'tell him to
+stay where he is,'--open a shop at home, or go to one of the
+colonies,--Heligoland, for instance, a charming spot for the
+bathing-season."
+
+"And she, what did she say?"
+
+"May I be cashiered if I remember! I never do remember very clearly what
+any one says. Where I am much interested on my own side, I have no time
+for the other fellow's arguments. But I know if she was n't convinced
+she ought to have been. I put the thing beyond a question, and I made
+her cry."
+
+"Made her cry!"
+
+"Not cry,--that is, she did not blubber; but she looked glassy about
+the lids, and turned away her head. But to be sure we were parting,--a
+rather soft bit of parting, too,--and I said something about my coming
+back with a wooden leg, and she said, 'No! have it of cork, they make
+them so cleverly now.' And I was going to say something more, when a
+confounded old half-pay Major came up and interrupted us, and--and, in
+fact, there it rests."
+
+"I 'm not at all easy in mind as to this affair. I mean, I don't like
+how I stand in it."
+
+"But you stand out of it,--out of it altogether! Can't you imagine that
+your father may have quite enough cares of his own to occupy him without
+needing the embarrassment of looking after this bumpkin, who, for aught
+you know, might repay very badly all the interest taken in him? If
+it had been the girl,--if it had been Polly--" "I own frankly," said
+Conyers, tartly, "it did not occur to me to make such an offer to
+_her!_"
+
+"Faith! then, Master Fred, I was deuced near doing it,--so near, that
+when I came away I scarcely knew whether I had or had not done so."
+
+"Well, sir, there is only an hour's drive on a good road required to
+repair the omission."
+
+"That's true, Fred,--that's true; but have you never, by an accident,
+chanced to come up with a stunning fence,--a regular rasper that you
+took in a fly a few days before with the dogs, and as you looked at
+the place, have you not said, 'What on earth persuaded me to ride at
+_that?_'"
+
+"Which means, sir, that your cold-blooded reflections are against the
+project?"
+
+"Not exactly that, either," said he, in a sort of confusion; "but when
+a man speculates on doing something for which the first step must be an
+explanation to this fellow, a half apology to that,--with a whimpering
+kind of entreaty not to be judged hastily, not to be condemned unheard,
+not to be set down as an old fool who couldn't stand the fire of a pair
+of bright eyes,--I say when it comes to this, he ought to feel that his
+best safeguard is his own misgiving!"
+
+"If I do not agree with you, sir, it is because I incline to follow my
+own lead, and care very little for what the world says of it."
+
+"Don't believe a word of that, Fred; it's all brag,--all nonsense! The
+very effrontery with which you fancy you are braving public opinion is
+only Dutch courage. What each of us in his heart thinks of himself
+is only the reflex of the world's estimate of him; at least, what
+he imagines it to be. Now, for my own part, I 'd rather ride up to a
+battery in full fire than I'd sit down and write to my old aunt Dorothy
+Hunter a formal letter announcing my approaching marriage, telling her
+that the lady of my choice was twenty or thereabouts, not to add
+that her family name was Dill. Believe me, Fred, that if you want the
+concentrated essence of public opinion, you have only to do something
+which shall irritate and astonish the half-dozen people with whom you
+live in intimacy. Won't they remind you about the mortgages on your
+lands and the gray in your whiskers, that last loan you raised from
+Solomon Hymans, and that front tooth you got replaced by Cartwright,
+though it was the week before they told you you were a miracle of order
+and good management, and actually looking younger than you did five
+years ago! You're not minding me, Fred,--not following me; you 're
+thinking of your _protege_, Tom Dill, and what he 'll think and say of
+your desertion of him."
+
+"You have hit it, sir. It was exactly what I was asking myself."
+
+"Well, if nothing better offers, tell him to get himself in readiness,
+and come out with me. I cannot make him a Rajah, nor even a Zemindar;
+but I 'll stick him into a regimental surgeoncy, and leave him to
+fashion out his own future. He must look sharp, however, and lose no
+time. The 'Ganges' is getting ready in all haste, and will be round
+at Portsmouth by the 8th, and we expect to sail on the 12th or 13th at
+furthest."
+
+"I 'll write to him to-day. I 'll write this moment."
+
+"Add a word of remembrance on my part to the sister, and tell bumpkin to
+supply himself with no end of letters, recommendatory and laudatory, to
+muzzle our Medical Board at Calcutta, and lots of light clothing, and
+all the torturing instruments he 'll need, and a large stock of good
+humor, for he'll be chaffed unmercifully all the voyage." And, with
+these comprehensive directions, the Colonel concluded his counsels, and
+bustled away to look after his own personal interests.
+
+Fred Conyers was not over-pleased with the task assigned him. The
+part he liked to fill in life, and, indeed, that which he had usually
+performed, was the Benefactor and the Patron, and it was but an
+ungracious office for him to have to cut the wings and disfigure
+the plumage of his generosity. He made two, three, four attempts at
+conveying his intentions, but with none was he satisfied; so he ended by
+simply saying, "I have something of importance to tell you, and which,
+not being altogether pleasant, it will be better to say than to write;
+so I have to beg you will come up here at once, and see me." Scarcely
+was this letter sealed and addressed than he bethought him of the
+awkwardness of presenting Tom to his brother-officers, or the still
+greater indecorum of not presenting him. "How shall I ask him to the
+mess, with the certainty of all the impertinences he will be exposed
+to?--and what pretext have I for not offering him the ordinary attention
+shown to every stranger?" He was, in fact, wincing under that public
+opinion he had only a few moments before declared he could afford to
+despise. "No," said he, "I have no right to expose poor Tom to this. I
+'ll drive over myself to the village, and if any advice or counsel be
+needed, he will be amongst those who can aid him."
+
+He ordered his servant to harness his handsome roan, a thoroughbred
+of surpassing style and action, to the dog-cart,--not over-sorry to
+astonish his friend Tom by the splendor of a turn-out that had won the
+suffrages of Tattersall's,--and prepared for his mission to Inistioge.
+
+Was it with the same intention of "astonishing" Tom Dill that Conyers
+bestowed such unusual attention upon his dress? At his first visit to
+the "Fisherman's Home" he had worn the homely shooting-jacket and felt
+hat which, however comfortable and conventional, do not always redound
+to the advantage of the wearer, or, if they do, it is by something,
+perhaps, in the contrast presented to his ordinary appearance, and
+the impression ingeniously insinuated that he is one so unmistakably a
+gentleman, no travesty of costume can efface the stamp.
+
+It was in this garb Polly had seen him, and if Polly Dill had been a
+duchess it was in some such garb she would have been accustomed to see
+her brother or her cousin some six out of every seven mornings of the
+week; but Polly was not a duchess: she was the daughter of a village
+doctor, and might, not impossibly, have acquired a very erroneous
+estimate of his real pretensions from having beheld him thus attired.
+It was, therefore, entirely by a consideration for her ignorance of the
+world and its ways that he determined to enlighten her.
+
+At the time of which I am writing, the dress of the British army was a
+favorite study with that Prince whose taste, however questionable, never
+exposed him to censure on grounds of over-simplicity and plainness. As
+the Colonel of the regiment Conyers belonged to, he had bestowed upon
+his own especial corps an unusual degree of splendor in equipment, and
+amongst other extravagances had given them an almost boundless liberty
+of combining different details of dress. Availing himself of this
+privilege, our young Lieutenant invented a costume which, however
+unmilitary and irregular, was not deficient in becomingness. Under
+a plain blue jacket very sparingly braided he wore the rich scarlet
+waistcoat, all slashed with gold, they had introduced at their mess. A
+simple foraging-cap and overalls, seamed with a thin gold line, made up
+a dress that might have passed for the easy costume of the barrack-yard,
+while, in reality, it was eminently suited to set off the wearer.
+
+Am I to confess that he looked at himself in the glass with very
+considerable satisfaction, and muttered, as he turned away, "Yes, Miss
+Polly, this is in better style than that Quakerish drab livery you saw
+me last in, and I have little doubt that you 'll think so!"
+
+"Is this our best harness, Holt?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"All right!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV. CONYERS MAKES A MORNING CALL
+
+When Conyers, to the astonishment and wonder of an admiring village
+public, drove his seventeen-hand-high roan into the market square of
+Inistioge, he learned that all of the doctor's family were from home
+except Mrs. Dill. Indeed, he saw the respectable lady at the window
+with a book in her hand, from which not all the noise and clatter of his
+arrival for one moment diverted her. Though not especially anxious to
+attract her attention, he was half piqued at her show of indifference.
+A dog-cart by Adams and a thoroughbred like Boanerges were, after all,
+worth a glance at. Little did he know what a competitor be had in that
+much-thumbed old volume, whose quaintly told miseries were to her as
+her own sorrows. Could he have assembled underneath that window all the
+glories of a Derby Day, Mr. Richardson's "Clarissa" would have beaten
+the field. While he occupied himself in dexterously tapping the
+flies from his horse with the fine extremity of his whip, and thus
+necessitating that amount of impatience which made the spirited animal
+stamp and champ his bit, the old lady read on undisturbed.
+
+"Ask at what hour the doctor will be at home, Holt," cried he,
+peevishly.
+
+"Not till to-morrow, sir; he has gone to Castle Durrow."
+
+"And Miss Dill, is she not in the house?"
+
+"No, sir; she has gone down to the 'Fisherman's Home' to look after the
+garden,--the family having left that place this morning."
+
+After a few minutes' reflection, Conyers ordered his servant to put up
+the horse at the inn, and wait for him there; and then engaging a "cot,"
+he set out for the "Fisherman's Home." "After having come so far, it
+would be absurd to go back without doing something in this business,"
+thought he. "Polly, besides, is the brains carrier of these people. The
+matter would be referred to her; and why should I not go at once, and
+directly address her myself? With her womanly tact, too, she will see
+that for any reserve in my manner there must be a corresponding reason,
+and she'll not press me with awkward questions or painful inquiries, as
+the underbred brother might do. It will be enough when I intimate to
+her that my plan is not so practicable as when I first projected it." He
+reassured himself with a variety of reasonings of this stamp, which had
+the double effect of convincing his own mind and elevating Miss Polly in
+his estimation. There is a very subtle self-flattery in believing that
+the true order of person to deal with us--to understand and appreciate
+us--is one possessed of considerable ability united with the very finest
+sensibility. Thus dreaming and "mooning," he reached the "Fisherman's
+Home." The air of desertion struck him even as he landed; and is there
+not some secret magic in the vicinity of life, of living people, which
+gives the soul to the dwelling-place? Have we to more than cross the
+threshold of the forsaken house to feel its desertion,--to know that our
+echoing step will track us along stair and corridor, and that through
+the thin streaks of light between the shutters phantoms of the absent
+will flit or hover, while the dimly descried objects of the room will
+bring memories of bright mornings and of happy eves? It is strange
+to measure the sadness of this effect upon us when caused even by the
+aspect of houses which we frequented not as friends but mere visitors;
+just as the sight of death thrills us, even though we had not loved the
+departed in his lifetime. But so it is: there is unutterable bitterness
+attached to the past, and there is no such sorrow as over the bygone!
+
+All about the little cottage was silent and desolate; even the shrill
+peacock, so wont to announce the coming stranger with his cry, sat
+voiceless and brooding on a branch; and except the dull flow of the
+river, not a sound was heard. After tapping lightly at the door and
+peering through the partially closed shutters, Conyers turned towards
+the garden at the back, passing as he went his favorite seat under the
+great sycamore-tree. It was not a widely separated "long ago" since
+he had sat there, and yet how different had life become to him in the
+interval! With what a protective air he had talked to poor Tom on
+that spot,--how princely were the promises of his patronage, yet not
+exaggerated beyond his conscious power of performance! He hurried on,
+and came to the little wicket of the garden; it was open, and he
+passed in. A spade in some fresh-turned earth showed where some one had
+recently been at work, but still, as he went, he could find none. Alley
+after alley did he traverse, but to no purpose; and at last, in his
+ramblings, he came to a little copse which separated the main garden
+from a small flower-plat, known as Miss Dinah's, and on which the
+windows of her own little sitting-room opened. He had but seen this spot
+from the windows, and never entered it; indeed, it was a sort of sacred
+enclosure, within which the profane step of man was not often permitted
+to intrude. Nor was Conyers without a sting of self-reproach as he now
+passed in. He had not gone many steps when the reason of the seclusion
+seemed revealed to him. It was a small obelisk of white marble under a
+large willow-tree, bearing for inscription on its side, "To the Memory
+of George Barrington, the Truehearted, the Truthful, and the Brave,
+killed on the 19th February, 18--, at Agra, in the East Indies."
+
+How strange that he should be standing there beside the tomb of his
+father's dearest friend, his more than brother! That George who shared
+his joys and perils, the comrade of his heart! No two men had ever lived
+in closer bonds of affection, and yet somehow of all that love he had
+never heard his father speak, nor of the terrible fate that befell his
+friend had one syllable escaped him. "Who knows if friendships ever
+survive early manhood?" said Fred, bitterly, as he sat himself down
+at the base of the monument: "and yet might not this same George
+Barrington, had he lived, been of priceless value to my father now? Is
+it not some such manly affection, such generous devotion as his, that he
+may stand in need of?" Thus thinking, his imagination led him over the
+wide sea to that far-distant land of his childhood, and scenes of vast
+arid plains and far-away mountains, and wild ghauts, and barren-looking
+nullahs, intersected with yellow, sluggish streams, on whose muddy shore
+the alligator basked, rose before him, contrasted with the gorgeous
+splendors of retinue and the glittering host of gold-adorned followers.
+It was in a vision of grand but dreary despotism, power almost
+limitless, but without one ray of enjoyment, that he lost himself and
+let the hours glide by. At length, as though dreamily, he thought he
+was listening to some faint but delicious music; sounds seemed to come
+floating towards him through the leaves, as if meant to steep him in a
+continued languor, and imparted a strange half-fear that he was under a
+spell. With an effort he aroused himself and sprang to his legs; and now
+he could plainly perceive that the sounds came through an open window,
+where a low but exquisitely sweet voice was singing to the accompaniment
+of a piano. The melody was sad and plaintive; the very words came
+dropping slowly, like the drops of a distilled grief; and they sank into
+his heart with a feeling of actual poignancy, for they were as though
+steeped in sorrow. When of a sudden the singer ceased, the hands ran
+boldly, almost wildly, over the keys; one, two, three great massive
+chords were struck, and then, in a strain joyous as the skylark, the
+clear voice carolled forth with,--
+
+     "But why should we mourn for the grief of the morrow?
+     Who knows in what frame it may find us?
+     Meeker, perhaps, to bend under our sorrow,
+     Or more boldly to fling it behind us."
+
+And then, with a loud bang, the piano was closed, and Polly Dill,
+swinging her garden hat by its ribbon, bounded forth into the walk,
+calling for her terrier, Scratch, to follow.
+
+"Mr. Conyers here!" cried she, in astonishment. "What miracle could have
+led you to this spot?"
+
+"To meet you."
+
+"To meet me!"
+
+"With no other object. I came from Kilkenny this morning expressly
+to see you, and learning at your house that you had come on here, I
+followed. You still look astonished,--incredulous--"
+
+"Oh, no; not incredulous, but very much astonished. I am, it is true,
+sufficiently accustomed to find myself in request in my own narrow home
+circle, but that any one out of it should come three yards--not to say
+three miles--to speak to me, is, I own, very new and very strange."
+
+"Is not this profession of humility a little--a very little--bit of
+exaggeration, Miss Dill?"
+
+"Is not the remark you have made on it a little--a very little--bit of a
+liberty, Mr. Conyers?"
+
+So little was he prepared for this retort that he flushed up to his
+forehead, and for an instant was unable to recover himself: meanwhile,
+she was busy in rescuing Scratch from a long bramble that had most
+uncomfortably associated itself with his tail, in gratitude for which
+service the beast jumped up on her with all the uncouth activity of his
+race.
+
+"He at least, Miss Dill, can take liberties unrebuked," said Conyers,
+with irritation.
+
+"We are very old friends, sir, and understand each other's humors,
+not to say that Scratch knows well he 'd be tied up if he were to
+transgress."
+
+Conyers smiled; an almost irresistible desire to utter a smartness
+crossed his mind, and he found it all but impossible to resist saying
+something about accepting the bonds if he could but accomplish the
+transgression; but he bethought in time how unequal the war of banter
+would be between them, and it was with a quiet gravity he began: "I came
+to speak to you about Tom--"
+
+"Why, is that not all off? Colonel Hunter represented the matter so
+forcibly to my father, put all the difficulties so clearly before him,
+that I actually wrote to my brother, who had started for Dublin, begging
+him on no account to hasten the day of his examination, but to come home
+and devote himself carefully to the task of preparation."
+
+"It is true, the Colonel never regarded the project as I did, and saw
+obstacles to its success which never occurred to me; with all that,
+however, he never convinced me I was wrong."
+
+"Perhaps not always an easy thing to do," said she, dryly.
+
+"Indeed! You seem to have formed a strong opinion on the score of my
+firmness."
+
+"I was expecting you to say obstinacy," said she, laughing, "and was
+half prepared with a most abject retractation. At all events, I was
+aware that you did not give way."
+
+"And is the quality such a bad one?"
+
+"Just as a wind may be said to be a good or a bad one; due west, for
+instance, would be very unfavorable if you were bound to New York."
+
+It was the second time he had angled for a compliment, and failed;
+and he walked along at her side, fretful and discontented. "I begin to
+suspect," said he, at last, "that the Colonel was far more eager to make
+himself agreeable here than to give fair play to my reasons."
+
+"He was delightful, if you mean that; he possesses the inestimable boon
+of good spirits, which is the next thing to a good heart."
+
+"You don't like depressed people, then?"
+
+"I won't say I dislike, but I dread them. The dear friends who go about
+with such histories of misfortune and gloomy reflections on every one's
+conduct always give me the idea of a person who should carry with him
+a watering-pot to sprinkle his friends in this Irish climate, where it
+rains ten months out of the twelve. There is a deal to like in life,--a
+deal to enjoy, as well as a deal to see and to do; and the spirit which
+we bring to it is even of more moment than the incidents that befall
+us."
+
+"That was the burden of your song awhile ago," said he, smiling; "could
+I persuade you to sing it again?"
+
+"What are you dreaming of, Mr. Conyers? Is not this meeting here--this
+strolling about a garden with a young gentleman, a Hussar!--compromising
+enough, not to ask me to sit down at a piano and sing for him? Indeed,
+the only relief my conscience gives me for the imprudence of this
+interview is the seeing how miserable it makes _you_."
+
+"Miserable!--makes _me_ miserable!"
+
+"Well, embarrassed,--uncomfortable,--ill at ease; I don't care for the
+word. You came here to say a variety of things, and you don't like to
+say them. You are balked in certain very kind intentions towards us, and
+you don't know how very little of even intended good nature has befallen
+us in life to make us deeply your debtor for the mere project. Why, your
+very notice of poor Tom has done more to raise him in his own esteem and
+disgust him with low associates than all the wise arguments of all his
+family. There, now, if you have not done us all the good you meant, be
+satisfied with what you really have done."
+
+"This is very far short of what I intended."
+
+"Of course it is; but do not dwell upon that. I have a great stock of
+very fine intentions, too, but I shall not be in the least discouraged
+if I find them take wing and leave me."
+
+"What would you do then?"
+
+"Raise another brood. They tell us that if one seed of every million
+of acorns should grow to be a tree, all Europe would be a dense forest
+within a century. Take heart, therefore, about scattered projects; fully
+their share of them come to maturity. Oh dear! what a dreary sigh you
+gave! Don't you imagine yourself very unhappy?"
+
+"If I did, I'd scarcely come to you for sympathy, certainly," said he,
+with a half-bitter smile.
+
+"You are quite right there; not but that I could really condole with
+some of what I opine are your great afflictions: for instance, I could
+bestow very honest grief on that splint that your charger has just
+thrown out on his back tendon; I could even cry over the threatened
+blindness of that splendid steeple-chaser; but I 'd not fret about the
+way your pelisse was braided, nor because your new phaeton made so much
+noise with the axles."
+
+"By the way," said Conyers, "I have such a horse to show you! He is in
+the village. Might I drive him up here? Would you allow me to take you
+back?"
+
+"Not on any account, sir! I have grave misgivings about talking to you
+so long here, and I am mainly reconciled by remembering how disagreeable
+I have proved myself."
+
+"How I wish I had your good spirits!"
+
+"Why don't you rather wish for my fortunate lot in life,--so secure from
+casualties, so surrounded with life's comforts, so certain to attach to
+it consideration and respect? Take my word for it, Mr. Conyers, your
+own position is not utterly wretched; it is rather a nice thing to be
+a Lieutenant of Hussars, with good health, a good fortune, and a fair
+promise of mustachios. There, now, enough of impertinence for one day.
+I have a deal to do, and you 'll not help me to do it. I have a whole
+tulip-bed to transplant, and several trees to remove, and a new walk to
+plan through the beech shrubbery, not to speak of a change of domicile
+for the pigs,--if such creatures can be spoken of in your presence. Only
+think, three o'clock, and that weary Darby not got back from his dinner!
+has it ever occurred to you to wonder at the interminable time people
+can devote to a meal of potatoes?"
+
+"I cannot say that I have thought upon the matter."
+
+"Pray do so, then; divide the matter, as a German would, into all
+its 'Bearbeitungen,' and consider it ethnologically, esculently,
+and aesthetically, and you'll be surprised how puzzled you 'll be!
+Meanwhile, would you do me a favor?--I mean a great favor."
+
+"Of course I will; only say what it is."
+
+"Well; but I 'm about to ask more than you suspect."
+
+"I do not retract. I am ready."
+
+"What I want, then, is that you should wheel that barrow-ful of mould
+as far as the melon-bed. I 'd have done it myself if you had not been
+here."
+
+With a seriousness which cost him no small effort to maintain, Conyers
+addressed himself at once to the task; and she walked along at his side,
+with a rake over her shoulder, talking with the same cool unconcern she
+would have bestowed on Darby.
+
+"I have often told Miss Barrington," said she, "that our rock melons
+were finer than hers, because we used a peculiar composite earth, into
+which ash bark and soot entered,--what you are wheeling now, in fact,
+however hurtful it may be to your feelings. There! upset it exactly on
+that spot; and now let me see if you are equally handy with a spade."
+
+[Illustration: 276]
+
+"I should like to know what my wages are to be after all this," said he,
+as he spread the mould over the bed.
+
+"We give boys about eightpence a day."
+
+"Boys! what do you mean by boys?"
+
+"Everything that is not married is boy in Ireland; so don't be angry, or
+I 'll send you off. Pick up those stones, and throw these dock-weeds to
+one side."
+
+"You 'll send me a melon, at least, of my own raising, won't you?"
+
+"I won't promise; Heaven knows where you'll be--where I 'll be, by that
+time! Would _you_ like to pledge yourself to anything on the day the
+ripe fruit shall glow between those pale leaves?"
+
+"Perhaps I might," said he, stealing a half-tender glance towards her.
+
+"Well, I would not," said she, looking him full and steadfastly in the
+face.
+
+"Then that means you never cared very much for any one?"
+
+"If I remember aright, you were engaged as a gardener, not as father
+confessor. Now, you are really not very expert at the former; but you
+'ll make sad work of the latter."
+
+"You have not a very exalted notion of my tact, Miss Dill."
+
+"I don't know,--I'm not sure; I suspect you have at least what the
+French call 'good dispositions.' You took to your wheelbarrow very
+nicely, and you tried to dig--as little like a gentleman as need be."
+
+"Well, if this does not bate Banagher, my name is n't Darby!" exclaimed
+a rough voice, and a hearty laugh followed his words. "By my conscience,
+Miss Polly, it's only yerself could do it; and it's truth they say of
+you, you 'd get fun out of an archdaycon!"
+
+Conyers flung away his spade, and shook the mould from his boots in
+irritation.
+
+"Come, don't be cross," said she, slipping her arm within his, and
+leading him away; "don't spoil a very pleasant little adventure by ill
+humor. If these melons come to good, they shall be called after you.
+You know that a Duke of Montmartre gave his name to a gooseberry; so be
+good, and, like him, you shall be immortal."
+
+"I should like very much to know one thing," said he, thoughtfully.
+
+"And what may that be?"
+
+"I 'd like to know,--are you ever serious?"
+
+"Not what you would call serious, perhaps; but I 'm very much in
+earnest, if that will do. That delightful Saxon habit of treating all
+trifles with solemnity I have no taste for. I'm aware it constitutes
+that great idol of English veneration, Respectability; but we have not
+got that sort of thing here. Perhaps the climate is too moist for it."
+
+[Illustration: 276]
+
+"I 'm not a bit surprised that the Colonel fell in love with you,"
+blurted he out, with a frank abruptness.
+
+"And did he,--oh, really did he?"
+
+"Is the news so very agreeable, then?"
+
+"Of course it is. I 'd give anything for such a conquest. There 's no
+glory in capturing one of those calf elephants who walk into the snare
+out of pure stupidity; but to catch an old experienced creature who has
+been hunted scores of times, and knows every scheme and artifice, every
+bait and every pitfall, there is a real triumph in that."
+
+"Do I represent one of the calf elephants, then?"
+
+"I cannot think so. I have seen no evidence of your capture--not to add,
+nor any presumption of my own--to engage in such a pursuit. My dear Mr.
+Conyers," said she, seriously, "you have shown so much real kindness to
+the brother, you would not, I am certain, detract from it by one word
+which could offend the sister. We have been the best of friends up to
+this; let us part so."
+
+The sudden assumption of gravity in this speech seemed to disconcert
+him so much that he made no answer, but strolled along at her side,
+thoughtful and silent.
+
+"What are you thinking of?" said she, at last.
+
+"I was just thinking," said he, "that by the time I have reached my
+quarters, and begin to con over what I have accomplished by this same
+visit of mine, I 'll be not a little puzzled to say what it is."
+
+"Perhaps I can help you. First of all, tell me what was your object in
+coming."
+
+"Chiefly to talk about Tom."
+
+"Well, we have done so. We have discussed the matter, and are fully
+agreed it is better he should not go to India, but stay at home here and
+follow his profession, like his father."
+
+"But have I said nothing about Hunter's offer?"
+
+"Not a word; what is it?"
+
+"How stupid of me; what could I have been thinking of all this time?"
+
+"Heaven knows; but what was the offer you allude to?"
+
+"It was this: that if Tom would make haste and get his diploma or
+his license, or whatever it is, at once, and collect all sorts of
+testimonials as to his abilities and what not, that he'd take him out
+with him and get him an assistant-surgeoncy in a regiment, and in time,
+perhaps, a staff-appointment."
+
+"I 'm not very certain that Tom could obtain his diploma at once.
+I 'm quite sure he could n't get any of those certificates you speak
+of. First of all, because he does not possess these same abilities you
+mention, nor, if he did, is there any to vouch for them. We are very
+humble people, Mr. Conyers, with a village for our world; and we
+contemplate a far-away country--India, for instance--pretty much as we
+should do Mars or the Pole-star."
+
+"As to that, Bengal is more come-at-able than the Great Bear," said he,
+laughing.
+
+"For you, perhaps, not for us. There is nothing more common in people's
+mouths than go to New Zealand or Swan River, or some far-away island in
+the Pacific, and make your fortune!--just as if every new and barbarous
+land was a sort of Aladdin's cave, where each might fill his pockets
+with gems and come out rich for life. But reflect a little. First,
+there is an outfit; next, there is a voyage; thirdly, there is need of
+a certain subsistence in the new country before plans can be matured to
+render it profitable. After all these come a host of requirements,--of
+courage, and energy, and patience, and ingenuity, and personal strength,
+and endurance, not to speak of the constitution of a horse, and some
+have said, the heartlessness of an ogre. _My_ counsel to Tom would
+be, get the 'Arabian Nights' out of your head, forget the great Caliph
+Conyers and all his promises, stay where you are, and be a village
+apothecary."
+
+These words were uttered in a very quiet and matter-of-fact way, but
+they wounded Conyers more than the accents of passion. He was angry
+at the cold realistic turn of a mind so devoid of all heroism; he was
+annoyed at the half-implied superiority a keener view of life than
+his own seemed to assert; and he was vexed at being treated as a
+well-meaning but very inconsiderate and inexperienced young gentleman.
+
+"Am I to take this as a refusal," said he, stiffly; "am I to tell
+Colonel Hunter that your brother does not accept his offer?"
+
+"If it depended on me,--yes; but it does not. I 'll write to-night
+and tell Tom the generous project that awaits him; he shall decide for
+himself."
+
+"I know Hunter will be annoyed; he'll think it was through some bungling
+mismanagement of mine his plan has failed; he 'll be certain to say, If
+it was I myself bad spoken toner--"
+
+"Well, there's no harm in letting him think so," said she, laughing.
+"Tell him I think him charming, that I hope he 'll have a delightful
+voyage and a most prosperous career after it, that I intend to read
+the Indian columns in the newspaper from this day out, and will always
+picture him to my mind as seated in the grandest of howdabs on the very
+tallest of elephants, humming 'Rule Britannia' up the slopes of the
+Himalaya, and as the penny-a-liners say, extending the blessings of
+the English rule in India." She gave her hand to him, made a little
+salutation,--half bow, half courtesy,--and, saying "Good-bye," turned
+back into the shrubbery and left him.
+
+He hesitated,--almost turned to follow her; waited a second or two more,
+and then, with an impatient toss of his head, walked briskly to the
+river-side and jumped into his boat. It was a sulky face that he
+wore, and a sulky spirit was at work within him. There is no greater
+discontent than that of him who cannot define the chagrin that consumes
+him. In reality, he was angry with himself, but he turned the whole
+force of his displeasure upon her.
+
+"I suppose she is clever. I 'm no judge of that sort of thing; but, for
+my own part, I'd rather see her more womanly, more delicate. She has not
+a bit of heart, that's quite clear; nor, with all her affectations, does
+she pretend it." These were his first meditations, and after them he
+lit a cigar and smoked it. The weed was a good one; the evening was
+beautifully calm and soft, and the river scenery looked its very best.
+He tried to think of a dozen things: he imagined, for instance, what a
+picturesque thing a boat-race would be in such a spot; he fancied he
+saw a swift gig sweep round the point and head up the stream; he caught
+sight of a little open in the trees with a background of dark rock, and
+he thought what a place for a cottage. But whether it was the "match" or
+the "chalet" that occupied him, Polly Dill was a figure in the picture;
+and he muttered unconsciously, "How pretty she is, what a deal of
+expression those gray-blue eyes possess! She's as active as a fawn, and
+to the full as graceful. Fancy her an Earl's daughter; give her station
+and all the advantages station will bring with it,--what a girl it would
+be! Not that she'd ever have a heart; I'm certain of that. She's as
+worldly--as worldly as--" The exact similitude did not occur; but he
+flung the end of his cigar into the river instead, and sat brooding
+mournfully for the rest of the way.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV. DUBLIN REVISITED
+
+The first stage of the Barringtons' journey was Dublin. They alighted
+at Reynolds's Hotel, in Old Dominick Street, the once favorite resort of
+country celebrities. The house, it is true, was there, but Reynolds had
+long left for a land where there is but one summons and one reckoning;
+even the old waiter, Foster, whom people believed immortal, was gone;
+and save some cumbrous old pieces of furniture,--barbarous relics of bad
+taste in mahogany,--nothing recalled the past. The bar, where once on a
+time the "Beaux" and "Bloods" had gathered to exchange the smart things
+of the House or the hunting-field, was now a dingy little receptacle
+for umbrellas and overcoats, with a rickety case crammed full of
+unacknowledged and unclaimed letters, announcements of cattle fairs, and
+bills of houses to let. Decay and neglect were on everything, and the
+grim little waiter who ushered them upstairs seemed as much astonished
+at their coming as were they themselves with all they saw. It was not
+for some time, nor without searching inquiry, that Miss Dinah discovered
+that the tide of popular favor had long since retired from this quarter,
+and left it a mere barren strand, wreck-strewn and deserted. The house
+where formerly the great squire held his revels had now fallen to be
+the resort of the traveller by canal-boat, the cattle salesman, or the
+priest. While she by an ingenious cross-examination was eliciting these
+details, Barrington had taken a walk through the city to revisit old
+scenes and revive old memories. One needs not to be as old as Peter
+Barrington to have gone through this process and experienced all its
+pain. Unquestionably, every city of Europe has made within such a period
+as five-and-thirty or forty years immense strides of improvement.
+Wider and finer streets, more commodious thoroughfares, better bridges,
+lighter areas, more brilliant shops, strike one on every hand; while the
+more permanent monuments of architecture are more cleanly, more orderly,
+and more cared for than of old. We see these things with astonishment
+and admiration at first, and then there comes a pang of painful
+regret,--not for the old dark alley and the crooked street, or the
+tumbling arch of long ago,--but for the time when they were there, for
+the time when they entered into our daily life, when with them were
+associated friends long lost sight of, and scenes dimly fading away from
+memory. It is for our youth, for the glorious spring and elasticity of
+our once high-hearted spirit, of our lives so free of care, of our days
+undarkened by a serious sorrow,--it is for these we mourn, and to
+our eyes at such moments the spacious street is but a desert, and the
+splendid monument but a whitened sepulchre!
+
+"I don't think I ever had a sadder walk in my life, Dinah," said Peter
+Barrington, with a weary sigh. "'Till I got into the courts of the
+College, I never chanced upon a spot that looked as I had left it.
+There, indeed, was the quaint old square as of old, and the great
+bell--bless it for its kind voice!--was ringing out a solemn call
+to something, that shook the window-frames, and made the very air
+tremulous; and a pale-faced student or two hurried past, and those
+centurions in the helmets,--ancient porters or Senior Fellows,--I forget
+which,--stood in a little knot to stare at me. That, indeed, was like
+old times, Dinah, and my heart grew very full with the memory. After
+that I strolled down to the Four Courts. I knew you 'd laugh, Dinah. I
+knew well you 'd say, 'Was there nothing going on in the King's Bench or
+the Common Pleas?' Well, there was only a Revenue case, my dear, but
+it was interesting, very interesting; and there was my old friend Harry
+Bushe sitting as the Judge. He saw me, and sent round the tipstaff
+to have me come up and sit on the bench with him, and we had many
+a pleasant remembrance of old times--as the cross-examination went
+on--between us, and I promised to dine with him on Saturday."
+
+"And on Saturday we will dine at Antwerp, brother, if I know anything of
+myself."
+
+"Sure enough, sister, I forgot all about it Well, well, where could my
+head have been?"
+
+"Pretty much where you have worn it of late years, Peter Barrington. And
+what of Withering? Did you see him?"
+
+"No, Dinah, he was attending a Privy Council; but I got his address, and
+I mean to go over to see him after dinner."
+
+"Please to bear in mind that you are not to form any engagements,
+Peter,--we leave this to-morrow evening by the packet,--if it was the
+Viceroy himself that wanted your company."
+
+"Of course, dear, I never thought of such a thing. It was only when
+Harry said, 'You 'll be glad to meet Casey and Burrowes, and a few
+others of the old set,' I clean forgot everything of the present, and
+only lived in the long-past time, when life really was a very jolly
+thing."
+
+"How did you find your friend looking?"
+
+"Old, Dinah, very old! That vile wig has, perhaps, something to say to
+it; and being a judge, too, gives a sternness to the mouth and a haughty
+imperiousness to the brow. It spoils Harry; utterly spoils that laughing
+blue eye, and that fine rich humor that used to play about his lips."
+
+"Which _did_, you ought to say,--which did some forty years ago. What
+are you laughing at, Peter? What is it amuses you so highly?"
+
+"It was a charge of O'Grady's, that Harry told me,--a charge to one of
+those petty juries that, he says, never will go right, do what you may.
+The case was a young student of Trinity, tried for a theft, and whose
+defence was only by witnesses to character, and O'Grady said, 'Gentlemen
+of the jury, the issue before you is easy enough. This is a young
+gentleman of pleasing manners and the very best connections, who stole
+a pair of silk stockings, and you will find accordingly.' And what d'ye
+think, Dinah? They acquitted him, just out of compliment to the Bench."
+
+"I declare, brother Peter, such a story inspires any other sentiment
+than mirth to me."
+
+"I laughed at it till my sides ached," said he, wiping his eyes. "I
+took a peep into the Chancery Court and saw O'Connell, who has plenty of
+business, they tell me. He was in some altercation with the Court. Lord
+Manners was scowling at him, as if he hated him. I hear that no day
+passes without some angry passage between them."
+
+"And is it of these jangling, quarrelsome, irritable, and insolent men
+your ideal of agreeable society is made up, brother Peter?"
+
+"Not a doubt of it, Dinah. All these displays are briefed to them.
+They cannot help investing in their client's cause the fervor of their
+natures, simply because they are human; but they know how to leave all
+the acrimony of the contest in the wig-box, when they undress and come
+back to their homes,--the most genial, hearty, and frank fellows in all
+the world. If human nature were all bad, sister, he who saw it closest
+would be, I own, most like to catch its corruption, but it is not so,
+far from it. Every day and every hour reveals something to make a man
+right proud of his fellow-men."
+
+Miss Barrington curtly recalled her brother from these speculations to
+the practical details of their journey, reminding him of much that he
+had to consult Withering upon, and many questions of importance to put
+to him. Thoroughly impressed with the perils of a journey abroad, she
+conjured up a vast array of imaginary difficulties, and demanded special
+instructions how each of them was to be met. Had poor Peter been--what
+he certainly was not--a most accomplished casuist, he might have been
+puzzled by the ingenious complexity of some of those embarrassments.
+As it was, like a man in the labyrinth, too much bewildered to attempt
+escape, he sat down in a dogged insensibility, and actually heard
+nothing.
+
+"Are you minding me, Peter?" asked she, fretfully, at last; "are you
+paying attention to what I am saying?"
+
+"Of course I am, Dinah dear; I'm listening with all ears."
+
+"What was it, then, that I last remarked? What was the subject to which
+I asked your attention?"
+
+Thus suddenly called on, poor Peter started and rubbed his forehead.
+Vague shadows of passport people, and custom-house folk, and waiters,
+and money-changers, and brigands; insolent postilions, importunate
+beggars, cheating innkeepers, and insinuating swindlers were passing
+through his head, with innumerable incidents of the road; and, trying to
+catch a clew at random, he said, "It was to ask the Envoy, her Majesty's
+Minister at Brussels, about a washerwoman who would not tear off my
+shirt buttons--eh, Dinah? wasn't that it?"
+
+"You are insupportable, Peter Barrington," said she, rising in anger. "I
+believe that insensibility like this is not to be paralleled!" and she
+left the room in wrath.
+
+Peter looked at his watch, and was glad to see it was past eight
+o'clock, and about the hour he meant for his visit to Withering. He set
+out accordingly, not, indeed, quite satisfied with the way he had lately
+acquitted himself, but consoled by thinking that Dinah rarely went back
+of a morning on the dereliction of the evening before, so that they
+should meet good friends as ever at the breakfast-table. Withering was
+at home, but a most discreet-looking butler intimated that he had dined
+that day _tete-a-tete_ with a gentleman, and had left orders not to be
+disturbed on any pretext "Could you not at least, send in my name?"
+said Barrington; "I am a very old friend of your master's, whom he would
+regret not having seen." A little persuasion aided by an argument that
+butlers usually succumb to succeeded, and before Peter believed that his
+card could have reached its destination, his friend was warmly shaking
+him by both hands, as he hurried him into the dinner-room.
+
+"You don't know what an opportune visit you have made me, Barrington,"
+said he; "but first, to present you to my friend, Captain Stapylton--or
+Major--which is it?"
+
+"Captain. This day week, the 'Gazette,' perhaps, may call me Major."
+
+"Always a pleasure to me to meet a soldier, sir," said Barrington; "and
+I own to the weakness of saying, all the greater when a Dragoon. My own
+boy was a cavalryman."
+
+"It was exactly of him we were talking," said Withering; "my friend here
+has had a long experience of India, and has frankly told me much I was
+totally ignorant of. From one thing to another we rambled on till we
+came to discuss our great suit with the Company, and Captain Stapylton
+assures me that we have never taken the right road in the case."
+
+"Nay, I could hardly have had such presumption; I merely remarked, that
+without knowing India and its habits, you could scarcely be prepared
+to encounter the sort of testimony that would be opposed to you, or to
+benefit by what might tend greatly in your favor."
+
+"Just so--continue," said Withering, who looked as though he had got an
+admirable witness on the table.
+
+"I'm astonished to hear from the Attorney-General," resumed Stapylton,
+"that in a case of such magnitude as this you have never thought of
+sending out an efficient agent to India to collect evidence, sift
+testimony, and make personal inquiry as to the degree of credit to be
+accorded to many of the witnesses. This inquisitorial process is the
+very first step in every Oriental suit; you start at once, in fact, by
+sapping all the enemy's works,--countermining him everywhere."
+
+"Listen, Barrington,--listen to this; it is all new to us."
+
+"Everything being done by documentary evidence, there is a wide field
+for all the subtlety of the linguist; and Hindostanee has complexities
+enough to gratify the most inordinate appetite for quibble. A learned
+scholar--a Moonshee of erudition--is, therefore, the very first
+requisite, great care being taken to ascertain that he is not in the pay
+of the enemy."
+
+"What rascals!" muttered Barrington.
+
+"Very deep--very astute dogs, certainly, but perhaps not much more
+unprincipled than some fellows nearer home," continued the Captain,
+sipping his wine; "the great peculiarity of this class is, that while
+employing them in the most palpably knavish manner, and obtaining from
+them services bought at every sacrifice of honor, they expect all the
+deference due to the most umblemished integrity."
+
+"I'd see them--I won't say where--first," broke out Barrington; "and I
+'d see my lawsuit after them, if only to be won by their intervention."
+
+"Remember, sir," said Stapylton, calmly, "that such are the weapons
+employed against you. That great Company does not, nor can it afford to,
+despise such auxiliaries. The East has its customs, and the natures of
+men are not light things to be smoothed down by conventionalities. Were
+you, for instance, to measure a testimony at Calcutta by the standard of
+Westminster Hall, you would probably do a great and grievous injustice."
+
+"Just so," said Withering; "you are quite right there, and I have
+frequently found myself posed by evidence that I felt must be
+assailable. Go on, and tell my friend what you were mentioning to me
+before he came in."
+
+"I am reluctant, sir," said Stapylton, modestly, "to obtrude upon you,
+in a matter of such grand importance as this, the mere gossip of
+a mess-table, but, as allusion has been made to it, I can scarcely
+refrain. It was when serving in another Presidency an officer of ours,
+who had been long in Bengal, one night entered upon the question of
+Colonel Barrington's claims. He quoted the words of an uncle--I think
+he said his uncle--who was a member of the Supreme Council, and said,
+'Barrington ought to have known we never could have conceded this right
+of sovereignty, but he ought also to have known that we would rather
+have given ten lacs of rupees than have it litigated.'"
+
+"Have you that gentleman's name?" asked Barrington, eagerly.
+
+"I have; but the poor fellow is no more,--he was of that fatal
+expedition to Beloochistan eight years ago."
+
+"You know our case, then, and what we claim?" asked Barrington.
+
+"Just as every man who has served in India knows it,--popularly,
+vaguely. I know that Colonel Barrington was, as the adopted son of a
+Rajah, invested with supreme power, and only needed the ratification
+of Great Britain to establish a sovereignty; and I have heard"--he laid
+stress on the word "heard"--"that if it had not been for some allegation
+of plotting against the Company's government, he really might ultimately
+have obtained that sanction."
+
+"Just what I have said over and over again?" burst in Barrington. "It
+was the worst of treachery that mined my poor boy."
+
+"I have heard that also," said Stapylton, and with a degree of feeling
+and sympathy that made the old man's heart yearn towards him.
+
+"How I wish you had known him!" said he, as he drew his hand over his
+eyes. "And do you know, sir," said he, warming, "that if I still follow
+up this suit, devoting to it the little that is left to me of life or
+fortune, that I do so less for any hope of gain than to place my poor
+boy before the world with his honor and fame unstained."
+
+"My old friend does himself no more than justice there!" cried
+Withering.
+
+"A noble object,--may you have all success in it!" said Stapylton. He
+paused, and then, in a tone of deeper feeling, added: "It will, perhaps,
+seem a great liberty, the favor I'm about to ask; but remember that,
+as a brother soldier with your son I have some slight claim to approach
+you. Will you allow me to offer you such knowledge as I possess of
+India, to aid your suit? Will you associate me, in fact, with your
+cause? No higher one could there be than the vindication of a brave
+man's honor."
+
+"I thank you with all my heart and soul!" cried the old man, grasping
+his hand. "In my own name, and in that of my poor dear granddaughter, I
+thank you."
+
+"Oh, then, Colonel Barrington has left a daughter? I was not aware of
+that," said Stapylton, with a certain coldness.
+
+"And a daughter who knows no more of this suit than of our present
+discussion of it," said Withering.
+
+In the frankness of a nature never happier than when indulging its own
+candor, Barrington told how it was to see and fetch back with him the
+same granddaughter he had left a spot he had not quitted for years. "She
+'s coming back to a very humble home, it is true; but if you, sir," said
+he, addressing Stapylton, "will not despise such lowly fare as a cottage
+can afford you, and would condescend to come and see us, you shall have
+the welcome that is due to one who wishes well to my boy's memory."
+
+"And if you do," broke in Withering, "you'll see the prettiest cottage
+and the first hostess in Europe; and here 's to her health,--Miss Dinah
+Barrington!"
+
+"I 'm not going to refuse that toast, though I have just passed the
+decanter," said Peter. "Here 's to the best of sisters!"
+
+"Miss Barrington!" said Stapylton, with a courteous bow; and he drained
+his glass to the bottom.
+
+"And that reminds me I promised to be back to tea with her," said
+Barrington; and renewing with all warmth his invitation to Stapylton,
+and cordially taking leave of his old friend, he left the house and
+hastened to his hotel.
+
+"What a delightful evening I have passed, Dinah!" said he, cheerfully,
+as he entered.
+
+"Which means that the Attorney-General gave you a grand review and
+sham fight of all the legal achievements of the term; but bear in mind,
+brother, there is no professional slang so odious to me as the lawyer's,
+and I positively hate a joke which cost six-and-eightpence, or even
+three-and-fourpence." <
+
+"Nothing of this kind was there at all, Dinah! Withering had a friend
+with him, a very distinguished soldier, who had seen much Indian
+service, and entered with a most cordial warmth into poor George's case.
+He knew it,--as all India knows it, by report,--and frankly told us
+where our chief difficulties lay, and the important things we were
+neglecting."
+
+"How generous! of a perfect stranger too!" said she, with a scarcely
+detectable tone of scorn.
+
+"Not--so to say--an utter stranger, for George was known to him by
+reputation and character."
+
+"And who is, I suppose I am to say, your friend, Peter?"
+
+"Captain or Major Stapylton, of the Regent's Hussars?"
+
+"Oh! I know him,--or, rather, I know of him."
+
+"What and how, Dinah? I am very curious to hear this."
+
+"Simply, that while young Conyers was at the cottage he showed me a
+letter from that gentleman, asking him in the Admiral's name, to Cobham,
+and containing, at the same time, a running criticism on the house and
+his guests far more flippant than creditable."
+
+"Men do these things every day, Dinah, and there is no harm in it."
+
+"That all depends upon whom the man is. The volatile gayety of a
+high-spirited nature, eager for effect and fond of a sensation, will
+lead to many an indiscretion; but very different from this is the
+well-weighed sarcasm of a more serious mind, who not only shots his
+gun home, but takes time to sight ere he fires it. I hear that Captain
+Stapylton is a grand, cold, thoughtful man, of five or six-and-thirty.
+Is that so?"
+
+"Perhaps he may be. He 's a splendid fellow to look at, and all the
+soldier. But you shall see for yourself, and I 'll warrant you 'll not
+harbor a prejudice against him."
+
+"Which means, you have asked him on a visit, brother Peter?"
+
+"Scarcely fair to call it on a visit, Dinah," blundered he out, in
+confusion; "but I have said with what pleasure we should see him under
+our roof when we returned."
+
+"I solemnly declare my belief, that if you went to a cattle-show you 'd
+invite every one you met there, from the squire to the pig-jobber,
+never thinking the while that nothing is so valueless as indiscriminate
+hospitality, even if it were not costly. Nobody thanks you,--no one is
+grateful for it."
+
+"And who wants them to be grateful, Dinah? The pleasure is in the
+giving, not in receiving. You see your friends with their holiday faces
+on, when they sit round the table. The slowest and dreariest of them
+tries to look cheery; and the stupid dog who has never a jest in him has
+at least a ready laugh for the wit of his neighbor."
+
+"Does it not spoil some of your zest for this pleasantry to think how it
+is paid for, brother?"
+
+"It might, perhaps, if I were to think of it; but, thank Heaven! it's
+about one of the last things would come into my head. My dear sister,
+there's no use in always treating human nature as if it was sick, for if
+you do, it will end by being hypochondriac!"
+
+"I protest, brother Peter, I don't know where you meet all the good and
+excellent people you rave about, and I feel it very churlish of you that
+you never present any of them to _me!_" And so saying, she gathered her
+knitting materials hastily together, and reminding him that it was past
+eleven o'clock, she uttered a hurried good-night, and departed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI. A VERY SAD GOOD-BYE
+
+Conyers sat alone in his barrack-room, very sad and dispirited.
+Hunter had left that same morning, and the young soldier felt utterly
+friendless. He had obtained some weeks' leave of absence, and already
+two days of the leave had gone over, and he had not energy to set out
+if he had even a thought as to the whither. A variety of plans passed
+vaguely through his head. He would go down to Portsmouth and see Hunter
+off; or he would nestle down in the little village of Inistioge and
+dream away the days in quiet forgetfulness; or he would go over to
+Paris, which he had never seen, and try whether the gay dissipations
+of that brilliant city might not distract and amuse him. The mail from
+India had arrived and brought no letter from his father, and this,
+too, rendered him irritable and unhappy. Not that his father was a good
+correspondent; he wrote but rarely, and always like one who snatched a
+hurried moment to catch a post. Still, if this were a case of emergency,
+any great or critical event in his life, he was sure his father would
+have informed him; and thus was it that he sat balancing doubt against
+doubt, and setting probability against probability, till his very head
+grew addled with the labor of speculation.
+
+It was already late; all the usual sounds of barrack life had subsided,
+and although on the opposite side of the square the brilliant lights of
+the mess-room windows showed where the convivial spirits of the regiment
+were assembled, all around was silent and still. Suddenly there came a
+dull heavy knock to the door, quickly followed by two or three others.
+
+Not caring to admit a visitor, whom, of course, he surmised would be
+some young brother-officer full of the plans and projects of the mess,
+he made no reply to the summons, nor gave any token of his presence. The
+sounds, however, were redoubled, and with an energy that seemed to vouch
+for perseverance; and Conyers, partly in anger, and partly in curiosity,
+went to the door and opened it. It was not till after a minute or two
+that he was able to recognize the figure before him. It was Tom
+Dill, but without a hat or neckcloth, his hair dishevelled, his face
+colorless, and his clothes torn, while from a recent wound in one hand
+the blood flowed fast, and dropped on the floor. The whole air and
+appearance of the young fellow so resembled drunkenness that Conyers
+turned a stern stare upon him as he stood in the centre of the room, and
+in a voice of severity said, "By what presumption, sir, do you dare to
+present yourself in this state before me?"
+
+"You think I'm drunk, sir, but I am not," said he, with a faltering
+accent and a look of almost imploring misery.
+
+"What is the meaning of this state, then? What disgraceful row have you
+been in?"
+
+"None, sir. I have cut my hand with the glass on the barrack-wall, and
+torn my trousers too; but it's no matter, I 'll not want them long."
+
+"What do you mean by all this? Explain yourself."
+
+"May I sit down, sir, for I feel very weak?" but before the permission
+could be granted, his knees tottered, and he fell in a faint on the
+floor. Conyers knelt down beside him, bathed his temples with water, and
+as soon as signs of animation returned, took him up in his arms and laid
+him at full length on a sofa.
+
+In the vacant, meaningless glance of the poor fellow as he looked first
+around him, Conyers could mark how he was struggling to find out where
+he was.
+
+"You are with me, Tom,--with your friend Conyers," said he, holding the
+cold clammy hand between his own.
+
+"Thank you, sir. It is very good of you. I do not deserve it," said he,
+in a faint whisper.
+
+"My poor boy, you mustn't say that; I am your friend. I told you already
+I would be so."
+
+"But you 'll not be my friend when I tell you--when I tell you--all;"
+and as the last word dropped, he covered his face with both his hands,
+and burst into a heavy passion of tears.
+
+"Come, come, Tom, this is not manly; bear up bravely, bear up with
+courage, man. You used to say you had plenty of pluck if it were to be
+tried."
+
+"So I thought I had, sir, but it has all left me;" and he sobbed as if
+his heart was breaking. "But I believe I could bear anything but
+this," said he, in a voice shaken by convulsive throes. "It is the
+disgrace,--that 's what unmans me."
+
+"Take a glass of wine, collect yourself, and tell me all about it."
+
+"No, sir. No wine, thank you; give me a glass of water. There, I
+am better now; my brain is not so hot. You are very good to me, Mr.
+Conyers, but it 's the last time I'll ever ask it,--the very last time,
+sir; but I 'll remember it all my life."
+
+"If you give way in this fashion, Tom, I 'll not think you the
+stout-hearted fellow I once did."
+
+"No, sir, nor am I. I 'll never be the same again. I feel it here. I
+feel as if something gave, something broke." And he laid his hand over
+his heart and sighed heavily.
+
+"Well, take your own time about it, Tom, and let me hear if I cannot be
+of use to you."
+
+"No, sir, not now. Neither you nor any one else can help me now. It's
+all over, Mr. Conyers,--it's all finished."
+
+"What is over,--what is finished?"
+
+"And so, as I thought it would n't do for one like me to be seen
+speaking to you before people, I stole away and climbed over the
+barrack-wall. I cut my hand on the glass, too, but it's nothing. And
+here I am, and here's the money you gave me; I've no need of it now."
+And as he laid some crumpled bank-notes on the table, his overcharged
+heart again betrayed him, and he burst into tears. "Yes, sir, that's
+what you gave me for the College, but I was rejected."
+
+"Rejected, Tom! How was that? Be calm, my poor fellow, and tell me all
+about it quietly."
+
+"I'll try, sir, I will, indeed; and I'll tell you nothing but the truth,
+that you may depend upon." He took a great drink of water, and went
+on. "If there was one man I was afraid of in the world, it was Surgeon
+Asken, of Mercer's Hospital. I used to be a dresser there, and he
+was always angry with me, exposing me before the other students, and
+ridiculing me, so that if anything was done badly in the wards, he 'd
+say, 'This is some of Master Dill's work, is n't it?' Well, sir, would
+you believe it, on the morning I went up for my examination, Dr. Coles
+takes ill, and Surgeon Asken is called on to replace him. I did n't know
+it till I was sent for to go in, and my head went round, and I could n't
+see, and a cold sweat came over me, and I was so confused that when I
+got into the room I went and sat down beside the examiners, and never
+knew what they were laughing at.
+
+"'I have no doubt, Mr. Dill, you 'll occupy one of these places at some
+future day,' says Dr. Willes, 'but for the present your seat is yonder.'
+I don't remember much more after that, till Mr. Porter said, 'Don't be
+so nervous, Mr. Dill; collect yourself; I am persuaded you know what I
+am asking you, if you will not be flurried.' And all I could say was,
+'God bless you for that speech, no matter how it goes with me' and they
+all laughed out.
+
+"It was Asken's turn now, and he began. 'You are destined for the navy,
+I understand, sir?'
+
+"'No, sir; for the army,' said I.
+
+"'From what we have seen to-day, you 'll prove an ornament to either
+service. Meanwhile, sir, it will be satisfactory to the court to have
+your opinion on gun-shot wounds. Describe to us the case of a man
+laboring under the worst form of concussion of the brain, and by what
+indications you would distinguish it from fracture of the base of the
+skull, and what circumstances might occur to render the distinction more
+difficult, and what impossible?' That was his question, and if I was to
+live a hundred years I 'll never forget a word in it,--it's written on
+my heart, I believe, for life.
+
+"'Go on, sir,' said he, 'the court is waiting for you.'
+
+"'Take the case of concussion first,' said Dr. Willes.
+
+"'I hope I may be permitted to conduct my own examination in my own
+manner,' said Asken.
+
+"That finished me, and I gave a groan that set them all laughing again.
+
+"'Well, sir, I 'm waiting,' said Asken. 'You can have no difficulty to
+describe concussion, if you only give us your present sensations.'
+
+"'That's as true as if you swore it,' said I. 'I 'm just as if I had a
+fall on the crown of my head. There's a haze over my eyes, and a ringing
+of bells in my ears, and a feeling as if my brain was too big.'
+
+"'Take my word for it, Mr. Dill,' said he, sneeringly, 'the latter is
+a purely deceptive sensation; the fault lies in the opposite direction.
+Let us, however, take something more simple;' and with that he described
+a splinter wound of the scalp, with the whole integuments torn in
+fragments, and gunpowder and sticks and sand all mixed up with the
+flap that hung down over the patient's face. 'Now,' said he, after ten
+minutes' detail of this,--'now,' said he, 'when you found the man in
+this case, you 'd take out your scalpel, perhaps, and neatly cut away
+all these bruised and torn integuments?'
+
+"'I would, sir,' cried I, eagerly.
+
+"'I knew it,' said he, with a cry of triumph,--'I knew it. I 've no more
+to ask you. You may retire.'
+
+"I got up to leave the room, but a sudden flash went through me, and I
+said out boldly,--
+
+"'Am I passed? Tell me at once. Put me out of pain, for I can't bear any
+more!'
+
+"'If you'll retire for a few minutes,' said the President--
+
+"'My heart will break, sir,' said I, 'if I 'm to be in suspense any
+more. Tell me the worst at once.'
+
+"And I suppose they did tell me, for I knew no more till I found myself
+in the housekeeper's room, with wet cloths on my head, and the money you
+see there in the palm of my hand. _That_ told everything. Many were very
+kind to me, telling how it happened to this and to that man, the first
+time; and that Asken was thought very unfair, and so on; but I just
+washed my face with cold water, and put on my hat and went away home,
+that is, to where I lodged, and I wrote to Polly just this one line:
+'Rejected; I 'm not coming back.' And then I shut the shutters and went
+to bed in my clothes as I was, and I slept sixteen hours without ever
+waking. When I awoke, I was all right. I could n't remember everything
+that happened for some time, but I knew it all at last, and so I went
+off straight to the Royal Barracks and 'listed."
+
+"Enlisted?--enlisted?"
+
+"Yes, sir, in the Forty-ninth Regiment of Foot, now in India, and
+sending off drafts from Cork to join them on Tuesday. It was out of the
+depot at the bridge I made my escape to-night to come and see you once
+more, and to give you this with my hearty blessing, for you were the
+only one ever stood to me in the world,--the only one that let me think
+for a moment I _could_ be a gentleman!"
+
+"Come, come, this is all wrong and hasty and passionate, Tom. You have
+no right to repay your family in this sort; this is not the way to treat
+that fine-hearted girl who has done so much for you; this is but an
+outbreak of angry selfishness."
+
+"These are hard words, sir, very hard words, and I wish you had not said
+them."
+
+"Hard or not, you deserve them; and it is their justice that wounds
+you."
+
+"I won't say that it is _not_, sir. But it isn't justice I 'm asking
+for, but forgiveness. Just one word out of your mouth to say, 'I 'm
+sorry for you, Tom;' or, 'I wish you well.'"
+
+"So I do, my poor fellow, with all my heart," cried Con-yers, grasping
+his hand and pressing it cordially, "and I 'll get you out of this
+scrape, cost what it may."
+
+"If you mean, sir, that I am to get my discharge, it's better to tell
+the truth at once. I would n't take it. No, sir, I 'll stand by what I
+'ve done. I see I never could be a doctor, and I have my doubts, too, if
+I ever could be a gentleman; but there's something tells me I could be a
+soldier, and I'll try."
+
+Conyers turned from him with an impatient gesture, and walked the room
+in moody silence.
+
+"I know well enough, sir," continued Tom, "what every one will say;
+perhaps you yourself are thinking it this very minute: 'It 's all out of
+his love of low company he 's gone and done this; he's more at home with
+those poor ignorant boys there than he would be with men of education
+and good manners.' Perhaps it's true, perhaps it is 'n't! But there 's
+one thing certain, which is, that I 'll never try again to be anything
+that I feel is clean above me, and I 'll not ask the world to give me
+credit for what I have not the least pretension to."
+
+"Have you reflected," said Conyers, slowly, "that if you reject my
+assistance now, it will be too late to ask for it a few weeks, or even a
+few days hence?"
+
+"I _have_ thought of all that, sir. I 'll never trouble you about myself
+again."
+
+"My dear Tom," said Conyers, as he laid his arm on the other's shoulder,
+"just think for one moment of all the misery this step will cause your
+sister,--that kind, true-hearted sister, who has behaved so nobly by
+you."
+
+"I have thought of that, too, sir; and in my heart I believe, though she
+'ll fret herself at first greatly, it will all turn out best in the end.
+What could I ever be but a disgrace to her? Who 'd ever think the same
+of Polly after seeing _me?_ Don't I bring her down in spite of herself;
+and is n't it a hard trial for her to be a lady when I am in the same
+room with her? No, sir, I'll not go back; and though I haven't much hope
+in me, I feel I'm doing right."
+
+"I know well," said Conyers, pettishly, "that your sister will throw
+the whole blame on me. She 'll say, naturally enough, _You_ could have
+obtained his discharge,--_you_ should have insisted on his leaving."
+
+"That's what you could not, sir," said Tom, sturdily. "It's a poor heart
+hasn't some pride in it; and I would not go back and meet my father,
+after my disgrace, if it was to cost me my right hand,--so don't say
+another word about it. Good-bye, sir, and my blessing go with you
+wherever you are. I 'll never forget how you stood to me."
+
+"That money there is yours, Dill," said Conyers, half haughtily. "You
+may refuse my advice and reject my counsel, but I scarcely suppose you
+'ll ask me to take back what I once have given."
+
+Tom tried to speak, but he faltered and moved from one foot to the
+other, in an embarrassed and hesitating way. He wanted to say how the
+sum originally intended for one object could not honestly be claimed for
+another; he wanted to say, also, that he had no longer the need of
+so much money, and that the only obligation he liked to submit to was
+gratitude for the past; but a consciousness that in attempting to
+say these things some unhappy word, some ill-advised or ungracious
+expression might escape him, stopped him, and he was silent.
+
+"You do not wish that we should part coldly, Tom?"
+
+"No, sir,--oh, no!" cried he, eagerly.
+
+"Then let not that paltry gift stand in the way of our esteem. Now,
+another thing. Will you write to me? Will you tell me how the world
+fares with you, and honestly declare whether the step you have taken
+to-day brings with it regret or satisfaction?"
+
+"I'm not over-much of a letter-writer," said he, falter-ingly, "but I'll
+try. I must be going, Mr. Conyers," said he, after a moment's silence;
+"I must get back before I'm missed."
+
+"Not as you came, Tom, however. I'll pass you out of the barrack-gate."
+
+As they walked along side by side, neither spoke till they came close to
+the gate; then Conyers halted and said, "Can you think of nothing I can
+do for you, or is there nothing you would leave to my charge after you
+have gone?"
+
+"No, sir, nothing." He paused, and then, as if with a struggle, said,
+"Except you 'd write one line to my sister Polly, to tell her that I
+went away in good heart, that I did n't give in one bit, and that if it
+was n't for thinking that maybe I 'd never see her again--" He faltered,
+his voice grew thick, he tried to cough down the rising emotion, but
+the feeling overcame him, and he burst out into tears. Ashamed at the
+weakness he was endeavoring to deny, he sprang through the gate and
+disappeared.
+
+Conyers slowly returned to his quarters, very thoughtful and very sad.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII. THE CONVENT ON THE MEUSE
+
+While poor Tom Dill, just entering upon life, went forth in gloom and
+disappointment to his first venture, old Peter Barrington, broken by
+years and many a sorrow, set out on his journey with a high heart and a
+spirit well disposed to see everything in its best light and be pleased
+with all around him. Much of this is, doubtless, matter of temperament;
+but I suspect, too, that all of us have more in our power in this way
+than we practise. Barrington had possibly less merit than his neighbors,
+for nature had given him one of those happy dispositions upon which
+the passing vexations of life produce scarcely any other effect than
+a stimulus to humor, or a tendency to make them the matter of amusing
+memory.
+
+He had lived, besides, so long estranged from the world, that life had
+for him all the interests of a drama, and he could no more have felt
+angry with the obtrusive waiter or the roguish landlord than he would
+with their fictitious representatives on the stage. They were, in his
+eyes, parts admirably played, and no more; he watched them with a sense
+of humorous curiosity, and laughed heartily at successes of which he
+was himself the victim. Miss Barrington was no disciple of this school;
+rogues to her were simply rogues, and no histrionic sympathies dulled
+the vexation they gave her. The world, out of which she had lived so
+long, had, to her thinking, far from improved in the mean while. People
+were less deferential, less courteous than of old. There was an indecent
+haste and bustle about everything, and a selfish disregard of one's
+neighbor was the marked feature of all travel. While her brother repaid
+himself for many an inconvenience by thinking over some strange caprice,
+or some curious inconsistency in human nature,--texts for amusing
+afterthought,--she only winced under the infliction, and chafed at every
+instance of cheating or impertinence that befell them.
+
+The wonderful things she saw, the splendid galleries rich in art, the
+gorgeous palaces, the grand old cathedrals, were all marred to her
+by the presence of the loquacious lackey whose glib tongue had to be
+retained at the salary of the "vicar of our parish," and who never
+descanted on a saint's tibia without costing the price of a dinner; so
+that old Peter at last said to himself, "I believe my sister Dinah would
+n't enjoy the garden of Eden if Adam had to go about and show her its
+beauties."
+
+The first moment of real enjoyment of her tour was on that morning when
+they left Namur to drive to the Convent of Bramaigne, about three
+miles off, on the banks of the Meuse. A lovelier day never shone upon a
+lovelier scene. The river, one side guarded by lofty cliffs, was on the
+other bounded by a succession of rich meadows, dotted with picturesque
+homesteads half hidden in trees. Little patches of cultivation, labored
+to the perfection of a garden, varied the scene, and beautiful cattle
+lay lazily under the giant trees, solemn voluptuaries of the peaceful
+happiness of their lot.
+
+Hitherto Miss Dinah had stoutly denied that anything they had seen could
+compare with their own "vale and winding river," but now she frankly
+owned that the stream was wider, the cliffs higher, the trees taller and
+better grown, while the variety of tint in the foliage far exceeded
+all she had any notion of; but above all these were the evidences of
+abundance, the irresistible charm that gives the poetry to peasant
+life; and the picturesque cottage, the costume, the well-stored granary,
+bespeak the condition with which we associate our ideas of rural
+happiness. The giant oxen as they marched proudly to their toil, the
+gay-caparisoned pony who jingled his bells as he trotted by, the peasant
+girls as they sat at their lace cushions before the door, the rosy
+urchins who gambolled in the deep grass, all told of plenty,--that
+blessing which to man is as the sunlight to a landscape, making the
+fertile spots more beautiful, and giving even to ruggedness an aspect of
+stern grandeur.
+
+"Oh, brother Peter, that we could see something like this at home,"
+cried she. "See that girl yonder watering the flowers in her little
+garden,--how prettily that old vine is trained over the balcony,--mark
+the scarlet tassels in the snow-white team,--are not these signs of an
+existence not linked to daily drudgery? I wish our people could be like
+these."
+
+"Here we are, Dinah: there is the convent!" cried Barrington, as a tall
+massive roof appeared over the tree-tops, and the little carriage now
+turned from the high-road into a shady avenue of tall elms. "What a
+grand old place it is! some great seigniorial chateau once on a time."
+
+As they drew nigh, nothing bespoke the cloister. The massive old
+building, broken by many a projection and varied by many a gable, stood,
+like the mansion of some rich proprietor, in a vast wooded lawn. The
+windows lay open, the terrace was covered with orange and lemon trees
+and flowering plants, amid which seats were scattered; and in the rooms
+within, the furniture indicated habits of comfort and even of luxury.
+With all this, no living thing was to be seen; and when Barrington got
+down and entered the hall, he neither found a servant nor any means to
+summon one.
+
+"You'll have to move that little slide you see in the door there," said
+the driver of the carriage, "and some one will come to you."
+
+He did so; and after waiting a few moments, a somewhat ruddy, cheerful
+face, surmounted by a sort of widow's cap, appeared, and asked his
+business.
+
+"They are at dinner, but if you will enter the drawing-room she will
+come to you presently."
+
+They waited for some time; to them it seemed very long, for they never
+spoke, but sat there in still thoughtfulness, their hearts very full,
+for there was much in that expectancy, and all the visions of many
+a wakeful night or dreary day might now receive their shock or their
+support. Their patience was to be further tested; for, when the door
+opened, there entered a grim-looking little woman in a nun's costume,
+who, without previous salutation, announced herself as Sister Lydia.
+Whether the opportunity for expansiveness was rare, or that her especial
+gift was fluency, never did a little old woman hold forth more volubly.
+As though anticipating all the worldly objections to a conventual
+existence, or rather seeming to suppose that every possible thing had
+been actually said on that ground, she assumed the defence the very
+moment she sat down. Nothing short of long practice with this argument
+could have stored her mind with all her instances, her quotations, and
+her references. Nor could anything short of a firm conviction have made
+her so courageously indifferent to the feelings she was outraging,
+for she never scrupled to arraign the two strangers before her for
+ignorance, apathy, worldliness, sordid and poor ambitions, and, last of
+all, a levity unbecoming their time of life.
+
+[Illustration: 304]
+
+"I 'm not quite sure that I understand her aright," whispered Peter,
+whose familiarity with French was not what it had once been; "but if I
+do, Dinah, she 's giving us a rare lesson."
+
+"She's the most insolent old woman I ever met in my life," said his
+sister, whose violent use of her fan seemed either likely to provoke or
+to prevent a fit of apoplexy.
+
+"It is usual," resumed Sister Lydia, "to give persons who are about to
+exercise the awful responsibility now devolving upon you the opportunity
+of well weighing and reflecting over the arguments I have somewhat
+faintly shadowed forth."
+
+"Oh, not faintly!" groaned Barrington.
+
+But she minded nothing the interruption, and went on,--
+
+"And for this purpose a little tract has been composed, entitled 'A
+Word to the Worldling.' This, with your permission, I will place in your
+hands. You will there find at more length than I could bestow--But I
+fear I impose upon this lady's patience?"
+
+"It has left me long since, madam," said Miss Dinah, as she actually
+gasped for breath.
+
+In the grim half-smile of the old nun might be seen the triumphant
+consciousness that placed her above the "mundane;" but she did not
+resent the speech, simply saying that, as it was the hour of recreation,
+perhaps she would like to see her young ward in the garden with her
+companions.
+
+"By all means. We thank you heartily for the offer," cried Barrington,
+rising hastily.
+
+[Illustration: 304]
+
+With another smile, still more meaningly a reproof, Sister Lydia
+reminded him that the profane foot of a man had never transgressed the
+sacred precincts of the convent garden, and that he must remain where he
+was.
+
+"For Heaven's sake! Dinah, don't keep me a prisoner here a moment
+longer than you can help it," cried he, "or I'll not answer for my good
+behavior."
+
+As Barrington paced up and down the room with impatient steps, he could
+not escape the self-accusation that all his present anxiety was scarcely
+compatible with the long, long years of neglect and oblivion he had
+suffered to glide over.
+
+The years in which he had never heard of Josephine--never asked for
+her--was a charge there was no rebutting. Of course he could fall back
+upon all that special pleading ingenuity and self-love will supply about
+his own misfortunes, the crushing embarrassments that befell him, and
+such like. But it was no use, it was desertion, call it how he would;
+and poor as he was he had never been without a roof to shelter her, and
+if it had not been for false pride he would have offered her that refuge
+long ago. He was actually startled as he thought over all this. Your
+generous people, who forgive injuries with little effort, who bear no
+malice nor cherish any resentment, would be angels--downright angels--if
+we did not find that they are just as indulgent, just as merciful to
+themselves as to the world at large. They become perfect adepts in
+apologies, and with one cast of the net draw in a whole shoal of
+attenuating circumstances. To be sure, there will now and then break
+in upon them a startling suspicion that all is not right, and that
+conscience has been "cooking" the account; and when such a moment does
+come, it is a very painful one.
+
+"Egad!" muttered he to himself, "we have been very heartless all this
+time, there's no denying it; and if poor George's girl be a disciple
+of that grim old woman with the rosary and the wrinkles, it is nobody's
+fault but our own." He looked at his watch; Dinah had been gone more
+than half an hour. What a time to keep him in suspense! Of course there
+were formalities,--the Sister Lydia described innumerable ones,--jail
+delivery was nothing to it, but surely five-and-thirty minutes would
+suffice to sign a score of documents. The place was becoming hateful to
+him. The grand old park, with its aged oaks, seemed sad as a graveyard,
+and the great silent house, where not a footfall sounded, appeared a
+tomb. "Poor child! what a dreary spot you have spent your brightest
+years in,--what a shadow to throw over the whole of a lifetime!"
+
+He had just arrived at that point wherein his granddaughter arose before
+his mind a pale, careworn, sorrow-struck girl, crushed beneath the
+dreary monotony of a joyless life, and seeming only to move in a sort
+of dreamy melancholy, when the door opened, and Miss Barrington entered
+with her arm around a young girl tall as herself, and from whose
+commanding figure even the ungainly dress she wore could not take away
+the dignity.
+
+"This is Josephine, Peter," said Miss Dinah; and though Barrington
+rushed forward to clasp her in his arms, she merely crossed hers
+demurely on her breast and courtesied deeply.
+
+"It is your grandpapa, Josephine," said Miss Dinah, half tartly.
+
+The young girl opened her large, full, lustrous eyes, and stared
+steadfastly at him, and then, with infinite grace, she took his hand and
+kissed it.
+
+"My own dear child," cried the old man, throwing his arms around her,
+"it is not homage, it is your love we want."
+
+"Take care, Peter, take care," whispered his sister; "she is very timid
+and very strange."
+
+"You speak English, I hope, dear?" said the old man.
+
+"Yes, sir, I like it best," said she. And there was the very faintest
+possible foreign accent in the words.
+
+"Is n't that George's own voice, Dinah? Don't you think you heard
+himself there?"
+
+"The voice is certainly like him," said Miss Dinah, with a marked
+emphasis.
+
+"And so are--no, not her eyes, but her brow, Dinah. Yes, darling, you
+have his own frank look, and I feel sure you have his own generous
+nature."
+
+"They say I'm like my mother's picture," said she, unfastening a locket
+she wore from its chain and handing it. And both Peter and his sister
+gazed eagerly at the miniature. It was of a very dark but handsome woman
+in a rich turban, and who, though profusely ornamented with costly gems,
+did, in reality, present a resemblance to the cloistered figure before
+them.
+
+"Am I like her?" asked the girl, with a shade more of earnestness in her
+voice.
+
+"You are, darling; but like your father, too, and every word you utter
+brings back his memory; and see, Dinah, if that is n't George's old
+trick,--to lay one hand in the palm of the other."
+
+As if corrected, the young girl dropped her arms to her sides and stood
+like a statue.
+
+"Be like him in everything, dearest child," said the old man, "if you
+would have my heart all your own."
+
+"I must be what I am," said she, solemnly.
+
+"Just so, Josephine; well said, my good girl. Be natural," said Miss
+Dinah, kissing her, "and our love will never fail you."
+
+There was the faintest little smile of acknowledgment to this speech;
+but faint as it was, it dimpled her cheek, and seemed to have left
+a pleasant expression on her face, for old Peter gazed on her with
+increased delight as he said, "That was George's own smile; just the
+way he used to look, half grave, half merry. Oh, how you bring him back
+tome!"
+
+"You see, my dear child, that you are one of us; let us hope you will
+share in the happiness this gives us."
+
+The girl listened attentively to Miss Dinah's words, and after a pause
+of apparent thought over them, said, "I will hope so."
+
+"May we leave this, Dinah? Are we free to get away?" whispered
+Barrington to his sister, for an unaccountable oppression seemed to
+weigh on him, both from the place and its belongings.
+
+"Yes; Josephine has only one good-bye to say; her trunks are already on
+the carriage, and there is nothing more to detain us."
+
+"Go and say that farewell, dear child," said he, affectionately; "and be
+speedy, for there are longing hearts here to wish for your return."
+
+With a grave and quiet mien she walked away, and as she gained the
+door turned round and made a deep, respectful courtesy,--a movement so
+ceremonious that the old man involuntarily replied to it by a bow as
+deep and reverential.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII. GEORGE'S DAUGHTER
+
+I suppose, nay, I am certain, that the memory of our happiest moments
+ought ever to be of the very faintest and weakest, since, could we
+recall them in all their fulness and freshness, the recollection would
+only serve to deepen the gloom of age, and imbitter all its daily
+trials. Nor is it, altogether, a question of memory! It is in the very
+essence of happiness to be indescribable. Who could impart in words the
+simple pleasure he has felt as he lay day-dreaming in the deep grass,
+lulled by the humming insect, or the splash of falling water, with
+teeming fancy peopling the space around, and blending the possible with
+the actual? The more exquisite the sense of enjoyment, the more will
+it defy delineation. And so, when we come to describe the happiness of
+others, do we find our words weak, and our attempt mere failure.
+
+It is in this difficulty that I now find myself. I would tell, if I
+could, how enjoyably the Barringtons sauntered about through the old
+villages on the Rhine and up the Moselle, less travelling than strolling
+along in purposeless indolence, resting here, and halting there, always
+interested, always pleased. It was strange into what perfect harmony
+these three natures--unlike as they were--blended!
+
+Old Peter's sympathies went with all things human, and he loved to watch
+the village life and catch what he could of its ways and instincts. His
+sister, to whom the love of scenery was a passion, never wearied of the
+picturesque land they travelled; and as for Josephine, she was no longer
+the demure pensionnaire of the convent,--thoughtful and reserved,
+even to secrecy,--but a happy child, revelling in a thousand senses of
+enjoyment, and actually exulting in the beauty of all she saw around
+her. What depression must come of captivity, when even its faintest
+image, the cloister, could have weighed down a heart like hers! Such was
+Barrington's thought as he beheld her at play with the peasant children,
+weaving garlands for a village _fete_, or joyously joining the chorus of
+a peasant song. There was, besides, something singularly touching in the
+half-consciousness of her freedom, when recalled for an instant to the
+past by the tinkling bell of a church. She would seem to stop in her
+play, and bethink her how and why she was there, and then, with a cry of
+joy, bound away after her companions in wild delight.
+
+"Dearest aunt," said she, one day, as they sat on a rocky ledge over the
+little river that traverses the Lahnech, "shall I always find the same
+enjoyment in life that I feel now, for it seems to me this is a measure
+of happiness that could not endure?"
+
+"Some share of this is owing to contrast, Fifine. Your convent life had
+not too many pleasures."
+
+"It was, or rather it seems to me now, as I look back, a long and weary
+dream; but, at the same time, it appears more real than this; for do
+what I may I cannot imagine this to be the world of misery and sorrow
+I have heard so much of. Can any one fancy a scene more beautiful than
+this before us? Where is the perfume more exquisite than these violets
+I now crush in my hand? The peasants, as they salute us, look happy and
+contented. Is it, then, only in great cities that men make each other
+miserable?"
+
+Dinah shook her head, but did not speak.
+
+"I am so glad grandpapa does not live in a city. Aunt, I am never
+wearied of hearing you talk of that dear cottage beside the river; and
+through all my present delight I feel a sense of impatience to be there,
+to be at 'home.'"
+
+"So that you will not hold us to our pledge to bring you back to
+Bramaigne, Fifine," said Miss Dinah, smiling.
+
+"Oh no, no! Not if you will let me live with you. Never!"
+
+"But you have been happy up to this, Fifine? You have said over and
+over again that your convent life was dear to you, and all its ways
+pleasant."
+
+"It is just the same change to me to live as I now do, as in my heart
+I feel changed after reading out one of those delightful stories to
+grandpapa,--Rob Roy, for instance. It all tells of a world so much more
+bright and beautiful than I know of, that it seems as though new senses
+were given to me. It is so strange and so captivating, too, to hear of
+generous impulses, noble devotion,--of faith that never swerved, and
+love that never faltered.
+
+"In novels, child; these were in novels."
+
+"True, aunt; but they had found no place there had they been incredible;
+at least, it is clear that he who tells the tale would have us believe
+it to be true."
+
+Miss Dinah had not been a convert to her brother's notions as to
+Fifine's readings; and she was now more disposed to doubt than ever. To
+overthrow of a sudden, as though by a great shock, all the stem realism
+of a cloister existence, and supply its place with fictitious incidents
+and people, seemed rash and perilous; but old Peter only thought of
+giving a full liberty to the imprisoned spirit,--striking off chain and
+fetter, and setting the captive free,--free in all the glorious liberty
+of a young imagination.
+
+"Well, here comes grandpapa," said Miss Dinah, "and, if I don't mistake,
+with a book in his hand for one of your morning readings."
+
+Josephine ran eagerly to meet him, and, fondly drawing her arm within
+his own, came back at his side.
+
+"The third volume, Fifine, the third volume," said he, holding the
+book aloft. "Only think, child, what fates are enclosed within a
+third volume! What a deal of happiness or long-living misery are here
+included!"
+
+[Illustration: 312]
+
+She straggled to take the book from his hand, but he evaded her grasp,
+and placed it in his pocket, saying,--
+
+"Not till evening, Fifine. I am bent on a long ramble up the Glen this
+morning, and you shall tell me all about the sisterhood, and sing me one
+of those little Latin canticles I'm so fond of."
+
+"Meanwhile, I 'll go and finish my letter to Polly Dill. I told her,
+Peter, that by Thursday next, or Friday, she might expect us."
+
+"I hope so, with all my heart; for, beautiful as all this is, it wants
+the greatest charm,--it's not home! Then I want, besides, to see Fifine
+full of household cares."
+
+"Feeding the chickens instead of chasing the butterflies, Fifine.
+Totting up the house-bills, in lieu of sighing over 'Waverley.'"
+
+"And, if I know Fifine, she will be able to do one without relinquishing
+the other," said Peter, gravely. "Our daily life is all the more
+beautiful when it has its landscape reliefs of light and shadow."
+
+"I think I could, too," cried Fifine, eagerly. "I feel as though I could
+work in the fields and be happy, just in the conscious sense of doing
+what it was good to do, and what others would praise me for."
+
+"There's a paymaster will never fail you in such hire," said Miss Dinah,
+pointing to her brother; and then, turning away, she walked back to the
+little inn. As she drew nigh, the landlord came to tell her that a young
+gentleman, on seeing her name in the list of strangers, had made many
+inquiries after her, and begged he might be informed of her return. On
+learning that he was in the garden, she went thither at once.
+
+"I felt it was you. I knew who had been asking for me, Mr. Conyers,"
+said she, advancing towards Fred with her hand out. "But what strange
+chance could have led you here?"
+
+"You have just said it, Miss Barrington; a chance,--a mere chance. I
+had got a short leave fron| my regiment, and came abroad to wander about
+with no very definite object; but, growing impatient of the wearisome
+hordes of our countrymen on the Rhine, I turned aside yesterday from
+that great high-road and reached this spot, whose greatest charm--shall
+I own it?--was a fancied resemblance to a scene I loved far better."
+
+"You are right. It was only this morning my brother said it was so like
+our own cottage."
+
+"And he is here also?" said the young man, with a half-constraint.
+
+"Yes, and very eager to see you, and ask your forgive ness for his
+ungracious manner to you; not that I saw it, or understand what it could
+mean, but he says that he has a pardon to crave at your hands."
+
+So confused was Conyers for an instant that he made no answer, and when
+he did speak it was falteringly and with embarrassment, "I never could
+have anticipated meeting you here. It is more good fortune than I ever
+looked for."
+
+[Illustration: 312]
+
+"We came over to the Continent to fetch away my grand-niece, the
+daughter of that Colonel Barrington you have heard so much of."
+
+"And is she--" He stopped, and grew scarlet with confusion; but she
+broke in, laughingly,--
+
+"No, not black, only dark-complexioned; in fact, a brunette, and no
+more."
+
+"Oh, I don't mean,--I surely could not have said--"
+
+"No matter what you meant or said. Your unuttered question was one that
+kept occurring to my brother and myself every morning as we journeyed
+here, though neither of us had the courage to speak it. But our wonders
+are over; she is a dear good, girl, and we love her better every day we
+see her. But now a little about yourself. Why do I find you so low and
+depressed?"
+
+"I have had much to fret me, Miss Barrington. Some were things that
+could give but passing unhappiness; others were of graver import."
+
+"Tell me so much as you may of them, and I will try to help you to bear
+up against them."
+
+"I will tell you all,--everything!" cried he. "It is the very moment I
+have been longing for, when I could pour out all my cares before you and
+ask, What shall I do?"
+
+Miss Barrington silently drew her arm within his, and they strolled
+along the shady alley without a word.
+
+"I must begin with my great grief,--it absorbs all the rest," said he,
+suddenly. "My father is coming home; he has lost, or thrown up, I can't
+tell which, his high employment. I have heard both versions of the
+story; and his own few words, in the only letter he has written me, do
+not confirm either. His tone is indignant; but far more it is sad and
+depressed,--he who never wrote a line but in the joyousness of his
+high-hearted nature; who met each accident of life with an undaunted
+spirit, and spurned the very thought of being cast down by fortune. See
+what he says here." And he took a much crumpled letter from his pocket,
+and folded down a part of it "Read that. 'The time for men of my stamp
+is gone by in India. We are as much bygones as the old flint musket or
+the matchlock. Soldiers of a different temperament are the fashion now;
+and the sooner we are pensioned or die off the better. For my own part,
+I am sick of it. I have lost my liver and have not made my fortune,
+and like men who have missed their opportunities, I come away too
+discontented with myself to think well of any one. They fancied that by
+coldness and neglect they might get rid of me, as they did once before
+of a far worthier and better fellow; but though I never had the courage
+that he had, they shall not break _my_ heart.' Does it strike you to
+whom he alludes there?" asked Conyers, suddenly; "for each time that I
+read the words I am more disposed to believe that they refer to Colonel
+Barrington."
+
+"I am sure of it!" cried she. "It is the testimony of a sorrow-stricken
+heart to an old friend's memory; but I hear my brother's voice; let me
+go and tell him you are here." But Barrington was already coming towards
+them.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Conyers!" cried he. "If you knew how I have longed for this
+moment! I believe you are the only man in the world I ever ill treated
+on my own threshold; but the very thought of it gave me a fit of
+illness, and now the best thing I know on my recovery is, that I am here
+to ask your pardon."
+
+"I have really nothing to forgive. I met under your roof with a kindness
+that never befell me before; nor do I know the spot on earth where I
+could look for the like to-morrow."
+
+"Come back to it, then, and see if the charm should not be there still."
+
+"Where 's Josephine, brother?" asked Miss Barrington, who, seeing the
+young man's agitation, wished to change the theme.
+
+"She's gone to put some ferns in water; but here she comes now."
+
+Bounding wildly along, like a child in joyous freedom, Josephine came
+towards them, and, suddenly halting at sight of a stranger, she stopped
+and courtesied deeply, while Conyers, half ashamed at his own unhappy
+blunder about her, blushed deeply as he saluted her. Indeed, their
+meeting was more like that of two awkward timid children than of two
+young persons of their age; and they eyed each other with the distrust
+school boys and girls exchange on a first acquaintance.
+
+"Brother, I have something to tell you," said Miss Barrington, who was
+eager to communicate the news she had just heard of General Conyers; and
+while she drew him to one side, the young people still stood there,
+each seeming to expect the other would make some advance towards
+acquaintanceship. Conyers tried to say some commonplace,--some one of
+the fifty things that would have occurred so naturally in presence of
+a young lady to whom he had been just presented; but he could think of
+none, or else those that _he_ thought of seemed inappropriate. How
+talk, for instance, of the world and its pleasures to one who had been
+estranged from it! While he thus struggled and contended with himself,
+she suddenly started as if with a flash of memory, and said, "How
+forgetful!"
+
+"Forgetful!--and of what?" asked he.
+
+"I have left the book I was reading to grandpapa on the rock where we
+were sitting. I must go and fetch it."
+
+"May I go with you?" asked he, half timidly.
+
+"Yes, if you like."
+
+"And your book,--what was it?"
+
+"Oh, a charming book,--such a delightful story! So many people one
+would have loved to know!--such scenes one would have loved to
+visit!--incidents, too, that keep the heart in intense anxiety, that
+you wonder how he who imagined them could have sustained the thrilling
+interest, and held his own heart so long in terrible suspense!"
+
+"And the name of this wonderful book is--"
+
+"'Waverley.'"
+
+"I have read it," said he, coldly.
+
+"And have you not longed to be a soldier? Has not your heart bounded
+with eagerness for a life of adventure and peril?"
+
+"I am a soldier," said he, quietly.
+
+"Indeed!" replied she, slowly, while her steadfast glance scanned him
+calmly and deliberately.
+
+"You find it hard to recognize as a soldier one dressed as I am, and
+probably wonder how such a life as this consorts with enterprise and
+danger. Is not that what is passing in your mind?"
+
+"Mayhap," said she, in a low voice.
+
+"It is all because the world has changed a good deal since Waverley's
+time."
+
+"How sorry I am to hear it!"
+
+"Nay, for your sake it is all the better. Young ladies have a pleasanter
+existence now than they had sixty years since. They lived then lives of
+household drudgery or utter weariness."
+
+"And what have they now?" asked she, eagerly.
+
+"What have they not! All that can embellish life is around them; they
+are taught in a hundred ways to employ the faculties which give to
+existence its highest charm. They draw, sing, dance, ride, dress
+becomingly, read what may give to their conversation an added elegance
+and make their presence felt as an added lustre."
+
+"How unlike all this was our convent life!" said she, slowly. "The beads
+in my rosary were not more alike than the days that followed each other,
+and but for the change of season I should have thought life a dreary
+sleep. Oh, if you but knew what a charm there is in the changeful year
+to one who lives in any bondage!"
+
+"And yet I remember to have heard how you hoped you might not be taken
+away from that convent life, and be compelled to enter the world," said
+he, with a malicious twinkle of the eye.
+
+"True; and had I lived there still I had not asked for other. But how
+came it that you should have heard of me? I never heard of _you!_"
+
+"That is easily told. I was your aunt's guest at the time she resolved
+to come abroad to see you and fetch you home. I used to hear all her
+plans about you, so that at last--I blush to own--I talked of Josephine
+as though she were my sister."
+
+"How strangely cold you were, then, when we met!" said she, quietly.
+"Was it that you found me so unlike what you expected?"
+
+"Unlike, indeed!"
+
+"Tell me how--tell me, I pray you, what you had pictured me."
+
+"It was not mere fancy I drew from. There was a miniature of you as a
+child at the cottage, and I have looked at it till I could recall every
+line of it."
+
+"Go on!" cried she, as he hesitated.
+
+"The child's face was very serious,--actually grave for childhood,--and
+had something almost stern in its expression; and yet I see nothing of
+this in yours."
+
+"So that, like grandpapa," said she, laughing, "you were disappointed in
+not finding me a young tiger from Bengal; but be patient, and remember
+how long it is since I left the jungle."
+
+Sportively as the words were uttered, her eyes flashed and her cheek
+colored, and Conyers saw for the first time how she resembled her
+portrait in infancy.
+
+"Yes," added she, as though answering what was passing in his mind, "you
+are thinking just like the sisters, 'What years and years it would take
+to discipline one of such a race!' I have heard that given as a reason
+for numberless inflictions. And now, all of a sudden, comes grandpapa
+to say, 'We love you so because you are one of us.' Can you understand
+this?"
+
+"I think I can,--that is, I think I can understand why--" he was going
+to add, "why they should love you;" but he stopped, ashamed of his own
+eagerness.
+
+She waited a moment for him to continue, and then, herself blushing, as
+though she had guessed his embarrassment, she turned away.
+
+"And this book that we have been forgetting,--let us go and search for
+it," said she, walking on rapidly in front of him; but he was speedily
+at her side again.
+
+"Look there, brother Peter,--look there!" said Miss Dinah, as she
+pointed after them, "and see how well fitted we are to be guardians to a
+young lady!"
+
+"I see no harm in it, Dinah,--I protest, I see no harm in it."
+
+"Possibly not, brother Peter, and it may only be a part of your system
+for making her--as you phrase it--feel a holy horror of the convent."
+
+"Well," said he, meditatively, "he seems a fine, frank-hearted young
+fellow, and in this world she is about to enter, her first experiences
+might easily be worse."
+
+"I vow and declare," cried she, warmly, "I believe it is your slipshod
+philosophy that makes me as severe as a holy inquisitor!"
+
+"Every evil calls forth its own correction, Dinah," said he, laughing.
+"If there were no fools to skate on the Serpentine, there had been no
+Humane Society."
+
+"One might grow tired of the task of resuscitating, Peter Barrington,"
+said she, hardly.
+
+"Not you, not you, Dinah,--at least, if I was the drowned man," said
+he, drawing her affectionately to his side; "and as for those young
+creatures yonder, it's like gathering dog-roses, and they 'll stop when
+they have pricked their fingers."
+
+"I'll go and look after the nosegay myself," said she, turning hastily
+away, and following them.
+
+A real liking for Conyers, and a sincere interest in him were the great
+correctives to the part of Dragon which Miss Dinah declared she foresaw
+to be her future lot in life. For years and years had she believed that
+the cares of a household and the rule of servants were the last trials
+of human patience. The larder, the dairy, and the garden were each
+of them departments with special opportunities for deception and
+embezzlement, and it seemed to her that new discoveries in roguery kept
+pace with the inventions of science; but she was energetic and active,
+and kept herself at what the French would call "the level of the
+situation;" and neither the cook nor the dairymaid nor Darby could be
+vainglorious over their battles with her. And now, all of a sudden, a
+new part was assigned her, with new duties, functions, and requirements;
+and she was called on to exercise qualities which had lain long dormant
+and in disuse, and renew a knowledge she had not employed for many a
+year. And what a strange blending of pleasure and pain must have come
+of that memory of long ago! Old conquests revived, old rivalries and
+jealousies and triumphs; glorious little glimpses of brilliant delight,
+and some dark hours, too, of disappointment,--almost despair!
+
+"Once a bishop, always a bishop," says the canon; but might we not with
+almost as much truth say, "Once a beauty, always a beauty"?--not in
+lineament and feature, in downy cheek or silky tresses, but in the
+heartfelt consciousness of a once sovereign power, in that sense of
+having been able to exact a homage and enforce a tribute. And as we see
+in the deposed monarch how the dignity of kingcraft clings to him, how
+through all he does and says there runs a vein of royal graciousness as
+from one the fount of honor, so it is with beauty. There lives through
+all its wreck the splendid memory of a despotism the most absolute, the
+most fascinating of all!
+
+"I am so glad that young Conyers has no plans, Dinah," said Barrington;
+"he says he will join us if we permit him."
+
+"Humph!" said Miss Barrington, as she went on with her knitting.
+
+"I see nothing against it, sister."
+
+"Of course not, Peter," said she, snappishly; "it would surprise me much
+if you did."
+
+"Do _you_, Dinah?" asked he, with a true simplicity of voice and look.
+
+"I see great danger in it, if that be what you mean. And what answer did
+you make him, Peter?"
+
+"The same answer that I make to every one,--I would consult my sister
+Dinah. 'Le Roi s'avisera' meant, I take it, that he 'd be led by a wiser
+head than his own."
+
+"He was wise when he knew it," said she, sententiously, and continued
+her work.
+
+And from that day forth they all journeyed together, and one of them
+was very happy, and some were far more than happy; and Aunt Dinah was
+anxious even beyond her wont.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX. THE RAMBLE
+
+Day after day, week after week rolled on, and they still rambled
+about among the picturesque old villages on the Moselle, almost losing
+themselves in quaint unvisited spots, whose very names were new to them.
+To Barrington and his sister this picture of a primitive peasant life,
+with its own types of costume and custom, had an indescribable charm.
+Though debarred, from his ignorance of their dialect, of anything like
+intercourse with the people, he followed them in their ways with intense
+interest, and he would pass hours in the market-place, or stroll through
+the fields watching the strange culture, and wondering at the very
+implements of their labor. And the young people all this while? They
+were never separate. They read, and walked, and sat together from dawn
+to dark. They called each other Fifine and Freddy. Sometimes she sang,
+and he was there to listen; sometimes he drew, and she was as sure to be
+leaning over him in silent wonder at his skill; but with all this there
+was no love-making between them,--that is, no vows were uttered, no
+pledges asked for. Confidences, indeed, they interchanged, and without
+end. She told the story of her friendless infancy, and the long dreary
+years of convent life passed in a dull routine that had almost barred
+the heart against a wish for change; and he gave her the story of his
+more splendid existence, charming her imagination with a picture of
+that glorious Eastern life, which seemed to possess an instinctive
+captivation for her. And at last he told her, but as a great secret
+never to be revealed, how his father and her own had been the dearest,
+closest friends; that for years and years they had lived together like
+brothers, till separated by the accidents of life. _Her_ father went
+away to a long distant station, and _his_ remained to hold a high
+military charge, from which he was now relieved and on his way back to
+Europe. "What happiness for you, Freddy," cried she, as her eyes ran
+over, "to see him come home in honor! What had I given that such a fate
+were mine!"
+
+For an instant he accepted her words in all their flattery, but the
+hypocrisy was brief; her over-full heart was bursting for sympathy, and
+he was eager to declare that his sorrows were scarcely less than
+her own. "No, Fifine," said he, "my father is coming back to demand
+satisfaction of a Government that has wronged him, and treated him
+with the worst ingratitude. In that Indian life men of station wield an
+almost boundless power; but if they are irresponsible as to the means,
+they are tested by the results, and whenever an adverse issue succeeds
+they fall irrevocably. What my father may have done, or have left
+undone, I know not. I have not the vaguest clew to his present
+difficulty, but, with his high spirit and his proud heart, that he would
+resent the very shadow of a reproof I can answer for, and so I believe,
+what many tell me, that it is a mere question of personal feeling,--some
+small matter in which the Council have not shown him the deference he
+felt his due, but which his haughty nature would not forego."
+
+Now these confidences were not love-making, nor anything approaching to
+it, and yet Josephine felt a strange half-pride in thinking that she had
+been told a secret which Conyers had never revealed to any other; that
+to her he had poured forth the darkest sorrow of his heart, and actually
+confided to her the terrors that beset him, for he owned that his father
+was rash and headstrong, and if he deemed himself wronged would be
+reckless in his attempt at justification.
+
+"You do not come of a very patient stock, then," said she, smiling.
+
+"Not very, Fifine."
+
+"Nor I," said she, as her eyes flashed brightly. "My poor Ayah, who died
+when I was but five years old, used to tell me such tales of my father's
+proud spirit and the lofty way he bore himself, so that I often fancy I
+have seen him and heard him speak. You have heard he was a Rajah?" asked
+she, with a touch of pride.
+
+The youth colored deeply as he muttered an assent, for he knew that she
+was ignorant of the details of her father's fate, and he dreaded any
+discussion of her story.
+
+"And these Rajahs," resumed she, "are really great princes, with power
+of life and death, vast retinues, and splendid armies. To my mind, they
+present a more gorgeous picture than a small European sovereignty with
+some vast Protectorate looming over it. And now it is my uncle," said
+she, suddenly, "who rules there."
+
+"I have heard that your own claims, Fifine, are in litigation," said he,
+with a faint smile.
+
+"Not as to the sovereignty," said she, with a grave look, half rebukeful
+of his levity. "The suit grandpapa prosecutes in my behalf is for
+my mother's jewels and her fortune; a woman cannot reign in the
+Tannanoohr."
+
+There was a haughty defiance in her voice as she spoke, that seemed to
+say, "This is a theme I will not suffer to be treated lightly,--beware
+how you transgress here."
+
+"And yet it is a dignity would become you well," said he, seriously.
+
+"It is one I would glory to possess," said she, as proudly.
+
+"Would you give me a high post, Fifine, if you were on the
+throne?--would you make me Commander-in-Chief of your army?"
+
+"More likely that I would banish you from the realm," said she, with
+a haughty laugh; "at least, until you learned to treat the head of the
+state more respectfully."
+
+"Have I ever been wanting in a proper deference?" said he, bowing, with
+a mock humility.
+
+"If you had been, sir, it is not now that you had first heard of it,"
+said she, with a proud look, and for a few seconds it seemed as though
+their jesting was to have a serious ending. She was, however, the
+earliest to make terms, and in a tone of hearty kindliness said: "Don't
+be angry, Freddy, and I 'll tell you a secret. If that theme be touched
+on, I lose my head: whether it be in the blood that circles in my veins,
+or in some early teachings that imbued my childhood, or long dreaming
+over what can never be, I cannot tell, but it is enough to speak of
+these things, and at once my imagination becomes exalted and my reason
+is routed."
+
+"I have no doubt your Ayah was to blame for this; she must have filled
+your head with ambitions, and hopes of a grand hereafter. Even I myself
+have some experiences of this sort; for as my father held a high post
+and was surrounded with great state and pomp, I grew at a very early
+age to believe myself a very mighty personage, and gave my orders with
+despotic insolence, and suffered none to gainsay me."
+
+"How silly!" said she, with a supercilious toss of her head that made
+Conyers flush up; and once again was peace endangered between them.
+
+"You mean that what was only a fair and reasonable assumption in _you_
+was an absurd pretension in me, Miss Barrington; is it not so?" asked
+he, in a voice tremulous with passion.
+
+"I mean that we must both have been very naughty children, and the
+less we remember of that childhood the better for us. Are we friends,
+Freddy?" and she held out her hand.
+
+"Yes, if you wish it," said he, taking her hand half coldly in his own.
+
+"Not that way, sir. It is _I_ who have condescended; not _you_."
+
+"As you please, Fifine,--will this do?" and kneeling with well-assumed
+reverence, he lifted her hand to his lips.
+
+"If my opinion were to be asked, Mr. Conyers, I would say it would _not_
+do at all," said Miss Dinah, coming suddenly up, her cheeks crimson, and
+her eyes flashing.
+
+"It was a little comedy we were acting, Aunt Dinah," said the girl,
+calmly.
+
+"I beg, then, that the piece may not be repeated," said she, stiffly.
+
+"Considering how ill Freddy played his part, aunt, he will scarcely
+regret its withdrawal."
+
+Conyers, however, could not get over his confusion, and looked perfectly
+miserable for very shame.
+
+"My brother has just had a letter which will call us homeward, Mr.
+Conyers," said Miss Dinah, turning to him, and now using a tone devoid
+of all irritation. "Mr. Withering has obtained some information which
+may turn out of great consequence in our suit, and he wishes to consult
+with my brother upon it."
+
+"I hope--I sincerely hope--you do not think--" he began, in a low voice.
+
+"I do not think anything to your disadvantage, and I hope I never may,"
+replied she, in a whisper low as his own; "but bear in mind, Josephine
+is no finished coquette like Polly Dill, nor must she be the mark of
+little gallantries, however harmless. Josephine, grandpapa has some news
+for you; go to him."
+
+"Poor Freddy," whispered the girl in the youth's ear as she passed,
+"what a lecture you are in for!" "You mustn't be angry with me if I play
+Duenna a little harshly, Mr. Conyers," said Miss Dinah; "and I am
+far more angry with myself than you can be. I never concurred with my
+brother that romance reading and a young dragoon for a companion were
+the most suitable educational means for a young lady fresh from a
+convent, and I have only myself to blame for permitting it."
+
+Poor Conyers was so overwhelmed that he could say nothing; for though
+he might, and with a safe conscience, have answered a direct charge, yet
+against a general allegation he was powerless. He could not say that
+he was the best possible companion for a young lady, though he felt,
+honestly felt, that he was not a bad one. He had never trifled with her
+feelings, nor sought to influence her in his favor. Of all flirtation,
+such as he would have adventured with Polly Dill, for instance, he was
+guiltless. He respected her youth and ignorance of life too deeply to
+take advantage of either. He thought, perhaps, how ungenerous it would
+have been for a man of the world like himself to entrap the affections
+of a young, artless creature, almost a child in her innocence. He was
+rather fond of imagining himself "a man of the world," old soldier, and
+what not,--a delusion which somehow very rarely befalls any but very
+young men, and of which the experience of life from thirty to forty is
+the sovereign remedy. And so overwhelmed and confused and addled was he
+with a variety of sensations, he heard very little of what Miss Dinah
+said to him, though that worthy lady talked very fluently and very well,
+concluding at last with words which awoke Conyers from his half-trance
+with a sort of shock. "It is for these reasons, my dear Mr.
+Conyers,--reasons whose force and nature you will not dispute,--that I
+am forced to do what, were the occasion less important, would be a most
+ungenerous task. I mean, I am forced to relinquish all the pleasure that
+I had promised ourselves from seeing you our guest at the cottage. If
+you but knew the pain I feel to speak these words--"
+
+"There is no occasion to say more, madam," said he; for, unfortunately,
+so unprepared was he for the announcement, its chief effect was to
+wound his pride. "It is the second time within a few months destiny has
+stopped my step on your threshold. It only remains for me to submit to
+my fate, and not adventure upon an enterprise above my means."
+
+"You are offended with me, and yet you ought not," said she,
+sorrowfully; "you ought to feel that I am consulting _your_ interests
+fully as much as ours."
+
+"I own, madam," said he, coldly, "I am unable to take the view you have
+placed before me."
+
+"Must I speak out, then?--must I declare my meaning in all its
+matter-of-fact harshness, and say that your family and your friends
+would have little scruple in estimating the discretion which encouraged
+your intimacy with my niece,--the son of the distinguished and
+highly favored General Conyers with the daughter of the ruined George
+Barring-ton? These are hard words to say, but I have said them."
+
+"It is to my father you are unjust now, Miss Harrington."
+
+"No, Mr. Conyers; there is no injustice in believing that a father loves
+his son with a love so large that it cannot exclude even worldliness.
+There is no injustice in believing that a proud and successful man
+would desire to see his son successful too; and we all know what we call
+success. I see you are very angry with me. You think me very worldly
+and very small-minded; perhaps, too, you would like to say that all the
+perils I talk of are of my own inventing; that Fifine and you could be
+the best of friends, and never think of more than friendship; and that
+I might spare my anxieties, and not fret for sorrows that have no
+existence;--and to all this I would answer, I 'll not risk the chance.
+No, Mr. Conyers, I 'll be no party to a game where the stakes are so
+unequal. What might give _you_ a month's sorrow might cost _her_ the
+misery of a life long."
+
+"I have no choice left me. I will go,--I will go to-night, Miss
+Barrington."
+
+"Perhaps it would be better," said she, gravely, and walked slowly away.
+
+I will not tell the reader what harsh and cruel things Conyers said of
+every one and everything, nor how severely he railed at the world and
+its ways. Lord Byron had taught the youth of that age a very hearty
+and wholesome contempt for all manner of conventionalities, into which
+category a vast number of excellent customs were included, and Conyers
+could spout "Manfred" by heart, and imagine himself, on very small
+provocation, almost as great a man-hater; and so he set off on a long
+walk into the forest, determined not to appear at dinner, and equally
+determined to be the cause of much inquiry, and, if possible, of some
+uneasiness. "I wonder what that old-maid,"--alas for his gallantry,
+it was so he called her,--"what she would say if her harsh, ungenerous
+words had driven me to--" what he did not precisely define, though
+it was doubtless associated with snow peaks and avalanches, eternal
+solitudes and demoniac possessions. It might, indeed, have been some
+solace to him had he known how miserable and anxious old Peter became at
+his absence, and how incessantly he questioned every one about him.
+
+"I hope that no mishap has befallen that boy, Dinah; he was always
+punctual. I never knew him stray away in this fashion before."
+
+"It would be rather a severe durance, brother Peter, if a young
+gentleman could not prolong his evening walk without permission."
+
+"What says Fifine? I suspect she agrees with me."
+
+"If that means that he ought to be here, grandpapa, I do."
+
+"I must read over Withering's letter again, brother," said Miss Dinah,
+by way of changing the subject "He writes, you say, from the Home?"
+
+"Yes; he was obliged to go down there to search for some papers he
+wanted, and he took Stapylton with him; and he says they had two capital
+days at the partridges. They bagged,--egad! I think it was eight or ten
+brace before two o'clock, the Captain or Major, I forget which, being a
+first-rate shot."
+
+"What does he say of the place,--how is it looking?"
+
+"In perfect beauty. Your deputy, Polly, would seem to have fulfilled
+her part admirably. The garden in prime order; and that little spot next
+your own sitting-room, he says, is positively a better flower-show than
+one he paid a shilling to see in Dublin. Polly herself, too, comes in
+for a very warm share of his admiration."
+
+"How did he see her, and where?"
+
+"At the Home. She was there the evening they arrived, and Withering
+insisted on her presiding at the tea-table for them."
+
+"It did not require very extraordinary entreaty, I will make bold to
+say, Peter."
+
+"He does not mention that; he only speaks of her good looks, and what
+he calls her very pretty manners. In a situation not devoid of a certain
+awkwardness he says she displayed the most perfect tact; and although
+doing the honors of the house, she, with some very nice ingenuity,
+insinuated that she was herself but a visitor."
+
+"She could scarce have forgotten herself so far as to think anything
+else, Peter," said Miss Dinah, bridling up. "I suspect her very pretty
+manners were successfully exercised. That old gentleman is exactly of
+the age to be fascinated by her."
+
+"What! Withering, Dinah,--do you mean Withering?" cried he, laughing.
+
+"I do, brother; and I say that he is quite capable of making her the
+offer of his hand. You may laugh, Peter Barrington, but my observation
+of young ladies has been closer and finer than yours." And the
+glance she gave at Josephine seemed to say that her gun had been
+double-shotted.
+
+"But your remark, sister Dinah, rather addresses itself to old gentlemen
+than to young ladies."
+
+"Who are much the more easily read of the two," said she, tartly. "But
+really, Peter, I will own that I am more deeply concerned to know
+what Mr. Withering has to say of our lawsuit than about Polly Dill's
+attractions."
+
+"He speaks very hopefully,--very hopefully, indeed. In turning over
+George's papers some Hindoo documents have come to light, which
+Stapylton has translated, and it appears that there is a certain
+Moonshee, called Jokeeram, who was, or is, in the service of Meer
+Rustum, whose testimony would avail us much. Stapylton inclines to think
+he could trace this man for us. His own relations are principally in
+Madras, but he says he could manage to institute inquiries in Bengal."
+
+"What is our claim to this gentleman's interest for us, Peter?"
+
+"Mere kindness on his part; he never knew George, except from hearsay.
+Indeed, they could not have been contemporaries. Stapylton is not, I
+should say, above five-and-thirty."
+
+"The search after this creature with the horrid name will be, of course,
+costly, brother Peter. It means, I take it, sending some one out to
+India; that is to say, sending one fool after another. Are you prepared
+for this expense?"
+
+"Withering opines it would be money well spent. What he says is this:
+The Company will not willingly risk another inquiry before Parliament,
+and if we show fight and a firm resolve to give the case publicity, they
+will probably propose terms. This Moonshee had been in his service,
+but was dismissed, and his appearance as a witness on our side would
+occasion great uneasiness."
+
+"You are going to play a game of brag, then, brother Peter, well aware
+that the stronger purse is with your antagonist?"
+
+"Not exactly, Dinah; not exactly. We are strengthening our position so
+far that we may say, 'You see our order of battle; would it not be as
+well to make peace?' Listen to what Withering says." And Peter opened a
+letter of several sheets, and sought out the place he wanted.
+
+"Here it is, Dinah. 'From one of these Hindoo papers we learn that Ram
+Shamsoolah Sing was not at the Meer's residence during the feast of the
+Rhamadan, and could not possibly have signed the document to which his
+name and seal are appended. Jokeeram, who was himself the Moon-shee
+interpreter in Luckerabad, writes to his friend Cossien Aga, and
+says--'"
+
+"Brother Peter, this is like the Arabian Nights in all but the
+entertainment to me, and the jumble of these abominable names only
+drives me mad. If you flatter yourself that you can understand
+one particle of the matter, it must be that age has sharpened your
+faculties, that's all."
+
+"I'm not quite sure of that, Dinah," said he, laughing. "I 'm half
+disposed to believe that years are not more merciful to our brains than
+to our ankles; but I'll go and take a stroll in the shady alleys under
+the linden-trees, and who knows how bright it will make me!"
+
+"Am I to go with you, grandpapa?" said the young girl, rising.
+
+"No, Fifine; I have something to say to you here," said Miss Dinah; and
+there was a significance in the tone that was anything but reassuring.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX. UNDER THE LINDEN
+
+That shady alley under the linden-trees was a very favorite walk with
+Peter Barrington. It was a nice cool lane, with a brawling little
+rivulet close beside it, with here and there a dark silent pool for the
+dragon-fly to skim over and see his bronzed wings reflected in the still
+water; and there was a rustic bench or two, where Peter used to sit
+and fancy he was meditating, while, in reality, he was only watching a
+speckled lizard in the grass, or listening to the mellow blackbird over
+his head. I have had occasion once before to remark on the resources of
+the man of imagination, but I really suspect that for the true luxury of
+idleness there is nothing like the temperament devoid of fancy. There is
+a grand breadth about those quiet, peaceful minds over which no shadows
+flit, and which can find sufficient occupation through the senses, and
+never have to go "within" for their resources. These men can sit the
+livelong day and watch the tide break over a rock, or see the sparrow
+teach her young to fly, or gaze on the bee as he dives into the deep cup
+of the foxglove, and actually need no more to fill the hours. For them
+there is no memory with its dark bygones, there is no looming future
+with its possible misfortunes; there is simply a half-sleepy present,
+with soft sounds and sweet odors through it,--a balmy kind of stupor,
+from which the awaking comes without a shock.
+
+When Barrington reached his favorite seat, and lighted his cigar,--it
+is painting the lily for such men to smoke,--he intended to have thought
+over the details of Withering's letter, which were both curious and
+interesting; he intended to consider attentively certain points which,
+as Withering said, "he must master before he could adopt a final
+resolve;" but they were knotty points, made knottier, too, by hard
+Hindoo words for things unknown, and names totally unpronounceable. He
+used to think that he understood "George's claim" pretty well; he had
+fancied it was a clear and very intelligible case, that half a dozen
+honest men might have come to a decision on in an hour's time; but now
+he began to have a glimmering perception that George must have been
+egregiously duped and basely betrayed, and that the Company were not
+altogether unreasonable in assuming their distrust of him. Now, all
+these considerations coming down upon him at once were overwhelming, and
+they almost stunned him. Even his late attempt to enlighten his sister
+Dinah on a matter he so imperfectly understood now recoiled upon him,
+and added to his own mystification.
+
+"Well, well," muttered he, at last, "I hope Tom sees his way through
+it,"--Tom was Withering,--"and if _he_ does, there's no need of my
+bothering _my_ head about it. What use would there be in lawyers if they
+hadn't got faculties sharper than other folk? and as to 'making up my
+mind,' my mind is made up already, that I want to win the cause if he'll
+only show me how." From these musings he was drawn off by watching a
+large pike,--the largest pike, he thought, he had ever seen,--which
+would from time to time dart out from beneath a bank, and after lying
+motionless in the middle of the pool for a minute or so, would, with one
+whisk of its tail, skim back again to its hiding-place. "That fellow has
+instincts of its own to warn him," thought he; "he knows he was n't safe
+out there. _He_ sees some peril that _I_ cannot see; and that ought to
+be the way with Tom, for, after all, the lawyers are just pikes, neither
+more nor less." At this instant a man leaped across the stream, and
+hurriedly passed into the copse. "What! Mr. Conyers--Conyers, is that
+you?" cried Barrington; and the young man turned and came towards him.
+"I am glad to see you all safe and sound again," said Peter; "we waited
+dinner half an hour for you, and have passed all the time since in
+conjecturing what might have befallen you."
+
+"Did n't Miss Barrington say--did not Miss Barrington know--" He stopped
+in deep confusion, and could not finish his speech.
+
+"My sister knew nothing,--at least, she did not tell me any reason for
+your absence."
+
+"No, not for my absence," began he once more, in the same embarrassment;
+"but as I had explained to her that I was obliged to leave this
+suddenly,--to start this evening--"
+
+"To start this evening! and whither?"
+
+"I cannot tell; I don't know,--that is, I have no plans."
+
+"My dear boy," said the old man, affectionately, as he laid his hand on
+the other's arm, "if you don't know where you are going, take my word
+for it there is no such great necessity to go."
+
+"Yes, but there is," replied he, quickly; "at least Miss Barrington
+thinks so, and at the time we spoke together she made me believe she was
+in the right."
+
+"And are you of the same opinion _now?_" asked Peter, with a humorous
+drollery in his eye.
+
+"I am,--that is, I was a few moments back. I mean, that whenever I
+recall the words she spoke to me, I feel their full conviction."
+
+"Come, now, sit down here beside me! It can scarcely be anything I
+may not be a party to. Just let me hear the case like a judge in
+chamber"--and he smiled at an illustration that recalled his favorite
+passion, "I won't pretend to say my sister has not a wiser head--as I
+well know she has a far better heart--than myself, but now and then she
+lets a prejudice or a caprice or even a mere apprehension run away
+with her, and it's just possible it is some whim of this kind is now
+uppermost."
+
+Conyers only shook his head dissentingly, and said nothing.
+
+"Maybe I guess it,--I suspect that I guess it," said Peter, with a sly
+drollery about his mouth. "My sister has a notion that a young man and
+a young woman ought no more to be in propinquity than saltpetre and
+charcoal. She has been giving me a lecture on my blindness, and asking
+if I can't see this, that, and the other; but, besides being the least
+observant of mankind, I'm one of the most hopeful as regards whatever I
+wish to be. Now we have all of us gone on so pleasantly together, with
+such a thorough good understanding--such loyalty, as the French would
+call it--that I can't, for the life of me, detect any ground for
+mistrust or dread. Have n't I hit the blot, Conyers--eh?" cried he, as
+the young fellow grew redder and redder, till his face became crimson.
+
+"I assured Miss Barrington," began he, in a faltering, broken voice,
+"that I set too much store on the generous confidence you extended to
+me to abuse it; that, received as I was, like one of your own blood
+and kindred, I never could forget the frank trustfulness with which you
+discussed everything before me, and made me, so to say, 'One of you.'
+The moment, however, that my intimacy suggested a sense of constraint, I
+felt the whole charm of my privilege would have departed, and it is for
+this reason I am going!" The last word was closed with a deep sigh, and
+he turned away his head as he concluded.
+
+"And for this reason you shall not go one step," said Peter, slapping
+him cordially on the shoulder. "I verily believe that women think the
+world was made for nothing but love-making, just as the crack engineer
+believed rivers were intended by Providence to feed navigable canals;
+but you and I know a little better, not to say that a young fellow with
+the stamp gentleman indelibly marked on his forehead would not think of
+making a young girl fresh from a convent--a mere child in the ways of
+life--the mark of his attentions. Am I not right?"
+
+"I hope and believe you are!"
+
+"Stay where you are, then; be happy, and help us to feel so; and the
+only pledge I ask is, that whenever you suspect Dinah to be a shrewder
+observer and a truer prophet than her brother--you understand me--you'll
+just come and say, 'Peter Barrington, I'm off; good-bye!'"
+
+"There's my hand on it," said he, grasping the old man's with warmth.
+"There's only one point--I have told Miss Barrington that I would start
+this evening."
+
+"She'll scarcely hold you very closely to your pledge."
+
+"But, as I understand her, you are going back to Ireland?"
+
+"And you are coming along with us. Isn't that a very simple
+arrangement?"
+
+"I know it would be a very pleasant one."
+
+"It shall be, if it depend on me. I want to make you a fisherman too.
+When I was a young man, it was my passion to make every one a good
+horseman. If I liked a fellow, and found out that he couldn't ride to
+hounds, it gave me a shock little short of hearing that there was a blot
+on his character, so associated in my mind had become personal dash and
+prowess in the field with every bold and manly characteristic. As I
+grew older, and the rod usurped the place of the hunting-whip, I grew to
+fancy that your angler would be the truest type of a companion; and if
+you but knew," added he, as a glassy fulness dulled his eyes, "what a
+flattery it is to an old fellow when a young one will make a comrade
+of him,--what a smack of bygone days it brings up, and what sunshine it
+lets in on the heart,--take my word for it, you young fellows are never
+so vain of an old companion as we are of a young one! What are you so
+thoughtful about?"
+
+"I was thinking how I was to make this explanation to Miss Barrington."
+
+"You need not make it at all; leave the whole case in my hands. My
+sister knows that I owe you an _amende_ and a heavy one. Let this go
+towards a part payment of it. But here she comes in search of me. Step
+away quietly, and when we meet at the tea-table all will have been
+settled."
+
+Conyers had but time to make his escape, when Miss Barrington came up.
+
+"I thought I should find you mooning down here, Peter," said she,
+sharply. "Whenever there is anything to be done or decided on, a
+Barrington is always watching a fly on a fish-pond."
+
+"Not the women of the family, Dinah,--not the women. But what great
+emergency is before us now?"
+
+"No great emergency, as you phrase it, at all, but what to men like
+yourself is frequently just as trying,--an occasion that requires a
+little tact. I have discovered--what I long anticipated has come to
+pass--Conyers and Fifine are on very close terms of intimacy, which
+might soon become attachment. I have charged him with it, and he has not
+altogether denied it. On the whole he has behaved well, and he goes away
+to-night."
+
+"I have just seen him, Dinah. I got at his secret, not without a little
+dexterity on my part, and learned what had passed between you. We talked
+the thing over very calmly together, and the upshot is--he's not going."
+
+"Not going! not going! after the solemn assurance he gave me!"
+
+"But of which I absolved him, sister Dinah; or rather, which I made him
+retract."
+
+"Peter Barrington, stop!" cried she, holding her hands to her temples.
+"I want a little time to recover myself. I must have time, or I'll not
+answer for my senses. Just reply to one question. I 'll ask you, have
+you taken an oath--are you under a vow to be the ruin of your family?"
+
+"I don't think I have, Dinah. I 'm doing everything for the best."
+
+"If there's a phrase in the language condemns the person that uses it,
+it's 'Doing everything for the best.' What does it mean but a blind,
+uninquiring, inconsiderate act, the work of a poor brain and sickly
+conscience? Don't talk to me, sir, of doing for the best, but do the
+best, the very best, according to the lights that guide you. You know
+well, perfectly well, that Fifine has no fortune, and that this young
+man belongs to a very rich and a very ambitious family, and that to
+encourage what might lead to attachment between them would be to store
+up a cruel wrong and a great disappointment."
+
+"My dear Dinah, you speak like a book, but I don't agree with you."
+
+"You don't. Will you please to state why?"
+
+"In the first place, Dinah, forgive me for saying it, but we men do
+not take _your_ view of these cases. We neither think that love is as
+catching or as dangerous as the smallpox. We imagine that two young
+people can associate together every day and yet never contract a lien
+that might break their hearts to dissolve."
+
+"Talking politics together, perhaps; or the state of the Three per
+Cents?"
+
+"Not exactly that, but talking of fifty other things that interest
+their time of life and tempers. Have they not songs, drawings, flowers,
+landscapes, and books, with all their thousand incidents, to
+discuss? Just remember what that writer who calls himself 'Author of
+Waverley'--what he alone has given us of people to talk over just as if
+we knew them."
+
+"Brother Peter, I have no patience with you. You enumerate one by one
+all the ingredients, and you disparage the total. You tell of the flour,
+and the plums, and the suet, and the candied lemon, but you cry out
+against the pudding! Don't you see that the very themes you leave for
+them all conduce to what you ignore, and that your music and painting
+and romance-reading only lead to love-making? Don't you see this, or are
+you in reality--I didn't want to say it, but you have made me--are you
+an old fool?"
+
+"I hope not, Dinah; but I'm not so sure you don't think me one."
+
+"It's nothing to the purpose whether I do or not," said she; "the
+question is, have you asked this young man to come back with us to
+Ireland?"
+
+"I have, and he is coming."
+
+"I could have sworn to it," said she, with a sudden energy; "and if
+there was anything more stupid, you 'd have done it also." And with this
+speech, more remarkable for its vigor than its politeness, she turned
+away and left him.
+
+Ere I close the chapter and the subject, let me glance, and only glance,
+at the room where Conyers is now standing beside Josephine. She is
+drawing, not very attentively or carefully, perhaps, and he is bending
+over her and relating, as it seems, something that has occurred to him,
+and has come to the end with the words, "And though I was to have gone
+this evening, it turns out that now I am to stay and accompany you to
+Ireland."
+
+"Don't sigh so painfully over it, however," said she, gravely; "for when
+you come to mention how distressing it is, I 'm sure they 'll let you
+off."
+
+"Fifine," said he, reproachfully, "is this fair, is this generous?"
+
+"I don't know whether it be unfair, I don't want it to be generous,"
+said she, boldly.
+
+"In point of fact, then, you only wish for me here to quarrel with, is
+that the truth?"
+
+"I think it better fun disagreeing with you than always saying how
+accurate you are, and how wise, and how well-judging. That atmosphere of
+eternal agreement chokes me; I feel as if I were suffocating."
+
+"It's not a very happy temperament; it's not a disposition to boast of."
+
+"You never did hear me boast of it; but I have heard _you_ very
+vainglorious about your easy temper and your facile nature, which
+were simply indolence. Now, I have had more than enough of that in the
+convent, and I long for a little activity."
+
+"Even if it were hazardous?"
+
+"Even if it were hazardous," echoed she. "But here comes Aunt Dinah,
+with a face as stern as one of the sisters, and an eye that reminds me
+of penance and bread and water; so help me to put up my drawings, and
+say nothing of what we were talking."
+
+"My brother has just told me, Mr. Conyers," said she, in a whisper, "a
+piece of news which it only depends upon you to make a most agreeable
+arrangement."
+
+"I trust you may count upon me, madam," said he, in the same tone, and
+bowed low as he spoke.
+
+"Then come with me and let us talk it over," said she, as she took his
+arm and led him away.
+
+END OF VOL. I.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrington, by Charles James Lever
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRINGTON ***
+
+***** This file should be named 34882.txt or 34882.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/8/34882/
+
+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.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/34882.zip b/34882.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..43d5e41
--- /dev/null
+++ b/34882.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..28524be
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #34882 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/34882)
diff --git a/old/34882-h.htm.2021-01-25 b/old/34882-h.htm.2021-01-25
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..501badb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/34882-h.htm.2021-01-25
@@ -0,0 +1,14499 @@
+<?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>
+    <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" />
+    <title>
+      Barrington, Vol I. 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 Barrington, 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: Barrington
+       Volume I (of II)
+
+Author: Charles James Lever
+
+Illustrator: Phiz.
+
+Release Date: January 8, 2011 [EBook #34882]
+Last Updated: February 27, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRINGTON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<h1>
+BARRINGTON
+</h1>
+<h3>
+Volume I.
+</h3>
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+<h2>
+By Charles James Lever
+</h2>
+<h3>
+With Illustrations By Phiz.
+</h3>
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+<h3>
+Boston: Little, Brown, And Company.
+</h3>
+<h4>
+1907.
+</h4>
+<p>
+<br /> <br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<br /> <br /> <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="100%" alt="Frontispiece " />
+</div>
+<p>
+<br />
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img alt="titlepage (27K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="100%" />
+</div>
+<p>
+<br /> <br /> <br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<br /> <br />
+</p>
+<blockquote>
+<p class="toc">
+<big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE
+FISHERMAN'S HOME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;A
+WET MORNING AT HOME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.
+</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;OUR NEXT NEIGHBORS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004">
+CHAPTER IV. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;FRED CONYERS <br /><br /> <a
+href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;DILL AS A DIPLOMATIST
+<br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE
+DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;TOM
+DILL'S FIRST PATIENT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.
+</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;FINE ACQUAINTANCES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009">
+CHAPTER IX. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;A COUNTRY DOCTOR <br /><br /> <a
+href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;BEING &ldquo;BORED&rdquo; <br /><br />
+<a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;A NOTE TO BE
+ANSWERED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE
+ANSWER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;A
+FEW LEAVES FROM A BLUE-BOOK <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER
+XIV. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;BARRINGTON'S FORD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015">
+CHAPTER XV. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION <br /><br /> <a
+href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;COMING HOME <br /><br />
+<a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;A SHOCK <br /><br />
+<a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;COBHAM <br /><br />
+<a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE HOUR OF
+LUNCHEON <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;AN
+INTERIOR AT THE DOCTOR'S <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER
+XXI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;DARK TIDINGS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022">
+CHAPTER XXII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;LEAVING HOME <br /><br /> <a
+href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE COLONEL'S
+COUNSELS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;CONYERS
+MAKES A MORNING CALL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV.
+</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;DUBLIN REVISITED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026">
+CHAPTER XXVI. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;A VERY SAD GOOD-BYE <br /><br /> <a
+href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE CONVENT ON THE
+MEUSE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. &nbsp;</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;GEORGE'S
+DAUGHTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE
+RAMBLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a>&nbsp;&nbsp;UNDER
+THE LINDEN <br /><br />
+</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>
+<br /> <br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<br /> <br />
+</p>
+<h1>
+BARRINGTON.
+</h1>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER I. THE FISHERMAN'S HOME
+</h2>
+<p>
+If there should be, at this day we live in, any one bold enough to confess
+that he fished the river Nore, in Ireland, some forty years ago, he might
+assist me by calling to mind a small inn, about two miles from the
+confluence of that river with the Barrow, a spot in great favor with those
+who followed the &ldquo;gentle craft.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was a very unpretending hostel, something wherein cottage and farmhouse
+were blended, and only recognizable as a place of entertainment by a tin
+trout suspended over the doorway, with the modest inscription underneath,&mdash;&ldquo;Fisherman's
+Home.&rdquo; Very seldom is it, indeed, that hotel pledges are as honestly
+fulfilled as they were in this simple announcement. The house was, in all
+that quiet comfort and unostentatious excellence can make, a veritable
+Home! Standing in a fine old orchard of pear and damson trees, it was only
+approachable by a path which led from the highroad, about two miles off,
+or by the river, which wound round the little grassy promontory beneath
+the cottage. On the opposite side of the stream arose cliffs of
+considerable height, their terraced sides covered with larch and ash,
+around whose stems the holly, the laurel, and arbutus grew in a wild and
+rich profusion. A high mountain, rugged with rock and precipice, shut in
+the picture, and gave to the river all the semblance of a narrow lake.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Home, as may be imagined, was only resorted to by fishermen, and of
+these not many; for the chosen few who knew the spot, with the
+churlishness of true anglers, were strenuously careful to keep the secret
+to themselves. But another and stronger cause contributed to this
+seclusion. The landlord was a reduced gentleman, who, only anxious to add
+a little to his narrow fortune, would not have accepted a greater
+prosperity at the cost of more publicity, and who probably only consented
+to his occupation on finding how scrupulously his guests respected his
+position.
+</p>
+<p>
+Indeed, it was only on leave-taking, and then far from painfully, you were
+reminded of being in an inn. There was no noise, no bustle; books,
+magazines, flowers, lay about; cupboards lay open, with all their cordials
+free to take. You might dine under the spreading sycamore beside the well,
+and have your dessert for the plucking. No obsequious waiter shook his
+napkin as you passed, no ringleted barmaid crossed your musing steps, no
+jingling of bells, or discordant cries, or high-voiced remonstrances
+disturbed you. The hum of the summer bee, or the flapping plash of a
+trout, were about the only sounds in the stillness, and all was as
+peaceful and as calm and as dreamy as the most world-weary could have
+wished it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Of those who frequented the spot, some merely knew that the host had seen
+better days. Others, however, were aware that Peter Barrington had once
+been a man of large fortune, and represented his county in the Irish
+Parliament. Though not eminent as a politician, he was one of the great
+convivial celebrities of a time that boasted of Curran, and Avanmore, and
+Parsons, and a score of others, any one of whom, in our day, would have
+made a society famous. Barrington, too, was the almoner of the monks of
+the screw, and &ldquo;Peter's pence&rdquo; was immortalized in a song by Ned Lysaght,
+of which I once possessed, but have lost a copy.
+</p>
+<p>
+One might imagine there could be no difficulty in showing how in that wild
+period of riotous living and costly rivalry an Irish gentleman ran through
+all his property and left himself penniless. It was, indeed, a time of
+utter recklessness, many seeming possessed of that devil-may-care spirit
+that drives a drowning crew to break open the spirit-room and go down in
+an orgie. But Barrington's fortune was so large, and his successes on the
+turf so considerable, that it appeared incredible, when his estates came
+to the hammer, and all his personal property was sold off; so complete his
+ruin, that, as he said himself, the &ldquo;only shelter he had was an umbrella,
+and even that he borrowed from Dan Driscoll, the sheriff's officer.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Of course there were theories in plenty to account for the disaster, and,
+as usual, so many knew, many a long day ago, how hard pressed he had been
+for money, and what ruinous interest he was obliged to pay, till at last
+rumors filtered all down to one channel, and the world agreed that it was
+all his son's doing, and that the scamp George had ruined his father. This
+son, his only child, had gone out to India in a cavalry regiment, and was
+celebrated all over the East for a costly splendor that rivalled the great
+Government officials. From every retired or invalided officer who came
+back from Bengal were heard stories of mad Barring-ton's extravagance: his
+palace on the Hooghly, his racing stud, his elephants, his army of
+retainers,&mdash;all narratives which, no matter in what spirit retailed,
+seemed to delight old Peter, who, at every fresh story of his son's
+spendthrift magnificence, would be sure to toast his health with a racy
+enthusiasm whose sincerity was not to be doubted.
+</p>
+<p>
+Little wonder need there be if in feeding such extravagance a vast estate
+melted away, and acre followed acre, till all that remained of a property
+that ranked next to the Ormonds' was the little cottage over whose door
+the tin-trout dangled, and the few roods of land around it: sorry remnant
+of a princely fortune!
+</p>
+<p>
+But Barrington himself had a passion, which, inordinately indulged, has
+brought many to their ruin. He was intensely fond of law. It was to him
+all that gambling is to other men. All that gamesters feel of hope and
+fear, all the intense excitement they derive from the vacillating fortunes
+of play, Barrington enjoyed in a lawsuit. Every step of the proceeding had
+for him an intense interest. The driest legal documents, musty
+declarations, demurrers, pleadings, replies, affidavits, and
+counter-affidavits were his choicest reading; and never did a young lady
+hurry to her room with the last new novel with a stronger anticipation of
+delight than did Barrington when carrying away to his little snuggery a
+roll of parchments or rough drafts, whose very iterations and jargon would
+have driven most men half crazy. This same snuggery of his was a
+curiosity, too, the walls being all decorated with portraits of legal
+celebrities, not selected with reference to their merit or distinction,
+but solely from their connection with some suit in which he had been
+engaged; and thus under the likeness of Chief Baron O'Grady might be read,
+&ldquo;Barring-ton versus Brazier, 1802; a juror withdrawn:&rdquo; Justice Moore's
+portrait was inscribed, &ldquo;Argument in Chambers, 1808,&rdquo; and so on; even to
+the portraits of leading counsel, all were marked and dated only as they
+figured in the great campaign,&mdash;the more than thirty years' war he
+carried on against Fortune.
+</p>
+<p>
+Let not my reader suppose for one moment that this litigious taste grew
+out of a spirit of jarring discontent or distrust. Nothing of the kind.
+Barrington was merely a gambler; and with whatever dissatisfaction the
+declaration may be met, I am prepared to show that gambling, however
+faulty in itself, is not the vice of cold, selfish, and sordid men, but of
+warm, rash, sometimes over-generous temperaments. Be it well remembered
+that the professional play-man is, of all others, the one who has least of
+a gamester in his heart; his superiority lying in the simple fact that his
+passions are never engaged, his interest never stirred. Oh! beware of
+yourself in company with the polished antagonist, who only smiles when he
+loses, whom nothing adverse ever disturbs, but is calmly serene under the
+most pitiless pelting of luck. To come back: Barrington's passion for law
+was an intense thirst for a certain species of excitement; a verdict was
+to him the odd trick. Let him, however, but win the game, there never was
+a man so indifferent about the stakes.
+</p>
+<p>
+For many a year back he had ceased to follow the great events of the
+world. For the stupendous changes in Europe he cared next to nothing. He
+scarcely knew who reigned over this empire or that kingdom. Indifferent to
+art, science, letters, and even society, his interest was intense about
+all that went on in the law courts, and it was an interest so catholic
+that it took in everything and everybody, from the great judge upon the
+bench to the small taxing-officer who nibbled at the bill of costs.
+</p>
+<p>
+Fortunately for him, his sister, a maiden lady of some eighteen or twenty
+years his junior, had imbibed nothing of this passion, and, by her prudent
+opposition to it, stemmed at least the force of that current which was
+bearing him to ruin. Miss Dinah Barrington had been the great belle of the
+Irish court,&mdash;I am ashamed to say how long ago,&mdash;and though at
+the period my tale opens there was not much to revive the impression, her
+high nose, and full blue eyes, and a mass of wonderfully unchanged brown
+hair, proclaimed her to be&mdash;what she was very proud to call herself&mdash;a
+thorough Barrington, a strong type of a frank nature, with a bold,
+resolute will, and a very womanly heart beneath it.
+</p>
+<p>
+When their reverses of fortune first befell them, Miss Barrington wished
+to emigrate. She thought that in Canada, or some other far-away land,
+their altered condition might be borne less painfully, and that they could
+more easily bend themselves to humble offices where none but strangers
+were to look on them; but Barrington clung to his country with the
+tenacity of an old captain to a wreck. He declared he could not bring
+himself to the thought of leaving his bones in a strange land, but he
+never confessed what he felt to be the strongest tie of all, two
+unfinished lawsuits, the old record of Barrington v. Brazier, and a Privy
+Council case of Barrington and Lot Rammadahn Mohr against the India
+Company. To have left his country with these still undecided seemed to him&mdash;like
+the act of a commander taking flight on the morning of a general action&mdash;an
+amount of cowardice he could not contemplate. Not that he confided this
+opinion to his sister, though he did so in the very fullest manner to his
+old follower and servant, Darby Cassan. Darby was the last remnant of a
+once princely retinue, and in his master's choice of him to accompany his
+fallen fortunes, there was something strangely indicative of the man. Had
+Darby been an old butler or a body-servant, had he been a favorite groom,
+or, in some other capacity, one whose daily duties had made his a familiar
+face, and whose functions could still be available in an humble state,
+there would have seemed good reason for the selection; but Darby was none
+of these: he had never served in hall or pantry; he had never brushed the
+cobweb from a bottle, or led a nag to the door. Of all human professions
+his were about the last that could address themselves to the cares of a
+little household; for Darby was reared, bred, and passed fifty-odd years
+of his life as an earth-stopper!
+</p>
+<p>
+A very ingenious German writer has attempted to show that the sympathies
+of the humble classes with pursuits far above their own has always its
+origin in something of their daily life and habits, just as the sacristan
+of a cathedral comes to be occasionally a tolerable art critic from his
+continual reference to Rubens and Vandyck. It is possible that Darby may
+have illustrated the theory, and that his avocations as earth-stopper may
+have suggested what he assuredly possessed, a perfect passion for law. If
+a suit was a great game to Barrington, to Darby it was a hunt! and though
+his personal experiences never soared beyond Quarter Sessions, he gloried
+in all he saw there of violence and altercation, of vituperative language
+and impassioned abuse. Had he been a rich man, free to enjoy his leisure,
+he would have passed all his days listening to these hot discussions. They
+were to him a sort of intellectual bull-fight, which never could be too
+bloody or too cruel. Have I said enough, therefore, to show the secret
+link which bound the master to the man? I hope so; and that my reader is
+proud of a confidence with which Miss Barrington herself was never
+intrusted. She believed that Darby had been taken into favor from some
+marvellous ability he was supposed to possess, applicable to their new
+venture as innkeepers. Phrenology would perhaps have pronounced Darby a
+heaven-born host, for his organ of acquisitiveness was grandly developed.
+Amidst that great household, where the thriftless habits of the master had
+descended to the servants, and rendered all reckless and wasteful alike,
+Darby had thriven and grown almost rich. Was it that the Irish climate
+used its influence over him; for in his practice to &ldquo;put by something for
+a rainy day,&rdquo; his savings had many promptings? As the reputation of having
+money soon attached to him, he was often applied to in the hunting-field,
+or at the kennel, for small loans, by the young bloods who frequented the
+Hall, and, being always repaid three or four fold, he grew to have a very
+high conception of what banking must be when done on a large scale.
+Besides all this, he quickly learned that no character attracts more
+sympathy, especially amongst the class of young squires and sporting-men,
+than a certain quaint simplicity, so flattering in its contrast to their
+own consummate acuteness. Now, he was simple to their hearts' content. He
+usually spoke of himself as &ldquo;Poor Darby, God help him!&rdquo; and, in casting up
+those wonderful accounts, which he kept by notches on a tally-stick,
+nothing was more amusing than to witness his bewilderment and confusion,
+the inconceivable blunders he would make, even to his own disadvantage,
+all sure to end at last in the heart-spoken confession that it was &ldquo;clean
+beyand him,&rdquo; and &ldquo;he 'd leave it all to your honor; pay just what ye
+plaze, and long life to ye!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Is it that women have some shrewd perception of character denied to men?
+Certainly Darby never imposed on Miss Barrington. She read him like a
+book, and he felt it. The consequence was a very cordial dislike, which
+strengthened with every year of their acquaintance.
+</p>
+<p>
+Though Miss Barrington ever believed that the notion of keeping an inn
+originated with her brother, it was Darby first conceived the project,
+and, indeed, by his own skill and crafty intelligence was it carried on;
+and while the words &ldquo;Peter Barrington&rdquo; figured in very small letters, it
+is true, over the door to comply with a legal necessity, to most of the
+visitors he was a mere myth. Now, if Peter Barrington was very happy to be
+represented by deputy,&mdash;or, better still, not represented at all,&mdash;Miss
+Dinah regarded the matter in a very different light. Her theory was that,
+in accepting the humble station to which reverse of fortune brought them,
+the world ought to see all the heroism and courage of the sacrifice. She
+insisted on being a foreground figure, just to show them, as she said,
+&ldquo;that I take nothing upon me. I am the hostess of a little wayside inn,&mdash;no
+more!&rdquo; How little did she know of her own heart, and how far was she from
+even suspecting that it was the <i>ci-devant</i> belle making one last
+throw for the admiration and homage which once were offered her freely.
+</p>
+<p>
+Such were the three chief personages who dwelt under that secluded roof,
+half overgrown with honeysuckle and dog-roses,&mdash;specimens of that
+wider world without, where jealousies, and distrusts, and petty rivalries
+are warring: for as in one tiny globule of water are represented the
+elements which make oceans and seas, so is it in the moral world; and &ldquo;the
+family&rdquo; is only humanity, as the artists say, &ldquo;reduced.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+For years back Miss Barrington had been plotting to depose Darby. With an
+ingenuity quite feminine, she managed to connect him with every chagrin
+that crossed and every annoyance that befell them. If the pig ploughed up
+the new peas in the garden, it was Darby had left the gate open; it was <i>his</i>
+hand overwound the clock; and a very significant hint showed that when the
+thunder soured the beer, Mr. Darby knew more of the matter than he was
+likely to tell. Against such charges as these, iterated and reiterated to
+satiety, Barrington would reply by a smile, or a good-natured excuse, or a
+mere gesture to suggest patience, till his sister, fairly worn out,
+resolved on another line of action. &ldquo;As she could not banish the rats,&rdquo; to
+use her own words, &ldquo;she would scuttle the ship.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+To explain her project, I must go back in my story, and state that her
+nephew, George Barrington, had sent over to England, some fifteen years
+before, a little girl, whom he, called his daughter. She was consigned to
+the care of his banker in London, with directions that he should
+communicate with Mr. Peter Barrington, announce the child's safe arrival,
+and consult with him as to her future destination. Now, when the event
+took place, Barrington was in the very crisis of his disasters.
+Overwhelmed with debts, pursued by creditors, regularly hunted down, he
+was driven day by day to sign away most valuable securities for mere
+passing considerations, and obliged to accept any conditions for daily
+support He answered the banker's letter, briefly stating his great
+embarrassment, and begging him to give the child his protection for a few
+weeks or so, till some arrangement of his affairs might enable him to
+offer her a home.
+</p>
+<p>
+This time, however, glided over, and the hoped-for amendment never came,&mdash;far
+from it. Writs were out against him, and he was driven to seek a refuge in
+the Isle of Man, at that time the special sanctuary of insolvent sinners.
+Mr. Leonard Gower wrote again, and proposed that, if no objection would be
+made to the plan, the child should be sent to a certain convent near
+Namur, in the Netherlands, where his own daughter was then placed for her
+education. Aunt Dinah would have rejected,&mdash;ay, or would have
+resented such a proposal as an insult, had the world but gone on better
+with them. That her grand-niece should be brought up a Catholic was an
+outrage on the whole Barring-ton blood. But calamity had brought her low,&mdash;very
+low, indeed. The child, too, was a heathen,&mdash;a Hindoo or a Buddhist,
+perhaps,&mdash;for the mother was a native woman, reputed, indeed, to be a
+princess. But who could know this? Who could vouch that George was ever
+married at all, or if such a ceremony were possible? All these were
+&ldquo;attenuating circumstances,&rdquo; and as such she accepted them; and the
+measure of her submission was filled up when she received a portrait of
+the little girl, painted by a native artist. It represented a
+dark-skinned, heavy-browed child, with wide, full eyes, thick lips, and an
+expression at once florid and sullen,&mdash;not any of the traits one
+likes to associate with infancy,&mdash;and it was with a half shudder Aunt
+Dinah closed the miniature, and declared that &ldquo;the sight of the little
+savage actually frightened her.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Not so poor Barrington. He professed to see a great resemblance to his
+son. It was George all over. To be sure, his eyes were deep blue, and his
+hair a rich brown; but there was something in the nose, or perhaps it was
+in the mouth,&mdash;no, it was the chin,&mdash;ay, it was the chin was
+George's. It was the Barrington chin, and no mistake about it.
+</p>
+<p>
+At all events, no opposition was made to the banker's project, and the
+little girl was sent off to the convent of the Holy Cross, on the banks of
+the Meuse. She was inscribed on the roll as the Princess Doondiah, and
+bore the name till her father's death, when Mr. Gower suggested that she
+should be called by her family name. The letter with the proposal, by some
+accident, was not acknowledged, and the writer, taking silence to mean
+consent, desired the superior to address her, henceforth, as Miss
+Barrington; the first startling intimation of the change being a
+strangely, quaintly written note, addressed to her grand-aunt, and signed
+&ldquo;Josephine Barrington.&rdquo; It was a cold, formal letter,&mdash;so very
+formal, indeed, as to read like the copy of a document,&mdash;asking for
+leave to enter upon a novitiate of two years' duration, at the expiration
+of which she would be nineteen years of age, and in a position to decide
+upon taking the veil for life. The permission, very urgently pressed for
+by Mr. Gower in another letter, was accorded, and now we have arrived at
+that period in which but three months only remained of the two years whose
+closure was to decide her fate forever.
+</p>
+<p>
+Barrington had long yearned to see her. It was with deep and bitter
+self-reproach he thought over the cold neglect they had shown her. She was
+all that remained of poor George, his boy,&mdash;for so he called him, and
+so he thought of him,&mdash;long after the bronzed cheek and the
+prematurely whitened hair had tempered his manhood. To be sure, all the
+world said, and he knew himself, how it was chiefly through the &ldquo;boy's&rdquo;
+ extravagance he came to ruin. But it was over now. The event that sobers
+down reproach to sorrow had come. He was dead! All that arose to memory of
+him were the traits that suggested hopes of his childhood, or gave triumph
+in his riper years; and oh, is it not better thus? for what hearts would
+be left us if we were to carry in them the petty rancors and jealousies
+which once filled them, but which, one day, we buried in the cold clay of
+the churchyard.
+</p>
+<p>
+Aunt Dinah, moved by reasons long canvassed over in her own mind, at last
+began to think of recalling her grand-niece. It was so very bold a project
+that, at first, she could scarcely entertain it. The Popery was very
+dreadful! Her imagination conjured up the cottage converted into a little
+Baal, with false gods and graven images, and holy-water fonts at every
+turn; but the doubtful legitimacy was worse again. She had a theory that
+it was by lapses of this kind the &ldquo;blue blood&rdquo; of old families grew
+deteriorated, and that the downfall of many an ancient house was traceable
+to these corruptions. Far better, she deemed it, that the Barringtons
+should die out forever than their line be continued by this base and
+ignoble grafting.
+</p>
+<p>
+There is a <i>contre</i> for every <i>pour</i> in this world. It may be a
+weak and an insufficient one, it is true; but it is a certainty that all
+our projects must come to a debtor or creditor reckoning, and the very
+best we can do is to strike an honest balance!
+</p>
+<p>
+How Miss Dinah essayed to do this we shall learn in the next chapter and
+what follows it.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER II. A WET MORNING AT HOME
+</h2>
+<p>
+If there was anything that possessed more than common terror for
+Barrington, it was a wet day at the cottage! It was on these dreary
+visitations that his sister took the opportunity of going into &ldquo;committee
+of supply,&rdquo;&mdash;an occasion not merely for the discussion of fiscal
+matters, but for asking the most vexatious questions and demanding the
+most unpleasant explanations.
+</p>
+<p>
+We can all, more or less, appreciate the happiness of that right honorable
+gentleman on the Treasury bench who has to reply to the crude and
+unmeaning inquiries of some aspiring Oppositionist, and who wishes to know
+if her Majesty's Government have demanded an indemnity from the King of
+Dahomey for the consul's family eaten by him at the last court ceremonial?
+What compensation is to be given to Captain Balrothery for his week's
+imprisonment at Leghorn, in consequence of his having thrown the customs
+officer and a landing waiter into the sea? Or what mark of her Majesty's
+favor will the noble lord recommend should be conferred upon Ensign Digges
+for the admirable imitation he gave of the dancing dervishes at Benares,
+and the just ridicule he thus threw upon these degrading and heathenish
+rites?
+</p>
+<p>
+It was to a torture of this order, far more reasonable and pertinent,
+however, that Barrington usually saw himself reduced whenever the weather
+was so decidedly unfavorable that egress was impossible. Poor fellow, what
+shallow pretexts would he stammer out for absenting himself from home,
+what despicable subterfuges to put off an audience! He had forgotten to
+put down the frame on that melon-bed.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was that awning over the boat not taken in. He 'd step out to the
+stable and give Billy, the pony, a touch of the white oils on that swelled
+hock. He 'd see if they had got the young lambs under cover. In fact, from
+his perturbed and agitated manner, you would have imagined that rain was
+one of the rarest incidents of an Irish climate, and only the very
+promptest measures could mitigate the calamity.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I ask where you are off to in such haste, Peter?&rdquo; asked Miss Dinah
+one morning, just as Barrington had completed all his arrangements for a
+retreat; far readier to brave the elements than the more pitiless pelting
+that awaited him within doors.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I just remembered,&rdquo; said he, mildly, &ldquo;that I had left two night-lines out
+at the point, and with this fresh in the river it would be as well if I 'd
+step down and see&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And see if the river was where it was yesterday,&rdquo; broke she in,
+sneeringly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Dinah. But you see that there 's this to be remarked about
+night-lines&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That they never catch any fish!&rdquo; said she, sternly. &ldquo;It's no weather for
+you to go tramping about in the wet grass. You made fuss enough about your
+lumbago last week, and I suppose you don't want it back again. Besides,&rdquo;&mdash;and
+here her tongue grew authoritative,&mdash;&ldquo;I have got up the books.&rdquo; And
+with these words she threw on the table a number of little greasy-looking
+volumes, over which poor Barrington's sad glances wandered, pretty much as
+might a victim's over the thumb-screws and the flesh-nippers of the Holy
+Inquisition.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I've a slight touch of a headache this morning, Dinah.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It won't be cured by going out in the rain. Sit down there,&rdquo; said she,
+peremptorily, &ldquo;and see with your own eyes how much longer your means will
+enable you to continue these habits of waste and extravagance.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;These what?&rdquo; said he, perfectly astounded.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;These habits of waste and extravagance, Peter Barring-ton. I repeat my
+words.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Had a venerable divine, being asked on the conclusion of an edifying
+discourse, for how much longer it might be his intention to persist in
+such ribaldries, his astonishment could scarce have been greater than
+Barrington's.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, sister Dinah, are we not keeping an inn? Is not this the
+'Fisherman's Home'?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should think it is, Peter,&rdquo; said she, with scorn. &ldquo;I suspect he finds
+it so. A very excellent name for it it is!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Must I own that I don't understand you, Dinah?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course you don't. You never did all your life. You never knew you were
+wet till you were half drowned, and that's what the world calls having
+such an amiable disposition! Ain't your friends nice friends? They are
+always telling you how generous you are,&mdash;how free-handed,&mdash;how
+benevolent. What a heart he has! Ay, but thank Providence there's very
+little of that charming docility about <i>me</i>, is there?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;None, Dinah,&mdash;none,&rdquo; said he, not in the least suspecting to what he
+was bearing testimony.
+</p>
+<p>
+She became crimson in a minute, and in a tone of some emotion said, &ldquo;And
+if there had been, where should you and where should I be to-day? On the
+parish, Peter Barrington,&mdash;on the parish; for it 's neither <i>your</i>
+head nor <i>your</i> hands would have saved us from it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You're right, Dinah; you're right there. You never spoke a truer word.&rdquo;
+ And his voice trembled as he said it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did n't mean <i>that</i>, Peter,&rdquo; said she, eagerly; &ldquo;but you are too
+confiding, too trustful. Perhaps it takes a woman to detect all the little
+wiles and snares that entangle us in our daily life?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps it does,&rdquo; said he, with a deep sigh.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At all events, you needn't sigh over it, Peter Barring-ton. It's not one
+of those blemishes in human nature that have to be deplored so feelingly.
+I hope women are as good as men.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fifty thousand times better, in every quality of kindliness and
+generosity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said she, tossing her head impatiently. &ldquo;We 're not here for a
+question in ethics; it is to the very lowly task of examining the house
+accounts I would invite your attention. Matters cannot go on as they do
+now, if we mean to keep a roof over us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I have always supposed we were doing pretty well, Dinah. You know we
+never promised ourselves to gain a fortune by this venture; the very
+utmost we ever hoped for was to help us along,&mdash;to aid us to make
+both ends meet at the end of the year And as Darby tells me&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Darby tells you! What a reliable authority to quote from! Oh, don't
+groan so heavily! I forgot myself. I would n't for the world impeach such
+fidelity or honesty as his.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be reasonable, sister Dinah,&mdash;do be reasonable; and if there is
+anything to lay to his charge&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 'll hear the case, I suppose,&rdquo; cried she, in a voice high-pitched in
+passion. &ldquo;You 'll sit up there, like one of your favorite judges, and call
+on Dinah Barrington against Cassan; and perhaps when the cause is
+concluded we shall reverse our places, and <i>I</i> become the defendant!
+But if this is your intention, brother Barrington, give me a little time.
+I beg I may have a little time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Now, this was a very favorite request of Miss Barring-ton's, and she
+usually made it in the tone of a martyr; but truth obliges us to own that
+never was a demand less justifiable. Not a three-decker of the Channel
+fleet was readier for a broadside than herself. She was always at quarters
+and with a port-fire burning.
+</p>
+<p>
+Barrington did not answer this appeal; he never moved,&mdash;he scarcely
+appeared to breathe, so guarded was he lest his most unintentional gesture
+should be the subject of comment.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;When you have recovered from your stupefaction,&rdquo; said she, calmly, &ldquo;will
+you look over that line of figures, and then give a glance at this total?
+After that I will ask you what fortune could stand it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This looks formidable, indeed,&rdquo; said he, poring over the page through his
+spectacles.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is worse, Peter. It <i>is</i> formidable.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;After all, Dinah, this is expenditure. Now for the incomings!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suspect you 'll have to ask your prime minister for <i>them</i>.
+Perhaps he may vouchsafe to tell you how many twenty-pound notes have gone
+to America, who it was that consigned a cargo of new potatoes to
+Liverpool, and what amount he invested in yarn at the last fair of
+Graigue? and when you have learned these facts, you will know all you are
+ever likely to know of your <i>profits!</i>&rdquo; I have no means of conveying
+the intense scorn with which she uttered the last word of this speech.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he told me&mdash;not a week back&mdash;that we were going on
+famously!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why wouldn't he? I 'd like to hear what else he could say. Famously,
+indeed, for <i>him</i> with a strong balance in the savings-bank, and a
+gold watch&mdash;yes, Peter, a gold watch&mdash;in his pocket. This is no
+delusion, nor illusion, or whatever you call it, of mine, but a fact,&mdash;a
+downright fact.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He has been toiling hard many a year for it, Dinah, don't forget that.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe you want to drive me mad, Peter. You know these are things that
+I can't bear, and that's the reason you say them. Toil, indeed! <i>I</i>
+never saw him do anything except sit on a gate at the Lock Meadows, with a
+pipe in his mouth; and if you asked him what he was there for, it was a
+'track' he was watching, a 'dog-fox that went by every afternoon to the
+turnip field.' Very great toil that was!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was n't an earth-stopper like him in the three next counties; and
+if I was to have a pack of foxhounds tomorrow&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 'd just be as great a foot as ever you were, and the more sorry I am
+to hear it; but you 're not going to be tempted, Peter Barrington. It's
+not foxes we have to think of, but where we 're to find shelter for
+ourselves.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know of anything we could turn to, more profitable, Dinah?&rdquo; asked
+he, mildly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There 's nothing could be much less so, I know <i>that!</i> You are not
+very observant, Peter, but even to you it must have become apparent that
+great changes have come over the world in a few years. The persons who
+formerly indulged their leisure were all men of rank and fortune. Who are
+the people who come over here now to amuse themselves? Staleybridge and
+Manchester creatures, with factory morals and bagman manners; treating our
+house like a commercial inn, and actually disputing the bill and asking
+for items. Yes, Peter, I overheard a fellow telling Darby last week that
+the ''ouse was dearer than the Halbion!'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Travellers will do these things, Dinah.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if they do, they shall be shown the door for it, as sure as my name
+is Dinah Barrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let us give up the inn altogether, then,&rdquo; said he, with a sudden
+impatience.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The very thing I was going to propose, Peter,&rdquo; said she, solemnly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What!&mdash;how?&rdquo; cried he, for the acceptance of what only escaped him
+in a moment of anger overwhelmed and stunned him. &ldquo;How are we to live,
+Dinah?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Better without than with it,&mdash;there's my answer to that. Let us look
+the matter fairly in the face, Peter,&rdquo; said she, with a calm and measured
+utterance. &ldquo;This dealing with the world 'on honor' must ever be a losing
+game. To screen ourselves from the vulgar necessities of our condition, we
+must submit to any terms. So long as our intercourse with life gave us
+none but gentlemen to deal with, we escaped well and safely. That race
+would seem to have thinned off of late, however; or, what comes to the
+same, there is such a deluge of spurious coin one never knows what is real
+gold.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may be right, Dinah; you may be right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know I am right; the experience has been the growth of years too. All
+our efforts to escape the odious contact of these people have multiplied
+our expenses. Where one man used to suffice, we keep three. You yourself,
+who felt it no indignity to go out a-fishing formerly with a chance
+traveller, have to own with what reserve and caution you would accept such
+companionship now.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, nay, Dinah, not exactly so far as that&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And why not? Was it not less than a fortnight ago three Birmingham men
+crossed the threshold, calling out for old Peter,&mdash;was old Peter to
+the good yet?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They were a little elevated with wine, sister, remember that; and,
+besides, they never knew, never had heard of me in my once condition.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And are we so changed that they cannot recognize the class we pertain
+to?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not <i>you</i>, Dinah, certainly not you; but I frankly own I can put up
+with rudeness and incivility better than a certain showy courtesy some
+vulgar people practise towards me. In the one case I feel I am not known,
+and my secret is safe. In the other, I have to stand out as the ruined
+gentleman, and I am not always sure that I play the part as gracefully as
+I ought.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let us leave emotions, Peter, and descend to the lowland of arithmetic,
+by giving up two boatmen, John and Terry&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor Terry!&rdquo; sighed he, with a faint, low accent
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! if it be 'poor Terry!' I 've done,&rdquo; said she, closing the book, and
+throwing it down with a slap that made him start.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, dear Dinah; but if we could manage to let him have something,&mdash;say
+five shillings a week,&mdash;he 'd not need it long; and the port wine
+that was doing his rheumatism such good is nearly finished; he'll miss it
+sorely.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Were you giving him Henderson's wine,&mdash;the '11 vintage?&rdquo; cried she,
+pale with indignation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just a bottle or two, Dinah; only as medicine.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As a fiddlestick, sir! I declare I have no patience with you; there 's no
+excuse for such folly, not to say the ignorance of giving these creatures
+what they never were used to. Did not Dr. Dill tell you that tonics, to be
+effective, must always have some relation to the daily habits of the
+patient?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very true, Dinah; but the discourse was pronounced when I saw him putting
+a bottle of old Madeira in his gig that I had left for Anne M'Cafferty,
+adding, he 'd send her something far more strengthening.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right or wrong, I don't care; but this I know, Terry Dogherty is n't
+going to finish off Henderson's port. It is rather too much to stand, that
+we are to be treating beggars to luxuries, when we can't say to-morrow
+where we shall find salt for our potatoes.&rdquo; This was a somewhat favorite
+illustration of Miss Barrington,&mdash;either implying that the commodity
+was an essential to human life, or the use of it an emblem of extreme
+destitution.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I conclude we may dispense with Tom Divett's services,&rdquo; resumed she. &ldquo;We
+can assuredly get on without a professional rat-catcher.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If we should, Dinah, we'll feel the loss; the rats make sad havoc of the
+spawn, and destroy quantities of the young fish, besides.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;His two ugly terriers eat just as many chickens, and never leave us an
+egg in the place. And now for Mr. Darby&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You surely don't think of parting with Darby, sister Dinah?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He shall lead the way,&rdquo; replied she, in a firm and peremptory voice; &ldquo;the
+very first of the batch! And it will, doubtless, be a great comfort to you
+to know that you need not distress yourself about any provision for his
+declining years. It is a care that he has attended to on his own part. He
+'ll go back to a very well-feathered nest, I promise you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington sighed heavily, for he had a secret sorrow on that score. He
+knew, though his sister did not, that he had from year to year been
+borrowing every pound of Darby's savings to pay the cost of law charges,
+always hoping and looking for the time when a verdict in his favor would
+enable him to restore the money twice told. With a very dreary sigh, then,
+did he here allude &ldquo;to the well-feathered nest&rdquo; of one he had left bare
+and destitute. He cleared his throat, and made an effort to avow the whole
+matter; but his courage failed him, and he sat mournfully shaking his
+head, partly in sorrow, partly in shame. His sister noticed none of these
+signs; she was rapidly enumerating all the reductions that could be made,&mdash;all
+the dependencies cut off; there were the boats, which constantly required
+repairs; the nets, eternally being renewed,&mdash;all to be discarded; the
+island, a very pretty little object in the middle of the river, need no
+longer be rented. &ldquo;Indeed,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;I don't know why we took it, except
+it was to give those memorable picnics you used to have there.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How pleasant they were, Dinah; how delightful!&rdquo; said he, totally
+overlooking the spirit of her remark.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! they were charming, and your own popularity was boundless; but I 'd
+have you to bear in mind, brother Peter, that popularity is no more a poor
+man's luxury than champagne. It is a very costly indulgence, and can
+rarely be had on 'credit.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Miss Barrington had pared down retrenchment to the very quick. She had
+shown that they could live not only without boatmen, rat-catchers,
+gardener, and manservant, but that, as they were to give up their daily
+newspaper, they could dispense with a full ration of candle-light; and
+yet, with all these reductions, she declared that there was still another
+encumbrance to be pruned away, and she proudly asked her brother if he
+could guess what it was?
+</p>
+<p>
+Now Barrington felt that he could not live without a certain allowance of
+food, nor would it be convenient, or even decent, to dispense with
+raiment; so he began, as a last resource, to conjecture that his sister
+was darkly hinting at something which might be a substitute for a home,
+and save house-rent; and he half testily exclaimed, &ldquo;I suppose we 're to
+have a roof over us, Dinah!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said she, dryly, &ldquo;I never proposed we should go and live in the
+woods. What I meant had a reference, to Josephine&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington's cheek flushed deeply in an instant, and, with a voice
+trembling with emotion, he said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you mean, Dinah, that I'm to cut off that miserable pittance&mdash;that
+forty pounds a year&mdash;I give to poor George's girl&mdash;&rdquo; He stopped,
+for he saw that in his sister's face which might have appalled a bolder
+heart than his own; for while her eyes flashed fire, her thin lips
+trembled with passion; and so, in a very faltering humility, he added:
+&ldquo;But you never meant <i>that</i> sister Dinah. You would be the very last
+in the world to do it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then why impute it to me; answer me that?&rdquo; said she, crossing her hands
+behind her back, and staring haughtily at him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just because I 'm clean at my wits' end,&mdash;just because I neither
+understand one word I hear, or what I say in reply. If you 'll just tell
+me what it is you propose, I 'll do my best, with God's blessing, to
+follow you; but don't ask me for advice, Dinah, and don't fly out because
+I 'm not as quick-witted and as clever as yourself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was something almost so abject in his misery that she seemed touched
+by it, and, in a voice of a very calm and kindly meaning, she said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have been thinking a good deal over that letter of Josephine's; she
+says she wants our consent to take the veil as a nun; that, by the rules
+of the order, when her novitiate is concluded, she must go into the world
+for at least some months,&mdash;a time meant to test her faithfulness to
+her vows, and the tranquillity with which she can renounce forever all the
+joys and attractions of life. We, it is true, have no means of surrounding
+her with such temptations; but we might try and supply their place by some
+less brilliant but not less attractive ones. We might offer her, what we
+ought to have offered her years ago,&mdash;a home! What do you say to
+this, Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That I love you for it, sister Dinah, with all my heart,&rdquo; said he,
+kissing her on each cheek; &ldquo;that it makes me happier than I knew I ever
+was to be again.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, to bring Josephine here, this must not be an inn, Peter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly not, Dinah,&mdash;certainly not. But I can think of nothing but
+the joy of seeing her,&mdash;poor George's child I How I have yearned to
+know if she was like him,&mdash;if she had any of his ways, any traits of
+that quaint, dry humor he had, and, above all, of that disposition that
+made him so loved by every one.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And cheated by every one too, brother Peter; don't forget that!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who wants to think of it now?&rdquo; said he, sorrowfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never reject a thought because it has unpleasant associations. It would
+be but a sorry asylum which only admitted the well-to-do and the happy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How are we to get the dear child here, Dinah? Let us consider the matter.
+It is a long journey off.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have thought of that too,&rdquo; said she, sententiously, &ldquo;but not made up my
+mind.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let us ask M'Cormick about it, Dinah; he's coming up this evening to play
+his Saturday night's rubber with Dill. He knows the Continent well.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There will be another saving that I did n't remember, Peter. The weekly
+bottle of whiskey, and the candles, not to speak of the four or five
+shillings your pleasant companions invariably carry away with them,&mdash;all
+may be very advantageously dispensed with.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;When Josephine 's here, I 'll not miss it,&rdquo; said he, good-humoredly. Then
+suddenly remembering that his sister might not deem the speech a gracious
+one to herself, he was about to add something; but she was gone.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER III. OUR NEXT NEIGHBORS
+</h2>
+<p>
+Should there be amongst my readers any one whose fortune it has been in
+life only to associate with the amiable, the interesting, and the
+agreeable, all whose experiences of mankind are rose-tinted, to him I
+would say, Skip over two people I am now about to introduce, and take up
+my story at some later stage, for I desire to be truthful, and, as is the
+misfortune of people in my situation, I may be very disagreeable.
+</p>
+<p>
+After all, I may have made more excuses than were needful. The persons I
+would present are in that large category, the commonplace, and only as
+uninviting and as tiresome as we may any day meet in a second-class on the
+railroad. Flourish, therefore, penny trumpets, and announce Major
+M'Cormick. The Major, so confidently referred to by Barrington in our last
+chapter as a high authority on matters continental, was a very shattered
+remnant of the unhappy Walcheren expedition. He was a small, mean-looking,
+narrow-faced man, with a thin, bald head, and red whiskers. He walked very
+lame from an injury to his hip; &ldquo;his wound,&rdquo; he called it, though his
+candor did not explain that it was incurred by being thrown down a
+hatchway by a brother officer in a drunken brawl. In character he was a
+saving, penurious creature, without one single sympathy outside his own
+immediate interests. When some sixteen or eighteen years before the
+Barringtons had settled in the neighborhood, the Major began to entertain
+thoughts of matrimony. Old soldiers are rather given to consider marriage
+as an institution especially intended to solace age and console
+rheumatism, and so M'Cormick debated with himself whether he had not
+arrived at the suitable time for this indulgence, and also whether Miss
+Dinah Barrington was not the individual destined to share his lot and
+season his gruel.
+</p>
+<p>
+But a few years back and his ambition would as soon have aspired to an
+archduchess as to the sister of Barrington, of Barrington Hall, whose
+realms of social distinction separated them; but now, fallen from their
+high estate, forgotten by the world, and poor, they had come down&mdash;at
+least, he thought so&mdash;to a level in which there would be no
+presumption in his pretensions. Indeed, I half suspect that he thought
+there was something very high-minded and generous in his intentions with
+regard to them. At all events, there was a struggle of some sort in his
+mind which went on from year to year undecided. Now, there are men&mdash;for
+the most part old bachelors&mdash;to whom an unfinished project is a
+positive luxury, who like to add, day by day, a few threads to the web of
+fate, but no more. To the Major it was quite enough that &ldquo;some fine day or
+other&rdquo;&mdash;so he phrased it&mdash;he 'd make his offer, just as he
+thought how, in the same propitious weather, he 'd put a new roof on his
+cottage, and fill up that quarry-hole near his gate, into which he had
+narrowly escaped tumbling some half-dozen times. But thanks to his caution
+and procrastination, the roof, and the project, and the quarry-hole were
+exactly, or very nearly, in the same state they had been eighteen years
+before.
+</p>
+<p>
+Rumor said&mdash;as rumor will always say whatever has a tinge of
+ill-nature in it&mdash;that Miss Barrington would have accepted him;
+vulgar report declared that she would &ldquo;jump at the offer.&rdquo; Whether this
+be, or not, the appropriate way of receiving a matrimonial proposal, the
+lady was not called upon to display her activity. He never told his love.
+</p>
+<p>
+It is very hard to forgive that secretary, home or foreign, who in the day
+of his power and patronage could, but did not, make us easy for life with
+this mission or that com-missionership. It is not easy to believe that our
+uncle the bishop could not, without any undue strain upon his conscience,
+have made us something, albeit a clerical error, in his diocese, but
+infinitely more difficult is it to pardon him who, having suggested dreams
+of wedded happiness, still stands hesitating, doubting, and canvassing,&mdash;a
+timid bather, who shivers on the beach, and then puts on his clothes
+again.
+</p>
+<p>
+It took a long time&mdash;it always does in such cases&mdash;ere Miss
+Barrington came to read this man aright. Indeed, the light of her own
+hopes had dazzled her, and she never saw him clearly till they were
+extinguished; but when the knowledge did come, it came trebled with
+compound interest, and she saw him in all that displayed his miserable
+selfishness; and although her brother, who found it hard to believe any
+one bad who had not been tried for a capital felony, would explain away
+many a meanness by saying, &ldquo;It is just his way,&mdash;a way, and no more!&rdquo;
+ she spoke out fearlessly, if not very discreetly, and declared she
+detested him. Of course she averred it was his manners, his want of
+breeding, and his familiarity that displeased her. He might be an
+excellent creature,&mdash;perhaps he was; <i>that</i> was nothing to her.
+All his moral qualities might have an interest for his friends; she was a
+mere acquaintance, and was only concerned for what related to his bearing
+in society. Then Walcheren was positively odious to her. Some little
+solace she felt at the thought that the expedition was a failure and
+inglorious; but when she listened to the fiftieth time-told tale of fever
+and ague, she would sigh, not for those who suffered, but over the one
+that escaped. It is a great blessing to men of uneventful lives and scant
+imagination when there is any one incident to which memory can refer
+unceasingly. Like some bold headland last seen at sea, it lives in the
+mind throughout the voyage. Such was this ill-starred expedition to the
+Major. It dignified his existence to himself, though his memory never
+soared above the most ordinary details and vulgar incidents. Thus he would
+maunder on for hours, telling how the ships sailed and parted company, and
+joined again; how the old &ldquo;Brennus&rdquo; mistook a signal and put back to Hull,
+and how the &ldquo;Sarah Reeves,&rdquo; his own transport, was sent after her. Then he
+grew picturesque about Flushing, as first seen through the dull fogs of
+the Scheldt, with village spires peeping through the heavy vapor, and the
+strange Dutch language, with its queer names for the vegetables and fruit
+brought by the boats alongside.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You won't believe me, Miss Dinah, but, as I sit here, the peaches was
+like little melons, and the cherries as big as walnuts.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They made cherry-bounce out of them, I hope, sir,&rdquo; said she, with a
+scornful smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, indeed, ma'am,&rdquo; replied he, dull to the sarcasm; &ldquo;they ate them in a
+kind of sauce with roast-pig, and mighty good too!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But enough of the Major; and now a word, and only a word, for his
+companion, already alluded to by Barrington.
+</p>
+<p>
+Dr. Dill had been a poor &ldquo;Dispensary Doctor&rdquo; for some thirty years, with a
+small practice, and two or three grand patrons at some miles off, who
+employed him for the servants, or for the children in &ldquo;mild cases,&rdquo; and
+who even extended to him a sort of contemptuous courtesy that serves to
+make a proud man a bear, and an humble man a sycophant.
+</p>
+<p>
+Dill was the reverse of proud, and took to the other line with much
+kindliness. To have watched him in his daily round you would have said
+that he liked being trampled on, and actually enjoyed being crushed. He
+smiled so blandly, and looked so sweetly under it all, as though it was a
+kind of moral shampooing, from which he would come out all the fresher and
+more vigorous.
+</p>
+<p>
+The world is certainly generous in its dealings with these temperaments;
+it indulges them to the top of their hearts, and gives them humiliations
+to their heart's content. Rumor&mdash;the same wicked goddess who libelled
+Miss Barrington&mdash;hinted that the doctor was not, within his own walls
+and under his own roof, the suffering angel the world saw him, and that he
+occasionally did a little trampling there on his own account. However,
+Mrs. Dill never complained; and though the children wore a tremulous
+terror and submissiveness in their looks, they were only suitable family
+traits, which all redounded to their credit, and made them &ldquo;so like the
+doctor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Such were the two worthies who slowly floated along on the current of the
+river of a calm summer's evening, to visit the Barringtons. As usual, the
+talk was of their host. They discussed his character and his habits and
+his debts, and the difficulty he had in raising that little loan; and in
+close juxtaposition with this fact, as though pinned on the back of it,
+his sister's overweening pride and pretension. It had been the Major's
+threat for years that he 'd &ldquo;take her down a peg one of these days.&rdquo; But
+either he was mercifully unwilling to perform the act, or that the
+suitable hour for it had not come; but there she remained, and there he
+left her, not taken down one inch, but loftier and haughtier than ever. As
+the boat rounded the point from which the cottage was visible through the
+trees and some of the outhouses could be descried, they reverted to the
+ruinous state everything was falling into. &ldquo;Straw is cheap enough,
+anyhow,&rdquo; said the Major. &ldquo;He might put a new thatch on that cow-house, and
+I 'm sure a brush of paint would n't ruin any one.&rdquo; Oh, my dear reader!
+have you not often heard&mdash;I know that I have&mdash;such comments as
+these, such reflections on the indolence or indifference which only needed
+so very little to reform, done, too, without trouble or difficulty, habits
+that could be corrected, evil ways reformed, and ruinous tendencies
+arrested, all as it were by a &ldquo;rush of paint,&rdquo; or something just as
+uncostly?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There does n't seem to be much doing here, Dill,&rdquo; said M'Cormick, as they
+landed. &ldquo;All the boats are drawn up ashore. And faith! I don't wonder,
+that old woman is enough to frighten the fish out of the river.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Strangers do not always like that sort of thing,&rdquo; modestly remarked the
+doctor,&mdash;the &ldquo;always&rdquo; being peculiarly marked for emphasis. &ldquo;Some
+will say, an inn should be an inn.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's my view of it. What I say is this: I want my bit of fish, and my
+beefsteak, and my pint of wine, and I don't want to know that the
+landlord's grandfather entertained the king, or that his aunt was a
+lady-in-waiting. 'Be' as high as you like,' says I, 'but don't make the
+bill so,'&mdash;eh, Dill?&rdquo; And he cackled the harsh ungenial laugh which
+seems the birthright of all sorry jesters; and the doctor gave a little
+laugh too, more from habit, however, than enjoyment.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know, Dill,&rdquo; said the Major, disengaging himself from the arm
+which his lameness compelled him to lean on, and standing still in the
+pathway,&mdash;&ldquo;do you know that I never reach thus far without having a
+sort of struggle with myself whether I won't turn back and go home again.
+Can you explain that, now?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is the wound, perhaps, pains you, coming up the hill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is not the wound. It's that woman!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Barrington?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just so. I have her before me now, sitting up behind the urn there, and
+saying, 'Have you had tea, Major M'Cormick?' when she knows well she did
+n't give it to me. Don't you feel that going up to the table for your cup
+is for all the world like doing homage?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Her manners are cold,&mdash;certainly cold.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish they were. It's the fire that's in her I 'm afraid of! She has as
+wicked an eye in her head as ever I saw.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She was greatly admired once, I 'm told; and she has many remains of
+beauty.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! for the matter of looks, there's worse. It's her nature, her temper,&mdash;herself,
+in fact, I can't endure.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it you can't endure, M'Cormick?&rdquo; cried Barrington, emerging from
+a side walk where he had just caught the last words. &ldquo;If it be anything in
+this poor place of mine, let me hear, that I may have it amended.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How are ye,&mdash;how are ye?&rdquo; said the Major, with a very confused
+manner. &ldquo;I was talking politics with Dill. I was telling him how I hated
+<i>them</i> Tories.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe they are all pretty much alike,&rdquo; said Barring-ton; &ldquo;at least, I
+knew they were in my day. And though we used to abuse him, and drink all
+kind of misfortunes to him every day of our lives, there was n't a truer
+gentleman nor a finer fellow in Ireland than Lord Castlereagh.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm sure of it. I've often heard the same remark,&rdquo; chimed in Dill.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's a pity you didn't think so at the time of the Union,&rdquo; said
+M'Cormick, with a sneer.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Many of us did; but it would not make us sell our country. But what need
+is there of going back to those times, and things that can't be helped
+now? Come in and have a cup of tea. I see my sister is waiting for us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Why was it that Miss Barrington, on that evening, was grander and
+statelier than ever? Was it some anticipation of the meditated change in
+their station had impressed her manner with more of pride? I know not; but
+true it is she received her visitors with a reserve that was actually
+chilling. To no end did Barrington exert himself to conceal or counteract
+this frigidity. In all our moral chemistry we have never yet hit upon an
+antidote to a chilling reception.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/046.jpg" width="100%" alt="046 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+The doctor was used to this freezing process, and did not suffer like his
+companion. To him, life was a huge ice-pail; but he defied frost-bite, and
+bore it. The Major, however chafed and fidgeted under the treatment, and
+muttered to himself very vengeful sentiments about that peg he had
+determined to take her down from.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was hoping to be able to offer you a nosegay, dear lady,&rdquo; said Dill,&mdash;this
+was his customary mode of address to her, an ingenious blending of
+affection with deference, but in which the stronger accent on the last
+word showed the deference to predominate,&mdash;&ldquo;but the rain has come so
+late, there's not a stock in the garden fit to present to you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is just as well, sir. I detest gillyflowers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The Major's eyes sparkled with a spiteful delight, for he was sorely
+jealous of the doctor's ease under difficulties.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We have, indeed, a few moss-roses.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;None to be compared to our own, sir. Do not think of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The Major felt that his was not a giving disposition, and consequently it
+exempted him from rubs and rebuffs of this sort. Meanwhile, unabashed by
+failure, the doctor essayed once more: &ldquo;Mrs. Dill is only waiting to have
+the car mended, to come over and pay her dutiful respects to you, Miss
+Dinah.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pray tell her not to mind it, Dr. Dill,&rdquo; replied she, sharply, &ldquo;or to
+wait till the fourth of next month, which will make it exactly a year
+since her last visit; and her call can be then an annual one, like the
+tax-gatherer's.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bother them for taxes altogether,&rdquo; chimed in Barrington, whose ear only
+caught the last word. &ldquo;You haven't done with the county cess when there's
+a fellow at you for tithes; and they're talking of a poor-rate.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may perceive, Dr. Dill, that your medicines have not achieved a great
+success against my brother's deafness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We were all so at Walcheren,&rdquo; broke in M'Cormick; &ldquo;when we 'd come out of
+the trenches, we could n't hear for hours.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My voice may be a shrill one, Major M'Cormick, but I'll have you to
+believe that it has not destroyed my brother's tympanum.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's not the tympanum is engaged, dear lady; it's the Eustachian tube is
+the cause here. There's a passage leads down from the internal ear&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I declare, sir, I have just as little taste for anatomy as for
+fortification; and though I sincerely wish you could cure my brother, as I
+also wish these gentlemen could have taken Walcheren, I have not the
+slightest desire to know how.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll beg a little more tea in this, ma'am,&rdquo; said the Major, holding out
+his cup.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you mean water, sir? Did you say it was too strong?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;With your leave, I 'll take it a trifle stronger,&rdquo; said he, with a
+malicious twinkle in his eye, for he knew all the offence his speech
+implied.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm glad to hear you say so, Major M'Cormick. I'm happy to know that your
+nerves are stronger than at the time of that expedition you quote with
+such pleasure. Is yours to your liking, sir?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll ask for some water, dear lady,&rdquo; broke in Dill, who began to think
+that the fire was hotter than usual. &ldquo;As I said to Mrs. Dill, 'Molly,'
+says I, 'how is it that I never drink such tea anywhere as at the&mdash;'&rdquo;
+ He stopped, for he was going to say, the Harringtons', and he trembled at
+the liberty; and he dared not say the Fisherman's Home, lest it should be
+thought he was recalling their occupation; and so, after a pause and a
+cough, he stammered out&mdash;&ldquo;'at the sweet cottage.'&rdquo; Nor was his
+confusion the less at perceiving how she had appreciated his difficulty,
+and was smiling at it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very few strangers in these parts lately, I believe,&rdquo; said M'Cormick, who
+knew that his remark was a dangerous one.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I fancy none, sir,&rdquo; said she, calmly. &ldquo;We, at least, have no customers,
+if that be the name for them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's natural, indeed, dear lady, you shouldn't know how they are called,&rdquo;
+ began the doctor, in a fawning tone, &ldquo;reared and brought up as you were.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The cold, steady stare of Miss Barrington arrested his speech; and though
+he made immense efforts to recover himself, there was that in her look
+which totally overcame him. &ldquo;Sit down to your rubber, sir,&rdquo; said she, in a
+whisper that seemed to thrill through his veins. &ldquo;You will find yourself
+far more at home at the odd trick there, than attempting to console me
+about my lost honors.&rdquo; And with this fierce admonition, she gave a little
+nod, half in adieu, half in admonition, and swept haughtily out of the
+room.
+</p>
+<p>
+M'Cormick heaved a sigh as the door closed after her, which very plainly
+bespoke how much he felt the relief.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My poor sister is a bit out of spirits this evening,&rdquo; said Barrington,
+who merely saw a certain show of constraint over his company, and never
+guessed the cause. &ldquo;We've had some unpleasant letters, and one thing or
+another to annoy us, and if she does n't join us at supper, you 'll excuse
+her, I know, M'Cormick.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That we will, with&mdash;&rdquo; He was going to add, &ldquo;with a heart and a
+half,&rdquo; for he felt, what to him was a rare sentiment, &ldquo;gratitude;&rdquo; but
+Dill chimed in,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, we couldn't expect she'd appear. I remarked she was nervous
+when we came in. I saw an expression in her eye&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So did I, faith,&rdquo; muttered M'Cormick, &ldquo;and I'm not a doctor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And here's our whist-table,&rdquo; said Barrington, bustling about; &ldquo;and there
+'s a bit of supper ready there for us in that room, and we 'll help
+ourselves, for I 've sent Darby to bed. And now give me a hand with these
+cards, for they 've all got mixed together.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington's task was the very wearisome one of trying to sort out an
+available pack from some half-dozen of various sizes and colors.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is n't this for all the world like raising a regiment out of twenty
+volunteer corps?&rdquo; said M'Cormick.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dill would call it an hospital of incurables,&rdquo; said Barrington. &ldquo;Have you
+got a knave of spades and a seven? Oh dear, dear! the knave, with the head
+off him! I begin to suspect we must look up a new pack.&rdquo; There was a tone
+of misgiving in the way he said this; for it implied a reference to his
+sister, and all its consequences. Affecting to search for new cards in his
+own room, therefore, he arose and went out.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wouldn't live in a slavery like that,&rdquo; muttered the Major, &ldquo;to be King
+of France.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Something has occurred here. There is some latent source of irritation,&rdquo;
+ said Dill, cautiously. &ldquo;Barrington's own manner is fidgety and uneasy. I
+have my suspicion matters are going on but poorly with them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+While this sage diagnosis was being uttered, M'Cormick had taken a short
+excursion into the adjoining room, from which he returned, eating a
+pickled onion. &ldquo;It's the old story; the cold roast loin and the dish of
+salad. Listen! Did you hear that shout?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought I heard one awhile back; but I fancied afterwards it was only
+the noise of the river over the stones.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is some fellows drawing the river; they poach under his very windows,
+and he never sees them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm afraid we 're not to have our rubber this evening,&rdquo; said Dill,
+mournfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There's a thing, now, I don't understand!&rdquo; said M'Cormick, in a low but
+bitter voice. &ldquo;No man is obliged to see company, but when he does do it,
+he oughtn't to be running about for a tumbler here and a mustard-pot
+there. There's the noise again; it's fellows robbing the salmon-weir!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No rubber to-night, I perceive that,&rdquo; reiterated the doctor, still intent
+upon the one theme.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A thousand pardons I ask from each of you,&rdquo; cried Barrington, coming
+hurriedly in, with a somewhat flushed face; &ldquo;but I 've had such a hunt for
+these cards. When I put a thing away nowadays, it's as good as gone to me,
+for I remember nothing. But here we are, now, all right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The party, like men eager to retrieve lost time, were soon deep in their
+game, very little being uttered, save such remarks as the contest called
+for. The Major was of that order of players who firmly believe fortune
+will desert them if they don't whine and complain of their luck, and so
+everything from him was a lamentation. The doctor, who regarded whist
+pathologically, no more gave up a game than he would a patient. He had
+witnessed marvellous recoveries in the most hopeless cases, and he had
+been rescued by a &ldquo;revoke&rdquo; in the last hour. Unlike each, Barrington was
+one who liked to chat over his game, as he would over his wine. Not that
+he took little interest in it, but it had no power to absorb and engross
+him. If a man derive very great pleasure from a pastime in which, after
+years and years of practice, he can attain no eminence nor any mastery,
+you may be almost certain he is one of an amiable temperament Nothing
+short of real goodness of nature could go on deriving enjoyment from a
+pursuit associated with continual defeats. Such a one must be hopeful, he
+must be submissive, he must have no touch of ungenerous jealousy in his
+nature, and, withal, a zealous wish to do better. Now he who can be all
+these, in anything, is no bad fellow.
+</p>
+<p>
+If Barrington, therefore, was beaten, he bore it well. Cards were often
+enough against him, his play was always so; and though the doctor had
+words of bland consolation for disaster, such as the habits of his craft
+taught him, the Major was a pitiless adversary, who never omitted the
+opportunity of disinterring all his opponents' blunders, and singing a
+song of triumph over them. But so it is,&mdash;<i>tot genera hominum</i>,&mdash;so
+many kinds of whist-players are there!
+</p>
+<p>
+Hour after hour went over, and it was late in the night. None felt
+disposed to sup; at least, none proposed it. The stakes were small, it is
+true, but small things are great to little men, and Barrington's guests
+were always the winners.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe if I was to be a good player,&mdash;which I know in my heart I
+never shall,&rdquo; said Barrington,&mdash;&ldquo;that my luck would swamp me, after
+all. Look at that hand now, and say is there a trick in it?&rdquo; As he said
+this, he spread out the cards of his &ldquo;dummy&rdquo; on the table, with the
+dis-consolation of one thoroughly beaten.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it might be worse,&rdquo; said Dill, consolingly. &ldquo;There's a queen of
+diamonds; and I would n't say, if you could get an opportunity to trump
+the club&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let him try it,&rdquo; broke in the merciless Major; &ldquo;let him just try it! My
+name isn't Dan M'Cormick if he'll win one card in that hand. There, now, I
+lead the ace of clubs. Play!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Patience, Major, patience; let me look over my hand. I 'm bad enough at
+the best, but I 'll be worse if you hurry me. Is that a king or a knave I
+see there?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's neither; it 's the queen!&rdquo; barked out the Major.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Doctor, you 'll have to look after my eyes as well as my ears. Indeed, I
+scarcely know which is the worst. Was not that a voice outside?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/052.jpg" width="100%" alt="052 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should think it was; there have been fellows shouting there the whole
+evening. I suspect they don't leave you many fish in this part of the
+river.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; interposed Dill, blandly, &ldquo;but you 've taken up my
+card by mistake.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+While Barrington was excusing himself, and trying to recover his lost clew
+to the game, there came a violent knocking at the door, and a loud voice
+called out, &ldquo;Holloa! Will some of ye open the door, or must I put my foot
+through it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There <i>is</i> somebody there,&rdquo; said Barrington, quietly, for he had now
+caught the words correctly; and taking a candle, he hastened out.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At last,&rdquo; cried a stranger, as the door opened,&mdash;&ldquo;at last! Do you
+know that we've been full twenty minutes here, listening to your animated
+discussion over the odd trick?&mdash;I fainting with hunger, and my friend
+with pain.&rdquo; And so saying, he assisted another to limp forward, who leaned
+on his arm and moved with the greatest difficulty.
+</p>
+<p>
+The mere sight of one in suffering repressed any notion of a rejoinder to
+his somewhat rude speech, and Barrington led the way into the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you met with an accident?&rdquo; asked he, as he placed the sufferer on a
+sofa.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; interposed the first speaker; &ldquo;he slipped down one of those rocks
+into the river, and has sprained, if he has not broken, something.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is our good fortune to have advice here; this gentleman is a doctor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of the Royal College, and an M.D. of Aberdeen, besides,&rdquo; said Dill, with
+a professional smile, while, turning back his cuffs, he proceeded to
+remove the shoe and stocking of his patient.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't be afraid of hurting, but just tell me at once what's the matter,&rdquo;
+ said the young fellow, down whose cheeks great drops were rolling in his
+agony.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is no pronouncing at once; there is great tumefaction here. It may
+be a mere sprain, or it may be a fracture of the fibula simple, or a
+fracture with luxation.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if you can't tell the injury, tell us what's to be done for it. Get
+him to bed, I suppose, first?&rdquo; said the friend.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By all means, to bed, and cold applications on the affected part.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here's a room all ready, and at hand,&rdquo; said Barrington, opening the door
+into a little chamber replete with comfort and propriety.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said the first speaker, &ldquo;Fred, all this is very snug; one might
+have fallen upon worse quarters.&rdquo; And so saying, he assisted his friend
+forward, and deposited him upon the bed.
+</p>
+<p>
+While the doctor busied himself with the medical cares for his patient,
+and arranged with due skill the appliances to relieve his present
+suffering, the other stranger related how they had lost their way, having
+first of all taken the wrong bank of the river, and been obliged to
+retrace their steps upwards of three miles to retrieve their mistake.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where were you going to?&rdquo; asked Barringtou.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We were in search of a little inn they had told us of, called the
+'Fisherman's Home.' I conclude we have reached it at last, and you are the
+host, I take it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington bowed assent.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And these gentlemen are visitors here?&rdquo; But without waiting for any
+reply,&mdash;difficult at all times, for he spoke with great rapidity and
+continual change of topic,&mdash;he now stooped down to whisper something
+to the sick man. &ldquo;My friend thinks he'll do capitally now, and, if we
+leave him, that he'll soon drop asleep; so I vote we give him the chance.&rdquo;
+ Thus saying, he made a gesture for the others to leave, following them up
+as they went, almost like one enforcing an order.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I am correct in my reading, you are a soldier, sir,&rdquo; said Barrington,
+when they reached the outer room, &ldquo;and this gentleman here is a brother
+officer,&mdash;Major M'Cor-mick.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Full pay, eh?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I am an old Walcheren man.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Walcheren&mdash;Walcheren&mdash;why, that sounds like Malplaquet or
+Blenheim! Where the deuce was Walcheren? Did n't believe that there was an
+old tumbril of that affair to the fore still. You were all licked there,
+or you died of the ague, or jaundice? Oh, dummy whist, as I live! Who's
+the unlucky dog has got the dummy?&mdash;bad as Walcheren, by Jove! Is n't
+that a supper I see laid out there? Don't I smell Stilton from that room?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you 'll do us the honor to join us&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That I will, and astonish you with an appetite too! We breakfasted at a
+beastly hole called Graigue, and tasted nothing since, except a few
+peaches I stole out of an old fellow's garden on the riverside,&mdash;'Old
+Dan the miser,' a country fellow called him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have the honor to have afforded you the entertainment you speak of,&rdquo;
+ said M'Cormick, smarting with anger.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right! The peaches were excellent,&mdash;would have been better if
+riper. I 'm afraid I smashed a window of yours; it was a stone I shied at
+a confounded dog,&mdash;a sort of terrier. Pickled onions and walnuts, by
+all that 's civilized! And so this is the 'Fisherman's Home,' and you the
+fisherman, eh? Well, why not show a light or a lantern over the door? Who
+the deuce is to know that this is a place of entertainment? We only
+guessed it at last.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I help you to some mutton?&rdquo; said Barrington, more amused than put out
+by his guest's discursiveness.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By all means. But don't carve it that way; cut it lengthwise, as if it
+were the saddle, which it ought to have been. You must tell me where you
+got this sherry. I have tasted nothing like it for many a day,&mdash;real
+brown sherry. I suppose you know how they brown it? It's not done by
+sugar,&mdash;that's a vulgar error. It's done by boiling; they boil down
+so many butts and reduce them to about a fourth or a fifth. You haven't
+got any currant-jelly, have you? it is just as good with cold mutton as
+hot. And then it is the wine thus reduced they use for coloring matter. I
+got up all my sherry experiences on the spot.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The wine you approve of has been in my cellar about five-and-forty
+years.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would not if I 'd have been your neighbor, rely upon that. I'd have
+secured every bottle of it for our mess; and mind, whatever remains of it
+is mine.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Might I make bold to remark,&rdquo; said Dill, interposing, &ldquo;that we are the
+guests of my friend here on this occasion?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Eh, what,&mdash;guests?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am proud enough to believe that you will not refuse me the honor of
+your company; for though an innkeeper, I write myself gentleman,&rdquo; said
+Barrington, blandly, though not without emotion.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should think you might,&rdquo; broke in the stranger, heartily; &ldquo;and I'd say
+the man who had a doubt about your claims had very little of his own. And
+now a word of apology for the mode of our entrance here, and to introduce
+myself. I am Colonel Hunter, of the 21st Hussars; my friend is a young
+subaltern of the regiment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A moment before, and all the awkwardness of his position was painful to
+Barrington. He felt that the traveller was there by a right, free to
+order, condemn, and criticise as he pleased. The few words of explanation,
+given in all the frankness of a soldier, and with the tact of a gentleman,
+relieved this embarrassment, and he was himself again. As for M'Cormick
+and Dill, the mere announcement of the regiment he commanded seemed to
+move and impress them. It was one of those corps especially known in the
+service for the rank and fortune of its officers. The Prince himself was
+their colonel, and they had acquired a wide notoriety for exclusiveness
+and pride, which, when treated by unfriendly critics, assumed a shape less
+favorable still.
+</p>
+<p>
+Colonel Hunter, if he were to be taken as a type of his regiment, might
+have rebutted a good deal of this floating criticism; he had a fine honest
+countenance, a rich mellow voice, and a sort of easy jollity in manner,
+that spoke well both for his spirits and his temper. He did, it is true,
+occasionally chafe against some susceptible spot or other of those around
+him, but there was no malice prepense in it, any more than there is
+intentional offence in the passage of a strong man through a crowd; so he
+elbowed his way, and pushed on in conversation, never so much as
+suspecting that he jostled any one in his path.
+</p>
+<p>
+Both Barrington and Hunter were inveterate sportsmen, and they ranged over
+hunting-fields and grouse mountains and partridge stubble and trout
+streams with all the zest of men who feel a sort of mesmeric brotherhood
+in the interchange of their experiences. Long after the Major and the
+doctor had taken their leave, they sat there recounting stories of their
+several adventures, and recalling incidents of flood and field.
+</p>
+<p>
+In return for a cordial invitation to Hunter to stay and fish the river
+for some days, Barrington pledged himself to visit the Colonel the first
+time he should go up to Kilkenny.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I 'll mount you. You shall have a horse I never lent in my life. I
+'ll put you on Trumpeter,&mdash;sire Sir Hercules,&mdash;no mistake there;
+would carry sixteen stone with the fastest hounds in England.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington shook his head, and smiled, as he said, &ldquo;It's two-and-twenty
+years since I sat a fence. I 'm afraid I 'll not revive the fame of my
+horsemanship by appearing again in the saddle.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, what age do you call yourself?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Eighty-three, if I live to August next.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'd not have guessed you within ten years of it. I 've just passed
+fifty, and already I begin to look for a horse with more bone beneath the
+knee, and more substance across the loins.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;These are only premonitory symptoms, after all,&rdquo; said Barrington,
+laughing. &ldquo;You've many a day before you come to a fourteen-hand cob and a
+kitchen chair to mount him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Hunter laughed at the picture, and dashed away, in his own half-reckless
+way, to other topics. He talked of his regiment proudly, and told
+Barrington what a splendid set of young fellows were his officers. &ldquo;I 'll
+show you such a mess,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;as no corps in the service can match.&rdquo;
+ While he talked of their high-hearted and generous natures, and with
+enthusiasm of the life of a soldier, Barrington could scarcely refrain
+from speaking of his own &ldquo;boy,&rdquo; the son from whom he had hoped so much,
+and whose loss had been the death-blow to all his ambitions. There were,
+however, circumstances in that story which sealed his lips; and though the
+father never believed one syllable of the allegations against his son,
+though he had paid the penalty of a King's Bench mandamus and imprisonment
+for horsewhipping the editor who had aspersed his &ldquo;boy,&rdquo; the world and the
+world's verdict were against him, and he did not dare to revive the memory
+of a name against which all the severities of the press had been directed,
+and public opinion had condemned with all its weight and power.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see that I am wearying you,&rdquo; said Hunter, as he remarked the grave and
+saddened expression that now stole over Barrington's face. &ldquo;I ought to
+have remembered what an hour it was,&mdash;more than half-past two.&rdquo; And
+without waiting to hear a reply, he shook his host's hand cordially and
+hurried off to his room.
+</p>
+<p>
+While Barrington busied himself in locking up the wine, and putting away
+half-finished decanters,&mdash;cares that his sister's watchfulness very
+imperatively exacted,&mdash;he heard, or fancied he heard, a voice from
+the room where the sick man lay. He opened the door very gently and looked
+in.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said the youth. &ldquo;I 'm not asleep, nor did I want to sleep,
+for I have been listening to you and the Colonel these two hours, and with
+rare pleasure, I can tell you. The Colonel would have gone a hundred miles
+to meet a man like yourself, so fond of the field and such a thorough
+sportsman.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I was so once,&rdquo; sighed Barrington, for already had come a sort of
+reaction to the late excitement.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn't the Colonel a fine fellow?&rdquo; said the young man, as eager to relieve
+the awkwardness of a sad theme as to praise one he loved. &ldquo;Don't you like
+him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That I do!&rdquo; said Barrington, heartily. &ldquo;His fine genial spirit has put me
+in better temper with myself than I fancied was in my nature to be. We are
+to have some trout-fishing together, and I promise you it sha'n't be my
+fault if <i>he</i> doesn't like <i>me</i>.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And may I be of the party?&mdash;may I go with you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only get well of your accident, and you shall do whatever you like. By
+the way, did not Colonel Hunter serve in India?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;For fifteen years. He has only left Bengal within a few months.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then he can probably help me to some information. He may be able to tell
+me&mdash;Good-night, good-night,&rdquo; said he, hurriedly; &ldquo;to-morrow will be
+time enough to think of this.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER IV. FRED CONYERS
+</h2>
+<p>
+Very soon after daybreak the Colonel was up and at the bedside of his
+young friend.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sorry to wake you, Fred,&rdquo; said he, gently; &ldquo;but I have just got an urgent
+despatch, requiring me to set out at once for Dublin, and I did n't like
+to go without asking how you get on.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, much better, sir. I can move the foot a little, and I feel assured it
+'s only a severe sprain.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's all right. Take your own time, and don't attempt to move about too
+early. You are in capital quarters here, and will be well looked after.
+There is only one difficulty, and I don't exactly see how to deal with it.
+Our host is a reduced gentleman, brought down to keep an inn for support,
+but what benefit he can derive from it is not so very clear; for when I
+asked the man who fetched me hot water this morning for my bill, he
+replied that his master told him I was to be his guest here for a week,
+and not on any account to accept money from me. Ireland is a very strange
+place, and we are learning something new in it every day; but this is the
+strangest thing I have met yet.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In <i>my</i> case this would be impossible. I must of necessity give a
+deal of trouble,&mdash;not to say that it would add unspeakably to my
+annoyance to feel that I could not ask freely for what I wanted.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no reason to suppose, mind you, that you are to be dealt with as I
+have been, but it would be well to bear in mind who and what these people
+are.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And get away from them as soon as possible,&rdquo; added the young fellow, half
+peevishly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, nay, Fred; don't be impatient. You'll be delighted with the old
+fellow, who is a heart-and-soul sportsman. What station he once occupied I
+can't guess; but in the remarks he makes about horses and hounds, all his
+knowing hints on stable management and the treatment of young cattle, one
+would say that he must have had a large fortune and kept a large
+establishment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+In the half self-sufficient toss of the head which received this speech,
+it was plain that the young man thought his Colonel was easily imposed on,
+and that such pretensions as these would have very little success with <i>him</i>.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no doubt some of your brother officers will take a run down to see
+how you get on, and, if so, I 'll send over a hamper of wine, or something
+of the kind, that you can manage to make him accept.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It will not be very difficult, I opine,&rdquo; said the young man, laughingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; rejoined the other, misconstruing the drift of his words. &ldquo;You
+have plenty of tact, Fred. You 'll do the thing with all due delicacy. And
+now, good-bye. Let me hear how you fare here.&rdquo; And with a hearty farewell
+they parted.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was none astir in the cottage but Darby as the Colonel set out to
+gain the high-road, where the post-horses awaited him. From Darby,
+however, as he went along, he gathered much of his host's former history.
+It was with astonishment he learned that the splendid house of Barring-ton
+Hall, where he had been dining with an earl a few days ago, was the old
+family seat of that poor innkeeper; that the noble deer-park had once
+acknowledged him for master. &ldquo;And will again, plase God!&rdquo; burst in Darby,
+who thirsted for an opportunity to launch out into law, and all its bright
+hopes and prospects.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We have a record on trial in Trinity Term, and an argument before the
+twelve Judges, and the case is as plain as the nose on your honor's face;
+for it was ruled by Chief Baron Medge, in the great cause of 'Peter
+against Todd, a widow,' that a settlement couldn't be broke by an
+estreat.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are quite a lawyer, I see,&rdquo; said the Colonel.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish I was. I 'd rather be a judge on the bench than a king on his
+throne.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And yet I am beginning to suspect law may have cost your master dearly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is not ten, or twenty&mdash;no, nor thirty&mdash;thousand pounds would
+see him through it!&rdquo; said Darby, with a triumph in his tone that seemed to
+proclaim a very proud declaration. &ldquo;There 's families would be comfortable
+for life with just what we spent upon special juries.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, as you tell me he has no family, the injury has been all his own.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's true. We're the last of the ould stock,&rdquo; said he, sorrowfully; and
+little more passed between them, till the Colonel, on parting, put a
+couple of guineas in his hand, and enjoined him to look after the young
+friend he had left behind him.
+</p>
+<p>
+It is now my task to introduce this young gentleman to my readers.
+Frederick Conyers, a cornet in his Majesty's Hussars, was the only son of
+a very distinguished officer, Lieutenant-General Conyers, a man who had
+not alone served with great reputation in the field, but held offices of
+high political trust in India, the country where all his life had been
+passed. Holding a high station as a political resident at a native court,
+wielding great power, and surrounded by an undeviating homage, General
+Conyers saw his son growing up to manhood with everything that could
+foster pride and minister to self-exaltation around him. It was not alone
+the languor and indolence of an Eastern life that he had to dread for him,
+but the haughty temper and overbearing spirit so sure to come out of
+habits of domination in very early life.
+</p>
+<p>
+Though he had done all that he could to educate his son, by masters
+brought at immense cost from Europe, the really important element of
+education,&mdash;the self-control and respect for other's rights,&mdash;only
+to be acquired by daily life and intercourse with equals, this he could
+not supply; and he saw, at last, that the project he had so long indulged,
+of keeping his son with him, must be abandoned. Perhaps the rough speech
+of an old comrade helped to dispel the illusion, as he asked, &ldquo;Are you
+bringing up that boy to be a Rajah?&rdquo; His first thought was to send him to
+one of the Universities, his great desire being that the young man should
+feel some ambition for public life and its distinctions. He bethought him,
+however, that while the youth of Oxford and Cambridge enter upon a college
+career, trained by all the discipline of our public schools, Fred would
+approach the ordeal without any such preparation whatever. Without one to
+exert authority over him, little accustomed to the exercise of
+self-restraint, the experiment was too perilous.
+</p>
+<p>
+To place him, therefore, where, from the very nature of his position, some
+guidance and control would be exercised, and where by the working of that
+model democracy&mdash;a mess&mdash;he would be taught to repress
+self-sufficiency and presumption, he determined on the army, and obtained
+a cornetcy in a regiment commanded by one who had long served on his own
+staff. To most young fellows such an opening in life would have seemed all
+that was delightful and enjoyable. To be just twenty, gazetted to a
+splendid cavalry corps, with a father rich enough and generous enough to
+say, &ldquo;Live like the men about you, and don't be afraid that your checks
+will come back to you,&rdquo; these are great aids to a very pleasant existence.
+Whether the enervation of that life of Oriental indulgence had now become
+a nature to him, or whether he had no liking for the service itself, or
+whether the change from a condition of almost princely state to a position
+of mere equality with others, chafed and irritated him, but so is it, he
+did not &ldquo;take to&rdquo; the regiment, nor the regiment to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now it is a fact, and not a very agreeable fact either, that a man with a
+mass of noble qualities may fail to attract the kindliness and good
+feeling towards him which a far less worthy individual, merely by certain
+traits, or by the semblance of them, of a yielding, passive nature is
+almost sure to acquire.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers was generous, courageous, and loyal, in the most chivalrous sense
+of that word, to every obligation of friendship. He was eminently truthful
+and honorable; but he had two qualities whose baneful influence would
+disparage the very best of gifts. He was &ldquo;imperious,&rdquo; and, in the phrase
+of his brother officers, &ldquo;he never gave in.&rdquo; Some absurd impression had
+been made on him, as a child, that obstinacy and persistency were the
+noblest of attributes, and that, having said a thing, no event or
+circumstance could ever occur to induce a change of opinion.
+</p>
+<p>
+Such a quality is singularly unfitted to youth, and marvellously out of
+place in a regiment; hence was it that the &ldquo;Rajah,&rdquo; as he was generally
+called by his comrades, had few intimates, and not one friend amongst
+them.
+</p>
+<p>
+If I have dwelt somewhat lengthily on these traits, it is because their
+possessor is one destined to be much before us in this history. I will but
+chronicle one other feature. I am sorry it should be a disqualifying one.
+Owing in great measure, perhaps altogether, to his having been brought up
+in the East, where Hindoo craft and subtlety were familiarized to his mind
+from infancy, he was given to suspect that few things were ever done from
+the motives ascribed to them, and that under the open game of life was
+another concealed game, which was the real one. As yet, this dark and
+pernicious distrust had only gone the length of impressing him with a
+sense of his own consummate acuteness, an amount of self-satisfaction,
+which my reader may have seen tingeing the few words he exchanged with his
+Colonel before separating.
+</p>
+<p>
+Let us see him now as he sits in a great easy-chair, his sprained ankle
+resting on another, in a little honeysuckle-covered arbor of the garden, a
+table covered with books and fresh flowers beside him, while Darby stands
+ready to serve him from the breakfast-table, where a very tempting meal is
+already spread out.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So, then, I can't see your master, it seems,&rdquo; said Con-yers, half
+peevishly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Faix you can't; he's ten miles off by this. He got a letter by the post,
+and set out half an hour after for Kilkenny. He went to your honor's door,
+but seeing you was asleep he would n't wake you; 'but, Darby,' says he,
+'take care of that young gentleman, and mind,' says he, 'that he wants for
+nothing.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very thoughtful of <i>him</i>,&mdash;very considerate indeed,&rdquo; said the
+youth; but in what precise spirit it is not easy to say.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who lives about here? What gentlemen's places are there, I mean?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There's Lord Carrackmore, and Sir Arthur Godfrey, and Moore of Ballyduff,
+and Mrs. Powerscroft of the Grove&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do any of these great folks come down here?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/064.jpg" width="100%" alt="064 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+Darby would like to have given a ready assent,&mdash;he would have been
+charmed to say that they came daily, that they made the place a continual
+rendezvous; but as he saw no prospect of being able to give his fiction
+even twenty-four hours' currency, he merely changed from one leg to the
+other, and, in a tone of apology, said, &ldquo;Betimes they does, when the
+sayson is fine.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who are the persons who are most frequently here?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Those two that you saw last night,&mdash;the Major and Dr. Dill. They 're
+up here every second day, fishing, and eating their dinner with the
+master.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is the fishing good?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The best in Ireland.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what shooting is there,&mdash;any partridges?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Partridges, be gorra! You could n't see the turnips for them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And woodcocks?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it woodcocks! The sky is black with the sight of them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Any lions?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, maybe an odd one now and then,&rdquo; said Darby, half apologizing for
+the scarcity.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was an ineffable expression of self-satisfaction in Conyers's face
+at the subtlety with which he had drawn Darby into this admission; and the
+delight in his own acuteness led him to offer the poor fellow a cigar,
+which he took with very grateful thanks.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;From what you tell me, then, I shall find this place stupid enough till I
+am able to be up and about, eh? Is there any one who can play chess
+hereabout?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure there's Miss Dinah; she's a great hand at it, they tell me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And who is Miss Dinah? Is she young,&mdash;is she pretty?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Darby gave a very cautious look all around him, and then closing one eye,
+so as to give his face a look of intense cunning, he nodded very
+significantly twice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean by that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mane that she'll never see sixty; and for the matter of beauty&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, you have said quite enough; I 'm not curious about her looks. Now for
+another point. If I should want to get away from this, what other inn or
+hotel is there in the neighborhood?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There's Joe M'Cabe's, at Inistioge; but you are better where you are.
+Where will you see fresh butter like that? and look at the cream, the
+spoon will stand in it. Far and near it's given up to her that nobody can
+make coffee like Miss Dinah; and when you taste them trout, you 'll tell
+me if they are not fit for the king.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Everything is excellent,&mdash;could not be better; but there's a
+difficulty. There's a matter which to me at least makes a stay here most
+unpleasant. My friend tells me that he could not get his bill,&mdash;that
+he was accepted as a guest. Now I can't permit this&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There it is, now,&rdquo; said Darby, approaching the table, and dropping his
+voice to a confidential whisper. &ldquo;That's the master's way. If he gets a
+stranger to sit down with him to dinner or supper, he may eat and drink as
+long as he plases, and sorra sixpence he'll pay; and it's that same ruins
+us, nothing else, for it's then he 'll call for the best sherry, and that
+ould Maderia that's worth a guinea a bottle. What's the use, after all, of
+me inflaming the bill of the next traveller, and putting down everything
+maybe double? And worse than all,&rdquo; continued he, in a tone of horror, &ldquo;let
+him only hear any one complain about his bill or saying, 'What's this?' or
+'I didn't get that,' out he'll come, as mighty and as grand as the
+Lord-Liftinint, and say, 'I 'm sorry, sir, that we failed to make this
+place agreeable to you. Will you do me the favor not to mind the bill at
+all?' and with that he'd tear it up in little bits and walk away.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To me that would only be additional offence. I 'd not endure it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What could you do? You'd maybe slip a five-pound note into my hand, and
+say, 'Darby my man, settle this little matter for me; you know the ways of
+the place.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll not risk such an annoyance, at all events; that I 'm determined
+on.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Darby began now to perceive that he had misconceived his brief, and must
+alter his pleadings as quickly as possible; in fact, he saw he was
+&ldquo;stopping an earth&rdquo; he had meant merely to mask. &ldquo;Just leave it all to me,
+your honor,&mdash;leave it all to me, and I 'll have your bill for you
+every morning on the breakfast-table. And why would n't you? Why would a
+gentleman like your honor be behouldin' to any one for his meat and
+drink?&rdquo; burst he in, with an eager rapidity. &ldquo;Why would n't you say,
+'Darby, bring me this, get me that, fetch me the other; expinse is no
+object in life tome'?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was a faint twinkle of humor in the eye of Conyers, and Darby
+stopped short, and with that half-lisping simplicity which a few Irishmen
+understand to perfection, and can exercise whenever the occasion requires,
+he said: &ldquo;But sure is n't your honor laughing at me, is n't it just making
+fun of me you are? All because I'm a poor ignorant crayture that knows no
+better!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing of that kind,&rdquo; said Conyers, frankly. &ldquo;I was only smiling at
+thoughts that went through my head at the moment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, faix! there's one coming up the path now won't make you laugh,&rdquo;
+ said Darby, as he whispered, &ldquo;It's Dr. Dill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor was early with his patient; if the case was not one of urgency,
+the sufferer was in a more elevated rank than usually fell to the chances
+of Dispensary practice. Then, it promised to be one of the nice chronic
+cases, in which tact and personal agreeability&mdash;the two great
+strongholds of Dr. Dill in his own estimation&mdash;were of far more
+importance than the materia medica. Now, if Dill's world was not a very
+big one, he knew it thoroughly. He was a chronicle of all the family
+incidents of the county, and could recount every disaster of every house
+for thirty miles round.
+</p>
+<p>
+When the sprain had, therefore, been duly examined, and all the pangs of
+the patient sufficiently condoled with to establish the physician as a man
+of feeling, Dill proceeded to his task as a man of the world. Conyers,
+however, abruptly stopped him, by saying, &ldquo;Tell me how I'm to get out of
+this place; some other inn, I mean.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are not comfortable here, then?&rdquo; asked Dill.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In one sense, perfectly so. I like the quietness, the delightful
+tranquillity, the scenery,&mdash;everything, in short, but one
+circumstance. I 'm afraid these worthy people&mdash;whoever they are&mdash;want
+to regard me as a guest. Now I don't know them,&mdash;never saw them,&mdash;don't
+care to see them. My Colonel has a liking for all this sort of thing. It
+has to his mind a character of adventure that amuses him. It would n't in
+the least amuse me, and so I want to get away.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; repeated Dill, blandly, after him, &ldquo;wants to get away; desires to
+change the air.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; broke in Conyers, peevishly; &ldquo;no question of air whatever. I
+don't want to be on a visit. I want an inn. What is this place they tell
+me of up the river,&mdash;Inis&mdash;something?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Inistioge. M'Cabe's house; the 'Spotted Duck;' very small, very poor, far
+from clean, besides.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is there nothing else? Can't you think of some other place? For I can't
+have my servant here, circumstanced as I am now.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor paused to reply. The medical mind is eminently ready-witted,
+and Dill at a glance took in all the dangers of removing his patient.
+Should he transfer him to his own village, the visit which now had to be
+requited as a journey of three miles and upwards, would then be an affair
+of next door. Should he send him to Thomastown, it would be worse again,
+for then he would be within the precincts of a greater than Dill himself,&mdash;a
+practitioner who had a one-horse phaeton, and whose name was written on
+brass. &ldquo;Would you dislike a comfortable lodging in a private family,&mdash;one
+of the first respectability, I may make bold to call it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Abhor it!&mdash;couldn't endure it! I'm not essentially troublesome or
+exacting, but I like to be able to be either, whenever the humor takes
+me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was thinking of a house where you might freely take these liberties&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Liberties! I call them rights, doctor, not liberties! Can't you imagine a
+man, not very wilful, not very capricious, but who, if the whim took him,
+would n't stand being thwarted by any habits of a so-called respectable
+family? There, don't throw up your eyes, and misunderstand me. All I mean
+is, that my hours of eating and sleeping have no rule. I smoke everywhere;
+I make as much noise as I please; and I never brook any impertinent
+curiosity about what I do, or what I leave undone.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Under all the circumstances, you had, perhaps, better remain where you
+are,&rdquo; said Dill, thoughtfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, if these people will permit me to pay for my board and
+lodging. If they 'll condescend to let me be a stranger, I ask for nothing
+better than this place.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Might I offer myself as a negotiator?&rdquo; said Dill, insinuatingly; &ldquo;for I
+opine that the case is not of the difficulty you suppose. Will you confide
+it to my hands?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;With all my heart. I don't exactly see why there should be a negotiation
+at all; but if there must, pray be the special envoy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+When Dill arose and set out on his mission, the young fellow looked after
+him with an expression that seemed to say, &ldquo;How you all imagine you are
+humbugging me, while I read every one of you like a book!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Let us follow the doctor, and see how he acquitted himself in his
+diplomacy.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER V. DILL AS A DIPLOMATIST
+</h2>
+<p>
+Dr. Dill had knocked twice at the door of Miss Barrington's little
+sitting-room, and no answer was returned to his summons.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is the dear lady at home?&rdquo; asked he, blandly. But, though he waited for
+some seconds, no reply came.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Might Dr. Dill be permitted to make his compliments?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, come in,&rdquo; said a sharp voice, very much with the expression of one
+wearied out by importunity. Miss Barrington gave a brief nod in return for
+the profound obeisance of her visitor, and then turned again to a large
+map which covered the table before her.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I took the opportunity of my professional call here this morning&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How is that young man,&mdash;is anything broken?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I incline to say there is no fracture. The flexors, and perhaps, indeed,
+the annular ligament, are the seat of all the mischief.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A common sprain, in fact; a thing to rest for one day, and hold under the
+pump the day after.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The dear lady is always prompt, always energetic; but these sort of cases
+are often complicated, and require nice management.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And frequent visits,&rdquo; said she, with a dry gravity.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All the world must live, dear lady,&mdash;all the world must live.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your profession does not always sustain your theory, sir; at least,
+popular scandal says you kill as many as you cure.&rdquo; &ldquo;I know the dear lady
+has little faith in physic.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Say none, sir, and you will be nearer the mark; but, remember, I seek no
+converts; I ask nobody to deny himself the luxuries of senna and gamboge
+because I prefer beef and mutton. You wanted to see my brother, I
+presume,&rdquo; added she, sharply, &ldquo;but he started early this morning for
+Kilkenny. The Solicitor-General wanted to say a few words to him on his
+way down to Cork.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That weary law! that weary law!&rdquo; ejaculated Dill, fervently; for he well
+knew with what little favor Miss Barrington regarded litigation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And why so, sir?&rdquo; retorted she, sharply. &ldquo;What greater absurdity is there
+in being hypochondriac about your property than your person? My brother's
+taste inclines to depletion by law; others prefer the lancet.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Always witty, always smart, the dear lady,&rdquo; said Dill, with a sad attempt
+at a smile. The flattery passed without acknowledgment of any kind, and he
+resumed: &ldquo;I dropped in this morning to you, dear lady, on a matter which,
+perhaps, might not be altogether pleasing to you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then don't do it, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If the dear lady would let me finish&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was warning you, sir, not even to begin.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, madam,&rdquo; said he, stung into something like resistance; &ldquo;but I would
+have added, had I been permitted, without any due reason for displeasure
+on your part.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And are <i>you</i> the fitting judge of that, sir? If you know, as you
+say you know, that you are about to give me pain, by what presumption do
+you assert that it must be for my benefit? What's it all about?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I come on the part of this young gentleman, dear lady, who, having
+learned&mdash;I cannot say where or how&mdash;that he is not to consider
+himself here at an inn, but, as a guest, feels, with all the gratitude
+that the occasion warrants, that he has no claim to the attention, and
+that it is one which would render his position here too painful to persist
+in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did he come by this impression, sir? Be frank and tell me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am really unable to say, Miss Dinah.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, sir, be honest, and own that the delusion arose from yourself,&mdash;yes,
+from yourself. It was in perceiving the courteous delicacy with which you
+declined a fee that he conceived this flattering notion of us; but go back
+to him, doctor, and say it is a pure mistake; that his breakfast will cost
+him one shilling, and his dinner two; the price of a boat to fetch him up
+to Thomastown is half a crown, and that the earlier he orders one the
+better. Listen to me, sir,&rdquo; said she, and her lips trembled with passion,&mdash;&ldquo;listen
+to me, while I speak of this for the first and last time. Whenever my
+brother, recurring to what he once was, has been emboldened to treat a
+passing stranger as his guest, the choice has been so judiciously
+exercised as to fall upon one who could respect the motive and not resent
+the liberty; but never till this moment has it befallen us to be told that
+the possibility&mdash;the bare possibility&mdash;of such a presumption
+should be met by a declaration of refusal. Go back, then, to your patient,
+sir; assure him that he is at an inn, and that he has the right to be all
+that his purse and his want of manners can insure him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear lady, I'm, maybe, a bad negotiator.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I trust sincerely, sir, you are a better doctor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing on earth was further from my mind than offence&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very possibly, sir; but, as you are aware, blisters will occasionally act
+with all the violence of caustics, so an irritating theme may be pressed
+at a very inauspicious moment. My cares as a hostess are not in very good
+favor with me just now. Counsel your young charge to a change of air, and
+I 'll think no more of the matter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Had it been a queen who had spoken, the doctor could not more palpably
+have felt that his audience had terminated, and his only duty was to
+withdraw.
+</p>
+<p>
+And so he did retire, with much bowing and graciously smiling, and
+indicating, by all imaginable contortions, gratitude for the past and
+humility forever.
+</p>
+<p>
+I rejoice that I am not obliged to record as history the low but fervent
+mutterings that fell from his lips as he closed the door after him, and by
+a gesture of menace showed his feelings towards her he had just quitted.
+&ldquo;Insolent old woman!&rdquo; he burst out as he went along, &ldquo;how can she presume
+to forget a station that every incident of her daily life recalls? In the
+rank she once held, and can never return to, such manners would be an
+outrage; but I 'll not endure it again. It is your last triumph, Miss
+Dinah; make much of it.&rdquo; Thus sustained by a very Dutch courage,&mdash;for
+this national gift can come of passion as well as drink,&mdash;he made his
+way to his patient's presence, smoothing his brow, as he went, and
+recalling the medico-chimrgical serenity of his features.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have not done much, but I have accomplished something,&rdquo; said he,
+blandly. &ldquo;I am at a loss to understand what they mean by introducing all
+these caprices into their means of life; but, assuredly, it will not
+attract strangers to the house.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are the caprices you allude to?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it is not very easy to say; perhaps I have not expressed my meaning
+quite correctly; but one thing is clear, a stranger likes to feel that his
+only obligation in an inn is to discharge the bill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, doctor,&rdquo; broke in Conyers, &ldquo;I have been thinking the matter over.
+Why should I not go back to my quarters? There might surely be some means
+contrived to convey me to the high-road; after that, there will be no
+difficulty whatever.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor actually shuddered at the thought. The sportsman who sees the
+bird he has just winged flutter away to his neighbor's preserve may
+understand something, at least, of Dr. Dill's discomfiture as he saw his
+wealthy patient threatening a departure. He quickly, therefore, summoned
+to his aid all those terrors which had so often done good service on like
+occasions. He gave a little graphic sketch of every evil consequence that
+might come of an imprudent journey. The catalogue was a bulky one; it
+ranged over tetanus, mortification, and disease of the bones. It included
+every sort and description of pain as classified by science, into &ldquo;dull,
+weary, and incessant,&rdquo; or &ldquo;sharp lancinating agony.&rdquo; Now Conyers was as
+brave as a lion, but had, withal, one of those temperaments which are
+miserably sensitive under suffering, and to which the mere description of
+pain is itself an acute pang. When, therefore, the doctor drew the picture
+of a case very like the present one, where amputation came too late,
+Conyers burst in with, &ldquo;For mercy's sake, will you stop! I can't sit here
+to be cut up piece-meal; there's not a nerve in my body you haven't set
+ajar.&rdquo; The doctor blandly took out his massive watch, and laid his fingers
+on the young man's pulse. &ldquo;Ninety-eight, and slightly intermittent,&rdquo; said
+he, as though to himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What does that mean?&rdquo; asked Conyers, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The irregular action of the heart implies abnormal condition of the
+nervous system, and indicates, imperatively, rest, repose, and
+tranquillity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If lethargy itself be required, this is a capital place for it,&rdquo; sighed
+Conyers, drearily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have n't turned your thoughts to what I said awhile ago, being
+domesticated, as one might call it, in a nice quiet family, with all the
+tender attentions of a home, and a little music in the evening.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Simple as these words were, Dill gave to each of them an almost honeyed
+utterance.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; it would bore me excessively. I detest to be looked after; I abhor
+what are called attentions.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Unobtrusively offered,&mdash;tendered with a due delicacy and reserve?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which means a sort of simpering civility that one has to smirk for in
+return. No, no; I was bred up in quite a different school, where we
+clapped our hands twice when we wanted a servant, and the fellow's head
+paid for it if he was slow in coming. Don't tell me any more about your
+pleasant family, for they 'd neither endure me, nor I them. Get me well as
+fast as you can, and out of this confounded place, and I 'll give you
+leave to make a vascular preparation of me if you catch me here again!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor smiled, as doctors know how to smile when patients think they
+have said a smartness, and now each was somewhat on better terms with the
+other.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By the way, doctor,&rdquo; said Conyers, suddenly, &ldquo;you have n't told me what
+the old woman said. What arrangement did you come to?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your breakfast will cost one shilling, your dinner two. She made no
+mention of your rooms, but only hinted that, whenever you took your
+departure, the charge for the boat was half a crown.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, all this is very business-like, and to the purpose; but where, in
+Heaven's name, did any man live in this fashion for so little? We have a
+breakfast-mess, but it's not to be compared with this,&mdash;such a
+variety of bread, such grilled trout, such a profusion of fruit. After
+all, doctor, it is very like being a guest, the nominal charge being to
+escape the sense of a favor. But perhaps one can do here as at one of
+those 'hospices' in the Alps, and make a present at parting to requite the
+hospitality.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is a graceful way to record gratitude,&rdquo; said the doctor, who liked to
+think that the practice could be extended to other reminiscences.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must have my servant and my books, my pipes and my Spitz terrier. I 'll
+get a target up, besides, on that cherry-tree, and practise
+pistol-shooting as I sit here. Could you find out some idle fellow who
+would play chess or <i>écarté</i> with me,&mdash;a curate or a priest,&mdash;I
+'m not particular; and when my man Holt comes, I 'll make him string my
+grass-mat hammock between those two elms, so that I can fish without the
+bore of standing up for it. Holt is a rare clever fellow, and you 'll see
+how he'll get things in order here before he's a day in the place.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor smiled again, for he saw that his patient desired to be deemed
+a marvel of resources and a mine of original thought. The doctor's smile
+was apportioned to his conversation, just as he added syrups in his
+prescriptions. It was, as he himself called it, the &ldquo;vehicle,&rdquo; without
+special efficacy in itself, but it aided to get down the &ldquo;active
+principle.&rdquo; But he did more than smile. He promised all possible
+assistance to carry out his patient's plans. He was almost certain that a
+friend of his, an old soldier, too,&mdash;a Major M'Cormick,&mdash;could
+play <i>écarté</i>, though, perhaps, it might be cribbage; and then Father
+Cody, he could answer for it, was wonderful at skittles, though, for the
+present, that game might not be practicable; and as for books, the library
+at Woodstay was full of them, if the key could only be come at, for the
+family was abroad; and, in fact, he displayed a most generous willingness
+to oblige, although, when brought to the rude test of reality, his
+pictures were only dissolving views of pleasures to come.
+</p>
+<p>
+When he took his leave at last, he left Conyers in far better spirits than
+he found him. The young fellow had begun to castle-build about how he
+should pass his time, and in such architecture there is no room for ennui.
+And what a rare organ must constructiveness be, when even in its mockery
+it can yield such pleasure! We are very prone to envy the rich man, whose
+wealth sets no limit to his caprices; but is not a rich fancy, that
+wondrous imaginative power which unweariedly invents new incidents, new
+personages, new situations, a very covetable possession? And can we not,
+in the gratification of the very humblest exercise of this quality, rudely
+approximate to the ecstasy of him who wields it in all its force? Not that
+Fred Conyers was one of these; he was a mere tyro in the faculty, and
+could only carry himself into a region where he saw his Spitz terrier jump
+between the back rails of a chair, and himself sending bullet after bullet
+through the very centre of the bull's eye.
+</p>
+<p>
+Be it so. Perhaps you and I, too, my reader, have our Spitz terrier and
+bull's-eye days, and, if so, let us be grateful for them.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER VI. THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER
+</h2>
+<p>
+Whether it was that Dr. Dill expended all the benevolence of his
+disposition in the course of his practice, and came home utterly
+exhausted, but so it was, that his family never saw him in those moods of
+blandness which he invariably appeared in to his patients. In fact,
+however loaded he went forth with these wares of a morning, he disposed of
+every item of his stock before he got back at night; and when poor Mrs.
+Dill heard, as she from time to time did hear, of the doctor's gentleness,
+his kindness in suffering, his beautiful and touching sympathy with
+sorrow, she listened with the same sort of semi-stupid astonishment she
+would have felt on hearing some one eulogizing the climate of Ireland, and
+going rapturous about the blue sky and the glorious sunshine. Unhappy
+little woman, she only saw him in his dark days of cloud and rain, and she
+never came into his presence except in a sort of moral mackintosh made for
+the worst weather.
+</p>
+<p>
+The doctor's family consisted of seven children, but our concern is only
+with the two eldest,&mdash;a son and a daughter. Tom was two years younger
+than his sister, who, at this period of our story, was verging on
+nineteen. He was an awkward, ungainly youth, large-jointed, but weakly,
+with a sandy red head and much-freckled face, just such a disparaging
+counterpart of his sister as a coarse American piracy often presents of
+one of our well-printed, richly papered English editions. &ldquo;It was all
+there,&rdquo; but all unseemly, ungraceful, undignified; for Polly Dill was
+pretty. Her hair was auburn, her eyes a deep hazel, and her skin a marvel
+of transparent whiteness. You would never have hesitated to call her a
+very pretty girl if you had not seen her brother, but, having seen him,
+all the traits of her good looks suffered in the same way that Grisi's
+&ldquo;Norma&rdquo; does from the horrid recollection of Paul Bedford's.
+</p>
+<p>
+After all, the resemblance went very little further than this &ldquo;travestie,&rdquo;
+ for while he was a slow, heavy-witted, loutish creature, with low tastes
+and low ambitions, she was a clever, intelligent girl, very eagerly intent
+on making something of her advantages. Though the doctor was a general
+practitioner, and had a shop, which he called &ldquo;Surgery,&rdquo; in the village,
+he was received at the great houses in a sort of half-intimate,
+half-patronizing fashion; as one, in short, with whom it was not necessary
+to be formal, but it might become very inconvenient to have a coldness.
+These were very sorry credentials for acceptance, but he made no objection
+to them.
+</p>
+<p>
+A few, however, of the &ldquo;neighbors&rdquo;&mdash;it would be ungenerous to inquire
+the motive, for in this world of ours it is just as well to regard one's
+five-pound note as convertible into five gold sovereigns, and not
+speculate as to the kind of rags it is made of&mdash;were pleased to
+notice Miss Dill, and occasionally invite her to their larger gatherings,
+so that she not only gained opportunities of cultivating her social gifts,
+but, what is often a greater spur to ambition, of comparing them with
+those of others.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now this same measuring process, if only conducted without any envy or
+ungenerous rivalry, is not without its advantage. Polly Dill made it
+really profitable. I will not presume to say that, in her heart of hearts,
+she did not envy the social accidents that gave others precedence before
+her, but into her heart of hearts neither you nor I have any claim to
+enter. Enough that we know nothing in her outward conduct or bearing
+revealed such a sentiment. As little did she maintain her position by
+flattery, which many in her ambiguous station would have relied upon as a
+stronghold. No; Polly followed a very simple policy, which was all the
+more successful that it never seemed to be a policy at all. She never in
+any way attracted towards her the attentions of those men who, in the
+marriageable market, were looked on as the choice lots; squires in
+possession, elder sons, and favorite nephews, she regarded as so much
+forbidden fruit. It was a lottery in which she never took a ticket It is
+incredible how much kindly notice and favorable recognition accrued to her
+from this line.
+</p>
+<p>
+We all know how pleasant it is to be next to the man at a promiscuous
+dinner who never eats turtle nor cares for &ldquo;Cliquot;&rdquo; and in the world at
+large there are people who represent the calabash and the champagne.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then Polly played well, but was quite as ready to play as to dance. She
+sang prettily, too, and had not the slightest objection that one of her
+simple ballads should be the foil to a grand performance of some young
+lady, whose artistic agonies rivalled Alboni's. So cleverly did Polly do
+all this, that even her father could not discover the secret of her
+success; and though he saw &ldquo;his little girl&rdquo; as he called her, more and
+more sought after and invited, he continued to be persuaded that all this
+favoritism was only the reflex of his own popularity. How, then, could
+mere acquaintances ever suspect what to the eye of those nearer and closer
+was so inscrutable?
+</p>
+<p>
+Polly Dill rode very well and very fearlessly, and occasionally was
+assisted to &ldquo;a mount&rdquo; by some country gentleman, who combined gallantry
+with profit, and knew that the horse he lent could never be seen to
+greater advantage. Yet, even in this, she avoided display, quite
+satisfied, as it seemed, to enjoy herself thoroughly, and not attract any
+notice that could be avoided. Indeed, she never tried for &ldquo;a place,&rdquo; but
+rather attached herself to some of the older and heavier weights, who grew
+to believe that they were especially in charge of her, and nothing was
+more common, at the end of a hard run, than to hear such self-gratulations
+as, &ldquo;I think I took great care of you, Miss Dill?&rdquo; &ldquo;Eh, Miss Polly! you
+see I'm not such a bad leader!&rdquo; and so on.
+</p>
+<p>
+Such was the doctor's &ldquo;little girl,&rdquo; whom I am about to present to my
+readers under another aspect. She is at home, dressed in a neatly fitting
+but very simple cotton dress, her hair in two plain bands, and she is
+seated at a table, at the opposite of which lounges her brother Tom with
+an air of dogged and sleepy indolence, which extends from his ill-trimmed
+hair to his ill-buttoned waistcoat.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind it to-day, Polly,&rdquo; said he, with a yawn. &ldquo;I've been up all
+night, and have no head for work. There's a good girl, let's have a chat
+instead.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Impossible, Tom,&rdquo; said she, calmly, but with decision. &ldquo;To-day is the
+third. You have only three weeks now and two days before your examination.
+We have all the bones and ligaments to go over again, and the whole
+vascular system. You 've forgotten every word of Harrison.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It does n't signify, Polly. They never take a fellow on anything but two
+arteries for the navy. Grove told me so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Grove is an ass, and got plucked twice. It is a perfect disgrace to quote
+him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I only wish I may do as well. He's assistant-surgeon to the
+'Taurus' gun-brig on the African station; and if I was there, it's little
+I 'd care for the whole lot of bones and balderdash.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, don't be silly. Let us go on with the scapula. Describe the glenoid
+cavity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you were the girl you might be, I'd not be bored with all this stupid
+trash, Polly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean? I don't understand you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's easy enough to understand me. You are as thick as thieves, you and
+that old Admiral,&mdash;that Sir Charles Cobham. I saw you talking to the
+old fellow at the meet the other morning. You 've only to say, 'There's
+Tom&mdash;my brother Tom&mdash;wants a navy appointment; he's not passed
+yet, but if the fellows at the Board got a hint, just as much as, &ldquo;Don't
+be hard on him&mdash;&ldquo;'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'd not do it to make you a post-captain, sir,&rdquo; said she, severely. &ldquo;You
+very much overrate my influence, and very much underrate my integrity,
+when you ask it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hoity-toity! ain't we dignified! So you'd rather see me plucked, eh?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, if that should be the only alternative.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, Polly, that's all! thank you,&rdquo; said he; and he drew his sleeve
+across his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Tom,&rdquo; said she, laying her white soft hand on his coarse brown
+fingers, &ldquo;can you not see that if I even stooped to anything so unworthy,
+that it would compromise your whole prospects in life? You'd obtain an
+assistant-surgeoncy, and never rise above it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And do I ask to rise above it? Do I ask anything beyond getting out of
+this house, and earning bread that is not grudged me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, nay; if you talk that way, I've done.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I do talk that way. He sent me off to Kilkenny last week&mdash;you
+saw it yourself&mdash;to bring out that trash for the shop, and he would
+n't pay the car hire, and made me carry two stone of carbonate of magnesia
+and a jar of leeches fourteen miles. You were just taking that post and
+rail out of Nixon's lawn as I came by. You saw me well enough.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am glad to say I did not,&rdquo; said she, sighing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I saw you, then, and how that gray carried you! You were waving a
+handkerchief in your hand; what was that for?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was to show Ambrose Bushe that the ground was good; he was afraid of
+being staked!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/084.jpg" width="100%" alt="084 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's exactly what I am. I 'm afraid of being 'staked up' at the Hall,
+and if <i>you</i> 'd take as much trouble about your brother as you did
+for Ambrose Bushe&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tom, Tom, I have taken it for eight weary months. I believe I know Bell
+on the bones, and Harrison on the arteries, by heart!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who thanks you?&rdquo; said he, doggedly. &ldquo;When you read a thing twice, you
+never forget it; but it's not so with me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Try what a little work will do, Tom; be assured there is not half as much
+disparity between people's brains as there is between their industry.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'd rather have luck than either, I know that. It's the only thing, after
+all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She gave a very deep sigh, and leaned her head on her hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Work and toil as hard as you may,&rdquo; continued he, with all the fervor of
+one on a favorite theme, &ldquo;if you haven't luck you 'll be beaten. Can you
+deny that, Polly?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you allow me to call merit what you call luck, I'll agree with you.
+But I 'd much rather go on with our work. What is the insertion of the
+deltoid? I'm sure you know <i>that!</i>&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The deltoid! the deltoid!&rdquo; muttered he. &ldquo;I forget all about the deltoid,
+but, of course, it's like the rest of them. It's inserted into a ridge or
+a process, or whatever you call it&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Tom, this is very hopeless. How can you presume to face your
+examiners with such ignorance as this?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'll tell you what I'll do, Polly; Grove told me he did it,&mdash;if I
+find my pluck failing me, I 'll have a go of brandy before I go in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She found it very hard not to laugh at the solemn gravity of this speech,
+and just as hard not to cry as she looked at him who spoke it At the same
+moment Dr. Dill opened the door, calling out sharply, &ldquo;Where's that
+fellow, Tom? Who has seen him this morning?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He's here, papa,&rdquo; said Polly. &ldquo;We are brushing up the anatomy for the
+last time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;His head must be in capital order for it, after his night's exploit. I
+heard of you, sir, and your reputable wager. Noonan was up here this
+morning with the whole story!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'd have won if they 'd not put snuff in the punch&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are a shameless hound&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, papa! If you knew how he was working,&mdash;how eager he is to pass
+his examination, and be a credit to us all, and owe his independence to
+himself&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know more of him than you do, miss,&mdash;far more, too, than he is
+aware of,&mdash;and I know something of myself also; and I tell him now,
+that if he's rejected at the examination, he need not come back here with
+the news.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And where am I to go, then?&rdquo; asked the young fellow, half insolently.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may go&mdash;&rdquo; Where to, the doctor was not suffered to indicate, for
+already Polly had thrown herself into his arms and arrested the speech.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I suppose I can 'list; a fellow need not know much about gallipots
+for that.&rdquo; As he said this, he snatched up his tattered old cap and made
+for the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stay, sir! I have business for you to do,&rdquo; cried Dill, sternly. &ldquo;There's
+a young gentleman at the 'Fisherman's Home' laid up with a bad sprain. I
+have prescribed twenty leeches on the part. Go down and apply them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's what old Molly Day used to do,&rdquo; said Tom, angrily.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir, and knew more of the occasion that required it than you will
+ever do. See that you apply them all to the outer ankle, and attend well
+to the bleeding; the patient is a young man of rank, with whom you had
+better take no liberties.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I go at all&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tom, Tom, none of this!&rdquo; said Polly, who drew very close to him, and
+looked up at him with eyes full of tears.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I going as your son this time? or did you tell him&mdash;as you told
+Mr. Nixon&mdash;that you 'd send your young man?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There! listen to that!&rdquo; cried the doctor, turning to Polly. &ldquo;I hope you
+are proud of your pupil.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She made no answer, but whispering some hurried words in her brother's
+ear, and pressing at the same time something into his hand, she shuffled
+him out of the room and closed the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+The doctor now paced the room, so engrossed by passion that he forgot he
+was not alone, and uttered threats and mumbled out dark predictions with a
+fearful energy. Meanwhile Polly put by the books and drawings, and removed
+everything which might recall the late misadventure.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What's your letter about, papa?&rdquo; said she, pointing to a square-shaped
+envelope which he still held in his hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, by the way,&rdquo; said he, quietly, &ldquo;this is from Cob-ham. They ask us up
+there to dinner to-day, and to stop the night.&rdquo; The doctor tried very hard
+to utter this speech with the unconcern of one alluding to some every-day
+occurrence. Nay, he did more; he endeavored to throw into it a certain air
+of fastidious weariness, as though to say, &ldquo;See how these people will have
+me; mark how they persecute me with their attentions!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Polly understood the &ldquo;situation&rdquo; perfectly, and it was with actual
+curiosity in her tone she asked, &ldquo;Do you mean to go, sir?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose we must, dear,&rdquo; he said, with a deep sigh. &ldquo;A professional man
+is no more the arbiter of his social hours than of his business ones.
+Cooper always said dining at home costs a thousand a year.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So much, papa?&rdquo; asked she, with much semblance of innocence.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't mean to myself,&rdquo; said he, reddening, &ldquo;nor to any physician in
+country practice; but we all lose by it, more or less.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Polly, meanwhile, had taken the letter, and was reading it over. It was
+very brief. It had been originally begun, &ldquo;Lady Cobham presents,&rdquo; but a
+pen was run through the words, and it ran,&mdash;
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+&ldquo;Dear Dr. Dill,&mdash;If a short notice will not inconvenience
+you, will you and your daughter dine here to-day at seven?
+There is no moon, and we shall expect you to stay the night.
+
+&ldquo;Truly yours,
+
+&ldquo;Georgiana Cobham.
+</pre>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Admiral hopes Miss D. will not forget to bring her music.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then we go, sir?&rdquo; asked she, with eagerness; for it was a house to which
+she had never yet been invited, though she had long wished for the entrée.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall go, certainly,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;As to you, there will be the old
+discussion with your mother as to clothes, and the usual declaration that
+you have really nothing to put on.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! but I have, papa. My wonderful-worked muslin, that was to have
+astonished the world at the race ball, but which arrived too late, is now
+quite ready to captivate all beholders; and I have just learned that new
+song, 'Where's the slave so lowly?' which I mean to give with a most
+rebellious fervor; and, in fact, I am dying to assault this same fortress
+of Cobham, and see what it is like inside the citadel.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pretty much like Woodstay, and the Grove, and Mount Kelly, and the other
+places we go to,&rdquo; said Dill, pompously.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The same sort of rooms, the same sort of dinner, the same company;
+nothing different but the liveries.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very true, papa; but there is always an interest in seeing how people
+behave in their own house, whom you have never seen except in strangers'.
+I have met Lady Cobham at the Beachers', where she scarcely noticed me. I
+am curious to see what sort of reception she will vouchsafe me at home.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, go and look after your things, for we have eight miles to drive,
+and Billy has already been at Dangan and over to Mooney's Mills, and he 's
+not the fresher for it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose I 'd better take my hat and habit, papa?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What for, child?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just as you always carry your lancets, papa,&mdash;you don't know what
+may turn up.&rdquo; And she was off before he could answer her.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER VII. TOM DILL'S FIRST PATIENT
+</h2>
+<p>
+Before Tom Dill had set out on his errand he had learned all about his
+father and sister's dinner engagement; nor did the contrast with the way
+in which his own time was to be passed at all improve his temper. Indeed,
+he took the opportunity of intimating to his mother how few favors fell to
+her share or his own,&mdash;a piece of information she very
+philosophically received, all her sympathies being far more interested for
+the sorrows of &ldquo;Clarissa Harlowe&rdquo; than for any incident that occurred
+around her. Poor old lady! she had read that story over and over again,
+till it might seem that every word and every comma in it had become her
+own; but she was blessed with a memory that retained nothing, and she
+could cry over the sorrowful bits, and pant with eagerness at the critical
+ones, just as passionately, just as fervently, as she had done for years
+and years before. Dim, vague perceptions she might have retained of the
+personages, but these only gave them a stronger truthfulness, and made
+them more like the people of the real world, whom she had seen, passingly,
+once, and was now to learn more about. I doubt if Mezzofanti ever derived
+one tenth of the pleasure from all his marvellous memory that she did from
+the want of one.
+</p>
+<p>
+Blessed with that one book, she was proof against all the common accidents
+of life. It was her sanctuary against duns, and difficulties, and the
+doctor's temper. As the miser feels a sort of ecstasy in the secret of his
+hoarded wealth, so had she an intense enjoyment in thinking that all dear
+Clarissa's trials and sufferings were only known to her. Neither the
+doctor, nor Polly, nor Tom, so much as suspected them. It was like a
+confidence between Mr. Richardson and herself, and for nothing on earth
+would she have betrayed it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tom had no such resources, and he set out on his mission with no very
+remarkable good feeling towards the world at large. Still, Polly had
+pressed into his hand a gold half-guinea,&mdash;some very long-treasured
+keepsake, the birthday gift of a godmother in times remote, and now to be
+converted into tobacco and beer, and some articles of fishing-gear which
+he greatly needed.
+</p>
+<p>
+Seated in one of those light canoe-shaped skiffs,&mdash;&ldquo;cots,&rdquo; as they
+are called on these rivers,&mdash;he suffered himself to be carried lazily
+along by the stream, while he tied his flies and adjusted his tackle.
+There is, sometimes, a stronger sense of unhappiness attached to what is
+called being &ldquo;hardly used&rdquo; by the world, than to a direct palpable
+misfortune; for though the sufferer may not be able, even to his own
+heart, to set out, with clearness, one single count in the indictment, yet
+a general sense of hard treatment, unfairness, and so forth, brings with
+it great depression, and a feeling of desolation.
+</p>
+<p>
+Like all young fellows of his stamp, Tom only saw his inflictions, not one
+of his transgressions. He knew that his father made a common drudge of
+him, employed him in all that was wearisome and even menial in his craft,
+admitted him to no confidences, gave him no counsels, and treated him in
+every way like one who was never destined to rise above the meanest cares
+and lowest duties. Even those little fleeting glances at a brighter future
+which Polly would now and then open to his ambition, never came from his
+father, who would actually ridicule the notion of his obtaining a degree,
+and make the thought of a commission in the service a subject for mockery.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was low in heart as he thought over these things. &ldquo;If it were not for
+Polly,&rdquo; so he said to himself, &ldquo;he 'd go and enlist;&rdquo; or, as his boat
+slowly floated into a dark angle of the stream where the water was still
+and the shadow deep, he even felt he could do worse. &ldquo;Poor Polly!&rdquo; said
+he, as he moved his hand to and fro in the cold clear water, &ldquo;you 'd be
+very, very sorry for me. You, at least, knew that I was not all bad, and
+that I wanted to be better. It was no fault of mine to have a head that
+could n't learn. I 'd be clever if I could, and do everything as well as
+she does; but when they see that I have no talents, that if they put the
+task before me I cannot master it, sure they ought to pity me, not blame
+me.&rdquo; And then he bent over the boat and looked down eagerly into the
+water, till, by long dint of gazing, he saw, or he thought he saw, the
+gravelly bed beneath; and again he swept his hand through it,&mdash;it was
+cold, and caused a slight shudder. Then, suddenly, with some fresh
+impulse, he threw off his cap, and kicked his shoes from him. His
+trembling hands buttoned and unbuttoned his coat with some infirm,
+uncertain purpose. He stopped and listened; he heard a sound; there was
+some one near,&mdash;quite near. He bent down and peered under the
+branches that hung over the stream, and there he saw a very old and infirm
+man, so old and infirm that he could barely creep. He had been carrying a
+little bundle of fagots for firewood, and the cord had given way, and his
+burden fallen, scattered, to the ground. This was the noise Tom had heard.
+For a few minutes the old man seemed overwhelmed with his disaster, and
+stood motionless, contemplating it; then, as it were, taking courage, he
+laid down his staff, and bending on his knees, set slowly to work to
+gather up his fagots.
+</p>
+<p>
+There are minutes in the lives of all of us when some simple incident will
+speak to our hearts with a force that human words never carried,&mdash;when
+the most trivial event will teach a lesson that all our wisdom never gave
+us. &ldquo;Poor old fellow,&rdquo; said Tom, &ldquo;he has a stout heart left to him still,
+and he 'll not leave his load behind him!&rdquo; And then his own craven spirit
+flashed across him, and he hid his face in his hand and cried bitterly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Suddenly rousing himself with a sort of convulsive shake, he sent the
+skiff with a strong shove in shore, and gave the old fellow what remained
+to him of Polly's present; and then, with a lighter spirit than he had
+known for many a day, rowed manfully on his way.
+</p>
+<p>
+The evening&mdash;a soft, mellow, summer evening&mdash;was just falling as
+Tom reached the little boat quay at the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home,&rdquo;&mdash;a spot
+it was seldom his fortune to visit, but one for whose woodland beauty and
+trim comfort he had a deep admiration. He would have liked to have
+lingered a little to inspect the boat-house, and the little aviary over
+it, and the small cottage on the island, and the little terrace made to
+fish from; but Darby had caught sight of him as he landed, and came
+hurriedly down to say that the young gentleman was growing very impatient
+for his coming, and was even hinting at sending for another doctor if he
+should not soon appear.
+</p>
+<p>
+If Conyers was as impatient as Darby represented, he had, at least,
+surrounded himself with every appliance to allay the fervor of that spirit
+He had dined under a spreading sycamore-tree, and now sat with a table
+richly covered before him. Fruit, flowers, and wine abounded, with a
+profusion that might have satisfied several guests; for, as he understood
+that he was to consider himself at an inn, he resolved, by ordering the
+most costly things, to give the house all the advantage of his presence.
+The most delicious hothouse fruit had been procured from the gardener of
+an absent proprietor in the neighborhood, and several kinds of wine
+figured on the table, over which, and half shadowed by the leaves, a lamp
+had been suspended, throwing a fitful light over all, that imparted a most
+picturesque effect to the scene.
+</p>
+<p>
+And yet, amidst all these luxuries and delights, Bal-shazzar was
+discontented; his ankle pained him; he had been hobbling about on it all
+day, and increased the inflammation considerably; and, besides this, he
+was lonely; he had no one but Darby to talk to, and had grown to feel for
+that sapient functionary a perfect abhorrence,&mdash;his everlasting
+compliance, his eternal coincidence with everything, being a torment
+infinitely worse than the most dogged and mulish opposition. When,
+therefore, he heard at last the doctor's son had come with the leeches, he
+hailed him as a welcome guest.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a time you have kept me waiting!&rdquo; said he, as the loutish young man
+came forward, so astounded by the scene before him that he lost all
+presence of mind. &ldquo;I have been looking out for you since three o'clock,
+and pottering down the river and back so often, that I have made the leg
+twice as thick again.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why didn't you sit quiet?&rdquo; said Tom, in a hoarse, husky tone.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sit quiet!&rdquo; replied Conyers, staring half angrily at him; and then as
+quickly perceiving that no impertinence had been intended, which the
+other's changing color and evident confusion attested, he begged him to
+take a chair and fill his glass. &ldquo;That next you is some sort of Rhine
+wine: this is sherry; and here is the very best claret I ever tasted.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I 'll take that,&rdquo; said Tom, who, accepting the recommendation
+amidst luxuries all new and strange to him, proceeded to fill his glass,
+but so tremblingly that he spilled the wine all about the table, and then
+hurriedly wiped it up with his handkerchief.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers did his utmost to set his guest at his ease. He passed his
+cigar-case across the table, and led him on, as well as he might, to talk.
+But Tom was awestruck, not alone by the splendors around him, but by the
+condescension of his host; and he could not divest himself of the notion
+that he must have been mistaken for somebody else, to whom all these
+blandishments might be rightfully due.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you fond of shooting?&rdquo; asked Conyers, trying to engage a
+conversation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the curt reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There must be good sport hereabouts, I should say. Is the game well
+preserved?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Too well for such as me. I never get a shot without the risk of a jail,
+and it would be cheaper for me to kill a cow than a woodcock!&rdquo; There was a
+stern gravity in the way he said this that made it irresistibly comic, and
+Conyers laughed out in spite of himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have n't you a game license?&rdquo; asked he.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Haven't I a coach-and-six? Where would I get four pounds seven and ten to
+pay for it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The appeal was awkward, and for a moment Conyers was silent At last he
+said, &ldquo;You fish, I suppose?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; I kill a salmon whenever I get a quiet spot that nobody sees me, and
+I draw the river now and then with a net at night.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's poaching, I take it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It 's not the worse for that!&rdquo; said Tom, whose pluck was by this time
+considerably assisted by the claret.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it's an unfair way, at all events, and destroys real sport&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Real sport is filling your basket.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no; there's no real sport in doing anything that's unfair,&mdash;anything
+that's un&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; He stopped short, and swallowed off a glass of
+wine to cover his confusion.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's all mighty fine for you, who can not only pay for a license, but
+you 're just as sure to be invited here, there, and everywhere there's
+game to be killed. But think of me, that never snaps a cap, never throws a
+line, but he knows it's worse than robbing a hen-roost, and often, maybe,
+just as fond of it as yourself!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Whether it was that, coming after Darby's mawkish and servile agreement
+with everything, this rugged nature seemed more palatable, I cannot say;
+but so it was, Con-yers felt pleasure in talking to this rough unpolished
+creature, and hearing his opinions in turn. Had there been in Tom Dill's
+manner the slightest shade of any pretence, was there any element of that
+which, for want of a better word, we call &ldquo;snobbery,&rdquo; Conyers would not
+have endured him for a moment, but Tom was perfectly devoid of this
+vulgarity. He was often coarse in his remarks, his expressions were rarely
+measured by any rule of good manners; but it was easy to see that he never
+intended offence, nor did he so much as suspect that he could give that
+weight to any opinion which he uttered to make it of moment.
+</p>
+<p>
+Besides these points in Tom's favor, there was another, which also led
+Conyers to converse with him. There is some very subtle self-flattery in
+the condescension of one well to do in all the gifts of fortune
+associating, in an assumed equality, with some poor fellow to whom fate
+has assigned the shady side of the highway. Scarcely a subject can be
+touched without suggesting something for self-gratulation; every
+comparison, every contrast is in his favor, and Conyers, without being
+more of a puppy than the majority of his order, constantly felt how
+immeasurably above all his guest's views of his life and the world were
+his own,&mdash;not alone that he was more moderate in language and less
+prone to attribute evil, but with a finer sense of honor and a wider
+feeling of liberality.
+</p>
+<p>
+When Tom at last, with some shame, remembered that he had forgotten all
+about the real object of his mission, and had never so much as alluded to
+the leeches, Conyers only laughed and said, &ldquo;Never mind them to-night.
+Come back to-morrow and put them on; and mind,&mdash;come to breakfast at
+ten or eleven o'clock.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What am I to say to my father?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Say it was a whim of mine, which it is. You are quite ready to do this
+matter now. I see it; but I say no. Is n't that enough?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose so!&rdquo; muttered Tom, with a sort of dogged misgiving.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It strikes me that you have a very respectable fear of your governor. Am
+I right?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ain't you afraid of yours?&rdquo; bluntly asked the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Afraid of mine!&rdquo; cried Conyers, with a loud laugh; &ldquo;I should think not.
+Why, my father and myself are as thick as two thieves. I never was in a
+scrape that I did n't tell him. I 'd sit down this minute and write to him
+just as I would to any fellow in the regiment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, there 's only one in all the world I 'd tell a secret to, and it is
+n't My father!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is it, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My sister Polly!&rdquo; It was impossible to have uttered these words with a
+stronger sense of pride. He dwelt slowly upon each of them, and, when he
+had finished, looked as though he had said something utterly undeniable.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here's her health,&mdash;in a bumper too!&rdquo; cried Conyers.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hurray, hurray!&rdquo; shouted out Tom, as he tossed off his full glass, and
+set it on the table with a bang that smashed it. &ldquo;Oh, I beg pardon! I
+didn't mean to break the tumbler.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind it, Dill; it's a trifle. I half hoped you had done it on
+purpose, so that the glass should never be drained to a less honored
+toast. Is she like <i>you?</i>&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Like me,&mdash;like me?&rdquo; asked he, coloring deeply. &ldquo;Polly like me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean is there a family resemblance? Could you be easily known as
+brother and sister?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a bit of it. Polly is the prettiest girl in this county, and she 's
+better than she 's handsome. There's nothing she can't do. I taught her to
+tie flies, and she can put wings on a green-drake now that would take in
+any salmon that ever swam. Martin Keene sent her a pound-note for a book
+of 'brown hackles,' and, by the way, she gave it to <i>me</i>. And if you
+saw her on the back of a horse!&mdash;Ambrose Bushe's gray mare, the
+wickedest devil that ever was bridled, one buck jump after another the
+length of a field, and the mare trying to get her head between her
+fore-legs, and Polly handling her so quiet, never out of temper, never
+hot, but always saying, 'Ain't you ashamed of yourself, Dido? Don't you
+see them all laughing at us?'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am quite curious to see her. Will you present me one of these days?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Tom mumbled out something perfectly unintelligible.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope that I may be permitted to make her acquaintance,&rdquo; repeated he,
+not feeling very certain that his former speech was quite understood.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe so,&rdquo; grumbled he out at last, and sank back in his chair with a
+look of sulky ill-humor; for so it was that poor Tom, in his ignorance of
+life and its ways, deemed the proposal one of those free-and-easy
+suggestions which might be made to persons of very inferior station, and
+to whom the fact of acquaintanceship should be accounted as a great honor.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers was provoked at the little willingness shown to meet his offer,&mdash;an
+offer he felt to be a very courteous piece of condescension on his part,&mdash;and
+now both sat in silence. At last Tom Dill, long struggling with some
+secret impulse, gave way, and in a tone far more decided and firm than
+heretofore, said, &ldquo;Maybe you think, from seeing what sort of a fellow I
+am, that my sister ought to be like me; and because <i>I</i> have neither
+manners nor education, that she 's the same? But listen to me now; she 's
+just as little like me as you are yourself. You 're not more of a
+gentleman than she's a lady!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never imagined anything else.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what made you talk of bringing her up here to present her to you, as
+you called it? Was she to be trotted out in a cavasin, like a filly?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear fellow,&rdquo; said Conyers, good-humoredly, &ldquo;you never made a greater
+mistake. I begged that you would present <i>me</i> to your sister. I asked
+the sort of favor which is very common in the world, and in the language
+usually employed to convey such a request. I observed the recognized
+etiquette&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do I know about etiquette? If you'd have said, 'Tom Dill, I want to
+be introduced to your sister,' I 'd have guessed what you were at, and I
+'d have said, 'Come back in the boat with me to-morrow, and so you
+shall.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's a bargain, then, Dill. I want two or three things in the village,
+and I accept your offer gladly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Not only was peace now ratified between them, but a closer feeling of
+intimacy established; for poor Tom, not much spoiled by any excess of the
+world's sympathy, was so delighted by the kindly interest shown him, that
+he launched out freely to tell all about himself and his fortunes, how
+hardly treated he was at home, and how ill usage had made him despondent,
+and despondency made him dissolute. &ldquo;It's all very well to rate a fellow
+about his taste for low pleasures and low companions; but what if he's not
+rich enough for better? He takes them just as he smokes cheap tobacco,
+because he can afford no other. And do you know,&rdquo; continued he, &ldquo;you are
+the first real gentleman that ever said a kind word to me, or asked me to
+sit down in his company. It's even so strange to me yet, that maybe when I
+'m rowing home to-night I 'll think it's all a dream,&mdash;that it was
+the wine got into my head.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is not some of this your own fault?&rdquo; broke in Conyers. &ldquo;What if you had
+held your head higher&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hold my head higher!&rdquo; interrupted Tom. &ldquo;With this on it, eh?&rdquo; And he took
+up his ragged and worn cap from the ground, and showed it. &ldquo;Pride is a
+very fine thing when you can live up to it; but if you can't it's only
+ridiculous. I don't say,&rdquo; added he, after a few minutes of silence, &ldquo;but
+if I was far away from this, where nobody knew me, where I did n't owe
+little debts on every side, and was n't obliged to be intimate with every
+idle vagabond about&mdash;I don't say but I'd try to be something better.
+If, for instance, I could get into the navy&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not the army? You 'd like it better.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay! but it 's far harder to get into. There's many a rough fellow like
+myself aboard ship that they would n't take in a regiment. Besides, how
+could I get in without interest?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My father is a Lieutenant-General. I don't know whether he could be of
+service to you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A Lieutenant-General!&rdquo; repeated Tom, with the reverential awe of one
+alluding to an actual potentate.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. He has a command out in India, where I feel full sure he could give
+you something. Suppose you were to go out there? I 'd write a letter to my
+father and ask him to befriend you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would take a fortune to pay the journey,&rdquo; said Tom, despondingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not if you went out on service; the Government would send you free of
+cost. And even if you were not, I think we might manage it. Speak to your
+father about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he, slowly. &ldquo;No; but I 'll talk it over with Polly. Not but I
+know well she'll say, 'There you are, castle-building and romancing. It's
+all moonshine! Nobody ever took notice of you,&mdash;nobody said he 'd
+interest himself about you.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's easily remedied. If you like it, I 'll tell your sister all about
+it myself. I 'll tell her it's my plan, and I 'll show her what I think
+are good reasons to believe it will be successful.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! would you&mdash;would you!&rdquo; cried he, with a choking sensation in the
+throat; for his gratitude had made him almost hysterical.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; resumed Conyers. &ldquo;When you come up here tomorrow, we 'll arrange it
+all. I 'll turn the matter all over in my mind, too, and I have little
+doubt of our being able to carry it through.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 'll not tell my father, though?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a word, if you forbid it. At the same time, you must see that he'll
+have to hear it all later on.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose so,&rdquo; muttered Tom, moodily, and leaned his head thoughtfully on
+his hand. But one half-hour back and he would have told Conyers why he
+desired this concealment; he would have declared that his father, caring
+more for his services than his future good, would have thrown every
+obstacle to his promotion, and would even, if need were, have so
+represented him to Conyers that he would have appeared utterly unworthy of
+his interest and kindness; but now not one word of all this escaped him.
+He never hinted another reproach against his father, for already a purer
+spring had opened in his nature, the rocky heart had been smitten by words
+of gentleness, and he would have revolted against that which should
+degrade him in his own esteem.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good night,&rdquo; said Conyers, with a hearty shake of the hand, &ldquo;and don't
+forget your breakfast engagement tomorrow.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What 's this?&rdquo; said Tom, blushing deeply, as he found a crumpled
+bank-note in his palm.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's your fee, my good fellow, that's all,&rdquo; said the other, laughingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I can't take a fee. I have never done so. I have no right to one. I
+am not a doctor yet.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The very first lesson in your profession is not to anger your patient;
+and if you would not provoke me, say no more on this matter.&rdquo; There was a
+half-semblance of haughtiness in these words that perhaps the speaker
+never intended; at all events, he was quick enough to remedy the effect,
+for he laid his hand good-naturedly on the other's shoulder and said, &ldquo;For
+my sake, Dill,&mdash;for my sake.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish I knew what I ought to do,&rdquo; said Tom, whose pale cheek actually
+trembled with agitation. &ldquo;I mean,&rdquo; said he, in a shaken voice, &ldquo;I wish I
+knew what would make <i>you</i> think best of me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you attach so much value to my good opinion, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't you think I might? When did I ever meet any one that treated me
+this way before?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The agitation in which he uttered these few words imparted such a
+semblance of weakness to him that Conyers pressed him down into a chair,
+and filled up his glass with wine.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take that off, and you 'll be all right presently,&rdquo; said he, in a kind
+tone.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tom tried to carry the glass to his lips, but his hand trembled so that he
+had to set it down on the table.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't know how to say it,&rdquo; began he, &ldquo;and I don't know whether I ought
+to say it, but somehow I feel as if I could give my heart's blood if
+everybody would behave to me the way you do. I don't mean, mind you, so
+generously, but treating me as if&mdash;as if&mdash;as if&mdash;&rdquo; gulped
+he out at last, &ldquo;as if I was a gentleman.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And why not? As there is nothing in your station that should deny that
+claim, why should any presume to treat you otherwise?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because I'm not one!&rdquo; blurted he out; and covering his face with his
+hands, he sobbed bitterly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, come, my poor fellow, don't be down-hearted. I 'm not much older
+than yourself, but I 've seen a good deal of life; and, mark <i>my</i>
+words, the price a man puts on himself is the very highest penny the world
+will ever bid for him; he 'll not always get <i>that</i>, but he 'll never&mdash;no,
+never, get a farthing beyond it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Tom stared vacantly at the speaker, not very sure whether he understood
+the speech, or that it had any special application to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;When you come to know life as well as I do,&rdquo; continued Conyers, who had
+now launched into a very favorite theme, &ldquo;you'll learn the truth of what I
+say. Hold your head high; and if the world desires to see you, it must at
+least look up!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay, but it might laugh too!&rdquo; said Tom, with a bitter gravity, which
+considerably disconcerted the moralist, who pitched away his cigar
+impatiently, and set about selecting another.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suspect I understand <i>your</i> nature. For,&rdquo; said he, after a moment
+or two, &ldquo;I have rather a knack in reading people. Just answer me frankly a
+few questions.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whatever you like,&rdquo; said the other, in a half-sulky sort of manner.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mind,&rdquo; said Conyers, eagerly, &ldquo;as there can be no offence intended,
+you'll not feel any by whatever I may say.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; said Tom, in the same dry tone.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ain't you obstinate?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I knew it. We had not talked half an hour together when I detected it,
+and I said to myself, 'That fellow is one so rooted in his own
+convictions, it is scarcely possible to shake him.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What next?&rdquo; asked Tom.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can't readily forgive an injury; you find it very hard to pardon the
+man who has wronged you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not; if he did n't go on persecuting me, I would n't think of him at
+all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, that's a mistake. Well, I know you better than you know yourself; you
+<i>do</i> keep up the memory of an old grudge,&mdash;you can't help it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe so, but I never knew it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have, however, just as strong a sentiment of gratitude.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never knew that, either,&rdquo; muttered he; &ldquo;perhaps because it has had so
+little provocation!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bear in mind,&rdquo; said Conyers, who was rather disconcerted by the want of
+concurrence he had met with, &ldquo;that I am in a great measure referring to
+latent qualities,&mdash;things which probably require time and
+circumstances to develop.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, if that's it,&rdquo; said Dili, &ldquo;I can no more object than I could if you
+talked to me about what is down a dozen fathoms in the earth under our
+feet. It may be granite or it may be gold, for what I know; the only thing
+that <i>I</i> see is the gravel before me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll tell you a trait of your character you can't gainsay,&rdquo; said
+Conyers, who was growing more irritated by the opposition so unexpectedly
+met with, &ldquo;and it's one you need not dig a dozen fathoms down to discover,&mdash;you
+are very reckless.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Reckless&mdash;reckless,&mdash;you call a fellow reckless that throws
+away his chance, I suppose?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what if he never had one?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Every man has a destiny; every man has that in his fate which he may help
+to make or to mar as he inclines to. I suppose you admit that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; was the sullen reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not know? Surely you needn't be told such a fact to recognize it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All I know is this,&rdquo; said Tom, resolutely, &ldquo;that I scarcely ever did
+anything in my life that it was n't found out to be wrong, so that at last
+I 've come to be pretty careless what I do; and if it was n't for Polly,&mdash;if
+it was n't for Polly&mdash;&rdquo; He stopped, drew his sleeve across his eyes,
+and turned away, unable to finish.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, then,&rdquo; said Conyers, laying his hand affectionately on the other's
+shoulder, &ldquo;add my friendship to <i>her</i> love for you, and see if the
+two will not give you encouragement; for I mean to be your friend, Dill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you?&rdquo; said Tom, with the tears in his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There 's my hand on it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER VIII. FINE ACQUAINTANCES
+</h2>
+<p>
+There is a law of compensation even for the small things of this life, and
+by the wise enactments of that law, human happiness, on the whole, is
+pretty equally distributed. The rich man, probably, never felt one tithe
+of the enjoyment in his noble demesne that it yielded to some poor artisan
+who strolled through it on a holiday, and tasted at once the charms of a
+woodland scene with all the rapturous delight of a day of rest.
+</p>
+<p>
+Arguing from these premises, I greatly doubt if Lady Cobham, at the head
+of her great household, with her house crowded with distinguished
+visitors, surrounded by every accessory of luxury and splendor, tasted
+anything approaching to the delight felt by one, the very humblest of her
+guests, and who for a brief twenty-four hours partook of her hospitality.
+</p>
+<p>
+Polly Dill, with all her desire and ambition for notice amongst the great
+people of the county, had gone to this dinner-party with considerable
+misgivings. She only knew the Admiral in the hunting-field; of her
+Ladyship she had no knowledge whatever, save in a few dry sentences
+uttered to her from a carriage one day at &ldquo;the meet,&rdquo; when the Admiral,
+with more sailor-like frankness than politeness, presented her by saying,
+&ldquo;This is the heroine of the day's run, Dr. Dill's daughter.&rdquo; And to this
+was responded a stare through a double eye-glass, and a cold smile and a
+few still colder words, affecting to be compliment, but sounding far more
+like a correction and a rebuke.
+</p>
+<p>
+No wonder, then, if Polly's heart was somewhat faint about approaching as
+a hostess one who could be so repelling as a mere acquaintance. Indeed,
+one less resolutely bent on her object would not have encountered all the
+mortification and misery her anticipation pictured; but Polly fortified
+herself by the philosophy that said, &ldquo;There is but one road to this goal;
+I must either take that one, or abandon the journey.&rdquo; And so she did take
+it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Either, however, that she had exaggerated the grievance to her own mind,
+or that her Ladyship was more courteous at home than abroad; but Polly was
+charmed with the kindness of her reception. Lady Cobham had shaken hands
+with her, asked her had she been hunting lately, and was about to speak of
+her horsemanship to a grim old lady beside her, when the arrival of other
+guests cut short the compliment, and Polly passed on&mdash;her heart
+lightened of a great load&mdash;to mix with the general company.
+</p>
+<p>
+I have no doubt it was a pleasant country-house; it was called the
+pleasantest in the county. On the present occasion it counted amongst its
+guests not only the great families of the neighborhood, but several
+distinguished visitors from a distance, of whom two, at least, are
+noteworthy,&mdash;one, the great lyric poet; the other, the first tragic
+actress of her age and country. The occasion which assembled them was a
+project originally broached at the Admiral's table, and so frequently
+discussed afterwards that it matured itself into a congress. The plan was
+to get up theatricals for the winter season at Kilkenny, in which all the
+native dramatic ability should be aided by the first professional talent.
+Scarcely a country-house that could not boast of, at least, one promising
+performer. Ruthven and Campion and Probart had in their several walks been
+applauded by the great in art, and there were many others who in the
+estimation of friends were just as certain of a high success.
+</p>
+<p>
+Some passing remark on Polly's good looks, and the suitability of her face
+and style for certain small characters in comedy,&mdash;the pink ribboned
+damsels who are made love to by smart valets,&mdash;induced Lady Cobham to
+include her in her list; and thus, on these meagre credentials, was she
+present. She did not want notice or desire recognition; she was far too
+happy to be there, to hear and see and mark and observe all around her, to
+care for any especial attention. If the haughty Arabellas and Georgianas
+who swept past her without so much as a glance, were not, in her own
+estimation, superior in personal attractions, she knew well that they were
+so in all the accidents of station and the advantages of dress; and
+perhaps&mdash;who knows?&mdash;the reflection was not such a discouraging
+one.
+</p>
+<p>
+No memorable event, no incident worth recording, marked her visit. In the
+world of such society the machinery moves with regularity and little
+friction. The comedy of real life is admirably played out by the
+well-bred, and Polly was charmed to see with what courtesy, what
+consideration, what deference people behaved to each other; and all
+without an effort,&mdash;perhaps without even a thought.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was on the following day, when she got home and sat beside her mother's
+chair, that she related all she had seen. Her heart was filled with joy;
+for, just as she was taking her leave, Lady Cobham had said, &ldquo;You have
+been promised to us for Tuesday next, Miss Dill. Pray don't forget it!&rdquo;
+ And now she was busily engaged in the cares of toilette; and though it was
+a mere question of putting bows of a sky-blue ribbon on a muslin dress,&mdash;one
+of those little travesties by which rustic beauty emulates ball-room
+splendor,&mdash;to her eyes it assumed all the importance of a grand
+preparation, and one which she could not help occasionally rising to
+contemplate at a little distance.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Won't it be lovely, mamma,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;with a moss-rose&mdash;a mere bud&mdash;on
+each of those bows? But I have n't told you of how he sang. He was the
+smallest little creature in the world, and he tripped across the room with
+his tiny feet like a bird, and he kissed Lady Cobham's hand with a sort of
+old-world gallantry, and pressed a little sprig of jasmine she gave him to
+his heart,&mdash;this way,&mdash;and then he sat down to the piano. I
+thought it strange to see a man play!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Effeminate,&mdash;very,&rdquo; muttered the old lady, as she wiped her
+spectacles.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I don't know, mamma,&mdash;at least, after a moment, I lost all
+thought of it, for I never heard anything like his singing before. He had
+not much voice, nor, perhaps, great skill, but there was an expression in
+the words, a rippling melody with which the verses ran from his lips,
+while the accompaniment tinkled on beside them, perfectly rapturous. It
+all seemed as if words and air were begotten of the moment, as if,
+inspired on the instant, he poured forth the verses, on which he half
+dwelt, while thinking over what was to follow, imparting an actual anxiety
+as you listened, lest he should not be ready with his rhyme; and through
+all there was a triumphant joy that lighted up his face and made his eyes
+sparkle with a fearless lustre, as of one who felt the genius that was
+within him, and could trust it.&rdquo; And then he had been so complimentary to
+herself, called her that charming little &ldquo;rebel,&rdquo; after she had sung
+&ldquo;Where 's the Slave,&rdquo; and told her that until he had heard the words from
+her lips he did not know they were half so treasonable. &ldquo;But, mamma
+dearest, I have made a conquest; and such a conquest,&mdash;the hero of
+the whole society,&mdash;a Captain Stapylton, who did something or
+captured somebody at Waterloo,&mdash;a bold dragoon, with a gorgeous
+pelisse all slashed with gold, and such a mass of splendor that he was
+quite dazzling to look upon.&rdquo; She went on, still very rapturously, to
+picture him. &ldquo;Not very young; that is to say, he might be thirty-five, or
+perhaps a little more,&mdash;tall, stately, even dignified in appearance,
+with a beard and moustache almost white,&mdash;for he had served much in
+India, and he was dark-skinned as a native.&rdquo; And this fine soldier, so
+sought after and so courted, had been markedly attentive to her, danced
+with her twice, and promised she should have his Arab, &ldquo;Mahmoud,&rdquo; at her
+next visit to Cobham. It was very evident that his notice of her had
+called forth certain jealousies from young ladies of higher social
+pretensions, nor was she at all indifferent to the peril of such
+sentiments, though she did not speak of them to her mother, for, in good
+truth, that worthy woman was not one to investigate a subtle problem, or
+suggest a wise counsel; not to say that her interests were far more deeply
+engaged for Miss Harlowe than for her daughter Polly, seeing that in the
+one case every motive, and the spring to every motive, was familiar to
+her, while in the other she possessed but some vague and very strange
+notions of what was told her. Clarissa had made a full confidence to her:
+she had wept out her sorrows on her bosom, and sat sobbing on her
+shoulder. Polly came to her with the frivolous narrative of a ball-room
+flirtation, which threatened no despair nor ruin to any one. Here were no
+heart-consuming miseries, no agonizing terrors, no dreadful casualties
+that might darken a whole existence; and so Mrs. Dill scarcely followed
+Polly's story at all, and never with any interest.
+</p>
+<p>
+Polly went in search of her brother, but he had left home early that
+morning with the boat, no one knew whither, and the doctor was in a
+towering rage at his absence. Tom, indeed, was so full of his success with
+young Conyers that he never so much as condescended to explain his plans,
+and simply left a message to say, &ldquo;It was likely he 'd be back by
+dinner-time.&rdquo; Now Dr. Dill was not in one of his blandest humors. Amongst
+the company at Cobham, he had found a great physician from Kilkenny,
+plainly showing him that all his social sacrifices were not to his
+professional benefit, and that if colds and catarrhs were going, his own
+services would never be called in. Captain Stapylton, too, to whom Polly
+had presented him, told him that he &ldquo;feared a young brother officer of
+his, Lieutenant Conyers, had fallen into the hands of some small village
+practitioner, and that he would take immediate measures to get him back to
+headquarters,&rdquo; and then moved off, without giving him the time for a
+correction of the mistake.
+</p>
+<p>
+He took no note of his daughter's little triumphs, the admiration that she
+excited, or the flatteries that greeted her. It is true he did not possess
+the same means of measuring these that she had, and in all that dreary
+leisure which besets an unhonored guest, he had ample time to mope and
+fret and moralize, as gloomily as might be. If, then, he did not enjoy
+himself on his visit, he came away from it soured and ill-humored.
+</p>
+<p>
+He denounced &ldquo;junketings&rdquo;&mdash;by which unseemly title he designated the
+late entertainment&mdash;as amusements too costly for persons of his
+means. He made a rough calculation&mdash;a very rough one&mdash;of all
+that the &ldquo;precious tomfoolery&rdquo; had cost: the turnpike which he had paid,
+and the perquisites to servants&mdash;which he had not; the expense of
+Polly's finery,&mdash;a hazarded guess she would have been charmed to have
+had confirmed; and, ending the whole with a startling total, declared that
+a reign of rigid domestic economy must commence from that hour. The edict
+was something like what one reads from the French Government, when about
+to protest against some license of the press, and which opens by
+proclaiming that &ldquo;the latitude hitherto conceded to public discussion has
+not been attended with those gratifying results so eagerly anticipated by
+the Imperial administration.&rdquo; Poor Mrs. Dill&mdash;like a mere journalist&mdash;never
+knew she had been enjoying blessings till she was told she had forfeited
+them forever, and she heard with a confused astonishment that the
+household charges would be still further reduced, and yet food and fuel
+and light be not excluded from the supplies. He denounced Polly's
+equestrianism as a most ruinous and extravagant pursuit. Poor Polly, whose
+field achievements had always been on a borrowed mount! Tom was a
+scapegrace, whose debts would have beggared half-a-dozen families,&mdash;wretched
+dog, to whom a guinea was a gold-mine; and Mrs. Dill, unhappy Mrs. Dill,
+who neither hunted, nor smoked, nor played skittles, after a moment's
+pause, he told her that his hard-earned pence should not be wasted in
+maintaining a &ldquo;circulating library.&rdquo; Was there ever injustice like this?
+Talk to a man with one meal a day about gluttony, lecture the castaway at
+sea about not giving way to his appetites, you might just as well do so as
+to preach to Mrs. Dill&mdash;with her one book, and who never wanted
+another&mdash;about the discursive costliness of her readings.
+</p>
+<p>
+Could it be that, like the cruel jailer, who killed the spider the
+prisoner had learned to love, he had resolved to rob her of Clarissa? The
+thought was so overwhelming that it stunned her; and thus stupefied, she
+saw the doctor issue forth on his daily round, without venturing one word
+in answer. And he rode on his way,&mdash;on that strange mission of mercy,
+meanness, of honest sympathy, or mock philanthropy, as men's hearts and
+natures make of it,&mdash;and set out for the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER IX. A COUNTRY DOCTOR
+</h2>
+<p>
+In a story, as in a voyage, one must occasionally travel with uncongenial
+companions. Now I have no reason for hoping that any of my readers care to
+keep Dr. Dill's company, and yet it is with Dr. Dill we must now for a
+brief space foregather. He was on his way to visit his patient at the
+&ldquo;Fisherman's Home,&rdquo; having started, intentionally very early, to be there
+before Stapylton could have interposed with any counsels of removing him
+to Kilkenny.
+</p>
+<p>
+The world, in its blind confidence in medical skill, and its unbounded
+belief in certain practitioners of medicine, is but scantily just to the
+humbler members of the craft in regard to the sensitiveness with which
+they feel the withdrawal of a patient from their care, and the
+substitution of another physician. The doctor who has not only heard, but
+felt Babington's adage, that the difference between a good physician and a
+bad one is only &ldquo;the difference between a pound and a guinea,&rdquo; naturally
+thinks it a hard thing that his interests are to be sacrificed for a mere
+question of five per cent. He knows, besides, that they can each work on
+the same materials with the same tools, and it can be only through some
+defect in his self-confidence that he can bring himself to believe that
+the patient's chances are not pretty much alike in <i>his</i> hands or his
+rival's. Now Dr. Dill had no feelings of this sort; no undervaluing of
+himself found a place in his nature. He regarded medical men as
+tax-gatherers, and naturally thought it mattered but little which received
+the impost; and, thus reflecting, he bore no good will towards that
+gallant Captain, who, as we have seen, stood so well in his daughter's
+favor. Even hardened men of the world&mdash;old footsore pilgrims of life&mdash;have
+their prejudices, and one of these is to be pleased at thinking they had
+augured unfavorably of any one they had afterwards learned to dislike. It
+smacks so much of acuteness to be able to say, &ldquo;I was scarcely presented
+to him; we had not exchanged a dozen sentences when I saw this, that, and
+t' other.&rdquo; Dill knew this man was overbearing, insolent, and oppressive,
+that he was meddlesome and interfering, giving advice unasked for, and
+presuming to direct where no guidance was required. He suspected he was
+not a man of much fortune; he doubted he was a man of good family. All his
+airs of pretensions&mdash;very high and mighty they were&mdash;did not
+satisfy the doctor. As he said himself, he was a very old bird, but he
+forgot to add that he had always lived in an extremely small cage.
+</p>
+<p>
+The doctor had to leave his horse on the high-road and take a small
+footpath, which led through some meadows till it reached the little copse
+of beech and ilex that sheltered the cottage and effectually hid it from
+all view from the road. The doctor had just gained the last stile, when he
+suddenly came upon a man repairing a fence, and whose labors were being
+overlooked by Miss Barrington. He had scarcely uttered his most respectful
+salutations, when she said, &ldquo;It is, perhaps, the last time you will take
+that path through the Lock Meadow, Dr. Dill. We mean to close it up after
+this week.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Close it up, dear lady!&mdash;a right of way that has existed Heaven
+knows how long. I remember it as a boy myself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very probably, sir, and what you say vouches for great antiquity; but
+things may be old and yet not respectable. Besides, it never was what you
+have called it,&mdash;a right of way. If it was, where did it go to?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It went to the cottage, dear lady. The 'Home' was a mill in those days.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, it is no longer a mill, and it will soon cease to be an inn.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed, dear lady! And am I to hope that I may congratulate such kind
+friends as you have ever been to me on a change of fortune?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir; we have grown so poor that, to prevent utter destitution, we
+have determined to keep a private station; and with reference to that, may
+I ask you when this young gentleman could bear removal without injury?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have not seen him to-day, dear lady; but judging from the inflammatory
+symptoms I remarked yesterday, and the great nervous depression&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know nothing about medicine, sir; but if the nervous depression be
+indicated by a great appetite and a most noisy disposition, his case must
+be critical.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Noise, dear lady!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir; assisted by your son, he sat over his wine till past midnight,
+talking extremely loudly, and occasionally singing. They have now been at
+breakfast since ten o'clock, and you will very soon be able to judge by
+your own ears of the well-regulated pitch of the conversation.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My son, Miss Dinah! Tom Dill at breakfast here?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't know whether his name be Tom or Harry, sir, nor is it to the
+purpose; but he is a red-haired youth, with a stoop in the shoulders, and
+a much-abused cap.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Dill groaned over a portrait which to him was a photograph.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll see to this, dear lady. This shall be looked into,&rdquo; muttered he,
+with the purpose of a man who pledged himself to a course of action; and
+with this he moved on. Nor had he gone many paces from the spot when he
+heard the sound of voices, at first in some confusion, but afterwards
+clearly and distinctly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll be hanged if I 'd do it, Tom,&rdquo; cried the loud voice of Conyers.
+&ldquo;It's all very fine talking about paternal authority and all that, and so
+long as one is a boy there's no help for it; but you and I are men. We
+have a right to be treated like men, have n't we?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose so,&rdquo; muttered the other, half sulkily, and not exactly seeing
+what was gained by the admission.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that being so,&rdquo; resumed Conyers, &ldquo;I'd say to the governor, 'What
+allowance are you going to make me?'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you do that with your father?&rdquo; asked Tom, earnestly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, not exactly,&rdquo; stammered out the other. &ldquo;There was not, in fact, any
+need for it, for my governor is a rare jolly fellow,&mdash;such a trump!
+What he said to me was, 'There's a check-book, George; don't spare it.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which was as much as to say, 'Draw what you like.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, of course. He knew, in leaving it to my honor, there was no risk of
+my committing any excess; so you see there was no necessity to make my
+governor 'book up.' But if I was in your place I 'd do it. I pledge you my
+word I would.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Tom only shook his head very mournfully, and made no answer. He felt, and
+felt truly, that there is a worldly wisdom learned only in poverty and in
+the struggles of narrow fortune, of which the well-to-do know absolutely
+nothing. Of what avail to talk to him of an unlimited credit, or a credit
+to be bounded only by a sense of honor? It presupposed so much that was
+impossible, that he would have laughed if his heart had been but light
+enough.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; said Conyers, &ldquo;if you have n't courage for this, let me do
+it; let me speak to your father.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What could you say to him?&rdquo; asked Tom, doggedly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Say to him?&mdash;what could I say to him?&rdquo; repeated he, as he lighted a
+fresh cigar, and affected to be eagerly interested in the process. &ldquo;It's
+clear enough what I 'd say to him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let us hear it, then,&rdquo; growled out Tom, for he had a sort of coarse
+enjoyment at the other's embarrassment. &ldquo;I 'll be the doctor now, and
+listen to you.&rdquo; And with this he squared his chair full in front of
+Conyers, and crossed his arms imposingly on his chest &ldquo;You said you wanted
+to speak to me about my son Tom, Mr. Conyers; what is it you have to say?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I suppose I'd open the matter delicately, and, perhaps, adroitly. I
+'d say, 'I have remarked, doctor, that your son is a young fellow of very
+considerable abilities&mdash;'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;For what?&rdquo; broke in Tom, huskily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, you 're not to interrupt in this fashion, or I can't continue. I 'd
+say something about your natural cleverness; and what a pity it would be
+if, with very promising talents, you should not have those fair advantages
+which lead a man to success in life.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And do you know what <i>he</i> 'd say to all that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I'll tell you. He'd say 'Bother!' Just 'bother.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean by 'bother'?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That what you were saying was all nonsense. That you did n't know, nor
+you never could know, the struggles of a man like himself, just to make
+the two ends meet; not to be rich, mind you, or lay by money, or have
+shares in this, or stocks in that, but just to live, and no more.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I'd say, 'Give him a few hundred pounds, and start him.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why don't you say a few thousands? It would sound grander, and be just as
+likely. Can't you see that everybody hasn't a Lieutenant-General for a
+father? and that what you 'd give for a horse&mdash;that would, maybe, be
+staked to-morrow&mdash;would perhaps be a fortune for a fellow like me?
+What's that I hear coming up the river? That's the doctor, I 'm sure. I
+'ll be off till he's gone.&rdquo; And without waiting to hear a word, he sprang
+from his chair and disappeared in the wood.
+</p>
+<p>
+Dr. Dill only waited a few seconds to compose his features, somewhat
+excited by what he had overheard; and then coughing loudly, to announce
+his approach, moved gravely along the gravel path.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And how is my respected patient?&rdquo; asked he, blandly. &ldquo;Is the inflammation
+subsiding, and are our pains diminished?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My ankle is easier, if you mean that,&rdquo; said Conyers, bluntly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, much easier,&mdash;much easier,&rdquo; said the doctor, examining the
+limb; &ldquo;and our cellular tissue has less effusion, the sheaths of the
+tendons freer, and we are generally better. I perceive you have had the
+leeches applied. Did Tom&mdash;my son&mdash;give you satisfaction? Was he
+as attentive and as careful as you wished?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I liked him. I wish he 'd come up every day while I remain. Is there
+any objection to that arrangement?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;None, dear sir,&mdash;none. His time is fully at your service; he ought
+to be working hard. It is true he should be reading eight or ten hours a
+day, for his examination; but it is hard to persuade him to it. Young men
+will be young men!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope so, with all my heart. At least, I, for one, don't want to be an
+old one. Will you do me a favor, doctor? and will you forgive me if I
+don't know how to ask it with all becoming delicacy? I'd like to give Tom
+a helping hand. He's a good fellow,&mdash;I 'm certain he is. Will you let
+me send him out to India, to my father? He has lots of places to give
+away, and he 'd be sure to find something to suit him. You have heard of
+General Conyers, perhaps, the political resident at Delhi? That's my
+governor.&rdquo; In the hurry and rapidity with which he spoke, it was easy to
+see how he struggled with a sense of shame and confusion.
+</p>
+<p>
+Dr. Dill was profuse of acknowledgments; he was even moved as he expressed
+his gratitude. &ldquo;It was true,&rdquo; he remarked, &ldquo;that his life had been
+signalled by these sort of graceful services, or rather offers of
+services; for we are proud if we are poor, sir. 'Dill aut nil' is the
+legend of our crest, which means that we are ourselves or nothing.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I conclude everybody else is in the same predicament,&rdquo; broke in Conyers,
+bluntly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not exactly, young gentleman,&mdash;not exactly. I think I could,
+perhaps, explain&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no; never mind it. I 'm the stupidest fellow in the world at a nice
+distinction; besides, I'll take your word for the fact. You have heard of
+my father, have n't you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I heard of him so late as last night, from a brother officer of yours,
+Captain Stapylton.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where did you meet Stapylton?&rdquo; asked Conyers, quickly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At Sir Charles Cobham's. I was presented to him by my daughter, and he
+made the most kindly inquiries after you, and said that, if possible, he'd
+come over here to-day to see you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope he won't; that's all,&rdquo; muttered Conyers. Then, correcting himself
+suddenly, he said: &ldquo;I mean, I scarcely know him; he has only joined us a
+few months back, and is a stranger to every one in the regiment. I hope
+you did n't tell him where I was.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm afraid that I did, for I remember his adding, 'Oh! I must carry him
+off. I must get him back to headquarters.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed! Let us see if he will. That's the style of these 'Company's'
+officers,&mdash;he was in some Native corps or other,&mdash;they always
+fancy they can bully a subaltern; but Black Stapylton will find himself
+mistaken this time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was afraid that you had not fallen into skilful hands; and, of course,
+it would not have come well from me to assure him of the opposite.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, but what of Tom, doctor? You have given me no answer.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is a case for reflection, my dear young friend, if I may be emboldened
+to call you so. It is not a matter I can say yes or no to on the instant.
+I have only two grown-up children: my daughter, the most affectionate, the
+most thoughtful of girls, educated, too, in a way to grace any sphere&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You need n't tell me that Tom is a wild fellow,&rdquo; broke in Conyers,&mdash;for
+he well understood the antithesis that was coming; &ldquo;he owned it all to me,
+himself. I have no doubt, too, that he made the worst of it; for, after
+all, what signifies a dash of extravagance, or a mad freak or two? You
+can't expect that we should all be as wise and as prudent and as
+cool-headed as Black Stapylton.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You plead very ably, young gentleman,&rdquo; said Dill, with his smoothest
+accent, &ldquo;but you must give me a little time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I'll give you till to-morrow,&mdash;to-morrow, at this hour; for it
+wouldn't be fair to the poor fellow to keep him in a state of uncertainty.
+His heart is set on the plan; he told me so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll do my best to meet your wishes, my dear young gentleman; but please
+to bear in mind that it is the whole future fate of my son I am about to
+decide. Your father may not, possibly, prove so deeply interested as you
+are; he may&mdash;not unreasonably, either&mdash;take a colder view of
+this project; he may chance to form a lower estimate of my poor boy than
+it is your good nature to have done.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look here, doctor; I know my governor something better than you do, and
+if I wrote to him, and said, 'I want this fellow to come home with a lac
+of rupees,' he 'd start him to-morrow with half the money. If I were to
+say, 'You are to give him the best thing in your gift,' there's nothing he
+'d stop at; he 'd make him a judge, or a receiver, or some one of those
+fat things that send a man back to England with a fortune. What's that
+fellow whispering to you about? It's something that concerns me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+This sudden interruption was caused by the approach of Darby, who had come
+to whisper something in the doctor's ear.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is a message he has brought me; a matter of little consequence. I 'll
+look to it, Darby. Tell your mistress it shall be attended to.&rdquo; Darby
+lingered for a moment, but the doctor motioned him away, and did not speak
+again till he had quitted the spot. &ldquo;How these fellows will wait to pick
+up what passes between their betters,&rdquo; said Dill, while he continued to
+follow him with his eyes. &ldquo;I think I mentioned to you once, already, that
+the persons who keep this house here are reduced gentry, and it is now my
+task to add that, either from some change of fortune or from caprice, they
+are thinking of abandoning the inn, and resuming&mdash;so far as may be
+possible for them&mdash;their former standing. This project dates before
+your arrival here; and now, it would seem, they are growing impatient to
+effect it; at least, a very fussy old lady&mdash;Miss Barrington&mdash;has
+sent me word by Darby to say her brother will be back here tomorrow or
+next day, with some friends from Kilkenny, and she asks at what time your
+convalescence is likely to permit removal.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Turned out, in fact, doctor,&mdash;ordered to decamp! You must say, I 'm
+ready, of course; that is to say, that I 'll go at once. I don't exactly
+see how I 'm to be moved in this helpless state, as no carriage can come
+here; but you 'll look to all that for me. At all events, go immediately,
+and say I shall be off within an hour or so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Leave it all to me,&mdash;leave it in my hands. I think I see what is to
+be done,&rdquo; said the doctor, with one of his confident little smiles, and
+moved away.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a spice of irritation in Conyers's manner as he spoke. He was
+very little accustomed to be thwarted in anything, and scarcely knew the
+sensation of having a wish opposed, or an obstacle set against him, but
+simply because there was a reason for his quitting the place, grew all the
+stronger his desire to remain there. He looked around him, and never
+before had the foliage seemed so graceful; never had the tints of the
+copper-beech blended so harmoniously with the stone-pine and the larch;
+never had the eddies of the river laughed more joyously, nor the
+blackbirds sung with a more impetuous richness of melody. &ldquo;And to say that
+I must leave all this, just when I feel myself actually clinging to it. I
+could spend my whole life here. I glory in this quiet, unbroken ease; this
+life, that slips along as waveless as the stream there! Why should n't I
+buy it; have it all my own, to come down to whenever I was sick and weary
+of the world and its dissipations? The spot is small; it couldn't be very
+costly; it would take a mere nothing to maintain. And to have it all one's
+own!&rdquo; There was an actual ecstasy in the thought; for in that same sense
+of possession there is a something that resembles the sense of identity.
+The little child with his toy, the aged man with his proud demesne, are
+tasters of the same pleasure.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are to use your own discretion, my dear young gentleman, and go when
+it suits you, and not before,&rdquo; said the doctor, returning triumphantly,
+for he felt like a successful envoy. &ldquo;And now I will leave you. To-morrow
+you shall have my answer about Tom.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers nodded vaguely; for, alas! Tom, and all about him, had completely
+lapsed from his memory.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER X. BEING &ldquo;BORED&rdquo;
+ </h2>
+<p>
+It is a high testimony to that order of architecture which we call
+castle-building, that no man ever lived in a house so fine he could not
+build one more stately still out of his imagination. Nor is it only to
+grandeur and splendor this superiority extends, but it can invest lowly
+situations and homely places with a charm which, alas! no reality can
+rival.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers was a fortunate fellow in a number of ways; he was young,
+good-looking, healthy, and rich. Fate had made place for him on the very
+sunniest side of the causeway, and, with all that, he was happier on that
+day, through the mere play of his fancy, than all his wealth could have
+made him. He had fashioned out a life for himself in that cottage, very
+charming, and very enjoyable in its way. He would make it such a spot that
+it would have resources for him on every hand, and he hugged himself in
+the thought of coming down here with a friend, or, perhaps, two friends,
+to pass days of that luxurious indolence so fascinating to those who are,
+or fancy they are, wearied of life's pomps and vanities.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now there are no such scoffers at the frivolity and emptiness of human
+wishes as the well-to-do young fellows of two or three-and-twenty. They
+know the &ldquo;whole thing,&rdquo; and its utter rottenness. They smile
+compassionately at the eagerness of all around them; they look with bland
+pity at the race, and contemptuously ask, of what value the prize when it
+is won? They do their very best to be gloomy moralists, but they cannot.
+They might as well try to shiver when they sit in the sunshine. The
+vigorous beat of young hearts, and the full tide of young pulses, will
+tell against all the mock misanthropy that ever was fabricated! It would
+not be exactly fair to rank Conyers in this school, and yet he was not
+totally exempt from some of its teachings. Who knows if these little
+imaginary glooms, these brain-created miseries, are not a kind of moral
+&ldquo;alterative&rdquo; which, though depressing at the instant, render the
+constitution only more vigorous after?
+</p>
+<p>
+At all events, he had resolved to have the cottage, and, going practically
+to work, he called Darby to his counsels to tell him the extent of the
+place, its boundaries, and whatever information he could afford as to the
+tenure and its rent.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 'd be for buying it, your honor!&rdquo; said Darby, with the keen
+quick-sightedness of his order.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps I had some thoughts of the kind; and, if so, I should keep you
+on.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Darby bowed his gratitude very respectfully. It was too long a vista for
+him to strain his eyes at, and so he made no profuse display of
+thankfulness. With all their imaginative tendencies, the lower Irish are a
+very bird-in-the-hand sort of people.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not more than seventeen acres!&rdquo; cried Conyers, in astonishment. &ldquo;Why, I
+should have guessed about forty, at least. Isn't that wood there part of
+it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but it's only a strip, and the trees that you see yonder is in
+Carriclough; and them two meadows below the salmon weir is n't ours at
+all; and the island itself we have only a lease of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's all in capital repair, well kept, well looked after?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it is, and isn't!&rdquo; said he, with a look of disagreement. &ldquo;He'd have
+one thing, and she'd have another; <i>he</i> 'd spend every shilling he
+could get on the place, and <i>she</i> 'd grudge a brush of paint, or a
+coat of whitewash, just to keep things together.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see nothing amiss here,&rdquo; said Conyers, looking around him. &ldquo;Nobody
+could ask or wish a cottage to be neater, better furnished, or more
+comfortable. I confess I do not perceive anything wanting.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, to be sure, it's very nate, as your honor says; but then&mdash;&rdquo; And
+he scratched his head, and looked confused.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But then, what&mdash;out with it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The earwigs is dreadful; wherever there 's roses and sweetbrier there's
+no livin' with them. Open the window and the place is full of them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Mistaking the surprise he saw depicted in his hearer's face for terror,
+Darby launched forth into a description of insect and reptile tortures
+that might have suited the tropics; to hear him, all the stories of the
+white ant of India, or the gallinipper of Demerara, were nothing to the
+destructive powers of the Irish earwig. The place was known for them all
+over the country, and it was years and years lying empty, &ldquo;by rayson of
+thim plagues.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Now, if Conyers was not intimidated to the full extent Darby intended by
+this account, he was just as far from guessing the secret cause of this
+representation, which was simply a long-settled plan of succeeding himself
+to the ownership of the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home,&rdquo; when, either from the course
+of nature or an accident, a vacancy would occur. It was the grand dream of
+Darby's life, the island of his Government, his seat in the Cabinet, his
+Judgeship, his Garter, his everything, in short, that makes human ambition
+like a cup brimful and overflowing; and what a terrible reverse would it
+be if all these hopes were to be dashed just to gratify the passing
+caprice of a mere traveller!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't suppose your honor cares for money, and, maybe, you 'd as soon
+pay twice over the worth of anything; but here, between our two selves, I
+can tell you, you 'd buy an estate in the county cheaper than this little
+place. They think, because they planted most of the trees and made the
+fences themselves, that it's like the King's Park. It's a fancy spot, and
+a fancy price, they'll ask for it But I know of another worth ten of it,&mdash;a
+real, elegant place; to be sure, it's a trifle out of repair, for the ould
+naygur that has it won't lay out a sixpence, but there 's every
+con-vaniency in life about it. There's the finest cup potatoes, the
+biggest turnips ever I see on it, and fish jumpin' into the parlor-window,
+and hares runnin' about like rats.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't care for all that; this cottage and these grounds here have taken
+my fancy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And why would n't the other, when you seen it? The ould Major that lives
+there wants to sell it, and you 'd get it a raal bargain. Let me row your
+honor up there this evening. It's not two miles off, and the river
+beautiful all the way.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers rejected the proposal abruptly, haughtily. Darby had dared to
+throw down a very imposing card-edifice, and for the moment the fellow was
+odious to him. All the golden visions of his early morning, that poetized
+life he was to lead, that elegant pastoralism, which was to blend the
+splendor of Lucullus with the simplicity of a Tityrus, all rent, torn, and
+scattered by a vile hind, who had not even a conception of the ruin he had
+caused.
+</p>
+<p>
+And yet Darby had a misty consciousness of some success. He did not,
+indeed, know that his shell had exploded in a magazine; but he saw, from
+the confusion in the garrison, that his shot had told severely somewhere.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe your honor would rather go to-morrow? or maybe you 'd like the
+Major to come up here himself, and speak to you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Once for all, I tell you, No! Is that plain? No! And I may add, my good
+fellow, that if you knew me a little better, you 'd not tender me any
+advice I did not ask for.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And why would I? Would n't I be a baste if I did?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think so,&rdquo; said Conyers, dryly, and turned away. He was out of temper
+with everything and everybody,&mdash;the doctor, and his abject manner;
+Tom, and his roughness; Darby, and his roguish air of self-satisfied
+craftiness; all, for the moment, displeased and offended him. &ldquo;I 'll leave
+the place to-morrow; I 'm not sure I shall not go to-night D'ye hear?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Darby bowed respectfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose I can reach some spot, by boat, where a carriage can be had?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By coorse, your honor. At Hunt's Mills, or Shibna-brack, you 'll get a
+car easy enough. I won't say it will be an elegant convaniency, but a good
+horse will rowl you along into Thomastown, where you can change for a
+shay.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Strange enough, this very facility of escape annoyed him. Had Darby only
+told him that there were all manner of difficulties to getting away,&mdash;that
+there were shallows in the river, or a landslip across the road,&mdash;he
+would have addressed himself to overcome the obstacles like a man; but to
+hear that the course was open, that any one might take it, was
+intolerable.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose, your honor, I 'd better get the boat ready, at all events?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, certainly,&mdash;that is, not till I give further orders. I 'm the
+only stranger here, and I can't imagine there can be much difficulty in
+having a boat at any hour. Leave me, my good fellow; you only worry me.
+Go!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Darby moved away, revolving within himself the curious problem, that
+if, having plenty of money enlarged a man's means of enjoyment, it was
+strange how little effect it produced upon his manners. As for Conyers, he
+stood moodily gazing on the river, over whose placid surface a few heavy
+raindrops were just falling; great clouds, too, rolled heavily over the
+hillsides, and gathered into ominous-looking masses over the stream, while
+a low moaning sound of very far-off thunder foretold a storm.
+</p>
+<p>
+Here, at least, was a good tangible grievance, and he hugged it to his
+heart. He was weather-bound! The tree-tops were already shaking wildly,
+and dark scuds flying fast over the mottled sky. It was clear that a
+severe storm was near. &ldquo;No help for it now,&rdquo; muttered he, &ldquo;if I must
+remain here till to-morrow.&rdquo; And hobbling as well as he could into the
+house, he seated himself at the window to watch the hurricane. Too closely
+pent up between the steep sides of the river for anything like destructive
+power, the wind only shook the trees violently, or swept along the stream
+with tiny waves, which warred against the current; but even these were
+soon beaten down by the rain,&mdash;that heavy, swooping, splashing rain,
+that seems to come from the overflowing of a lake in the clouds. Darker
+and darker grew the atmosphere as it fell, till the banks of the opposite
+side were gradually lost to view, while the river itself became a yellow
+flood, surging up amongst the willows that lined the banks. It was not one
+of those storms whose grand effects of lightning, aided by pealing
+thunder, create a sense of sublime terror, that has its own ecstasy; but
+it was one of those dreary evenings when the dull sky shows no streak of
+light, and when the moist earth gives up no perfume, when foliage and
+hillside and rock and stream are leaden-colored and sad, and one wishes
+for winter, to close the shutter and draw the curtain, and creep close to
+the chimney-corner as to a refuge.
+</p>
+<p>
+Oh, what comfortless things are these summer storms! They come upon us
+like some dire disaster in a time of festivity. They swoop down upon our
+days of sunshine like a pestilence, and turn our joy into gloom, and all
+our gladness to despondency, bringing back to our minds memories of
+comfortless journeys, weariful ploddings, long nights of suffering.
+</p>
+<p>
+I am but telling what Conyers felt at this sudden change of weather. You
+and I, my good reader, know better. We feel how gladly the parched earth
+drinks up the refreshing draught, how the seared grass bends gratefully to
+the skimming rain, and the fresh buds open with joy to catch the pearly
+drops. We know, too, how the atmosphere, long imprisoned, bursts forth
+into a joyous freedom, and comes back to us fresh from the sea and the
+mountain rich in odor and redolent of health, making the very air breathe
+an exquisite luxury. We know all this, and much more that he did not care
+for.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now Conyers was only &ldquo;bored,&rdquo; as if anything could be much worse; that is
+to say, he was in that state of mind in which resources yield no
+distraction, and nothing is invested with an interest sufficient to make
+it even passingly amusing. He wanted to do something, though the precise
+something did not occur to him. Had he been well, and in full enjoyment of
+his strength, he 'd have sallied out into the storm and walked off his
+ennui by a wetting. Even a cold would be a good exchange for the dreary
+blue-devilism of his depression; but this escape was denied him, and he
+was left to fret, and chafe, and fever himself, moving from window to
+chimney-corner, and from chimney-corner to sofa, till at last, baited by
+self-tormentings, he opened his door and sallied forth to wander through
+the rooms, taking his chance where his steps might lead him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Between the gloomy influences of the storm and the shadows of a declining
+day he could mark but indistinctly the details of the rooms he was
+exploring. They presented little that was remarkable; they were modestly
+furnished, nothing costly nor expensive anywhere, but a degree of homely
+comfort rare to find in an inn. They had, above all, that habitable look
+which so seldom pertains to a house of entertainment, and, in the loosely
+scattered books, prints, and maps showed a sort of flattering trustfulness
+in the stranger who might sojourn there. His wanderings led him, at
+length, into a somewhat more pretentious room, with a piano and a harp, at
+one angle of which a little octangular tower opened, with windows in every
+face, and the spaces between them completely covered by miniatures in oil,
+or small cabinet pictures. A small table with a chess-board stood here,
+and an unfinished game yet remained on the board. As Conyers bent over to
+look, he perceived that a book, whose leaves were held open by a
+smelling-bottle, lay on the chair next the table. He took this up, and saw
+that it was a little volume treating of the game, and that the pieces on
+the board represented a problem. With the eagerness of a man thirsting for
+some occupation, he seated himself at the table, and set to work at the
+question. &ldquo;A Mate in Six Moves&rdquo; it was headed, but the pieces had been
+already disturbed by some one attempting the solution. He replaced them by
+the directions of the volume, and devoted himself earnestly to the task.
+He was not a good player, and the problem posed him. He tried it again and
+again, but ever unsuccessfully. He fancied that up to a certain point he
+had followed the right track, and repeated the same opening moves each
+time. Meanwhile the evening was fast closing in, and it was only with
+difficulty he could see the pieces on the board.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/126.jpg" width="100%" alt="126 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+Bending low over the table, he was straining his eyes at the game, when a
+low, gentle voice from behind his chair said, &ldquo;Would you not wish candles,
+sir? It is too dark to see here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers turned hastily, and as hastily recognized that the person who
+addressed him was a gentlewoman. He arose at once, and made a sort of
+apology for his intruding.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Had I known you were a chess-player, sir,&rdquo; said she, with the demure
+gravity of a composed manner, &ldquo;I believe I should have sent you a
+challenge; for my brother, who is my usual adversary, is from home.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I should prove a very unworthy enemy, madam, you will find me a very
+grateful one, for I am sorely tired of my own company.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In that case, sir, I beg to offer you mine, and a cup of tea along with
+it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers accepted the invitation joyfully, and followed Miss Barrington to
+a small but most comfortable little room, where a tea equipage of
+exquisite old china was already prepared.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see you are in admiration of my teacups; they are the rare Canton blue,
+for we tea-drinkers have as much epicurism in the form and color of a cup
+as wine-bibbers profess to have in a hock or a claret glass. Pray take the
+sofa; you will find it more comfortable than a chair. I am aware you have
+had an accident.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Very few and simple as were her words, she threw into her manner a degree
+of courtesy that seemed actual kindness; and coming, as this did, after
+his late solitude and gloom, no wonder was it that Conyers was charmed
+with it. There was, besides, a quaint formality&mdash;a sort of old-world
+politeness in her breeding&mdash;which relieved the interview of
+awkwardness by taking it out of the common category of such events.
+</p>
+<p>
+When tea was over, they sat down to chess, at which Conyers had merely
+proficiency enough to be worth beating. Perhaps the quality stood him in
+good stead; perhaps certain others, such as his good looks and his
+pleasing manners, were even better aids to him; but certain it is, Miss
+Barrington liked her guest, and when, on arising to say good-night, he
+made a bungling attempt to apologize for having prolonged his stay at the
+cottage beyond the period which suited their plans, she stopped him by
+saying, with much courtesy, &ldquo;It is true, sir, we are about to relinquish
+the inn, but pray do not deprive us of the great pleasure we should feel
+in associating its last day or two with a most agreeable guest. I hope you
+will remain till my brother comes back and makes your acquaintance.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers very cordially accepted the proposal, and went off to his bed far
+better pleased with himself and with all the world than he well believed
+it possible he could be a couple of hours before.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XI. A NOTE TO BE ANSWERED
+</h2>
+<p>
+While Conyers was yet in bed the following morning, a messenger arrived at
+the house with a note for him, and waited for the answer. It was from
+Stapylton, and ran thus:&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cobham Hall, Tuesday morning.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear Con.,&mdash;The world here&mdash;and part of it is a very pretty
+world, with silky tresses and trim ankles&mdash;has declared that you have
+had some sort of slight accident, and are laid up at a miserable wayside
+inn, to be blue-devilled and doctored <i>à discrétion</i>. I strained my
+shoulder yesterday hunting,&mdash;my horse swerved against a tree,&mdash;or
+I should ascertain all the particulars of your disaster in person; so
+there is nothing left for it but a note.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am here domesticated at a charming country-house, the host an old
+Admiral, the hostess a <i>ci-devant</i> belle of London,&mdash;in times
+not very recent,&mdash;and more lately what is called in newspapers 'one
+of the ornaments of the Irish Court.' We have abundance of guests,&mdash;county
+dons and native celebrities, clerical, lyrical, and quizzical, several
+pretty women, a first-rate cellar, and a very tolerable cook. I give you
+the catalogue of our attractions, for I am commissioned by Sir Charles and
+my Lady to ask you to partake of them. The invitation is given in all
+cordiality, and I hope you will not decline it, for it is, amongst other
+matters, a good opportunity of seeing an Irish 'interior,' a thing of
+which I have always had my doubts and misgivings, some of which are now
+solved; others I should like to investigate with your assistance. In a
+word, the whole is worth seeing, and it is, besides, one of those
+experiences which can be had on very pleasant terms. There is perfect
+liberty; always something going on, and always a way to be out of it if
+you like. The people are, perhaps, not more friendly than in England, but
+they are far more familiar; and if not more disposed to be pleased, they
+tell you they are, which amounts to the same. There is a good deal of
+splendor, a wide hospitality, and, I need scarcely add, a considerable
+share of bad taste. There is, too, a costly attention to the wishes of a
+guest, which will remind you of India, though I must own the Irish Brahmin
+has not the grand, high-bred air of the Bengalee. But again I say, come
+and see.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have been told to explain to you why they don't send their boat. There
+is something about draught of water, and something about a 'gash,'
+whatever that is: I opine it to be a rapid. And then I am directed to say,
+that if you will have yourself paddled up to Brown's Barn, the Cobham
+barge will be there to meet you.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I write this with some difficulty, lying on my back on a sofa, while a
+very pretty girl is impatiently waiting to continue her reading to me of a
+new novel called 'The Antiquary.' a capital story, but strangely
+disfigured by whole scenes in a Scottish dialect. You must read it when
+you come over.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have heard of Hunter, of course. I am sure you will be sorry at his
+leaving us. For myself, I knew him very slightly, and shall not have to
+regret him like older friends; not to say that I have been so long in the
+service that I never believe in a Colonel. Would you go with him if he
+gave you the offer? There is such a row and uproar all around me, that I
+must leave off. Have I forgotten to say that if you stand upon the
+'dignities,' the Admiral will go in person to invite you, though he has a
+foot in the gout. I conclude you will not exact this, and I <i>know</i>
+they will take your acceptance of this mode of invitation as a great
+favor. Say the hour and the day, and believe me yours always,
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Horace Stapylton.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sir Charles is come to say that if your accident does not interfere with
+riding, he hopes you will send for your horses. He has ample stabling, and
+is vainglorious about his beans. That short-legged chestnut you brought
+from Norris would cut a good figure here, as the fences lie very close,
+and you must be always 'in hand.' If you saw how the women ride! There is
+one here now&mdash;a 'half-bred 'un'&mdash;that pounded us all&mdash;a
+whole field of us&mdash;last Saturday. You shall see her. I won't promise
+you 'll follow her across her country.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The first impression made on the mind of Conyers by this letter was
+surprise that Stapylton, with whom he had so little acquaintance, should
+write to him in this tone of intimacy; Stapylton, whose cold, almost stern
+manner seemed to repel any approach, and now he assumed all the
+free-and-easy air of a comrade of his own years and standing. Had he
+mistaken the man, or had he been misled by inferring from his bearing in
+the regiment what he must be at heart?
+</p>
+<p>
+This, however, was but a passing thought; the passage which interested him
+most of all was about Hunter. Where and for what could he have left, then?
+It was a regiment he had served in since he entered the army. What could
+have led him to exchange? and why, when he did so, had he not written him
+one line&mdash;even one&mdash;to say as much? It was to serve under
+Hunter, his father's old aide-de-camp in times back, that he had entered
+that regiment; to be with him, to have his friendship, his counsels, his
+guidance. Colonel Hunter had treated him like a son in every respect, and
+Conyers felt in his heart that this same affection and interest it was
+which formed his strongest tie to the service. The question, &ldquo;Would you go
+with him if he gave you the offer?&rdquo; was like a reflection on him, while no
+such option had been extended to him. What more natural, after all, than
+such an offer? so Stapylton thought,&mdash;so all the world would think.
+How he thought over the constantly recurring questions of his
+brother-officers: &ldquo;Why didn't you go with Hunter?&rdquo; &ldquo;How came it that
+Hunter did not name you on his staff?&rdquo; &ldquo;Was it fair&mdash;was it generous
+in one who owed all his advancement to his father&mdash;to treat him in
+this fashion?&rdquo; &ldquo;Were the ties of old friendship so lax as all this?&rdquo; &ldquo;Was
+distance such an enemy to every obligation of affection?&rdquo; &ldquo;Would his
+father believe that such a slight had been passed upon him undeservedly?
+Would not the ready inference be, 'Hunter knew you to be incapable,&mdash;unequal
+to the duties he required. Hunter must have his reasons for passing you
+over'?&rdquo; and such like. These reflections, very bitter in their way, were
+broken in upon by a request from Miss Barrington for his company at
+breakfast. Strange enough, he had half forgotten that there was such a
+person in the world, or that he had spent the preceding evening very
+pleasantly in her society.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you have had a pleasant letter,&rdquo; said she, as he entered, with
+Stapylton's note still in his hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can scarcely call it so, for it brings me news that our Colonel&mdash;a
+very dear and kind friend to me&mdash;is about to leave us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are these not the usual chances of a soldier's life? I used to be very
+familiar once on a time with such topics.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have learned the tidings so vaguely, too, that I can make nothing of
+them. My correspondent is a mere acquaintance,&mdash;a brother officer,
+who has lately joined us, and cannot feel how deeply his news has affected
+me; in fact, the chief burden of his letter is to convey an invitation to
+me, and he is full of country-house people and pleasures. He writes from a
+place called Cobham.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sir Charles Cobham's. One of the best houses in the county.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know them?&rdquo; asked Conyers, who did not, till the words were out,
+remember how awkward they might prove.
+</p>
+<p>
+She flushed slightly for a moment, but, speedily recovering herself, said:
+&ldquo;Yes, we knew them once. They had just come to the country, and purchased
+that estate, when our misfortunes overtook us. They showed us much
+attention, and such kindness as strangers could show, and they evinced a
+disposition to continue it; but, of course, our relative positions made
+intercourse impossible. I am afraid,&rdquo; said she, hastily, &ldquo;I am talking in
+riddles all this time. I ought to have told you that my brother once owned
+a good estate here. We Barringtons thought a deal of ourselves in those
+days.&rdquo; She tried to say these words with a playful levity, but her voice
+shook, and her lip trembled in spite of her.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers muttered something unintelligible about &ldquo;his having heard before,&rdquo;
+ and his sorrow to have awakened a painful theme; but she stopped him
+hastily, saying, &ldquo;These are all such old stories now, one should be able
+to talk them over unconcernedly; indeed, it is easier to do so than to
+avoid the subject altogether, for there is no such egotist as your reduced
+gentleman.&rdquo; She made a pretext of giving him his tea, and helping him to
+something, to cover the awkward pause that followed, and then asked if he
+intended to accept the invitation to Cobham.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not if you will allow me to remain here. The doctor says three days more
+will see me able to go back to my quarters.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you will stay for a week, at least, for I scarcely expect my
+brother before Saturday. Meanwhile, if you have any fancy to visit Cobham,
+and make your acquaintance with the family there, remember you have all
+the privileges of an inn here, to come and go, and stay at your pleasure.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not want to leave this. I wish I was never to leave it,&rdquo; muttered he
+below his breath.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps I guess what it is that attaches you to this place,&rdquo; said she,
+gently. &ldquo;Shall I say it? There is something quiet, something domestic
+here, that recalls 'Home.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I never knew a home,&rdquo; said Conyers, falteringly. &ldquo;My mother died when
+I was a mere infant, and I knew none of that watchful love that first
+gives the sense of home. You may be right, however, in supposing that I
+cling to this spot as what should seem to me like a home, for I own to you
+I feel very happy here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stay then, and be happy,&rdquo; said she, holding out her hand, which he
+clasped warmly, and then pressed to his lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell your friend to come over and dine with you any day that he can tear
+himself from gay company and a great house, and I will do my best to
+entertain him suitably.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I don't care to do that; he is a mere acquaintance; there is no
+friendship between us, and, as he is several years older than me, and far
+wiser, and more man of the world, I am more chilled than cheered by his
+company. But you shall read his letter, and I 'm certain you 'll make a
+better guess at his nature than if I were to give you my own version of
+him at any length.&rdquo; So saying, he handed Stapyl-ton's note across the
+table; and Miss Dinah, having deliberately put on her spectacles, began to
+read it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's a fine manly hand,&mdash;very bold and very legible, and says
+something for the writer's frankness. Eh? 'a miserable wayside inn!' This
+is less than just to the poor 'Fisherman's Home.' Positively, you must
+make him come to dinner, if it be only for the sake of our character. This
+man is not amiable, sir,&rdquo; said she, as she read on, &ldquo;though I could swear
+he is pleasant company, and sometimes witty. But there is little of genial
+in his pleasantry, and less of good nature in his wit.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; cried Conyers; &ldquo;I 'm quite with you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is he a person of family?&rdquo; asked she, as she read on some few lines
+further.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We know nothing about him; he joined us from a native corps, in India;
+but he has a good name and, apparently, ample means. His appearance and
+manner are equal to any station.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;For all that, I don't like him, nor do I desire that you should like him.
+There is no wiser caution than that of the Psalmist against 'sitting in
+the seat of the scornful.' This man is a scoffer.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And yet it is not his usual tone. He is cold, retiring, almost shy. This
+letter is not a bit like anything I ever saw in his character.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Another reason to distrust him. Set my mind at ease by saying 'No' to his
+invitation, and let me try if I cannot recompense you by homeliness in
+lieu of splendor. The young lady,&rdquo; added she, as she folded the letter,
+&ldquo;whose horsemanship is commemorated at the expense of her breeding, must
+be our doctor's daughter. She is a very pretty girl, and rides admirably.
+Her good looks and her courage might have saved her the sarcasm. I have my
+doubts if the man that uttered it be thorough-bred.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I 'll go and write my answer,&rdquo; said Conyers, rising. &ldquo;I have been
+keeping his messenger waiting all this time. I will show it to you before
+I send it off.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XII. THE ANSWER
+</h2>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will this do?&rdquo; said Conyers, shortly after, entering the room with a very
+brief note, but which, let it be owned, cost him fully as much labor as
+more practised hands occasionally bestow on a more lengthy despatch. &ldquo;I
+suppose it's all that's civil and proper, and I don't care to make any
+needless professions. Pray read it, and give me your opinion.&rdquo; It was so
+brief that I may quote it:&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear Captain Stapylton,&mdash;Don't feel any apprehensions about me. I am
+in better quarters than I ever fell into in my life, and my accident is
+not worth speaking of. I wish you had told me more of our Colonel, of
+whose movements I am entirely ignorant. I am sincerely grateful to your
+friends for thinking of me, and hope, ere I leave the neighborhood, to
+express to Sir Charles and Lady Cobham how sensible I am of their kind
+intentions towards me.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am, most faithfully yours,
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;F. CONYERS.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is very well, and tolerably legible,&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, dryly; &ldquo;at
+least I can make out everything but the name at the end.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I own I do not shine in penmanship; the strange characters at the foot
+were meant to represent 'Conyers.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Conyers! Conyers! How long is it since I heard that name last, and how
+familiar I was with it once! My nephew's dearest friend was a Conyers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He must have been a relative of mine in some degree; at least, we are in
+the habit of saying that all of the name are of one family.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Not heeding what he said, the old lady had fallen back in her meditations
+to a very remote &ldquo;long ago,&rdquo; and was thinking of a time when every letter
+from India bore the high-wrought interest of a romance, of which her
+nephew was the hero,&mdash;times of intense anxiety, indeed, but full of
+hope withal, and glowing with all the coloring with which love and an
+exalted imagination can invest the incidents of an adventurous life.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a great heart he had, a splendidly generous nature, far too
+high-souled and too exacting for common friendships, and so it was that he
+had few friends. I am talking of my nephew,&rdquo; said she, correcting herself
+suddenly. &ldquo;What a boon for a young man to have met him, and formed an
+attachment to him. I wish you could have known him. George would have been
+a noble example for you!&rdquo; She paused for some minutes, and then suddenly,
+as it were remembering herself, said, &ldquo;Did you tell me just now, or was I
+only dreaming, that you knew Ormsby Conyers?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ormsby Conyers is my father's name,&rdquo; said he, quickly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Captain in the 25th Dragoons?&rdquo; asked she, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was so, some eighteen or twenty years ago.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, then, my heart did not deceive me,&rdquo; cried she, taking his hand with
+both her own, &ldquo;when I felt towards you like an old friend. After we parted
+last night, I asked myself, again and again, how was it that I already
+felt an interest in you? What subtle instinct was it that whispered this
+is the son of poor George's dearest friend,&mdash;this is the son of that
+dear Ormsby Conyers of whom every letter is full? Oh, the happiness of
+seeing you under this roof! And what a surprise for my poor brother, who
+clings only the closer, with every year, to all that reminds him of his
+boy!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you knew my father, then?&rdquo; asked Conyers, proudly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never met him; but I believe I knew him better than many who were his
+daily intimates: for years my nephew's letters were journals of their
+joint lives&mdash;they seemed never separate. But you shall read them
+yourself. They go back to the time when they both landed at Calcutta,
+young and ardent spirits, eager for adventure, and urged by a bold
+ambition to win distinction. From that day they were inseparable. They
+hunted, travelled, lived together; and so attached had they become to each
+other, that George writes in one letter: 'They have offered me an
+appointment on the staff, but as this would separate me from Ormsby, it is
+not to be thought of.' It was to me George always wrote, for my brother
+never liked letter-writing, and thus I was my nephew's confidante, and
+intrusted with all his secrets. Nor was there one in which your father's
+name did not figure. It was, how Ormsby got him out of this scrape, or
+took his duty for him, or made this explanation, or raised that sum of
+money, that filled all these. At last&mdash;I never knew why or how&mdash;George
+ceased to write to me, and addressed all his letters to his father, marked
+'Strictly private' too, so that I never saw what they contained. My
+brother, I believe, suffered deeply from the concealment, and there must
+have been what to him seemed a sufficient reason for it, or he would never
+have excluded me from that share in his confidence I had always possessed.
+At all events, it led to a sort of estrangement between us,&mdash;the only
+one of our lives. He would tell me at intervals that George was on leave;
+George was at the Hills; he was expecting his troop; he had been sent here
+or there; but nothing more, till one morning, as if unable to bear the
+burden longer, he said, 'George has made up his mind to leave his regiment
+and take service with one of the native princes. It is an arrangement
+sanctioned by the Government, but it is one I grieve over and regret
+greatly.' I asked eagerly to hear further about this step, but he said he
+knew nothing beyond the bare fact. I then said, 'What does his friend
+Conyers think of it?' and my brother dryly replied, 'I am not aware that
+he has been consulted.' Our own misfortunes were fast closing around us,
+so that really we had little time to think of anything but the
+difficulties that each day brought forth. George's letters grew rarer and
+rarer; rumors of him reached us; stories of his gorgeous mode of living,
+his princely state and splendid retinue, of the high favor he enjoyed with
+the Rajah, and the influence he wielded over neighboring chiefs; and then
+we heard, still only by rumor, that he had married a native princess, who
+had some time before been converted to Christianity. The first intimation
+of the fact from himself came, when, announcing that he had sent his
+daughter, a child of about five years old, to Europe to be educated&mdash;&rdquo;
+ She paused here, and seemed to have fallen into a revery over the past;
+when Conyers suddenly asked,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what of my father all this time? Was the old intercourse kept up
+between them?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot tell you. I do not remember that his name occurred till the
+memorable case came on before the House of Commons&mdash;the inquiry, as
+it was called, into Colonel Barrington's conduct in the case of Edwardes,
+a British-born subject of his Majesty, serving in the army of the Rajah of
+Luckerabad. You have, perhaps, heard of it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was that the celebrated charge of torturing a British subject?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The same; the vilest conspiracy that ever was hatched, and the cruellest
+persecution that ever broke a noble heart. And yet there were men of
+honor, men of purest fame and most unblemished character, who harkened in
+to that infamous cry, and actually sent out emissaries to India to collect
+evidence against my poor nephew. For a while the whole country rang with
+the case. The low papers, which assailed the Government, made it matter of
+attack on the nature of the British rule in India, and the ministry only
+sought to make George the victim to screen themselves from public
+indignation. It was Admiral Byng's case once more. But I have no temper to
+speak of it, even after this lapse of years; my blood boils now at the
+bare memory of that foul and perjured association. If you would follow the
+story, I will send you the little published narrative to your room, but, I
+beseech you, do not again revert to it. How I have betrayed myself to
+speak of it I know not. For many a long year I have prayed to be able to
+forgive one man, who has been the bitterest enemy of our name and race. I
+have asked for strength to bear the burden of our calamity, but more
+earnestly a hundred-fold I have entreated that forgiveness might enter my
+heart, and that if vengeance for this cruel wrong was at hand, I could be
+able to say, 'No, the time for such feeling is gone by.' Let me not, then,
+be tempted by any revival of this theme to recall all the sorrow and all
+the indignation it once caused me. This infamous book contains the whole
+story as the world then believed it. You will read it with interest, for
+it concerned one whom your father dearly loved. But, again. I say, when we
+meet again let us not return to it. These letters, too, will amuse you;
+they are the diaries of your father's early life in India as much as
+George's, but of them we can talk freely.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was so evident that she was speaking with a forced calm, and that all
+her self-restraint might at any moment prove unequal to the effort she was
+making, that Conyers, affecting to have a few words to say to Stapylton's
+messenger, stole away, and hastened to his room to look over the letters
+and the volume she had given him.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had scarcely addressed himself to his task when a knock came to the
+door, and at the same instant it was opened in a slow, half-hesitating
+way, and Tom Dill stood before him. Though evidently dressed for the
+occasion, and intending to present himself in a most favorable guise, Tom
+looked far more vulgar and unprepossessing than in the worn costume of his
+every-day life, his bright-buttoned blue coat and yellow waistcoat being
+only aggravations of the low-bred air that unhappily beset him. Worse even
+than this, however, was the fact that, being somewhat nervous about the
+interview before him, Tom had taken what his father would have called a
+diffusible stimulant, in the shape of &ldquo;a dandy of punch,&rdquo; and bore the
+evidences of it in a heightened color and a very lustrous but wandering
+eye.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/140.jpg" width="100%" alt="140 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here I am,&rdquo; said he, entering with a sort of easy swagger, but far more
+affected than real, notwithstanding the &ldquo;dandy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, and what then?&rdquo; asked Conyers, haughtily, for the vulgar
+presumption of his manner was but a sorry advocate in his favor. &ldquo;I don't
+remember, that I sent for you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; but my father told me what you said to him, and I was to come up and
+thank you, and say, 'Done!' to it all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers turned a look&mdash;not a very pleased or very flattering look&mdash;at
+the loutish figure before him, and in his changing color might be seen the
+conflict it cost him to keep down his rising temper. He was, indeed,
+sorely tried, and his hand shook as he tossed over the books on his table,
+and endeavored to seem occupied in other matters.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe you forget all about it,&rdquo; began Tom. &ldquo;Perhaps you don't remember
+that you offered to fit me out for India, and send me over with a letter
+to your father&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no, I forget nothing of it; I remember it all.&rdquo; He had almost said
+&ldquo;only too well,&rdquo; but he coughed down the cruel speech, and went on
+hurriedly: &ldquo;You have come, however, when I am engaged,&mdash;when I have
+other things to attend to. These letters here&mdash;In fact, this is not a
+moment when I can attend to you. Do you understand me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe I do,&rdquo; said Tom, growing very pale.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To-morrow, then, or the day after, or next week, will be time enough for
+all this. I must think over the matter again.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said Tom, moodily, as he changed from one foot to the other, and
+cracked the joints of his fingers, till they seemed dislocated. &ldquo;I see it
+all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean by that?&mdash;what do you see?&rdquo; asked Conyers, angrily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see that Polly, my sister, was right; that she knew you better than any
+of us,&rdquo; said Tom, boldly, for a sudden rush of courage had now filled his
+heart. &ldquo;She said, 'Don't let him turn your head, Tom, with his fine
+promises. He was in good humor and good spirits when he made them, and
+perhaps meant to keep them too; but he little knows what misery
+disappointment brings, and he'll never fret himself over the heavy heart
+he's giving you, when he wakes in the morning with a change of mind.' And
+then, she said another thing,&rdquo; added he, after a pause.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what was the other thing?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She said, 'If you go up there, Tom,' says she, 'dressed out like a
+shopboy in his Sunday suit, he'll be actually shocked at his having taken
+an interest in you. He 'll forget all about your hard lot and your
+struggling fortune, and only see your vulgarity.' 'Your vulgarity,'&mdash;that
+was the word.&rdquo; As he said this, his lip trembled, and the chair he leaned
+on shook under his grasp.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go back, and tell her, then, that she was mistaken,&rdquo; said Conyers, whose
+own voice now quavered. &ldquo;Tell her that when I give my word I keep it; that
+I will maintain everything I said to you or to your father; and that when
+she imputed to me an indifference as to the feelings of others, she might
+have remembered whether she was not unjust to mine. Tell her that also.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will,&rdquo; said Tom, gravely. &ldquo;Is there anything more?&rdquo; &ldquo;No, nothing more,&rdquo;
+ said Conyers, who with difficulty suppressed a smile at the words and the
+manner of his questioner. &ldquo;Good-bye, then. You 'll send for me when you
+want me,&rdquo; said Tom; and he was out of the room, and half-way across the
+lawn, ere Conyers could recover himself to reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers, however, flung open the window, and cried to him to come back.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was nigh forgetting a most important part of the matter, Tom,&rdquo; said he,
+as the other entered, somewhat pale and anxious-looking. &ldquo;You told me, t'
+other day, that there was some payment to be made,&mdash;some sum to be
+lodged before you could present yourself for examination. What about this?
+When must it be done?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A month before I go in,&rdquo; said Tom, to whom the very thought of the ordeal
+seemed full of terror and heart-sinking.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And how soon do you reckon that may be?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Polly says not before eight weeks at the earliest. She says we 'll have
+to go over Bell on the Bones all again, and brush up the Ligaments,
+besides. If it was the Navy, they 'd not mind the nerves; but they tell me
+the Army fellows often take a man on the fifth pair, and I know if they do
+me, it's mighty little of India I 'll see.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Plucked, eh?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't know what you mean by 'plucked,' but I 'd be turned back, which
+is, perhaps, the same. And no great disgrace, either,&rdquo; added he, with more
+of courage in his voice; &ldquo;Polly herself says there's days she could n't
+remember all the branches of the fifth, and the third is almost as bad.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose if your sister could go up in your place, Tom, you 'd be quite
+sure of your diploma?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's many and many a day I wished that same,&rdquo; sighed he, heavily. &ldquo;If you
+heard her going over the 'Subclavian,' you 'd swear she had the book in
+her hand.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers could not repress a smile at this strange piece of feminine
+accomplishment, but he was careful not to let Tom perceive it. Not,
+indeed, that the poor fellow was in a very observant mood; Polly's
+perfections, her memory, and her quickness were the themes that filled up
+his mind.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a rare piece of luck for you to have had such a sister, Tom!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't I say it to myself?&mdash;don't I repeat the very same words every
+morning when I awake? Maybe I 'll never come to any good; maybe my father
+is right, and that I 'll only be a disgrace as long as I live; but I hope
+one thing, at least, I 'll never be so bad that I 'll forget Polly, and
+all she done for me. And I'll tell you more,&rdquo; said he, with a choking
+fulness in his throat; &ldquo;if they turn me back at my examination, my heart
+will be heavier for <i>her</i> than for myself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, cheer up, Tom; don't look on the gloomy side. You 'll pass, I 'm
+certain, and with credit too. Here 's the thirty pounds you 'll have to
+lodge&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is only twenty they require. And, besides, I could n't take it; it's
+my father must pay.&rdquo; He stammered, and hesitated, and grew pale and then
+crimson, while his lips trembled and his chest heaved and fell almost
+convulsively.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing of the kind, Tom,&rdquo; said Conyers, who had to subdue his own
+emotion by an assumed sternness. &ldquo;The plan is all my own, and I will stand
+no interference with it. I mean that you should pass your examination
+without your father knowing one word about it. You shall come back to him
+with your diploma, or whatever it is, in your hand, and say, 'There, sir,
+the men who have signed their names to that do not think so meanly of me
+as you do.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he'd say, the more fools they!&rdquo; said Tom, with a grim smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At all events,&rdquo; resumed Conyers, &ldquo;I 'll have my own way. Put that note in
+your pocket, and whenever you are gazetted Surgeon-Major to the Guards, or
+Inspector-General of all the Hospitals in Great Britain, you can repay me,
+and with interest, besides, if you like it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 've given me a good long day to be in your debt,&rdquo; said Tom; and he
+hurried out of the room before his overfull heart should betray his
+emotion.
+</p>
+<p>
+It is marvellous how quickly a kind action done to another reconciles a
+man to himself. Doubtless conscience at such times condescends to play the
+courtier, and whispers, &ldquo;What a good fellow you are! and how unjust the
+world is when it calls you cold and haughty and ungenial!&rdquo; Not that I
+would assert higher and better thoughts than these do not reward him who,
+Samaritan-like, binds up the wounds of misery; but I fear me much that few
+of us resist self-flattery, or those little delicate adulations one can
+offer to his own heart when nobody overhears him.
+</p>
+<p>
+At all events, Conyers was not averse to this pleasure, and grew actually
+to feel a strong interest for Tom Dill, all because that poor fellow had
+been the recipient of his bounty; for so is it the waters of our nature
+must be stirred by some act of charity or kindness, else their healing
+virtues have small efficacy, and cure not.
+</p>
+<p>
+And then he wondered and questioned himself whether Polly might not
+possibly be right, and that his &ldquo;governor&rdquo; would maryel where and how he
+had picked up so strange a specimen as Tom. That poor fellow, too, like
+many an humble flower, seen not disadvantageously in its native wilds,
+would look strangely out of place when transplanted and treated as an
+exotic. Still he could trust to the wide and generous nature of his father
+to overlook small defects of manner and breeding, and take the humble
+fellow kindly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Must I own that a considerable share of his hopefulness was derived from
+thinking that the odious blue coat and brass buttons could scarcely make
+part of Tom's kit for India, and that in no other costume known to
+civilized man could his <i>protégé</i> look so unprepossessingly?
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XIII. A FEW LEAVES FROM A BLUE-BOOK
+</h2>
+<p>
+The journal which Miss Barrington had placed in Conyers's hands was little
+else than the record of the sporting adventures of two young and very
+dashing fellows. There were lion and tiger hunts, so little varied in
+detail that one might serve for all, though doubtless to the narrator each
+was marked with its own especial interest. There were travelling incidents
+and accidents, and straits for money, and mishaps and arrests, and stories
+of steeple-chases and balls all mixed up together, and recounted so very
+much in the same spirit as to show how very little shadow mere
+misadventure could throw across the sunshine of their every-day life. But
+every now and then Conyers came upon some entry which closely touched his
+heart. It was how nobly Ormsby behaved. What a splendid fellow he was! so
+frank, so generous, such a horseman! &ldquo;I wish you saw the astonishment of
+the Mahratta fellows as Ormsby lifted the tent-pegs in full career; he
+never missed one. Ormsby won the rifle-match; we all knew he would. Sir
+Peregrine invited Ormsby to go with him to the Hills, but he refused,
+mainly because I was not asked.&rdquo; Ormsby has been offered this, that, or
+t'other; in fact, that one name recurred in every second sentence, and
+always with the same marks of affection. How proud, too, did Barrington
+seem of his friend. &ldquo;They have found out that no country-house is perfect
+without Ormsby, and he is positively persecuted with invitations. I hear
+the 'G.-G.' is provoked at Ormsby's refusal of a staff appointment. I'm in
+rare luck; the old Rajah of Tannanoohr has asked Ormsby to a grand
+elephant-hunt next week, and I 'm to go with him. I 'm to have a leave in
+October. Ormsby managed it somehow; he never fails, whatever he takes in
+hand. Such a fright as I got yesterday! There was a report in the camp
+Ormsby was going to England with despatches; it's all a mistake, however,
+he says. He believes he might have had the opportunity, had he cared for
+it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+If there was not much in these passing notices of his father, there was
+quite enough to impart to them an intense degree of interest. There is a
+wondrous charm, besides, in reading of the young days of those we have
+only known in maturer life, in hearing of them when they were fresh,
+ardent, and impetuous; in knowing, besides, how they were regarded by
+contemporaries, how loved and valued. It was not merely that Ormsby
+recurred in almost every page of this journal, but the record bore
+testimony to his superiority and the undisputed sway he exercised over his
+companions. This same power of dominating and directing had been the
+distinguishing feature of his after-life, and many an unruly and turbulent
+spirit had been reclaimed under Ormsby Conyers's hands.
+</p>
+<p>
+As he read on, he grew also to feel a strong interest for the writer
+himself; the very heartiness of the affection he bestowed on his father,
+and the noble generosity with which he welcomed every success of that
+&ldquo;dear fellow Ormsby,&rdquo; were more than enough to secure his interest for
+him. There was a bold, almost reckless dash, too, about Barrington which
+has a great charm occasionally for very young men. He adventured upon life
+pretty much as he would try to cross a river; he never looked for a
+shallow nor inquired for a ford, but plunged boldly in, and trusted to his
+brave heart and his strong arms for the rest. No one, indeed, reading even
+these rough notes, could hesitate to pronounce which of the two would
+&ldquo;make the spoon,&rdquo; and which &ldquo;spoil the horn.&rdquo; Young Conyers was eager to
+find some mention of the incident to which Miss Barrington had vaguely
+alluded. He wanted to read George Barrington's own account before he
+opened the little pamphlet she gave him, but the journal closed years
+before this event; and although some of the letters came down to a later
+date, none approached the period he wanted.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was not till after some time that he remarked how much more
+unfrequently his father's name occurred in the latter portion of the
+correspondence. Entire pages would contain no reference to him, and in the
+last letter of all there was this towards the end: &ldquo;After all, I am almost
+sorry that I am first for purchase, for I believe Ormsby is most anxious
+for his troop. I say 'I believe,' for he has not told me so, and when I
+offered to give way to him, he seemed half offended with me. You know what
+a bungler I am where a matter of any delicacy is to be treated, and you
+may easily fancy either that <i>I</i> mismanage the affair grossly, or
+that I am as grossly mistaken. One thing is certain, I 'd see promotion
+far enough, rather than let it make a coldness beween us, which could
+never occur if he were as frank as he used to be. My dear aunt, I wish I
+had your wise head to counsel me, for I have a scheme in my mind which I
+have scarcely courage for without some advice, and for many reasons I
+cannot ask O.'s opinion. Between this and the next mail I 'll think it
+over carefully, and tell you what I intend.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I told you that Ormsby was going to marry one of the Gpvernor-General's
+daughters. It is all off,&mdash;at least, I hear so,&mdash;and O. has
+asked for leave to go home. I suspect he is sorely cut up about this, but
+he is too proud a fellow to let the world see it. Report says that Sir
+Peregrine heard that he played. So he does, because he does everything,
+and everything well. If he does go to England, he will certainly pay you a
+visit. Make much of him for my sake; you could not make too much for his
+own.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+This was the last mention of his father, and he pondered long and
+thoughtfully over it. He saw, or fancied he saw, the first faint
+glimmerings of a coldness between them, and he hastily turned to the
+printed report of the House of Commons inquiry, to see what part his
+father had taken. His name occurred but once; it was appended to an
+extract of a letter, addressed to him by the Governor-General. It was a
+confidential report, and much of it omitted in publication. It was
+throughout, however, a warm and generous testimony to Barrington's
+character. &ldquo;I never knew a man,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;less capable of anything mean
+or unworthy; nor am I able to imagine any temptation strong enough to warp
+him from what he believed to be right. That on a question of policy his
+judgment might be wrong, I am quite ready to admit, but I will maintain
+that, on a point of honor, he would, and must, be infallible.&rdquo; Underneath
+this passage there was written, in Miss Barrington's hand, &ldquo;Poor George
+never saw this; it was not published till after his death.&rdquo; So interested
+did young Conyers feel as to the friendship between these two men, and
+what it could have been that made a breach between them,&mdash;if breach
+there were,&mdash;that he sat a long time without opening the little
+volume that related to the charge against Colonel Barrington. He had but
+to open it, however, to guess the spirit in which it was written. Its
+title was, &ldquo;The Story of Samuel Ed-wardes, with an Account of the
+Persecutions and Tortures inflicted on him by Colonel George Barrington,
+when serving in command of the Forces of the Meer Nagheer Assahr, Rajah of
+Luckerabad, based on the documents produced before the Committee of the
+House, and private authentic information.&rdquo; Opposite to this lengthy title
+was an ill-executed wood-cut of a young fellow tied up to a tree, and
+being flogged by two native Indians, with the inscription at foot: &ldquo;Mode
+of celebrating His Majesty's Birthday, 4th of June, 18&mdash;, at the
+Residence of Luckerabad.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+In the writhing figure of the youth, and the ferocious glee of his
+executioners, the artist had displayed all his skill in expression, and
+very unmistakably shown, besides, the spirit of the publication. I have no
+intention to inflict this upon my reader. I will simply give him&mdash;and
+as briefly as I am able&mdash;its substance.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Rajah of Luckerabad, an independent sovereign, living on the best of
+terms with the Government of the Company, had obtained permission to
+employ an English officer in the chief command of his army, a force of
+some twenty-odd thousand, of all arms. It was essential that he should be
+one not only well acquainted with the details of command, but fully equal
+to the charge of organization of a force; a man of energy and decision,
+well versed in Hindostanee, and not altogether ignorant of Persian, in
+which, occasionally, correspondence was carried on. Amongst the many
+candidates for an employment so certain to insure the fortune of its
+possessor, Major Barrington, then a brevet Lieutenant-Colonel, was chosen.
+</p>
+<p>
+It is not improbable that, in mere technical details of his art, he might
+have had many equal and some superior to him; it was well known that his
+personal requisites were above all rivalry. He was a man of great size and
+strength, of a most commanding presence, an accomplished linguist in the
+various dialects of Central India and a great master of all manly
+exercises. To these qualities he added an Oriental taste for splendor and
+pomp. It had always been his habit to live in a style of costly
+extravagance, with the retinue of a petty prince, and when he travelled it
+was with the following of a native chief.
+</p>
+<p>
+Though, naturally enough, such a station as a separate command gave might
+be regarded as a great object of ambition by many, there was a good deal
+of surprise felt at the time that Barrington, reputedly a man of large
+fortune, should have accepted it; the more so since, by his contract, he
+bound himself for ten years to the Rajah, and thus forever extinguished
+all prospect of advancement in his own service. There were all manner of
+guesses afloat as to his reasons. Some said that he was already so
+embarrassed by his extravagance that it was his only exit out of
+difficulty; others pretended that he was captivated by the gorgeous
+splendor of that Eastern life he loved so well; that pomp, display, and
+magnificence were bribes he could not resist; and a few, who affected to
+see more nearly, whispered that he was unhappy of late, had grown peevish
+and uncompanionable, and sought any change, so that it took him out of his
+regiment. Whatever the cause, he bade his brother-officers farewell
+without revealing it, and set out for his new destination. He had never
+anticipated a life of ease or inaction, but he was equally far from
+imagining anything like what now awaited him. Corruption, falsehood,
+robbery, on every hand! The army was little else than a brigand
+establishment, living on the peasants, and exacting, at the sword point,
+whatever they wanted. There was no obedience to discipline. The Rajah
+troubled himself about nothing but his pleasures, and, indeed, passed his
+days so drugged with opium as to be almost insensible to all around him.
+In the tribunals there was nothing but bribery, and the object of every
+one seemed to be to amass fortunes as rapidly as possible, and then hasten
+away from a country so insecure and dangerous.
+</p>
+<p>
+For some days after his arrival, Barrington hesitated whether he would
+accept a charge so apparently hopeless; his bold heart, however, decided
+the doubt, and he resolved to remain. His first care was to look about him
+for one or two more trustworthy than the masses, if such there should be,
+to assist him, and the Rajah referred him to his secretary for that
+purpose. It was with sincere pleasure Barring-ton discovered that this man
+was English,&mdash;that is, his father had been an Englishman, and his
+mother was a Malabar slave in the Rajah's household: his name was
+Edwardes, but called by the natives Ali Edwardes. He looked about sixty,
+but his real age was about forty-six when Barrington came to the
+Residence. He was a man of considerable ability, uniting all the craft and
+subtlety of the Oriental with the dogged perseverance of the Briton. He
+had enjoyed the full favor of the Rajah for nigh twenty years, and was
+strongly averse to the appointment of an English officer to the command of
+the army, knowing full well the influence it would have over his own
+fortunes. He represented to the Rajah that the Company was only intriguing
+to absorb his dominions with their own; that the new Commander-in-chief
+would be their servant and not his; that it was by such machinery as this
+they secretly possessed themselves of all knowledge of the native
+sovereigns, learned their weakness and their strength, and through such
+agencies hatched those plots and schemes by which many a chief had been
+despoiled of his state.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Rajah, however, saw that if he had a grasping Government on one side,
+he had an insolent and rebellious army on the other. There was not much to
+choose between them, but he took the side that he thought the least bad,
+and left the rest to Fate.
+</p>
+<p>
+Having failed with the Rajah, Edwardes tried what he could do with
+Barrington; and certainly, if but a tithe of what he told him were true,
+the most natural thing in the world would have been that he should give up
+his appointment, and quit forever a land so hopelessly sunk in vice and
+corruption. Cunning and crafty as he was, however, he made one mistake,
+and that an irreparable one. When dilating on the insubordination of the
+army, its lawless ways and libertine habits, he declared that nothing
+short of a superior force in the field could have any chance of enforcing
+discipline. &ldquo;As to a command,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;it is simply ludicrous. Let any
+man try it and they will cut him down in the very midst of his staff.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That unlucky speech decided the question; and Barring-ton simply said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have heard plenty of this sort of thing in India; I never saw it,&mdash;I
+'ll stay.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Stay he did; and he did more: he reformed that rabble, and made of them a
+splendid force, able, disciplined, and obedient. With the influence of his
+success, added to that derived from the confidence reposed in him by the
+Rajah, he introduced many and beneficial changes into the administration;
+he punished peculators by military law, and brought knavish sutlers to the
+drum-head. In fact, by the exercise of a salutary despotism, he rescued
+the state from an impending bankruptcy and ruin, placed its finances in a
+healthy condition, and rendered the country a model of prosperity and
+contentment. The Rajah had, like most of his rank and class, been in
+litigation, occasionally in armed contention, with some of his neighbors,&mdash;one
+especially, an uncle, whom he accused of having robbed him, when his
+guardian, of a large share of his heritage. This suit had gone on for
+years, varied at times by little raids into each other's territories, to
+burn villages and carry away cattle. Though with a force more than
+sufficient to have carried the question with a strong hand, Barrington
+preferred the more civilized mode of leaving the matter in dispute to
+others, and suggested the Company as arbitrator. The negotiations led to a
+lengthy correspondence, in which Edwardes and his son, a youth of
+seventeen or eighteen, were actively occupied; and although Barrington was
+not without certain misgivings as to their trustworthiness and honesty, he
+knew their capacity, and had not, besides, any one at all capable of
+replacing them. While these affairs were yet pending, Barrington married
+the daughter of the Meer, a young girl whose mother had been a convert to
+Christianity, and who had herself been educated by a Catholic missionary.
+She died in the second year of her marriage, giving birth to a daughter;
+but Barrington had now become so completely the centre of all action in
+the state, that the Rajah interfered in nothing, leaving in his hands the
+undisputed control of the Government; nay, more, he made him his son by
+adoption, leaving to him not alone all his immense personal property, but
+the inheritance to his throne. Though Barrington was advised by all the
+great legal authorities he consulted in England that such a bequest could
+not be good in law, nor a British subject be permitted to succeed to the
+rights of an Eastern sovereignty, he obstinately declared that the point
+was yet untried; that, however theoretically the opinion might be correct,
+practically the question had not been determined, nor had any case yet
+occurred to rule as a precedent on it. If he was not much of a lawyer, he
+was of a temperament that could not brook opposition. In fact, to make him
+take any particular road in life, you had only to erect a barricade on it.
+When, therefore, he was told the matter could not be, his answer was, &ldquo;It
+shall!&rdquo; Calcutta lawyers, men deep in knowledge of Oriental law and
+custom, learned Moonshees and Pundits, were despatched by him at enormous
+cost, to England, to confer with the great authorities at home. Agents
+were sent over to procure the influence of great Parliamentary speakers
+and the leaders in the press to the cause. For a matter which, in the
+beginning, he cared scarcely anything, if at all, he had now grown to feel
+the most intense and absorbing interest. Half persuading himself that the
+personal question was less to him than the great privilege and right of an
+Englishman, he declared that he would rather die a beggar in the defence
+of the cause than abandon it. So possessed was he, indeed, of his rights,
+and so resolved to maintain them, supported by a firm belief that they
+would and must be ultimately conceded to him, that in the correspondence
+with the other chiefs every reference which spoke of the future
+sovereignty of Luckerabad included his own name and title, and this with
+an ostentation quite Oriental.
+</p>
+<p>
+Whether Edwardes had been less warm and energetic in the cause than
+Barrington expected, or whether his counsels were less palatable, certain
+it is he grew daily more and more distrustful of him; but an event soon
+occurred to make this suspicion a certainty.
+</p>
+<p>
+The negotiations between the Meer and his uncle had been so successfully
+conducted by Barrington, that the latter agreed to give up three
+&ldquo;Pegunnahs,&rdquo; or villages he had unrightfully seized upon, and to pay a
+heavy mulct, besides, for the unjust occupation of them. This settlement
+had been, as may be imagined, a work of much time and labor, and requiring
+not only immense forbearance and patience, but intense watchfulness and
+unceasing skill and craft. Edwardes, of course, was constantly engaged in
+the affair, with the details of which he had been for years familiar. Now,
+although Barrington was satisfied with the zeal he displayed, he was less
+so with his counsels, Edwardes always insisting that in every dealing with
+an Oriental you must inevitably be beaten if you would not make use of all
+the stratagem and deceit he is sure to employ against you. There was not a
+day on which the wily secretary did not suggest some cunning expedient,
+some clever trick; and Barrington's abrupt rejection of them only
+impressed him with a notion of his weakness and deficiency.
+</p>
+<p>
+One morning&mdash;it was after many defeats&mdash;Edwardes appeared with
+the draft of a document he had been ordered to draw out, and in which, of
+his own accord, he had made a large use of threats to the neighboring
+chief, should he continue to protract these proceedings. These threats
+very unmistakably pointed to the dire consequences of opposing the great
+Government of the Company; for, as the writer argued, the succession to
+the Ameer being already vested in an Englishman, it is perfectly clear the
+powerful nation he belongs to will take a very summary mode of dealing
+with this question, if not settled before he comes to the throne. He
+pressed, therefore, for an immediate settlement, as the best possible
+escape from difficulty.
+</p>
+<p>
+Barrington scouted the suggestion indignantly; he would not hear of it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;is it while these very rights are in litigation that I
+am to employ them as a menace? Who is to secure me being one day Rajah of
+Luckerabad? Not you, certainly, who have never ceased to speak coldly of
+my claims. Throw that draft into the fire, and never propose a like one to
+me again!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The rebuke was not forgotten. Another draft was, however, prepared, and in
+due time the long-pending negotiations were concluded, the Meer's uncle
+having himself come to Luckerabad to ratify the contract, which, being
+engrossed on a leaf of the Rajah's Koran, was duly signed and sealed by
+both.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was during the festivities incidental to this visit that Edwardes, who
+had of late made a display of wealth and splendor quite unaccountable,
+made a proposal to the Rajah for the hand of his only unmarried daughter,
+sister to Barrington's wife. The Rajah, long enervated by excess and
+opium, probably cared little about the matter; there were, indeed, but a
+few moments in each day when he could be fairly pronounced awake. He
+referred the question to Barrington. Not satisfied with an insulting
+rejection of the proposal, Barrington, whose passionate moments were
+almost madness, tauntingly asked by what means Edwardes had so suddenly
+acquired the wealth which had prompted this demand. He hinted that the
+sources of his fortune were more than suspected, and at last, carried away
+by anger, for the discussion grew violent, he drew from his desk a slip of
+paper, and held it up. &ldquo;When your father was drummed out of the 4th Bengal
+Fusiliers for theft, of which this is the record, the family was scarcely
+so ambitious.&rdquo; For an instant Edwardes seemed overcome almost to fainting;
+but he rallied, and, with a menace of his clenched hand, but without one
+word, he hurried away before Barrington could resent the insult. It was
+said that he did not return to his house, but, taking the horse of an
+orderly that he found at the door, rode away from the palace, and on the
+same night crossed the frontier into a neighboring state.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was on the following morning, as Barrington was passing a cavalry
+regiment in review, that young Edwardes, forcing his way through the
+staff, insolently asked, &ldquo;What had become of his father?&rdquo; and at the same
+instant levelling a pistol, he fired. The ball passed through Barrington's
+shako, and so close to the head that it grazed it. It was only with a loud
+shout to abstain that Barrington arrested the gleaming sabres that now
+flourished over his head. &ldquo;Your father has fled, youngster!&rdquo; cried he.
+&ldquo;When you show him <i>that</i>,&rdquo;&mdash;and he struck him across the face
+with his horsewhip,&mdash;&ldquo;tell him how near you were to have been an
+assassin!&rdquo; With this savage taunt, he gave orders that the young fellow
+should be conducted to the nearest frontier, and turned adrift. Neither
+father nor son ever were seen there again.
+</p>
+<p>
+Little did George Barrington suspect what was to come of that morning's
+work. Through what channel Edwardes worked at first was not known, but
+that he succeeded in raising up for himself friends in England is certain;
+by their means the very gravest charges were made against Barrington. One
+allegation was that by a forged document, claiming to be the assent of the
+English Government to his succession, he had obtained the submission of
+several native chiefs to his rule and a cession of territory to the Rajah
+of Luckerabad; and another charged him with having cruelly tortured a
+British subject named Samuel Edwardes,&mdash;an investigation entered into
+by a Committee of the House, and becoming, while it lasted, one of the
+most exciting subjects of public interest. Nor was the anxiety lessened by
+the death of the elder Edwardes, which occurred during the inquiry, and
+which Barrington's enemies declared to be caused by a broken heart; and
+the martyred or murdered Edwardes was no uncommon heading to a paragraph
+of the time.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers turned to the massive Blue-book that contained the proceedings &ldquo;in
+Committee,&rdquo; but only to glance at the examination of witnesses, whose very
+names were unfamiliar to him. He could perceive, however, that the inquiry
+was a long one, and, from the tone of the member at whose motion it was
+instituted, angry and vindictive.
+</p>
+<p>
+Edwardes appeared to have preferred charges of long continued persecution
+and oppression, and there was native testimony in abundance to sustain the
+allegation; while the British Commissioner sent to Luckerabad came back so
+prejudiced against Barrington, from his proud and haughty bearing, that
+his report was unfavorable to him in all respects. There was, it is true,
+letters from various high quarters, all speaking of Barrington's early
+career as both honorable and distinguished; and, lastly, there was one
+signed Ormsby Conyers, a warm-hearted testimony &ldquo;to the most
+straightforward gentleman and truest friend I have ever known.&rdquo; These were
+words the young man read and re-read a dozen times.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers turned eagerly to read what decision had been come to by the
+Committee, but the proceedings had come abruptly to an end by George
+Barrington's death. A few lines at the close of the pamphlet mentioned
+that, being summoned to appear before the Governor-General in Council at
+Calcutta, Barrington refused. An armed force was despatched to occupy
+Luckerabad, on the approach of which Barrington rode forth to meet them,
+attended by a brilliant staff,&mdash;with what precise object none knew;
+but the sight of a considerable force, drawn up at a distance in what
+seemed order of battle, implied at least an intention to resist. Coming on
+towards the advanced pickets at a fast gallop, and not slackening speed
+when challenged, the men, who were Bengal infantry, fired, and Barrington
+fell, pierced by four bullets. He never uttered a word after, though he
+lingered on till evening. The force was commanded by Lieutenant-General
+Conyers.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was little more to tell. The Rajah, implicated in the charges
+brought against Barrington, and totally unable to defend himself,
+despatched a confidential minister, Meer Mozarjah, to Europe to do what he
+might by bribery. This unhappy blunder filled the measure of his ruin, and
+after a very brief inquiry the Rajah was declared to have forfeited his
+throne and all his rights of succession. The Company took possession of
+Luckerabad, as a portion of British India, but from a generous compassion
+towards the deposed chief, graciously accorded him a pension of ten
+thousand rupees a month during his life.
+</p>
+<p>
+My reader will bear in mind that I have given him this recital, not as it
+came before Conyers, distorted by falsehood and disfigured by
+misstatements, but have presented the facts as nearly as they might be
+derived from a candid examination of all the testimony adduced. Ere I
+return to my own tale, I ought to add that Edwardes, discredited and
+despised by some, upheld and maintained by others, left Calcutta with the
+proceeds of a handsome subscription raised in his behalf. Whether he went
+to reside in Europe, or retired to some other part of India, is not known.
+He was heard of no more.
+</p>
+<p>
+As for the Rajah, his efforts still continued to obtain a revision of the
+sentence pronounced upon him, and his case was one of those which
+newspapers slur over and privy councils try to escape from, leaving to
+Time to solve what Justice has no taste for.
+</p>
+<p>
+But every now and then a Blue-book would appear, headed &ldquo;East India (the
+deposed Rajah of Luckerabad),&rdquo; while a line in an evening paper would
+intimate that the Envoy of Meer Nagheer Assahr had arrived at a certain
+West-end hotel to prosecute the suit of his Highness before the Judicial
+Committee of the Lords. How pleasantly does a paragraph dispose of a whole
+life-load of sorrows and of wrongs that, perhaps, are breaking the hearts
+that carry them!
+</p>
+<p>
+While I once more apologize to my reader for the length to which this
+narrative has run, I owe it to myself to state that, had I presented it in
+the garbled and incorrect version which came before Conyers, and had I
+interpolated all the misconceptions he incurred, the mistakes he first
+fell into and then corrected, I should have been far more tedious and
+intolerable still; and now I am again under weigh, with easy canvas, but
+over a calm sea, and under a sky but slightly clouded.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XIV. BARRINGTON'S FORD
+</h2>
+<p>
+Conyers had scarcely finished his reading when he was startled by the
+galloping of horses under his window; so close, indeed, did they come that
+they seemed to shake the little cottage with their tramp. He looked out,
+but they had already swept past, and were hidden from his view by the
+copse that shut out the river. At the same instant he heard the confused
+sound of many voices, and what sounded to him like the plash of horses in
+the stream.
+</p>
+<p>
+Urged by a strong curiosity, he hurried downstairs and made straight for
+the river by a path that led through the trees; but before he could emerge
+from the cover he heard cries of &ldquo;Not there! not there! Lower down!&rdquo; &ldquo;No,
+no! up higher! up higher! Head up the stream, or you 'll be caught in the
+gash!&rdquo; &ldquo;Don't hurry; you've time enough!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+When he gained the bank, it was to see three horsemen, who seemed to be
+cheering, or, as it might be, warning a young girl who, mounted on a
+powerful black horse, was deep in the stream, and evidently endeavoring to
+cross it. Her hat hung on the back of her neck by its ribbon, and her hair
+had also fallen down; but one glance was enough to show that she was a
+consummate horsewoman, and whose courage was equal to her skill; for while
+steadily keeping her horse's head to the swift current, she was careful
+not to control him overmuch, or impede the free action of his powers.
+Heeding, as it seemed, very little the counsels or warnings showered on
+her by the bystanders, not one of whom, to Conyers's intense amazement,
+had ventured to accompany her, she urged her horse steadily forward.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't hurry,&mdash;take it easy!&rdquo; called out one of the horsemen, as he
+looked at his watch. &ldquo;You have fifty-three minutes left, and it's all
+turf.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She 'll do it,&mdash;I know she will!&rdquo; &ldquo;She 'll lose,&mdash;she must
+lose!&rdquo; &ldquo;It's ten miles to Foynes Gap!&rdquo; &ldquo;It's more!&rdquo; &ldquo;It's less!&rdquo; &ldquo;There!&mdash;see!&mdash;she's
+in, by Jove! she's in!&rdquo; These varying comments were now arrested by the
+intense interest of the moment, the horse having impatiently plunged into
+a deep pool, and struck out to swim with all the violent exertion of an
+affrighted animal. &ldquo;Keep his head up!&rdquo; &ldquo;Let him free, quite free!&rdquo; &ldquo;Get
+your foot clear of the stirrup!&rdquo; cried out the bystanders, while in lower
+tones they muttered, &ldquo;She would cross here!&rdquo; &ldquo;It's all her own fault!&rdquo;
+ Just at this instant she turned in her saddle, and called out something
+which, drowned in the rush of the river, did not reach them.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't you see,&rdquo; cried Conyers, passionately, for his temper could no
+longer endure the impassive attitude of this on-looking, &ldquo;one of the reins
+is broken, her bridle is smashed?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And, without another word, he sprang into the river, partly wading, partly
+swimming, and soon reached the place where the horse, restrained by one
+rein alone, swam in a small circle, fretted by restraint and maddened by
+inability to resist.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Leave him to me,&mdash;let go your rein,&rdquo; said Conyers, as he grasped the
+bridle close to the bit; and the animal, accepting the guidance, suffered
+himself to be led quietly till he reached the shallow. Once there, he
+bounded wildly forward, and, splashing through the current, leaped up the
+bank, where he was immediately caught by the others.
+</p>
+<p>
+By the time Conyers had gained the land, the girl had quitted her saddle
+and entered the cottage, never so much as once turning a look on him who
+had rescued her. If he could not help feeling mortified at this show of
+indifference, he was not less puzzled by the manner of the others, who,
+perfectly careless of his dripping condition, discussed amongst themselves
+how the bridle broke, and what might have happened if the leather had
+proved tougher.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's always the way with her,&rdquo; muttered one, sulkily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I told her to ride the match in a ring-snaffle, but she's a mule in
+obstinacy! She 'd have won easily&mdash;ay, with five minutes to spare&mdash;if
+she'd have crossed at Nunsford. I passed there last week without wetting a
+girth.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She 'll not thank <i>you</i> young gentleman, whoever you are,&rdquo; said the
+oldest of the party, turning to Conyers, &ldquo;for your gallantry. She 'll only
+remember you as having helped her to lose a wager!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's true!&rdquo; cried another. &ldquo;I never got as much as thank you for
+catching her horse one day at Lyrath, though it threw me out of the whole
+run afterwards.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And this was a wager, then?&rdquo; said Conyers.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. An English officer that is stopping at Sir Charles's said yesterday
+that nobody could ride from Lowe's Folly to Foynes as the crow flies; and
+four of us took him up&mdash;twenty-five pounds apiece&mdash;that Polly
+Dill would do it,&mdash;and against time, too,&mdash;an hour and forty.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;On a horse of mine,&rdquo; chimed in another,&mdash;&ldquo;Bayther-shini&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must say it does not tell very well for your chivalry in these parts,&rdquo;
+ said Conyers, angrily. &ldquo;Could no one be found to do the match without
+risking a young girl's life on it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A very hearty burst of merriment met this speech, and the elder of the
+party rejoined,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must be very new to this country, or you'd not have said that, sir.
+There's not a man in the hunt could get as much out of a horse as that
+girl.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not to say,&rdquo; added another, with a sly laugh, &ldquo;that the Englishman gave
+five to one against her when he heard she was going to ride.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Disgusted by what he could not but regard as a most disgraceful wager,
+Conyers turned away, and walked into the house.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go and change your clothes as fast as you can,&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, as
+she met him in the porch. &ldquo;I am quite provoked you should have wetted your
+feet in such a cause.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was no time to ask for explanations; and Conyers hurried away to his
+room, marvelling much at what he had heard, but even more astonished by
+the attitude of cool and easy indifference as to what might have
+imperilled a human life. He had often heard of the reckless habits and
+absurd extravagances of Irish life, but he fancied that they appertained
+to a time long past, and that society had gradually assumed the tone and
+the temper of the English. Then he began to wonder to what class in life
+these persons belonged. The girl, so well as he could see, was certainly
+handsome, and appeared ladylike; and yet, why had she not even by a word
+acknowledged the service he rendered her? And lastly, what could old Miss
+Barrington mean by that scornful speech? These were all great puzzles to
+him, and like many great puzzles only the more embarrassing the more they
+were thought over.
+</p>
+<p>
+The sound of voices drew him now to the window, and he saw one of the
+riding-party in converse with Darby at the door. They talked in a low tone
+together, and laughed; and then the horseman, chucking a half-crown
+towards Darby, said aloud,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And tell her that we 'll send the boat down for her as soon as we get
+back.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Darby touched his hat gratefully, and was about to retire within the house
+when he caught sight of Conyers at the window. He waited till the rider
+had turned the angle of the road, and then said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's Mr. St. George. They used to call him the Slasher, he killed so
+many in duels long ago; but he 's like a lamb now.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the young lady?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The young lady is it!&rdquo; said Darby, with the air of one not exactly
+concurring in the designation. &ldquo;She's old Dill's daughter, the doctor that
+attends you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was it all about?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a bet they made with an English captain this morning that she 'd
+ride from Lowe's Folly to the Gap in an hour and a half. The Captain took
+a hundred on it, because he thought she 'd have to go round by the bridge;
+and they pretinded the same, for they gave all kinds of directions about
+clearing the carts out of the road, for it's market-day at Thomastown; and
+away went the Captain as hard as he could, to be at the bridge first, to
+'time her,' as she passed. But he has won the money!&rdquo; sighed he, for the
+thought of so much Irish coin going into a Saxon pocket completely
+overcame him; &ldquo;and what's more,&rdquo; added he, &ldquo;the gentleman says it was all
+your fault!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All my fault!&rdquo; cried Conyers, indignantly. &ldquo;All my fault! Do they imagine
+that I either knew or cared for their trumpery wager! I saw a girl
+struggling in a danger from which not one of them had the manliness to
+rescue her!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, take my word for it,&rdquo; burst in Darby, &ldquo;it's not courage they want!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then it is something far better than even courage, and I'd like to tell
+them so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And he turned away as much disgusted with Darby as with the rest of his
+countrymen. Now, all the anger that filled his breast was not in reality
+provoked by the want of gallantry that he condemned; a portion, at least,
+was owing to the marvellous indifference the young lady had manifested to
+her preserver. Was peril such an every-day incident of Irish life that no
+one cared for it, or was gratitude a quality not cultivated in this
+strange land? Such were the puzzles that tormented him as he descended to
+the drawing-room.
+</p>
+<p>
+As he opened the door, he heard Miss Barrington's voice, in a tone which
+he rightly guessed to be reproof, and caught the words, &ldquo;Just as unwise as
+it is unbecoming,&rdquo; when he entered.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Conyers, Miss Dill,&rdquo; said the old lady, stiffly; &ldquo;the young gentleman
+who saved you, the heroine you rescued!&rdquo; The two allocutions were
+delivered with a gesture towards each. To cover a moment of extreme
+awkwardness, Conyers blundered out something about being too happy, and a
+slight service, and a hope of no ill consequences to herself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have no fears on that score, sir,&rdquo; broke in Miss Dinah. &ldquo;Manly young
+ladies are the hardiest things in nature. They are as insensible to danger
+as they are to&mdash;&rdquo; She stopped, and grew crimson, partly from anger
+and partly from the unspoken word that had almost escaped her.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, madam,&rdquo; said Polly, quietly, &ldquo;I am really very much 'ashamed.'&rdquo; And,
+simple as the words were, Miss Barrington felt the poignancy of their
+application to herself, and her hand trembled over the embroidery she was
+working.
+</p>
+<p>
+She tried to appear calm, but in vain; her color came and went, and the
+stitches, in spite of her, grew irregular; so that, after a moment's
+struggle, she pushed the frame away, and left the room. While this very
+brief and painful incident was passing, Conyers was wondering to himself
+how the dashing horsewoman, with flushed cheek, flashing eye, and
+dishevelled hair, could possibly be the quiet, demure girl, with a
+downcast look, and almost Quaker-like simplicity of demeanor. It is but
+fair to add, though he himself did not discover it, that the contributions
+of Miss Dinah's wardrobe, to which poor Polly was reduced for dress, were
+not exactly of a nature to heighten her personal attractions; nor did a
+sort of short jacket, and a very much beflounced petticoat, set off the
+girl's figure to advantage. Polly never raised her eyes from the work she
+was sewing as Miss Barrington withdrew, but, in a low, gentle voice, said,
+&ldquo;It was very good of you, sir, to come to my rescue, but you mustn't think
+ill of my countrymen for not having done so; they had given their word of
+honor not to lead a fence, nor open a gate, nor, in fact, aid me in any
+way.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that, if they could win their wager, your peril was of little matter,&rdquo;
+ broke he in.
+</p>
+<p>
+She gave a little low, quiet laugh, perhaps as much at the energy as at
+the words of his speech. &ldquo;After all,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;a wetting is no great
+misfortune; the worst punishment of my offence was one that I never
+contemplated.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; asked he.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Doing penance for it in this costume,&rdquo; said she, drawing out the stiff
+folds of an old brocaded silk, and displaying a splendor of flowers that
+might have graced a peacock's tail; &ldquo;I never so much as dreamed of this!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was something so comic in the way she conveyed her distress that he
+laughed outright. She joined him; and they were at once at their ease
+together.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think Miss Barrington called you Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;and if so, I
+have the happiness of feeling that my gratitude is bestowed where already
+there has been a large instalment of the sentiment. It is you who have
+been so generous and so kind to my poor brother.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Has he told you, then, what we have been planning together?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He has told me all that <i>you</i> had planned out for him,&rdquo; said she,
+with a very gracious smile, which very slightly colored her cheek, and
+gave great softness to her expression. &ldquo;My only fear was that the poor boy
+should have lost his head completely, and perhaps exaggerated to himself
+your intentions towards him; for, after all, I can scarcely think&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it that you can scarcely think?&rdquo; asked he, after a long pause.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not to say,&rdquo; resumed she, unheeding his question, &ldquo;that I cannot imagine
+how this came about. What could have led him to tell <i>you</i>&mdash;a
+perfect stranger to him&mdash;his hopes and fears, his struggles and his
+sorrows? How could you&mdash;by what magic did you inspire him with that
+trustful confidence which made him open his whole heart before you? Poor
+Tom, who never before had any confessor than myself!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shall I tell you how it came about? It was talking of <i>you!</i>&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of me! talking of me!&rdquo; and her cheek now flushed more deeply.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, we had rambled on over fifty themes, not one of which seemed to
+attach him strongly, till, in some passing allusion to his own cares and
+difficulties, he mentioned one who has never ceased to guide and comfort
+him; who shared not alone his sorrows, but his hard hours of labor, and
+turned away from her own pleasant paths to tread the dreary road of toil
+beside him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think he might have kept all this to himself,&rdquo; said she, with a tone of
+almost severity.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How could he? How was it possible to tell me his story, and not touch
+upon what imparted the few tints of better fortune that lighted it? I'm
+certain, besides, that there is a sort of pride in revealing how much of
+sympathy and affection we have derived from those better than ourselves,
+and I could see that he was actually vain of what you had done for him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I repeat, he might have kept this to himself. But let us leave this
+matter; and now tell me,&mdash;for I own I can hardly trust my poor
+brother's triumphant tale,&mdash;tell me seriously what the plan is?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers hesitated for a few seconds, embarrassed how to avoid mention of
+himself, or to allude but passingly to his own share in the project. At
+last, as though deciding to dash boldly into the question, he said, &ldquo;I
+told him, if he 'd go out to India, I 'd give him such a letter to my
+father that his fortune would be secure. My governor is something of a
+swell out there,&rdquo;&mdash;and he reddened, partly in shame, partly in pride,
+as he tried to disguise his feeling by an affectation of ease,&mdash;&ldquo;and
+that with <i>him</i> for a friend, Tom would be certain of success. You
+smile at my confidence, but you don't know India, and what scores of fine
+things are&mdash;so to say&mdash;to be had for asking; and although
+doctoring is all very well, there are fifty other ways to make a fortune
+faster. Tom could be a Receiver of Revenue; he might be a Political
+Resident. You don't know what they get. There's a fellow at Baroda has
+four thousand rupees a month, and I don't know how much more for
+dâk-money.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can't help smiling,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;at the notion of poor Tom in a
+palanquin. But, seriously, sir, is all this possible? or might it not be
+feared that your father, when he came to see my brother&mdash;who, with
+many a worthy quality, has not much to prepossess in his favor,&mdash;when,
+I say, he came to see your <i>protégé</i> is it not likely that he might&mdash;might&mdash;hold
+him more cheaply than you do?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not when he presents a letter from me; not when it's I that have taken
+him up. You 'll believe me, perhaps, when I tell you what happened when I
+was but ten years old. We were up at Rangoon, in the Hills, when a
+dreadful hurricane swept over the country, destroying everything before
+it; rice, paddy, the indigo-crop, all were carried away, and the poor
+people left totally destitute. A subscription-list was handed about
+amongst the British residents, to afford some aid in the calamity, and it
+was my tutor, a native Moonshee, who went about to collect the sums. One
+morning he came back somewhat disconsolate at his want of success. A
+payment of eight thousand rupees had to be made for grain on that day, and
+he had not, as he hoped and expected, the money ready. He talked freely to
+me of his disappointment, so that, at last, my feelings being worked upon,
+I took up my pen and wrote down my name on the list, with the sum of eight
+thousand rupees to it Shocked at what he regarded as an act of levity, he
+carried the paper to my father, who at once said, 'Fred wrote it; his name
+shall not be dishonored;' and the money was paid. I ask you, now, am I
+reckoning too much on one who could do that, and for a mere child too?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was nobly done,&rdquo; said she, with enthusiasm; and though Conyers went
+on, with warmth, to tell more of his father's generous nature, she seemed
+less to listen than to follow out some thread of her own reflections. Was
+it some speculation as to the temperament the son of such a father might
+possess? or was it some pleasurable revery regarding one who might do any
+extravagance and yet be forgiven? My reader may guess this, perhaps,&mdash;I
+cannot. Whatever her speculation, it lent a very charming expression to
+her features,&mdash;that air of gentle, tranquil happiness we like to
+believe the lot of guileless, simple natures.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers, like many young men of his order, was very fond of talking of
+himself, of his ways, his habits, and his temper, and she listened to him
+very prettily,&mdash;so prettily, indeed, that when Darby, slyly peeping
+in at the half-opened door, announced that the boat had come, he felt well
+inclined to pitch the messenger into the stream.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must go and say good-bye to Miss Barrington,&rdquo; said Polly, rising. &ldquo;I
+hope that this rustling finery will impart some dignity to my demeanor.&rdquo;
+ And drawing wide the massive folds, she made a very deep courtesy,
+throwing back her head haughtily as she resumed her height in admirable
+imitation of a bygone school of manners.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/166.jpg" width="100%" alt="166 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well,&mdash;very well, indeed! Quite as like what it is meant for as
+is Miss Polly Dill for the station she counterfeits!&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, as,
+throwing wide the door, she stood before them.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am overwhelmed by your flattery, madam,&rdquo; said Polly, who, though very
+red, lost none of her self-possession; &ldquo;but I feel that, like the
+traveller who tried on Charlemagne's armor, I am far more equal to combat
+in my every-day clothes.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do not enter the lists with me in either,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, with a look
+of the haughtiest insolence. &ldquo;Mr. Conyers, will you let me show you my
+flower-garden?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Delighted! But I will first see Miss Dill to her boat.&rdquo; &ldquo;As you please,
+sir,&rdquo; said the old lady; and she withdrew with a proud toss of her head
+that was very unmistakable in its import.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a severe correction that was!&rdquo; said Polly, half gayly, as she went
+along, leaning on his arm. &ldquo;And <i>you</i> know that, whatever my
+offending, there was no mimicry in it. I was simply thinking of some
+great-grandmother who had, perhaps, captivated the heroes of Dettingen;
+and, talking of heroes, how courageous of you to come to my rescue!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Was it that her arm only trembled slightly, or did it really press gently
+on his own as she said this? Certainly Conyers inclined to the latter
+hypothesis, for he drew her more closely to his side, and said, &ldquo;Of course
+I stood by you. She was all in the wrong, and I mean to tell her so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not if you would serve me,&rdquo; said she, eagerly. &ldquo;I have paid the penalty,
+and I strongly object to be sentenced again. Oh, here's the boat!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why it's a mere skiff. Are you safe to trust yourself in such a thing?&rdquo;
+ asked he, for the canoe-shaped &ldquo;cot&rdquo; was new to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course!&rdquo; said she, lightly stepping in. &ldquo;There is even room for
+another.&rdquo; Then, hastily changing her theme, she asked, &ldquo;May I tell poor
+Tom what you have said to me, or is it just possible that you will come up
+one of these days and see us?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I might be permitted&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Too much honor for us!&rdquo; said she, with such a capital imitation of his
+voice and manner that he burst into a laugh in spite of himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mayhap Miss Bamngton was not so far wrong: after all, you <i>are</i> a
+terrible mimic.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it a promise, then? Am I to say to my brother you will come?&rdquo; said
+she, seriously.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Faithfully!&rdquo; said he, waving his hand, for the boatmen had already got
+the skiff under weigh, and were sending her along like an arrow from a
+bow.
+</p>
+<p>
+Polly turned and kissed her hand to him, and Conyers muttered something
+over his own stupidity for not being beside her, and then turned sulkily
+back towards the cottage. A few hours ago and he had thought he could have
+passed his life here; there was a charm in the unbroken tranquillity that
+seemed to satisfy the longings of his heart, and now, all of a sudden, the
+place appeared desolate. Have you never, dear reader, felt, in gazing on
+some fair landscape, with mountain and stream and forest before you, that
+the scene was perfect, wanting nothing in form or tone or color, till
+suddenly a flash of strong sunlight from behind a cloud lit up some spot
+with a glorious lustre, to fade away as quickly into the cold tint it had
+worn before? Have you not felt then, I say, that the picture had lost its
+marvellous attraction, and that the very soul of its beauty had departed?
+In vain you try to recall the past impression; your memory will mourn over
+the lost, and refuse to be comforted. And so it is often in life: the
+momentary charm that came unexpectedly can become all in all to our
+imaginations, and its departure leave a blank, like a death, behind it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Nor was he altogether satisfied with Miss Barrington. The &ldquo;old woman&rdquo;&mdash;alas!
+for his gallantry, it was so that he called her to himself&mdash;was
+needlessly severe. Why should a mere piece of harmless levity be so
+visited? At all events, he felt certain that he himself would have shown a
+more generous spirit. Indeed, when Polly had quizzed him, he took it all
+good-naturedly, and by thus turning his thoughts to his natural goodness
+and the merits of his character, he at length grew somewhat more
+well-disposed to the world at large. He knew he was naturally forgiving,
+and he felt he was very generous. Scores of fellows, bred up as he was,
+would have been perfectly unendurable; they would have presumed on their
+position, and done this, that, and t' other. Not one of them would have
+dreamed of taking up a poor ungainly bumpkin, a country doctor's cub, and
+making a man of him; not one of them would have had the heart to conceive
+or the energy to carry out such a project. And yet this he would do. Polly
+herself, sceptical as she was, should be brought to admit that he had kept
+his word. Selfish fellows would limit their plans to their own
+engagements, and weak fellows could be laughed out of their intentions;
+but <i>he</i> flattered himself that he was neither of these, and it was
+really fortunate that the world should see how little spoiled a fine
+nature could be, though surrounded with all the temptations that are
+supposed to be dangerous.
+</p>
+<p>
+In this happy frame&mdash;for he was now happy&mdash;he reentered the
+cottage. &ldquo;What a coxcomb!&rdquo; will say my reader. Be it so. But it was a
+coxcomb who wanted to be something better.
+</p>
+<p>
+Miss Barrington met him in the porch, not a trace of her late displeasure
+on her face, but with a pleasant smile she said, &ldquo;I have just got a few
+lines from my brother. He writes in excellent spirits, for he has gained a
+lawsuit; not a very important case, but it puts us in a position to carry
+out a little project we are full of. He will be here by Saturday, and
+hopes to bring with him an old and valued friend, the Attorney-General, to
+spend a few days with us. I am, therefore, able to promise you an ample
+recompense for all the loneliness of your present life. I have cautiously
+abstained from telling my brother who you are; I keep the delightful
+surprise for the moment of your meeting. Your name, though associated with
+some sad memories, will bring him back to the happiest period of his
+life.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers made some not very intelligible reply about his reluctance to
+impose himself on them at such a time, but she stopped him with a
+good-humored smile, and said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your father's son should know that where a Barrington lived he had a
+home,&mdash;not to say you have already paid some of the tribute of this
+homeliness, and seen me very cross and ill-tempered. Well, let us not
+speak of that now. I have your word to remain here.&rdquo; And she left him to
+attend to her household cares, while he strolled into the garden, half
+amused, half embarrassed by all the strange and new interests that had
+grown up so suddenly around him.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XV. AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION
+</h2>
+<p>
+Whether from simple caprice, or that Lady Cobham desired to mark her
+disapprobation of Polly Dill's share in the late wager, is not open to me
+to say, but the festivities at Cob-ham were not, on that day, graced or
+enlivened by her presence. If the comments on her absence were brief, they
+were pungent, and some wise reflections, too, were uttered as to the
+dangers that must inevitably attend all attempts to lift people into a
+sphere above their own. Poor human nature! that unlucky culprit who is
+flogged for everything and for everybody, bore the brunt of these
+severities, and it was declared that Polly had done what any other girl
+&ldquo;in her rank of life&rdquo; might have done; and this being settled, the company
+went to luncheon, their appetites none the worse for the small <i>auto-da-fé</i>
+they had just celebrated.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You'd have lost your money, Captain,&rdquo; whispered Ambrose Bushe to
+Stapylton, as they stood talking together in a window recess, &ldquo;if that
+girl had only taken the river three hundred yards higher up. Even as it
+was, she 'd have breasted her horse at the bank if the bridle had not
+given way. I suppose you have seen the place?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I regret to say I have not. They tell me it's one of the strongest rapids
+in the river.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me describe it to you,&rdquo; replied he; and at once set about a picture
+in which certainly no elements of peril were forgotten, and all the
+dangers of rocks and rapids were given with due emphasis. Stapylton seemed
+to listen with fitting attention, throwing out the suitable &ldquo;Indeed! is it
+possible!&rdquo; and such-like interjections, his mind, however, by no means
+absorbed by the narrative, but dwelling solely on a chance name that had
+dropped from the narrator.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You called the place 'Barrington's Ford,'&rdquo; said he, at last. &ldquo;Who is
+Barrington?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As good a gentleman by blood and descent as any in this room, but now
+reduced to keep a little wayside inn,&mdash;the 'Fisherman's Home,' it is
+called. All come of a spendthrift son, who went out to India, and ran
+through every acre of the property before he died.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a strange vicissitude! And is the old man much broken by it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some would say he was; my opinion is, that he bears up wonderfully. Of
+course, to me, he never makes any mention of the past; but while my father
+lived, he would frequently talk to him over bygones, and liked nothing
+better than to speak of his son, Mad George as they called him, and tell
+all his wildest exploits and most harebrained achievements. But you have
+served yourself in India. Have you never heard of George Barrington?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Stapylton shook his head, and dryly added that India was very large, and
+that even in one Presidency a man might never hear what went on in
+another.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, this fellow made noise enough to be heard even over here. He
+married a native woman, and he either shook off his English allegiance, or
+was suspected of doing so. At all events, he got himself into trouble that
+finished him. It's a long complicated story, that I have never heard
+correctly. The upshot was, however, old Barrington was sold out stick and
+stone, and if it was n't for the ale-house he might starve.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And his former friends and associates, do they rally round him and cheer
+him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a great deal. Perhaps, however, that's as much his fault as theirs.
+He is very proud, and very quick to resent anything like consideration for
+his changed condition. Sir Charles would have him up here,&mdash;he has
+tried it scores of times, but all in vain; and now he is left to two or
+three of his neighbors, the doctor and an old half-pay major, who lives on
+the river, and I believe really he never sees any one else. Old M'Cormick
+knew George Barrington well; not that they were friends,&mdash;two men
+less alike never lived; but that's enough to make poor Peter fond of
+talking to him, and telling all about some lawsuits George left him for a
+legacy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This Major that you speak of, does he visit here? I don't remember to
+have seen him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;M'Cormick!&rdquo; said the other, laughing. &ldquo;No, he 's a miserly old fellow
+that has n't a coat fit to go out in, and he's no loss to any one. It's as
+much as old Peter Barrington can do to bear his shabby ways, and his
+cranky temper, but he puts up with everything because he knew his son
+George. That's quite enough for old Peter; and if you were to go over to
+the cottage, and say, 'I met your son up in Bombay or Madras; we were
+quartered together at Ram-something-or-other,' he 'd tell you the place
+was your own, to stop at as long as you liked, and your home for life.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said Stapylton, affecting to feel interested, while he followed
+out the course of his own thoughts.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not that the Major could do even that much!&rdquo; continued Bushe, who now
+believed that he had found an eager listener. &ldquo;There was only one thing in
+this world he'd like to talk about,&mdash;Walcheren. Go how or when you
+liked, or where or for what,&mdash;no matter, it was Walcheren you 'd get,
+and nothing else.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Somewhat tiresome this, I take it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tiresome is no name for it! And I don't know a stronger proof of old
+Peter's love for his son's memory, than that, for the sake of hearing
+about him, he can sit and listen to the 'expedition.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was a half-unconscious mimicry in the way he gave the last word that
+showed how the Major's accents had eaten their way into his sensibilities.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your portrait of this Major is not tempting,&rdquo; said Stapylton, smiling.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why would it? He's eighteen or twenty years in the neighborhood, and I
+never heard that he said a kind word or did a generous act by any one. But
+I get cross if I talk of him. Where are you going this morning? Will you
+come up to the Long Callows and look at the yearlings? The Admiral is very
+proud of his young stock, and he thinks he has some of the best bone and
+blood in Ireland there at this moment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks, no; I have some notion of a long walk this morning. I take shame
+to myself for having seen so little of the country here since I came that
+I mean to repair my fault and go off on a sort of voyage of discovery.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Follow the river from Brown's Barn down to Inistioge, and if you ever saw
+anything prettier I'm a Scotchman.&rdquo; And with this appalling alternative,
+Mr. Bushe walked away, and left the other to his own guidance.
+</p>
+<p>
+Perhaps Stapylton is not the companion my reader would care to stroll
+with, even along the grassy path beside that laughing river, with
+spray-like larches bending overhead, and tender water-lilies streaming,
+like pennants, in the fast-running current. It may be that he or she would
+prefer some one more impressionable to the woodland beauty of the spot,
+and more disposed to enjoy the tranquil loveliness around him; for it is
+true the swarthy soldier strode on, little heeding the picturesque effects
+which made every succeeding reach of the river a subject for a painter. He
+was bent on finding out where M'Cormick lived, and on making the
+acquaintance of that bland individual.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's the Major's, and there's himself,&rdquo; said a countryman, as he
+pointed to a very shabbily dressed old man hoeing his cabbages in a
+dilapidated bit of garden-ground, but who was so absorbed in his
+occupation as not to notice the approach of a stranger.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I taking too great a liberty,&rdquo; said Stapylton, as he raised his hat,
+&ldquo;if I ask leave to follow the river path through this lovely spot?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Eh&mdash;what?&mdash;how did you come? You didn't pass round by the young
+wheat, eh?&rdquo; asked M'Cormick, in his most querulous voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I came along by the margin of the river.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's just it!&rdquo; broke in the other. &ldquo;There's no keeping them out that
+way. But I 'll have a dog as sure as my name is Dan. I'll have a
+bull-terrier that'll tackle the first of you that's trespassing there.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I fancy I'm addressing Major M'Cormick,&rdquo; said Stapylton, never noticing
+this rude speech; &ldquo;and if so, I will ask him to accord me the privilege of
+a brother-soldier, and let me make myself known to him,&mdash;Captain
+Stapylton, of the Prince's Hussars.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By the wars!&rdquo; muttered old Dan; the exclamation being a favorite one with
+him to express astonishment at any startling event. Then recovering
+himself, he added, &ldquo;I think I heard there were three or four of ye
+stopping up there at Cobham; but I never go out myself anywhere. I live
+very retired down here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am not surprised at that. When an old soldier can nestle down in a
+lovely nook like this, he has very little to regret of what the world is
+busy about outside it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And they are all ruining themselves, besides,&rdquo; said M'Cormick, with one
+of his malicious grins. &ldquo;There's not a man in this county is n't mortgaged
+over head and ears. I can count them all on my fingers for you, and tell
+what they have to live on.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You amaze me,&rdquo; said Stapylton, with a show of interest
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the women are as bad as the men: nothing fine enough for them to
+wear; no jewels rich enough to put on! Did you ever hear them mention <i>me?</i>&rdquo;
+ asked he, suddenly, as though the thought flashed upon him that he had
+himself been exposed to comment of a very different kind.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They told me of an old retired officer, who owned a most picturesque
+cottage, and said, if I remember aright, that the view from one of the
+windows was accounted one of the most perfect bits of river landscape in
+the kingdom.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just the same as where you 're standing,&mdash;no difference in life,&rdquo;
+ said M'Cormick, who was not to be seduced by the flattery into any
+demonstration of hospitality.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot imagine anything finer,&rdquo; said Stapylton, as he threw himself at
+the foot of a tree, and seemed really to revel in enjoyment of the scene.
+&ldquo;One might, perhaps, if disposed to be critical, ask for a little opening
+in that copse yonder. I suspect we should get a peep at the bold cliff
+whose summit peers above the tree-tops.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You'd see the quarry, to be sure,&rdquo; croaked out the Major, &ldquo;if that's what
+you mean.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I offer you a cigar?&rdquo; said Stapylton, whose self-possession was
+pushed somewhat hard by the other. &ldquo;An old campaigner is sure to be a
+smoker.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am not. I never had a pipe in my mouth since Walcheren.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Since Walcheren! You don't say that you are an old Walcheren man?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am, indeed. I was in the second battalion of the 103d,&mdash;the Duke's
+Fusiliers, if ever you heard of them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Heard of them! The whole world has heard of them; but I did n't know
+there was a man of that splendid corps surviving. Why, they lost&mdash;let
+me see&mdash;they lost every officer but&mdash;&rdquo; Here a vigorous effort to
+keep his cigar alight interposed, and kept him occupied for a few seconds.
+&ldquo;How many did you bring out of action,&mdash;four was it, or five? I'm
+certain you had n't six!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We were the same as the Buffs, man for man,&rdquo; said M'Cormick.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The poor Buffs!&mdash;very gallant fellows too!&rdquo; sighed Stapylton. &ldquo;I
+have always maintained, and I always will maintain, that the Walcheren
+expedition, though not a success, was the proudest achievement of the
+British arms.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The shakes always began after sunrise, and in less than ten minutes you
+'d see your nails growing blue.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How dreadful!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if you felt your nose, you would n't know it was your nose; you 'd
+think it was a bit of a cold carrot.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why was that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because there was no circulation; the blood would stop going round; and
+you 'd be that way for four hours,&mdash;till the sweating took you,&mdash;just
+the same as dead.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There, don't go on,&mdash;I can't stand it,&mdash;my nerves are all ajar
+already.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And then the cramps came on,&rdquo; continued M'Cormick, in an ecstasy over a
+listener whose feelings he could harrow; &ldquo;first in the calves of the legs,
+and then all along the spine, so that you 'd be bent like a fish.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;For Heaven's sake, spare me! I've seen some rough work, but that
+description of yours is perfectly horrifying! And when one thinks it was
+the glorious old 105th&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, the 103d; the 105th was at Barbadoes,&rdquo; broke in the Major, testily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So they were, and got their share of the yellow fever at that very time
+too,&rdquo; said Stapylton, hazarding a not very rash conjecture.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe they did, and maybe they didn't,&rdquo; was the dry rejoinder.
+</p>
+<p>
+It required all Stapylton's nice tact to get the Major once more full
+swing at the expedition, but he at last accomplished the feat, and with
+such success that M'Cormick suggested an adjournment within doors, and
+faintly hinted at a possible something to drink. The wily guest, however,
+declined this. &ldquo;He liked,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that nice breezy spot under those
+fine old trees, and with that glorious reach of the river before them.
+Could a man but join to these enjoyments,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;just a neighbor
+or two,&mdash;an old friend or so that he really liked,&mdash;one not
+alone agreeable from his tastes, but to whom the link of early
+companionship also attached us, with this addition I could call this a
+paradise.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I have the village doctor,&rdquo; croaked out M'Cor-mick, &ldquo;and there's
+Barrington&mdash;old Peter&mdash;up at the 'Fisherman's Home.' I have <i>them</i>
+by way of society. I might have better, and I might have worse.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They told me at Cobham that there was no getting you to 'go out;' that,
+like a regular old soldier, you liked your own chimney-corner, and could
+not be tempted away from it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They didn't try very hard, anyhow,&rdquo; said he, harshly. &ldquo;I'll be nineteen
+years here if I live till November, and I think I got two invitations, and
+one of them to a 'dancing tea,' whatever that is; so that you may observe
+they did n't push the temptation as far as St. Anthony's!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Stapylton joined in the laugh with which M'Cormick welcomed his own
+drollery.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your doctor,&rdquo; resumed he, &ldquo;is, I presume, the father of the pretty girl
+who rides so cleverly?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So they tell me. I never saw her mounted but once, and she smashed a
+melon-frame for me, and not so much as 'I ask your pardon!' afterwards.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Barrington,&rdquo; resumed Stapylton, &ldquo;is the ruined gentleman I have heard
+of, who has turned innkeeper. An extravagant son, I believe, finished
+him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;His own taste for law cost him just as much,&rdquo; muttered M'Cormick. &ldquo;He had
+a trunk full of old title-deeds and bonds and settlements, and he was
+always poring over them, discovering, by the way, flaws in this and
+omissions in that, and then he 'd draw up a case for counsel, and get
+consultations on it, and before you could turn round, there he was, trying
+to break a will or get out of a covenant, with a special jury and the
+strongest Bar in Ireland. That's what ruined him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I gather from what you tell me that he is a bold, determined, and perhaps
+a vindictive man. Am I right?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are not; he's an easy-tempered fellow, and careless, like every one
+of his name and race. If you said he hadn't a wise head on his shoulders,
+you 'd be nearer the mark. Look what he 's going to do now!&rdquo; cried he,
+warming with his theme: &ldquo;he 's going to give up the inn&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Give it up! And why?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay, that's the question would puzzle him to answer; but it's the haughty
+old sister persuades him that he ought to take this black girl&mdash;George
+Barrington's daughter&mdash;home to live with him, and that a shebeen is
+n't the place to bring her to, and she a negress. That's more of the
+family wisdom!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There may be affection in it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Affection! For what,&mdash;for a black! Ay, and a black that they never
+set eyes on! If it was old Withering had the affection for her, I wouldn't
+be surprised.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean? Who is he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Attorney-General, who has been fighting the East India Company for
+her these sixteen years, and making more money out of the case than she
+'ll ever get back again. Did you ever hear of Barrington and Lot Rammadahn
+Mohr against the India Company? That's the case. Twelve millions of rupees
+and the interest on them! And I believe in my heart and soul old Peter
+would be well out of it for a thousand pounds.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is, you suspect he must be beaten in the end?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean that I am sure of it! We have a saying in Ireland, 'It's not fair
+for one man to fall on twenty,' and it's just the same thing to go to law
+with a great rich Company. You 're sure to have the worst of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did it never occur to them to make some sort of compromise?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a bit of it. Old Peter always thinks he has the game in his hand, and
+nothing would make him throw up the cards. No; I believe if you offered to
+pay the stakes, he 'd say, 'Play the game out, and let the winner take the
+money!'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;His lawyer may, possibly, have something to say to this spirit.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course he has; they are always bolstering each other up. It is,
+'Barrington, my boy, you 'll turn the corner yet. You 'll drive up that
+old avenue to the house you were born in, Barrington, of Barrington Hall;'
+or, 'Withering, I never heard you greater than on that point before the
+twelve Judges;' or, 'Your last speech at Bar was finer than Curran.'
+They'd pass the evening that way, and call me a cantankerous old hound
+when my back was turned, just because I did n't hark in to the cry. Maybe
+I have the laugh at them, after all.&rdquo; And he broke out into one of his
+most discordant cackles to corroborate his boast.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The sound sense and experience of an old Walcheren man might have its
+weight with them. I know it would with me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay,&rdquo; muttered the Major, half aloud, for he was thinking to himself
+whether this piece of flattery was a bait for a little whiskey-and-water.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'd rather have the unbought judgment of a shrewd man of the world than
+a score of opinions based upon the quips and cranks of an attorney's
+instructions.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay!&rdquo; responded the other, as he mumbled to himself, &ldquo;he's mighty
+thirsty.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what's more,&rdquo; said Stapylton, starting to his legs, &ldquo;I 'd follow the
+one as implicitly as I'd reject the other. I 'd say, 'M'Cormick is an old
+friend; we have known each other since boyhood.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, we haven't I never saw Peter Barrington till I came to live here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, after a close friendship of years with his son&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor that, either,&rdquo; broke in the implacable Major. &ldquo;He was always cutting
+his jokes on me, and I never could abide him, so that the close friendship
+you speak of is a mistake.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At all events,&rdquo; said Stapylton, sharply, &ldquo;it could be no interest of
+yours to see an old&mdash;an old acquaintance lavishing his money on
+lawyers and in the pursuit of the most improbable of all results. <i>You</i>
+have no design upon him. <i>You</i> don't want to marry his sister!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, by Gemini! &ldquo;&mdash;a favorite expletive of the Major's in urgent
+moments.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor the Meer's daughter, either, I suppose?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The black! I think not. Not if she won the lawsuit, and was as rich as&mdash;she
+never will be.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I agree with you there, Major, though I know nothing of the case or its
+merits; but it is enough to hear that a beggared squire is on one side,
+and Leadenhall Street on the other, to predict the upshot, and, for my own
+part, I wonder they go on with it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'll tell you how it is,&rdquo; said M'Cormick, closing one eye so as to impart
+a look of intense cunning to his face. &ldquo;It's the same with law as at a
+fox-hunt: when you 're tired out beating a cover, and ready to go off
+home, one dog&mdash;very often the worst in the whole pack&mdash;will yelp
+out. You know well enough he's a bad hound, and never found in his life.
+What does that signify? When you 're wishing a thing, whatever flatters
+your hopes is all right,&mdash;is n't that true?&mdash;and away you dash
+after the yelper as if he was a good hound.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have put the matter most convincingly before me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How thirsty he is now!&rdquo; thought the Major; and grinned maliciously at his
+reflection.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the upshot of all,&rdquo; said Stapylton, like one summing up a case,&mdash;&ldquo;the
+upshot of all is, that this old man is not satisfied with his ruin if it
+be not complete; he must see the last timbers of the wreck carried away
+ere he leaves the scene of his disaster. Strange, sad infatuation!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay,&rdquo; muttered the Major, who really had but few sympathies with merely
+moral abstractions.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not what I should have done in a like case; nor <i>you</i> either, Major,
+eh?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very likely not&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But so it is. There are men who cannot be practical, do what they will.
+This is above them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A sort of grunt gave assent to this proposition; and Stapylton, who began
+to feel it was a drawn game, arose to take his leave.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I owe you a very delightful morning, Major,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I wish I could
+think it was not to be the last time I was to have this pleasure. Do you
+ever come up to Kilkenny? Does it ever occur to you to refresh your old
+mess recollections?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Had M'Cormick been asked whether he did not occasionally drop in at
+Holland House, and brush up his faculties by intercourse with the bright
+spirits who resorted there, he could scarcely have been more astounded.
+That he, old Dan M'Cormick, should figure at a mess-table,&mdash;he, whose
+wardrobe, a mere skeleton battalion thirty years ago, had never since been
+recruited,&mdash;he should mingle with the gay and splendid young fellows
+of a &ldquo;crack&rdquo; regiment!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'd just as soon think of&mdash;of&mdash;&rdquo; he hesitated how to measure an
+unlikelihood&mdash; &ldquo;of marrying a young wife, and taking her off to
+Paris!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I don't see any absurdity in the project There is certainly a great
+deal of brilliancy about it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And something bitter too!&rdquo; croaked out M'Cormick, with a fearful grin.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if you'll not come to see me, the chances are I'll come over and
+make <i>you</i> another visit before I leave the neighborhood.&rdquo; He waited
+a second or two, not more, for some recognition of this offer; but none
+came, and he con-tinned: &ldquo;I'll get you to stroll down with me, and show me
+this 'Fisherman's Home,' and its strange proprietor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I 'll do <i>that!</i>&rdquo; said the Major, who had no objection to a plan
+which by no possibility could involve himself in any cost.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As it is an inn, perhaps they 'd let us have a bit of dinner. What would
+you say to being my guest there tomorrow? Would that suit you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would suit <i>me</i> well enough!&rdquo; was the strongly marked reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, we 'll do it this wise. You 'll send one of your people over to
+order dinner for two at&mdash;shall we say five o'clock?&mdash;yes, five&mdash;to-morrow.
+That will give us a longer evening, and I 'll call here for you about
+four. Is that agreed?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that might do,&rdquo; was M'Cormick's half-reluctant assent, for, in
+reality, there were details in the matter that he scarcely fancied. First
+of all, he had never hitherto crossed that threshold except as an invited
+guest, and he had his misgivings about the prudence of appearing in any
+other character, and secondly, there was a responsibility in ordering the
+dinner, which he liked just as little, and, as he muttered to himself,
+&ldquo;Maybe I 'll have to order the bill too!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Some unlucky experiences of casualties of this sort had, perhaps, shadowed
+his early life; for so it was, that long after Stapylton had taken his
+leave and gone off, the Major stood there ruminating over this unpleasant
+contingency, and ingeniously imagining all the pleas he could put in,
+should his apprehension prove correct, against his own indebtedness.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell Miss Dinah,&rdquo; said he to his messenger,&mdash;&ldquo;tell her 't is an
+officer by the name of Captain Staples, or something like that, that 's up
+at Cobham, that wants a dinner for two to-morrow at five o'clock; and mind
+that you don't say who the other is, for it's nothing to her. And if she
+asks you what sort of a dinner, say the best in the house, for the Captain&mdash;mind
+you say the Captain&mdash;is to pay for it, and the other man only dines
+with him. There, now, you have your orders, and take care that you follow
+them!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was a shrewd twinkle in the messenger's eye as he listened, which,
+if not exactly complimentary, guaranteed how thoroughly he comprehended
+the instructions that were given to him; and the Major saw him set forth
+on his mission, well assured that he could trust his envoy.
+</p>
+<p>
+In that nothing-for-nothing world Major M'Cormick had so long lived in,
+and to whose practice and ways he had adapted all his thoughts, there was
+something puzzling in the fact of a dashing Captain of Hussars of &ldquo;the
+Prince's Own,&rdquo; seeking him out, to form his acquaintance and invite him to
+dinner. Now, though the selfishness of an unimaginative man is the most
+complete of all, it yet exposes him to fewer delusions than the same
+quality when found allied with a hopeful or fanciful temperament.
+M'Cormick had no &ldquo;distractions&rdquo; from such sources. He thought very ill of
+the world at large; he expected extremely little from its generosity, and
+he resolved to be &ldquo;quits&rdquo; with it. To his often put question, &ldquo;What
+brought him here?&mdash;what did he come for?&rdquo; he could find no
+satisfactory reply. He scouted the notion of &ldquo;love of scenery, solitude,
+and so forth,&rdquo; and as fully he ridiculed to himself the idea of a stranger
+caring to hear the gossip and small-talk of a mere country neighborhood.
+&ldquo;I have it!&rdquo; cried he at last, as a bright thought darted through his
+brain,&mdash;&ldquo;I have it at last! He wants to pump me about the
+'expedition.' It's for that he's come. He affected surprise, to be sure,
+when I said I was a Walcheren man, and pretended to be amazed, besides;
+but that was all make-believe. He knew well enough who and what I was
+before he came. And he was so cunning, leading the conversation away in
+another direction, getting me to talk of old Peter and his son George.
+Wasn't it deep?&mdash;was n't it sly? Well, maybe we are not so innocent
+as we look, ourselves; maybe we have a trick in our sleeves too! 'With a
+good dinner and a bottle of port wine,' says he, 'I 'll have the whole
+story, and be able to write it with the signature &ldquo;One who was there.&rdquo;'
+But you 're mistaken this time, Captain; the sorrow bit of Walcheren you
+'ll hear out of my mouth to-morrow, be as pleasant and congenial as you
+like. I 'll give you the Barringtons, father and son,&mdash;ay, and old
+Dinah, too, if you fancy her,&mdash;but not a syllable about the
+expedition. It's the Scheldt you want, but you 'll have to 'take it out'
+in the Ganges.&rdquo; And his uncouth joke so tickled him that he laughed till
+his eyes ran over; and in the thought that he was going to obtain a dinner
+under false pretences, he felt something as nearly like happiness as he
+had tasted for many a long day before.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XVI. COMING HOME
+</h2>
+<p>
+Miss Barrtngton waited with impatience for Conyers's appearance at the
+breakfast-table,&mdash;she had received such a pleasant note from her
+brother, and she was so eager to read it. That notion of imparting some
+conception of a dear friend by reading his own words to a stranger is a
+very natural one. It serves so readily to corroborate all we have already
+said, to fill up that picture of which wo have but given the mere outline,
+not to speak of the inexplicable charm there is in being able to say,
+&ldquo;Here is the man without reserve or disguise; here he is in all the
+freshness and warmth of genuine feeling; no tricks of style, no turning of
+phrases to mar the honest expression of his nature. You see him as we see
+him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My brother is coming home, Mr. Conyers; he will be here to-day. Here is
+his note,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, as she shook hands with her guest &ldquo;I must read
+it for you:&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'At last, my dear Dinah&mdash;at last I am free, and, with all my love of
+law and lawyers, right glad to turn my steps homeward. Not but I have had
+a most brilliant week of it; dined with my old schoolfellow Longmore, now
+Chief Baron, and was the honored guest of the &ldquo;Home Circuit,&rdquo; not to speak
+of one glorious evening with a club called the &ldquo;Unbriefed,&rdquo; the
+pleasantest dogs that ever made good speeches for nothing!&mdash;an amount
+of dissipation upon which I can well retire and live for the next twelve
+months. How strange it seems to me to be once more in the &ldquo;world,&rdquo; and
+listening to scores of things in which I have no personal interest; how
+small it makes my own daily life appear, but how secure and how homelike,
+Dinah! You have often heard me grumbling over the decline of social
+agreeability, and the dearth of those pleasant speeches that could set the
+table in a roar. You shall never hear the same complaint from me again.
+These fellows are just as good as their fathers. If I missed anything, it
+was that glitter of scholarship, that classical turn which in the olden
+day elevated table-talk, and made it racy with the smart aphorisms and
+happy conceits of those who, even over their wine, were poets and orators.
+But perhaps I am not quite fair even in this. At all events, I am not
+going to disparage those who have brought back to my old age some of the
+pleasant memories of my youth, and satisfied me that even yet I have a
+heart for those social joys I once loved so dearly!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'And we have won our suit, Dinah,&mdash;at least, a juror was withdrawn
+by consent,&mdash;and Brazier agrees to an arbitration as to the Moyalty
+lands, the whole of Clanebrach and Barrymaquilty property being released
+from the sequestration.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is all personal matter, and technical besides,&rdquo; said Miss
+Barrington; &ldquo;so I skip it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Withering was finer than ever I heard him in the speech to evidence. We
+have been taunted with our defensive attitude so suddenly converted into
+an attack, and he compared our position to Wellington's at Torres Vedras.
+The Chief Justice said Curran, at his best, never excelled it, and they
+have called me nothing but Lord Wellington ever since. And now, Dinah, to
+answer the question your impatience has been putting these ten minutes:
+&ldquo;What of the money part of all this triumph?&rdquo; I fear much, my dear sister,
+we are to take little by our motion. The costs of the campaign cut up all
+but the glory! Hogan's bill extends to thirty-eight folio pages, and
+there's a codicil to it of eleven more, headed &ldquo;Confidential between
+Client and Attorney,&rdquo; and though I have not in a rapid survey seen
+anything above five pounds, the gross total is two thousand seven hundred
+and forty-three pounds three and fourpence. I must and will say, however,
+it was a great suit, and admirably prepared. There was not an instruction
+Withering did not find substantiated, and Hogan is equally delighted with
+<i>him</i>, With all my taste for field sports and manly games, Dinah, I
+am firmly convinced that a good trial at bar is a far finer spectacle than
+the grandest tournament that ever was tilted. There was a skirmish
+yesterday that I 'd rather have witnessed than I 'd have seen Brian de
+Bois himself at Ashby-de-la-Zouch. And, considering that my own share for
+this passage at arms will come to a trifle above two thousand pounds, the
+confession may be taken as an honest one.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'And who is your young guest whom I shall be so delighted to see? This
+gives no clew to him, Dinah, for you know well how I would welcome any one
+who has impressed you so favorably. Entreat of him to prolong his stay for
+a week at least, and if I can persuade Withering to come down with me, we
+'ll try and make his sojourn more agreeable. Look out for me&mdash;at
+least, about five o'clock&mdash;and have the green-room ready for W., and
+let Darby be at Holt's stile to take the trunks, for Withering likes that
+walk through the woods, and says that he leaves his wig and gown on the
+holly-bushes there till he goes back.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The next paragraph she skimmed over to herself. It was one about an
+advance that Hogan had let him have of two hundred pounds. &ldquo;Quite ample,&rdquo;
+ W. says, &ldquo;for our excursion to fetch over Josephine.&rdquo; Some details as to
+the route followed, and some wise hints about travelling on the Continent,
+and a hearty concurrence on the old lawyer's part with the whole scheme.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;These are little home details,&rdquo; said she, hurriedly, &ldquo;but you have heard
+enough to guess what my brother is like. Here is the conclusion:&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'I hope your young friend is a fisherman, which will give me more chance
+of his company than walking up the partridges, for which I am getting too
+old. Let him however understand that we mean him to enjoy himself in his
+own way, to have the most perfect liberty, and that the only despotism we
+insist upon is, not to be late for dinner.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Your loving brother,
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Peter Barrington.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'There is no fatted calf to feast our return, Dinah, but Withering has an
+old weakness for a roast sucking-pig. Don't you think we could satisfy
+it?'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers readily caught the contagion of the joy Miss Barrington felt at
+the thought of her brother's return. Short as the distance was that
+separated him from home, his absences were so rare, it seemed as though he
+had gone miles and miles away, for few people ever lived more dependent on
+each other, with interests more concentrated, and all of whose hopes and
+fears took exactly the same direction, than this brother and sister, and
+this, too, with some strong differences on the score of temperament, of
+which the reader already has an inkling.
+</p>
+<p>
+What a pleasant bustle that is of a household that prepares for the return
+of a well-loved master! What feeling pervades twenty little offices of
+every-day routine! And how dignified by affection are the smallest cares
+and the very humblest attentions! &ldquo;He likes this!&rdquo; &ldquo;He is so fond of
+that!&rdquo; are heard at every moment It is then that one marks how the
+observant eye of love has followed the most ordinary tricks of habit, and
+treasured them as things to be remembered. It is not the key of the street
+door in your pocket, nor the lease of the premises in your drawer, that
+make a home. Let us be grateful when we remember that, in this attribute,
+the humblest shealing on the hillside is not inferior to the palace of the
+king!
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers, I have said, partook heartily of Miss Barring-ton's delight, and
+gave a willing help to the preparations that went forward. All were soon
+busy within doors and without. Some were raking the gravel before the
+door; while others were disposing the flower-pots in little pyramids
+through the grass plats; and then there were trees to be nailed up, and
+windows cleaned, and furniture changed in various ways. What superhuman
+efforts did not Conyers make to get an old jet d'eau to play which had not
+spouted for nigh twenty years; and how reluctantly he resigned himself to
+failure and assisted Betty to shake a carpet!
+</p>
+<p>
+And when all was completed, and the soft and balmy air sent the odor of
+the rose and the jessamine through the open windows, within which every
+appearance of ease and comfort prevailed, Miss Barrington sat down at the
+piano and began to refresh her memory of some Irish airs, old favorites of
+Withering's, which he was sure to ask for. There was that in their
+plaintive wildness which strongly interested Conyers; while, at the same
+time, he was astonished at the skill of one at whose touch, once on a
+time, tears had trembled in the eyes of those who listened, and whose
+fingers had not yet forgot their cunning.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is that standing without there?&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, suddenly, as
+she saw a very poor-looking countryman who had drawn close to the window
+to listen. &ldquo;Who are you? and what do you want here?&rdquo; asked she,
+approaching him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm Terry, ma'am,&mdash;Terry Delany, the Major's man,&rdquo; said he, taking
+off his hat.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never heard of you; and what 's your business?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'T is how I was sent, your honor's reverence,&rdquo; began he, faltering at
+every word, and evidently terrified by her imperious style of address.
+&ldquo;'Tis how I came here with the master's compliments,&mdash;not indeed his
+own but the other man's,&mdash;to say, that if it was plazing to you, or,
+indeed, anyhow at all, they 'd be here at five o'clock to dinner; and
+though it was yesterday I got it, I stopped with my sister's husband at
+Foynes Gap, and misremembered it all till this morning, and I hope your
+honor's reverence won't tell it on me, but have the best in the house all
+the same, for he's rich enough and can well afford it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What can the creature mean?&rdquo; cried Miss Barrington. &ldquo;Who sent you here?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Major himself; but not for him, but for the other that's up at
+Cobham.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And who is this other? What is he called?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Twas something like Hooks, or Nails; but I can't remember,&rdquo; said he,
+scratching his head in sign of utter and complete bewilderment.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did any one ever hear the like! Is the fellow an idiot?&rdquo; exclaimed she,
+angrily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, my lady; but many a one might be that lived with ould M'Cormick!&rdquo;
+ burst out the man, in a rush of unguardedness.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Try and collect yourself, my good fellow,&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, smiling,
+in spite of herself, at his confession, &ldquo;and say, if you can, what brought
+you here?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's just, then, what I said before,&rdquo; said he, gaining a little more
+courage. &ldquo;It's dinner for two ye're to have; and it's to be ready at five
+o'clock; but ye 're not to look to ould Dan for the money, for he as good
+as said he would never pay sixpence of it, but 't is all to come out of
+the other chap's pocket, and well affordin' it. There it is now, and I
+defy the Pope o' Rome to say that I did n't give the message right!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; began Miss Barrington, in a voice shaking with agitation,
+&ldquo;it is nigh twenty years since a series of misfortunes brought us so low
+in the world that&mdash;&rdquo; She stopped, partly overcome by indignation,
+partly by shame; and then, suddenly turning towards the man, she
+continued, in a firm and resolute tone, &ldquo;Go back to your master and say,
+'Miss Barrington hopes he has sent a fool on his errand, otherwise his
+message is so insolent it will be far safer he should never present
+himself here again!' Do you hear me? Do you understand me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you mane you'd make them throw him in the river, the divil a straw I
+'d care, and I would n't wet my feet to pick him out of it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take the message as I have given it you, and do not dare to mix up
+anything of your own with it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Faix, I won't. It's trouble enough I have without that! I 'll tell him
+there's no dinner for him here to-day, and that, if he 's wise, he won't
+come over to look for it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There, go&mdash;be off,&rdquo; cried Conyers, impatiently, for he saw that Miss
+Barrington's temper was being too sorely tried.
+</p>
+<p>
+She conquered, however, the indignation that at one moment had threatened
+to master her, and in a voice of tolerable calm said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I ask you to see if Darby or any other of the workmen are in the
+garden? It is high time to take down these insignia of our traffic, and
+tell our friends how we would be regarded in future.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you let me do it? I ask as a favor that I may be permitted to do
+it,&rdquo; cried Conyers, eagerly; and without waiting for her answer, hurried
+away to fetch a ladder. He was soon back again and at work.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take care how you remove that board, Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;If there be
+the tiniest sprig of jessamine broken, my brother will miss it. He has
+been watching anxiously for the time when the white bells would shut out
+every letter of his name, and I like him not to notice the change
+immediately. There, you are doing it very handily indeed. There is another
+holdfast at this corner. Ah, be careful; that is a branch of the
+passion-tree, and though it looks dead, you will see it covered with
+flowers in spring. Nothing could be better. Now for the last emblem of our
+craft,&mdash;can you reach it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, easily,&rdquo; said Conyers, as he raised his eyes to where the little tin
+fish hung glittering above him. The ladder, however, was too short, and,
+standing on one of the highest rungs, still he could not reach the little
+iron stanchion. &ldquo;I must have it, though,&rdquo; cried he; &ldquo;I mean to claim that
+as my prize. It will be the only fish I ever took with my own hands.&rdquo; He
+now cautiously crept up another step of the ladder, supporting himself by
+the frail creepers which covered the walls. &ldquo;Help me now with a crooked
+stick, and I shall catch it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/190.jpg" width="100%" alt="190 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'll fetch you one,&rdquo; said she, disappearing within the porch.
+</p>
+<p>
+Still wistfully looking at the object of his pursuit, Conyers never turned
+his eyes downwards as the sound of steps apprised him some one was near,
+and, concluding it to be Miss Barrington, he said, &ldquo;I'm half afraid that I
+have torn some of this jessamine-tree from the wall; but see here's the
+prize!&rdquo; A slight air of wind had wafted it towards him, and he suatched
+the fish from its slender chain and held it up in triumph.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A poacher caught in the fact, Barrington!&rdquo; said a deep voice from below;
+and Conyers, looking down, saw two men, both advanced in life, very
+gravely watching his proceedings.
+</p>
+<p>
+Not a little ashamed of a situation to which he never expected an
+audience, he hastily descended the ladder; but before he reached the
+ground Miss Barrington was in her brother's arms, and welcoming him home
+with all the warmth of true affection. This over, she next shook hands
+cordially with his companion, whom she called Mr. Withering.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And now, Peter,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;to present one I have been longing to make
+known to you. You, who never forget a well-known face, will recognize
+him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My eyes are not what they used to be,&rdquo; said Barrington, holding out his
+hand to Conyers, &ldquo;but they are good enough to see the young gentleman I
+left here when I went away.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Peter,&rdquo; said she, hastily; &ldquo;but does the sight of him bring back to
+you no memory of poor George?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;George was dark as a Spaniard, and this gentleman&mdash;But pray, sir,
+forgive this rudeness of ours, and let us make ourselves better acquainted
+within doors. You mean to stay some time here, I hope.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I only wish I could; but I have already overstayed my leave, and waited
+here only to shake your hand before I left.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter, Peter,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, impatiently, &ldquo;must I then tell whom you
+are speaking to?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington seemed pazzled. He looked from the stranger to his sister, and
+back again.
+</p>
+<p>
+She drew near and whispered in his ear: &ldquo;The son of poor George's dearest
+friend on earth,&mdash;the son of Ormsby Conyers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of whom?&rdquo; said Barrington, in a startled and half-angry voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of Ormsby Conyers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Barrington trembled from head to foot; his face, for an instant crimson,
+became suddenly of an ashy paleness, and his voice shook as he said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was not&mdash;I am not&mdash;prepared for this honor. I mean, I could
+not have expected that Mr. Conyers would have desired&mdash;Say this&mdash;do
+this for me, Withering, for I am not equal to it,&rdquo; said the old man, as,
+with his hands pressed over his face, he hurried within the house,
+followed by his sister.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot make a guess at the explanation my friend has left me to make,&rdquo;
+ cried Withering, courteously; &ldquo;but it is plain to see that your name has
+revived some sorrow connected with the great calamity of his life. You
+have heard of his son, Colonel Barrington?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, and it was because my father had been his dearest friend that Miss
+Barrington insisted on my remaining here. She told me, over and over
+again, of the joy her brother would feel on meeting me&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where are you going,&mdash;what's the matter?&rdquo; asked Withering, as a man
+hurriedly passed out of the house and made for the river.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The master is taken bad, sir, and I 'm going to Inistioge for the
+doctor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me go with you,&rdquo; said Conyers; and, only returning by a nod the
+good-bye of Withering, he moved past and stepped into the boat.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What an afternoon to such a morning!&rdquo; muttered he to himself, as the
+tears started from his eyes and stole heavily along his cheeks.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XVII. A SHOCK
+</h2>
+<p>
+If Conyers had been in the frame of mind to notice it, the contrast
+between the neat propriety of the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home,&rdquo; and the disorder and
+slovenliness of the little inn at Inistioge could not have failed to
+impress itself upon him. The &ldquo;Spotted Duck&rdquo; was certainly, in all its
+details, the very reverse of that quiet and picturesque cottage he had
+just quitted. But what did he care at that moment for the roof that
+sheltered him, or the table that was spread before him? For days back he
+had been indulging in thoughts of that welcome which Miss Barrington had
+promised him. He fancied how, on the mere mention of his father's name,
+the old man's affection would have poured forth in a flood of kindest
+words; he had even prepared himself for a scene of such emotion as a
+father might have felt on seeing one who brought back to mind his own
+son's earlier years; and instead of all this, he found himself shunned,
+avoided, repulsed. If there was a thing on earth in which his pride was
+greatest, it was his name; and yet it was on the utterance of that word,
+&ldquo;Conyers,&rdquo; old Barrington turned away and left him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Over and over again had he found the spell of his father's name and title
+opening to him society, securing him attentions, and obtaining for him
+that recognition and acceptance which go so far to make life pleasurable;
+and now that word, which would have had its magic at a palace, fell
+powerless and cold at the porch of a humble cottage.
+</p>
+<p>
+To say that it was part of his creed to believe his father could do no
+wrong is weak. It was his whole belief,&mdash;his entire and complete
+conviction. To his mind his father embodied all that was noble,
+high-hearted, and chivalrous. It was not alone the testimony of those who
+served under him could be appealed to. All India, the Government at home,
+his own sovereign knew it. From his earliest infancy he had listened to
+this theme, and to doubt it seemed like to dispute the fact of his
+existence. How was it, then, that this old man refused to accept what the
+whole world had stamped with its value? Was it that he impugned the
+services which had made his father's name famous throughout the entire
+East?
+</p>
+<p>
+He endeavored to recall the exact words Barrington had used towards him,
+but he could not succeed. There was something, he thought, about
+intruding, unwarrantably intruding; or it might be a mistaken impression
+of the welcome that awaited him. Which was it? or was it either of them?
+At all events, he saw himself rejected and repulsed, and the indignity was
+too great to be borne.
+</p>
+<p>
+While he thus chafed and fretted, hours went by; and Mr. M'Cabe, the
+landlord, had made more than one excursion into the room, under pretence
+of looking after the fire, or seeing that the windows were duly closed,
+but, in reality, very impatient to learn his guest's intentions regarding
+dinner.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was it your honor said that you'd rather have the chickens roast than
+biled?&rdquo; said he at last, in a very submissive tone.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I said nothing of the kind.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, it was No. 5 then, and I mistook; I crave your honor's pardon.&rdquo;
+ Hoping that the chord he had thus touched might vibrate, he stooped down
+to arrange the turf, and give time for the response, but none came. Mr.
+M'Cabe gave a faint sigh, but returned to the charge. &ldquo;When there's the
+laste taste of south in the wind, there 's no making this chimney draw.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Not a word of notice acknowledged this remark.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it will do finely yet; it's just the outside of the turf is a little
+wet, and no wonder; seven weeks of rain&mdash;glory be to Him that sent it&mdash;has
+nearly desthroyed us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Still Conyers vouchsafed no reply.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And when it begins to rain here, it never laves off. It isn't like in
+your honor's country. Your honor is English?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A grunt,&mdash;it might be assent, it sounded like malediction.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'T is azy seen. When your honor came out of the boat, I said, 'Shusy,'
+says I, 'he's English; and there's a coat they could n't make in Ireland
+for a king's ransom.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What conveyances leave this for Kilkenny?&rdquo; asked Conyers, sternly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just none at all, not to mislead you,&rdquo; said M'Cabe, in a voice quite
+devoid of its late whining intonation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is there not a chaise or a car to be had?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sorrow one. Dr. Dill has a car, to be sure, but not for hire.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Dr. Dill lives here. I forgot that. Go and tell him I wish to see
+him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The landlord withdrew in dogged silence, but returned in about ten
+minutes, to say that the doctor had been sent for to the &ldquo;Fisherman's
+Home,&rdquo; and Mr. Barrington was so ill it was not likely he would be back
+that night.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So ill, did you say?&rdquo; cried Conyers. &ldquo;What was the attack,&mdash;what did
+they call it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'T is some kind of a 'plexy, they said. He's a full man, and advanced in
+years, besides.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go and tell young Mr. Dill to come over here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He's just gone off with the cuppin' instruments. I saw him steppin' into
+the boat.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me have a messenger; I want a man to take a note up to Miss
+Barrington, and fetch my writing-desk here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+In his eager anxiety to learn how Mr. Barrington was, Conyers hastily
+scratched off a few lines; but on reading them over, he tore them up: they
+implied a degree of interest on his part which, considering the late
+treatment extended to him, was scarcely dignified. He tried again; the
+error was as marked on the other side. It was a cold and formal inquiry.
+&ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; said he, as he tore this in fragments, &ldquo;one thing is quite
+clear,&mdash;this illness is owing to <i>me!</i> But for <i>my</i>
+presence there, that old man had now been hale and hearty; the
+impressions, rightfully or wrongfully, which the sight of <i>me</i> and
+the announcement of <i>my</i> name produced are the cause of this malady.
+I cannot deny it.&rdquo; With this revulsion of feeling he wrote a short but
+kindly worded note to Miss Barrington, in which, with the very faintest
+allusion to himself, he begged for a few lines to say how her brother was.
+He would have added something about the sorrow he experienced in requiting
+all her kindness by this calamitous return, but he felt that if the case
+should be a serious one, all reference to himself would be misplaced and
+impertinent.
+</p>
+<p>
+The messenger despatched, he sat down beside his fire, the only light now
+in the room, which the shade of coming night had darkened. He was sad and
+dispirited, and ill at ease with his own heart. Mr. M'Cabe, indeed,
+appeared with a suggestion about candles, and a shadowy hint that if his
+guest speculated of dining at all, it was full time to intimate it; but
+Conyers dismissed him with a peremptory command not to dare to enter the
+room again until he was summoned to it. So odious to him was the place,
+the landlord, and all about him, that he would have set out on foot had
+his ankle been only strong enough to bear him. &ldquo;What if he were to write
+to Stapylton to come and fetch him away? He never liked the man; he liked
+him less since the remark Miss Barrrington had made upon him from mere
+reading of his letter, but what was he to do?&rdquo; While he was yet doubting
+what course to take, he heard the voices of some new arrivals outside,
+and, strange enough, one seemed to be Stapylton's. A minute or two after,
+the travellers had entered the room adjoining his own, and from which a
+very frail partition of lath and plaster alone separated him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Barney,&rdquo; said a harsh, grating voice, addressing the landlord,
+&ldquo;what have you got in the larder? We mean to dine with you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To dine here, Major!&rdquo; exclaimed M'Cabe. &ldquo;Well, well, wondhers will never
+cease.&rdquo; And then hurriedly seeking to cover a speech not very flattering
+to the Major's habits of hospitality, &ldquo;Sure, I 've a loin of pork, and
+there 's two chickens and a trout fresh out of the water, and there's a
+cheese; it isn't mine, to be sure, but Father Cody's, but he 'll not miss
+a slice out of it; and barrin' you dined at the 'Fisherman's Home,' you 'd
+not get betther.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That 's where we were to have dined by right,&rdquo; said the Major, crankily,&mdash;&ldquo;myself
+and my friend here,&mdash;but we're disappointed, and so we stepped in
+here, to do the best we can.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, by all accounts, there won't be many dinners up there for some
+time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why so?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ould Barrington was took with a fit this afternoon, and they say he won't
+get over it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How was it?&mdash;what brought it on?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here's the way I had it. Ould Peter was just come home from Kilkenny, and
+had brought the Attorney-General with him to stay a few days at the
+cottage, and what was the first thing he seen but a man that come all the
+way from India with a writ out against him for some of mad George
+Barrington's debts; and he was so overcome by the shock, that he fainted
+away, and never came rightly to himself since.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is simply impossible,&rdquo; said a voice Conyers well knew to be
+Stapylton's.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be that as it may, I had it from the man that came for the doctor, and
+what's more, he was just outside the window, and could hear ould
+Barrington cursin' and swearin' about the man that ruined his son, and
+brought his poor boy to the grave; but I 'll go and look after your
+honor's dinner, for I know more about that.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have a strange half-curiosity to know the correct version of this
+story,&rdquo; said Stapylton, as the host left the room. &ldquo;The doctor is a friend
+of yours, I think. Would he step over here, and let us hear the matter
+accurately?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He's up at the cottage now, but I 'll get him to come in here when he
+returns.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+If Conyers was shocked to hear how even this loose version of what had
+occurred served to heighten the anxiety his own fears created, he was also
+angry with himself at having learned the matter as he did. It was not in
+his nature to play the eavesdropper, and he had, in reality, heard what
+fell between his neighbors, almost ere he was aware of it. To apprise
+them, therefore, of the vicinity of a stranger, he coughed and sneezed,
+poked the fire noisily, and moved the chairs about; but though the
+disturbance served to prevent him from hearing, it did not tend to impress
+any greater caution upon them, for they talked away as before, and more
+than once above the din of his own tumult, he heard the name of
+Barrington, and even his own, uttered.
+</p>
+<p>
+Unable any longer to suffer the irritation of a position so painful, he
+took his hat, and left the house. It was now night, and so dark that he
+had to stand some minutes on the door-sill ere he could accustom his sight
+to the obscurity. By degrees, however, he was enabled to guide his steps,
+and, passing through the little square, he gained the bridge; and here he
+resolved to walk backwards and forwards till such time as he hoped his
+neighbors might have concluded their convivialities, and turned homeward.
+</p>
+<p>
+A thin cold rain was falling, and the night was cheerless, and without a
+star; but his heart was heavy, and the dreariness without best suited that
+within him. For more than an hour he continued his lonely walk, tormented
+by all the miseries his active ingenuity could muster. To have brought
+sorrow and mourning beneath the roof where you have been sheltered with
+kindness is sad enough, but far sadder is it to connect the calamity you
+have caused with one dearer to you than yourself, and whose innocence,
+while assured of, you cannot vindicate. &ldquo;My father never wronged this man,
+for the simple reason that he has never been unjust to any one. It is a
+gross injustice to accuse him! If Colonel Barrington forfeited my father's
+friendship, who could doubt where the fault lay? But I will not leave the
+matter questionable. I will write to my father and ask him to send me such
+a reply as may set the issue at rest forever; and then I will come down
+here, and, with my father's letter in my hand, say, 'The mention of my
+name was enough, once on a time, to make you turn away from me on the very
+threshold of your own door&mdash;'&rdquo; When he had got thus far in his
+intended appeal, his ear was suddenly struck by the word &ldquo;Conyers,&rdquo;
+ uttered by one of two men who had passed him the moment before, and now
+stood still in one of the projections of the bridge to talk. He as hastily
+recognized Dr. Dill as the speaker. He went on thus: &ldquo;Of course it was
+mere raving, but one must bear in mind that memory very often is the
+prompter of these wanderings; and it was strange how persistently he held
+to the one theme, and continued to call out, 'It was not fair, sir! It was
+not manly! You know it yourself, Conyers; you cannot deny it!'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you attach no importance to such wanderings, doctor?&rdquo; asked one whose
+deep-toned voice betrayed him to be Stapylton.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do; that is, to the extent I have mentioned. They are incoherencies,
+but they are not without some foundation. This Conyers may have had his
+share in that famous accusation against Colonel Barrington,&mdash;that
+well-known charge I told you of; and if so, it is easy to connect the name
+with these ravings.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the old man will die of this attack,&rdquo; said Stapylton, half musingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope not. He has great vigor of constitution; and old as he is, I think
+he will rub through it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Young Conyers left for Kilkenny, then, immediately?&rdquo; asked he.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; he came down here, to the village. He is now at the inn.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At the inn, here? I never knew that. I am sorry I was not aware of it,
+doctor; but since it is so, I will ask of you not to speak of having seen
+me here. He would naturally take it ill, as his brother officer, that I
+did not make him out, while, as you see, I was totally ignorant of his
+vicinity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will say nothing on the subject, Captain,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;And now
+one word of advice from you on a personal matter. This young gentleman has
+offered to be of service to my son&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers, hitherto spellbound while the interest attached to his father,
+now turned hastily from the spot and walked away, his mind not alone
+charged with a heavy care, but full of an eager anxiety as to wherefore
+Stapylton should have felt so deeply interested in Barrington's illness,
+and the causes that led to it,&mdash;Stapylton, the most selfish of men,
+and the very last in the world to busy himself in the sorrows or
+misfortunes of a stranger. Again, too, why had he desired the doctor to
+preserve his presence there as a secret? Conyers was exactly in the frame
+of mind to exaggerate a suspicion, or make a mere doubt a grave question.
+While be thus mused, Stapylton and the doctor passed him on their way
+towards the village, deep in converse, and, to all seeming, in closest
+confidence.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shall I follow him to the inn, and declare that I overheard a few words
+on the bridge which give me a claim to explanation? Shall I say, 'Captain
+Stapylton, you spoke of my father, just now, sufficiently aloud to be
+overheard by me as I passed, and in your tone there was that which
+entitles me to question you? Then if he should say, 'Go on; what is it you
+ask for?' shall I not be sorely puzzled to continue? Perhaps, too, he
+might remind me that the mode in which I obtained my information precludes
+even a reference to it. He is one of those fellows not to throw away such
+an advantage, and I must prepare myself for a quarrel. Oh, if I only had
+Hunter by me! What would I not give for the brave Colonel's counsel at
+such a moment as this?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Of this sort were his thoughts as he strolled up and down for hours,
+wearing away the long &ldquo;night watches,&rdquo; till a faint grayish tinge above
+the horizon showed that morning was not very distant. The whole landscape
+was wrapped in that cold mysterious tint in which tower and hill-top and
+spire are scarcely distinguishable from each other, while out of the
+low-lying meadows already arose the bluish vapor that proclaims the coming
+day. The village itself, overshadowed by the mountain behind it, lay a
+black, unbroken mass.
+</p>
+<p>
+Not a light twinkled from a window, save close to the river's bank, where
+a faint gleam stole forth and flickered on the water.
+</p>
+<p>
+Who has not felt the strange interest that attaches to a solitary light
+seen thus in the tranquil depth of a silent night? How readily do we
+associate it with some incident of sorrow! The watcher beside the sick-bed
+rises to the mind, or the patient sufferer himself trying to cheat the
+dull hours by a book, or perhaps some poor son of toil arising to his
+daily round of labor, and seated at that solitary meal which no kind word
+enlivens, no companionship beguiles. And as I write, in what corner of
+earth are not such scenes passing,&mdash;such dark shadows moving over the
+battlefield of life?
+</p>
+<p>
+In such a feeling did Conyers watch this light as, leaving the high-road,
+he took a path that led along the river towards it. As he drew nigher, he
+saw that the light came from the open window of a room which gave upon a
+little garden,&mdash;a mere strip of ground fenced off from the path by a
+low paling. With a curiosity he could not master, he stopped and looked
+in. At a large table, covered with books and papers, and on which a skull
+also stood, a young man was seated, his head leaning on his hand,
+apparently in deep thought, while a girl was slowly pacing the little
+chamber as she talked to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It does not require,&rdquo; said she, in a firm voice, &ldquo;any great effort of
+memory to bear in mind that a nerve, an artery, and a vein always go in
+company.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not for you, perhaps,&mdash;not for you, Polly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not for any one, I 'm sure. Your fine dragoon friend with the sprained
+ankle might be brought to that amount of instruction by one telling of
+it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, he 's no fool, I promise you, Polly. Don't despise him because he has
+plenty of money and can lead a life of idleness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I neither despise nor esteem him, nor do I mean that he should divert our
+minds from what we are at. Now for the popliteal space. Can you describe
+it? Do you know where it is, or anything about it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do,&rdquo; said he, doggedly, as he pushed his long hair back from his eyes,
+and tried to think,&mdash;&ldquo;I do, but I must have time. You must n't hurry
+me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She made no reply, but continued her walk in silence.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know all about it, Polly, but I can't describe it. I can't describe
+anything; but ask me a question about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where is it,&mdash;where does it lie?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn't it at the lower third of the humerus, where the flexors divide?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are too bad,&mdash;too stupid!&rdquo; cried she, angrily. &ldquo;I cannot believe
+that anything short of a purpose, a determination to be ignorant, could
+make a person so unteach-able. If we have gone over this once, we have
+done so fifty times. It haunts me in my sleep, from very iteration.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish it would haunt me a little when I 'm awake,&rdquo; said he, sulkily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And when may that be, I'd like to know? Do you fancy, sir, that your
+present state of intelligence is a very vigilant one?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know one thing. I hope there won't be the like of you on the Court of
+Examiners, for I would n't bear the half of what <i>you've</i> said to me
+from another.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/202.jpg" width="100%" alt="202 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rejection will be harder to bear, Tom. To be sent back as ignorant and
+incapable will be far heavier as a punishment than any words of mine. What
+are you laughing at, sir? Is it a matter of mirth to you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look at the skull, Polly,&mdash;look at the skull.&rdquo; And he pointed to
+where he had stuck his short, black pipe, between the grinning teeth of
+the skeleton.
+</p>
+<p>
+She snatched it angrily away, and threw it out of the window, saying, &ldquo;You
+may be ignorant, and not be able to help it. I will take care you shall
+not be irreverent, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There's my short clay gone, anyhow,&rdquo; said Tom, submissively, &ldquo;and I think
+I 'll go to bed.&rdquo; And he yawned drearily as he spoke.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not till you have done this, if we sit here till breakfast-time,&rdquo; said
+she, resolutely. &ldquo;There's the plate, and there's the reference. Read it
+till you know it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a slave-driver you 'd make, Polly!&rdquo; said he, with a half-bitter
+smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a slave I am!&rdquo; said she, turning away her head.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's true,&rdquo; cried he, in a voice thick with emotion; &ldquo;and when I 'm
+thousands of miles away, I 'll be longing to hear the bitterest words you
+ever said to me, rather than never see you any more.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My poor brother,&rdquo; said she, laying her hand softly on his rough head, &ldquo;I
+never doubted your heart, and I ought to be better tempered with you, and
+I will. Come, now, Tom,&rdquo;&mdash;and she seated herself at the table next
+him,&mdash;&ldquo;see, now, if I cannot make this easy to you.&rdquo; And then the two
+heads were bent together over the table, and the soft brown hair of the
+girl half mingled with the rough wool of the graceless numskull beside
+her.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will stand by him, if it were only for her sake,&rdquo; said Conyers to
+himself. And he stole slowly away, and gained the inn.
+</p>
+<p>
+So intent upon his purpose was he that he at once set about its
+fulfilment. He began a long letter to his father, and, touching slightly
+on the accident by which he made Dr. Dill's acquaintance, professed to be
+deeply his debtor for kindness and attention. With this prelude he
+introduced Tom. Hitherto his pen had glided along flippantly enough. In
+that easy mixture of fact and fancy by which he opened his case, no grave
+difficulty presented itself; but Tom was now to be presented, and the task
+was about as puzzling as it would have been to have conducted him bodily
+into society.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was ungenerous enough to be prejudiced against this poor fellow when I
+first met him,&rdquo; wrote he. &ldquo;Neither his figure nor his manners are in his
+favor, and in his very diffidence there is an apparent rudeness and
+forwardness which are not really in his nature. These, however, are not
+mistakes you, my dear father, will fall into. With your own quickness you
+will see what sterling qualities exist beneath this rugged outside, and
+you will befriend him at first for my sake. Later on, I trust he will open
+his own account in your heart. Bear in mind, too, that it was all my
+scheme,&mdash;the whole plan mine. It was I persuaded him to try his luck
+in India; it was through me he made the venture; and if the poor fellow
+fail, all the fault will fall back upon <i>me</i>.&rdquo; From this he went into
+little details of Tom's circumstances, and the narrow means by which he
+was surrounded, adding how humble he was, and how ready to be satisfied
+with the most moderate livelihood. &ldquo;In that great wide world of the East,
+what scores of things there must be for such a fellow to do; and even
+should he not turn out to be a Sydenham or a Harvey, he might administer
+justice, or collect revenue, or assist in some other way the process of
+that system which we call the British rule in India. In a word, get him
+something he may live by, and be able, in due time, to help those he has
+left behind here, in a land whose 'Paddy-fields' are to the full as
+pauperized as those of Bengal.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He had intended, having disposed of Tom Dill's case, to have addressed
+some lines to his father about the Barring-tons, sufficiently vague to be
+easily answered if the subject were one distasteful or unpleasing to him;
+but just as he reached the place to open this, he was startled by the
+arrival of a jaunting-car at the inn-door, whose driver stopped to take a
+drink. It was a chance conveyance, returning to Kilkenny, and Conyers at
+once engaged it; and, leaving an order to send on the reply when it
+arrived from the cottage, he wrote a hasty note to Tom Dill and departed.
+This note was simply to say that he had already fulfilled his promise of
+interesting his father in his behalf, and that whenever Tom had passed his
+examination, and was in readiness for his voyage, he should come or write
+to him, and he would find him fully disposed to serve and befriend him.
+&ldquo;Meanwhile,&rdquo; wrote he, &ldquo;let me hear of you. I am really anxious to learn
+how you acquit yourself at the ordeal, for which you have the cordial good
+wishes of your friend, F. Conyers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Oh, if the great men of our acquaintance&mdash;and we all of us, no matter
+how hermit-like we may live, have our &ldquo;great men&rdquo;&mdash;could only know
+and feel what ineffable pleasure will sometimes be derived from the chance
+expressions they employ towards us,&mdash;words which, little significant
+in themselves, perhaps have some touch of good fellowship or good feeling,
+now reviving a &ldquo;bygone,&rdquo; now far-seeing a future, tenderly thrilling
+through us by some little allusion to a trick of our temperament, noted
+and observed by one in whose interest we never till then knew we had a
+share,&mdash;if, I say, they were but aware of this, how delightful they
+might make themselves!&mdash;what charming friends!&mdash;and, it is but
+fair to own, what dangerous patrons!
+</p>
+<p>
+I leave my reader to apply the reflection to the case before him, and then
+follow me to the pleasant quarters of a well-maintained country-house,
+full of guests and abounding in gayety.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XVIII. COBHAM
+</h2>
+<p>
+My reader is already aware that I am telling of some forty years ago, and
+therefore I have no apologies to make for habits and ways which our more
+polished age has pronounced barbarous. Now, at Cobham, the men sat after
+dinner over their wine when the ladies had withdrawn, and, I grieve to
+say, fulfilled this usage with a zest and enjoyment that unequivocally
+declared it to be the best hour of the whole twenty-four.
+</p>
+<p>
+Friends could now get together, conversation could range over
+personalities, egotisms have their day, and bygones be disinterred without
+need of an explanation. Few, indeed, who did not unbend at such a moment,
+and relax in that genial atmosphere begotten of closed curtains, and
+comfort, and good claret. I am not so certain that we are wise in our
+utter abandonment of what must have often conciliated a difference or
+reconciled a grudge. How many a lurking discontent, too subtle for
+intervention, must have been dissipated in the general burst of a common
+laugh, or the racy enjoyment of a good story! Decidedly the decanter has
+often played peacemaker, though popular prejudice inclines to give it a
+different mission.
+</p>
+<p>
+On the occasion to which I would now invite my reader, the party were
+seated&mdash;by means of that genial discovery, a horseshoe-table&mdash;around
+the fire at Cobham. It was a true country-house society of neighbors who
+knew each other well, sprinkled with guests,&mdash;strangers to every one.
+There were all ages and all temperaments, from the hardy old squire, whose
+mellow cheer was known at the fox-cover, to the young heir fresh from
+Oxford and loud about Leicestershire; gentlemen-farmers and sportsmen, and
+parsons and soldiers, blended together with just enough disparity of
+pursuit to season talk and freshen experiences.
+</p>
+<p>
+The conversation, which for a while was partly on sporting matters, varied
+with little episodes of personal achievement, and those little boastings
+which end in a bet, was suddenly interrupted by a hasty call for Dr. Dill,
+who was wanted at the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can't you stay to finish this bottle, Dill?&rdquo; said the Admiral, who had
+not heard for whom he had been sent.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I fear not, sir. It is a long row down to the cottage.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So it 's poor Barrington again! I 'm sincerely sorry for it! And now I
+'ll not ask you to delay. By the way, take my boat. Elwes,&rdquo; said he to the
+servant, &ldquo;tell the men to get the boat ready at once for Dr. Dill, and
+come and say when it is so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor's gratitude was profuse, though probably a dim vista of the
+&ldquo;tip&rdquo; that might be expected from him detracted from the fulness of the
+enjoyment.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Find out if I could be of any use, Dill,&rdquo; whispered the Admiral, as the
+doctor arose. &ldquo;Your own tact will show if there be anything I could do.
+You understand me; I have the deepest regard for old Barrington, and his
+sister too.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Dill promised to give his most delicate attention to the point, and
+departed.
+</p>
+<p>
+While this little incident was occurring, Stapylton, who sat at an angle
+of the fireplace, was amusing two or three listeners by an account of his
+intended dinner at the &ldquo;Home,&rdquo; and the haughty refusal of Miss Barrington
+to receive him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must tell Sir Charles the story!&rdquo; cried out Mr. Bushe. &ldquo;He'll soon
+recognize the old Major from your imitation of him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hang the old villain! he shot a dog-fox the other morning, and he knows
+well how scarce they are getting in the country,&rdquo; said another.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll never forgive myself for letting him have a lease of that place,&rdquo;
+ said a third; &ldquo;he's a disgrace to the neighborhood.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You're not talking of Barrington, surely,&rdquo; called out Sir Charles.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course not. I was speaking of M'Cormick. Harrington is another stamp
+of man, and here's his good health!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He'll need all your best wishes, Jack,&rdquo; said the host, &ldquo;for Dr. Dill has
+just been called away to see him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To see old Peter! Why, I never knew him to have a day's illness!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He's dangerously ill now,&rdquo; said the Admiral, gravely. &ldquo;Dill tells me that
+he came home from the Assizes hale and hearty, in high spirits at some
+verdict in his favor, and brought back the Attorney-General to spend a day
+or two with him; but that, on arriving, he found a young fellow whose
+father or grandfather&mdash;for I have n't it correctly&mdash;had been
+concerned in some way against George Barrington, and that high words
+passed between old Peter and this youth, who was turned out on the spot,
+while poor Barrington, overcome by emotion, was struck down with a sort of
+paralysis. As I have said, I don't know the story accurately, for even
+Dill himself only picked it up from the servants at the cottage, neither
+Miss Barrington nor Withering having told him one word on the subject.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is the very same story I heard at the village where we dined,&rdquo; broke
+in Stapylton, &ldquo;and M'Cormick added that he remembered the name. Conyers&mdash;the
+young man is called Conyers&mdash;did occur in a certain famous accusation
+against Colonel Barrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, but,&rdquo; interposed Bushe, &ldquo;isn't all that an old story now? Is n't
+the whole thing a matter of twenty years ago?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not so much as that,&rdquo; said Sir Charles. &ldquo;I remember reading it all when I
+was in command of the 'Madagascar,'&mdash;I forget the exact year, but I
+was at Corfu.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At all events,&rdquo; said Bushe, &ldquo;it's long enough past to be forgotten or
+forgiven; and old Peter was the very last man I could ever have supposed
+likely to carry on an ancient grudge against any one.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not where his son was concerned. Wherever George's name entered,
+forgiveness of the man that wronged him was impossible,&rdquo; said another.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are scarcely just to my old friend,&rdquo; interposed the Admiral. &ldquo;First
+of all, we have not the facts before us. Many of us here have never seen,
+some have never heard of the great Barrington Inquiry, and of such as
+have, if their memories be not better than mine, they can't discuss the
+matter with much profit.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I followed the case when it occurred,&rdquo; chimed in the former speaker, &ldquo;but
+I own, with Sir Charles, that it has gone clean out of my head since that
+time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You talk of injustice, Cobham, injustice to old Peter Barrington,&rdquo; said
+an old man from the end of the table; &ldquo;but I would ask, are we quite just
+to poor George? I knew him well. My son served in the same regiment with
+him before he went out to India, and no finer nor nobler-hearted fellow
+than George Barrington ever lived. Talk of him ruining his father by his
+extravagance! Why, he'd have cut off his right hand rather than caused him
+one pang, one moment of displeasure. Barrington ruined himself; that
+insane passion for law has cost him far more than half what he was worth
+in the world. Ask Withering; he 'll tell you something about it. Why,
+Withering's own fees in that case before 'the Lords' amount to upwards of
+two thousand guineas.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won't dispute the question with you, Fowndes,&rdquo; said the Admiral.
+&ldquo;Scandal says you have a taste for a trial at bar yourself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The hit told, and called for a hearty laugh, in which Fowndes himself
+joined freely.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>I</i> 'm a burned child, however, and keep away from the fire,&rdquo; said
+he, good-humoredly; &ldquo;but old Peter seems rather to like being singed.
+There he is again with his Privy Council case for next term, and with, I
+suppose, as much chance of success as I should have in a suit to recover a
+Greek estate of some of my Phoenician ancestors.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was not a company to sympathize deeply with such a litigious spirit.
+The hearty and vigorous tone of squiredom, young and old, could not
+understand it as a passion or a pursuit, and they mainly agreed that
+nothing but some strange perversion could have made the generous nature of
+old Barrington so fond of law. Gradually the younger members of the party
+slipped away to the drawing-room, till, in the changes that ensued,
+Stapylton found himself next to Mr. Fowndes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm glad to see, Captain,&rdquo; said the old squire, &ldquo;that modern fashion of
+deserting the claret-jug has not invaded your mess. I own I like a man who
+lingers over his wine.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We have no pretext for leaving it, remember that,&rdquo; said Stapylton,
+smiling.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very true. The <i>placeus uxor</i> is sadly out of place in a soldier's
+life. Your married officer is but a sorry comrade; besides, how is a
+fellow to be a hero to the enemy who is daily bullied by his wife?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think you said that you had served?&rdquo; interposed Stapylton.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. My son was in the army; he is so still, but holds a Governorship in
+the West Indies. He it was who knew this Barrington we were speaking of.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just so,&rdquo; said Stapylton, drawing his chair closer, so as to converse
+more confidentially.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may imagine what very uneventful lives we country gentlemen live,&rdquo;
+ said the old squire, &ldquo;when we can continue to talk over one memorable case
+for something like twenty years, just because one of the parties to it was
+our neighbor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You appear to have taken a lively interest in it,&rdquo; said Stapylton, who
+rightly conjectured it was a favorite theme with the old squire.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Barrington and my son were friends; they came down to my house
+together to shoot; and with all his eccentricities&mdash;and they were
+many&mdash;I liked Mad George, as they called him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was a good fellow, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A thoroughly good fellow, but the shyest that ever lived; to all outward
+seeming rough and careless, but sensitive as a woman all the while. He
+would have walked up to a cannon's mouth with a calm step, but an
+affecting story would bring tears to his eyes; and then, to cover this
+weakness, which he was well ashamed of, he 'd rush into fifty follies and
+extravagances. As he said himself to me one day, alluding to some feat of
+rash absurdity, 'I have been taking another inch off the dog's tail,'&mdash;he
+referred to the story of Alcibiades, who docked his dog to take off public
+attention from his heavier transgressions.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was no truth in these accusations against him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who knows? George was a passionate fellow, and he 'd have made short work
+of the man that angered him. I myself never so entirely acquitted him as
+many who loved him less. At all events, he was hardly treated; he was
+regularly hunted down. I imagine he must have made many enemies, for
+witnesses sprung up against him on all sides, and he was too proud a
+fellow to ask for one single testimony in his favor! If ever a man met
+death broken-hearted, he did!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A pause of several minutes occurred, after which the old squire resumed,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My son told me that after Barrington's death there was a strong revulsion
+in his favor, and a great feeling that he had been hardly dealt by. Some
+of the Supreme Council, it is said, too, were disposed to behave
+generously towards his child, but old Peter, in an evil hour, would hear
+of nothing short of restitution of all the territory, and a regular
+rehabilitation of George's memory, besides; in fact, he made the most
+extravagant demands, and disgusted the two or three who were kindly and
+well disposed towards his cause. Had they, indeed,&mdash;as he said,&mdash;driven
+his son to desperation, he could scarcely ask them to declare it to the
+world; and yet nothing short of this would satisfy him! 'Come forth,'
+wrote he,&mdash;I read the letter myself,&mdash;'come forth and confess
+that your evidence was forged and your witnesses suborned; that you wanted
+to annex the territory, and the only road to your object was to impute
+treason to the most loyal heart that ever served the King!' Imagine what
+chance of favorable consideration remained to the man who penned such
+words as these.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he prosecutes the case still?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay, and will do to the day of his death. Withering&mdash;who was an old
+schoolfellow of mine&mdash;has got me to try what I could do to persuade
+him to come to some terms; and, indeed, to do old Peter justice, it is not
+the money part of the matter he is so obstinate about; it is the question
+of what he calls George's fair fame and honor; and one cannot exactly say
+to him, 'Who on earth cares a brass button whether George Barrington was a
+rebel or a true man? Whether he deserved to die an independent Rajah of
+some place with a hard name, or the loyal subject of his Majesty George
+the Third?' I own I, one day, did go so close to the wind, on that
+subject, that the old man started up and said, 'I hope I misapprehend you,
+Harry Fowndes. I hope sincerely that I do so, for if not, I 'll have a
+shot at you, as sure as my name is Peter Barrington.' Of course I 'tried
+back' at once, and assured him it was a pure misconception of my meaning,
+and that until the East India folk fairly acknowledged that they had
+wronged his son, <i>he</i> could not, with honor, approach the question of
+a compromise in the money matter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That day, it may be presumed, is very far off,&rdquo; said Stapylton, half
+languidly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Withering opines not. He says that they are weary of the whole
+case. They have had, perhaps, some misgivings as to the entire justice of
+what they did. Perhaps they have learned something during the course of
+the proceedings which may have influenced their judgment; and not
+impossible is it that they pity the old man fighting out his life; and
+perhaps, too, Barrington himself may have softened a little, since he has
+begun to feel that his granddaughter&mdash;for George left a child&mdash;had
+interests which his own indignation could not rightfully sacrifice; so
+that amongst all these perhapses, who knows but some happy issue may come
+at last?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That Barrington race is not a very pliant one,&rdquo; said Stapylton, half
+dreamily; and then, in some haste, added, &ldquo;at least, such is the character
+they give them here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some truth there may be in that. Men of a strong temperament and with a
+large share of self-dependence generally get credit from the world for
+obstinacy, just because the road <i>they</i> see out of difficulties is
+not the popular one. But even with all this, I 'd not call old Peter
+self-willed; at least, Withering tells me that from time to time, as he
+has conveyed to him the opinions and experiences of old Indian officers,
+some of whom had either met with or heard of George, he has listened with
+much and even respectful attention. And as all their counsels have gone
+against his own convictions, it is something to give them a patient
+hearing.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He has thus permitted strangers to come and speak with him on these
+topics?&rdquo; asked Stapylton, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no,&mdash;not he. These men had called on Withering,&mdash;met him,
+perhaps, in society,&mdash;heard of his interest in George Barrington's
+case, and came good-naturedly to volunteer a word of counsel in favor of
+an old comrade. Nothing more natural, I think.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing. I quite agree with you; so much so, indeed, that having served
+some years in India, and in close proximity, too, to one of the native
+courts, I was going to ask you to present me to your friend Mr. Withering,
+as one not altogether incapable of affording him some information.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;With a heart and a half. I 'll do it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, Harry,&rdquo; cried out the host, &ldquo;if you and Captain Stapylton will
+neither fill your glasses nor pass the wine, I think we had better join
+the ladies.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And now there was a general move to the drawing-room, where several
+evening guests had already assembled, making a somewhat numerous company.
+Polly Dill was there, too,&mdash;not the wearied-looking, careworn figure
+we last saw her, when her talk was of &ldquo;dead anatomies,&rdquo; but the lively,
+sparkling, bright-eyed Polly, who sang the Melodies to the accompaniment
+of him who could make every note thrill with the sentiment his own genius
+had linked to it. I half wish I had not a story to tell,&mdash;that is,
+that I had not a certain road to take,&mdash;that I might wander at will
+through by-path and lane, and linger on the memories thus by a chance
+awakened! Ah, it was no small triumph to lift out of obscure companionship
+and vulgar associations the music of our land, and wed it to words
+immortal, to show us that the pebble at our feet was a gem to be worn on
+the neck of beauty, and to prove to us, besides, that our language could
+be as lyrical as Anacreon's own!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am enchanted with your singing,&rdquo; whispered Stapylton, in Polly's ear;
+&ldquo;but I 'd forego all the enjoyment not to see you so pleased with your
+companion. I begin to detest the little Poet.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll tell him so,&rdquo; said she, half gravely; &ldquo;and he 'll know well that it
+is the coarse hate of the Saxon.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm no Saxon!&rdquo; said he, flushing and darkening at the same time. And
+then, recovering his calm, he added, &ldquo;There are no Saxons left amongst us,
+nor any Celts for us to honor with our contempt; but come away from the
+piano, and don't let him fancy he has bound you by a spell.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But he has,&rdquo; said she, eagerly,&mdash;&ldquo;he has, and I don't care to break
+it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But the little Poet, running his fingers lightly over the keys, warbled
+out, in a half-plaintive whisper,&mdash;
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+&ldquo;Oh, tell me, dear Polly, why is it thine eyes
+Through their brightness have something of sorrow?
+I cannot suppose that the glow of such skies
+Should ever mean gloom for the morrow;
+
+&ldquo;Or must I believe that your heart is afar,
+And you only make semblance to hear me,
+While your thoughts are away to that splendid hussar,
+And 't is only your image is near me?&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+<p>
+&ldquo;An unpublished melody, I fancy,&rdquo; said Stapylton, with a malicious twinkle
+of his eye.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not even corrected as yet,&rdquo; said the Poet, with a glance at Polly.
+</p>
+<p>
+What a triumph it was for a mere village beauty to be thus tilted for by
+such gallant knights; but Polly was practical as well as vain, and a
+certain unmistakable something in Lady Cobham's eye told her that two of
+the most valued guests of the house were not to be thus withdrawn from
+circulation; and with this wise impression on her mind, she slipped
+hastily away, on the pretext of something to say to her father. And
+although it was a mere pretence on her part, there was that in her look as
+they talked together that betokened their conversation to be serious.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I tell you again,&rdquo; said he, in a sharp but low whisper, &ldquo;she will not
+suffer it. You used not to make mistakes of this kind formerly, and I
+cannot conceive why you should do so now.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, dear papa,&rdquo; said she, with a strange half-smile, &ldquo;don't you remember
+your own story of the gentleman who got tipsy because he foresaw he would
+never be invited again?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But the doctor was in no jesting mood, and would not accept of the
+illustration. He spoke now even more angrily than before.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have only to see how much they make of him to know well that he is
+out of our reach,&rdquo; said he, bitterly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A long shot, Sir Lucius; there is such honor in a long shot,&rdquo; said she,
+with infinite drollery; and then with a sudden gravity, added, &ldquo;I have
+never forgotten the man you cured, just because your hand shook and you
+gave him a double dose of laudanum.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+This was too much for his patience, and he turned away in disgust at her
+frivolity. In doing so, however, he came in front of Lady Cobham, who had
+come up to request Miss Dill to play a certain Spanish dance for two young
+ladies of the company.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, your Ladyship,&mdash;too much honor for her,&mdash;she will be
+charmed; my little girl is overjoyed when she can contribute even thus
+humbly to the pleasure of your delightful house.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Never did a misdemeanist take his &ldquo;six weeks&rdquo; with a more complete
+consciousness of penalty than did Polly sit down to that piano. She well
+understood it as a sentence, and, let me own, submitted well and
+gracefully to her fate. Nor was it, after all, such a slight trial, for
+the fandango was her own speciality; she had herself brought the dance and
+the music to Cobham. They who were about to dance it were her own pupils,
+and not very proficient ones, either. And with all this she did her part
+well and loyally. Never had she played with more spirit; never marked the
+time with a firmer precision; never threw more tenderness into the
+graceful parts, nor more of triumphant daring into the proud ones. Amid
+the shower of &ldquo;Bravos!&rdquo; that closed the performance,&mdash;for none
+thought of the dancers,&mdash;the little Poet drew nigh and whispered,
+&ldquo;How naughty!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why so?&rdquo; asked she, innocently.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a blaze of light to throw over a sorry picture!&rdquo; said he, dangling
+his eyeglass, and playing that part of middle-aged Cupid he was so fond of
+assuming.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know, sir,&rdquo; said Lady Cobham, coming hastily towards him, &ldquo;that I
+will not permit you to turn the heads of my young ladies? Dr. Dill is
+already so afraid of your fascinations that he has ordered his carriage,&mdash;is
+it not so?&rdquo; she went on appealing to the doctor, with increased rapidity.
+&ldquo;But you will certainly keep your promise to us. We shall expect you on
+Thursday at dinner.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Overwhelmed with confusion, Dill answered&mdash;he knew not what&mdash;about
+pleasure, punctuality, and so forth; and then turned away to ring for that
+carriage he had not ordered before.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And so you tell me Barrington is better?&rdquo; said the Admiral, taking him by
+the arm and leading him away. &ldquo;The danger is over, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe so; his mind is calm, and he is only suffering now from
+debility. What with the Assizes, and a week's dissipation at Kilkenny, and
+this shock,&mdash;for it was a shock,&mdash;the whole thing was far more
+of a mental than a bodily ailment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You gave him my message? You said how anxious I felt to know if I could
+be of any use to him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; and he charged Mr. Withering to come and thank you, for he is
+passing by Cobham to-morrow on his way to Kilkenny.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed! Georgiana, don't forget that. Withering will call here to-morrow;
+try and keep him to dine, at least, if we cannot secure him for longer.
+He's one of those fellows I am always delighted to meet Where are you
+going, Dill? Not taking your daughter away at this hour, are you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor sighed, and muttered something about dissipations that were
+only too fascinating, too engrossing. He did not exactly like to say that
+his passports had been sent him, and the authorities duly instructed to
+give him &ldquo;every aid and assistance possible.&rdquo; For a moment, indeed, Polly
+looked as though she would make some explanation of the matter; but it was
+only for a moment, and the slight flush on her cheek gave way quickly, and
+she looked somewhat paler than her wont. Meanwhile, the little Poet had
+fetched her shawl, and led her away, humming, &ldquo;Buona notte,&mdash;buona
+sera!&rdquo; as he went, in that half-caressing, half-quizzing way he could
+assume so jauntily. Stapylton walked behind with the doctor, and whispered
+as he went, &ldquo;If not inconvenient, might I ask the favor of a few minutes
+with you to-morrow?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Dill assured him he was devotedly his servant; and having fixed the
+interview for two o'clock, away they drove. The night was calm and
+starlight, and they had long passed beyond the grounds of Cobham, and were
+full two miles on their road before a word was uttered by either.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was it her Ladyship said about Thursday next, at dinner?&rdquo; asked the
+doctor, half pettishly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing to me, papa.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I remember, it was that we had accepted the invitation already, and
+begging me not to forget it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps so,&rdquo; said she, dryly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are usually more mindful about these matters,&rdquo; said he, tartly, &ldquo;and
+not so likely to forget promised festivities.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They certainly were not promised to me,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;nor, if they had
+been, should I accept of them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; said he, angrily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Simply, papa, that it is a house I will not re-enter, that's all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, your head is turned, your brains are destroyed by flattery, girl.
+You seem totally to forget that we go to these places merely by courtesy,&mdash;we
+are received only on sufferance; we are not <i>their</i> equals.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The more reason to treat us with deference, and not render our position
+more painful than it need be.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Folly and nonsense! Deference, indeed! How much deference is due from
+eight thousand a year to a dispensary doctor, or his daughter? I 'll have
+none of these absurd notions. If they made any mistake towards you, it was
+by over-attention,&mdash;too much notice.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is very possible, papa; and it was not always very flattering for
+that reason.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, what is your head full of? Do you fancy you are one of Lord
+Carricklough's daughters, eh?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, papa; for they are shockingly freckled, and very plain.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know your real station?&rdquo; cried he, more angrily, &ldquo;and that if, by
+the courtesy of society, my position secures acceptance anywhere, it
+entails nothing&mdash;positively nothing&mdash;to those belonging to me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Such being the case, is it not wise of us not to want anything,&mdash;not
+to look for it,&mdash;not to pine after it? You shall see, papa, whether I
+fret over my exclusion from Cobham.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The doctor was not in a mood to approve of such philosophy, and he drove
+on, only showing&mdash;by an extra cut of his whip&mdash;the tone and
+temper that beset him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are to have a visit from Captain Stapylton tomorrow, papa?&rdquo; said she,
+in the manner of a half question.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who told you so?&rdquo; said he, with a touch of eagerness in his voice; for
+suddenly it occurred to him if Polly knew of this appointment, she herself
+might be interested in its object.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He asked me what was the most likely time to find you at home, and also
+if he might venture to hope he should be presented to mamma.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That was, as the doctor thought, a very significant speech; it might mean
+a great deal,&mdash;a very great deal, indeed; and so he turned it over
+and over in his mind for some time before he spoke again. At last he said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven't a notion what he's coming about, Polly,&mdash;have you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir; except, perhaps, it be to consult you. He told me he had
+sprained his arm, or his shoulder, the other day, when his horse swerved.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh no, it can't be that, Polly; it can't be that.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not the pleasure of a morning call, then? He is an idle man, and
+finds time heavy on his hands.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A short &ldquo;humph&rdquo; showed that this explanation was not more successful than
+the former, and the doctor, rather irritated with this game of fence, for
+so he deemed it, said bluntly,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Has he been showing you any marked attentions of late? Have you noticed
+anything peculiar in his manner towards you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing whatever, sir,&rdquo; said she, with a frank boldness. &ldquo;He has chatted
+and flirted with me, just as every one else presumes he has a right to do
+with a girl in a station below their own; but he has never been more
+impertinent in this way than any other young man of fashion.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But there have been&rdquo;&mdash;he was sorely puzzled for the word he wanted,
+and it was only as a resource, not out of choice, he said&mdash;&ldquo;attentions?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, papa, what many would call in the cognate phrase, marked
+attentions; but girls who go into the world as I do no more mistake what
+these mean than would you yourself, papa, if passingly asked what was good
+for a sore-throat fancy that the inquirer intended to fee you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see, Polly, I see,&rdquo; muttered he, as the illustration came home to him.
+Still, after ruminating for some time, a change seemed to come over his
+thoughts, for he said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you might be wrong this time, Polly: it is by no means impossible
+that you might be wrong.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear papa,&rdquo; said she, gravely, &ldquo;when a man of his rank is disposed to
+think seriously of a girl in mine, he does not begin by flattery; he
+rather takes the line of correction and warning, telling her fifty little
+platitudes about trifles in manner, and so forth, by her docile acceptance
+of which he conceives a high notion of <i>himself</i>, and a half liking
+for <i>her</i>. But I have no need to go into these things; enough if I
+assure you Captain Stapylton's visit has no concern for me; he either
+comes out of pure idleness, or he wants to make use of <i>you</i>.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The last words opened a new channel to Dill's thoughts, and he drove on in
+silent meditation over them.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XIX. THE HOUR OF LUNCHEON
+</h2>
+<p>
+If there be a special agreeability about all the meal-times of a pleasant
+country-house, there is not one of them which, in the charm of an easy,
+unconstrained gayety, can rival the hour of luncheon. At breakfast, one is
+too fresh; at dinner, too formal; but luncheon, like an opening manhood,
+is full of its own bright projects. The plans of the day have already
+reached a certain maturity, and fixtures have been made for
+riding-parties, or phaeton drives, or flirtations in the garden. The very
+strangers who looked coldly at each other over their morning papers have
+shaken into a semi-intimacy, and little traits of character and
+temperament, which would have been studiously shrouded in the more solemn
+festivals of the day, are now displayed with a frank and fearless
+confidence. The half-toilette and the tweed coat, mutton broth and
+&ldquo;Balmorals,&rdquo; seem infinitely more congenial to acquaintanceship than the
+full-blown splendor of evening dress and the grander discipline of dinner.
+</p>
+<p>
+Irish social life permits of a practice of which I do not, while
+recording, constitute myself the advocate or the apologist,&mdash;a sort
+of good-tempered banter called quizzing,&mdash;a habit I scarcely believe
+practicable in other lands; that is, I know of no country where it could
+be carried on as harmlessly and as gracefully, where as much wit could be
+expended innocuously, as little good feeling jeopardized in the display.
+The happiest hour of the day for such passages as these was that of
+luncheon, and it was in the very clash and clatter of the combat that a
+servant announced the Attorney-General!
+</p>
+<p>
+What a damper did the name prove! Short of a bishop himself, no
+announcement could have spread more terror over the younger members of the
+company, embodying as it seemed to do all that could be inquisitorial,
+intolerant, and overbearing. Great, however, was the astonishment to see,
+instead of the stern incarnation of Crown prosecutions and arbitrary
+commitments, a tall, thin, slightly stooped man, dressed in a gray
+shooting-jacket, and with a hat plentifully garnished with fishing-flies.
+He came lightly into the room, and kissed the hand of his hostess with a
+mixture of cordiality and old-fashioned gallantry that became him well.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My old luck, Cobham!&rdquo; said he, as he seated himself at table. &ldquo;I have
+fished the stream all the way from the Red House to this, and never so
+much as a rise to reward me.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They knew you,&mdash;they knew you, Withering,&rdquo; chirped out the Poet,
+&ldquo;and they took good care not to put in an appearance, with the certainty
+of a 'detainer.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah! you here! That decanter of sherry screened you completely from my
+view,&rdquo; said Withering, whose sarcasm on his size touched the very sorest
+of the other's susceptibilities. &ldquo;And talking of recognizances, how comes
+it you are here, and a large party at Lord Dunraney's all assembled to
+meet you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The Poet, as not infrequent with him, had forgotten everything of this
+prior engagement, and was now overwhelmed with his forgetfulness. The
+ladies, however, pressed eagerly around him with consolation so like
+caresses, that he was speedily himself again.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How natural a mistake, after all!&rdquo; said the lawyer. &ldquo;The old song says,&mdash;
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+'Tell me where beauty and wit and wine
+Are met, and I 'll say where I 'm asked to dine.'
+</pre>
+<p>
+Ah! Tommy, yours <i>is</i> the profession, after all; always sure of your
+retainer, and never but one brief to sustain&mdash;'T. M. <i>versus</i>
+the Heart of Woman.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;One is occasionally nonsuited, however,&rdquo; said the other, half pettishly.
+&ldquo;By the way, how was it you got that verdict for old Barrington t'other
+day? Was it true that Plowden got hold of <i>your</i> bag by mistake?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not only that, but he made a point for us none of us had discovered.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How historical the blunder:&mdash;
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+'The case is classical, as I and you know;
+He came from Venus, but made love to Juno.'&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If Peter Barrington gained his cause by it I 'm heartily rejoiced, and I
+wish him health and years to enjoy it.&rdquo; The Admiral said this with a
+cordial good will as he drank off his glass.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He's all right again,&rdquo; said Withering. &ldquo;I left him working away with a
+hoe and a rake this morning, looking as hale and hearty as he did a dozen
+years ago.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A man must have really high deserts in whose good fortune so many are
+well-wishers,&rdquo; said Stapylton; and by the courteous tone of the remark
+Withering's attention was attracted, and he speedily begged the Admiral to
+present him to his guest. They continued to converse together as they
+arose from table, and with such common pleasure that when Withering
+expressed a hope the acquaintance might not end there, Stapylton replied
+by a request that he would allow him to be his fellow-traveller to
+Kilkenny, whither he was about to go on a regimental affair. The
+arrangement was quickly made, to the satisfaction of each; and as they
+drove away, while many bewailed the departure of such pleasant members of
+the party, the little Poet simperingly said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+&ldquo;Shall I own that my heart is relieved of a care?&mdash;
+Though you 'll think the confession is petty&mdash;
+I cannot but feel, as I look on the pair,
+It is 'Peebles' gone off with 'Dalgetty.'&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+<p>
+As for the fellow-travellers, they jogged along very pleasantly on their
+way, as two consummate men of the world are sure to do when they meet. For
+what Freemasonry equals that of two shrewd students of life? How
+flippantly do they discuss each theme! how easily read each character, and
+unravel each motive that presents itself! What the lawyer gained by the
+technical subtlety of his profession, the soldier made up for by his wider
+experience of mankind. There were, besides, a variety of experiences to
+exchange. Toga could tell of much that interested the &ldquo;man of war,&rdquo; and
+he, in turn, made himself extremely agreeable by his Eastern information,
+not to say, that he was able to give a correct version of many Hindostanee
+phrases and words which the old lawyer eagerly desired to acquire.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All you have been telling me has a strong interest for me, Captain
+Stapylton,&rdquo; said he, as they drove into Kilkenny. &ldquo;I have a case which has
+engaged my attention for years, and is likely to occupy what remains to me
+of life,&mdash;a suit of which India is the scene, and Orientals figure as
+some of the chief actors,&mdash;so that I can scarcely say how fortunate I
+feel this chance meeting with you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall deem myself greatly honored if the acquaintance does not end
+here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It shall not, if it depend upon me,&rdquo; said Withering, cordially. &ldquo;You said
+something of a visit you were about to make to Dublin. Will you do me a
+great&mdash;a very great&mdash;favor, and make my house your home while
+you stay? This is my address: '18 Merrion Square.' It is a bachelor's
+hall; and you can come and go without ceremony.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The plan is too tempting to hesitate about. I accept your invitation with
+all the frankness you have given it. Meanwhile you will be my guest here.&rdquo;
+ &ldquo;'That is impossible. I must start for Cork this evening.&rdquo; And now they
+parted,&mdash;not like men who had been strangers a few hours back, but
+like old acquaintances, only needing the occasion to feel as old friends.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XX. AN INTERIOR AT THE DOCTOR'S
+</h2>
+<p>
+When Captain Stapylton made his appointment to wait on Dr. Dill, he was
+not aware that the Attorney-General was expected at Cobham. No sooner,
+however, had he learned that fact than he changed his purpose, and
+intimated his intention of running up for a day to Kilkenny, to hear what
+was going on in the regiment. No regret for any disappointment he might be
+giving to the village doctor, no self-reproach for the breach of an
+engagement&mdash;all of his own making&mdash;crossed his mind. It is,
+indeed, a theme for a moralist to explore, the ease with which a certain
+superiority in station can divest its possessor of all care for the
+sensibilities of those below him; and yet in the little household of the
+doctor that promised visit was the source of no small discomfort and
+trouble. The doctor's study&mdash;the sanctum in which the interview
+should be held&mdash;had to be dusted and smartened up. Old boots, and
+overcoats, and smashed driving-whips, and odd stirrup-leathers, and
+stable-lanterns, and garden implements had all to be banished. The great
+table in front of the doctor's chair had also to be professionally
+littered with notes and cards and periodicals, not forgetting an ingenious
+admixture of strange instruments of torture, quaint screws, and
+inscrutable-looking scissors, destined, doubtless, to make many a faint
+heart the fainter in their dread presence. All these details had to be
+carried out in various ways through the rest of the establishment,&mdash;in
+the drawing-room, wherein the great man was to be ushered; in the
+dining-room, where he was to lunch. Upon Polly did the greater part of
+these cares devolve; not alone attending to the due disposal of chairs and
+sofas and tables, but to the preparation of certain culinary delicacies,
+which were to make the Captain forget the dainty luxuries of Cobham. And,
+in truth, there is a marvellous <i>esprit du corps</i> in the way a woman
+will fag and slave herself to make the humble household she belongs to
+look its best, even to the very guest she has least at heart; for Polly
+did not like Stapylton. Flattered at first by his notice, she was offended
+afterwards at the sort of conscious condescension of his manner,&mdash;a
+something which seemed to say, I can be charming, positively fascinating,
+but don't imagine for a moment that there is anything especial in it. I
+captivate&mdash;just as I fish, hunt, sketch, or shoot&mdash;to amuse
+myself. And with all this, how was it he was really not a coxcomb? Was it
+the grave dignity of his address, or the quiet state-liness of his person,
+or was it a certain uniformity, a keeping, that pervaded all he said or
+did? I am not quite sure whether all three did not contribute to this end,
+and make him what the world confessed,&mdash;a most well-bred gentleman.
+</p>
+<p>
+Polly was, in her way, a shrewd observer, and she felt that Stapylton's
+manner towards her was that species of urbane condescension with which a
+great master of a game deigns to play with a very humble proficient. He
+moved about the board with an assumption that said, I can checkmate you
+when I will! Now this is hard enough to bear when the pieces at stake are
+stained ivory, but it is less endurable: still when they are our emotions
+and our wishes. And yet with all this before her, Polly ordered and
+arranged and superintended and directed with an energy that never tired,
+and an activity that never relaxed.
+</p>
+<p>
+As for Mrs. Dill, no similar incident in the life of Clarissa had prepared
+her for the bustle and preparation she saw on every side, and she was
+fairly perplexed between the thought of a seizure for rent and a fire,&mdash;casualties
+which, grave as they were, she felt she could meet with Mr. Richardson
+beside her. The doctor himself was unusually fidgety and anxious. Perhaps
+he ascribed considerable importance to this visit; perhaps he thought
+Polly had not been candid with him, and that, in reality, she knew more of
+its object than she had avowed; and so he walked hurriedly from room to
+room, and out into the garden, and across the road to the river's side,
+and once as far as the bridge, consulting his watch, and calculating that
+as it now only wanted eight minutes of two o'clock, the arrival could
+scarcely be long delayed.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was on his return he entered the drawing-room and found Polly, now
+plainly but becomingly dressed, seated at her work, with a seeming
+quietude and repose about her, strangely at variance with her late display
+of activity. &ldquo;I 've had a look down the Graigue Road,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but can
+see nothing. You are certain he said two o'clock?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite certain, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To be sure he might come by the river; there's water enough now for the
+Cobham barge.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She made no answer, though she half suspected some reply was expected.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And of course,&rdquo; continued the doctor, &ldquo;they'd have offered him the use of
+it. They seem to make a great deal of him up there.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A great deal, indeed, sir,&rdquo; said she; but in a voice that was a mere echo
+of his own.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I suspect they know why. I 'm sure they know why. People in their
+condition make no mistakes about each other; and if he receives much
+attention, it is because it's his due.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+No answer followed this speech, and he walked feverishly up and down the
+room, holding his watch in his closed hand. &ldquo;I have a notion you must have
+mistaken him. It was not two he said.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm positive it was two, sir. But it can scarcely be much past that hour
+now.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is seventeen minutes past two,&rdquo; said he, solemnly. And then, as if
+some fresh thought had just occurred to him, asked, &ldquo;Where 's Tom? I never
+saw him this morning.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He 's gone out to take a walk, sir. The poor fellow is dead beat by work,
+and had such a headache that I told him to go as far as the Red House or
+Snow's Mill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I 'll wager he did not want to be told twice. Anything for idleness
+with <i>him!</i>&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, papa, he is really doing his very best now. He is not naturally
+quick, and he has a bad memory, so that labor is no common toil; but his
+heart is in it, and I never saw him really anxious for success before.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To go out to India, I suppose,&rdquo; said Dill, sneeringly, &ldquo;that notable
+project of the other good-for-nothing; for, except in the matter of
+fortune, there's not much to choose between them. There 's the half-hour
+striking now!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The project has done this for him, at least,&rdquo; said she, firmly,&mdash;&ldquo;it
+has given him hope!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How I like to hear about hope!&rdquo; said he, with a peculiarly sarcastic
+bitterness. &ldquo;I never knew a fellow worth sixpence that had that cant of
+'hope' in his mouth! How much hope had I when I began the world! How much
+have I now?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't you hope Captain Stapylton may not have forgotten his appointment,
+papa?&rdquo; said she, with a quick drollery, which sparkled in her eye, but
+brought no smile to her lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, here he is at last,&rdquo; said Dill, as he heard the sharp click made by
+the wicket of the little garden; and he started up, and rushed to the
+window. &ldquo;May I never!&rdquo; cried he, in horror, &ldquo;if it isn't M'Cormick! Say
+we're out,&mdash;that I'm at Graigue,&mdash;that I won't be home till
+evening!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But while he was multiplying these excuses, the old Major had caught sight
+of him, and was waving his hand in salutation from below. &ldquo;It's too late,&mdash;it's
+too late!&rdquo; sighed Dill, bitterly; &ldquo;he sees me now,&mdash;there's no help
+for it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+What benevolent and benedictory expressions were muttered below his
+breath, it is not for this history to record; but so vexed and irritated
+was he, that the Major had already entered the room ere he could compose
+his features into even a faint show of welcome.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was down at the Dispensary,&rdquo; croaked out M'Cormick, &ldquo;and they told me
+you were not expected there to-day, and so I said, maybe he's ill, or
+maybe,&rdquo;&mdash;and here he looked shrewdly around him,&mdash;&ldquo;maybe there
+'s something going on up at the house.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What should there be going on, as you call it?&rdquo; responded Dill, angrily,
+for he was now at home, in presence of the family, and could not compound
+for that tone of servile acquiescence he employed on foreign service.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And, faix, I believe I was right; Miss Polly isn't so smart this morning
+for nothing, no more than the saving cover is off the sofa, and the piece
+of gauze taken down from before the looking-glass, and the 'Times'
+newspaper away from the rug!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are there any other domestic changes you 'd like to remark upon, Major
+M'Cormick?&rdquo; said Dill, pale with rage.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed, yes,&rdquo; rejoined the other; &ldquo;there 's yourself, in the elegant
+black coat that I never saw since Lord Kilraney's funeral, and looking
+pretty much as lively and pleasant as you did at the ceremony.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A gentleman has made an appointment with papa,&rdquo; broke in Polly, &ldquo;and may
+be here at any moment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know who it is,&rdquo; said M'Cormick, with a finger on the side of his nose
+to imply intense cunning. &ldquo;I know all about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you know?&mdash;what do you mean by all about it?&rdquo; said Dill,
+with an eagerness he could not repress.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just as much as yourselves,&mdash;there now! Just as much as yourselves!&rdquo;
+ said he, sententiously.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But apparently, Major, you know far more,&rdquo; said Polly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe I do, maybe I don't; but I 'll tell you one thing, Dill, for your
+edification, and mind me if I 'm not right: you 're all mistaken about
+him, every one of ye!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whom are you talking of?&rdquo; asked the doctor, sternly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just the very man you mean yourself, and no other! Oh, you need n't fuss
+and fume, I don't want to pry into your family secrets. Not that they 'll
+be such secrets tomorrow or next day,&mdash;the whole town will be talking
+of them,&mdash;but as an old friend that could, maybe, give a word of
+advice&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Advice about what? Will you just tell me about what?&rdquo; cried Dill, now
+bursting with anger.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 've done now. Not another word passes my lips about it from this
+minute. Follow your own road, and see where it will lead ye?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cannot you understand, Major M'Cormick, that we are totally unable to
+guess what you allude to? Neither papa nor I have the very faintest clew
+to your meaning, and if you really desire to serve us, you will speak out
+plainly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not another syllable, if I sat here for two years!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The possibility of such an infliction seemed so terrible to poor Polly
+that she actually shuddered as she heard it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is n't that your mother I see sitting up there, with all the fine ribbons
+in her cap?&rdquo; whispered M'Cormick, as he pointed to a small room which
+opened off an angle of the larger one. &ldquo;That 's 'the boodoo,' is n't it?&rdquo;
+ said he, with a grin. This, I must inform my reader, was the M'Cormick for
+&ldquo;boudoir.&rdquo; &ldquo;Well, I'll go and pay my respects to her.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So little interest did Mrs. Dill take in the stir and movement around her
+that the Major utterly failed in his endeavors to torture her by all his
+covert allusions and ingeniously drawn inferences. No matter what hints he
+dropped or doubts he suggested, <i>she</i> knew &ldquo;Clarissa&rdquo; would come well
+out of her trials; and beyond a little unmeaning simper, and a muttered
+&ldquo;To be sure,&rdquo; &ldquo;No doubt of it,&rdquo; and, &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; M'Cormick could obtain
+nothing from her.
+</p>
+<p>
+Meanwhile, in the outer room the doctor continued to stride up and down
+with impatience, while Polly sat quietly working on, not the less anxious,
+perhaps, though her peaceful air betokened a mind at rest.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That must be a boat, papa,&rdquo; said she, without lifting her head, &ldquo;that has
+just come up to the landing-place. I heard the plash of the oars, and now
+all is still again.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 're right; so it is!&rdquo; cried he, as he stopped before the window. &ldquo;But
+how is this! That 's a lady I see yonder, and a gentleman along with her.
+That's not Stapylton, surely!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is scarcely so tall,&rdquo; said she, rising to look out, &ldquo;but not very
+unlike him. But the lady, papa,&mdash;the lady is Miss Barrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Bad as M'Cormick's visit was, it was nothing to the possibility of such an
+advent as this, and Dill's expressions of anger were now neither measured
+nor muttered.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is to be a day of disasters. I see it well, and no help for it,&rdquo;
+ exclaimed he, passionately. &ldquo;If there was one human being I 'd hate to
+come here this morning, it's that old woman! She's never civil. She's not
+commonly decent in her manner towards me in her own house, and what she
+'ll be in mine, is clean beyond me to guess. That's herself! There she
+goes! Look at her remarking,&mdash;I see, she's remarking on the weeds
+over the beds, and the smashed paling. She's laughing too! Oh, to be sure,
+it's fine laughing at people that's poor; and she might know something of
+that same herself. I know who the man is now. That 's the Colonel, who
+came to the 'Fisherman's Home' on the night of the accident.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would seem we are to hold a levee to-day,&rdquo; said Polly, giving a very
+fleeting glance at herself in the glass. And now a knock came to the door,
+and the man who acted gardener and car-driver and valet to the doctor
+announced that Miss Barrington and Colonel Hunter were below.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Show them up,&rdquo; said Dill, with the peremptory voice of one ordering a
+very usual event, and intentionally loud enough to be heard below stairs.
+</p>
+<p>
+If Polly's last parting with Miss Barrington gave little promise of
+pleasure to their next meeting, the first look she caught of the old lady
+on entering the room dispelled all uneasiness on that score. Miss Dinah
+entered with a pleasing smile, and presented her friend, Colonel Hunter,
+as one come to thank the doctor for much kindness to his young subaltern.
+&ldquo;Whom, by the way,&rdquo; added he, &ldquo;we thought to find here. It is only since
+we landed that we learned he had left the inn for Kilkenny.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+While the Colonel continued to talk to the doctor, Miss Dinah had seated
+herself On the sofa, with Polly at her side.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My visit this morning is to you,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;I have come to ask your
+forgiveness. Don't interrupt me, child; your forgiveness was the very word
+I used. I was very rude to you t' other morning, and being all in the
+wrong,&mdash;like most people in such circumstances,&mdash;I was very
+angry with the person who placed me so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, my dear madam,&rdquo; said Polly, &ldquo;you had such good reason to suppose you
+were in the right that this <i>amende</i> on your part is far too
+generous.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is not at all generous,&mdash;it is simply just. I was sorely vexed
+with you about that stupid wager, which you were very wrong to have had
+any share in; vexed with your father, vexed with your brother,&mdash;not
+that I believed his counsel would have been absolute wisdom,&mdash;and I
+was even vexed with my young friend Conyers, because he had not the bad
+taste to be as angry with you as I was. When I was a young lady,&rdquo; said
+she, bridling up, and looking at once haughty and defiant, &ldquo;no man would
+have dared to approach me with such a proposal as complicity in a wager.
+But I am told that my ideas are antiquated, and the world has grown much
+wiser since that day.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, madam,&rdquo; said Polly, &ldquo;but there is another difference that your
+politeness has prevented you from appreciating. I mean the difference in
+station between Miss Barrington and Polly Dill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was a well-directed shot, and told powerfully, for Miss Barrington's
+eyes became clouded, and she turned her head away, while she pressed
+Polly's hand within her own with a cordial warmth. &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said she,
+feelingly, &ldquo;I hope there are many points of resemblance between us. I have
+always tried to be a good sister. I know well what you have been to your
+brother.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A very jolly burst of laughter from the inner room, where Hunter had
+already penetrated, broke in upon them, and the merry tones of his voice
+were heard saying, &ldquo;Take my word for it, madam, nobody could spare time
+nowadays to make love in nine volumes. Life 's too short for it. Ask my
+old brother-officer here if he could endure such a thirty years' war; or
+rather let me turn here for an opinion. What does your daughter say on the
+subject?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay, ay,&rdquo; croaked out M'Cormick. &ldquo;Marry in haste&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Or repent that you did n't. That 's the true reading of the adage.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Major would rather apply leisure to the marriage, and make the
+repentance come&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As soon as possible afterwards,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, tartly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Faix, I 'll do better still; I won't provoke the repentance at all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Major, is it thus you treat me?&rdquo; said Polly, affecting to wipe her
+eyes. &ldquo;Are my hopes to be dashed thus cruelly?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But the doctor, who knew how savagely M'Cormick could resent even the most
+harmless jesting, quickly interposed, with a question whether Polly had
+thought of ordering luncheon.
+</p>
+<p>
+It is but fair to Dr. Dill to record the bland but careless way he ordered
+some entertainment for his visitors. He did it like the lord of a
+well-appointed household, who, when he said &ldquo;serve,&rdquo; they served. It was
+in the easy confidence of one whose knowledge told him that the train was
+laid, and only waited for the match to explode it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I have the honor, dear lady?&rdquo; said he, offering his arm to Miss
+Barrington.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now, Miss Dinah had just observed that she had various small matters to
+transact in the village, and was about to issue forth for their
+performance; but such is the force of a speciality, that she could not
+tear herself away without a peep into the dining-room, and a glance, at
+least, at arrangements that appeared so magically conjured up. Nor was
+Dill insensible to the astonishment expressed in her face as her eyes
+ranged over the table.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If your daughter be your housekeeper, Dr. Dill,&rdquo; said she, in a whisper,
+&ldquo;I must give her my very heartiest approbation. These are matters I can
+speak of with authority, and I pronounce her worthy of high commendation.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What admirable salmon cutlets!&rdquo; cried the Colonel. &ldquo;Why, doctor, these
+tell of a French cook.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There she is beside you, the French cook!&rdquo; said the Major, with a
+malicious twinkle.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Polly, smiling, though with a slight flush on her face, &ldquo;if
+Major M'Cormick will be indiscreet enough to tell tales, let us hope they
+will never be more damaging in their import.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And do you say&mdash;do you mean to tell me that this curry is your
+handiwork? Why, this is high art.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, she 's artful enough, if it 's that ye 're wanting,&rdquo; muttered the
+Major.
+</p>
+<p>
+Miss Barrington, having apparently satisfied the curiosity she felt about
+the details of the doctor's housekeeping, now took her leave, not,
+however, without Dr. Dill offering his arm on one side, while Polly, with
+polite observance, walked on the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look at that now,&rdquo; whispered the Major. &ldquo;They 're as much afraid of that
+old woman as if she were the Queen of Sheba! And all because she was once
+a fine lady living at Barrington Hall.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here's their health for it,&rdquo; said the Colonel, filling his glass,&mdash;&ldquo;and
+in a bumper too! By the way,&rdquo; added he, looking around, &ldquo;does not Mrs.
+Dill lunch with us?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, she seldom comes to her meals! She's a little touched here.&rdquo; And he
+laid his finger on the centre of his forehead. &ldquo;And, indeed, no wonder if
+she is.&rdquo; The benevolent Major was about to give some details of secret
+family history, when the doctor and his daughter returned to the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Colonel ate and talked untiringly. He was delighted with everything,
+and charmed with himself for his good luck in chancing upon such agreeable
+people. He liked the scenery, the village, the beetroot salad, the bridge,
+the pickled oysters, the evergreen oaks before the door. He was not
+astonished Conyers should linger on such a spot; and then it suddenly
+occurred to him to ask when he had left the village, and how.
+</p>
+<p>
+The doctor could give no information on the point, and while he was
+surmising one thing and guessing another, M'Cormick whispered in the
+Colonel's ear, &ldquo;Maybe it's a delicate point. How do you know what went on
+with&mdash;&rdquo; And a significant nod towards Polly finished the remark.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish I heard what Major M'Cormick has just said,&rdquo; said Polly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And it is exactly what I cannot repeat to you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suspected as much. So that my only request will be that you never
+remember it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn't she sharp!&mdash;sharp as a needle!&rdquo; chimed in the Major.
+</p>
+<p>
+Checking, and not without some effort, a smart reprimand on the last
+speaker, the Colonel looked hastily at his watch, and arose from table.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Past three o'clock, and to be in Kilkenny by six.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you want a car? There's one of Rice's men now in the village; shall I
+get him for you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would you really do me the kindness?&rdquo; While the Major bustled off on his
+errand, the Colonel withdrew the doctor inside the recess of a window. &ldquo;I
+had a word I wished to say to you in private, Dr. Dill; but it must really
+be in private,&mdash;you understand me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Strictly confidential, Colonel Hunter,&rdquo; said Dill, bowing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is this: a young officer of mine, Lieutenant Conyers, has written to
+me a letter mentioning a plan he had conceived for the future advancement
+of your son, a young gentleman for whom, it would appear, he had formed a
+sudden but strong attachment. His project was, as I understand it, to
+accredit him to his father with such a letter as must secure the General's
+powerful influence in his behalf. Just the sort of thing a warm-hearted
+young fellow would think of doing for a friend he determined to serve, but
+exactly the kind of proceeding that might have a very unfortunate ending.
+I can very well imagine, from my own short experience here, that your
+son's claims to notice and distinction may be the very highest; I can
+believe readily what very little extraneous aid he would require to secure
+his success; but you and I are old men of the world, and are bound to look
+at things cautiously, and to ask, 'Is this scheme a very safe one?' 'Will
+General Conyers enter as heartily into it as his son?' 'Will the young
+surgeon be as sure to captivate the old soldier as the young one?' In a
+word, would it be quite wise to set a man's whole venture in life on such
+a cast, and is it the sort of risk that, with your experience of the
+world, you would sanction?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was evident, from the pause the Colonel left after these words, that he
+expected Dill to say something; but, with the sage reserve of his order,
+the doctor stood still, and never uttered a syllable. Let us be just to
+his acuteness, he never did take to the project from the first; he thought
+ill of it, in every way, but yet he did not relinquish the idea of making
+the surrender of it &ldquo;conditional;&rdquo; and so he slowly shook his head with an
+air of doubt, and smoothly rolled his hands one over the other, as though
+to imply a moment of hesitation and indecision.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; muttered he, talking only to himself,&mdash;&ldquo;disappointment,
+to be sure!&mdash;very great disappointment too! And his heart so set upon
+it, that's the hardship.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Naturally enough,&rdquo; broke in Hunter, hastily. &ldquo;Who would n't be
+disappointed under such circumstances? Better even that, however, than
+utter failure later on.&rdquo; The doctor sighed, but over what precise calamity
+was not so clear; and Hunter continued,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, as I have made this communication to you in strictest confidence,
+and not in any concert with Conyers, I only ask you to accept the view as
+a mere matter of opinion. I think you would be wrong to suffer your son to
+engage in such a venture. That's all I mean by my interference, and I have
+done.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Dill was, perhaps, scarcely prepared for the sudden summing up of the
+Colonel, and looked strangely puzzled and embarrassed.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Might I talk the matter over with my daughter Polly? She has a good head
+for one so little versed in the world.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By all means. It is exactly what I would have proposed. Or, better still,
+shall I repeat what I have just told you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do so,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;for I just remember Miss Barrington will call
+here in a few moments for that medicine I have ordered for her brother,
+and which is not yet made up.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Give me five minutes of your time and attention, Miss Dill,&rdquo; said Hunter,
+&ldquo;on a point for which your father has referred me to your counsel.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To mine?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said he, smiling at her astonishment. &ldquo;We want your quick faculties
+to come to the aid of our slow ones. And here's the case.&rdquo; And in a few
+sentences he put the matter before her, as he had done to her father.
+While he thus talked, they had strolled out into the garden, and walked
+slowly side by side down one of the alleys.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor Tom!&mdash;poor fellow!&rdquo; was all that Polly said, as she listened;
+but once or twice her handkerchief was raised to her eyes, and her chest
+heaved heavily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am heartily sorry for him&mdash;that is, if his heart be bent on it&mdash;if
+he really should have built upon the scheme already.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course he has, sir. You don't suppose that in such lives as ours these
+are common incidents? If we chance upon a treasure, or fancy that we have,
+once in a whole existence, it is great fortune.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a brief, a very brief acquaintance,&mdash;a few hours, I believe.
+The&mdash;What was that? Did you hear any one cough there?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir; we are quite alone. There is no one in the garden but
+ourselves.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that, as I was saying, the project could scarcely have taken a very
+deep root, and&mdash;and&mdash;in fact, better the first annoyance than a
+mistake that should give its color to a whole lifetime. I'm certain I
+heard a step in that walk yonder.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir; we are all alone.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I half wish I had never come on this same errand. I have done an
+ungracious thing, evidently very ill, and with the usual fate of those who
+say disagreeable things, I am involved in the disgrace I came to avert.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I accept your view.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There! I knew there was some one there!&rdquo; said Hunter, springing across a
+bed and coming suddenly to the side of M'Cormick, who was affecting to be
+making a nosegay.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The car is ready at the door, Colonel,&rdquo; said he, in some confusion.
+&ldquo;Maybe you 'd oblige me with a seat as far as Lyrath?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes; of course. And how late it is!&rdquo; cried he, looking at his watch.
+&ldquo;Time does fly fast in these regions, no doubt of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You see, Miss Polly, you have made the Colonel forget himself,&rdquo; said
+M'Cormick, maliciously.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't be severe on an error so often your own, Major M'Cormick,&rdquo; said
+she, fiercely, and turned away into the house.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Colonel, however, was speedily at her side, and in an earnest voice
+said: &ldquo;I could hate myself for the impression I am leaving behind me here.
+I came with those excellent intentions which so often make a man odious,
+and I am going away with those regrets which follow all failures; but I
+mean to come back again one of these days, and erase, if I can, the ill
+impression.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;One who has come out of his way to befriend those who had no claim upon
+his kindness can have no fear for the estimation he will be held in; for
+my part, I thank you heartily, even though I do not exactly see the direct
+road out of this difficulty.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me write to you. One letter&mdash;only one,&rdquo; said Hunter.
+</p>
+<p>
+But M'Cormick had heard the request, and she flushed up with anger at the
+malicious glee his face exhibited.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 'll have to say my good-byes for me to your father, for I am sorely
+pressed for time; and, even as it is, shall be late for my appointment in
+Kilkenny.&rdquo; And before Polly could do more than exchange his cordial shake
+hands, he was gone.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXI. DARK TIDINGS
+</h2>
+<p>
+If I am not wholly without self-reproach when I bring my reader into
+uncongenial company, and make him pass time with Major M'Cormick he had
+far rather bestow upon a pleasanter companion, I am sustained by the fact&mdash;unpalatable
+fact though it be&mdash;that the highway of life is not always smooth, nor
+its banks flowery, and that, as an old Derry woman once remarked to me,
+&ldquo;It takes a' kind o' folk to mak' a world.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Now, although Colonel Hunter did drive twelve weary miles of road with the
+Major for a fellow-traveller,&mdash;thanks to that unsocial conveniency
+called an Irish jaunting-car,&mdash;they rode back to back, and conversed
+but little. One might actually believe that unpopular men grow to feel a
+sort of liking for their unpopularity, and become at length delighted with
+the snubbings they meet with, as though an evidence of the amount of that
+discomfort they can scatter over the world at large; just, in fact, as a
+wasp or a scorpion might have a sort of triumphant joy in the
+consciousness of its power for mischief, and exult in the terror caused by
+its vicinity.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Splendid road&mdash;one of the best I ever travelled on,&rdquo; said the
+Colonel, after about ten miles, during which he smoked on without a word.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why wouldn't it be, when they can assess the county for it? They're on
+the Grand Jury, and high up, all about here,&rdquo; croaked out the Major.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is a fine country, and abounds in handsome places.&rdquo; &ldquo;And well
+mortgaged, too, the most of them.&rdquo; &ldquo;You 'd not see better farming than
+that in Norfolk, cleaner wheat or neater drills; in fact, one might
+imagine himself in England.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So he might, for the matter of taxes. I don't see much difference.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why don't you smoke? Things look pleasanter through the blue haze of a
+good Havannah,&rdquo; said Hunter, smiling.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't want them to look pleasanter than they are,&rdquo; was the dry
+rejoinder.
+</p>
+<p>
+Whether Hunter did or did not, he scarcely liked his counsellor, and,
+re-lighting a cigar, he turned his back once more on him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm one of those old-fashioned fellows,&rdquo; continued the Major, leaning
+over towards his companion, &ldquo;who would rather see things as they are, not
+as they might be; and when I remarked you awhile ago so pleased with the
+elegant luncheon and Miss Polly's talents for housekeeping, I was laughing
+to myself over it all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you mean? What did you laugh at?&rdquo; said Hunter, half fiercely.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just at the way you were taken in, that's all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Taken in?&mdash;taken in? A very strange expression for an hospitable
+reception and a most agreeable visit.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it's the very word for it, after all; for as to the hospitable
+reception, it was n't meant for us, but for that tall Captain,&mdash;the
+dark-complexioned fellow,&mdash;Staples, I think they call him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Captain Stapylton?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that's the man. He ordered Healey's car to take him over here; and I
+knew when the Dills sent over to Mrs. Brierley for a loan of the two cut
+decanters and the silver cruet-stand, something was up; and so I strolled
+down, by way of&mdash;to reconnoitre the premises, and see what old Dill
+was after.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, and then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just that I saw it all,&mdash;the elegant luncheon, and the two bottles
+of wine, and the ginger cordials, all laid out for the man that never
+came; for it would seem he changed his mind about it, and went back to
+head-quarters.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You puzzle me more and more at every word. What change of mind do you
+allude to? What purpose do you infer he had in coming over here to-day?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The only answer M'Cormick vouchsafed to this was by closing one eye and
+putting his finger significantly to the tip of his nose, while he said,
+&ldquo;Catch a weasel asleep!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I more than suspect,&rdquo; said Hunter, sternly, &ldquo;that this half-pay life
+works badly for a man's habits, and throws him upon very petty and
+contemptible modes of getting through his time. What possible business
+could it be of yours to inquire why Stapylton came, or did not come here
+to-day, no more than for the reason of <i>my</i> visit?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe I could guess that, too, if I was hard pushed,&rdquo; said M'Cormick,
+whose tone showed no unusual irritation from the late rebuke. &ldquo;I was in
+the garden all the time, and heard everything.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Listened to what I was saying to Miss Dill!&rdquo; cried Hunter, whose voice of
+indignation could not now be mistaken.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Every word of it,&rdquo; replied the unabashed Major. &ldquo;I heard all you said
+about a short acquaintance&mdash;a few hours you called it&mdash;but that
+your heart was bent upon it, all the same. And then you went on about
+India; what an elegant place it was, and the fine pay and the great
+allowances. And ready enough she was to believe it all, for I suppose she
+was sworn at Highgate, and would n't take the Captain if she could get the
+Colonel.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+By this time, and not an instant earlier, it flashed upon Hunter's mind
+that M'Cormick imagined he had overheard a proposal of marriage; and so
+amused was he by the blunder, that he totally drowned his anger in a
+hearty burst of laughter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope that, as an old brother-officer, you 'll be discreet, at all
+events,&rdquo; said he, at last. &ldquo;You have not come by the secret quite
+legitimately, and I trust you will preserve it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My hearing is good, and my eyesight too, and I mean to use them both as
+long as they 're spared to me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was your tongue that I referred to,&rdquo; said Hunter, more gravely.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay, I know it was,&rdquo; said the Major, crankily. &ldquo;My tongue will take care
+of itself also.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In order to make its task the easier, then,&rdquo; said Hunter, speaking in a
+slow and serious voice, &ldquo;let me tell you that your eaves-dropping has, for
+once at least, misled you. I made no proposal, such as you suspected, to
+Miss Dill. Nor did she give me the slightest encouragement to do so. The
+conversation you so unwarrantably and imperfectly overheard had a totally
+different object, and I am not at all sorry you should not have guessed
+it. So much for the past. Now one word for the future. Omit my name, and
+all that concerns me, from the narrative with which you amuse your
+friends, or, take my word for it, you 'll have to record more than you
+have any fancy for. This is strictly between ourselves; but if you have a
+desire to impart it, bear in mind that I shall be at my quarters in
+Kilkenny till Tuesday next.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may spend your life there, for anything I care,&rdquo; said the Major.
+&ldquo;Stop, Billy; pull up. I'll get down here.&rdquo; And shuffling off the car, he
+muttered a &ldquo;Good-day&rdquo; without turning his head, and bent his steps towards
+a narrow lane that led from the high-road.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0018" id="linkimage-0018">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/242.jpg" width="100%" alt="242 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is this the place they call Lyrath?&rdquo; asked the Colonel of the driver.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, your honor. We're a good four miles from it yet.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The answer showed Hunter that his fellow-traveller had departed in anger;
+and such was the generosity of his nature, he found it hard not to
+overtake him and make his peace with him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;After all,&rdquo; thought he, &ldquo;he 's a crusty old fellow, and has hugged his
+ill-temper so long, it may be more congenial to him now than a pleasanter
+humor.&rdquo; And he turned his mind to other interests that more closely
+touched him. Nor was he without cares,&mdash;heavier ones, too, than his
+happy nature had ever yet been called to deal with. There are few more
+painful situations in life than to find our advancement&mdash;the
+long-wished and strived-for promotion&mdash;achieved at the cost of some
+dearly loved friend; to know that our road to fortune had led us across
+the fallen figure of an old comrade, and that he who would have been the
+first to hail our success is already bewailing his own defeat. This was
+Hunter's lot at the present moment. He had been sent for to hear of a
+marvellous piece of good-fortune. His name and character, well known in
+India, had recommended him for an office of high trust,&mdash;the
+Political Resident of a great native court; a position not alone of power
+and influence, but as certain to secure, and within a very few years, a
+considerable fortune. It was the Governor-General who had made choice of
+him; and the Prince of Wales, in the brief interview he accorded him, was
+delighted with his frank and soldierlike manner, his natural cheerfulness,
+and high spirit. &ldquo;We 're not going to unfrock you, Hunter,&rdquo; said he,
+gayly, in dismissing him. &ldquo;You shall have your military rank, and all the
+steps of your promotion. We only make you a civilian till you have saved
+some lacs of rupees, which is what I hear your predecessor has forgotten
+to do.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was some time before Hunter, overjoyed as he was, even bethought him of
+asking who that predecessor was. What was his misery when he heard the
+name of Ormsby Conyers, his oldest, best friend; the man at whose table he
+had sat for years, whose confidence he had shared, whose heart was open to
+him to its last secret! &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;this is impossible. Advancement at
+such a price has no temptation for me. I will not accept it&rdquo; He wrote his
+refusal at once, not assigning any definite reasons, but declaring that,
+after much thought and consideration, he had decided the post was one he
+could not accept of. The Secretary, in whose province the affairs of India
+lay, sent for him, and, after much pressing and some ingenious
+cross-questioning, got at his reasons. &ldquo;These may be all reasonable
+scruples on your part,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;but they will avail your friend nothing.
+Conyers must go; for his own interest and character's sake, he must come
+home and meet the charges made against him, and which, from their very
+contradictions, we all hope to see him treat triumphantly: some alleging
+that he has amassed untold wealth; others that it is, as a ruined man, he
+has involved himself in the intrigues of the native rulers. All who know
+him say that at the first whisper of a charge against him he will throw up
+his post and come to England to meet his accusers. And now let me own to
+you that it is the friendship in which he held you lay one of the
+suggestions for your choice. We all felt that if a man ill-disposed or
+ungenerously minded to Conyers should go out to Agra, numerous petty and
+vexatious accusations might be forthcoming; the little local injuries and
+pressure, so sure to beget grudges, would all rise up as charges, and
+enemies to the fallen man spring up in every quarter. It is as a
+successor, then, you can best serve your friend.&rdquo; I need not dwell on the
+force and ingenuity with which this view was presented; enough that I say
+it was successful, and Hunter returned to Ireland to take leave of his
+regiment, and prepare for a speedy departure to India.
+</p>
+<p>
+Having heard, in a brief note from young Conyers, his intentions
+respecting Tom Dill, Hunter had hastened off to prevent the possibility of
+such a scheme being carried out. Not wishing, however, to divulge the
+circumstances of his friend's fortune, he had in his interview with the
+doctor confined himself to arguments on the score of prudence. His next
+charge was to break to Fred the tidings of his father's troubles, and it
+was an office he shrunk from with a coward's fear. With every mile he went
+his heart grew heavier. The more he thought over the matter the more
+difficult it appeared. To treat the case lightly, might savor of
+heartlessness and levity; to approach it more seriously, might seem a
+needless severity. Perhaps, too, Conyers might have written to his son; he
+almost hoped he had, and that the first news of disaster should not come
+from him.
+</p>
+<p>
+That combination of high-heartedness and bashfulness, a blended temerity
+and timidity,&mdash;by no means an uncommon temperament,&mdash;renders a
+man's position in the embarrassments of life one of downright suffering.
+There are operators who feel the knife more sensitively than the patients.
+Few know what torments such men conceal under a manner of seeming
+slap-dash and carelessness. Hunter was of this order, and would, any day
+of his life, far rather have confronted a real peril than met a
+contingency that demanded such an address. It was, then, with a sense of
+relief he learned, on arrival at the barracks, that Conyers had gone out
+for a walk, so that there was a reprieve at least of a few hours of the
+penalty that overhung him.
+</p>
+<p>
+The trumpet-call for the mess had just sounded as Conyers gained the door
+of the Colonel's quarters, and Hunter taking Fred's arm, they crossed the
+barrack-square together.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have a great deal to say to you, Conyers,&rdquo; said he, hurriedly; &ldquo;part of
+it unpleasant,&mdash;none of it, indeed, very gratifying&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know you are going to leave us, sir,&rdquo; said Fred, who perceived the more
+than common emotion in the other's manner. &ldquo;And for myself, I own I have
+no longer any desire to remain in the regiment. I might go further, and
+say no more zest for the service. It was through your friendship for me I
+learned to curb many and many promptings to resistance, and when <i>you</i>
+go&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am very sorry,&mdash;very, very sorry to leave you all,&rdquo; said Hunter,
+with a broken voice. &ldquo;It is not every man that proudly can point to
+seven-and-twenty-years' service in a regiment without one incident to
+break the hearty cordiality that bound us. We had no bickerings, no petty
+jealousies amongst us. If a man joined us who wanted partisanship and a
+set, he soon found it better to exchange. I never expect again to lead the
+happy life I have here, and I 'd rather have led our bold squadrons in the
+field than have been a General of Division.&rdquo; Who could have believed that
+he, whose eyes ran over, as he spoke these broken words, was, five minutes
+after, the gay and rattling Colonel his officers always saw him, full of
+life, spirit, and animation, jocularly alluding to his speedy departure,
+and gayly speculating on the comparisons that would be formed between
+himself and his successor? &ldquo;I'm leaving him the horses in good condition,&rdquo;
+ said he; &ldquo;and when Hargrave learns to give the word of command above a
+whisper, and Eyreton can ride without a backboard, he 'll scarcely report
+you for inefficiency.&rdquo; It is fair to add, that the first-mentioned officer
+had a voice like a bassoon, and the second was the beau-ideal of dragoon
+horsemanship.
+</p>
+<p>
+It would not have consisted with military etiquette to have asked the
+Colonel the nature of his promotion, nor as to what new sphere of service
+he was called. Even the old Major, his contemporary, dared not have come
+directly to the question; and while all were eager to hear it, the utmost
+approach was by an insinuation or an innuendo. Hunter was known for no
+quality more remarkably than for his outspoken frankness, and some
+surprise was felt that in his returning thanks for his health being drank,
+not a word should escape him on this point; but the anxiety was not
+lessened by the last words he spoke. &ldquo;It may be, it is more than likely, I
+shall never see the regiment again; but the sight of a hussar jacket or a
+scarlet busby will bring you all back to my memory, and you may rely on
+it, that whether around the mess-table or the bivouac fire my heart will
+be with you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Scarcely had the cheer that greeted the words subsided, when a deep voice
+from the extreme end of the table said,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If only a new-comer in the regiment, Colonel Hunter, I am too proud of my
+good fortune not to associate myself with the feelings of my comrades,
+and, while partaking of their deep regrets, I feel it a duty to
+contribute, if in my power, by whatever may lighten the grief of our loss.
+Am I at liberty to do so? Have I your free permission, I mean?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am fairly puzzled by your question, Captain Stapylton. I have not the
+very vaguest clew to your meaning, but, of course, you have my permission
+to mention whatever you deem proper.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is a toast I would propose, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By all means. The thing is not very regular, perhaps, but we are not
+exactly remarkable for regularity this evening. Fill, gentlemen, for
+Captain Stapylton's toast!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Few words will propose it,&rdquo; said Stapylton. &ldquo;We have just drank Colonel
+Hunter's health with all the enthusiasm that befits the toast, but in
+doing so our tribute has been paid to the past; of the present and the
+future we have taken no note whatever, and it is to these I would now
+recall you. I say, therefore, bumpers to the health, happiness, and
+success of Major-General Hunter, Political Resident and Minister at the
+Court of Agra!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; cried young Conyers, loudly, &ldquo;this is a mistake. It is my father&mdash;it
+is Lieutenant-General Conyers&mdash;who resides at Agra. Am I not right,
+sir?&rdquo; cried he, turning to the Colonel.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Hunter's face, pale as death even to the lips, and the agitation with
+which he grasped Fred's hand, so overcame the youth that with a sudden cry
+he sprang from his seat, and rushed out of the room. Hunter as quickly
+followed him; and now all were grouped around Stapylton, eagerly
+questioning and inquiring what his tidings might mean.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The old story, gentlemen,&mdash;the old story, with which we are all more
+or less familiar in this best of all possible worlds: General Hunter goes
+out in honor, and General Conyers comes home in&mdash;well, under a cloud,&mdash;of
+course one that he is sure and certain to dispel. I conclude the Colonel
+would rather have had his advancement under other circumstances; but in
+this game of leap-frog that we call life, we must occasionally jump over
+our friends as well as our enemies.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How and where did you get the news?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It came to me from town. I heard it this morning, and of course I
+imagined that the Colonel had told it to Conyers, whom it so intimately
+concerned. I hope I may not have been indiscreet in what I meant as a
+compliment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+None cared to offer their consolings to one so fully capable of supplying
+the commodity to himself, and the party broke up in twos or threes,
+moodily seeking their own quarters, and brooding gloomily over what they
+had just witnessed.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXII. LEAVING HOME
+</h2>
+<p>
+I will ask my reader now to turn for a brief space to the &ldquo;Fisherman's
+Home,&rdquo; which is a scene of somewhat unusual bustle. The Barringtons are
+preparing for a journey, and old Peter's wardrobe has been displayed for
+inspection along a hedge of sweet-brier in the garden,&mdash;an
+arrangement devised by the genius of Darby, who passes up and down, with
+an expression of admiration on his face, the sincerity of which could not
+be questioned. A more reflective mind than his might have been carried
+away, at the sight to thoughts of the strange passages in the late history
+of Ireland, so curiously typified in that motley display. There, was the
+bright green dress-coat of Daly's club, recalling days of political
+excitement, and all the plottings and cabals of a once famous opposition.
+There was, in somewhat faded splendor it must be owned, a court suit of
+the Duke of Portland's day, when Irish gentlemen were as gorgeous as the
+courtiers of Versailles. Here came a grand colonel's uniform, when
+Barrington commanded a regiment of Volunteers; and yonder lay a friar's
+frock and cowl, relics of those &ldquo;attic nights&rdquo; with the Monks of the
+Screw, and recalling memories of Avonmore and Curran, and Day and Parsons;
+and with them were mixed hunting-coats, and shooting-jackets, and masonic
+robes, and &ldquo;friendly brother&rdquo; emblems, and long-waisted garments, and
+swallow-tailed affectations of all shades and tints,&mdash;reminders of a
+time when Buck Whalley was the eccentric, and Lord Llandaff the beau of
+Irish society. I am not certain that Monmouth Street would have endorsed
+Darby's sentiment as he said, &ldquo;There was clothes there for a king on his
+throne!&rdquo; but it was an honestly uttered speech, and came out of the
+fulness of an admiring heart, and although in truth he was nothing less
+than an historian, he was forcibly struck by the thought that Ireland must
+have been a grand country to live in, in those old days when men went
+about their ordinary avocations in such splendor as he saw there.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0019" id="linkimage-0019">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/252.jpg" width="100%" alt="252 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+Nor was Peter Barrington himself an unmoved spectator of these old
+remnants of the past Old garments, like old letters, bring oftentimes very
+forcible memories of a long ago; and as he turned over the purple-stained
+flap of a waistcoat, he bethought him of a night at Daly's, when, in
+returning thanks for his health, his shaking hand had spilled that
+identical glass of Burgundy; and in the dun-colored tinge of a
+hunting-coat he remembered the day he had plunged into the Nore at Corrig
+O'Neal, himself and the huntsman, alone of all the field, to follow the
+dogs!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take them away, Darby, take them away; they only set me a-thinking about
+the pleasant companions of my early life. It was in that suit there I
+moved the amendment in '82, when Henry Grattan crossed over and said,
+'Barrington will lead us here, as he does in the hunting-field.' Do you
+see that peach-colored waistcoat? It was Lady Caher embroidered every
+stitch of it with her own hands, for me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Them 's elegant black satin breeches,&rdquo; said Darby, whose eyes of
+covetousness were actually rooted on the object of his desire.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never wore them,&rdquo; said Barrington, with a sigh. &ldquo;I got them for a duel
+with Mat Fortescue, but Sir Toby Blake shot him that morning. Poor Mat!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I suppose you'll never wear them now. You couldn't bear the sight
+then,&rdquo; said Darby, insinuatingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Most likely not,&rdquo; said Barrington, as he turned away with a heavy sigh.
+Darby sighed also, but not precisely in the same spirit.
+</p>
+<p>
+Let me passingly remark that the total unsuitability to his condition of
+any object seems rather to enhance its virtue in the eyes of a lower
+Irishman, and a hat or a coat which he could not, by any possibility, wear
+in public, might still be to him things to covet and desire.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is the meaning of all this rag fair?&rdquo; cried Miss Barrington, as she
+suddenly came in front of the exposed wardrobe. &ldquo;You are not surely making
+any selections from these tawdry absurdities, brother, for your journey?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, indeed,&rdquo; said Barrington, with a droll twinkle of his eye, &ldquo;it was
+a point that Darby and I were discussing as you came up. Darby opines that
+to make a suitable impression upon the Continent, I must not despise the
+assistance of dress, and he inclines much to that Corbeau coat with the
+cherry-colored lining.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If Darby 's an ass, brother, I don't imagine it is a good reason to
+consult him,&rdquo; said she, angrily. &ldquo;Put all that trash where you found it.
+Lay out your master's black clothes and the gray shooting-coat, see that
+his strong boots are in good repair, and get a serviceable lock on that
+valise.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was little short of magic the spell these few and distinctly uttered
+words seemed to work on Darby, who at once descended from a realm of
+speculation and scheming to the commonplace world of duty and obedience.
+&ldquo;I really wonder how you let yourself be imposed on, brother, by the
+assumed simplicity of that shrewd fellow.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I like it, Dinah, I positively like it,&rdquo; said he, with a smile. &ldquo;I watch
+him playing the game with a pleasure almost as great as his own; and as I
+know that the stakes are small, I 'm never vexed at his winning.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you seem to forget the encouragement this impunity suggests.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps it does, Dinah; and very likely his little rogueries are as much
+triumphs to him as are all the great political intrigues the glories of
+some grand statesman.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which means that you rather like to be cheated,&rdquo; said she, scoffingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;When the loss is a mere trifle, I don't always think it ill laid out.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I,&rdquo; said she, resolutely, &ldquo;so far from participating in your
+sentiment, feel it to be an insult and an outrage. There is a sense of
+inferiority attached to the position of a dupe that would drive me to any
+reprisals.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I always said it; I always said it,&rdquo; cried he, laughing. &ldquo;The women of
+our family monopolized all the com-bativeness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Miss Barrington's eyes sparkled, and her cheek glowed, and she looked like
+one stung to the point of a very angry rejoinder, when by an effort she
+controlled her passion, and, taking a letter from her pocket, she opened
+it, and said, &ldquo;This is from Withering. He has managed to obtain all the
+information we need for our journey. We are to sail for Ostend by the
+regular packet, two of which go every week from Dover. From thence there
+are stages or canal-boats to Bruges and Brussels, cheap and commodious, he
+says. He gives us the names of two hotels, one of which&mdash;the 'Lamb,'
+at Brussels&mdash;he recommends highly; and the Pension of a certain
+Madame Ochteroogen, at Namur, will, he opines, suit us better than an inn.
+In fact, this letter is a little road book, with the expenses marked down,
+and we can quietly count the cost of our venture before we make it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'd rather not, Dinah. The very thought of a limit is torture to me.
+Give me bread and water every day, if you like, but don't rob me of the
+notion that some fine day I am to be regaled with beef and pudding.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't wonder that we have come to beggary,&rdquo; said she, passionately. &ldquo;I
+don't know what fortune and what wealth could compensate for a temperament
+like yours.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may be right, Dinah. It may go far to make a man squander his
+substance, but take my word for it, it will help him to bear up under the
+loss.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+If Barrington could have seen the gleam of affection that filled his
+sister's eyes, he would have felt what love her heart bore him; but he had
+stooped down to take a caterpillar off a flower, and did not mark it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Withering has seen young Conyers,&rdquo; she continued, as her eyes ran over
+the letter &ldquo;He called upon him.&rdquo; Barrington made no rejoinder, though she
+waited for one. &ldquo;The poor lad was in great affliction; some distressing
+news from India&mdash;of what kind Withering could not guess&mdash;had
+just reached him, and he appeared overwhelmed by it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is very young for sorrow,&rdquo; said Barrington, feelingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just what Withering said;&rdquo; and she read out, &ldquo;'When I told him that I had
+come to make an <i>amende</i> for the reception he had met with at the
+cottage, he stopped me at once, and said, &ldquo;Great grief s are the cure of
+small ones, and you find me under a very heavy affliction. Tell Miss
+Barrington that I have no other memories of the 'Fisherman's Home' than of
+all her kindness towards me.&rdquo;'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor boy!&rdquo; said Barrington, with emotion. &ldquo;And how did Withering leave
+him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still sad and suffering. Struggling too, Withering thought, between a
+proud attempt to conceal his grief and an ardent impulse to tell all about
+it 'Had <i>you</i> been there,' he writes, 'you'd have had the whole
+story; but I saw that he could n't stoop to open his heart to a man.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Write to him, Dinah. Write and ask him down here for a couple of days.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You forget that we are to leave this the day after tomorrow, brother.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So I did. I forgot it completely. Well, what if he were to come for one
+day? What if you were to say come over and wish us good-bye?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is so like a man and a man's selfishness never to consider a domestic
+difficulty,&rdquo; said she, tartly. &ldquo;So long as a house has a roof over it, you
+fancy it may be available for hospitalities. You never take into account
+the carpets to be taken up, and the beds that are taken down, the
+plate-chest that is packed, and the cellar that is walled up. You forget,
+in a word, that to make that life you find so very easy, some one else
+must pass an existence full of cares and duties.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There 's not a doubt of it, Dinah. There 's truth and reason in every
+word you 've said.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will write to him if you like, and say that we mean to be at home by an
+early day in October, and that if he is disposed to see how our woods look
+in autumn, we will be well pleased to have him for our guest.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing could be better. Do so, Dinah. I owe the young fellow a
+reparation, and I shall not have an easy conscience till I make it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, brother Peter, if your moneyed debts had only given you one-half the
+torment of your moral ones, what a rich man you might have been to-day!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Long after his sister had gone away and left him, Peter Barrington
+continued to muse over this speech. He felt it, felt it keenly too, but in
+no bitterness of spirit.
+</p>
+<p>
+Like most men of a lax and easy temper, he could mete out to himself the
+same merciful measure he accorded to others, and be as forgiving to his
+own faults as to theirs. &ldquo;I suppose Dinah is right, though,&rdquo; said he to
+himself. &ldquo;I never did know that sensitive irritability under debt which
+insures solvency. And whenever a man can laugh at a dun, he is pretty sure
+to be on the high-road to bankruptcy! Well, well, it is somewhat late to
+try and reform, but I'll do my best!&rdquo; And thus comforted, he set about
+tying up fallen rose-trees and removing noxious insects with all his usual
+zeal.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I half wish the place did not look in such beauty, just as I must leave
+it for a while. I don't think that japonica ever had as many flowers
+before; and what a season for tulips! Not to speak of the fruit There are
+peaches enough to stock a market. I wonder what Dinah means to do with
+them? She 'll be sorely grieved to make them over as perquisites to Darby,
+and I know she 'll never consent to have them sold. No, that is the one
+concession she cannot stoop to. Oh, here she comes! What a grand year for
+the wall fruit, Dinah!&rdquo; cried he, aloud.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The apricots have all failed, and fully one-half of the peaches are
+worm-eaten,&rdquo; said she, dryly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter sighed as he thought, how she does dispel an illusion, what a
+terrible realist is this same sister! &ldquo;Still, my dear Dinah, one-half of
+such a crop is a goodly yield.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Out with it, Peter Barrington. Out with the question that is burning for
+utterance. What's to be done with them? I have thought of that already. I
+have told Polly Dill to preserve a quantity for us, and to take as much
+more as she pleases for her own use, and make presents to her friends of
+the remainder. She is to be mistress here while we are away, and has
+promised to come up two or three times a week, and see after everything,
+for I neither desire to have the flower-roots sold, nor the pigeons eaten
+before our return.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is an admirable arrangement, sister. I don't know a better girl than
+Polly!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She is better than I gave her credit for,&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, who was
+not fully pleased at any praise not bestowed by herself. A man's estimate
+of a young woman's goodness is not so certain of finding acceptance from
+her own sex! &ldquo;And as for that girl, the wonder is that with a fool for a
+mother, and a crafty old knave for a father, she really should possess one
+good trait or one amiable quality.&rdquo; Barrington muttered what sounded like
+concurrence, and she went on: &ldquo;And it is for this reason I have taken an
+interest in her, and hope, by occupying her mind with useful cares and
+filling her hours with commendable duties, she will estrange herself from
+that going about to fine houses, and frequenting society where she is
+exposed to innumerable humiliations, and worse.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Worse, Dinah!&mdash;what could be worse?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Temptations are worse, Peter Barrington, even when not yielded to; for
+like a noxious climate, which, though it fails to kill, it is certain to
+injure the constitution during a lifetime. Take my word for it, she 'll
+not be the better wife to the Curate for the memory of all the fine
+speeches she once heard from the Captain. Very old and ascetic notions I
+am quite aware, Peter; but please to bear in mind all the trouble we take
+that the roots of a favorite tree should not strike into a sour soil, and
+bethink you how very indifferent we are as to the daily associates of our
+children!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There you are right, Dinah, there you are right,&mdash;at least, as
+regards girls.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the rule applies fully as much to boys. All those manly
+accomplishments and out-of-door habits you lay such store by, could be
+acquired without the intimacy of the groom or the friendship of the
+gamekeeper. What are you muttering there about old-maids' children? Say it
+out, sir, and defend it, if you have the courage!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But either that he had not said it, or failed in the requisite boldness to
+maintain it, he blundered out a very confused assurance of agreement on
+every point.
+</p>
+<p>
+A woman is seldom merciful in argument; the consciousness that she owes
+victory to her violence far more than to her logic, prompts persistence in
+the course she has followed so successfully, and so was it that Miss Dinah
+contrived to gallop over the battlefield long after the enemy was routed!
+But Barrington was not in a mood to be vexed; the thought of the journey
+filled him with so many pleasant anticipations, the brightest of all being
+the sight of poor George's child! Not that this thought had not its dark
+side, in contrition for the long, long years he had left her unnoticed and
+neglected. Of course he had his own excuses and apologies for all this: he
+could refer to his overwhelming embarrassments, and the heavy cares that
+surrounded him; but then she&mdash;that poor friendless girl, that orphan&mdash;could
+have known nothing of these things; and what opinion might she not have
+formed of those relatives who had so coldly and heartlessly abandoned her!
+Barrington took down her miniature, painted when she was a mere infant,
+and scanned it well, as though to divine what nature might possess her!
+There was little for speculation there,&mdash;perhaps even less for hope!
+The eyes were large and lustrous, it is true, but the brow was heavy, and
+the mouth, even in infancy, had something that seemed like firmness and
+decision,&mdash;strangely at variance with the lips of childhood.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now, old Barrington's heart was deeply set on that lawsuit&mdash;that
+great cause against the Indian Government&mdash;that had formed the grand
+campaign of his life. It was his first waking thought of a morning, his
+last at night. All his faculties were engaged in revolving the various
+points of evidence, and imagining how this and that missing link might be
+supplied; and yet, with all these objects of desire before him, he would
+have given them up, each and all, to be sure of one thing,&mdash;that his
+granddaughter might be handsome! It was not that he did not value far
+above the graces of person a number of other gifts; he would not, for an
+instant, have hesitated, had he to choose between mere beauty and a good
+disposition. If he knew anything of himself, it was his thorough
+appreciation of a kindly nature, a temper to bear well, and a spirit to
+soar nobly; but somehow he imagined these were gifts she was likely enough
+to possess. George's child would resemble him; she would have his
+light-heartedness and his happy nature, but would she be handsome? It is,
+trust me, no superficial view of life that attaches a great price to
+personal atractions, and Barrington was one to give these their full
+value. Had she been brought up from childhood under his roof, he had
+probably long since ceased to think of such a point; he would have
+attached himself to her by the ties of that daily domesticity which grow
+into a nature. The hundred little cares and offices that would have fallen
+to her lot to meet, would have served as links to bind their hearts; but
+she was coming to them a perfect stranger, and he wished ardently that his
+first impression should be all in her favor.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now, while such were Barrington's reveries, his sister took a different
+turn. She had already pictured to herself the dark-orbed, heavy-browed
+child, expanded into a sallow-complexioned, heavy-featured girl, ungainly
+and ungraceful, her figure neglected, her very feet spoiled by the uncouth
+shoes of the convent, her great red hands untrained to all occupation save
+the coarse cares of that half-menial existence. &ldquo;As my brother would say,&rdquo;
+ muttered she, &ldquo;a most unpromising filly, if it were not for the breeding.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Both brother and sister, however, kept their impressions to themselves,
+and of all the subjects discussed between them not one word betrayed what
+each forecast about Josephine. I am half sorry it is no part of my task to
+follow them on the road, and yet I feel I could not impart to my reader
+the almost boylike enjoyment old Peter felt at every stage of the journey.
+He had made the grand tour of Europe more than half a century before, and
+he was in ecstasy to find so much that was unchanged around him. There
+were the long-eared caps, and the monstrous earrings, and the sabots, and
+the heavily tasselled team horses, and the chiming church-bells, and the
+old-world equipages, and the strangely undersized soldiers,&mdash;all just
+as he saw them last! And every one was so polite and ceremonious, and so
+idle and so unoccupied, and the theatres were so large and the newspapers
+so small, and the current coin so defaced, and the order of the meats at
+dinner so inscrutable, and every one seemed contented just because he had
+nothing to do.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn't it all I have told you, Dinah dear? Don't you perceive how accurate
+my picture has been? And is it not very charming and enjoyable?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They are the greatest cheats I ever met in my life, brother Peter; and
+when I think that every grin that greets us is a matter of five francs, it
+mars considerably the pleasure I derive from the hilarity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was in this spirit they journeyed till they arrived at Brussels.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXIII. THE COLONEL'S COUNSELS
+</h2>
+<p>
+When Conyers had learned from Colonel Hunter all that he knew of his
+father's involvement, it went no further than this, that the
+Lieutenant-General had either resigned or been deprived of his civil
+appointments, and Hunter was called upon to replace him. With all his
+habit of hasty and impetuous action, there was no injustice in Fred's
+nature, and he frankly recognized that, however painful to him personally,
+Hunter could not refuse to accede to what the Prince had distinctly
+pressed him to accept.
+</p>
+<p>
+Young Conyers had heard over and over again the astonishment expressed by
+old Indian officials how his father's treatment of the Company's orders
+had been so long endured. Some prescriptive immunity seemed to attach to
+him, or some great patronage to protect him, for he appeared to do exactly
+as he pleased, and the despotic sway of his rule was known far and near.
+With the changes in the constitution of the Board, some members might have
+succeeded less disposed to recognize the General's former services, or
+endure so tolerantly his present encroachments, and Fred well could
+estimate the resistance his father would oppose to the very mildest
+remonstrance, and how indignantly he would reject whatever came in the
+shape of a command. Great as was the blow to the young man, it was not
+heavier in anything than the doubt and uncertainty about it, and he waited
+with a restless impatience for his father's letter, which should explain
+it all. Nor was his position less painful from the estrangement in which
+he lived, and the little intercourse he maintained with his
+brother-officers. When Hunter left, he knew that he had not one he could
+call friend amongst them, and Hunter was to go in a very few days, and
+even of these he could scarcely spare him more than a few chance moments!
+</p>
+<p>
+It was in one of these flitting visits that Hunter bethought him of young
+Dill, of whom, it is only truth to confess, young Conyers had forgotten
+everything. &ldquo;I took time by the forelock, Fred, about that affair,&rdquo; said
+he, &ldquo;and I trust I have freed you from all embarrassment about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As how, sir?&rdquo; asked Conyers, half in pique.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;When I missed you at the 'Fisherman's Home,' I set off to pay the doctor
+a visit, and a very charming visit it turned out; a better pigeon-pie I
+never ate, nor a prettier girl than the maker of it would I ask to meet
+with. We became great friends, talked of everything, from love at first
+sight to bone spavins, and found that we agreed to a miracle. I don't
+think I ever saw a girl before who suited me so perfectly in all her
+notions. She gave me a hint about what they call 'mouth lameness' our Vet
+would give his eye for. Well, to come back to her brother,&mdash;a dull
+dog, I take it, though I have not seen him,&mdash;I said, 'Don't let him
+go to India, they 've lots of clever fellows out there; pack him off to
+Australia; send him to New Zealand.' And when she interrupted me, 'But
+young Mr. Conyers insisted,&mdash;he would have it so; his father is to
+make Tom's fortune, and to send him back as rich as a Begum,' I said, 'He
+has fallen in love with you, Miss Polly, that's the fact, and lost his
+head altogether; and I don't wonder at it, for here am I, close upon
+forty-eight,&mdash;I might have said forty-nine, but no matter,&mdash;close
+upon forty-eight, and I 'm in the same book!' Yes, if it was the sister,
+<i>vice</i> the brother, who wanted to make a fortune in India, I almost
+think I could say, 'Come and share mine!'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I don't exactly understand. Am I to believe that they wish Tom to be
+off&mdash;to refuse my offer&mdash;and that the rejection comes from
+them?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, not exactly. I said it was a bad spec, that you had taken a far too
+sanguine view of the whole thing, and that as I was an old soldier, and
+knew more of the world,&mdash;that is to say, had met a great many more
+hard rubs and disappointments,&mdash;my advice was, not to risk it. 'Young
+Conyers,' said I, 'will do all that he has promised to the letter. You may
+rely upon every word that he has ever uttered. But bear in mind that he's
+only a mortal man; he's not one of those heathen gods who used to make
+fellows invincible in a battle, or smuggle them off in a cloud, out of the
+way of demons, or duns, or whatever difficulties beset them. He might die,
+his father might die, any of us might die.' Yes, by Jove! there's nothing
+so uncertain as life, except the Horse Guards.' And putting one thing with
+another, Miss Polly,' said I, 'tell him to stay where he is,'&mdash;open a
+shop at home, or go to one of the colonies,&mdash;Heligoland, for
+instance, a charming spot for the bathing-season.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And she, what did she say?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I be cashiered if I remember! I never do remember very clearly what
+any one says. Where I am much interested on my own side, I have no time
+for the other fellow's arguments. But I know if she was n't convinced she
+ought to have been. I put the thing beyond a question, and I made her
+cry.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Made her cry!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not cry,&mdash;that is, she did not blubber; but she looked glassy about
+the lids, and turned away her head. But to be sure we were parting,&mdash;a
+rather soft bit of parting, too,&mdash;and I said something about my
+coming back with a wooden leg, and she said, 'No! have it of cork, they
+make them so cleverly now.' And I was going to say something more, when a
+confounded old half-pay Major came up and interrupted us, and&mdash;and,
+in fact, there it rests.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm not at all easy in mind as to this affair. I mean, I don't like how
+I stand in it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you stand out of it,&mdash;out of it altogether! Can't you imagine
+that your father may have quite enough cares of his own to occupy him
+without needing the embarrassment of looking after this bumpkin, who, for
+aught you know, might repay very badly all the interest taken in him? If
+it had been the girl,&mdash;if it had been Polly&mdash;&rdquo; &ldquo;I own frankly,&rdquo;
+ said Conyers, tartly, &ldquo;it did not occur to me to make such an offer to <i>her!</i>&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Faith! then, Master Fred, I was deuced near doing it,&mdash;so near, that
+when I came away I scarcely knew whether I had or had not done so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, there is only an hour's drive on a good road required to
+repair the omission.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's true, Fred,&mdash;that's true; but have you never, by an accident,
+chanced to come up with a stunning fence,&mdash;a regular rasper that you
+took in a fly a few days before with the dogs, and as you looked at the
+place, have you not said, 'What on earth persuaded me to ride at <i>that?</i>'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which means, sir, that your cold-blooded reflections are against the
+project?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not exactly that, either,&rdquo; said he, in a sort of confusion; &ldquo;but when a
+man speculates on doing something for which the first step must be an
+explanation to this fellow, a half apology to that,&mdash;with a
+whimpering kind of entreaty not to be judged hastily, not to be condemned
+unheard, not to be set down as an old fool who couldn't stand the fire of
+a pair of bright eyes,&mdash;I say when it comes to this, he ought to feel
+that his best safeguard is his own misgiving!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I do not agree with you, sir, it is because I incline to follow my own
+lead, and care very little for what the world says of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't believe a word of that, Fred; it's all brag,&mdash;all nonsense!
+The very effrontery with which you fancy you are braving public opinion is
+only Dutch courage. What each of us in his heart thinks of himself is only
+the reflex of the world's estimate of him; at least, what he imagines it
+to be. Now, for my own part, I 'd rather ride up to a battery in full fire
+than I'd sit down and write to my old aunt Dorothy Hunter a formal letter
+announcing my approaching marriage, telling her that the lady of my choice
+was twenty or thereabouts, not to add that her family name was Dill.
+Believe me, Fred, that if you want the concentrated essence of public
+opinion, you have only to do something which shall irritate and astonish
+the half-dozen people with whom you live in intimacy. Won't they remind
+you about the mortgages on your lands and the gray in your whiskers, that
+last loan you raised from Solomon Hymans, and that front tooth you got
+replaced by Cartwright, though it was the week before they told you you
+were a miracle of order and good management, and actually looking younger
+than you did five years ago! You're not minding me, Fred,&mdash;not
+following me; you 're thinking of your <i>protégé</i>, Tom Dill, and what
+he 'll think and say of your desertion of him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have hit it, sir. It was exactly what I was asking myself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if nothing better offers, tell him to get himself in readiness, and
+come out with me. I cannot make him a Rajah, nor even a Zemindar; but I
+'ll stick him into a regimental surgeoncy, and leave him to fashion out
+his own future. He must look sharp, however, and lose no time. The
+'Ganges' is getting ready in all haste, and will be round at Portsmouth by
+the 8th, and we expect to sail on the 12th or 13th at furthest.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'll write to him to-day. I 'll write this moment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Add a word of remembrance on my part to the sister, and tell bumpkin to
+supply himself with no end of letters, recommendatory and laudatory, to
+muzzle our Medical Board at Calcutta, and lots of light clothing, and all
+the torturing instruments he 'll need, and a large stock of good humor,
+for he'll be chaffed unmercifully all the voyage.&rdquo; And, with these
+comprehensive directions, the Colonel concluded his counsels, and bustled
+away to look after his own personal interests.
+</p>
+<p>
+Fred Conyers was not over-pleased with the task assigned him. The part he
+liked to fill in life, and, indeed, that which he had usually performed,
+was the Benefactor and the Patron, and it was but an ungracious office for
+him to have to cut the wings and disfigure the plumage of his generosity.
+He made two, three, four attempts at conveying his intentions, but with
+none was he satisfied; so he ended by simply saying, &ldquo;I have something of
+importance to tell you, and which, not being altogether pleasant, it will
+be better to say than to write; so I have to beg you will come up here at
+once, and see me.&rdquo; Scarcely was this letter sealed and addressed than he
+bethought him of the awkwardness of presenting Tom to his
+brother-officers, or the still greater indecorum of not presenting him.
+&ldquo;How shall I ask him to the mess, with the certainty of all the
+impertinences he will be exposed to?&mdash;and what pretext have I for not
+offering him the ordinary attention shown to every stranger?&rdquo; He was, in
+fact, wincing under that public opinion he had only a few moments before
+declared he could afford to despise. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I have no right to
+expose poor Tom to this. I 'll drive over myself to the village, and if
+any advice or counsel be needed, he will be amongst those who can aid
+him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He ordered his servant to harness his handsome roan, a thoroughbred of
+surpassing style and action, to the dog-cart,&mdash;not over-sorry to
+astonish his friend Tom by the splendor of a turn-out that had won the
+suffrages of Tattersall's,&mdash;and prepared for his mission to
+Inistioge.
+</p>
+<p>
+Was it with the same intention of &ldquo;astonishing&rdquo; Tom Dill that Conyers
+bestowed such unusual attention upon his dress? At his first visit to the
+&ldquo;Fisherman's Home&rdquo; he had worn the homely shooting-jacket and felt hat
+which, however comfortable and conventional, do not always redound to the
+advantage of the wearer, or, if they do, it is by something, perhaps, in
+the contrast presented to his ordinary appearance, and the impression
+ingeniously insinuated that he is one so unmistakably a gentleman, no
+travesty of costume can efface the stamp.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was in this garb Polly had seen him, and if Polly Dill had been a
+duchess it was in some such garb she would have been accustomed to see her
+brother or her cousin some six out of every seven mornings of the week;
+but Polly was not a duchess: she was the daughter of a village doctor, and
+might, not impossibly, have acquired a very erroneous estimate of his real
+pretensions from having beheld him thus attired. It was, therefore,
+entirely by a consideration for her ignorance of the world and its ways
+that he determined to enlighten her.
+</p>
+<p>
+At the time of which I am writing, the dress of the British army was a
+favorite study with that Prince whose taste, however questionable, never
+exposed him to censure on grounds of over-simplicity and plainness. As the
+Colonel of the regiment Conyers belonged to, he had bestowed upon his own
+especial corps an unusual degree of splendor in equipment, and amongst
+other extravagances had given them an almost boundless liberty of
+combining different details of dress. Availing himself of this privilege,
+our young Lieutenant invented a costume which, however unmilitary and
+irregular, was not deficient in becomingness. Under a plain blue jacket
+very sparingly braided he wore the rich scarlet waistcoat, all slashed
+with gold, they had introduced at their mess. A simple foraging-cap and
+overalls, seamed with a thin gold line, made up a dress that might have
+passed for the easy costume of the barrack-yard, while, in reality, it was
+eminently suited to set off the wearer.
+</p>
+<p>
+Am I to confess that he looked at himself in the glass with very
+considerable satisfaction, and muttered, as he turned away, &ldquo;Yes, Miss
+Polly, this is in better style than that Quakerish drab livery you saw me
+last in, and I have little doubt that you 'll think so!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is this our best harness, Holt?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXIV. CONYERS MAKES A MORNING CALL
+</h2>
+<p>
+When Conyers, to the astonishment and wonder of an admiring village
+public, drove his seventeen-hand-high roan into the market square of
+Inistioge, he learned that all of the doctor's family were from home
+except Mrs. Dill. Indeed, he saw the respectable lady at the window with a
+book in her hand, from which not all the noise and clatter of his arrival
+for one moment diverted her. Though not especially anxious to attract her
+attention, he was half piqued at her show of indifference. A dog-cart by
+Adams and a thoroughbred like Boanerges were, after all, worth a glance
+at. Little did he know what a competitor be had in that much-thumbed old
+volume, whose quaintly told miseries were to her as her own sorrows. Could
+he have assembled underneath that window all the glories of a Derby Day,
+Mr. Richardson's &ldquo;Clarissa&rdquo; would have beaten the field. While he occupied
+himself in dexterously tapping the flies from his horse with the fine
+extremity of his whip, and thus necessitating that amount of impatience
+which made the spirited animal stamp and champ his bit, the old lady read
+on undisturbed.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ask at what hour the doctor will be at home, Holt,&rdquo; cried he, peevishly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not till to-morrow, sir; he has gone to Castle Durrow.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Miss Dill, is she not in the house?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir; she has gone down to the 'Fisherman's Home' to look after the
+garden,&mdash;the family having left that place this morning.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+After a few minutes' reflection, Conyers ordered his servant to put up the
+horse at the inn, and wait for him there; and then engaging a &ldquo;cot,&rdquo; he
+set out for the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home.&rdquo; &ldquo;After having come so far, it would be
+absurd to go back without doing something in this business,&rdquo; thought he.
+&ldquo;Polly, besides, is the brains carrier of these people. The matter would
+be referred to her; and why should I not go at once, and directly address
+her myself? With her womanly tact, too, she will see that for any reserve
+in my manner there must be a corresponding reason, and she'll not press me
+with awkward questions or painful inquiries, as the underbred brother
+might do. It will be enough when I intimate to her that my plan is not so
+practicable as when I first projected it.&rdquo; He reassured himself with a
+variety of reasonings of this stamp, which had the double effect of
+convincing his own mind and elevating Miss Polly in his estimation. There
+is a very subtle self-flattery in believing that the true order of person
+to deal with us&mdash;to understand and appreciate us&mdash;is one
+possessed of considerable ability united with the very finest sensibility.
+Thus dreaming and &ldquo;mooning,&rdquo; he reached the &ldquo;Fisherman's Home.&rdquo; The air of
+desertion struck him even as he landed; and is there not some secret magic
+in the vicinity of life, of living people, which gives the soul to the
+dwelling-place? Have we to more than cross the threshold of the forsaken
+house to feel its desertion,&mdash;to know that our echoing step will
+track us along stair and corridor, and that through the thin streaks of
+light between the shutters phantoms of the absent will flit or hover,
+while the dimly descried objects of the room will bring memories of bright
+mornings and of happy eves? It is strange to measure the sadness of this
+effect upon us when caused even by the aspect of houses which we
+frequented not as friends but mere visitors; just as the sight of death
+thrills us, even though we had not loved the departed in his lifetime. But
+so it is: there is unutterable bitterness attached to the past, and there
+is no such sorrow as over the bygone!
+</p>
+<p>
+All about the little cottage was silent and desolate; even the shrill
+peacock, so wont to announce the coming stranger with his cry, sat
+voiceless and brooding on a branch; and except the dull flow of the river,
+not a sound was heard. After tapping lightly at the door and peering
+through the partially closed shutters, Conyers turned towards the garden
+at the back, passing as he went his favorite seat under the great
+sycamore-tree. It was not a widely separated &ldquo;long ago&rdquo; since he had sat
+there, and yet how different had life become to him in the interval! With
+what a protective air he had talked to poor Tom on that spot,&mdash;how
+princely were the promises of his patronage, yet not exaggerated beyond
+his conscious power of performance! He hurried on, and came to the little
+wicket of the garden; it was open, and he passed in. A spade in some
+fresh-turned earth showed where some one had recently been at work, but
+still, as he went, he could find none. Alley after alley did he traverse,
+but to no purpose; and at last, in his ramblings, he came to a little
+copse which separated the main garden from a small flower-plat, known as
+Miss Dinah's, and on which the windows of her own little sitting-room
+opened. He had but seen this spot from the windows, and never entered it;
+indeed, it was a sort of sacred enclosure, within which the profane step
+of man was not often permitted to intrude. Nor was Conyers without a sting
+of self-reproach as he now passed in. He had not gone many steps when the
+reason of the seclusion seemed revealed to him. It was a small obelisk of
+white marble under a large willow-tree, bearing for inscription on its
+side, &ldquo;To the Memory of George Barrington, the Truehearted, the Truthful,
+and the Brave, killed on the 19th February, 18&mdash;, at Agra, in the
+East Indies.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+How strange that he should be standing there beside the tomb of his
+father's dearest friend, his more than brother! That George who shared his
+joys and perils, the comrade of his heart! No two men had ever lived in
+closer bonds of affection, and yet somehow of all that love he had never
+heard his father speak, nor of the terrible fate that befell his friend
+had one syllable escaped him. &ldquo;Who knows if friendships ever survive early
+manhood?&rdquo; said Fred, bitterly, as he sat himself down at the base of the
+monument: &ldquo;and yet might not this same George Barrington, had he lived,
+been of priceless value to my father now? Is it not some such manly
+affection, such generous devotion as his, that he may stand in need of?&rdquo;
+ Thus thinking, his imagination led him over the wide sea to that
+far-distant land of his childhood, and scenes of vast arid plains and
+far-away mountains, and wild ghauts, and barren-looking nullahs,
+intersected with yellow, sluggish streams, on whose muddy shore the
+alligator basked, rose before him, contrasted with the gorgeous splendors
+of retinue and the glittering host of gold-adorned followers. It was in a
+vision of grand but dreary despotism, power almost limitless, but without
+one ray of enjoyment, that he lost himself and let the hours glide by. At
+length, as though dreamily, he thought he was listening to some faint but
+delicious music; sounds seemed to come floating towards him through the
+leaves, as if meant to steep him in a continued languor, and imparted a
+strange half-fear that he was under a spell. With an effort he aroused
+himself and sprang to his legs; and now he could plainly perceive that the
+sounds came through an open window, where a low but exquisitely sweet
+voice was singing to the accompaniment of a piano. The melody was sad and
+plaintive; the very words came dropping slowly, like the drops of a
+distilled grief; and they sank into his heart with a feeling of actual
+poignancy, for they were as though steeped in sorrow. When of a sudden the
+singer ceased, the hands ran boldly, almost wildly, over the keys; one,
+two, three great massive chords were struck, and then, in a strain joyous
+as the skylark, the clear voice carolled forth with,&mdash;
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+&ldquo;But why should we mourn for the grief of the morrow?
+Who knows in what frame it may find us?
+Meeker, perhaps, to bend under our sorrow,
+Or more boldly to fling it behind us.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+<p>
+And then, with a loud bang, the piano was closed, and Polly Dill, swinging
+her garden hat by its ribbon, bounded forth into the walk, calling for her
+terrier, Scratch, to follow.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Conyers here!&rdquo; cried she, in astonishment. &ldquo;What miracle could have
+led you to this spot?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To meet you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To meet me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;With no other object. I came from Kilkenny this morning expressly to see
+you, and learning at your house that you had come on here, I followed. You
+still look astonished,&mdash;incredulous&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no; not incredulous, but very much astonished. I am, it is true,
+sufficiently accustomed to find myself in request in my own narrow home
+circle, but that any one out of it should come three yards&mdash;not to
+say three miles&mdash;to speak to me, is, I own, very new and very
+strange.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is not this profession of humility a little&mdash;a very little&mdash;bit
+of exaggeration, Miss Dill?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is not the remark you have made on it a little&mdash;a very little&mdash;bit
+of a liberty, Mr. Conyers?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So little was he prepared for this retort that he flushed up to his
+forehead, and for an instant was unable to recover himself: meanwhile, she
+was busy in rescuing Scratch from a long bramble that had most
+uncomfortably associated itself with his tail, in gratitude for which
+service the beast jumped up on her with all the uncouth activity of his
+race.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He at least, Miss Dill, can take liberties unrebuked,&rdquo; said Conyers, with
+irritation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We are very old friends, sir, and understand each other's humors, not to
+say that Scratch knows well he 'd be tied up if he were to transgress.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers smiled; an almost irresistible desire to utter a smartness crossed
+his mind, and he found it all but impossible to resist saying something
+about accepting the bonds if he could but accomplish the transgression;
+but he bethought in time how unequal the war of banter would be between
+them, and it was with a quiet gravity he began: &ldquo;I came to speak to you
+about Tom&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, is that not all off? Colonel Hunter represented the matter so
+forcibly to my father, put all the difficulties so clearly before him,
+that I actually wrote to my brother, who had started for Dublin, begging
+him on no account to hasten the day of his examination, but to come home
+and devote himself carefully to the task of preparation.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is true, the Colonel never regarded the project as I did, and saw
+obstacles to its success which never occurred to me; with all that,
+however, he never convinced me I was wrong.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps not always an easy thing to do,&rdquo; said she, dryly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed! You seem to have formed a strong opinion on the score of my
+firmness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was expecting you to say obstinacy,&rdquo; said she, laughing, &ldquo;and was half
+prepared with a most abject retractation. At all events, I was aware that
+you did not give way.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And is the quality such a bad one?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just as a wind may be said to be a good or a bad one; due west, for
+instance, would be very unfavorable if you were bound to New York.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was the second time he had angled for a compliment, and failed; and he
+walked along at her side, fretful and discontented. &ldquo;I begin to suspect,&rdquo;
+ said he, at last, &ldquo;that the Colonel was far more eager to make himself
+agreeable here than to give fair play to my reasons.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was delightful, if you mean that; he possesses the inestimable boon of
+good spirits, which is the next thing to a good heart.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don't like depressed people, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won't say I dislike, but I dread them. The dear friends who go about
+with such histories of misfortune and gloomy reflections on every one's
+conduct always give me the idea of a person who should carry with him a
+watering-pot to sprinkle his friends in this Irish climate, where it rains
+ten months out of the twelve. There is a deal to like in life,&mdash;a
+deal to enjoy, as well as a deal to see and to do; and the spirit which we
+bring to it is even of more moment than the incidents that befall us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was the burden of your song awhile ago,&rdquo; said he, smiling; &ldquo;could I
+persuade you to sing it again?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are you dreaming of, Mr. Conyers? Is not this meeting here&mdash;this
+strolling about a garden with a young gentleman, a Hussar!&mdash;compromising
+enough, not to ask me to sit down at a piano and sing for him? Indeed, the
+only relief my conscience gives me for the imprudence of this interview is
+the seeing how miserable it makes <i>you</i>.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miserable!&mdash;makes <i>me</i> miserable!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, embarrassed,&mdash;uncomfortable,&mdash;ill at ease; I don't care
+for the word. You came here to say a variety of things, and you don't like
+to say them. You are balked in certain very kind intentions towards us,
+and you don't know how very little of even intended good nature has
+befallen us in life to make us deeply your debtor for the mere project.
+Why, your very notice of poor Tom has done more to raise him in his own
+esteem and disgust him with low associates than all the wise arguments of
+all his family. There, now, if you have not done us all the good you
+meant, be satisfied with what you really have done.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is very far short of what I intended.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course it is; but do not dwell upon that. I have a great stock of very
+fine intentions, too, but I shall not be in the least discouraged if I
+find them take wing and leave me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What would you do then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Raise another brood. They tell us that if one seed of every million of
+acorns should grow to be a tree, all Europe would be a dense forest within
+a century. Take heart, therefore, about scattered projects; fully their
+share of them come to maturity. Oh dear! what a dreary sigh you gave!
+Don't you imagine yourself very unhappy?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I did, I'd scarcely come to you for sympathy, certainly,&rdquo; said he,
+with a half-bitter smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are quite right there; not but that I could really condole with some
+of what I opine are your great afflictions: for instance, I could bestow
+very honest grief on that splint that your charger has just thrown out on
+his back tendon; I could even cry over the threatened blindness of that
+splendid steeple-chaser; but I 'd not fret about the way your pelisse was
+braided, nor because your new phaeton made so much noise with the axles.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; said Conyers, &ldquo;I have such a horse to show you! He is in the
+village. Might I drive him up here? Would you allow me to take you back?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not on any account, sir! I have grave misgivings about talking to you so
+long here, and I am mainly reconciled by remembering how disagreeable I
+have proved myself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How I wish I had your good spirits!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why don't you rather wish for my fortunate lot in life,&mdash;so secure
+from casualties, so surrounded with life's comforts, so certain to attach
+to it consideration and respect? Take my word for it, Mr. Conyers, your
+own position is not utterly wretched; it is rather a nice thing to be a
+Lieutenant of Hussars, with good health, a good fortune, and a fair
+promise of mustachios. There, now, enough of impertinence for one day. I
+have a deal to do, and you 'll not help me to do it. I have a whole
+tulip-bed to transplant, and several trees to remove, and a new walk to
+plan through the beech shrubbery, not to speak of a change of domicile for
+the pigs,&mdash;if such creatures can be spoken of in your presence. Only
+think, three o'clock, and that weary Darby not got back from his dinner!
+has it ever occurred to you to wonder at the interminable time people can
+devote to a meal of potatoes?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot say that I have thought upon the matter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pray do so, then; divide the matter, as a German would, into all its
+'Bearbeitungen,' and consider it ethnologically, esculently, and
+aesthetically, and you'll be surprised how puzzled you 'll be! Meanwhile,
+would you do me a favor?&mdash;I mean a great favor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I will; only say what it is.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well; but I 'm about to ask more than you suspect.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not retract. I am ready.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What I want, then, is that you should wheel that barrow-ful of mould as
+far as the melon-bed. I 'd have done it myself if you had not been here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+With a seriousness which cost him no small effort to maintain, Conyers
+addressed himself at once to the task; and she walked along at his side,
+with a rake over her shoulder, talking with the same cool unconcern she
+would have bestowed on Darby.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have often told Miss Barrington,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;that our rock melons were
+finer than hers, because we used a peculiar composite earth, into which
+ash bark and soot entered,&mdash;what you are wheeling now, in fact,
+however hurtful it may be to your feelings. There! upset it exactly on
+that spot; and now let me see if you are equally handy with a spade.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0021" id="linkimage-0021">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/276.jpg" width="100%" alt="276 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should like to know what my wages are to be after all this,&rdquo; said he,
+as he spread the mould over the bed.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We give boys about eightpence a day.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Boys! what do you mean by boys?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Everything that is not married is boy in Ireland; so don't be angry, or I
+'ll send you off. Pick up those stones, and throw these dock-weeds to one
+side.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You 'll send me a melon, at least, of my own raising, won't you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won't promise; Heaven knows where you'll be&mdash;where I 'll be, by
+that time! Would <i>you</i> like to pledge yourself to anything on the day
+the ripe fruit shall glow between those pale leaves?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps I might,&rdquo; said he, stealing a half-tender glance towards her.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I would not,&rdquo; said she, looking him full and steadfastly in the
+face.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then that means you never cared very much for any one?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I remember aright, you were engaged as a gardener, not as father
+confessor. Now, you are really not very expert at the former; but you 'll
+make sad work of the latter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have not a very exalted notion of my tact, Miss Dill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't know,&mdash;I'm not sure; I suspect you have at least what the
+French call 'good dispositions.' You took to your wheelbarrow very nicely,
+and you tried to dig&mdash;as little like a gentleman as need be.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if this does not bate Banagher, my name is n't Darby!&rdquo; exclaimed a
+rough voice, and a hearty laugh followed his words. &ldquo;By my conscience,
+Miss Polly, it's only yerself could do it; and it's truth they say of you,
+you 'd get fun out of an archdaycon!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers flung away his spade, and shook the mould from his boots in
+irritation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, don't be cross,&rdquo; said she, slipping her arm within his, and leading
+him away; &ldquo;don't spoil a very pleasant little adventure by ill humor. If
+these melons come to good, they shall be called after you. You know that a
+Duke of Montmartre gave his name to a gooseberry; so be good, and, like
+him, you shall be immortal.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should like very much to know one thing,&rdquo; said he, thoughtfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what may that be?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'd like to know,&mdash;are you ever serious?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not what you would call serious, perhaps; but I 'm very much in earnest,
+if that will do. That delightful Saxon habit of treating all trifles with
+solemnity I have no taste for. I'm aware it constitutes that great idol of
+English veneration, Respectability; but we have not got that sort of thing
+here. Perhaps the climate is too moist for it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm not a bit surprised that the Colonel fell in love with you,&rdquo; blurted
+he out, with a frank abruptness.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And did he,&mdash;oh, really did he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is the news so very agreeable, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course it is. I 'd give anything for such a conquest. There 's no
+glory in capturing one of those calf elephants who walk into the snare out
+of pure stupidity; but to catch an old experienced creature who has been
+hunted scores of times, and knows every scheme and artifice, every bait
+and every pitfall, there is a real triumph in that.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do I represent one of the calf elephants, then?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot think so. I have seen no evidence of your capture&mdash;not to
+add, nor any presumption of my own&mdash;to engage in such a pursuit. My
+dear Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said she, seriously, &ldquo;you have shown so much real
+kindness to the brother, you would not, I am certain, detract from it by
+one word which could offend the sister. We have been the best of friends
+up to this; let us part so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The sudden assumption of gravity in this speech seemed to disconcert him
+so much that he made no answer, but strolled along at her side, thoughtful
+and silent.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are you thinking of?&rdquo; said she, at last.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was just thinking,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;that by the time I have reached my
+quarters, and begin to con over what I have accomplished by this same
+visit of mine, I 'll be not a little puzzled to say what it is.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps I can help you. First of all, tell me what was your object in
+coming.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Chiefly to talk about Tom.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, we have done so. We have discussed the matter, and are fully agreed
+it is better he should not go to India, but stay at home here and follow
+his profession, like his father.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But have I said nothing about Hunter's offer?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a word; what is it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How stupid of me; what could I have been thinking of all this time?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Heaven knows; but what was the offer you allude to?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was this: that if Tom would make haste and get his diploma or his
+license, or whatever it is, at once, and collect all sorts of testimonials
+as to his abilities and what not, that he'd take him out with him and get
+him an assistant-surgeoncy in a regiment, and in time, perhaps, a
+staff-appointment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm not very certain that Tom could obtain his diploma at once. I 'm
+quite sure he could n't get any of those certificates you speak of. First
+of all, because he does not possess these same abilities you mention, nor,
+if he did, is there any to vouch for them. We are very humble people, Mr.
+Conyers, with a village for our world; and we contemplate a far-away
+country&mdash;India, for instance&mdash;pretty much as we should do Mars
+or the Pole-star.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As to that, Bengal is more come-at-able than the Great Bear,&rdquo; said he,
+laughing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;For you, perhaps, not for us. There is nothing more common in people's
+mouths than go to New Zealand or Swan River, or some far-away island in
+the Pacific, and make your fortune!&mdash;just as if every new and
+barbarous land was a sort of Aladdin's cave, where each might fill his
+pockets with gems and come out rich for life. But reflect a little. First,
+there is an outfit; next, there is a voyage; thirdly, there is need of a
+certain subsistence in the new country before plans can be matured to
+render it profitable. After all these come a host of requirements,&mdash;of
+courage, and energy, and patience, and ingenuity, and personal strength,
+and endurance, not to speak of the constitution of a horse, and some have
+said, the heartlessness of an ogre. <i>My</i> counsel to Tom would be, get
+the 'Arabian Nights' out of your head, forget the great Caliph Conyers and
+all his promises, stay where you are, and be a village apothecary.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+These words were uttered in a very quiet and matter-of-fact way, but they
+wounded Conyers more than the accents of passion. He was angry at the cold
+realistic turn of a mind so devoid of all heroism; he was annoyed at the
+half-implied superiority a keener view of life than his own seemed to
+assert; and he was vexed at being treated as a well-meaning but very
+inconsiderate and inexperienced young gentleman.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I to take this as a refusal,&rdquo; said he, stiffly; &ldquo;am I to tell Colonel
+Hunter that your brother does not accept his offer?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If it depended on me,&mdash;yes; but it does not. I 'll write to-night
+and tell Tom the generous project that awaits him; he shall decide for
+himself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know Hunter will be annoyed; he'll think it was through some bungling
+mismanagement of mine his plan has failed; he 'll be certain to say, If it
+was I myself bad spoken toner&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, there's no harm in letting him think so,&rdquo; said she, laughing. &ldquo;Tell
+him I think him charming, that I hope he 'll have a delightful voyage and
+a most prosperous career after it, that I intend to read the Indian
+columns in the newspaper from this day out, and will always picture him to
+my mind as seated in the grandest of howdabs on the very tallest of
+elephants, humming 'Rule Britannia' up the slopes of the Himalaya, and as
+the penny-a-liners say, extending the blessings of the English rule in
+India.&rdquo; She gave her hand to him, made a little salutation,&mdash;half
+bow, half courtesy,&mdash;and, saying &ldquo;Good-bye,&rdquo; turned back into the
+shrubbery and left him.
+</p>
+<p>
+He hesitated,&mdash;almost turned to follow her; waited a second or two
+more, and then, with an impatient toss of his head, walked briskly to the
+river-side and jumped into his boat. It was a sulky face that he wore, and
+a sulky spirit was at work within him. There is no greater discontent than
+that of him who cannot define the chagrin that consumes him. In reality,
+he was angry with himself, but he turned the whole force of his
+displeasure upon her.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose she is clever. I 'm no judge of that sort of thing; but, for my
+own part, I'd rather see her more womanly, more delicate. She has not a
+bit of heart, that's quite clear; nor, with all her affectations, does she
+pretend it.&rdquo; These were his first meditations, and after them he lit a
+cigar and smoked it. The weed was a good one; the evening was beautifully
+calm and soft, and the river scenery looked its very best. He tried to
+think of a dozen things: he imagined, for instance, what a picturesque
+thing a boat-race would be in such a spot; he fancied he saw a swift gig
+sweep round the point and head up the stream; he caught sight of a little
+open in the trees with a background of dark rock, and he thought what a
+place for a cottage. But whether it was the &ldquo;match&rdquo; or the &ldquo;chalet&rdquo; that
+occupied him, Polly Dill was a figure in the picture; and he muttered
+unconsciously, &ldquo;How pretty she is, what a deal of expression those
+gray-blue eyes possess! She's as active as a fawn, and to the full as
+graceful. Fancy her an Earl's daughter; give her station and all the
+advantages station will bring with it,&mdash;what a girl it would be! Not
+that she'd ever have a heart; I'm certain of that. She's as worldly&mdash;as
+worldly as&mdash;&rdquo; The exact similitude did not occur; but he flung the
+end of his cigar into the river instead, and sat brooding mournfully for
+the rest of the way.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXV. DUBLIN REVISITED
+</h2>
+<p>
+The first stage of the Barringtons' journey was Dublin. They alighted at
+Reynolds's Hotel, in Old Dominick Street, the once favorite resort of
+country celebrities. The house, it is true, was there, but Reynolds had
+long left for a land where there is but one summons and one reckoning;
+even the old waiter, Foster, whom people believed immortal, was gone; and
+save some cumbrous old pieces of furniture,&mdash;barbarous relics of bad
+taste in mahogany,&mdash;nothing recalled the past. The bar, where once on
+a time the &ldquo;Beaux&rdquo; and &ldquo;Bloods&rdquo; had gathered to exchange the smart things
+of the House or the hunting-field, was now a dingy little receptacle for
+umbrellas and overcoats, with a rickety case crammed full of
+unacknowledged and unclaimed letters, announcements of cattle fairs, and
+bills of houses to let. Decay and neglect were on everything, and the grim
+little waiter who ushered them upstairs seemed as much astonished at their
+coming as were they themselves with all they saw. It was not for some
+time, nor without searching inquiry, that Miss Dinah discovered that the
+tide of popular favor had long since retired from this quarter, and left
+it a mere barren strand, wreck-strewn and deserted. The house where
+formerly the great squire held his revels had now fallen to be the resort
+of the traveller by canal-boat, the cattle salesman, or the priest. While
+she by an ingenious cross-examination was eliciting these details,
+Barrington had taken a walk through the city to revisit old scenes and
+revive old memories. One needs not to be as old as Peter Barrington to
+have gone through this process and experienced all its pain.
+Unquestionably, every city of Europe has made within such a period as
+five-and-thirty or forty years immense strides of improvement. Wider and
+finer streets, more commodious thoroughfares, better bridges, lighter
+areas, more brilliant shops, strike one on every hand; while the more
+permanent monuments of architecture are more cleanly, more orderly, and
+more cared for than of old. We see these things with astonishment and
+admiration at first, and then there comes a pang of painful regret,&mdash;not
+for the old dark alley and the crooked street, or the tumbling arch of
+long ago,&mdash;but for the time when they were there, for the time when
+they entered into our daily life, when with them were associated friends
+long lost sight of, and scenes dimly fading away from memory. It is for
+our youth, for the glorious spring and elasticity of our once high-hearted
+spirit, of our lives so free of care, of our days undarkened by a serious
+sorrow,&mdash;it is for these we mourn, and to our eyes at such moments
+the spacious street is but a desert, and the splendid monument but a
+whitened sepulchre!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't think I ever had a sadder walk in my life, Dinah,&rdquo; said Peter
+Barrington, with a weary sigh. &ldquo;'Till I got into the courts of the
+College, I never chanced upon a spot that looked as I had left it. There,
+indeed, was the quaint old square as of old, and the great bell&mdash;bless
+it for its kind voice!&mdash;was ringing out a solemn call to something,
+that shook the window-frames, and made the very air tremulous; and a
+pale-faced student or two hurried past, and those centurions in the
+helmets,&mdash;ancient porters or Senior Fellows,&mdash;I forget which,&mdash;stood
+in a little knot to stare at me. That, indeed, was like old times, Dinah,
+and my heart grew very full with the memory. After that I strolled down to
+the Four Courts. I knew you 'd laugh, Dinah. I knew well you 'd say, 'Was
+there nothing going on in the King's Bench or the Common Pleas?' Well,
+there was only a Revenue case, my dear, but it was interesting, very
+interesting; and there was my old friend Harry Bushe sitting as the Judge.
+He saw me, and sent round the tipstaff to have me come up and sit on the
+bench with him, and we had many a pleasant remembrance of old times&mdash;as
+the cross-examination went on&mdash;between us, and I promised to dine
+with him on Saturday.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And on Saturday we will dine at Antwerp, brother, if I know anything of
+myself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure enough, sister, I forgot all about it Well, well, where could my
+head have been?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pretty much where you have worn it of late years, Peter Barrington. And
+what of Withering? Did you see him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Dinah, he was attending a Privy Council; but I got his address, and I
+mean to go over to see him after dinner.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please to bear in mind that you are not to form any engagements, Peter,&mdash;we
+leave this to-morrow evening by the packet,&mdash;if it was the Viceroy
+himself that wanted your company.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, dear, I never thought of such a thing. It was only when Harry
+said, 'You 'll be glad to meet Casey and Burrowes, and a few others of the
+old set,' I clean forgot everything of the present, and only lived in the
+long-past time, when life really was a very jolly thing.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did you find your friend looking?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Old, Dinah, very old! That vile wig has, perhaps, something to say to it;
+and being a judge, too, gives a sternness to the mouth and a haughty
+imperiousness to the brow. It spoils Harry; utterly spoils that laughing
+blue eye, and that fine rich humor that used to play about his lips.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which <i>did</i>, you ought to say,&mdash;which did some forty years ago.
+What are you laughing at, Peter? What is it amuses you so highly?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a charge of O'Grady's, that Harry told me,&mdash;a charge to one
+of those petty juries that, he says, never will go right, do what you may.
+The case was a young student of Trinity, tried for a theft, and whose
+defence was only by witnesses to character, and O'Grady said, 'Gentlemen
+of the jury, the issue before you is easy enough. This is a young
+gentleman of pleasing manners and the very best connections, who stole a
+pair of silk stockings, and you will find accordingly.' And what d'ye
+think, Dinah? They acquitted him, just out of compliment to the Bench.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I declare, brother Peter, such a story inspires any other sentiment than
+mirth to me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I laughed at it till my sides ached,&rdquo; said he, wiping his eyes. &ldquo;I took a
+peep into the Chancery Court and saw O'Connell, who has plenty of
+business, they tell me. He was in some altercation with the Court. Lord
+Manners was scowling at him, as if he hated him. I hear that no day passes
+without some angry passage between them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And is it of these jangling, quarrelsome, irritable, and insolent men
+your ideal of agreeable society is made up, brother Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a doubt of it, Dinah. All these displays are briefed to them. They
+cannot help investing in their client's cause the fervor of their natures,
+simply because they are human; but they know how to leave all the acrimony
+of the contest in the wig-box, when they undress and come back to their
+homes,&mdash;the most genial, hearty, and frank fellows in all the world.
+If human nature were all bad, sister, he who saw it closest would be, I
+own, most like to catch its corruption, but it is not so, far from it.
+Every day and every hour reveals something to make a man right proud of
+his fellow-men.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Miss Barrington curtly recalled her brother from these speculations to the
+practical details of their journey, reminding him of much that he had to
+consult Withering upon, and many questions of importance to put to him.
+Thoroughly impressed with the perils of a journey abroad, she conjured up
+a vast array of imaginary difficulties, and demanded special instructions
+how each of them was to be met. Had poor Peter been&mdash;what he
+certainly was not&mdash;a most accomplished casuist, he might have been
+puzzled by the ingenious complexity of some of those embarrassments. As it
+was, like a man in the labyrinth, too much bewildered to attempt escape,
+he sat down in a dogged insensibility, and actually heard nothing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you minding me, Peter?&rdquo; asked she, fretfully, at last; &ldquo;are you
+paying attention to what I am saying?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I am, Dinah dear; I'm listening with all ears.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was it, then, that I last remarked? What was the subject to which I
+asked your attention?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Thus suddenly called on, poor Peter started and rubbed his forehead. Vague
+shadows of passport people, and custom-house folk, and waiters, and
+money-changers, and brigands; insolent postilions, importunate beggars,
+cheating innkeepers, and insinuating swindlers were passing through his
+head, with innumerable incidents of the road; and, trying to catch a clew
+at random, he said, &ldquo;It was to ask the Envoy, her Majesty's Minister at
+Brussels, about a washerwoman who would not tear off my shirt buttons&mdash;eh,
+Dinah? wasn't that it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are insupportable, Peter Barrington,&rdquo; said she, rising in anger. &ldquo;I
+believe that insensibility like this is not to be paralleled!&rdquo; and she
+left the room in wrath.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter looked at his watch, and was glad to see it was past eight o'clock,
+and about the hour he meant for his visit to Withering. He set out
+accordingly, not, indeed, quite satisfied with the way he had lately
+acquitted himself, but consoled by thinking that Dinah rarely went back of
+a morning on the dereliction of the evening before, so that they should
+meet good friends as ever at the breakfast-table. Withering was at home,
+but a most discreet-looking butler intimated that he had dined that day <i>tête-à-tête</i>
+with a gentleman, and had left orders not to be disturbed on any pretext
+&ldquo;Could you not at least, send in my name?&rdquo; said Barrington; &ldquo;I am a very
+old friend of your master's, whom he would regret not having seen.&rdquo; A
+little persuasion aided by an argument that butlers usually succumb to
+succeeded, and before Peter believed that his card could have reached its
+destination, his friend was warmly shaking him by both hands, as he
+hurried him into the dinner-room.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don't know what an opportune visit you have made me, Barrington,&rdquo;
+ said he; &ldquo;but first, to present you to my friend, Captain Stapylton&mdash;or
+Major&mdash;which is it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Captain. This day week, the 'Gazette,' perhaps, may call me Major.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Always a pleasure to me to meet a soldier, sir,&rdquo; said Barrington; &ldquo;and I
+own to the weakness of saying, all the greater when a Dragoon. My own boy
+was a cavalryman.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was exactly of him we were talking,&rdquo; said Withering; &ldquo;my friend here
+has had a long experience of India, and has frankly told me much I was
+totally ignorant of. From one thing to another we rambled on till we came
+to discuss our great suit with the Company, and Captain Stapylton assures
+me that we have never taken the right road in the case.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, I could hardly have had such presumption; I merely remarked, that
+without knowing India and its habits, you could scarcely be prepared to
+encounter the sort of testimony that would be opposed to you, or to
+benefit by what might tend greatly in your favor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just so&mdash;continue,&rdquo; said Withering, who looked as though he had got
+an admirable witness on the table.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm astonished to hear from the Attorney-General,&rdquo; resumed Stapylton,
+&ldquo;that in a case of such magnitude as this you have never thought of
+sending out an efficient agent to India to collect evidence, sift
+testimony, and make personal inquiry as to the degree of credit to be
+accorded to many of the witnesses. This inquisitorial process is the very
+first step in every Oriental suit; you start at once, in fact, by sapping
+all the enemy's works,&mdash;countermining him everywhere.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Listen, Barrington,&mdash;listen to this; it is all new to us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Everything being done by documentary evidence, there is a wide field for
+all the subtlety of the linguist; and Hindostanee has complexities enough
+to gratify the most inordinate appetite for quibble. A learned scholar&mdash;a
+Moonshee of erudition&mdash;is, therefore, the very first requisite, great
+care being taken to ascertain that he is not in the pay of the enemy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What rascals!&rdquo; muttered Barrington.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very deep&mdash;very astute dogs, certainly, but perhaps not much more
+unprincipled than some fellows nearer home,&rdquo; continued the Captain,
+sipping his wine; &ldquo;the great peculiarity of this class is, that while
+employing them in the most palpably knavish manner, and obtaining from
+them services bought at every sacrifice of honor, they expect all the
+deference due to the most umblemished integrity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'd see them&mdash;I won't say where&mdash;first,&rdquo; broke out Barrington;
+&ldquo;and I 'd see my lawsuit after them, if only to be won by their
+intervention.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Remember, sir,&rdquo; said Stapylton, calmly, &ldquo;that such are the weapons
+employed against you. That great Company does not, nor can it afford to,
+despise such auxiliaries. The East has its customs, and the natures of men
+are not light things to be smoothed down by conventionalities. Were you,
+for instance, to measure a testimony at Calcutta by the standard of
+Westminster Hall, you would probably do a great and grievous injustice.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just so,&rdquo; said Withering; &ldquo;you are quite right there, and I have
+frequently found myself posed by evidence that I felt must be assailable.
+Go on, and tell my friend what you were mentioning to me before he came
+in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am reluctant, sir,&rdquo; said Stapylton, modestly, &ldquo;to obtrude upon you, in
+a matter of such grand importance as this, the mere gossip of a
+mess-table, but, as allusion has been made to it, I can scarcely refrain.
+It was when serving in another Presidency an officer of ours, who had been
+long in Bengal, one night entered upon the question of Colonel
+Barrington's claims. He quoted the words of an uncle&mdash;I think he said
+his uncle&mdash;who was a member of the Supreme Council, and said,
+'Barrington ought to have known we never could have conceded this right of
+sovereignty, but he ought also to have known that we would rather have
+given ten lacs of rupees than have it litigated.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you that gentleman's name?&rdquo; asked Barrington, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have; but the poor fellow is no more,&mdash;he was of that fatal
+expedition to Beloochistan eight years ago.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know our case, then, and what we claim?&rdquo; asked Barrington.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just as every man who has served in India knows it,&mdash;popularly,
+vaguely. I know that Colonel Barrington was, as the adopted son of a
+Rajah, invested with supreme power, and only needed the ratification of
+Great Britain to establish a sovereignty; and I have heard&rdquo;&mdash;he laid
+stress on the word &ldquo;heard&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;that if it had not been for some
+allegation of plotting against the Company's government, he really might
+ultimately have obtained that sanction.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just what I have said over and over again?&rdquo; burst in Barrington. &ldquo;It was
+the worst of treachery that mined my poor boy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have heard that also,&rdquo; said Stapylton, and with a degree of feeling and
+sympathy that made the old man's heart yearn towards him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How I wish you had known him!&rdquo; said he, as he drew his hand over his
+eyes. &ldquo;And do you know, sir,&rdquo; said he, warming, &ldquo;that if I still follow up
+this suit, devoting to it the little that is left to me of life or
+fortune, that I do so less for any hope of gain than to place my poor boy
+before the world with his honor and fame unstained.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My old friend does himself no more than justice there!&rdquo; cried Withering.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A noble object,&mdash;may you have all success in it!&rdquo; said Stapylton. He
+paused, and then, in a tone of deeper feeling, added: &ldquo;It will, perhaps,
+seem a great liberty, the favor I'm about to ask; but remember that, as a
+brother soldier with your son I have some slight claim to approach you.
+Will you allow me to offer you such knowledge as I possess of India, to
+aid your suit? Will you associate me, in fact, with your cause? No higher
+one could there be than the vindication of a brave man's honor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thank you with all my heart and soul!&rdquo; cried the old man, grasping his
+hand. &ldquo;In my own name, and in that of my poor dear granddaughter, I thank
+you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, then, Colonel Barrington has left a daughter? I was not aware of
+that,&rdquo; said Stapylton, with a certain coldness.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And a daughter who knows no more of this suit than of our present
+discussion of it,&rdquo; said Withering.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the frankness of a nature never happier than when indulging its own
+candor, Barrington told how it was to see and fetch back with him the same
+granddaughter he had left a spot he had not quitted for years. &ldquo;She 's
+coming back to a very humble home, it is true; but if you, sir,&rdquo; said he,
+addressing Stapylton, &ldquo;will not despise such lowly fare as a cottage can
+afford you, and would condescend to come and see us, you shall have the
+welcome that is due to one who wishes well to my boy's memory.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if you do,&rdquo; broke in Withering, &ldquo;you'll see the prettiest cottage and
+the first hostess in Europe; and here 's to her health,&mdash;Miss Dinah
+Barrington!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm not going to refuse that toast, though I have just passed the
+decanter,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Here 's to the best of sisters!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Barrington!&rdquo; said Stapylton, with a courteous bow; and he drained
+his glass to the bottom.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And that reminds me I promised to be back to tea with her,&rdquo; said
+Barrington; and renewing with all warmth his invitation to Stapylton, and
+cordially taking leave of his old friend, he left the house and hastened
+to his hotel.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a delightful evening I have passed, Dinah!&rdquo; said he, cheerfully, as
+he entered.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which means that the Attorney-General gave you a grand review and sham
+fight of all the legal achievements of the term; but bear in mind,
+brother, there is no professional slang so odious to me as the lawyer's,
+and I positively hate a joke which cost six-and-eightpence, or even
+three-and-fourpence.&rdquo; &lt;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing of this kind was there at all, Dinah! Withering had a friend with
+him, a very distinguished soldier, who had seen much Indian service, and
+entered with a most cordial warmth into poor George's case. He knew it,&mdash;as
+all India knows it, by report,&mdash;and frankly told us where our chief
+difficulties lay, and the important things we were neglecting.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How generous! of a perfect stranger too!&rdquo; said she, with a scarcely
+detectable tone of scorn.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not&mdash;so to say&mdash;an utter stranger, for George was known to him
+by reputation and character.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And who is, I suppose I am to say, your friend, Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Captain or Major Stapylton, of the Regent's Hussars?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! I know him,&mdash;or, rather, I know of him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What and how, Dinah? I am very curious to hear this.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Simply, that while young Conyers was at the cottage he showed me a letter
+from that gentleman, asking him in the Admiral's name, to Cobham, and
+containing, at the same time, a running criticism on the house and his
+guests far more flippant than creditable.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Men do these things every day, Dinah, and there is no harm in it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That all depends upon whom the man is. The volatile gayety of a
+high-spirited nature, eager for effect and fond of a sensation, will lead
+to many an indiscretion; but very different from this is the well-weighed
+sarcasm of a more serious mind, who not only shots his gun home, but takes
+time to sight ere he fires it. I hear that Captain Stapylton is a grand,
+cold, thoughtful man, of five or six-and-thirty. Is that so?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps he may be. He 's a splendid fellow to look at, and all the
+soldier. But you shall see for yourself, and I 'll warrant you 'll not
+harbor a prejudice against him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which means, you have asked him on a visit, brother Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Scarcely fair to call it on a visit, Dinah,&rdquo; blundered he out, in
+confusion; &ldquo;but I have said with what pleasure we should see him under our
+roof when we returned.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I solemnly declare my belief, that if you went to a cattle-show you 'd
+invite every one you met there, from the squire to the pig-jobber, never
+thinking the while that nothing is so valueless as indiscriminate
+hospitality, even if it were not costly. Nobody thanks you,&mdash;no one
+is grateful for it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And who wants them to be grateful, Dinah? The pleasure is in the giving,
+not in receiving. You see your friends with their holiday faces on, when
+they sit round the table. The slowest and dreariest of them tries to look
+cheery; and the stupid dog who has never a jest in him has at least a
+ready laugh for the wit of his neighbor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Does it not spoil some of your zest for this pleasantry to think how it
+is paid for, brother?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It might, perhaps, if I were to think of it; but, thank Heaven! it's
+about one of the last things would come into my head. My dear sister,
+there's no use in always treating human nature as if it was sick, for if
+you do, it will end by being hypochondriac!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I protest, brother Peter, I don't know where you meet all the good and
+excellent people you rave about, and I feel it very churlish of you that
+you never present any of them to <i>me!</i>&rdquo; And so saying, she gathered
+her knitting materials hastily together, and reminding him that it was
+past eleven o'clock, she uttered a hurried good-night, and departed.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXVI. A VERY SAD GOOD-BYE
+</h2>
+<p>
+Conyers sat alone in his barrack-room, very sad and dispirited. Hunter had
+left that same morning, and the young soldier felt utterly friendless. He
+had obtained some weeks' leave of absence, and already two days of the
+leave had gone over, and he had not energy to set out if he had even a
+thought as to the whither. A variety of plans passed vaguely through his
+head. He would go down to Portsmouth and see Hunter off; or he would
+nestle down in the little village of Inistioge and dream away the days in
+quiet forgetfulness; or he would go over to Paris, which he had never
+seen, and try whether the gay dissipations of that brilliant city might
+not distract and amuse him. The mail from India had arrived and brought no
+letter from his father, and this, too, rendered him irritable and unhappy.
+Not that his father was a good correspondent; he wrote but rarely, and
+always like one who snatched a hurried moment to catch a post. Still, if
+this were a case of emergency, any great or critical event in his life, he
+was sure his father would have informed him; and thus was it that he sat
+balancing doubt against doubt, and setting probability against
+probability, till his very head grew addled with the labor of speculation.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was already late; all the usual sounds of barrack life had subsided,
+and although on the opposite side of the square the brilliant lights of
+the mess-room windows showed where the convivial spirits of the regiment
+were assembled, all around was silent and still. Suddenly there came a
+dull heavy knock to the door, quickly followed by two or three others.
+</p>
+<p>
+Not caring to admit a visitor, whom, of course, he surmised would be some
+young brother-officer full of the plans and projects of the mess, he made
+no reply to the summons, nor gave any token of his presence. The sounds,
+however, were redoubled, and with an energy that seemed to vouch for
+perseverance; and Conyers, partly in anger, and partly in curiosity, went
+to the door and opened it. It was not till after a minute or two that he
+was able to recognize the figure before him. It was Tom Dill, but without
+a hat or neckcloth, his hair dishevelled, his face colorless, and his
+clothes torn, while from a recent wound in one hand the blood flowed fast,
+and dropped on the floor. The whole air and appearance of the young fellow
+so resembled drunkenness that Conyers turned a stern stare upon him as he
+stood in the centre of the room, and in a voice of severity said, &ldquo;By what
+presumption, sir, do you dare to present yourself in this state before
+me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You think I'm drunk, sir, but I am not,&rdquo; said he, with a faltering accent
+and a look of almost imploring misery.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is the meaning of this state, then? What disgraceful row have you
+been in?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;None, sir. I have cut my hand with the glass on the barrack-wall, and
+torn my trousers too; but it's no matter, I 'll not want them long.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean by all this? Explain yourself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I sit down, sir, for I feel very weak?&rdquo; but before the permission
+could be granted, his knees tottered, and he fell in a faint on the floor.
+Conyers knelt down beside him, bathed his temples with water, and as soon
+as signs of animation returned, took him up in his arms and laid him at
+full length on a sofa.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the vacant, meaningless glance of the poor fellow as he looked first
+around him, Conyers could mark how he was struggling to find out where he
+was.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are with me, Tom,&mdash;with your friend Conyers,&rdquo; said he, holding
+the cold clammy hand between his own.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, sir. It is very good of you. I do not deserve it,&rdquo; said he, in
+a faint whisper.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My poor boy, you mustn't say that; I am your friend. I told you already I
+would be so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you 'll not be my friend when I tell you&mdash;when I tell you&mdash;all;&rdquo;
+ and as the last word dropped, he covered his face with both his hands, and
+burst into a heavy passion of tears.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, come, Tom, this is not manly; bear up bravely, bear up with
+courage, man. You used to say you had plenty of pluck if it were to be
+tried.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So I thought I had, sir, but it has all left me;&rdquo; and he sobbed as if his
+heart was breaking. &ldquo;But I believe I could bear anything but this,&rdquo; said
+he, in a voice shaken by convulsive throes. &ldquo;It is the disgrace,&mdash;that
+'s what unmans me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take a glass of wine, collect yourself, and tell me all about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir. No wine, thank you; give me a glass of water. There, I am better
+now; my brain is not so hot. You are very good to me, Mr. Conyers, but it
+'s the last time I'll ever ask it,&mdash;the very last time, sir; but I
+'ll remember it all my life.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you give way in this fashion, Tom, I 'll not think you the
+stout-hearted fellow I once did.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir, nor am I. I 'll never be the same again. I feel it here. I feel
+as if something gave, something broke.&rdquo; And he laid his hand over his
+heart and sighed heavily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, take your own time about it, Tom, and let me hear if I cannot be of
+use to you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir, not now. Neither you nor any one else can help me now. It's all
+over, Mr. Conyers,&mdash;it's all finished.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is over,&mdash;what is finished?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And so, as I thought it would n't do for one like me to be seen speaking
+to you before people, I stole away and climbed over the barrack-wall. I
+cut my hand on the glass, too, but it's nothing. And here I am, and here's
+the money you gave me; I've no need of it now.&rdquo; And as he laid some
+crumpled bank-notes on the table, his overcharged heart again betrayed
+him, and he burst into tears. &ldquo;Yes, sir, that's what you gave me for the
+College, but I was rejected.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rejected, Tom! How was that? Be calm, my poor fellow, and tell me all
+about it quietly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'll try, sir, I will, indeed; and I'll tell you nothing but the truth,
+that you may depend upon.&rdquo; He took a great drink of water, and went on.
+&ldquo;If there was one man I was afraid of in the world, it was Surgeon Asken,
+of Mercer's Hospital. I used to be a dresser there, and he was always
+angry with me, exposing me before the other students, and ridiculing me,
+so that if anything was done badly in the wards, he 'd say, 'This is some
+of Master Dill's work, is n't it?' Well, sir, would you believe it, on the
+morning I went up for my examination, Dr. Coles takes ill, and Surgeon
+Asken is called on to replace him. I did n't know it till I was sent for
+to go in, and my head went round, and I could n't see, and a cold sweat
+came over me, and I was so confused that when I got into the room I went
+and sat down beside the examiners, and never knew what they were laughing
+at.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'I have no doubt, Mr. Dill, you 'll occupy one of these places at some
+future day,' says Dr. Willes, 'but for the present your seat is yonder.' I
+don't remember much more after that, till Mr. Porter said, 'Don't be so
+nervous, Mr. Dill; collect yourself; I am persuaded you know what I am
+asking you, if you will not be flurried.' And all I could say was, 'God
+bless you for that speech, no matter how it goes with me' and they all
+laughed out.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was Asken's turn now, and he began. 'You are destined for the navy, I
+understand, sir?'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'No, sir; for the army,' said I.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'From what we have seen to-day, you 'll prove an ornament to either
+service. Meanwhile, sir, it will be satisfactory to the court to have your
+opinion on gun-shot wounds. Describe to us the case of a man laboring
+under the worst form of concussion of the brain, and by what indications
+you would distinguish it from fracture of the base of the skull, and what
+circumstances might occur to render the distinction more difficult, and
+what impossible?' That was his question, and if I was to live a hundred
+years I 'll never forget a word in it,&mdash;it's written on my heart, I
+believe, for life.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Go on, sir,' said he, 'the court is waiting for you.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Take the case of concussion first,' said Dr. Willes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'I hope I may be permitted to conduct my own examination in my own
+manner,' said Asken.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That finished me, and I gave a groan that set them all laughing again.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Well, sir, I 'm waiting,' said Asken. 'You can have no difficulty to
+describe concussion, if you only give us your present sensations.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'That's as true as if you swore it,' said I. 'I 'm just as if I had a
+fall on the crown of my head. There's a haze over my eyes, and a ringing
+of bells in my ears, and a feeling as if my brain was too big.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Take my word for it, Mr. Dill,' said he, sneeringly, 'the latter is a
+purely deceptive sensation; the fault lies in the opposite direction. Let
+us, however, take something more simple;' and with that he described a
+splinter wound of the scalp, with the whole integuments torn in fragments,
+and gunpowder and sticks and sand all mixed up with the flap that hung
+down over the patient's face. 'Now,' said he, after ten minutes' detail of
+this,&mdash;'now,' said he, 'when you found the man in this case, you 'd
+take out your scalpel, perhaps, and neatly cut away all these bruised and
+torn integuments?'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'I would, sir,' cried I, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'I knew it,' said he, with a cry of triumph,&mdash;'I knew it. I 've no
+more to ask you. You may retire.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I got up to leave the room, but a sudden flash went through me, and I
+said out boldly,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Am I passed? Tell me at once. Put me out of pain, for I can't bear any
+more!'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'If you'll retire for a few minutes,' said the President&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'My heart will break, sir,' said I, 'if I 'm to be in suspense any more.
+Tell me the worst at once.'
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I suppose they did tell me, for I knew no more till I found myself in
+the housekeeper's room, with wet cloths on my head, and the money you see
+there in the palm of my hand. <i>That</i> told everything. Many were very
+kind to me, telling how it happened to this and to that man, the first
+time; and that Asken was thought very unfair, and so on; but I just washed
+my face with cold water, and put on my hat and went away home, that is, to
+where I lodged, and I wrote to Polly just this one line: 'Rejected; I 'm
+not coming back.' And then I shut the shutters and went to bed in my
+clothes as I was, and I slept sixteen hours without ever waking. When I
+awoke, I was all right. I could n't remember everything that happened for
+some time, but I knew it all at last, and so I went off straight to the
+Royal Barracks and 'listed.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Enlisted?&mdash;enlisted?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir, in the Forty-ninth Regiment of Foot, now in India, and sending
+off drafts from Cork to join them on Tuesday. It was out of the dépôt at
+the bridge I made my escape to-night to come and see you once more, and to
+give you this with my hearty blessing, for you were the only one ever
+stood to me in the world,&mdash;the only one that let me think for a
+moment I <i>could</i> be a gentleman!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, come, this is all wrong and hasty and passionate, Tom. You have no
+right to repay your family in this sort; this is not the way to treat that
+fine-hearted girl who has done so much for you; this is but an outbreak of
+angry selfishness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;These are hard words, sir, very hard words, and I wish you had not said
+them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hard or not, you deserve them; and it is their justice that wounds you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won't say that it is <i>not</i>, sir. But it isn't justice I 'm asking
+for, but forgiveness. Just one word out of your mouth to say, 'I 'm sorry
+for you, Tom;' or, 'I wish you well.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So I do, my poor fellow, with all my heart,&rdquo; cried Con-yers, grasping his
+hand and pressing it cordially, &ldquo;and I 'll get you out of this scrape,
+cost what it may.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you mean, sir, that I am to get my discharge, it's better to tell the
+truth at once. I would n't take it. No, sir, I 'll stand by what I 've
+done. I see I never could be a doctor, and I have my doubts, too, if I
+ever could be a gentleman; but there's something tells me I could be a
+soldier, and I'll try.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers turned from him with an impatient gesture, and walked the room in
+moody silence.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know well enough, sir,&rdquo; continued Tom, &ldquo;what every one will say;
+perhaps you yourself are thinking it this very minute: 'It 's all out of
+his love of low company he 's gone and done this; he's more at home with
+those poor ignorant boys there than he would be with men of education and
+good manners.' Perhaps it's true, perhaps it is 'n't! But there 's one
+thing certain, which is, that I 'll never try again to be anything that I
+feel is clean above me, and I 'll not ask the world to give me credit for
+what I have not the least pretension to.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you reflected,&rdquo; said Conyers, slowly, &ldquo;that if you reject my
+assistance now, it will be too late to ask for it a few weeks, or even a
+few days hence?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I <i>have</i> thought of all that, sir. I 'll never trouble you about
+myself again.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Tom,&rdquo; said Conyers, as he laid his arm on the other's shoulder,
+&ldquo;just think for one moment of all the misery this step will cause your
+sister,&mdash;that kind, true-hearted sister, who has behaved so nobly by
+you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have thought of that, too, sir; and in my heart I believe, though she
+'ll fret herself at first greatly, it will all turn out best in the end.
+What could I ever be but a disgrace to her? Who 'd ever think the same of
+Polly after seeing <i>me?</i> Don't I bring her down in spite of herself;
+and is n't it a hard trial for her to be a lady when I am in the same room
+with her? No, sir, I'll not go back; and though I haven't much hope in me,
+I feel I'm doing right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know well,&rdquo; said Conyers, pettishly, &ldquo;that your sister will throw the
+whole blame on me. She 'll say, naturally enough, <i>You</i> could have
+obtained his discharge,&mdash;<i>you</i> should have insisted on his
+leaving.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That's what you could not, sir,&rdquo; said Tom, sturdily. &ldquo;It's a poor heart
+hasn't some pride in it; and I would not go back and meet my father, after
+my disgrace, if it was to cost me my right hand,&mdash;so don't say
+another word about it. Good-bye, sir, and my blessing go with you wherever
+you are. I 'll never forget how you stood to me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That money there is yours, Dill,&rdquo; said Conyers, half haughtily. &ldquo;You may
+refuse my advice and reject my counsel, but I scarcely suppose you 'll ask
+me to take back what I once have given.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Tom tried to speak, but he faltered and moved from one foot to the other,
+in an embarrassed and hesitating way. He wanted to say how the sum
+originally intended for one object could not honestly be claimed for
+another; he wanted to say, also, that he had no longer the need of so much
+money, and that the only obligation he liked to submit to was gratitude
+for the past; but a consciousness that in attempting to say these things
+some unhappy word, some ill-advised or ungracious expression might escape
+him, stopped him, and he was silent.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You do not wish that we should part coldly, Tom?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir,&mdash;oh, no!&rdquo; cried he, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then let not that paltry gift stand in the way of our esteem. Now,
+another thing. Will you write to me? Will you tell me how the world fares
+with you, and honestly declare whether the step you have taken to-day
+brings with it regret or satisfaction?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm not over-much of a letter-writer,&rdquo; said he, falter-ingly, &ldquo;but I'll
+try. I must be going, Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said he, after a moment's silence; &ldquo;I
+must get back before I'm missed.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not as you came, Tom, however. I'll pass you out of the barrack-gate.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+As they walked along side by side, neither spoke till they came close to
+the gate; then Conyers halted and said, &ldquo;Can you think of nothing I can do
+for you, or is there nothing you would leave to my charge after you have
+gone?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir, nothing.&rdquo; He paused, and then, as if with a struggle, said,
+&ldquo;Except you 'd write one line to my sister Polly, to tell her that I went
+away in good heart, that I did n't give in one bit, and that if it was n't
+for thinking that maybe I 'd never see her again&mdash;&rdquo; He faltered, his
+voice grew thick, he tried to cough down the rising emotion, but the
+feeling overcame him, and he burst out into tears. Ashamed at the weakness
+he was endeavoring to deny, he sprang through the gate and disappeared.
+</p>
+<p>
+Conyers slowly returned to his quarters, very thoughtful and very sad.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXVII. THE CONVENT ON THE MEUSE
+</h2>
+<p>
+While poor Tom Dill, just entering upon life, went forth in gloom and
+disappointment to his first venture, old Peter Barrington, broken by years
+and many a sorrow, set out on his journey with a high heart and a spirit
+well disposed to see everything in its best light and be pleased with all
+around him. Much of this is, doubtless, matter of temperament; but I
+suspect, too, that all of us have more in our power in this way than we
+practise. Barrington had possibly less merit than his neighbors, for
+nature had given him one of those happy dispositions upon which the
+passing vexations of life produce scarcely any other effect than a
+stimulus to humor, or a tendency to make them the matter of amusing
+memory.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had lived, besides, so long estranged from the world, that life had for
+him all the interests of a drama, and he could no more have felt angry
+with the obtrusive waiter or the roguish landlord than he would with their
+fictitious representatives on the stage. They were, in his eyes, parts
+admirably played, and no more; he watched them with a sense of humorous
+curiosity, and laughed heartily at successes of which he was himself the
+victim. Miss Barrington was no disciple of this school; rogues to her were
+simply rogues, and no histrionic sympathies dulled the vexation they gave
+her. The world, out of which she had lived so long, had, to her thinking,
+far from improved in the mean while. People were less deferential, less
+courteous than of old. There was an indecent haste and bustle about
+everything, and a selfish disregard of one's neighbor was the marked
+feature of all travel. While her brother repaid himself for many an
+inconvenience by thinking over some strange caprice, or some curious
+inconsistency in human nature,&mdash;texts for amusing afterthought,&mdash;she
+only winced under the infliction, and chafed at every instance of cheating
+or impertinence that befell them.
+</p>
+<p>
+The wonderful things she saw, the splendid galleries rich in art, the
+gorgeous palaces, the grand old cathedrals, were all marred to her by the
+presence of the loquacious lackey whose glib tongue had to be retained at
+the salary of the &ldquo;vicar of our parish,&rdquo; and who never descanted on a
+saint's tibia without costing the price of a dinner; so that old Peter at
+last said to himself, &ldquo;I believe my sister Dinah would n't enjoy the
+garden of Eden if Adam had to go about and show her its beauties.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The first moment of real enjoyment of her tour was on that morning when
+they left Namur to drive to the Convent of Bramaigne, about three miles
+off, on the banks of the Meuse. A lovelier day never shone upon a lovelier
+scene. The river, one side guarded by lofty cliffs, was on the other
+bounded by a succession of rich meadows, dotted with picturesque
+homesteads half hidden in trees. Little patches of cultivation, labored to
+the perfection of a garden, varied the scene, and beautiful cattle lay
+lazily under the giant trees, solemn voluptuaries of the peaceful
+happiness of their lot.
+</p>
+<p>
+Hitherto Miss Dinah had stoutly denied that anything they had seen could
+compare with their own &ldquo;vale and winding river,&rdquo; but now she frankly owned
+that the stream was wider, the cliffs higher, the trees taller and better
+grown, while the variety of tint in the foliage far exceeded all she had
+any notion of; but above all these were the evidences of abundance, the
+irresistible charm that gives the poetry to peasant life; and the
+picturesque cottage, the costume, the well-stored granary, bespeak the
+condition with which we associate our ideas of rural happiness. The giant
+oxen as they marched proudly to their toil, the gay-caparisoned pony who
+jingled his bells as he trotted by, the peasant girls as they sat at their
+lace cushions before the door, the rosy urchins who gambolled in the deep
+grass, all told of plenty,&mdash;that blessing which to man is as the
+sunlight to a landscape, making the fertile spots more beautiful, and
+giving even to ruggedness an aspect of stern grandeur.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, brother Peter, that we could see something like this at home,&rdquo; cried
+she. &ldquo;See that girl yonder watering the flowers in her little garden,&mdash;how
+prettily that old vine is trained over the balcony,&mdash;mark the scarlet
+tassels in the snow-white team,&mdash;are not these signs of an existence
+not linked to daily drudgery? I wish our people could be like these.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here we are, Dinah: there is the convent!&rdquo; cried Barrington, as a tall
+massive roof appeared over the tree-tops, and the little carriage now
+turned from the high-road into a shady avenue of tall elms. &ldquo;What a grand
+old place it is! some great seigniorial château once on a time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+As they drew nigh, nothing bespoke the cloister. The massive old building,
+broken by many a projection and varied by many a gable, stood, like the
+mansion of some rich proprietor, in a vast wooded lawn. The windows lay
+open, the terrace was covered with orange and lemon trees and flowering
+plants, amid which seats were scattered; and in the rooms within, the
+furniture indicated habits of comfort and even of luxury. With all this,
+no living thing was to be seen; and when Barrington got down and entered
+the hall, he neither found a servant nor any means to summon one.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You'll have to move that little slide you see in the door there,&rdquo; said
+the driver of the carriage, &ldquo;and some one will come to you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He did so; and after waiting a few moments, a somewhat ruddy, cheerful
+face, surmounted by a sort of widow's cap, appeared, and asked his
+business.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They are at dinner, but if you will enter the drawing-room she will come
+to you presently.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+They waited for some time; to them it seemed very long, for they never
+spoke, but sat there in still thoughtfulness, their hearts very full, for
+there was much in that expectancy, and all the visions of many a wakeful
+night or dreary day might now receive their shock or their support. Their
+patience was to be further tested; for, when the door opened, there
+entered a grim-looking little woman in a nun's costume, who, without
+previous salutation, announced herself as Sister Lydia. Whether the
+opportunity for expansiveness was rare, or that her especial gift was
+fluency, never did a little old woman hold forth more volubly. As though
+anticipating all the worldly objections to a conventual existence, or
+rather seeming to suppose that every possible thing had been actually said
+on that ground, she assumed the defence the very moment she sat down.
+Nothing short of long practice with this argument could have stored her
+mind with all her instances, her quotations, and her references. Nor could
+anything short of a firm conviction have made her so courageously
+indifferent to the feelings she was outraging, for she never scrupled to
+arraign the two strangers before her for ignorance, apathy, worldliness,
+sordid and poor ambitions, and, last of all, a levity unbecoming their
+time of life.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0023" id="linkimage-0023">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/304.jpg" width="100%" alt="304 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I 'm not quite sure that I understand her aright,&rdquo; whispered Peter, whose
+familiarity with French was not what it had once been; &ldquo;but if I do,
+Dinah, she 's giving us a rare lesson.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She's the most insolent old woman I ever met in my life,&rdquo; said his
+sister, whose violent use of her fan seemed either likely to provoke or to
+prevent a fit of apoplexy.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is usual,&rdquo; resumed Sister Lydia, &ldquo;to give persons who are about to
+exercise the awful responsibility now devolving upon you the opportunity
+of well weighing and reflecting over the arguments I have somewhat faintly
+shadowed forth.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, not faintly!&rdquo; groaned Barrington.
+</p>
+<p>
+But she minded nothing the interruption, and went on,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And for this purpose a little tract has been composed, entitled 'A Word
+to the Worldling.' This, with your permission, I will place in your hands.
+You will there find at more length than I could bestow&mdash;But I fear I
+impose upon this lady's patience?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It has left me long since, madam,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, as she actually
+gasped for breath.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the grim half-smile of the old nun might be seen the triumphant
+consciousness that placed her above the &ldquo;mundane;&rdquo; but she did not resent
+the speech, simply saying that, as it was the hour of recreation, perhaps
+she would like to see her young ward in the garden with her companions.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By all means. We thank you heartily for the offer,&rdquo; cried Barrington,
+rising hastily.
+</p>
+<p>
+With another smile, still more meaningly a reproof, Sister Lydia reminded
+him that the profane foot of a man had never transgressed the sacred
+precincts of the convent garden, and that he must remain where he was.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;For Heaven's sake! Dinah, don't keep me a prisoner here a moment longer
+than you can help it,&rdquo; cried he, &ldquo;or I'll not answer for my good
+behavior.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+As Barrington paced up and down the room with impatient steps, he could
+not escape the self-accusation that all his present anxiety was scarcely
+compatible with the long, long years of neglect and oblivion he had
+suffered to glide over.
+</p>
+<p>
+The years in which he had never heard of Josephine&mdash;never asked for
+her&mdash;was a charge there was no rebutting. Of course he could fall
+back upon all that special pleading ingenuity and self-love will supply
+about his own misfortunes, the crushing embarrassments that befell him,
+and such like. But it was no use, it was desertion, call it how he would;
+and poor as he was he had never been without a roof to shelter her, and if
+it had not been for false pride he would have offered her that refuge long
+ago. He was actually startled as he thought over all this. Your generous
+people, who forgive injuries with little effort, who bear no malice nor
+cherish any resentment, would be angels&mdash;downright angels&mdash;if we
+did not find that they are just as indulgent, just as merciful to
+themselves as to the world at large. They become perfect adepts in
+apologies, and with one cast of the net draw in a whole shoal of
+attenuating circumstances. To be sure, there will now and then break in
+upon them a startling suspicion that all is not right, and that conscience
+has been &ldquo;cooking&rdquo; the account; and when such a moment does come, it is a
+very painful one.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Egad!&rdquo; muttered he to himself, &ldquo;we have been very heartless all this
+time, there's no denying it; and if poor George's girl be a disciple of
+that grim old woman with the rosary and the wrinkles, it is nobody's fault
+but our own.&rdquo; He looked at his watch; Dinah had been gone more than half
+an hour. What a time to keep him in suspense! Of course there were
+formalities,&mdash;the Sister Lydia described innumerable ones,&mdash;jail
+delivery was nothing to it, but surely five-and-thirty minutes would
+suffice to sign a score of documents. The place was becoming hateful to
+him. The grand old park, with its aged oaks, seemed sad as a graveyard,
+and the great silent house, where not a footfall sounded, appeared a tomb.
+&ldquo;Poor child! what a dreary spot you have spent your brightest years in,&mdash;what
+a shadow to throw over the whole of a lifetime!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He had just arrived at that point wherein his granddaughter arose before
+his mind a pale, careworn, sorrow-struck girl, crushed beneath the dreary
+monotony of a joyless life, and seeming only to move in a sort of dreamy
+melancholy, when the door opened, and Miss Barrington entered with her arm
+around a young girl tall as herself, and from whose commanding figure even
+the ungainly dress she wore could not take away the dignity.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is Josephine, Peter,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah; and though Barrington rushed
+forward to clasp her in his arms, she merely crossed hers demurely on her
+breast and courtesied deeply.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is your grandpapa, Josephine,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, half tartly.
+</p>
+<p>
+The young girl opened her large, full, lustrous eyes, and stared
+steadfastly at him, and then, with infinite grace, she took his hand and
+kissed it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My own dear child,&rdquo; cried the old man, throwing his arms around her, &ldquo;it
+is not homage, it is your love we want.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take care, Peter, take care,&rdquo; whispered his sister; &ldquo;she is very timid
+and very strange.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You speak English, I hope, dear?&rdquo; said the old man.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir, I like it best,&rdquo; said she. And there was the very faintest
+possible foreign accent in the words.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is n't that George's own voice, Dinah? Don't you think you heard himself
+there?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The voice is certainly like him,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, with a marked
+emphasis.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And so are&mdash;no, not her eyes, but her brow, Dinah. Yes, darling, you
+have his own frank look, and I feel sure you have his own generous
+nature.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They say I'm like my mother's picture,&rdquo; said she, unfastening a locket
+she wore from its chain and handing it. And both Peter and his sister
+gazed eagerly at the miniature. It was of a very dark but handsome woman
+in a rich turban, and who, though profusely ornamented with costly gems,
+did, in reality, present a resemblance to the cloistered figure before
+them.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I like her?&rdquo; asked the girl, with a shade more of earnestness in her
+voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are, darling; but like your father, too, and every word you utter
+brings back his memory; and see, Dinah, if that is n't George's old trick,&mdash;to
+lay one hand in the palm of the other.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+As if corrected, the young girl dropped her arms to her sides and stood
+like a statue.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be like him in everything, dearest child,&rdquo; said the old man, &ldquo;if you
+would have my heart all your own.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must be what I am,&rdquo; said she, solemnly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just so, Josephine; well said, my good girl. Be natural,&rdquo; said Miss
+Dinah, kissing her, &ldquo;and our love will never fail you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was the faintest little smile of acknowledgment to this speech; but
+faint as it was, it dimpled her cheek, and seemed to have left a pleasant
+expression on her face, for old Peter gazed on her with increased delight
+as he said, &ldquo;That was George's own smile; just the way he used to look,
+half grave, half merry. Oh, how you bring him back tome!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You see, my dear child, that you are one of us; let us hope you will
+share in the happiness this gives us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The girl listened attentively to Miss Dinah's words, and after a pause of
+apparent thought over them, said, &ldquo;I will hope so.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May we leave this, Dinah? Are we free to get away?&rdquo; whispered Barrington
+to his sister, for an unaccountable oppression seemed to weigh on him,
+both from the place and its belongings.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; Josephine has only one good-bye to say; her trunks are already on
+the carriage, and there is nothing more to detain us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go and say that farewell, dear child,&rdquo; said he, affectionately; &ldquo;and be
+speedy, for there are longing hearts here to wish for your return.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+With a grave and quiet mien she walked away, and as she gained the door
+turned round and made a deep, respectful courtesy,&mdash;a movement so
+ceremonious that the old man involuntarily replied to it by a bow as deep
+and reverential.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXVIII. GEORGE'S DAUGHTER
+</h2>
+<p>
+I suppose, nay, I am certain, that the memory of our happiest moments
+ought ever to be of the very faintest and weakest, since, could we recall
+them in all their fulness and freshness, the recollection would only serve
+to deepen the gloom of age, and imbitter all its daily trials. Nor is it,
+altogether, a question of memory! It is in the very essence of happiness
+to be indescribable. Who could impart in words the simple pleasure he has
+felt as he lay day-dreaming in the deep grass, lulled by the humming
+insect, or the splash of falling water, with teeming fancy peopling the
+space around, and blending the possible with the actual? The more
+exquisite the sense of enjoyment, the more will it defy delineation. And
+so, when we come to describe the happiness of others, do we find our words
+weak, and our attempt mere failure.
+</p>
+<p>
+It is in this difficulty that I now find myself. I would tell, if I could,
+how enjoyably the Barringtons sauntered about through the old villages on
+the Rhine and up the Moselle, less travelling than strolling along in
+purposeless indolence, resting here, and halting there, always interested,
+always pleased. It was strange into what perfect harmony these three
+natures&mdash;unlike as they were&mdash;blended!
+</p>
+<p>
+Old Peter's sympathies went with all things human, and he loved to watch
+the village life and catch what he could of its ways and instincts. His
+sister, to whom the love of scenery was a passion, never wearied of the
+picturesque land they travelled; and as for Josephine, she was no longer
+the demure pensionnaire of the convent,&mdash;thoughtful and reserved,
+even to secrecy,&mdash;but a happy child, revelling in a thousand senses
+of enjoyment, and actually exulting in the beauty of all she saw around
+her. What depression must come of captivity, when even its faintest image,
+the cloister, could have weighed down a heart like hers! Such was
+Barrington's thought as he beheld her at play with the peasant children,
+weaving garlands for a village <i>fête</i>, or joyously joining the chorus
+of a peasant song. There was, besides, something singularly touching in
+the half-consciousness of her freedom, when recalled for an instant to the
+past by the tinkling bell of a church. She would seem to stop in her play,
+and bethink her how and why she was there, and then, with a cry of joy,
+bound away after her companions in wild delight.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dearest aunt,&rdquo; said she, one day, as they sat on a rocky ledge over the
+little river that traverses the Lahnech, &ldquo;shall I always find the same
+enjoyment in life that I feel now, for it seems to me this is a measure of
+happiness that could not endure?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some share of this is owing to contrast, Fifine. Your convent life had
+not too many pleasures.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was, or rather it seems to me now, as I look back, a long and weary
+dream; but, at the same time, it appears more real than this; for do what
+I may I cannot imagine this to be the world of misery and sorrow I have
+heard so much of. Can any one fancy a scene more beautiful than this
+before us? Where is the perfume more exquisite than these violets I now
+crush in my hand? The peasants, as they salute us, look happy and
+contented. Is it, then, only in great cities that men make each other
+miserable?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Dinah shook her head, but did not speak.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am so glad grandpapa does not live in a city. Aunt, I am never wearied
+of hearing you talk of that dear cottage beside the river; and through all
+my present delight I feel a sense of impatience to be there, to be at
+'home.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that you will not hold us to our pledge to bring you back to
+Bramaigne, Fifine,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, smiling.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh no, no! Not if you will let me live with you. Never!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you have been happy up to this, Fifine? You have said over and over
+again that your convent life was dear to you, and all its ways pleasant.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is just the same change to me to live as I now do, as in my heart I
+feel changed after reading out one of those delightful stories to
+grandpapa,&mdash;Rob Roy, for instance. It all tells of a world so much
+more bright and beautiful than I know of, that it seems as though new
+senses were given to me. It is so strange and so captivating, too, to hear
+of generous impulses, noble devotion,&mdash;of faith that never swerved,
+and love that never faltered.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In novels, child; these were in novels.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;True, aunt; but they had found no place there had they been incredible;
+at least, it is clear that he who tells the tale would have us believe it
+to be true.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Miss Dinah had not been a convert to her brother's notions as to Fifine's
+readings; and she was now more disposed to doubt than ever. To overthrow
+of a sudden, as though by a great shock, all the stem realism of a
+cloister existence, and supply its place with fictitious incidents and
+people, seemed rash and perilous; but old Peter only thought of giving a
+full liberty to the imprisoned spirit,&mdash;striking off chain and
+fetter, and setting the captive free,&mdash;free in all the glorious
+liberty of a young imagination.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, here comes grandpapa,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, &ldquo;and, if I don't mistake,
+with a book in his hand for one of your morning readings.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Josephine ran eagerly to meet him, and, fondly drawing her arm within his
+own, came back at his side.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The third volume, Fifine, the third volume,&rdquo; said he, holding the book
+aloft. &ldquo;Only think, child, what fates are enclosed within a third volume!
+What a deal of happiness or long-living misery are here included!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<a name="linkimage-0025" id="linkimage-0025">
+<!-- IMG --></a>
+</p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
+<img src="images/312.jpg" width="100%" alt="312 " />
+</div>
+<p>
+She straggled to take the book from his hand, but he evaded her grasp, and
+placed it in his pocket, saying,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not till evening, Fifine. I am bent on a long ramble up the Glen this
+morning, and you shall tell me all about the sisterhood, and sing me one
+of those little Latin canticles I'm so fond of.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Meanwhile, I 'll go and finish my letter to Polly Dill. I told her,
+Peter, that by Thursday next, or Friday, she might expect us.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope so, with all my heart; for, beautiful as all this is, it wants the
+greatest charm,&mdash;it's not home! Then I want, besides, to see Fifine
+full of household cares.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Feeding the chickens instead of chasing the butterflies, Fifine. Totting
+up the house-bills, in lieu of sighing over 'Waverley.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And, if I know Fifine, she will be able to do one without relinquishing
+the other,&rdquo; said Peter, gravely. &ldquo;Our daily life is all the more beautiful
+when it has its landscape reliefs of light and shadow.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I could, too,&rdquo; cried Fifine, eagerly. &ldquo;I feel as though I could
+work in the fields and be happy, just in the conscious sense of doing what
+it was good to do, and what others would praise me for.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There's a paymaster will never fail you in such hire,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah,
+pointing to her brother; and then, turning away, she walked back to the
+little inn. As she drew nigh, the landlord came to tell her that a young
+gentleman, on seeing her name in the list of strangers, had made many
+inquiries after her, and begged he might be informed of her return. On
+learning that he was in the garden, she went thither at once.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I felt it was you. I knew who had been asking for me, Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said
+she, advancing towards Fred with her hand out. &ldquo;But what strange chance
+could have led you here?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have just said it, Miss Barrington; a chance,&mdash;a mere chance. I
+had got a short leave fron| my regiment, and came abroad to wander about
+with no very definite object; but, growing impatient of the wearisome
+hordes of our countrymen on the Rhine, I turned aside yesterday from that
+great high-road and reached this spot, whose greatest charm&mdash;shall I
+own it?&mdash;was a fancied resemblance to a scene I loved far better.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are right. It was only this morning my brother said it was so like
+our own cottage.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he is here also?&rdquo; said the young man, with a half-constraint.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, and very eager to see you, and ask your forgive ness for his
+ungracious manner to you; not that I saw it, or understand what it could
+mean, but he says that he has a pardon to crave at your hands.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So confused was Conyers for an instant that he made no answer, and when he
+did speak it was falteringly and with embarrassment, &ldquo;I never could have
+anticipated meeting you here. It is more good fortune than I ever looked
+for.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We came over to the Continent to fetch away my grand-niece, the daughter
+of that Colonel Barrington you have heard so much of.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And is she&mdash;&rdquo; He stopped, and grew scarlet with confusion; but she
+broke in, laughingly,&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, not black, only dark-complexioned; in fact, a brunette, and no more.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I don't mean,&mdash;I surely could not have said&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No matter what you meant or said. Your unuttered question was one that
+kept occurring to my brother and myself every morning as we journeyed
+here, though neither of us had the courage to speak it. But our wonders
+are over; she is a dear good, girl, and we love her better every day we
+see her. But now a little about yourself. Why do I find you so low and
+depressed?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have had much to fret me, Miss Barrington. Some were things that could
+give but passing unhappiness; others were of graver import.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me so much as you may of them, and I will try to help you to bear up
+against them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will tell you all,&mdash;everything!&rdquo; cried he. &ldquo;It is the very moment
+I have been longing for, when I could pour out all my cares before you and
+ask, What shall I do?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Miss Barrington silently drew her arm within his, and they strolled along
+the shady alley without a word.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must begin with my great grief,&mdash;it absorbs all the rest,&rdquo; said
+he, suddenly. &ldquo;My father is coming home; he has lost, or thrown up, I
+can't tell which, his high employment. I have heard both versions of the
+story; and his own few words, in the only letter he has written me, do not
+confirm either. His tone is indignant; but far more it is sad and
+depressed,&mdash;he who never wrote a line but in the joyousness of his
+high-hearted nature; who met each accident of life with an undaunted
+spirit, and spurned the very thought of being cast down by fortune. See
+what he says here.&rdquo; And he took a much crumpled letter from his pocket,
+and folded down a part of it &ldquo;Read that. 'The time for men of my stamp is
+gone by in India. We are as much bygones as the old flint musket or the
+matchlock. Soldiers of a different temperament are the fashion now; and
+the sooner we are pensioned or die off the better. For my own part, I am
+sick of it. I have lost my liver and have not made my fortune, and like
+men who have missed their opportunities, I come away too discontented with
+myself to think well of any one. They fancied that by coldness and neglect
+they might get rid of me, as they did once before of a far worthier and
+better fellow; but though I never had the courage that he had, they shall
+not break <i>my</i> heart.' Does it strike you to whom he alludes there?&rdquo;
+ asked Conyers, suddenly; &ldquo;for each time that I read the words I am more
+disposed to believe that they refer to Colonel Barrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am sure of it!&rdquo; cried she. &ldquo;It is the testimony of a sorrow-stricken
+heart to an old friend's memory; but I hear my brother's voice; let me go
+and tell him you are here.&rdquo; But Barrington was already coming towards
+them.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, Mr. Conyers!&rdquo; cried he. &ldquo;If you knew how I have longed for this
+moment! I believe you are the only man in the world I ever ill treated on
+my own threshold; but the very thought of it gave me a fit of illness, and
+now the best thing I know on my recovery is, that I am here to ask your
+pardon.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have really nothing to forgive. I met under your roof with a kindness
+that never befell me before; nor do I know the spot on earth where I could
+look for the like to-morrow.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come back to it, then, and see if the charm should not be there still.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where 's Josephine, brother?&rdquo; asked Miss Barrington, who, seeing the
+young man's agitation, wished to change the theme.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She's gone to put some ferns in water; but here she comes now.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Bounding wildly along, like a child in joyous freedom, Josephine came
+towards them, and, suddenly halting at sight of a stranger, she stopped
+and courtesied deeply, while Conyers, half ashamed at his own unhappy
+blunder about her, blushed deeply as he saluted her. Indeed, their meeting
+was more like that of two awkward timid children than of two young persons
+of their age; and they eyed each other with the distrust school boys and
+girls exchange on a first acquaintance.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Brother, I have something to tell you,&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, who was
+eager to communicate the news she had just heard of General Conyers; and
+while she drew him to one side, the young people still stood there, each
+seeming to expect the other would make some advance towards
+acquaintanceship. Conyers tried to say some commonplace,&mdash;some one of
+the fifty things that would have occurred so naturally in presence of a
+young lady to whom he had been just presented; but he could think of none,
+or else those that <i>he</i> thought of seemed inappropriate. How talk,
+for instance, of the world and its pleasures to one who had been estranged
+from it! While he thus struggled and contended with himself, she suddenly
+started as if with a flash of memory, and said, &ldquo;How forgetful!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Forgetful!&mdash;and of what?&rdquo; asked he.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have left the book I was reading to grandpapa on the rock where we were
+sitting. I must go and fetch it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I go with you?&rdquo; asked he, half timidly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, if you like.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And your book,&mdash;what was it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, a charming book,&mdash;such a delightful story! So many people one
+would have loved to know!&mdash;such scenes one would have loved to visit!&mdash;incidents,
+too, that keep the heart in intense anxiety, that you wonder how he who
+imagined them could have sustained the thrilling interest, and held his
+own heart so long in terrible suspense!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the name of this wonderful book is&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;'Waverley.'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have read it,&rdquo; said he, coldly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And have you not longed to be a soldier? Has not your heart bounded with
+eagerness for a life of adventure and peril?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am a soldier,&rdquo; said he, quietly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; replied she, slowly, while her steadfast glance scanned him
+calmly and deliberately.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You find it hard to recognize as a soldier one dressed as I am, and
+probably wonder how such a life as this consorts with enterprise and
+danger. Is not that what is passing in your mind?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mayhap,&rdquo; said she, in a low voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is all because the world has changed a good deal since Waverley's
+time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How sorry I am to hear it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, for your sake it is all the better. Young ladies have a pleasanter
+existence now than they had sixty years since. They lived then lives of
+household drudgery or utter weariness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what have they now?&rdquo; asked she, eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What have they not! All that can embellish life is around them; they are
+taught in a hundred ways to employ the faculties which give to existence
+its highest charm. They draw, sing, dance, ride, dress becomingly, read
+what may give to their conversation an added elegance and make their
+presence felt as an added lustre.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How unlike all this was our convent life!&rdquo; said she, slowly. &ldquo;The beads
+in my rosary were not more alike than the days that followed each other,
+and but for the change of season I should have thought life a dreary
+sleep. Oh, if you but knew what a charm there is in the changeful year to
+one who lives in any bondage!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And yet I remember to have heard how you hoped you might not be taken
+away from that convent life, and be compelled to enter the world,&rdquo; said
+he, with a malicious twinkle of the eye.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;True; and had I lived there still I had not asked for other. But how came
+it that you should have heard of me? I never heard of <i>you!</i>&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is easily told. I was your aunt's guest at the time she resolved to
+come abroad to see you and fetch you home. I used to hear all her plans
+about you, so that at last&mdash;I blush to own&mdash;I talked of
+Josephine as though she were my sister.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How strangely cold you were, then, when we met!&rdquo; said she, quietly. &ldquo;Was
+it that you found me so unlike what you expected?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Unlike, indeed!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me how&mdash;tell me, I pray you, what you had pictured me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was not mere fancy I drew from. There was a miniature of you as a
+child at the cottage, and I have looked at it till I could recall every
+line of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on!&rdquo; cried she, as he hesitated.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The child's face was very serious,&mdash;actually grave for childhood,&mdash;and
+had something almost stern in its expression; and yet I see nothing of
+this in yours.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that, like grandpapa,&rdquo; said she, laughing, &ldquo;you were disappointed in
+not finding me a young tiger from Bengal; but be patient, and remember how
+long it is since I left the jungle.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Sportively as the words were uttered, her eyes flashed and her cheek
+colored, and Conyers saw for the first time how she resembled her portrait
+in infancy.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; added she, as though answering what was passing in his mind, &ldquo;you
+are thinking just like the sisters, 'What years and years it would take to
+discipline one of such a race!' I have heard that given as a reason for
+numberless inflictions. And now, all of a sudden, comes grandpapa to say,
+'We love you so because you are one of us.' Can you understand this?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I can,&mdash;that is, I think I can understand why&mdash;&rdquo; he was
+going to add, &ldquo;why they should love you;&rdquo; but he stopped, ashamed of his
+own eagerness.
+</p>
+<p>
+She waited a moment for him to continue, and then, herself blushing, as
+though she had guessed his embarrassment, she turned away.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And this book that we have been forgetting,&mdash;let us go and search
+for it,&rdquo; said she, walking on rapidly in front of him; but he was speedily
+at her side again.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look there, brother Peter,&mdash;look there!&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, as she
+pointed after them, &ldquo;and see how well fitted we are to be guardians to a
+young lady!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see no harm in it, Dinah,&mdash;I protest, I see no harm in it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Possibly not, brother Peter, and it may only be a part of your system for
+making her&mdash;as you phrase it&mdash;feel a holy horror of the
+convent.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said he, meditatively, &ldquo;he seems a fine, frank-hearted young
+fellow, and in this world she is about to enter, her first experiences
+might easily be worse.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I vow and declare,&rdquo; cried she, warmly, &ldquo;I believe it is your slipshod
+philosophy that makes me as severe as a holy inquisitor!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Every evil calls forth its own correction, Dinah,&rdquo; said he, laughing. &ldquo;If
+there were no fools to skate on the Serpentine, there had been no Humane
+Society.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;One might grow tired of the task of resuscitating, Peter Barrington,&rdquo;
+ said she, hardly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not you, not you, Dinah,&mdash;at least, if I was the drowned man,&rdquo; said
+he, drawing her affectionately to his side; &ldquo;and as for those young
+creatures yonder, it's like gathering dog-roses, and they 'll stop when
+they have pricked their fingers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'll go and look after the nosegay myself,&rdquo; said she, turning hastily
+away, and following them.
+</p>
+<p>
+A real liking for Conyers, and a sincere interest in him were the great
+correctives to the part of Dragon which Miss Dinah declared she foresaw to
+be her future lot in life. For years and years had she believed that the
+cares of a household and the rule of servants were the last trials of
+human patience. The larder, the dairy, and the garden were each of them
+departments with special opportunities for deception and embezzlement, and
+it seemed to her that new discoveries in roguery kept pace with the
+inventions of science; but she was energetic and active, and kept herself
+at what the French would call &ldquo;the level of the situation;&rdquo; and neither
+the cook nor the dairymaid nor Darby could be vainglorious over their
+battles with her. And now, all of a sudden, a new part was assigned her,
+with new duties, functions, and requirements; and she was called on to
+exercise qualities which had lain long dormant and in disuse, and renew a
+knowledge she had not employed for many a year. And what a strange
+blending of pleasure and pain must have come of that memory of long ago!
+Old conquests revived, old rivalries and jealousies and triumphs; glorious
+little glimpses of brilliant delight, and some dark hours, too, of
+disappointment,&mdash;almost despair!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Once a bishop, always a bishop,&rdquo; says the canon; but might we not with
+almost as much truth say, &ldquo;Once a beauty, always a beauty&rdquo;?&mdash;not in
+lineament and feature, in downy cheek or silky tresses, but in the
+heartfelt consciousness of a once sovereign power, in that sense of having
+been able to exact a homage and enforce a tribute. And as we see in the
+deposed monarch how the dignity of kingcraft clings to him, how through
+all he does and says there runs a vein of royal graciousness as from one
+the fount of honor, so it is with beauty. There lives through all its
+wreck the splendid memory of a despotism the most absolute, the most
+fascinating of all!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am so glad that young Conyers has no plans, Dinah,&rdquo; said Barrington;
+&ldquo;he says he will join us if we permit him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Miss Barrington, as she went on with her knitting.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see nothing against it, sister.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course not, Peter,&rdquo; said she, snappishly; &ldquo;it would surprise me much
+if you did.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do <i>you</i>, Dinah?&rdquo; asked he, with a true simplicity of voice and
+look.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see great danger in it, if that be what you mean. And what answer did
+you make him, Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The same answer that I make to every one,&mdash;I would consult my sister
+Dinah. 'Le Roi s'avisera' meant, I take it, that he 'd be led by a wiser
+head than his own.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was wise when he knew it,&rdquo; said she, sententiously, and continued her
+work.
+</p>
+<p>
+And from that day forth they all journeyed together, and one of them was
+very happy, and some were far more than happy; and Aunt Dinah was anxious
+even beyond her wont.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXIX. THE RAMBLE
+</h2>
+<p>
+Day after day, week after week rolled on, and they still rambled about
+among the picturesque old villages on the Moselle, almost losing
+themselves in quaint unvisited spots, whose very names were new to them.
+To Barrington and his sister this picture of a primitive peasant life,
+with its own types of costume and custom, had an indescribable charm.
+Though debarred, from his ignorance of their dialect, of anything like
+intercourse with the people, he followed them in their ways with intense
+interest, and he would pass hours in the market-place, or stroll through
+the fields watching the strange culture, and wondering at the very
+implements of their labor. And the young people all this while? They were
+never separate. They read, and walked, and sat together from dawn to dark.
+They called each other Fifine and Freddy. Sometimes she sang, and he was
+there to listen; sometimes he drew, and she was as sure to be leaning over
+him in silent wonder at his skill; but with all this there was no
+love-making between them,&mdash;that is, no vows were uttered, no pledges
+asked for. Confidences, indeed, they interchanged, and without end. She
+told the story of her friendless infancy, and the long dreary years of
+convent life passed in a dull routine that had almost barred the heart
+against a wish for change; and he gave her the story of his more splendid
+existence, charming her imagination with a picture of that glorious
+Eastern life, which seemed to possess an instinctive captivation for her.
+And at last he told her, but as a great secret never to be revealed, how
+his father and her own had been the dearest, closest friends; that for
+years and years they had lived together like brothers, till separated by
+the accidents of life. <i>Her</i> father went away to a long distant
+station, and <i>his</i> remained to hold a high military charge, from
+which he was now relieved and on his way back to Europe. &ldquo;What happiness
+for you, Freddy,&rdquo; cried she, as her eyes ran over, &ldquo;to see him come home
+in honor! What had I given that such a fate were mine!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+For an instant he accepted her words in all their flattery, but the
+hypocrisy was brief; her over-full heart was bursting for sympathy, and he
+was eager to declare that his sorrows were scarcely less than her own.
+&ldquo;No, Fifine,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;my father is coming back to demand satisfaction of
+a Government that has wronged him, and treated him with the worst
+ingratitude. In that Indian life men of station wield an almost boundless
+power; but if they are irresponsible as to the means, they are tested by
+the results, and whenever an adverse issue succeeds they fall irrevocably.
+What my father may have done, or have left undone, I know not. I have not
+the vaguest clew to his present difficulty, but, with his high spirit and
+his proud heart, that he would resent the very shadow of a reproof I can
+answer for, and so I believe, what many tell me, that it is a mere
+question of personal feeling,&mdash;some small matter in which the Council
+have not shown him the deference he felt his due, but which his haughty
+nature would not forego.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Now these confidences were not love-making, nor anything approaching to
+it, and yet Josephine felt a strange half-pride in thinking that she had
+been told a secret which Conyers had never revealed to any other; that to
+her he had poured forth the darkest sorrow of his heart, and actually
+confided to her the terrors that beset him, for he owned that his father
+was rash and headstrong, and if he deemed himself wronged would be
+reckless in his attempt at justification.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You do not come of a very patient stock, then,&rdquo; said she, smiling.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not very, Fifine.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor I,&rdquo; said she, as her eyes flashed brightly. &ldquo;My poor Ayah, who died
+when I was but five years old, used to tell me such tales of my father's
+proud spirit and the lofty way he bore himself, so that I often fancy I
+have seen him and heard him speak. You have heard he was a Rajah?&rdquo; asked
+she, with a touch of pride.
+</p>
+<p>
+The youth colored deeply as he muttered an assent, for he knew that she
+was ignorant of the details of her father's fate, and he dreaded any
+discussion of her story.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And these Rajahs,&rdquo; resumed she, &ldquo;are really great princes, with power of
+life and death, vast retinues, and splendid armies. To my mind, they
+present a more gorgeous picture than a small European sovereignty with
+some vast Protectorate looming over it. And now it is my uncle,&rdquo; said she,
+suddenly, &ldquo;who rules there.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have heard that your own claims, Fifine, are in litigation,&rdquo; said he,
+with a faint smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not as to the sovereignty,&rdquo; said she, with a grave look, half rebukeful
+of his levity. &ldquo;The suit grandpapa prosecutes in my behalf is for my
+mother's jewels and her fortune; a woman cannot reign in the Tannanoohr.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was a haughty defiance in her voice as she spoke, that seemed to
+say, &ldquo;This is a theme I will not suffer to be treated lightly,&mdash;beware
+how you transgress here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And yet it is a dignity would become you well,&rdquo; said he, seriously.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is one I would glory to possess,&rdquo; said she, as proudly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would you give me a high post, Fifine, if you were on the throne?&mdash;would
+you make me Commander-in-Chief of your army?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;More likely that I would banish you from the realm,&rdquo; said she, with a
+haughty laugh; &ldquo;at least, until you learned to treat the head of the state
+more respectfully.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have I ever been wanting in a proper deference?&rdquo; said he, bowing, with a
+mock humility.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you had been, sir, it is not now that you had first heard of it,&rdquo; said
+she, with a proud look, and for a few seconds it seemed as though their
+jesting was to have a serious ending. She was, however, the earliest to
+make terms, and in a tone of hearty kindliness said: &ldquo;Don't be angry,
+Freddy, and I 'll tell you a secret. If that theme be touched on, I lose
+my head: whether it be in the blood that circles in my veins, or in some
+early teachings that imbued my childhood, or long dreaming over what can
+never be, I cannot tell, but it is enough to speak of these things, and at
+once my imagination becomes exalted and my reason is routed.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no doubt your Ayah was to blame for this; she must have filled
+your head with ambitions, and hopes of a grand hereafter. Even I myself
+have some experiences of this sort; for as my father held a high post and
+was surrounded with great state and pomp, I grew at a very early age to
+believe myself a very mighty personage, and gave my orders with despotic
+insolence, and suffered none to gainsay me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How silly!&rdquo; said she, with a supercilious toss of her head that made
+Conyers flush up; and once again was peace endangered between them.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean that what was only a fair and reasonable assumption in <i>you</i>
+was an absurd pretension in me, Miss Barrington; is it not so?&rdquo; asked he,
+in a voice tremulous with passion.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean that we must both have been very naughty children, and the less we
+remember of that childhood the better for us. Are we friends, Freddy?&rdquo; and
+she held out her hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, if you wish it,&rdquo; said he, taking her hand half coldly in his own.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not that way, sir. It is <i>I</i> who have condescended; not <i>you</i>.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;As you please, Fifine,&mdash;will this do?&rdquo; and kneeling with
+well-assumed reverence, he lifted her hand to his lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If my opinion were to be asked, Mr. Conyers, I would say it would <i>not</i>
+do at all,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, coming suddenly up, her cheeks crimson, and
+her eyes flashing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a little comedy we were acting, Aunt Dinah,&rdquo; said the girl,
+calmly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I beg, then, that the piece may not be repeated,&rdquo; said she, stiffly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Considering how ill Freddy played his part, aunt, he will scarcely regret
+its withdrawal.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers, however, could not get over his confusion, and looked perfectly
+miserable for very shame.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My brother has just had a letter which will call us homeward, Mr.
+Conyers,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, turning to him, and now using a tone devoid of
+all irritation. &ldquo;Mr. Withering has obtained some information which may
+turn out of great consequence in our suit, and he wishes to consult with
+my brother upon it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope&mdash;I sincerely hope&mdash;you do not think&mdash;&rdquo; he began, in
+a low voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not think anything to your disadvantage, and I hope I never may,&rdquo;
+ replied she, in a whisper low as his own; &ldquo;but bear in mind, Josephine is
+no finished coquette like Polly Dill, nor must she be the mark of little
+gallantries, however harmless. Josephine, grandpapa has some news for you;
+go to him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor Freddy,&rdquo; whispered the girl in the youth's ear as she passed, &ldquo;what
+a lecture you are in for!&rdquo; &ldquo;You mustn't be angry with me if I play Duenna
+a little harshly, Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah; &ldquo;and I am far more angry
+with myself than you can be. I never concurred with my brother that
+romance reading and a young dragoon for a companion were the most suitable
+educational means for a young lady fresh from a convent, and I have only
+myself to blame for permitting it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Poor Conyers was so overwhelmed that he could say nothing; for though he
+might, and with a safe conscience, have answered a direct charge, yet
+against a general allegation he was powerless. He could not say that he
+was the best possible companion for a young lady, though he felt, honestly
+felt, that he was not a bad one. He had never trifled with her feelings,
+nor sought to influence her in his favor. Of all flirtation, such as he
+would have adventured with Polly Dill, for instance, he was guiltless. He
+respected her youth and ignorance of life too deeply to take advantage of
+either. He thought, perhaps, how ungenerous it would have been for a man
+of the world like himself to entrap the affections of a young, artless
+creature, almost a child in her innocence. He was rather fond of imagining
+himself &ldquo;a man of the world,&rdquo; old soldier, and what not,&mdash;a delusion
+which somehow very rarely befalls any but very young men, and of which the
+experience of life from thirty to forty is the sovereign remedy. And so
+overwhelmed and confused and addled was he with a variety of sensations,
+he heard very little of what Miss Dinah said to him, though that worthy
+lady talked very fluently and very well, concluding at last with words
+which awoke Conyers from his half-trance with a sort of shock. &ldquo;It is for
+these reasons, my dear Mr. Conyers,&mdash;reasons whose force and nature
+you will not dispute,&mdash;that I am forced to do what, were the occasion
+less important, would be a most ungenerous task. I mean, I am forced to
+relinquish all the pleasure that I had promised ourselves from seeing you
+our guest at the cottage. If you but knew the pain I feel to speak these
+words&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is no occasion to say more, madam,&rdquo; said he; for, unfortunately, so
+unprepared was he for the announcement, its chief effect was to wound his
+pride. &ldquo;It is the second time within a few months destiny has stopped my
+step on your threshold. It only remains for me to submit to my fate, and
+not adventure upon an enterprise above my means.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are offended with me, and yet you ought not,&rdquo; said she, sorrowfully;
+&ldquo;you ought to feel that I am consulting <i>your</i> interests fully as
+much as ours.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I own, madam,&rdquo; said he, coldly, &ldquo;I am unable to take the view you have
+placed before me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Must I speak out, then?&mdash;must I declare my meaning in all its
+matter-of-fact harshness, and say that your family and your friends would
+have little scruple in estimating the discretion which encouraged your
+intimacy with my niece,&mdash;the son of the distinguished and highly
+favored General Conyers with the daughter of the ruined George
+Barring-ton? These are hard words to say, but I have said them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is to my father you are unjust now, Miss Harrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Mr. Conyers; there is no injustice in believing that a father loves
+his son with a love so large that it cannot exclude even worldliness.
+There is no injustice in believing that a proud and successful man would
+desire to see his son successful too; and we all know what we call
+success. I see you are very angry with me. You think me very worldly and
+very small-minded; perhaps, too, you would like to say that all the perils
+I talk of are of my own inventing; that Fifine and you could be the best
+of friends, and never think of more than friendship; and that I might
+spare my anxieties, and not fret for sorrows that have no existence;&mdash;and
+to all this I would answer, I 'll not risk the chance. No, Mr. Conyers, I
+'ll be no party to a game where the stakes are so unequal. What might give
+<i>you</i> a month's sorrow might cost <i>her</i> the misery of a life
+long.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no choice left me. I will go,&mdash;I will go to-night, Miss
+Barrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps it would be better,&rdquo; said she, gravely, and walked slowly away.
+</p>
+<p>
+I will not tell the reader what harsh and cruel things Conyers said of
+every one and everything, nor how severely he railed at the world and its
+ways. Lord Byron had taught the youth of that age a very hearty and
+wholesome contempt for all manner of conventionalities, into which
+category a vast number of excellent customs were included, and Conyers
+could spout &ldquo;Manfred&rdquo; by heart, and imagine himself, on very small
+provocation, almost as great a man-hater; and so he set off on a long walk
+into the forest, determined not to appear at dinner, and equally
+determined to be the cause of much inquiry, and, if possible, of some
+uneasiness. &ldquo;I wonder what that old-maid,&rdquo;&mdash;alas for his gallantry,
+it was so he called her,&mdash;&ldquo;what she would say if her harsh,
+ungenerous words had driven me to&mdash;&rdquo; what he did not precisely
+define, though it was doubtless associated with snow peaks and avalanches,
+eternal solitudes and demoniac possessions. It might, indeed, have been
+some solace to him had he known how miserable and anxious old Peter became
+at his absence, and how incessantly he questioned every one about him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope that no mishap has befallen that boy, Dinah; he was always
+punctual. I never knew him stray away in this fashion before.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would be rather a severe durance, brother Peter, if a young gentleman
+could not prolong his evening walk without permission.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What says Fifine? I suspect she agrees with me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If that means that he ought to be here, grandpapa, I do.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must read over Withering's letter again, brother,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, by
+way of changing the subject &ldquo;He writes, you say, from the Home?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; he was obliged to go down there to search for some papers he wanted,
+and he took Stapylton with him; and he says they had two capital days at
+the partridges. They bagged,&mdash;egad! I think it was eight or ten brace
+before two o'clock, the Captain or Major, I forget which, being a
+first-rate shot.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What does he say of the place,&mdash;how is it looking?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In perfect beauty. Your deputy, Polly, would seem to have fulfilled her
+part admirably. The garden in prime order; and that little spot next your
+own sitting-room, he says, is positively a better flower-show than one he
+paid a shilling to see in Dublin. Polly herself, too, comes in for a very
+warm share of his admiration.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did he see her, and where?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;At the Home. She was there the evening they arrived, and Withering
+insisted on her presiding at the tea-table for them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It did not require very extraordinary entreaty, I will make bold to say,
+Peter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He does not mention that; he only speaks of her good looks, and what he
+calls her very pretty manners. In a situation not devoid of a certain
+awkwardness he says she displayed the most perfect tact; and although
+doing the honors of the house, she, with some very nice ingenuity,
+insinuated that she was herself but a visitor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She could scarce have forgotten herself so far as to think anything else,
+Peter,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah, bridling up. &ldquo;I suspect her very pretty manners
+were successfully exercised. That old gentleman is exactly of the age to
+be fascinated by her.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What! Withering, Dinah,&mdash;do you mean Withering?&rdquo; cried he, laughing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do, brother; and I say that he is quite capable of making her the offer
+of his hand. You may laugh, Peter Barrington, but my observation of young
+ladies has been closer and finer than yours.&rdquo; And the glance she gave at
+Josephine seemed to say that her gun had been double-shotted.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But your remark, sister Dinah, rather addresses itself to old gentlemen
+than to young ladies.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who are much the more easily read of the two,&rdquo; said she, tartly. &ldquo;But
+really, Peter, I will own that I am more deeply concerned to know what Mr.
+Withering has to say of our lawsuit than about Polly Dill's attractions.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He speaks very hopefully,&mdash;very hopefully, indeed. In turning over
+George's papers some Hindoo documents have come to light, which Stapylton
+has translated, and it appears that there is a certain Moonshee, called
+Jokeeram, who was, or is, in the service of Meer Rustum, whose testimony
+would avail us much. Stapylton inclines to think he could trace this man
+for us. His own relations are principally in Madras, but he says he could
+manage to institute inquiries in Bengal.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is our claim to this gentleman's interest for us, Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mere kindness on his part; he never knew George, except from hearsay.
+Indeed, they could not have been contemporaries. Stapylton is not, I
+should say, above five-and-thirty.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The search after this creature with the horrid name will be, of course,
+costly, brother Peter. It means, I take it, sending some one out to India;
+that is to say, sending one fool after another. Are you prepared for this
+expense?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Withering opines it would be money well spent. What he says is this: The
+Company will not willingly risk another inquiry before Parliament, and if
+we show fight and a firm resolve to give the case publicity, they will
+probably propose terms. This Moonshee had been in his service, but was
+dismissed, and his appearance as a witness on our side would occasion
+great uneasiness.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are going to play a game of brag, then, brother Peter, well aware
+that the stronger purse is with your antagonist?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not exactly, Dinah; not exactly. We are strengthening our position so far
+that we may say, 'You see our order of battle; would it not be as well to
+make peace?' Listen to what Withering says.&rdquo; And Peter opened a letter of
+several sheets, and sought out the place he wanted.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here it is, Dinah. 'From one of these Hindoo papers we learn that Ram
+Shamsoolah Sing was not at the Meer's residence during the feast of the
+Rhamadan, and could not possibly have signed the document to which his
+name and seal are appended. Jokeeram, who was himself the Moon-shee
+interpreter in Luckerabad, writes to his friend Cossien Aga, and says&mdash;'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Brother Peter, this is like the Arabian Nights in all but the
+entertainment to me, and the jumble of these abominable names only drives
+me mad. If you flatter yourself that you can understand one particle of
+the matter, it must be that age has sharpened your faculties, that's all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I'm not quite sure of that, Dinah,&rdquo; said he, laughing. &ldquo;I 'm half
+disposed to believe that years are not more merciful to our brains than to
+our ankles; but I'll go and take a stroll in the shady alleys under the
+linden-trees, and who knows how bright it will make me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I to go with you, grandpapa?&rdquo; said the young girl, rising.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Fifine; I have something to say to you here,&rdquo; said Miss Dinah; and
+there was a significance in the tone that was anything but reassuring.
+</p>
+<p>
+<a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030">
+<!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+CHAPTER XXX. UNDER THE LINDEN
+</h2>
+<p>
+That shady alley under the linden-trees was a very favorite walk with
+Peter Barrington. It was a nice cool lane, with a brawling little rivulet
+close beside it, with here and there a dark silent pool for the dragon-fly
+to skim over and see his bronzed wings reflected in the still water; and
+there was a rustic bench or two, where Peter used to sit and fancy he was
+meditating, while, in reality, he was only watching a speckled lizard in
+the grass, or listening to the mellow blackbird over his head. I have had
+occasion once before to remark on the resources of the man of imagination,
+but I really suspect that for the true luxury of idleness there is nothing
+like the temperament devoid of fancy. There is a grand breadth about those
+quiet, peaceful minds over which no shadows flit, and which can find
+sufficient occupation through the senses, and never have to go &ldquo;within&rdquo;
+ for their resources. These men can sit the livelong day and watch the tide
+break over a rock, or see the sparrow teach her young to fly, or gaze on
+the bee as he dives into the deep cup of the foxglove, and actually need
+no more to fill the hours. For them there is no memory with its dark
+bygones, there is no looming future with its possible misfortunes; there
+is simply a half-sleepy present, with soft sounds and sweet odors through
+it,&mdash;a balmy kind of stupor, from which the awaking comes without a
+shock.
+</p>
+<p>
+When Barrington reached his favorite seat, and lighted his cigar,&mdash;it
+is painting the lily for such men to smoke,&mdash;he intended to have
+thought over the details of Withering's letter, which were both curious
+and interesting; he intended to consider attentively certain points which,
+as Withering said, &ldquo;he must master before he could adopt a final resolve;&rdquo;
+ but they were knotty points, made knottier, too, by hard Hindoo words for
+things unknown, and names totally unpronounceable. He used to think that
+he understood &ldquo;George's claim&rdquo; pretty well; he had fancied it was a clear
+and very intelligible case, that half a dozen honest men might have come
+to a decision on in an hour's time; but now he began to have a glimmering
+perception that George must have been egregiously duped and basely
+betrayed, and that the Company were not altogether unreasonable in
+assuming their distrust of him. Now, all these considerations coming down
+upon him at once were overwhelming, and they almost stunned him. Even his
+late attempt to enlighten his sister Dinah on a matter he so imperfectly
+understood now recoiled upon him, and added to his own mystification.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, well,&rdquo; muttered he, at last, &ldquo;I hope Tom sees his way through it,&rdquo;&mdash;Tom
+was Withering,&mdash;&ldquo;and if <i>he</i> does, there's no need of my
+bothering <i>my</i> head about it. What use would there be in lawyers if
+they hadn't got faculties sharper than other folk? and as to 'making up my
+mind,' my mind is made up already, that I want to win the cause if he'll
+only show me how.&rdquo; From these musings he was drawn off by watching a large
+pike,&mdash;the largest pike, he thought, he had ever seen,&mdash;which
+would from time to time dart out from beneath a bank, and after lying
+motionless in the middle of the pool for a minute or so, would, with one
+whisk of its tail, skim back again to its hiding-place. &ldquo;That fellow has
+instincts of its own to warn him,&rdquo; thought he; &ldquo;he knows he was n't safe
+out there. <i>He</i> sees some peril that <i>I</i> cannot see; and that
+ought to be the way with Tom, for, after all, the lawyers are just pikes,
+neither more nor less.&rdquo; At this instant a man leaped across the stream,
+and hurriedly passed into the copse. &ldquo;What! Mr. Conyers&mdash;Conyers, is
+that you?&rdquo; cried Barrington; and the young man turned and came towards
+him. &ldquo;I am glad to see you all safe and sound again,&rdquo; said Peter; &ldquo;we
+waited dinner half an hour for you, and have passed all the time since in
+conjecturing what might have befallen you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did n't Miss Barrington say&mdash;did not Miss Barrington know&mdash;&rdquo; He
+stopped in deep confusion, and could not finish his speech.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My sister knew nothing,&mdash;at least, she did not tell me any reason
+for your absence.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, not for my absence,&rdquo; began he once more, in the same embarrassment;
+&ldquo;but as I had explained to her that I was obliged to leave this suddenly,&mdash;to
+start this evening&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To start this evening! and whither?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot tell; I don't know,&mdash;that is, I have no plans.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear boy,&rdquo; said the old man, affectionately, as he laid his hand on
+the other's arm, &ldquo;if you don't know where you are going, take my word for
+it there is no such great necessity to go.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but there is,&rdquo; replied he, quickly; &ldquo;at least Miss Barrington thinks
+so, and at the time we spoke together she made me believe she was in the
+right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And are you of the same opinion <i>now?</i>&rdquo; asked Peter, with a humorous
+drollery in his eye.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am,&mdash;that is, I was a few moments back. I mean, that whenever I
+recall the words she spoke to me, I feel their full conviction.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, now, sit down here beside me! It can scarcely be anything I may not
+be a party to. Just let me hear the case like a judge in chamber&rdquo;&mdash;and
+he smiled at an illustration that recalled his favorite passion, &ldquo;I won't
+pretend to say my sister has not a wiser head&mdash;as I well know she has
+a far better heart&mdash;than myself, but now and then she lets a
+prejudice or a caprice or even a mere apprehension run away with her, and
+it's just possible it is some whim of this kind is now uppermost.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers only shook his head dissentingly, and said nothing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Maybe I guess it,&mdash;I suspect that I guess it,&rdquo; said Peter, with a
+sly drollery about his mouth. &ldquo;My sister has a notion that a young man and
+a young woman ought no more to be in propinquity than saltpetre and
+charcoal. She has been giving me a lecture on my blindness, and asking if
+I can't see this, that, and the other; but, besides being the least
+observant of mankind, I'm one of the most hopeful as regards whatever I
+wish to be. Now we have all of us gone on so pleasantly together, with
+such a thorough good understanding&mdash;such loyalty, as the French would
+call it&mdash;that I can't, for the life of me, detect any ground for
+mistrust or dread. Have n't I hit the blot, Conyers&mdash;eh?&rdquo; cried he,
+as the young fellow grew redder and redder, till his face became crimson.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I assured Miss Barrington,&rdquo; began he, in a faltering, broken voice, &ldquo;that
+I set too much store on the generous confidence you extended to me to
+abuse it; that, received as I was, like one of your own blood and kindred,
+I never could forget the frank trustfulness with which you discussed
+everything before me, and made me, so to say, 'One of you.' The moment,
+however, that my intimacy suggested a sense of constraint, I felt the
+whole charm of my privilege would have departed, and it is for this reason
+I am going!&rdquo; The last word was closed with a deep sigh, and he turned away
+his head as he concluded.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And for this reason you shall not go one step,&rdquo; said Peter, slapping him
+cordially on the shoulder. &ldquo;I verily believe that women think the world
+was made for nothing but love-making, just as the crack engineer believed
+rivers were intended by Providence to feed navigable canals; but you and I
+know a little better, not to say that a young fellow with the stamp
+gentleman indelibly marked on his forehead would not think of making a
+young girl fresh from a convent&mdash;a mere child in the ways of life&mdash;the
+mark of his attentions. Am I not right?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope and believe you are!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stay where you are, then; be happy, and help us to feel so; and the only
+pledge I ask is, that whenever you suspect Dinah to be a shrewder observer
+and a truer prophet than her brother&mdash;you understand me&mdash;you'll
+just come and say, 'Peter Barrington, I'm off; good-bye!'&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There's my hand on it,&rdquo; said he, grasping the old man's with warmth.
+&ldquo;There's only one point&mdash;I have told Miss Barrington that I would
+start this evening.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She'll scarcely hold you very closely to your pledge.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, as I understand her, you are going back to Ireland?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you are coming along with us. Isn't that a very simple arrangement?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know it would be a very pleasant one.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It shall be, if it depend on me. I want to make you a fisherman too. When
+I was a young man, it was my passion to make every one a good horseman. If
+I liked a fellow, and found out that he couldn't ride to hounds, it gave
+me a shock little short of hearing that there was a blot on his character,
+so associated in my mind had become personal dash and prowess in the field
+with every bold and manly characteristic. As I grew older, and the rod
+usurped the place of the hunting-whip, I grew to fancy that your angler
+would be the truest type of a companion; and if you but knew,&rdquo; added he,
+as a glassy fulness dulled his eyes, &ldquo;what a flattery it is to an old
+fellow when a young one will make a comrade of him,&mdash;what a smack of
+bygone days it brings up, and what sunshine it lets in on the heart,&mdash;take
+my word for it, you young fellows are never so vain of an old companion as
+we are of a young one! What are you so thoughtful about?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was thinking how I was to make this explanation to Miss Barrington.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You need not make it at all; leave the whole case in my hands. My sister
+knows that I owe you an <i>amende</i> and a heavy one. Let this go towards
+a part payment of it. But here she comes in search of me. Step away
+quietly, and when we meet at the tea-table all will have been settled.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Conyers had but time to make his escape, when Miss Barrington came up.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought I should find you mooning down here, Peter,&rdquo; said she, sharply.
+&ldquo;Whenever there is anything to be done or decided on, a Barrington is
+always watching a fly on a fish-pond.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not the women of the family, Dinah,&mdash;not the women. But what great
+emergency is before us now?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No great emergency, as you phrase it, at all, but what to men like
+yourself is frequently just as trying,&mdash;an occasion that requires a
+little tact. I have discovered&mdash;what I long anticipated has come to
+pass&mdash;Conyers and Fifine are on very close terms of intimacy, which
+might soon become attachment. I have charged him with it, and he has not
+altogether denied it. On the whole he has behaved well, and he goes away
+to-night.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have just seen him, Dinah. I got at his secret, not without a little
+dexterity on my part, and learned what had passed between you. We talked
+the thing over very calmly together, and the upshot is&mdash;he's not
+going.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not going! not going! after the solemn assurance he gave me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But of which I absolved him, sister Dinah; or rather, which I made him
+retract.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Peter Barrington, stop!&rdquo; cried she, holding her hands to her temples. &ldquo;I
+want a little time to recover myself. I must have time, or I'll not answer
+for my senses. Just reply to one question. I 'll ask you, have you taken
+an oath&mdash;are you under a vow to be the ruin of your family?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't think I have, Dinah. I 'm doing everything for the best.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If there's a phrase in the language condemns the person that uses it,
+it's 'Doing everything for the best.' What does it mean but a blind,
+uninquiring, inconsiderate act, the work of a poor brain and sickly
+conscience? Don't talk to me, sir, of doing for the best, but do the best,
+the very best, according to the lights that guide you. You know well,
+perfectly well, that Fifine has no fortune, and that this young man
+belongs to a very rich and a very ambitious family, and that to encourage
+what might lead to attachment between them would be to store up a cruel
+wrong and a great disappointment.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Dinah, you speak like a book, but I don't agree with you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don't. Will you please to state why?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In the first place, Dinah, forgive me for saying it, but we men do not
+take <i>your</i> view of these cases. We neither think that love is as
+catching or as dangerous as the smallpox. We imagine that two young people
+can associate together every day and yet never contract a lien that might
+break their hearts to dissolve.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Talking politics together, perhaps; or the state of the Three per Cents?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not exactly that, but talking of fifty other things that interest their
+time of life and tempers. Have they not songs, drawings, flowers,
+landscapes, and books, with all their thousand incidents, to discuss? Just
+remember what that writer who calls himself 'Author of Waverley'&mdash;what
+he alone has given us of people to talk over just as if we knew them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Brother Peter, I have no patience with you. You enumerate one by one all
+the ingredients, and you disparage the total. You tell of the flour, and
+the plums, and the suet, and the candied lemon, but you cry out against
+the pudding! Don't you see that the very themes you leave for them all
+conduce to what you ignore, and that your music and painting and
+romance-reading only lead to love-making? Don't you see this, or are you
+in reality&mdash;I didn't want to say it, but you have made me&mdash;are
+you an old fool?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope not, Dinah; but I'm not so sure you don't think me one.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's nothing to the purpose whether I do or not,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;the question
+is, have you asked this young man to come back with us to Ireland?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have, and he is coming.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I could have sworn to it,&rdquo; said she, with a sudden energy; &ldquo;and if there
+was anything more stupid, you 'd have done it also.&rdquo; And with this speech,
+more remarkable for its vigor than its politeness, she turned away and
+left him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ere I close the chapter and the subject, let me glance, and only glance,
+at the room where Conyers is now standing beside Josephine. She is
+drawing, not very attentively or carefully, perhaps, and he is bending
+over her and relating, as it seems, something that has occurred to him,
+and has come to the end with the words, &ldquo;And though I was to have gone
+this evening, it turns out that now I am to stay and accompany you to
+Ireland.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don't sigh so painfully over it, however,&rdquo; said she, gravely; &ldquo;for when
+you come to mention how distressing it is, I 'm sure they 'll let you
+off.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fifine,&rdquo; said he, reproachfully, &ldquo;is this fair, is this generous?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don't know whether it be unfair, I don't want it to be generous,&rdquo; said
+she, boldly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In point of fact, then, you only wish for me here to quarrel with, is
+that the truth?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think it better fun disagreeing with you than always saying how
+accurate you are, and how wise, and how well-judging. That atmosphere of
+eternal agreement chokes me; I feel as if I were suffocating.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It's not a very happy temperament; it's not a disposition to boast of.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You never did hear me boast of it; but I have heard <i>you</i> very
+vainglorious about your easy temper and your facile nature, which were
+simply indolence. Now, I have had more than enough of that in the convent,
+and I long for a little activity.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Even if it were hazardous?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Even if it were hazardous,&rdquo; echoed she. &ldquo;But here comes Aunt Dinah, with
+a face as stern as one of the sisters, and an eye that reminds me of
+penance and bread and water; so help me to put up my drawings, and say
+nothing of what we were talking.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My brother has just told me, Mr. Conyers,&rdquo; said she, in a whisper, &ldquo;a
+piece of news which it only depends upon you to make a most agreeable
+arrangement.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I trust you may count upon me, madam,&rdquo; said he, in the same tone, and
+bowed low as he spoke.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then come with me and let us talk it over,&rdquo; said she, as she took his arm
+and led him away.
+</p>
+<p>
+END OF VOL. I. <br /><br />
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Barrington, by Charles James Lever
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARRINGTON ***
+
+***** This file should be named 34882-h.htm or 34882-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/8/34882/
+
+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.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase &ldquo;Project
+Gutenberg&rdquo;), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  &ldquo;Project Gutenberg&rdquo; is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (&ldquo;the Foundation&rdquo;
+ or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase &ldquo;Project Gutenberg&rdquo; appears, or with which the phrase &ldquo;Project
+Gutenberg&rdquo; is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+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
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase &ldquo;Project Gutenberg&rdquo; associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+&ldquo;Plain Vanilla ASCII&rdquo; or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original &ldquo;Plain Vanilla ASCII&rdquo; or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+address specified in Section 4, &ldquo;Information about donations to
+the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.&rdquo;
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License.  You must require such a user to return or
+destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+&ldquo;Defects,&rdquo; such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the &ldquo;Right
+of Replacement or Refund&rdquo; described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+Chief Executive and Director
+gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+</body>
+</html>