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diff --git a/35144-0.txt b/35144-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1caabea --- /dev/null +++ b/35144-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15040 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. II (of II), 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: The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. II (of II) + +Author: Charles James Lever + +Illustrator: Phiz. + +Release Date: February 2, 2011 [EBook #35144] +Last Updated: February 28, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN + +By Charles Lever + +With Illustrations By Phiz. + +In Two Volumes + +Vol. II. + +Boston: Little, Brown, And Company. + +1906 + + + + +THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN. + + + +CHAPTER I. MR. HERMAN MERL + +This much-abused world of ours, railed at by divines, sneered down by +cynics, slighted by philosophers, has still some marvellously pleasant +things about it, amongst which, first and foremost, _facile princeps_, +is Paris! In every other city of Europe there is a life to be learned +and acquired just like a new language. You have to gain the acquaintance +of certain people, obtain admission to certain houses, submit yourself +to ways, habits, hours, all peculiar to the locality, and conform to +usages in which--at first, at least--you rarely find anything beyond +penalties on your time and your patience. But Paris demands no such +sacrifices. To enjoy it, no apprenticeship is required. You become +free of the guild at the Porte St. Denis. By the time you reach the +Boulevards you have ceased to be a stranger. You enter the “Frères” at +dinner hour like an old habitué. The atmosphere of light, elastic gayety +around you, the tone of charming politeness that meets your commonest +inquiry, the courtesy bestowed upon your character as a foreigner, are +all as exhilarating in their own way as your sparkling glass of Moët, +sipped in the window, from which you look down on plashing fountains, +laughing children, and dark-eyed grisettes! The whole thing, in its +bustle and movement, its splendor, sunlight, gilded furniture, +mirrors, and smart toilettes, is a piece of natural magic, with this +difference,--that its effect is ever new, ever surprising! + +Sad and sorrowful faces are, of course, to be met with, since grief has +its portion everywhere; but that air of languid indifference, that +look of wearied endurance, which we characterize by the classic term of +“boredom,” is, indeed, a rare spectacle in this capital; and yet now +at the window of a splendid apartment in the Place Vendôme, listlessly +looking down into the square beneath, stood a young man, every line +of whose features conveyed this same expression. He had, although not +really above twenty-four or twenty-five, the appearance of one ten +years older. On a face of singular regularity, and decidedly handsome, +dissipation had left its indelible traces. The eyes were deep sunk, +the cheeks colorless, and around the angles of the mouth were those +tell-tale circles which betray the action of an oft-tried temper, and +the spirit that has gone through many a hard conflict. In figure he was +very tall, and seemed more so in the folds of a long dressing-gown +of antique brocade, which reached to his feet; a small, dark green +skull-cap, with a heavy silver tassel, covered one side of his head, and +in his hand he held a handsome meerschaum, which, half mechanically, he +placed from time to time to his lips, although its bowl was empty. + +At a breakfast-table covered with all that could provoke appetite, sat a +figure as much unlike him as could be. He was under the middle size, +and slightly inclined to flesh, with a face which, but for some strange +resemblance to what one has seen in pictures by the older artists, would +have been unequivocally vulgar. The eyes were small, keen, and furtive; +the nose, slightly concave in its outline, expanded beneath into +nostrils wide and full; but the mouth, thick-lipped, sensual, and +coarse, was more distinctive than all, and showed that Mr. Herman Merl +was a gentleman of the Jewish persuasion,--a fact well corroborated by +the splendor of a very flashy silk waistcoat, and various studs, gold +chain, rings, and trinkets profusely scattered over his costume. And +yet there was little of what we commonly recognize as the Jew in the +character of his face. The eyes were not dark, the nose not aquiline; +the hair, indeed, had the wavy massiveness of the Hebrew race; but Mr. +Merl was a “Red Jew,” and the Red Jew, like the red partridge, is a +species _per se_. + +[Illustration: 018] + +There was an ostentatious pretension in the “get up” of this gentleman. +His moustache, his beard, his wrist-buttons, his shirt-studs, the +camellia in his coat,--all, even to the heels of his boots, had been +made studies, either to correct a natural defect, or show off what he +fancied a natural advantage. He seemed to have studied color like a +painter, for his dark brown frock was in true keeping with the tint +of his skin; and yet, despite these painstaking efforts, the man was +indelibly, hopelessly vulgar. Everything about him was imitation, but it +was imitation that only displayed its own shortcomings. + +“I wonder how you can resist these oysters, Captain,” said he, as he +daintily adjusted one of these delicacies on his fork; “and the Chablis, +I assure you, is excellent.” + +“I never eat breakfast,” said the other, turning away from the window, +and pacing the room with slow and measured tread. + +“Why, you are forgetting all the speculations that used to amuse us +on the voyage,--the delicious little dinners we were to enjoy at the +'Rocher,' the tempting dejeuners at 'Véfour's.' By Jove! how hungry you +used to make me, with your descriptions of the appetizing fare before +us; and here we have it now: Ardennes ham, fried in champagne; Ostend +oysters, salmi of quails with truffles--and such truffles! Won't that +tempt you?” + +But his friend paid no attention to the appeal, and walking again to the +window, looked out. + +“Those little drummers yonder have a busy day of it,” said he, lazily; +“that's the fourth time they have had to beat the salute to Generals +this morning.” + +“Is there anything going on, then?” + +But he never deigned an answer, and resumed his walk. + +“I wish you'd send away that hissing teakettle, it reminds me of a +steamboat,” said the Captain, peevishly; “that is, if you have done with +it.” + +“So it does,” said the other, rising to ring the bell; “there's the same +discordant noise, and the--the--the--” But the rest of the similitude +would n't come, and Mr. Merl covered his retreat with the process of +lighting a cigar,--an invaluable expedient that had served to aid many a +more ready debater in like difficulty. + +It would be a somewhat tedious, perhaps not a very profitable task, to +inquire how two men, so palpably dissimilar, had thus become what the +world calls friends. Enough if we say that Captain Martin,--the heir of +Cro' Martin,--when returning from India on leave, passed some time at +the Cape, where, in the not very select society of the place, he met Mr. +Merl. Now Mr. Merl had been at Ceylon, where he had something to do with +a coffee plantation; and he had been at Benares, where opium interested +him; and now again, at the Cape, a question of wine had probably some +relation to his sojourn. In fact, he was a man travelling about the +world with abundance of leisure, a well-stocked purse, and what our +friends over the Strait would term an “industrial spirit.” Messes had +occasionally invited him to their tables. Men in society got the habit +of seeing him “about,” and he was in the enjoyment of that kind of +tolerance which made every man feel, “He's not _my_ friend,--_I_ didn't +introduce him; but he seems a good sort of fellow enough!” And so he +was,--very good-tempered, very obliging, most liberal of his cigars, +his lodgings always open to loungers, with pale ale, and even iced +champagne, to be had |for asking. There was play, too; and although Merl +was a considerable winner, he managed never to incur the jealous enmity +that winning so often imposes. He was the most courteous of gamblers; he +never did a sharp thing; never enforced a strict rule upon a novice of +the game; tolerated every imaginable blunder of his partner with bland +equanimity; and, in a word, if this great globe of ours had been a +green-baize cloth, and all the men and women whist-players, Mr. Herman +Merl had been the first gentleman in it, and carried off “all the +honors” in his own hand. + +If he was highly skilled in every game, it was remarked of him that he +never proposed play himself, nor was he ever known to make a wager: he +always waited to be asked to make up a party, or to take or give the +odds, as the case might be. To a very shrewd observer, this might have +savored a little too much of a system; but shrewd observers are, after +all, not the current coin in the society of young men, and Merl's +conduct was eminently successful. + +Merl suited Martin admirably. Martin was that species of man which, +of all others, is most assailable by flattery. A man of small +accomplishments, he sang a little, rode a little, played, drew, fenced, +fished, shot--all, a little--that is, somewhat better than others in +general, and giving him that dangerous kind of pre-eminence from which, +though the tumble never kills, it occurs often enough to bruise and +humiliate. But, worse than this, it shrouds its possessor in a triple +mail of vanity, that makes him the easy prey of all who minister to it. + +We seldom consider how much locality influences our intimacies, and how +impossible it had been for us even to know in some places the people we +have made friends of in another. Harry Martin would as soon have thought +of proposing his valet at “Brookes's,” as walk down Bond Street with Mr. +Merl. Had he met him in London, every characteristic of the man would +there have stood out in all the strong glare of contrast, but at the +Cape it was different. Criticism would have been misplaced where all was +irregular, and the hundred little traits--any one of which would have +shocked him in England--were only smiled at as the eccentricities of a +“good-natured poor fellow, who had no harm in him.” + +Martin and Merl came to England in the same ship. It was a sudden +thought of Merl's, only conceived the evening before she sailed; but +Martin had lost a considerable sum at piquet to him on that night, and +when signing the acceptances for payment, since he had not the ready +money, somewhat peevishly remarked that it was hard he should not have +his revenge. Whereupon Merl, tossing off a bumper of champagne, and +appearing to speak under the influence of its stimulation, cried out, +“Hang me, Captain, if you shall say that! I 'll go and take my passage +in the 'Elphinstone.'” And he did so, and he gave the Captain his +revenge! But of all the passions, there is not one less profitable to +indulge in. They played morning, noon, and night, through long days of +sickening calm, through dreary nights of storm and hurricane, and they +scarcely lifted their heads at the tidings that the Needles were in +sight, nor even questioned the pilot for news of England, when he +boarded them in the Downs. Martin had grown much older during that same +voyage; his temper, too, usually imbued with the easy indolence of his +father's nature, had grown impatient and fretful. A galling sense of +inferiority to Merl poisoned every minute of his life. He would not +admit it; he rejected it, but back it came; and if it did not enter into +his heart, it stood there knocking,--knocking for admission. Each time +they sat down to play was a perfect duel to Martin. + +As for Merl, his well-schooled faculties never were ruffled nor excited. +The game had no power to fascinate _him_, its vicissitudes had nothing +new or surprising to him; intervals of ill-luck, days even of dubious +fortune might occur, but he knew he would win in the end, just as +he knew that though there might intervene periods of bad weather and +adverse winds, the good ship “Elphinstone” would arrive at last, and, a +day sooner or a day later, discharge passengers and freight on the banks +of the Thames. + +You may forgive the man who has rivalled you in love, the banker whose +“smash” has engulfed all your fortune, the violent political antagonist +who has assailed you personally, and in the House, perhaps, answered the +best speech you ever made by a withering reply. You may extend feelings +of Christian charity to the reviewer who has “slashed” your new novel, +the lawyer whose vindictive eloquence has exposed, the artist in “Punch” + who has immortalized, you; but there is one man you never forgive, of +whom you will never believe one good thing, and to whom you would wish a +thousand evil ones,--he is your natural enemy, brought into the world +to be your bane, born that he may be your tormentor; and this is the man +who _always_ beats you at play! Happily, good reader, you may have no +feelings of the gambler,--you may be of those to whom this fatal vice +has never appealed, or appealed in vain; but if you _have_ “played,” or +even mixed with those who have, you could n't have failed to be struck +with the fact that there is that one certain man from whom you never +win! Wherever he is, there, too, is present your evil destiny! Now, +there is no pardoning this,--the double injury of insult to your skill +and damage to your pocket. Such a man as this becomes at last your +master. You may sneer at his manners, scoff at his abilities, ridicule +his dress, laugh at his vulgarity,--poor reprisals these! In his +presence, the sense of that one superiority he possesses over you makes +you quail! In the stern conflict, where your destiny and your capacity +seem alike at issue, he conquers you,--not to-day or to-morrow, but ever +and always! There he sits, arbiter of your fate,--only doubtful how long +he may defer the day of your sentence! + +It is something in the vague indistinctness of this power--something +that seems to typify the agency of the Evil One himself--that at once +tortures and subdues you; and you ever hurry into fresh conflict with +the ever-present consciousness of fresh defeat! We might have spared our +reader this discursive essay, but that it pertains to our story. Such +was the precise feeling entertained by Martin towards Merl. He hated +him with all the concentration of his great hatred, and yet he could not +disembarrass himself of his presence. He was ashamed of the man amongst +his friends; he avoided him in all public places; he shrunk from +his very contact as though infected; but he could not throw off his +acquaintance, and he nourished in his heart a small ember of hope that +one day or other the scale of fortune would turn, and he might win back +again all he had ever lost, and stand free and unembarrassed as in the +first hour he had met him! Fifty times had he consulted Fortune, as +it were, to ask if this moment had yet arrived; but hitherto ever +unsuccessfully,--Merl won on as before. Martin, however, invariably +ceased playing when he discovered that his ill-luck continued. It was +an experiment,--a mere pilot balloon to Destiny; and when he saw the +direction adverse, he did not adventure on the grand ascent. It was +impossible that a man of Merl's temperament and training should not have +detected this game. There was not a phase of the gambler's mind with +which he was not thoroughly familiar. + +Close intimacies, popularly called friendships, have always their +secret motive, if we be but skilful enough to detect it. We see people +associate together of widely different habits, and dispositions the most +opposite, with nothing in common of station, rank, object, or pursuit. +In such cases the riddle has always its key, could we only find it. + +Mr. Martin had been some weeks in Paris with his family, when a brief +note informed him that Merl had arrived there. He despatched an answer +still briefer, asking him to breakfast on the following morning; and it +was in the acceptance of this same invitation we have now seen him. + +“Who's here just now?” said Merl, throwing down his napkin, and pushing +his chair a little back from the table, while he disposed his short, fat +legs into what he fancied was a most graceful attitude. + +“Here? Do you mean in Paris?” rejoined Martin, pettishly,--for he never +suffered so painfully under this man's intimacy as when his manners +assumed the pretension of fashion. + +“Yes,--of course,--I mean, who's in Paris?” + +“There are, I believe, about forty-odd thousand of our countrymen and +countrywomen,” said the other, half contemptuously. + +“Oh, I've no doubt; but my question took narrower bounds. I meant, who +of _our_ set,--who of us?” + +Martin turned round, and fixing his eyes on him, scanned him from head +to foot with a gaze of such intense insolence as no words could have +equalled. For a while the Jew bore it admirably; but these efforts, +after all, are only like the brief intervals a man can live under water, +and where the initiated beats the inexperienced only by a matter of +seconds. As Martin continued his stare, Merl's cheek tingled, grew red, +and finally his whole face and forehead became scarlet. + +With an instinct like that of a surgeon who feels he has gone deep +enough with his knife, Martin resumed his walk along the room without +uttering a word. + +Merl opened the newspaper, and affected to read; his hand, however, +trembled, and his eyes wandered listlessly over the columns, and then +furtively were turned towards Martin as he paced the chamber in silence. + +“Do you think you can manage that little matter for me, Captain?” said +he at last, and in a voice attuned to its very humblest key. + +“What little matter? Those two bills do you mean?” said Martin, +suddenly. + +“Not at all. I 'm not the least pressed for cash. I alluded to the Club; +you promised you 'd put me up, and get one of your popular friends to +second me.” + +“I remember,” said Martin, evidently relieved from a momentary terror. +“Lord Claude Willoughby or Sir Spencer Cavendish would be the men if we +could find them.” + +“Lord Claude, I perceive, is here; the paper mentions his name in the +dinner company at the Embassy yesterday.” + +“Do you know him?” asked Martin, with an air of innocence that Merl well +comprehended as insult. + +“No. We 've met,--I think we 've played together; I remember once at +Baden--” + +“Lord Claude Willoughby, sir,” said a servant, entering with a card, +“desires to know if you 're at home?” + +“And won't be denied if you are not,” said his Lordship, entering at the +same instant, and saluting Martin with great cordiality. + + + +CHAPTER II. MR. MERL + +The French have invented a slang word for a quality that deserves a +more recognized epithet, and by the expression _chic_ have designated +a certain property by which objects assert their undoubted superiority +over all their counterfeits. Thus, your coat from Nugee's, your carriage +from Leader's, your bracelet from Storr's, and your bonnet from Madame +Palmyre, have all their own peculiar _chic_, or, in other words, possess +a certain invisible, indescribable essence that stamps them as the best +of their kind, with an excellence unattainable by imitation, and a charm +all their own! + +Of all the products in which this magical property insinuates itself, +there is not one to which it contributes so much as the man of fashion. +He is the very type of _chic_. To describe him you are driven to +a catalogue of negatives, and you only arrive at anything like a +resemblance by an enumeration of the different things he is not. + +The gentleman who presented himself to Martin at the close of our +last chapter was in many respects a good specimen of his order. He had +entered the room, believing Martin to be there alone; but no sooner had +he perceived another, and that other one not known to him, than all +the buoyant gayety of his manner was suddenly toned down into a +quiet seriousness; while, taking his friend's arm, he said in a low +voice,--“If you 're busy, my dear Martin, don't hesitate for a moment +about sending me off; I had not the slightest suspicion there was any +one with you.” + +“Nor is there,” said Martin, with a supercilious glance at Merl, who +was endeavoring in a dozen unsuccessful ways to seem unaware of the new +arrival's presence. + +“I want to introduce him to you,” said Martin. + +“No, no, my dear friend, on no account.” + +“I must; there's no help for it,” said Martin, impatiently, while he +whispered something eagerly in the other's ear. + +“Well, then, some other day; another time--” + +“Here and now, Claude,” said Martin, peremptorily; while, without +waiting for reply, he said aloud, “Merl, I wish to present you to Lord +Claude Willoughby,--Lord Claude, Mr. Herman Merl.” + +Merl bowed and smirked and writhed as his Lordship, with a bland smile +and a very slight bow, acknowledged the presentation. + +“Had the pleasure of meeting your Lordship at Baden two summers ago,” + said the Jew, with an air meant to be the ideal of fashionable ease. + +“I was at Baden at the time you mention,” said he, coldly. + +“I used to watch your Lordship's game with great attention; you won +heavily, I think?” + +“I don't remember, just now,” said he, carelessly; not, indeed, that +such was the fact, or that he desired it should be thought so; he only +wished to mark his sense of what he deemed an impertinence. + +“The man who can win at rouge-et-noir can do anything, in my opinion,” + said Merl. + +“What odds are you taking on Rufus?” said Martin to Willoughby, and +without paying the slightest attention to Merl's remark. + +“Eleven to one; but I'll not take it again. Hecuba is rising hourly, and +some say she 'll be the favorite yet.” + +“Is Rufus your Lordship's horse?” said the Jew, insinuatingly. + +Willoughby bowed, and continued to write in his note-book. + +“And you said the betting was eleven to one on the field, my Lord?” + +“It ought to be fourteen to one, at least.” + +“I 'll give you fourteen to one, my Lord, just for the sake of a little +interest in the race.” + +Willoughby ceased writing, and looked at him steadfastly for a second or +two. “I have not said that the odds were fourteen to one.” + +“I understand you perfectly, my Lord; you merely thought that they would +be, or, at least, ought to be.” + +“Merl wants a bet with you, in fact,” said Martin, as he applied alight +to his meerschaum; “and if you won't have him, I will.” + +“What shall it be, sir,” said Lord Claude, pencil in hand; “in +ponies--fifties?” + +“Oh, ponies, my Lord. I only meant it, just as I said, to give me +something to care for in the race.” + +“Will you put him up at the 'Cercle' after that?” whispered Martin, with +a look of sly malice. + +“I'll tell you when the match is over,” said Willoughby, laughing; +“but if I won't, here 's one that will. That's a neat phaeton of +Cavendish's.” And at the same instant Martin opened the window, and made +a signal with his handkerchief. + +“That's the thing for _you_, Merl,” said Martin, pointing down to a +splendid pair of dark chestnuts harnessed to a handsome phaeton. “It's +worth five hundred pounds to any fellow starting an equipage to chance +upon one of Cavendish's. He has not only such consummate taste in +carriage and harness, but he makes his nags perfection.” + +“He drives very neatly,” said Willoughby. + +“What was it he gave for that near-side horse?--a thousand pounds, I +think.” + +“Twelve hundred and fifty, and refused a hundred for my bargain,” said +a very diminutive, shrewd-looking man of about five-and-thirty, who +entered the room with great affectation of juvenility. “I bought him for +a cab, never expecting to 'see his like again,' as Shakspeare says.” + +“And you offered the whole concern yesterday to Damre-mont for fifty +thousand francs?” + +“No, Harry, that's a mistake. I said I 'd play him a match at piquet, +whether he gave seventy thousand for the equipage or nothing. It was he +that proposed fifty thousand. Mine was a handsome offer, I think.” + +“I call it a most munificent one,” said Martin. “By the way, you don't +know my friend here, Mr. Merl, Sir Spencer Cavendish.” And the baronet +stuck his glass in his eye, and scanned the stranger as unscrupulously +as though he were a hack at Tattersairs. + +“Where did he dig him up, Claude?” whispered he, after a second. + +“In India, I fancy; or at the Cape.” + +“That fellow has something to do with the hell in St. James's Street; I +'ll swear I know his face.” + +[Illustration: 029] + +“I 've been telling Merl that he 's in rare luck to find such a turn-out +as that in the market; that is, if you still are disposed to sell.” + +“Oh, yes, I'll sell it; give him the tiger, boots, cockade, and +all,--everything except that Skye terrier. You shall have the whole, +sir, for two thousand pounds; or, if you prefer it--” + +A certain warning look from Lord Claude suddenly arrested his words, and +he added, after a moment,--“But I 'd rather sell it off, and think no +more of it.” + +“Try the nags; Sir Spencer, I'm sure, will have no objection,” said +Martin. But the baronet's face looked anything but concurrence with the +proposal. + +“Take them a turn round the Bois de Boulogne, Merl,” said Martin, +laughing at his friend's distress. + +“And he may have the turn-out at his own price after the trial,” + muttered Lord Claude, with a quiet smile. + +“Egad! I should think so,” whispered Cavendish; “for, assuredly, I +should never think of being seen in it again.” + +“If Sir Spencer Cavendish has no objection,--if he would permit his +groom to drive me just down the Boulevards and the Rue Rivoli--” + +The cool stare of the baronet did not permit him to finish. It was +really a look far more intelligible than common observers might have +imagined, for it conveyed something like recognition,--a faint approach +to an intimation that said, “I 'm persuaded that we have met before.” + +“Yes, that is the best plan. Let the groom have the ribbons,” said +Martin, laughing with an almost schoolboy enjoyment of a trick. “And +don't lose time, Merl, for Sir Spencer would n't miss his drive in the +Champs Elysees for any consideration.” + +“Gentlemen, I am your very humble and much obliged servant!” said +Cavendish, as soon as Merl had quitted the room. “If that distinguished +friend of yours should not buy my carriage--” + +“But he will,” broke in Martin; “he must buy it.” + +“He ought, I think,” said Lord Claude. “If I were in his place, there's +only one condition I 'd stipulate for.” + +“And that is--” + +“That you should drive with him one day--one would be enough--from the +Barrière de l'Étoile to the Louvre.” + +“This is all very amusing, gentlemen, most entertaining,” said +Cavendish, tartly; “but who is he?--I don't mean that,--but what is he?” + +“Martin's banker, I fancy,” said Lord Claude. + +“Does he lend any sum from five hundred to twenty thousand on equitable +terms on approved personal security?” said Cavendish, imitating the +terms of the advertisements. + +“He 'll allow all he wins from you to remain in your hands at sixty per +cent interest, if he doesn't want cash!” said Martin, angrily. + +“Oh, then, I 'm right. It is my little Moses of St. James's Street. He +was n't always as flourishing as we see him now. Oh dear, if any man, +three years back, had told me that this fellow would have proposed +seating himself in my phaeton for a drive round Paris, I don't +believe--nay, I 'm sure--my head couldn't have stood it.” + +“You know him, then?” said Willoughby. + +“I should think every man about town a dozen years ago must know him. +There was a kind of brood of these fellows; we used to call them Joseph +and his brethren. One sold cigars, another vended maraschino; this +discounted your bills, that took your plate or your horses--ay, or your +wardrobe--on a bill of sale, and handed you over two hundred pounds to +lose at his brother's hell in the evening. Most useful scoundrels they +were,--equally expert on 'Change and in the Coulisses of the Opera!” + +“I will say this for him,” said Martin, “he 's not a hard fellow to deal +with; he does not drive a bargain ungenerously.” + +“Your hangman is the tenderest fellow in the world,” said Cavendish, +“till the final moment. It's only in adjusting the last turn under the +ear that he shows himself 'ungenerous.'” + +“Are you deep with him, Harry?” said Willoughby, who saw a sudden +paleness come over Martin's face. + +“Too deep!” said he, with a bitter effort at a laugh,--“a great deal too +deep.” + +“We 're all too deep with those fellows,” said Cavendish, as, stretching +out his legs, he contemplated the shape and lustre of his admirably +fitting boots. “One begins by some trumpery loan or so; thence you go +on to a play transaction or a betting-book with them, and you end--egad, +you end by having the fellow at dinner!” + +“Martin wants his friend to be put up for the Club,” said Willoughby. + +“Eh, what? At the 'Cercle,' do you mean?” + +“Why not? Is it so very select?” + +“No, not exactly that; there are the due proportions of odd reputations, +half reputations, and no reputations; but remember, Martin, that however +black they be now, they all began white. When they started, at least, +they were gentlemen.” + +“I suspect that does not make the case much better.” + +“No; but it makes _ours_ better, in associating with them. Come, come, +you know as well as any one that this is impossible, and that if you +should do it to-day, I should follow the lead to-morrow, and our +Club become only an asylum for unpayable tailors and unappeasable +bootmakers!” + +“You go too fast, sir,” exclaimed Martin, in a tone of anger. “I never +intended to pay my debts by a white ball in the ballot-box, nor do I +think that Mr. Merl would relinquish his claim on some thousand +pounds, even for the honor of being the club colleague of Sir Spencer +Cavendish.” + +“Then I know him better,” said the other, tapping his-boot with his +cane; “he would, and he 'd think it a right good bargain besides. From +seeing these fellows at racecourses and betting-rooms, always cold, +calm, and impassive, never depressed by ill-luck, as little elated +by good, we fall into the mistake of esteeming them as a kind of +philosophers in life, without any of those detracting influences that +make you and Willoughby, and even myself, sometimes rash and headstrong. +It is a mistake, though; they have a weakness,--and a terrible +weakness,--which is, their passion to be thought in fashionable society. +Yes, they can't resist that! All their shrewd calculations, all their +artful schemes, dissolve into thin air, at the bare prospect of being +recognized 'in society.' I have studied this flaw in them for many a +year back. I 'll not say I haven't derived advantage from it.” + +“And yet you 'd refuse him admission into a club,” cried Martin. + +“Certainly. A club is a Democracy, where each man, once elected, is +the equal of his neighbor. Society is, on the other hand, an absolute +monarchy, where your rank flows from the fountain of honor,--the host. +Take him along with you to her Grace's 'tea,' or my Lady's reception +this evening, and see if the manner of the mistress of the house does +not assign him his place, as certainly as if he were marshalled to it by +a lackey. All his mock tranquillity and assumed ease of manner will not +be proof against the icy dignity of a grande dame; but in the Club he's +as good as the best, or he'll think so, which comes to the same thing.” + +“Cavendish is right,--that is, as much so as he can be in anything,” + said Willoughby, laughing. “Don't put him up, Martin.” + +“Then what am I to do? I have given a sort of a pledge. He is not easily +put off; he does not lightly relinquish an object.” + +“Take him off the scent. Introduce him at the Embassy. Take him to the +Courcelles.” + +“This is intolerable,” broke in Martin, angrily. “I ask for advice, and +you reply by a sneer and a mockery.” + +“Not at all. I never was more serious. But here he comes! Look only how +the fellow lolls back in the phaeton. Just see how contemptuously he +looks down on the foot-travellers. I'd lay on another hundred for that +stare; for, assuredly, he has already made the purchase in his own +mind.” + +“Well, Merl, what do you say to Sir Spencer's taste in horseflesh?” said +Martin, as he entered. + +“They 're nice hacks; very smart.” + +“Nice hacks!” broke in Cavendish, “why, sir, they're both thoroughbred; +the near horse is by Tiger out of a Crescent mare, and the off one won +the Acton steeple-chase. When you said hacks, therefore, you made a +cruel blunder.” + +“Well, it's what a friend of mine called them just now,” said Merl; +“and remarked, moreover, that the large horse had been slightly fired on +the--the--I forget the name he gave it.” + +“You probably remember your friend's name better,” said Cavendish, +sneeringly. “Who was he, pray?” + +“Massingbred,--we call him Jack Massingbred; he's the Member for +somewhere in Ireland.” + +“Poor Jack!” muttered Cavendish, “how hard up he must be!” + +“But you like the equipage, Merl?” said Martin, who had a secret +suspicion that it was now Cavendish's turn for a little humiliation. + +“Well, it's neat. The buggy--” + +“The buggy! By Jove, sir, you have a precious choice of epithets! Please +to let me inform you that full-blooded horses are not called hacks, nor +one of Leader's park-phaetons is not styled a buggy.” + +Martin threw himself into a chair, and after a moment's struggle, burst +out into a fit of laughter. + +“I think we may make a deal after all, Sir Spencer,” said Merl, who +accepted the baronet's correction with admirable self-control. + +“No, sir; perfectly impossible; take my word for it, any transaction +would be difficult between us. Good-bye, Martin; adieu, Claude.” And +with this brief leave-taking the peppery Sir Spencer left the room, more +flushed and fussy than he had entered it. + +“If you knew Sir Spencer Cavendish as long as we have known him, Mr. +Merl,” said Lord Claude, in his blandest of voices, “you'd not be +surprised at this little display of warmth. It is the only weakness in a +very excellent fellow.” + +“I 'm hot, too, my Lord,” said Merl, with the very slightest +accentuation of the “initial H,” “and he was right in saying that +dealings would be difficult between us.” + +“You mentioned Massingbred awhile ago, Merl. Why not ask him to second +you at the Club?” said Martin, rousing himself suddenly from a train of +thought. + +“Well, somehow, I thought that he and you did n't exactly pull together; +that there was an election contest,--a kind of a squabble.” + +“I 'm sure that _he_ never gave you any reason to suspect a coldness +between us; I know that _I_ never did,” said Martin, calmly. “We are but +slightly acquainted, it is true, but I should be surprised to learn that +there was any ill-feeling between us.” + +“One's opponent at the hustings is pretty much the same thing as one's +adversary at a game,--he is against you to-day, and may be your partner +to-morrow; so that, putting even better motives aside, it were bad +policy to treat him as an implacable enemy,” said Lord Claude, with his +accustomed suavity. “Besides, Mr. Merl, you know the crafty maxim of the +French moralist, 'Always treat your enemies as though one day they were +to become your friends.'” And with this commonplace, uttered in a tone +and with a manner that gave it all the semblance of a piece of special +advice, his Lordship took his hat, and, squeezing Martin's hand, moved +towards the door. + +“Come in here for a moment,” said Martin, pushing open the door into an +adjoining dressing-room, and closing it carefully after them. “So much +for wanting to do a good-natured thing,” cried he, peevishly. “I thought +to help Cavendish to get rid of those 'screws,' and the return he makes +me is to outrage this man.” + +“What are your dealings with him?” asked Willoughby» anxiously. + +“Play matters, play debts, loans, securities, post-obits, and every +other blessed contrivance you can think of to swamp a man's present +fortune and future prospects. I don't think he is a bad fellow; I mean, +I don't suspect he 'd press heavily upon me, with any fair treatment on +my part. My impression, in short, is that he'd forgive my not meeting +his bill, but he 'd never get over my not inviting him to a dinner!” + +“Well,” said Willoughby, encouragingly, “we live in admirable times for +such practices. There used to be a vulgar prejudice in favor of men +that one knew, and names that the world was familiar with. It is gone +by entirely; and if you only present your friend--don't wince at the +title--your friend, I say--as the rich Mr. Merl, the man who owns shares +in mines, canals, and collieries, whose speculations count by tens of +thousands, and whose credit rises to millions, you'll never be called on +to apologize for his parts of speech, or make excuse for his solecisms +in good breeding.” + +“Will you put up his name, then, at the Club?” asked Martin, eagerly. +“It would not do for _me_ to do so.” + +“To be sure I will, and Massingbred shall be his seconder.” And with +this cheering pledge Lord Claude bade him good-bye, and left him free +to return to Mr. Merl in the drawing-room. That gentleman had, however, +already departed, to the no small astonishment of Martin, who now threw +himself lazily down on a sofa, to ponder over his difficulties and weave +all manner of impracticable schemes to meet them. + +They were, indeed, very considerable embarrassments. He had raised +heavy sums at most exorbitant rates, and obtained money--for the +play-table--by pledging valuable reversions of various kinds, for Merl +somehow was the easiest of all people to deal with; one might have +fancied that he lent his money only to afford himself an occasion of +sympathy with the borrower, just as he professed that he merely +betted “to have a little interest in the race.” Whatever Martin, then, +suggested in the way of security never came amiss; whether it were a +farm, a mill, a quarry, or a lead mine, he accepted it at once, and, as +Martin deemed, without the slightest knowledge or investigation, little +suspecting that there was not a detail of his estate, nor a resource +of his property, with which the wily Jew was not more familiar than +himself. In fact, Mr. Merl was an astonishing instance of knowledge on +every subject by which money was to be made, and he no more advanced +loans upon an encumbered estate than he backed the wrong horse or +bid for a copied picture. There is a species of practical information +excessively difficult to describe, which is not connoisseurship, but +which supplies the place of that quality, enabling him who possesses +it to estimate the value of an object, without any admixture of those +weakening prejudices which beset your mere man of taste. Now, Mr. Merl +had no caprices about the color of the horse he backed, no more than +for the winning seat at cards; he could not be warped from his true +interests by any passing whim, and whether he cheapened a Correggio or +discounted a bill, he was the same calm, dispassionate calculator of the +profit to come of the transaction. + +Latterly, however, he had thrown out a hint to Martin that he was +curious to see some of that property on which he had made such large +advances; and this wish--which, according to the frame of mind he +happened to be in at the moment, struck Martin as a mere caprice or a +direct menace--was now the object of his gloomy reveries. We have +not tracked his steps through the tortuous windings of his moneyed +difficulties; it is a chapter in life wherein there is wonderfully +little new to record; the Jew-lender and his associates, the renewed +bill and the sixty per cent, the non-restored acceptances flitting about +the world, sold and resold as damaged articles, but always in the end +falling into the hands of a “most respectable party,” and proceeded +on as a true debt; then, the compromises for time, for silence, for +secrecy,--since these transactions are rarely, if ever, devoid of some +unhappy incident that would not bear publicity; and there are invariably +little notes beginning “Dear Moses,” which would argue most ill-chosen +intimacies. These are all old stories, and the “Times” and the +“Chronicle” are full of them. There is a terrible sameness about them, +too. The dupe and the villain are stock characters that never change, +and the incidents are precisely alike in every case. Humble folk, who +are too low for fashionable follies, wonder how the self-same artifices +have always the same success, and cannot conceal their astonishment at +the innocence of our young men about town; and yet the mystery is +easily solved. The dupe is, in these cases, just as unprincipled as +his betrayer, and their negotiation is simply a game of skill, in which +Israel is not always the winner. + +If we have not followed Martin's steps through these dreary labyrinths, +it is because the path is a worn one; for the same reason, too, we +decline to keep him company in his ponderings over them. All that his +troubles had taught him was an humble imitation of the tricky natures of +those he dealt with; so that he plotted and schemed and contrived, till +his very head grew weary with the labor. And so we leave him. + + + +CHAPTER III. A YOUNG DUCHESS AND AN OLD FRIEND + +Like a vast number of people who have passed years in retirement, Lady +Dorothea was marvellously disappointed with “the world” when she went +back to it. It was not at all the kind of thing she remembered, or +at least fancied it to be. There were not the old gradations of class +strictly defined; there was not the old veneration for rank and station; +“society” was invaded by hosts of unknown people, “names one had never +heard of.” The great stars of fashion of her own day had long since set, +and the new celebrities had never as much as heard of her. The great +houses of the Faubourg were there, it is true; but with reduced +households and dimly lighted salons, they were but sorry representatives +of the splendor her memory had invested them with. + +Now the Martins were installed in one of the finest apartments of the +finest quarter in Paris. They were people of unquestionable station, +they had ample means, lacked for none of the advantages which the world +demands from those who seek its favors; and yet there they were, just as +unknown, unvisited, and unsought after, as if they were the Joneses or +the Smiths, “out” for a month's pleasuring on the Continent. + +A solitary invitation to the Embassy to dinner was not followed by any +other attention; and so they drove along the Boulevards and through the +Bois de Boulogne, and saw some thousands of gay, bright-costumed people, +all eager for pleasure, all hurrying on to some scheme of amusement or +enjoyment, while they returned moodily to their handsome quarter, as +much excluded from all participation in what went on around them as +though they were natives of Hayti. + +Martin sauntered down to the reading-room, hoping vainly to fall in with +some one he knew. He lounged listlessly along the bright streets, till +their very glare addled him; he stared at the thousand new inventions of +luxury and ease the world had discovered since he had last seen it, and +then he plodded gloomily homeward, to dine and listen to her Ladyship's +discontented criticism upon the tiresome place and the odious people who +filled it. Paris was, indeed, a deception and a snare to them! So +far from finding it cheap, the expense of living--as they lived--was +considerably greater than at London. It was a city abounding in +luxuries, but all costly. The details which are in England reserved for +days of parade and display, were here daily habits, and these were now +to be indulged in with all the gloom of solitude and isolation. + +What wonder, then, if her Ladyship's temper was ruffled, and her +equanimity unbalanced by such disappointments? In vain she perused the +list of arrivals to find out some distinguished acquaintance; in vain +she interrogated her son as to what was going on, and who were there. +The Captain only frequented the club, and could best chronicle the names +that were great at whist or illustrious at billiards. + +“It surely cannot be the season here,” cried she, one morning, +peevishly, “for really there isn't a single person one has ever heard of +at Paris.” + +“And yet this is a strong catalogue,” cried the Captain, with a +malicious twinkle in his eye. “Here are two columns of somebodies, +who were present at Madame de Luygnes' last night.” + +“You can always fill salons, if that be all,” said she, angrily. + +“Yes, but not with Tour du Pins, Tavannes, Rochefoucaulds, Howards +of Maiden, and Greys of Allington, besides such folk as Pahlen, +Lichtenstein, Colonna, and so forth.” + +“How is it then, that one never sees them?” cried she, more eagerly. + +“Say, rather, how is it one doesn't know them,” cried Martin, “for here +we are seven weeks, and, except to that gorgeous fellow in the cocked +hat at the porter's lodge, I have never exchanged a salute with a human +being.” + +“There are just three houses, they say, in all Paris, to one or other of +which one must be presented,” said the Captain--“Madame de Luygnes, the +Duchesse de Cour-celles, and Madame de Mirecourt.” + +“That Madame de Luygnes was your old mistress, was she not, Miss +Henderson?” asked Lady Dorothea, haughtily. + +“Yes, my Lady,” was the calm reply. + +“And who are these other people?” + +“The Duc de Mirecourt was married to 'Mademoiselle,' the daughter of the +Duchesse de Luygnes.” + +“Have you heard or seen anything of them since you came here?” asked her +Ladyship. + +“No, my Lady, except a hurried salute yesterday from a carriage as we +drove in. I just caught sight of the Duchesse as she waved her hand to +me.” + +“Oh, I saw it. I returned the salutation, never suspecting it was meant +for _you_. And she was your companion--your dear friend--long ago?” + +“Yes, my Lady,” said Kate, bending down over her work, but showing in +the crimson flush that spread over her neck how the speech had touched +her. + +“And you used to correspond, I think?” continued her Ladyship. + +“We did so, my Lady.” + +“And she dropped it, of course, when she married,--she had other things +to think of?” + +“I 'm afraid, my Lady, the lapse was on _my_ side,” said Kate, scarcely +repressing a smile at her own hardihood. + +“_Your_ side! Do you mean to say that you so far forgot what was due +to the station of the Duchesse de Mirecourt, that you left her letter +unreplied to?” + +“Not exactly, my Lady.” + +“Then, pray, what do you mean?” + +Kate paused for a second or two, and then, in a very calm and collected +voice, replied,--“I told the Duchesse, in my last letter, that I should +write no more,--that my life was thrown in a wild, unfrequented region, +where no incident broke the monotony, and that were I to continue our +correspondence, my letters must degenerate into a mere selfish record of +my own sentiments, as unprofitable to read as ungraceful to write; and +so I said good-bye--or _au revoir_, at least--till other scenes might +suggest other thoughts.” + +“A most complimentary character of our Land of the West, certainly! +I really was not aware before that Cro' Martin was regarded as an +'oubliette.'” + +Kate made no answer,--a silence which seemed rather to irritate than +appease her Ladyship. + +“I hope you included the family in your dreary picture. I trust it was +not a mere piece of what artists call still life, Miss Henderson?” + +“No, my Lady,” said she, with a deep sigh; but the tone and manner of +the rejoinder were anything but apologetic. + +“Now I call that as well done as anything one sees in Hyde Park,” cried +the Captain, directing attention as he spoke to a very handsome chariot +which had just driven up to the door. “They're inquiring for somebody +here,” continued he, as he watched the Chasseur as he came and went from +the carriage to the house. + +“There's a Grandee of Spain, or something of that kind, lives on the +fourth floor, I think,” said Martin, dryly. + +“The Duchesse de Mirecourt, my Lady,” said a servant, entering, “begs to +know if your Ladyship will receive her?” + +Kate started at the words, and her color rose till her cheeks were +crimsoned. + +“A visit, I suspect, rather for you than me, Miss Henderson,” said Lady +Dorothea, in a half-whisper; and then turning to her servant, nodded her +acquiescence. + +“I 'm off,” said Martin, rising suddenly to make his escape. + +“And I too,” said the Captain, as he made his exit by an opposite door. + +The folding-doors of the apartment were at the same moment thrown wide, +and the Duchess entered. Very young,--almost girlish, indeed,--she +combined in her appearance the charming freshness of youth with that +perfection of gracefulness which attaches to the higher classes +of French society, and although handsome, more striking from the +fascination of manner than for any traits of beauty. Courtesying +slightly, but deferentially, to Lady Dorothea, she apologized for her +intrusion by the circumstance of having, the day before, caught sight of +her “dear governess and dear friend--” And as she reached thus far, the +deep-drawn breathing of another attracted her. She turned and saw Kate, +who, pale as a statue, stood leaning on a chair. In an instant she +was in her arms, exclaiming, in a rapture of delight, “My dear, dear +Kate,--my more than sister! You would forgive me, madam,” said she, +addressing Lady Dorothea, “if you but knew what we were to each other. +Is it not so, Kate?” + +A faint tremulous motion of the lips--all colorless as they were--was +the only reply to the speech; but the young Frenchwoman needed none, but +turning to her Ladyship, poured forth with native volubility a story of +their friendship, the graceful language in which she uttered it lending +those choice phrases which never seem exaggerations of sentiment till +they be translated into other tongues. Mingling her praises with half +reproaches, she drew a picture of Kate so flattering that Lady Dorothea +could not help a sense of shrinking terror that one should speak in such +terms of the governess. + +“And now, dearest,” added she, turning to Kate, “are we to see a great +deal of each other? When can you come to me? Pardon me, madam, this +question should be addressed to you.” + +“Miss Henderson is my secretary, Madame la Duchesse; she is also my +companion,” said Lady Dorothea, haughtily; “but I can acknowledge claims +which take date before my own. She shall be always at liberty when you +wish for her.” + +“How kind, how good of you!” cried the Duchess. “I could have been +certain of that. I knew that my dear Kate must be loved by all around +her. We have a little _fête_ on Wednesday at St. Germain. May I bespeak +her for that day?” + +“Her Ladyship suffers her generosity to trench upon her too far,” said +Kate, in a low voice. “I am in a manner necessary to her,--that is, my +absence would be inconvenient.” + +“But her Ladyship will doubtless be in the world herself that evening. +There is a ball at the Duchesse de Sargance, and the Austrian Minister +has something,” rattled on the lively Duchess. “Paris is so gay just +now, so full of pleasant people, and all so eager for enjoyment. Don't +you find it so, my Lady?” + +“I go but little into society!” said Lady Dorothea, stiffly. + +“How strange! and I--I cannot live without it. Even when we go to our +Château at Roche-Mire I carry away with me all my friends who will +consent to come. We try to imitate that delightful life of your country +houses, and make up that great family party which is the _beau idéal_ of +social enjoyment.” + +“And you like a country life, then?” asked her Ladyship. + +“To be sure. I love the excursions on horseback, the forest drives, the +evening walks in the trellised vines, the parties one makes to see a +thousand things one never looks at afterwards; the little dinners on the +grass, with all their disasters, and the moonlight drive homewards, half +joyous, half romantic,--not to speak of that charming frankness by which +every one makes confession of his besetting weakness, and each has some +little secret episode of his own life to tell the others. All but Kate +here,” cried she, laughingly, “who never revealed anything.” + +“Madame la Duchesse will, I 'm sure, excuse my absence; she has +doubtless many things she would like to say to her friend alone,” said +Lady Dorothea, rising and courtesying formally; and the young Duchess +returned the salutation with equal courtesy and respect. + +“My dear, dear Kate,” cried she, throwing her arms around her as the +door closed after her Ladyship, “how I have longed for this moment, +to tell you ten thousand things about myself and hear from you as many +more! And first, dearest, are you happy? for you look more serious, more +thoughtful than you used,--and paler, too.” + +“Am I so?” asked Kate, faintly. + +“Yes. When you're not speaking, your brows grow stern and your lips +compressed. Your features have not that dear repose, as Giorgevo used to +call it. Poor fellow! how much in love he was, and you 've never asked +for him!” + +“I never thought of him!” said she, with a smile. + +“Nor of Florian, Kate!” + +“Nor even of him.” + +[Illustration: 044] + +“And yet that poor fellow was really in love,--nay, don't laugh, Kate, +I know it. He gave up his career, everything he had in life,--he was +a Secretary of Legation, with good prospects,--all to win your favor, +becoming a 'Carbonaro,' or a 'Montagnard,' or something or other that +swears to annihilate all kings and extirpate monarchy.” + +“And after that?” asked Kate, with more of interest. + +“After that, ma chère, they sent him to the galleys; I forget exactly +where, but I think it was in Sicily. And then there was that Hungarian +Count Nemescz, that wanted to kill somebody who picked up your bouquet +out of the Grand Canal at Venice.” + +“And whom, strangely enough, I met and made acquaintance with in +Ireland. His name is Massingbred.” + +“Not the celebrity, surely,--the young politician who made such a +sensation by a first speech in Parliament t'other day? He's all the rage +here. Could it be him?” + +“Possibly enough,” said she, carelessly. “He had very good abilities, +and knew it.” + +“He comes to us occasionally, but I scarcely have any acquaintance with +him. But this is not telling me of yourself, child. Who and what are +these people you are living with? Do they value my dear Kate as they +ought? Are they worthy of having her amongst them?” + +“I 'm afraid not,” said Kate, with a smile. “They do not seem at all +impressed with the blessing they enjoy, and only treat me as one of +themselves.” + +“But, seriously, child, are they as kind as they should be? That old +lady is, to my thinking, as austere as an Archduchess.” + +“I like her,” said Kate; “that is, I like her cold, reserved manner, +unbending as it is, which only demands the quiet duties of servitude, +and neither asks nor wishes for affection. She admits me to no +friendship, but she exacts no attachment.” + +“And you like this?” + +“I did not say I should like it from _you!_ said Kate, pressing the hand +she held fervently to her lips, while her pale cheek grew faintly red. + +“And you go into the world with her,--at least _her_ world?” + +“She has none here. Too haughty for second-rate society, and unknown to +those who form the first class at Paris, she never goes out.” + +“But she would--she would like to do so?” + +“I 'm sure she would.” + +“Then mamma shall visit her. You know she is everything here; her house +is the rendezvous of all the distinguished people, and, once seen in her +salons, my Lady--how do you call her?” + +“Lady Dorothea Martin.” + +“I can't repeat it--but no matter--her Ladyship shall not want for +attentions. Perhaps she would condescend to come to me on Wednesday? +Dare I venture to ask her?” + +Kate hesitated, and the Duchess quickly rejoined,--“No, dearest, you are +quite right; it would be hazardous, too abrupt, too unceremonious. You +will, however, be with us; and I long to present you to all my friends, +and show them one to whom I owe so much, and ought to be indebted to +for far more. I 'll send for you early, that we may have a long morning +together.” And so saying, she arose to take leave. + +“I feel as though I 'll scarcely believe I had seen you when you have +gone,” said Kate, earnestly. “I'll fancy it all a dream--or rather, that +my life since we met has been one, and that we had never parted.” + +“Were we not very happy then, Kate?” said the Duchess, with a half-sigh; +“happier, perhaps, than we may ever be again.” + +“_You_ must not say so, at all events,” said Kate, once more embracing +her. And they parted. + +Kate arose and watched the splendid equipage as it drove away, and then +slowly returned to her place at the work-table. She did not, however, +resume her embroidery, but sat deep in reflection, with her hands +clasped before her. + +“Poor fellow!” said she, at length, “a galley-slave, and Massingbred a +celebrity! So much for honesty and truth in this good world of ours! Can +it always go on thus? That is the question I'm curious to hear solved. +A little time may, perhaps, reveal it!” So saying to herself, she leaned +her head upon her hand, deep lost in thought. + + + +CHAPTER IV. A VERY GREAT FAVOR + +Amongst the embarrassments of story-telling there is one which, to be +appreciated, must have been experienced; it is, however, sufficiently +intelligible to claim sympathy even by indicating,--we mean the +difficulty a narrator has in the choice of those incidents by which +his tale is to be marked out, and the characters who fill it adequately +depicted. + +It is quite clear that a great number of events must occur in the story +of every life of which no record can be made; some seem too trivial, +some too irrelevant for mention, and yet, when we come to reflect upon +real life itself, how many times do we discover that what appeared to be +but the veriest trifles were the mainsprings of an entire existence, +and the incidents which we deemed irrelevant were the hidden links +that connected a whole chain of events? How easy, then, to err in the +selection! This difficulty presents itself strongly to us at present; a +vast number of circumstances rise before us from which we must refrain, +lest they should appear to indicate a road we are not about to travel; +and, at the same time, we feel the want of those very events to +reconcile what may well seem contradictions in our history. + +It not unfrequently happens that an apology is just as tiresome as +the offence it should excuse; and so, without further explanation, we +proceed. Lady Dorothea soon found herself as much sought after as she +had previously been neglected. The Duchesse de Luygnes was the great +leader of fashion at Paris; and the marked attentions by which she +distinguished her Ladyship at once established her position. Of course +her unquestionable claim to station, and her own high connections +rendered the task less difficult; while it imparted to Lady Dorothea's +own manner and bearing that degree of dignity and calm which never +accompany an insecure elevation. + +With such refinement of delicacy, such exquisite tact, was every step +managed that her Ladyship was left to suppose every attention she +received sprung out of her own undeniable right to them, and to the +grace and charm of a manner which really had had its share of success +some five-and-thirty years before. The gloomy isolation she had passed +through gave a stronger contrast to the enjoyment of her present life; +and for the first time for years she regained some of that courtly +elegance of address which in her youth had pre-eminently distinguished +her. The change had worked favorably in her temper also; and Martin +perceived, with astonishment, that she neither made injurious +comparisons between the present and the past, nor deemed the age they +lived in one of insufferable vulgarity. It would scarcely have been +possible for Lady Dorothea not to connect her altered position with the +friendship between Kate Henderson and her former pupil; she knew it, and +she felt it. All her self-esteem could not get over this consciousness; +but it was a humiliation reserved for her own heart, since nothing in +Kate's manner indicated even a suspicion of the fact. On the contrary, +never had she shown herself more submissive and dependent. The duties +of her office, multiplied as they were tenfold by her Ladyship's +engagements, were all punctually acquitted, and with a degree of tact +and cleverness that obtained from Lady Dorothea the credit of a charming +note-writer. Nor was she indifferent to the effect Kate produced in +society, where her beauty and fascination had already made a deep +impression. + +Reserving a peculiar deference and respect for all her intercourse with +Lady Dorothea, Kate Henderson assumed to the world at large the ease and +dignity of one whose station was the equal of any. There was nothing in +her air or bearing that denoted the dependant; there was rather a dash +of haughty superiority, which did not scruple to avow itself and bid +defiance to any bold enough to question its claims. Even this was a +secret flattery to Lady Dorothea's heart; and she saw with satisfaction +the success of that imperious tone which to herself was subdued to +actual humility. + +Lady Dorothea Martin and her beautiful companion were now celebrities +at Paris; and, assuredly, no city of the world knows how to shower +more fascinations on those it favors. Life became to them a round of +brilliant festivities. They received invitations from every quarter, and +everywhere were met with that graceful welcome so sure to greet those +whose airs and whose dress are the ornaments of a salon. They “received” + at home, too; and her Ladyship's Saturdays were about the most exclusive +of all Parisian receptions. Tacitly, at least, the whole management and +direction of these “Evenings” was committed to Kate. Martin strictly +abstained from a society in every way distasteful to him. The Captain +had come to care for nothing but play, so that the Club was his only +haunt; and it was the rarest of all events to see him pass even a few +minutes in the drawing-room. He had, besides, that degree of shrinking +dislike to Kate Henderson which a weak man very often experiences +towards a clever and accomplished girl. When he first joined his family +at Paris, he was struck by her great beauty and the elegance of a manner +that might have dignified any station, and he fell partly in love,--that +is to say, as much in love as a captain of hussars could permit himself +to feel for a governess. He condescended to make small advances, show +her petty attentions, and even distinguish her by that flattering stare, +with his glass to his eye, which he had known to be what the poet calls +“blush-compelling” in many a fair cheek in provincial circles. + +To his marvellous discomfiture, however, these measures were not +followed by any success. She never as much as seemed aware of them, and +treated him with the same polite indifference, as though he had been +neither a hussar nor a lady-killer. Of course he interpreted this as a +piece of consummate cunning; he had no other measure for her capacity +than would have been suited to his own. She was a deep one, evidently +bent on drawing him on, and entangling him in some stupid declaration, +and so he grew cautious. But, somehow, his reserve provoked as little +as his boldness. She did not change in the least; she treated him with a +quiet, easy sort of no-notice,--the most offensive thing possible to one +bent upon being impressive, and firmly persuaded that he need only wish, +to be the conqueror. + +Self-worship was too strong in him to suffer a single doubt as to his +own capacity for success, and therefore the only solution to the mystery +of her manner was its being an artful scheme, which time and a little +watching would surely explain. Time went on, and yet he grew none the +wiser; Kate continued the same impassive creature as at first. She never +sought,--never avoided him. She met him without constraint,--without +pleasure, too. They never became intimate, while there was no distance +in their intercourse; till at last, wounded in his self-esteem, he +began to feel that discomfort in her presence which only waits for the +slightest provocation to become actual dislike. + +With that peevishness that belongs to small minds, he would have been +glad to have discovered some good ground for hating her; and a dozen +times a day did he fancy that he had “hit the blot,” but somehow he +always detected his mistake erelong; and thus did he live on in that +tantalizing state of uncertainty and indecision which combines about as +much suffering as men of his stamp are capable of feeling. + +If Lady Dorothea never suspected the degree of influence Kate silently +exercised over her, the Captain saw it palpably, and tried to nourish +the knowledge into a ground for dislike. But somehow she would no more +suffer herself to be hated than to be loved, and invariably baffled +all his attempts to “get up” an indignation against her. By numberless +devices--too slight, too evanescent to be called regular coquetry--she +understood how to conciliate him, even in his roughest moods, while she +had only to make the very least possible display of her attractions to +fascinate him in his happier moments. The gallant hussar was not much +given to self-examination. It was one of the last positions he would +have selected; and yet he had confessed to his own heart that, though he +'d not like to marry her himself, he 'd be sorely tempted to shoot any +man who made her his wife. + +Lady Dorothea and Kate Henderson were seated one morning engaged in the +very important task of revising the invitation-book,--weeding out the +names of departed acquaintance, and canvassing the claims of those who +should succeed them. The rigid criticism as to eligibility showed how +great an honor was the card for her Ladyship's “Tea.” While they were +thus occupied, Captain Martin entered the room with an open letter in +his hand, his air and manner indicating flurry, if not actual agitation. + +“Sorry to interrupt a privy council,” said he, “but I've come to ask +a favor,--don't look frightened; it's not for a woman, my Lady,--but I +want a card for your next Saturday, for a male friend of mine.” + +“Kate has just been telling me that 'our men' are too numerous.” + +“Impossible. Miss Henderson knows better than any one that the success +of these things depends on having a host of men,--all ages, all classes, +all sorts of people,” said he, indolently. + +“I think we have complied with your theory,” said she, pointing to the +book before her. “If our ladies are chosen for their real qualities, the +men have been accepted with a most generous forbearance.” + +“One more, then, will not damage the mixture.” + +“Of course, Captain Martin, it is quite sufficient that he is a friend +of yours--that you wish it--” + +“But it is no such thing, Miss Henderson,” broke in Lady Dorothea. “We +have already given deep umbrage in many quarters--very high quarters, +too--by refusals; and a single mistake would be fatal to us.” + +“But why need this be a mistake?” cried Captain Martin, peevishly. “The +man is an acquaintance of mine,--a friend, if you like to call him so.” + +“And who is he?” asked my Lady, with all the solemnity of a judge. + +“A person I met at the Cape. We travelled home together--saw a great +deal of each other--in fact--I know him as intimately as I do--any +officer in my regiment,” said the Captain, blundering and faltering at +every second word. + +“Oh! then he is one of your own corps?” said her Ladyship. + +“I never said so,” broke he in. “If he had been, I don't fancy I should +need to employ much solicitation in his behalf; the--they are not +usually treated in that fashion!” + +“I trust we should know how to recognize their merits,” said Kate, +with a look which sorely puzzled him whether it meant conciliation or +raillery. + +“And his name?” asked my Lady. “His name ought to be decisive, without +anything more!” + +“He's quite a stranger here, knows nobody, so that you incur no risk as +to any impertinent inquiries, and when he leaves this, to-morrow or next +day, you 'll never see him again.” This the Captain said with all the +confusion of an inexpert man in a weak cause. + +“Shall I address his card, or will you take it yourself, Captain +Martin?” said Kate, in a low voice. + +“Write Merl,--Mr. Herman Merl,” said he, dropping his own voice to the +same tone. + +“Merl!” exclaimed Lady Dorothea, whose quick hearing detected the words. +“Why, where on earth could you have made acquaintance with a man called +Merl?” + +“I have told you already where and how we met; and if it be +any satisfaction to you to know that I am under considerable +obligations--heavy obligations--to this same gentleman, perhaps it might +incline you to show him some mark of attention.” + +“You could have him to dinner at your Club,--you might even bring him +here, when we're alone, Harry; but really, to receive him at one of +our Evenings! You know how curious people are, what questions they will +ask:--'Who is that queer-looking man?'--I 'm certain he is so.--'Is he +English?'--'Who does he belong to?'--'Does he know any one?'” + +“Let them ask me, then,” said Martin, “and I may, perhaps, be able to +satisfy them.” At the same moment he took up from the table the card +which Kate had just written, giving her a look of grateful recognition +as he did so. + +“You 've done this at your own peril, Miss Henderson,” said Lady +Dorothea, half upbraidingly. + +“At _mine_, be it rather,” said the Captain, sternly. + +“I accept my share of it willingly,” said Kate, with a glance which +brought a deep flush over the hussar's cheek, and sent through him a +strange thrill of pleasure. + +“Then I am to suppose we shall be honored with your own presence on this +occasion,--rare favor that it is,” said her Ladyship. + +“Yes, I 'll look in. I promised Merl to present him.” + +“Oh, you need n't!” said she, peevishly. “Half the men merely make their +bow when they meet me, and neither expect me to remember who they are +or to notice them. I may leave your distinguished friend in the same +category.” + +A quick glance from Kate--fleeting, but full of meaning--stopped Martin +as he was about to make a hasty reply. And, crumpling up the card with +suppressed passion, he turned and left the room. + +“Don't put that odious name on our list, Miss Henderson,” said Lady +Dorothea; “we shall never have him again.” + +“I 'm rather curious to see him,” said Kate. “All this discussion has +imparted a kind of interest to him, not to say that there would seem +something like a mystery in Captain Martin's connection with him.” + +“I confess to no such curiosity,” said my Lady, haughtily. “The taste +to be amused by vulgarity is like the passion some people have to see an +hospital; you may be interested by the sight, but you may catch a malady +for your pains.” And with this observation of mingled truth and fallacy +her Ladyship sailed proudly out of the room in all the conscious +importance of her own cleverness. + + + +CHAPTER V. A LETTER FROM HOME + +While this discussion was going on, Martin was seated in his own room, +examining the contents of his letter-bag, which the post had just +delivered to him. A very casual glance at his features would have +discovered that the tidings which met his eye were very rarely of a +pleasant character. For the most part the letters were importunate +appeals for money, subscriptions, loans, small sums to be repaid when +the borrower had risen above his present difficulties, aids to effect +some little enterprise on whose very face was failure. Then there were +the more formal demands for sums actually due, written in the perfection +of coercive courtesy, subjecting the reader to all the tortures of a +moral surgical operation, a suffering actually increased by the very +dexterity of the manipulator. Then came, in rugged hand and gnarled +shape, urgent entreaties for abatements and allowances, pathetic +pictures of failing crops, sickness and sorrow! Somewhat in contrast to +these in matter--most strikingly unlike them in manner--was a short note +from Mr. Maurice Scanlan. Like a rebutting witness in a cause, he spoke +of everything as going on favorably; prices were fair, the oat crop a +reasonable one. There was distress, to be sure, but who ever saw the +West without it? The potatoes had partially failed; but as there was a +great deal of typhus and a threat of cholera, there would be fewer to +eat them. The late storms had done a good deal of mischief, but as the +timber thrown down might be sold without any regard to the entail, some +thousand pounds would thus be realized; and as the gale had carried away +the new pier at Kilkieran, there would be no need to give a bounty to +the fishermen who could not venture out to sea. The damage done to the +house and the conservatories at Cro' Martin offered an opportunity to +congratulate the owner on the happiness of living in a milder climate; +while the local squabbles of the borough suggested a pleasant contrast +with all the enjoyments of a life abroad. + +On the whole, Mr. Scanlan's letter was rather agreeable than the +reverse, since he contrived to accompany all the inevitable ills of +fortune by some side-wind consolations, and when pushed hard for these, +skilfully insinuated in what way “things might have been worse.” If the +letter did not reflect very favorably on either the heart or brain that +conceived it, it well suited him to whom it was addressed. To screen +himself from whatever might irritate him, to escape an unpleasant +thought or unhappy reflection, to avoid, above all things, the slightest +approach of self-censure, was Martin's great philosophy; and he esteemed +the man who gave him any aid in this road. Now newspapers might croak +their dark predictions about the coming winter, prophesy famine, fever, +and pestilence; Scanlan's letter, “written from the spot,” by “one who +enjoyed every opportunity for forming a correct opinion,” was there, +and _he_ said matters were pretty much as usual. The West of Ireland had +never been a land of milk and honey, and nobody expected it ever would +be,--the people could live in it, however, and pay rents too; and as +Martin felt that he had no undue severity to reproach himself with, +he folded up the epistle, saying that “when a man left his house and +property for a while, it was a real blessing to have such a fellow as +Scanlan to manage for him;” and truly, if one could have his conscience +kept for a few hundreds a year, the compact might be a pleasant one. But +even to the most self-indulgent this plan is impracticable; and so might +it now be seen in Martin's heightened color and fidgety manner, and +that even _he_ was not as much at ease within as he wished to persuade +himself he was. + +Amid the mass of correspondence, pamphlets and newspapers, one note, +very small and neatly folded, had escaped Martin's notice till the very +last; and it was only as he heaped up a whole bundle to throw into the +fire that he discovered this, in Mary's well-known hand. He held it +for some time ere he broke the seal, and his features assumed a sadder, +graver cast than before. His desertion of her--and he had not blinked +the word to himself--had never ceased to grieve him; and however +disposed he often felt to throw upon others the blame which attached to +himself here, he attempted no casuistry, but stood quietly, without one +plea in his favor, before his own heart. + +The very consciousness of his culpability had prevented him writing to +her as he ought; his letters were few, short, and constrained. Not all +the generous frankness of hers could restore to him the candid ease of +his former intercourse with her; and every chance expression he used was +conned over and canvassed by him, lest it might convey some sentiment, +or indicate some feeling foreign to his intention. At length so painful +had the task become that he had ceased writing altogether, contenting +himself with a message through Kate Henderson,--some excuse about his +health, fatigue,-and so forth, ever coupled with a promise that he +would soon be himself again, and as active a correspondent as she could +desire. + +To these apologies Mary always replied in a kindly spirit. Whatever +sorrow they might have cost her she kept for herself; they never +awakened one expression of impatience, not a word of reproach. She +understood him thoroughly,--his easy indolence of disposition, his +dislike to a task, his avoidance of whatever was possible to defer; +more even than all these, his own unforgiveness of himself for his part +towards her. To alleviate, so far as she might, the poignancy of the +last, was for a while the great object of all her letters; and so +she continued to expatiate on the happy life she was leading, her +contentment with the choice she had made of remaining there, throwing +in little playful sallies of condolence at her uncle's banishment, and +jestingly assuring him how much happier he would be at home! + +In whatever mood, however, she wrote, there was a striking absence of +whatever could fret or grieve her uncle throughout all her letters. She +selected every pleasant topic and the favorable side of every theme to +tell of. She never forgot any little locality which he had been partial +to, or any of the people who were his favorites; and, in fact, it might +have seemed that the great object she had in view was to attach him more +and more to the home he had left, and strengthen every tie that bound +him to his own country. And all this was done lightly and playfully, and +with a pleasant promise of the happiness he should feel on the day of +his return. + +These letters were about the pleasantest incidents in Martin's present +life; and the day which brought him one was sure to pass agreeably, +while he made vigorous resolutions about writing a reply, and sometimes +got even so far as to open a desk and ruminate over an answer. It so +chanced that now a much longer interval had occurred since Mary's last +letter, and the appearance of the present note, so unlike the voluminous +epistle she usually despatched, struck him with a certain dismay. “Poor +Molly,” said he, as he broke the seal, “she is growing weary at last; +this continued neglect is beginning to tell upon her. A little more, +and she 'll believe--as well she may--that we have forgotten her +altogether.” + +The note was even briefer than he had suspected. It was written, too, +in what might seem haste, or agitation, and the signature forgotten. +Martin's hand trembled, and his chest heaved heavily as he read the +following lines:-- + +“Cro' Martin, Wednesday Night + +“Dearest Uncle,--You will not suffer these few lines to remain +unanswered, since they are written in all the pressure of a great +emergency. Our worst fears for the harvest are more than realized; a +total failure in the potatoes--a great diminution in the oat crop; the +incessant rains have flooded all the low meadows, and the cattle are +almost without forage, while from the same cause no turf can be cut, and +even that already cut and stacked cannot be drawn away from the bogs. +But, worse than all these, typhus is amongst us, and cholera, they say, +coming. I might stretch out this dreary catalogue, but here is enough, +more than enough, to awaken your sympathies and arouse you to action. +There is a blight on the land; the people are starving--dying. If every +sense of duty was dead within us, if we could harden our hearts against +every claim of those from whose labor we derive ease, from whose toil we +draw wealth and leisure, we might still be recalled to better things +by the glorious heroism of these poor people, so nobly courageous, so +patient are they in their trials. It is not now that I can speak of +the traits I have witnessed of their affection, their charity, their +self-denial, and their daring--but now is the moment to show them that +we, who have been dealt with more favorably by fortune, are not devoid +of the qualities which adorn their nature. + +“I feel all the cruelty of narrating these things to you, too far away +from the scene of sorrow to aid by your counsel and encourage by your +assistance; but it would be worse than cruelty to conceal from you +that a terrible crisis is at hand, which will need all your energy to +mitigate. + +“Some measures are in your power, and must be adopted at once. There +must be a remission of rent almost universally, for the calamity has +involved all; and such as are a little richer than their neighbors +should be aided, that they may be the more able to help them. Some +stores of provisions must be provided to be sold at reduced rates, or +even given gratuitously. Medical aid must be had, and an hospital +of some sort established. The able-bodied must be employed on some +permanent work; and for these, we want power from you and some present +moneyed assistance. I will not harrow your feelings with tales of +sufferings. You have seen misery here--enough, I say--you have witnessed +nothing like this, and we are at but the beginning. + +“Write to me at once yourself--this is no occasion to employ a +deputy--and forgive me, dearest uncle, for I know not what faults of +presumption I may have here committed. My head is confused; the crash +of misfortunes has addled me, and each succeed so rapidly on each other, +that remedies are scarcely employed than they have to be abandoned. +When, however, I can tell the people that it is their own old friend and +master that sends them help, and bids them to be of good cheer,--when +I can show them that, although separated by distance, your heart never +ceases to live amongst them,--I know well the magic working of such a +spell upon them, and how, with a bravery that the boldest soldier never +surpassed, they will rise up against the stern foes of sickness and +famine, and do battle with hard fortune manfully. + +“You have often smiled at what you deemed my exaggerated opinion of +these poor people,--my over-confidence in their capacity for good. +Oh--take my word for it--I never gave them credit for one half the +excellence of their natures. They are on their trial now, and nobly do +they sustain it! + +“I have no heart to answer all your kind questions about myself,--enough +that I am well; as little can I ask you about all your doings in Paris. +I 'm afraid I should but lose temper if I heard that they were pleasant +ones; and yet, with my whole soul, I wish you to be happy; and with +this, + +“Believe me your affectionate + +“Mr. Repton has written me the kindest of letters, full of good advice +and good sense; he has also enclosed me a check for £100, with an offer +of more if wanted. I was low and depressed when his note reached me, +but it gave me fresh energy and hope. He proposed to come down here if +I wished; but how could I ask such a sacrifice,--how entreat him to face +the peril?” + +“Tell Captain Martin I wish to speak to him,” said Martin, as he +finished the perusal of this letter. And in a few minutes after, that +gallant personage appeared, not a little surprised at the summons. + +“I have got a letter from Mary here,” said Martin, vainly endeavoring +to conceal his agitation as he spoke, “which I want to show you. Matters +are in a sad plight in the West. She never exaggerates a gloomy story, +and her account is very afflicting. Read it.” + +The Captain lounged towards the window, and, leaning listlessly against +the wall, opened the epistle. + +“You have not written to her lately, then?” asked he, as he perused the +opening sentence. + +“I am ashamed to say I have not; every day I made a resolution; but +somehow--” + +“Is all this anything strange or new?” broke in the Captain. “I 'm +certain I have forty letters from my mother with exactly the same story. +In fact, before I ever broke the seal, I 'd have wagered an equal +fifty that the potatoes had failed, the bogs were flooded, the roads +impassable, and the people dying in thousands; and yet, when spring came +round, by some happy miracle they were all alive and merry again!” + +“Read on,” said Martin, impatiently, and barely able to control himself +at this heartless commentary. + +“Egad! I 'd have sworn I had read all this before, except these same +suggestions about not exacting the rents, building hospitals, and so +forth; that _is_ new. And why does she say, 'Don't write by deputy'? Who +_was_ your deputy?” + +“Kate Henderson has written for me latterly.” + +“And I should say she 's quite equal to that sort of thing; she dashes +off my mother's notes at score, and talks away, too, all the time she 's +writing.” + +“That is not the question before us,” said Martin, sternly. + +“When I sent for you to read that letter, it was that you might advise +and counsel me what course to take.” + +“If you can afford to give away a year's income in the shape of rent, +and about as much more in the shape of a donation, of course you 're +quite free to do it. I only wish that your generosity would begin at +home, though; for I own to you I 'm very hard-up at this moment.” This +the Captain spoke with an attempted jocularity which decreased with +every word, till it subsided into downright seriousness ere he finished. + +“So far from being in a position to do an act of munificence, I am +sorely pressed for money,” said Martin. + +The Captain started; the half-smile with which he had begun to receive +this speech died away on his lips as he asked, “Is this really the +case?” + +“Most truly so,” said Martin, solemnly. + +“But how, in the name of everything absurd--how is this possible? By +what stratagem could you have spent five thousand a year at Cro' Martin, +and your estate was worth almost three times as much? Giving a very wide +margin for waste and robbery, I 'd say five thousand could not be made +away with there in a twelvemonth.” + +“Your question only shows me how carelessly you must have read my +letters to you, in India,” said Martin; “otherwise you could not have +failed to see the vast improvements we have been carrying out on the +property,--the roads, the harbors, the new quarries opened, the extent +of ground covered by plantation,--all the plans, in fact, which Mary had +matured--” + +“Mary! Mary!” exclaimed the Captain. “And do you tell me that all these +things were done at the instigation of a young girl of nineteen or +twenty, without any knowledge, or even advice--” + +“And who said she was deficient in knowledge?” cried Martin. “Take up +the map of the estate; see the lands she has reclaimed; look at the +swamps you used to shoot snipe over bearing corn crops; see the thriving +village, where once the boatmen were starving, for they dared not +venture out to sea without a harbor against bad weather.” + +“Tell me the cost of all this. What's the figure?” said the Captain; +“that's the real test of all these matters, for if _your_ income could +only feed this outlay, I pronounce the whole scheme the maddest thing +in Christendom. My mother's taste for carved oak cabinets and historical +pictures is the quintessence of wisdom in comparison.” + +Martin was overwhelmed and silent, and the other went on,--“Half the +fellows in 'ours' had the same story to tell,--of estates wasted, +and fine fortunes squandered in what are called improvements. If the +possession of a good property entails the necessity to spend it all in +this fashion, one is very little better than a kind of land-steward to +one's own estate; and, for my part, I 'd rather call two thousand a year +my own, to do what I pleased with, than have a nominal twenty, of which +I must disburse nineteen.” + +“Am I again to remind you that this is not the question before us?” said +Martin, with increased sternness. + +“That is exactly the very question,” rejoined the Captain. “Mary here +coolly asks you, in the spirit of this same improvement-scheme, to +relinquish a year's income, and make a present of I know not how much +more, simply because things are going badly with them, just as if +everybody has n't their turn of ill-fortune. Egad, I can answer for it, +_mine_ has n't been flourishing latterly, and yet I have heard of no +benevolent plan on foot to aid or release me!” + +To this heartless speech, uttered, however, in most perfect sincerity, +Martin made no reply whatever, but sat with folded arms, deep in +contemplation. At length, raising his head, he asked, “And have you, +then, no counsel to give,--no suggestion to make me?” + +“Well,” said he, suddenly, “if Mary has not greatly overcharged all this +story--” + +“That she has not,” cried Martin, interrupting him. “There 's not a +line, not a word of her letter, I 'd not guarantee with all I 'm worth +in the world.” + +“In that case,” resumed the Captain, in the same indolent tone, “they +must be in a sorry plight, and _I_ think ought to cut and run as fast as +they can. I know that's what _we_ do in India; when the cholera comes, +we break up the encampment, and move off somewhere else. Tell Mary, +then, to advise them to keep out of 'the jungle,' and make for the hill +country.'” + +Martin stared at the speaker for some seconds, and it was evident how +difficult he found it to believe that the words he had just listened to +were uttered in deliberate seriousness. + +“If you have read that letter, you certainly have not understood it,” + said he at last, in a voice full of melancholy meaning. + +“Egad, it's only too easy of comprehension,” replied the Captain; “of +all things in life, there's no mistaking a demand for money.” + +“Just take it with you to your own room, Harry,” said Martin, with +a manner of more affection than he had yet employed. “It is my firm +persuasion that when you have re-read and thought over it, your +impression will be a different one. Con it over in solitude, and then +come back and give me your advice.” + +The Captain was not sorry to adopt a plan which relieved him so speedily +from a very embarrassing situation, and, folding up the note, he turned +and left the room. + +There are a great number of excellent people in this world who believe +that “Thought,” like “Écarté,” is a game which requires two people to +play. The Captain was one of these; nor was it within his comprehension +to imagine how any one individual could suffice to raise the doubts he +was called on to canvass or decide. “Who should he now have recourse +to?” was his first question; and he had scarcely proposed it to himself +when a soft low voice said, “What is puzzling Captain Martin?--can I be +of any service to him?” He turned and saw Kate Henderson. + +“Only think how fortunate!” exclaimed he. “Just come in here to this +drawing-room, and give me your advice.” + +“Willingly,” said she, with a courtesy the more marked because his +manner indicated a seriousness that betokened trouble. + +“My father has just dismissed me to cogitate over this epistle; as +if, after all, when one has read a letter, that any secret or mystical +interpretation is to come by all the reconsideration and reflection in +the world.” + +“Am I to read it?” asked Kate, as he placed it in her hand. + +“Of course you are,” said he. + +“There is nothing confidential or private in it which I ought not to +see?” + +“Nothing; and if there were,” added he, warmly, “_you_ are one of +ourselves, I trust,--at least _I_ think you so.” + +Kate's lips closed with almost stern % impressiveness, but her color +never changed at this speech, and she opened the letter in silence. For +some minutes she continued to read with the same impassive expression; +but gradually her cheek became paler, and a haughty, almost scornful, +expression settled on her lips. “So patient are they in their trials,” + said she, reading aloud the expression of Mary's note. “Is it not +possible, Captain Martin, that patience may be pushed a little beyond a +virtue, and become something very like cowardice,--abject cowardice? +And then,” cried she impetuously, and not waiting for his reply, “to +say that now is the time to show these poor people the saving care and +protection that the rich owe them, as if the duty dated from the hour of +their being struck down by famine, laid low by pestilence, or that the +debt could ever be acquitted by the relief accorded to pauperism! Why +not have taught these same famished creatures self-dependence, elevated +them to the rank of civilized beings by the enjoyment of rights that +give men self-esteem as well as liberty? What do you mean to do, +sir?--or is that your difficulty?” cried she, hastily changing her tone +to one of less energy. + +“Exactly,--that is _my difficulty_. My father, I suspect, wishes me to +concur in the pleasant project struck out by Mary, and that, by way of +helping _them_, we should ruin _ourselves_.” + +“And _you_ are for--” She stopped, as if to let him finish her question +for her. + +“Egad, I don't know well what I'm for, except it be self-preservation. +I mean,” said he, correcting himself, as a sudden glance of almost +insolent scorn shot from Kate's eyes towards him,--“I mean that I 'm +certain more than half of this account is sheer exaggeration. Mary is +frightened,--as well she may be,--finding herself all alone, and +hearing nothing but the high-colored stories the people brings her, and +listening to calamities from morning to night.” + +“But still it _may_ be all true,” said Kate, solemnly. “It may be--as +Miss Martin writes--that 'there is a blight on the land.'” + +“What's to be done, then?” asked he, in deep embarrassment. + +“The first step is to ascertain what is fact,--the real extent of the +misfortune.” + +“And how is that to be accomplished?” asked he. + +“Can you not think of some means?” said she, with a scarcely perceptible +approach to a smile. + +“No, by Jove! that I cannot, except by going over there one's self.” + +“And why not that?” asked she, more boldly, while she fixed her large +full eyes directly upon him. + +“If _you_ thought that I ought to go,--if you advised it and would +actually say 'Go'--” + +“Well, if I should?” + +“Then I'd set off to-night; though, to say truth, neither the journey +nor the business are much to my fancy.” + +“Were they ten times less so, sir, I'd say, 'Go,'” said she, resolutely. + +“Then go I will,” cried the Captain; “and I'll start within two hours.” + + + +CHAPTER VI. MR. MERL'S DEPARTURE + +Worthy reader, you are neither weak of purpose nor undecided in action; +as little are you easily moved by soft influences, when aided by long +eyelashes. But had you been so, it would have been no difficult effort +for you to comprehend the state of mind in which Captain Martin repaired +to his room to make preparation for his journey. There was a kind of +half chivalry in his present purpose that nerved and supported him. It +was like a knight-errant of old setting out to confront a peril at the +behest of his lady-love; but against this animating conviction there +arose that besetting sin of small minds,--a sense of distrust,--a +lurking suspicion that he might be, all this while, nothing but the dupe +of a very artful woman. + +“Who can tell,” said he to himself, “what plan she may have in all this, +or what object she may propose to herself in getting _me_ out of the +way? I don't think she really cares one farthing about the distress of +these people, supposing it all to be true; and as to the typhus fever +and cholera, egad! if they be there, one ought to think twice before +rushing into the midst of them. And then, again, what do I know about +the country or its habits? I have no means of judging if it be poorer or +sicklier or; more wretched than usual. To _my_ eyes, it always seemed +at the lowest depth of want and misery; every one went half starved and +more than half naked. I 'm sure there is no necessity for my going some +few hundred and odd miles to refresh my memory on this pleasant fact; +and yet this is precisely what I 'm about to do. Is it by way of trying +her power over me? By Jove, I 've hit it!” cried he, suddenly, as he +stopped arranging a mass of letters which he was reducing to order +before his departure. “That's her game; there's no doubt of it! She +has said to herself, 'This will prove him. If he do this at my bidding, +he'll do more.' Ay, but will he, mademoiselle? that's the question. A +young hussar may turn out to be a very old soldier. What if I were just +to tell her so. Girls of her stamp like a man all the better when he +shows himself to be wide-awake. I 'd lay a fifty on it she 'll care more +for me when she sees I 'm her own equal in shrewdness. And, after all, +why should _I_ go? I could send my valet, Fletcher,--just the kind of +fellow for such a mission,--never knew the secret he could n't worm out; +there never was a bit of barrack scandal he did n't get to the bottom +of. He 'd be back here within a fortnight, with the whole state of the +case, and I'll be bound there will be no humbugging _him_.” + +This bright idea was not, however, without its share of detracting +reflections, for what became of all that personal heroism on which he +reposed such hope, if the danger were to be encountered by deputy? This +was a puzzle, not the less that he had not yet made up his mind whether +he 'd really be in love with Kate Henderson, or only involve _her_ in an +unfortunate attachment for _him_. While he thus pondered and hesitated, +strewing his room with the contents of drawers and cabinets, by way of +aiding the labor of preparation, his door was suddenly opened, and Mr. +Merl made his appearance. Although dressed with all his habitual regard +to effect, and more than an ordinary display of chains and trinkets, +that gentleman's aspect betokened trouble and anxiety; at least, there +was a certain restlessness in his eye that Martin well understood as an +evidence of something wrong within. + +“Are you getting ready for a journey, Captain?” asked he, as he entered. + +“I was thinking of it; but I believe I shall not go. I 'm undecided.” + +“Up the Rhine?” + +“No; not in that direction.” + +“South,--towards Italy, perhaps?” + +“Nor there, either. I was meditating a trip to England.” + +“We should be on the road together,” said Merl. “I'm off by four +o'clock.” + +“How so? What's the reason of this sudden start?” + +“There's going to be a crash here,” said Merl, speaking in a lower tone. +“The Government have been doing the thing with too high a hand, and +there's mischief brewing.” + +“Are you sure of this?” asked Martin. + +“Only too sure, that's all. I bought in, on Tuesday last, at sixty-four +and an eighth, and the same stock is now fifty-one and a quarter, and +will be forty to-morrow. The day after--” Here Mr. Merl made a motion +with his outstretched arm, to indicate utter extinction. + +“You're a heavy loser, then?” asked Martin, eagerly. + +“I shall be, to the tune of some thirteen thousand pounds. It was just +on that account I came in here. I shall need money within the week, and +must turn those Irish securities of yours into cash,--some of them at +least,--and I want a hint from you as to which I ought to dispose of +and which hold over. You told me one day, I remember, that there was a +portion of the property likely to rise greatly in value--” + +“_You_ told me, sir,” said Captain Martin, breaking suddenly in, “when +I gave you these same bonds, that they should remain in your own hands, +and never leave them. That was the condition on which I gave them.” + +“I suppose, Captain, you gave them for something; you did not make a +present of them,” said the Jew, coloring slightly. + +“If I did not make a present of them,” rejoined Martin, “the transaction +was about as profitable to me.” + +“You owed me the money, sir; that, at least, is the way I regard the +matter.” + +“And when I paid it by these securities, you pledged yourself not to +negotiate them. I explained to you how the entail was settled,--that the +property must eventually be mine,--and you accepted the arrangement on +these conditions.” + +“All true, Captain; but nobody told me, at that time, there was going +to be a revolution in Paris,--which there will be within forty-eight +hours.” + +“Confounded fool that I was to trust the fellow!” said Martin to +himself, but quite loud enough to be heard; then turning to Merl, he +said, “What do you mean by converting them into cash? Are you about to +sell part of our estate?” + +“Nothing of the kind, Captain,” said Merl, smiling at the innocence of +the question. “I am simply going to deposit these where I can obtain +an advance upon them. I promise you, besides, it shall not be in any +quarter by which the transaction can reach the ears of your family. +This assurance will, I trust, satisfy _you_, and entitle _me_ to the +information I ask for.” + +“What information do you allude to?” asked Martin, who had totally +forgotten what the Jew announced as the reason of his visit. + +“I asked you, Captain,” said Merl, resuming the mincing softness of +his usual manner, “as to which of these securities might be the more +eligible for immediate negotiation?” + +“And how should I know, sir?” replied the other, rudely. “I am very +little acquainted with the property itself; I know still less about the +kind of dealings you speak of. It does not concern me in the least +what you do, or how you do it. I believe I may have given you bonds for +something very like double the amount of all you ever advanced to me. +I hear of nothing from my father but the immense resources of this, and +the great capabilities of that; but as these same eventualities are +not destined to better _my_ condition, I have not troubled my head to +remember anything about them. You have a claim of about twenty thousand +against me.” + +“Thirty-two thousand four hundred and seventy-eight pounds,” said the +Jew, reading from a small note-book which he had just taken from his +waistcoat pocket. + +“That is some ten thousand more than ever I heard of,” said Martin, with +an hysterical sort of laugh. “Egad, Merl, the fellows were right that +would not have you in the 'Cercle.' You 'd have 'cleared every man of +them out,'--as well let a ferret into a rabbit warren.” + +“I was n't aware,--I had not heard that I was put up--” + +“To be sure you were; in all form proposed, seconded, and duly +blackballed. I own to you, I thought it very hard, very illiberal. There +are plenty of fellows there that have no right to be particular; and so +Jack Massingbred as much as told them. The fact is, Merl, you ought to +have waited awhile, and by the time that Harlowe and Spencer Cavendish +and a few more such were as deep in your books as I am, you 'd have had +a walk over. Willoughby says the same. It might have cost you something +smart, but you 'd have made it pay in the end,--eh, Merl?” + +To this speech, uttered in a strain of jocular impertinence, Merl made +no reply. He had just torn one of his gloves in pieces in the effort +to draw it on, and he was busily exerting himself to get rid of the +fragments. + +“Lady Dorothea had given me a card for you for Saturday,” resumed the +Captain; “but as you 're going away--Besides, after this defeat at +the Club, you could n't well come amongst all these people; so there's +nothing for it but patience, Merl, patience--” + +“A lesson that may be found profitable to others, perhaps,” said the +Jew, with one of his furtive looks at the Captain, who quailed under it +at once. + +“I was going to give you a piece of advice, Merl,” said he, in a tone +the very opposite to his late bantering one. “It was, that you should +just take a run over to Ireland yourself, and see the property.” + +“I mean to do so, Captain Martin,” said the other, calmly. + +“I can't offer you letters, for they would defeat what you desire to +accomplish; besides, there is no member of the family there at present +but a young lady-cousin of mine.” + +“Just the kind of introduction I 'd like,” said the Jew, with all the +zest of a man glad to say what he knew would be deemed an impertinence. + +Martin grew crimson with suppressed anger, but never spoke a word. + +“Is this the Cousin Mary I have heard you speak of,” said Merl,--“the +great horsewoman, and she that ventures out alone on the Atlantic in a +mere skiff?” + +Martin nodded. His temper was almost an overmatch for him, and he dared +not trust himself to speak. + +“I should like to see her amazingly, Captain,” resumed Merl. + +“Remember, sir, you have no lien upon _her_,” said Martin, sternly. + +The Jew smirked and ran his fingers through his hair with the air of one +who deemed such an eventuality by no means so very remote. + +“Do you know, Master Merl,” said Martin, staring at him from head +to foot with an expression the reverse of complimentary, “I 'm half +disposed to give you a few lines to my cousin; and if you 'll not take +the thing as a _mauvais plaisanterie_ on my part, I will do so.”. “Quite +the contrary, Captain. I 'll deem it a great favor, indeed,” said Merl, +with an admirable affectation of unconsciousness. + +“Here goes, then,” said Martin, sitting down to a table, and preparing +his writing materials, while in a hurried hand he began:-- + +“'Dear Cousin Mary,--This will introduce to you Mr. Herman Merl, who +visits your remote regions on a tour of----What shall I say?” + +“Pleasure,--amusement,” interposed Merl. + +“No, when I _am_ telling a fib, I like a big one,--I 'll say, +philanthropy, Merl; and there's nothing so well adapted to cover those +secret investigations you are bent upon,--a tour of philanthropy. + +“'You will, I am sure, lend him all possible assistance in his +benevolent object,--the same being to dispose of the family acres,--and +at the same time direct his attention to whatever may be matter of +interest,--whether mines, quarries, or other property easily convertible +into cash,--treating him in all respects as one to whom I owe many +obligations--and several thousand pounds.' + +“Will that do, think you?” + +“Perfectly; nothing better.” + +“In return, I shall ask one favor at your hands,” said Martin, as +he folded and addressed the epistle. “It is that you write me a full +account of what you see in the West,--how the country looks, and the +people. Of course it will all seem terribly poor and destitute, and all +that sort of thing, to your eyes; but just try and find out if it be +worse than usual. Paddy is such a shrewd fellow, Merl, that it will +require all your own sharpness not to be taken in by him. A long letter +full of detail--a dash of figures in it--as to how many sheep have the +rot, or how many people have caught the fever, will improve it,--you +know the kind of thing I mean; and--I don't suppose you care about +shooting, yourself, but you 'll get some one to tell you--are the birds +plenty and in good condition. There's a certain Mr. Scanlan, if you +chance upon him; he 's up to everything, and not a bad performer at +dummy whist,--though I think _you_ could teach him a thing or two.” Merl +smiled and tried to look flattered, while the other went on: “And there +'s another, called Henderson,--the steward,--a very shrewd person,--but +_you_ don't need all these particulars; you may be trusted to your own +good guidance,--eh, Merl?” + +Merl again smiled in the same fashion as before; in fact, so completely +had he resumed the bland expression habitual to him, that the +Captain almost forgot the unpleasant cause of his visit, and all the +disagreeable incidents of the interview. + +“You could n't give me a few lines to this Mr. Scanlan?” asked Merl, +with an air of easy indifference. + +“Nothing easier,” cried the Captain, reseating himself; then suddenly +rising, with the expression of one to whom a sudden thought had just +crossed the mind, “Wait one second for me here, Merl; I'll be back with +you at once.” And as he spoke he dashed out of the room, and hastened to +his father. + +“By a rare piece of luck,” cried he, as he entered, “I 've just chanced +upon the very fellow we want; an acquaintance I picked up at the +Cape,--up to everything; he goes over to Ireland to-night, and he 'll +take a run down to Cro' Martin, and send us his report of all he sees. +Whatever he tells us may be relied upon; for, depend upon 't, no lady +can humbug _him_. I 've just given him a note for Mary, and I 'll write +a few lines also by way of introducing him to Scanlan.” + +Martin could barely follow the Captain, as with rapid utterance he +poured forth this plan. “Do I know him? What's his name?” asked he at +last. + +“You never saw him. His name is Merl,--Herman Merl,--a fellow of +considerable wealth; a great speculator,--one of those Stock Exchange +worthies who never deal in less than tens of thousands. He has a +crotchet in his head about buying up half the West of Ireland,--some +scheme about flax and the deep-sea fishery. I don't understand it, but +I suppose _he_ does. At all events, he has plenty of money, and the head +to make it fructify; and if he only take a liking to it, he 's the very +fellow to buy up Kilkieran, and the islands, and the rest of that waste +district you were telling me of t'other night. But I must n't detain +him. He starts at four o'clock; and I only ran over here to tell you not +to worry yourself any more about Mary's letter. He 'll look to it all.” + +And with this consolatory assurance the Captain hastened away, leaving +Martin as much relieved in mind as an indolent nature and an easy +conscience were sure to make him. To get anybody “to look to” anything +had been his whole object in life; to know that, whatever happened, +there was always somebody who misstated this, or neglected that, at +whose door all the culpability--where there was such--could be laid +and but for whom he had himself performed miracles of energy and +devotedness, and endured all the tortures and trials of a martyr. He +was, indeed, as are a great many others in this world, an excellent man +to his own heart,--kind, charitable, and affectionate; a well-wisher +to his kind, and hopeful of almost every one; but, all this while, his +virtues, like a miser's gold, had no circulation; they remained locked +up within him for his own use alone, and there he sat, counting them +over and gazing at them, speculating upon all that this affluence could +do, and--never doing it! + +Life abounds with such men. They win respect while they live, and white +marble records their virtues when they die! Nor are they all useless. +Their outward bearing at least simulates whatever we revere in good men, +and we accept them in the same spirit of compromise as we take stucco +for stone; if they do no more, they show our appreciation of the “real +article.” + +The Captain was not long in inditing a short note to Scanlan, to whom, +“strictly confidential,” Mr. Merl was introduced as a great capitalist +and speculator, desirous to ascertain all the resources of the land. +Scanlan was enjoined to show him every attention, making his visit in +all respects as agreeable as possible. + +“This fellow will treat you well, Merl,” said the Captain, as he folded +the letter; “will give you the best salmon you ever tasted, and a glass +of Gordon's Madeira such as few could sport now-a-days. And if you +have a fancy for a day with my Cousin Mary's hounds, he 'll mount you +admirably, and show you the way besides.” And with this speech Martin +wished him good-bye; and closing the door after him, added, “And if +he'll kindly assist you to a broken neck, it's about the greatest +service he could render me!” + +The laugh, silly and meaningless, that followed his utterance of this +speech, showed that it was spoken in all the listlessness of one who had +not really character enough to be even a “good hater.” + + + +CHAPTER VII. THE CLUB + +So little impression had Merl's gloomy forebodings made upon Captain +Martin, that he actually forgot everything that this shrewd gentleman +predicted, and only partially recalled them when the conversation the +next morning at the Club turned on the disturbed state of the capital. +People in “society” find it excessively difficult to believe in anything +like an organized opposition to the authorities of a government. They +are so accustomed to hear of street assemblages being scattered by a few +soldiers, mobs routed by a handful of mounted policemen, that they are +slow to imagine how any formidable movement can take its rise in such a +source. But the maladies of states, like those of the human frame, +are often mere trifles in their origin; chance, and the concurrence of +events swell their importance, till they assume an aspect of perhaps +greater menace than they deserve. This is essentially the case in +revolutionary struggles, where, at the outset, none ever contemplates +the extent to which the mischief may reach. The proclamation of the +“Ordinances,” as they were called, had produced a great excitement +in Paris. Groups of men in every street were gathered around some one +reading aloud the violent commentaries of the public papers; thoughtful +and stern faces were met at every corner; a look of expectancy--an +expression that seemed to say, What next?--was perceptible on all sides. +Many of the shops were half closed, and in some the objects of great +value were withdrawn to places of greater security. It was clear to see +that men apprehended some great crisis; but whence it should come, or by +whose instrumentality promoted, none seemed able to guess. Now and then +a mounted orderly would ride by at a smart trot, or a patrol party +of dragoons dash past; and the significant glance that followed them +indicated how full of meaning these signs appeared. + +The day passed in this state of anxious uncertainty; and although the +journals discussed the condition of the capital as full of danger and +menace, an ostentatious announcement in the “Moniteur” proclaimed Paris +to be tranquil. In society--at least in the world of fashion and high +life--there were very few who would have disputed the official despatch. +“Who and what were they who could dispute the King's Government? Who and +where were there either leaders or followers? In what way should they +attempt it? The troops in and around Paris numbered something over forty +thousand, commanded by an old Marshal of the Empire, now the trustiest +adherent of royalty. The days of Mirabeaus and Robespierres and Dantons +had passed away; nor were these times in which men would like to recall +the reigns of terror and the guillotine.” So they reasoned--or, if the +phrase be too strong, so they talked--who lounged on soft-cushioned +ottomans, or moved listlessly over luxurious carpets; all agreeing that +it would be treasonable in the Ministers to retreat or abate one jot of +the high prerogative of the Crown. Powdered heads shook significantly, +and gold-embroidered vests heaved indignantly at the bare thought that +the old spirit of '95 should have survived amongst them; but not one +dreamed that the event boded seriously, or that the destinies of a great +nation were then in the balance. + +It is but five-and-twenty years ago; and how much more have we learned +of the manufacture of revolutions in the interval! Barricades and street +warfare have become a science, and the amount of resistance a half-armed +populace can offer to a regular force is as much a matter of certainty +as a mathematical theorem. At that period, however, men were but in +the infancy of this knowledge; the traditions of the Great Revolution +scarcely were remembered, and, for the most part, they were +inapplicable. + +What wonder, then, if people in society smiled scornfully at the +purposeless masses that occasionally moved past beneath their windows, +shouting with discordant voices some fragments of the “Marseillaise,” + or, as they approached the residence of any in authority, venturing +on the more daring cry of “Down with the Ordinances!” The same tone of +haughty contempt pervaded the “Club.” Young men of fashion, little given +to the cares of political life, and really indifferent to the action of +laws which never invaded the privileges of the play-table, or curtailed +one prerogative of the “Coulisses,” felt an angry impatience at all the +turbulence and riot of the public streets. + +In a magnificently furnished salon of the Club a number of these young +men were now assembled. Gathered from every nation of Europe,--many of +them bearing names of high historical interest,--they were, so far as +dress, air, and appearance went, no ignoble representatives of the +class they belonged to. The proud and haughty Spaniard, the fierce-eyed, +daring-looking Pole, the pale, intellectual-faced Italian, the courteous +Russian, and the fair-haired, stalwart Saxon were all there; and, +however dissimilar in type, banded together by the magic influence of +the “set” they moved in, to an almost perfect uniformity of sentiment +and opinion. + +“I vote that any man be fined ten Louis that alludes, however remotely, +to this confounded question again,” cried Count Gardoni, rising +impatiently from his chair and approaching a card-table. + +“And I second you!” exclaimed a Polish prince, with a Russian decoration +at his button-hole. + +“Carried _nem. con._” said Captain Martin, seating himself at the +play-table. “And now for the 'Lansquenet.'” And in a moment every seat +was occupied, and purses of gold and pocket-books of bank-notes were +strewed over the board. They were all men who played high; and the game +soon assumed the grave character that so invariably accompanies large +wagers. Wonderfully little passed, except the terms of the game itself. +Gambling is a jealous passion, and never admits its votaries to wander +in their attention. And now large sums passed from hand to hand, and all +the passions of hope and fear racked heads and hearts around, while a +decorous silence prevailed; or, when broken, some softly toned voice +alone interrupted the stillness. + +“Are you going, Martin?” whispered the young French Count de Nevers, as +the other moved noiselessly back from the table. + +“It is high time, I think,” said Martin; “this is my seventeenth night +of losing,--losing heavily, too. I'm sick of it!” + +“Here 's a chance for you, Martin,” said a Russian prince, who had just +assumed “the bank.” “You shall have your choice of color, and your own +stake.” + +“Thanks; but I'll not be tempted.” + +“I say red, and a thousand francs,” cried a Neapolitan. + +“There 's heavier play outside, I suspect,” said Martin, as a wild, +hoarse shout from the streets re-echoed through the room. + +“A fine,--a fine,--Martin is fined!” cried several around the table. + +“You have n't left me wherewithal to pay it, gentlemen,” said he, +laughing. “I was just about to retire, a bankrupt, into private life.” + +“That's platoon fire,” exclaimed the Pole, as the loud detonation of +small arms seemed to shake the very room. + +“Czernavitz also fined,” cried two together. + +“I bow in submission to the Court,” said the Pole, throwing down the +money on the table. + +“Lend _me_ as much more,” said Martin; “it may change my luck.” And with +this gambler's philosophy, he again drew nigh the table. + +This slight interruption over, the game proceeded as before. Martin, +however, was now a winner, every wager succeeding, and every bet he made +a gain. + +“There's nothing like a dogged persistence,” said the Russian. “Fortune +never turns her back on him who shows constancy. See Martin, now; by +that very resolution he has conquered, and here we are, all cleared +out!” + +“I am, for one,” cried an Italian, flinging his empty purse on the +table. + +“There's my last Louis,” said Nevers. “I reserve it to pay for my +supper.” + +“Martin shall treat us all to supper!” exclaimed another. + +“Where shall it be, then?” said Martin; “here, or at my own quarters?” + +“Here, by all means,” cried some. + +“I 'm for the Place Vendôme,” said the Pole, “for who knows but we shall +catch a glimpse of that beautiful girl, Martin's 'Belle Irlandaise.'” + +“I saw her to-night,” said the Italian, “and I own she _is_ all you say. +She was speaking to Villemart, and I assure you the old Minister won't +forget it in a hurry. Something or other he said about the noise in the +street drew from him the word _canaille_. She turned round at once and +attacked him. He replied, and the controversy grew warm; so much so, +that many gathered around them to listen, amongst whom I saw the Duc +de Guiche, Prince du Saulx, and the Austrian Minister. Nothing could be +more perfect than her manner,--calm, without any effrontery; assured, +and yet no sacrifice of delicacy. It was easy to see, too, that the +theme was not one into which she stumbled by an accident; she knew every +event of the Great Revolution, and used the knowledge with consummate +skill, and, but for one slip, with consummate temper also. + +“What was the slip you allude to?” cried the Russian. + +“It was when Villemart, after a boastful enumeration of the superior +merits of his order, called them the 'Enlighteners of the People.' + +“'You played that part on one occasion,' said she; 'but I scarcely +thought you 'd like to refer to it.' + +“'How so? When do you mean?' asked he. + +“'When they hung you to the lanterns,' said she, with the energy of +a tigress in her look. Pardié! at that moment I never saw anything so +beautiful or so terrible.” + +A loud uproar in the street without, in which the sound of troop-horses +passaging to and fro could be distinguished, now interrupted the +colloquy. As the noise increased, a low, deep roar, like the sound of +distant thunder, could be heard, and the Pole cried out,--“Messieurs les +Sans-culottes, I strongly advise you to turn homewards, for, if I be not +much mistaken, here comes the artillery.” + +“The affair may turn out a serious one, after all,” broke in the +Italian. + +“A serious one!” echoed the Pole, scornfully. “How can it? Forty +battalions of infantry, ten thousand sabres, and eight batteries; are +they not enough, think you, to rout this contemptible herd of street +rioters?” + +“There--listen! It has begun already!” exclaimed Martin, as the sharp +report of fire-arms, quite close to the windows, was followed by a +crash, and then a wild, mad shout, half rage, half defiance. + +“There's nothing for it, in these things, but speedy action,” said +the Pole; “grape and cavalry charges to clear the streets, and rifle +practice at anything that shows itself at the windows.” + +“It is so easy, so very easy, to crush a mob,” said the Russian, “if you +only direct your attention to the leader,--think of nothing but _him_. +Once you show that, whatever may be the fate of others, death must be +his, the whole assemblage becomes a disorganized, unwieldy mass, to be +sabred or shot down at pleasure.” + +“Soldiers have no fancy for this kind of warfare,” said De Nevers, +haughtily; “victory is never glorious, defeat always humiliation.” + +“But who talks of defeat?” exclaimed the Pole, passionately. “The +officer who could fail against such an enemy should be shot by a +court-martial. We have, I believe, every man of us here, served; and +I asked you, what disproportion of force could suggest a doubt of +success?” + +As he spoke, the door of the room was suddenly opened, and a young +man, with dress all disordered, and the fragment of a hat in his hand, +entered. + +“What, Massingbred!” cried one, “how came you to be so roughly handled?” + +“So much for popular politeness!” exclaimed the Russian, as he took up +the tattered remains of a dress-coat, and exhibited it to the others. + +“Pardon me, Prince,” replied Massingbred, as he filled a glass of +water and drank it off, “this courtesy I received at the hands of the +military. I was turning my cab from the Boulevard to enter this street, +when a hoarse challenge of a sentry, saying I know not what, attracted +my attention. I drew up short to learn, and then suddenly came a rush +of the people from behind, which terrified my horse, and set him off at +speed; the uproar increasing, the affrighted animal dashed madly onward, +the crowd flying on every side, when suddenly a bullet whizzed past my +head, cutting my hat in two; a second, at the same instant, struck my +horse, and killed him on the spot, cab and all rolling over as he fell. +How I arose, gained my legs, and was swept away by the dense torrent of +the populace, are events of which I am very far from clear. I only know +that although the occurrence happened within half an hour ago, it seems +to _me_ an affair of days since.” + +“You were, doubtless, within some line of outposts when first +challenged,” said the Pole, “and the speed at which you drove was +believed to be an arranged plan of attack, for you say the mob followed +you.” + +“Very possibly your explanation is the correct one,” said Massingbred, +coolly; “but I looked for more steadiness and composure from the troops, +while I certainly did not anticipate so much true courtesy and kindness +as I met with from the people.” + +“Parbleu! here's Massingbred becoming Democrat,” said one. “The next +thing we shall hear is his defence of a barricade.” + +“You'll assuredly not hear that I attacked one in such company as +inflicted all this upon me,” rejoined he, with an easy smile. + +“Here's the man to captivate your 'Belle Irlandaise,' Martin,” cried +one. “Already is he a hero and a martyr to Royal cruelty.” + +“Ah! you came too late to hear that,” said the Pole, in a whisper to +Massingbred; “but it seems La Henderson became quite a Charlotte Corday +this evening, and talked more violent Republicanism than has been heard +in a salon since the days of old Égalité.” + +“All lights must be extinguished, gentlemen,” said the waiter, entering +hastily. “The street is occupied by troops, and you must pass out by the +Rue de Grenelle.” + +“Are the mobs not dispersing, then?” asked the Russian. + +“No, your Highness. They have beaten back the troops from the Quai +Voltaire, and are already advancing on the Louvre.” + +“What absurdity!” exclaimed the Pole. “If the troops permit this, there +is treason amongst them.” + +“I can answer for it there is terror, at least,” said Massingbred. +“All the high daring and spirit is with what you would call the +Sans-culottes.” + +“That a man should talk this way because he has lost a cab-horse!” cried +the Pole, insolently. + +“There are men who can bear the loss of a country with more +equanimity,--I know that,” whispered Massingbred in his ear, with all +the calm sternness of an insult. + +“You mean this for _me?_” said the Pole, in a low voice. + +“Of course I do,” was the answer. + +“Where?--when?--how?” muttered the Pole, in suppressed passion. + +“I leave all at your disposal,” said Massingbred, smiling at the other's +effort to control his rage. + +“At Versailles,--to-morrow morning,--pistols.” + +Massingbred bowed, and turned away. At the same instant the waiter +entered to say that the house must be cleared at once, or all within it +consent to remain close prisoners. + +“Come along, Martin,” said Massingbred, taking his arm. “I shall want +you to do me a favor. Let us make our escape by the Rue de Grenelle, and +I 'll engage to pilot you safely to your own quarters.” + +“Has anything passed between you and Czernavitz?” asked Martin, as they +gained the street. + +“A slight exchange of civilities which requires an exchange of shots,” + said Jack, calmly. + +“By George! I 'm sorry for it. He can hit a franc-piece at thirty +paces.” + +“So can I, Martin; and, what's more, Anatole knows it. He's as brave +as a lion, and it is my confounded skill has pushed him on to this +provocation.” + +“He 'll shoot you,” muttered Martin, in a half revery. + +“Not impossible,” said Massingbred. “He's a fellow who cannot conceal +his emotions, and will show at once what he means to do.” + +“Well, what of that?” + +“Simply, that if he intends mischief I shall know it, and send a bullet +through his heart.” + +Little as Martin had seen of Massingbred,--they were but Club +acquaintances of a few weeks back,--he believed that he was one of those +smart, versatile men who, with abundance of social ability, acquire +reputation for higher capacity than they possess; but, above all, he +never gave him credit for anything like a settled purpose or a stern +resolution. It was, then, with considerable astonishment that he now +heard him avow this deadly determination with all the composure that +could vouch for its sincerity. There was, however, little time to think +of these things. The course they were driven to follow, by by-streets +and alleys, necessitated a long and difficult way. The great +thoroughfares which they crossed at intervals were entirely in the +possession of the troops, who challenged them as they approached, and +only suffered them to proceed when well satisfied with their account. +The crowds had all dispersed, and to the late din and tumult there had +succeeded the deep silence of a city sunk in sleep, only broken by the +hoarse call of the sentinels, or the distant tramp of a patrol. + +“It is all over, I suppose,” said Martin. “The sight of the +eight-pounders and the dark caissons has done the work.” + +“I don't think so,” said Massingbred, “nor do the troops think so. +These mobs are not like ours in England, who, with plenty of individual +courage, are always poltroons in the mass. These fellows understand +fighting as an art, know how to combine their movements, arrange +the modes of attack or defence, can measure accurately the means +of resistance opposed to them, and, above all, understand how to be +led,--something far more difficult than it seems. In _my_ good borough +of Oughterard,--or yours, rather, Martin, for I have only a loan of +it,--a few soldiers--the army, as they would call them--would sweep the +whole population before them. Our countrymen can get up a row, these +fellows can accomplish a revolt,--there's the difference.” + +“And have they any real, substantial grievance that demands such an +expiation?” + +“Who knows?” said he, laughingly. “There never was a Government too bad +to live under,--there never was one exempt from great vices. Half the +political disturbances the world has witnessed have arisen from causes +remote from State Government; a deficient harvest, a dear loaf, the +liberty of the Press invaded,--a tyranny always resented by those who +can't read,--are common causes enough. But here we are now at the Place +Vendôme, and certainly one should say the odds are against the people.” + +Massingbred said truly. Two battalions of infantry, with a battery of +guns in position, were flanked by four squadrons of Cuirassiers, the +formidable array filling the entire “Place,” and showing by their air +and attitude their readiness for any eventuality. A chance acquaintance +with one of the staff enabled Massingbred and Martin to pass through +their lines and arrive at their hotel. + +“Remember,” said the officer who accompanied them, “that you are close +prisoners now. My orders are that nobody is to leave the Place under any +pretext.” + +“Why, you can scarcely suspect that the Government has enemies in this +aristocratic quarter?” said Massingbred, smiling. + +“We have them everywhere,” was the brief answer, as he bowed and turned +away. + +“I scarcely see how I'm to keep my appointment at Versailles to-morrow +morning,” said Massingbred, as he followed Martin up the spacious +stairs. “Happily, Czernavitz knows me, and will not misinterpret my +absence.” + +“Not to say that he may be unable himself to get there,” said Martin. +As he spoke, they had reached the door, opening which with his key, the +Captain motioned to Massingbred to enter. + +Massingbred stopped suddenly, and in a voice of deep meaning said, “Your +father lives here?” + +“Yes,--what then?” asked Martin. + +“Only that I have no right to pass his threshold,” said the other, in +a low voice. “I was his guest once, and I 'm not sure that I repaid the +hospitality as became me. You were away at the time.” + +“You allude to that stupid election affair,” said Martin. “I can only +say that I never did, never could understand it. My only feeling was +one of gratitude to you for saving me from being member for the +borough. Come along,” said he, taking his arm; “this is no time for your +scruples, at all events.” + +“No, Martin, I cannot,” said the other. “I 'd rather walk up to one of +those nine-pounders there than present myself to your lady-mother--” + +“But you needn't. You are _my_ guest; these are _my_ quarters. You shall +see nobody but myself till you leave this. Remember what the Captain +told us; we are prisoners here.” And without waiting for a reply, Martin +pushed him before him into the room. + +“Two o'clock,” said Massingbred, looking at his watch; “and we are to be +at Versailles by eight.” + +“Well, leave all the care of that to me,” said Martin; “and do you throw +yourself on the bed there, and take some rest. Without you prefer to sup +first?” + +“No, an hour's sleep is what I stand most in need of; and so I 'll say +good-night.” + +Massingbred said this less that he wanted repose than a brief interval +to be alone with his own thoughts. And now, as he closed his eyes to +affect sleep, it was really to commune with his own heart, and reflect +over what had just occurred. + +Independently that he liked Czernavitz personally, he was sorry for a +quarrel at such a moment. There was a great game about to be played, and +a mere personal altercation seemed something small and contemptible in +the face of such events. “What will be said of us,” thought he, “but +that we were a pair of hot-headed fools, thinking more of a miserable +interchange of weak sarcasms than of the high destinies of a whole +nation? And it was _my_ fault,” added he to himself; “I had no right to +reproach him with a calamity hard enough to bear, even without its +being a reproach. What a strange thing is life, after all!” thought +he; “everything of greatest moment that occurs in it the upshot of an +accident,--my going to Ireland, my visit to the West, my election, my +meeting with Kate Henderson, and now this duel.” And, so ruminating, he +dropped off into a sound sleep, undisturbed by sounds that might well +have broken the heaviest slumber. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. AN EVENING OF ONE OP THE “THREE DAYS” + +On the evening which witnessed these events Lady Dorothea's “reception” + had been more than usually brilliant. Numbers had come to show of +how little moment they deemed this “street disturbance,” as they were +pleased to call it; others, again, were curious to pick up in society +the opinions formed on what was passing, among whom were several high +in the favor of the Court and the confidence of the Government. All, as +they arrived, had some little anecdote or adventure to relate as to the +difficulties which beset them on the way,--the distances which they were +obliged to travel, the obstructions and passwords and explanations which +met them at every turn. These were all narrated in the easy, jocular +tone of passing trifles, the very inconvenience of which suggested its +share of amusement. + +As the evening wore on, even these became less frequent; the streets +were already thinning, and, except in some remote, unimportant parts of +the capital, the troops were in possession of all the thoroughfares. Of +course, the great topic of conversation was the bold stroke of policy +then enacting,--a measure which all pronounced wise and just, and +eminently called for. + +To have heard the sentiments then uttered, the disparaging opinions +expressed of the middle and humbler classes, the hopelessness of ever +seeing them sufficiently impressed with their own inferiority, the +adulation bestowed on the monarch and all around him, one might really +have fancied himself back again at the Tuileries in the time of Louis +the Fourteenth. All agreed in deeming the occasion an excellent one to +give the people a salutary lesson; and it was really pleasant to see +the warm interest taken by these high and distinguished persons in the +fortunes of their less happy countrymen. + +To Lady Dorothea's ears no theme could be more grateful; and she moved +from group to group, delighted to mingle her congratulations with those +around, and exchange her hopes and aspirations and wishes with theirs. +Kate Henderson, upon whom habitually devolved the chief part in these +“receptions,” was excited and flurried in manner; a more than ordinary +effort to please being dashed, as it were, by some secret anxiety, and +the expectation of some coming event. Had there been any one to watch +her movements, he might have seen the eagerness with which she listened +to each new account of the state of the capital, and how impatiently +she drank in the last tidings from the streets; nor less marked was the +expression of proud scorn upon her features, as she heard the insulting +estimate of the populace, and the vainglorious confidence in the +soldiery. But more than all these was her haughty indignation as she +listened to the confused, mistaken opinions uttered on every side as to +the policy of the Government and the benevolent intentions of the king. +Once, and only once, did she forget the prudent resolve she wished to +impose upon herself; but temper and caution and reserve gave way, as +she heard a very distinguished person amusing a circle around him by an +unfair and unfaithful portraiture of the great leaders of '92. It was +then, when stung by the odious epithet of _canaille_ applied to those +for whose characters she entertained a deep devotion, that she forgot +everything, and in a burst of indignant eloquence overwhelmed and +refuted the speaker. This was the moment, too, in which she replied to +Villemart by a word of terrible ferocity. Had the red cap of Liberty +itself been suddenly hoisted in that brilliant assemblage, the dread and +terror which arose could scarcely have been greater. + +“Where are we?” cried the Marquise de Longueville. “I thought we were in +the Place de Vendôme, and I find myself in the Faubourg St. Antoine!” + +“Does my Lady know that her friend and confidante is a Girondist of the +first water?” said an ex-Minister. + +“Who could have suspected the spirit of Marat under the mask of Ninon de +l'Enclos?” muttered Villemart. + +“What is this I hear, dearest Kate?” cried the Duchesse de Mirecourt, +as she drew the young girl's arm within her own. “They tell me you have +terrified every one,--that Madame de Soissons has gone home ill, and the +old Chevalier de Gardonnes has sent for his confessor.” + +“I have been very rash, very foolish,” said Kate, as a deadly pallor +came over her; “but I could bear it no longer. Besides, what does it +matter? They 'll hear worse, and bear it too, before three days are +over.” + +“Then it is all true?” cried the Duchess, eagerly. “You told Villemart +that when the Government spoke with grape-shot, the people replied with +the guillotine!” + +“Not exactly,” said Kate, with a faint smile. “But are they all going?” + +“Of course they are. You have frightened them almost to death; and I +know you only meant it for jest,--one of those little half-cruel jests +you were ever fond of. Come with me and say so,--come, dearest.” And she +drew her, as she spoke, into the crowded salon, now already a scene of +excited leave-taking. The brilliant company, however, fell back as they +came forward, and an expression of mingled dismay and compassion was +turned towards the young Duchess, who with a kind of heroic courage drew +Kate's arm closer within her own. + +“I am come to make an explanation, messieurs et mesdames,” said the +Duchess, with her most captivating smile; “pray vouchsafe me a hearing. +My friend--my dearest, best friend here--has, in a moment of sportive +pleasantry, suffered herself to jest--” + +“It was a jest, then?” broke in Madame de Longueville, haughtily. + +“Just as that is,” replied Kate, lifting her hand and pointing in the +direction whence came a terrible crash of artillery, followed by the +rattle of musketry. + +“Let us go,--let us away!” was now heard in affrighted accents on every +side; and the splendid assemblage, with less of ceremony than might be +expected, began to depart. Lady Dorothea alone was ignorant of what had +occurred, and witnessed this sudden leave-taking with amazement. “You +are surely not afraid?” said she to one; “there is nothing serious in +all this.” + +“She has told us the reverse, my Lady,” was the reply. “We should be +compromised to remain longer in her company.” + +“Adieu, my Lady. I wish we left you in safer companionship.” + +“Farewell, Madame, and pray be warned of your danger,” whispered +another. + +“Your Ladyship may be called upon to acquit debts contracted by another, +if Mademoiselle continues a member of your family,” said Villemart, as +he bowed his departure. + +“Believe me, Madame, none of us include _you_ in the terrible sentiments +we have listened to.” + +These, and a vast number of similar speeches attended the leave-taking +of nearly each of her guests, till Lady Dorothea, confused, almost +stunned by reiterated shocks, sat silently accepting these mysterious +announcements, and almost imagining herself in all the bewilderment of a +dream. + +Twice she made an effort to ask some explanation, but failed; and it was +only as the Duchesse de Mirecourt drew nigh to say farewell, that in a +faint, weak voice she said,--“Can you tell me what all are hinting at, +or am I only confusing myself with the terrible scenes without?” + +“I 'd have prevented it had I been near. I only heard it when too late, +my Lady,” said the Duchess, sorrowfully. + +“Prevented what?--heard what?” cried Lady Dorothea. + +“Besides, she has often said as much amongst ourselves; we only laughed, +as indeed every one would do now, did not events present so formidable +an aspect.” + +“Who is she you speak of? Tell me, I beseech you. What does this mean?” + +“I am the culprit, my Lady,” said Kate, approaching with all the +quiet stateliness of her peculiar manner. “I have routed this gorgeous +assembly, shocked your most distinguished guests, and horrified all +whose sentiments breathe loyalty! I am sincerely sorry for my offence; +and it is a grave one.” + +“_You--you_ have dared to do this?” + +“Too true, madam,” rejoined Kate. + +“How and to whom have you had the insolence--” + +She stopped, overcome by passion; and Kate replied,--“To all who pleased +to listen, my Lady, I have said what doubtless is not often uttered in +such choice company, but what, if I mistake not greatly, their ears will +grow familiar with erelong.” + +“Nay, nay,” said the Duchess, in a tone of apology, “the matter is not +so serious as all this. Every one now is terrified. This disturbance, +the soldiery, the vast crowds that beset the streets, have all produced +so much excitement that even a few words spoken at random are enough +to cause fear. It is one of Kate's fancies to terrorize thus over weak +minds. She has the cruel triumph of not knowing what fear is. In a word, +it is a mere trifling event, sure to be forgotten in the midst of such +scenes as we are passing through.” + +This attempt at explanation, poured forth with rapid utterance, did not +produce on Lady Dorothea the conviction it was intended to impose, and +her Ladyship received the last adieus of the Duchess with a cold and +stately formality; and then, as the door closed after her, turned to +Kate Henderson, and said,--“I want _your_ explanation of all this. Let +me have it.” + +“It is easily given, my Lady,” said Kate, calmly. And then, in a voice +that never trembled nor varied, she narrated briefly the scene which +had just occurred, not extenuating in the slightest her own share in the +transaction, or offering a single syllable of excuse. + +“And you, being who and what you are, dared thus to outrage the best +blood of France!” exclaimed Lady Dorothea, trembling all over with +passion. + +“Perhaps, my Lady, if I sought for an apology, it would be in the fact +of being who and what I am.” + +“And do you imagine that after conduct such as this, after exposing me +to a partnership in the shame that attaches to yourself, that you are +any longer to enjoy the shelter of my roof?” + +“It never occurred to me to think of that, madam,” said Kate, with an +ill-repressed scorn. + +“Then it is for _me_ to remind you of it,” said her Ladyship, sternly. +“You shall, first of all, write me an humble apology for this vulgar +tirade, this outrage upon my company, and then you shall leave the +house. Sit down there, and write as I shall dictate to you.” + +Kate seated herself with an air of implicit obedience at a +writing-table, and took up a pen. + +“Write,” cried Lady Dorothea, sternly. “Begin, 'My Lady.' No. 'I +approach your Ladyship for the last time.' No, not that. 'If the sincere +sorrow in which I pen these lines.' No. Do it yourself. You best can +express the shame your heart should feel in such a moment. Let the words +be your own!” + +Kate leaned over the paper and wrote rapidly for a few seconds. Having +finished, she read over the lines, and seemed to reflect on them. + +“Show me that paper!” cried Lady Dorothea, impatiently. But, without +obeying the command, Kate said,--“Your Ladyship will not be able to +leave Paris for at least forty hours. By that time the Monarchy will +have run its course in France. You will probably desire, however, to +escape from the scenes of turbulence sure to ensue. This will secure you +a free passage, whichever road you take.” + +“What raving is all this?” said Lady Dorothea, snatching the paper +from her hand, and then reading aloud in French,-- “'The authorities +are required to aid and tender all assistance in their power to Lady +Dorothea Martin and all who accompany her, neither giving nor suffering +any opposition to be given to her or them in the prosecution of their +journey.' + +(Signed) “Jules Lagrange, + +“'Minister of Police _ad interim_' + +“And this in your own hand, too!” exclaimed Lady Dorothea, +contemptuously. + +“Yes, madam; but it will entitle it to the seal of the Prefecture, and +entitle _you_ to all that it professes.” + +“So that I have the honor to shelter within my walls a chief of this +insurrection,--if it be worthy of such a name; one in the confidence of +this stupid _canaille_, who fancy that the fall of a Monarchy is like a +row in a _guinguette!_” + +“Your Ladyship is no longer in a position to question me or arraign +my actions. Before two days are over, the pageant of a king will have +passed off the stage, and men of a different stamp take the direction +of affairs. One of these will be he whose name I have affixed to that +paper,--not without due warranty to do so. Your Ladyship may or may not +choose to avail yourself of it.” + +“I spurn the imposition,” said Lady Dorothea, tearing it in fragments. +“So poor a cheat could not deceive _me_. As for yourself--” + +“Oh, do not bestow a thought upon _me_, my Lady. I can suffice for my +own guidance. I only wait for morning to leave this house.” + +“And it is to a city in such a state as this you would confide yourself. +Truly, mademoiselle, Republicanism has a right to be proud of you. You +are no half-convert to its principles.” + +“Am I again to say, my Lady, that your control over me has ceased?” + +“It has not. It shall not cease till I have restored you to the humble +roof from which I took you,” said Lady Dorothea, passionately. “Your +father is our creature; he has no other subsistence than what we +condescend to bestow on him. He shall know, when you re-enter his doors, +why and for what cause you are there. Till that time come, you are, as +you have been, in my service.” + +“No, my Lady, the tie between us is snapped. Dependence is but a sad +part at the best; but so long as it is coupled with a certain show of +respect it is bearable. Destroy _that_, and it is mere slavery, abject +and degrading. I cannot go back to your Ladyship's service.” And she +gave to the last word an emphasis of intense scorn. + +“You must and you shall,” said Lady Dorothea. “If _you_ are forgetful +of what it is your duty to remember, I am not. Here you shall remain; +without,” added she, in an accent of supreme contempt, “your counsel and +direction shall be sought after by the high and mighty individuals who +are so soon to administer the affairs of this nation.” + +The loud roll of a drum, followed by the louder clank of sabres and +musketry, here startled the speakers; and Kate, hastening to the window, +opened it, and stepped out upon the balcony. Day was just dawning; a +gray half-light covered the sky, but the dark shadows of the tall +houses still stretched over the Place. Here, now, the troops were all in +motion; a sudden summons having roused them to form in rank. The hasty +character of the movement showed that some emergency was imminent,--a +fact confirmed by the frequent arrival and departure of orderlies at +full speed. + +After a brief interval of preparation the infantry formed in column, +and, followed by the artillery and cavalry, moved out of the Place at +a quick step. The measured tramp of the foot-soldiers, the clattering +noise of the train and the dragoons could be heard long after they had +passed out of sight; and Kate stood listening eagerly as to what would +come next, when suddenly a man in plain clothes rode hastily from one of +the side-streets into the centre of the Place. He looked around him for +a moment or two, and then disappeared. Within a few seconds after, a +dull, indistinct sound seemed to rise from the ground, which swelled +gradually louder and louder, and at last grew into the regular footfall +of a great multitude moving in measured time; and now a vast crowd +poured into the Place, silent and wordless. On they came from the +various quarters that opened into the square,--men, for the most part +clad in blouses or in the coarse garb of laborers. They were armed +either with musket or sword, and in many instances wore the cross-belt +of the soldier. They proceeded at once to barricade the square at its +opening into the Rue de la Paix,--a work which they accomplished with +astonishing speed and regularity; for, while Kate still looked, a +formidable rampart was thrown up across the entire street, along which a +line of armed men was stationed, every one of whom, by his attitude and +gesture, betrayed the old discipline of a soldier's life. Orders were +given and obeyed, movements made, and dispositions effected, with +all the regularity and precision of regular troops; and by the ready +obedience of all, and the steady attitude observed, it was easy to see +that these men were trained to arms and to habits of discipline. Not +less evident was it that they who commanded them were not new to such +duties. But, more important than all such signs was the fact that here +and there through the mass might be seen the uniform of a soldier, or +the epaulette of an officer, showing that desertion to the ranks of the +people had already begun. + +Kate was so occupied in attentive observation of the scene that she had +not noticed the arrival of another person in the apartment, and whose +voice now suddenly attracted her. It was Martin himself, hastily aroused +from his bed by his servant, who in great alarm told him that the +capital was in open revolt, the king's troops beaten back, and the +people victorious everywhere. “There 's not a moment to lose,” cried +he; “we must escape while we can. The road to Versailles is yet in +possession of the troops, and we can take that way.” + +Lady Dorothea, partly overcome by the late scene, partly stunned by the +repeated shocks she experienced, made no reply whatever; and Martin, +judging from the expression of her features the anxiety she was +suffering, hastily added, “Let me see Kate Henderson,--where is she?” + +Lady Dorothea merely pointed towards the balcony, but did not utter a +word. + +“Oh, have I found you?” said Martin, stepping out upon the balcony. “You +see what is doing,--I might say what is done,” added he; “for I believe +the game is well-nigh decided. Nothing but an overwhelming force will +now crush this populace. We must get away, and at once. Will you give +the orders? Send for post-horses; tell them to pack up whatever they +can,--direct everything, in fact. My Lady is too ill,--too much overcome +to act, or think of anything. Our whole reliance is upon you.” While he +was yet uttering these broken, disjointed sentences, he had drawn Kate +by the arm within the room, and now stood beside Lady Dorothea's chair. +Her Ladyship raised her head and fixed her eyes upon Kate, who sustained +the gaze calmly and steadily, nor by the slightest movement displayed +one touch of any emotion. The glance, at first haughty and defiant, +seemed at length to grow weaker under the unmoved stare of the young +girl, and finally she bent down her head and sat as though overcome. + +“Come, Dora,” said Martin, kindly, “rouse yourself; you are always equal +to an effort when necessity presses. Tell Kate here what you wish, and +she 'll do it.” + +“I want no aid,--no assistance, sir. Miss Henderson is her own +mistress,--she may do what, or go where she pleases.” + +Martin made a sign to Kate not to mind what he believed to be the mere +wandering of an over-excited brain; and then bending down over the +chair, said, “Dear Dora, we must be active and stirring; the people will +soon be masters of the capital,--for a while, at least,--and there is no +saying what excesses they will commit.” + +“Do not offend Miss Henderson, sir,” interposed Lady Dorothea; “she has +equal confidence in their valor and their virtue.” + +“What does this mean?--when did she fall into this state?” asked he, +eagerly. And although only spoken in a whisper, Lady Dorothea overheard +them, and said,--“Let _her_ tell you. She can give you the very fullest +explanation.” + +“But, Dora, this is no time for trifling; we are here, in the midst of +an enraged populace and a maddened soldiery. There, listen!--that was +artillery; and now, hear!--the bells of the churches are sounding the +alarm.” + +“They are ringing the knell of the Monarchy!” said Kate, solemnly. + +A hoarse, wild shout--aery like that of enraged wild beasts--arose +from the Place beneath, and all rushed to the window to see what had +occurred. It was a charge of heavy cavalry endeavoring to force the +barricade; and now, vigorously repulsed by the defenders, men and horses +were rolling on the ground in terrible confusion, while on the barricade +itself a hand-to-hand conflict was raging. + +“Sharp work, by George!” said a voice behind Kate's shoulder. She turned +and saw Captain Martin, who had just joined them unobserved. + +“I thought you many a mile away,” said Kate, in a whisper. + +“So I should have been,” replied he, in the same tone, “but I was n't +going to lose this. I knew it was to come off to-day, and I thought it +would have been a thousand pities to be absent.” + +“And are your wishes, then, with these gallant fellows?” said she, +eagerly. “Do I hear you aright, that it was to aid them you remained? +There! see how they bear down on the soldiery; they will not be +restrained; they are crossing the barricade, and charging with the +bayonet. It is only for liberty that men can fight thus. Oh that I were +a man, to be amongst them!” + +A stray shot from beneath here struck the architrave above their heads, +and sent down a mass of plaster over them. + +“Come, Dora, this is needless peril,” said Martin, drawing her within +the room. “If you will not leave this, at least do not expose yourself +unnecessarily.” + +“But it is exactly to get away--to escape while there is time--that I +came for,” said the Captain. “They tell me that the mob are getting the +best of it, and, worse again, that the troops are joining them; so, +to make sure, I 've sent off Fenton to the post for horses, and I 'm +expecting him every moment. But here he is. Well, have you got the +horses?” + +“No, sir: the horses have all been taken by the people to mount +orderlies; the postmaster, too, has fled, and everything is in +confusion. But if we had horses the streets are impassable; from here to +the Boulevard there are no less than five barricades.” + +“Then what is to be done?” cried Martin. + +“They say, sir,” replied Fenton, “that by gaining the outer Boulevard on +foot, carriages and horses are easily found there, to reach Belleville, +St. Germain, or Versailles.” + +“He is right,” said the Captain; “there is nothing else to be done. What +do _you_ think?” said he, addressing Kate, who stood intently watching +the movements in the Place beneath. + +“Yes; do you agree with this plan?” asked Martin, approaching her. + +“Look!” cried she, eagerly, and not heeding the question; “the troops +are rapidly joining the people,--they come in numbers now,--and yonder +is an officer in his uniform.” + +“Shame on him!” exclaimed Lady Dorothea, indignantly. + +“So say I too,” said Kate. “He who wears a livery should not assume the +port and bearing of a free man. This struggle is for liberty, and should +only be maintained by the free!” + +“How are we to pass these barricades?” cried Martin, anxiously. + +“I will be your guide, sir, if that be all,” said Kate. “You may trust +me. I promise no more than I can perform.” + +“She speaks truly,” said Lady Dorothea. “Alas that we should see the day +when we cannot reject the aid!” + +“There is a matter I want to speak to you about,” said Martin, +drawing his father aside, and speaking in a low, confidential tone. +“Massingbred--Jack Massingbred--is now here, in my room. I know all +about my mother's dislike to him, and _he_ knows it; indeed, he has as +much as owned to me that he deserved it all. But what is to be done? We +cannot leave him here.” + +“How came he to be here?” asked Martin. + +“He accompanied me from the Club, where, in an altercation of some sort, +he had just involved himself in a serious quarrel. He came here to be +ready to start this morning for Versailles, where the meeting was to +take place; but indeed he had no thought of accepting shelter under +our roof; and when he found where he was, it was with the greatest +difficulty I could persuade him to enter. None of us anticipated such a +serious turn of affairs as this; and now, of course, a meeting will be +scarcely possible. What are we to do with him?” + +“Ask him frankly to join us if we obtain the horses.” + +“But my mother?” + +“I 'll speak to her,--but it were better you did it, Harry. These are +not times to weigh scruples and balance difficulties. I don't myself +think that Massingbred treated us fairly, but it is not now I 'd like to +remember it. There, go; tell her what you have told me, and all will be +well.” + +The Captain drew nigh Lady Dorothea, and, leaning over her chair, +whispered to her for some minutes. At first, a slight gesture of +impatience burst from her, but afterwards she seemed to hear him calmly +and tranquilly. + +“It would seem as though the humiliations of this night are never to +have an end,” said she, with a sigh. “But I'll bear my share of them.” + +“Remember,” said the other, “that it was by no choice of _his_ he came +here. His foot was on the threshold before he suspected it.” + +“Miss Henderson sent me, my Lady,” said a servant, entering hastily, “to +say that there is not a minute to be lost. They are expecting an attack +on the barricade in the Rue de la Paix, and we ought to pass through at +once.” + +“By whose orders?” began she, haughtily; then, checking herself +suddenly, and in a voice weak and broken, added: “I am ready. Give me +your arm, Harry, and do not leave me. Where is Mr. Martin?” asked she. + +“He is waiting for your Ladyship at the foot of the stairs with another +gentleman,” said the servant. + +“That must be Massingbred, for I told them to call him,” said the +Captain. + +When Lady Dorothea, supported by the arm of her son, had reached +the gate, she found Martin and Massingbred standing to receive them, +surrounded by a numerous escort of servants, each loaded with some +portion of the family baggage. + +“A hasty summons, sir,” said she, addressing Massingbred, and thus +abruptly avoiding the awkwardness of a more ceremonious meeting. “A +few hours back none of us anticipated anything like this. Will it end +seriously, think you?” + +“There is every prospect of such, madam,” said he, bowing respectfully +to her salutation. “Every moment brings fresh tidings of defection among +the troops, while the Marshal is paralyzed by contradictory orders.” + +“Is it always to be the fate of monarchy to be badly served in times of +peril?” said she, bitterly. + +“It is very difficult to awaken loyalty against one's convictions of +right, madam. I mean,” added he, as a gesture of impatience broke from +her, “that these acts of the king, having no support from his real +friends, are weak stimulants to evoke deeds of daring and courage.” + +“They are unworthy supporters of a Crown who only defend what they +approve of. This is but Democracy at best, and smacks of the policy +which has little to lose and everything to gain by times of trouble.” + +“And yet, madam, such cannot be the case here; at least, it is assuredly +not so in the instance of him who is now speaking with Miss Henderson.” + And he pointed to a man who, holding the bridle of his horse on his arm, +walked slowly at Kate's side in the street before the door. + +“And who is he?” asked she, eagerly. + +“The greatest banker in Paris, madam,--one of the richest capitalists of +Europe,--ready to resign all his fortune in the struggle against a rule +which he foresees intended to bring back the days of a worn-out, effete +monarchy, rather than a system which shall invigorate the nation, and +enrich it by the arts of commerce and trade.” + +“But his name--who is he?” asked she, more impatiently. + +“Charles Lagrange, madam.” + +“I have heard the name before. I have seen it somewhere lately,” said +she, trying to remember where and how. + +“You could scarcely have paid your respects at Neuilly, madam, +without seeing him. He was, besides, the favored guest at Madame de +Mirecourt's.” + +“You would not imply, sir, that the Duchess condescended to any sympathy +with this party?” + +“More than half the Court, madam, are against the Crown; I will not say, +however, that they are, on that account, for the people.” + +“There! she is making a sign to us to follow her,” said Martin, pointing +towards Kate, who, still conversing with her companion, motioned to the +others to come up. + +“It is from that quarter we receive our orders,” said Lady Dorothea, +sneeringly, as she prepared to follow. + +“What has she to do with it?” exclaimed the Captain. “To look at her, +one would say she was deep in the whole business.” + +A second gesture, more urgent than before, now summoned the party to +make haste. + +Through the Place, crowded as it was by an armed and excited multitude, +way was rapidly made for the little party who now issued from the door +of the hotel. Kate Henderson walked in front, with Massingbred at her +side talking eagerly, and by his gestures seeming as though endeavoring +to extenuate or explain away something in his conduct; next came Lady +Dorothea, supported between her husband and her son, and while walking +slowly and with faltering steps, still carrying her head proudly erect, +and gazing on the stern faces around her with looks of haughty contempt. +After them were a numerous retinue of servants, with such effects as +they had got hurriedly together,--a terror-struck set, scarcely able to +crawl along from fear. + +As they drew nigh the barricade, some men proceeded to remove a heavy +wagon which adjoined a house, and by the speed and activity of their +movements, urged on as they were by the orders of one in command, it +might be seen that the operation demanded promptitude. + +“We are scarcely safe in this,” cried the officer. “See! they are making +signs to us from the windows,--the troops are coming. If you pass out +now, you will be between two fires.” + +“There is yet time,” said Kate, eagerly. “Our presence in the street, +too, will delay them, and give you some minutes to prepare. And as for +ourselves, we shall gain one of the side-streets easily enough.” + +“Tie your handkerchief to your cane, sir,” said the officer to +Massingbred. + +“My flag is ready,” said Jack, gayly; “I only hope they may respect it.” + +“Now--now!” cried Kate, with eagerness, and beckoning to Lady Dorothea +to hasten, “the passage is free, and not a second to be lost!” + +“Are you not coming with us?” whispered Martin to her, as they passed +out. + +“Yes; I'll follow. But,” added she, in a lower tone, “were the choice +given me, it is here I 'd take my stand.” + +She looked full at Massingbred as she spoke, and, bending down his head, +he said, “Had it been your place, it were mine also!” + +“Quick,--quick, my Lady,” said Kate. “They must close up the passage at +once. They are expecting an attack.” And so saying, she motioned rapidly +to Martin to move on. + +“The woman is a fiend,” said Lady Dorothea; “see how her eyes sparkle, +and mark the wild exultation of her features.” + +“Adieu, sir,--adieu!” said Kate, waving her hand to one who seemed the +chief of the party. “All my wishes are with you. Were I a man, my hand +should guarantee my heart.” + +“Come--come back!” cried the officer. “You are too late. There comes the +head of the column.” + +“No, never--never!” exclamed Lady Dorothea, haughtily; “protection from +such as these is worse than any death.” + +“Give me the flag, then,” cried Kate, snatching it from Massingbred's +hand, and hastening on before the others. And now the heavy wagon had +fallen back to its place, and a serried file of muskets peeped over it. + +“Where's Massingbred?” asked the Captain, eagerly. + +“Yonder,--where he ought to be!” exclaimed Kate, proudly, pointing +to the barricade, upon which, now, Jack was standing conspicuously, a +musket on his arm. + +The troops in front were not the head of a column, but the advanced +guard of a force evidently at some distance off, and instead of +advancing on the barricade, they drew up and halted in triple file +across the street. Their attitude of silent, stern defiance--for it was +such--evoked a wild burst of popular fury, and epithets of abuse and +insult were heaped upon them from windows and parapets. + +“They are the famous Twenty-Second of the Line,” said the Captain, “who +forced the Pont-Neuf yesterday and drove the mob before them.” + +“It is fortunate for us that we fall into such hands,” said Lady +Dorothea, waving her handkerchief as she advanced. But Kate had already +approached the line, and now halted at a command from the officer. While +she endeavored to explain how and why they were there, the cries and +menaces of the populace grew louder and wilder. The officer, a +very young subaltern, seemed confused and flurried; his eyes turned +constantly towards the street from which they had advanced, and he +seemed anxiously expecting the arrival of the regiment. + +“I cannot give you a convoy, Mademoiselle,” he said; “I. scarcely know +if I have the right to let you pass. We may be attacked at any moment; +for aught I can tell, _you_ may be in the interests of the insurgents--” + +“We are cut off, Lieutenant,” cried a sergeant, running up at the +moment. “They have thrown up a barrier behind us, and it is armed +already.” + +“Lay down your arms, then,” said Kate, “and do not sacrifice your brave +fellows in a hopeless straggle.” + +“Listen not to her, young man, but give heed to your honor and your +loyalty,” cried Lady Dorothea. “Is it against such an enemy as this +French soldiers fear to advance?” + +“Forward!” cried the officer, waving his sword above his head. “Let +us carry the barricade!” And a wild yell of defiance from the windows +repeated the speech in derision. + +“You are going to certain death!” cried Kate, throwing herself before +him. “Let _me_ make terms for you, and they shall not bring dishonor on +you.” + +“Here comes the regiment!” called out the sergeant. “They have forced +the barricade.” And the quick tramp of a column, as they came at a run, +now shook the street. + +“Remember your cause and your King, sir,” cried Lady Dorothea to the +officer. + +“Bethink you of your country,--of France,--and of Liberty!” said Kate, +as she grasped his arm. + +“Stand back!--back to the houses!” said he, waving his sword. +“Voltigeurs, to the front!” + +The command was scarcely issued, when a hail of balls rattled through +the air. The defenders of the barricade had opened their fire, and with +a deadly precision, too, for several fell at the very first discharge. + +“Back to the houses!” exclaimed Martin, dragging Lady Dorothea along, +who, in her eagerness, now forgot all personal danger, and only thought +of the contest before her. + +“Get under cover of the troops,--to the rear!” cried the Captain, as he +endeavored to bear her away. + +“Back--back--beneath the archway!” cried Kate, as, throwing her arms +around Lady Dorothea, she lifted her fairly from the ground, and carried +her within the deep recess of a _porte cochère_. Scarcely, however, had +she deposited her in safety, than she fell tottering backwards and sank +to the ground. + +“Good Heavens! she is struck,” exclaimed Martin, bending over her. + +“It is nothing,--a spent shot, and no more,” said Kate, as she showed +the bullet which had perforated her dress beneath the arm. + +“A good soldier, by Jove!” said the Captain, gazing with real admiration +on the beautiful features before him; the faint smile she wore +heightening their loveliness, and contrasting happily with their pallor. + +“There they go! They are up the barricade already; they are over +it,--through it!” cried the Captain. “Gallantly done!--gloriously done! +No, by Jove! they are falling back; the fire is murderous. See how they +bayonet them. The troops must win. They move together; they are like a +wall! In vain, in vain; they cannot do it! They are beaten,--they are +lost!” + +“Who are lost?” said Kate, in a half-fainting voice. + +“The soldiers. And there 's Massingbred on the top of the +barricade, in the midst of it all. I see his hat They are driven +back--beaten--beaten!” + +“Come in quickly,” cried a voice from behind; and a small portion of the +door was opened to admit them. “The soldiers are retiring, and will kill +all before them.” + +“Let _me_ aid you; it is _my_ turn now,” said Lady Dorothea, assisting +Kate to rise. “Good Heavens! her arm is broken,--it is smashed in two.” + And she caught the fainting girl in her arms. + +Gathering around, they bore her within the gate, and had but time to bar +and bolt it when the hurried tramp without, and the wild yell of popular +triumph, told that the soldiers were retreating, beaten and defeated. + +“And this to save me!” said Lady Dorothea, as she stooped over her. And +the scalding tears dropped one by one on Kate's cheek. + +“Tear this handkerchief, and bind it around my arm,” said Kate, calmly; +“the pain is not very great, and there will be no bleeding, the doctors +say, from a gun-shot wound.” + +“I'll be the surgeon,” said the Captain, addressing himself to the task +with more of skill than might be expected. “I 've seen many a fellow +struck down who did n't bear it as calmly,” muttered he, as he bent over +her. “Am I giving you any pain?” + +“Not in the least; and if I were in torture, that glorious cheer outside +would rally me. Hear!--listen!--the soldiers are in full retreat; the +people, the noble-hearted people, are the conquerors!” + +“Be calm, and think of yourself,” said Lady Dorothea, mildly, to her; +“such excitement may peril your very life.” + +“And it is worth a thousand lives to taste of it,” said she, while her +cheek flushed, and her dark eyes gleamed with added lustre. + +“The street is clear now,” said one of the servants to Martin, “and we +might reach the Boulevard with ease.” + +“Let us go, then,” said Lady Dorothea. “Let us look to _her_ and think +of nothing till she be cared for.” + + + +CHAPTER IX. SOME CONFESSIONS OF JACK MASSINGBRED + +Upon two several occasions have we committed to Jack Massingbred the +task of conducting this truthful history; for the third time do we now +purpose to make his correspondence the link between the past and what is +to follow. We are not quite sure that the course we thus adopt is free +from its share of inconvenience, but we take it to avoid the evils of +reiteration inseparable from following out the same events from merely +different points of view. There is also another advantage to be gained. +Jack is before our readers; we are not. Jack is an acquaintance; we +cannot aspire to that honor. Jack's opinions, right or wrong as they may +be, are part and parcel of a character already awaiting their verdict. +What he thought and felt, hoped, feared, or wished, are the materials by +which he is to be judged; and so we leave his cause in his own hands. + +His letter is addressed to the same correspondent to whom he wrote +before. It is written, too, at different intervals, and in different +moods of mind. Like the letters of many men who practise concealment +with the world at large, it is remarkable for great frankness and +sincerity. He throws away his mask with such evident signs of enjoyment +that we only wonder if he can ever resume it; but crafty men like to +relax into candor, as royalty is said to indulge with pleasure in the +chance moments of pretended equality. It is, at all events, a novel +sensation; and even that much, in this routine life of ours, is +something! + +He writes from Spa, and after some replies to matters with which we have +no concern, proceeds thus:-- + +“Of the Revolution, then, and the Three Glorious Days as they are +called, I can tell you next to nothing, and for this simple reason, +that I was there fighting, shouting, throwing up barricades, singing the +'Marseillaise,' smashing furniture, and shooting my 'Swiss,' like the +rest. As to who beat the troops, forced the Tuileries, and drove Marmont +back, you must consult the newspapers. Personal adventures I could give +you to satiety, hairbreadth 'scapes and acts of heroism by the dozen; +but these narratives are never new, and always tiresome. The serious +reflectiveness sounds like humbug, and, if one treats them lightly, +the flippancy is an offence. Jocular heroism is ever an insult to the +reader. + +“You say, '_Que diable allait-il faire dans cette galère?_' and I +answer, it was all _her_ doing. Yes, Harry, _she_ was there. I was +thinking of nothing less in the world than a great 'blow for freedom,' +as the 'Globe' has it. I had troubled my head wonderfully little about +the whole affair. Any little interest I took was in the notion that if +our 'natural enemies,' the French, were to fall to and kill each other, +there would be so much the fewer left to fight against us; but as to who +was to get the upper hand, or what they were to do when they had it, +I gave myself no imaginable concern. I had a vague, shadowy kind of +impression that the government was a bad one, but I had a much +stronger conviction that the people deserved no better. My leanings--my +instincts, if you prefer it--were with the Crown. The mob and its +sentiments are always repulsive. Popular enthusiasm is a great ocean, +but it is an ocean of dirty water, and you cannot come out clean from +the contact; and so I should have wished well to royalty, but for an +accident,--a mere trifle in its way, but one quite sufficient, even on +historic grounds, to account for a man's change of opinions. The troops +shot my cab-horse, sent a bullet through poor 'Beverley,' and seriously +damaged a new hat which I wore at the time, accompanying these acts with +expressions the reverse of compliment or civility. I was pitched out +into the gutter, and, most appropriately you will say, I got up a +Radical, a Democrat, a Fourierist,--anything, in short, that shouts +'Down with Kings, and up with the Sovereign People!' + +“My principles--don't smile at the word--led me into a stupid +altercation with a very pleasant acquaintance, and we parted to meet the +next morning in hostility,--at least, such was our understanding; but by +the time that our difference should have been settled, _I_ was carried +away on a stretcher to the Hôtel Dieu, wounded, and he was flung, a +corpse, into the Seine. I intended to have been a most accurate narrator +of events, journalizing for you, hour by hour, with all the stirring +excitement of the present tense, but I cannot; the crash and the hubbub +are still in my brain, and the infernal chaos of the streets is yet +over me. Not to speak of my wound,--a very ugly sabre-cut in the +neck,--severing I don't know what amount of nerves, arteries, and +such-like 'small deer,' every one of which, however, has its own +peculiar perils in the shape of aneurisms, tetanus, and so forth, in +case I am not a miracle of patience, calmness, and composure. + +“The Martins are nursing and comforting and chicken-brothing me to my +heart's content, and La Henderson, herself an invalid, with a terrible +broken arm, comes and reads to me from time to time. What a girl it is! +Wounded in a street encounter, she actually carried Lady Dorothea into +a porte-cochère, and when they had lost their heads in terror, could +neither issue an order to the servants nor know what way to turn, she +took the guidance of the whole party, obtained horses and carriages and +an escort, escaped from Paris, and reached Versailles in the midst of +flying courtiers and dismayed ministers, and actually was the very first +to bring the tidings that the game of monarchy was up,--that the king +had nothing left for it but an inglorious flight. To the Duchesse de +Mire-court she made this communication, which it seems none of the +court-followers had the courage or honesty to do before. The Duchess, in +her terror, actually dragged her into the presence of the king, and made +her repeat what she had said. The scene, as told me, was quite dramatic; +the king took her hand to lead her to a seat, but it was unfortunately +of the wounded arm, and she fainted. The sight of the wounded limb so +affected the nerves of monarchy that he gave immediate orders to depart, +and was off within an hour. + +“How they found me out a patient in a ward of the Hôtel Dieu, rescued +and carried me away with them, I have heard full half a dozen times, but +I 'm far from being clear enough to repeat the story; and, indeed, when +I try to recall the period, the only images which rise up before me +are long ranges of white coverlids, pale faces, and groans and cries of +suffering, with the dark curly head of a great master of torture +peeping at me, and whom, I am told, is the Baron Dupuytren, +the Surgeon-in-Chief. After these comes a vision of litters and +_charrettes_,--sore joltings and stoppages to drink water--But I shall +rave if I go on. Better I should tell you of my pleasant little bedroom +here, opening on a small garden, with a tiny fountain trying to sprinkle +the wild myrtle and blush-roses around it, and sportively sending its +little plash over me, as the wind wafts it into my chamber. My luxurious +chair and easy-cushioned sofa, and my table littered with everything, +from flowers to French romances; not to speak of the small rustic seat +beside the window, where she has been sitting the last hour, and has +only quitted to give me time to write this to you. I know it--I see +it--all you can say, all that you are saying at this moment, is fifty +times more forcibly echoing within my own heart, and repeating in fitful +sentences: 'A ruined man--a broken fortune--a mad attachment--a life of +struggle, difficulty, and failure!' But why should it be failure? Such a +girl for a wife ought in itself to be an earnest of success. Are not her +qualities exactly those that do battle with the difficulties of fortune? +Self-denial--ambition--courage--an intense, an intuitive knowledge of +the world--and then, a purpose-like devotion to whatever she undertakes, +that throws an air of heroism over all her actions. + +“Birth--blood--family connections--what have they done for me, except it +be to entail upon me the necessity of selecting a career amidst the +two or three that are supposed to suit the well-born? I may be a Life +Guardsman, or an unpaid attaché, but I must not be a physician or a +merchant. Nor is it alone that certain careers are closed against +us, but certain opinions too. I must not think ill of the governing +class,--I must never think well of the governed. + +“Well, Harry, the colonies are the remedy for all this. There, at least, +a man can fashion existence as arbitrarily as he can the shape and +size of his house. None shall dictate his etiquette, no more than his +architecture; and I am well weary of the slavery of this old-world life, +with our worship of old notions and old china, both because they are +cracked, damaged, and useless. I 'll marry her. I have made up my mind +on 't. Spare me all your remonstrances, all your mock compassion. Nor +is it like a fellow who has not seen the world in its best gala suit, +affecting to despise rank, splendor, and high station. _I have_ seen +the thing. I have cantered my thoroughbred along Rotten Row, eaten my +truffled dinners in Belgravia, whispered my nonsense over the white +shoulders of the fairest and best-born of England's daughters. I know +to a decimal fraction the value of all these; and, what 's more, I know +what one pays for them,--the miserable vassalage, the poor slavery of +mind, soul, and body they cost! + +“It is the terror of exclusion here, the dread of coldness there--the +possibility of offence to 'his Grace' on this side, or misconception by +'her Ladyship' on that--sway and rule a man so that he may neither eat, +drink, nor sleep without a 'Court Guide' in his pocket. I 've done with +it! now and forever,--I tell you frankly,--I return no more to this +bondage. + +“I have written a farewell address to my worthy constituents of +Oughterard. I have told them that, 'feeling an instinct of independence +within me, I can no longer remain their representative; that, as a man +of honor, I shrink from the jobbery of the little borough politicians, +and, as a gentleman, I beg to decline their intimacy.' They took me for +want of a better--I leave them for the same reason. + +“To my father I have said: 'Let us make a compromise. As your son I +have a claim on the House. Now, what will you give for my share? I 'll +neither importune you for place, nor embarrass you with solicitations +for employment. Help me to stock my knapsack, and I 'll find my road +myself.' _She_ knows nothing of these steps on my part; nor shall she, +till they have become irrevocable. She is too proud ever to consent to +what would cost me thus heavily; but the expense once incurred,--the +outlay made,--she cannot object to what has become the law of my future +life. + +“I send off these two documents to-night; this done, I shall write to +her an offer of marriage. What a fever I 'm in! and all because I feel +the necessity of defending myself to _you_,--to you of all men the most +headstrong, reckless, and self-indulgent,--a fellow who never curbed a +caprice nor restrained a passing fancy; and yet you are just the man +to light your cigar, and while you puff away your blue cloud, mutter on +about rashness, folly, insanity, and the rest of it, as if the state of +your bank account should make that wisdom in _you_, which with _me_ is +but mere madness! But I tell you, Harry, it is your very thousands per +annum that preclude you from doing what I can. It is your house in town, +your stud at Tattersall's, your yacht at Cowes, your grouse-lodge in the +Highlands, that tie and fetter you to live like some scores of others, +with whom you have n't one solitary sympathy, save in income! You are +bound up in all the recognizances of your wealth to dine stupidly, sup +languidly, and sink down at last into a marriage of convenience,--to +make a wife of her whom 'her Grace' has chosen for you without a single +speculation in the contract save the thought of the earl you will be +allied to, and the four noble families you 'll have the right to go in +mourning for. + +“And what worse than cant it is to talk of what they call an indiscreet +match! What does--what can the world know as to the reasons that impel +you, or me, or anybody else, to form a certain attachment? Are they +acquainted with our secret and most hidden emotions? Do they understand +the project of life we have planned to ourselves? Have they read our +utter weariness and contempt for forms that _they_ venerate, and social +distinctions that _they_ worship? I am aware that in some cases it +requires courage to do this; and in doing it a man virtually throws down +the glove to the whole world, and says, 'This woman's love is to me more +than all of you'--and so say I at this moment. I must cry halt, I see, +Harry. I have set these nerves at work in my wound, and the pain is +agony. Tomorrow--to-night, if I 'm able--I shall continue. + +“Midnight.” They have just wished me good-night, after having spent the +evening here reading out the newspapers for me, commenting upon them, +and exerting themselves to amuse me in a hundred good-natured ways. You +would like this same stately old Lady Dorothea. She is really 'Grande +Dame' in every respect,--dress, air, carriage, gesture, even her slow +and measured speech is imposing, and her prejudices, uttered as they are +in such perfect sincerity of heart, have something touching about them, +and her sorrowful pity for the mob sounded more gracefully than Kate's +enthusiastic estimate of their high deservings. It does go terribly +against the grain to fancy an alliance between coarse natures and noble +sentiments, and to believe in the native nobility of those who never +touch soap! I have had a kind of skirmish with La Henderson upon this +theme to-night. She was cross and out of temper, and bore my bantering +badly. The fact is, she is utterly disgusted at the turn things have +taken in France; and not altogether without reason, since, after all +their bluster and bloodshed and barricades, they have gone back to a +monarchy again. They barred out the master to make 'the head usher' top +of the school. Let us see if he won't be as fond of the birch as his +predecessor. Like all mutineers, they found they could n't steer the +ship when they had murdered the captain! How hopeless it makes one of +humanity to see such a spectacle as this, Harry, and how low is one's +estimate of the species after such experience! You meet some half-dozen +semi-bald, spectacled old gentlemen in society, somewhat more reserved +than the rest of the company, fond of talking to each other, and rather +distrustful of strangers; you find them slow conversers at dinner, sorry +whist-players in the drawing-room; you are told, however, that one is a +President of the Council, another the Secretary for Foreign Affairs, +and a third something equally important. You venerate them +accordingly, while you mutter the old Swede's apothegm about the 'small +intelligences' that rule mankind. Wait awhile! There is a row in the +streets: a pickpocket has appealed to the public to rescue him from the +ignoble hands of the police; an escaped felon has fired at the judge who +sentenced him, in the name of Liberty and Fraternity. No matter what +the cause, there _is_ a row. The troops are called out; some +are beaten, some join the insurgents. The government grows +frightened--temporizes--offers terms--and sends for more soldiers. +The people--I never clearly knew what the word meant--the people +make extravagant demands, and will not even give time to have them +granted,--in a word, the whole state is subverted, the king, if there +be one, in flight, the royal family missing, the ministers nowhere! No +great loss you 'll say, if the four or five smooth-faced imbecilities +we have spoken of are not to the fore! But there is your error, +Harry,--your great error. These men, used to conduct and carry on +the government, cannot be replaced. The new capacities do nothing but +blunder, and maybe issue contradictory orders and impede each other's +actions. To improvise a Secretary of State is about as wise a proceeding +as to take at hazard a third-class passenger and set him to guide the +engine of a train. The only difference is that the machinery of state +is ten thousand times more complex than that of a steam-engine, and the +powers for mischief and misfortune in due proportion. + +“But why talk of these things? I have had enough and too much of them +already this evening; women, too, are unpleasant disputants in politics. +They attach their faith to persons, not parties. Miss Henderson is, +besides, a little spoiled by the notice of those maxim-mongers who write +leaders in the 'Débats, and articles for the 'Deux Mondes.' They +have, or affect to have, a kind of pitying estimate for our English +constitutional forms, which is rather offensive. At least, she provoked +me, and I am relapsing into bad temper, just by thinking of it. + +“You tell me that you once served with Captain Martin, and I see you +understand him; not that it requires much study to do so. You say he was +reckoned a good officer; what a sneer is that on the art military! + +“There are, however, many suitable qualities about him, and he certainly +possesses the true and distinctive element of a gentleman,--he knows how +to be idle. Ay, Harry, that is a privilege that your retired banker +or enriched cotton-spinner never attains to. They must be up and +doing,--where there is nothing to do. They carry the spirit of the +counting-house and the loom into society with them, and having found +a pleasure in business, they want to make a business of pleasure. Now, +Martin understands idling to perfection. His tea and toast, his mutton +cutlet, and his mustachios are abundant occupation for him. With +luncheon about two o'clock, he saunters through the stables, sucking a +lighted cigar, filing his nails, and admiring his boots, till it 's time +to ride out. He comes to me about nine of an evening, and we play piquet +till I get sleepy; after which he goes to 'the rooms,' and, I believe, +plays high; at least, I suspect so; for he has, at times, the forced +calm--that semi-jocular resignation--one sees in a heavy loser. He has +been occasionally, too, probing me about Merl,--you remember the fellow +who had the rooms near Knightsbridge,--so that I opine he has been +dabbling in loans. What a sorry spectacle such a creature as this in the +toils of the Israelite, for he is the 'softest of the soft.' I see it +from the effect La Henderson has produced upon him. He is in love with +her,--actually in love. He even wanted to make me his confidant--and I +narrowly escaped the confession--only yesterday evening. Of course, he +has no suspicion of my attachment in the same quarter, so that it would +be downright treachery in me to listen to his avowal. Another feeling, +too, sways me, Harry,--I don't think I could hear a man profess +admiration for the woman that I mean to marry, without the self-same +sense of resentment I should experience were I already her husband. I 'm +certain I 'd shoot him for it. + +“La belle Kate and I parted coldly--dryly, I should call it--this +evening. I had fancied she was above coquetry, but she is not. Is +any woman? She certainly gave the Captain what the world would +call encouragement all the night; listened attentively to tiresome +tiger-huntings and stories of the new country; questioned him about his +Mahratta campaigns, and even hinted at how much she would like an Indian +life. Perhaps the torment she was inflicting on Lady Dorothea amused +her; perhaps it was the irritation she witnessed in me gave the zest to +this pastime. It is seldom that she condescends to be either amused or +amusing; and I own it is a part does not suit her. She is a thousand +times more attractive sitting over her embroidery-frame, raising +her head at times to say a few words,--ever apposite and well +chosen,--always simple, too, and to the purpose; or even by a slight +gesture bearing agreement with what is said around her; till, with a +sudden impulse, she pours forth fast, rapidly, and fluently some glowing +sentiment of praise or censure, some glorious eulogy of the good, or +some withering depreciation of the wrong. Then it is that you see +how dark those eyes can be, how deep-toned that voice, and with what +delicacy of expression she can mould and fashion every mood of mind, and +give utterance to sentiments that till then none have ever known how to +embody. + +“It is such a descent to her to play coquette! Cleopatra cannot--should +not be an Abigail. I am low and depressed to-night; I scarcely know +why: indeed, I have less reason than usual for heavy-heartedness. These +people are singularly kind and attentive to me, and seem to have totally +forgotten how ungratefully once before I repaid their civilities. What +a stupid mistake do we commit in not separating our public life from our +social one, so as to show that our opinions upon measures of state +are disconnected with all the sentiments we maintain for our private +friendships. I detect a hundred sympathies, inconceivable points of +contact, between these people and myself. We pass hours praising the +same things, and abusing the same people; and how could it possibly +sever our relations that I would endow Maynooth when they would pull it +down, or that I liked forty-shilling freeholders better than ten-pound +householders? You 'll say that a certain earnestness accompanies strong +convictions, and that when a man is deeply impressed with some supposed +truths, he 'll not measure his reprobation of those who assail them. +But a lawyer does all this, and forfeits nothing of the esteem of 'his +learned brother on the opposite side.' Nay, they exchange very-ugly +knocks at times, and inflict very unseemly marks even with the gloves +on; still they go homeward, arm-in-arm, after, and laugh heartily at +both plaintiff and defendant. By Jove! Harry, it may sound ill, but +somehow it seems as though to secure even a moderate share of enjoyment +in this life one must throne Expediency in the seat of Principle. I 'll +add the conclusion to-morrow, and now say good-night. + +“Three days have passed over since I wrote the last time to you, and +it would require as many weeks were I to chronicle all that has passed +through my mind in the interval. Events there have been few; but +sensations--emotions, enough for a lifetime. Nor dare I recall them! +Faintly endeavoring to trace a few broken memories, my pains of mind and +body come back again, so that you must bear with me if I be incoherent, +almost unintelligible. + +“The day after I wrote to you, I never saw her. My Lady, who came as +usual to visit me in the day, said something about Miss Henderson having +a headache. Unpleasant letters from her family--obliged to give up +the day to answering them; but all so confused and with such evident +constraint as to show me that something disagreeable loomed in view. + +“The Captain dropped in about four o'clock, and as the weather was +unfavorable, we sat down to our party of piquet. By a little address, +I continued to lose nearly every game, and so gradually led him into a +conversation while we played; but I soon saw that he only knew something +had occurred 'upstairs,' but knew not what. + +“' I suspect, however,' added he, 'it is only the old question as to +Kate's going away.' “'Going away! Going where?' cried I. + +“'Home to her father; she is resolutely bent upon it,--has been so ever +since we left Paris. My mother, who evidently--but on what score I know +not--had some serious difference with her, is now most eager to make +concessions, and would stoop to--what for her is no trifle--even +solicitation to induce her to stay, has utterly failed; so, too, has +my father. Persuasion and entreaty not succeeding, I suspect--but it is +only suspicion--that they have had recourse to parental authority, +and asked old Henderson to interfere. At least, a letter has come this +morning from the West of Ireland, for Kate, which I surmise to be in his +hand. She gave it, immediately on reading it, to my mother, and I could +detect in her Ladyship's face, while she perused it, unmistakable +signs of satisfaction. When she handed it back, too, she gave a certain +condescending smile, which, in my mother, implies victory, and seems +to say, “Let us be friends now,--I 'm going to signal--cease firing.”' + +“'And Kate, did she make any remark--say anything?' “'Not a syllable. +She folded up the document, carefully and steadily, and placed it in +her work-box, and then resumed her embroidery in silence. I watched her +narrowly, while I affected to read the paper, and saw that she had to +rip out half she had done. After a while my mother said,--“'”You 'll not +answer that letter to-day, probably?” + +“'“I mean to do so, my Lady,” said she; “and, with your permission, will +beg you to read my reply.” + +“'“Very well,” said my mother, and left the room. I was standing outside +on the balcony at the time, so that Kate believed, after my mother's +departure, she was quite alone. It was then she opened the letter, and +re-read it carefully. I never took my eyes off her; and yet what was +passing in her mind, whether joy, grief, disappointment, or pleasure, +I defy any man to declare; nor when, having laid it down once more, she +took up her work, not a line or a lineament betrayed her. It was plain +enough the letter was no pleasant one, and I expected to have heard her +sigh perhaps, or at least show some sign of depression; but no, she +went on calmly, and at last began to sing, in a low, faint voice, barely +audible where I stood, one of her little barcarole songs she is so fond +of; and if there was no sorrow in her own heart, by Jove! she made mine +throb heavily as I listened! I stood it as long as I was able, and then +coughed to show that I was there, and entered the room. She never lifted +her head, or noticed me, not even when I drew a chair close to her, and +sat down at her side. + +“'I suppose, Massingbred,' said he, after a pause, 'you 'll laugh at +me, if I tell you I was in love with the Governess! Well, I should have +laughed too, some six months ago, if any man had prophesied it; but +the way I put the matter to myself is this: If I do succeed to a +good estate, I have a right to indulge my own fancy in a wife; if I +don't,--that is, if I be a ruined man,--where 's the harm in marrying +beneath me?' + +“'Quite right, admirably argued,' said I, impatiently; 'go on.' + +“'I 'm glad you agree with me,' said he, with the stupid satisfaction of +imbecility. 'I thought I had reduced the question to its very narrowest +bounds.' + +“'So you have; go on,' cried I. + +“'“Miss Henderson,” said I,--for I determined to show that I was +speaking seriously, and so I did n't call her Kate,-- “Miss Henderson, I +want to speak to you. I have been long seeking this opportunity; and if +you will vouchsafe me a few minutes now, and hear me, on a subject upon +which all my happiness in life depends--” + +“'When I got that far, she put her work down on her knee, and stared at +me with those large, full eyes of hers so steadily--ay, so haughtily, +too--that I half wished myself fifty miles away. + +“'“Captain Martin,” said she, in a low, distinct voice, “has it ever +occurred to you in life to have, by a mere moment of reflection, a +sudden flash of intelligence, saved yourself from some step, some act, +which, if accomplished, had brought nothing but outrage to your feeling, +and insult to your self-esteem? Let such now rescue you from resuming +this theme.” + +“'“But you# don't understand me,” said I. “What I wish to say--” Just at +that instant my father came into the room in search of her, and I made +my escape to hide the confusion that I felt ready to overwhelm me.' + +“'And have you not seen her since?' + +“'No. Indeed, I think it quite as well, too. She 'll have time to think +over what I said, and see what a deuced good offer it is; for though I +know she was going to make objections about inequality of station and +all that at the time, reflection will bring better thoughts.' + +“'And she 'll consent, you think?' + +“'I wish I had a bet on it,' said he. + +“'So you shall, then,' said I, endeavoring to seem thoroughly at my +ease. 'It's a very unworthy occasion for a wager, Martin; but I'll lay +five hundred to one she refuses you.' + +“'Taken, and booked,' cried he, writing it down in his note-book. “I +only regret it is not in thousands.' + +“'So it should be, if I could honestly stake what I have n't got.' + +“'You are so sanguine of winning? ' + +“' So certain, you ought to say.' + +“' Of course you use no influence against me,--you take no step of any +kind to affect her decision.' + +“'Certainly not.' + +“'Nor are you--But,' added he, laughing, 'I need n't make that proviso. +I was going to say, you are not to ask her yourself.' + +“'I 'll even promise you that, if you like,' said I. + +“'Then what can you mean?' said he, with a puzzled look. 'But whatever +it be, I can stand the loss. I 've won very close to double as much from +you this evening.' + +“'And as to the disappointment?' + +“'Oh, _you_ 'll not mention it, I 'm certain, neither will she, so none +will be the wiser; and, after all, the real bore in all these cases is +the gossip.' And with this consolatory reflection he left me to dress +for dinner. How well bred a fellow seems who has no feeling, but just +tact enough to detect the tone of the world and follow it! That's +Martin's case, and his manners are perfect! After he was gone, I +was miserable for not having quarrelled with him,--said something +outrageous, insolent, and unbearable. That he should have dared to +insult the young girl by such presumption as the offer of _his_ hand +is really too much. What difference of station--wide as the poles +asunder--could compare with their real inequality? The fop, the idler, +the incompetent, to aspire to _her!_ Even his very narrative proclaimed +his mean nature, wandering on, as it did, from a lounge on the balcony +to an offer of marriage! + +“Now, to conclude this wearisome story--and I fancy, Harry, that already +you half deem me a fitting rival for the tiresome Captain,--but to +finish, Martin came early into my room, and laying a bank-note for £100 +on the bed, merely added, 'You were right; there's your money.' I'd have +given double the sum to hear the details of this affair,--in what terms +the refusal was conveyed,--on what grounds she based it; but he would +not afford me the slightest satisfaction on any of these points. Indeed, +he displayed more vigor of character than I suspected in him, in the way +he arrested my inquiries. He left this for Paris immediately after, so +that the mystery of that interview will doubtless remain impenetrable to +me. + +“We are all at sixes and sevens to-day. Old Martin, shocked by some +tidings of Ireland that he chanced upon in the public papers, I believe, +has had a stroke of paralysis, or a seizure resembling that malady. +Lady Dorothea is quite helpless from terror, and but for Kate, the whole +household would be in utter chaos and disorganization; but she goes +about, with her arm in a sling, calm and tranquil, but with the energy +and activity of one who feels that all depends upon her guidance and +direction. The servants obey her with a promptitude that proclaims +instinct; and even the doctor lays aside the mysterious jargon of +his craft, and condescends to talk sense to her. I have not seen her; +passing rumors only reach me in my solitude, and I sit here writing and +brooding alternately. + +“P. S. Martin is a little better; no immediate danger to life, but +slight hopes of ultimate recovery. I was wrong as to the cause. It was a +proclamation of outlawry against his son, the Captain, which he read in +the 'Times.' Some implacable creditor or other had pushed his claim so +far, as I believe is easy enough to do nowadays; and poor Martin, who +connected this stigma with all the disgrace that once accompanied such a +sentence, fell senseless to the ground, and was taken up palsied. He is +perfectly collected and even tranquil now, and they wheeled me in to sit +with him for an hour or so. Lady Dorothea behaves admirably; the first +shock overwhelmed her, but that passed off, and she is now all that +could be imagined of tenderness and zeal. + +“Kate I saw but for a second. She asked me to write to Captain Martin, +and request him to hasten home. It was no time to trifle with her; so I +simply promised to do so, adding,--“'_You,_ I trust, will not leave this +at such a moment?' + +“'Assuredly not,' said she, slightly coloring at what implied my +knowledge of her plans. + +“'Then all will go on well in that case,' said I. + +“'I never knew that I was reckoned what people call lucky,' said she, +smiling. 'Indeed, most of those with whom I have been associated in life +might say the opposite.' And then, without waiting to hear me, she left +the room. + +“My brain is throbbing and my cheeks burning; some feverish access is +upon me. So I send off this ere I grow worse. + +“Your faithful friend, + +“Jack Massingbred.” + + + +CHAPTER X. HOW ROGUES AGREE! + +Leaving the Martins in their quiet retreat at Spa, nor dwelling any +longer on a life whose daily monotony was unbroken by an incident, +we once more turn our glance westward. Were we assured that our kind +readers' sympathies were with us, the change would be a pleasure to us, +since it is there, in that wild mountain tract, that pathless region of +fern and wild furze, that we love to linger, rambling half listlessly +through silent glens and shady gorges, or sitting pensively on the +storm-lashed shore, till sea and sky melt into one, and naught lowers +through the gloom save the tall crags above us. + +We are once more back again at the little watering-place of Kilkieran, +to which we introduced our readers in an early chapter of this +narrative; but another change has come over that humble locality. +The Osprey's Nest, the ornamented villa, on which her Ladyship had +squandered so lavishly good money and bad taste, was now an inn! A +vulgar sign-board, representing a small boat in a heavy sea, hung over +the door, with the words “The Corragh” written underneath. The spacious +saloon, whose bay-windows opened on the Atlantic, was now a coffee-room, +and the small boudoir that adjoined it--desecration of desecrations--the +bar! + +It needs not to have been the friend or favored guest beneath a roof +where elegance and refinement have prevailed to feel the shock at +seeing them replaced by all that ministers to coarse pleasure and +vulgar association. The merest stranger cannot but experience a sense of +disgust at the contrast. Whichever way you turned, some object met the +eye recalling past splendor and present degradation; indeed, Toby Shea, +the landlord, seemed to feel as one of his brightest prerogatives the +right of insulting the memory of his predecessors, and throwing into +stronger antithesis the “former” and the “now.” + +“Here ye are now, sir, in my Lady's own parlor; and that's her bedroom, +where I left your trunk,” said he, as he ushered in a newly arrived +traveller, whose wet and road-stained drapery bore traces of an Irish +winter's day. “Mr. Scanlan told me that your honor would be here at four +o'clock, and he ordered dinner for two, at five, and a good dinner you +'ll have.” + +“There; let them open my traps, and fetch me a pair of slippers and a +dressing-gown,” broke in the traveller; “and be sure to have a good fire +in my bedroom. What an infernal climate! It has rained since the day +I landed at Dublin; and now that I have come down here, it has blown a +hurricane besides. And how cold this room is!” added he, shuddering. + +“That's all by reason of them windows,” said Toby,--“French windows they +call them; but I'll get real Irish sashes put up next season, if I live. +It was a fancy of that ould woman that built the place to have nothing +that was n't foreign.” + +“They are not popular, then,--the Martins?” asked the stranger. + +“Popular!” echoed Toby. “Begorra, they are not. Why would they be? Is it +rack-renting, process sarving, extirminating, would make them popular? +Sure we're all ruined on the estate. There isn't a mother's son of +us might n't be in jail; and it's not Maurice's fault, either,--Mr. +Scanlan's, I mean. Your honor's a friend of his, I believe,” added he, +stealthily. The stranger gave a short nod. “Sure he only does what he's +ordered; and it's breaking his heart it is to do them cruel things they +force him to.” + +“Was the management of the estate better when they lived at home?” asked +the stranger. + +“Some say yes, more says no. I never was their tenant myself, for I +lived in Oughterard, and kept the 'Goose and Griddle' in John Street; +but I believe, if the truth was told, it was always pretty much the +same. They were azy and moderate when they did n't want money, but ready +to take your skin off your back when they were hard up.” + +“And is that their present condition?” + +“I think it is,” said he, with a confident grin. “They 're spending +thousands for hundreds since they went abroad; and that chap in the +dragoons--the Captain they call him--sells a farm, or a plot of ground, +just the way ye 'd tear a leaf out of a book. There 's Mr. Maurice +now,--and I 'll go and hurry the dinner, for he 'll give us no peace if +we 're a minute late.” + +The stranger--or, to give him his proper name, Mr. Merl--now approached +the window, and watched, not without admiration, the skilful management +by which Scanlan skimmed along the strand, zigzagging his smart nag +through all the awkward impediments of the way, and wending his tandem +through what appeared a labyrinth of confusion. + +Men bred and born in great cities are somewhat prone to fancy that +certain accomplishments, such as tandem-driving, steeple-chasing, and +such like, are the exclusive acquirements of rank and station. They have +only witnessed them as the gifts of guardsmen and “young squires of high +degree,” never suspecting that in the country a very inferior class +is often endowed with these skilful arts. Mr. Merl felt, therefore, no +ordinary reverence for Maurice Scanlan, a sentiment fully reciprocated +by the attorney, as he beheld the gorgeous dressing-gown, rich tasselled +cap, and Turkish trousers of the other. + +“I thought I'd arrive before you, sir,” said Scanlan, with a profound +bow, as he entered the room; “but I'm glad you got in first. What a +shower that was!” + +“Shower!” said Merl; “a West India hurricane is a zephyr to it. I 'd not +live in this climate if you 'd give me the whole Martin estate!” + +“I 'm sure of it, sir; one must be bred in the place, and know no +better, to stand it.” And although the speech was uttered in all +humility, Merl gave the speaker a searching glance, as though to say, +“Don't lose your time trying to humbug me; I'm 'York,' too.” Indeed, +there was species of freemasonry in the looks that now passed between +the two; each seemed instinctively to feel that he was in the presence +of an equal, and that artifice and deceit might be laid aside for the +nonce. + +“I hope you agree with me,” said Scanlan, in a lower and more +confidential voice, “that this was the best place to come to. Here you +can stay as long as you like, and nobody the wiser; but in the town +of Oughterard they'd be at you morning, noon, and night, tracking your +steps, questioning the waiter, ay, and maybe taking a peep at your +letters. I 've known that same before now.” + +“Well, I suppose you 're right; only this place does look a little dull, +I confess.” + +“It's not the season, to be sure,” said Scanlan, apologetically. + +“Oh! and there is a season here?” + +“Isn't there, by George!” said Maurice, smacking his lips. “I 've seen +two heifers killed here of a morning, and not so much as a beefsteak +to be got before twelve o'clock. 'T is the height of fashion comes down +here in July,--the Rams of Kiltimmon, and the Bodkins of Crossmaglin; +and there was talk last year of a lord,--I forget his name; but he ran +away from Newmarket, and the story went that he was making for this.” + +“Any play?” asked Merl. + +“Play is it? That there is; whist every night, and backgammon.” + +Merl threw up his eyebrows with pretty much the same feeling with which +the Great Napoleon repeated the words “Bows and Arrows!” as the weapons +of a force that offered him alliance. + +“If you'd allow me to dine in this trim, Mr. Scanlan,” said he, “I'd ask +you to order dinner.” + +“I was only waiting for you to give the word, sir,” said Maurice, +reverting to the habit of respect at any fresh display of the other's +pretensions; and opening the door, he gave a shrill whistle. + +The landlord himself answered the summons, and whispered a few words in +Scanlan's ear. + +“That's it, always,” cried Maurice, angrily. “I never came into the +house for the last ten days without hearing the same story. I 'd like to +know who and what he is, that must always have the best that 's going?” + Then turning to Merl, he added: “It's a lodger he has upstairs; an old +fellow that came about a fortnight back; and if there's a fine fish or a +fat turkey or a good saddle of mutton to be got, he 'll have it.” + +“Faix, he pays well,” said Toby, “whoever he is.” + +“And he has secured our salmon, I find, and left us to dine on whiting,” + said Maurice. + +“An eighteen-pound fish!” echoed Toby; “and it would be as much as my +life is worth to cut it in two.” + +“And he's alone, too?” + +“No, sir. Mr. Crow, the painter, is to dine with him. He's making +drawings for him of all the wonderful places down the coast.” + +“Well, give us what we 're to have at once,” said Maurice, angrily. “The +basket of wine was taken out of the gig?” + +“Yes, sir; all right and ready for you; and barrin' the fish you 'll +have an elegant dinner.” + +This little annoyance over, the guests relished their fare like hungry +men; nor, time and place considered, was it to be despised. + +“Digestion is a great leveller.” Mr. Merl and Mr. Scan-Ian felt far more +on an equality when, the dinner over and the door closed, they drew +the table close to the fire, and drank to each other in a glass of racy +port. + +“Well, I believe a man might live here, after all,” said Merl, as he +gazed admiringly on the bright hues of his variegated lower garments. + +“I 'm proud to hear you say so,” said Scanlan; “for, of course, you've +seen a deal of life; and when I say life, I mean fashion and high +style,--nobs and swells.” + +“Yes; I believe I have,” said Merl, lighting his cigar; “that was always +my 'line.' I fancy there's few fellows going have more experience of the +really great world than Herman Merl.” + +“And you like it?” asked Maurice, confidentially. + +“I do, and I do not,” said the Jew, hesitatingly. “To one like myself, +who knows them all, always on terms of close intimacy,--friendship, I +may say,--it 's all very well; but take a new hand just launched into +life, a fellow not of their own set,--why, sir, there 's no name for the +insults and outrage he'll meet with.” + +“But what could they do?” asked Scanlan, inquiringly. + +“What?--anything, everything; laugh at him, live on him, win his last +guinea,--and then, blackball him!” + +“And could n't he get a crack at them?” + +“A what?” + +“Couldn't he have a shot at some of them, at least?” asked Maurice. + +“No, no,” said Mr. Merl, half contemptuously; “they don't do _that_.” + +“Faix! and we 'd do it down here,” said Scanlan, “devil may care who or +what he was that tried the game.” + +“But I 'm speaking of London and Paris; I 'm not alluding to the +Sandwich Islands,” said Merl, on whose brain the port and the strong +fire were already producing their effects. + +Scanlan's face flushed angrily; but a glance at the other checked the +reply he was about to make, and he merely pushed the decanter across the +table. + +“You see, sir,” said Merl, in the tone of a man laying down a great +dictum, “there 's worlds and worlds. There's Claude Willoughby's world, +which is young Martin's and Stanhope's and mine. There, we are all young +fellows of fortune, good family, good prospects, you understand,--no, +thank you, no more wine;--I feel that what I 've taken has got into my +head; and this cigar, too, is none of the best. Would it be taking too +great a liberty with you if I were to snatch a ten minutes' doze,--just +ten minutes?” + +“Treat me like an old friend; make yourself quite at home,” said +Maurice. “There 's enough here”--and he pointed to the bottles on the +table--“to keep me company; and I 'll wake you up when I 've finished +them.” + +Mr. Merl made no reply; but drawing a chair for his legs, and disposing +his drapery gracefully around him, he closed his eyes, and before +Maurice had replenished his glass, gave audible evidence of a sound +sleep. + +Now, worthy reader, we practise no deceptions with you; nor so far as +we are able, do we allow others to do so. It is but fair, therefore, to +tell you that Mr. Merl was not asleep, nor had he any tendency whatever +to slumber about him. That astute gentleman, however, had detected that +the port was, with the addition of a great fire, too much for him; he +recognized in himself certain indications of confusion that implied +wandering and uncertain faculties, and he resolved to arrest the +progress of such symptoms by a little repose. He felt, in short, that if +he had been engaged in play, that he should have at once “cut out,” and +so he resolved to give himself the advantage of the prerogative +which attaches to a tired traveller. There he lay, then, with closed +eyes,--breathing heavily,--to all appearance sound asleep. + +Maurice Scanlan, meanwhile, scanned the recumbent figure before him with +the eye of a connoisseur. We have once before said that Mr. Scanlan's +jockey experiences had marvellously aided his worldly craft, and that +he scrutinized those with whom he came in contact through life, with all +the shrewd acumen he would have bestowed upon a horse whose purchase he +meditated. It was easy to see that the investigation puzzled him. Mr. +Merl did not belong to any one category he had ever seen before. Maurice +was acquainted with various ranks and conditions of men; but here was a +new order, not referable to any known class. He opened Captain Martin's +letter, which he carried in his pocket-book, and re-read it; but it +was vague and uninstructive. He merely requested that “every attention +might be paid to his friend Mr. Merl, who wanted to see something of +the West, and know all about the condition of the people, and such like. +He's up to everything, Master Maurice,” continued the writer, “and +so just the man for _you_.” There was little to be gleaned from this +source, and so he felt, as he folded and replaced the epistle in his +pocket. + +“What can he be,” thought Scanlan, “and what brings him down here? Is he +a member of Parliament, that wants to make himself up about Ireland and +Irish grievances? Is he a money-lender, that wants to see the security +before he makes a loan? Are they thinking of him for the agency?”--and +Maurice flushed as the suspicion crossed him,--“or is it after Miss Mary +he is?” And a sudden paleness covered his face at the thought. “I 'd +give a cool hundred, this minute, if I could read you,” said he to +himself, “Ay, and I'd not ask any one's help how to deal with us +afterwards,” added he, as he drained off his glass. While he was thus +ruminating, a gentle tap was heard at the door, and, anxious not to +disturb the sleeper, Scanlan crossed the room with noiseless steps, and +opened it. + +[Illustration: 124] + +“Oh, it's you, Simmy,” said he, in a low voice. “Come in, and make no +noise; he's asleep.” + +“And that's him!” said Crow, standing still to gaze on the recumbent +figure before him, which he scrutinized with all an artist's +appreciation. + +“Ay, and what do you think of him?” whispered Scanlan. + +“That chap is a Jew,” said Sim, in the same cautious tone. “I know +the features well; you see the very image of him in the old Venetian +pictures. Whenever they wanted cunning and cruelty--but more cunning +than cruelty--they always took that type.” + +“I would n't wonder if you were right, Simmy,” said Scanlan, on whom a +new light was breaking. + +“I know I am; look at the spread of the nostrils, and the thick, full +lips, and the coarse, projecting under-jaw. Faix!” said he to himself, +“I 've seen the day I 'd like to have had a study of your face.” + +“Indeed!” said Scanlan. + +“Just so; he'd make a great Judas!” said Crow, enthusiastically. “It +is the miser all over. You know,” added he, “if one took him in the +historical way, you 'd get rid of the vulgarity, and make him grander +and finer; for, looking at him now, he might be a dog-stealer.” + +Scanlan gave a low, cautious laugh as he placed a chair beside his own +for the artist, and filled out for him a bumper of port. + +“I was just dying for a glass of this,” said Crow. “I dined with Mr. +Barry upstairs; and though he's a fine-hearted old fellow in many +respects, he's too abstemious; a pint of sherry for two at dinner, and a +pint of port after, that's the allowance. Throw out as many hints as you +like, suggest how and what you will, but devil a drop more you'll get.” + +“And who is he?” asked Scanlan. + +“I wish you could tell me,” said Crow. + +“You haven't a notion; nor what he is?” + +“Not the slightest. I think, indeed, he said he was in the army; but +I'm not clear it wasn't a commissary or a surgeon; maybe he was, but +he knows a little about everything. Take him on naval matters, and he +understands them well; ask him about foreign countries,--egad, he was +everywhere. Ireland seems the only place new to him, and it won't be +so long; for he goes among the people, and talks to them, and hears +all they have to say, with a patience that breaks my heart. Like all +strangers, he's astonished with the acuteness he meets with, and never +ceases saying, 'Ain't they a wonderful people? Who ever saw their equal +for intelligence?'” + +“Bother!” said Scanlan, contemptuously. + +“But it is not bother! Maurice; he's right. They are just what he says.” + +“Arrah! don't be humbugging _me_, Mr. Crow,” said the other. “They 're +a set of scheming, plotting vagabonds, that are unmanageable by any one, +except a fellow that has the key to them as I have.” + +“_You_ know them, that's true,” said Crow, half apologetically, for he +liked the port, and did not feel he ought to push contradiction too far. + +“And that's more than your friend Barry does, or ever will,” said +Scanlan. “I defy an Englishman--I don't care how shrewd he is--to +understand Paddy.” + +A slight movement on Mr. Merl's part here admonished the speaker to +speak lower. + +“Ay,” continued Maurice, “that fellow there--whoever he is or whatever +he is--is no fool! he 's deep enough; and yet there 's not a bare-legged +gossoon on the estate I won't back to take him in.” + +“But Barry's another kind of man entirely. You wouldn't call him cute or +cunning; but he's a sensible, well-judging man, that has seen a deal of +life.” + +“And what is it, he says, brings him here?” asked Scanlan. + +“He never said a word about that yet,” replied Crow, “further than his +desire to visit a country he had heard much of, and, if I understand him +aright, where some of his ancestors came from; for, you see, at times +he's not so easy for one to follow, for he has a kind of a foreign twang +in his tongue, and often mumbles to himself in a strange language.” + +“I mistrust all these fellows that go about the world, pretending they +want to see this and observe that,” said Scanlan, sententiously. + +“It's mighty hard to mistrust a man that gives you the likes of that,” + said Crow, as he drew a neatly folded banknote from his pocket, and +handed it to Scanlan. “Twenty pounds! And he gave you that?” “This very +evening. 'It is a little more than our bargain, Mr. Crow,' said he, 'but +not more than I can afford to give; and so I hope you 'll not refuse +it.' These were his words, as he took my lot of drawings--poor daubs +they were--and placed them in his portfolio.” + +“So that he is rich?” said Maurice, pensively, “There seems no end of +his money; there's not a day goes over he does n't spend fifteen or +sixteen pounds in meat, potatoes, barley, and the like. Sure, you may +say he 's been feeding the two islands himself for the last fortnight; +and what's more, one must n't as much as allude to it. He gets angry at +the slightest word that can bring the subject forward. It was the other +day he said to myself, 'If you can relieve destitution without too much +parade of its sufferings, you are not only obviating the vulgar display +of rich benevolence, but you are inculcating high sentiments and +delicacy of feeling in those that are relieved. Take care how you +pauperize the heart of a people, for you 'll have to make a workhouse of +the nation.'” + +“Sure, they're paupers already!” exclaimed Scanlan, contemptuously. +“When I hear all these elegant sentiments uttered about Ireland, I know +a man is an ass! This is a poor country,--the people is poor, the gentry +is poor, the climate is n't the best, and bad as it is, you 're never +sure of it. All that anybody can hope to do is to make his living out +of it; but as to improving it,--raising the intellectual standard of the +people, and all that balderdash we hear of,--you might just as well tell +me that there was an Act of Parliament to make everybody in Connaught +six feet high. Nature says one thing, and it signifies mighty little if +the House of Commons says the other.” + +“And you 're telling me this in the very spot that contradicts every +word you say!” cried Crow, half angrily; for the port had given him +courage, and the decanter waxed low. + +“How so?” exclaimed Scanlan. + +“Here, where we sit--on this very estate of Cro' Martin--where a young +girl--a child the other day--has done more to raise the condition of +the people, to educate and civilize, than the last six generations +together.” + +A long wailing whistle from Scanlan was the insulting reply to the +assertion. + +“What do you mean by that?” cried Crow, passionately. + +“I mean that she has done more mischief to the property than +five-and-forty years' good management will ever repair, Now don't be +angry, Simmy; keep your temper, and draw your chair back again to the +table. I 'm not going to say one word against her intentions; but when +I see the waste of thousands of pounds on useless improvements, elegant +roads that lead nowhere, bridges that nobody will ever pass, and harbors +without boats, not to say the habits of dependence the people have got +by finding everything done for them. I tell you again, ten years more of +Miss Mary's rule will finish the estate.” + +[Illustration: 130] + +“I don't believe a word of it!” blurted out Simmy, boldly. “I saw her +yesterday coming out of a cabin, where she passed above an hour, nursing +typhus fever and cholera. The cloak she took off the door--for she left +it there to dry--was still soaked with rain; her wet hair hung down her +shoulders, and as she stood bridling her own pony,--for there was not a +living soul to help her--” + +“She 'd have made an elegant picture,” broke in Scanlan, with a laugh. +“But that's exactly the fault of us in Ireland,--we are all picturesque; +I wish we were prosperous! But come, Simmy, finish your wine; it's not +worth disputing about. If all I hear about matters be true, there will +be very little left of Cro' Martin when the debts are paid.” + +“What! do you mean to say that they 're in difficulty?” + +“Far worse; the stories that reach me call it--ruin!” + +Simmy drew his chair closer to the table, and in a whisper scarcely +breathed, said, “That chap's not asleep, Maurice.” + +“I know it,” whispered the other; and added, aloud, “Many a fellow that +thinks he has the first charge on the property will soon discover his +mistake; there are mortgages of more than eighty years' standing on the +estate. You've had a great sleep, sir,” said he, addressing Merl, who +now yawned and opened his eyes; “I hope our talking did n't disturb +you?” + +“Not in the least,” said Merl, rising and stretching his legs. “I'm all +right now, and quite fresh for anything.” + +“Let me introduce Mr. Crow to you, sir,--a native artist that we 're all +proud of.” + +“That's exactly what you are not then,” said Crow; “nor would you be if +I deserved it. You 'd rather gain a cause at the Quarter Sessions, or +take in a friend about a horse, than be the man that painted the Madonna +at Florence.” + +“He's cross this evening,--cross and ill-humored,” said Scanlan, +laughing. “Maybe he 'll be better tempered when we have tea.” + +“I was just going to ask for it,” said Merl, as he arranged his +whiskers, and performed a small impromptu toilet before the glass, while +Simmy issued forth to give the necessary orders. + +“We 'll have tea, and a rubber of dummy afterwards,” said Scanlan, “if +you've no objection.” + +“Whatever you like,--I 'm quite at your disposal,” replied Merl, who now +seated himself with an air of bland amiability, ready, according to the +amount of the stake, to win pounds or lose sixpences. + + + +CHAPTER XI. MR. MERL “AT FENCE” + +All the projects which Mr. Scanlan had struck out for Merl's occupation +on the following day were marred by the unfavorable weather. It blew +fiercely from the westward, driving upon shore a tremendous sea, and +sending white masses of drift and foam far inland. The rain, too, came +down in torrents. The low-lying clouds, which scarcely reached more than +half-way up the mountain sides, seemed as if rent asunder at times, +and from them came a deluge, filling all the watercourses, and swelling +rivulets to the size of mighty torrents. The unceasing roll of thunder, +now near, now rumbling along in distant volleys, swelled the wild +uproar, and helped to make up a scene of grand but desolate meaning. + +What could well be drearier than that little line of cabins that formed +the village of Kilkieran, as with strongly barricaded doors, and +with roofs secured by ropes and spars, they stood exposed to the full +violence of the wild Atlantic! Not a man, not a living thing was to be +seen. The fishermen were all within doors, cowering in gloomy indolence +over the scanty turf fires, and brooding darkly on the coming winter. + +With a thorough conviction of all the dreariness of this scene, Mr. +Merl stood at the window and looked out. He had been all his life too +actively engaged in his pursuits of one kind or other to know much about +what is called “being bored.” Let rain fall ever so heavily, a cab could +take him down to “'Change,”--the worst weather never marred a sale of +stock, and Consols could rise even while the mercury was falling. The +business-life of a great city seems to care little for weather, and +possibly they whose intent faculties are bent on gain, scarcely remember +whether the sun shines upon their labors. + +Merl felt differently now; the scene before him was wilder and gloomier +than anything he had ever beheld. Beyond and behind the village steep +mountains rose on every side, of barren and rugged surface,--not a +vestige of any culture to be seen; while on the road, which led along a +narrow gorge, nothing moved. All was dreary and deserted. + +“I suppose you'll keep the roof over you to-day, Mr. Merl?” said +Scanlan, as he entered the room, buttoned up to the chin in a coarse +frieze coat, while his head was protected by a genuine “sou'-wester” of +oilskin. + +“And are _you_ going out in such weather?” asked Merl. + +“'Needs must,' sir, as the proverb says. I have to be at the assizes +at Oughterard this morning, to prosecute some scoundrels for cutting +brambles in the wood; and I want to serve notices on a townland about +eight miles from this; and then I 'll have to go round by Cro' Martin +and see Miss Mary. That's not the worst of it,” added he, with an +impudent leer, “for she's a fine girl, and has the prettiest eyes in the +kingdom.” + +“I have a letter for her,” said Merl,--“a letter of introduction from +Captain Martin. I suppose I might as well send it by you, and ask if I +might pay my respects to-morrow or next day?” + +“To be sure; I'll take it with pleasure. You'll like her when you see +her. She's not a bit like the rest: no pride, no stand-off,--that +is, when she takes a fancy; but she is full of life and courage for +anything.” + +“Ah, yes,--the Captain said we should get on very well together,” + drawled out Merl. + +“Did he, though!” cried Scanlan, eagerly. Then as suddenly checking +his anxiety, he added: “But what does _he_ know about Miss Mary? Surely +they're as good as strangers to each other. And for the matter of that, +even when he was here, they did n't take to each other,--she was always +laughing at the way he rode.” + +“Wasn't he in the dragoons?” asked Merl, in a half-rebutting tone. + +“So he was; but what does that signify? Sure it's not a cavalry seat, +with your head down and your elbows squared, will teach you to cross +country,--at least, with Mary Martin beside you. You'll see her one of +these day yourself, Mr. Merl. May I never, if you don't see her now!” + cried Scanlan, suddenly, as he pointed to the road along which a horse +was seen coming at speed, the rider breasting the storm fearlessly, and +only crouching to the saddle as the gusts swept past. “What in the name +of all that's wonderful brings her here?” cried Maurice. “She wasn't +down at Kilkieran for four months.” + +“She'll stop at this inn here, I suppose?” said Merl who was already +performing an imaginary toilet for her visit. + +“You may take your oath she'll not!” said Scanlan half roughly; “she +'d not cross the threshold of it! She 's going to some cabin or other. +There she goes,--is n't that riding?” cried he, in animation. “Did you +ever see a horse held neater? And see how she picks the road for him! +Easy as she's sitting, she 'd take a four-foot wall this minute, without +stirring in her saddle.” + +“She hasn't got a nice day for pleasuring!” said the Jew, with a vulgar +cackle. + +“If ye call it pleasure,” rejoined Scanlan, “what she's after; but I +suspect there's somebody sick down at the end of the village. There, I +'m right; she's pulling up at Mat Landy's,--I wonder if it's old Mat is +bad.” + +“You know him?” asked Merl. + +“To be sure I do. He 's known down the coast for forty miles. He +saved more men from shipwreck himself than everybody in the barony put +together; but his heart is all but broke about a granddaughter that ran +away. Sure enough, she's going in there.” + +“Did you see Miss Mary?” cried Crow, entering suddenly. “She's just gone +down the beach. They say there's a case now down there.” + +“A case--of what?” said Merl. + +“Cholera or typhus, as it may be,” said Crow, not a little surprised at +the unmistakable terror of the other's face. + +“And she's gone to see it!” exclaimed the Jew. + +“To do more than see it. She 'll nurse the sick man, and bring him +medicine and whatever he wants.” + +“And not afraid?” + +“Afraid!” broke in Crow. “I'd like to know what she's afraid of. Ask Mr. +Scanlan what would frighten her.” But Mr. Scanlan had already slipped +noiselessly from the room, and was already on his way down the shore. + +“Well,” said Merl, lighting his cigar, and drawing an arm-chair close +to the fire, “I don't see the advantage of all that. She could send +the doctor, I suppose, and make her servants take down to these people +whatever she wanted to send them. What especial utility there is in +going herself, I can't perceive.” + +“I'll tell you, then,” said Crow. “It's more likely the doctor is busy +this minute, ten or fifteen miles away,--for the whole country is down +in sickness; but even if he was n't, if it were not for her courage in +going everywhere, braving danger and death every hour, there would be +a general flight of all that could escape. They'd rush into the +towns,--where already there's more sickness than they know how to deal +with. She encourages some,--she shames more; and not a few are proud +to be brave in such company, for she is an angel,--that's her name,--an +angel.” + +“Well, I should like to see her,” drawled out Merl, as he smoothed down +his scrubby mustachios. + +“Nothing easier, then,” rejoined Crow. “Put on your coat and hat, and we +'ll stroll down the beach till she comes out; it can't be very long, for +she has enough on her hands elsewhere.” + +The proposition of a “stroll” in such weather was very little to Mr. +Merl's taste; but his curiosity was stronger than even his fear of a +drenching, and having muffled and shawled himself as if for an Arctic +winter, they set out together from the inn. + +“And you tell me,” said he, “that the Martins used to live +here,--actually pass their lives in this atrocious climate?” + +“That they did,--and the worst mistake they ever made was to leave it,” + said Crow. + +“I confess you puzzle me,” said Merl. + +“Very possibly I do, sir,” was the calm reply; “but you'd have +understood me at once had you known this country while they resided at +Cro' Martin. It was n't only that the superfluities of their wealth ran +over, and filled the cup of the poor man, but there was a sense of hope +cherished, by seeing that however hard the times, however adverse the +season, there was always 'his Honor,' as they called Mr. Martin, whom +they could appeal to for aid or for lenient treatment.” + +“Very strange, very odd, all this,” said Merl, musing. “But all that I +hear of Ireland represents the people as if in a continual struggle for +mere existence, and actually in a daily state of dependence on the will +of somebody above them.” + +“And if that same condition were never to be exaggerated into downright +want, or pushed to an actual slavery, we could be very happy with it,” + said Crow, “and not thank you, or any other Englishman that came here, +to disturb it.” + +“I assure you I have no ambition to indulge in any such interference,” + said Merl, with a half-contemptuous laugh. + +“And so you're not thinking of settling in Ireland?” asked Crow, in some +surprise. + +“Never dreamed of it!” + +“Well, the story goes that you wanted to buy an estate, and came down to +have a look at this property here.” + +“I'd not live on it if Martin were to make me a present of it +to-morrow.” + +“I don't think he will,” said Crow, gravely. “I am afraid he could n't, +if he wished it.” + +“What, do you mean on account of the entail?” asked Merl. + +“Not exactly.” He paused, and after some silence said, “If the truth +were told, there's a great deal of debt on this property,--more than any +one suspects.” + +“The Captain's encumbrances?” asked Merl, eagerly. + +“His grandfather's and his great-grandfather's! As for the present man, +they say that he's tied up some way not to sell, except for the sake of +redeeming some of the mortgages. But who knows what is true and what is +false about all this?” + +Merl was silent; grave fears were crossing his mind how far his claims +were valid; and terrible misgivings shot across him lest the Captain +might have been paying him with valueless securities. + +“I gather from what you say,” said he, at last, “that it would be rather +difficult to make out a title for any purchaser of this estate.” + +“Don't be afraid of that, sir. They'll make you out a fair title.” + +“I tell you again, I'd not take it as a present,” said Merl, half +angrily. + +“I see,” said Crow, nodding his head sententiously. And then fixing his +eyes steadily on him, he said, “You are a mortgagee.” + +Merl reddened,--partly anger, partly shame. Indeed, the feeling that +such a capacity as Mr. Crow's should have pushed him hard, was anything +but complimentary to his self-esteem. + +“I don't want to pry into any man's affairs,” said Crow, easily. “Heaven +knows it's mighty little matter to Simmy Crow who lives in the big house +there. I 'd rather, if I had my choice, be able to walk the wood with my +sketch-book and brushes than be the richest man that ever was heartsore +with the cares of wealth.” + +“And if a friend--a sincere, well-wishing friend--were to bind himself +that you should enjoy this same happiness you speak of, Mr. Crow, what +would you do in return?” + +“Anything he asked me,--anything, at least, that a fair man could ask, +and an honest one could do.” + +“There's my hand on it, then,” said Merl. “It's a bargain.” + +“Ay, but let us hear the conditions,” said Crow. “What could I possibly +serve you in, that would be worth this price?” + +“Simply this: that you'll answer all my inquiries, so far as you know +about this estate; and where your knowledge fails, that you'll endeavor +to obtain the information for me.” + +“Maybe I could tell you nothing at all--or next to nothing,” said Crow. +“Just ask me, now, what's the kind of question you 'd put; for, to tell +truth, I 'm not over bright or clever,--the best of me is when I've a +canvas before me.” + +Merl peered stealthily at the speaker over the great folds of the shawl +that enveloped his throat; he was not without his misgivings that the +artist was a “deep fellow,” assuming a manner of simplicity to draw him +into a confidence. “And yet,” he thought, “had he really been shrewd +and cunning, he 'd never have blurted out his suspicion as to my being +a mortgagee. Besides,” said he to himself, “there, and with that fact, +must end all his knowledge of me.” “You can dine with me to-day, Mr. +Crow, can't you?” + +“I 'm engaged to the stranger in No. 4,--the man I'm making the drawings +for.” + +“But you could get off. You could ask him to excuse you by saying that +something of importance required you elsewhere?” + +“And dine in the room underneath?” asked Crow, with a comical look of +distress at this suggestion. + +“Well, let us go somewhere else. Is there no other inn in the +neighborhood?” + +“There's a small public-house near the gate of Cro' Martin, to be sure.” + +“Then we'll dine there. I'll order a chaise at four o'clock, and we 'll +drive over together. And now, I 'll just return to the house, for this +wading here is not much to my taste.” + +Mr. Merl returned gloomily to the house, his mind too deeply occupied +with his own immediate interests to bestow any thought upon Mary Martin. +The weather assuredly offered but little inducement to linger out of +doors, for, as the morning wore on, the rain and wind increased in +violence, while vast masses of mist swept over the sea and were carried +on shore, leaving only, at intervals, little patches of the village to +be seen,--dreary, storm-beaten, and desolate! Merl shuddered, as he cast +one last look at this sad-colored picture, and entered the inn. + +Has it ever been your ill-fortune, good reader, to find yourself alone +in some dreary, unfrequented spot, the weather-bound denizen of a sorry +inn, without books or newspapers, thrown upon the resources of your own +thoughts, so sure to take their color from the dreary scene around them? +It is a trying ordeal for the best of tempers. Your man of business +chafes and frets against the inactivity; your man of leisure sorrows +over monotony that makes idleness a penalty. He whose thoroughfare in +life is the pursuit of wealth thinks of all those more fortunate than +himself then hurrying on to gain, while he who is the mark of the +world's flatteries and attentions laments over the dismal desolation of +an uncompanionable existence. + +If Mr. Merl did not exactly occupy any one of these categories, he +fancied, at least, that he oscillated amidst them all. It was, indeed, +his good pleasure to imagine himself a “man upon town,” who played a +little, discounted a little, dealt a little in old pictures, old china, +old cabinets, and old plate, but all for mere pastime,--something, as he +would say, “to give him an interest in it;” and there, certainly, he was +right. Nothing so surely imparted an “interest” in Mr. Merl's eyes as +having an investment. Objects of art, the greatest triumphs of genius, +landscape the richest eye ever ranged over, political events that would +have awakened a sense of patriotism in the dullest and coldest, all came +before him as simple questions of profit and loss. + +If he was not actually a philosopher, some of his views of life were +characterized by great shrewdness. He had remarked, for instance, that +the changeful fashions of the world are ever alternating; and that not +only dress and costume and social customs undergo mutations, but that +objects of positive sterling value are liable to the same wayward +influences. We are all modern to-day, to-morrow we may be “Louis +Quatorze,” the next day “Cinque Centi” in our tastes. Now we are +mad after Italian art, yesterday the Dutch school was in vogue. Our +galleries, our libraries, our houses, our gardens, all feel the caprices +of these passing moods. There was but one thing that Mr. Merl had +perceived never changed, and that was the estimation men felt for money. +Religions might decay, and states crumble, thrones totter, and kings be +exiled, Cuyps might be depreciated and marquetry be held in mean esteem; +but gold was always within a fraction at least of four pounds eleven +shillings the ounce! + +He remarked, too, that men gradually grow tired of almost everything; +the pursuits of the young are not those of the middle-aged, still less +of advanced life. The books which we once cried over are now thrown down +with languor; the society we imagined perfection we now smile at for its +very absurdities. We see vulgarity where we once beheld vigor; we detect +exaggeration where we used to attribute power. There is only one theme +of which our estimation never varies,--wealth! Mr. Merl had never yet +met the man nor the woman who really despised it; nay, he had seen kings +trafficking on 'Change. He had known great ministers deep speculators +on the Bourse; valiant admirals, distinguished generals, learned judges, +and even divines, had bought and sold with him, all eager in the pursuit +of gain, and all employing, to the best of their ability, the high +faculties of their intelligence to assist them in making crafty +bargains. + +If these experiences taught him the universal veneration men feel +for wealth, they also conveyed another lesson, which was, the extreme +gullibility of mankind. He met every day men who ruled cabinets and +commanded fleets,--the reputed great of the earth,--and saw them easier +victims in his hand than the commonest capacity in “Leadenhall Street.” + They had the earliest information, but could not profit by it; they +never understood the temper on 'Change, knew nothing of the variations +of the money-barometer, and invariably fell into snares that your city +man never incurred. Hence Mr. Merl came to conceive a very low general +opinion of what he himself called “the swells,” and a very high one of +Herman Merl. + +If we have dwelt upon these traits of this interesting individual in +this place, it is simply to place before our reader's mind the kind +of lucubrations such a man might be disposed to indulge in. In fact, +story-tellers like ourselves have very little pretension to go beyond +the narrow limit; and having given to the reader the traits of a +character, they must leave their secret working more or less to his +ingenuity. So much, however, we are at liberty to declare, that Mr. Merl +was terribly bored, and made no scruple of confessing it. + +“What the deuce are you staring at? Is there anything really to be seen +in that confounded dreary sea?” cried he, as Crow stood shading his eyes +from the lightning flashes, and intently gazing on the scene without. + +“That's one of the effects Backhuysen was so fond of!” exclaimed Crow, +eagerly,--“a sullen sea, lead-colored and cold, with a white curl just +crisping the top of the waves, over it a dreary expanse of dark sky, +low-lying and black, till you come near the horizon, where there is a +faint line of grayish white, just enough to show that you are on the +wide, wide ocean, out of sight of land, and nothing living near, except +that solitary sea-gull perched upon the breakers there. There's real +poetry in a bit like that; it sets one a thinking over the desolation of +those whose life is little better than a voyage on such a sea!” + +“Better be drowned at once,” broke in Merl, impatiently. + +Crow started and looked at him; and had Merl but seen that glance, so +scornful and contemptuous was it, even his self-esteem might have felt +outraged. But he had not remarked it; and as little did he guess what +was then passing in the poor artist's mind, as Crow muttered to himself, +“I know one that will not be your guest to-day, if he dines on a cold +potato, or does n't dine at all.” + +“Did I tell you,” cried he, suddenly, “that there's no horses to be +had?” + +“No horses!” exclaimed Merl; “how so?” + +“There's a great trial going on at the assizes to-day, and Mr. Barry is +gone on to Oughterard to hear it, and he has the only pair of posters in +the place.” + +“What a confounded hole!” burst out Merl, passionately. “That I ever +should have set my foot in it! How are we to get through the day here? +Have you thought of anything to be done?” + +“_I'll_ go down and find out how poor Landy is,” said Crow; “for Miss +Mary's horse is still at the door, and he must be very bad, indeed, or +she wouldn't delay so long.” + +“And what if it should turn out the cholera, or typhus, or something as +bad?” + +“Well?” said Crow, interrogatively; for he could not guess the drift of +the suggestion. + +“Simply this, my worthy friend,” resumed Merl,--“that I have no fancy +for the pleasure of your company at dinner after such an excursion as +you speak of.” + +“I was just going to say that myself,” said Crow. “Good-bye!” And before +Merl could interpose a word, he was gone. + + + +CHAPTER XII. MR. MERL'S MEDITATIONS. + +Our last chapter left Mr. Herman Merl in bad company,--he was alone. +Now, very few men's thoughts are companionable in the dreary solitude +of a sorry inn. None of us, it is to be feared, are totally exempt from +“this world's crosses;” and though the sorrows of life do fall very +unequally, the light afflictions are accepted as very heavy burdens by +those to whose lot they fall! + +Just as it happens, then, on some gloomy day of winter, when we have +“finished our book,” and the newspapers are tiresome, we take the +opportunity to look through our letters and papers,--to arrange +our desk, and put a little order in our scattered and littered +memoranda,--somewhat in the same spirit will Conscience grasp a similar +moment to go over the past, glance at bygone events, and make, as it +were, a clearance of whatever weighs upon our memory. I 'm not quite +certain that the best of us come out of this Bankruptcy Court with a +first-class certificate. Even the most merciful to his own errors will +acknowledge that in many things he should do differently were they to +be done over again; and he must, indeed, have fallen upon a happy lot +in life who has not some self-reproach on the score of kindness +unrequited,--slight injuries either unforgiven or unequally +avenged,--friendships jeopardized, mayhap lost, by some mere indulgence +of temper,--and enmities unreconciled, just for lack of the veriest +sacrifice of self-love. + +Were there any such court in morals as in law, what a sad spectacle +would our schedule show, and how poor even the most solvent amongst us, +if called on for a list of his liabilities! + +Lest our moralizing should grow uncomfortable, dear reader, let us +return to Mr. Merl, now occupied, as he was, in this same process of +self-examination. He sat with a little note-book before him, recalling +various incidents of the past. And if the lowering expression of his +face might be trusted, his reveries were not rose-colored; and yet, as +he turned over the pages, it might be seen that moments of gratulation +alternated with the intervals of self-reproach. + +“Wednesday, the 10th,” muttered he to himself, “dined at +Philippe's--supped with Arkright and Bailey--whist at double Nap. +points--won four hundred and ten--might have made it a thousand, but +B. flung the cards out of the window in a passion, and had to cease +playing. + +“Thursday--toothache--stayed at home, and played piquet with +myself--discovered two new combinations, in taking in cards--Irving came +to see me--won from him twenty pounds his mother had just sent him. + +“Friday--a good day's work--walked into Martin for two thousand seven +hundred, and took his bill at three months, with promise to renew--dined +with Sitwell, and sold him my Perugino for six hundred--cost myself not +as many francs--am to have the refusal of all Vanderbrett's cabinets for +letting him off his match with Columbine, which, by the way, he was sure +to win, as Mope is dead lame. + +“Martin again--Saturday--came to have his revenge, but seemed +quarrelsome; so I affected an engagement, and declined play. + +“Sunday--gave him his revenge, to the tune of twelve hundred in my +own favor--'Lansquenet' in the evening at his rooms--several swells +present--thought it prudent to drop some tin, and so, lost one hundred +and forty Naps.--Sir Giles Bruce the chief winner--rich, and within two +months of being of age. + +“Monday--the Perugino returned as a bad copy by Fava--took it at once, +and said I was taken in myself--Sitwell so pleased that he sat down to +écarté, and lost two hundred to me. I dine with him to-morrow. + +“Tuesday--blank--dinner at Sitwell's--met Colonel Cardie, whom I saw at +Hombourg, and so refused to play. It was, I suspect, a plan of Sitwell's +to pit us against each other. + +“Wednesday--sold out my African at seventy-one and an eighth--realized +well, and bought in Poyais, which will rise for at least ten days to +come--took Canchard's château at Ghent for his old debt at écarté--don't +like it, as it may be talked about. + +“Gave a dinner to Wilson, Morris, Leader, Whyte, and Martin--Lescour +could n't come--played little whist afterwards--changed for hazard after +supper--won a few Naps., and home to bed. + +“Took Rigby's curricle and horses for the two hundred he owes me--glad +to have done with him--he evidently wanted a row--and so play with him +no more. + +“Sent ten Naps, to the fund for the poor injured by the late +inundations, as the police called to ask about my passport, &c. + +“Saturday--the Curé of St. Rochette, to ask for alms--gave three hundred +francs, and secured his services against the police--the curé mentions +some curious drawings in the sacristy--promised to go and see them. + +“Bought Walrond's library for a franc a volume--the Elzevirs alone +worth double the amount paid--Bailey bolted, and so lose his last +bills--Martin quarrelsome--said he never yet won at any sitting with +me--lost seventy to him, and sent him home satisfied. + +“Gave five hundred francs for the drawings at St. R------, abominable +daubs; but the police grow more troublesome every day--besides, +Crowthorpe is collecting early studies of Rembrandt--these sketches are +marked R. + +“A great evening--cleared Martin out--suspect that this night's work +makes me an Irish estated gentleman--must obtain legal opinion as to +these same Irish securities and post-obits, involving, as they do, a +heavy sum.” + +Mr. Merl paused at this _entrée_ in his diary, and began to reflect in +no very gratulatory mood on the little progress he had as yet made in +this same object of inquiry; in fact, he was just discovering what a +vast number of more shrewd observers than himself have long since found +out, that exploring in Ireland is rather tough work. Everything looks so +easy and simple and plain upon the surface, and yet is so puzteling and +complicated beneath; all seems so intelligible, where there is nothing +in reality that is not a contradiction. It is true he was not harassing +himself with problems of labor and wages, the condition of the people, +the effects of emigration, and so forth. He wanted to ascertain some +few facts as to the value of a certain estate, and what incumbrances it +might be charged with; and to the questions he put on this head, every +reply was an insinuated interrogatory to himself. “Why are _you_ here, +Mr. Merl?” “How does it concern _you?_” “What may be _your_ interest in +the same investigation?” This peculiar dialectic met him as he landed; +it followed him to the West. Scanlan, the landlord, even that poor +simpleton the painter--as he called Crow--had submitted him to its harsh +rule, till Mr. Merl felt that, instead of pursuing an examination, he +was himself everlastingly in the witness-box. + +Wearied of these speculations, dissatisfied with himself and his +fruitless journey, he summoned the landlord to ask if that “old gent” + above stairs had not a book of some kind, or a newspaper, he could lend +him. A ragged urchin speedily returned with a key in his hand, saying, +“That's the key of No. 4. Joe says you may go up and search for +yourself.” + +One more scrupulous might not exactly have fancied the office +thus suggested to him. He, however, was rather pleased with the +investigation, and having satisfied himself that the mission was safe, +set forth to fulfil it. No. 4, as the stranger's room was called, was a +large and lofty chamber, lighted by a single bay-window, the deep recess +of which was occupied by a writing-table. Books, maps, letters, and +drawings littered every part of the room. Costly weapons, too, such as +richly chased daggers and inlaid pistols, lay carelessly about, with +curiously shaped pipes and gold-embroidered tobacco-bags; a richly lined +fur pelisse covered the sofa, and a skull-cap of the very finest sable +lay beside it. All these were signs of affluence and comfort, and Mr. +Merl pondered over them as he went from place to place, tossing over one +thing after another, and losing himself in wild conjectures about the +owner. + +The writing-table, we have said, was thickly strewn with letters, and to +these he now addressed himself in all form, taking his seat comfortably +for the investigation. Many of the letters were in foreign languages, +and from remote and far-away lands. Some he was enabled to spell out, +but they referred to places and events he had never heard of, and were +filled with allusions he could not fathom. At length, however, he came +to documents which interested him more closely. They were notes, most +probably in the stranger's own hand, of his late tour along the coast. +Mournful records were they all,--sad stories of destitution and want, a +whole people struck down by famine and sickness, and a land perishing in +utter misery. No personal narrative broke the dreary monotony of these +gloomy records, and Merl searched in vain for what might give a clew +to the writer's station or his object. Carefully drawn-up statistics, +tables of the varying results of emigration, notes upon the tenure of +land and the price of labor were all there, interspersed with replies +from different quarters to researches of the writer's making. Numerous +appeals to charity, entreaties for small loans of money, were mingled +with grateful acknowledgments for benefits already received. There was +much, had he been so minded, that Mr. Merl might have learned in this +same unauthorized inquiry. There were abundant traits of the people +displayed, strange insight into customs and ways peculiar to them, +accurate knowledge, too, of the evils of their social condition; +and, above all, there were the evidences of that curious compound of +credulity and distrust, hope and fatalism, energy and inertness, which +make up the Irish nature. + +He threw these aside, however, as themes that had no interest for him. +What had he to do with the people? His care was with the soil, and less +even with it than with its burdens and incumbrances. One conviction +certainly did impress itself strongly upon him,--that he 'd part with +his claims on the estate for almost anything, in preference to himself +assuming the cares and duties of an Irish landlord,--a position which he +summed up by muttering to himself, “is simply to have so many acres of +bad land, with the charge of feeding so many thousands of bad people.” + Here were suggestions, it is true, how to make them better, coupled +with details that showed the writer to be one well acquainted with the +difficulties of his task; here, also, were dark catalogues of crime, +showing how destitution and vice went hand in hand, and that the seasons +of suffering were those of lawlessness and violence. Various hands were +detectable in these documents. Some evinced the easy style and graceful +penmanship of education; others were written in the gnarled hand of the +daily, laborer. Many of these were interlined in what Merl soon detected +to be the stranger's own handwriting; and brief as such remarks were, +they sufficed to show how carefully their contents had been studied by +him. + +“What could be the object of all this research? Was he some emissary of +the Government, sent expressly to obtain this knowledge? Was he employed +by some section of party politicians, or was he one of those literary +philanthropists who trade upon the cheap luxury of pitying the poor and +detailing their sorrows? At all events,” thought Mr. Merl, “this same +information seems to have cost him considerable research, and not +a little money; and as I am under a pledge to give the Captain some +account of his dear country, here is a capital opportunity to do so, +not only with ease, but actually with honor.” And having formed this +resolve, he instantly proceeded to its execution. That wonderful little +note-book, with its strong silver clasps, so full of strange and curious +information, was now produced; but he soon saw that the various facts to +be recorded demanded a wider space, and so he set himself to write down +on a loose sheet of paper notices of the land in tillage or in pasture, +the numerical condition of the people as compared with former years, +their state, their prospects; but when he came to tell of the ravages +made and still making by pestilence amongst them, he actually stopped to +reread the records, so terrible and astounding were the facts narrated. +A dreadful malady walked the land, and its victims lay in every house! +The villages were depopulated, the little clusters of houses at cross +roads were stricken, the lone shealing on the mountain side, the +miserable cottage of the dreary moor, were each the scenes of desolation +and death. It was as though the land were about to be devastated, and +the race of man swept from its surface! As he read on, he came upon +some strictures in the stranger's own hand upon these sad events, and +perceived how terribly had the deserted, neglected state of the people +aided the fatal course of the epidemic. No hospitals had been provided, +no stores of any remedial kind, not a doctor for miles around, save an +old physician who had been retained at Miss Martin's special charge, and +who was himself nigh exhausted by the fatigue of his office. + +Mr. Merl laid down his pen to think,--not, indeed, in any compassionate +spirit of that suffering people; his sorrows were not for those who lay +on beds of want and sickness; his whole anxiety was for a certain person +very dear to his own heart, who had rashly accepted securities on a +property which, to all seeming, was verging upon ruin; this conviction +being strongly impressed by the lawless state of the country, and the +hopelessness of expecting payment from a tenantry so circumstanced. + +“Sympathy, indeed!” cried he; “I should like to hear of a little +sympathy for the unlucky fellow who has accepted a mortgage on this +confounded estate! These wretched creatures have little to lose,--and +even death itself ought to be no unwelcome relief to a life like +theirs,--but to a man such as I am, with abundance of projects for his +spare cash, this is a pretty investment! It is not impossible that this +philanthropic stranger, whoever he be, might buy up my bonds. He should +have them a bargain,--ay, by Jove! I'd take off a jolly percentage to +touch the 'ready;' and who knows, what with all his benevolence, his +charity, and his Christian kindliness, if he 'd not come down handsomely +to rescue this unhappy people from the hands of a Jew!” + +And Mr. Merl laughed pleasantly, for the conceit amused him, and it +sounded gratefully to his imagination that even his faith could be put +out to interest, and the tabernacle be turned to good account. The noise +of a chaise approaching at a sharp trot along the shingly beach startled +him from his musings, and he had barely time to snatch up the paper +on which he had scrawled his notes, and hasten downstairs, when the +obsequious landlord, rushing to the door, ushered in Mr. Barry, and +welcomed him back again. + +Merl suffered his door to stand ajar, that he might take a look at +the stranger as he passed. He was a very large, powerfully built man, +somewhat stooped by age, but showing even in advanced years signs of a +vigorous frame and stout constitution; his head was massive, and covered +with snow-white hair, which descended on the back of his neck. His +countenance must in youth have been handsome, and even yet bore the +expression of a frank, generous, but somewhat impetuous nature,--so +at least it struck him who now observed it; a character not improbably +aided by his temper as he entered, for he had returned from scenes of +misery and suffering, and was in a mood of indignation at the neglect he +had just witnessed. + +“You said truly,” said he to the landlord. “You told me I shouldn't +see a gentleman for twenty miles round; that all had fled and left the +people to their fate, and I see now it is a fact.” + +“Faix, and no wonder,” answered the host. “Wet potatoes and the shaking +ague, not to speak of cholera morbus, is n't great inducements to stay +and keep company with. I 'd be off, too, if I had the means.” + +“But I spoke of gentlemen, sir,” said the stranger, with a strong +emphasis on the word,--“men who should be the first to prove their birth +and blood when a season of peril was near.” + +“Thrue for you, sir,” chimed in Joe, who suddenly detected the blunder +he had committed. “The Martins ought not to have run away in the middle +of our distress.” + +“They left the ship in a storm; they 'll find a sorry wreck when they +return to it,” muttered the stranger, as he ascended the stairs. + +“By Jacob! just what I suspected,” said Merl to himself, while he closed +the door; “this property won't be worth sixpence, and I am regularly +'done.'” + + + +CHAPTER XIII. A NIGHT OF STORM + +The curtains were closely drawn, and a cheerful turf fire blazed in +the room where Mr. Merl sat at dinner. The fare was excellent, and even +rustic cookery sufficed to make fresh salmon and mountain mutton and +fat woodcocks delectable; while the remains of Mr. Scanlan's hamper set +forth some choice Madeira and several bottles of Sneyd's claret. Nor was +he for whose entertainment these good things were provided in any way +incapable of enjoying them. With the peculiar sensuality of his race, +he loved his dinner all to himself and alone. He delighted in the +privileged selfishness that isolation conferred, and he revelled in a +sort of complacent flattery at the thought of all the people who were +dining worse than himself, and the stray thousands besides who were not +destined on that day to dine at all. + +The self-caressing shudder that came over him as the sound of a horse at +speed on the shore outside was heard, spoke plainly as words themselves +the pleasant comparison that crossed his mind between the condition of +the rider and his own. He drew nearer the fire, he threw on a fresh log +of pine, and, filling up a bumper, seemed to linger as he viewed it, as +though wishing health and innumerable blessings to Mr. Herman Merl. + +The noise of the clattering hoofs died away in distance and in the +greater uproar of the storm, and Mr. Merl thought no more of them. How +often happens it, dear reader, that some brief interruption flashes +through our seasons of enjoyment; we are startled, perhaps; we even +need a word or two to reassure us that all is well, and then the work of +pleasure goes on, and we forget that it had ever been retarded; and +yet, depend upon it, in that fleeting second of time some sad episode of +human life has, like a spectre, crossed our path, and some deep sorrow +gone wearily past us. + +Let us follow that rider, then, who now, quitting the bleak shore, +has entered a deep gorge between the mountain. The rain swept along in +torrents; the wind in fitful gusts dashes the mountain stream in many a +wayward shape, and snaps the stems of old trees in pieces; landslips and +broken rocks impede the way; and yet that brave horse holds ever onward, +now stretching to a fast gallop, now gathering himself to clear some +foaming torrent, or some fragment of fallen timber. + +The night is so dark that the rider cannot see the horse's length in +advance; but every feature of the way is well known, and an instinctive +sense of the peril to be apprehended at each particular spot guides that +hand and nerves that heart. Mary Martin--for she it is--had ridden that +same path at all seasons and all hours, but never on a wilder night, +nor through a more terrible hurricane than this. At moments her speed +relaxed, as if to breathe her horse; and twice she pulled up short, to +listen and distinguish between the sound of thunder and the crashing +noise of rocks rolling from the mountain. There was a sublimity in the +scene, lit up at moments by the lightning; and a sense of peril, too, +that exalted the adventurous spirit of the girl, and imparted to her +heart a high heroic feeling. The glorious sentiment of confronting +danger animated and excited her; and her courage rose with each new +difficulty of the way, till her very brain seemed to reel with the wild +transport of her emotions. + +As she emerged from the gorge, she gained a high tableland, over which +the wind swept unimpeded. Not a cliff, not a rock, not a tree, broke the +force of the gale, which raged with all the violence of a storm at sea. +Crouching low upon the saddle, stooping at times to the mane, she could +barely make way against the hurricane; and more than once her noble +charger was driven backward, and forced to turn his back to the storm. +_Her_ courage never failed. Taking advantage of every passing lull, she +dashed forward, ready to wheel and halt when the wind shot past with +violence. + +Descending at last from this elevated plateau, she again entered a deep +cleft between the mountain, the road littered with fallen earth and +branches of trees, so as almost to defy a passage. After traversing +upwards of a mile of this wearisome way, she arrived at the door of a +small cabin, the first trace of habitation since she had quitted the +village. It was a mere hovel, abutting against a rock, and in its dreary +solitude seemed the last refuge of direst poverty. + +She bent down from her saddle to look in at the window; but, except some +faint embers on the hearth, all was dark within. She then knocked with +her whip against the door, and called “Morris” two or three times; but +no reply was given. Springing from her horse, Mary fastened the bridle +to the hasp of the door-post, and entered. The heavy breathing of one +in deep sleep at once caught her attention > and, approaching the +fireplace, she lighted a piece of pine-wood to examine about her. On a +low settle in one corner lay the figure of a young woman, whose pale, +pinched features contrasted strongly with the bright ribbons of her cap +floating loosely at either side. Mary tottered as she drew nigher; a +terrible sense of fear was over her,--a terror of she knew not what. +She held the flickering flame closer, and saw that she was dead! Poor +Margaret, she had been one of Mary's chief favorites; the very cap that +now decked her cold forehead was Mary's wedding-gift to her. But a few +days before, her little child had been carried to the churchyard; and +it was said that the mother never held up her head after. Sick almost +to fainting, Mary Martin sank into a chair, and then saw, for the first +time, the figure of a man, who, half kneeling, lay with his head on the +foot of the bed, fast asleep! Weariness, utter exhaustion, were +marked in his pale-worn features, while his attitude bespoke complete +prostration. His hand still clasped a little rosary. + +[Illustration: 156] + +It seemed but the other day that she had wished them “joy” upon their +wedding, and they had gone home to their little cabin in hopefulness +and high-hearted spirit, and there she lay now a cold corpse, and he, +bereaved and childless. What a deal of sad philosophy do these words +reveal! What dark contrasts do we bring up when we say, “It was but the +other day.” It was but “the other day,” and Cro' Martin was the home +of one whose thriving tenantry reflected back all his efforts for their +welfare, when movement and occupation bespoke a condition of activity +and cheerful industry; when, even in their poverty, the people bore +bravely up, and the cases of suffering but sufficed to call out traits +of benevolence and kind feeling. It was but “the other day,” and Mary +herself rode out amidst the people, like some beloved sovereign in the +middle of her subjects; happy faces beamed brighter when she came, and +even misery half forgot itself in her presence. But “the other day” and +the flag waved proudly from the great tower, to show that Cro' Martin +was the residence of its owner, and Mary the life and soul of all that +household! + +Such-like were her thoughts as she stood still gazing on the sad scene +before her. She could not bring herself to awaken the poor fellow, who +thus, perchance, stole a short respite from his sorrows; but leaving +some money beside him on a chair, and taking one farewell look of poor +Margaret, she stole silently away, and remounted her horse. + +Again she is away through the storm and the tempest! Her pace is now +urged to speed, for she knows every field and every fence,--where to +press her horse to his gallop, where to spare and husband his strength. +At one moment she steals carefully along amid fragments of fallen rocks +and broken timber; at another, she flies, with racing speed, over the +smooth sward. At length, through the gloom and darkness, the tall towers +of Cro' Martin are seen over the deep woods; but her horse's head is not +turned thitherward. No; she has taken another direction, and, skirting +the wall of the demesne, she is off towards the wild, bleak country +beyond. It is past midnight; not a light gleams from a cabin window as +she dashes past; all is silent save the plashing rain, which, though the +wind has abated, continues to fall in torrents. Crossing the bleak moor, +whose yawning pits even in daylight suggest care and watchfulness, she +gains the foot of the barren mountain on which Barnagheela stands, +and descries in the distance the flickering of a light dimly traceable +through the falling rain. + +For the first time her horse shows signs of fatigue, and Mary caresses +him with her hand, and speaks encouragingly to him as she slackens her +pace, ascending the hill at a slow walk. After about half an hour of +this toilsome progress, for the surface is stony and rock-covered, she +reaches the little “boreen” road which forms the approach to the house. +Mary has never been there before, and advances now slowly and carefully +between two rude walls of dry masonry which lead to the hall-door. As +she nears the house, the gleam of lights from between the ill-closed +shutters attracts her, and suddenly through the swooping rain come the +sounds of several voices in tones of riot and revelry. She listens; and +it is now the rude burst of applause that breaks forth,--a din of voices +loudly proclaiming the hearty approval of some sentiment or opinion. + +While she halts to determine what course next to follow,--for these +signs of revelry have disconcerted her,--she hears a rough, loud voice +from within call out, “There's another toast you must drink now, and +fill for it to the brim. Come, Peter Hayes, no skulking; the liquor is +good, and the sentiment the same. Gentlemen, you came here to-night to +honor my poor house--my ancestral house, I may call it--on the victory +we 've gained over tyranny and oppression.” Loud cheers here interrupted +him, but he resumed: “They tried--by the aid of the law that they made +themselves--to turn me out of my house and home. They did all that false +swearing and forged writing could do, to drive me--me, Tom Magennis, +the last of an ancient stock--out upon the highways.” (Groans from the +hearers.) “But they failed,--ay, gentlemen, they failed. Old Repton, +with all his skill, and Scanlan, with all his treachery, could n't do +it. Joe Nelligan, like Goliath--no, like David, I mean--put a stone +between their two eyes, and laid them low.” (Loud cheering, and cries of +“Why is n't he here?” “Where is he to-night?”) “Ay, gentlemen,” resumed +the speaker, “ye may well ask where is he this night? when we are +celebrating not only our triumph, but his; for it was the first brief he +ever held,--the first guinea he ever touched for a fee! I 'll tell +you where he is. Skulking--ay, that's the word for it--skulking in +Oughterard,--hiding himself for shame because he beat the Martins!” ( +Loud expressions of anger, and some of dissent, here broke forth; some +inveighing against this cowardice, others defending him against the +charge.) “Say what you like,” roared Magennis; “I know, and he knows +that I know it. What was it he said when Mahony went to him with my +brief? 'I'll not refuse to undertake the case,' said he, 'but I 'll not +lend myself to any scurrilous attack upon the family at Cro' Martin!'” + (Groans.) “Ay, but listen,” continued he: “'And if I find,' said he--'if +I find that in the course of the case such an attempt should be made, I +'ll throw down my brief though I never should hold another.' There's Joe +Nelligan for you! There's the stuff you thought you 'd make a Patriot +out of!” + +“Say what you like, Tom Magennis, he's a credit to the town,” said old +Hayes, “and he won your cause this day against one of the 'cutest of the +Dublin counsellors.” + +“He did so, sir,” resumed Magennis, “and he got his pay, and there's +nothing between us; and I told him so, and more besides; for I said, +'You may flatter them and crawl to them; you may be as servile as a +serpent or a boa-constrictor to them; but take _my_ word for it, Mister +Joe,--or Counsellor Nelligan, if you like it better,--they'll never +forget who and what you are,--the son of old Dan there, of the High +Street,--and you 've a better chance to be the Chief Justice than the +husband of Mary Martin!'” + +“You told him that!” cried several together. “I did, sir; and I believe +for a minute he meant to strike me; he got pale with passion, and then +he got red--blood red; and, in that thick way he has when he 's angry, +he said, 'Whatever may be my hopes of the Bench, I'll not win my way +to it by ever again undertaking the cause of a ruffian!' 'Do you mean +_me?_' said I,--'do you mean _me?_' But he turned away into the house, +and I never saw him since. If it had n't been for Father Neal there, I +'d have had him out for it, sir!” + +“We've other work before us than quarrelling amongst ourselves,” said +the bland voice of Father Rafferty; “and now for your toast, Tom, for I +'m dry waiting for it.” + +“Here it is, then,” cried Magennis. “A speedy downfall to the Martins!” + +“A speedy downfall to the Martins!” was repeated solemnly in chorus; +while old Hayes interposed, “Barring the niece,--barring Miss Mary.” + +“I won't except one,” cried Magennis. “My august leader remarked, +'It was false pity for individuals destroyed the great revolution of +France.' It was--” Mary did not wait for more, but, turning her horse's +head, moved slowly around towards the back of the house. + +Through a wide space, of which the rickety broken gate hung by a single +hinge, Mary entered a large yard, a court littered with disabled carts, +harrows, and other field implements, all equally unserviceable. Beneath +a low shed along one of the walls stood three or four horses, with +harness on them, evidently belonging to the guests assembled within. All +these details were plainly visible by the glare of an immense fire which +blazed on the kitchen hearth, and threw its light more than half-way +across the yard. Having disposed of her horse at one end of the shed, +Mary stealthily drew nigh the kitchen window, and looked in. An old, +very old woman, in the meanest attire, sat crouching beside the fire; +and although she held a huge wooden ladle in her hand, seemed, by her +drooped head and bent-down attitude, either moping or asleep. Various +cooking utensils were on the fire, and two or three joints of meat hung +roasting before it, while the hearth was strewn with dishes, awaiting +the savory fare that was to fill them. + +These, and many other indications of the festivity then going on within, +Mary rapidly noticed; but it was evident, from the increasing eagerness +of her gaze, that the object which she sought had not yet met her eye. +Suddenly, however, the door of the kitchen opened and a figure entered, +on which the young girl bent all her attention. It was Joan Landy, but +how different from the half-timid, half-reckless peasant girl that last +we saw her! Dressed in a heavy gown of white satin, looped up on either +side with wreaths of flowers, and wearing a rich lace cap on her head, +she rushed hurriedly in, her face deeply flushed, and her eyes sparkling +with excitement. Hastily snatching up a check apron that lay on a chair, +she fastened it about her, and drew near the fire. It was plain from her +gesture, as she took the ladle from the old woman's hand, that she +was angry, and by her manner seemed as if rebuking her. The old crone, +however, only crouched lower, and spreading out her wasted fingers +towards the blaze, appeared insensible to everything addressed to +her. Meanwhile Joan busied herself about the fire with all the zealous +activity of one accustomed to the task. Mary watched her intently; she +scrutinized with piercing keenness every lineament of that face, now +moved by its passing emotions, and she muttered to herself, “Alas, I +have come in vain!” Nor was this depressing sentiment less felt as Joan, +turning from the fire, approached a fragment of a broken looking-glass +that stood against the wall. Drawing herself up to her full height, she +stood gazing proudly, delightedly, at her own figure. The humble apron, +too, was speedily discarded, and as she trampled it beneath her feet +she seemed to spurn the mean condition of which it was the symbol. Mary +Martin sighed deeply as she looked, and muttered once more, “In vain!” + +Then suddenly starting, with one of those bursts of energy which +so often had steeled her heart against peril, she walked to the +kitchen-door, raised the latch, and entered. She had made but one step +within the door when Joan turned and beheld her; and there they both +stood, silently, each surveying the other. Mary felt too intensely the +difficulty of the task before her to utter a word without well weighing +the consequences. She knew how the merest accident might frustrate all +she had in view, and stood hesitating and uncertain, when Joan, who now +recognized her, vacillated between her instinctive sense of respect and +a feeling of defiance in the consciousness of where she was. Happily +for Mary the former sentiment prevailed, and in a tone of kindly anxiety +Joan drew near her and said,--“Has anything happened? I trust in God no +accident has befell you.” + +“Thank God, nothing worse than a wetting,” said Mary,--“some little +fatigue; and I'll think but little of either if they have brought me +here to a good end. May I speak with you alone,--quite alone?” + +“Come in here,” said Joan, pushing open the door of a small room off the +kitchen which served for a species of larder,--“come in here.” + +“I have come on a sad errand,” said Mary, taking her hand between both +her own, “and I would that it had fallen to any other than myself. It is +for you to decide that! have not come in vain.” + +“What is it? tell me what it is?” cried Joan, as a sudden paleness +spread over her features. + +“These are days of sorrow and mourning everywhere,” said Mary, gloomily. +“Can you not guess what my tidings may be? No, no,” cried she, as a +sudden gesture of Joan interrupted her,--“no, not yet; he is still +alive, and entreats to see you.” + +“To curse me again, is it?” cried the other, wildly; “to turn me from +the door, and pray down curses on me,--is it for that he wants to see +me?” + +“Not for that, indeed,” said Mary; “it is to see you--to give you his +last kiss--his last blessing--to forgive you and be forgiven. Remember +that he is alone, deserted by all that once were his. Your father and +mother and sisters are all gone to America, and poor old Mat lingers +on,--nay, the journey is nigh ended. Oh, do not delay, lest it be too +late. Come now--now.” + +“And if I see him once, can I ever come back to this?” cried Joan, in +bitter agony. “Will I ever be able to hear his words and live as I do +now?” + +[Illustration: 162] + +“Let your own good heart guide you for that,” cried Mary; “all I ask is +that you should see him and be with him. I have pledged myself for your +coming, and you will not dishonor my words to one on his death-bed.” + +“And I 'll be an outcast for it. Tom will drive me from the door and +never see me again. I know it,--I know _him_!” + +“You are wrong, Joan Landy.” + +“Joan!--who dares to call me Joan Landy when I'm Mrs. Magennis of +Barnagheela? and if _I'm_ not _your_ equal, I 'm as good as any other in +the barony. Was it to insult me you came here to-night, to bring up to +me who I am and where I came from? That 's the errand that brought you +through the storm! Ay,” cried she, lashed to a wilder passion by her own +words,--“ay! ay! and if you and yours had their will we 'd not have the +roof to shelter us this night. It 's only to-day that we won the trial +against you.” + +“Whatever my errand here this night,” said Mary, with a calm dignity, +“it was meant to serve and not insult you. I know, as well as your +bitterest words can tell me, that this is not my place; but I know, too, +if from yielding to my selfish pride I had refused your old grandfather +this last request, it had been many a year of bitter reproach to me.” + +“Oh, you 'll break my heart, you will, you will!” cried Joan, bitterly. +“You 'll turn the only one that's left against me, and I 'll be alone in +the world.” + +“Come with me this night, and whatever happen I 'll befriend you,” said +Mary. + +“And not desert me because I 'm what I am?” + +“Never, Joan, never!” + +“Oh, my blessings on you,--if the blessing of one like me is any good,” + cried she, kissing Mary's hand fervently. “Oh, they that praised you +said the truth; you have goodness enough in your heart to make up for us +all! I 'll go with you to the world's end.” + +“We'll pass Cro' Martin, and you shall have my horse--” + +“No, no, Miss Mary, I 'll go on my feet; it best becomes me. I 'll go by +Burnane--by the Gap--I know it well--too well!” added she, as the tears +rushed to her eyes. As she was speaking, she took off the cap she wore +and threw it from her; and then removing her dress, put on the coarse +woollen gown of her daily wear. “Oh, God forgive me!” cried she, “if I +curse the day that I ever wore better than this.” + +Mary assisted her with her dress, fastening the hood of her cloak over +her head, and preparing her, as best she might, for the severe storm +she was to encounter; and it was plain to see that Joan accepted these +little services without a thought of by whom they were rendered, so +intensely occupied was her mind by the enterprise before her. A feverish +haste to be away marked all she did. It was partly terror lest her +escape might be prevented; partly a sense of distrust in herself, and +that she might abandon her own resolution. + +“Oh, tell me,” she cried, as the tears streamed from her eyes, and her +lips quivered with agony,--“oh, tell me I'm doing right; tell me that +God's blessing is going with me this night, or I can't do it.” + +“And so it is, dear Joan,” said Mary; “be of good heart, and Heaven will +support you. I 'm sure the trial is a sore one.” + +“Oh, is it not to leave this--to leave him--maybe forever? To be sure, +it's forever,” cried she, bitterly. “He 'll never forgive me!” + +A wild burst of revelry now resounded from the parlor, and the +discordant sounds of half-drunken voices burst upon their ears. + +Joan started, and gazed wildly around her. The agonized look of her +features bespoke her dread of detection; and then with a bound she +sprung madly from the spot, and was away. Mary followed quickly; but +before she had secured her horse and mounted, the other was already +half-way down the mountain. Now catching, now losing sight of her again, +Mary at last came up with her. + +“Remember, dear Joan,” said Mary, “there are nine weary miles of +mountain before you.” + +“I know it well,” was the brief reply. + +“And if you go by Burnane the rocks are slippy with the rain, and the +path to the shore is full of danger.” + +“If I was afeard of danger, would I be here?” cried she. “Oh, Miss +Mary,” added she, stopping and grasping her hand in both her own, “leave +me to myself; don't come with me,--it's not one like you ought to keep +me company.” + +“But Joan,--dear Joan,--I have promised to be your friend, and I am not +one who forgets a pledge.” + +“My heart will break; it will break in two if you talk to me. Leave me, +for the love of Heaven, and let me go my road all alone. There, at the +two trees there, is the way to Cro' Martin; take it, and may the Saints +guide you safe home!” + +“And if I do, Joan, will you promise me to come straight back to Cro' +Martin after you 've seen him? Will you do this?” + +“I will,--I will,” cried she, bathing Mary's hand with her tears as she +kissed it. + +“Then God bless and protect you, poor girl!” said Mary. “It is not for +me to dictate to your own full heart. Goodbye,--good-bye.” + +Before Mary had dried the warm tears that rose to her eyes, Joan was +gone. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. THE END OF A BAR MESS + +There are few things more puzzling to the uninitiated than the total +separation lawyers are able to exercise between their private sentiments +and the emotions they display in the wear and tear of their profession. +So widely apart are these two characters, that it is actually difficult +to understand how they ever can unite in one man. But so it is. He can +pass his morning in the most virulent assaults upon his learned brother, +ridiculing his law, laughing at his logic, arraigning his motives,--nay, +sometimes ascribing to him some actually base and wicked. Altercations, +heightened by all that passion stimulated by wit can produce, ensue. +Nothing that can taunt, provoke, or irritate, is omitted. Personalities +even are introduced to swell the acrimony of the contest; and yet, +when the jury have given in their verdict and the court breaks up, the +gladiators, who seemed only thirsting for each other's blood, are seen +laughingly going homeward arm-in-arm, mayhap discoursing over the very +cause which, but an hour back, seemed to have stamped them enemies for +the rest of life. + +Doubtless there is a great deal to be pleased at in all this, and, we +ought to rejoice in the admirable temper by which men can discriminate +between the faithful performance of a duty and the natural course of +their affections. Still, small-minded folk--of which wide category +we own ourselves to be a part--may have their misgivings that the +excellence of this system is not without its alloy, and that even the +least ingenious of men will ultimately discover how much principle is +sapped, and how much truthfulness of character is sacrificed in this +continual struggle between fiction and reality. + +The Bar is the nursery of the Senate, and it would not be a very +fanciful speculation were we to ascribe the laxity of purpose, the +deficient earnestness, and the insincerity of principle we often deplore +in our public men, to this same legal training. + +The old lawyer, however, finds no difficulty in the double character. +With his wig and gown he puts on his sarcasm, his insolence, and his +incredulity. His brief bag opens to him a Pandora's box of noxious +influences; and as he passes the precincts of the court, he leaves +behind him all the amenities of life and all the charities of his +nature. The young barrister does not find the transmutation so easy. He +gives himself unreservedly to his client, and does not measure his ardor +by the instructions in his brief. Let us ask pardon of our reader for +what may seem _a mal à propos_ digression; but we have been led to these +remarks by the interests of our story. + +It was in the large dining-room of the “Martin Arms” at Oughterard, that +a party of lawyers spent the evening, some of whose events, elsewhere, +our last chapter has recorded. It was the Bar mess of the Western +Circuit, and the chair was filled by no less a person than “Father +Repton.” This able “leader” had determined not to visit the West of +Ireland so long as his friend Martin remained abroad; but a very urgent +entreaty from Scanlan, and a pressing request for his presence, had +induced him to waive that resolve, and come down special to Oughterard +for the Magennis case. + +A simple case of ejectment could scarcely have called for that imposing +array of learned counsel who had repaired to this unfrequented spot; +so small a skirmish could never have called for the horse, foot, and +dragoons of law,--the wily conveyancer, the clap-trap orator, the +browbeater of witnesses, and the light sharpshooter at technicalities; +and yet there they were all met, and--with all reverence be it +spoken--very jolly companions they were. + +An admirable rule precluded the introduction of, or even an allusion +to, professional subjects, save when the burden of a joke, whose +success might excuse the transgression; and thus these crafty, keen +intelligences argued, disputed, jested, and disported together, in a +vein which less practised talkers would find it hard to rival. To the +practice of these social amenities is doubtless ascribable the absence +of any rancor from the rough contests and collisions of public life, and +thus men of every shade of politics and party, differing even in class +and condition, formed admirable social elements, and cohered together to +perfection. + +As the evening wore on, the company insensibly thinned off. Some of the +hard-workers retired early; a few, whose affectation it was to pretend +engagements, followed. The “juniors” repaired in different groups to the +chambers of their friends, where loo and brandy-and-water awaited them; +and at last Repton was left, with only two others, sole occupants of +that spacious apartment. His companions were, like himself, soldiers of +the “Vieille Garde” veterans who remembered Curran and Lawrence Parsons, +John Toler and Saurin, and a host of others, who only needed that the +sphere should have been greater to be themselves among the great of the +nation. + +Rawlins was Repton's schoolfellow, and had been his rival at the Bar +for nigh fifty years. Niel, a few years younger than either, was the +greatest orator of his time. Both had been opposed to Repton in the +present suit, and had held heavy retainers for their services. + +“Well, Repton,” said Rawlins, as soon as they were left thus to +themselves, “are you pondering over it still? I see that you can't get +it out of your head.” + +“It is quite true, I cannot,” said Repton. “To summon us all down +here,--to bring us some fifty miles away from our accustomed beat, for a +trumpery affair like this, is totally beyond me. Had it been an election +time, I should probably have understood it.” + +“How so?” cried Niel, in the shrill piercing voice peculiar to him, +and which imparted to him, even in society, an air of querulous +irritability. + +“On the principle that Bob Mahon always puts a thoroughbred horse in his +gig when he drives over to a country race. He's always ready for a match +with what he jocularly calls 'the old screw I 'm driving this minute;' +so, Niel, I thought that the retainer for the ejectment might have +turned out to be a special fee for the election.” + +“And he 'd have given them a speech, and a rare good one, too, I promise +you,” said Rawlins; “and even if he had not time to speak it, the county +paper would have had it all printed and corrected from his own hand, +with all the appropriate interruption of 'vociferous cheering,' and the +places where the orator was obliged to pause, from the wild tumult of +acclamation that surrounded him.” + +“Which all resolves itself into this,” screamed Niel,--“that some men's +after-grass is better than other men's meadows.” + +“Mine has fallen to the scythe many a day ago,” said Rawlins, +plaintively; “but I remember glorious times and glorious fellows. It +was, indeed, worth something to say, '_Vixissi cum illis_.'” + +“There 's another still better, Rawlins,” cried Repton, joyously, “which +is to have survived them!” + +“Very true,” cried Niel. “I 'd always plead a demurrer to any notice to +quit; for, take it all in all, this life has many enjoyments.” + +“Such as Attorney-Generalships, Masters of the Rolls, and such like,” + said Repton. + +“By the way,” said Rawlins, “who put that squib in the papers about your +having refused the rolls,--eh, Niel?” + +“Who but Niel himself?” chimed in Repton. “It was filing a bill of +discovery. He wanted to know the intentions of the Government.” + +“I could have had but little doubt of them,” broke in Niel. “It was my +advice, man, cancelled your appointment as Crown Counsel, Repton. I told +Massingbred, 'If you do keep a watch-dog, let it be, at least, one who +'ll bite some one beside the family.'” + +“He has muzzled you there, Repton,” said Rawlins, laughing. “Eh, that +was a bitter draught!” + +“So it was,” said Repton. “It was Curran wine run to the lees! and +very unlike the racy flavor of the true liquor. And to speak in all +seriousness, what has come over us all to be thus degenerate and fallen? +It is not alone that we have not the equals of the first-rate men, but +we really have nothing to compare with O'Grady, and Parsons, and a score +of others.” + +“I 'll tell you why,” cried Niel,--“the commodity is n't marketable. The +stupid men, who will always be the majority everywhere, have got up the +cry, that to be agreeable is to be vulgar. We know how large cravats +came into fashion; tiresome people came in with high neckcloths.” + +“I wish they 'd go out with hempen ones, then,” muttered Repton. + +“I 'd not refuse them the benefit of the clergy,” said Niel, with a +malicious twinkle of the eye, that showed how gladly, when occasion +offered, he flung a pebble at the Church. + +“They were very brilliant,--they were very splendid, I own,” said +Rawlins; “but I have certain misgivings that they gave themselves too +much to society.” + +“Expended too much of their powder in fireworks,” cried Niel, +sharply,--“so they did; but their rockets showed how high they could +rise to.” + +“Ay, Niel, and we only burn our fingers with ours,” said Repton, +sarcastically. + +“Depend upon it,” resumed Rawlins, “as the world grows more practical, +you will have less of great convivial display. Agreeability will cease +to be the prerogative of first-rate men, but be left to the smart people +of society, who earn their soup by their sayings.” + +“He's right,” cried Niel, in his shrillest tone. “The age of alchemists +is gone; the sleight-of-hand man and the juggler have succeeded him.” + +“And were they not alchemists?” exclaimed old Repton, enthusiastically. +“Did they not transmute the veriest dross of the earth, and pour +it forth from the crucible of their minds a stream of liquid +gold?--glorious fellows, who, in the rich abundance of their minds, +brought the learning of their early days to illustrate the wisdom of +their age, and gave the fresh-heartedness of the schoolboy to the ripe +intelligence of manhood.” + +“And yet how little have they bequeathed to us!” said Niel. + +“Would it were even less,” broke in Repton. “We read the witticism +of brilliant conversera in some diary or journal, often ill recorded, +imperfectly given, always unaccompanied by the accessories of the scene +wherein they occurred. We have not the crash, the tumult, the headlong +flow of social intercourse, where the impromptu fell like a thunderbolt, +and the bon mots rattled like a fire of musketry. To attempt to convey +an impression of these great talkers by a memoir, is like to picture a +battle by reading out a list of the killed and wounded.” + +“Repton is right!” exclaimed Niel. “The recorded bon mot is the words of +a song without the music.” + +“And often where it was the melody that inspired the verses,” added +Repton, always glad to follow up an illustration. + +“After all,” said Rawlins, “the fashion of the day is changed in other +respects as well as in conversational excellence. Nothing is like what +we remember it!--literature, dress, social habits, oratory. There, for +instance, was that young fellow to-day; his speech to the jury,--a very +good and sensible one, no doubt,--but how unlike what it would have been +some five-and-thirty or forty years ago.” + +“It was first-rate,” said Repton, with enthusiasm. “I say it frankly, +and 'fas est ab hoste,' for he tripped me up in a point of law, and +I have, therefore, a right to applaud him. To tell you the truth,” he +added slyly, “I knew I was making a revoke, but I thought none of the +players were shrewd enough to detect me.” + +“Niel and I are doubtless much complimented by the remark,” said +Rawlins. + +“Pooh, pooh!” cried Repton, “what did great guns like you and Niel care +for such 'small deer.' You were only brought down here as a great _corps +de réserve_. It was young Nelligan who fought the battle, and admirably +he did it. While I was listening to him to-day, I could not help saying +to myself, 'It's well for us that there were no fellows of this stamp +in our day.' Ay, Rawlins, you know it well. We were speech-makers; these +fellows are lawyers.” + +“Why didn't he dine with us to-day?” asked Niel, sharply. + +“Heaven knows. I believe his father lives in the town here; perhaps, +too, he had no fancy for a dress-parade before such drill-sergeants as +you and Rawlins there.” + +“You are acquainted with him, I think?” asked Rawlins. + +“Yes, slightly; we met strangely enough, at Cro' Martin last year. He +was then on a visit there, a quiet, timid youth, who actually seemed to +feel as though his college successes were embarrassing recollections in +a society who knew nothing of deans or proctors. There was another young +fellow also there at the time,--young Massingbred,--with about a tenth +of this man's knowledge, and a fiftieth of his capacity, who took the +lead of him on every subject, and by the bare force of an admirable +manner and a most unabashed impudence, threw poor Nelligan completely +into the background. It was the same kind of thing I 've often seen Niel +there perform at the Four Courts, where he has actually picked up his +law from a worsted opponent, as a highwayman arms himself with the +pistols of the man he has robbed.” + +“I never pillaged _you_, Repton,” said Niel, with a sarcastic smile. +“_You_ had always the privilege the poet ascribes to him who laughs +'before a robber.'” + +“Vacuus sed non Inanis,” replied Repton, laughing good-humoredly. + +“But tell us more of this man, Nelligan,” said Rawlins. “I 'm curious to +hear about him.” + +“And so you are sure to do some of these days, Rawlins. That fellow is +the man to attain high eminence.” + +“His religion will stop him!” cried Niel, sharply; for, being himself +a Romanist, he was not sorry to have an opportunity of alluding to the +disqualifying element. + +“Say, rather, it will promote him,” chimed in Repton. “Take my word for +it, Niel, there is a spirit of mawkish reparation abroad which affects +to feel that all your coreligionists have a long arrear due to them, and +that all the places and emoluments so long withheld from their ancestors +should be showered down upon the present generation;--pretty much upon +the same principle that you 'd pension a man now because his grandfather +had been hanged for rebellion!” + +“And very justly, too, if you discovered that what you once called +rebellion had been very good loyalty!” cried Niel. + +“We have not, however, made the discovery you speak of,” said Rep ton; +“we have only commuted a sentence, in the sincere hope that you are +wiser than your forefathers. But to come back. You may trust me when I +say that a day is coming when you 'll not only bless yourself because +you're a Papist, but that you _are_ one! Ay, sir, it is in 'Liffey +Street Chapel' we 'll seek for an attorney-general, and out of the +Church of the Conception, if that be the name of it, we 'll cull our law +advisers of the Crown. For the next five-and-twenty years, at least,” + said he, solemnly, “the fourth-rate Catholic will be preferred to the +first-rate Protestant.” + +“I only hope you may be better at Prophecy than you are in Logic,” cried +Niel, as he tossed off his glass; “and so, I 'm sure, does Nelligan!” + +“And Nelligan is exactly the man who will never need the preference, +sir. His abilities will raise him, even if there were obstacles to +be surmounted. It is men of a different stamp that the system +will favor,--fellows without industry for the toils of a laborious +profession, or talents for the subtleties of a difficult career; men who +cherish ambition and are yet devoid of capacity, and will plead the old +disabilities of their faith,--pretty much as a man might claim his right +to be thought a good dancer because his father had a club foot.” + +“A most lame conclusion!” cried Niel. “Ah, Rawlins,” added he, with much +compassion, “our poor friend here is breaking terribly. Sad signs there +are of decay about him. Even his utterance begins to fail him.” + +“No, no,” said Repton, gayly. “I know what you allude to. It is an +old imperfection of mine not to be able to enunciate the letter _r_ +correctly, and that was the reason today in court that I called you my +ingenious Bother; but I meant Brother, I assure you.” + +They all laughed good-humoredly at the old man's sally; in good truth, +so trained were they to these sort of combats, that they cared little +for the wounds such warfare inflicted. And although the tilt was ever +understood as with “reversed lances,” none ever cherished an evil memory +if an unlucky stroke smote too heavily. + +“I have asked young Nelligan to breakfast with me tomorrow,” said +Repton; “will you both come and meet him?” + +“We 're off at cock-crow!” cried Kiel. “Tell him, however, from me that +I am delighted with his _débuts_ and that all the best wishes of my +friends and myself are with him.” + +And so they parted. + +Repton, however, did not retire to bed at once; his mind was still +intent upon the subject which had engaged him during the day, and as +he walked to and fro in his room, he still dwelt upon it. Scanlan's +instructions had led him to believe that the Martins were in this case +to have been “put upon their title;” and the formidable array of counsel +employed by Magennis seemed to favor the impression. Now it was true +that a trifling informality in the service of the writ had quashed the +proceedings for the present; but the question remained, “Was the great +struggle only reserved for a future day?” + +It was clear that a man embarrassed as was Magennis could never have +retained that strong bar of eminent lawyers. From what fund, then, came +these resources? Was there a combination at work? And if so, to what +end, and with what object? + +The crafty old lawyer pondered long and patiently over these things. +His feelings might not inaptly be compared to those of a commandant of +a garrison, who sees his stronghold menaced by an enemy he had never +suspected. Confident as he is in the resources of his position, he yet +cannot resist the impression that the very threat of attack has been +prompted by some weakness of which he is unaware. + +“To put us on our title,” said he, “implies a great war. Let us try and +find out who and what are they who presume to declare it!” + + + +CHAPTER XV. A FIRST BRIEF + +The reader has been already told that Joe Nelligan had achieved a great +success in his first case. A disputed point of law had been raised, +in itself insignificant, but involving in its train a vast variety +of momentous interests. Repton, with an ingenuity all his own, had +contrived to draw the discussion beyond its original limits, that he +might entangle and embarrass the ambitious junior who had dared to +confute him. Nelligan accepted the challenge at once, and after a stormy +discussion of some hours came out the victor. For a while his timid +manner, and an overpowering sense of the great odds against him, seemed +to weigh oppressively on him. The very successes he had won elsewhere +were really so many disparagements to him now, giving promise, as it +were, of his ability. But, despite all these disadvantages, he entered +the lists manfully and courageously. + +What a many-sided virtue is this same courage, and how prone is the +world to award its praises unequally for it! We are enthusiastic for the +gallant soldier the earliest in the breach, or the glorious sailor who +first jumps upon the enemy's quarter-deck, and yet we never dream of +investing with heroism him who dares to combat with the most powerful +intellects of debate, or enters the field of argument against minds +stored with vast resources of knowledge, and practised in all the +subtleties of disputation. + +It is time, existence is not in the issue; but are there not things a +thousand times dearer than life at peril? Think of him who has gone on +from success to success; whose school triumphs have but heralded the +riper glories of college life; who, rising with each new victory, +is hailed by that dearest and best of all testimonies,--the prideful +enthusiasm of his own age. Fancy him, the victor in every struggle, +who has carried all before him,--the vaunted chief of his +contemporaries,--fancy him beaten and worsted on his first real field of +action. Imagine such a man, with all the prestige of his college fame, +rudely encountered and overcome in the contest of public life, and say +if any death ever equalled the suffering! + +Happily, our task has not to record any such failure in the present +case. Young Nelligan sat down amidst the buzzing sound of approving +voices, and received a warm eulogy from the Court on the promise of so +conspicuous an opening. And a proud man was Dan Nelligan on that day! +At any other time how deeply honored had he felt by the distinguished +notice of the great dignitaries who now congratulated him on his son's +success! With what pride had he accepted the polite recognition of Chief +Barons and silk-gowned “leaders”! Now, however, his heart had but room +for one thought,--Joe himself,--his own boy,--the little child as it +were of yesterday, now a man of mark and note, already stamped with the +impress of success in what, to every Irishman's heart at least, is the +first of all professions. The High Sheriff shook old Nelligan's hand in +open court, and said, “It is an honor to our county, Nelligan, to +claim him.” The Judge sent a message that he wished to see him in his +robing-room, and spoke his warm praises of the “admirable speech, as +remarkable for its legal soundness as for its eloquence;” and Repton +overtook him in the street, and, catching his hand, said, “Be proud of +him, sir, for we are all proud of him.” + +Mayhap the hope is not a too ambitious one, that some one of those who +may glance over these humble lines may himself have once stood in the +position of Joe Nelligan, in so far as regards the hour of his triumph, +and have felt in his heart the ecstasy of covering with his fame the +“dear head” of a father. + +If so, I ask him boldly,--whatever may have been the high rewards of +his later fire, whatever honors may have been showered upon him, however +great his career, and however brilliant its recognitions,--has he ever, +in his proudest moments, tasted such a glorious thrill of delight as +when he has fallen into his father's arms overcome by the happiness that +he has made that father proud of him? Oh, ye who have experienced this +thrill of joy within you, cherish and preserve it. The most glowing +eulogies of eloquence, the most ornate paragraphs of a flattering press, +are sorry things in comparison to it. For ourselves, we had rather have +been Joe Nelligan when, with his father's warm tears dimming his eyes, +he said, “God bless you, my boy!” than have gained all the honors that +even talents like his can command! + +He could not bear to absent himself from home that day; and although his +father would gladly have celebrated his triumph by gathering his friends +about him, Joe entreated that they might be alone. And they were so. The +great excitement of the day over, a sense of weariness, almost sadness, +stole over the young man; and while his father continued to relate for +his mother's hearing various little incidents of the trial, he listened +with a half-apathetic dreaminess, as though the theme oppressed him. The +old man dwelt with delight on the flattering attention bestowed by the +Court on Joseph's address, the signs of concurrence vouchsafed from time +to time by the Bench, the approving murmur of the Bar while he spoke, +and then the honest outburst of enthusiasm that shook the very walls as +he concluded. “I tried,” continued Dan Nelligan,--“I tried to force my +way through the crowd, and come and tell you that he had gained the day, +but I couldn't; they were all around me, shaking my hands, patting me on +the shoulders, and saying, as if I did n't know it in my own heart, 'He +'ll make you a proud man yet, Mr. Nelligan.'” + +“I heard it all, five minutes after it was over,” said Mrs. Nelligan; +“and you 'd never guess who told me.” + +“Counsellor Walsh,” cried Nelligan. + +“No, indeed; I never seen him.” + +“It was Hosey Lynch, then, for I saw him running like mad through the +town, spreading the news everywhere.” + +“It was not Hosey,” said she, half contemptuously. “I wish, Joe, you'd +give a guess yourself who told me.” + +“Guess, mother,--guess who told you what?” said he, suddenly starting +from some deep meditation. + + +“Who told me that you won the cause, and beat all the great counsellors +from Dublin.” + +“I'm sure, mother, it would be hard for me to say,” said Joseph, smiling +faintly; “some of our kind townsfolk, perhaps. Father Neal, old Peter +Hayes, or--” + +“I'll just tell you at once,” broke she in, half irritated at the +suggested source of her information. “It was Miss Mary herself, and no +other.” + +“Miss Martin!” exclaimed old Nelligan. + +“Miss Mary Martin!” echoed Joe; while a sickly paleness crept over his +features, and his lips trembled as he spoke. + +“How came you to see her? Where was she?” asked Nelligan, eagerly. + +“I 'll tell you,” replied she, with all the methodical preparation by +which she heralded in the least important communications,--“I 'll tell +you. I was sitting here, working at the window, and wondering when the +trial would be over, for the goose that was for dinner was too near the +fire, and I said to myself--” + +“Never mind what you said to yourself,--confound the goose,” broke in +old Dan, fiercely. + +“Faith, then, I 'd like to know if you 'd be pleased to eat your dinner +on the cold loin of veal--” + +“But Miss Martin, mother,--Miss Martin,” urged Joe, impatiently. + +“I'm coming to her, if you'll let me; but when you flurry me and +frighten me, I 'm ready to faint. It was last Candlemas you gave me a +start, Dan, about--what was it, now? Lucky Mason's dog, I believe. No, +it was the chimney took fire--” + +“Will you just go back to Miss Martin, if you please,” said old +Nelligan, sternly. + +“I wish I knew where I was,--what I was saying last,” said she, in a +tone of deep sorrow and contrition. + +“You were going to say how Miss Mary told you all about the trial, +mother,” said Joe, taking her hand kindly within his own. + +“Yes, darling; now I remember it all. I was sitting here at the window +hemming them handkerchiefs of yours, and I heard a sharp sound of a +horse coming along quick, and, by the way he cantered, I said to myself, +'I know _you_,' and, sure enough, when I opened the window, there she +was, Miss Mary herself, all dripping with wet, and her hat flattened on +her face, at the door. + +“'Don't ask me to get down, Mrs. Nelligan,' said she, 'for I'm in a +great hurry. I have to ride out to Kilkieran with this'--and she showed +me a bottle she had in the pocket of her saddle. 'I only called to tell +you that your son has gained another--' What was it she called it?--a +victory, or a battle,--no, it was something else--” + +“Never mind--go on,” cried Joe; “and then?” + +“'But, my dear Miss Mary,' says I, 'you 're wet through and through. +It's more than your life's worth to go off now another ten miles. I'll +send our gossoon, Mickey Slater, with the medicine, if you 'll just come +in and stay with us.' I did n't say to dinner, for I was ashamed to ask +her to that. + +“'I should be delighted, Mrs. Nelligan,' said she, 'but it is impossible +to-day. I 'd have stayed and asked you for my dinner,'--her very +words,--'asked you for my dinner, but I have promised poor Mat Landy to +go back to him. But perhaps it is as well as it is; and my aunt Dorothy +might say, if she heard of it, that it was a strange choice I had made +of a festive occasion,--the day on which we were beaten, and the society +of him that worsted us.' + +“'Oh, but, Miss Mary,' says I, 'sure you don't think the worse of poor +Joe--' + +“'I never thought more highly of him, my dear Mrs. Nelligan,' said +she, 'than at this moment; and, whatever others may say or think, I'll +maintain my opinion, that he is a credit to us all. Good-bye! good-bye!' +and then she turned short round, and said, 'I can't answer for how +my uncle may feel about what has occurred to-day, but you know _my_ +sentiments. Farewell!' And with that she was off; indeed, before I had +time to shut down the window, she was out of sight and away.” + +“She ought to know, and she will know, that Joe never said one hard +thing of her family. And though he had in his brief enough to tempt him +to bring the Martins up for judgment, not a word, not a syllable did he +utter.” This old Nelligan spoke with a proud consciousness of his son's +honorable conduct. + +“Good heavens!” exclaimed Joe, “is it not enough that a man sells his +intellect, pawns his capacity, and makes traffic of his brains, without +being called on to market his very nature, and set up his very emotions +for sale? If my calling demands this at my hands, I have done with +it,--I renounce it.” + +“But I said you refrained, Joe. I remarked that you would not suffer the +heat of discussion to draw you into an angry attack--” + +“And you praise me for it!” broke in Joe, passionately. “You deem it an +occasion to compliment me, that, in defending the cause of a worthless +debauchee, I did not seize with avidity the happy moment to assail +an honorable gentleman; and not alone you, but a dozen others, +congratulated me on this reserve,--this constraint,--as though the +lawyer were but a bravo, and, his stiletto once paid for, he must +produce the body of his victim. I regard my profession in another and +a higher light; but if even its practice were the noblest that could +engage human faculties, and its rewards the highest that could crown +them, I'd quit it tomorrow, were its price to be the sacrifice of an +honorable self-esteem and the regard of--of those we care for.” And in +the difficult utterance of the last words his cheek became crimson, and +his lip trembled. + +“I 'll tell you what you 'll do, Joe,” said his mother, whose kindness +was not invariably distinguished by tact,--“just come over with _me_ +to-morrow to Cro' Martin. I 'm going to get slips of the oak-leaf +geranium and the dwarf rose, and we 'll just go together in a friendly +way, and when we 're there you 'll have some opportunity or other to +tell Miss Mary that it wasn't your fault for being against them.” + +“He 'll do no such thing,” broke in Nelligan, fiercely. “Miss Mary +Martin wants no apologies,--her family have no right to any. Joe is a +member of a high and powerful profession. If he does n't fill as great a +place now, who knows where he 'll not be this day fifteen years, eh, my +boy? Maybe I 'll not be here to see,--indeed, it's more than likely I +'ll not,--but I know it now. I feel as sure of it as I do that my name +'s Dan.” + +“And if you are not to see it, father,” said Joe, as he pressed his +father's hand between both his own,--“you and my dearest mother,--the +prize will be nigh valueless. If I cannot, when my reward is won, come +home,--to such a home as this,--the victory will be too late.” And so +saying he rose abruptly, and hurried from the room. The moment after he +had locked his door, and, flinging himself upon his bed, buried his face +between his hands. + +With all the proud sensations of having achieved a great success, his +heart was heavily oppressed. It seemed to him as though Destiny had +decreed that his duty should ever place him in antagonism to his +affections. Up to a short period before this trial came on he had +frequently been in Miss Martin's company. Now, it was some trifling +message for his mother; now, some book he had himself promised to +fetch her; then visits to the sick--and Joe, latterly, had taken a most +benevolent turn--had constantly brought them together; and often, when +Mary was on foot, Joe had accompanied her to the gates of the demesne. +In these meetings one subject usually occupied them,--the sad condition +of the country, the destitution of the poor,--and on this theme their +sympathies and hopes and fears all agreed. It was not only that they +concurred in their views of the national character, but that they +attributed its traits of good or evil to the very same causes; and while +Nelligan was amazed at finding the daughter of a proud house deeply +conversant with the daily life of the humblest peasant, she, too, +was astonished how sincere in his respect for rank, how loyal in +his devotion to the claims of blood, was one whose birth might have +proclaimed him a democrat and a destroyer. + +These daily discussions led them closer and closer to each other, till +at length confidences grew up between them, and Mary owned to many of +the difficulties that her lone and solitary station exposed her to. +Many things were done on the property without--some in direct opposition +to--her concurrence. As she once said herself, “We are so ready to +satisfy our consciences by assuming that whatever we may do legally +we have a right to do morally, and at the same time, in the actual +condition of Ireland, what is just may be practically the very heaviest +of all hardships.” This observation was made with reference to some law +proceedings of Scanlan's instituting, and the day after she chanced to +make it Joe started for Dublin. It was there that Magennis's attorney +had sent him the brief in that cause,--a charge which the etiquette of +his profession precluded his declining. + +In what way he discharged the trust we have seen,--what sorrow it cost +him is more than we can describe. “Miss Martin,” thought he, “would know +nothing of the rules which prescribe our practice, and will look upon my +conduct here as a treason. For weeks long she has conversed with me in +candor over the state of the county and its people; we separate for a +few days, and she finds me arrayed with others against the interests of +her family, and actually paid to employ against her the very knowledge +she has imparted to me! What a career have I chosen,” cried he, in his +agony, “if every success is to be purchased at such a price!” With such +men as Magennis he had nothing in common; their society, their habits, +their opinions were all distasteful to him, and yet it was for him and +his he was to sacrifice the dearest hope of his heart,--to lose the good +esteem of one whose praise he had accounted more costly than the highest +distinction a sovereign could bestow on him. “And what a false position +mine!” cried he again. “Associated by the very closest ties with a party +not one of whose objects have my sympathies, I see myself separated by +blood, birth, and station from all that I venerate and respect. I must +either be a traitor to my own or to myself; declare my enmity to all I +think most highly of, or suffer my motives to be impugned and my fame +tarnished.” + +There was, indeed, one circumstance in this transaction which displeased +him greatly, and of which he was only aware when too late. The Magennis +defence had been “got up” by a subscription,--a fund to which Joseph's +own father had contributed. Amongst the machinery of attack upon the +landed gentry, Father Neal Rafferty had suggested the expediency +of “putting them on their titles” in cases the most trivial and +insignificant. Forfeiture and confiscation had followed each other so +frequently in Irish history,--grants and revocations were so mixed +up together,--some attested in all formality, others irregular and +imperfect,--that it was currently believed there was scarcely one single +estate of the whole province could establish a clear and indisputable +title. The project was, therefore, a bold one which, while disturbing +the rights of property, should also bring under discussion so many vexed +questions of English rule and tyranny over the Irish. Libraries and +cabinets were ransacked for ancient maps of the counties; and old +records were consulted to ascertain how far the original conditions of +service, and so forth, had been complied with on which these estates +were held. + +Joseph had frequently carried home books from the library of Cro' +Martin, rare and curious volumes, which bore upon the ancient history of +the country. And now there crossed him the horrible suspicion that the +whole scheme of this attack might be laid to his charge, the information +to substantiate which he had thus surreptitiously-obtained. It was clear +enough, from what his mother had said, that such was not Miss Martin's +present impression; but who could say what representations might be made +to her, and what change effected in her sentiments? “And this,” cried +he, in indignation--“and this is the great career I used to long +for!--this the broad highway I once fancied was to lead me to honor +and distinction! Or is it, after all, my own fault, for endeavoring +to reconcile two-things which never can have any agreement,--an humble +origin and high aspirings? Were I an Englishman, the difficulty would +not be impassable; but here, in Ireland, the brand of a lowly fortune +and a despised race is upon me. Can I--dare I resist it?” + +A long and arduous conflict was that in which he passed the night,--now +inclining to abandon his profession forever, now to leave Ireland +and join the English or some Colonial Bar; and at length, as day was +breaking, and as though the fresh morning air which now blew upon him +from his open window had given fresh energy to his nature, he determined +he would persist in his career in his own country. “_My_ fate shall be +an example or a warning!” cried he. “They who come after me shall know +whether there be rewards within reach of honest toil and steady industry +without the contamination of a mock patriotism! If I _do_ rise, it shall +be from no aid derived from a party or a faction; and if I fail, I bring +no discredit upon 'my order.'” + +There are men who can so discipline their minds that they have but to +establish a law to their actions to make their whole lives “a system.” + Such individuals the Germans not inaptly call “self-contained men,” and +of these was Joe Nelligan one. + +A certain concentration of his faculties, and the fatigues of a whole +night passed thus in thought, gave a careworn, exhausted look to his +features as he entered the room where Repton sat awaiting him for +breakfast. + +“I see what's the matter with you,” said the old lawyer, as he entered. +“You have passed the night after a 'first brief.' This day ten years +you'll speak five hours before the Lords 'in error,' and never lose a +wink of sleep after it's over!” + + + +CHAPTER XVI. MR. REPTON LOOKS IN + +On the day after that some of whose events we have just recorded, and +towards nightfall, Mary Martin slowly drove along the darkly wooded +avenue of Cro' Martin. An unusual sadness overweighed her. She was just +returning from the funeral of poor old Mat Landy, one of her oldest +favorites as a child. He it was who first taught her to hold an oar; +and, seated beside him, she first learned to steer a “corragh” through +the wild waves of the Atlantic. His honest, simple nature, his fine +manly contentedness with a very humble lot, and a cheerful gayety of +heart that seemed never to desert him, were all traits likely to impress +such a child as she had been and make his companionship a pleasure. With +a heavy heart was it, therefore, now that she thought over these things, +muttering to herself as she went along snatches of the old songs he used +to sing, and repeating mournfully the little simple proverbs he would +utter about the weather. + +The last scene itself had been singularly mournful. Two fishermen of the +coast alone accompanied the car which bore the coffin; death or sickness +was in every house; few could be spared to minister to the dead, and +even of those, the pale shrunk features and tottering limbs bespoke how +dearly the duty cost them. Old Mat had chosen for his last resting-place +a little churchyard that crowned a cliff over the sea,--a wild, solitary +spot,--an old gable, a ruined wall, a few low gravestones, and no more. +The cliff itself, rising abruptly from the sea to some four hundred +feet, was perforated with the nests of sea-fowl, whose melancholy cries, +as they circled overhead, seemed to ring out a last requiem. There it +was they now laid him. Many a time from that bleak summit had he lighted +a beacon fire to ships in distress. + +Often and often, from that same spot, had he gazed out over the sea, +to catch signs of those who needed succor, and now that bold heart was +still and that strong arm stiffened, and the rough, deep voice that used +to sound above the tempest, silent forever. + +[Illustration: 188] + +“Never mind, Patsey,” said Mary, to one of the fishermen, who was +endeavoring with some stray fragments of a wreck to raise a little +monument over the spot, “I'll look to that hereafter.” And so saying, +she turned mournfully away to descend the cliff. A stranger, wrapped in +a large boat-cloak, had been standing for some time near the place; and +as Mary left it, he drew nigh and asked who she was. + +“Who would she be?” said the fisherman, gruffly, and evidently in no +humor to converse. + +“A wife, or a daughter, perhaps?” asked the other again. + +“Neither one nor the other,” replied the fisherman. + +“It is Miss Mary, sir,--Miss Martin,--God bless her!” broke in the +other; “one that never deserts the poor, living or dead. Musha! but +she's what keeps despair out of many a heart!” + +“And has she come all this way alone?” asked he. + +“What other way could she come, I wonder?” said the man he had first +addressed. “Did n't they leave her there by herself, just as if she was +n't belonging to them? They were kinder to old Henderson's daughter than +to their own flesh and blood.” + +“Hush, Jerry, hush!--she 'll hear you,” cried the other. And saluting +the stranger respectfully, he began to follow down the cliff. + +“Are there strangers stopping at the inn?” asked Mary, as she saw lights +gleaming from some of the windows as she passed. + +“Yes, miss, there's him that was up there at the churchyard--ye didn't +remark him, maybe--and one or two more.” + +“I did not notice him,” said Mary; and, wishing the men good-night, set +out homeward. So frequent were the halts she made at different cabins as +she drove along, so many times was she stopped to give a word of advice +or counsel, that it was already duskish as she reached Cro' Martin, +and found herself once more near home. “You're late with the post this +evening, Billy,” said she, overtaking the little fellow who carried the +mail from Oughterard. + +“Yes, miss, there was great work sortin' the letters that came in this +morning, for I believe there's going to be another election; at least I +heard Hosey Lynch say it was all about that made the bag so full.” + +“I 'm sorry for it, Billy,” said she. “We have enough to think of, +ay, and troubles enough, too, not to need the strife and bitterness of +another contest amongst us.” + +“Thrue for ye, miss, indeed,” rejoined Billy. '“Tis wishing them far +enough I am, them same elections; the bag does be a stone heavier every +day till it's over.” + +“Indeed!” said Mary, half smiling at the remark. + +“Thrue as I 'm here, miss. I would n't wonder if it was the goold for +bribin' the chaps makes it weigh so much.” + +“And is there any other news stirring in the town, Billy?” + +“Next to none, miss. They were talkin' of putting up ould Nelligan's son +for the mimber; and more says the Magennis of Barnagheela will stand.” + +“A most excellent choice that would be, certainly,” said Mary, laughing. + +“Faix! I heerd of another that wasn't much better, miss.” + +“And who could that be?” asked Mary, in astonishment. + +“But sure you'd know better than me, if it was thrue, more by token it +would be the master's own orders.” + +“I don't understand you, Billy.” + +“I mean, miss, that it's only his Honer, Mr. Martin, could have the +power to make Maurice Scanlan a Parlimint man.” + +“And has any one hinted at such a possibility?” said she, in +astonishment. + +“Indeed, then, it was the talk of the market this mornin', and many a +one said he's the very fellow would get in.” + +“Is he such a general favorite in Oughterard?” + +“I'm not sure it's that, miss,” said Billy, thoughtfully. + +“Maybe some likes him, and more is afraid of him; but he himself knows +everybody and everybody's business. He can raise the rent upon this man, +take it off that; 'tis his word can make a barony-constable or one of +the watch. They say he has the taxes, too, in his power, and can cess +you just as he likes. Be my conscience, he 's all as one as the Prime +Minister.” + +Just as Billy had delivered this sage reflection they had reached the +hall door, where, having consigned the letter-bag to the hands of a +servant, he turned his steps to the kitchen, to take an “air of the +fire” before he set out homeward. Mary Martin had not advanced many +steps within the hall when both her hands were cordially grasped, and a +kind voice, which she at once recognized as Mr. Repton's, said, “Here +I am, my dear Miss Martin; arrived in time, too, to welcome you home +again. You paid me a visit yesterday--” + +“Yes,” broke she in; “but you were shaking your ambrosial curls at the +time, browbeating the bench, or cajoling the jury, or something of that +sort.” + +“That I was; but I must own with scant success. You 've heard how that +young David of Oughterard slew the old Goliath of Dublin? Well, shall +I confess it? I'm glad of it. I feel proud to think that the crop of +clever fellows in Ireland is flourishing, and that when I, and a dozen +like me, pass away, our places will be filled by others that will keep +the repute of our great profession high in the public estimation.” + +“This is worthy of you, sir,” cried Mary, pressing the arm ahe leaned on +more closely. + +“And now, my dear Miss Mary,” said he, as they entered the +drawing-room,--“now that I have light to look at you, let me make +my compliments on your appearance. Handsomer than ever, I positively +declare. They told me in the town that you half killed yourself with +fatigue; that you frequently were days long on horseback, and nights +watching by sick-beds; but if this be the result, benevolence is indeed +its own reward.” + +“Ah, my dear Mr. Repton, I see you do not keep all your flatteries for +the jury-box.” + +“My moments are too limited here to allow me time for an untruth. I +must be off; to-night I have a special retainer for a great record at +Roscommon, and at this very instant I should be poring over deeds +and parchments, instead of gazing at 'orbs divinely blue;' not but, I +believe, now that I look closer, yours are hazel.” + +“Let me order dinner, then, at once,” said she, approaching the bell. + +“I have done that already, my dear,” said he, gayly; “and what is more, +I have dictated the bill of fare. I guessed what a young lady's simple +meal might be, and I have been down to the cook, and you shall see the +result.” + +“Then it only remains for me to think of the cellar. What shall it be, +sir? The Burgundy that you praised so highly last winter, or the Port +that my uncle preferred to it?” + +“I declare that I half suspect your uncle was right. Let us move for a +new trial, and try both over again,” said he, laughing, as she left the +room. + +“Just to think of such a girl in such a spot,” cried he to himself, as +he walked alone, up and down the room; “beauty, grace, fascination,--all +that can charm and attract; and then, such a nature, childlike in +gayety, and chivalrous,--ay, chivalrous as a chevalier!” + +“I see, sir, you are rehearsing for Roscommon,” said Mary, who entered +the room while he was yet declaiming alone; “but I must interrupt you, +for the soup is waiting.” + +“I obey the summons,” said he tendering his arm. And they both entered +the dinner-room. + +So long as the meal lasted, Repton's conversation was entirely devoted +to such topics as he might have discussed at a formal dinner-party. He +talked of the world of society, its deaths, births, and marriages; its +changes of place and amusement. He narrated the latest smart things that +were going the round of the clubs, and hinted at the political events +that were passing. But the servants gone, and the chairs drawn closer +to the blazing hearth, his tone changed at once, and in a voice of +tremulous kindness he said,--“I can't bear to think of the solitude of +this life of yours!--nay, hear me out. I say this, not for _you_, since +in the high devotion of a noble purpose you are above all its penalties; +but I cannot endure to think that _we_ should permit it.” + +“First of all,” said Mary, rapidly, “what you deem solitude is scarcely +such; each day is so filled with its duties, that when I come back here +of an evening, it often happens that my greatest enjoyment is the very +sense of isolation that awaits me. Do you know,” added she, “that +very often the letter-bag lies unopened by me till morning? And as to +newspapers, there they lie in heaps, their covers unbroken to this hour. +Such is actually the case to-day. I haven't read my letters yet.” + +“I read mine in my bed,” cried Repton. “I have them brought to me by +candlelight in winter, and I reflect over all the answers while I am +dressing. Some of the sharpest things I have ever said have occurred to +me while I was shaving; not,” added he, hastily, “but one's really +best things are always impromptu. Just as I said t' other day to the +Viceroy,--a somewhat felicitous one. He was wishing that some historian +would choose for his subject the lives of Irish Lord-Lieutenants; +not, he remarked, in a mere spirit of party, or with the levity of +partisanship, but in a spirit becoming the dignity of history,--such +as Hume himself might have done. 'Yes, my Lord,' I replied, 'your +observation is most just; it should be a continuation of Rapine.' Eh! it +was a home-thrust, wasn't it?--'a continuation of Rapine.'” And the old +man laughed till his eyes ran over. + +“Do these great folk ever thoroughly forgive such things?” asked Mary. + +“My dear child, their self-esteem is so powerful they never feel them; +and even when they do, the chances are that they store them up in their +memories, to retail afterwards as their own. I have detected my own +stolen property more than once; but always so damaged by wear, and +disfigured by ill-usage, that I never thought of reclaiming it.” + +“The affluent need never fret for a little robbery,” said Mary, smiling. + +“Ay, but they may like to be the dispensers of their own riches,” + rejoined Repton, who never was happier than when able to carry out +another's illustration. + +“Is Lord Reckington agreeable?” asked Mary, trying to lead him on to any +other theme than that of herself. + +“He is eminently so. Like all men of his class, he makes more of a small +stock in trade than we with our heads full can ever pretend to. Such men +talk well, for they think fluently. Their tact teaches them the popular +tone on every subject, and they have the good sense never to rise above +it.” + +“And Massingbred, the secretary, what of him?” + +“A very well-bred gentleman, strongly cased in the triple armor of +official dulness. Such men converse as stupid whist-players play +cards; they are always asking to 'let them see the last trick;' and the +consequence is they are ever half an hour behind the rest of the world. +Ay, Miss Mary, and this is an age where one must never be half a second +in arrear. This is really delicious Port; and now that the Burgundy is +finished, I think I prefer it. Tell Martin I said so when you write to +him. I hope the cellar is well stocked with it.” + +“It was so when my uncle went away, but I fear I have made great inroads +upon it. It was my chief remedy with the poor.” + +“With the poor! such wine as this,--the richest grape that ever purpled +over the Douro! Do you tell me that you gave this to these--Heaven +forgive me, what am I saying? Of course you gave it; you gave them +what was fifty times more precious,--the kind ministerings of your own +angelic nature, the soft words and soft looks and smiles that a prince +might have knelt for. I 'm not worthy to drink another glass of it,” + added he, as he pushed the decanter from him towards the centre of the +table. + +“But you shall, though,” said Mary, filling his glass, “and it shall be +a bumper to my health.” + +“A toast I'd stake my life for,” said he, reverently, as he lifted her +hand to his lips and kissed it with all the deference of a courtier. +“And now,” added he, refilling his glass, “I drink this to the worthy +fellow whose portrait is before me; and may he soon come back again.” + He arose as he spoke, and giving his hand to Mary, led her into the +drawing-room. “Ay, my dear Miss Mary,” said he, following up the theme +in his own thoughts, “it is here your uncle ought to be. When the army +is in rout and dismay, the general's presence is the talisman that +restores discipline. Everything around us at this moment is full of +threatening danger. The catalogue of the assizes is a dark record; I +never saw its equal, no more have I ever witnessed anything to compare +with the dogged indifference of the men arraigned. The Irishman is half +a fatalist by nature; it will be an evil hour that makes him wholly +one!” + +“But still,” said Mary, “you 'd scarcely counsel his return here at this +time. The changes that have taken place would fret him deeply, not to +speak of even worse!” + +She delivered the last few words in a voice broken and trembling; and +Repton, turning quickly towards her, said,--“I know what you point at: +the irritated feeling of the people, and that insolent menace they dared +to affix to his own door.” + +“You heard of that, then?” cried she, eagerly. + +“To be sure, I heard of it; and I heard how your own hands tore it down, +and riding with it into the midst of them at Kiltimmon market, you said, +'I 'll give five hundred pounds to him who shows me who did this, and I +'ll forfeit five hundred more if I do not horsewhip the coward from the +county.'” + +Mary hid her face within her hands; but closely as she pressed them +there, the warm tears would force their way through, and fall, dropping +on her bosom. + +“You are a noble girl,” cried he, in ecstasy; “and in all your +great trials there is nothing finer than this, that the work of your +benevolence has never been stayed by the sense of ill-requital, and you +have never involved the character of a people in the foul crime of a +miscreant.” + +“How could I so wrong them, sir?” broke she out. “Who better than myself +can speak of their glorious courage, their patient resignation, their +noble self-devotion? Has not the man, sinking under fever, crawled +from his bed to lead me to the house of another deeper in misery than +himself? Have I not seen the very poorest sharing the little alms +bestowed upon their wretchedness? Have I not heard the most touching +words of gratitude from lips growing cold in death? You may easily +show me lands of greater comfort, where the blessings of wealth and +civilization are more widely spread; but I defy you to point to any +where the trials of a whole people have been so great and so splendidly +sustained.” + +“I'll not ask the privilege of reply,” said Repton; “perhaps I 'd rather +be convinced by you than attempt to gainsay one word of your argument.” + +“At your peril, sir,” said she, menacing him with her finger, while a +bright smile lit up her features. + +“The chaise is at the door, sir,” said a servant, entering and +addressing Repton. + +“Already!” exclaimed he. “Why, my dear Miss Mary, it can't surely be +eight o'clock. No; but,” added he, looking at his watch, “it only wants +a quarter of ten, and I have not said one half of what I had to say, nor +heard a fourth of what you had to tell me.” + +“Let the postboy put up his horses, William,” said Miss Martin, “and +bring tea.” + +“A most excellent suggestion,” chimed in Repton. “Do you know, my dear, +that we old bachelors never thoroughly appreciate all that we have +missed in domesticity till we approach a tea-table. We surround +ourselves with fifty mockeries of home-life; we can manage soft carpets, +warm curtains, snug dinners, but somehow our cup of tea is a rude +imitation that only depicts the inaccuracy of the copy. Without the +priestess the tea-urn sings forth no incantation.” + +“How came it that Mr. Repton remained a Benedict?” asked she, gayly. + +“By the old accident, that he would n't take what he might have, and +could n't get what he wished. Add to that,” continued he, after a pause, +“when a man comes to a certain time of life without marrying, the world +has given to him a certain place, assigned to him, as it were, a certain +part which would be utterly marred by a wife. The familiarity of one's +female acquaintance--the pleasantest spot in old bachelorhood--could n't +stand such an ordeal; and the hundred-and-one eccentricities pardonable +and pardoned in the single man would be condemned in the married one. +You shake your head. Well, now, I 'll put it to the test. Would you, or +could you, make me your confidant so unreservedly if there were such a +person as Mrs. Repton in the world? Not a bit of it, my dear child. We +old bachelors are the lay priests of society, and many come to us with +confessions they 'd scruple about making to the regular authorities.” + +“Perhaps you are right,” said she, thoughtfully; “at all events, _I_ +should have no objection to you as my confessor.” + +“I may have to claim that promise one of these day yet,” said he, +significantly. “Eh, here comes William again. Well, the postboy won't +wait, or something has gone wrong. Eh, William, what is it?” + +“The boy's afraid, sir, if you don't go soon, that there will be no +passing the river at Barnagheela,--the flood is rising every minute.” + +“And already the water is too deep,” cried Mary. “Give the lad his +supper, William. Let him make up his cattle, and say that Mr. Repton +remains here for the night.” + +“And Mr. Repton obeys,” said he, bowing; “though what is to become of +'Kelly _versus_ Lenaham and another,' is more than I can say.” + +“They 'll have so many great guns, sir,” said Mary, laughing; “won't +they be able to spare a twenty-four pounder?” + +“But I ought, at least, to appear in the battery, my dear. They 'll say +that I stayed away on account of that young fellow Nelligan; he has a +brief in that cause, and I know he 'd like another tussle with me. By +the way, Miss Mary, that reminds me that I promised him to make his--no, +not his excuses, he was too manly for that; but his--his explanations +to you about yesterday's business. He was sorely grieved at the part +assigned him; he spoke feelingly of all the attentions he once met at +your uncle's hands, but far more so of certain kindnesses shown to +his mother by yourself; and surmising that you might be unaware of the +exacting nature of our bar etiquette, that leaves no man at liberty +to decline a cause, he tortured himself inventing means to set himself +right with you.” + +“But I know your etiquette, sir, and I respect it; and Mr. Nelligan +never stood higher in my estimation than by his conduct of yesterday. +You can tell him, therefore, that you saw there was no necessity to +touch on the topic; it will leave less unpleasantness if we should meet +again.” + +“What a diplomatist it is!” said Repton, smiling affectionately at her. +“How successful must all this tact be when engaged with the people! Nay, +no denial; you know in your heart what subtle devices it supplies you +with.” + +“And yet, I 'm not so certain that what you call my diplomacy may not +have involved me in some trouble,--at least, there is the chance of it.” + +“As how, my dear child?” + +“You shall hear, sir. You know the story of that poor girl at +Barnagheela, whom they call Mrs. Magennis? Well, her old grandfather--as +noble a heart as ever beat--had never ceased to pine after her fall. She +had been the very light of his life, and he loved her on, through +her sorrow, if not her shame, till, as death drew nigh him, unable to +restrain his craving desire, he asked me to go and fetch her, to give +her his last kiss and receive his last blessing. It was a task I had +fain have declined, were such an escape open to me, but I could not. In +a word, I went and did his bidding. She stayed with him till he breathed +his last breath, and then--in virtue of some pledge I hear that she +made him--she fled, no one knows whither. All trace of her is lost; and +though I have sent messengers on every side, none have yet discovered +her.” + +“Suicide is not the vice of our people,” said Repton, gravely. + +“I know that well, and the knowledge makes me hopeful. But what +sufferings are yet before her, what fearful trials has she to meet!” + +“By Jove!” cried Repton, rising and pacing the room, “you have courage, +young lady, that would do honor to a man. You brave the greatest perils +with a stout-heartedness that the best of us could scarcely summon.” + +“But, in this case, the peril is not mine, sir.” + +“I am not so sure of that, Miss Mary,” said Repton, doubtingly,--“I +'m not so sure of that.” And, with crossed arms and bent-down head, he +paced the room slowly back and forwards. “Ay,” muttered he to himself, +“Thursday night--Friday, at all events--will close the record. I can +speak to evidence on the morning, and be back here again some time in +the night. Of course it is a duty,--it is more than a duty.” Then he +added, aloud, “There 's the moon breaking out, and a fine breezy sky. I +'ll take the road, Miss Mary, and, with your good leave, I 'll drink tea +with you on Friday evening. Nay, my dear, the rule is made absolute.” + +“I agree,” said she, “if it secures me a longer visit on your return.” + +A few moments afterwards saw Repton seated in the corner of his chaise, +and hurrying onward at speed. His eyes soon closed in slumber, and as +he sank off to rest, his lips murmured gently, “My Lord, in rising to +address the Court, under circumstances of no ordinary difficulty, and in +a case where vast interest, considerable influence, and, I may add--may +add--” The words died away, and he was asleep. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. LADY DOROTHEA'S LETTER + +Though it was late when Repton took his departure, Mary Martin felt +no inclination for sleep, but addressed herself at once to examine the +letter bag, whose contents seemed more than usually bulky. Amid a mass +of correspondence about the estate, she came at length upon the foreign +letters, of which there were several from the servants to their friends +or relations at Cro' Martin,--all, as usual, under cover to Miss Martin; +and at last she found one in Lady Dorothea's own hand, for herself,--a +very rare occurrence; nay, indeed, it was the first epistle her Ladyship +had favored her with since her departure. + +It was not, then, without curiosity as to the cause that Mary broke the +large seal and read as follows:-- + +“Carlsruhe, Saturday Evening, Cour de Bade. + +“My dear Niece,--It was only yesterday, when looking over your uncle's +papers, I chanced upon a letter of yours, dated some five or six weeks +back, and which, to my great astonishment, I discovered had never been +communicated to me,--though this mark of deficient confidence will +doubtless seem less surprising to _you_. + +“To bring your letter to your mind, _I_ may observe it is one in which +you describe the condition of the people on the estate, and the fatal +inroads then making upon them by famine and pestilence. It is not my +intention here to advert to what may possibly be a very natural error +in your account,--the exaggerated picture you draw of their sufferings; +your sympathy with them, and your presence to witness much of what they +are enduring, will explain and excuse the highly colored statement of +their sorrows. It were to be wished that an equally valid apology could +be made for what I am forced to call the importunity of your demands in +their favor. Five of your six last letters now before me are filled +with appeals for abatements of rent, loans to carry out improvements, +stipends for schoolmasters, doctors, scripture-readers, and a tribe of +other hangers-on, that really seem to augment in number as the pauperism +of the people increases. However ungracious the task of disparaging the +accuracy of your view, I have no other alternative but to accept it, and +hence I am forced to pen these lines myself in preference to committing +the office to another. + +“It really seems to me that you regard our position as landed +proprietors in the light of a mere stewardship, and that it is our +bounden duty to expend upon the tenantry the proceeds of the estate, +reserving a scanty percentage, perhaps, for ourselves to live upon. How +you came to this opinion, and whence you acquired it, I have no means of +knowing. If, however, it has been the suggestion of your own genius, it +is right you should know that you hold doctrines in common with the most +distinguished communists of modern times, and are quite worthy of a seat +of honor beside those who are now convulsing society throughout Europe. + +“I am unwilling to utter anything like severity towards errors, many +of which take their rise in a mistaken and ill-directed benevolence, +because the original fault of committing the management of this property +to your hands was the work of another. Let me hope that sincere sorrow +for so fatal a mistake may not be the primary cause of his present +attack--” + +When Mary read so far, she started with a sudden fear; and turning over +the pages of the long letter, she sought for some allusion to her uncle. +At length she found the following lines:--“Your cousin would have +left this for Ireland, but for the sudden seizure your poor uncle has +suffered from, and which came upon him after breakfast, in apparently +his ordinary health. The entire of the left side is attacked,--the face +particularly,--and his utterance quite inarticulate.” + +For some minutes she could read no more; the warm tears rolled down her +cheeks and dropped heavily on the paper, and she could only mutter to +herself, “My poor, dear uncle,--my last, my only friend in the world!” + Drying her eyes, with a great effort she read on:-- + +“The remedies have been so far successful as to arrest the progress +of the malady, and his appetite is good, and his spirits, everything +considered, are excellent. Of course, all details of business are +strictly excluded from his presence; and your cousin has assumed +whatever authority is necessary to the management of the property. We +thought at one time your presence here might have been desirable, but, +considering the distance, the difficulty of travelling without suitable +companionship, and other circumstances, it would, on the whole, be a +step we should not recommend; and, indeed, your uncle himself has not +expressed any wishes on the subject.” + +She dropped the letter at these words, and, covering her face with her +hands, sobbed bitterly and long; at length, and with an effort which +taxed her strength to the utmost, she read on:-- + +“Although, however, you are to remain at Cro' Martin, it will be more +than ever imperative you should reduce the establishment there within +the very strictest possible limits; and to begin this-reform, I 'm fully +assured it is necessary you should depose old Mrs. Broon, who is really +incapable of her duties, while her long-acquired habits of expense +render her incompatible with any new regulations to enforce economy. A +moderate pension--something, however, in accordance with her real +wants and requirements, rather than what might be called her +expectations--should be settled upon her, and there are several farmers +on the estate, any one of whom would gladly take charge of her. The +gardens still figure largely in the account, and considering the very +little probability of our makings the place a residence again, might +be turned to more profitable use. You will confer with Henderson on +the subject, and inquire how far it might be advisable to cultivate +vegetables for market, or convert them into paddocks for calves, or, +in short, anything which, if less remunerative, should still save the +enormous outlay we now hear of I scarcely like to allude to the stable, +knowing how much you lean to the enjoyment of riding and driving; but +really these are times when retrenchment is called for at every hand; +and I am persuaded that for purposes of health walking is infinitely +better than carriage exercise. I know myself, that since I have taken to +the habit of getting out of the carriage at the wells, and walking twice +round the parterre, I feel myself braced and better for the day. + +“It is not improbable but when the changes I thus suggest, and others +similar to them, are enacted, that you will see to what little purpose +a large house is maintained for the mere accommodation of a single +individual, without suitable means, or indeed any reason whatever, to +dispense them. If then, I say, you should come to this conviction,--at +which I have already arrived,--a very great saving might be effected +by obtaining a tenant for Cro' Martin, while you, if still desirous of +remaining in the county, might be most comfortably accommodated at the +Hendersons'.” + +Three times did Mary Martin read over this passage before she could +bring herself to believe in its meaning; and hot tears of sorrow coursed +down her cheeks as she became assured of its import. + +“It is not,” went on the epistle--“it is not in your uncle's present +most critical state that I could confer with him on this project, +nor strengthen my advice by what most probably would be _his_ also. I +therefore make the appeal simply to your own sense of what you may +think in accordance with our greatly increased outlay and your own +requirements. Should you receive this suggestion in the spirit in which +it is offered, I think that both for your uncle's satisfaction and your +own dignity, the proposal ought to come from yourself. You could make it +to me in a letter, stating all the reasons in its favor, and of course +not omitting to lay suitable stress upon the isolation of your present +life, and the comfort and security you would derive from the protection +of a family. Mrs. H. is really a very nice person, and her tastes and +habits would render her most companionable; and she would, of course, +make you an object of especial attention and respect. It is, besides, +not impossible that the daughter may soon return--though this is a point +I have not leisure to enter upon at present. A hundred a year would he a +very handsome allowance for Henderson, and indeed for that sum he ought +to keep your pony, if you still continue your taste for equipage. You +would thus be more comfortable, and really richer,--that is, have +more disposable means--than you have hitherto had. I forbear to insist +further upon what--till it has your own approval--may be a vain advocacy +on my part. I can only say, in conclusion, that in adopting this plan +you would equally consult what is due to your own dignity, as what is +required by your uncle's interests. Your cousin, I am forced to avow it, +has been very silly, very inconsiderate, not alone in contracting heavy +debts, but in raising large sums to meet them at fabulous rates of +interest. The involvements threaten, from what I can gather, to imperil +a considerable part of the estate, and we are obliged to send for +Scanlan to come out here, and confer with him as to the means of +extrication. I feel there is much to be said in palliation of errors +which have their origin in high and generous qualities. Plantagenet +was thrown at a very early age into the society of a most expensive +regiment, and naturally contracted the tastes and habits around him. +Poor fellow, he is suffering severely from the memory of these early +indiscretions, and I see that nothing but a speedy settlement of his +difficulties will ever restore him to his wonted spirits. You will thus +perceive, that if my suggested change of life to you should not conform +entirely to your wishes, that you are in reality only accepting your +share of the sacrifices called for from each of us. + +“There are a great number of other matters on which I wished to +touch,--some, indeed, are not exactly within your province, such as +the political fortunes of the borough, whose seat Mr. Massingbred has +determined to vacate. Although not admitting the reason for his conduct, +I am strongly convinced that the step is a mere acknowledgment of +an error on his part, and an effort, however late, at the _amende +honorable_. The restitution, for so I am forced to regard it, comes most +inopportunely, since it would be a most ill-chosen moment in which to +incur the expense of a contested election; besides that, really your +cousin has no desire whatever for Parliamentary honors. Plantagenet, +however, would seem to have some especial intentions on the subject +which he keeps secret, and has asked of Massingbred not to send off +his farewell address to the constituency for some days. But I will not +continue a theme so little attractive to you. + +“Dr. Schubart has just called to see your uncle. He is not altogether +so satisfied with his state as I could have hoped; he advises change of +scene, and a little more intercourse with the world, and we have some +thought of Nice, if we cannot get on to Naples. Dr. S., to whom I spoke +on the subject of your Irish miseries, tells me that cholera is now +the most manageable of all maladies, if only taken early; that you must +enjoin the persons attacked to a more liberal diet, no vegetables, and +a sparing use of French wines, excepting, he says, the generous 'Vins du +Midi.' There is also a mixture to be taken--of which he promised me +the prescription--and a pill every night of arnica or aconite--I 'm not +quite certain which--but it is a perfect specific. He also adds, what +must be felt as most reassuring, that the disease never attacks but the +very poorest of the population. As to typhus, he smiled when I spoke +of it. It is, he says, a mere 'Gastrite,' a malady which modern science +actually despises. In fact, my dear niece, these would seem, like all +other Irish misfortunes, the mere offshoots of her own dark ignorance +and barbarism. If it were not for the great expense--and of course that +consideration decides the question--I should have requested you to send +over your doctor here to confer with Dr. Schubart. Indeed, I think +it might be a very reasonable demand to make of the Government, but +unhappily my present 'relations' with my relative Lord Reckington +preclude any advances of mine in that quarter. + +“I was forgetting to add that, with respect to cholera, and indeed fever +generally, that Dr. S. lays great stress upon what he calls the moral +treatment of the people, amusing their minds by easily learned games and +simple pleasures. I fear me, however, that the coarser natures of our +population may not derive adequate amusement from the resources which +would have such eminent success with the enlightened peasant of the +Rhine land. Dr. S., I may remark, is a very distinguished writer on +politics, and daily amazes us with the astounding speculations he is +forming as to the future condition of Europe. His conviction is that our +great peril is Turkey, and that Mohammedanism will be the religion +of Europe before the end of the present century. Those new baths +established at Brighton by a certain Hamet are a mere political agency, +a secret propaganda, which his acuteness has alone penetrated. Miss +Henderson has ventured to oppose these views with something not very far +from impertinent ridicule, and for some time back, Dr. S. only discusses +them with myself alone. + +“I had left the remainder of the sheet for any intelligence that might +occur before post hour, but I am suddenly called away, and shall close +it at once. When I was sitting with your uncle awhile ago, I _half_ +broached the project I was suggesting to you, and he seemed highly to +approve of so much as I ventured to tell him. Nothing then is wanting +but your own concurrence to make it as practicable as it is deemed +advisable by your affectionate aunt, + +“Dorothea Martin.” + + +The eccentricities of her aunt's character had always served as +extenuating circumstances with Mary Martin. She knew the violence of +her prejudices, the enormous amount of her self-esteem, and the facility +with which she was ever able to persuade herself that whatever she +wished to do assumed at once all the importance and gravity of a duty! +This thorough appreciation of her peculiarities enabled Mary to bear +up patiently under many sore trials and some actual wrongs. Where the +occasion was a light one, she could afford to smile at such trials, and, +even in serious cases, they palliated the injustice; but here was an +instance wherein all her forgiveness was in vain. To take the moment of +her poor uncle's illness--that terrible seizure, which left him without +self-guidance, if even a will--to dictate these hard and humiliating +terms, was a downright cruelty. Nor did it diminish the suffering which +that letter cost her that its harsh conditions seemed dictated by a +spirit of contempt for Ireland and its people. As Mary re-read the +letter, she felt that every line breathed this tone of depreciation. It +was to her Ladyship a matter of less than indifference what became of +the demesne, who inhabited the house,--the home of “the Martins” for +centuries! She was as little concerned for the prestige of “the old +family,” as she was interested for the sorrows of the people. If Mary +endeavored to treat these things dispassionately to her own heart, +by dwelling upon all the points which affected others, still, her own +individual wrong would work to the surface, and the bitter and insulting +suggestion made to her rose up before her in all its enormity. + +She did her very best to turn her thoughts into some other channel,--to +fix them upon her poor uncle, on his sick-bed, and sorrowing as he +was sure to be; to think of her cousin Harry, struggling against the +embarrassments of his own imprudence; of the old housekeeper, Catty +Broon, to whom she could not summon courage to speak the cruel tidings +of her changed lot,--but all, all in vain; back she would come to the +humiliation that foreshadowed her own fortune, and threatened to depose +her from her station forever. + +An indignant appeal to her uncle--her own father's brother--was her +first resolve. “Let me learn,” said she to herself, “from his own lips, +that such is the destiny he assigns me; that in return for my tried +affection, my devotion, he has no other recompense than to lower me in +self-esteem and condition together. Time enough, when assured of +this, to decide upon what I shall do. But to whom shall I address this +demand?” thought she again. “That dear, kind uncle is now struck down +by illness. It were worse than cruelty to add to his own sorrows any +thought of _mine_. If he have concurred in Lady Dorothea's suggestion, +who knows in what light it may have been presented to him, by what +arguments strengthened, with what perils contrasted? Is it impossible, +too, that the sacrifice may be imperative? The sale of part of the +property, the pressure of heavy claims,--all show that it may be +necessary to dispose of Cro' Martin. Oh,” exclaimed she, in agony, +“it is but a year ago, that when Mr. Repton hinted vaguely at such a +casualty, how stoutly and indignantly did I reject it! + +“'Your uncle may choose to live abroad,' said he; 'to sell the estate, +perhaps.' And I heard him with almost scornful defiance; and now the +hour is come! and even yet I cannot bring myself to believe it. When +Repton drew the picture of the tenantry, forsaken and neglected, the +poor unnoticed, and the sick uncared for, he still forgot to assign me +my place in the sad 'tableau,' and show that in destitution my lot was +equal to their own; the very poorest and meanest had yet some spot, poor +and mean though it were, they called a home, that Mary Martin was the +only one an outcast!” + +These gloomy thoughts were darkened as she bethought her that of her +little fortune--on which, by Scanlan's aid, she had raised a loan--a +mere fragment remained,--a few hundred pounds at most. The outlay on +hospitals and medical assistance for the sick had more than quadrupled +what she had estimated. The expense once begun, she had persevered with +almost reckless determination. She had despatched to Dublin, one by one, +the few articles of jewelry and value she possessed for sale; she had +limited her own expenditure to the very narrowest bounds, nor was it +till driven by the utmost urgency that she wrote the appeal to her uncle +of which the reader already knows. + +“How I once envied Kate Henderson,” cried she, aloud, “the brilliant +accomplishments she possessed, the graceful charm that her cultivation +threw over society, and the fascination she wielded, by acquirements of +which I knew nothing; but how much more now do I envy her, that in those +same gifts her independence was secured,--that, high above the chances +of the world, she could build upon her own efforts, and never descend to +a condition of dependence!” + +Her diminished power amongst the people had been fully compensated by +the sincere love and affection she had won from them by acts of charity +and devotion. Even these, however, owed much of their efficacy to the +prestige of her station. No peasant in Europe puts so high a value on +the intercourse with a rank above his own as does the Irish. The most +pleasant flattery to his nature is the notice of “the gentleman,” and +it was more than half the boon Mary bestowed upon the poor, that she +who sat down beside the bed, who heated the little drink, who raised the +head to swallow it, was the daughter of the Great House! Would not her +altered fortune destroy this charm? was now her bitter reflection. Up +to this hour, greatly reduced as were the means she dispensed, and the +influence she wielded, she still lived in the proud home of her family, +and all regarded her as the representative of her honored name. But +now--No, she could not endure the thought! “If I must descend to further +privations,” said she to herself, “let me seek out some new scene,--some +spot where I am unknown, have never been heard of; there, at least, I +shall be spared the contrast of the past with the present, nor see in +every incident the cruel mockery of my former life. + +“And yet,” thought she, “how narrow-minded and selfish is all this, how +mean-spirited, to limit the question to my own feelings! Is there no +duty involved in this sacrifice? Shall I not still--reduced though I be +in fortune--shall I not still be a source of comfort to many here? Will +not the very fact of my presence assure them that they are not deserted? +They have seen me under some trials, and the lesson has not been +fruitless. Let them then behold me, under heavier ones, not dismayed nor +cast down. What I lose in the prestige of station I shall more than gain +in sympathy; and so I remain!” No sooner was the resolve formed than +all her wonted courage came back. Rallying with the stimulus of action +before her, she began to plan out a new life, in which her relation +to the people should be closer and nearer than ever. There was a small +ornamental cottage on the demesne, known as the Chalet, built by +Lady Dorothea after one she had seen in the Oberland; this Mary now +determined on for her home, and there, with Catty Broon alone, she +resolved to live. + +“My aunt,” thought she, “can scarcely be so wedded to the Henderson +scheme but that this will equally satisfy her wishes; and while it +secures a home and a resting-place for-poor Catty, it rescues _me_ from +what I should feel as a humiliation.” + +The day was already beginning to dawn as Mary sat down to answer Lady +Dorothea's letter. Most of her reply referred to her uncle, to whose +affection she clung all the more as her fortunes darkened. She saw all +the embarrassment of proffering her services to nurse and tend him, +living, as he was, amidst his own; but still, she said that of the +journey or its difficulties she should never waste a thought, if her +presence at his sick-bed could afford him the slightest satisfaction. +“He knows me as a nurse already,” said she. “But tell him that I have +grown, if not wiser, calmer and quieter than he knew me formerly; that +I should not disturb him by foolish stories, but sit patiently save when +he would have me to talk. Tell him, too, that if changed in many things, +in my love to_ him_ I am unaltered.” She tried to add more, but could +not. The thought that these lines were to be read to her uncle by Lady +Dorothea chilled her, and the very tones of that supercilious voice +seemed to ring in her ears, and she imagined some haughty or insolent +comment to follow them as they were uttered. + +With regard to her own future, she, in a few words, remarked upon the +unnecessary expense of maintaining a large house for the accommodation +of a single person, and said that, if her Ladyship concurred in the +plan, she would prefer taking up her home at the Chalet with old Catty +for companion and housekeeper. + +She pointed out the advantages of a change which, while securing a +comfortable home to them, would equally suggest to their dependants +lessons of thrift and self-sacrifice, and added, half sportively, “As +for me, when I find myself _en Suisse_, I 'm sure I shall less regret +horses and dogs, and such-like vanities, and take to the delights of +a dairy and cream cheeses with a good grace. Indeed, I 'm not quite +certain but that Fortune, instead of displacing, will in reality be +only installing me in the position best suited to me. Do not, then, be +surprised, if at your return you find me in sabots and an embroidered +bodice, deep in the mystery of all cottage economics, and well content +to be so. + +“You are quite right, my dear aunt,” she continued, “not to entertain +me with politics. The theme is as much above as it is distasteful to +me; and so grovelling are my sentiments, that I 'd rather hear of +the arrival of a cargo of oatmeal at Kilkieran than learn that the +profoundest statesman of Great Britain had condescended to stand for +our dear borough of Oughterard. At the same time, if Cousin Harry should +change his mind, and turn his ambition towards the Senate, tell him I +'m quite ready to turn out and canvass for him to-morrow, and that the +hospitalities of the Chalet shall do honor to the cause. As you speak +of sending for Mr. Scanlan, I leave to him to tell you all the events of +our late assizes here,--a task I escape from the more willingly, since +I have no successes to record. Mr. Repton, however,--he paid me a visit +yesterday, and stopped here to dinner,--says that he has no fears for +the result at the next trial, and honestly confesses that our present +defeat was entirely owing to the skill and ability of the counsel +opposed to us. By some delay or mistake, I don't exactly know which, +Scanlan omitted to send a retainer to young Mr. Nelligan, and who, being +employed for the other side, was the chief cause of our failure. My +uncle will be pleased to learn that Mr. N.'s address to the jury was +scrupulously free from any of that invective or attack so frequently +levelled at landlords when defending the rights of property. Repton +called it 'a model of legal argument, delivered with the eloquence of a +first-rate speaker, and the taste and temper of a gentleman.' Indeed, +I understand that the tone of the speech has rendered all the ribaldry +usual on such occasions in local journals impossible, and that the young +barrister has acquired anything but popularity in consequence. Even +in this much, is there a dawn of better things; and under such +circumstances a defeat may be more profitable than a victory.” + +With a few kind messages to her uncle, and an earnest entreaty for +early tidings of his state, Mary concluded a letter in which her great +difficulty lay in saying far less than her thoughts dictated, and +conveying as much as she dare trust to Lady Dorothea's interpretation. +The letter concluded and sealed, she lay down, dressed as she was, on +her bed, and fell a-thinking over the future. + +There are natures to whom the opening of any new vista in life suggests +fully as much of pleasure as anxiety. The prospect of the unknown and +the untried has something of the adventurous about it which more than +counterbalances the casualties of a future. Such a temperament was hers; +and the first sense of sorrowful indignation over, she really began +to speculate upon her cottage life with a certain vague and dreamy +enjoyment. She foresaw, that when Cro' Martin Castle fell into other +hands, that her own career ceased, her occupation was gone, and that +she should at once fashion out some new road, and conform herself to new +habits. The cares of her little household would probably not suffice to +engage one whose active mind had hitherto embraced so wide a field of +action, and Mary then bethought her how this leisure might be devoted to +study and improvement. It was only in the eager enthusiasm of her many +pursuits that she buried her sorrows over her neglected and imperfect +education; and now a time was approaching when that reflection could no +longer be resisted. She pondered long and deeply over these thoughts, +when suddenly they were interrupted; but in what way, deserves a chapter +of its own,--albeit a very brief one. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. MR. MERL'S EXPERIENCES IN THE WEST + +“What card is this?--who left it?” said Mary, as she took up one from +her breakfast-table. + +“It is a gentleman that came to the inn late last night, miss, and sent +a boy over to ask when he could pay his respects at the castle.” + +“'Mr. Herman Merl,'--a name I never heard of,” muttered Mary to herself. +“Doubtless some stranger wishing to see the house. Say, whenever he +pleases, George; and order Sorrel to be ready, saddled and at the door, +within an hour. This must be a busy day,” said she, still speaking to +herself, as the servant left the room. “At Oughterard before one; a +meeting of the Loan Fund--I shall need some aid for my hospital; the +Government order for the meal to be countersigned by a justice--Mr. +Nelligan will do it. Then there 's Taite's little boy to be balloted +for in the Orphan House; and Cassidy's son to be sent up to Dublin. +Poor fellow, he has a terrible operation to go through. And I shall +need Priest Rafferty's name to this memorial from the widows; the castle +authorities seem to require it. After that, a visit to Kyle-a-Noe, to +see all my poor sick folk: that will be a long business. I hope I may be +able to get down to the shore and learn some tidings of poor Joan. She +never leaves my thoughts, and yet I feel that no ill has befallen her.” + +“The gentleman that sent the card, miss, is below stairs. He is with Mr. +Crow, at the hall-door,” said George. + +“Show him into the drawing-room, George, and tell Mr. Crow to come here, +I wish to speak to him.” And before Mary had put away the papers and +letters which littered the table, the artist entered. + +“Good morning, Mr. Crow,” said Mary, in return for a number of most +courteous salutations, which he was performing in a small semicircle in +front of her. “Who is your friend Mr.--'Mr. Herman Merl '?” read she, +taking up the card. + +“A friend of your cousin's, Miss Mary,--of the Captain's. He brought a +letter from him; but he gave it to Scanlan, and somehow Mr. Maurice, I +believe, forgot to deliver it.” + +“I have no recollection of it,” said she, still assorting the papers +before her. “What is this visit meant for,--curiosity, pleasure, +business? Does he wish to see the house?” + +“I think it's Miss Martin herself he'd like to see,” said Crow, half +slyly. + +“But why so? It's quite clear that I cannot show him any attentions. A +young girl, living as I do here, cannot be expected to receive guests. +Besides, I have other things to attend to. You must do the honors of +Cro' Martin, Mr. Crow. You must entertain this gentleman for me. I 'll +order luncheon before I go out, and I 'm sure you 'll not refuse me this +service.” + +“I wish I knew a real service to render you, Miss Mary,” said he, with +unfeigned devotedness in his look as he spoke. + +“I think I could promise myself as much,” said Mary, smiling kindly on +him. “Do you happen to know anything of this stranger, Mr. Crow?” + +“Nothing, miss, beyond seeing him this week back at Kilkieran.” + +“Oh, I have heard of him, then,” broke in Mary. “It is of him the people +tell me such stories of benevolence and goodness. It was he that sent +the yawl out to Murran Island with oatmeal and potatoes for the poor. +But I thought they called him Mr. Barry?” + +“To be sure they do; and he's another guess man from him below stairs. +This one here”--Mr. Crow now spoke in a whisper--“this one here is a +Jew, I 'd take the Testament on it, and I 'd not be surprised if he was +one of them thieving villains that they say robbed the Captain! All the +questions he does be asking about the property, and the rents, if they +'re well paid, and what arrears there are, shows me that he isn't here +for nothing.” + +“I know nothing of what you allude to, Mr. Crow,” said she, half +proudly; “it would ill become _me_ to pry into my cousin's affairs. At +the same time, if the gentleman has no actual business with me, I shall +decline to receive him.” + +“He says he has, miss,” replied Crow. “He says that he wants to speak to +you about a letter he got by yesterday's post from the Captain.” + +Mary heard this announcement with evident impatience; her head was, +indeed, too full of other cares to wish to occupy her attention with a +ceremonial visit. She was in no mood to accept the unmeaning compliments +of a new acquaintance. Shall we dare to insinuate, what after all is +a mere suspicion on our part, that a casual glance at her pale cheeks, +sunken eyes, and careworn features had some share in the obstinacy of +her refusal? She was not, indeed, “in looks,” and she knew it. “Must I +repeat it, Mr. Crow,” said she, peevishly, “that you can do all this for +me, and save me a world of trouble and inconvenience besides? If there +should be--a very unlikely circumstance--anything confidential to +communicate, this gentleman may write it.” And with this she left the +room, leaving poor Mr. Crow in a state of considerable embarrassment. +Resolving to make the best of his difficulty, he returned to the +drawing-room, and apologizing to Merl for Miss Martin's absence on +matters of great necessity, he conveyed her request that he would stop +for luncheon. + +“She ain't afraid of me, I hope?” said Merl. + +“I trust not. I rather suspect she is little subject to fear upon any +score,” replied Crow. + +“Well, I must say it's not exactly what I expected. The letter I hold +here from the Captain gives me to understand that his cousin will not +only receive me, but confer with and counsel me, too, in a somewhat +important affair.” + +“Oh, I forgot,” broke in Crow; “you are to write to her, she said,--that +is, if there really were anything of consequence, which you deemed +confidential, you know,--you were to write to her.” + +“I never put my hand to paper, Mr. Crow, without well knowing why. When +Herman Merl signs anything, he takes time to consider what's in it,” + said the Jew, knowingly. + +“Well, shall I show you the house,--there are some clever specimens of +the Dutch masters here?” asked Crow, anxious to change the topic. + +“Ay, with all my heart. I suppose I must accept this privilege as my +experience of the much-boasted Irish hospitality,” said he with a sneer, +which required all Crow's self-control to resist answering. To master +the temptation, and give himself a few moments' repose, he went about +opening windows and drawing back curtains, so as to admit a fuller and +stronger light upon the pictures along the walls. + +“There now,” said he, pointing to a large landscape, “there's a Both, +and a fine one too; as mellow in color and as soft in distance as ever +he painted.” + +“That's a copy,” said the other. “That picture was painted by Woeffel, +and I 'll show you his initials, too, A. W., before we leave it.” + +“It came from the Dordrecht gallery, and is an undoubted Both!” + exclaimed Crow, angrily. + +“I saw it there myself, and in very suitable company, too, with a +Snyders on one side and a Rubens on t' other, the Snyders being a Faltk, +and the Rubens a Metziger; the whole three being positively dear at +twenty pounds. Ay, here it is,” continued he, pointing to the hollow +trunk of a decayed tree: “there's the initials. So much for your +original by Both.” + +“I hope you'll allow that to be a Mieris?” said Crow, passing on to +another. + +“If you hadn't opened the shutters, perhaps I might,” said Merl; “but +with a good dash of light I see it is by Jansens,--and a clever copy, +too.” + +“A copy!” exclaimed the other. + +“A good copy,” I said. “The King of Bavaria has the original. It is in the +small collection at Hohen Schwangau.” + +“There, that's good!” cried he, turning to a small unfinished sketch in +oils. + +“I often wondered who did it,” cried Crow. + +“That! Why, can you doubt, sir? That's a bit of Vandyke's own. It was +one of the hundred and fifty rough things he threw off as studies for +his great picture of St. Martin parting his cloak.” + +“I'm glad to hear you say so,” said Crow, in delight. “I felt, when I +looked at it, that it was a great hand threw in them colors.” + +“You call this a Salvator Rosa, don't you?” said Merl, as he stood +before a large piece representing a bandit's bivouac in a forest, with a +pale moonlight stealing through the trees. + +“Yes, that we do,” said Crow, stoutly. + +“Of course, it's quite sufficient to have blended lights, rugged +foregrounds, and plenty of action to make a Salvator; but let me tell +you, sir, that it's not even a copy of him. It is a bad--ay, and a very +bad--Haemlens,--an Antwerp fellow that lived by poor facsimiles.” + +“Oh dear, oh dear!” cried Crow, despairingly. “Did I ever hear the like +of this!” + +“Are these your best things, Mr. Crow?” said Merl, surveying the room +with an air of consummate depreciation. + +“There are others. There are some portraits and a number of small +cabinet pictures.” + +“Gerard Dows, and Jansens, and such like?” resumed Merl; “I understand: +a mellow brown tint makes them, just as a glossy white satin petticoat +makes a Terburg. Mr. Crow, you 've caught a Tartar,” said he, with a +grin. “There's not a man in Europe can detect a copy from the original +sooner than him before you. Now seven out of every eight of these here +are veritable 'croûtes,'--what we call 'croûtes,' sir,--things sold at +Christie's, and sent off to the Continent to be hung up in old châteaux +in Flanders, or dilapidated villas in Italy, where your exploring +Englishman discovers them by rare good luck, and brings them home with +him as Cuyps or Claudes or Vandykes. I'll undertake,” said he, looking +around him,--“I'll undertake to furnish you with a gallery, in every +respect the duplicate of this, for--let me see--say three hundred +pounds. Now, Mr. Crow,” said Merl, taking a chair, and spreading out his +legs before the fire, “will you candidly answer me one question?” + +“Tell me what it is,” said Crow, cautiously. + +“I suppose by this time,” said Merl, “you are tolerably well satisfied +that Herman Merl is not very easily duped? I mean to say that at least +there are _softer_ fellows to be found than the humble individual who +addresses you.” + +“I trust there are, indeed,” said the other, sighing, “or it would be a +mighty poor world for Simmy Crow and the likes of him.” + +“Well, I think so too,” said Merl, chuckling to himself. “The wide-awake +ones have rather the best of it. But, to come back to my question, I +was simply going to ask you if the whole of the Martin estate--house, +demesne, woods, gardens, quarries, farms, and fisheries--was not pretty +much of the same sort of thing as this here gallery?” + +“How? What do you mean?” asked Crow, whose temper was barely, and with +some difficulty, restrainable. + +“I mean, in plain words, a regular humbug,--that's all! and no more the +representative of real value than these daubs here are the works of the +great masters whose names they counterfeit.” + +“Look here, sir,” said Crow, rising, and approaching the other with a +face of angry indignation, “for aught I know, you may be right about +these pictures. The chances are you are a dealer in such wares,--at +least you talk like one,--but of the family that lived under this roof, +and whose bread I have eaten for many a day, if you utter one word that +even borders on disrespect,--if you as much as hint at--” + +What was to be the conclusion of Mr. Crow's menace we have no means of +recording, for a servant, rushing in at the instant, summoned the artist +with all speed to Miss Martin's presence. He found her, as he entered, +with flushed cheeks and eyes flashing angrily, in one of the deep +recesses of a window that looked out upon the lawn. + +“Come here, sir,” cried she, hurriedly,--“come here, and behold a sight +such as you scarcely ever thought to look upon from these windows. Look +here!” And she pointed to an assemblage of about a hundred people, +many of whom were rudely armed with stakes, gathered around the chief +entrance of the castle. In the midst was a tall man, mounted upon a +wretched horse, who seemed from his gestures to be haranguing the mob, +and whom Crow speedily recognized to be Magennis of Barnagheela. + +“What does all this mean?” asked he, in astonishment. + +“It means this, sir,” said she, grasping his arm and speaking in a voice +thick from passionate eagerness. “That these people whom you see there +have demanded the right to enter the house and search it from basement +to roof. They are in quest of one that is missing; and although I have +given my word of honor that none such is concealed here, they have dared +to disbelieve me, and declare they will see for themselves. They might +know me better,” added she, with a bitter smile,--“they might know me +better, and that I no more utter a falsehood than I yield to a menace. +See!” exclaimed she, “they are passing through the flower-garden,--they +are approaching the lower windows. Take a horse, Mr. Crow, and ride for +Kiltimmon; there is a police-station there,--bring up the force with +you,--lose no time, I entreat you.” + +“But how--leave you here all alone?” + +“Have no fears on that score, sir,” said she, proudly; “they may insult +the roof that shelters me, to myself they will offer no outrage. But be +quick; away at once, and with speed!” + +Had Mr. Crow been, what it must be owned had been difficult, a worse +horseman than he was, he would never have hesitated to obey this behest. +Ere many minutes, therefore, he was in the saddle and flying across +country at a pace such as he never imagined any energy could have +exacted from him. + +“They have got a ladder up to the windows of the large drawing-room, +Miss Mary,” said a servant; “they'll be in before many minutes.” + +Taking down two splendidly ornamented pistols from above the +chimney-piece, Mary examined the priming, and ordering the servant away, +she descended by a small private stair to the drawing-room beneath. +Scarcely, however, had she crossed the threshold than she was met by +a man eagerly hurrying away. Stepping back in astonishment, and with a +face pale as death, he exclaimed, “Is it Miss Martin?” + +“Yes, sir,” replied she, firmly; “and your name?” + +“Mr. Merl--Herman Merl,” said he, with a stealthy glance towards +the windows, on the outside of which two fellows were now seated, +communicating with those below. + +“This is not a moment for much ceremony, sir,” said she, promptly; “but +you are here opportunely. These people will have it that I am harboring +here one that they are in pursuit of. I have assured them of their +error, I have pledged my word of honor upon it, but they are not +satisfied. They declare that they will search the house, and _I_ as +firmly declare they-shall not.” + +“But the person is really not here?” broke in Merl. + +“I have said so, sir,” rejoined she, haughtily. + +“Then why not let them search? Egad, I'd say, look away to your heart's +content, pry into every hole and corner you please, only don't do any +mischief to the furniture--don't let any--” + +“I was about to ask your assistance, sir, but your counsel saves me from +the false step. To one who proffers such wise advice, arguments like +these”--and she pointed to the pistols--“arguments like these would be +most distasteful; and yet let us see if others may not be of your mind +too.” And steadily aiming her weapon for a second or two, she sent +a ball through the window, about a foot above the head of one of the +fellows without. Scarcely had the report rung out and the splintering +glass fallen, than the two men leaped to the ground, while a wild cheer, +half derision, half anger, burst from the mob beneath. “Now, sir,” + continued she, with a smile of a very peculiar meaning, as she turned +towards Merl,--“now, sir, you will perceive that you have got into very +indiscreet company, such as I 'm sure Captain Martin's letter never +prepared you for; and although it is not exactly in accordance with the +usual notions of Irish hospitality to point to the door, perhaps you +will be grateful to me when I say that you can escape by that corridor. +It leads to a stair which will conduct you to the stable-yard. I'll +order a saddle-horse for you. I suppose you ride?” And really the glance +which accompanied these words was not a flattery. + +[Illustration: 222] + +However the proposition might have met Mr.' Merl's wishes there is no +means of knowing, for a tremendous crash now interrupted the colloquy, +and the same instant the door of the drawing-room was burst open, and +Magennis, followed by a number of country people, entered. + +“I told you,” cried he, rudely, “that I'd not be denied. It's your own +fault if you would drive me to enter here by force.” + +“Well, sir, force has done it,” said she, taking a seat as she spoke. “I +am here alone, and you may be proud of the achievement!” The glance she +directed towards Merl made that gentleman shrink back, and eventually +slide noiselessly from the room, and escape from the scene altogether. + +“If you'll send any one with me through the house, Miss Martin,” began +Magennis, in a tone of much subdued meaning--“No, sir,” broke she +in--“no, sir, I'll give no such order. You have already had my solemn +word of honor, assuring you that there was not any one concealed +here. The same incredulous disrespect you have shown to my word would +accompany whatever direction I gave to my servants. Go wherever you +please; for the time you are the master here. Mark me, sir,” said she, +as, half crestfallen and in evident shame, he was about to move from +the room--“mark me, sir, if I feel sorry that one who calls himself +a gentleman should dishonor his station by discrediting the word, the +plighted word, of a lady, yet I can forgive much to him whose feelings +are under the impulse of passion. But how shall I speak my contempt +for _you_,”--and she turned a withering look of scorn on the men who +followed him,--“for you, who have dared to come here to insult me,--I, +that if you had the least spark of honest manhood in your natures, you +had died rather than have offended? Is this your requital for the part I +have borne amongst you? Is it thus that you repay the devotion by which +I have squandered all that I possessed, and would have given my life, +too, for you and yours? Is it thus, think you, that your mothers and +wives and sisters would requite me? Or will they welcome you back from +your day's work, and say, Bravely done? You have insulted a lone girl in +her home, outraged the roof whence she never issued save to serve you, +and taught her to believe that the taunts your enemies cast upon you, +and which she once took as personal affronts to herself, that they are +just and true, and as less than you merited. Go back, men,” added she, +in a voice trembling with emotion,--“go back, while it is time. Go back +in shame, and let me never know who has dared to offer me this insult!” + And she hid her face between her hands, and bent down her head upon her +lap. For several minutes she remained thus, overwhelmed and absorbed by +intensely painful emotion, and when she lifted up her head, and looked +around, they were gone! A solemn silence reigned on every side; not a +word, nor a footfall, could be heard. She rushed to the window just in +time to see a number of men slowly entering the wood, amidst whom she +recognized Magennis, leading his horse by the bridle, and following the +others, with bent-down head and sorrowful mien. + +“Oh, thank Heaven for this!” cried she, passionately, as the tears +gushed out and coursed down her face. “Thank Heaven that they are not as +others call them--cold-hearted and treacherous, craven in their hour of +trial, and cruel in the day of their vengeance! I knew them better!” + It was long before she could sufficiently subdue her emotion to think +calmly of what had occurred. At last she bethought her of Mr. Merl, and +despatched a servant in his pursuit, with a polite request that he would +return. The man came up with Merl as he had reached the small gate +of the park, but no persuasions, no entreaties, could prevail on that +gentleman to retrace his steps; nay, he was frank enough to say, “He +had seen quite enough of the West,” and to invoke something very unlike +benediction on his head if he ever passed another day in Galway. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. MR. MERL'S “LAST” IRISH IMPRESSION + +Never once turning his head towards Cro' Martin, Mr. Merl set out for +Oughterard, where, weary and footsore, he arrived that same evening. His +first care was to take some refreshment; his next to order horses for +Dublin early for the following morning. This done, he sat down to write +to Captain Martin, to convey to him what Merl designated as a “piece of +his mind,” a phrase which, in popular currency, is always understood to +imply the very reverse of any flattery. The truth was, Mr. Merl began to +suspect that his Irish liens were a very bad investment, that property +in that country was held under something like a double title, the one +conferred by law, the other maintained by a resolute spirit and a stout +heart; that parchments required to be seconded by pistols, and that he +who owned an estate must always hold himself in readiness to fight for +it. + +Now, these were all very unpalatable considerations. They rendered +possession perilous, they made sale almost impossible. In the cant +phrase of Ceylon, the Captain had sold him a wild elephant; or, to speak +less figuratively, disposed of what he well knew the purchaser could +never avail himself of. If Mr. Merl was an emblem of blandness and good +temper at the play-table, courteous and conceding at every incident of +the game, it was upon the very wise calculation that the politeness was +profitable. The little irregularities that he pardoned all gave him an +insight into the character of his antagonists; and where he appeared to +have lost a battle, he had gained more than a victory in knowledge of +the enemy. + +These blandishments were, however, no real part of the man's natural +temperament, which was eminently distrustful and suspicious, wary to +detect a blot, prompt and sharp to hit it. A vague, undefined impression +had now come over him that the Captain had overreached him; that even if +unincumbered,--which was far from the case,--this same estate was like a +forfeited territory, which to own a man must assert his mastery with the +strong hand of force. “I should like to see myself settling down amongst +those savages,” thought he, “collecting my rents with dragoons, or +levying a fine with artillery. Property, indeed! You might as well +convey to me by bill of sale the right over a drove of wild buffaloes in +South America, or give me a title to a given number of tigers in Bengal. +He'd be a bold man that would even venture to come and have a look at +'his own.'” + +It was in this spirit, therefore, that he composed his epistle, which +assuredly lacked nothing on the score of frankness and candor. All his +“Irish impressions” had been unfavorable. He had eaten badly, he had +slept worse; the travelling was rude, the climate detestable; and +lastly, where he had expected to have been charmed with the ready +wit, and amused with the racy humor of the people, he had only been +terrified--terrified almost to death--by their wild demeanor, and a +ferocity that made his heart quake. “Your cousin,” said he,--“your +cousin, whom, by the way, I only saw for a few minutes, seemed admirably +adapted to the exigencies of the social state around her; and although +ball practice has not been included amongst the ordinary items of young +ladies' acquirements, I am satisfied that it might advantageously form +part of an Irish education. + +“As to your offer of a seat in Parliament, I can only say,” continued +he, “that as the Member of Oughterard I should always feel as though I +were seated over a barrel of gunpowder; while the very idea of meeting +my constituency makes me shudder. I am, however, quite sensible of +the honor intended me, both upon that score and in your proposal of +my taking up my residence at Cro' Martin. The social elevation, and +so forth, to ensue from such a course of proceeding would have this +disadvantage,--it would not pay! No, Captain Martin, the settlement +between us must stand upon another basis,--the very simple and +matter-of-fact one called £ s. d. I shall leave this to-morrow, and +be in town, I hope, by Wednesday; you can, therefore, give your man of +business, Mr. Saunders, his instructions to meet me at Wimpole's, and +state what terms of liquidation he is prepared to offer. Suffice it for +the present to say that I decline any arrangement which should transfer +to me any portion of the estate. I declare to you, frankly, I'd +not accept the whole of it on the condition of retaining the +proprietorship.” + +When Mr. Merl had just penned the last sentence, the door slowly and +cautiously was opened behind him, and a very much carbuncled face +protruded into the room. “Yes, that's himself,” muttered a voice; and +ere Merl had been able to detect the speaker, the door was closed. These +casual interruptions to his privacy had so frequently occurred since the +commencement of his tour, that he only included them amongst his other +Irish “disagreeables;” and so he was preparing to enter on another +paragraph, when a very decisive knock at the door startled him, and +before he could say “Come in,” a tall, red-faced, vulgar-looking man, +somewhat stooped in the shoulders, and with that blear-eyed watery +expression so distinctive in hard drinkers, slowly entered, and shutting +the door behind him, advanced to the fire. + +“My name, sir, is Brierley,” said he, with a full, rich brogue. + +“Brierley--Brierley--never heard of Brierley before,” said Mr. Merl, +affecting a flippant ease that was very remote from his heart. + +“Better late than never, sir,” rejoined the other, coolly seating +himself, and crossing his arms on his breast. “I have come here on the +part of my friend Tom,--Mr. Magennis, I mean,--of Barnagheela, who told +me to track you out.” + +“Much obliged, I'm sure, for the attention,” said Merl, with an assumed +smartness. + +“That 's all right; so you should,” continued Brierley. “Tom told +me that you were present at Cro' Martin when he was outraged and +insulted,--by a female of course, or he wouldn't be making a complaint +of it now,--and as he is not the man that ever lay under a thing of the +kind, or ever will, he sent me here to you, to arrange where you 'd like +to have it, and when.” + +“To have what?” asked Merl, with a look of unfeigned terror. + +“Baythershin! how dull we are!” said Mr. Brierley, with a finger to his +very red nose. “Sure it's not thinking of the King's Bench you are, that +you want me to speak clearer.” + +“I want to know your meaning, sir,--if you have a meaning.” + +“Be cool, honey; keep yourself cool. Without you happen to find that +warmth raises your heart, I 'd say again, be cool. I've one simple +question to ask you,”--here he dropped his voice to a low, cautious +whisper,--“Will ye blaze?” + +“Will I what?” cried Merl. + +Mr. Brierley arose, and drawing himself up to his full height, extended +his arm in the attitude of one taking aim with a pistol. “Eh!” cried he, +“you comprehend me now, don't you?” + +“Fight--fight a duel!” exclaimed Merl, aloud. + +“Whisht! whisht! speak lower,” said Brierley; “there's maybe a chap +listening at the door this minute!” + +Accepting the intimation in a very different spirit from that in +which it was offered, Merl rushed to the door, and threw it wide open. +“Waiter!--landlord!--house!--waiter!” screamed he, at the top of his +voice. And in an instant three or four slovenly-looking fellows, with +dirty napkins in dirtier hands, surrounded him. + +“What is it, your honer?--what is it?” asked they, in a breath. + +“Don't you hear what the gentleman's asking for?” said Brierley, with a +half-serious face. “He wants a chaise-to the door as quick as lightning. +He 's off this minute.” + +“Yes, by Jupiter! that I am,” said Merl, wiping the perspiration from +his forehead. + +“Take your last look at the West, dear, as you pass the Shannon, for I +don't think you 'll ever come so far again,” said Brierley, with a grin, +as he moved by him to descend the stairs. + +“If I do, may--” But the slam of his room-door, and the rattle of the +key as he locked it, cut short Mr. Merl's denunciation. + +In less than half an hour afterwards a yellow post-chaise left the +“Martin Arms” at full speed, a wild yell of insult and derision greeting +it as it swept by, showing how the Oughterard public appreciated its +inmate! + + + +CHAPTER XX. SOMETHING NOT EXACTLY FLIRTATION. + +Most travelled reader, have you ever stood upon the plateau at the foot +of the Alten-Schloss in Baden, just before sunset, and seen the golden +glory spread out like a sheen over the vast plain beneath you, with +waving forests, the meandering Rhine, and the blue Vosges mountains +beyond all? It is a noble landscape, where every feature is bold, and +throughout which light and shade alternate in broad, effective masses, +showing that you are gazing on a scene of great extent, and taking in +miles of country with your eye. It is essentially German, too, in its +characteristics. The swelling undulations of the soil, the deep, dark +forests, the picturesque homesteads, with shadowy eaves and carved +quaint balconies, the great gigantic wagons slowly toiling through the +narrow lanes, over which the “Lindens” spread a leafy canopy,--all are +of the Vaterland. + +Some fancied resemblance--it was in reality no more--to a view from a +window at Cro' Martin had especially endeared this spot to Martin, who +regularly was carried up each evening to pass an hour or so, dreaming +away in that half-unconsciousness to which his malady had reduced him. +There he sat, scarcely a remnant of his former self, a leaden dulness +in his eye, and a massive immobility in the features which once were +plastic with every passing mood that stirred him. The clasped hands and +slightly bent-down head gave a character of patient, unresisting meaning +to his figure, which the few words he dropped from time to time seemed +to confirm. + +At a little distance off, and on the very verge of the cliff, Kate +Henderson was seated sketching; and behind her, occasionally turning to +walk up and down the terraced space, was Massingbred, once more in full +health, and bearing in appearance the signs of his old, impatient humor. +Throwing away his half-smoked cigar, and with a face whose expression +betokened the very opposite of all calm and ease of mind, he drew nigh +to where she sat, and watched her over her shoulder. For a while she +worked away without noticing his presence. At last she turned slightly +about, and looking up at him, said, “You see, it's very nearly +finished.” + +[Illustration: 232] + +“Well, and what then?” asked he, bluntly. + +“Do you forget that I gave you until that time to change your opinion? +that when I was shadowing in this foreground I said, 'Wait 'till I have +done this sketch, and see if you be of the same mind,' and you agreed?” + +“This might be very pleasant trifling if nothing were at stake, Miss +Henderson,” said he; “but remember that I cannot hold all my worldly +chances as cheaply as _you_ seem to do them.” + +“Light another cigar, and sit down here beside me,--I don't dislike +smoke, and it may, perchance, be a peace calumet between us; and let us +talk, if possible, reasonably and calmly.” + +He obeyed like one who seemed to feel that her word was a command, and +sat down on the cliff at her side. + +“There, now,” said she, “be useful; hold that color-case for me, and +give me your most critical counsel. Do you like my sketch?” + +“Very much indeed.” + +“Where do you find fault with it? There must be a fault, or your +criticism is worth nothing.” + +“Its greatest blemish in my eyes is the time it has occupied you. Since +you began it you have very rarely condescended to speak of anything +else.” + +“A most unjust speech, and an ungrateful one. It was when throwing in +those trees yonder, I persuaded you to recall your farewell address to +your borough friends; it was the same day that I sketched that figure +there, that I showed you the great mistake of your present life. There +is no greater error, believe me, than supposing that a Parliamentary +success, like a social one, can be achieved by mere brilliancy. Party +is an army, and you must serve in the ranks before you can wear your +epaulets.” + +“I have told you already,--I tell you again,--I 'm tired of the theme +that has myself alone for its object.” + +“Of whom would you speak, then?” said she, still intently busied with +her drawing. + +“You ask me when you know well of whom,” said he, hurriedly. “Nay, no +menaces; I could not if I would be silent. It is impossible for me any +longer to continue this struggle with myself. Here now, before I leave +this spot, you shall answer me--” He stopped suddenly, as though he had +said more than he intended, or more than he well knew how to continue. + +“Go on,” said she, calmly. And her fingers never trembled as they held +the brush. + +“I confess I do envy that tranquil spirit of yours,” said he, bitterly. +“It is such a triumph to be calm, cold, and impassive at a moment when +others feel their reason tottering and their brain a chaos.” + +“There is nothing so easy, sir,” said she, proudly. “All that I can +boast of is not to have indulged in illusions which seem to have a charm +for _you_. You say you want explicit-ness. You shall have it. There was +one condition on which I offered you my friendship and my advice. You +accepted the bargain, and we were friends. After a while you came and +said that you rued your compact; that you discovered your feelings for +me went further; that mere friendship, as you phrased it, would not +suffice--” + +“I told you, rather,” broke he in, “that I wished to put that feeling to +the last test, by linking your fortune with my own forever.” + +“Very well, I accept that version. You offered to make me your wife, and +in return, I asked you to retract your words,--to suffer our relations +to continue on their old footing, nor subject me to the necessity of an +explanation painful to both of us. For a while you consented; now you +seem impatient at your concession, and ask me to resume the subject. Be +it so, but for the last time.” + +Massingbred's cheeks grew deadly pale, but he never uttered a word. + +After a second's pause, she resumed: “Your affections are less engaged +in this case than you think. You would make me your wife just as you +would do anything else that gave a bold defiance to the world, to show +a consciousness of your own power, to break down any obstacle, and make +the prejudices or opinions of society give way before you. You have +energy and self-esteem enough to make this succeed. Your wife--albeit +the steward's daughter--the governess! would be received, invited, +visited, and the rest of it; and so far as _you_ were concerned the +triumph would be complete. Now, however, turn a little attention to the +other side of the medal. What is to requite _me_ for all this courtesy +on sufferance, all this mockery of consideration? Where am I to find my +friendships, where even discover my duties? You only know of one kind +of pride, that of station and social eminence. I can tell you there is +another, loftier far,--the consciousness that no inequality of position +can obliterate, what I feel and know in myself of superiority to those +fine ladies whose favorable notice you would entreat for me. Smile at +the vanity of this declaration if you like, sir, but, at least, own +that I am consistent; for I am prouder in the independence of my present +dependence than I should be in all the state of Mr. Massingbred's wife. +You can see, therefore, that I could not accept this change as the great +elevation you would deem it. You would be stooping to raise one who +could never persuade herself that she was exalted. I am well aware that +inequality of one sort or another is the condition of most marriages. +The rank of one compensates for the wealth of the other. Here it is +affluence and age, there it is beauty and poverty. People treat the +question in a good commercial spirit, and balance the profit and loss +like tradesfolk; but even in this sense our compact would be impossible, +since _you_ would endow me with what has no value in my eyes, and _I_, +worse off still, have absolutely nothing to give in return.” + +“Give me your love, dearest Kate,” cried he, “and, supported by that, +you shall see that I deserve it. Believe me, it is your own proud spirit +that exaggerates the difficulties that would await us in society.” + +“I should scorn myself if I thought of them,” broke she in, haughtily; +“and remember, sir, these are not the words of one who speaks in +ignorance. I, too, have seen that great world, on which your affections +are so fixed. I have mixed with it, and know it. Notwithstanding all +the cant of moralists, I do not believe it to be more hollow or +more heartless than other classes. Its great besetting sin is not of +self-growth, for it comes of the slavish adulation offered by those +beneath it,--the grovelling worship of the would-be fine folk, who +would leave friends and home and hearth to be admitted even to the +antechambers of the great. They who offer up this incense are in my eyes +far more despicable than they who accept the sacrifice; but I would not +cast my lot with either. Do not smile, sir, as if these were high-flown +sentiments; they are the veriest commonplaces of one who loves +commonplace, who neither seeks affections with coronets nor friendships +in gold coaches, but who would still less be of that herd--mute, +astonished, and awe-struck--who worship them!” + +“You deem me, then, deficient in this same independence of spirit?” + cried Massingbred, half indignantly. + +“I certainly do not accept your intention of marrying beneath you as a +proof of it. Must I again tell you, sir, that in such cases it is the +poor, weak, patient, forgotten woman pays all the penalty, and that, in +the very conflict with the world the man has his reward?” + +“If you loved me, Kate,” said he, in a tone of deep sorrow, “it is not +thus you would discuss this question.” + +She made no reply, but bending down lower over her drawing, worked away +with increased rapidity. + +“Still,” cried he, passionately, “I am not to be deterred by a defeat. +Tell me, at least, how I can win that love, which is to me the great +prize of life. You read my faults, you see my shortcomings clearly +enough; be equally just, then, to anything there is of good or hopeful +about me. Do this, Kate, and I will put my fate upon the issue.” + +“In plain words,” said she, calmly, “you ask me what manner of man I +would consent to marry. I 'll tell you. One who with ability enough +to attain any station, and talents to gain any eminence, has lived +satisfied with that in which he was born; one who has made the +independence of his character so felt by the world that his actions have +been regarded as standards, a man of honor and of his word; employing +his knowledge of life, not for the purposes of overreaching, but for +self-correction and improvement; well bred enough to be a peer, simple +as a peasant; such a man, in fact, as could afford to marry a governess, +and, while elevating her to his station, never compromise his own with +his equals. I don't flatter myself,” said she, smiling, “that I 'm +likely to draw this prize; but I console myself by thinking that I could +not accept aught beneath it as great fortune. I see, sir, the humility +of my pretensions amuses you, and it is all the better for both of us if +we can treat these things jestingly.” + +“Nay, Kate, you are unfair--unjust,” broke in Mas-singbred. + +“Mr. Martin begins to feel it chilly, Miss Henderson,” said a servant at +this moment. “Shall we return to the hotel?” + +“Yes, by all means,” said she, rising hastily. The next instant she +was busily engaged shawling and muffling the sick man, who accepted her +attentions with the submissive-ness of a child. + +“That will do, Molly, thank you, darling,” said he, in a feeble voice; +“you are so kind, so good to me.” + +“The evening is fresh, sir, almost cold,” said she. + +“Yes, dear, the climate is not what it used to be. We have cut down +too many of those trees, Molly, yonder.” And he pointed with his thin +fingers towards the Rhine. “We have thinned the wood overmuch, but +they'll grow again, dear, though I shall not be here to see them.” + +“He thinks I am his niece,” whispered Kate, “and fancies himself at Cro' +Martin.” + +“I suppose they'll advise my trying a warm country, Molly, a milder +air,” muttered he, as they slowly carried him along. “But home, after +all, is home; one likes to see the old faces and the old objects around +them,--all the more when about to leave them forever!” And as the last +words came, two heavy tears stole slowly along his cheeks, and his +pale lips quivered with emotion. Now speaking in a low, weak voice to +himself, now sighing heavily, as though in deep depression, he was borne +along towards the hotel. Nor did the gay and noisy groups which thronged +the thoroughfares arouse him. He saw them, but seemed not to heed them. +His dreary gaze wandered over the brilliant panorama without interest or +speculation. Some painful and difficult thoughts, perhaps, did all these +unaccustomed sights and sounds bring across his mind, embarrassing him +to reconcile their presence with the scene he fancied himself beholding; +but even these impressions were faint and fleeting. + +As they turned to cross the little rustic bridge in front of the hotel, +a knot of persons moved off the path to make way for them, one of whom +fixed his eyes steadily on the sick man, gazing with the keen scrutiny +of intense interest; then suddenly recalling himself to recollection, he +hastily retreated within the group. + +“You are right,” muttered he to one near him, “he _is_ 'booked;' my bond +will come due before the month ends.” + +“And you'll be an estated gent, Herman, eh?” said a very dark-eyed, +hook-nosed man at his side. + +“Well, I hope I shall act the part as well as my neighbors,” said Mr. +Merl, with that mingled assurance and humility that made up his manner. + +“Was n't that Massingbred that followed them,--he that made the famous +speech the other day in Parliament?” + +“Yes,” said Merl. “I 've got a bit of 'stiff' with his endorsement in my +pocket this minute for one hundred and fifty.” + +“What's it worth, Merl?” + +“Perhaps ten shillings; but I 'd not part with it quite so cheaply. +He'll not always be an M.P., and we shall see if he can afford to +swagger by an old acquaintance without so much as a 'How d' ye do?'” + +“There, he is coming back again,” said the other. And at the same moment +Massingbred walked slowly up to the spot, his easy smile upon his face, +and his whole expression that of a careless, unburdened nature. + +“I just caught a glimpse of you as I passed, Merl,” said he, with a +familiar nod; “and you were exactly the man I wanted to see.” + +“Too much honor, sir,” said Merl, affecting a degree of haughty distance +at the familiarity of this address. + +Massingbred smiled at the mock dignity, and went on; “I have something +to say to you. Will you give me a call this evening at the Cour de Bade, +say about nine or half-past?” + +“I have an engagement this evening.” + +“Put it off, then, that's all, Master Merl, for mine is an important +matter, and very nearly concerns yourself.” + +Merl was silent. He would have liked much to display before his friends +a little of the easy dash and swagger that he had just been exhibiting, +to have shown them how cavalierly he could treat a rising statesman and +a young Parliamentary star of the first order; but the question crossed +him, Was it safe? what might the luxury cost him? “Am I to bring that +little acceptance of yours along with me?” said he, in a half whisper, +while a malicious sparkle twinkled in his eye. + +“Why not, man? Certainly, if it gives you the least pleasure in life; +only don't be later than half-past nine.” And with one of his sauciest +laughs Massingbred moved away, leaving the Jew very far from content +with “the situation.” + +Merl, however, soon rallied. He had been amusing his friends, just +before this interruption, with a narrative of his Irish journey: he now +resumed the theme. All that he found faulty, all even that he deemed new +or strange or unintelligible in that unhappy country, he had dressed up +in the charming colors of his cockney vocabulary, and his hearers were +worthy of him! There is but little temptation, however, to linger in +their company, and so we leave them. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. LADY DOROTHEA + +The Cour de Bade, at which excellent hotel the Martins were installed, +received on the day we have just chronicled a new arrival. He had come +by the diligence, one of that undistinguishable ten thousand England +sends off every week from her shores to represent her virtues or her +vices, her oddities, vulgarities, and pretensions, to the critical eyes +of continental Europe. + +Perfectly innocent of any foreign language, and with a delightful +ambiguity as to the precise geography of where he stood, he succeeded, +after some few failures, in finding out where the Martins stopped, and +had now sent up his name to Lady Dorothea, that name being “Mr. Maurice +Scanlan.” + +Lady Dorothea Martin had given positive orders that except in the +particular case of this individual she was not to be interrupted by any +visitor. She glanced her eye at the card, and then handed it across the +table to her son, who coolly read it, and threw it from him with the air +of one saying to himself, “Here's more of it! more complication, more +investigation, deeper research into my miserable difficulties, and +consequently more unhappiness.” The table at which they were seated was +thickly covered with parchments, papers, documents, and letters of every +shape and size. There were deeds, and bonds, and leases, rent-rolls, +and valuations, and powers of attorney, and all the other imposing +accessories of estated property. There were also voluminous bills of +costs, formidable long columns of figures, “carried over” and “carried +over” till the very eye of the reader wearied of the dread numerals and +turned recklessly to meet the awful total at the bottom! Terrified by +the menacing applications addressed to Mr. Martin on his son's account, +and which arrived by every post, Lady Dorothea had resolved upon herself +entering upon the whole state of the Captain's liabilities, as well as +the complicated questions of the property generally. + +Distrust of her own powers was not in the number of her Ladyship's +defects. Sufficiently affluent to be always able to surround herself +with competent subordinates, she fancied--a not very uncommon error, by +the way--that she individually accomplished all that she had obtained +through another. Her taste in the fine arts, her skill in music, her +excellence as a letter-writer, were all accomplishments in this wise; +and it is not improbable that, had she been satisfied to accept her +success in finance through a similar channel, the result might have +proved just as fortunate. A shrinking dislike, however, to expose the +moneyed circumstances of the family, and a feeling of dread as to the +possible disclosures which should come out, prevented her from accepting +such co-operation. She had, therefore, addressed herself to the task +with no other aid than that of her son,--a partnership, it must be +owned, which relieved her very little of her burden. + +Had the Captain been called away from the pleasures and amusements +of life to investigate the dry records of some far-away cousin's +embarrassments,--to dive into the wearisome narrative of +money-borrowing, bill-renewing, and the rest of it, by one whom he had +scarcely known or seen,--his manner and bearing could not possibly +have betrayed stronger signs of utter weariness and apathy than he +now exhibited. Smoking his cigar, and trimming his nails with a +very magnificent penknife, he gave short and listless replies to her +Ladyship's queries, and did but glance at the papers which from time to +time she handed to him for explanation or inquiry. + +“So he is come at last!” exclaimed she, as the Captain threw down the +visiting-card. “Shall we see him at once?” + +“By Jove! I think we've had enough of 'business,' as they call it, for +one morning,” cried he. “Here have we been since a little after eleven, +and it is now four, and I am as sick of accounts and figures as though I +were a Treasury clerk.” + +“We have done next to nothing, after all!” said she, peevishly. + +“And I told you as much when you began,” said he, lighting a fresh +cigar. “There's no seeing one's way through these kind of things after +the lapse of a year or two. Fordyce gets hold of the bills you gave +Mossop, and Rawkins buys up some of the things you had given renewals +for, and then all that trash you took in part payment of your +acceptances turns up, some day or other, to be paid for; and what +between the bills that never were to be negotiated--but somehow do get +abroad--and the sums sent to meet others applied in quite a different +direction, I'll lay eighty to fifty in tens or ponies there's no +gentleman living ever mastered one of these embarrassments. One must be +bred to it, my Lady, take my word for it. It's like being a crack rider +or a poet,--it's born with a man. 'The Henderson,'” added he, after a +pause, “she can do it, and I should like to see what she couldn't!” + +“I am curious to learn how you became acquainted with these financial +abilities of Miss Henderson?” said Lady Dorothea, haughtily. + +“Simply enough. I was poring over these confounded accounts one day at +Manheim, and I chanced to ask her a question,--something about compound +interest, I think it was,--and so she came and looked over what I was +doing, or rather endeavoring to do. It was that affair with Throgmorton, +where I was to meet one third of the bills, and Merl and he were to +look to the remainder; but there was a reservation that if Comus won the +Oaks, I was to stand free--no, that's not it--if Comus won the double +event--” + +“Never mind your stupid contract. What of Miss Henderson?” broke in Lady +Dorothea. + +“Well, she came over, as I told you, and took up a pencil and began +working away with all sorts of signs and crosses,--regular algebra, by +Jove!--and in about five minutes out came the whole thing, all square, +showing that I stood to win on either event, and came off splendidly +if the double should turn up. 'I wish,' said I to her, 'you 'd just +run your eye over my book and see how I stand.' She took it over to the +fire, and before I could well believe she had glanced at it, she said: +'This is all full of blunders. You have left yourself open to three +casualties, any one of which will sweep away all your winnings. Take +the odds on Roehampton, and lay on Slingsby a couple of hundred +more,--three, if you can get it,--and you 'll be safe enough. And when +you 've done that,' said she, 'I have another piece of counsel to give; +but first say will you take it?' 'I give you my word upon it,' said +I. 'Then it is this,' said she: 'make no more wagers on the turf. You +haven't skill to make what is called a “good book,” and you 'll always +be a sufferer.'” + +“Did n't she vouchsafe to offer you her admirable assistance?” asked her +Ladyship, with a sneer. + +“No, by Jove!” said he, not noticing the tone of sarcasm; “and when I +asked her, 'Would not she afford me a little aid?' she quickly said, +'Not on any account. You are now in a difficulty, and I willingly come +forward to extricate you. Far different were the case should I conspire +with you to place others in a similar predicament. Besides, I have your +pledge that you have now done with these transactions, and forever.'” + +“What an admirable monitor! One only wonders how so much morality +coexists with such very intimate knowledge of ignoble pursuits.” + +“By Jove! she knows everything,” broke in the Captain. “Such a canter as +she gave me t' other morning about idleness and the rest of it, saying +how I ought to study Hindostanee, and get a staff appointment, and +so on,--that every one ought to place himself above the accidents of +fortune; and when I said something about having no opportunity at hand, +she replied, 'Never complain of that; begin with _me_. I know quite +enough to initiate you; and as to Sanscrit, I 'm rather “up” in it.'” + +“I trust you accepted the offer?” said her Ladyship, with an ambiguous +smile. + +“Well, I can't say I did. I hate work,--at least that kind of work. +Besides, one doesn't like to come out 'stupid' in these kind of things, +and so I merely said, 'I 'd think of it--very kind of her,' and so on.” + +“Did it never occur to you all this while,” began her Ladyship; and then +suddenly correcting herself, she stopped short, and said, “By the way, +Mr. Scanlan is waiting for his answer. Ring the bell, and let him come +in.” + +Perhaps it was the imperfect recollection of that eminent +individual,--perhaps the altered circumstances in which she now saw him, +and possibly some actual changes in the man himself,--but really Lady +Dorothea almost started with surprise as he entered the room, dressed +in a dark pelisse, richly braided and frogged, an embroidered +travelling-cap in his hand, and an incipient moustache on his upper +lip,--all evidencing how rapidly he had turned his foreign experiences +to advantage. There was, too, in his address a certain confident +assurance that told how quickly the habits of the “Table d'hôte” had +impressed him, and how instantaneously his nature had imbibed the vulgar +ease of the “Continent.” + +“You have just arrived, Mr. Scanlan?” said her Ladyship, haughtily, and +not a little provoked at the shake-hand salutation her son had accorded +him. + +“Yes, my Lady, this instant, and such a journey as we 've had! No water +on the Rhine for the steamers; and then, when we took to the land, a +perfect deluge of rain, that nearly swept us away. At Eisleben, or some +such name, we had an upset.” + +“What day did you leave Ireland?” asked she, in utter indifference as to +the casualty. + +“Tuesday fortnight last, my Lady. I was detained two days in Dublin +making searches--” + +“Have you brought us any letters, sir?” + +“One from Miss Mary, my Lady, and another from Mr. Repton--very pressing +he said it was. I hope Mr. Martin is better? Your Ladyship's last--” + +“Not much improvement,” said she, stiffly, while her thin lips were +compressed with an expression that might mean pride or sorrow, or both. + +“And the country, sir? How did you leave it looking?” + +“Pretty well, my Lady. More frightened than hurt, as a body might say. +They 've had a severe winter, and a great deal of sickness; the rains, +too, have done a deal of mischief; but on the whole matters are looking +up again.” + +“Will the rents be paid, sir?” asked she, sharply. + +“Indeed, I hope so, my Lady. Some, of course, will be backward, and beg +for time, and a few more will take advantage of Magennis's success, and +strive to fight us off.” + +“There must have been some gross mismanagement in that business, sir,” + broke in her Ladyship. “Had I been at home, I promise you the matter +would have ended differently.” + +“Mr. Repton directed all the proceedings himself, my Lady. He conferred +with Miss Mary.” + +“What could a young lady know about such matters?” said she, angrily. +“Any prospect of a tenant for the house, sir?” + +“If your Ladyship really decides on not going back--” + +“Not the slightest intention of doing so, sir. If it depended upon +me, I'd rather pull it down and sell the materials than return to live +there. You know yourself, sir, the utter barbarism we were obliged to +submit to. No intercourse with the world--no society--very frequently +no communication by post. Surrounded by a set of ragged creatures, all +importunity and idleness, at one moment all defiance and insolence, at +the next crawling and abject. But it is really a theme I cannot dwell +upon. Give me your letters, sir, and let me see you this evening.” And +taking the papers from his hand, she swept out of the room in a haughty +state. + +The Captain and Mr. Scanlan exchanged looks, and were silent, but their +glances were far more intelligible than aught either of them would have +ventured to say aloud; and when the attorney's eyes, having followed her +Ladyship to the door, turned and rested on the Captain, the other gave a +brief short nod of assent, as though to say, “Yes, you are right; she's +just the same as ever.” + +“And _you_, Captain,” said Scanlan, in his tone of natural +familiarity,--“how is the world treating _you?_” + +“Devilish badly, Master Scanlan.” + +“Why, what is it doing, then?” + +“I'll tell you what it's doing! It's charging me fifty--ay, sixty per +cent; it's protesting my bills, stimulating my blessed creditors to +proceed against me, worrying my very life out of me with letters. +Letters to the governor, letters to the Horse Guards, and, last of all, +it has just lamed Bonesetter, the horse 'I stood to win' on for the +Chester Cup, I would n't have taken four thousand for my book yesterday +morning!” + +“Bad news all this.” + +“I believe you,” said he, lighting a cigar, and throwing another across +the table to Scanlan. “It's just bad news, and I have nothing else for +many a long day past. A fellow of your sort, Master Maurice, punting +away at county races and small sweepstakes, has a precious deal better +time of it than a captain of the King's Hussars with his head and +shoulders in the Fleet.” + +“Come, come, who knows but luck will turn, Captain? Make a book on the +Oaks.” + +“I've done it; and I'm in for it, too,” said the other, savagely. + +“Raise a few thousands, you can always sell a reversion.” + +“I have done that also,” said he, still more angrily. + +“With your position and advantages you could always marry well. If you'd +just beat up the manufacturing districts, you'd get your eighty thousand +as sure as I'm here! And then matrimony admits of a man's changing all +his habits. He can sell off hunters, get rid of a racing stable, and +twenty other little embarrassments, and only gain character by the +economy.” + +“I don't care a brass farthing for that part of the matter, Scanlan. No +man shall dictate to me how I 'm to spend my money. Do you just find me +the tin, and I 'll find the talent to scatter it.” + +“If it can't be done by a post-obit--” + +“I tell you, sir,” cried Martin, peevishly, “as I have told you before, +that has been done. There is such a thing as pumping a well dry, is n't +there?” + +Scanlan made a sudden exclamation of horror; and after a pause, said, +“Already!” + +“Ay, sir, already!” + +“I had my suspicions about it,” muttered Scanlan, gloomily. + +“You had? And how so, may I beg to ask?” said Martin, angrily. + +“I saw him down there, myself.” + +“Saw whom? Whom are you talking of?” + +“Of that Jew, of course. Mr. Merl, he calls himself.” + +A faint groan was all Martin's reply, as he turned away to hide his +face. + +Scanlan watched him for a minute or so, and then resumed: “I guessed +at once what he was at; _he_ never deceived me, talking about snipe and +woodcocks, and pretending to care about hare-hunting. I saw my man at a +glance. 'It's not sporting ever brought you down to these parts,' said +I. '_Your_ game is young fellows, hard up for cash, willing to give up +their birthright for a few thousands down, and never giving a second +thought whether they paid twenty per cent, or a hundred and twenty.' +Well, well, Captain, you ought to have told me all about it. There +wasn't a man in Ireland could have putted you through like myself.” + +“How do you mean?” cried Martin, hurriedly. + +“Sure, when he was down in the West, what was easier? Faix, if I had +only had the wind of a word that matters were so bad, I 'd have had +the papers out of him long ago. You shake your head as if you did n't +believe me; but take my word for it, I 'm right, sir. I 'd put a quarrel +on him.” + +“_He'd_ not fight you!” said Martin, turning away in disappointment. + +“Maybe he wouldn't; but mightn't he be robbed? Couldn't he be waylaid, +and carried off to the Islands? There was no need to kill him. +Intimidation would do it all! I'd lay my head upon a block this minute +if I would n't send him back to London without the back of a letter +in his company; and what's more, a pledge that he 'd never tell what's +happened to him!” + +“These cockney gents are more 'wide awake' than you suspect, Master +Maurice, and the chances are that he never carried a single paper or +parchment along with him.” + +“Worse for him, then,” said Scanlan. “He'd have to pass the rest of +his days in the Arran Islands. But I'm not so sure he's as 'cute as you +think him,” added Maurice, after a pause. “He left a little note-book +once behind him that told some strange stories, by all accounts.” + +“What was that you speak of?” cried Martin, eagerly. + +“I did n't see it myself, but Simmy Crow told me of it; and that it was +full of all the fellows he ruined,--how much he won from this man, what +he carried off from that; and, moreover, there was your own name, and +the date of the very evening that he finished you off! It was something +in this wise: 'This night's work makes me an estated gentleman, _vice_ +Harry Martin, Esquire, retired upon less than half-pay!'” + +A terrible oath, uttered in all the vehemence of a malediction, burst +from Martin, and seizing Scanlan's wrist, he shook his arm in an agony +of passion. + +“I wish I had given you a hint about him, Master Scanlan,” said he, +savagely. + +“It's too late to think of it now, Captain,” said the other; “the fellow +is in Baden.” + +“Here?” asked Martin. + +“Ay. He came up the Rhine along with me; but he never recognized me,--on +account of my moustaches perhaps,--he took me for a Frenchman or a +German, I think. We parted at Mayence, and I saw no more of him.” + +“I would that I was to see no more of him!” said Martin, gloomily, as he +walked into another room, banging the door heavily behind him. + + + +CHAPTER XXII. HOW PRIDE MEETS PRIDE + +Kate Henderson sat alone in her room reading a letter from her father, +her thoughtful brow a shade more serious perhaps than its wont, and at +times a faint, half-sickly smile moving her dimpled cheek. The interests +of our story have no concern with that letter, save passingly, nor do +we regret it. Enough, if we say it was in reply to one of her own, +requesting permission to return home, until, as she phrased it, she +could “obtain another service.” That the request had met scant favor was +easy to see, as, folding up the letter, she laid it down beside her with +a sigh and a muttered “I thought as much!--'So long as her Ladyship +is pleased to accept of your services,'” said she, repeating aloud an +expression of the writer. “Well, I suppose he's right; such is the true +reading of the compact, as it is of every compact where there is wealth +on one side, dependence on the other! Nor should I complain,” said +she, still more resolutely, “if these same services could be rendered +toilfully, but costing nothing of self-sacrifice in honorable feeling. I +could be a drudge--a slave--to-morrow; I could stoop to any labor; but I +cannot--no, I cannot--descend to companionship! They who hire us,” cried +she, rising, and pacing the room in slow and measured tread, “have a +right to our capacity. We are here to do their bidding; but they can +lay no claim to that over which we ourselves have no control--our +sympathies, our affections--we cannot sell these; we cannot always give +them, even as a gift.” She paused, and opening the letter, read it for +some seconds, and then flinging it down with a haughty gesture, said, +“'Nothing menial--nothing to complain of in my station!' Can he not see +that there is no such servitude as that which drags out existence, by +subjecting, not head and hands, but heart and soul, to the dictates of +another? The menial--the menial has the best of it. Some stipulate that +they are not to wear a livery; but what livery exacts such degradation +as this?” And she shook the rich folds of her heavy silk dress as she +spoke. The tears rose up and dimmed her eyes, but they were tears of +offended pride, and as they stole slowly along her cheeks, her features +acquired an expression of intense haughtiness. “They who train their +children to this career are but sorry calculators!--educating them but +to feel the bitter smart of their station, to see more clearly the wide +gulf that separates them from what they live amongst!” said she, in a +voice of deep emotion. + +“Her Ladyship, Miss Henderson,” said a servant, throwing wide the door, +and closing it after the entrance of Lady Dorothea, who swept into +the room in her haughtiest of moods, and seated herself with all that +preparation that betokened a visit of importance. + +“Take a seat, Miss Henderson,” said she. And Kate obeyed in silence. +“If in the course of what I shall have to say to you,” resumed her +Ladyship,--“if in what I shall feel it my _duty_ to say to you, I may +be betrayed into any expression stronger than in a calmer moment would +occur to me,--stronger in fact, than strict justice might warrant--” + +“I beg your Ladyship's pardon if I interrupt, but I would beg to +remark--” + +“What?” said Lady Dorothea, proudly. + +“That simply your Ladyship's present caution is the best security for +future propriety. I ask no other.” + +“You presume too far, young lady. I cannot answer that _my_ temper may +not reveal sentiments that my judgment or my breeding might prefer to +keep in abeyance.” + +“If the sentiments be there, my Lady, I should certainly say, better to +avow them,” said Kate, with an air of most impassive coldness. + +“I 'm not aware that I have asked your advice on that head, Miss +Henderson,” said she, almost insolently. “At the same time, your habits +of late in this family may have suggested the delusion.” + +“Will your Ladyship pardon me if I confess I do not understand you?” + +“You shall have little to complain of on that score, Miss Henderson; +I shall not speak in riddles, depend upon it. Nor should that be an +obstacle if your intelligence were only the equal of your ambition.” + +“Now, indeed, is your Ladyship completely beyond me.” + +“Had you felt that I was as much 'above' you, Miss Henderson, it were +more to the purpose.” + +“I sincerely hope that I have never forgotten all the deference I owe +your Ladyship,” said Kate. Nor could humble words have taken a more +humble accent; and yet they availed little to conciliate her to whom +they were addressed; nay, this very humility seemed to irritate and +provoke her to a greater show of temper, as with an insolent laugh she +said,--“This mockery of respect never imposed on we, young lady. I have +been bred and born in a rank where real deference is so invariable that +the fictitious article is soon detected, had there been any hardy enough +to attempt it.” + +Kate made no other answer to this speech than a deep inclination of her +head. It might mean assent, submission, anything. + +“You may remember, Miss Henderson,” said her Ladyship, with all the +formality of a charge in her manner,--“you may remember that on the day +I engaged your services you were obliging enough to furnish me with a +brief summary of your acquirements.” She paused, as if expecting some +intimation of assent, and after an interval of a few seconds, Kate +smiled, and said,--“It must have been a very meagre catalogue, my Lady.” + +“Quite the reverse. It was a perfect marvel to me how you ever +found time to store your mind with such varied information; and yet, +notwithstanding that imposing array of accomplishments, I now find that +your modesty--perhaps out of deference to my ignorance--withheld fully +as many more.” + +Kate's look of bewilderment at this speech was the only reply she made. + +“Oh, of course you do not understand me,” said Lady Dorothea, +sneeringly; “but I mean to be most explicit. Have you any recollection +of the circumstance I allude to?” + +“I remember perfectly the day, madam, I waited on you for the first +time.” + +“That's exactly what I mean. Now, pray, has any portion of our discourse +dwelt upon your mind?” + +“Yes, my Lady; a remark of your Ladyship's made a considerable +impression upon me at the moment, and has continued frequently to rise +to my recollection since that.” + +“May I ask what it was?” + +“It was with reference to the treatment I had been so long accustomed +to in the family of the Duchesse de Luygnes, and which your Ladyship +characterized by an epithet I have never forgotten. At the time I +thought it severe; I have learned to see it just. You called it an +'irreparable mischief.' Your Ladyship said most truly.” + +“I was never more convinced of the fact than at this very moment,” said +Lady Dorothea, as a flush of anger covered her cheek. “The ill-judging +condescension of your first protectors has left a very troublesome +legacy for their successors. Your youth and inexperience--I do not +desire to attribute it to anything more reprehensible--led you, +probably, into an error regarding the privileges you thus enjoyed, and +you fancied that you owed to your own claims what you were entirely +indebted to from the favor of others.” + +“I have no doubt that the observation of your Ladyship is quite +correct,” said Kate, calmly. + +“I sincerely wish that the conviction had impressed itself upon your +conduct then,” said Lady Dorothea, whose temper was never so outraged +as by the other's self-possession. “Had such been the case, I might have +spared myself the unpleasantness of my present task.” Her passion +was now fully roused, and with redoubled energy she continued: +“Your ambition has taken a high flight, young lady, and, from the +condescension by which I accorded you a certain degree of influence +in this family, you have aspired to become its head. Do not +affect any misconception of my meaning. My son has told me +everything--everything--from your invaluable aid to him in his pecuniary +difficulties, to your sage counsels on his betting-book; from the +admirable advice you gave him as to his studies, to the disinterested +offer of your own tuition. Be assured if _he_ has not understood all the +advantages so generously presented to him, I, at least, appreciate them +fully. I must acknowledge you have played your game cleverly, and you +have made the mock independence of your character the mask of your +designs. With another than myself you might have succeeded, too,” + said her Ladyship, with a smile of bitter irony; “but _I_ have few +self-delusions, Miss Henderson, nor is there amongst the number that of +believing that any one serves me, in any capacity, from any devotion +to my own person. I natter myself, at least, that I have so much of +humility.” + +“If I understand your Ladyship aright, I am charged with some designs on +Captain Martin?” said Kate, calmly. + +“Yes; precisely so,” said Lady Dorothea, haughtily. + +“I can only protest that I am innocent of all such, my Lady,” said she, +with an expression of great deference. “It is a charge that does not +admit of any other refutation, since, if I appeal to my conduct, your +Ladyship's suspicions would not exculpate me.” + +“Certainly not.” + +“I thought so. What, then, can I adduce? I'm sure your Ladyship's +own delicacy will see that this is not a case where testimony can be +invoked. I cannot--you would not ask me to--require an acquittal from +the lips of Captain Martin himself; humble as I stand here, my Lady, you +never could mean to expose me to this humiliation.” For the first time +did her voice falter, and a sickly paleness came over her as she uttered +the last words. + +“The humiliation which you had intended for this family, Miss Henderson, +is alone what demands consideration from _me_. If what you call your +exculpation requires Captain Martin's presence, I confess I see no +objection to it.” + +“It is only, then, because your Ladyship is angry with me that you could +bring yourself to think so, especially since another and much easier +solution of the difficulty offers itself.” + +“How so? What do you mean?” + +“To send me home, madam.” + +“I understand you, young lady. I am to send you back to your father's +house as one whose presence here was too dangerous, whose attractions +could only be resisted by means of absence and distance. A very +interesting martyrdom might have been made of it, I 've no doubt, and +even some speculation as to the conduct of a young gentleman so suddenly +bereaved of the object of his affections. But all this is much too +dignified for me. _My_ son shall be taught to respect himself without +the intervention of any contrivance.” + +[Illustration: 256] + +As she uttered the last words, she arose and approached the bell. + +“Your Ladyship surely is not going--” + +“I am going to send for Captain Martin, Miss Henderson.” + +“Do not, I entreat of you,--I implore your Ladyship,” cried Kate, with +her clasped hands trembling as she spoke. + +“This agitation is not without a cause, and would alone decide me to +call for my son.” + +“If I have ever deserved well at your hands, my Lady,--if I have served +you faithfully in anything,--if my devotion has lightened you of one +care, or aided you through one difficulty,--spare me, oh, spare me, I +beseech you, this--degradation!” + +“I have a higher consideration to consult here, Miss Henderson, than +any which can have reference to you.” She pulled the bell violently, and +while her hand still held the cord, the servant entered. “Tell Captain +Martin to come here,” said she, and sat down. + +Kate leaned her arm upon the chimney-piece, and, resting her head on it, +never uttered a word. + +For several minutes the silence was unbroken on either side. At last +Lady Dorothea started suddenly, and said,--“We cannot receive Captain +Martin here.” + +“Your Ladyship is full of consideration,” said Kate, bitterly. “For a +moment I had thought it was only an additional humiliation to which you +had destined me.” + +“Follow me into the drawing-room, Miss Henderson,” said Lady Dorothea, +proudly, as she left the room. And with slow, submissive mien Kate +quitted the chamber, and walked after her. + +Scarcely had the door of the drawing-room been closed upon them than it +was re-opened to admit Captain Martin. He was booted and spurred for +his afternoon canter, and seemed in no wise pleased at the sudden +interruption to his project. + +“They said you wanted me,” cried he; “and here have I been searching for +you in your dressing-room, and all over the house.” + +“I desire to speak with you,” said she, proudly; and she motioned to a +chair. + +“I trust the _séance_ is to be a brief one, otherwise I 'll beg a +postponement,” said he, half laughingly. Then turning his glance towards +Kate, he remarked for the first time the deathlike color of her face, +and an expression of repressed suffering that all her self-control +could not conceal. “Has anything happened? What is it?” said he, in a +half-whisper. + +But she never replied, nor even seemed to heed his question. + +“Tell me, I beseech you,” cried he, turning to Lady Dorothea,--“tell me, +has anything gone wrong?” + +“It is precisely on that account I have sent for you, Captain Martin,” + said her Ladyship, as she assigned to him a seat with a motion of her +hand. “It is because a great deal has gone wrong here--and were it not +for my vigilance, much more still likely to follow it--I have sent for +you, sir, that you should hear from this young lady's lips a denial +which, I own, has not satisfied _me_; nor shall it, till it be made +in your presence and meet with your corroboration. Your looks, Miss +Henderson,” said she, addressing her, “would imply that all the +suffering of the present moment falls to _your_ share; but I would beg +you to bear in mind what a person in _my_ sphere must endure at the bare +possibility of the event which now demands investigation.” + +“Good heavens! will not you tell me what it is?” exclaimed Martin, in +the last extremity of impatience. + +“I have sent for you, sir,” resumed she, “that you should hear Miss +Henderson declare that no attentions on your part--no assiduities, I +should perhaps call them--have ever been addressed to her; that, in +fact”--here her Ladyship became embarrassed in her explanation,--“that, +in fact, those counsels--those very admirable aids to your conduct +which she on so many occasions has vouchsafed to afford you--have had +no object--no ulterior object, I should perhaps call it--and that +your--your intercourse has ever been such as beseems the heir of Cro' +Martin, and the daughter of the steward on that property!” + +“By Jove, I can make nothing of all this!” cried the Captain, whose +bewildered looks fully corroborated the assertion. + +“Lady Dorothea, sir, requires you to assure her that I have never +made love to you,” said Kate Henderson, with a look of scorn that her +Ladyship did not dare to reply to. “_I_,” added she, “have already given +my pledge on this subject. I trust that your testimony will not gainsay +me.” + +“Confound me if I can fathom it at all!” said he, more distracted than +ever. “If you are alluding to the offer I made you--” + +“The offer you made,” cried Lady Dorothea. “When?--how?--in what wise?” + +“No, no, I will speak out,” said he, addressing Kate. “I am certain +_you_ never divulged it; but I cannot accept that all the honorable +dealing should be on one side only. Yes, my Lady, however you learned +it, I cannot guess, but it is perfectly true; I asked Miss Henderson to +be my wife, and she refused me.” + +A low, faint sigh broke from Lady Dorothea, and she fell back into her +chair. + +“She would have it,--it's not my fault,--you are witness it's not,” + muttered he to Kate. But she motioned him in silence to the door, and +then opening the window, that the fresh air might enter, stood silently +beside the chair. + +A slight shivering shook her; and Lady Dorothea--her cheeks almost +lividly pale--raised her eyes and fixed them on Kate Henderson. + +“You have had your triumph!” said she, in a low but firm voice. + +“I do not feel it such, madam,” said Kate, calmly. “Nor is it in a +moment of humiliation like this that a thought of triumph can enter.” + +“Hear me,--stoop down lower. You can leave this--tomorrow, if you wish +it.” + +Kate bowed slowly in acquiescence. + +“I have no need to ask you that what has occurred here should never be +mentioned.” + +“You may trust me, madam.” + +“I feel that I may. There--I am better--quite well, now! You may leave +me.” Kate courtesied deeply, and moved towards the door. “One word +before you go. Will you answer me one question? I'll ask but one; but +your answer must be full, or not at all.” + +“So it shall be, madam. What is it?” + +“I want to know the reason--on what grounds--you declined the proposal +of my son?” + +“For the same good reason, madam, that should have prevented his ever +making it.” + +“Disparity--inequality of station, you mean?” + +“Something like it, madam. Our union would have been both a blunder +and a paradox. Each would have married beneath him!” And once more +courtesying, and with an air of haughty dignity, Kate withdrew, and left +her Ladyship to her own thoughts. + +Strange and conflicting were the same thoughts; at one moment +stimulating her to projects of passionate vengeance, at the next +suggesting the warmest measures of reconciliation and affection. These +indeed predominated, for in her heart pride seemed the emblem of all +that was great, noble, or exalted; and when she saw that sentiment, +not fostered by the accidents of fortune, not associated with birth, +lineage, and high station, but actually rising superior to the absence +of all these, she almost felt a species of worship for one so gloriously +endowed. + +“She might be a duchess!” was the only speech she uttered, and the words +revealed a whole volume of her meditations. It was curious enough +how completely all recollection of her son was merged and lost in the +greater interest Kate's character supplied. But so is it frequently in +life. The traits which most resemble our own are those we alone attach +importance to, and what we fancy admiration of another is very often +nothing more than the gratified contemplation of ourselves. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. MAURICE SCANLAN ADVISES WITH “HIS COUNSEL” + +Jack Massingbred sat in expectation of Mr. Merl's arrival till nigh ten +o'clock; and if not manifesting any great degree of impatience at the +delay, still showing unmistakable signs of uneasiness, as though the +event were not destitute of some cause for anxiety. At last a note +arrived to say that a sudden and imperative necessity to start at once +for England would prevent Mr. Merl from keeping his appointment. “I +shall be in town by Tuesday,” continued the writer, “and if Captain +Martin has any communication to make to me respecting his affairs, let +it be addressed to Messrs. Twining and Scape's, solicitors, Furnival's +Inn. I hope that with regard to your own matter, you will make suitable +provision for the acceptance due on the ninth of next month. Any further +renewal would prove a great inconvenience to yours + +“Very sincerely and to command, + +“Herman Merl.” + +“Negotiations have ended ere they were opened, and war is proclaimed at +once,” said Massingbred, as he read over this brief epistle. “You may +come forth, Master Scanlan,” added he, opening the door of his bedroom, +and admitting that gentleman. “Our Hebrew is an overmatch for us. He +declines to appear.” + +“Why so? How is that?” asked Scanlan. + +“There 's his note,” said the other; “read and digest it.” + +“This smacks of suspicion,” said Scanlan. “He evidently suspects that we +have concerted some scheme to entangle him, and he is resolved not to be +caught.” + +“Precisely; he 'll do nothing without advice. Well, well, if he but knew +how unprepared we are, how utterly deficient not only in resources, +but actually in the commonest information of our subject, he might have +ventured here in all safety.” + +“Has Captain Martin not put you in possession of the whole case, then?” + +“Why, my good Scanlan, the Captain knows nothing, actually nothing, of +his difficulties. He has, it is true, a perfect conviction that he is +out of his depth; but whether he be in five fathom water or fifty, he +doesn't know; and, what 's stranger, he does n't care!” + +“After all, if it be over his head, I suppose it's pretty much the same +thing,” said Scanlan, with a bitter laugh. + +“I beg to offer my dissent to that doctrine,” said Mas-singbred, gently. +“Where the water is only just out of a man's depth, the shore is usually +not very distant. Now, if we were quite certain such were the case here, +we might hope to save him. If, on the contrary, he has gone down out +of all sight of land--” He stopped, gazed steadily at Scanlan for a few +seconds, and then in a lower tone, not devoid of a touch of anxiety, +said, “Eh, do you really know this to be so?” + +“I'll tell you all I know, Mr. Massingbred,” said he, as having turned +the key in the door, he took his seat at the table. “And I 'll tell you, +besides, how I came by the knowledge, and I 'll leave it to your own +judgment to say what his chance is worth. When Merl was stopping at +Kilkieran, he left there a little pocket-book, with memorandums of all +his secret transactions. Mighty nice doings they were,--and profitable, +too,--as you 'll perceive when you look over it.” + +“You have it, then,” cried Jack, eagerly. + +“Here it is,” said he, producing the precious volume, and laying his +hand firmly on it. “Here it is now. I got it under a pledge to hand +it to himself, which I need n't tell you I never had the slightest +intention of performing. It's not every day in the week one has the good +luck to get a peep into the enemy's brief, and this is exactly what you +'ll find here.” + +Massingbred stretched out his hand to take the book, but Scanlan quietly +replaced it in his pocket, and, with a dry and very peculiar smile, +said,--“Have a little patience, sir. We must go regularly to work here. +You shall see this book--you shall examine it--and even retain it--but +it must be on conditions.” “Oh, you may confide in me, Scanlan. Even +if Mr. Merl were my friend,--which I assure you he is not,--I could not +venture to betray _you_.” + +“That's not exactly what I 'm thinking of, Mr. Massingbred. I 'm certain +you 'd say nothing to Merl of what you saw here. My mind is easy enough +upon that score.” + +“Well, then, in what direction do your suspicions point?” + +“They 're not suspicions, sir,” was the dry response. + +“Fears,--hesitations,--whatever you like to call them.” + +“Are we on honor here, Mr. Massingbred?” said Scanlan, after a pause. + +“For myself, I say decidedly so,” was the firm reply. + +“That will do, sir. I ask only one pledge, and I 'm sure you 'll not +refuse it: if you should think, on reflection, that what I propose to +you this evening is neither practicable nor advisable,--that, in fact, +you could neither concur in it nor aid it,--that you'll never, so long +as you live, divulge it to any one,--man, woman, or child. Have I that +promise?” + +“I think I may safely say that.” + +“Ay, but do you say it?” + +“I do; here is my promise.” + +“That will do. I don't ask a word more. Now, Mr. Massingbred,” said he, +replacing the book on the table, “I 'll tell you in the fewest words I +can how the case stands,--and brevity is essential, for we have not an +hour to lose. Merl is gone to London about this business, and we +'ll have to follow him. _He 'd_ be very glad to be rid of the affair +to-morrow, and he 'll not waste many days till he is so. Read that bit +there, sir,” said he, pointing to a few closely written lines in the +note-book. + +“Good heavens!” cried Jack, “this is downright impossible. This is a +vile falsehood, devised for some infernal scheme of roguery. Who 'd +believe such a trumpery piece of imposition? Ah, Scanlan, you are not +the wily fellow I took you for. This same precious note-book was +dropped as a decoy, as I once knew a certain noble lord to have left his +betting-book behind him. An artful device, that can only succeed once, +however. And you really believed all this?” + +“I did, and I do believe it,” said Scanlan, firmly. + +“If you really say so, we must put the matter to the test. Captain +Martin is here,--we 'll send for him, and ask him the question; but I +must say I don't think your position will be a pleasant one after that +reply is given.” + +“I must remind you of your promise already, it seems,” said Scanlan. +“You are pledged to say nothing of this, if you cannot persuade yourself +to act along with me in it.” + +“Very true,” said Massingbred, slowly; “but I never pledged myself to +credit an impossibility.” + +“I ask nothing of the kind. I only claim that you should adhere to what +you have said already. If this statement be untrue, all my speculations +about it fall to the ground at once. I am the dupe of a stale trick, and +there's an end of it.” + +“Ay, so far all well, Master Scanlan; but _I_ have no fancy to be +associated in the deception. Can't you see that?” + +“I can, sir, and I do. But perhaps there may be a readier way of +satisfying your doubts than calling for the Captain's evidence. There is +a little page in this same volume devoted to one Mr. Massingbred. _You_ +surely may have some knowledge about _his_ affairs. Throw your eye over +that, sir, and say what you think of it.” + +Massingbred took the book in his hand and perused the place pointed out +to him. + +“By Jove! this _is_ very strange,” said he, after a pause. “Here is my +betting-book on the St. Hubert all transcribed in full,--however the Jew +boy got hold of it; and here 's mention of a blessed hundred-pound note, +which, in less than five years, has grown to upwards of a thousand!” + +“And all true? All fact?” + +“Perfectly true,--most lamentable fact, Master Scanlan! +How precise the scoundrel is in recording this loan as 'after supper at +Dubos'!' Ay, and here again is my unlucky wager about Martingale for +the 'Chester,' and the handicap with Armytage. Scanlan, I recant my +rash impression. This is a real work of its great author! _Aut Merl--aut +Diabolus_.” + +“I could have sworn it,” said Scanlan. + +“To be sure you could, man, and have done, ere this time o' day, fifty +other things on fainter evidence. But let me tell you it requires strong +testimony to make one believe that there should live such a consummate +fool in the world as would sell his whole reversionary right to a +splendid state of some twelve thousand--” + +“Fifteen at the lowest,” broke in Scanlan. + +“Worse again. Fifteen thousand a year for twenty-two thousand seven +hundred and sixty-four pounds sterling.” + +“And he has done it.” + +“No, no; the thing is utterly incredible, man. Any one must see that +if he did want to make away with his inheritance, that he could have +obtained ten, twenty times that sum amongst the tribe of Merl.” + +“No doubt, if he were free to negotiate the transaction. But you 'll +see, on looking over these pages, in what a network of debt he was +involved,--how, as early as four years ago, at the Cape, he owed Merl +large sums, lost at play, and borrowed at heavy interest. So that, +at length, this same twenty-two thousand, assumed as paid for the +reversion, was in reality but the balance of an immense demand for money +lost, bills renewed, sums lent, debts discharged, and so on. But to +avoid the legal difficulty of an 'immoral obligation,' the bale of the +reversion is limited to this simple payment of twenty-two thousand--” + +“Seven hundred and sixty-four pounds, sir. Don't let us diminish the +price by a fraction,” said Massingbred. “Wonderful people ye are, to be +sure; and whether in your talent for savings, or dislike for sausages, +alike admirable and praiseworthy! What a strange circle do events +observe, and how irrevocable is the law of the material, the stern rule +of the moral world, decay, decomposition, and regeneration following +on each other; and as great men's ashes beget grubs, so do illustrious +houses generate in their rottenness the race of Herman Merls.” + +Scanlan tried to smile at the rhapsodical conceit, but for some private +reason of his own he did not relish nor enjoy it. + +“So, then, according to the record,” said Massingbred, holding up the +book, “there is an end of the 'Martins of Cro' Martin'?” + +“That's it, sir, in one word.” + +“It is too shocking--too horrible to believe,” said Mas-singbred, with +more of sincerity than his manner usually displayed. “Eh, Scanlan,--is +it not so?” added he, as waiting in vain for some show of concurrence. + +“I believe, however,” said the other, “it's the history of every great +family's downfall: small liabilities growing in secrecy to become heavy +charges, severe pressure exerted by those out of whose pockets came +eventually the loans to meet the difficulties,--shrewdness and rapacity +on one side, folly and wastefulness on the other.” + +“Ay, ay; but who ever heard of a whole estate disposed of for less than +two years of its rental?” + +“That's exactly the case, sir,” said he, in the same calm tone as +before; “and what makes matters worse, we have little time to look out +for expedients. Magennis will put us on our title at the new trial +next assizes. Merl will take fright at the insecurity of his claim, and +dispose of it,--Heaven knows to whom,--perhaps to that very league now +formed to raise litigation against all the old tenures.” + +“Stop, stop, Scanlan! There is quite enough difficulty before us, +without conjuring up new complications,” cried Massingbred. “Have you +anything to suggest? What ought to be done here?” + +Scanlan was silent, and leaning his head on his hand seemed lost in +thought. + +“Come, Scanlan, you 've thought over all this ere now. Tell me, man, +what do you advise?” + +Scanlan was silent. + +“Out with it, Scanlan. I know, I feel that you have a resource in store +against all these perils! Out with it, man.” + +“Have I any need to remind you of your promise, Mr. Massingbred?” asked +the other, stealthily. + +“Not the slightest, Scanlan. I never forget a pledge.” + +“Very well, sir; that's enough,” said Scanlan, speaking rapidly, and +like one anxious to overcome his confusion by an effort. “We have just +one thing to do. We must buy out Merl. Of course as reasonably as we +can, but buy him out we must. What between his own short experiences of +Ireland, and the exposure that any litigation is sure to bring with it, +he's not likely to be hard to deal with, particularly when we are in +possession, as I suppose we may be, through _your_ intimacy with the +Captain, of all the secret history of these transactions. I take it for +granted that he 'll be as glad of a settlement that keeps all 'snug,' +as ourselves. Less than the twenty-two thousand we can't expect he'll +take.” + +“And how are we to raise that sum without Mr. Martin's concurrence?” + +“I wish that was the only difficulty,” said Scanlan. + +“What do you mean?” + +“Just this: that in his present state no act of his would stand. Sure +his mind is gone. There isn't a servant about him could n't swear to his +fancies and imaginations. No, sir, the whole thing must be done amongst +ourselves. I have eight thousand some hundred pounds of my own available +at a moment; old Nelligan would readily--for an assignment of the +Brewery and the Market Square--advance us ten thousand more;--the money, +in short, could be had--more if we wanted it--the question--” + +“As to the dealing with Merl?” broke in Jack. + +“No, sir, not that, though of course it is a most important +consideration.” + +“Well, what then?” + +“As to the dealing with Maurice Scanlan, sir,” said he, making a great +effort. “There's the whole question in one word.” + +“I don't see that there can be any grave obstacle against that. You know +the property.” + +“Every acre of it.” + +“You know how you'd like your advance to be secured to you--on what part +of the estate. The conditions, I am certain, might be fairly left in +your own hands; I feel assured you'd not ask nor expect anything beyond +what was equitable and just.” + +“Mr. Massingbred, we might talk this way a twelvemonth, and never be a +bit nearer our object than when we began,” said Scanlan, resolutely. “I +want two things, and I won't take less than the two together. One is to +be secured in the agency of the estate, under nobody's control whatever +but the Martins themselves. No Mister Repton to say 'Do this, sign +that, seal the other.' I 'll have nobody over me but him that owns the +property.” + +“Well, and the other condition?” + +“The other--the other--” said Scanlan, growing very red--“the other, I +suppose, will be made the great difficulty--at least, on my Lady's side. +She 'll be bristling up about her uncle the Marquis, and her half-cousin +the Duke, and she'll be throwing in my teeth who I am, and what I was, +and all the rest of it, forgetting all the while where they 'll be if +they reject my terms, and how much the most noble Viceroy will do for +her when she has n't a roof over her head, and how many letters his +Grace will write when she has n't a place to address them to,--not to +say that the way they're treating the girl at this very moment shows +how much they think of her as one of themselves, living with old Catty +Broon, and cantering over the country without as much as a boy after +her. Sure, if they were n't Pride itself, it's glad they might be +that a--a--a respectable man, that is sure to be devoted to their own +interests forever, and one that knows the estate well, and, moreover +than that, that doesn't want to be going over to London,--no, nor even +to Dublin,--that doesn't care a brass farthing for the castle and the +lodge in the park,--that, in short, Mr. Massingbred, asks nothing for +anybody, but is willing to trust to his industry and what he knows of +life--There it is now,--there's my whole case,” said he, stammering, +and growing more and more embarrassed. “I haven't a word to add to it, +except this: that if they'd rather be ruined entirely, left without +stick or stone, roof or rafter in the world, than take my offer, they +'ve nothing to blame but themselves and their own infernal pride!” And +with this peroration, to deliver which cost him an effort like a small +apoplexy, Maurice Scanlan sat down at the table, and crossed his arms on +his breast like one prepared to await his verdict with a stout heart. + +At last, and with the start of one who “suddenly bethought him of a +precaution that ought not to be neglected,” he said,--“Of course, this is +so far all between ourselves, for if I was to go up straight to my Lady, +and say, 'I want to marry your niece,' I think I know what the answer +would be.” + +Although Massingbred had followed this rambling and incoherent effort +at explanation with considerable attention, it was only by the very +concluding words that he was quite certain of having comprehended +its meaning. If we acknowledge that he felt almost astounded by the +pretension, it is but fair to add that nothing in his manner or air +betokened this feeling. Nay, he even by a slight gesture of the head +invited the other to continue; and when the very abrupt conclusion did +ensue, he sat patiently, as it were revolving the question in his own +mind. + +Had Scanlan been waiting for the few words which from a jury-box +determine a man's fate forever, he could not have suffered more acute +anxiety than he felt while contemplating the other's calm and unmoved +countenance. A bold, open rejection of his plan, a defiant repudiation +of his presumption, would not probably have pained him more, if as much +as the impassive quietness of Jack's demeanor. + +“If you think that this is a piece of impudence on my part, Mr. +Massingbred,--if it's your opinion that in aspiring to be connected with +the Martins I'm forgetting my place and my station, just say so at once. +Tell it to me frankly, and I'll know how to bear it,” said he, at last, +when all further endurance had become impossible. + +“Nothing of the kind, my dear Scanlan,” said Jack, smiling blandly. +“Whatever snobbery once used to prevail on these subjects, we have come +to live in a more generous age. The man of character, the man who unites +an untarnished reputation to very considerable abilities, with talent to +win any station, and virtues to adorn it, such a man wants no blazonry +to illustrate his name, and it is mainly by such accessions that our +English aristocracy, refreshed and invigorated as it is, preserves its +great acknowledged superiority.” + +It would have required a more acute critic than Maurice Scanlan to have +detected the spirit in which this rhapsody was uttered. The apparent +earnestness of the manner did not exactly consort with a certain +pomposity of enunciation and an over-exactness in the tone of the +declamation. On the whole Maurice did not like it. It smacked to his +ears very like what he had often listened to in the Four Courts at the +close of a “junior's” address; and there was a Nisi Prius jingle in it +that sounded marvellously unlike conviction. + +“If, then,” resumed Massingbred, “they who by the accidents of fortune, +or the meritorious services of their forefathers, represent rather in +their elevation the gratitude of their country than--” + +“I 'm sorry to interrupt you, sir,--indeed, I'm ashamed of myself for +doing it,--for your remarks are beautiful, downright eloquent; but the +truth is, this is a case touches me too closely to make me care for +a grand speech about it. I 'd rather have just a few words--to the +evidence, as one might say,--or a simple answer to a plain question, Can +this thing be done?” + +“There's where you beat us, Scanlan. There's where we cannot approach +you. You are practical. You reduce a matter at once to the simple +dimension of efficacy first, then possibility, and with these two +conditions before you you reject the fifty extraneous considerations, +outlying contingencies, that distract and embarrass such fellows as me. + +“I have no pretension to abilities like yours, Mr. Massingbred,” said +Scanlan, with unassumed modesty. + +“Ah, Scanlan, yours are the true gifts, take my word for it!--the +recognized currency by which a man obtains what he seeks for; and +there never was an era in which such qualities bore a higher value. Our +statesmen, our diplomatists, our essay-writers,--nay, our very poets, +addressing themselves as they do to the correction of social wrongs and +class inequalities,--they are all 'practical'! That is the type of our +time, and future historians will talk of this as the 'Age of Fact'!” + +If one were to judge from Maurice Scanlan's face during the delivery of +this peroration, it might be possibly inferred that he scarcely accepted +the speech as an illustration in point, since anything less practical he +had never listened to. + +“When I think,” resumed he, “what a different effect I should have +produced in the 'House' had I possessed this requisite! You, possibly, +may be under the impression that I achieved a great success?” + +“Well, I did hear as much,” said Scanlan, half doggedly. + +“Perhaps it was so. A first speech, you are aware, is always listened to +indulgently; not so a second, especially if a man rises soon after his +first effort. They begin to suspect they have got a talkative fellow, +eager and ready to speak on every question; they dread that, and even if +he be clever, they 'll vote him a bore!” + +“Faith! I don't wonder at it!” said Maurice, with a hearty sincerity in +the tone. + +“Yet, after all, Scanlan, let us be just! How in Heaven's name, are men +to become debaters, except by this same training? You require men not +alone to be strong upon the mass of questions that come up in debate, +but you expect them to be prompt with their explanations, always +prepared with their replies. Not ransacking history, or searching +through 'Hansard,' you want a man who, at the spur of the moment, +can rise to defend, to explain, to simplify, or mayhap to assail, to +denounce, to annihilate. Is n't that true?” + +“I don't want any such thing, sir!” said Scanlan, with a sulky +determination that there was no misunderstanding. + +“You don't. Well, what _do_ you ask for?” + +“I'll tell you, sir, and in very few words, too, what I do _not_ ask +for! I don't ask to be humbugged, listening to this, that, and the +other, that I have nothing to say to; to hear how you failed or why you +succeeded; what you did or what you could n't do. I put a plain case to +you, and I wanted as plain an answer. And as to your flattering me about +being practical, or whatever you call it, it's a clean waste of time, +neither less nor more!” + +“The agency and the niece!” said Massingbred, with a calm solemnity that +this speech had never disconcerted. + +“Them 's the conditions!” said Scanlan, reddening over face and +forehead. + +“You 're a plucky fellow, Scanlan, and by Jove I like you for it!” said +Massingbred. And for once there was a hearty sincerity in the way +he spoke. “If a man _is_ to have a fall, let it be at least over a +'rasper,' not be thrown over a furrow in a ploughed field! You fly +at high game, but I'm far from saying you'll not succeed.” And with a +jocular laugh he turned away and left him. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. A CONSULTATION + +Jack Massingbred was one of those who, in questions of difficulty, +resort to the pen in preference to personal interference. It was a fancy +of his that he wrote better than he talked. Very probably he thought +so because the contrary was the fact. On the present occasion another +motive had also its influence. It was Lady Dorothea that he addressed, +and he had no especial desire to commit himself to a direct interview. + +His object was to convey Mr. Scanlan's propositions,--to place them +fully and intelligibly before her Ladyship without a syllable of comment +on his own part, or one word which could be construed into advocacy or +reprobation of them. In truth, had he been called upon for an opinion, +it would have sorely puzzled him what to say. To rescue a large estate +from ruin was, to be sure, a very considerable service, but to accept +Maurice Scanlan as a near member of one's family seemed a very heavy +price even for that. Still, if the young lady liked him, singular as the +choice might appear, other objections need not be insurmountable. The +Martins were very unlikely ever to make Ireland their residence again, +they would see little or nothing of this same Scanlan connection, “and, +after all,” thought Jack, “if we can only keep the disagreeables of +this life away from daily intercourse, only knowing them through the +post-office and at rare intervals, the compact is not a bad one.” + +Massingbred would have liked much to consult Miss Henderson upon the +question itself, and also upon his manner of treating it; but to touch +upon the point of a marriage of inequality with her, would have been +dangerous ground. It was scarcely possible he could introduce the topic +without dropping a word, or letting fall a remark she could not seize +hold of. It was the theme, of all others, in which her sensitiveness +was extreme; nor could he exactly say whether she sneered at a +_mésalliance,_ or at the insolent tone of society regarding it. + +Again he bethought him of the ungraciousness of the task he had assumed, +if, as was most probable, Lady Dorothea should feel Mr. Scanlan's +pretensions an actual outrage. “She'll never forgive me for stating +them, that's certain,” said he; “but will she do so if I decline to +declare them, or worse still, leave them to the vulgar interpretation +Scanlan himself is sure to impart to them?” While he thus hesitated and +debated with himself, now altering a phrase here, now changing a word +there, Captain Martin entered the room, and threw himself into a chair +with a more than ordinary amount of weariness and exhaustion. + +“The governor's worse to-day, Massingbred,” said he, with a sigh. + +“No serious change, I hope?” said Jack. + +“I suspect there is, though,” replied the other. “They sent for me from +Lescour's last night, where I was winning smartly. Just like _my_ luck +always, to be called away when I was 'in vein,' and when I got here, +I found Schubart, and a French fellow whom I don't know, had just bled +him. It must have been touch and go, for when I saw him he was very +ill--very ill indeed--and they call him better.” + +“It was a distinct attack, then,--a seizure of some sort?” asked +Massingbred. + +“Yes, I think they said so,” said he, lighting his cigar. + +“But he has rallied, has n't he?” + +“Well, I don't fancy he has. He lifts his eyes at times, and seems to +look about for some one, and moves his lips a little, but you could +scarcely say that he was conscious, though my mother insists he is.” + +“What does Schubart think?” + +“Who minds these fellows?” said he, impatiently. “They're only +speculating on what will be said of themselves, and so they go on: 'If +this does not occur, and the other does not happen, we shall see him +better this evening.'” + +“This is all very bad,” said Massingbred, gloomily--“It's a deuced deal +worse than you know of, old fellow,” said Martin, bitterly. + +“Perhaps not worse than I suspect,” said Massingbred. + +“What do you mean by that?” + +Massingbred did not reply, but sat deep in thought for some time. “Come, +Martin,” said he, at last, “let us be frank; in a few hours it may be, +perhaps, too late for frankness. Is this true?” And he handed to him +Merl's pocket-book, open at a particular page. + +Martin took it, and as his eyes traced the lines a sickly paleness +covered his features, and in a voice scarcely stronger than an infant's, +he said, “It is so.” + +“The whole reversionary right?” + +“Every acre--every stick and stone of it--except,” added he, with a +sickly attempt at a smile, “a beggarly tract, near Kiltimmon, Mary has a +charge upon.” + +“Read that, now,” said Jack, handing him his recently written letter. +“I was about to send it without showing it to you; but it is as well you +saw it.” + +While Martin was reading, Massingbred never took his eyes from him. He +watched with all his own practised keenness the varying emotions the +letter cost; but he saw that, as he finished, selfishness had triumphed, +and that the prospect of safety had blunted every sentiment as to the +price. + +“Well,” said Jack, “what say you to that?” + +“I say it's a right good offer, and on no account to be refused. There +is some hitch or other--I can't say what, but it exists, I know--which +ties us up against selling. Old Repton and the governor, and I think +my mother, too, are in the secret; but I never was, so that Scanlan's +proposal is exactly what meets the difficulty.” + +“But do you like his conditions?” asked Jack. + +“I can't say I do. But what 's that to the purpose? One must play the +hand that is dealt to them; there 's no choice! I know that, as agent +over the property, he 'll make a deuced good thing of it for himself. It +will not be five nor ten per cent will satisfy Master Maurice.” + +“Yes; but there is another condition, also,” said Jack, quietly. + +“About Mary? Well, of course it's not the kind of thing one likes. +The fellow is the lowest of the low; but even that's better, in some +respects, than a species of half gentility, for he actually has n't +one in the world belonging to him. No one ever heard of his father or +mother, and he's not the fellow to go in search of them.” + +“I confess that _is_ a consideration,” said Massingbred, with a tone +that might mean equally raillery or the reverse, “so that you see no +great objection on that score?” + +“I won't say I 'd choose the connection; but 'with a bad book it's at +least a hedge,'--eh, Massy, is n't it?” + +“Perhaps so,” said the other, dryly. + +“It does n't strike me,” said Martin, as he glanced his eye again over +the letter, “that you have advocated Scanlan's plan. You have left it +without, apparently, one word of comment. Does that mean that you don't +approve of it?” + +“I never promised him I would advocate it,” said Jack. + +“I have no doubt, Massingbred, you think me a deuced selfish fellow for +treating the question in this fashion; but just reflect a little, +and see how innocently, as I may say, I was led into all these +embarrassments. I never suspected how deep I was getting. Merl used to +laugh at me if I asked him how we stood; he always induced me to regard +our dealings as trifles, to be arranged to-day, to-morrow, or ten years +hence.” + +“I am not unversed in that sort of thing, unluckily,” said Massingbred, +interrupting him. “There is another consideration, however, in the +present case, to which I do not think you have given sufficient weight.” + +“As to Mary, my dear fellow, the matter is simple enough. Our consent +is a mere form. If she liked Scanlan, she 'd marry him against all the +Martins that ever were born; and if she did n't, she 'd not swerve an +inch if the whole family were to go to the stake for it. She 's not one +for half measures, I promise you; and then, remember, that though she +is one 'of us,' and well born, she has never mingled with the society +of her equals; she has always lived that kind of life you saw +yourself,--taking a cast with the hounds one day, nursing some old hag +with the rheumatism the next. I 've seen her hearing a class in the +village school, and half an hour after, breaking in a young horse to +harness. And what between her habits and her tastes, she is really not +fit for what you and I would call the world.” As Massingbred made no +reply, Martin ascribed his silence to a part conviction, and went on: +“Mind, I 'm not going to say that she is not a deuced deal too good for +Maurice Scanlan, who is as vulgar a hound as walks on two legs; but, as +I said before, Massy, we haven't much choice.” + +“Will Lady Dorothea be likely to view the matter in this light?” asked +Jack, calmly. + +“That is a mere matter of chance. She 's equally likely to embrace the +proposal with ardor, or tell a footman to kick Scanlan out of the house +for his impertinence; and I own the latter is the more probable of the +two,--not, mark you, from any exaggerated regard for Mary, but out of +consideration to the insult offered to herself.” + +“Will she not weigh well all the perils that menace the estate?” + +“She'll take a short method with them,--she'll not believe them.” + +“Egad! I must say the whole negotiation is in a very promising state!” + exclaimed Jack, as he arose and walked the room. “There is only one +amongst us has much head for a case of difficulty.” + +“You mean Kate Henderson?” broke in Martin. + +“Yes.” + +“Well, we 've lost _her_ just when we most needed her.” + +“Lost her! How--what do you mean?” + +“Why, that she is gone--gone home. She started this morning before +daybreak. She had a tiff with my mother last night. I will say the girl +was shamefully treated,--shamefully! My Lady completely forgot herself. +She was in one of those blessed paroxysms in which, had she been born a +Pasha, heads would have been rolling about like shot in a dockyard, and +she consequently said all manner of atrocities; and instead of giving +her time to make the _amende_, Kate beat a retreat at once, and by this +time she is some twenty miles on her journey.” + +Massingbred walked to the window to hide the emotion these tidings +produced; for, with all his self-command, the suddenness of the +intelligence had unmanned him, and a cold and sickly feeling came over +him. There was far more of outraged and insulted pride than love in the +emotions which then moved him. The bitter thought of the moment was, +how indifferent she felt about _him_,--how little _he_ weighed in +any resolve she determined to follow. She had gone without a word of +farewell,--perhaps without a thought of him. “Be it so,” said he to +himself; “there has been more than enough of humiliation to me in our +intercourse. It is time to end it! The whole was a dream, from which the +awaking was sure to be painful. Better meet it at once, and have done +with it.” There was that much of passion in this resolve that proved how +far more it came from wounded pride than calm conviction; and so deeply +was his mind engrossed with this feeling, that Martin had twice spoken +to him ere he noticed his question. + +“Do you mean, then, to show that letter to my mother?” + +“Ay; I have written it with that object Scanlan asked me to be +his interpreter, and I have kept my pledge.--And did she go +alone,--unaccompanied?” + +“I fancy so; but, in truth, I never asked. The doctors were here, and +all that fuss and confusion going on, so that I had really little head +for anything. After all, I suspect she's a girl might be able to take +care of herself,--should n't you say so?” + +Massingbred was silent for a while, and then said: “You 'll have to be +on the alert about this business of yours, Martin; and if I can be of +service to you, command me. I mean to start for London immediately.” + +“I 'll see my mother at once, then,” said he, taking up Massingbred's +letter. + +“Shall I meet you in about an hour, in the Lichtenthal Avenue?” + +“Agreed,” said he; and they parted. + +We have no need, nor have we any right, to follow Massingbred as he +strolled out to walk alone in an alley of the wood. Irresolution is an +intense suffering to men of action; and such was the present condition +of his mind. Week after week, month after month, had he lingered on +in companionship with the Martins, till such had become the intimacy +between them that they scrupled not to discuss before him the most +confidential circumstances, and ask his counsel on the most private +concerns. He fancied that he was “of them;” he grew to think that he +was, somehow, part and parcel of the family, little suspecting the +while that Kate Henderson was the link that bound him to them, and that +without her presence they resolved themselves into three individuals for +whom he felt wonderfully little of interest or affection. “She is gone, +and what have I to stay for?” was the question he put to himself; and +for answer he could only repeat it. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. A COMPROMISE + +There are many who think that our law of primogeniture is a sad hardener +of the heart,--estranging the father from the son, widening petty +misunderstandings to the breadth of grievances, engendering suspicions +where there should be trustfulness, and opening two roads in life to +those who should rightfully have trod one path together. If one half of +this be the price we pay for our “great houses,” the bargain is a bad +one! But even taking a wide margin for exaggeration,--allowing much +for the prejudices of those who assail this institution,--there is that +which revolts against one's better nature, in the ever-present question +of money, between the father and his heir. The very fact that separate +rights suggest separate interests is a source of discord; while the +inevitable law of succession is a stern defiance to that sense of +protection on one side, and dependence on the other, that should mark +their relations to each other. + +Captain Martin was not devoid of affection for his family. He had, it +is true, been very little at home, but he did not dislike it, beyond +the “boredom” of a rather monotonous kind of life. He was naturally of +a plastic temperament, however, and he lived amongst a set whose +good pleasure it is to criticise all who belong to them with the very +frankest of candor. One told how his governor, though rolling in wealth, +kept him on a most beggarly allowance, illustrating, with many an +amusing story, traits of avarice that set the table in a roar. Another +exhibited his as such a reckless spendthrift that the family estate +would never cover the debts. There was a species of rivalry on seeing +who should lay most open to public view details and incidents purely +belonging to a family. It was even a principle of this new school +to discuss, and suffer others to discuss before them, the class and +condition of life of their parents in a tone of mockery and derision, +whenever the occasion might admit it; and the son of the manufacturer +or the trader listened to allusions to his birth and parentage, and even +jested upon them himself, in a spirit more flattering to his philosophy +than to his pride. + +Martin had lived amidst all this for years. He had been often +complimented upon the “jolly good thing he was to have one of these +days;” he had been bantered out of many a wise and prudent economy, by +being reminded of that “deuced fine property nobody could keep him out +of.” “What can it signify to _you_ old fellow, a few hundreds more or +less. You must have fifteen thousand a year yet. The governor can't live +forever, I take it.” Others, too, as self-invited guests, speculated on +all the pleasures of a visit to Cro' Martin; and if at first the young +man heard such projects with shame and repugnance, he learned at last to +listen to them with indifference, perhaps with something less! + +Was it some self-accusing on this score that now overwhelmed him as he +sat alone in his room, trying to think, endeavoring to arouse himself to +action, but so overcome that he sat there only half conscious, and +but dimly discerning the course of events about him? At such moments +external objects mingle their influences with our thoughts, and the +sound of voices, the tread of footsteps, the mere shutting of a door, +seem to blend themselves with our reveries, and give somewhat of reality +to our dreamy fancies. A large clock upon the mantelpiece had thus fixed +his attention, and he watched the minute-hand as though its course was +meting out the last moments of existence. “Ere it reach that hour,” + thought he, fixing his gaze upon the dial, “what a change may have come +over all my fortunes!” Years--long years--seemed to pass over as he +waited thus; scenes of childhood, of infancy itself, mingled with the +gay dissipations of his after-life; school days and nights at mess, +wild orgies of the play-table and sad wakings on the morrow, all moved +through his distracted brain, till at length it was only by an effort +that he could shake off these flitting fancies and remember where he +was. + +He at once bethought him that there was much to be done. He had given +Massingbred's letter to his mother, entreating a prompt answer, but +two hours had now elapsed and she had not sent her reply. There was a +struggle between his better nature and his selfishness whether to seek +her. The thought of that sick-room, dark and silent, appalled him. “Is +it at such a time I dare ask her to address her mind to this? and yet +hours are now stealing over which may decide my whole fate in life.” + While he thus hesitated, Lady Dorothea entered the room. Nights of +anxiety and watching, the workings of a spirit that fought inch by +inch with fortune, were deeply marked upon her features. Weariness +and fatigue had not brought depression on her, but rather imparted a +feverish lustre to her eyes, and an expression of haughty energy to her +face. + +“Am I to take this for true,” said she, as, seating herself in front +of him, she held out Massingbred's letter,--“I mean, of course, what +relates to yourself?” + +He nodded sorrowfully, but did not speak. + +“All literally the fact?” said she, speaking slowly, and dwelling on +every word. “You have actually sold the reversion of the estate?” + +“And am beggared!” said he, sternly. + +Lady Dorothea tried to speak. She coughed, cleared her throat, made +another effort, but without succeeding; and then, in a slightly broken +voice, said, “Fetch me a glass of water. No, sit down; I don't want it.” + The blood again mounted to her pale cheeks, and she was herself again. + +“These are hard terms of Scanlan's,” said she, in a dry, stern tone. “He +has waited, too, till we have little choice remaining. Your father is +worse.” + +“Worse than when I saw him this morning?” + +“Weaker, and less able to bear treatment. He is irritable, too, at that +girl's absence. He asks for her constantly, and confuses her in his mind +with Mary.” + +“And what does Schubart think?” + +“I'll tell you what he _says_,” replied she, with a marked emphasis on +the last word. “He says the case is hopeless; he has seen such linger +for weeks, but even a day--a day--” She tried to go on; but her voice +faltered, her lip trembled, and she was silent. + +“I had begun to believe it so,” muttered Martin, gloomily. “He scarcely +recognized me yesterday.” + +“He is perfectly collected and sensible now,” said Lady Dorothea, in her +former calm tone. “He spoke of business matters clearly and well, and +wished to see Scanlan.” + +“Which I trust you did not permit?” asked Martin, hurriedly. + +“I told him he should see him this evening, but there is no necessity +for it. Scanlan may have left this before evening.” + +“You suspect that Scanlan would say something,--would mention to him +something of this affair?” + +“Discretion is not the quality of the low-born and the vulgar,” + said she, haughtily; “self-importance alone would render him unsafe. +Besides,”--and this she said rapidly,--“there is nothing to detain the +man here, when he knows that we accept his conditions.” + +“And are we to accept them?” said Martin, anxiously. + +“Dare we refuse them? What is the alternative? I suppose what you have +done with your Jew friend has been executed legally--formally?” + +“Trust _him_ for that; he has left no flaw there!” said Martin, +bitterly. + +“I was certain of it,” said she, with a scarcely perceptible sneer. +“Everything, therefore, has been effected according to law?” + +“Yes, I believe so,” replied he, doggedly. + +“Then really there is nothing left to us but Scanlan. He objects to +Repton; so do I. I always deemed him obtrusive and familiar. In the +management of an Irish estate such qualities may be reckoned essential. +I know what we should think of them in England, and I know where we +should place their possessor.” + +“I believe the main question that presses now is, are we to have an +estate at all?” said the Captain, bitterly. + +“Yes, sir, you have really brought it to that,” rejoined she, with equal +asperity. + +“Do you consent to his having the agency?” asked Martin, with an immense +effort to suppress passion. + +“Yes.” + +“And you agree, also, to his proposal for Mary?” + +“It is matter of complete indifference to me who Miss Martin marries, if +she only continue to reside where she does at present. I 'm certain she +'d not consult _me_ on the subject; I'm sure I'd never control _her_. It +is a _mésalliance_, to be sure; but it would be equally so, if she, +with her rustic habits and uneducated mind, were to marry what would be +called her equal. In the present case, she 'll be a little better than +her station; in the other, she 'd be vastly beneath it!” + +“Poor Molly!” said he, half aloud; and, for the first time, there was a +touch of his father's tone and manner in the words. + +Lady Dorothea looked at him, and with a slight shrug of the shoulders +seemed to sneer at his low-priced compassion. + +“Scoff away!” said he, sternly; “but if I thought that any consent we +gave to this scheme could take the shape of a coercion, I 'd send the +estate to the--” + +“You have, sir; you have done all that already,” broke in Lady Dorothea. +“When the troubled breathing that we hear from yonder room ceases, there +is no longer a Martin of Cro' Martin!” + +“Then what are we losing time for?” cried he, eagerly. “Are moments +so precious to be spent in attack and recrimination? There's Scanlan +sitting on a bench before the door. Call him up--tell him you accept +his terms--let him start for London, post haste. With every speed he can +master he 'll not be a minute too soon. Shall I call him? Shall I beckon +to him?” + +“Send a servant for him,” said Lady Dorothea, calmly, while she folded +up the letter, and laid it on the table at her side. + +Martin rang the bell and gave the order, and then, assuming an air of +composure he was very far from feeling, sat silently awaiting Scanlan's +entrance. That gentleman did not long detain them. He had been sitting, +watch in hand, for above an hour, looking occasionally up at the +windows, and wondering why he had not been summoned. It was, then, with +an almost abrupt haste that he at last presented himself. + +“Read over that letter, sir,” said Lady Dorothea, “and please to inform +me if it rightly conveys your propositions.” + +Scanlan perused Massingbred's letter carefully, and folding it up, +returned it. “Yes, my Lady,” said he, “I think it embraces the chief +points. Of course there is nothing specified as to the mode of carrying +them out,--I mean, as to the security I should naturally look for. I +believe your Ladyship does not comprehend me?” + +“Not in the least, sir.” + +“Well, if I must speak plainer, I want to be sure that your concurrence +is no mere barren concession, my Lady; that, in admitting my +pretensions, your Ladyship favors them. This is, of course,” said he, in +a tone of deference, “if your Ladyship condescends to accept the terms +at all; for, as yet, you have not said so.” + +“If I had not been so minded, sir, this interview would not have taken +place.” + +“Well, indeed, I thought as much myself,” said he; “and so I at once +entered upon what one might call the working details of the measure.” + +“How long will it take you to reach London, sir?” asked she, coldly. + +“Four days, my Lady, travelling night and day.” + +“How soon after your arrival there can you make such arrangements as +will put this affair out of all danger, using every endeavor in your +power?” + +“I hope I could answer for that within a week,--maybe, less.” + +“You'll have to effect it in half that time, sir,” said she, solemnly. + +“Well, I don't despair of that same, if I have only your Ladyship's +promise to all that is set down there. I 'll neither eat nor sleep till +the matter is in good train.” + +“I repeat, sir, that if this settlement be not accomplished in less than +a week from the present moment, it may prove utterly valueless.” + +“I can only say I'll do my best, my Lady. I'd be on the road this +minute, if your Ladyship would dismiss me.” + +“Very well, sir,--you are free. I pledge myself to the full conditions +of this letter. Captain Martin binds himself equally to observe them.” + +“I 'd like it in writing under your Ladyship's hand,” said Scanlan, in +a half whisper, as though afraid to speak such doubts aloud. “It is +not that I have the least suspicion or misgiving in life about your +Ladyship's word,--I'd take it for a million of money,--but when I come +to make my proposals in person to Miss Mary--” + +“There, sir, that will do!” said she, with a disdainful look, as if to +repress an explanation so disagreeable. “You need not enter further upon +the question. If you address me by letter, I will reply to it.” + +“There it is, my Lady,” said he, producing a sealed epistle, and placing +it on the table before her. “I had it ready, just not to be losing time. +My London address is inside; and if you'll write to me by to-morrow's +post,--or the day after,” added he, remarking a movement of impatience +in her face--“You shall have your bond, sir,--you shall have your bond,” + broke she in, haughtily. + +“That ought to be enough, I think,” said the Captain, with a degree of +irritation that bespoke a long internal conflict. + +“I want nothing beyond what I shall earn, Captain Martin,” said Scanlan, +as a flash of angry meaning covered his features. + +“And we have agreed to the terms, Mr. Scanlan,” said her Ladyship, with +a great effort to conciliate. “It only remains for us to say, a good +journey, and every success attend you.” + +“Thank you, my Lady; I'm your most obedient. Captain, I wish you +good-bye, and hope soon to send you happy tidings. I trust, if Mr. +Martin asks after me, that you 'll give him my respectful duty; and +if--” + +“We'll forget nothing, sir,” said Lady Dorothea, rising; and Scanlan, +after a moment's hesitation as to whether he should venture to offer +his hand,--a measure for which, happily, he could not muster the +courage,--bowed himself out of the room, and closed the door. + +“Not a very cordial leave-taking for one that's to be her nephew,” + muttered he, with a bitter laugh, as he descended the stairs. “And, +indeed, my first cousin, the Captain, is n't the model of family +affection. Never mind, Maurice, your day is coming!” And with this +assuring reflection he issued forth to give orders for his journey. + +A weary sigh--the outpouring of an oppressed and jaded spirit--broke +from Lady Dorothea as the door closed after him. “Insufferable +creature!” muttered she to herself? and then, turning to the Captain, +said aloud, “Is that man capable of playing us false?--or, rather, has +he the power of doing so?” + +“It is just what I have been turning over in my own mind,” replied he. +“I don't quite trust him; and, in fact, I'd follow him over to London, +if I were free at this moment.” + +“Perhaps you ought to do so; it might be the wisest course,” said she, +hesitatingly. + +“Do you think I could leave this with safety?” asked he. But she did +not seem to have heard the question. He repeated it, and she was still +silent. “If the doctors could be relied on, they should be able to tell +us.” + +“To tell us what?” asked she, abruptly, almost sternly. + +“I meant that they'd know--that they'd perhaps be in a position to +judge--that they at least could warn us--” Here he stopped, confused and +embarrassed, and quite unable to continue. That sense of embarrassment, +however, came less of his own reflections than of the cold, steady, and +searching look which his mother never ceased to bend on him. It was a +gaze that seemed to imply, “Say on, and let me hear how destitute of +all feeling you will avow yourself.” It was, indeed, the meaning of her +stare, and so he felt it, as the color came and went in his cheek, and a +sense of faintish sickness crept over him. + +“The post has arrived, my Lady, and I have left your Ladyship's letters +on the dressing-table,” said a servant. And Lady Dorothea, who had been +impatiently awaiting the mall, hastened at once to her room. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. A LETTER THAT NEVER REACHES ITS ADDRESS + +It was not without a very painful emotion that Lady Dorothea turned +over a mass of letters addressed to her husband. They came from various +quarters, written in all the moods of many minds. Some were the mere +gossip of clubs and dinnerparties,--some were kindly and affectionate +inquiries, gentle reproachings on his silence, and banterings about his +pretended low spirits. A somewhat favorite tone is that same raillery +towards those whose lot in life seems elevated above the casualties of +fortune, forgetting the while that the sunniest path has its shadows, +and they whom we deem exempt from the sore trials of the world have +their share of its sorrows. These read strangely now, as he to whom they +were addressed lay breathing the heavy and labored breath, and muttering +the low broken murmurs that prelude the one still deeper sleep! + +With a tremulous hand, and a gesture of fretful impatience, she threw +them from her one after the other. The topics and the tone alike jarred +upon her nerves. They seemed so unfeeling, too, and so heartless at such +a moment. Oh, if we wanted to moralize over the uncertainty of life, +what a theme might we have in the simple fact that, quicker than the +lines we are writing fall from our pen, are oftentimes changing the +whole fate and fortune of him for whom we destine them! We are telling +of hope where despair has already entered,--we are speaking joy to a +house of mourning! But one letter alone remained unopened. It was in +Repton's hand, and she broke the seal, wondering how he, who of all men +hated writing, should have turned a correspondent. + +The “strictly confidential” of the cover was repeated within; but the +hour had come when she could violate the caution, and she read on. The +first few lines were a half-jesting allusion to Martin's croakings about +his health; but even these had a forced, constrained air, and none of +the jocular ease of the old man's manner. “And yet,” continued he, “it +is exactly about your health I am most anxious. I want you to be strong +and stout, body and mind, ready for action, and resolute. I know the +tone and style that an absentee loves and even requires to be addressed +in. He wants to be told that, however he may be personally regretted, +matters go on wonderfully well in his absence, that rent is paid, farms +improved, good markets abound, and the county a pattern of quietness. I +could tell you all this, Martin, and not a syllable of it be true. The +rents are not paid, partly from a season of great pressure, but, more +still, from an expectancy on the side of the people that something--they +know not what--is coming. The Relief Bill only relieved those who wanted +to job in politics and make market of their opinions; the masses it has +scarcely touched. They are told they are emancipated, but I am at a loss +to know in what way they realize to their minds the new privilege. Their +leaders have seen this. Shrewd fellows as they are, they have guessed +what disappointment must inevitably ensue when the long-promised boon +can show nothing as its results but certain noisy mob-orators made +Parliament men; and so they have slyly hinted,--as yet it is only a +hint,--'this is but the first step--an instalment they call it--of a +large debt, every fraction of which must yet be paid!' + +“Now there is not in all Europe a more cunning or a deeper fellow than +Paddy. He has an Italian's subtlety and a Celt's suspicion; but enlist +his self-love, his vanity, and his acquisitiveness in any scheme, and +all his shrewdness deserts him. The old hackney coach-horses never +followed the hay on the end of the pole more hopefully than will he +travel after some promised future of 'fine times,' with plenty to eat +and drink, and nothing to do for it! They have booked themselves now for +this journey, and the delusion must run its course. Meanwhile rents will +not be paid, farms not improved, bad prices and poverty will abound, and +the usual crop of discontent and its consequent crime. I 'm not going +to inflict you with my own opinions on this theme. You know well enough +already that I never regarded these 'Agrarian disturbances,' as they are +called, in the light of passing infractions of the peace, but traced in +them the continuous working of a long preconcerted plan,--the scheme of +very different heads from those who worked it,--by which the law should +ever be assailed and the right of property everlastingly put in dispute. +In plain words, the system was a standing protest against the sway of +the Saxons in Ireland! 'The agitators' understood thoroughly how to +profit by this, and they worked these alternate moods of outrage and +peace pretty much as the priests of old guided their auguries. They +brought the game to that perfection that a murder could shake a +ministry, or a blank calendar become the triumph of an Administration! + +“Such is, at the moment I am writing, the actual condition of Ireland! +Come home, then, at once,--but come alone. Come back resolved to see and +act for yourself. There is a lingering spark of the old feudalism +yet left in the people. Try and kindle it up once more into the old +healthful glow of love to the landlord. Some would say it is too late +for all this; but I will not think so. Magennis has given us an open +defiance; we are to be put on our title. Now, you are well aware there +is a complication here, and I shall want to consult you personally; +besides, we must have a search through those registries that are locked +up in the strong-room. Mary tells me you carried away the key of it. +I tell you frankly, I wish we could hit upon some means of +stopping Magennis. The suit is a small war, that demands grand +preparation,--always a considerable evil! The fellow, I am told, is also +concocting another attack,--an action against your niece and others for +the forcible abduction of his wife. It would read fabulously enough, +such a charge, but as old Casey said, 'There never yet was anything you +could n't impute at law, if you only employed the word “conspiracy;”' +and I believe it! The woman certainly has deserted him, and her +whereabouts cannot be ascertained. The scandal of such a cause would of +course be very great; but if you were here we might chance upon some +mode of averting it,--at all events, your niece shouldn't be deserted at +such a moment. What a noble girl it is, Martin, and how gloriously she +comprehends her station! Give me a dozen like her, and I 'll bid +defiance to all the machinations of all the agitators; and they know it! + +“If your estate has resisted longer than those of your neighbors the +demoralizing influences that are now at work here, you owe it to Mary. +If crime has not left its track of blood along your avenue or on your +door-sill, it is she who has saved you. If the midnight hour has not +been scared by the flame of your burning house or haggard, thank _her_ +for it,--ay, Martin, _her_ courage, _her_ devotion, _her_ watchful +charity, _her_ unceasing benevolence, the glorious guarantee her daily +life gives, that _she_, at least, is with the people in all their +sufferings and their trials! You or I had abandoned with impatience the +cause that she had succored against every disappointment. Her woman's +nature has endowed her with a higher and a nobler energy than ever a man +possessed. She _will not_ be defeated. + +“Henderson may bewail, and Maurice Scanlan deride, the shortcomings of +the people. But through evil and good report she is there to hear from +their own lips, to see with her own eyes, the story of their sorrows. Is +this nothing? Is there no lesson in the fact that she, nurtured in +every luxury, braves the wildest day of winter in her mission of +charity?--that the most squalid misery, the most pestilent disease never +deterred her? I saw her a few days back coming home at daybreak; she +had passed the night in a hovel where neither you nor I would have taken +shelter in a storm. The hectic flush of fatigue and anxiety was on her +cheek; her eyes, deep sunk, showed weariness; and her very voice, as +she spoke to me, was tremulous and weak; and of what, think you, was her +mind full? Of the noble calm, the glorious, patient endurance of +those she had just quitted. 'What lessons might we not learn,' said +she, 'beneath the wet thatch of poverty! There are three struck down with +fever in that cabin; she who remains to nurse them is a little girl of +scarcely thirteen. There is all that can render sickness wretched around +them. They are in pain and in want; cold winds and rain sweep across +their beds, if we could call them such. If they cherish the love of +life, it must be through some instinct above all reason; and there they +lie, uncomplaining. The little remnant of their strength exhausts itself +in a look of thankfulness,--a faint effort to say their gratitude. Oh, +if querulous hypochondriacism could but see them, what teaching it might +learn! Sufferings that call forth from us not alone peevishness and +impatience, but actually traits of rude and ungenerous meaning, develop +in them an almost refined courtesy, and a trustfulness that supplies all +that is most choice in words of gratitude.' + +“And this is the girl whose life every day, every hour is +imperilling,--who encounters all the hazards of our treacherous climate, +and all the more fatal dangers of a season of pestilence, without +friends, without a home! Now, Martin, apart from all higher and better +considerations on the subject, this was not your compact,--such was not +the text of your bargain with poor Barry. The pledge you gave him at +your last parting was that she should be your daughter. That you made +her feel all the affection of one, none can tell more surely than +myself. That your own heart responds to her love I am as fully convinced +of. But this is not enough, my dear Martin. She has rights--actual +rights--that no special pleading on the score of intentions or good +wishes can satisfy. I should but unworthily discharge my office, as your +oldest friend in the world, if I did not place this before you broadly +and plainly. The country is dull and wearisome, devoid of society, and +without resources, and you leave it; but you leave behind you, to endure +all its monotony, all its weariness, one who possesses every charm and +every attention that are valued in the great world! There is fever and +plague abroad, insurrection threatens, and midnight disturbances are +rife, and she who is to confront these perils is a girl of twenty. The +spirit of an invading party threatens to break down all the prestige of +old family name and property,--a cunningly devised scheme menaces the +existence of an influence that has endured for centuries; and to oppose +its working, or fall victim to its onslaught, you leave a young lady, +whose very impulses of generous meaning may be made snares to entrap +her. In a word, you neglect duty, desert danger, shun the path of +honorable exertion, and retreat before the menace of an encounter, to +place, where you should stand yourself, the frail figure and gentle +nature of one who was a child, as it were, but yesterday. Neither +your health nor your happiness can be purchased at such a price,--your +conscience is too sound for that,--nor can your ease! No, Martin, your +thoughts will stray over here, and linger amongst these lonely glens +that she is treading. Your fancy will follow her through the dark nights +of winter, as alone she goes forth on her mission of mercy. You will +think of her, stooping to teach the young--bending over the sick-bed of +age. And then, tracing her footsteps homeward, you will see her sit down +by a solitary hearth,--none of her own around her,--not one to advise, +to counsel, to encourage her! I will say no more on this theme; your own +true heart has already anticipated all that _I_ could _speak_,--all that +_you_ should _do_. + +“Now for one more question, and I shall have finished the most painful +letter I ever wrote in my life. There are rumors--I cannot trace them, +nor fully understand them, but they imply that Captain Martin has been +raising very considerable sums by reversionary bonds and post-obits. +Without being able to give even a guess, as to the truth of this, I +draw your attention to the bare possibility, as of a case full of very +serious complications. Speak to your son at once on the subject, and +learn the truth,--the whole truth. My own fears upon the matter have +been considerably strengthened by hearing of a person who has been +for several weeks back making inquiries on the estate. He has resided +usually at Kilkieran, and spends his time traversing the property in all +directions, investigating questions of rent, wages, and tenure of land. +They tell marvellous stories of his charity and so forth,--blinds, +doubtless, to cover his own immediate objects. Mary, however, I ought to +say, takes a very different view of his character, and is so anxious to +know him personally that I promised her to visit him, and bring him to +visit her at the cottage. And, by the way, Martin, why should she be +at the cottage,--why not at Cro' Martin? What miserable economy has +dictated a change that must reflect upon her influence, not to speak of +what is justly due to her own station? I could swear that you never +gave a willing consent to this arrangement. No, no, Martin, the plan was +never yours. + +“I 'm not going to bore you with borough politics. To tell truth, I +can't comprehend them. They want to get rid of Massingbred, but they +don't see who is to succeed him. Young Nelligan ought to be the man, but +he will not. He despises his party,--or at least what would call +itself his party,--and is resolved never to concern himself with public +affairs. Meanwhile he is carrying all before him at the Bar, and is as +sure of the Bench as though he were on it. + +“When he heard of Magennis's intention of bringing this action against +Mary, he came up to town to ask me to engage him on our side, 'since,' +said he, 'if they send me a brief I cannot refuse it, and if I accept +it, I promise you it shall be my last cause, for I have resolved to +abandon the Bar the day after.' This, of course, was in strictest +secrecy, and so you must regard it. He is a cold, calm fellow, and yet +on this occasion he seemed full of impulsive action. + +“I had something to tell you about Henderson, but I actually forget what +it was. I can only remember it was disagreeable; and as this epistle has +its due share of bitters, my want of memory is perhaps a benefit; and so +to release you at once, I 'll write myself, as I have never ceased to be +for forty years, + +“Your attached friend, + +“Val. Repton.” + + +“I believe I was wrong about Henderson; at least the disagreeable went +no further than that he is supposed to be the channel through which Lady +Dorothea occasionally issues directions, not always in agreement with +Mary's notions. And as your niece never liked the man, the measures are +not more palatable when they come through his intervention.” + +Lady Dorothea was still pondering over this letter, in which there were +so many things to consider, when a hurried message called her to the +sick-room. As she approached the room, she could hear Martin's voice +calling imperiously and angrily to the servants, and ordering them +to dress him. The difficulty of utterance seemed to increase his +irritation, and gave to his words a harsh, discordant tone, very unlike +his natural voice. + +“So,” cried he, as she entered, “you have come at last. I am nigh +exhausted with telling them what I want. I must get up, Dora. They must +help me to dress.” + +As he was thus speaking, the servants, at a gesture from her Ladyship, +quietly stole from the chamber, leaving her alone at his bedside. + +“You are too weak for this exertion, Godfrey,” said she, calmly. “Any +effort like this is certain to injure you.” + +“You think so?” asked he, with the tone of deference that he generally +used towards her. “Perhaps you are right, Dora; but how can it be +helped?--there is so much to do, such a long way to travel. What a +strange confusion is over me! Do you know, Dolly,”--here his voice fell +to a mere whisper,--“you'll scarcely credit it; but all the time I have +been fancying myself at Cro' Martin, and here we are in--in--what do you +call the place?” + +“Baden.” + +“Yes--yes--but the country?” + +“Germany.” + +“Ay, to be sure, Germany; hundreds of miles away from home!” Here +he raised himself on one arm, and cast a look of searching eagerness +through the room. “Is he gone?” whispered he, timidly. + +“Of whom are you speaking?” said she. + +“Hush, Dolly, hush!” whispered he, still lower. “I promised I 'd not +tell any one, even you, of his being here. But I must speak of it--I +must--or my brain will turn. He was here--he sat in that very chair--he +held my hand within both his own. Poor, poor fellow! how his eyes filled +when he saw me! He little knew how changed he himself was!--his hair +white as snow, and his eyes so dimmed!” + +“This was a dream, Godfrey,--only a dream!” + +“I thought you 'd say so,--I knew it,” said he, sorrowfully; “but _I_ +know better. The dear old voice rang in my heart as I used to hear it +when a child, as he said, 'Do you remember me?' To be sure I remembered +him, and told him to go and fetch Molly; and his brow darkened when +I said this, and he drew back his hand and said, 'You have deserted +her,--she is not here!'” + +“All this is mere fancy, Godfrey; you have been dreaming of home.” + +“Ay,” muttered he, gloomily, “it was but too true; we did desert her, +and that was not our bargain, Dolly. It was all the poor fellow asked +at our hands,--his last, his only condition. What's that letter you have +there?” cried he, impatiently, as Lady Dorothea, in the agitation of the +moment, continued to crumple Repton's letter between her fingers. + +“A letter I have been reading,” said she, sternly. + +“From whom--from whom?” asked he, still more eagerly. + +“A letter from Mr. Repton. You shall read it when you are better. You +are too weak for all this exertion, God-frey; you must submit--” + +“Submit!” broke he in; “the very word he said. You submit yourself to +anything, if it only purchase your selfish ease. No, Dolly, no, I am +wrong. It was I that said so. I owned to him how unworthily I had acted. +Give me that letter, madam. Let me see it,” said he, imperiously. + +“When you are more tranquil, Godfrey,--in a fitting state.” + +“I tell you, madam,” cried he, fiercely, “this, is no time for trifling +or deception. Repton knows all our affairs. If he has written now, it is +because matters are imminent. My head is clear now. I can think--I can +speak. It is full time Harry should hear the truth. Let him come here.” + +“Take a little rest, Godfrey, be it only half an hour, and you shall +have everything as you wish it.” + +“Half an hour! you speak of half an hour to one whose years are minutes +now!” said he, in a broken voice. “This poor brain, Dora, is already +wandering. The strange things I have seen so lately--that poor fellow +come back after so many years--so changed, so sadly changed--but I knew +him through all the mist and vapor of this feverish state; I saw him +clearly, my own dear Barry!” The word, as it were the last barrier to +his emotion, brought forth a gush of tears; and burying his face within +the bedclothes, he sobbed himself to sleep. As he slept, however, he +continued to mutter about home and long passed years,--of boyish sports +with his brother; childish joys and sorrows were all mingled there, with +now and then some gloomier reveries of later days. + +“He has been wandering in his mind!” whispered Lady Dorothea to her son, +as he joined her in the darkened room. “He woke up, believing that he +had seen his brother, and the effect was very painful.” + +“Has he asked for _me?_” inquired the other. + +“No; he rambled on about Mary, and having deserted her, and all that; +and just as ill-luck would have it, here is a letter from Repton, +exactly filled with the very same theme. He insists on seeing it; but of +course he will have forgotten it when he awakes.” + +“You have written to Scanlan?” asked he. + +“Yes; my letter has been sent off.” + +“Minutes are precious now. If anything should occur here,”--his eyes +turned towards the sick-bed as he spoke,--“Merl will refuse to treat. +His people--I know they are his--are hovering about the hotel all the +morning. I heard the waiter whispering as I passed, and caught the +words, 'No better; worse, if anything.' The tidings would be in London +before the post.” + +Lady Dorothea made no reply, and all was now silent, save the unequal +but heavy breathings of the sick man, and the faint, low mutterings of +his dream. “In the arras--between the window and the wall--there it is, +Barry,” cried he, in a clear, distinct voice. “Repton has a copy of it, +too, with Catty's signature,--old Catty Broon.” + +“What is he dreaming of?” asked the young man. + +But, instead of replying to the question, Lady Dorothea bent down her +head to catch the now muttered words of the sleeper. + +“He says something of a key. What key does he mean?” asked he. + +[Illustration: 297] + +“Fetch me that writing-desk,” said Lady Dorothea, as she took several +keys from her pockets; and noiselessly unlocking the box, she began to +search amidst its contents. As she continued, her gestures grew more and +more hurried; she threw papers recklessly here and there, and at last +emptied the entire contents upon the table before her. “See, search if +there be a key here,” cried she, in a broken voice; “I saw it here three +days ago.” + +“There is none here,” said he, wondering at her eagerness. + +“Look carefully,--look well for it,” said she, her voice trembling at +every word. + +“Is it of such consequence--” + +“It is of such consequence,” broke she in, “that he into whose hands it +falls can leave you and me beggars on the world!” An effort at awaking +by the sick man here made her hastily restore the papers to the desk, +which she locked, and replaced upon the table. + +“Was it the Henderson did this?” said she aloud, as if asking the +question of herself. “Could she have known this secret?” + +“Did what? What secret?” asked he, anxiously. + +A low, long sigh announced that the sick man was awaking; and in a +faint voice he said, “I feel better, Dora. I have had a sleep, and been +dreaming of home and long ago. To-morrow, or next day, perhaps, I may be +strong enough to leave this. I want to be back there again. Nay, don't +refuse me,” said he, timidly. + +“When you are equal to the journey--” + +“I have a still longer one before me, Dora, and even less preparation +for it. Harry, I have something to say to you, if I were strong enough +to say it,--this evening, perhaps.” Wearied by the efforts he had made, +he lay back again with a heavy sigh, and was silent. + +“Is he worse--is he weaker?” asked his son. + +A mournful nod of the head was her reply. + +Young Martin arose and stole noiselessly from the room, he scarcely knew +whither; he indeed cared not which way he turned. The future threw its +darkest shadows before him. He had little to hope for, as little to +love. His servant gave him a letter which Massingbred had left on his +departure, but he never opened it; and in a listless vacuity he wandered +out into the wood. + +It was evening as he turned homeward. His first glance was towards the +windows of his father's room. They were wont to be closely shuttered and +fastened; now one of them lay partly open, and a slight breeze stirred +the curtain within. A faint, sickly fear of he knew not what crept over +him. He walked on quicker; but as he drew nigh the door, his servant met +him. “Well!” cried he, as though expecting a message. + +“Yes, sir, it is all over; he went off about an hour since.” The man +added something; but Martin heard no more, but hurried to his room, and +locked the door. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. A VERY BRIEF INTERVIEW. + +When Jack Massingbred found himself once more “in town,” and saw that +the tide of the mighty world there rolled on the same full, boiling +flood he had remembered it of yore, he began to wonder where and how +he had latterly been spending his life. There were questions of +politics--mighty interests of which every one was talking--of which he +knew nothing; party changes and new social combinations had arisen of +which he was utterly ignorant. But what he still more acutely deplored +was that he himself had, so to say, dropped out of the memory of his +friends, who accosted him with that half-embarrassed air that says, +“Have you been ill?--or in India?--or how is it that we have n't met you +about?” It was last session he had made a flash speech,--an effort that +his own party extolled to the skies, and even the Opposition could only +criticise the hardihood and presumption of so very young a member of the +House,--and now already people had ceased to bear him in mind. + +The least egotistical of men--and Massingbred did not enter into this +category--find it occasionally very hard to bear the cool “go-by” the +world gives them whenever a chance interval has withdrawn them from +public view. The stern truth of how little each atom of the social +scheme affects the working of the whole machinery is far from palatable +in its personal application. Massingbred was probably sensitive enough +on this score, but too consummate a tactician to let any one guess his +feelings; and so he lounged down to the “House,” and lolled at his Club, +and took his airings in the Park with all the seeming routine of one who +had never abdicated these enjoyments for a day. + +He had promised, and really meant, to have looked after Martin's affairs +on his reaching London; but it was almost a week after his return that +he bethought him of his pledge, his attention being then called to +the subject by finding on his table the visiting-card of Mr. Maurice +Scanlan. Perhaps he was not sorry to have something to do; perhaps +he had some compunctions of conscience for his forgetfulness; at all +events, he sent his servant at once to Scanlan's hotel, with a request +that he would call upon him as early as might be. An answer was speedily +returned that Mr. Scanlan was about to start for Ireland that same +afternoon, but would wait upon him immediately. The message was scarcely +delivered when Scanlan himself appeared. + +Dressed in deep mourning, but with an easy complacency of manner that +indicated very little of real grief, he threw himself into a chair, +saying, “I pledge you my word of honor, it is only to yourself I 'd +have come this morning, Mr. Massingbred, for I 'm actually killed with +business. No man would believe the letters I've had to read and +answer, the documents to examine, the deeds to compare, the papers to +investigate--” + +“Is the business settled, then--or in train of settlement?” broke in +Jack. + +“I suppose it _is_ settled,” replied Scanlan, with a slight laugh. “Of +course you know Mr. Martin is dead?” + +“Dead! Good heavens! When did this occur?” + +“We got the news--that is, Merl did--the day before yesterday. A friend +of his who had remained at Baden to watch events started the moment he +breathed his last, and reached town thirty hours before the mail; not, +indeed, that the Captain has yet written a line on the subject to any +one.” + +“And what of the arrangement? Had you come to terms previously with +Merl?” + +“No; he kept negotiating and fencing with us from day to day, now +asking for this, now insisting on that, till the evening of his friend's +arrival, when, by special appointment, I had called to confer with him. +Then, indeed, he showed no disposition for further delay, but frankly +told me the news, and said, 'The Conferences are over, Scanlan. I 'm the +Lord of Cro' Martin.'” + +“And is this actually the case,--has he really established his claim in +such a manner as will stand the test of law and the courts?” + +“He owns every acre of it; there's not a flaw in his title; he has +managed to make all Martin's debts assume the shape of advances in hard +cash. There is no trace of play transactions throughout the whole. I +must be off, Mr. Massing-bred; there 's the chaise now at the door.” + +“Wait one moment, I entreat of you. Can nothing be done? Is it too late +to attempt any compromise?” + +“To be sure it is. He has sent off instructions already to serve the +notice for ejectment. I 've got orders myself to warn the tenants not to +pay the last half-year, except into court.” + +“Why, are _you_ in Mr. Merl's service, then?” asked Jack, with one of +his quiet laughs. + +“I am, and I am not,” said Scanlan, reddening. “You know the compact I +made with Lady Dorothea at Baden. Well, of course there is no longer +any question about that. Still, if Miss Mary agrees to accept me, I 'll +stand by the old family! There 's no end of trouble and annoyance we +could n't give Merl before he got possession. I know the estate well, +and where the worst fellows on it are to be found! It's one thing to +have the parchments of a property, and it is another to be able to +go live on it, and draw the rents. But I can't stay another minute. +Good-bye, air. Any chance of seeing you in the West soon?” + +“I 'm not sure I 'll not go over to-morrow,” said Jack, musing. + +“I suppose you are going to blarney the constituency?” said Maurice, +laughing heartily at his coarse conceit. Then suddenly seeing that +Massingbred did not seem to relish the freedom, he hurriedly repeated +his leave-takings, and departed. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. THE DARK SIDE OF A CHARACTER. + +“Ye might ken the style of these epistles by this time, Dinah,” said Mr. +Henderson, as he walked leisurely up and down a long low-ceilinged room, +and addressed himself to a piece of very faded gentility, who sat at a +writing-table. “She wants to hear naething but what she likes, and, as +near as may be, in her ain words too.” + +“I always feel as if I was copying out the same letter every time I +write,” whined out a weak, sickly voice. + +“The safest thing ye could do,” replied he, gravely. “She never tires +o' reading that everybody on the estate is a fule or a scoundrel, and +ye canna be far wrang when ye say the worst o' them all. Hae ye told her +aboot the burnin' at Kyle-a-Noe?” + +“Yes, I have said that you have little doubt it was malicious.” + +“And hae ye said that there's not a sixpence to be had out of the whole +townland of Kiltimmon?” + +“I have. I have told her that, except Miss Mary herself, nobody would +venture into the barony.” + +“The greater fule yerself, then,” said he, angrily. “Couldna ye see that +she'll score this as a praise o' the young leddy's courage? Ye maun just +strike it out, ma'am, and say that the place is in open rebellion--” + +“I thought you bade me say that Miss Mary had gone down there and spoken +to the people--” + +“I bade ye say,” broke he angrily in, “that Miss Mary declared no rent +should be demanded o' them in their present distress; that she threw +the warrants into the fire, and vowed that if we called a sale o' their +chattels, she 'd do the same at the castle, and give the people the +proceeds.” + +“You only said that she was in such a passion that she declared she 'd +be right in doing so.” + +“I hae nae time for hair-splitting, ma'am. I suppose if she had a right +she 'd exercise it! Put down the words as I gie them to ye! Ye hae no +forgotten the conspeeracy?” + +“I gave it exactly as you told me, and I copied out the two paragraphs +in the papers about it, beginning, 'Great scandal,' and 'If our landed +gentry expect--'” + +“That's right; and ye hae added the private history of Joan? They 'll +make a fine thing o' that on the trial, showing the chosen associate +o' a young leddy to hae been naething better than--Ech! what are ye +blubberin' aboot,--is it yer feelin's agen? Ech! ma'am, ye are too +sentimental for a plain man like me!” + +This rude speech was called up by a smothering effort to conceal +emotion, which would not be repressed, but burst forth in a violent fit +of sobbing. + +“I know you didn't mean it. I know you were not thinking--” + +“If ye canna keep your ain counsel, ye must just pay the cost o' it,” + said he, savagely. “Finish the letter there, and let me send it to the +post. I wanted ye to say a' about the Nelligans comin' up to visit +Miss Mary, and she goin' ower the grounds wi' them, and sendin' them +pineapples and grapes, and how that the doctor's girls are a'ways wi' +her, and that she takes old Catty out to drive along wi' herself in +the pony phaeton, which is condescendin' in a way her Leddyship will no +approve o'. There was mony a thing beside I had in my head, but ye hae +driven them a' clean awa' wi' your feelin's!” And he gave the last word +with an almost savage severity. + +“Bide a wee!” cried he, as she was folding up the letter. “Ye may add +that Mister Scanlan has taken to shootin' over the preserves we were +keepin' for the Captain, and if her Leddyship does not wish to banish +the woodcocks a'the-gither, she 'd better gie an order to stop him. +Young Nelli-gan had a special permission from Miss Mary hersel' and if +it was na that he canna hit a haystack at twenty yards, there 'd no be +a cock pheasant in the demesne! I think I 'm looking at her as she reads +this,” said he, with a malicious grin. “Ech, sirs, won't her great black +eyebrows meet on her forehead, and her mouth be drawn in till never a +bit of a red lip be seen! Is na that a chaise I see comin' up the road?” + cried he, suddenly. “Look yonder!” + +“I thought I saw something pass,” said she, trying to strain her eyes +through the tears that now rose to them. + +“It's a post-chaise wi' twa trunks on the top. I wonder who's comin' in +it?” said Henderson, as he opened the sash-door, and stood awaiting the +arrival. The chaise swept rapidly round the beech copse, and drew up +before the door; the postilion, dismounting, lowered the steps, and +assisted a lady to alight. She threw back her veil as she stood on the +ground, and Kate Henderson, somewhat jaded-looking and pale from her +journey, was before her father. A slight flush--very slight--rose to +his face as he beheld her, and without uttering a word he turned and +re-entered the house. + +“Ye are aboot to see a visitor, ma'am,” said he to his wife; and, taking +his hat, passed out of the room. Meanwhile Kate watched the postboy as +he untied the luggage and deposited it at her side. + +“Did n't I rowl you along well, my Lady?--ten miles in little more than +an hour,” said he, pointing to his smoking cattle. + +“More speed than we needed,” said she, with a melancholy smile, while +she placed some silver in his hand. + +“What's this here, my Lady? It's like one of the owld tenpenny bits,” + said he, turning over and over a coin as he spoke. + +“It's French money,” said she, “and unfortunately I have got none other +left me.” + +“Sure they'll give you what you want inside,” said he, pointing towards +the house. + +“No, no; take this. It is a crown piece, and they'll surely change it +for you in the town.” And so saying, she turned towards the door. +When she made one step towards it, however, she stopped. A painful +irresolution seemed to possess her; but, recovering it, she turned the +handle and entered. + +“We did not know you were coming; at least, he never told me,” said her +stepmother, in a weak, broken voice, as she arose from her seat. + +“There was no time to apprise you,” said Kate, as she walked towards the +fire and leaned her arm on the chimney-piece. + +“You came away suddenly, then? Had anything unpleasant--was there any +reason--” + +“I had been desirous of leaving for some time back. Lady Dorothea only +gave her consent on Tuesday last,--I think it was Tuesday; but my head +is not very clear, for I am somewhat tired.” There was an indescribable +sadness in the way these simple words were uttered and in the sigh which +followed them. + +“I 'm afraid he 'll not be pleased at it!” said the other, timidly. + +Another sigh, but still weaker than the former, was Kate's only reply. + +“And how did you leave Mr. Martin? They tell us here that his case is +hopeless,” said Mrs. Henderson. + +“He is very ill, indeed; the doctors give no hope of saving him. Is Miss +Martin fully aware of his state?” + +“Who can tell? We scarcely ever see her. You know that she never was +very partial to your father, and latterly there has been a greater +distance than ever between them. They differ about everything; and with +that independent way he has--” + +A wide stare from Kate's full dark eyes, an expression of astonishment, +mingled with raillery, in her features, here arrested the speaker, who +blushed deeply in her embarrassment. + +“Go on,” said Kate, gently. “Pray continue, and let me hear what it is +that his independence accomplishes.” + +“Oh, dear!” sighed the other. “I see well you are not changed, Kate. +You have come back with your old haughty spirit, and sure you know well, +dear, that he 'll not bear it.” + +“I 'll not impose any burden on his forbearance. A few days' shelter--a +week or two at furthest--will not be, perhaps, too much to ask.” + +“So, then, you have a situation in view, Kate?” asked she, more eagerly. + +“The world is a tolerably wide one, and I 'm sure there is room for me +somewhere, even without displacing another. But let us talk of anything +else. How are the Nelligans? and Joe, what is he doing?” + +“The old people are just as you left them; but Mr. Joseph is a great +man now,--dines with the Lord-Lieutenant, and goes into all the grand +society of Dublin.” + +“Is he spoiled by his elevation?” + +“Your father thinks him haughtier than he used to be; but many say that +he is exactly what he always was. Mrs. Nelligan comes up frequently to +the cottage now, and dines with Miss Martin. I 'm sure I don't know how +my Lady would like to see her there.” + +“She is not very likely,” said Kate, dryly. + +“Why not?” + +“I mean, that nothing is less probable than Lady Dorothea's return +here.” + +“I suppose not!” half sighed Mrs. Henderson, for hers was one of those +sorrowful temperaments that extract only the bitter from the cup of +life. In reality, she had little reason to wish for Lady Dorothea's +presence, but still she could make a “very good grievance” out of her +absence, and find it a fitting theme for regret. “What reason do you +mean to give for your coming home, Kate, if he should ask you?” inquired +she, after a pause. + +“That I felt dissatisfied with my place,” replied Kate, coldly. + +“And we were always saying what a piece of good luck it was for you to +be there! Miss Mary told Mrs. Nelligan--it was only the other day--that +her uncle could n't live without you,--that you nursed him, and read to +him, and what not; and as to her Ladyship, that she never took a drive +in the carriage, or answered a note, without asking your advice first.” + +“What a profound impression Miss Martin must have received of my talents +for intrigue!” said Kate, sneeringly. + +“I believe not. I think she said something very kind and good-natured, +just as if it was only people who had really very great gifts that could +condescend to make themselves subservient without humiliation. I know +she said 'without humiliation,' because your father laughed when he +heard of it, and remarked, 'If it's Kate's humility they like, they are +assuredly thankful for small mercies!” + +“I should like to go over and see Miss Martin. What distance is it from +this to the cottage?” + +“It's full three miles; but it's all through the demesne.” + +“I'm a good walker, and I'll go,” said she, rising. “But first, might I +ask for a little refreshment,--a cup of tea? Oh, I forgot,” added she, +smiling, “tea is one of the forbidden luxuries here.” + +“No; but your father doesn't like to see it in the daytime. If you'd +take it in your own room--” + +“Of course, and be most thankful. Am I to have the little room with the +green paper, where I used to be, long ago?” + +“Well, indeed, I can scarcely tell. The bed was taken down last autumn; +and as we never thought of your coming home--” + +“Home!” sighed Kate, involuntarily. + +“But come into my room, and I 'll fetch you a cup of tea directly.” + +“No, no; it is better not to risk offending him,” said Kate, calmly. “I +remember, now, that this was one of his antipathies. Give me anything +else, for I have not eaten to-day.” + +While her stepmother went in search of something to offer her, Kate sat +down beside the fire, deep in thought. She had removed her bonnet, and +her long silky hair fell in rich masses over her neck and shoulders, +giving a more fixed expression to her features, which were of deathlike +paleness. And so she sat, gazing intently on the fire, as though +she were reading her very destiny in the red embers before her. Her +preoccupation of mind was such that she never noticed the opening of +the door, nor remarked that her father had entered. The noise of a chair +being moved suddenly startled her. She looked up, and there he stood, +his hat on his head and his arms closely folded on his breast, at the +opposite side of the fire. + +“Well, lassie,” said he, after a long and steady stare at her, “ye hae +left your place, or been turned oot o' it,--whilk is the case?” + +“I came away of my own accord,” said she, calmly. + +“And against my Leddy's wish?” + +“No, with her full consent.” + +“And how did ye do it? for in her last letter to my sel', she says, 'I +desire ye, therefore, to bear in mind that any step she takes on this +head'--meaning about going away--'shall have been adopted in direct +opposition to my wishes.' What has ye done since that?” + +“I have succeeded in convincing her Ladyship that I was right in leaving +her!” said Kate. + +“Was it the force of your poleetical convictions that impelled ye to +this course?” said he, with a bitter grin, “for they tell me ye are a +rare champion o' the rights o' the people, and scruple not to denounce +the upper classes, while ye eat their bread.” + +“I denounce no one; nor, so far as I know myself, is ingratitude amongst +my faults.” + +“Maybe, if one were to tak' your ain narrative for it, ye hae nae faults +worse than mere failings! But this is na telling me why ye left my +Leddy.” + +Kate made no answer, but sat steadily watching the fire. + +“Ye wad rayther, mayhap, that I asked hersel' aboot it! Well, be it so. +And noo comes anither point. Do ye think that if your conduct has in +any way given displeasure to your mistress, or offended those in whose +service ye were,--do ye think, I say, that ye hae the right to involve +_me_ in your shame and disgrace?” + +“Do you mean,” said she, calmly, “that I had no right to come here?” + +“It 's just exactly what I mean; that if ye canna mak' friends for +yoursel', ye ought not to turn away those whilk befriend your family.” + +“But what was I to have done, then?” said she, gently. “There were +circumstances that required--imperatively required me--to leave Lady +Dorothea--” + +“Let me hear them,” said he, breaking in, “It would lead me to speak of +others than myself,--of events which are purely family matters,--were I +to enter upon this theme. Besides,” said she, rising, “I am not, so far +as I know, on my trial. There is not anything laid to my charge. I have +no apologies to render.” + +At this moment her stepmother appeared with a tray at the door, and +seeing Henderson, endeavored to retire unobserved, but his quick eye +had already detected her, and he cried out, “Come here,--ye canna do +too much honor to a young leddy who has such a vara profound esteem +for hersel'! Cake and wine! my faith! No but ye 'll deem it vara vulgar +fare, after the dainties ye hae been used to! And yet, lassie, these are +nae the habits here!” + +“She has eaten nothing to-day!” meekly observed her stepmother. + +“My fayther wad hae askit her hoo much has she earned the day?” said +Henderson, severely. + +“You are quite right, sir,” broke in Kate,--“I have earned nothing. Not +just yet,” added she, as her stepmother pressed a glass of wine on her +acceptance; “a little later, perhaps. I have no appetite now.” + +“Are ye sae stupid, ma'am, that ye canna see ye are dealin' wi' a fine +leddy, wha is no obleeged to hae the same mind twa minutes thegither? +Ye 'll hae to train wee Janet to be a' ready for whate'er caprice is +uppermost. But mine me, lassie,”--here he turned a look of stern meaning +towards her,--“ye hae tried for mony a lang day to subdue _me_ to your +whims and fancies, as they tell me ye hae done wi' sae mony others, and +ye are just as far fra it noo as the first time ye tried it. Ye canna +cheat nor cajole _me! I_ know ye!” And with these words, uttered in a +tone of intense passion, he slowly walked out of the room. + +“Had he been angry with you?--had anything occurred before I came in?” + asked her stepmother. + +“Very little,” sighed Kate, wearily. “He was asking me why I came here, +I believe. I could scarcely tell him; perhaps I don't very well know, +myself.” + +“He can't get it out of his head,” said the other, in a low, stealthy +whisper, “that, if you should leave Lady Dorothea, he will be turned +away out of the stewardship. He is always saying it,--he repeats it even +in his dreams. But for that, he 'd not have met you so--so--unkindly.” + +Kate pressed her hand affectionately, and smiled a thankful +acknowledgment of this speech. “And the cottage,” said she, rallying +suddenly, “is about three miles off?” + +“Not more. But you could scarcely walk there and back again. Besides, it +is already growing late, and you have no chance of seeing Miss Mary if +you 're not there by breakfast-time, since, when she comes home of an +evening, she admits no one. She reads or studies, I believe, all the +evening.” + +“I think she'd see me,” said Kate; “I should have so much to tell her +about her friends. I 'm sure she 'd see _me_,--at least, I'll try.” + +“But you'll eat something,--you 'll at least drink a glass of wine +before you set out?” + +“I do not like to refuse you,” said Kate, smiling good-naturedly, “but I +could n't swallow now. I have a choking feeling here in my throat, like +a heavy cold, that seems as though it would suffocate me. Good-bye, for +a while. I shall be quite well, once I 'm in the open air. Good-bye!” + And, so saying, she wrapped her shawl around her, and motioning a +farewell with her hand, set out on her errand. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. THE COTTAGE. + +It was one of those fresh and breezy days where brilliant flashes +of sunlight alternate with deep shadow, making of every landscape a +succession of pictures, that Kate Henderson set out on her way to the +cottage. Her path led through the demesne, but it was as wild as any +forest scene in Germany, now wending through dark woods, now issuing +forth over swelling lawns, from which the view extended many a mile +away,--at one moment displaying the great rugged mountains of Connemara, +and at another, the broad blue sea, heaving heavily, and thundering in +sullen roar against the rocks. + +The fast-flitting clouds, the breezy grass, the wind-shaken foliage, and +the white-crested waves, all were emblems of life; there was motion and +sound and conflict! and yet to her heart, as she walked along, these +influences imparted no sense of pleasure or relief. For a few seconds, +perhaps, would she suddenly awake to the consciousness of the fair scene +before her, and murmur to herself, perchance, the lines of some favorite +poet; but in another moment her gloomy thoughtfulness was back again, +and with bent-down head was she again moving onward. At times she +walked rapidly forward, and then, relaxing her pace, she would stroll +listlessly along, as though no object engaged her. And so was it in +reality,--her main desire being to be free, in the open air; to be from +beneath that roof whose shadow seemed to darken her very heart! Could +that haughty spirit have humbled itself in sorrow, she might have found +relief; but her proud nature had no such resource, and in her full heart +injury and wrong had alone their place. + +“And this,” burst she forth at length,--“and this is Home! this the +dreamland of those far away over the seas,--the cherished spot of all +affections,--the quiet nook wherein we breathe an atmosphere of love, +blending our lives with all dearest to us. Is it, then, that all is +hollow, false, and untrue; or is it that I alone have no part in the +happiness that is diffused around me? I know not which would be the +sadder!” + +Thus, reasoning sadly, she went along, when suddenly, on the slope of a +gentle hill in front of her, gracefully encircled with a young wood +of larch and copper-beech, she caught sight of the cottage. It was a +tasteful imitation of those seen in the Oberland, and with its wild +background of lofty mountain, an appropriate ornament to the landscape. + +A small stream running over a rocky, broken bed formed the boundary of +the little grounds, and over this a bridge of a single plank conducted +the way to the cottage. The whole was simple and unpretending; there +was none of that smart trimness which gives to such scenes the air of +an imitation. The lawn, it is true, was neatly shaven, and the +flower-plots, which broke its uniformity, clean from weeds; but the +flowers were of the simplest kind,--the crocus and the daffodil had to +stand no dangerous rivalry, and the hyacinth had nothing to vie with. + +Kate loitered for some time here, now gazing at the wild, stern +landscape, now listening to the brawling rivulet, whose sounds were the +only ones in the stillness. As she drew nigh the cottage, she found +the windows of a little drawing-room open. She looked in: all was +comfortable and neat-looking, but of the strictest simplicity. She next +turned to the little porch, and pulled the bell; in a few seconds the +sounds of feet were heard approaching, and a very old woman, whose +appearance and dress were the perfection of neatness, appeared. + +“Don't you know me, Mrs. Broon?” said Kate, gently. + +“I do not, then, my Lady,” said she, respectfully, “for my eyes is +gettin' dimmer every day.” + +“I 'm Kate Henderson, Mrs. Broon. Do you forget me?” + +“Indeed I do not,” said Catty, gravely. “You were here with the master +and my Lady?” + +“Yes. I went away with them to Germany; but I have come home for a +while, and wish to pay my respects to Miss Mary.” + +“She isn't at home to-day,” was the dry response. + +“But she will return soon, I conclude. She'll be back some time in the +evening, won't she?” + +“If she plazes it, she will. There's nobody to control or make her do +but what she likes herself,” said Catty. + +“I ask,” said Kate, “because I'm a little tired. I've come off a long +journey, and if you'd allow me to rest myself, and wait awhile in the +hope of seeing Miss Martin, I'd be very thankful.” + +“Come in, then,” said Catty; but the faint sigh with which the words +were uttered, gave but a scant significance of welcome. + +Kate followed her into the little drawing-room, and at a sign from the +old woman, took a seat. + +“Miss Mary is quite well, I'm glad to hear,” said Kate, endeavoring to +introduce some conversation. + +“Will they ever come back?” asked the old woman, in a stern, harsh +voice, while she paid no attention whatever to Kate's remark. + +“It is very unlikely,” said Kate. “Your poor master had not long to live +when I came away. He was sinking rapidly.” + +“So I heard,” muttered the other, dryly; “the last letter from Mr. +Repton said 'he was n't expected.'” + +“I fear it will be a great shock to Miss Mary,” said Kate. + +The old woman nodded her head slowly several times without speaking. + +“And, perhaps, cause great changes here?” continued Kate. + +“There's changes enough, and too many already,” muttered Catty. “I +remember the place upwards of eighty years. I was born in the little +house to the right of the road as you come up from Kelly's mills. There +was no mill there then, nor a school-house, no, nor a dispensary either! +Musha, but the people was better off, and happier, when they had none of +them.” + +Kate smiled at the energy with which these words were uttered, +surmising, rightfully, that Catty's condemnation of progress had a +direct application to herself. + +“Now it's all readin' and writin', teachin' honest people to be rogues, +and givin' them new contrivances to cheat their masters. When I knew +Cro' Martin first,” added she, almost fiercely, “there was n't a Scotch +steward on the estate; but there was nobody turned out of his houldin', +and there was n't a cabin unroofed to make the people seek shelter under +a ditch.” + +“The world would then seem growing worse every day,” remarked Kate, +quietly. + +“To be sure it is. Why would n't it? Money is in every one's heart. +Nobody cares for his own flesh and blood. 'T is all money! What will I +get if I take that farm over another man's head, or marry that girl that +likes somebody better than me? 'Tis to be rich they're all strivin', +and the devil never made people his own children so completely as by +teachin' them to love goold!” + +“Your young mistress has but little of this spirit in her heart?” said +Kate. + +“Signs on it! look at the life she leads: up before daybreak, and away +many times before I 'm awake. She makes a cup of coffee herself, and +saddles the pony, too, if Patsey is n't there to do it; and she 's off +to Glentocher, or Knock-mullen, twelve, fourteen miles down the coast, +with barley for one, and a bottle of wine for the other. Sometimes she +has a basket with her, just a load to carry, with tay and shugar; ay, +and--for she forgets nothing--toys for the children, too, and clothes, +and even books. And then to see herself, she 's not as well dressed +as her own maid used to be. There 's not a night she does n't sit up +patchin' and piecin' her clothes. 'T is Billy at the cross-roads made +her shoes last time for her, just because he was starvin' with nothing' +to do. She ordered them, and she wears them, too; it makes him so proud, +she says, to see them. And this is the niece of the Martins of +Cro' Martin! without one of her kith or kin to welcome her home at +nightfall,--without father or mother, brother or sister,--without a kind +voice to say 'God bless her,' as she falls off to sleep many a time in +that big chair there; and I take off her shoes without her knowin' it, +she does be so weary and tired; and in her dhrames it 's always talking +to the people, givin' them courage, and cheerin' them up, tellin' them +there 's good times for every one; and once, the other evenin', she +sang a bit of a song, thinkin' she was in Mat Leahy's cabin amusin' the +children, and she woke up laughin', and said, 'Catty, I 've had such a +pleasant dhrame. I thought I had little Nora, my godchild, on my knee, +and was teachin' her “Why are the daisies in the grass?” I can't tell +you how happy I felt!' There it was: the only thing like company to her +poor heart was a dhrame!” + +“I do not wonder that you love her, Catty,” said Kate; and the words +fell tremulously from her lips. + +“Love her! what's the use of such as me lovin' her?” cried the old +woman, querulously. “Sure, it's not one of my kind knows how good she +is! If you only seen her comin' in here, after dark, maybe, wet and +weary and footsore, half famished with cold and hunger,--out the whole +livelong day, over the mountains, where there was fever and shakin' +ague, and starvin' people, ravin' mad between disease and destitution; +and the first word out of her mouth will be, 'Oh, Catty, how grateful +you and I ought to be with our warm roof over us, and our snug fire to +sit at,' never thinkin' of who she is and what she has the right to, but +just makin' herself the same as _me_. And then she 'd tell me where she +was, and what she seen, and how well the people was bearin' up under +their trials,--all the things they said to her, for they 'd tell her +things they would n't tell the priest. 'Catty,' said she, t' other +night, 'it looks like heartlessness in me to be in such high spirits +in the midst of all this misery here; but I feel as if my courage was a +well that others were drinking out of; and when I go into a cabin, the +sick man, as he turns his head round, looks happier, and I feel as if +it was my spirit that was warmin' and cheerin' him; and when a poor +sick sufferin' child looks up at me and smiles, I 'm ready to drop on my +knees and thank God in gratitude.'” + +Kate covered her face with her hands, and never spoke; and now the old +woman, warming with the theme she loved best, went on to tell various +incidents and events of Mary's life,--the perilous accidents which +befell her, the dangers she braved, the fatigues she encountered. Even +recounted by _her_, there was a strange adventurous character that ran +through these recitals, showing that Mary Martin, in all she thought and +said and acted, was buoyed and sustained by a sort of native chivalry +that made her actually court the incidents where she incurred the +greatest hazard. It was plain to see what charm such traits possessed +for her who recorded them, and how in her old Celtic blood ran the +strong current of delight in all that pertained to the adventurous and +the wild. + +“'Tis her own father's nature is strong in her,” said Catty, with +enthusiasm. “Show him the horse that nobody could back, tell him of a +storm where no fisherman would launch his boat, point out a cliff that +no man could climb, and let me see who 'd hould him! She 's so like him, +that when there 's anything daring to be done you would n't know her +voice from his own. There, now, I hear her without,” cried the old +woman, as, rising suddenly, she approached the window. “Don't you hear +something?” + +“Nothing but the wind through the trees,” said Kate. + +“Ay, but _I_ did, and my ears are older than yours. She's riding through +the river now; I hear the water splashin'.” + +Kate tried to catch the sounds, but could not; she walked out upon the +lawn to listen, but except the brawling of the stream among the rocks, +there was nothing to be heard. + +“D' ye see her comin'?” asked Catty, eagerly. + +“No. Your ears must have deceived you. There is no one coming.” + +“I heard her voice, as I hear yours now. I heard her spake to the mare, +as she always does when she 's plungin' into the river. There, now, +don't you hear that?” + +“I hear nothing, I assure you, my dear Mrs. Broon. It is your own +anxiety that is misleading you; but if you like, I 'll go down towards +the river and see.” And without waiting for a reply Kate hastened +down the slope. As she went, she could not help reflecting over the +superstition which attaches so much importance to these delusions, +giving them the character of actual warnings. It was doubtless from the +mind dwelling so forcibly on Miss Martin's perilous life that the old +woman's apprehensions had assumed this palpable form, and thus invented +the very images which should react upon her with terror. + +“Just as I thought,” cried Kate, as she stood on the bank of the stream; +“all silent and deserted, no one within sight.” And slowly she retraced +her steps towards the cottage. The old woman stood at the door, pale and +trembling; an attempt to smile was on her features, but her heart denied +the courage of the effort. + +“Where is she now?” cried Catty, wildly. “She rang the bell this minute, +and I heerd the mare trottin' round to the stable by herself, as she +always does. But where 's Miss Mary?” + +“My dear Mrs. Broon,” said Kate, in her kindest accents, “it is just as +I told you. Your mind is anxious and uneasy about Miss Martin; you are +unhappy at her absence, and you think at every stir you hear her coming; +but I have been to the river-side, and there is no one there. I 'll go +round to the stables, if you wish it.” + +“There 's no tracks of a hoof on the gravel,” muttered the old woman, in +a broken voice; “there was nobody here!” + +“So I said,” replied Kate. “It was a mere delusion,--a fancy.” + +“A delusion,--a fancy!” cried Catty, scornfully; “that's the way they +always spake of whatever they don't understand. It's easier to say that +than confess you don't see how to explain a thing; but I heerd the same +sounds before you came to-day; ay, and I went down to see why she was +n't comin', and at the pool there was bubbles and froth on the water, +just as if a baste had passed through, but no livin' thing to be seen. +Was n't that a delusion, too?” + +“An accident, perchance. Only think, what lives of misery we should lead +were we ever tracing our own fears, and connecting them with all the +changes that go on around us!” + +“It's two days she's away, now,” muttered the old woman, who only +heeded her own thoughts; “she was to be back last night, or early this +mornin'.” + +“Where had she gone to?” asked Kate, who now saw that the other had +lapsed into confidence. + +“She's gone to the islands!--to Innishmore, and maybe, on to Brannock!” + +“That's a long way out to sea,” said Kate, thoughtfully; “but still, the +weather is fine, and the day favorable. Had she any other object than +pleasure in this excursion?” + +“Pleasure is it?” croaked Catty. “'Tis much pleasure she does be given +herself! Her pleasure is to be where there 's fever and want,--in the +lonely cabin, where the sick is lyin'! It 's to find a poor crayture +that run away from home she 's gone now,--one Joan Landy. She's missin' +this two months, and nobody knows where she 's gone to! and Miss Mary +got so uneasy at last that she could n't sleep by night nor rest by +day,--always talkin' about her, and say in' as much as it was all her +fault; as if _she_ could know why she went, or where?” + +“Did she go alone on this errand, then?” + +“To be sure she did. Who could she have with her? She towld Loony she 'd +want the boat with four men in it, and maybe to stay out three days, for +she 'd go to all the islands before she came back.” + +“Loony 's the best sailor on the coast, I 've heard; and with such +weather as this there is no cause for alarm.” + +Catty did not seem to heed the remark; she felt that within her against +which the words of consolation availed but little, and she sat brooding +sorrowfully and in silence. + +“The night will soon be fallin' now,” said she, at last. “I hope she's +not at sea!” + +In spite of herself, Kate Henderson caught the contagion of the old +woman's terrors, and felt a dreamy, undefined dread of coming evil. As +she looked out, however, at the calm and fair landscape, which, as +day declined, grew each moment more still, she rallied from the gloomy +thoughts, and said,--“I wish I knew how to be of any service to you, +Mrs. Broon. If you could think of anything I could do--anywhere I could +go--” She stopped suddenly at a gesture from the old woman, who, lifting +her hand to impress silence, stood a perfect picture of eager anxiety +to hear. Bending down her head, old Catty stood for several seconds +motionless. + +“Don't ye hear it now?” broke she in. “Listen! I thought I heerd +something like a wailin' sound far off, but it is the wind. See how the +tree-tops are bendin'!--That's three times I heerd it now,” said Catty. +“If ye live to be as old as me, you 'll not think light of a warnin'. +You think your hearin' better because you're younger; but I tell you +that there 's sounds that only reach ears that are goin' to where the +voices came from. When eyes grow dim to sights of this world, they are +strainin' to catch a glimpse of them that's beyond it.” Although no +tears rose to her eyes, the withered face trembled in her agony, and her +clasped hands shook in the suffering of her sorrow. + +Against impressions of this sort, Kate knew well enough how little +reasoning availed, and she forbore to press arguments which she was +aware would be unsuccessful. She tried, however, to turn the current of +the old woman's thoughts, by leading her to speak of the condition of +the country and the state of the people. Catty gave short, abrupt, and +unwilling answers to all she asked, and Kate at length arose to take her +leave. + +“You're goin' away, are ye?” said Catty, half angrily. + +“I have only just remembered that I have a long way to walk, and it is +already growing late.” + +“Ay, and ye 're impatient to be back again, at home, beside your own +fire, with your own people. But _she_ has no home, and her own has +deserted her!” + +“Mine has not many charms for me!” muttered Kate to herself. + +“It's happy for you that has father and mother,” went on the old woman. +“Them 's the only ones, after all!--the only ones that never loves the +less, the less we desarve it! I don't wonder ye came back again!” And in +a sort of envious bitterness Catty wished her a good-night. + +If the distance she had to walk was not shortened by the tenor of her +thoughts, as little did she feel impatient to press onward. Dreary and +sad enough were her reveries. Of the wild visionary ambitions which once +had stirred her heart, there remained nothing but disappointments. She +had but passed the threshold of life to find all dreary and desolate; +but perhaps the most painful feeling of the moment was the fact that now +pressed conviction on her, and told that in the humble career of such a +one as Mary Martin there lay a nobler heroism and a higher devotion +than in the most soaring path of political ambition, and that all the +theorizing as to popular rights made but a sorry figure beside the +actual benefits conferred by one true-hearted lover of her kind. “She +is right, and I am wrong!” muttered she to herself. “In declining to +entertain questions of statecraft she showed herself above, and not +beneath, the proud position she had taken. The very lowliness of +this task is its glory. Oh, if I could but win her confidence and be +associated in such a labor! and yet my very birth denies me the prestige +that hers confers.” And then she thought of home, and all the coldness +of that cheerless greeting smote upon her heart. + +The moon was up ere Kate arrived at her father's door. She tapped at +it gently, almost timidly. Her stepmother, as if expecting her, came +quickly, and in a low, cautious whisper told her that she would find her +supper ready in her bedroom. + +“To-morrow, perhaps, he may be in better humor or better spirits. +Good-night.” And so Kate silently stole along to her room, her proud +heart swelling painfully, and her tearless eye burning with all the heat +of a burning brain. + + + +CHAPTER XXX. “A TEA-PARTY” AT MRS. CRONAN'S + +Once more, but for the last time, we are at Kilkieran. To a dreary day +of incessant rain succeeded an evening still drearier. Wild gusts swept +along the little shore, and shook the frail windows and ill-fitting +doors of the cottages, while foam and sea-drift were wafted over the +roofs, settling like snow-flakes on the tall cliffs above them. And yet +it was midsummer! By the almanac the time was vouched to be the opening +of the season; a fact amply corroborated by the fashionable assemblage +then enjoying the hospitalities of Mrs. Cronan's tea-table. There they +were, with a single exception, the same goodly company already presented +to the reader in an early chapter of our story. We have already +mentioned the great changes which time had worked in the appearance +of the little watering-place. The fostering care of proprietorship +withdrawn, the ornamental villa of the Martins converted into a +miserable village inn, the works of the pier and harbor suspended, and +presenting in their unfinished aspect the dreary semblance of ruin and +decay,--all conspired with the falling fortunes of the people to make +the scene a sad one. Little evidence of this decline, however, could be +traced in the aspect of that pleasant gathering, animated with all its +ancient taste for whist, scandal, and shrimps; their appetite for such +luxuries seeming rather to have increased than diminished by years. +Not that we presume to say they could claim any immunity against the +irrevocable decrees of age. Unhappily, the confession may be deemed not +exactly in accordance with gallantry; but it is strictly true, time +had no more forgotten the living than the inanimate accessories of +the picture. Miss Busk, of the Emporium, had grown more sour and more +stately. The vinegar of her temperament was verging upon verjuice, and +the ill opinion of mankind experience enforced had written itself +very legibly on her features. The world had not improved upon her by +acquaintance. Not so Captain Bodkin; fatter and more wheezy than ever, +he seemed to relish life rather more than when younger. He had given up, +too, that long struggle with himself about bathing, and making up his +mind to suffer no “sea-change;” he was, therefore, more cheerful than +before. + +As for Mrs. Cronan, “the little comforts she was used to” had sorely +diminished by the pressure of the times, and, in consequence, she +drew unlimited drafts upon the past to fill up the deficiencies of the +present. Strange enough is it, that the faults and follies of society +are just as adhesive ingredients as its higher qualities! These +people had grown so used to each other in all their eccentric ways +and oddities, that they had become fond of them; like a pilot long +accustomed to rocks and sandbanks, they could only steer their course +where there was something to avoid! + +The remainder of the goodly company had grown stouter or thinner, +jollier or more peevish, as temperament inclined; for it is with human +nature as with wine: if the liquor does not get racier with years, it +degenerates sadly. + +The first act of the whist and backgammon playing was over, and the +party now sat, stood, crouched, lounged, or lay, as chance and the state +of the furniture permitted, at supper. At the grand table, of course, +were the higher dignitaries, such as Father Maher, the Captain, Miss +Busk, and Mrs. Clinch; but cockles were eaten, and punch discussed in +various very odd quarters; bursts of joyous laughter, too, came from +dark pantries, and sounds of merriment mingled with the jangling crash +of kitchen utensils. Reputations were roasted and pancakes fried, +characters and chickens alike mangled, and all the hubbub of a festival +prevailed in a scene where the efforts of the fair hostess were directed +to produce an air of unblemished elegance and gentility. + +Poor Clinch, the revenue officer, who invariably eat what he called “his +bit” in some obscure quarter, alone and companionless, was twice “had +up” before the authorities for the row and uproar that prevailed, and +underwent a severe cross-examination, “as to where he was when Miss +Cullenane was making the salad,” and, indeed, cut a very sorry figure +at the conclusion of the inquiry. All the gayeties and gravities of +the scene, however, gradually toned down as the serious debate of the +evening came on; which was no other than the lamentable condition of +the prospects of Kilkieran, and the unanimous opinion of the ruinous +consequences that must ensue from the absence of the proprietor. + +“We 've little chance of getting up the news-room now,” said the +Captain. “The Martins won't give a sixpence for anything.” + +“It is something to give trade an impulse we want, sir,” broke in +Miss Busk,--“balls and assemblies; evening reunions of the _élite_ of +society, where the elegance of the toilet should rival the _distingué_ +air of the company.” + +“That's word for word out of the 'Intelligence,'” cried the Captain. +“It's unparliamentary to quote the newspapers.” + +“I detest the newspapers,” broke in Miss Busk, angrily; “after +advertising the Emporium for two seasons in the 'Galway Celt,' they gave +me a leading article beginning, 'As the hot weather is now commencing, +and the season for fashion approaches, we cannot better serve the +interests of our readers than by directing attention to the elegant +“Symposium!”' 'Symposium!'--I give you my word of honor that's what they +put it.” + +“On my conscience! it might have been worse,” chuckled out the Captain. + +“It was young Nelligan explained to me what it was,” resumed Miss Busk; +“and Scanlan said, 'I'd have an action against them for damages.'” + +“Keep out of law, my dear!--keep out of law!” sighed Mrs. Cronan. “See +to what it has reduced me! I, that used to go out in my own coach, with +two men in green and gold; that had my house in town, and my house in +the country; that had gems and ornaments such as a queen might wear! And +there's all that's left me now!” And she pointed to a brooch about the +size of a cheese-plate, where a melancholy gentleman in uniform was +represented, with a border of mock pearls around him. “The last pledge +of affection!” sobbed she. + +“Of course you wouldn't pledge it, my dear,” muttered the deaf old Mrs. +Few; “and they'd give you next to nothing on it, besides.” + +[Illustration: 324] + +“We 'll have law enough here soon, it seems,” said Mrs. Cronan, angrily; +for the laugh this blunder excited was by no means flattering and +pleasant. “There 's Magennis's action first for trial at the Assizes.” + +“That will be worth hearing,” said Mrs. Clinch. “They 'll have the first +lawyers from Dublin on each side.” + +“Did you hear the trick they played off on Joe Nelligan about it?” asked +the Captain. “It was cleverly done. Magennis found out, some way or +other, that Joe wanted to be engaged against him; and so what does he +do but gets a servant dressed up in the Martin livery, and sends him to +Joe's house on the box of a coach, inside of which was a gentleman +that begged a word with the Counsellor. 'You 're not engaged, I hope, +Counsellor Nelligan,' says he, 'in Magennis against Martin?' 'No,' says +Joe, for he caught a glimpse of the livery. 'You're quite free?' says +the other. 'Quite free,' says he. 'That's all I want, then,' says he; +'here's your brief, and here's your retainer;' and he put both down on +the table, and when Joe looked down he saw he was booked for Magennis. +You may imagine how he felt; but he never uttered a word, for there was +no help for it.” + +“And do you mean to tell me,” cried Mrs. Clinch, “that the lawyers can't +help themselves, but must just talk and rant and swear for any one that +asks them first?” + +“It's exactly what I mean, ma'am,” responded the Captain. “They 've no +more choice in the matter than the hangman has as to who be 'll hang.” + +“Then I'd as soon be a gauger!” exclaimed the lady, with a contemptuous +glance at poor Clinch, who winced under the observation. + +“But I don't see what they wanted young Nelligan for,” said Miss Busk; +“what experience or knowledge has _he?_” + +“He's just the first man of the day,” said Bodkin. “They tell me that +whether it be to crook out a flaw in the enemy's case, to pick a hole in +a statement, to crush a witness, or cajole the jury, old Repton himself +is n't his equal.” + +“I suppose, from the airs he gives himself, he must be something +wonderful,” said Mrs. Cronan. + +“Well, now, I differ from you there, ma'am,” replied Bodkin. “I think +Joe is just what he always was. He was cold, silent, and distant as a +boy, and he 's the same as a man. Look at him when he comes down here at +the Assizes, down to the town where his father is selling glue and hides +and tenpenny-nails, and he 's just as easy and unconstrained as if the +old man was Lord of Cro' Martin Castle.” + +“That's the height of impertinence,” broke in Miss Busk; “it's only +real blood has any right to rise above the depreciating accidents of +condition. I know it by myself.” + +“Well, I wonder what he 'll make of this case, anyhow,” said feodkin, to +escape a controversy he had no fancy for. “They tell me that no action +can lie on it. It's not abduction--” + +“For shame, Captain; you forget there are ladies here,” said Mrs. +Clinch. + +“Indeed I don't,” sighed he, with a half-comic melancholy in his look. + +“I'll tell you how they do it, sir,” chimed in Father Maher. “Whenever +there 's anything in law that never was foreseen or provided for, +against which there is neither act nor statute, they 've one grand and +unfailing resource,--they charge it as a conspiracy. I 've a brother an +attorney, and he tells me that there is n't a man, woman, or child in +the kingdom but could be indicted for doing something by a conspiracy.” + +“It's a great comfort to know that,” said Bodkin, gravely. + +“And what can they do to her if she's found guilty?” asked Mrs. Cronan. + +“Make her smart for the damages, ma'am; leave her something less to +expend on perversion and interference with the people,” said the priest. +“The parish isn't the same since she began visiting this one and reading +to that. Instead of respect and confidence in their spiritual guides, +the people are running after a young girl with a head full of wild +schemes and contrivances. We all know by this time how these things end, +and the best receipt to make a Protestant begins, 'First starve your +Papist.'” + +“I rise to order,” called out Bodkin. “We agreed we'd have no polemics +nor party discussions.” + +“Why am I appealed to, then, for explanations that involve them?” + cried the priest, angrily. “I'm supported, too, in my observations by a +witness none will dispute,--that Scotchman, Henderson--” + +“By the way, isn't his daughter come home to him?” asked Bodkin, eager +for a diversion. + +“Indeed she is, sir; and a pretty story there is about it, too. Miss +Busk knows it all,” said Mrs. Cronan. + +“I have it in confidence, ma'am, from Jemima Davis,--Lady Dorothea's +second maid; but I don't think it a fit subject for public +conversation.” + +“And ain't we in committee here?” chimed in Bodkin; “have we any secrets +from each other?” The racy laugh of the old fellow, as he threw a +knowing glance around the table, rather disconcerted the company. “Let's +hear about Henderson's daughter.” + +“The story is soon told, sir. Lady Dorothea detected her endeavoring to +draw young Martin into a private marriage. The artful creature, by +some means or other, had obtained such an insight into the young man's +difficulties that she actually terrorized over his weak mind. +She discovered, too, it is suspected, something rather more than +indiscretions on his part.” + +A long low whistle from the priest seemed to impart a kind of gratified +surprise at this announcement. + +“He had got into a habit of signing his name, they say; and whether he +signed it to something he had no right to, or signed another name by +mistake--” + +“Oh, for shame,” broke in Bodkin; “that wouldn't be one bit like a +Martin.” + +“Perhaps you are acquainted with all the circumstances better than +myself, sir?” said Miss Busk, bristling up with anger. “Maybe you 've +heard how the Henderson girl was turned away out of the French duke's +family,--how she was found in correspondence with the leaders of the mob +in Paris? Maybe, sir, you are aware that she has some mysterious hold +over her father, and he dares not gainsay one word she says?” + +“I don't know one word of it; and if it wasn't thought rude, I'd say I +don't believe it, either,” said Bodkin, stoutly. + +“I believe the worst that could be said of her,” said Mrs. Clinch. + +“Well, well, make her as bad as you like; but how does that prove +anything against young Martin? and if you can find nothing heavier to +say of him than that he wanted to marry a very handsome girl--” + +“A low creature!” broke in Miss Busk. + +“The lowest of the low!” chimed in Mrs. Cronan. + +“An impudent, upsetting minx!” added Mrs. Clinch. “Nothing would serve +her but a post-chaise the morning she arrived by the mail for Dublin; +and, signs on it, when she got home she had n't money to pay for it.” + +“It was n't that she left her place empty-handed, then,” said Miss Busk. +“Jemima tells me that she managed the whole house,--paid for everything; +and we all know what comes of that.” + +Miss Busk, in delivering this sentiment, was seated with her back to +the door, towards which suddenly every eye was now turned in mingled +astonishment and confusion; she moved round to see the cause, and there +beheld the very object of her commentary standing close behind her +chair. Closely wrapped in a large cloak, the hood of which she wore +over her head, her tall figure looked taller and more imposing in its +motionless attitude. + +“I have to ask pardon for this intrusion, ladies,” said she, calmly; +“but you will forgive me when I tell the reason of it. I have just +received very sad tidings, which ought to be conveyed to Miss Martin; +she is at the islands, and I have no means of following her, unless Mr. +Clinch will kindly lend me the revenue boat--” + +“And accompany you, I hope,” broke in Mrs. Clinch, with a sneer. + +Kate did not notice the taunting remark, but went on, “You will be +grieved to hear that Mr. Martin is no more.” + +“Martin dead!” muttered the Captain. + +“Dead! When did he die?” “Where did it happen?” “How?” “Of what +malady?” “Are his remains coming home?” were asked in quick succession +by several voices. + +“This letter will tell you all that I know myself,” said she, laying it +on the table. “May I venture to hope Mr. Clinch will so far oblige me? +The fishermen say the sea is too rough for their craft.” + +“It's not exactly on the King's service, I opine, ma'am,” broke in Mrs. +Clinch; “but of course he is too gallant to oppose your wishes.” + +“Faith! if you wanted any one with you, and would accept of myself,” + broke in Bodkin, “I'm ready this minute; not that exactly salt water is +my element.” + +“The young lady is accustomed to travel alone, or she is much belied,” + said Miss Busk, with a sneer. + +“I suppose you'd better let her have the boat, Clinch,” said his wife, +in a whisper. “There's no knowing what might come of it if you refused.” + +“I 'll go down and muster the crew for you, Miss Henderson,” said +Clinch, not sorry to escape, although the exchange was from a warm cabin +to the beating rain without. + +“Poor Martin!” sighed Bodkin; “he was the first of the family for many a +long year that did n't breathe his last under his own roof. I 'm sure it +weighed heavily on him.” + +“I trust his son will follow his example, nevertheless,” said the +priest. “I don't want to see one of the name amongst us.” + +“You might have worse, Father Maher,” said Bodkin, angrily. + +And now a lively discussion ensued as to the merits of him they +had lost, for the most part with more of charity than many of their +dissertations; from this they branched off into speculations about the +future. Would the “present man” reside at home? would her Ladyship come +back? what would be Mary's position? how would Scanlan fare? what of +Henderson, too? In fact, casualties of every kind were debated, +and difficulties started, that they might be as readily reconciled. +Meanwhile Kate was hastening down to the shore, followed, rather than +escorted, by little Clinch, who even in the darkness felt that the +conjugal eye was upon him. + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. THE BRANNOCK ISLANDS + +A little to the northwest of the island of Innishmore are scattered a +number of small islets, some scarcely more than barren rocks, called +the Brannocks. One of these alone was inhabited, and that by a single +family. No isolation could be more complete than that of these poor +people, who thus dwelt amid the wide waste of waters, never seeing the +face of a stranger, and only at long intervals visiting the mainland. +Indeed the only intercourse they could be said to maintain with their +fellow-men was when by chance they fell in with some homeward-bound ship +at sea, and sold the little produce of their nets; for they lived by +fishing, and had no other subsistence. + +The largest of these islands was called “Brannock-buoy,” or the Yellow +Brannock, from the flower of a kind of crocus which grew profusely over +it. It was a wild, desolate spot, scarcely rising above the waves around +it, save in one quarter, where a massive column of rock rose to the +height of several hundred feet, and formed the only shelter against the +swooping wind, which came without break or hindrance from the far-away +shores of Labrador. At the foot of this strong barrier--so small and +insignificant as to escape notice from the sea--stood the little cabin +of Owen Joyce. Built in a circular form, the chimney in the middle, the +rude structure resembled some wigwam of the prairies rather than the +home of civilized beings. + +Certain low partitions within subdivided the space into different +chambers, making the centre the common apartment of the family, where +they cooked and ate and chatted; for, with all their poverty and +privation, theirs was a life not devoid of its own happiness, nor did +they believe that their lot was one to repine at. + +Seasons of unprofitable labor, years of more or less pressure, they had +indeed experienced, but actual want had never visited them; sickness, +too, was almost as rare. Owen Joyce was, at the time we speak of, +upwards of eighty; and although his hair was white as snow, his cheek +was ruddy, his white teeth were perfect, and his eye--like that of +Moses--“was not dim.” Surrounded by his children and grandchildren, the +old man lived happy and contented, his daily teaching being to impress +upon them the blessings they derived from a life so sheltered from all +the accidents of fortune; to have, as he called the island, “the little +craft all their own.” + +The traits of race and family, the limited range of their intercourse +with the world, served to make them all wonderfully alike, not only in +feature but expression; so that even the youngest child had something of +the calm, steadfast look which characterized the old man. The jet-black +hair and eyes and the swarthy skin seemed to indicate a Spanish origin, +and gave them a type perfectly distinctive and peculiar. + +In the midst of them moved one who, though dressed in the light-blue +woollen kirtle, the favorite costume of the islands, bore in her fresh +bright features the traces of a different blood; her deep blue eye, soft +and almost sleepy, her full, well-curved lips, were strong contrasts to +the traits around her. The most passing glance would have detected +that she was not “one of them,” nor had she been long an inmate of this +dwelling. + +It chanced that some short time before, one of Joyce's sons, in boarding +an outward-bound American ship, had heard of a young countrywoman +who, having taken her passage for New York, no sooner found herself at +sea--parted, as she deemed it, forever from home and country--than she +gave way to the most violent grief; so poignant, indeed, was her sorrow +that the captain compassionately offered to relinquish her passage-money +if Joyce would take charge of her, and re-land her on the shores of +Ireland. The offer was accepted, and the same evening saw her safely +deposited on the rocky island of Brannock. Partly in gratitude to her +deliverer, partly in the indulgence of a secret wish, she asked leave +to remain with them and be their servant; the compact was agreed to, and +thus was she there. + +Theirs was not a life to engender the suspicions and distrusts which +are current in the busier walks of men. None asked her a reason for her +self-banishment, none inquired whether the cause of her exile was +crime or misfortune. They had grown to feel attachment to her for the +qualities of her gentle, quiet nature, a mild submissive temper, and a +disposition to oblige, that forgot nothing save herself. Her habits had +taught her resources and ways which their isolated existence had denied +them, and she made herself useful by various arts, which, simple as they +were, seemed marvellous to the apprehension of her hosts; and thus, day +by day, gaining on their love and esteem, they came at length to regard +her with an affection mingled with a sort of homage. + +Poor Joan Landy--for we have not to explain that it was she--was +happy,--happier than ever she had been before. The one great sorrow of +her life was, it is true, treasured in her heart; her lost home, +her blighted hope, her severed affection--for she actually loved +Magennis--were griefs over which she wept many an hour in secret; +but there was a sense of duty, a conscious feeling of rectitude, +that supported her in her sacrifice, and as she thought of her old +grandfather's death-bed, she could say to her heart, “I have been true +to my word with him.” + +The unbroken quiet, the unchanging character of the life she led,--its +very duties following a routine that nothing ever disturbed,--gave her +ample time for thought; and thought, though tinged with melancholy, has +its own store of consolation; and if poor Joan sorrowed, she sorrowed +like one who rather deplored the past than desired to re-live it! As +time wore on, a dreamy indistinctness seemed to spread itself over the +memory of her former life: it appeared little other than a mind-drawn +picture. Nothing actual or tangible remained to convince her of its +reality. It was only at rare intervals, and in the very clearest +weather, the outline of the mountains of the mainland could be seen; and +when she did behold them, they brought only some vague recollection to +her; and so, too, the memories of her once home came through the haze of +distance, dim and indistinct. + +It was at the close of a day in June that the Joyces sat in front of +the little cabin, repairing their nets, and getting their tackle in +readiness for the sea. For some time previous the weather had been +broken and unfavorable. Strong west winds and heavy seas--far from +infrequent in these regions, even in midsummer--had rendered fishing +impracticable; but now the aspect of a new moon, rising full an hour +before sunset, gave promise of better, and old Joyce had got the launch +drawn up on shore to refit, and sails were spread out upon the rocks to +dry, and coils of rope, and anchors, and loose spars littered the little +space before the door. The scene was a busy and not an unpicturesque +one. There was every age, from the oldest to very infancy, all active, +all employed. Some were calking the seams of the boat, others overhauled +sails and cordage; some were preparing the nets, attaching cork floats +or sinkers; and two chubby urchins, mere infants, laughing, fed the +fire that blazed beneath a large pitch-pot, the light blue smoke rising +calmly into the air, and telling those far away that the lone rock +was not without inhabitants. To all seeming, these signs of life and +habitation bad attracted notice; for a small boat which had quitted +Innishmore for the mainland some time before, now altered her course, +and was seen slowly bearing up towards the Brannocks. Though the sea was +calm and waveless, the wind was only sufficient to waft her along at the +slowest rate; a twinkling flash of the sea at intervals showed, however, +that her crew were rowing, and at length the measured beat of the oars +could be distinctly heard. + +Many were the speculations of those who watched her course. They knew +she was not a fishing-craft; her light spars and white sails were +sufficient to refute that opinion. Neither was she one of the +revenue-boats. What could she be, then, since no large ship was in sight +to which she could have belonged? It is only to those who have at some +one period or other of life sojourned in some lone spot of earth, away +from human intercourse, that the anxiety of these poor people could be +intelligible. If, good reader,--for to you we now appeal,--it has not +been your lot to have once on a time lived remote from the world and +its ways, you cannot imagine how intensely interesting can become the +commonest of those incidents which mark ordinary existence. They assume, +indeed, very different proportions from the real, and come charged with +innumerable imaginings about that wondrous life, far, far away, where +there are thoughts and passions and deeds and events which never enter +into the dreamland of exile! It was a little after sunset that the boat +glided into the small creek which formed the only harbor of the island; +and the moment after, a young girl sprang on the shore, and hastened +towards them. + +[Illustration: 334] + +Before the Joyces had recovered from their first surprise, they saw Joan +burst from the spot, and, rushing down the slope, throw herself at the +stranger's feet. + +“And have I found you at last, dear Joan?” cried a soft, low voice, +while the speaker raised her tenderly from the ground, and took her hand +kindly within both her own. + +“Oh, Miss Mary, to think you 'd come after me this far! over the say!” + burst out Joan, sobbing through her joy; for joy it was that now lit +up her features, and made her eyes sparkle even through the fresh tears +that filled them. + +“They told me you had sailed from Galway,” resumed Mary, “and I wrote +to the ship-agent and found it was correct: your name was in the list of +passengers, and the date of the day you sailed; but, I know not how it +was, Joan, I still clung to the notion that you had contrived this plan +to escape being discovered, and that you were concealed somewhere along +the coast or in the islands. I believe I used to dream of this at first, +but at last I thought of it all day long.” + +“Thought of _me_ all day long?” broke in Joan, sobbing. + +“And why not, poor child? Was I not the cause of your leaving your +home? Was it not my persuasion that induced you to leave the roof that +sheltered you? I have often wondered whether I had right and reason on +my side. I know at the time I believed I had such. At all events, but +for me you had never quitted that home; but see, Joan, how what we are +led to do with an honest purpose, if it fail to effect what we had in +view, often leads to better and happier ends than we ever dreamed of. +I only thought of conveying to you the last message of your poor +grandfather. I little imagined how so simple an act could influence +all your future fortune in life; and such it has done. Mr. Magennis, +suspecting or discovering what share I had in your flight, has begun a +law proceeding against me, and to give him a rightful claim for redress, +has declared you to be--all that you wish, dear Joan--his lawful, wedded +wife.” + +It was some time before the poor girl could stifle the sobbing which +burst from her very heart. She kissed Mary's hands over and over with +rapture, and cried out at length, in broken, faltering accents, “Did +n't they say well that called you a saint from heaven? Didn't they tell +truth that said, God gave you as a blessing to us?” + +“My poor Joan, you are grateful to me for what I have no share in. I am +nothing but the bearer of good tidings. But tell me, how have you fared +since we parted? Let me hear all that has happened to you.” + +Joan told her simple story in a few words, never deviating from the +narrative, save to speak her heartfelt gratitude to the poor people who +had sheltered and befriended her. + +“There they are!” cried she, pointing to the group, who, with a delicacy +of sentiment that might have graced the most refined class, sat +apart, never venturing by a look to obtrude upon the confidence of the +others,--“there they are; and if the world was like them, life would n't +have many crosses!” + +Mary rose, and drew nigh the old man, who stood up respectfully to +receive her. + +“He does n't know much English, Miss Mary,” whispered Joan in her ear. + +“Nor am I well skilled in Irish,” said Mary, smiling; “but I 'll do my +best to thank him.” + +However imperfectly she spoke the native tongue, the words seemed to +act like a charm on those who heard them; and as, young and old, they +gathered around her, their eager looks and delighted faces beamed with a +triumphant joy. They had learned from the boatmen that it was the young +princess--as in the language of the people she was called--was before +them, and their pride and happiness knew no bounds. + +Oh, if courtiers could feel one tithe of the personal devotion to the +sovereign that did these poor peasants to her they regarded as their +chief, what an atmosphere of chivalry would breathe within the palace +of royalty! There was nothing they would not have done or dared at her +bidding; and as she crossed their threshold, and sat down beside their +hearth, the tears of joy that rose to every eye showed that this was an +event to be treasured till memory could retain no more! + +If Mary did not speak the native dialect fluently, there was a grace and +a charm about the turn of the expressions she used that never failed to +delight those who heard her. That imaginative thread that runs through +the woof of Irish nature in every rank and condition of life--more +conspicuous, probably, in the very humblest--imparted an intense +pleasure to hearing and listening to her; and she, on her side, roused +and stimulated by the adventurous character of the incident, the strange +wild spot, the simple people, their isolation and their innocence, spoke +with a warmth and an enthusiasm that were perfectly captivating. + +She had seen much of the peasantry,--known them in the most unfrequented +tracts, remote from all their fellow-men,--in far-away glens, by dreary +mountains, where no footpaths led; but anything so purely simple and +unsophisticated as these poor people she had never met with. The sons +had been--and that rarely, too--on the mainland, but the children and +their mothers had never left the Brannocks; they had never beheld a +tree, nor even a flower, save the wild crocus on their native rock. With +what eager delight, then, did they hear Mary describe the gardens of the +castle,--pictures that glowed with all the gorgeous colors of a fairy +tale. “You shall all come and see me, some of these days. I'll send you +a messenger, to say the time,” said Mary; “and I'll promise that what +you 'll witness will be far above my description of it!” + +It was a sad moment when Mary arose to say good-bye. Joan, too, was to +accompany her, and the grief at parting with her was extreme. Again and +again the children clung round her, entreating her not to leave them; +and she herself half faltered in her resolution. That lonely rock, that +rude cabin, had been her refuge in the darkest hour of her life, and she +felt the superstitious terror of her class at now deserting them. + +“Come, come, dear Joan, remember that you have a home now that you +can rightfully return to,” whispered Mary. “It is not in shame, but in +honor, that you go back to it.” + +It was already dark ere they left the Brannocks: a long, heavy swell, +too, the signs of a storm, coming from the westward, made the boatmen +eager to hasten their departure. As yet, however, the air was calm and +still, but it was with that oppressive stillness that forebodes change. +They hoisted their sail, but soon saw that they must, for a while at +least, trust to their oars. The unbroken stillness, save by the measured +stroke of the rowers, the dense dark atmosphere, and the reaction, after +a day of toil and an event of a most moving kind, so overcame Mary that, +leaning on Joan's shoulder, she fell off fast asleep. For a while Joan, +proud of the burden she supported, devoted all her care to watch +and protect her from the night air; but at last weariness stole over +herself, and she dropped off to slumber. + +Meanwhile the sea was rising; heavy waves struck the boat, and washed +over her in sheets of spray, although no wind was stirring. + +“We 'll have rain, or a gale of wind before long,” said one of the men. + +“There 's some heavy drops falling now,” muttered another. + +“Throw that sail over Miss Mary, for it will soon come down heavily.” + +A loud clap of thunder burst forth, and as suddenly, like a torrent, the +rain poured down, hissing over the dark sea, and filling the air with a +dull, discordant noise. Still they slept on, nor heard nor felt aught of +that gathering storm. + +“There now, sure enough, it 's coming,” cried a boatman, as the sail +shook tremulously; and two great waves, in quick succession, broke over +the bow. + +“We'll have to run for Innishmore,” said another, “and lucky if we get +there before it comes on worse.” + +“You ought to wake her up, Loony, and ask her what we are to do.” + +“I 'll make straight for the harbor of Kilkieran,” replied the helmsman. +“The wind is with us, and she's a good sea-boat. Take in the jib, +Maurice, and we'll shorten all sail on her, and--” + +The rest of his speech was drowned in the uproar of a tremendous sea, +which struck the boat on her quarter and nearly overset her. Not another +word was now uttered, as, with the instinct of their calling, they +set about to prepare for the coming conflict. The mainsail was quickly +lowered and reefed, the oars and loose spars secured, and then, seating +themselves in the bottom of the boat, they waited in silence. By this +time the rain had passed over, and a strong wind swept over the sea. + +“She's going fast through the water, anyway!” said one of the men. But +though the speech was meant to cheer, none felt or acknowledged the +encouragement. + +“I 'd rather than own Cro' Martin Castle Miss Mary was safe at home!” + said Loony, as he drew the rough sleeve of his coat across his eyes, +“for it's thicker it's getting over yonder!” + +“It would be a black day that anything happened her!” muttered another. + +“Musha! we've wives and childer,” said a third, “but she's worth a +thousand of us!” + +And thus, in broken whispers, they spoke; not a thought save of her, not +a care save for her safety. They prayed, too, fervently, and her name +was in all their supplications. + +“She's singing to herself in her sleep,” whispered Loony. And the rough +sailors hushed to hear her. + +Louder and louder, however, grew the storm, sheets of spray and drift +falling over the boat in showers, and all her timbers quivering as she +labored in the stormy sea. A sailor whispered something in Loony's ear, +and he grumbled out in reply,--“Why would I wake her up?” + +“But I _am_ awake, Loony,” said Mary, in a low, calm voice, “and I see +all our danger; but I see, too, that you are meeting it like brave men, +and, better still, like good ones.” + +“The men was thinking we ought to bear up for Innish-more, Miss Mary,” + said Loony, as though ashamed of offering on his own part such counsel. + +“You'll do what you think best and safest for us all, Loony.” + +“But you were always the captain, miss, when you were aboord!” replied +he, with an effort to smile. + +“And so I should be now, Loony, but that my heart is too full to be as +calm and resolute as I ought to be. This poor thing had not been here +now, but for _me_.” And she wrapped her shawl around Joan as she spoke. +“Maybe it's anxiety, perhaps fatigue, but I have not my old courage +to-night!” + +“Faix! it will never be fear that will distress you!” said he. + +“If you mean for myself and my own safety, Loony, you are right. It is +not for me to repine at the hour that calls me away, but I cannot +bear to think how you and others, with so many dear to you, should be +perilled just to serve _me!_ And poor Joan, too, at the moment when life +was about to brighten for her!” She held down her head for a minute or +two, and then suddenly, as it were, rallying, she cried out, “The boat +is laboring too much for'ard, Loony; set the jib on her!” + +“To be sure, if you ordher it, Miss Mary; but she has more sail now than +she can carry.” + +“Set the jib, Loony. I know the craft well; she 'll ride the waves all +the lighter for it. If it were but daylight, I almost think I 'd enjoy +this. We 've been out in as bad before.” + +Loony shook his head as he went forward to bend the additional sail. + +“You see she won't bear it, miss,” cried he, as the boat plunged +fearfully into the trough of the sea. + +“Let us try,” said she, calmly. “Stand by, ready to slack off, if I +give the word.” And so saying, she took the tiller from the sailor, and +seated herself on the weather-gunwale. “There, see how she does it now! +Ah, Loony, confess, I am the true pilot. I knew my nerve would come back +when I took my old post here. I was always a coward in a carriage, if I +was n't on the box and the reins in my hands; and the same at sea. +Sit up to windward, men, and don't move; never mind baling, only keep +quiet.” + +“Miss Mary was right,” muttered one of the men; “the head-sail is +drawing her high out of the water!” + +“Is that dark mass before us cloud, or the land?” cried she. + +“It's the mountains, miss. There to the left, where you see the dip in +the ridge, that's Kilkieran. I think I see the lights on shore now.” + +“I see them now myself,” cried Mary. “Oh, how the sight of land gives +love of life! They called earth truly who named her mother!” said she to +herself. “What was that which swept past us, Loony?” + +“A boat, miss; and they're hailing us now,” cried he, peeping over the +gunwale. “They've put her about, and are following our course. They came +out after us.” + +“It was gallantly done, on such a night as this! I was just thinking to +myself that poor old Mat Landy would have been out, were he living. You +must take the tiller now, Loony, for I don't understand the lights on +shore.” + +“Because they're shifting every minute, miss. It's torches they have, +and they 're moving from place to place; but we 'll soon be safe now.” + +“Let us not forget this night, men,” said Mary, in a fervent voice. And +then, burying her face within her hands, she spoke no more. + +It was already daybreak when they gained the little harbor, well-nigh +exhausted, and worn out with fatigue and anxiety. As for Mary, wet +through and cold, she could not rise from her seat without assistance, +and almost fainted as she put her foot on shore. She turned one glance +seaward to where the other boat was seen following them, and then, +holding Joan's hand, she slowly toiled up the rocky ascent to the +village. To the crowd of every age that surrounded her she could only +give a faint, sickly smile of recognition, and they, in deep reverence, +stood without speaking, gazing on her wan features and the dripping +garments which clung to her. + +“No, not to the inn, Loony,” said she, to a question from him. “The +first cabin we meet will shelter us, and then--home!” There was +something of intense sorrow in the thought that passed then through her +mind, for her eyes suddenly filled up, and heavy tears rolled along her +cheeks. “Have they got in yet?” said she, looking towards the sea. + +“Yes, miss; they're close alongside now. It's the revenue boat that went +after us.” + +“Wirra, wirra! but that's bad news for her now,” muttered a boatman, in +conversation with an old woman at his side. + +“What's the bad news, Patsey?” said Mary, overhearing him. + +But the man did not dare to answer; and though he looked around on every +side, none would speak for him. + +“You used to be more frank with me,” said Mary, calmly. “Tell me what +has happened.” + +Still not a word was uttered, a mournful silence brooded over the crowd, +and each seemed to shun the task of breaking it. + +“You will make me fear worse than the reality, perhaps,” said she, +tremulously. “Is the calamity near home? No. Is it then my uncle?” A +low faint cry burst from her, and she dropped down on her knees; but +scarcely had she joined her hands to pray, than she fell back, fainting, +to the ground. + +They carried her, still insensible as she was, into a fisherman's cabin, +till they went in search of a conveyance to take her to the cottage. + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. LETTER FROM MASSINGBRED. + +“Martin Arms, Oughterard. + +“In spite of all your reasonings, all your cautions, and all your +warnings, here I am once more, Harry, denizen of the little dreary +parlor whence I first looked out at Dan Nelligan's shop something +more than a year since. What changes of fortune has that brief space +accomplished I what changes has it effected even in my own nature! I +feel this in nothing more than in my altered relations with others. If +the first evidence of amendment in a man be shame and sorrow for the +past, I may probably be on the right road now, since I heartily grieve +over the worthless, purposeless life I have led hitherto. + +“I am well aware that you would not accept the reason I gave you for +coming here. You said that, as to taking leave of my constituents, a +letter was the ordinary and the sufficient course. You also hinted that +our intercourse had not been of that close and friendly nature which +requires a personal farewell, and then you suggested that other and less +defensible motives had probably their share in this step. Well, you +are right, perfectly right; I wanted to see the spot which has so far +exerted an immense influence over me; I wanted--if you will have the +confession--to see _her_ too,--to see her in the humble station she +belongs to, in the lowly garb of the steward's daughter. I was curious +to ascertain what change her bearing would undergo in the change of +position; would she conform to the lowlier condition at once and +without struggle, or would her haughty nature chafe and fret against the +obstacles of a small and mean existence? If you were right in guessing +this, you are equally wrong in the motive you ascribe to me. Not, +indeed, that you palpably express, but only hint at it; still I cannot +endure even the shadow of such a surmise without a flat and full denial. +Perhaps, after all, I have mistaken your meaning,--would it were so! I +do indeed wish that you should not ascribe to me motives so unworthy +and so mean. A revenge for her refusal of me! a reprisal for the proud +rejection of my hand and fortune! No, my dear Harry, I feel, as I write +the words, that they never were yours. You say, however, that I am +curious to know if I should think her as lovable and attractive in the +humble dress and humble station that pertain to her, as when I saw her +moving more than equal amongst the proudest and haughtiest of Europe. +To have any doubt on this score would be to distrust her sincerity of +character. She must be what I have ever seen her, or she is an actress. +Difference of condition, different associates, different duties will +exact different discipline, but she herself must be the same, or she is +a falsehood,--a deception. + +“And then you add, it is perhaps as well that I should 'submit to the +rude test of a disenchantment.' Well, I accept the challenge, and I am +here. + +“These thoughts of self would obtrude in the very beginning of a letter +I had destined for other objects. You ask me for a narrative of my +journey and its accidents, and you shall have it. On my way over here +in the packet, I made acquaintance with an elderly man, who seemed +thoroughly acquainted with all the circumstances of the Martins and +their misfortunes. From him I ascertained that all Scanlan had told me +was perfectly correct. The reversion of the estate has been sold for a +sum incredibly small in proportion to its value, and in great part +the proceeds of gambling transactions. Martin is, therefore, utterly, +irretrievably ruined. Merl has taken every step with all the security +of the best advice, and in a few months, weeks perhaps, will be declared +owner of Cro' Martin. Even in the 'fast times' we live in, such rapid +ruin as this stands alone! You tell me that of your own college and mess +associates not more than one in five or six have survived the wreck +of fortune the first few years of extravagance accomplish, and +that Manheim, Brussels, and Munich can show the white-seamed, +mock-smartened-up gentilities which once were the glories of Bond +Street and the Park; but for poor Martin, I suspect, even these last +sanctuaries do not remain,--as I hear it, he is totally gone. + +“From the very inn where I am staying Merls agents are issuing notices +of all kinds to the tenants and 'others' to desist and refrain from +cutting timber, quarrying marbles, and what not, on certain unspeakable +localities, with threats in case of non-compliance. Great placards cover +the walls of the town, headed 'Caution to all Tenants on the Estate +of Cro' Martin.' The excitement in the neighborhood is intense, +overwhelming. Whatever differences of political opinion existed between +the Martins and the people of the borough, whatever jealousies grew out +of disparity of station, seemed suddenly merged in sympathy for this +great misfortune. They are, of course, ignorant of the cause of this +sudden calamity, and ask each other how, when, and where such a fortune +because engulfed. + +“But to proceed regularly. On my reaching Dublin, after a hurried visit +to my father, I drove off to Mr. Repton's house. You may remember his +name as that of the old lawyer, some of whose bar stories amused you +so highly. I found him in a spacious mansion of an old neglected +street,--Henrietta Street,--once the great aristocratic quarter of +Ancient Dublin, and even to this day showing traces of real splendor. +The old man received me in a room of immense proportions, furnished as +it was when Flood was the proprietor. He was at luncheon when I entered; +and for company had the very same stranger with whom I made acquaintance +in the packet. + +“Repton started as we recognized each other, but at a sign or a word, +I'm not certain which, from the other, merely said, 'My friend was just +speaking of his having met you, Mr. Massingbred.' This somewhat informal +presentation over, I joined them, and we fell a chatting over the story +of Cro' Martin. + +“They were both eager to hear something about Merl, his character, +pursuits, and position; and you would have been amazed to see how +surprised they were at my account of a man whose type we are all so +familiar with. + +“You would scarcely credit the unfeigned astonishment manifested by +these two shrewd and crafty men at the sketch I gave them of our Hebrew +friend. One thing is quite clear,--it was not the habit, some forty or +fifty years ago, to admit the Merls of the world to terms of intimacy, +far less of friendship. + +“'As I said, Repton,' broke in the stranger, sternly, 'it all comes of +that degenerate tone which has crept in of late, making society like a +tavern, where he who can pay his bill cannot be denied entrance. Such +fellows as this Merl had no footing in our day. The man who associated +with such would have forfeited his own place in the world.' + +“'Very true,' said Repton, 'though we borrowed their money we never +bowed to them.' + +“'And we did wisely, sir,' retorted the other. 'The corruption of their +manners was fifty times worse than all their usury! The gallant Hussar +Captain, as we see here, never scrupled about admitting to his closest +intimacy a fellow not fit company for his valet. Can't you perceive that +when a man will descend to such baseness to obtain money, there is no +measuring the depth he will go to when pressed to pay it?' + +“'I am intimate with Martin,' said I, interrupting, 'and I can honestly +assure you that it was rather to an easy, careless, uncalculating +disposition he owes his misfortunes, than to anything like a spendthrift +habit.' + +“'Mere hair-splitting this, sir,' replied he, almost rudely. 'He who +spends what is not his own, I have but one name for. It matters little +in my estimation whether he extorts the supply by a bill or a bullet.' + +“I own to you, Harry, I burned to retort to a speech the tone and manner +of which were both more offensive than the words; but the stranger's +age, his venerable appearance, and something like deep and recent sorrow +about him, restrained me, and I caught, by a look from Repton, that he +was grateful for my forbearance. + +“'Come, sir,' said he, addressing me, 'you say you know Captain Martin; +now let me ask you one question: Is there any one trait or feature of +his character to which, if his present misfortunes were to pass +away, you could attach a hope of amendment? Has not this life of +bill-renewing, these eternal straits for cash--with all the humiliations +that accompany them,--made him a mere creature of schemes and plots,--a +usurer in spirit, though a pauper in fact?' + +“'When I say, sir, that you are addressing this demand to one whom +Captain Martin deems his friend, you will see the impropriety you have +fallen into.' + +“'My young friend is right,' broke in Repton. 'The Court rules against +the question; nor would it be evidence even if answered.' + +“I was angry at this interference of Repton's. I wanted to reply to this +man myself; but still, as I looked at his sorrow-struck features, and +saw what I fancied the marks of a proud suffering spirit, I was well +satisfied at not having given way to temper; still more so did I feel as +he turned towards me, and, with a manner of ineffable gentleness, said, +'I entreat you to pardon me, sir, for an outburst of which I am already +ashamed. A rude life and some bitter experiences have made me hard +of heart and coarse in speech; still, it is only in moments of +forgetfulness that I cease to remember what indulgence he owes to others +who has such need of forgiveness himself.' + +“I grasped his hand at once, and felt that his pressed mine like a +friend's. + +“'You spoke of going down to the West,' said he, after a brief pause. +'I start for that country to-night; you would do me a great favor should +you accompany me.' + +“I acceded at once, and he went on. 'Repton was to have been of the +party, but business delays him a few days in town.' + +“'I 'll join you before the end of the week,' said Repton; 'by that time +Mr. Massingbred will have expended all his borough blandishments and be +free to give us his society.' + +“Though the old lawyer now tried, and tried cleverly, to lead us away +to lighter, pleasanter themes, the attempt was a failure; each felt, I +suspect, some oppressive weight on his spirits that indisposed him to +less serious talk; and again we came back to the Martins, the stranger +evidently seeking to learn all he could of the disposition and temper of +the young man. + +“'It is as I thought,' said he, at last. 'It is the weak, sickly tone +of the day has brought all this corruption upon us! Once upon a time +the vices and follies of young men took their rise in their several +natures,--this one gambled, the other drank, and so on,--the mass, +however, was wonderfully sound and healthy; the present school, however, +is to ape a uniformity, so that each may show himself in the livery of +his fellows, thus imbibing wickedness he has no taste for, and none be +less depraved and heartless than those around him. Let the women but +follow the fashion, and there 's an end of us, as the great people we +boasted to be!' + +“I give you, so well as I can trust my memory, his words, Harry, but I +cannot give you a certain sardonic bitterness,--a tone of mingled scorn +and sorrow, such as I never before witnessed. He gave me the impression +of being one who, originally frank, generous, and trustful, had, by +intercourse with the world and commerce with mankind, grown to suspect +every one and disbelieve in honesty, and yet could not bring his heart +to acknowledge what his head had determined. In this wise, at least, I +read his character from the opportunities I had of conversing with him +on our journey. It was easy to see that he was a gentleman,--taking the +word in the widest of its acceptations,--but from things that dropped +from him, I could gather that his life had been that of an adventurer. +He had been in the sea and land services of many of those new states +of Southern America, had even risen to political importance in some of +them; had possessed mines and vast tracts of territory one day, and +the next saw himself 'without a piastre.' He had conducted operations +against the Indians, and made treaties with them, and latterly had lived +as the elected chief of a tribe in the west of the Rocky Mountains. But +he knew civilized as well as savage life, had visited Spain in the rank +of an envoy, and was familiar with all the great society of Rome, and +the intrigues of its prince-bishops. The only theme, however, on which +he really warmed was sport. The prairies brought out all his enthusiasm, +and then he spoke like one carried away by glorious recollections of +a time when, as he said himself, 'heart and hand and eye never failed +him.' + +“When he spoke of family ties or home affections, it was in a spirit of +almost mockery, which puzzled me. His reasoning was that the attachments +we form are only emanations of our own selfishness. We love, simply to +be loved again. Whereas, were we single-hearted, we should be satisfied +to know that those dear to us were well and happy, and only seek to +serve them without demonstration or display. + +“Am I wearying you, Harry, by dwelling on the traits of a man who, for +the brief space I have known him, has made the most profound impression +upon me? Even where I dissent--as is often the case--from his views, +I have to own to myself that were I _he_, I should think and reason +precisely as he does. I fancied at first that, like many men who had +quitted civilized life for the rude ways of the 'bush,' he would have +contrasted the man of refinement unfavorably with the savage, but he was +too keen and acute for such a sweeping fallacy; he saw the good and evil +in both, and sensibly remarked how independent of all education were +the really strong characteristics of human nature. 'There is not a great +quality of our first men,' said he, 'that I have not found to exist +among the wild tribes of the Far West, nor is there an excellence +of savage nature I have not witnessed amidst the polished and the +pampered.' + +“From what I can collect, he is only here passingly; some family matter +has brought him over to this country; but he is already impatient to be +back to his old haunts and associates, and his home beside the Orinoco. +He has even asked me to come and visit him there; and from all I can see +I should be as likely to attain distinction among the Chaymas as in +the House of Commons, and should find the soft turf of the Savannahs as +pleasant as the Opposition benches. In fact, Harry, I have half +promised to accept his invitation; and if he renew it with anything like +earnestness, I am resolved to go. + +“I am just setting out for the Hendersons', and while the horses are +being harnessed I have re-read your letter. Of course I have 'counted +the cost,'--I have weighed the question to a pennyweight! I could +already write down the list of those who will not know me at all, those +who will know me a little, and the still fewer who will know my wife! +Can you not see, my dear friend, that where one drags the anchor so +easily, the mooring-ground was never good? The society to which you +belong by such slender attachments gives no wound by separation from it. + +“My anxiety now is on a very different score: it is that she will still +refuse me. The hope I cling to is that she will see in my persistence a +proof of sincerity. I would not, if I could, bring any family influence +to my aid, and yet, short of this, there is nothing I would not do to +insure success. + +“I wish I had never re-opened your letter; that vein of sarcastic +coolness which runs through it will never turn me from my purpose. You +seem to forget, besides, that you are talking to a man of the world, +just as hackneyed, just as 'used up' as yourself. I should like to see +you assume this indolent dalliance before La Henderson! Take my word for +it, Harry, you 'd be safer with the impertinence amongst some of your +duchesses in Pall Mall. You say that great beauty in a woman, like +genius in a man, is a kind of brevet nobility, and yet you add that +the envy of the world will never weary of putting the possessor 'on his +title.' How gladly would I accept this challenge! Ay, Harry, I tell you, +in all defiance, that your proudest could not vie with her! + +“If I wanted a proof of the vassalage of the social state we live in, I +have it before me in the fact that a man like yourself, wellborn, young, +rich, and high-hearted, should place the judgments and prejudices of +half a dozen old tabbies of either sex above all the promptings of a +noble ambition--all the sentiments of a generous devotion. Your +starling cry of 'the Steward's daughter,' then, does not deter, it only +determines the purpose + +“Of yours faithfully, + +“Jack Massingbred.” + + +“You 'll see by the papers that I have accepted the Chiltern Hundreds. +This is the first step.--now for the second!” + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. A DINNER AT “THE LODGE” + +While the “Morning Post” of a certain day, some twenty years ago, +was chronicling the illustrious guests who partook of his Majesty's +hospitalities at Windsor, the “Dublin Evening Mail,” under the less +pretentious heading of “Viceregal Court,” gave a list of those who had +dined with his Excellency at the Lodge. + +There was not anything very striking or very new in the announcement. +Our _dramatis personæ,_ in this wise, are limited; and after the +accustomed names of the Lord Chancellor and Mrs. Dobbs, the Master of +the Rolls and Mrs. Wiggins, Colonel Somebody of the 105th, Sir Felix +and Miss Slasher, you invariably find the catalogue close with an +un-der-secretary, a king-at-arms, and the inevitable Captain Lawrence +Belcour, the aide-de-camp in waiting!--these latter recorded somewhat in +the same spirit that the manager of a provincial theatre swells the roll +of his company, by the names of the machinist, the scene-painter, and +the leader of the band! We have no peculiar concern, however, with this +fact, save that on the day in question our old friend Joseph Nelligan +figured as a vice-regal guest. It was the first time he had been so +honored, and, although not of a stamp to attach any great prize to the +distinction, he was well aware that the recognition was intended as an +honor; the more, when an aide-de-camp signified to him that his place at +table was on one side of his Excellency. + +When this veracious history first displayed young Nelligan at a +dinner-party, his manner was shy and constrained; his secluded, +student-like habits had given him none of that hardihood so essential in +society. If he knew little of passing topics, he knew less of the tone +men used in discussing them; and now, although more conversant with +the world and its ways, daily brought into contact with the business of +life, his social manner remained pretty nearly the same cold, awkward, +and diffident thing it had been at first. Enlist him in a great subject, +or call upon him on a great occasion, and he could rise above it; place +him in a position to escape notice, and you never heard more of him. + +The dinner company on this day contained nothing very formidable, either +on the score of station or ability,--a few bar celebrities with their +wives, an eccentric dean with a daughter, a garrison colonel or two, +three country squires, and a doctor from Merrion Square. It was that +interregnal period between the time when the castle parties included +the first gentry of the land, and that later era when the priest and +the agitator became the favored guests of vice-royalty. It is scarce +necessary to say it was, as regards agreeability, inferior to either. +There was not the courtly urbanity and polished pleasantry of a very +accomplished class; nor was there the shrewd and coarse but racy +intelligence of Mr. O'Connell's followers. + +The Marquis of Reckington had come over to Ireland to “inaugurate,” as +the newspapers called it, a new policy; that is, he was to give to the +working of the relief bill an extension and a significance which few +either of its supporters or opposers in Parliament ever contemplated. +The inequality of the Romanist before the law he might have borne; +social depreciation was a heavier evil, and one quite intolerable. Now, +as the change to the new system required considerable tact and address, +they intrusted the task to a most accomplished and well-bred gentleman; +and were Ireland only to be won by dinner-parties, Lord Reckington must +have been its victor. + +To very high rank and great personal advantages he united a manner of +the most perfect kind. Dignified enough always to mark his station and +his own consciousness of it, it was cordial without effort, frank +and easy without display. If he could speak with all the weight of +authority, he knew how to listen with actual deference; and there +was that amount of change and “play” in his demeanor that made his +companion, whoever for the moment he might be, believe that his views +and arguments had made a deep impression on the Viceroy. To those +unacquainted with such men, and the school to which they belong, there +might have appeared something unreal, almost dramatic, in the elegant +gracefulness of his bow, the gentle affability of his smile, the +undeviating courtesy which he bestowed on all around him; but they were +all of the man himself,--his very instincts,--his nature. + +It had apparently been amongst his Excellency's instructions from his +government to seek out such rising men of the Roman Catholic party as +might be elevated and promoted on the just claims of their individual +merits,--men, in fact, whose conduct and bearing would be certain to +justify their selection for high office. It could not be supposed that +a party long proscribed, long estranged from all participation in power, +could be rich in such qualifications. At the bar, the ablest men usually +threw themselves into the career of politics, and of course by strong +partisanship more or less prejudiced their claims to office. It was +rare indeed to find one who, with the highest order of abilities, was +satisfied to follow a profession whose best rewards were denied him. +Such was Joseph Nelligan when he was first “called,” and such he +continued to the very hour we now see him. Great as had been his +college successes, his triumphs at the bar overtopped them all. They who +remembered his shy and reserved manner wondered whence he came by his +dignity; they who knew his youth could not imagine how he came by his +“law.” + +Mr. M'Casky, the castle law-adviser, an old recruiting-serjeant of +capacities, who had “tipped the shilling” to men of every party, had +whispered his name to the Under-Secretary, who had again repeated it to +the Viceroy. He was, as M'Casky said, “the man they wanted, with talent +enough to confront the best of the opposite party, and wealthy enough to +want nothing that can figure in a budget.” Hence was he, then, there a +favored guest, and seated on his Excellency's left hand. + +For the magic influence of that manner which we have mentioned as +pertaining to the Viceroy, we ask for no better evidence than the sense +of perfect ease which Joe Nelligan now enjoyed. The _suave_ dignity +of the Marquis was blended with a something like personal regard, a +mysterious intimation that seemed to say, “This is the sort of man I +have long been looking for; how gratifying that I should have found him +at last!” They concurred in so many points, too, not merely in opinions, +but actually in the very expressions by which they characterized them; +and when at last his Excellency, having occasion to quote something he +had said, called him “Nelligan,” the spell was complete. + +Oh dear! when we torture our brains to legislate for apothecaries, +endeavoring in some way or other to restrict the sale of those subtle +ingredients on every grain or drop of which a human life may hang, +why do we never think of those far more subtle elements of which great +people are the dispensers,--flatteries more soothing than chloroform, +smiles more lulling than poppy-juice! Imagine poor Nelligan under a +course of this treatment, dear reader; fancy the delicious poison as +it insinuates itself through his veins, and if you have ever been so +drugged yourself, picture to your mind all the enjoyment he experienced. + +By one of those adroit turns your social magician is master of, the +Viceroy had drawn the conversation towards Nelligan's county and his +native town. + +“I was to have paid a visit to poor Martin there,” said he, “and I +certainly should have looked in upon _you_.” + +Nelligan's cheek was in a flame; pride and shame were both there, +warring for the mastery. + +“Poor fellow!” said his Excellency, who saw the necessity of a +diversion, “I fear that he has left that immense estate greatly +embarrassed. Some one mentioned to me, the other day, that the heir will +not succeed to even a fourth of the old property.” + +“I have heard even worse, my Lord,” said Nelligan. “There is a rumor +that he is left without a shilling.” + +“How very shocking! They are connections of my own!” said the Viceroy; +as though what he said made the misery attain its climax. + +“I am aware, my Lord, that Lady Dorothea is related to your Excellency, +and I am surprised you have not heard the stories I allude to.” + +“But perhaps I am incorrect,” said the Marquis. “It may be that I _have_ +heard them; so many things pass through one's ears every day. But here +is Colonel Mas-singbred; he 's sure to know it. Massingbred, we want +some news of the Martins--the Martins of--what is it called?” + +“Cro' Martin, my Lord,” said Nelligan, reddening. + +“I hold the very latest news of that county in my hand, my Lord,” + replied the Secretary. “It is an express from my son, who writes from +Oughterard.” + +Nelligan stood, scarcely breathing, with impatience to hear the tidings. + +Colonel Massingbred ran his eyes over the first page of the letter, +murmuring to himself the words; then turning over, he said: “Yes, here +it is,--'While I write this, the whole town is in a state of intense +excitement; the magistrates have sent in for an increased force of +police, and even soldiery, to repress some very serious disturbances on +the Martin property. It would appear that Merl--the man who assumes +to claim the property, as having purchased the reversion from young +Martin--was set upon by a large mob, and pursued, himself and his +friends, for several miles across the country. They escaped with their +lives, but have arrived here in a lamentable plight. There is really no +understanding these people. It was but the other day, and there was no +surer road to their favor than to abuse and vilify these same Martins, +and now they are quite ready to murder any one who aspires to take +their place. If one was to credit the stories afloat, they have already +wreaked a fatal vengeance on some fellows employed by Merl to serve +notices on the tenantry; but I believe that the outrages have really +gone no further than such maltreatment as Irishmen like to give, and are +accustomed to take.'” + +Here his Excellency laughed heartily, and Joe Nelligan looked grave. + +Massingbred read on: “'Without being myself a witness to it, I never +could have credited the almost feudal attachment of these people to +an “Old House.” The Radical party in the borough are, for the moment, +proscribed, and dare not show themselves in the streets; and even +Magennis, who so lately figured as an enemy to the Martins, passed +through the town this morning with his wife, with a great banner flying +over his jaunting-car, inscribed “The Martins for Ever!” This burst of +sentiment on his part, I ought to mention, was owing to a most devoted +piece of heroism performed by Miss Martin, who sought out the lost one +and brought her safely back, through a night of such storm and hurricane +as few ever remember. Such an act, amidst such a people, is sure of its +reward. The peasantry would, to a man, lay down their lives for her; and +coming critically, as the incident did, just when a new proprietor +was about to enforce his claim, you can fancy the added bitterness +it imparted to their spirit of resistance. I sincerely trust that the +magistrates will not accede to the demand for an increased force. A +terrible collision is sure to be the result, and I know enough of +these people to be aware of what can be done by a little diplomacy, +particularly when the right negotiator is employed. I mean, therefore, +to go over and speak to Mr. Nelligan, who is the only man of brains +amongst the magistrates here.'” + +“A relative, I presume,” said his Excellency. + +“My father, my Lord,” replied Joe, blushing. + +“Oh! here is the result of his interview,” said Massing-bred, turning to +the foot of the page. “'Nelligan quite agreed in the view I had taken, +and said the people would assuredly disarm and perhaps destroy any force +we could send against them. He is greatly puzzled what course to adopt; +and when I suggested the propriety of invoking Miss Martin's aid, told +me that this is out of the question, since she is on a sick-bed. While +we were speaking, a Dublin physician passed through on his way to visit +her. This really does add to the complication, for she is, perhaps, the +only one who could exert a great influence over the excited populace. In +any other country it might read strangely, that it was to a young lady +men should have recourse in a moment of such peril; but this is like no +other country, the people like no other people, the young lady herself, +perhaps, like no other young lady!'” + +By a scarcely perceptible movement of his head, and a very slight change +of voice, Colonel Massingbred intimated to the Viceroy that there was +something for his private ear, and Lord Reckington stepped back to hear +it. Nelligan, too deeply occupied in his own thoughts to remark the +circumstance, stood in the same place, silent and motionless. + +“It is to this passage,” whispered the Secretary, “I want to direct your +Excellency's attention: 'All that I see here,' my son writes,--'all that +I see here is a type of what is going on, at large, over the island. Old +families uprooted, old ties severed; the people, with no other instinct +than lawlessness, hesitating which side to take. Their old leaders, only +bent upon the political, have forgotten the social struggle, and +thus the masses are left without guidance or direction. It is my firm +conviction that the Church of Rome will seize the happy moment to usurp +an authority thus unclaimed, and the priest step in between the landlord +and the demagogue; and it is equally my belief that you can only retard, +not prevent, this consummation. If you should be of _my_ opinion, and +be able to induce his Excellency to think with us, act promptly and +decisively. Enlist the Roman Catholic laity in your cause before you +be driven to the harder compact of having to deal with the clergy. And +first of all, make--for fortunately you have the vacancy,--make young +Nelligan your solicitor-general.'” + +The Viceroy gave a slight start, and smiled. He had not, as yet, +accustomed his mind to such bold exercise of his patronage. He lived, +however, to get over this sensation. + +“My son,” resumed Massingbred, “argues this at some length. If you +permit, I 'll leave the letter in your Excellency's hands. In fact, I +read it very hurriedly, and came over here the moment I glanced my eyes +over this passage.” + +His Excellency took the letter, and turned to address a word to Joe +Nelligan, but he had left the spot. + +“Belcour,” said the Viceroy, “tell Mr. Nelligan I wish to speak to +him. I shall be in the small drawing-room. I 'll talk with him alone. +Massingbred, be ready to come when I shall send for you.” + +The Viceroy sat alone by the fire, pondering over all he had heard. +There was, indeed, that to ponder over, even in the brief, vague +description of the writer. “The difficulties of Ireland,” as it was the +fashion of the day to call them, were not such as government commissions +discover, or blue books describe; they lay deeper than the legislative +lead-line ever reaches,--many a fathom down below statutes and Acts +of Parliament. They were in the instincts, the natures, the blood of a +people who had never acknowledged themselves a conquered nation. Perhaps +his Excellency lost himself in speculations, mazy and confused enough to +addle deeper heads. Perhaps he was puzzled to think how he could bring +the Cabinet to see these things, or the importance that pertained to +them; who knows? At all events, time glided on, and still he was alone. +At length the aide-de-camp appeared, and with an air of some confusion, +said,--“It would appear, my Lord, that Mr. Nelligan has gone away.” + +“Why, he never said good-night; he did n't take leave of me!” said the +Viceroy, smiling. + +The aide-de-camp slightly elevated his brows, as though to imply his +sense of what it might not have become him to characterize in words. + +“Very strange, indeed!” repeated his Excellency; “is n't it, Belcour?” + +“Very strange, indeed, your Excellency,” said the other, bowing. + +“There could have been no disrespect in it,” said his Lordship, +good-humoredly; “of _that_ I'm quite certain. Send Colonel Massingbred +here.” + +“He's gone off, Massingbred,” said the Viceroy, as the other appeared. + +“So I have just learned, my Lord. I conclude he was not aware--that he +was unacquainted with--” + +“Oh, of course, Massingbred,” broke in the Viceroy, laughing, “the fault +is all with my predecessors in office; they never invited these men +as they ought to have done. Have you sounded M'Casky as to the +appointment?” + +“Yes, my Lord; he thinks 'we might do worse.'” + +“A qualified approval, certainly. Perhaps he meant we might select +himself!” + +“I rather opine, my Lord, that he regards Nelligan's promotion as likely +to give offence to Mr. O'Connell, unless that he be himself consulted +upon it.” + +“Then comes the question, Who is it governs this country, Colonel +Massingbred?” said the Marquis; and for the first time a flash of +angry meaning darkened his cheeks. “If I be here,”--he stopped and +hesitated,--“if you and I be here only to ratify appointments made by +irresponsible individuals,--if we hold the reins of power only to +be told where we 're to drive to,--I must own the office is not very +dignified, nor am I patient enough to think it endurable.” + +“M'Casky only suggested that it might be advisable to see O'Connell +on the subject, not, as it were, to pass him over in conferring the +appointment.” + +“I cannot at all concur in this view, Massingbred,” said the Marquis, +proudly; “there could be no such humiliation in the world as a patronage +administered in this wise. Write to Nelligan; write to him to-night. Say +that his abrupt departure alone prevented my making to him personally +the offer of the solicitorship; add that you have my directions to place +the office in his hands, and express a strong wish, on your own part, +that he may not decline it.” + +Massingbred bowed in acquiescence, and after a pause his Excellency went +on:-- + +“There would be no objection to your adding something to the effect that +my selection of him was prompted by motives in which party has no share; +that his acknowledged eminence at the bar,--a character to which even +political opponents bear honorable testimony,--in fact, Massingbred,” + added he, impatiently, “if the appointment should come to be questioned +in the House, let us have it on record that we made it solely on motives +directed to the public service. You understand me?” + +“I think so, my Lord,” said Massingbred, and withdrew. + +If it were not that other cares and other interests call us away, +we would gladly linger a little longer to speculate on the Viceroy's +thoughts as he reseated himself by the fire. His brow was overcast and +his features clouded. Was it that he felt he had entered the lists, and +thrown down the glove to a strong and resolute opponent? Had he before +him a vista of the terrible conflict between expediency and honor that +was soon to be his fate? Had he his doubts as to the support his own +Cabinet would afford him? Was his pride the ruling sentiment of the +moment, or did there enter into his calculations the subtle hope of all +the eager expectancy this appointment would create, all the disposable +venality it would lay at his discretion? Who can answer these questions? +who solve these doubts? Is it not very possible that his mind wandered +amidst them all? Is it not more than likely that they passed in review +before him? for when he rejoined his company his manner was more absent, +his courtesy less easy than usual. + +At length Mr. M'Casky came forward to say goodnight. + +“Colonel Massingbred has told you of those disturbances in the West, has +he not?” asked the Viceroy. + +“Yes, my Lord,” replied the other. + +“And what opinion--what advice did you give?” + +“To let matters alone, my Lord; to be always a little behind time, +particularly in sending a force. 'Never despatch the police to quell +a riot,' said John Toler, 'unless one of the factions be completely +beaten, otherwise you 'll have them both on your back;' and I assure +your Excellency, Ireland has been very successfully governed under that +maxim for years past.” + +“Thank you, M'Casky; thank you for the advice,” said his Excellency, +laughing, and wished him good-night. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. AN HONORED GUEST + +It was a time of unusual stir and bustle at the Martin Arms; the house +was crammed with company. Messengers--some mounted, others on foot--came +and went at every moment; horses stood ready saddled and harnessed in +the stables, in waiting for any emergency; in fact, there was a degree +of movement and animation only second to that of a contested election. +In the midst of this confusion a chaise with four smoking posters drew +up at the door, and a sharp, clear voice called out,--“Morrissy, are my +rooms ready?” + +“No, indeed, Mr. Repton,” stammered out the abashed landlord; “the house +is full; there's not a spot in it to put a child in.” + +“You got my letter, I suppose?” said Repton, angrily. + +“I did, sir, but it was too late; the whole house was engaged by +Mr. Scanlan, and the same evening the company arrived in two +coaches-and-four.” + +“And who is the precious company you speak of?” + +“Mr. Merl, sir,” said the other, dropping his voice to a whisper, “the +new owner of Cro' Martin; he's here, with two or three great lawyers and +one or two of his friends. They came down to serve the notices and give +warning--” + +“Well, what is to be done? where can I be accommodated?” broke in +Repton, hastily. “Isn't Mr. Massing-bred in the house?” + +“No, sir, he had to move out, too; but, sure enough, he left a bit of a +note for you in the bar.” And he hastened off at once to fetch it. + +Repton broke open the seal impatiently, and read:-- + +“My dear Mr. Repton,--I regret that you 'll find the inn full on your +arrival; they turned me out yesterday to make room for Mr. Merl and his +followers. Happily, Mr. Nelligan heard of my destitution, and offered me +a quarter at his house. He also desires me to say that he will deem it +a very great favor if you will accept the shelter of his roof, and in +hopeful anticipation of your consenting, he will wait dinner for your +arrival. From my own knowledge, I can safely assure you that the offer +is made in a spirit of true hospitality, and I sincerely wish that you +may accept it. + +“Yours very faithfully, + +“J. Massingbred.” + + +“Where does Mr. Nelligan live?” asked Repton, as he refolded the letter. + +“Just across the street, sir. There it is.” + +“Set me down there, then,” said Repton. And the next moment he was at +Nelligan's door. + +“This is a very great honor, sir,” said old Dan, as he appeared in a +suit of decorous black. “It is, indeed, a proud day that gives me the +pleasure of seeing you here.” + +“My dear sir, if you had no other distinction than being the father of +Joseph Nelligan, the honor and the pride lie all in the opposite scale. +I am sincerely glad to be your guest, and to know you where every true +Irishman is seen to the greatest advantage,--at the head of his own +board.” + +While Nelligan conducted his guest to his room, he mentioned that +Massingbred had ridden over to Cro' Martin early in the morning, but +would be certainly back for dinner. + +“And what 's the news of Miss Martin? Is she better?” + +“They say not, sir. The last accounts are far from favorable.” + +“Sir Henry Laurie saw her, did n't he?” + +“Yes, sir; he passed all Sunday here, and only returned to town +yesterday. He spoke doubtfully,--I might even say, gloomily. He said, +however, that we cannot know anything for certain before Friday or, +perhaps, Saturday.” + +“It is fever, then?” + +“Yes, he told my wife, the worst character of typhus.” + +“Brought on, as I've been told, by exposure to wet and cold on that +night at sea. Is n't that the case?” + +“I believe so. Mrs. Nelligan went over the next morning to the cottage. +She had heard of poor Mr. Martin's death, and thought she might be +of some use to Miss Mary; but when she arrived, it was to find her in +fever, talking wildly, and insisting that she must be up and away to +Kyle-a-Noe to look after a poor sick family there.” + +“Has Mrs. Nelligan seen her since that?” + +“She never left her,--never quitted her. She relieves Henderson's +daughter in watching beside her bed; for the old housekeeper is quite +too infirm to bear the fatigue.” + +“What a sad change has come over this little spot, and in so brief +a space too! It seems just like yesterday that I was a guest at Cro' +Martin,--poor Martin himself so happy and light-hearted; his dear girl, +as he called her, full of life and spirits. Your son was there the night +I speak of. I remember it well, for the madcap girls would make a fool +of me, and insisted on my singing them a song; and I shall not readily +forget the shame my compliance inflicted on my learned brother's face.” + +“Joe told me of it afterwards.” + +“Ah, he told you, did he? He doubtless remarked with asperity on the +little sense of my own dignity I possessed?” + +“On the contrary, sir, he said, 'Great as are Mr. Rep-ton's gifts, and +brilliant as are his acquirements, I envy him more the happy buoyancy of +his nature than all his other qualities.'” + +“He's a fine fellow, and it was a generous speech; not but I will be +vain enough to say he was right,--ay, sir, perfectly right. Of all the +blessings that pertain to temperament, there is not one to compare with +the spirit that renews in an old man the racy enjoyment of youth, keeps +his heart fresh and his mind hopeful. With these, age brings no terrors. +I shall be seventy-five, sir, if I live to the second of next month, and +I have not lived long enough to dull the enjoyment life affords me, nor +diminish the pleasure my heart derives upon hearing of a noble action or +a generous sentiment.” + +Nelligan gazed at the speaker in mingled astonishment and admiration. +Somehow, it was not altogether the man he had expected; but he was far +from being disappointed at the difference. The Valentine Repton of his +imagination was a crafty pleader, a subtle cross-examiner, an ingenious +flatterer of juries; but he was not a man whose nature was assailable by +anything “not found in the books.” + +Now, though Nelligan was himself essentially a worldly man, he was +touched by these traits of one whom he had regarded as a hardened old +lawyer, distrustful and suspicious. + +“Ay, sir,” said Repton, as, leaning on the other's arm, he entered the +drawing-room, “a wiser man than either of us has left it on record, that +after a long life and much experience of the world, he met far more of +good and noble qualities in mankind than of their opposite. Take my word +for it, whenever we are inclined to the contrary opinion, the fault lies +with ourselves.” + +While they sat awaiting Massingbred's return, a servant entered with a +note, which Nelligan, having read, handed over to Repton. It was very +brief, and ran thus:-- + +“My dear Mr. Nelligan,--Forgive my not appearing at dinner, and make my +excuses to Mr. Repton, if he be with you, for I have just fallen in +with Magennis, who insists on carrying me off to Barnagheela. You can +understand, I 'm sure, that there are reasons why I could not well +decline this invitation. Meanwhile, till to-morrow, at breakfast, + +“I am yours, + +“Jack Massingbred.” + + +If there was a little constraint on Nelligan's part at finding himself +alone to do the honors to his distinguished guest, the feeling soon wore +away, and a frank, hearty confidence was soon established between these +two men, who up to the present moment had been following very different +roads in life. Apart from a lurking soreness, the remnants of long-past +bitterness, Nelligan's political opinions were fair and moderate, and +agreed with Repton's now to a great extent. His views as to the people, +their habits and their natures, were also strikingly just and true. He +was not over-hopeful, nor was he despondent; too acute an observer to +refer their faults to any single source, he regarded their complex, +intricate characters as the consequence of many causes, the issue of +many struggles. There was about all he said the calm judgment of a man +desirous of truth; and yet, when he came to speak of the higher classes, +the great country gentry, he displayed prejudices and mistakes +quite incredible in one of his discernment. The old grudge of social +disqualification had eaten deep into his heart, and, as Repton saw, it +would take at least two generations of men, well-to-do and successful, +to eradicate the sentiment. + +Nelligan was quick enough to see that these opinions of his were not +shared by his guest, and said, “I cannot expect, Mr. Repton, that you +will join me in these views; you have seen these people always as an +equal, if not their superior; they met _you_ with their best faces and +sweetest flatteries. Not so with us. They draw a line, as though to say, +go on: make your fortunes; purchase estates; educate your children; +send them to the universities with our own; teach them our ways, our +instincts, our manners, and yet, at the end of all, you shall remain +exactly where you began. You shall never be 'of us.'” + +“I am happy to say that I disagree with you,” said Repton; “I am a much +older man than you, and I can draw, therefore, on a longer experience. +Now the change that I myself have seen come over the tone and temper of +the world since I was a boy is far more marvellous to me than all the +new-fangled discoveries around us in steam and electricity. Why, sir, +the man who now addresses you, born of an ancient stock, as good blood +as any untitled gentleman of the land, was treated once as Jack Cade +might be in a London drawing-room. The repute of liberal notions or +politics at that day stamped you as a democrat and atheist If you sided +with a popular measure, you were deemed capable of all the crimes of a +'Danton.' + +“Do I not remember it!--Ay, as a student, young, ardent, and +high-hearted, when I was summoned before the visitors of the university, +and sternly asked by the dark-browed Lord Chancellor if I belonged to +a society called the 'Friends of Ireland,' and on my acknowledging the +fact, without inquiry, without examination, deprived of my scholarship, +and sent back to my chambers, admonished to be more cautious, and +menaced with expulsion. I had very little to live on in those days; +my family had suffered great losses in fortune, and I disliked to be a +burden to them. I took pupils, therefore, to assist me in my support. +The Vice-Provost stepped in, however, and interdicted this. 'Young men,' +he said, 'ran a greater chance of coming out of my hands followers of +Paine than disciples of Newton.' I starved on till I was called to the +bar. There fresh insults and mortifications met me. My name on a brief +seemed a signal for a field-day against Jacobinism and infidelity. The +very bench forgot its dignity in its zeal. I remember well one day, +when, stung and maddened by these outrages, I so far forgot myself as +to reply, and the Court of King's Bench was closed against me for +twelve long years,--ay, till I came back to it as the first man in my +profession. It was a trumpery cause,--I forget what; a suit about some +petty bill of exchange. I disputed the evidence, and sought to show its +invalidity. The Chief Justice stopped me, and said, 'The Court is aware +of the point on which you rely; we have known evidence of this nature +admitted in cases of trial for treason,--cases with which Mr. Repton, we +know, is very familiar. I stopped; my blood boiled with indignation, +my temples throbbed to bursting, to be thus singled out amongst my +brethren--before the public--as a mark of scorn and reprobation. 'It is +true, my Lord,' said I, with a slow, measured utterance, 'I am familiar +with such cases. Who is there in this unhappy land that is not? I am +aware, too, that if I stood in that dock arraigned on such a charge, +your Lordship would rule that this evidence was admissible; you would +charge against me, sentence, and hang me; but the present is an action +for eleven pounds ten, and, therefore, I trust to your Lordship's lenity +and mercy to reject it.' + +“That reply, sir, cost me twelve years of exile from the court wherein I +uttered it. Those were times when the brow-beating judge could crush +the bar; nor were the jury always safe in the sanctuary of the jury-box. +Now, such abuses are no longer in existence; and if we have made no +other stride in progress, even that is considerable.” + +“In all that regards the law and its administration, I am sure you are +correct, sir,” said Nelligan, submissively. + +“At the period I speak of,” resumed Repton, who now was only following +out his own thoughts and reminiscences, “the judges were little else +than prefects, administering the country through the channel of the +penal code, and the jury a set of vulgar partisans, who wielded the +power of a verdict with all the caprice of a faction; and as to their +ignorance, why, sir, Crookshank, who afterwards sat on the bench, used +to tell of a trial for murder at Kells, where the 'murdered man' was two +hours under cross-examination on the table! Yes, but that is not all; +the jury retired to deliberate, and came out at length with a verdict of +'manslaughter,' as the prisoner was 'a bad fellow, and had once stolen a +saddle from the foreman.' You talk of law and civilization; why, I tell +you, sir, that the barbaric code of the red man is a higher agent +of enlightenment than the boasted institutions of England, when thus +perverted and degraded. No, no, Mr. Nelligan, it may be a fine theme +for declamation, there may be grand descriptive capabilities about the +Ireland of sixty or seventy years ago, but be assured, it was a social +chaos of the worst kind; and as a maxim, sir, remember, that the +inhabitants of a country are never so much to be pitied as when the +aspect of their social condition is picturesque!” + +Repton fell into a musing fit when he had finished these observations, +and Nelligan felt too much deference for his guest to disturb him, +and they sat thus silent for some time, when the old lawyer suddenly +arousing himself, said,--“What's all this I hear about disturbances, and +attacks on the police, down here?” + +“There's nothing political in it,” rejoined Nelligan. “It was resistance +offered by the people to the service of certain notices on the part of +this London Jew--Merl, I think they call him.” + +“Yes, that's the name,” quickly responded Repton. “You are aware of the +circumstances under which he claims the estate?” + +“I had it from Brierley, who was told by Scanlan, that he purchased, or +rather won at play, the entire and sole reversion.” + +Repton nodded. + +“And such is a legal compact, I presume?” said Nelligan. + +“If the immoral obligation be well concealed in the negotiation, I don't +see how it is to be broken. The law, sir,” added he, solemnly, “never +undertakes the charge of fools till a commission be taken out in their +behalf! This young fellow's pleasure it was to squander his succession +to a princely estate, and he chanced to meet with one who could +appreciate his intentions.” + +“Massingbred told me, however, that some arrangement, some compromise +was in contemplation; that Merl, knowing that to enforce his claim would +subject him to a trial and all its disclosures, had shown a disposition +to treat; in fact, Massingbred has already had an interview with him, +and but for Scanlan, who desires to push matters to extremity, the +affair might possibly be accommodated.” + +“The Jew possibly sees, too, that an Irish succession is not a bloodless +triumph. He has been frightened, I have no doubt.” + +“I believe so; they say he took to his bed the day he got back here, and +has never quitted it since. The people hunted them for four miles across +the country, and as Merl couldn't leap his horse over the walls, they +were several times nearly caught by the delay in making gaps for him.” + +“I'd have given fifty pounds to be in at it,” broke out Repton. +Then suddenly remembering that the aspiration did not sound as very +dignified, he hemmed and corrected himself, saying, “It must, indeed, +have been a strange spectacle!” + +“They started at Kyle's Wood, and ran them over the low grounds beside +Kelly's Mills, and then doubling, brought them along the foot of +Barnagheela Mountain, where, it seems, Magennis joined the chase; he was +fast closing with them when his gun burst, and rather damaged his hand.” + +“He fired, then?” + +[Illustration: 368] + +“Yes, he put a heavy charge of slugs into Merl's horse as he was getting +through the mill-race, and the beast flung up and threw his rider into +the stream. Scanlan dismounted and gathered him up, discharging his +pistol at some country fellow who was rushing forward; they say the man +has lost an eye. They got off, however, and, gaining the shelter of the +Cro' Martin wood, they managed to escape at last, and reached this +about six o'clock, their clothes in tatters, their horses lamed, and +themselves lamentable objects of fatigue and exhaustion. Since that, +no one but the doctor has seen Merl, and Scanlan only goes out with an +escort of police.” + +“All this sounds very like 'sixty years ago,'” said Repton, laughing. + +“I'm afraid it does, and I half dread what the English newspapers may +say under the heading of 'Galway Barbarities.'” + +“By Jove! I must say I like it; that is,” said Repton, hesitating and +confused, “I can see some palliation for the people in such an outburst +of generous but misdirected feeling. The old name has still its +spell for their hearts; and even superstitions, sir, are better than +incredulity!” + +“But of what avail is all this? The law must and will be vindicated. It +may cost some lives, on the road, but Mr. Merl must reach his journey's +end, at last.” + +“He may deem the sport, as I have known some men do tiger-hunting, not +worth the danger,” said Repton. “You and I, Mr. Nelligan, acclimated, as +I may say, to such incidents, would probably not decline the title to +an estate, whose first step in possession should be enforced by the +blunderbuss; but make the scene Africa, and say what extent of territory +would you accept of, on the compact of enforcing your claim against +the natives? Now, for all the purposes of argument, to this cockney's +appreciation, these countrymen of ours are Africans.” + +“I can well understand his terror,” said Nelligan, thoughtfully. “I 'm +sure the yell that followed him through the gap of Kyle-a-Noe will ring +in his heart for many a day. It was there the pursuit was hottest. As +they came out, a stranger, who had been here during the winter,--a Mr. +Barry--” + +“What of _him?_ What did _he_ do?” broke in Repton, with great +eagerness. + +“He stood upon an old wall, and hurrahed the people on, calling out, +'Five gold guineas to the man who will hurl that fellow into the lake.'” + +“He said that?” cried Repton. + +“Yes, and waved his hat in encouragement to the mob! This was deposed in +evidence before the bench; and Scanlan's affidavit went on to say, that +when the temper of the people seemed to relent, and the ardor of +their pursuit to relax, this man's presence invariably rallied all the +energies of mischief, and excited the wildest passions of the populace.” + +“Who or what is he supposed to be?” asked the lawyer. + +“Some say, a returned convict,--a banker that was transported thirty +years ago for forgery; others, that he is Con O'Hara, that killed Major +Stackpoole in the famous duel at Bunratty Castle. Magennis swears that +he remembers the face well; at all events, there is a mystery about him, +and when he came into the shop below stairs--” + +“Oh, then, you have seen him yourself?” + +“Yes; he came in on Monday last, and asked for some glazed gunpowder, +and if we had bullets of a large mould to fit his pistols. They were +curiosities in their way; they were made in America, and had a bore +large as your thumb.” + +“You had some conversation with him?” + +“A few words about the country and the crops. He said he thought we had +good prospects for the wheat, and, if we should have a fine harvest, +a good winter was like to follow. Meaning that, with enough to eat, we +should have fewer outrages in the dark nights, and by that I knew he +was one acquainted with the country. I said as much, and then he turned +fiercely on me, and remarked, 'I never questioned you, sir, about your +hides and tallow and ten-penny nails, for they were _your_ affairs; +please, then, to pay the same deference to _me_ and _mine_.' And before +I could reply he was gone.” + +“It was a rude speech,” said Repton, thoughtfully; “but many men are +morose from circumstances whose natures are full of kindliness and +gentleness.” + +“It was precisely the impression this stranger made upon me. There was +that in his manner which implied a hard lot in life,--no small share of +the shadiest side of fortune; and even when his somewhat coarse rebuke +was uttered, I was more disposed to be angry with myself for being the +cause than with him who made it.” + +“Where is he stopping just now?” + +“At Kilkieran, I have heard; but he has been repeatedly back and forward +in the town here during the week, though for the last few days I have +not seen him. Perhaps he has heard of Scanlan's intention to summons +him for aiding and abetting an assault, and has kept out of the way in +consequence.” + +“_He_ keep out of the way!” cried Repton; “you never mistook a man more +in your life!” + +“You are acquainted with him, then?” said Nelligan, in amazement. + +“That am I, sir. No one knows him better, and on my knowledge of the man +it was that I apologized for his incivility to yourself. If I cannot +say more, Mr. Nelligan, it is not because I have any mistrust in your +confidence, but that my friend's secret is, in his own charge, and only +to be revealed at his own pleasure.” + +“I wish you would tell him that I never meant to play the spy upon +him,--that my remark was a merely chance observation--” + +“I promise you to do so,” broke in Repton. “I promise you still more, +that before he leaves this you shall have an apology from his own lips +for his accidental rudeness; nay, two men that would know how to respect +each other should never part under even a passing misunderstanding. It +is an old theory of mine, Mr. Nelligan, that good men's good opinions of +us form the pleasantest store of our reminiscences, and I 'd willingly +go a hundred miles to remove a misconception that might bring me back to +the esteem of an honorable heart, though I never were to set eyes again +on him who possessed it.” + +“I like your theory well, sir,” said Nelligan, cordially. + +“You 'll find the practice will reward you,” said Repton. + +“I confess this stranger has inspired me with great curiosity.” + +“I can well understand the feeling,” said Repton, musing. “It is with +men as with certain spots in landscape, there are chance glimpses which +suggest to us the fair scenes that lie beyond our view! Poor fellow! +poor fellow!” muttered he once or twice to himself; and then starting +abruptly, said, “You have made me so cordially welcome here that I +am going to profit by every privilege of a guest. I 'm going to say +good-night, for I have much before me on the morrow.” + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. HOW DIPLOMACY FAILED + +Repton was up at daybreak, and at his desk. Immense folios littered the +table, and even the floor around him, and the old lawyer sat amidst a +chaos that it was difficult to believe was only the growth of an hour or +two. All the intentness of his occupation, however, did not prevent him +hearing a well-known voice in the little stable-yard beneath his window, +and opening the sash he called out, “Mas-singbred, is that you?” + +“Ah, Mr. Repton, are you stirring so early? I had not expected to see +you for at least two hours to come. May I join you?” + +“By all means; at once,” was the answer. And the next moment they were +together. “Where's Barry? When did you see him last?” was Repton's first +question. + +“For a moment, on Tuesday last; he came up here to learn if you had +arrived, or when you might be expected. He seemed disappointed when I +said not before the latter end of the week, and muttered something about +being too late. He seemed flurried and excited. I heard afterwards +that he had been somehow mixed up with that tumultuous assemblage that +resisted the police, and I offered to go back with him to Kilkieran, but +he stopped me short, saying, 'I am not at Kilkieran;' and so abruptly as +to show that my proposal was not acceptable. He then sat down and wrote +a short letter, which he desired me to give you on arriving; but to +deliver it with my own hand, as, if any reply were necessary, I should +be ready to carry it to him. This is the letter.” + +Repton read it rapidly, and then, walking to the window, stood pondering +over the contents. + +“You know this man Merl, don't you, Massingbred?” asked Repton. + +“Yes, thoroughly.” + +“The object of this letter is to try one last chance for an arrangement. +Barry suspects that the Jew's ambition for Irish proprietorship may have +been somewhat dashed by the experience of the last few days; that he +will be likely enough to weigh the advantages and disadvantages with a +juster appreciation than if he had never come here, and, if such be the +case, we are ready to meet with a fair and equitable offer. We'll repay +him all that he advanced in cash to young Martin, and all that he won +from him at play, if he surrender his reversionary claim. We'll ask no +questions as to how this loan was made, or how that debt incurred. It +shall be the briefest of all transactions,--a sum in simple addition, +and a check for the total.” + +“He'll refuse,--flatly refuse it,” said Massingbred. “The very offer +will restore any confidence the last few days may have shaken; he'll +judge the matter like the shares of a stock that are quoted higher in +the market.” + +“You think so?” + +“I'm sure of it. I'm ashamed to say, Mr. Repton, that my knowledge of +the Herman Merl class may be greater than yours. It is the one solitary +point in the realm of information wherein I am probably your superior.” + +“There are others, and of a very different order, in which I would +own you the master,” said Repton. “But to our case. Suppose,--a mere +supposition, if you like,--but suppose that it could be demonstrated to +Mr. Merl that his claim will be not only resisted, but defeated; that +the right on which he relies is valueless,--the deed not worth the +stamps it bears; that this offer is made to avoid a publicity and +exposure far more injurious to him than to those who now shrink from it. +What think you then?” + +“Simply that he'd not believe it! He'd say, and many others would say, +'If the right lay so incontestably with these others, they 'd not give +some twenty thousand pounds to compromise what they could enforce for +the mere cost of a trial.'” + +“Mr. Massingbred, too, would perhaps take the same view of the +transaction,” said Repton, half tartly. + +“Not if Mr. Repton assured me that he backed the opposite opinion,” said +Jack, politely. + +“I thank you heartily for that speech,” said the old man, as he grasped +the other's hand cordially; “you deserve, and shall have my fullest +confidence.” + +“May I ask,” said Jack, “if this offer to buy off Merl be made in the +interest of the Martins, for otherwise I really see no great object, so +far as they are concerned, in the change of mastery?” + +“You'll have to take _my_ word for that,” said Repton, “or rather, to +take the part I assume in this transaction as the evidence of it; and +now, as I see that you are satisfied, will you accept of the duty of +this negotiation? Will you see and speak with Merl? Urge upon him all +the arguments your own ingenuity will furnish, and when you come, if +you should be so driven, to the coercive category, and that you want +the siege artillery, then send for _me_. Depend upon it, it will be no +_brutum fulmen_ that I 'll bring up; nor will I, as Pelham said, fire +with 'government powder.' My cannon shall be inscribed, like those of +the old volunteers, independence or--” + +At any other moment Jack might have smiled at the haughty air and +martial stride of the old man, as, stimulated by his words, he paced the +room; but there was a sincerity and a resolution about him that offered +no scope for ridicule. His very features wore a look of intrepidity that +bespoke the courage that animated him. + +“Now, Massingbred,” said he, laying his hand on the young man's arm, “it +is only because I am not free to tell another man's secret that I do +not at once place you fully in possession of all I myself know of this +transaction; but rely on it, you shall be informed on every point, and +immediately after the issue of this negotiation with Merl, whatever be +the result, you shall stand on the same footing with myself.” + +“You cannot suppose that I exact this confidence?” began Jack. + +“I only know it is your due, sir,” said Repton. “Go now,--it is not too +early; see this man, and let the meeting be of the briefest, for if I +were to tell you my own mind, I'd say I'd rather he should reject our +offer.” + +“You are, I own, a little incomprehensible this morning,” said +Massingbred, “but I am determined to yield you a blind obedience; and so +I'm off.” + +“I 'll wait breakfast for you,” said Repton, as he reseated himself to +his work. + +Repton requested Mr. Nelligan's permission to have his breakfast +served in his own room, and sat for a long time impatiently awaiting +Massingbred's return. He was at one time aroused by a noise below +stairs, but it was not the announcement of him he looked for; and he +walked anxiously to and fro in his chamber, each moment adding to the +uneasiness that he felt. + +“Who was it that arrived half an hour ago?” asked he of the servant. + +“Mr. Joe, sir, the counsellor, has just come from Dublin, and is at +breakfast with the master.” + +“Ah! he 's come, is he? So much the better,” muttered Repton, “we may +want his calm, clear head to assist us here; not that we shall have to +fear a contest,--there is no enemy in the field,--and if there were, +Val Repton is ready to meet him!” And the old man crossed his arms, and +stood erect in all the consciousness of his undiminished vigor. “Here +he comes at last,--I know his step on the stair.” And he flung open the +door for Massingbred. + +“I read failure in your flushed cheek, Massingbred; failure and anger +both, eh?” + +Massingbred tried to smile. If there was any quality on which he +especially prided himself, it was the bland semblance of equanimity he +could assume in circumstances of difficulty and irritation. It was +his boast to be able to hide his most intense emotions at moments +of passion, and there was a period in which, indeed, he wielded this +acquirement. Of later times, however, he had grown more natural +and impulsive; he had not yet lost the sense of pain this yielding +occasioned, and it was with evident irritation that he found Repton had +read his thoughts. + +“You perceive, then, that I am unsuccessful?” said he, with a faint +smile. “So much the better if my face betrays me; it will save a world +of explanation!” + +“Make your report, sir, and I'll make the tea,” said Repton, as he +proceeded to that office. + +“The fellow was in bed,--he refused to see me, and it was only by some +insistence that I succeeded in gaining admittance. He has had leeches +to his temples. He was bruised, it seems, when he fell, but far more +frightened than hurt. He looks the very picture of terror, and lies +with a perfect armory of pistols beside his bed. Scanlan was there, +and thought to remain during our interview; but I insisted on his +withdrawing, and he went. The amiable attorney, somehow, has a kind of +respect for me that is rather amusing. As for Merl, he broke out into a +vulgar tirade of passion, abused the country and the people, cursed the +hour he came amongst them, and said, if he only knew the nature of the +property before he made his investment, he 'd rather have purchased +Guatemala bonds, or Santa Fé securities. + +“'Then I have come fortunately,' said I, 'for I bring you an offer to +reimburse all your outlay, and to rid you of a charge so little to your +inclination.' + +“'Oh! you do, do you?' said he, with one of his cunningest leers. +'You may not be able, perhaps, to effect that bargain, though. It's one +thing to pay down a smart sum of money and wait your time for recovering +it, and it's another to surrender your compact when the hour of +acquisition has arrived. I bought this reversion--at least, I paid the +first instalment of the price--four years ago, when the late man's life +was worth twenty years' purchase. Well, he 's gone now, and do you think +that I 'm going to give up my claim for what it cost me?' + +“I gently insinuated that the investigation of the claim might lead to +unpleasant revelations. There were various incidents of the play-table, +feasible and successful enough after a supper with champagne, and in the +short hours before day, which came off with an ill-grace on the table of +a court of justice, with three barons of the exchequer to witness them. +That I myself might prove an awkward evidence, if unhappily cited to +appear; that of my own knowledge I could mention three young fellows of +good fortune who had been drained to their last shilling in his company. +In fact, we were both remarkably candid with each other, and while _I_ +reminded _him_ of some dark passages at _écarté, he_ brought to _my_ +memory certain protested bills and dishonored notes that 'non jucundum +esset meminisse.' I must say, for both of us, we did the thing well, and +in good breeding; we told and listened to our several shortcomings with +a temper that might have graced a better cause, and I defy the world to +produce two men who could have exchanged the epithets of swindler and +scamp with more thorough calm and good manners. Unhappily, however, high +as one rises in his own esteem by such contests, he scarcely makes the +same ascent in that of his neighbor, and so we came, in our overflowing +frankness, to admit to each other more of our respective opinions than +amounts to flattery. I believe, and, indeed, I hope, I should have +maintained my temper to the end, had not the fellow pretty broadly +insinuated that some motive of personal advantage had prompted my +interference, and actually pushed his insolence so far as to insinuate +that 'I should make a better thing' by adhering to his fortunes.” + +Repton started at these words, and Massingbred resumed: “True, upon my +honor; I exaggerate nothing. It was a gross outrage, and very difficult +to put up with; so I just expressed my sincere regret that instead of +being in bed he was not up and stirring, inasmuch as I should have tried +what change of air might have done for him, by pitching him out of the +window. He tugged violently at the bell-rope, as though I were about to +execute my menace, and so I left him. My diplomacy has, therefore, been +a sad failure. I only hope that I may not have increased the difficulty +of the case by my treatment of it.” + +“You never thought of _me_ at all, then?” asked Repton. + +“Never, till I was once more in the street; then I remembered something +of what you said about coercive means, but of what avail a mere menace? +This fellow is not new to such transactions,--he has gone through all +the phases of 'bulleydom.' Besides, there is a dash of Shylock in every +Jew that ever breathed. They will 'have their bond,' unless it can be +distinctly proved to them that the thing is impossible.” + +“Now then for our breaching battery,” said Repton, rising and pacing +the room. “This attempt at a compromise never had any favor in my eyes; +Barry wished it, and I yielded. Now for a very different course. Can +you find a saddle-horse here? Well, then, be ready to set out in half an +hour, and search out Barry for me. He'll be found at Kilkieran, or the +neighborhood; say we must meet at once; arrange time and place for the +conference, and come back to me.” + +Repton issued his directions with an air of command, and Massingbred +prepared as implicitly to obey them. + +“Mr. Nelligan has lent me his own pad,” said Massingbred, entering soon +after, “and his son will accompany me, so that I am at your orders at +once.” + +“There are your despatches,” said Repton, giving him a sealed packet. +“Let me see you here as soon as may be.” + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. A GREAT DISCOVERY + +About an hour after Massingbred's departure for Kilkieran, Mr. Repton +set out for Cro' Martin Castle. The inn had furnished him its best +chaise and four of its primest horses; and had the old lawyer been +disposed to enjoy the pleasure which a great moralist has rated so +highly, of rapid motion through the air, he might have been gratified on +that occasion. Unhappily, however, he was not so minded. Many and very +serious cares pressed upon him. He was travelling a road, too, which he +had so often journeyed in high spirits, fancying to himself the pleasant +welcome before him, and even rehearsing to his own mind the stores of +agreeability he was to display,--and now it was to a deserted mansion, +lonely and desolate, he was turning! Death and ruin both had done their +work on that ancient family, whose very name in the land seemed already +hastening to oblivion! + +Few men could resist the influence of depression better than Repton. It +was not alone that his temperament was still buoyant and energetic, +but the habits of his profession had taught him the necessity of being +prepared for emergencies, and he would have felt it a dereliction of +duty were his sentiments to overmaster his power of action. + +Still, as he went along, the well-known features of the spot would +recall memories of the past. There lay a dense wood, of which he +remembered the very day, the very hour, poor Martin had commenced the +planting. There was the little trout-stream, where, under pretence +of fishing, he had lounged along the summer day, with Horace for his +companion; that, the school-house Mary had sketched, and built out of +her own pocket-money. And now the great massive gates slowly opened, and +they were within the demesne,--all silent and noiseless. As they came in +sight of the castle, Repton covered his face with his hands, and sat for +some minutes thus. Then, as if mastering his emotion, he raised his head +and folded his arms on his chest. + +“You are true to time, I perceive, Dr. Leslie,” said he, as the chaise +stopped at the door and the venerable clergyman came forward to greet +him. + +“I got your note last night, sir, but I determined not to keep you +waiting, for I perceive you say that time is precious now.” + +“I thank you heartily,” said Repton, as he shook the other's hand. “I am +grateful to you also for being here to meet me, for I begin to feel my +courage fail me as to crossing that threshold again!” + +“Age has its penalties as well as its blessings, sir,” said Leslie, +“and amongst these is to outlive those dear to us!” There was a painful +significance to his own desolate condition that made these words doubly +impressive. + +Repton made no reply, but pulled the bell strongly; and the loud, deep +sounds rung out clearly through the silent house. After a brief interval +a small window above the door was opened, and a man with a blunderbuss +in his hand sternly demanded their business. + +“Oh, I ax pardon, sir,” said he, as suddenly correcting himself. “I +thought it was that man that 's come to take the place,--'the Jew,' +they call him,--and Mr. Magennis said I was n't to let him in, or one +belonging to him.” + +“No, Barney, we are not his friends,” said Dr. Leslie; “this is Mr. +Repton.” + +“Sure I know the Counsellor well, sir,” said Barney. “I 'll be down in a +minute and open the door.” + +“I must go to work at once,” said Repton, in a low and somewhat broken +voice, “or this place will be too much for me. Every step I go is +calling up old times and old scenes. I had thought my heart was +of sterner stuff. Isn't this the way to the library? No, not that +way,--that was poor Martin's own breakfast-room!” He spoke hurriedly, +like one who wished to suppress emotion by very activity of thought. + + +While the man who conducted them opened the window-shutters and the +windows, Repton and his companion sat down without speaking. At last he +withdrew, and Repton, rising, said,--“Some of the happiest hours of my +life were passed in this same room. I used to come up here after the +fatigues of circuit, and, throwing myself into one of those easy-chairs, +dream away for a day or two, gazing out on that bold mountain yonder, +above the trees, and wondering how those fellows who never relaxed, in +this wise, could sustain the wear and tear of life; for that junketing +to Harrow-gate, that rattling, noisy steamboating up the Rhine, that +Cockney heroism of Swiss travel, is my aversion. The calm forenoon +for thought, the pleasant dinner-table for genial enjoyment +afterwards,--these are true recreations. And what evenings we have had +here! But I must not dwell on these.” And now he threw upon the table a +mass of papers and letters, amongst which he sought out one, from which +he took a small key. “Dr. Leslie,” said he, “you might have been assured +that I have not called upon you to meet me to-day without a sufficient +reason. I know that, from certain causes, of which I am not well +informed, you were not on terms of much intimacy with my poor friend +here. This is not a time to think of these things; _you_, I am well +assured, will never remember them.” + +Leslie made a motion of assent; and the other went on, his voice +gradually gaining in strength and fulness, and his whole manner by +degrees assuming the characteristic of the lawyer. + +“To the few questions to which I will ask your answers, now, I have to +request all your attention. They are of great importance; they may, very +probably, be re-asked of you under more solemn circumstances; and I have +to bespeak, not alone all your accuracy for the replies, but that you +may be able, if asked, to state the manner and even the words in which +I now address you.--You have been the incumbent of this parish for a +length of time,--what number of years?” + +“Sixty-three. I was appointed to the vicarage on my ordination, and +never held any other charge.” + +“You knew the late Darcy Martin, father of the last proprietor of this +estate?” + +“Intimately.” + +“You baptized his two children, born at the same birth. State what you +remember of the circumstance.” + +“I was sent for to the castle to give a private baptism to the two +infants, and requested that I would bring the vestry-book along with +me for the registration. I did so. The children were accordingly +christened, and their births duly registered and witnessed.” + +“Can you remember the names by which they were called?” + +“Not from the incident in question, though I know the names from +subsequent knowledge of them, as they grew up to manhood.” + +“What means, if any, were adopted at the time to distinguish the +priority of birth?” + +“The eldest was first baptized, and his birth specially entered in +the vestry-book as such; all the witnesses who signed the entry +corroborating the fact by special mention of it under their signature. +We also heard that the child wore a gold bracelet on one arm; but I did +not remark it.” + +“You have this vestry-book in your keeping?” + +“No; Mr. Martin retained it, with some object of more formal +registration. I repeatedly asked for it, but never could obtain it. At +length some coolness grew up between us, and I could not, or did not +wish to press my demand; and at last it lapsed entirely from my memory, +so that from that day I never saw it.” + +“You could, however, recognize it, and be able to verify your +signature?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Was there, so far as you could see, any marked distinction made between +the children while yet young?” + +“I can remember that at the age of three or four the eldest boy wore a +piece of red or blue ribbon on his sleeve; but any other mark I never +observed. They were treated, so far as I could perceive, precisely +alike; and their resemblance to each other was then so striking, it +would have been a matter of great nicety to distinguish them. Even +at school, I am told, mistakes constantly occurred, and one boy once +received the punishment incurred by the other.” + +“As they grew up, you came to recognize the eldest by his name?” + +“Yes. Old Mr. Darcy Martin used to take the elder boy more about with +him. He was then a child of ten or eleven years old. He was particular +in calling attention to him, saying, 'This fellow is to be my heir; +he 'll be the Martin of Cro' Martin yet'” + +“And what name did the boy bear?” + +“Godfrey,--Godfrey Martin. The second boy's name was Barry.” + +“You are sure of this?” + +“Quite sure. I have dined a number of times at the castle, when Godfrey +was called in after dinner, and the other boy was generally in disgrace; +and I could remark that his father spoke of him in a tone of irritation +and bitterness, which he did not employ towards the other.” + +“Mr. Martin died before his sons came of age?” + +“Yes; they were only nineteen at his death.” + +“He made a will, I believe, to which you were a witness?” + +“I was; but somehow the will was lost or mislaid, and it was only by +a letter to the Honorable Colonel Forbes, of Lisvally, that Martin's +intentions about appointing him guardian to his elder boy were +ascertained. I myself was named guardian to the second son, an office +of which he soon relieved me by going abroad, and never returned for a +number of years.” + +“Godfrey Martin then succeeded to the estate in due course?” + +“Yes, and we were very intimate for a time, till after his marriage, +when estrangement grew up between us, and at last we ceased to visit at +all.” + +“Were the brothers supposed to be on good terms with each other?” + +“I have heard two opposite versions on that subject. My own impression +was that Lady Dorothea disliked Barry Martin, who had made a marriage +that was considered beneath him; and then his brother was, from easiness +of disposition, gradually weaned of his old affection for him. Many +thought Barry, with all his faults, the better-hearted of the two.” + +“Can you tell what ultimately became of this Barry Martin?” + +“I only know, from common report, that after the death of his wife, +having given his infant child, a girl, in charge to his brother, he +engaged in the service of some of the Southern American Republics, +and is supposed yet to be living there,--some say in great affluence; +others, that he is utterly ruined by a failure in a mining speculation. +The last time I ever heard Godfrey speak of him was in terms of sincere +affection, adding the words, 'Poor Barry will befriend every one but +himself.'” + +“So that he never returned?” + +“I believe not; at least I never heard of it.” + +“I have written down these questions and your answers to them,” said +Repton; “will you read them over, and if you find them correct, append +your signature. I am expecting Mr. Nelligan here, and I 'll go and see +if there be any sign of his arrival.” + +Repton just reached the door as Mr. Nelligan drove up to it. + +“All goes on well and promptly to-day,” said the old lawyer. “I have got +through a good deal of business already, and I expect to do as much more +ere evening sets in. I have asked you to be present, as a magistrate, +while I examine the contents of a certain closet in this house. I am led +to believe that very important documents are deposited there, and it is +in your presence, and that of Mr. Leslie, I purpose to make the inquiry. +Before I do so, however, I will entreat your attention to a number of +questions, and the answers to them, which will be read out to you. You +will then be in a better position to judge of any discovery which the +present investigation may reveal. All this sounds enigmatically enough, +Mr. Nelligan; but you will extend your patience to me for a short while, +and I hope to repay it.” + +Nelligan bowed in silence, and followed him into the house. + +“There,” said Mr. Leslie, “I have written my name to that paper; it is, +so far as I can see, perfectly correct.” + +“Now, let me read it for Mr. Nelligan,” said Repton; and, without +further preface, recited aloud the contents of the document. “I +conclude, sir,” said he, as he finished, “that there is nothing in what +you have just heard very new or very strange to your ears. You knew +before that Darcy Martin had two sons; that they were twins; and that +one of them, Godfrey, inherited the estate. You may also have heard +something of the brother's history; more, perhaps, than is here alluded +to.” + +“I have always heard him spoken of as a wild, reckless fellow, and that +it was a piece of special good fortune he was not born to the property, +or he had squandered every shilling of it,” said Nelligan. + +“Yes,” said Leslie, “such was the character he bore.” + +“That will do,” said Repton, rising. “Now, gentlemen, I'm about to +unlock this cabinet, and, if I be correctly informed, we shall find +the vestry-book with the entries spoken of by Mr. Leslie, and the long +missing will of Darcy Martin. Such, I repeat, are the objects I expect +to discover; and it is in your presence I proceed to this examination.” + +In some astonishment at his words, the others followed him to the corner +of the room, where, half concealed in the wainscot, a small door was +at length discovered, unlocking which, Repton and the others entered a +little chamber, lighted by a narrow, loopholed window. Not stopping to +examine the shelves loaded with old documents and account-books, Repton +walked straight to a small ebony cabinet, on a bracket, opening which, +he drew forth a square vellum-bound book, with massive clasps. + +“The old vestry-book. I know it well,” said Leslie. + +“Here are the documents in parchment,” continued Repton, “and a sealed +paper. What are the lines in the corner, Mr. Nelligan,--your eyes are +better than mine?” + +“'Agreement between Godfrey and Barry Martin. To be opened by whichever +shall survive the other.' The initials of each are underneath.” + +“With this we have no concern,” said Repton; “our business lies with +these.” And he pointed to the vestry-book. “Let us look for the entry +you spoke of.” + +“It is easily found,” said Leslie. “It was the last ever made in that +book. Here it is.” And he read aloud: “'February 8th, 1772. Privately +baptized, at Cro' Martin Castle, by me, Henry Leslie, Incumbent and +Vicar of the said parish, Barry and Godfrey, sons of Darcy Martin and +Eleanor his wife, both born on the fourth day of the aforesaid month; +and, for the better discrimination of their priority in age, it is +hereby added that Barry Martin is the elder, and Godfrey the second +son, to which fact the following are attesting witnesses: Michael Keirn, +house-steward; George Dorcas, butler; and Catharine Broon, maid of +still-room.'” + +“Is that in your handwriting, sir?” asked Repton. + +“Yes, every word of it, except the superscription of the witnesses.” + +“Why, then it would appear that the eldest son never enjoyed his +rights,” cried Nelligan. “Is that possible?” + +“It is the strict truth, sir,” said Repton. “The whole history of the +case adds one to the thousand instances of the miserable failures men +make who seek by the indulgence of their own caprices to obstruct the +decrees of Providence. Darcy Martin died in the belief that he had +so succeeded; and here, now, after more than half a century, are the +evidences which reverse his whole policy, and subvert all his plans.” + +“But what could have been the object here?” asked Nelligan. + +“Simply his preference for the younger-born. No sooner had the children +arrived at that time of life when dispositions display themselves, than +he singled out Godfrey as his favorite. He distinguished him in every +way, and as markedly showed that he felt little affection for the other. +Whether this favoritism, so openly expressed, had its influence on the +rest of the household, or that really they grew to believe that the +boy thus selected for peculiar honor was the heir, it would be very +difficult now to say. Each cause may have contributed its share; all we +know is, that when sent to Dr. Harley's school, at Oughterard, Godfrey +was called the elder, and distinguished as such by a bit of red ribbon +in his button-hole. And thus they grew up to youth and manhood,--the +one flattered, indulged, and caressed; the other equally depreciated and +undervalued. Men are, in a great measure, what others make them. +Godfrey became proud, indolent, and overbearing; Barry, reckless and a +spendthrift Darcy Martin died, and Godfrey succeeded him as matter of +course; while Barry, disposing of the small property bequeathed to him, +set out to seek adventures in the Spanish Main. + +“I am not able to tell, had you even the patience to hear, of what +befell him there; the very strangest, wildest incidents are recorded +of his life, but they have no bearing on what we are now engaged in. He +came back, however, with a wife, to find his brother also married. This +is a period of his life of which little is known. The brothers did not +live well together. There were serious differences between them; and +Lady Dorothea's conduct towards her sister-in-law, needlessly cruel and +offensive, as I have heard, imbittered the relations between them. +At last Barry's wife died, it was said, of a broken heart, and Barry +arrived at Cro' Martin to deposit his infant child with his brother, and +take leave of home and country forever. + +“Some incident of more than usual importance, and with circumstances +of no common pain, must now have occurred; for one night Barry left the +castle, vowing nevermore to enter it. Godfrey followed, and tried to +detain him. A scene ensued of entreaty on one side, and passionate +vehemence on the other, which brought some of the servants to the spot. +Godfrey imperiously ordered them away; they all obeyed but Catty. Catty +Broon followed Barry, and never quitted him that night, which he spent +walking up and down the long avenue of the demesne, watching and waiting +for daybreak. We can only conjecture what, in the violence of her grief +and indignation, this old attached follower of the house might have +revealed. Barry had always been her favorite of the two boys; she knew +his rights; she had never forgotten them. She could not tell by what +subtleties of law they had been transferred to another, but she felt in +her heart assured that in the sight of God they were sacred. How far, +then, she revealed this to him, or only hinted it, we have no means of +knowing. We can only say that, armed with a certain fact, Barry demanded +the next day a formal meeting with his brother and his sister-in-law. Of +what passed then and there, no record remains, save, possibly, in +that sealed packet; for it bears the date of that eventful morning. +I, however, am in a position to prove that Barry declared he would not +disturb the possession Godfrey was then enjoying. 'Make that poor +child,' said he, alluding to his little girl, your own daughter, and it +matters little what becomes of _me_.' Godfrey has more than once +adverted to this distressing scene to me. He told me how Lady Dorothea's +passion was such that she alternately inveighed against himself for +having betrayed her into a marriage beneath her, and abjectly implored +Barry not to expose them to the shame and disgrace of the whole world by +the assertion of his claim. From this she would burst out into fits of +open defiance of him, daring him as an impostor; in fact, Martin said, +'That morning has darkened my life forever; the shadow of it will be +over me to the last hour I live!' And so it was! Self-reproach never +left him: at one time, for his usurpation of what never was his; at +another, for the neglect of poor Mary, who was suffered to grow up +without any care of her education, or, indeed, of any attention whatever +bestowed upon her. + +“I believe that, in spite of herself, Lady Dorothea visited the +dislike she bore Barry on his daughter. It was a sense of hate from the +consciousness of a wrong,--one of the bitterest sources of enmity! +At all events, she showed her little affection,--no tenderness. Poor +Godfrey did all that his weak and yielding nature would permit to repair +this injustice; his consciousness that to that girl's father he owed +position, fortune, station, everything, was ever rising up in his mind, +and urging him to some generous effort in her behalf. But you knew him; +you knew how a fatal indolence, a shrinking horror of whatever demanded +action or energy overcame all his better nature, and made him as +useless to all the exigencies of life as one whose heart was eaten up by +selfishness. + +“The remainder of this sad story is told in very few words. Barry Martin, +from whom for several years before no tidings had been received, came +suddenly back to England. At first it had not been his intention to +revisit Ireland. There was something of magnanimity in the resolve to +stay away. He would not come back to impose upon his brother a renewal +of that lease of gratitude he derived from him; he would rather spare +him the inevitable conflict of feeling which the contrast of his own +affluence with the humble condition of an exile would evoke. Besides, he +was one of those men whom, whatever Nature may have disposed them to be, +the world has so crushed and hardened that they live rather to indulge +strong resentments and stern duties than to gratify warm affections. +Something he had accidentally heard in a coffee-room--the chance mention +by a traveller recently returned from Ireland--about a young lady of +rank and fortune whom he had met hunting her own harriers alone in the +wildest glen of Connemara, decided him to go over there, and, under the +name of Mr. Barry, to visit the scenes of his youth. + +“I have but to tell you that it was in that dreary month of November, +when plague and famine came together upon us, that he saw this country; +the people dying on every side, the land until led, the very crops in +some places uncut, terror and dismay on every side, and they who alone +could have inspired confidence, or afforded aid, gone! Even Cro' Martin +was deserted,--worse than deserted; for one was left to struggle alone +against difficulties that the boldest and the bravest might have shrunk +from. Had Barry Martin been like any other man, he would at once have +placed himself at her side. It was a glorious occasion to have shown +her that she was not the lone and friendless orphan, but the loved and +cherished child of a doting father. But the hard, stern nature of the +man had other and very different impulses; and though he tracked her +from cottage to cottage, followed her in her lonely rambles, and watched +her in her daily duties, no impulse of affection ever moved him to call +her his daughter and bring her home to his heart. I know not whether it +was to afford him these occasions of meeting her, or really in a spirit +of benevolence, but he dispensed large sums in acts of charity among the +people, and Mary herself recounted to me, with tears of delight in her +eyes, the splendid generosity of this unknown stranger. I must hasten +on. An accident, the mere circumstance of a note-book dropped by some +strange chance in Barry's room, revealed to him the whole story of +Captain Martin's spendthrift life; he saw that this young man had +squandered away not only immense sums obtained by loans, but actually +bartered his own reversionary right to the entire estate for money +already lost at the gaming-table. + +“Barry at once set out for Dublin to call upon me and declare himself; +but I was, unfortunately, absent at the assizes. He endeavored next to +see Scanlan. Scanlan was in London; he followed him there. To Scanlan he +represented himself as a money-lender, who, having come to the knowledge +of Merl's dealings with young Martin, and the perilous condition of the +property in consequence, offered his aid to re-purchase the reversion +while it was yet time. To effect this bargain, Scanlan hastened over to +Baden, accompanied by Barry, who, however, for secrecy' sake, remained +at a town in the neighborhood. Scanlan, it seems, resolved to profit +by an emergency so full of moment, and exacted from Lady Dorothea--for +Martin was then too ill to be consulted--the most advantageous terms for +himself. I need not mention one of the conditions,--a formal consent to +his marriage with Miss Martin! and this, remember, when that young lady +had not the slightest, vaguest suspicion that such an indignity could +be offered her, far less concurred in by her nearest relatives! In the +exuberance of his triumph, Scanlan showed the formal letter of assent +from Lady Dorothea to Barry. It was from this latter I had the account, +and I can give you no details, for all he said was, 'As I crushed it in +my hand, I clenched my fist to fell him to the ground! but I refrained. +I muttered a word or two, and got out into the street. I know very +little more.' + +“That night he set out for Baden; but of his journey I know nothing. The +only hint of it he ever dropped was when, giving me this key, he said, +'I saw Godfrey.' + +“He is now back here once more; come to insist upon his long unasserted +rights, and by a title so indisputable that it will leave no doubt of +the result. + +“He is silent and uncommunicative; but he has said enough to show me +that he is possessed of evidence of the compact between Godfrey and +himself; nor is he the man to fail for lack of energy. + +“I have now come to the end of this strange history, in which it is not +impossible you yourselves may be called to play a part, in confirmation +of what you have seen this day.” + +“Then this was the same Mr. Barry of whom we spoke last night?” said +Nelligan, thoughtfully. “When about to describe him to you, I was really +going to say, something like what Mr. Martin might look, if ten years +older and white-haired.” + +“There is a strong resemblance still!” said Repton, as he busied himself +sealing up the vestry-book and the other documents. “These I mean to +deposit in your keeping, Mr. Nelligan, till they be called for. I have +sent over Massingbred to Barry to learn what his wishes may be as to the +next legal steps; and now I am ready to return with you to Oughterard.” + +Talking over this singular story, they reached the town, where +Massingbred had just arrived a short time before. + +“I have had a long chase,” said Jack, “and only found him late in the +afternoon at the cottage.” + +“You gave him the packet, then, and asked when we should meet?” asked +Repton, hurriedly. + +“Yes; he was walking up and down before the door with the doctor, when +we rode up. He scarcely noticed us; and taking your letter in his hand +he placed it, without breaking the seal, on a seat in the porch. I then +gave him your message, and he seemed so lost in thought that I fancied +he had not attended to me. I was about to repeat it, when he interrupted +me, saying, 'I have heard you, sir; there is no answer.' As I stood +for a moment or two, uncertain what to do or say, I perceived that +Joe Nelligan, who had been speaking to the doctor, had just staggered +towards a bench, ill and fainting. 'Yes,' said Barry, turning his eyes +towards him, 'she is very--very ill; tell Repton so, and he 'll feel for +me!'” + +Repton pressed his handkerchief to his face and turned away. + +“I 'm afraid,” said Massingbred, “that her state is highly dangerous. +The few words the doctor dropped were full of serious meaning.” + +“Let us hope, and pray,” said Repton, fervently, “that, amidst all the +calamities of this sorrow-struck land, it may be spared the loss of one +who never opened a cabin door without a blessing, nor closed it but to +shut a hope within.” + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. A DARK DAY + +A mild, soft day, with low-lying clouds, and rich odors of wild-flowers +rising from the ground, a certain dreamy quiet pervading earth and sky +and sea, over which faint shadows lingered lazily; some drops of the +night dew still glittered on the feathery larches, and bluebells hung +down their heads, heavy with moisture; so still the scene that the plash +of the leaping trout could be heard as he rose in the dark stream. And +yet there was a vast multitude of people there. The whole surface of the +lawn that sloped from the cottage to the river was densely crowded, with +every age, from the oldest to very infancy; with all conditions, from +the well-clad peasant to the humblest “tramper” of the high-roads. +Weariness, exhaustion, and even hunger were depicted on many of their +faces. Some had passed the night there; others had come long distances, +faint and footsore; but as they sat, stood, or lay in groups around, +not a murmur, not a whisper escaped them; with aching eyes they looked +towards an open window, where the muslin curtain was gently stirred in +the faint air. + +The tidings of Mary Martin's illness had spread rapidly: far-away glens +down the coast, lonely cabins on the bleak mountains, wild remote spots +out of human intercourse had heard the news, and their dwellers had +travelled many a mile to satisfy their aching hearts. + +From a late hour of the evening before they had learnt nothing of her +state; then a few words whispered by old Catty to those nearest the door +told “that she was no better,--if anything, weaker!” These sad tidings +were soon passed from lip to lip; and thus they spent the night, praying +or watching wearily, their steadfast gaze directed towards that spot +where the object of all their fears and hopes lay suffering. + +Of those there, there was scarcely one to whom she was not endeared by +some personal benefit. She had aided this one in distress, the other she +had nursed in fever; here were the old she had comforted and cheered, +there the children she had taught and trained beside her chair. Her +gentle voice yet vibrated in every heart, her ways of kindness were in +every memory. Sickness and sorrow were familiar enough to themselves. +Life was, at least to most of them, one long struggle; but they could +not bring themselves to think of _her_ thus stricken down! She! that +seemed an angel, as much above the casualties of such fortune as theirs +as she was their superior in station,--that _she_ should be sick and +suffering was too terrible to think of. + +There was a stir and movement in the multitude, a wavy, surging motion, +for the doctor was seen to issue from the stable-yard, and lead his pony +towards the bridge. He stopped to say a word or two as he went. They +were sad words; and many a sobbing voice and many a tearful eye told +what his tidings had been. “Sinking,--sinking rapidly!” + +A faint low cry burst from one in the crowd at this moment, and the +rumor ran that a woman had fainted. It was poor Joan, who had come that +night over the mountain, and, overcome by grief and exhaustion together, +had at last given way. + +“Get a glass of wine for her, or even a cup of water,” cried out three +or four voices; and one nigh the door entered the cottage in search of +aid. The moment after a tall and handsome girl forced her way through +the crowd, and gave directions that Joan might be carried into the +house. + +“Why did ye call her my Lady?” muttered an old hag to one of the men +near her; “sure, she's Henderson's daughter!” + +“Is she, faith? By my conscience, then, she might be a better man's! +She's as fine a crayture as ever I seen!” + +“If she has a purty face, she has a proud heart!” muttered another. + +“Ayeh! she'll never be like _her_ that's going to leave us!” sighed a +young woman with a black ribbon in her cap. + +Meanwhile Kate had Joan assisted into the cottage, and was busily +occupied in restoring her. Slowly, and with difficulty, the poor +creature came to herself, and gazing wildly around, asked where she was; +then suddenly bursting out in tears, she said,--“Sure, I know well where +I am; sure, it's my own self, brought grief and sorrow under this roof. +But for _me_ she 'd be well and hearty this day!” + +“Let us still hope,” said Kate, softly. “Let us hope that one so dear +to us all may be left here. You are better now. I 'll join you again +presently.” And with noiseless footsteps she stole up the stairs. As she +came to the door, she halted and pressed her hands to her heart, as if +in pain. There was a low murmuring sound, as if of voices, from within, +and Kate turned away and sat down on the stairs. + +Within the sick-room a subdued light came, and a soft air, mild and +balmy, for the rose-trees and the jessamine clustered over the window, +and mingled their blossoms across it. Mary had just awoke from a +short sleep, and lay with her hand clasped within that of a large and +white-haired man at the bedside. + +“What a good, kind doctor!” said she, faintly; “I'm sure to find you +ever beside me when I awake.” + +“Oh, darlin', dear,” broke in old Catty, “sure you ought to know who he +is. Sure it 's your own--” + +“Hush! be silent!” muttered the old man, in a low, stern voice. + +“Is it Tuesday to-day?” asked Mary, softly. + +“Yes, dear, Tuesday,” said the old man. + +“It was on Thursday my poor uncle died. Could I live till Thursday, +doctor?” + +The old man tried to speak, but could not. + +“You are afraid to shock me,” said she, with a faint attempt to smile, +“but if you knew how happy I am,--happy even to leave a life I loved +so well. It never could have been the same again, though--the spell was +breaking, hardship and hunger were maddening them--who knows to what +counsels they 'd have listened soon! Tell Harry to be kind to them, +won't you? Tell him not to trust to others, but to know them himself; to +go, as I have done, amongst them. They 'll love him _so_ for doing it. +He is a man, young, rich, and high-hearted,--how they 'll dote upon him! +Catty used to say it was my father they 'd have worshipped; but that was +in flattery to me, Catty, you always said we were so like--” + +“Oh dear! oh dear! why won't you tell her?” broke in Catty. But a severe +gesture from the old man again checked her words. + +“How that wild night at sea dwells in my thoughts! I never sleep but to +dream of it. Cousin Harry must not forget those brave fellows. I +have nothing to requite them with. I make no will, doctor,” said she, +smiling, “for my only legacy is that nosegay there. Will you keep it for +my sake?” + +The old man hid his face, but his strong frame shook and quivered in the +agony of the moment. + +“Hush!” said she, softly; “I hear voices without. Who are they?” + +“They're the country-people, darlin', come from Kiltimmon and beyond +Kyle-a-Noe, to ax after you. They passed the night there, most of them.” + +“Catty, dear, take care that you look after them; they will be hungry +and famished, poor creatures! Oh, how unspeakably grateful to one's +heart is this proof of feeling! Doctor, you will tell Harry how _I_ +loved _them_ and how _they_ loved _me_. Tell him, too, that this bond +of affection is the safest and best of all ties. Tell him that their old +love for a Martin still survives in their hearts, and it will be his +own fault if he does not transmit it to his children. There's some one +sobbing there without. Oh, bid them be of good heart, Catty; there is +none who could go with less of loss to those behind. There--there come +the great waves again before me! How my courage must have failed me to +make this impression so deep! And poor Joan, and that dear fond girl +who has been as a sister to me,--so full of gentleness and love,--Kate, +where is she? No, do not call her; say that I asked for her--that I +blessed her--and sent her this kiss!” She pressed a rose to her hot, +parched lips as she spoke, and then closing her eyes seemed to fall off +to sleep. Her breathing, at first strong and frequent, grew fainter and +fainter, and her color came and went, while her lips slightly moved, and +a low, soft murmur came from them. + +“She's asleep,” muttered Catty, as she crouched down beside the bed. + +The old man bent over the bed, and watched the calm features. He sat +thus long, for hours, but no change was there; he put his lips to hers, +and then a sickly shuddering came over him, and a low, deep groan, that +seemed to rend his very heart! + +Three days after, the great gateway of Cro' Martin Castle opened to +admit a stately hearse drawn by six horses, all mournfully caparisoned, +shaking with plumes and black-fringed drapery. Two mourning-coaches +followed, and then the massive gates were closed, and the sad pageant +wound its slow course through the demesne. At the same moment another +funeral was approaching the churchyard by a different road. It was a +coffin borne by men bareheaded and sorrow-struck. An immense multitude +followed, of every rank and age; sobs and sighs broke from them as they +went. Not an eye was tearless, not a lip that did not tremble. At the +head of this procession walked a small group whose dress and bearing +bespoke their class. These were Barry Martin, leaning on Repton; +Massingbred and the two Nelligans came behind. + +The two coffins entered the churchyard at the same instant The uncle +and the niece were laid side by side in the turf! The same sacred words +consigned them both to their last bed; the same second of time heard the +dank reverberation that pronounced “earth” had returned “to earth.” A +kind of reverential awe pervaded the immense crowd during the ceremony, +and if here and there a sob would burst from some overburdened +heart, all the rest were silent; respecting, with a deference of true +refinement, a sorrow deeper and greater than their own, they never +uttered a word, but with bent-down heads stole quietly away. And now +by each grave the mourners stood, silently gazing on the little mounds +which typify so much of human sorrow! + +Barry Martin's bronzed and weather-beaten features were a thought paler, +perhaps. There was a dark shade of color round the eyes, but on the +whole the expression conveyed far more of sternness than sorrow. Such, +indeed, is no uncommon form for grief to take in certain natures. There +are men who regard calamity like a foe, and go out to meet it in a +spirit of haughty defiance. A poor philosophy! He who accepts it as +chastisement is both a braver and a better man! + +Repton stood for a while beside him, not daring to interrupt his +thoughts. At length he whispered a few words in his ear. Barry started +suddenly, and his dark brow grew sterner and more resolute. + +“Yes, Martin, you must,” said Repton, eagerly, “I insist upon it. Good +heavens! is it at such a time, in such a place as this, you can harbor a +thought that is not forgiveness? Remember he is poor Godfrey's son, the +last of the race now.” As he spoke, passing his arm within the other's, +he drew him gently along, and led him to where a solitary mourner was +standing beside the other grave. + +Barry Martin stood erect and motionless, while Repton spoke to the young +man. At first the words seemed to confuse and puzzle him, for he +looked vaguely around, and passed his hand across his brow in evident +difficulty. + +“Did you say here, in this country? Do I understand you aright?” + +“Here, in this very spot; there, standing now before you!” said Repton, +as he pushed young Martin towards his uncle. + +Barry held out his hand, which the young man grasped eagerly; and then, +as if unable to resist his emotions longer, fell, sobbing violently, +into the other's arms. + +“Let us leave them for a while,” said Repton, hurrying over to where +Massingbred and the Nelligans were yet standing in silent sorrow. + +They left the spot together without a word. Grief had its own part for +each. It is not for us to say where sorrow eat deepest, or in which +heart the desolation was most complete. + +“I'd not have known young Martin,” whispered Nelligan in Repton's ear; +“he looks full twelve years older than when last I saw him.” + +“The fast men of this age, sir, live their youth rapidly,” replied the +other. “It is rarely their fortune to survive to be like me, or heaven +knows what hearts they would be left with!” + +While they thus talked, Massingbred and Joe Nelligan had strolled away +into the wood. Neither spoke. Massingbred felt the violent trembling +of the other's arm as it rested on his own, and saw a gulping effort by +which more than once he suppressed his rising emotion. For hours they +thus loitered along, and at length, as they issued from the demesne, +they found Repton and Mr. Nelligan awaiting them. + +“Barry Martin has taken his nephew back with him to the cottage,” said +Repton, “and we 'll not intrude upon them for the rest of the evening.” + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. REPTON'S LAST CAUSE + +We have no right, as little have we the inclination, to inflict our +reader with the details by which Barry Martin asserted and obtained his +own. A suit in which young Martin assumed to be the defendant developed +the whole history to the world, and proclaimed his title to the estate. +It was a memorable case in many ways; it was the last brief Val Repton +ever held. Never was his clear and searching intellect more conspicuous; +never did he display more logical acuteness, nor trace out a difficult +narrative with more easy perspicuity. + +“My Lords,” said he, as he drew nigh the conclusion of his speech, “it +would have been no ordinary satisfaction to me to close a long life of +labor in these courts by an effort which restores to an ancient name the +noble heritage it had held for centuries. I should have deemed such +an occasion no unfitting close to a career not altogether void of its +successes; but the event has still stronger claims upon my gratitude. It +enables me in all the unembellished sternness of legal proof to display +to an age little credulous of much affection the force of a brother's +love,--the high-hearted devotion by which a man encountered a long life +of poverty and privation, rather than disturb the peaceful possession of +a brother. + +“Romance has its own way of treating such themes; but I do not +believe romance can add one feature to the simple fact of this man's +self-denial. + +“We should probably be lost in our speculations as to the noble motives +of this sacrifice, if our attention was not called away to something +infinitely finer and more exalted than even this. I mean the glorious +life and martyr's death of her who has made a part of this case less +like a legal investigation than the page of an affecting story. Story, +do I say! Shame on the word! It is in truth and reality alone are such +virtues inscribed. Fiction cannot deal with the humble materials that +make up such an existence,--the long hours of watching by sickness; the +weary care of teaching the young; the trying disappointments to hope +bravely met by fresh efforts; the cheery encouragement drawn from a +heart exhausting itself to supply others. Think of a young girl--a very +child in the world's wisdom, more than a man in heroism and daring, with +a heart made for every high ambition, and a station that might command +the highest--calmly consenting to be the friend of destitution, the +companion of misery, the daily associate of every wretchedness; devoting +grace that might have adorned a court to shed happiness in a cabin, +and making of beauty that would have shed lustre around a palace the +sunshine that pierced the gloom of a peasant's misery! Picture to +yourself the hand a prince might have knelt to kiss, holding the cup to +the lips of fever; fancy the form whose elegance would have fascinated, +crouched down beside the embers as she spoke words of consolation or +hope to some bereaved mother or some desolate orphan! + +“These are not the scenes we are wont to look on here. Our cares are, +unhappily, more with the wiles and snares of crafty men than with the +sorrows and sufferings of the good! It is not often human nature wears +its best colors in this place; the spirit of litigious contest little +favors the virtues that are the best adornments of our kind. Thrice +happy am I, then, that I end my day where a glorious sunset gilds +its last hours; that I close my labors not in reprobating crime or +stigmatizing baseness, but with a full heart, thanking God that my last +words are an elegy over the grave of the best of The Martins of Cro' +Martin.'” + +The inaccurate record from which we take these passages--for the only +report of the trial is in a newspaper of the time--adds that the emotion +of the speaker had so far pervaded the court that the conclusion was +drowned in mingled expressions of applause and sorrow; and when Repton +retired, he was followed by the whole bar, eagerly pressing to take +their last farewell of its honored father. + +The same column of the paper mentions that Mr. Joseph Nelligan was to +have made his first motion that day as Solicitor-General, but had left +the court from a sudden indisposition, and the cause was consequently +deferred. + +If Val Repton never again took his place in court, he did not entirely +abdicate his functions. Barry Martin had determined on making a +conveyance of the estate to his nephew, and the old lawyer was for +several weeks busily employed in that duty. Although Merl's claim became +extinguished when young Martin's right to the property was annulled, +Barry Martin insisted on arrangements being made to repay him all that +he had advanced,--a course which Repton, with some little hesitation, at +last concurred in. He urged Barry to reserve a life-interest to himself +in the property, representing the various duties which more properly +would fall to his lot than to that of a young and inexperienced +proprietor. But he would not hear of it. + +“He cannot abide the place,” said Repton, when talking the matter over +with Massingbred. “He is one of those men who never can forgive the +locality where they have been miserable, nor the individual who has had +a share in their sorrow. When he settles his account with Henderson, +then he 'll leave the West forever.” + +“And will he still leave Henderson in his charge?” asked Jack. + +“That is as it may be,” said Repton, cautiously. “There is, as I +understand, some very serious reckoning between them. It is the only +subject on which Martin has kept mystery with me, and I do not like even +to advert to it.” + +Massingbred pondered long over these words, without being able to make +anything of them. + +It might be that Henderson's conduct had involved him in some grave +charge; and if so, Jack's own intentions with regard to the daughter +would be burdened with fresh complications. “The steward” was bad +enough; but if he turned out to be the “unjust steward”--“I 'll start +for Galway to-night,” thought he. “I 'll anticipate the discovery, +whatever it be. She can no longer refuse to see me on the pretext of +recent sorrow. It is now two months and more since this bereavement +befell her. I can no longer combat this life of anxiety and doubt.--What +can I do for you in the West, sir?” asked he of Repton, suddenly. + +“Many things, my young friend,” said Repton, “if you will delay your +departure two days, since they are matters on which I must instruct you +personally.” + +Massingbred gave a kind of half-consent, and the other went on to speak +of the necessity for some nice diplomacy between the uncle and his +nephew. “They know each other but little; they are on the verge of +misunderstandings a dozen times a day. Benefits are, after all, but +sorry ties between man and man. They may ratify the treaty of affection; +they rarely inscribe the contract!” + +“Still Martin cannot but feel that to the noblest act of his uncle's +generosity he is indebted for all he possesses.” + +“Of course he knows, and he feels it; but who is to say whether that +same consciousness is not a load too oppressive to bear. I know already +Barry Martin's suggestions as to certain changes have not been well +taken, and he is eager and pressing to leave Ireland, lest anything +should disturb the concord, frail as it is, between them.” + +“By Jove!” exclaimed Massingbred, passionately, “there is wonderfully +little real good in this world; wonderfully little that can stand the +test of the very basest of all motives,--mere gain.” + +“Don't say so!” cried Repton. “Men have far better natures than you +think; the fault lies in their tempers. Ay, sir, we are always entering +into heavy recognizances with our passions, to do fifty things we never +cared for. We have said this, we have heard the other; somebody sneered +at that, and some one else agreed with him; and away we go, pitching all +reason behind us, like an old shoe, and only seeking to gratify a whim, +or a mere caprice, suggested by temper. Why do people maintain friendly +intercourse at a distance for years, who could not pass twenty-four +hours amicably under the same roof? Simply because it is their natures, +and not their tempers, are in exercise.” + +“I scarcely can separate the two in my mind,” said Jack, doubtingly. + +“Can't you, sir? Why, nature is your skin, temper only your great-coat.” + And the old lawyer laughed heartily at his own conceit. “But here comes +the postman.” + +The double knock had scarcely reverberated through the spacious hall +when the servant entered with a letter. + +“Ah! Barry Martin's hand. What have we here?” said Repton, as he ran his +eyes over it. “So-so; just as I was saying this minute, only that Barry +has the good sense to see it himself. 'My nephew,' he writes, 'has his +own ideas on all these subjects, which are not mine; and as it is no +part of my plan to hamper my gift with conditions that might impair its +value, I mean to leave this at once. + +“'I have had my full share of calamity since I set foot in this land; +and if this rugged old nature could be crushed by mere misfortune, the +last two months might have done it. But no, Repton, the years by which +we survive friends serve equally to make us survive affections, and we +live on, untouched by time! + +“'I mean to be with you this evening. Let us dine alone together, for I +have much to say to you. + +“' Yours ever, + +“'Barry Martin. + +“'I hope I may see Massingbred before I sail. I 'd like to shake hands +with him once again. Say so to him, at all events.'” + +“Come in to-morrow to breakfast,” said Repton; “by that time we'll have +finished all mere business affairs.” And Massingbred having assented, +they parted. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. TOWARDS THE END + +Repton was standing at his parlor window, anxiously awaiting his +friend's arrival, when the chaise with four posters came to the door. +“What have we here?” said the old lawyer to himself, as Barry assisted +a lady dressed in deep mourning to alight, and hurried out to receive +them. + +“I have not come alone, Repton,” said the other. “I have brought my +daughter with me.” Before Repton could master his amazement at these +words, she had thrown back her veil, revealing the well-known features +of Kate Henderson. + +“Is this possible?--is this really the case?” cried Repton, as he +grasped her hand between both his own. “Do I, indeed, see one I have so +long regarded and admired, as the child of my old friend?” + +“Fate, that dealt me so many heavy blows of late, had a kindness in +reserve for me, after all,” said Barry. “I am not to be quite alone in +this world!” + +“If _you_ be grateful, what ought not to be _my_ thankfulness?” said +Kate, tremulously. + +“Leave us for a moment together, Kate,” said Barry; and taking Repton's +arm, he led him into an inner room. + +“I have met with many a sore cut from fortune, Repton,” said he, in the +fierce tone that was most natural to him; “the nearest and dearest to +me not the last to treat me harshly. I need not tell you how I have been +requited in life; not, indeed, that I seek to acquit myself of my own +share of ill. My whole career has been a fault; it could not bring other +fruit than misery.” He paused, and for a while seemed laboring in strong +emotion. At last he went on:-- + +“When that girl was born--it was two years before I married--I intrusted +the charge of her to Henderson, who placed her with a sister +of his in Bruges. I made arrangements for her maintenance and +education,--liberally for one as poor as I was. I made but one condition +about her. It was that under no circumstances save actual want should +she ever be reduced to earn her own bread; but if the sad hour did come, +never--as had been her poor mothers fate--never as a governess! It was +in that fearful struggle of condition I first knew her. I continued, +year after year, to hear of her; remitting regularly the sums I +promised,--doubling, tripling them, when fortune favored me with a +chance prosperity. The letters spoke of her as well and happy, in humble +but sufficient circumstances, equally remote from privation as from the +seductions of a more exalted state. I insisted eagerly on my original +condition, and hoped some day to hear of her being married to +some honest but humble man. It was not often that I had time for +self-reproach; but when such seasons would beset me, I thought of this +girl, and her poor mother long dead and gone--But let me finish. While I +struggled--and it was often a hard struggle--to maintain my side of the +compact, selling at ruinous loss acquisitions it had cost me years of +labor to obtain, this fellow, this Henderson, was basely betraying the +trust I placed in him! The girl, for whose protection, whose safety +I was toiling, was thrown by him into the very world for which I had +distinctly excepted her; her talents, her accomplishments, her very +graces, farmed out and hired for his own profit! Launched into the very +sea where her own mother met shipwreck, she was a mere child, sent to +thread her way through the perils of the most dissipated society. Hear +her own account of it, Repton. Let _her_ tell you what is the tone of +that high life to which foreign nobility imparts its fascinations. Not +that I want to make invidious comparisons; our own country sends its +high tributaries to every vice of Europe! I know not what accident saved +her amidst this pollution. Some fancied theory of popular wrongs, she +thinks, gave her a kind of factitious heroism; elevating her, at least +to her own mind, above the frivolous corruptions around her. She was a +democrat, to rescue her from being worse. + +“At last came a year of unusual pressure; my remittance was delayed, but +when sent was never acknowledged. From that hour out I never heard of +her. How she came into my brother's family, you yourself know. What was +her life there, she has told me! Not in any spirit of complaint,--nay, +she acknowledges to many kindnesses and much trust. Even my cold +sister-in-law showed traits for which I had not given her credit. I have +already forgotten her wrongs towards myself, in requital of her conduct +to this poor girl.” + +“I'll spare you the scene with Henderson, Repton,” said he, after a long +pause. “When the fellow told me that the girl was the same I had seen +watching by another's sickbed, that she it was whose never-ceasing cares +had soothed the last hours of one dearer than herself, I never gave +another thought to him. I rushed out in search of her, to tell her +myself the tidings.” + +“How did she hear it?” asked Repton, eagerly. + +“More calmly than I could tell it. Her first words were, 'Thank God for +this, for I never could love that man I had called my father!'” + +“She knows, then, every circumstance of her birth?” + +“I told her everything. We know each other as well as though we had +lived under the same roof for years. She is my own child in every +sentiment and feeling. She is frank and fearless, Repton,--two qualities +that will do well enough in the wild savannahs of the New World, but +would be unmanageable gifts in the Old, and thither we are bound. I have +written to Liverpool about a ship, and we shall sail on Saturday.” + +“How warmly do I sympathize in this your good fortune, Martin!” said +Repton. “She is a noble creature, and worthy of belonging to you.” + +“I ask for nothing more, Repton,” said he, solemnly. “Fortune and +station, such as they exist here, I have no mind for! I'm too old now +to go to school about party tactics and politics; I'm too stubborn, +besides, to yield up a single conviction for the sake of unity with a +party,--so much for my unfitness for public life. As to private, I am +rough and untrained; the forms of society so pleasant to others would be +penalties to _me_. And then,” said he, rising, and drawing up his figure +to its full height, “I love the forest and the prairie; I glory in the +vastness of a landscape where the earth seems boundless as the sky, and +where, if I hunt down a buffalo-ox, after twenty miles of a chase, +I have neither a game-law nor a gamekeeper nor a charge of trespass +hanging over me.” + +“There's some one knocking at the door,” said Repton, as he arose and +opened it. + +“A thousand pardons for this interruption,” said Mas-singbred, in a low +and eager voice, “but I cannot keep my promise to you; I cannot defer my +journey to the West. I start to-night. Don't ask me the reasons. I 'll +be free enough to give them if they justify me.” + +“But here is one who wishes to shake hands with you, Massingbred,” said +Repton, as he led him forward into the room. + +“I hope you are going to keep your pledge with me, though,” said Barry. +“Have you forgotten you have promised to be my guest over the sea?” + +“Ah,” said Jack, sighing, “I 've had many a day-dream of late!” + +“The man's in love,” said Repton. “Nay, prisoner, you are not called on +to say what may criminate you. I 'll tell you what, Barry, you 'll do +the boy good service by taking him along with you. There 's a healthful +sincerity in the active life of the New World well fitted to dispel +illusions that take their rise in the indolent voluptuousness of the +Old. Carry him off then, I say; accept no excuses nor apologies. Send +him away to buy powder and shot, leather gaiters, and the rest of it. +When I saw him first myself, it was in the character of a poacher, and +he filled the part well. Ah! he is gone,” added he, perceiving that +Martin had just quitted the room. “Poor fellow, he is so full of his +present happiness,--the first gleam of real sunshine on a long day of +lowering gloom! He has just found a daughter,--an illegitimate one, but +worthy to be the rightful-born child to the first man in the land. The +discovery has carried him back twenty years of life, and freshened a +heart whose wells of feeling were all but dried up forever. If I mistake +not, you must have met her long ago at Cro' Martin.” + +“Possibly. I have no recollection of it,” said Jack, musing. + +“An ignoble confession, sir,” said Repton; “no less shocked should I +be were she to tell me she was uncertain if she had ever met Mr. +Massingbred. As Burke once remarked to me, 'Active intelligences, +like appropriate ingredients in chemistry, never meet without fresh +combinations.' It is then a shame to ignore such products. I 'd swear +that when you did meet you understood each other thoroughly; agreed +well,--ay, and what is more to the purpose, differed in the right places +too.” + +“I'm certain we did,” said Jack, smiling, “though I'm ungrateful enough +to forget all about it.” + +“Well,” said Martin, entering, “I have sent for another advocate to +plead my cause. My daughter will tell you, sir, that she, at least, is +not afraid to encounter the uncivilized glens beside the Orinoco. Come +in, Kate. You tell me that you and Mr. Massingbred are old friends.” + +Massingbred started as he heard the name, looked up, and there stood +Kate before him, with her hand extended in welcome. + +“Good heavens! what is this? Am I in a dream? Can this be real?” cried +Jack, pressing his hands to his temples, and trembling from head to foot +in the intensity of his anxiety. + +“My father tells me of an invitation he has given you, Mr. Massingbred,” + said she, smiling faintly at his embarrassment, “and asks me to repeat +it; but I know far better than he does all that you would surrender by +exile from the great world wherein you are destined to eminence. The +great debater, the witty conversationalist, the smart reviewer, might +prove but a sorry trapper, and even a bad shot! I have my scruples, +then, about supporting a cause where my conscience does not go along +with me.” + +“My head on't, but he 'll like the life well,” said Barry, half +impatiently. + +“Am I to think that you will not ask me to be your guest?” said Jack, in +a whisper, only audible by Kate. + +“I have not said so,” said she, in the same low tone. “Will you go +further, Kate,” muttered he, in tremulous eagerness, “and say, 'Come'?” + “Yes!” said she. “Come!” + +[Illustration: 410] + +“I accept!” cried Jack, rushing over, and grasping Martin's hands +between his own. “I 'm ready,--this hour, this instant, if you like it.” + +“We find the prisoner guilty, my Lords,” said Repton; “but we recommend +him to mercy, as his manner on this occasion convinces us it is a first +offence.” + +We have now done with the Martins of Cro' Martin. Should any of our +readers feel a curiosity as to the future fortunes of the estate, its +story, like that of many another Irish property, is written in the +Encumbered Estates Court. Captain Martin only grew wiser by the especial +experience of one class of difficulties. His indolent, easy disposition +and a taste for expense led him once again into embarrassments from +which there was but one issue,--the sale of his property. He has still, +however, a handsome subsistence remaining, and lives with Lady Dorothea, +notable and somewhat distinguished residents of a city on the Continent. + +We cannot persuade ourselves that we have inspired interest for the +humbler characters of our piece. Nor dare we ask the reader to hear +more about Mrs. Cronan and her set, nor learn how Kilkieran fared in the +changes around it. + +For Joseph Nelligan, however, we claim a parting word. He was the first +of an order of men who have contributed no small share to the great +social revolution of Ireland in late years. With talents fully equal +to the best in the opposite scale of party, and a character above all +reproach, he stood a rebuking witness to all the taunts and sarcasms +once indiscriminately levelled at his class; and, at the same time, +inspired his own party with the happy knowledge that there was a nobler +and more legitimate road to eminence than by factious display and +popular declamation. + +We do not wish to inquire how far the one great blow to his +happiness--the disappointment of his early life--contributed to his +success by concentrating his ambition on his career. Certain is it, +no man achieved a higher or more rapid elevation, and old Dan lived +to receive at his board the Chief Justice of the Queen's Bench in the +person of his own son. + +Poor Simmy Crow! for if we would forget him, he has taken care that +oblivion is not to be his fate. He has sent from the Rocky Mountains, +where he is now wandering with Barry Martin, some sketches of Indian +Life to the Irish Art Exhibition. + +If it be a pleasure to trace in our friends the traits we have admired +in them in youth, and remark the embers of the fires that once wanned +their hearts, Simmy affords us this gratification, since his drawings +reveal the inspirations that first filled his early mind. The Chief +in his war-paint has a fac-simile likeness to his St. John in the +Wilderness; and as for the infant the squaw is bathing in the stream, we +can produce twelve respectable witnesses to depose that it is “Moses.” + +We are much tempted to add a word about the Exiles themselves, but +we abstain. It is enough to say that all the attractive prospects of +ambition held out by friends, all the seductions of generous offers from +family, have never tempted them to return to the Old World; but that +they live on happily, far away from the jarring collisions of life, the +tranquil existence they had longed for. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. II +(of II), by Charles James Lever + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN *** + +***** This file should be named 35144-0.txt or 35144-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/1/4/35144/ + +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. 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