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diff --git a/5897-h/5897-h.htm b/5897-h/5897-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f69bba7 --- /dev/null +++ b/5897-h/5897-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,22699 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Castle Richmond, by Anthony Trollope</title> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#fdfdfd; + color:black; + font-family: "Times-Roman", serif; + font-size: large; + margin-left:15%; + margin-right:15%; + text-align:justify; } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; + clear: both; } + h1.title { font-size: 250%;} + hr.narrow { width: 40%; + text-align: center; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; } + hr { width: 100%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + blockquote { font-size: large; } + blockquote.med { font-size: medium; } + img.left { float:left; + margin: 0px 8px 6px 0px; } + table {font-size: large; } + table.sm {font-size: medium; } + table.j {font-size: large; + text-align: justify; } + td.j {text-align: justify; } + p {text-indent: 4%; } + p.noindent { text-indent: 0%; } + p.noindentind { text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 4%; } + .bold { font-weight: bold; } + .caption { font-size: small; + font-weight: bold; } + .center { text-align: center; } + img { border: 0; } + .ind2 { margin-left: 2em; } + .ind4 { margin-left: 4em; } + .ind6 { margin-left: 6em; } + .ind8 { margin-left: 8em; } + .ind10 { margin-left: 10em; } + .ind12 { margin-left: 12em; } + .ind14 { margin-left: 14em; } + .ind15 { margin-left: 15em; } + .ind16 { margin-left: 16em; } + .ind18 { margin-left: 18em; } + .ind20 { margin-left: 20em; } + .jright { text-align: right; } + .wide { letter-spacing: 2em; } + .nowrap { white-space: nowrap; } + .nonser { font-family: Arial, non-serif; } + .small { font-size: 85%; } + .large { font-size: 130%; } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps; } + .u { text-decoration: underline; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red; + text-decoration: underline; } + pre {font-size: 80%; } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Castle Richmond, by Anthony Trollope</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p class="noindent">Title: Castle Richmond</p> +<p class="noindent">Author: Anthony Trollope</p> +<p class="noindent">Release Date: September 18, 2002 [eBook #5897]<br /> +Most recently updated: June 19, 2010</p> +<p class="noindent">Language: English</p> +<p class="noindent">Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p class="noindent">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CASTLE RICHMOND***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Charles Aldarondo, Charles Franks,<br /> + and the<br /> + Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)<br /> + and revised by<br /> + Rita Bailey and Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.<br /> + <br /> + HTML version prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1 class="title">CASTLE RICHMOND</h1> + +<p> </p> + +<h5>BY</h5> + +<h2>ANTHONY TROLLOPE</h2> + +<p> </p> + +<h4>With an Introduction by</h4> + +<h3>Algar Thorold</h3> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h6>London & New York: MCMVI</h6> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + + +<h3>INTRODUCTION</h3> + +<blockquote class="med"> +<p>"Castle Richmond" was written in 1861, long after Trollope had left +Ireland. The characterization is weak, and the plot, although the +author himself thought well of it, mechanical.</p> + +<p>The value of the story is rather documentary than literary. It +contains several graphic scenes descriptive of the great Irish +famine. Trollope observed carefully, and on the whole impartially, +though his powers of discrimination were not quite fine enough to +make him an ideal annalist.</p> + +<p>Still, such as they were, he has used them here with no +inconsiderable effect. His desire to be fair has led him to lay +stress in an inverse ratio to his prepossessions, and his Priest is a +better man than his parson.</p> + +<p>The best, indeed the only piece of real characterization in the book +is the delineation of Abe Mollett. This unscrupulous blackmailer is +put before us with real art, with something of the loving +preoccupation of the hunter for his quarry. Trollope loved a rogue, +and in his long portrait gallery there are several really charming +ones. He did not, indeed, perceive the aesthetic value of sin—he did +not perceive the esthetic value of anything,—and his analysis of +human nature was not profound enough to reach the conception of sin, +crime being to him the nadir of downward possibility—but he had a +professional, a sort of half Scotland Yard, half master of hounds +interest in a criminal. "See," he would muse, "how cunningly the +creature works, now back to his earth, anon stealing an unsuspected +run across country, the clever rascal;" and his ethical disapproval +ever, as usual, with English critics of life, in the foreground, +clearly enhanced a primitive predatory instinct not obscurely akin, a +cynic might say, to those dark impulses he holds up to our +reprobation. This self-realization in his fiction is one of +Trollope's principal charms. Never was there a more subjective +writer. Unlike Flaubert, who laid down the canon that the author +should exist in his work as God in creation, to be, here or there, +dimly divined but never recognized, though everywhere latent, +Trollope was never weary of writing himself large in every man, +woman, or child he described.</p> + +<p>The illusion of objectivity which he so successfully achieves is due +to the fact that his mind was so perfectly contented with its +hereditary and circumstantial conditions, was itself so perfectly the +mental equivalent of those conditions. Thus the perfection of his +egotism, tight as a drum, saved him. Had it been a little less +complete, he would have faltered and bungled; as it was, he had the +naive certainty of a child, to whose innocent apprehension the world +and self are one, and who therefore cannot err.</p> + +<p class="jright">ALGAR THOROLD.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>CONTENTS.<br /> </h3> + +<div class="center"> +<table class="sm" style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="3"> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-1" >THE BARONY OF DESMOND.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-2" >OWEN FITZGERALD.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-3" >CLARA DESMOND.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-4" >THE COUNTESS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-5" >THE FITZGERALDS OF CASTLE RICHMOND.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-6" >THE KANTURK HOTEL, SOUTH MAIN STREET, CORK.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-7" >THE FAMINE YEAR.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-8" >GORTNACLOUGH AND BERRYHILL.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-9" >FAMILY COUNCILS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">X. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-10" >THE RECTOR OF DRUMBARROW AND HIS WIFE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-11" >SECOND LOVE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-12" >DOUBTS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-13" >MR. MOLLETT RETURNS TO SOUTH MAIN STREET.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-14" >THE REJECTED SUITOR.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-15" >DIPLOMACY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-16" >THE PATH BENEATH THE ELMS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-17" >FATHER BARNEY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-18" >THE RELIEF COMMITTEE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-19" >THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-20" >TWO WITNESSES.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-21" >FAIR ARGUMENTS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-22" >THE TELLING OF THE TALE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-23" >BEFORE BREAKFAST AT HAP HOUSE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-24" >AFTER BREAKFAST AT HAP HOUSE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-25" >A MUDDY WALK ON A WET MORNING.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-26" >COMFORTLESS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-27" >COMFORTED.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-28" >FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-29" >ILL NEWS FLIES FAST.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-30" >PALLIDA MORS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-31" >THE FIRST MONTH.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-32" >PREPARATIONS FOR GOING.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-33" >THE LAST STAGE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-34" >FAREWELL.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-35" >HERBERT FITZGERALD IN LONDON.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-36" >HOW THE EARL WAS WON.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-37" >A TALE OF A TURBOT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-38" >CONDEMNED.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-39" >FOX-HUNTING IN SPINNY LANE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XL. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-40" >THE FOX IN HIS EARTH.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-41" >THE LOBBY OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-42" >ANOTHER JOURNEY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-43" >PLAYING ROUNDERS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c-44" >CONCLUSION.</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + + +<p><a name="c-1" id="c-1"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> +<h4>THE BARONY OF DESMOND.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>I wonder whether the novel-reading world—that part of it, at least, +which may honour my pages—will be offended if I lay the plot of this +story in Ireland! That there is a strong feeling against things Irish +it is impossible to deny. Irish servants need not apply; Irish +acquaintances are treated with limited confidence; Irish cousins are +regarded as being decidedly dangerous; and Irish stories are not +popular with the booksellers.</p> + +<p>For myself, I may say that if I ought to know anything about any +place, I ought to know something about Ireland; and I do strongly +protest against the injustice of the above conclusions. Irish cousins +I have none. Irish acquaintances I have by dozens; and Irish friends, +also, by twos and threes, whom I can love and cherish—almost as +well, perhaps, as though they had been born in Middlesex. Irish +servants I have had some in my house for years, and never had one +that was faithless, dishonest, or intemperate. I have travelled all +over Ireland, closely as few other men can have done, and have never +had my portmanteau robbed or my pocket picked. At hotels I have +seldom locked up my belongings, and my carelessness has never been +punished. I doubt whether as much can be said for English inns.</p> + +<p>Irish novels were once popular enough. But there is a fashion in +novels, as there is in colours and petticoats; and now I fear they +are drugs in the market. It is hard to say why a good story should +not have a fair chance of success whatever may be its bent; why it +should not be reckoned to be good by its own intrinsic merits alone; +but such is by no means the case. I was waiting once, when I was +young at the work, in the back parlour of an eminent publisher, +hoping to see his eminence on a small matter of business touching a +three-volumed manuscript which I held in my hand. The eminent +publisher, having probably larger fish to fry, could not see me, but +sent his clerk or foreman to arrange the business.</p> + +<p>"A novel, is it, sir?" said the foreman.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered; "a novel."</p> + +<p>"It depends very much on the subject," said the foreman, with a +thoughtful and judicious frown—"upon the name, sir, and the +subject;—daily life, sir; that's what suits us; daily English life. +Now your historical novel, sir, is not worth the paper it's written +on."</p> + +<p>I fear that Irish character is in these days considered almost as +unattractive as historical incident; but, nevertheless, I will make +the attempt. I am now leaving the Green Isle and my old friends, and +would fain say a word of them as I do so. If I do not say that word +now it will never be said.</p> + +<p>The readability of a story should depend, one would say, on its +intrinsic merit rather than on the site of its adventures. No one +will think that Hampshire is better for such a purpose than +Cumberland, or Essex than Leicestershire. What abstract objection can +there then be to the county Cork?</p> + +<p>Perhaps the most interesting, and certainly the most beautiful part +of Ireland is that which lies down in the extreme south-west, with +fingers stretching far out into the Atlantic Ocean. This consists of +the counties Cork and Kerry, or a portion, rather, of those counties. +It contains Killarney, Glengarriffe, Bantry, and Inchigeela; and is +watered by the Lee, the Blackwater, and the Flesk. I know not where +is to be found a land more rich in all that constitutes the +loveliness of scenery.</p> + +<p>Within this district, but hardly within that portion of it which is +most attractive to tourists, is situated the house and domain of +Castle Richmond. The river Blackwater rises in the county Kerry, and +running from west to east through the northern part of the county +Cork, enters the county Waterford beyond Fermoy. In its course it +passes near the little town of Kanturk, and through the town of +Mallow: Castle Richmond stands close upon its banks, within the +barony of Desmond, and in that Kanturk region through which the +Mallow and Killarney railway now passes, but which some thirteen +years since knew nothing of the navvy's spade, or even of the +engineer's theodolite.</p> + +<p>Castle Richmond was at this period the abode of Sir Thomas +Fitzgerald, who resided there, ever and always, with his wife, Lady +Fitzgerald, his two daughters, Mary and Emmeline Fitzgerald, and, as +often as purposes of education and pleasure suited, with his son +Herbert Fitzgerald. Neither Sir Thomas nor Sir Thomas's house had +about them any of those interesting picturesque faults which are so +generally attributed to Irish landlords and Irish castles. He was not +out of elbows, nor was he an absentee. Castle Richmond had no +appearance of having been thrown out of its own windows. It was a +good, substantial, modern family residence, built not more than +thirty years since by the late baronet, with a lawn sloping down to +the river, with kitchen gardens and walls for fruit, with ample +stables, and a clock over the entrance to the stable yard. It stood +in a well-timbered park duly stocked with deer,—and with foxes also, +which are agricultural animals much more valuable in an Irish county +than deer. So that as regards its appearance Castle Richmond might +have been in Hampshire or Essex; and as regards his property, Sir +Thomas Fitzgerald might have been a Leicestershire baronet.</p> + +<p>Here, at Castle Richmond, lived Sir Thomas with his wife and +daughters; and here, taking the period of our story as being exactly +thirteen years since, his son Herbert was staying also in those hard +winter months; his Oxford degree having been taken, and his English +pursuits admitting of a temporary sojourn in Ireland.</p> + +<p>But Sir Thomas Fitzgerald was not the great man of that part of the +country—at least, not the greatest man; nor was Lady Fitzgerald by +any means the greatest lady. As this greatest lady, and the greatest +man also, will, with their belongings, be among the most prominent of +our dramatis personæ, it may be well that I should not even say a +word of them.</p> + +<p>All the world must have heard of Desmond Court. It is the largest +inhabited residence known in that part of the world, where rumours +are afloat of how it covers ten acres of ground; how in hewing the +stones for it a whole mountain was cut away; how it should have cost +hundreds of thousands of pounds, only that the money was never paid +by the rapacious, wicked, bloodthirsty old earl who caused it to be +erected;—and how the cement was thickened with human blood. So goes +rumour with the more romantic of the Celtic tale-bearers.</p> + +<p>It is a huge place—huge, ungainly, and uselessly extensive; built at +a time when, at any rate in Ireland, men considered neither beauty, +aptitude, nor economy. It is three stories high, and stands round a +quadrangle, in which there are two entrances opposite to each other. +Nothing can be well uglier than that great paved court, in which +there is not a spot of anything green, except where the damp has +produced an unwholesome growth upon the stones; nothing can well be +more desolate. And on the outside of the building matters are not +much better. There are no gardens close up to the house, no +flower-beds in the nooks and corners, no sweet shrubs peeping in at +the square windows. Gardens there are, but they are away, half a mile +off; and the great hall door opens out upon a flat, bleak park, with +hardly a scrap around it which courtesy can call a lawn.</p> + +<p>Here, at this period of ours, lived Clara, Countess of Desmond, widow +of Patrick, once Earl of Desmond, and father of Patrick, now Earl of +Desmond. These Desmonds had once been mighty men in their country, +ruling the people around them as serfs, and ruling them with hot iron +rods. But those days were now long gone, and tradition told little of +them that was true. How it had truly fared either with the earl, or +with their serfs, men did not well know; but stories were ever being +told of walls built with human blood, and of the devil bearing off +upon his shoulder a certain earl who was in any other way quite +unbearable, and depositing some small unburnt portion of his remains +fathoms deep below the soil in an old burying-ground near Kanturk. +And there had been a good earl, as is always the case with such +families; but even his virtues, according to tradition, had been of a +useless namby-pamby sort. He had walked to the shrine of St. Finbar, +up in the little island of the Gougane Barra, with unboiled peas in +his shoes; had forgiven his tenants five years' rent all round, and +never drank wine or washed himself after the death of his lady wife.</p> + +<p>At the present moment the Desmonds were not so potent either for good +or ill. The late earl had chosen to live in London all his life, and +had sunk down to be the toadying friend, or perhaps I should more +properly say the bullied flunky, of a sensual, wine-bibbing, +gluttonous—king. Late in life, when he was broken in means and +character, he had married. The lady of his choice had been chosen as +an heiress; but there had been some slip between that cup of fortune +and his lip; and she, proud and beautiful, for such she had been—had +neither relieved nor softened the poverty of her profligate old lord.</p> + +<p>She was left at his death with two children, of whom the eldest, Lady +Clara Desmond, will be the heroine of this story. The youngest, +Patrick, now Earl of Desmond, was two years younger than his sister, +and will make our acquaintance as a lad fresh from Eton.</p> + +<p>In these days money was not plentiful with the Desmonds. Not but that +their estates were as wide almost as their renown, and that the +Desmonds were still great people in the country's estimation. Desmond +Court stood in a bleak, unadorned region, almost among the mountains, +half way between Kanturk and Maccoom, and the family had some claim +to possession of the land for miles around. The earl of the day was +still the head landlord of a huge district extending over the whole +barony of Desmond, and half the adjacent baronies of Muskerry and +Duhallow; but the head landlord's rent in many cases hardly amounted +to sixpence an acre, and even those sixpences did not always find +their way into the earl's pocket. When the late earl had attained his +sceptre, he might probably have been entitled to spend some ten +thousand a year; but when he died, and during the years just previous +to that, he had hardly been entitled to spend anything.</p> + +<p>But, nevertheless, the Desmonds were great people, and owned a great +name. They had been kings once over those wild mountains; and would +be still, some said, if every one had his own. Their grandeur was +shown by the prevalence of their name. The barony in which they lived +was the barony of Desmond. The river which gave water to their cattle +was the river Desmond. The wretched, ragged, poverty-stricken village +near their own dismantled gate was the town of Desmond. The earl was +Earl of Desmond—not Earl Desmond, mark you; and the family name was +Desmond. The grandfather of the present earl, who had repaired his +fortune by selling himself at the time of the Union, had been Desmond +Desmond, Earl of Desmond.</p> + +<p>The late earl, the friend of the most illustrious person in the +kingdom, had not been utterly able to rob his heir of everything, or +he would undoubtedly have done so. At the age of twenty-one the young +earl would come into possession of the property, damaged certainly, +as far as an actively evil father could damage it by long leases, bad +management, lack of outlay, and rack-renting;—but still into the +possession of a considerable property. In the mean time it did not +fare very well, in a pecuniary way, with Clara, the widowed countess, +or with the Lady Clara, her daughter. The means at the widow's +disposal were only those which the family trustees would allow her as +the earl's mother: on his coming of age she would have almost no +means of her own; and for her daughter no provision whatever had been +made.</p> + +<p>As this first chapter is devoted wholly to the locale of my story, I +will not stop to say a word as to the persons or characters of either +of these two ladies, leaving them, as I did the Castle Richmond +family, to come forth upon the canvas as opportunity may offer. But +there is another homestead in this same barony of Desmond, of which +and of its owner—as being its owner—I will say a word.</p> + +<p>Hap House was also the property of a Fitzgerald. It had originally +been built by an old Sir Simon Fitzgerald, for the use and behoof of +a second son, and the present owner of it was the grandson of that +man for whom it had been built. And old Sir Simon had given his +offspring not only a house—he had endowed the house with a +comfortable little slice of land, either cut from the large +patrimonial loaf, or else, as was more probable, collected together +and separately baked for this younger branch of the family. Be that +as it may, Hap House had of late years been always regarded as +conferring some seven or eight hundred a year upon its possessor, and +when young Owen Fitzgerald succeeded to this property, on the death +of an uncle in the year 1843, he was regarded as a rich man to that +extent.</p> + +<p>At that time he was some twenty-two years of age, and he came down +from Dublin, where his friends had intended that he should practise +as a barrister, to set up for himself as a country gentleman. Hap +House was distant from Castle Richmond about four miles, standing +also on the river Blackwater, but nearer to Mallow. It was a +pleasant, comfortable residence, too large no doubt for such a +property, as is so often the case in Ireland; surrounded by pleasant +grounds and pleasant gardens, with a gorse fox covert belonging to +the place within a mile of it, with a slated lodge, and a pretty +drive along the river. At the age of twenty-two, Owen Fitzgerald came +into all this; and as he at once resided upon the place, he came in +also for the good graces of all the mothers with unmarried daughters +in the county, and for the smiles also of many of the daughters +themselves.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas and Lady Fitzgerald were not his uncle and aunt, but +nevertheless they took kindly to him;—very kindly at first, though +that kindness after a while became less warm. He was the nearest +relation of the name; and should anything happen—as the fatal +death-foretelling phrase goes—to young Herbert Fitzgerald, he would +become the heir of the family title and of the family place.</p> + +<p>When I hear of a young man sitting down by himself as the master of a +household, without a wife, or even without a mother or sister to +guide him, I always anticipate danger. If he does not go astray in +any other way, he will probably mismanage his money matters. And then +there are so many other ways. A house, if it be not made pleasant by +domestic pleasant things, must be made pleasant by pleasure. And a +bachelor's pleasures in his own house are always dangerous. There is +too much wine drunk at his dinner parties. His guests sit too long +over their cards. The servants know that they want a mistress; and, +in the absence of that mistress, the language of the household +becomes loud and harsh—and sometimes improper. Young men among us +seldom go quite straight in their course, unless they are, at any +rate occasionally, brought under the influence of tea and small talk.</p> + +<p>There was no tea and small talk at Hap House, but there were +hunting-dinners. Owen Fitzgerald was soon known for his horses and +his riding. He lived in the very centre of the Duhallow hunt; and +before he had been six months owner of his property had built +additional stables, with half a dozen loose boxes for his friends' +nags. He had an eye, too, for a pretty girl—not always in the way +that is approved of by mothers with marriageable daughters; but in +the way of which they so decidedly disapprove.</p> + +<p>And thus old ladies began to say bad things. Those pleasant +hunting-dinners were spoken of as the Hap House orgies. It was +declared that men slept there half the day, having played cards all +the night; and dreadful tales were told. Of these tales one-half was +doubtless false. But, alas, alas! what if one-half were also true?</p> + +<p>It is undoubtedly a very dangerous thing for a young man of +twenty-two to keep house by himself, either in town or country.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-2" id="c-2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> +<h4>OWEN FITZGERALD.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>I have tied myself down to thirteen years ago as the time of my +story; but I must go back a little beyond this for its first scenes, +and work my way up as quickly as may be to the period indicated. I +have spoken of a winter in which Herbert Fitzgerald was at home at +Castle Richmond, having then completed his Oxford doings; but I must +say something of two years previous to that, of a time when Herbert +was not so well known in the county as was his cousin of Hap House.</p> + +<p>It was a thousand pities that a bad word should ever have been spoken +of Owen Fitzgerald; ten thousand pities that he should ever have +given occasion for such bad word. He was a fine, high-spirited, +handsome fellow, with a loving heart within his breast, and bright +thoughts within his brain. It was utterly wrong that a man +constituted as he was should commence life by living alone in a large +country-house. But those who spoke ill of him should have remembered +that this was his misfortune rather than his fault. Some greater +endeavour might perhaps have been made to rescue him from evil ways. +Very little such endeavour was made at all. Sir Thomas once or twice +spoke to him; but Sir Thomas was not an energetic man; and as for +Lady Fitzgerald, though she was in many things all that was +excellent, she was far too diffident to attempt the reformation of a +headstrong young man, who after all was only distantly connected with +her.</p> + +<p>And thus there was no such attempt, and poor Owen became the subject +of ill report without any substantial effort having been made to save +him. He was a very handsome man—tall, being somewhat over six feet +in height—athletic, almost more than in proportion—with short, +light chestnut-tinted hair, blue eyes, and a mouth perfect as that of +Phœbus. He was clever, too, though perhaps not educated as +carefully as might have been: his speech was usually rapid, hearty, +and short, and not seldom caustic and pointed. Had he fallen among +good hands, he might have done very well in the world's fight; but +with such a character, and lacking such advantages, it was quite as +open to him to do ill. Alas! the latter chance seemed to have fallen +to him.</p> + +<p>For the first year of his residence at Hap House, he was popular +enough among his neighbours. The Hap House orgies were not commenced +at once, nor when commenced did they immediately become a subject of +scandal; and even during the second year he was tolerated;—tolerated +by all, and still flattered by some.</p> + +<p>Among the different houses in the country at which he had become +intimate was that of the Countess of Desmond. The Countess of Desmond +did not receive much company at Desmond Court. She had not the means, +nor perhaps the will, to fill the huge old house with parties of her +Irish neighbours—for she herself was English to the backbone. Ladies +of course made morning calls, and gentlemen too, occasionally; but +society at Desmond Court was for some years pretty much confined to +this cold formal mode of visiting. Owen Fitzgerald, however, did +obtain admittance into the precincts of the Desmond barracks.</p> + +<p>He went there first with the young earl, who, then quite a boy, had +had an ugly tumble from his pony in the hunting-field. The countess +had expressed herself as very grateful for young Fitzgerald's care, +and thus an intimacy had sprung up. Owen had gone there once or twice +to see the lad, and on those occasions had dined there; and on one +occasion, at the young earl's urgent request, had stayed and slept.</p> + +<p>And then the good-natured people of Muskerry, Duhallow, and Desmond +began, of course, to say that the widow was going to marry the young +man. And why not? she was still a beautiful woman; not yet forty by a +good deal, said the few who took her part; or at any rate, not much +over, as was admitted by the many who condemned her. We, who have +been admitted to her secrets, know that she was then in truth only +thirty-eight. She was beautiful, proud, and clever; and if it would +suit her to marry a handsome young fellow with a good house and an +unembarrassed income of eight hundred a year, why should she not do +so? As for him, would it not be a great thing for him to have a +countess for his wife, and an earl for his stepson?</p> + +<p>What ideas the countess had on this subject we will not just now +trouble ourselves to inquire. But as to young Owen Fitzgerald, we may +declare at once that no thought of such a wretched alliance ever +entered his head. He was sinful in many things, and foolish in many +things. But he had not that vile sin, that unmanly folly, which would +have made a marriage with a widowed countess eligible in his eyes, +merely because she was a countess, and not more than fifteen years +his senior. In a matter of love he would as soon have thought of +paying his devotions to his far-away cousin, old Miss Barbara +Beamish, of Ballyclahassan, of whom it was said that she had set her +cap at every unmarried man that had come into the west riding of the +county for the last forty years. No; it may at any rate be said of +Owen Fitzgerald, that he was not the man to make up to a widowed +countess for the sake of the reflected glitter which might fall on +him from her coronet.</p> + +<p>But the Countess of Desmond was not the only lady at Desmond Court. I +have before said that she had a daughter, the Lady Clara, the heroine +of this coming story; and it may be now right that I should attempt +some short description of her; her virtues and faults, her merits and +defects. It shall be very short; for let an author describe as he +will, he cannot by such course paint the characters of his personages +on the minds of his readers. It is by gradual, earnest efforts that +this must be done—if it be done. Ten, nay, twenty pages of the +finest descriptive writing that ever fell from the pen of a novelist +will not do it.</p> + +<p>Clara Desmond, when young Fitzgerald first saw her, had hardly +attained that incipient stage of womanhood which justifies a mother +in taking her out into the gaieties of the world. She was then only +sixteen; and had not in her manner and appearance so much of the +woman as is the case with many girls of that age. She was shy and +diffident in manner, thin and tall in person. If I were to say that +she was angular and bony, I should disgust my readers, who, disliking +the term, would not stop to consider how many sweetest girls are at +that age truly subject to those epithets. Their undeveloped but +active limbs are long and fleshless, the contour of their face is the +same, their elbows and shoulders are pointed, their feet and hands +seem to possess length without breadth. Birth and breeding have given +them the frame of beauty, to which coming years will add the soft +roundness of form, and the rich glory of colour. The plump, rosy girl +of fourteen, though she also is very sweet, never rises to such +celestial power of feminine grace as she who is angular and bony, +whose limbs are long, and whose joints are sharp.</p> + +<p>Such was Clara Desmond at sixteen. But still, even then, to those who +were gifted with the power of seeing, she gave promise of great +loveliness. Her eyes were long and large, and wonderfully clear. +There was a liquid depth in them which enabled the gazer to look down +into them as he would into the green, pellucid transparency of still +ocean water. And then they said so much—those young eyes of hers: +from her mouth in those early years words came but scantily, but from +her eyes questions rained quicker than any other eyes could answer +them. Questions of wonder at what the world contained,—of wonder as +to what men thought and did; questions as to the inmost heart, and +truth, and purpose of the person questioned. And all this was asked +by a glance now and again; by a glance of those long, shy, liquid +eyes, which were ever falling on the face of him she questioned, and +then ever as quickly falling from it.</p> + +<p>Her face, as I have said, was long and thin, but it was the longness +and thinness of growing youth. The natural lines of it were full of +beauty, of pale silent beauty, too proud in itself to boast itself +much before the world, to make itself common among many. Her hair was +already long and rich, but was light in colour, much lighter than it +grew to be when some four or five more years had passed over her +head. At the time of which I speak she wore it in simple braids +brushed back from her forehead, not having as yet learned that +majestic mode of sweeping it from her face which has in subsequent +years so generally prevailed.</p> + +<p>And what then of her virtues and her faults—of her merits and +defects? Will it not be better to leave them all to time and the +coming pages? That she was proud of her birth, proud of being an +Irish Desmond, proud even of her poverty, so much I may say of her, +even at that early age. In that she was careless of the world's +esteem, fond to a fault of romance, poetic in her temperament, and +tender in her heart, she shared the ordinary—shall I say foibles or +virtues?—of so many of her sex. She was passionately fond of her +brother, but not nearly equally so of her mother, of whom the brother +was too evidently the favoured child.</p> + +<p>She had lived much alone; alone, that is, with her governess and with +servants at Desmond Court. Not that she had been neglected by her +mother, but she had hardly found herself to be her mother's +companion; and other companions there she had had none. When she was +sixteen her governess was still with her; but a year later than that +she was left quite alone, except inasmuch as she was with her mother.</p> + +<p>She was sixteen when she first began to ask questions of Owen +Fitzgerald's face with those large eyes of hers; and she saw much of +him, and he of her, for the twelve months immediately after that. +Much of him, that is, as much goes in this country of ours, where +four or five interviews in as many months between friends is supposed +to signify that they are often together. But this much-seeing +occurred chiefly during the young earl's holidays. Now and again he +did ride over in the long intervals, and when he did do so was not +frowned upon by the countess; and so, at the end of the winter +holidays subsequent to that former winter in which the earl had had +his tumble, people through the county began to say that he and the +countess were about to become man and wife.</p> + +<p>It was just then that people in the county were also beginning to +talk of the Hap House orgies; and the double scandal reached Owen's +ears, one shortly after the other. That orgies scandal did not hurt +him much. It is, alas! too true that consciousness of such a +reputation does not often hurt a young man's feelings. But the other +rumour did wound him. What! he sell himself to a widowed countess +almost old enough to be his mother; or bestow himself rather,—for +what was there in return that could be reckoned as a price? At any +rate, he had given no one cause to utter such falsehood, such calumny +as that. No; it certainly was not probable that he should marry the +countess.</p> + +<p>But this set him to ask himself whether it might or might not be +possible that he should marry some one else. Might it not be well for +him if he could find a younger bride at Desmond Court? Not for +nothing had he ridden over there through those bleak mountains; not +for nothing, nor yet solely with the view of tying flies for the +young earl's summer fishing, or preparing the new nag for his +winter's hunting. Those large bright eyes had asked him many +questions. Would it not be well that he should answer them?</p> + +<p>For many months of that year Clara Desmond had hardly spoken to him. +Then, in the summer evening, as he and her brother would lie +sprawling together on the banks of the little Desmond river, while +the lad was talking of his fish, and his school, and his cricket +club, she would stand by and listen, and so gradually she learned to +speak.</p> + +<p>And the mother also would sometimes be there; or else she would +welcome Fitzgerald in to tea, and let him stay there talking as +though they were all at home, till he would have to make a midnight +ride of it before he reached Hap House. It seemed that no fear as to +her daughter had ever crossed the mother's mind; that no idea had +ever come upon her that her favoured visitor might learn to love the +young girl with whom he was allowed to associate on so intimate a +footing. Once or twice he had caught himself calling her Clara, and +had done so even before her mother; but no notice had been taken of +it. In truth, Lady Desmond did not know her daughter, for the mother +took her absolutely to be a child, when in fact she was a child no +longer.</p> + +<p>"You take Clara round by the bridge," said the earl to his friend one +August evening, as they were standing together on the banks of the +river, about a quarter of a mile distant from the sombre old pile in +which the family lived. "You take Clara round by the bridge, and I +will get over the stepping-stones." And so the lad, with his rod in +his hand, began to descend the steep bank.</p> + +<p>"I can get over the stepping-stones, too, Patrick," said she.</p> + +<p>"Can you though, my gay young woman? You'll be over your ankles if +you do. That rain didn't come down yesterday for nothing."</p> + +<p>Clara as she spoke had come up to the bank, and now looked wistfully +down at the stepping-stones. She had crossed them scores of times, +sometimes with her brother, and often by herself. Why was it that she +was so anxious to cross them now?</p> + +<p>"It's no use your trying," said her brother, who was now half across, +and who spoke from the middle of the river. "Don't you let her, Owen. +She'll slip in, and then there will be no end of a row up at the +house."</p> + +<p>"You had better come round by the bridge," said Fitzgerald. "It is +not only that the stones are nearly under water, but they are wet, +and you would slip."</p> + +<p>So cautioned, Lady Clara allowed herself to be persuaded, and turned +upwards along the river by a little path that led to a foot bridge. +It was some quarter of a mile thither, and it would be the same +distance down the river again before she regained her brother.</p> + +<p>"I needn't bring you with me, you know," she said to Fitzgerald. "You +can get over the stones easily, and I can go very well by myself."</p> + +<p>But it was not probable that he would let her do so. "Why should I +not go with you?" he said. "When I get there I have nothing to do but +see him fish. Only if we were to leave him by himself he would not be +happy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald, how very kind you are to him! I do so often +think of it. How dull his holidays would be in this place if it were +not for you!"</p> + +<p>"And what a godsend his holidays are to me!" said Owen. "When they +come round I can ride over here and see him, and you—and your +mother. Do you think that I am not dull also, living alone at Hap +House, and that this is not an infinite blessing to me?"</p> + +<p>He had named them all—son, daughter, and mother; but there had been +a something in his voice, an almost inappreciable something in his +tone, which had seemed to mark to Clara's hearing that she herself +was not the least prized of the three attractions. She had felt this +rather than realized it, and the feeling was not unpleasant.</p> + +<p>"I only know that you are very goodnatured," she continued, "and that +Patrick is very fond of you. Sometimes I think he almost takes you +for a brother." And then a sudden thought flashed across her mind, +and she said hardly a word more to him that evening.</p> + +<p>This had been at the close of the summer holidays. After that he had +been once or twice at Desmond Court, before the return of the boy +from Eton; but on these occasions he had been more with the countess +than with her daughter. On the last of these visits, just before the +holidays commenced, he had gone over respecting a hunter he had +bought for Lord Desmond, and on this occasion he did not even see +Clara.</p> + +<p>The countess, when she had thanked him for his trouble in the matter +of the purchase, hesitated a moment, and then went on to speak of +other matters.</p> + +<p>"I understand, Mr. Fitzgerald," said she, "that you have been very +gay at Hap House since the hunting commenced."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Owen, half laughing and half blushing. "It's +a convenient place for some of the men, and one must be sociable."</p> + +<p>"Sociable! yes, one ought to be sociable certainly. But I am always +afraid of the sociability of young men without ladies. Do not be +angry with me if I venture as a friend to ask you not to be too +sociable."</p> + +<p>"I know what you mean, Lady Desmond. People have been accusing us +of—of being rakes. Isn't that it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Fitzgerald, that is it. But then I know that I have no +right to speak to you on such a—such a subject."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; you have every right," said he, warmly; "more right than +any one else."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; Sir Thomas, you know—"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, Sir Thomas. Sir Thomas is very well, and so also is Lady +Fitzgerald; but I do not feel the same interest about them that I do +about you. And they are such humdrum, quiet-going people. As for +Herbert, I'm afraid he'll turn out a prig."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Fitzgerald, if you give me the right I shall use it." And +getting up from her chair, and coming to him where he stood, she +looked kindly into his face. It was a bonny, handsome face for a +woman to gaze on, and there was much kindness in hers as she smiled +on him. Nay, there was almost more than kindness, he thought, as he +caught her eye. It was like,—almost like the sweetness of motherly +love. "And I shall scold you," she continued. "People say that for +two or three nights running men have been playing cards at Hap House +till morning."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I had some men there for a week. I could not take their candles +away, and put them to bed; could I, Lady Desmond?"</p> + +<p>"And there were late suppers, and drinking of toasts, and headaches +in the morning, and breakfast at three o'clock, and gentlemen with +very pale faces when they appeared rather late at the meet—eh, Mr. +Fitzgerald?" And she held up one finger at him, as she upbraided him +with a smile. The smile was so sweet, so unlike her usual look; that, +to tell the truth, was often too sad and careworn for her age.</p> + +<p>"Such things do happen, Lady Desmond."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes; they do happen. And with such a one as you, heaven knows I +do not begrudge the pleasure, if it were but now and then,—once +again and then done with. But you are too bright and too good for +such things to continue." And she took his hand and pressed it, as a +mother or a mother's dearest friend might have done. "It would so +grieve me to think that you should be even in danger of shipwreck.</p> + +<p>"You will not be angry with me for taking this liberty?" she +continued.</p> + +<p>"Angry! how could any man be angry for such kindness?"</p> + +<p>"And you will think of what I say. I would not have you unsociable, +or morose, or inhospitable; +<span class="nowrap">but—"</span></p> + +<p>"I understand, Lady Desmond; but when young men are together, one +cannot always control them."</p> + +<p>"But you will try. Say that you will try because I have asked you."</p> + +<p>He promised that he would, and then went his way, proud in his heart +at this solicitude. And how could he not be proud? was she not high +in rank, proud in character, beautiful withal, and the mother of +Clara Desmond? What sweeter friend could a man have; what counsellor +more potent to avert those dangers which now hovered round his head?</p> + +<p>And as he rode home he was half in love with the countess. Where is +the young man who has not in his early years been half in love with +some woman older, much older than himself, who has half conquered his +heart by her solicitude for his welfare?—with some woman who has +whispered to him while others were talking, who has told him in such +gentle, loving tones of his boyish follies, whose tenderness and +experience together have educated him and made him manly? Young men +are so proud, proud in their inmost hearts, of such tenderness and +solicitude, as long as it remains secret and wrapt as it were in a +certain mystery. Such liaisons have the interests of intrigue, +without—I was going to say without its dangers. Alas! it may be that +it is not always so.</p> + +<p>Owen Fitzgerald as he rode home was half in love with the countess. +Not that his love was of a kind which made him in any way desirous of +marrying her, or of kneeling at her feet and devoting himself to her +for ever; not that it in any way interfered with the other love which +he was beginning to feel for her daughter. But he thought with +pleasure of the tone of her voice, of the pressure of her hand, of +the tenderness which he had found in her eye.</p> + +<p>It was after that time, as will be understood, that some goodnatured +friend had told him that he was regarded in the county as the future +husband of Lady Desmond. At first he laughed at this as being—as he +himself said to himself—too good a joke. When the report first +reached him, it seemed to be a joke which he could share so +pleasantly with the countess. For men of three and twenty, though +they are so fond of the society of women older than themselves, +understand so little the hearts and feelings of such women. In his +ideas there was an interval as of another generation between him and +the countess. In her thoughts the interval was probably much less +striking.</p> + +<p>But the accusation was made to him again and again till it wounded +him, and he gave up that notion of a mutual joke with his kind friend +at Desmond Court. It did not occur to him that she could ever think +of loving him as her lord and master; but it was brought home to him +that other people thought so.</p> + +<p>A year had now passed by since those winter holidays in which Clara +Desmond had been sixteen, and during which she was described by +epithets which will not, I fear, have pleased my readers. Those +epithets were now somewhat less deserved, but still the necessity of +them had not entirely passed away. Her limbs were still thin and +long, and her shoulders pointed; but the growth of beauty had +commenced, and in Owen's eyes she was already very lovely.</p> + +<p>At Christmas-time during that winter a ball was given at Castle +Richmond, to celebrate the coming of age of the young heir. It was +not a very gay affair, for the Castle Richmond folk, even in those +days, were not very gay people. Sir Thomas, though only fifty, was an +old man for his age; and Lady Fitzgerald, though known intimately by +the poor all round her, was not known intimately by any but the poor. +Mary and Emmeline Fitzgerald, with whom we shall become better +acquainted as we advance in our story, were nice, good girls, and +handsome withal; but they had not that special gift which enables +some girls to make a party in their own house bright in spite of all +obstacles.</p> + +<p>We should have but little to do with this ball, were it not that +Clara Desmond was here first brought out, as the term goes. It was +the first large party to which she had been taken, and it was to her +a matter of much wonder and inquiry with those wondering, speaking +eyes.</p> + +<p>And Owen Fitzgerald was there;—as a matter of course, the reader +will say. By no means so. Previous to that ball Owen's sins had been +commented upon at Castle Richmond, and Sir Thomas had expostulated +with him. These expostulations had not been received quite so +graciously as those of the handsome countess, and there had been +anger at Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>Now there was living in the house of Castle Richmond one Miss Letty +Fitzgerald, a maiden sister of the baronet's, older than her brother +by full ten years. In her character there was more of energy, and +also much more of harsh judgment, and of consequent ill-nature, than +in that of her brother. When the letters of invitation were being +sent out by the two girls, she had given a decided opinion that the +reprobate should not be asked. But the reprobate's cousins, with that +partiality for a rake which is so common to young ladies, would not +abide by their aunt's command, and referred the matter both to mamma +and papa. Mamma thought it very hard that their own cousin should be +refused admittance to their house, and very dreadful that his sins +should be considered to be of so deep a dye as to require so severe a +sentence; and then papa, much balancing the matter, gave final orders +that the prodigal cousin should be admitted.</p> + +<p>He was admitted, and dangerously he used the privilege. The countess, +who was there, stood up to dance twice, and twice only. She opened +the ball with young Herbert Fitzgerald the heir; and in about an hour +afterwards she danced again with Owen. He did not ask her twice; but +he asked her daughter three or four times, and three or four times he +asked her successfully.</p> + +<p>"Clara," whispered the mother to her child, after the last of these +occasions, giving some little pull or twist to her girl's frock as +she did so, "you had better not dance with Owen Fitzgerald again +to-night. People will remark about it."</p> + +<p>"Will they?" said Clara, and immediately sat down, checked in her +young happiness.</p> + +<p>Not many minutes afterwards, Owen came up to her again. "May we have +another waltz together, I wonder?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Not to-night, I think. I am rather tired already." And so she did +not waltz again all the evening, for fear she should offend him.</p> + +<p>But the countess, though she had thus interdicted her daughter's +dancing with the master of Hap House, had not done so through any +absolute fear. To her, her girl was still a child; a child without a +woman's thoughts, or any of a woman's charms. And then it was so +natural that Clara should like to dance with almost the only +gentleman who was not absolutely a stranger to her. Lady Desmond had +been actuated rather by a feeling that it would be well that Clara +should begin to know other persons.</p> + +<p>By that feeling,—and perhaps unconsciously by another, that it would +be well that Owen Fitzgerald should be relieved from his attendance +on the child, and enabled to give it to the mother. Whether Lady +Desmond had at that time realized any ideas as to her own interest in +this young man, it was at any rate true that she loved to have him +near her. She had refused to dance a second time with Herbert +Fitzgerald; she had refused to stand up with any other person who had +asked her; but with Owen she would either have danced again, or have +kept him by her side, while she explained to him with flattering +frankness that she could not do so lest others should be offended.</p> + +<p>And Owen was with her frequently through the evening. She was taken +to and from supper by Sir Thomas, but any other takings that were +incurred were done by him. He led her from one drawing-room to +another; he took her empty coffee-cup; he stood behind her chair, and +talked to her; and he brought her the scarf which she had left +elsewhere; and finally, he put a shawl round her neck while old Sir +Thomas was waiting to hand her to her carriage. Reader, good-natured, +middle-aged reader, remember that she was only thirty-eight, and that +hitherto she had known nothing of the delights of love. By the young, +any such hallucination on her part, at her years, will be regarded as +lunacy, or at least frenzy.</p> + +<p>Owen Fitzgerald drove home from that ball in a state of mind that was +hardly satisfactory. In the first place, Miss Letty had made a direct +attack upon his morals, which he had not answered in the most +courteous manner.</p> + +<p>"I have heard a great deal of your doings, Master Owen," she said to +him. "A fine house you're keeping."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you come and join us, Aunt Letty?" he replied. "It would +be just the thing for you."</p> + +<p>"God forbid!" said the old maid, turning up her eyes to heaven.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you might do worse, you know. With us you'd only drink and play +cards, and perhaps hear a little strong language now and again. But +what's that to slander, and calumny, and bearing false witness +against one's neighbour?" and so saying he ended that interview—not +in a manner to ingratiate himself with his relative, Miss Letty +Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>After that, in the supper-room, more than one wag of a fellow had +congratulated him on his success with the widow. "She's got some sort +of a jointure, I suppose," said one. "She's very young-looking, +certainly, to be the mother of that girl," declared another. "Upon my +word, she's a handsome woman still," said a third. "And what title +will you get when you marry her, Fitz?" asked a fourth, who was +rather ignorant as to the phases under which the British peerage +develops itself.</p> + +<p>Fitzgerald pshawed, and pished, and poohed; and then, breaking away +from them, rode home. He felt that he must at any rate put an end to +this annoyance about the countess, and that he must put an end also +to his state of doubt about the countess's daughter. Clara had been +kind and gracious to him in the first part of the evening; nay, +almost more than gracious. Why had she been so cold when he went up +to her on that last occasion? why had she gathered herself like a +snail into its shell for the rest of the evening?</p> + +<p>The young earl had also been at the party, and had exacted a promise +from Owen that he would be over at Desmond Court on the next day. It +had almost been on Owen's lips to tell his friend, not only that he +would be there, but what would be his intention when he got there. He +knew that the lad loved him well; and almost fancied that, earl as he +was, he would favour his friend's suit. But a feeling that Lord +Desmond was only a boy, restrained him. It would not be well to +induce one so young to agree to an arrangement of which in after and +more mature years he would so probably disapprove.</p> + +<p>But not the less did Fitzgerald, as he drove home, determine that on +the next day he would know something of his fate: and with this +resolve he endeavoured to comfort himself as he drove up into his own +avenue, and betook himself to his own solitary home.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-3" id="c-3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> +<h4>CLARA DESMOND.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It had been Clara Desmond's first ball, and on the following morning +she had much to occupy her thoughts. In the first place, had she been +pleased or had she not? Had she been most gratified or most pained?</p> + +<p>Girls when they ask themselves such questions seldom give themselves +fair answers. She had liked dancing with Owen Fitzgerald; oh, so +much! She had liked dancing with others too, though she had not known +them, and had hardly spoken to them. The mere act of dancing, with +the loud music in the room, and the gay dresses and bright lights +around her, had been delightful. But then it had pained her—she knew +not why, but it had pained her—when her mother told her that people +would make remarks about her. Had she done anything improper on this +her first entry into the world? Was her conduct to be scanned, and +judged, and condemned, while she was flattering herself that no one +had noticed her but him who was speaking to her?</p> + +<p>Their breakfast was late, and the countess sat, as was her wont, with +her book beside her tea-cup, speaking a word every now and again to +her son.</p> + +<p>"Owen will be over here to-day," said he. "We are going to have a +schooling match down on the Callows." Now in Ireland a schooling +match means the amusement of teaching your horses to jump.</p> + +<p>"Will he?" said Lady Desmond, looking up from her book for a moment. +"Mind you bring him in to lunch; I want to speak to him."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't care much about lunch, I fancy," said he; "and, maybe, we +shall be half way to Millstreet by that time."</p> + +<p>"Never mind, but do as I tell you. You expect everybody to be as wild +and wayward as yourself." And the countess smiled on her son in a +manner which showed that she was proud even of his wildness and his +waywardness.</p> + +<p>Clara had felt that she blushed when she heard that Mr. Fitzgerald +was to be there that morning. She felt that her own manner became +constrained, and was afraid that her mother should look at her. Owen +had said nothing to her about love; and she, child as she was, had +thought nothing about love. But she was conscious of something, she +knew not what. He had touched her hand during those dances as it had +never been touched before; he had looked into her eyes, and her eyes +had fallen before his glance; he had pressed her waist, and she had +felt that there was tenderness in the pressure. So she blushed, and +almost trembled, when she heard that he was coming, and was glad in +her heart when she found that there was neither anger nor sunshine in +her mother's face.</p> + +<p>Not long after breakfast, the earl went out on his horse, and met +Owen at some gate or back entrance. In his opinion the old house was +stupid, and the women in it were stupid companions in the morning. +His heart for the moment was engaged on the thought of making his +animal take the most impracticable leaps which he could find, and it +did not occur to him at first to give his mother's message to his +companion. As for lunch, they would get a biscuit and glass of +cherry-brandy at Wat M'Carthy's, of Drumban; and as for his mother +having anything to say, that of course went for nothing.</p> + +<p>Owen would have been glad to have gone up to the house, but in that +he was frustrated by the earl's sharpness in catching him. His next +hope was to get through the promised lesson in horse-leaping as +quickly as possible, so that he might return to Desmond Court, and +take his chance of meeting Clara. But in this he found the earl very +difficult to manage.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Owen, we won't go there," he said, when Fitzgerald proposed a +canter through some meadows down by the river-side. "There are only a +few gripes"—Irish for small ditches—"and I have ridden Fireball +over them a score of times. I want you to come away towards Drumban."</p> + +<p>"Drumban! why Drumban's seven miles from here."</p> + +<p>"What matter? Besides, it's not six the way I'll take you. I want to +see Wat M'Carthy especially. He has a litter of puppies there, out of +that black bitch of his, and I mean to make him give me one of them."</p> + +<p>But on that morning, Owen Fitzgerald would not allow himself to be +taken so far a-field as Drumban, even on a mission so important as +this. The young lord fought the matter stoutly; but it ended by his +being forced to content himself with picking out all the most +dangerous parts of the fences in the river meadows.</p> + +<p>"Why, you've hardly tried your own mare at all," said the lad, +reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to hunt her on Saturday," said Owen; "and she'll have +quite enough to do then."</p> + +<p>"Well, you're very slow to-day. You're done up with the dancing, I +think. And what do you mean to do now?"</p> + +<p>"I'll go home with you, I think, and pay my respects to the +countess."</p> + +<p>"By-the-by, I was to bring you in to lunch. She said she wanted to +see you. By jingo, I forgot all about it! But you've all become very +stupid among you, I know that." And so they rode back to Desmond +Court, entering the demesne by one of the straight, dull, level roads +which led up to the house.</p> + +<p>But it did not suit the earl to ride on the road while the grass was +so near him; so they turned off with a curve across what was called +the park, thus prolonging their return by about double the necessary +distance.</p> + +<p>As they were cantering on, Owen saw her of whom he was in quest +walking in the road which they had left. His best chance of seeing +her alone had been that of finding her outside the house. He knew +that the countess rarely or never walked with her daughter, and that, +as the governess was gone, Clara was driven to walk by herself.</p> + +<p>"Desmond," he said, pulling up his horse, "do you go on and tell your +mother that I will be with her almost immediately."</p> + +<p>"Why, where are you off to now?"</p> + +<p>"There is your sister, and I must ask her how she is after the ball;" +and so saying he trotted back in the direction of the road.</p> + +<p>Lady Clara had seen them; and though she had hardly turned her head, +she had seen also how suddenly Mr. Fitzgerald had stopped his horse, +and turned his course when he perceived her. At the first moment she +had been almost angry with him for riding away from her, and now she +felt almost angry with him because he did not do so.</p> + +<p>He slackened his pace as he came near her, and approached her at a +walk. There was very little of the faint heart about Owen Fitzgerald +at any time, or in anything that he attempted. He had now made up his +mind fairly to tell Clara Desmond that he loved her, and to ask for +her love in return. He had resolved to do so, and there was very +little doubt but that he would carry out his resolution. But he had +in nowise made up his mind how he should do it, or what his words +should be. And now that he saw her so near him he wanted a moment to +collect his thoughts.</p> + +<p>He took off his hat as he rode up, and asked her whether she was +tired after the ball; and then dismounting, he left his mare to +follow as she pleased.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald, won't she run away?" said Clara, as she gave him +her hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; she has been taught better than that. But you don't tell me +how you are. I thought you were tired last night when I saw that you +had altogether given over dancing." And then he walked on beside her, +and the docile mare followed them like a dog.</p> + +<p>"No, I was not tired; at least, not exactly," said Clara, blushing +again and again, being conscious that she blushed. "But—but—you +know it was the first ball I was ever at."</p> + +<p>"That is just the reason why you should have enjoyed it the more, +instead of sitting down as you did, and being dull and unhappy. For I +know you were unhappy; I could see it."</p> + +<p>"Was I?" said Clara, not knowing what else to say.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and I'll tell you what. I could see more than that; it was I +that made you unhappy."</p> + +<p>"You, Mr. Fitzgerald!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I. You will not deny it, because you are so true. I asked you +to dance with me too often. And because you refused me, you did not +like to dance with any one else. I saw it all. Will you deny that it +was so?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald!" Poor girl! She did not know what to say; how to +shape her speech into indifference; how to assure him that he made +himself out to be of too much consequence by far; how to make it +plain that she had not danced because there was no one there worth +dancing with. Had she been out for a year or two, instead of being +such a novice, she would have accomplished all this in half a dozen +words. As it was, her tell-tale face confessed it all, and she was +only able to ejaculate, "Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald!"</p> + +<p>"When I went there last night," he continued, "I had only one +wish—one hope. That was, to see you pleased and happy. I knew it was +your first ball, and I did so long to see you enjoy it."</p> + +<p>"And so I did, till—"</p> + +<p>"Till what? Will you not let me ask?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma said something to me, and that stopped me from dancing."</p> + +<p>"She told you not to dance with me. Was that it?"</p> + +<p>How was it possible that she should have had a chance with him; +innocent, young, and ignorant as she was? She did not tell him in +words that so it had been; but she looked into his face with a glance +of doubt and pain that answered his question as plainly as any words +could have done.</p> + +<p>"Of course she did; and it was I that destroyed it all. I that should +have been satisfied to stand still and see you happy. How you must +have hated me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; indeed I did not. I was not at all angry with you. Indeed, +why should I have been? It was so kind of you, wishing to dance with +me."</p> + +<p>"No; it was selfish—selfish in the extreme. Nothing but one thing +could excuse me, and that <span class="nowrap">excuse—"</span></p> + +<p>"I'm sure you don't want any excuse, Mr. Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>"And that excuse, Clara, was this: that I love you with all my heart. +I had not strength to see you there, and not long to have you near +me—not begrudge that you should dance with another. I love you with +all my heart and soul. There, Lady Clara, now you know it all."</p> + +<p>The manner in which he made his declaration to her was almost fierce +in its energy. He had stopped in the pathway, and she, unconscious of +what she was doing, almost unconscious of what she was hearing, had +stopped also. The mare, taking advantage of the occasion, was +cropping the grass close to them. And so, for a few seconds, they +stood in silence.</p> + +<p>"Am I so bold, Lady Clara," said he, when those few seconds had gone +by—"Am I so bold that I may hope for no answer?" But still she said +nothing. In lieu of speaking she uttered a long sigh; and then +Fitzgerald could hear that she was sobbing.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Clara, I love you so fondly, so dearly, so truly!" said he in an +altered voice and with sweet tenderness. "I know my own presumption +in thus speaking. I know and feel bitterly the difference in our +rank."</p> + +<p>"I—care—nothing—for rank," said the poor girl, sobbing through her +tears. He was generous, and she at any rate would not be less so. No; +at that moment, with her scanty seventeen years of experience, with +her ignorance of all that the world had in it of grand and great, of +high and rich, she did care nothing for rank. That Owen Fitzgerald +was a gentleman of good lineage, fit to mate with a lady, that she +did know; for her mother, who was a proud woman, delighted to have +him in her presence. Beyond this she cared for none of the +conventionalities of life. Rank! If she waited for rank, where was +she to look for friends who would love her? Earls and countesses, +barons and their baronesses, were scarce there where fate had placed +her, under the shadow of the bleak mountains of Muskerry. Her want, +her undefined want, was that some one should love her. Of all men and +women whom she had hitherto known, this Owen Fitzgerald was the +brightest, the kindest, the gentlest in his manner, the most pleasant +to look on. And now he was there at her feet, swearing that he loved +her;—and then drawing back as it were in dread of her rank. What did +she care for rank?</p> + +<p>"Clara, Clara, my Clara! Can you learn to love me?"</p> + +<p>She had made her one little effort at speaking when she attempted to +repudiate the pedestal on which he affected to place her; but after +that she could for a while say no more. But she still sobbed, and +still kept her eyes fixed upon the ground.</p> + +<p>"Clara, say one word to me. Say that you do not hate me." But just at +that moment she had not one word to say.</p> + +<p>"If you will bid me do so, I will leave this country altogether. I +will go away, and I shall not much care whither. I can only stay now +on condition of your loving me. I have thought of this day for the +last year past, and now it has come."</p> + +<p>Every word that he now spoke was gospel to her. Is it not always +so,—should it not be so always, when love first speaks to loving +ears? What! he had loved her for that whole twelvemonth that she had +known him; loved her in those days when she had been wont to look up +into his face, wondering why he was so nice, so much nicer than any +one else that came near her! A year was a great deal to her; and had +he loved her through all those days? and after that should she banish +him from her house, turn him away from his home, and drive him forth +unhappy and wretched? Ah, no! She could not be so unkind to him;—she +could not be so unkind to her own heart. But still she sobbed; and +still she said nothing.</p> + +<p>In the mean time they had turned, and were now walking back towards +the house, the gentle-natured mare still following at their heels. +They were walking slowly—very slowly back—just creeping along the +path, when they saw Lady Desmond and her son coming to meet them on +the road.</p> + +<p>"There is your mother, Clara. Say one word to me before we meet +them."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald; I am so frightened. What will mamma say?"</p> + +<p>"Say about what? As yet I do not know what she may have to say. But +before we meet her, may I not hope to know what her daughter will +say? Answer me this, Clara. Can you, will you love me?"</p> + +<p>There was still a pause, a moment's pause, and then some sound did +fall from her lips. But yet it was so soft, so gentle, so slight, +that it could hardly be said to reach even a lover's ear. Fitzgerald, +however, made the most of it. Whether it were Yes, or whether it were +No, he took it as being favourable, and Lady Clara Desmond gave him +no sign to show that he was mistaken.</p> + +<p>"My own, own, only loved one," he said, embracing her as it were with +his words, since the presence of her approaching mother forbade him +even to take her hand in his, "I am happy now, whatever may occur; +whatever others may say; for I know that you will be true to me. And +remember this—whatever others may say, I also will be true to you. +You will think of that, will you not, love?"</p> + +<p>This time she did answer him, almost audibly. "Yes," she said. And +then she devoted herself to a vain endeavour to remove the traces of +her tears before her mother should be close to them.</p> + +<p>Fitzgerald at once saw that such endeavour must be vain. At one time +he had thought of turning away, and pretending that they had not seen +the countess. But he knew that Clara would not be able to carry out +any such pretence; and he reflected also that it might be just as +well that Lady Desmond should know the whole at once. That she would +know it, and know it soon, he was quite sure. She could learn it not +only from Clara, but from himself. He could not now be there at the +house without showing that he both loved and knew that he was +beloved. And then why should Lady Desmond not know it? Why should he +think that she would set herself against the match? He had certainly +spoken to Clara of the difference in their rank; but, after all, it +was no uncommon thing for an earl's daughter to marry a commoner. And +in this case the earl's daughter was portionless, and the lover +desired no portion. Owen Fitzgerald at any rate might boast that he +was true and generous in his love.</p> + +<p>So he plucked up his courage, and walked on with a smiling face to +meet Lady Desmond and her son; while poor Clara crept beside him with +eyes downcast, and in an agony of terror.</p> + +<p>Lady Desmond had not left the house with any apprehension that there +was aught amiss. Her son had told her that Owen had gone off "to do +the civil to Clara;" and as he did not come to the house within some +twenty minutes after this, she had proposed that they would go and +meet him.</p> + +<p>"Did you tell him that I wanted him?" said the countess.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I did; and he is coming, only he would go away to Clara."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall scold him for his want of gallantry," said Lady +Desmond, laughing, as they walked out together from beneath the huge +portal.</p> + +<p>But as soon as she was near enough to see the manner of their gait, +as they slowly came on towards her, her woman's tact told her that +something was wrong;—and whispered to her also what might too +probably be the nature of that something. Could it be possible, she +asked herself, that such a man as Owen Fitzgerald should fall in love +with such a girl as her daughter Clara?</p> + +<p>"What shall I say to mamma?" whispered Clara to him, as they all drew +near together.</p> + +<p>"Tell her everything."</p> + +<p>"But, Patrick—"</p> + +<p>"I will take him off with me if I can." And then they were all +together, standing in the road.</p> + +<p>"I was coming to obey your behests, Lady Desmond," said Fitzgerald, +trying to look and speak as though he were at his ease.</p> + +<p>"Coming rather tardily, I think," said her ladyship, not altogether +playfully.</p> + +<p>"I told him you wanted him, as we were crossing to the house," said +the earl. "Didn't I, Owen?"</p> + +<p>"Is anything the matter with Clara?" said Lady Desmond, looking at +her daughter.</p> + +<p>"No, mamma," said Clara; and she instantly began to sob and cry.</p> + +<p>"What is it, sir?" And as she asked she turned to Fitzgerald; and her +manner now at least had in it nothing playful.</p> + +<p>"Lady Clara is nervous and hysterical. The excitement of the ball has +perhaps been too much for her. I think, Lady Desmond, if you were to +take her in with you it would be well."</p> + +<p>Lady Desmond looked up at him; and he then saw, for the first time, +that she could if she pleased look very stern. Hitherto her face had +always worn smiles, had at any rate always been pleasing when he had +seen it. He had never been intimate with her, never intimate enough +to care what her face was like, till that day when he had carried her +son up from the hall door to his room. Then her countenance had been +all anxiety for her darling; and afterwards it had been all sweetness +for her darling's friend. From that day to this present one, Lady +Desmond had ever given him her sweetest smiles.</p> + +<p>But Fitzgerald was not a man to be cowed by any woman's looks. He met +hers by a full, front face in return. He did not allow his eye for a +moment to fall before hers. And yet he did not look at her haughtily, +or with defiance, but with an aspect which showed that he was ashamed +of nothing that he had done,—whether he had done anything that he +ought to be ashamed of or no.</p> + +<p>"Clara," said the countess, in a voice which fell with awful severity +on the poor girl's ears, "you had better return to the house with +me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma."</p> + +<p>"And shall I wait on you to-morrow, Lady Desmond?" said Fitzgerald, +in a tone which seemed to the countess to be, in the present state of +affairs, almost impertinent. The man had certainly been misbehaving +himself; and yet there was not about him the slightest symptom of +shame.</p> + +<p>"Yes; no," said the countess. "That is, I will write a note to you if +it be necessary. Good morning."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Lady Desmond," said Owen. And as he took off his hat with +his left hand, he put out his right to shake hands with her, as was +customary with him. Lady Desmond was at first inclined to refuse the +courtesy; but she either thought better of such intention, or else +she had not courage to maintain it; for at parting she did give him +her hand.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Lady Clara;" and he also shook hands with her, and it need +hardly be said that there was a lover's pressure in the grasp.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," said Clara, through her tears, in the saddest, soberest +tone. He was going away, happy, light hearted, with nothing to +trouble him. But she had to encounter that fearful task of telling +her own crime. She had to depart with her mother;—her mother, who, +though never absolutely unkind, had so rarely been tender with her. +And then her brother—!</p> + +<p>"Desmond," said Fitzgerald, "walk as far as the lodge with me like a +good fellow. I have something that I want to say to you."</p> + +<p>The mother thought for a moment that she would call her son back; but +then she bethought herself that she also might as well be without +him. So the young earl, showing plainly by his eyes that he knew that +much was the matter, went back with Fitzgerald towards the lodge.</p> + +<p>"What is it you have done now?" said the earl. The boy had some sort +of an idea that the offence committed was with reference to his +sister; and his tone was hardly as gracious as was usual with him.</p> + +<p>This want of kindliness at the present moment grated on Owen's ears; +but he resolved at once to tell the whole story out, and then leave +it to the earl to take it in dudgeon or in brotherly friendship as he +might please.</p> + +<p>"Desmond," said he, "can you not guess what has passed between me and +your sister?"</p> + +<p>"I am not good at guessing," he answered, brusquely.</p> + +<p>"I have told her that I loved her, and would have her for my wife; +and I have asked her to love me in return."</p> + +<p>There was an open manliness about this which almost disarmed the +earl's anger. He had felt a strong attachment to Fitzgerald, and was +very unwilling to give up his friendship; but, nevertheless, he had +an idea that it was presumption on the part of Mr. Fitzgerald of Hap +House to look up to his sister. Between himself and Owen the earl's +coronet never weighed a feather; he could not have abandoned his +boy's heart to the man's fellowship more thoroughly had that man been +an earl as well as himself. But he could not get over the feeling +that Fitzgerald's worldly position was beneath that of his +sister;—that such a marriage on his sister's part would be a +mesalliance. Doubting, therefore, and in some sort dismayed—and in +some sort also angry—he did not at once give any reply.</p> + +<p>"Well, Desmond, what have you to say to it? You are the head of her +family, and young as you are, it is right that I should tell you."</p> + +<p>"Tell me! of course you ought to tell me. I don't see what youngness +has to do with it. What did she say?"</p> + +<p>"Well, she said but little; and a man should never boast that a lady +has favoured him. But she did not reject me." He paused a moment, and +then added, "After all, honesty and truth are the best. I have reason +to think that she loves me."</p> + +<p>The poor young lord felt that he had a double duty, and hardly knew +how to perform it. He owed a duty to his sister which was paramount +to all others; but then he owed a duty also to the friend who had +been so kind to him. He did not know how to turn round upon him and +tell him that he was not fit to marry his sister.</p> + +<p>"And what do you say to it, Desmond?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know what to say. It would be a very bad match for her. +You, you know, are a capital fellow; the best fellow going. There is +nobody about anywhere that I like so much."</p> + +<p>"In thinking of your sister, you should put that out of the +question."</p> + +<p>"Yes; that's just it. I like you for a friend better than any one +else. But Clara ought—ought—<span class="nowrap">ought—"</span></p> + +<p>"Ought to look higher, you would say."</p> + +<p>"Yes; that's just what I mean. I don't want to offend you, you know."</p> + +<p>"Desmond, my boy, I like you the better for it. You are a fine +fellow, and I thoroughly respect you. But let us talk sensibly about +this. Though your sister's rank is <span class="nowrap">high—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't want to talk about rank. That's all bosh, and I don't +care about it. But Hap House is a small place, and Clara wouldn't be +doing well; and what's more, I am quite sure the countess will not +hear of it."</p> + +<p>"You won't approve then?"</p> + +<p>"No, I can't say I will."</p> + +<p>"Well, that is honest of you. I am very glad that I have told you at +once. Clara will tell her mother, and at any rate there will be no +secrets. Good-bye, old fellow."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," said the earl. Then they shook hands, and Fitzgerald rode +off towards Hap House. Lord Desmond pondered over the matter some +time, standing alone near the lodge; and then walked slowly back +towards the mansion. He had said that rank was all bosh; and in so +saying had at the moment spoken out generously the feelings of his +heart. But that feeling regarded himself rather than his sister; and +if properly analyzed would merely have signified that, though proud +enough of his own rank, he did not require that his friends should be +of the same standing. But as regarded his sister, he certainly would +not be well pleased to see her marry a small squire with a small +income.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-4" id="c-4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> +<h4>THE COUNTESS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>The countess, as she walked back with her daughter towards the house, +had to bethink herself for a minute or two as to how she should act, +and what she would say. She knew, she felt that she knew, what had +occurred. If her daughter's manner had not told her, the downcast +eyes, the repressed sobs, the mingled look of shame and fear;—if she +had not read the truth from these, she would have learned it from the +tone of Fitzgerald's voice, and the look of triumph which sat upon +his countenance.</p> + +<p>And then she wondered that this should be so, seeing that she had +still regarded Clara as being in all things a child; and as she +thought further, she wondered at her own fatuity, in that she had +allowed herself to be so grossly deceived.</p> + +<p>"Clara," said she, "what is all this?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"You had better come on to the house, my dear, and speak to me there. +In the mean time, collect your thoughts, and remember this, Clara, +that you have the honour of a great family to maintain."</p> + +<p>Poor Clara! what had the great family done for her, or how had she +been taught to maintain its honour? She knew that she was an earl's +daughter, and that people called her Lady Clara; whereas other young +ladies were only called Miss So-and-So. But she had not been taught +to separate herself from the ordinary throng of young ladies by any +other distinction. Her great family had done nothing special for her, +nor placed before her for example any grandly noble deeds. At that +old house at Desmond Court company was scarce, money was scarce, +servants were scarce. She had been confided to the care of a very +ordinary governess; and if there was about her anything that was +great or good, it was intrinsically her own, and by no means due to +intrinsic advantages derived from her grand family. Why should she +not give what was so entirely her own to one whom she loved, to one +by whom it so pleased her to be loved?</p> + +<p>And then they entered the house, and Clara followed her mother to the +countess's own small up-stairs sitting-room. The daughter did not +ordinarily share this room with her mother, and when she entered it, +she seldom did so with pleasurable emotion. At the present moment she +had hardly strength to close the door after her.</p> + +<p>"And now, Clara, what is all this?" said the countess, sitting down +in her accustomed chair.</p> + +<p>"All which, mamma?" Can any one blame her in that she so far +equivocated?</p> + +<p>"Clara, you know very well what I mean. What has there been between +you and Mr. Fitzgerald?"</p> + +<p>The guilt-stricken wretch sat silent for a while, sustaining the +scrutiny of her mother's gaze; and then falling from her chair on to +her knees, she hid her face in her mother's lap, exclaiming, "Oh, +mamma, mamma, do not look at me like that!"</p> + +<p>Lady Desmond's heart was somewhat softened by this appeal; nor would +I have it thought that she was a cruel woman, or an unnatural mother. +It had not been her lot to make an absolute, dearest, heartiest +friend of her daughter, as some mothers do; a friend between whom and +herself there should be, nay could be, no secrets. She could not +become young again in sharing the romance of her daughter's love, in +enjoying the gaieties of her daughter's balls, in planning dresses, +amusements, and triumphs with her child. Some mothers can do this; +and they, I think, are the mothers who enjoy most fully the delights +of maternity. This was not the case with Lady Desmond; but yet she +loved her child, and would have made any reasonable sacrifice for +what she regarded as that child's welfare.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear," she said, in a softened tone, "you must tell me what +has occurred. Do you not know that it is my duty to ask, and yours to +tell me? It cannot be right that there should be any secret +understanding between yourself and Mr. Fitzgerald. You know that, +Clara, do you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma," said Clara, remembering that her lover had bade her +tell her mother everything.</p> + +<p>"Well, my love?"</p> + +<p>Clara's story was very simple, and did not, in fact, want any +telling. It was merely the old well-worn tale, so common through all +the world. "He had laughed on the lass with his bonny black eye!" and +she,—she was ready to go "to the mountain to hear a love-tale!" One +may say that an occurrence so very common could not want much +telling.</p> + +<p>"Mamma; he says—"</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"He says—. Oh, mamma! I could not help it."</p> + +<p>"No, Clara; you certainly could not help what he might say to you. +You could not refuse to listen to him. A lady in such a case, when +she is on terms of intimacy with a gentleman, as you were with Mr. +Fitzgerald, is bound to listen to him, and to give him an answer. You +could not help what he might say, Clara. The question now is, what +answer did you give to what he said?"</p> + +<p>Clara, who was still kneeling, looked up piteously into her mother's +face, sighed bitterly, but said nothing.</p> + +<p>"He told you that he loved you, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose you gave him some answer? Eh! my dear?"</p> + +<p>The answer to this was another long sigh.</p> + +<p>"But, Clara, you must tell me. It is absolutely necessary that I +should know whether you have given him any hope, and if so, how much. +Of course the whole thing must be stopped at once. Young as you are, +you cannot think that a marriage with Mr. Owen Fitzgerald would be a +proper match for you to make. Of course the whole thing must cease at +once—at once." Here there was another piteous sigh. "But before I +take any steps, I must know what you have said to him. Surely you +have not told him that you have any feeling for him warmer than +ordinary regard?"</p> + +<p>Lady Desmond knew what she was doing very well. She was perfectly +sure that her daughter had pledged her troth to Owen Fitzgerald. +Indeed, if she made any mistake in the matter, it was in thinking +that Clara had given a more absolute assurance of love than had in +truth been extracted from her. But she calculated, and calculated +wisely, that the surest way of talking her daughter out of all hope, +was to express herself as unable to believe that a child of hers +would own to love for one so much beneath her, and to speak of such a +marriage as a thing absolutely impossible. Her method of acting in +this manner had the effect which she desired. The poor girl was +utterly frightened, and began to fear that she had disgraced herself, +though she knew that she dearly loved the man of whom her mother +spoke so slightingly.</p> + +<p>"Have you given him any promise, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Not a promise, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Not a promise! What then? Have you professed any regard for him?" +But upon this Clara was again silent.</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose I must believe that you have professed a regard for +him—that you have promised to love him?"</p> + +<p>"No, mamma; I have not promised anything. But when he asked me, I—I +didn't—I didn't refuse him."</p> + +<p>It will be observed that Lady Desmond never once asked her daughter +what were her feelings. It never occurred to her to inquire, even +within her own heart, as to what might be most conducive to her +child's happiness. She meant to do her duty by Clara, and therefore +resolved at once to put a stop to the whole affair. She now desisted +from her interrogatories, and sitting silent for a while, looked out +into the extent of flat ground before the house. Poor Clara the while +sat silent also, awaiting her doom.</p> + +<p>"Clara," said the mother at last, "all this must of course be made to +cease. You are very young, very young indeed, and therefore I do not +blame you. The fault is with him—with him entirely."</p> + +<p>"No, mamma."</p> + +<p>"But I say it is. He has behaved very badly, and has betrayed the +trust which was placed in him when he was admitted here so intimately +as Patrick's friend."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he has not intended to betray any trust," said Clara, +through her sobs. The conviction was beginning to come upon her that +she would be forced to give up her lover; but she could not bring +herself to hear so much evil spoken of him.</p> + +<p>"He has not behaved like a gentleman," continued the countess, +looking very stern. "And his visits here must of course be altogether +discontinued. I am sorry on your brother's account, for Patrick was +very fond of <span class="nowrap">him—"</span></p> + +<p>"Not half so fond as I am," thought Clara to herself. But she did not +dare to speak her thoughts out loud.</p> + +<p>"But I am quite sure that your brother, young as he is, will not +continue to associate with a friend who has thought so slightly of +his sister's honour. Of course I shall let Mr. Fitzgerald know that +he can come here no more; and all I want from you is a promise that +you will on no account see him again, or hold any correspondence with +him."</p> + +<p>That was all she wanted. But Clara, timid as she was, hesitated +before she could give a promise so totally at variance with the +pledge which she felt that she had given, hardly an hour since, to +Fitzgerald. She knew and acknowledged to herself that she had given +him a pledge, although she had given it in silence. How then was she +to give this other pledge to her mother?</p> + +<p>"You do not mean to say that you hesitate?" said Lady Desmond, +looking as though she were thunderstruck at the existence of such +hesitation. "You do not wish me to suppose that you intend to +persevere in such insanity? Clara, I must have from you a distinct +promise,—<span class="nowrap">or—"</span></p> + +<p>What might be the dreadful alternative the countess did not at that +minute say. She perhaps thought that her countenance might be more +effective than her speech, and in thinking so she was probably right.</p> + +<p>It must be remembered that Clara Desmond was as yet only seventeen, +and that she was young even for that age. It must be remembered also, +that she knew nothing of the world's ways, of her own privileges as a +creature with a soul and heart of her own, or of what might be the +true extent of her mother's rights over her. She had not in her +enough of matured thought to teach her to say that she would make no +promise that should bind her for ever; but that for the present, in +her present state, she would obey her mother's orders. And thus the +promise was exacted and given.</p> + +<p>"If I find you deceiving me, Clara," said the countess, "I will never +forgive you."</p> + +<p>Hitherto, Lady Desmond may probably have played her part well;—well, +considering her object. But she played it very badly in showing that +she thought it possible that her daughter should play her false. It +was now Clara's turn to be proud and indignant.</p> + +<p>"Mamma!" she said, holding her head high, and looking at her mother +boldly through her tears, "I have never deceived you yet."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my dear. I will take steps to prevent his intruding on +you any further. There may be an end of the matter now. I have no +doubt that he has endeavoured to use his influence with Patrick; but +I will tell your brother not to speak of the matter further." And so +saying, she dismissed her daughter.</p> + +<p>Shortly afterwards the earl came in, and there was a conference +between him and his mother. Though they were both agreed on the +subject, though both were decided that it would not do for Clara to +throw herself away on a county Cork squire with eight hundred a year, +a cadet in his family, and a man likely to rise to nothing, still the +earl would not hear him abused.</p> + +<p>"But, Patrick, he must not come here any more," said the countess.</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose not. But it will be very dull, I know that. I wish +Clara hadn't made herself such an ass;" and then the boy went away, +and talked kindly over the matter to his poor sister.</p> + +<p>But the countess had another task still before her. She must make +known the family resolution to Owen Fitzgerald. When her children had +left her, one after the other, she sat at the window for an hour, +looking at nothing, but turning over her own thoughts in her mind. +Hitherto she had expressed herself as being very angry with her +daughter's lover; so angry that she had said that he was faithless, a +traitor, and no gentleman. She had called him a dissipated +spendthrift, and had threatened his future wife, if ever he should +have one, with every kind of misery that could fall to a woman's lot; +but now she began to think of him perhaps more kindly.</p> + +<p>She had been very angry with him;—and the more so because she had +such cause to be angry with herself;—with her own lack of judgment, +her own ignorance of the man's character, her own folly with +reference to her daughter. She had never asked herself whether she +loved Fitzgerald—had never done so till now. But now she knew that +the sharpest blow she had received that day was the assurance that he +was indifferent to herself.</p> + +<p>She had never thought herself too old to be on an equality with +him,—on such an equality in point of age as men and women feel when +they learn to love each other; and therefore it had not occurred to +her that he could regard her daughter as other than a child. To Lady +Desmond, Clara was a child; how then could she be more to him? And +yet now it was too plain that he had looked on Clara as a woman. In +what light then must he have thought of that woman's mother? And so, +with saddened heart, but subdued anger, she continued to gaze through +the window till all without was dusk and dark.</p> + +<p>There can be to a woman no remembrance of age so strong as that of +seeing a daughter go forth to the world a married woman. If that does +not tell the mother that the time of her own youth has passed away, +nothing will ever bring the tale home. It had not quite come to this +with Lady Desmond;—Clara was not going forth to the world as a +married woman. But here was one now who had judged her as fit to be +so taken; and this one was the very man of all others in whose +estimation Lady Desmond would have wished to drop a few of the years +that encumbered her.</p> + +<p>She was not, however, a weak woman, and so she performed her task. +She had candles brought to her, and sitting down, she wrote a note to +Owen Fitzgerald, saying that she herself would call at Hap House at +an hour named on the following day.</p> + +<p>She had written three or four letters before she had made up her mind +exactly as to the one she would send. At first she had desired him to +come to her there at Desmond Court; but then she thought of the +danger there might be of Clara seeing him;—of the danger, also, of +her own feelings towards him when he should be there with her, in her +own house, in the accustomed way. And she tried to say by letter all +that it behoved her to say, so that there need be no meeting. But in +this she failed. One letter was stern and arrogant, and the next was +soft-hearted, so that it might teach him to think that his love for +Clara might yet be successful. At last she resolved to go herself to +Hap House; and accordingly she wrote her letter and despatched it.</p> + +<p>Fitzgerald was of course aware of the subject of the threatened +visit. When he determined to make his proposal to Clara, the matter +did not seem to him to be one in which all chances of success were +desperate. If, he thought, he could induce the girl to love him, +other smaller difficulties might be made to vanish from his path. He +had now induced the girl to own that she did love him; but not the +less did he begin to see that the difficulties were far from +vanishing. Lady Desmond would never have taken upon herself to make a +journey to Hap House, had not a sentence of absolute banishment from +Desmond Court been passed against him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald," she began, as soon as she found herself alone with +him, "you will understand what has induced me to seek you here. After +your imprudence with Lady Clara Desmond, I could not of course ask +you to come to Desmond Court."</p> + +<p>"I may have been presumptuous, Lady Desmond, but I do not think that +I have been imprudent. I love your daughter dearly, and I told her +so. Immediately afterwards I told the same to her brother; and she, +no doubt, has told the same to you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she has, Mr. Fitzgerald. Clara, as you are well aware, is a +child, absolutely a child; much more so than is usual with girls of +her age. The knowledge of this should, I think, have protected her +from your advances."</p> + +<p>"But I absolutely deny any such knowledge. And more than that, I +think that you are greatly mistaken as to her character."</p> + +<p>"Mistaken, sir, as to my own daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Lady Desmond; I think you are. I think—"</p> + +<p>"On such a matter, Mr. Fitzgerald, I need not trouble you for an +expression of your thoughts. Nor need we argue that subject any +further. You must of course be aware that all ideas of any such +marriage as this must be laid aside."</p> + +<p>"On what grounds, Lady Desmond?"</p> + +<p>Now this appeared to the countess to be rather impudent on the part +of the young squire. The reasons why he, Owen Fitzgerald of Hap +House, should not marry a daughter of an Earl of Desmond, seemed to +her to be so conspicuous and conclusive, that it could hardly be +necessary to enumerate them. And such as they were, it might not be +pleasant to announce them in his hearing. But though Owen Fitzgerald +was so evidently an unfit suitor for an earl's daughter, it might +still be possible that he should be acceptable to an earl's widow. +Ah! if it might be possible to teach him the two lessons at the same +time!</p> + +<p>"On what grounds, Mr. Fitzgerald!" she said, repeating his question; +"surely I need hardly tell you. Did not my son say the same thing to +you yesterday, as he walked with you down the avenue?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he told me candidly that he looked higher for his sister; and I +liked him for his candour. But that is no reason that I should agree +with him; or, which is much more important, that his sister should do +so. If she thinks that she can be happy in such a home as I can give +her, I do not know why he, or why you should object."</p> + +<p>"You think, then, that I might give her to a blacksmith, if she +herself were mad enough to wish it?"</p> + +<p>"I thank you for the compliment, Lady Desmond."</p> + +<p>"You have driven me to it, sir."</p> + +<p>"I believe it is considered in the world," said he,—"that is, in our +country, that the one great difference is between gentlemen and +ladies, and those who are not gentlemen or ladies. A lady does not +degrade herself if she marry a gentleman, even though that +gentleman's rank be less high than her own."</p> + +<p>"It is not a question of degradation, but of prudence;—of the +ordinary caution which I, as a mother, am bound to use as regards my +daughter. Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald!" and she now altered her tone as she +spoke to him; "we have all been so pleased to know you, so happy to +have you there; why have you destroyed all this by one half-hour's +folly?"</p> + +<p>"The folly, as you call it, Lady Desmond, has been premeditated for +the last twelve months."</p> + +<p>"For twelve months!" said she, taken absolutely by surprise, and in +her surprise believing him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for twelve months. Ever since I began to know your daughter, I +have loved her. You say that your daughter is a child. I also thought +so this time last year, in our last winter holidays. I thought so +then; and though I loved her as a child, I kept it to myself. Now she +is a woman, and so thinking I have spoken to her as one. I have told +her that I loved her, as I now tell you that come what may I must +continue to do so. Had she made me believe that I was indifferent to +her, absence, perhaps, and distance might have taught me to forget +her. But such, I think, is not the case."</p> + +<p>"And you must forget her now."</p> + +<p>"Never, Lady Desmond."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, sir. A child that does not know her own mind, that thinks +of a lover as she does of some new toy, whose first appearance in the +world was only made the other night at your cousin's house! you ought +to feel ashamed of such a passion, Mr. Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>"I am very far from being ashamed of it, Lady Desmond."</p> + +<p>"At any rate, let me tell you this. My daughter has promised me most +solemnly that she will neither see you again, nor have any +correspondence with you. And this I know of her, that her word is +sacred. I can excuse her on account of her youth; and, young as she +is, she already sees her own folly in having allowed you so to +address her. But for you, Mr. Fitzgerald, under all the circumstances +I can make no excuse for you. Is yours, do you think, the sort of +house to which a young girl should be brought as a bride? Is your +life, are your companions of that kind which could most profit her? I +am sorry that you drive me to remind you of these things."</p> + +<p>His face became very dark, and his brow stern as his sins were thus +cast into his teeth.</p> + +<p>"And from what you know of me, Lady Desmond," he said,—and as he +spoke he assumed a dignity of demeanour which made her more inclined +to love him than ever she had been before,—"do you think that I +should be the man to introduce a young wife to such companions as +those to whom you allude? Do you not know, are you not sure in your +own heart, that my marriage with your daughter would instantly put an +end to all that?"</p> + +<p>"Whatever may be my own thoughts, and they are not likely to be +unfavourable to you—for Patrick's sake, I mean; but whatever may be +my own thoughts, I will not subject my daughter to such a risk. And, +Mr. Fitzgerald, you must allow me to say, that your income is +altogether insufficient for her wants and your own. She has no +<span class="nowrap">fortune—"</span></p> + +<p>"I want none with her."</p> + +<p>"And—but I will not argue the matter with you. I did not come to +argue it, but to tell you, with as little offence as may be possible, +that such a marriage is absolutely impossible. My daughter herself +has already abandoned all thoughts of it."</p> + +<p>"Her thoughts then must be wonderfully under her own control. Much +more so than mine are."</p> + +<p>"Lord Desmond, you may be sure, will not hear of it."</p> + +<p>"Lord Desmond cannot at present be less of a child than his sister."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that, Mr. Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>"At any rate, Lady Desmond, I will not put my happiness, nor as far +as I am concerned in it, his sister's happiness, at his disposal. +When I told her that I loved her, I did not speak, as you seem to +think, from an impulse of the moment. I spoke because I loved her; +and as I love her, I shall of course try to win her. Nothing can +absolve me from my engagement to her but her marriage with another +person."</p> + +<p>The countess had once or twice made small efforts to come to terms of +peace with him; or rather to a truce, under which there might still +be some friendship between them,—accompanied, however, by a positive +condition that Clara should be omitted from any participation in it. +She would have been willing to say, "Let all this be forgotten, only +for some time to come you and Clara cannot meet each other." But +Fitzgerald would by no means agree to such terms; and the countess +was obliged to leave his house, having in effect only thrown down a +gauntlet of battle; having in vain attempted to extend over it an +olive-branch of peace.</p> + +<p>He helped her, however, into her little pony carriage, and at parting +she gave him her hand. He just touched it, and then, taking off his +hat, bowed courteously to her as she drove from his door.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-5" id="c-5"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> +<h4>THE FITZGERALDS OF CASTLE RICHMOND.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>What idea of carrying out his plans may have been prevalent in +Fitzgerald's mind when he was so defiant of the countess, it may be +difficult to say. Probably he had no idea, but felt at the spur of +the moment that it would be weak to yield. The consequence was, that +when Lady Desmond left Hap House, he was obliged to consider himself +as being at feud with the family.</p> + +<p>The young lord he did see once again during the holidays, and even +entertained him at Hap House; but the earl's pride would not give way +an inch.</p> + +<p>"Much as I like you, Owen, I cannot do anything but oppose it. It +would be a bad match for my sister, and so you'd feel if you were in +my place." And then Lord Desmond went back to Eton.</p> + +<p>After that they none of them met for many months. During this time +life went on in a very triste manner at Desmond Court. Lady Desmond +felt that she had done her duty by her daughter; but her tenderness +to Clara was not increased by the fact that her foolish attachment +had driven Fitzgerald from the place. As for Clara herself, she not +only kept her word, but rigidly resolved to keep it. Twice she +returned unopened, and without a word of notice, letters which Owen +had caused to be conveyed to her hand. It was not that she had ceased +to love him, but she had high ideas of truth and honour, and would +not break her word. Perhaps she was sustained in her misery by the +remembrance that heroines are always miserable.</p> + +<p>And then the orgies at Hap House became hotter and faster. Hitherto +there had perhaps been more smoke than fire, more calumny than sin. +And Fitzgerald, when he had intimated that the presence of a young +wife would save him from it all, had not boasted falsely. But now +that his friends had turned their backs upon him, that he was +banished from Desmond Court, and twitted with his iniquities at +Castle Richmond, he threw off all restraint, and endeavoured to enjoy +himself in his own way. So the orgies became fast and furious; all +which of course reached the ears of poor Clara Desmond.</p> + +<p>During the summer holidays, Lord Desmond was not at home, but Owen +Fitzgerald was also away. He had gone abroad, perhaps with the +conviction that it would be well that he and the Desmonds should not +meet; and he remained abroad till the hunting season again commenced. +Then the winter came again, and he and Lord Desmond used to meet in +the field. There they would exchange courtesies, and, to a certain +degree, show that they were intimate. But all the world knew that the +old friendship was over. And, indeed, all the world—all the county +Cork world—soon knew the reason. And so we are brought down to the +period at which our story was to begin.</p> + +<p>We have hitherto said little or nothing of Castle Richmond and its +inhabitants; but it is now time that we should do so, and we will +begin with the heir of the family. At the period of which we are +speaking, Herbert Fitzgerald had just returned from Oxford, having +completed his affairs there in a manner very much to the satisfaction +of his father, mother, and sisters; and to the unqualified admiration +of his aunt, Miss Letty. I am not aware that the heads of colleges, +and supreme synod of Dons had signified by any general expression of +sentiment, that Herbert Fitzgerald had so conducted himself as to be +a standing honour and perpetual glory to the University; but at +Castle Richmond it was all the same as though they had done so. There +are some kindly-hearted, soft-minded parents, in whose estimation not +to have fallen into disgrace shows the highest merit on the part of +their children. Herbert had not been rusticated; had not got into +debt, at least not to an extent that had been offensive to his +father's pocket; he had not been plucked. Indeed, he had taken +honours, in some low unnoticed degree;—unnoticed, that is, at +Oxford; but noticed at Castle Richmond by an ovation—almost by a +triumph.</p> + +<p>But Herbert Fitzgerald was a son to gladden a father's heart and a +mother's eye. He was not handsome, as was his cousin Owen; not tall +and stalwart and godlike in his proportions, as was the reveller of +Hap House; but nevertheless, and perhaps not the less, was he +pleasant to look on. He was smaller and darker than his cousin; but +his eyes were bright and full of good humour. He was clean looking +and clean made; pleasant and courteous in all his habits; attached to +books in a moderate, easy way, but no bookworm; he had a gentle +affection for bindings and title-pages; was fond of pictures, of +which it might be probable that he would some day know more than he +did at present; addicted to Gothic architecture, and already +proprietor of the germ of what was to be a collection of coins.</p> + +<p>Owen Fitzgerald had called him a prig; but Herbert was no prig. Nor +yet was he a pedant; which word might, perhaps, more nearly have +expressed his cousin's meaning. He liked little bits of learning, the +easy outsides and tags of classical acquirements, which come so +easily within the scope of the memory when a man has passed some ten +years between a public school and a university. But though he did +love to chew the cud of these morsels of Attic grass which he had +cropped, certainly without any great or sustained effort, he had no +desire to be ostentatious in doing so, or to show off more than he +knew. Indeed, now that he was away from his college friends, he was +rather ashamed of himself than otherwise when scraps of quotations +would break forth from him in his own despite. Looking at his true +character, it was certainly unjust to call him either a prig or a +pedant.</p> + +<p>He was fond of the society of ladies, and was a great favourite with +his sisters, who thought that every girl who saw him must instantly +fall in love with him. He was goodnatured, and, as the only son of a +rich man, was generally well provided with money. Such a brother is +usually a favourite with his sisters. He was a great favourite too +with his aunt, whose heart, however, was daily sinking into her shoes +through the effect of one great terror which harassed her respecting +him. She feared that he had become a Puseyite. Now that means much +with some ladies in England; but with most ladies of the Protestant +religion in Ireland, it means, one may almost say, the very Father of +Mischief himself. In their minds, the pope, with his lady of Babylon, +his college of cardinals, and all his community of pinchbeck saints, +holds a sort of second head-quarters of his own at Oxford. And there +his high priest is supposed to be one wicked infamous Pusey, and his +worshippers are wicked infamous Puseyites. Now, Miss Letty Fitzgerald +was strong on this subject, and little inklings had fallen from her +nephew which robbed her of much of her peace of mind.</p> + +<p>It is impossible that these volumes should be graced by any hero, for +the story does not admit of one. But if there were to be a hero, +Herbert Fitzgerald would be the man.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas Fitzgerald at this period was an old man in appearance, +though by no means an old man in years, being hardly more than fifty. +Why he should have withered away as it were into premature grayness, +and loss of the muscle and energy of life, none knew; unless, indeed, +his wife did know. But so it was. He had, one may say, all that a +kind fortune could give him. He had a wife who was devoted to him; he +had a son on whom he doted, and of whom all men said all good things; +he had two sweet, happy daughters; he had a pleasant house, a fine +estate, position and rank in the world. Had it so pleased him, he +might have sat in Parliament without any of the trouble, and with +very little of the expense, which usually attends aspirants for that +honour. And, as it was, he might hope to see his son in Parliament +within a year or two. For among other possessions of the Fitzgerald +family was the land on which stands the borough of Kilcommon, a +borough to which the old Reform Bill was merciful, as it was to so +many others in the south of Ireland.</p> + +<p>Why, then, should Sir Thomas Fitzgerald be a silent, melancholy man, +confining himself for the last year or two almost entirely to his own +study; giving up to his steward the care even of his own demesne and +farm; never going to the houses of his friends, and rarely welcoming +them to his; rarely as it was, and never as it would have been, had +he been always allowed to have his own way?</p> + +<p>People in the surrounding neighbourhood had begun to say that Sir +Thomas's sorrow had sprung from shortness of cash, and that money was +not so easily to be had at Castle Richmond now-a-days as was the case +some ten years since. If this were so, the dearth of that very useful +article could not have in any degree arisen from extravagance. It was +well known that Sir Thomas's estate was large, being of a value, +according to that public and well-authenticated rent-roll which the +neighbours of a rich man always carry in their heads, amounting to +twelve or fourteen thousand a year. Now Sir Thomas had come into the +unencumbered possession of this at an early age, and had never been +extravagant himself or in his family. His estates were strictly +entailed, and therefore, as he had only a life interest in them, it +of course was necessary that he should save money and insure his +life, to make provision for his daughters. But by a man of his habits +and his property, such a burden as this could hardly have been +accounted any burden at all. That he did, however, in this mental +privacy of his carry some heavy burden, was made plain enough to all +who knew him.</p> + +<p>And Lady Fitzgerald was in many things a counterpart of her husband, +not in health so much as in spirits. She, also, was old for her age, +and woebegone, not only in appearance, but also in the inner workings +of her heart. But then it was known of her that she had undergone +deep sorrows in her early youth, which had left their mark upon her +brow, and their trace upon her inmost thoughts. Sir Thomas had not +been her first husband. When very young, she had been married, or +rather, given in marriage, to a man who in a very few weeks after +that ill-fated union had shown himself to be perfectly unworthy of +her.</p> + +<p>Her story, or so much of it as was known to her friends, was this. +Her father had been a clergyman in Dorsetshire, burdened with a small +income, and blessed with a large family. She who afterwards became +Lady Fitzgerald was his eldest child; and, as Miss Wainwright—Mary +Wainwright—had grown up to be the possessor of almost perfect female +loveliness. While she was yet very young, a widower with an only boy, +a man who at that time was considerably less than thirty, had come +into her father's parish, having rented there a small hunting-box. +This gentleman—we will so call him, in lack of some other +term—immediately became possessed of an establishment, at any rate +eminently respectable. He had three hunters, two grooms, and a gig; +and on Sundays went to church with a prayer-book in his hand, and a +black coat on his back. What more could be desired to prove his +respectability?</p> + +<p>He had not been there a month before he was intimate in the parson's +house. Before two months had passed he was engaged to the parson's +daughter. Before the full quarter had flown by, he and the parson's +daughter were man and wife; and in five months from the time of his +first appearance in the Dorsetshire parish, he had flown from his +creditors, leaving behind him his three horses, his two grooms, his +gig, his wife, and his little boy.</p> + +<p>The Dorsetshire neighbours, and especially the Dorsetshire ladies, +had at first been loud in their envious exclamations as to Miss +Wainwright's luck. The parson and the parson's wife, and poor Mary +Wainwright herself, had, according to the sayings of that moment +prevalent in the county, used most unjustifiable wiles in trapping +this poor rich stranger. Miss Wainwright, as they all declared, had +not clothes to her back when she went to him. The matter had been got +up and managed in most indecent hurry, so as to rob the poor fellow +of any chance of escape. And thus all manner of evil things were +said, in which envy of the bride and pity of the bridegroom were +equally commingled.</p> + +<p>But when the sudden news came that Mr. Talbot had bolted, and when +after a week's inquiry no one could tell whither Mr. Talbot had gone, +the objurgations of the neighbours were expressed in a different +tone. Then it was declared that Mr. Wainwright had sacrificed his +beautiful child without making any inquiry as to the character of the +stranger to whom he had so recklessly given her. The pity of the +county fell to the share of the poor beautiful girl, whose welfare +and happiness were absolutely ruined; and the parson was pulled to +pieces for his sordid parsimony in having endeavoured to rid himself +in so disgraceful a manner of the charge of one of his children.</p> + +<p>It would be beyond the scope of my story to tell here of the anxious +family councils which were held in that parsonage parlour, during the +time of that daughter's courtship. There had been misgivings as to +the stability of the wooer; there had been an anxious wish not to +lose for the penniless daughter the advantage of a wealthy match; the +poor girl herself had been much cross-questioned as to her own +feelings. But let them have been right, or let them have been wrong +at that parsonage, the matter was settled, very speedily as we have +seen; and Mary Wainwright became Mrs. Talbot when she was still +almost a child.</p> + +<p>And then Mr. Talbot bolted; and it became known to the Dorsetshire +world that he had not paid a shilling for rent, or for butcher's meat +for his human family, or for oats for his equine family, during the +whole period of his sojourn at Chevy-chase Lodge. Grand references +had been made to a London banker, which had been answered by +assurances that Mr. Talbot was as good as the Bank of England. But it +turned out that the assurances were forged, and that the letter of +inquiry addressed to the London banker had been intercepted. In +short, it was all ruin, roguery, and wretchedness.</p> + +<p>And very wretched they all were, the old father, the young bride, and +all that parsonage household. After much inquiry something at last +was discovered. The man had a sister whose whereabouts was made out; +and she consented to receive the child—on condition that the bairn +should not come to her empty-handed. In order to get rid of this +burden, Mr. Wainwright with great difficulty made up thirty pounds.</p> + +<p>And then it was discovered that the man's name was not Talbot. What +it was did not become known in Dorsetshire, for the poor wife resumed +her maiden name—with very little right to do so, as her kind +neighbours observed—till fortune so kindly gave her the privilege of +bearing another honourably before the world.</p> + +<p>And then other inquiries, and almost endless search was made with +reference to that miscreant—not quite immediately—for at the moment +of the blow such search seemed to be but of little use; but after +some months, when the first stupor arising from their grief had +passed away, and when they once more began to find that the fields +were still green, and the sun warm, and that God's goodness was not +at an end.</p> + +<p>And the search was made not so much with reference to him as to his +fate, for tidings had reached the parsonage that he was no more. The +period was that in which Paris was occupied by the allied forces, +when our general, the Duke of Wellington, was paramount in the French +capital, and the Tuileries and Champs Elysées were swarming with +Englishmen.</p> + +<p>Report at the time was brought home that the soi-disant Talbot, +fighting his battles under the name of Chichester, had been seen and +noted in the gambling-houses of Paris; that he had been forcibly +extruded from some such chamber for non-payment of a gambling debt; +that he had made one in a violent fracas which had subsequently taken +place in the French streets; and that his body had afterwards been +identified in the Morgue.</p> + +<p>Such was the story which bit by bit reached Mr. Wainwright's ears, +and at last induced him to go over to Paris, so that the absolute and +proof-sustained truth of the matter might be ascertained, and made +known to all men. The poor man's search was difficult and weary. The +ways of Paris were not then so easy to an Englishman as they have +since become, and Mr. Wainwright could not himself speak a word of +French. But nevertheless he did learn much; so much as to justify +him, as he thought, in instructing his daughter to wear a widow's +cap. That Talbot had been kicked out of a gambling-house in the Rue +Richelieu was absolutely proved. An acquaintance who had been with +him in Dorsetshire on his first arrival there had seen this done; and +bore testimony of the fact that the man so treated was the man who +had taken the hunting-lodge in England. This same acquaintance had +been one of the party adverse to Talbot in the row which had +followed, and he could not, therefore, be got to say that he had seen +him dead. But other evidence had gone to show that the man who had +been so extruded was the man who had perished; and the French lawyer +whom Mr. Wainwright had employed, at last assured the poor +broken-hearted clergyman that he might look upon it as proved. "Had +he not been dead," said the lawyer, "the inquiry which has been made +would have traced him out alive." And thus his daughter was +instructed to put on her widow's cap, and her mother again called her +Mrs. Talbot.</p> + +<p>Indeed, at that time they hardly knew what to call her, or how to act +in the wisest and most befitting manner. Among those who had truly +felt for them in their misfortunes, who had really pitied them and +encountered them with loving sympathy, the kindest and most valued +friend had been the vicar of a neighbouring parish. He himself was a +widower without children; but living with him at that time, and +reading with him, was a young gentleman whose father was just dead, a +baronet of large property, and an Irishman. This was Sir Thomas +Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>It need not now be told how this young man's sympathies were also +excited, or how sympathy had grown into love. In telling our tale we +fain would not dwell much on the cradledom of our Meleager. The young +widow in her widow's cap grew to be more lovely than she had ever +been before her miscreant husband had seen her. They who remembered +her in those days told wondrous tales of her surprising +loveliness;—how men from London would come down to see her in the +parish church; how she was talked of as the Dorsetshire Venus, only +that unlike Venus she would give a hearing to no man; how sad she was +as well as lovely; and how impossible it was found to win a smile +from her.</p> + +<p>But though she could not smile, she could love; and at last she +accepted the love of the young baronet. And then the father, who had +so grossly neglected his duty when he gave her in marriage to an +unknown rascally adventurer, endeavoured to atone for such neglect by +the severest caution with reference to this new suitor. Further +inquiries were made. Sir Thomas went over to Paris himself with that +other clergyman. Lawyers were employed in England to sift out the +truth; and at last, by the united agreement of some dozen men, all of +whom were known to be worthy, it was decided that Talbot was dead, +and that his widow was free to choose another mate. Another mate she +had already chosen, and immediately after this she was married to Sir +Thomas Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>Such was the early life-story of Lady Fitzgerald; and as this was +widely known to those who lived around her—for how could such a +life-story as that remain untold?—no one wondered why she should be +gentle and silent in her life's course. That she had been an +excellent wife, a kind and careful mother, a loving neighbour to the +poor, and courteous neighbour to the rich, all the county Cork +admitted. She had lived down envy by her gentleness and soft +humility, and every one spoke of her and her retiring habits with +sympathy and reverence.</p> + +<p>But why should her husband also be so sad—nay, so much sadder? For +Lady Fitzgerald, though she was gentle and silent, was not a +sorrowful woman—otherwise than she was made so by seeing her +husband's sorrow. She had been to him a loving partner, and no man +could more tenderly have returned a wife's love than he had done. One +would say that all had run smoothly at Castle Richmond since the +house had been made happy, after some years of waiting, by the birth +of an eldest child and heir. But, nevertheless, those who knew most +of Sir Thomas saw that there was a peacock on the wall.</p> + +<p>It is only necessary to say further a word or two as to the other +ladies of the family, and hardly necessary to say that. Mary and +Emmeline Fitzgerald were both cheerful girls. I do not mean that they +were boisterous laughers, that in waltzing they would tear round a +room like human steam-engines, that they rode well to hounds as some +young ladies now-a-days do—and some young ladies do ride very well +to hounds; nor that they affected slang, and decked their persons +with odds and ends of masculine costume. In saying that they were +cheerful, I by no means wish it to be understood that they were loud.</p> + +<p>They were pretty, too, but neither of them lovely, as their mother +had been—hardly, indeed, so lovely as that pale mother was now, even +in these latter days. Ah, how very lovely that pale mother was, as +she sat still and silent in her own place on the small sofa by the +slight, small table which she used! Her hair was gray, and her eyes +sunken, and her lips thin and bloodless; but yet never shall I see +her equal for pure feminine beauty, for form and outline, for +passionless grace, and sweet, gentle, womanly softness. All her sad +tale was written upon her brow; all its sadness and all its poetry. +One could read there the fearful, all but fatal danger to which her +childhood had been exposed, and the daily thanks with which she +praised her God for having spared and saved her.</p> + +<p>But I am running back to the mother in attempting to say a word about +her children. Of the two, Emmeline, the younger, was the more like +her; but no one who was a judge of outline could imagine that +Emmeline, at her mother's age, would ever have her mother's beauty. +Nevertheless, they were fine, handsome girls, more popular in the +neighbourhood than any of their neighbours, well educated, sensible, +feminine, and useful; fitted to be the wives of good men.</p> + +<p>And what shall I say of Miss Letty? She was ten years older than her +brother, and as strong as a horse. She was great at walking, and +recommended that exercise strongly to all young ladies as an antidote +to every ill, from love to chilblains. She was short and dapper in +person; not ugly, excepting that her nose was long, and had a little +bump or excrescence at the end of it. She always wore a bonnet, even +at meal times; and was supposed by those who were not intimately +acquainted with the mysteries of her toilet, to sleep in it; often, +indeed, she did sleep in it, and gave unmusical evidence of her doing +so. She was not illnatured; but so strongly prejudiced on many points +as to be equally disagreeable as though she were so. With her, as +with the world in general, religion was the point on which those +prejudices were the strongest; and the peculiar bent they took was +horror and hatred of popery. As she lived in a country in which the +Roman Catholic was the religion of all the poorer classes, and of +very many persons who were not poor, there was ample scope in which +her horror and hatred could work. She was charitable to a fault, and +would exercise that charity for the good of Papists as willingly as +for the good of Protestants; but in doing so she always remembered +the good cause. She always clogged the flannel petticoat with some +Protestant teaching, or burdened the little coat and trousers with +the pains and penalties of idolatry.</p> + +<p>When her brother had married the widow Talbot, her anger with him and +her hatred towards her sister-in-law had been extreme. But time and +conviction had worked in her so thorough a change, that she now +almost worshipped the very spot in which Lady Fitzgerald habitually +sat. She had the faculty to know and recognize goodness when she saw +it, and she had known and recognized it in her brother's wife.</p> + +<p>Him also, her brother himself, she warmly loved and greatly +reverenced. She deeply grieved over his state of body and mind, and +would have given all she ever had, even her very self, to restore him +to health and happiness.</p> + +<p>The three children of course she loved, and petted, and scolded; and +as children bothered them out of all their peace and quietness. To +the girls she was still almost as great a torment as in their +childish days. Nevertheless, they still loved, and sometimes obeyed +her. Of Herbert she stood somewhat more in awe. He was the future +head of the family, and already a Bachelor of Arts. In a very few +years he would probably assume the higher title of a married man of +arts, she thought; and perhaps the less formidable one of a member of +Parliament also. Him, therefore, she treated with deference. But, +alas! what if he should become a Puseyite!</p> + + +<p><a name="c-6" id="c-6"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> +<h4>THE KANTURK HOTEL, SOUTH MAIN STREET, CORK.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>All the world no doubt knows South Main Street in the city of Cork. +In the "ould" ancient days, South and North Main Streets formed the +chief thoroughfare through the city, and hence of course they derived +their names. But now, since Patrick Street, and Grand Parade, and the +South Mall have grown up, Main Street has but little honour. It is +crowded with second-rate tobacconists and third-rate grocers; the +houses are dirty, and the street is narrow; fashionable ladies never +visit it for their shopping, nor would any respectable commercial +gent stop at an inn within its purlieus.</p> + +<p>But here in South Main Street, at the time of which I am writing, +there was an inn, or public-house, called the Kanturk Hotel. In dear +old Ireland they have some foibles, and one of them is a passion for +high nomenclature. Those who are accustomed to the sort of +establishments which are met with in England, and much more in +Germany and Switzerland, under the name of hotels, might be surprised +to see the place in South Main Street which had been dignified with +the same appellation. It was a small, dingy house of three stories, +the front door of which was always open, and the passage strewed with +damp, dirty straw. On the left-hand side as you entered was a +sitting-room, or coffee-room as it was announced to be by an +appellation painted on the door. There was but one window to the +room, which looked into the street, and was always clouded by a +dingy-red curtain. The floor was uncarpeted, nearly black with dirt, +and usually half covered with fragments of damp straw brought into it +by the feet of customers. A strong smell of hot whisky and water +always prevailed, and the straggling mahogany table in the centre of +the room, whose rickety legs gave way and came off whenever an +attempt was made to move it, was covered by small greasy circles, the +impressions of the bottoms of tumblers which had been made by the +overflowing tipple. Over the chimney there was a round mirror, the +framework of which was bedizened with all manner of would-be gilt +ornaments, which had been cracked, and twisted, and mended till it +was impossible to know what they had been intended to represent; and +the whole affair had become a huge receptacle of dust, which fell in +flakes upon the chimney-piece when it was invaded. There was a second +table opposite the window, more rickety than that in the centre; and +against the wall opposite to the fireplace there was an old +sideboard, in the drawers of which Tom, the one-eyed waiter, kept +knives and forks, and candle-ends, and bits of bread, and dusters. +There was a sour smell, as of old rancid butter, about the place, to +which the guests sometimes objected, little inclined as they +generally were to be fastidious. But this was a tender subject, and +not often alluded to by those who wished to stand well in the good +graces of Tom. Many things much annoyed Tom; but nothing annoyed him +so fearfully as any assertion that the air of the Kanturk Hotel was +not perfectly sweet and wholesome.</p> + +<p>Behind the coffee-room was the bar, from which Fanny O'Dwyer +dispensed dandies of punch and goes of brandy to her father's +customers from Kanturk. For at this, as at other similar +public-houses in Irish towns, the greater part of the custom on which +the publican depends came to him from the inhabitants of one +particular country district. A large four-wheeled vehicle, called a +long car, which was drawn by three horses, and travelled over a +mountain road at the rate of four Irish miles an hour, came daily +from Kanturk to Cork, and daily returned. This public conveyance +stopped in Cork at the Kanturk Hotel, and was owned by the owner of +that house, in partnership with a brother in the same trade located +in Kanturk. It was Mr. O'Dwyer's business to look after this concern, +to see to the passengers and the booking, the oats, and hay, and +stabling, while his well-known daughter, the charming Fanny O'Dwyer, +took care of the house, and dispensed brandy and whisky to the +customers from Kanturk.</p> + +<p>To tell the truth, the bar was a much more alluring place than the +coffee-room, and Fanny O'Dwyer a more alluring personage than Tom, +the one-eyed waiter. This Elysium, however, was not open to all +comers—not even to all comers from Kanturk. Those who had the right +of entry well knew their privilege; and so also did they who had not. +This sanctum was screened off from the passage by a window, which +opened upwards conveniently, as is customary with bar-windows; but +the window was blinded inside by a red curtain, so that Fanny's stool +near the counter, her father's wooden arm-chair, and the old +horsehair sofa on which favoured guests were wont to sit, were not +visible to the public at large.</p> + +<p>Of the up-stair portion of this establishment it is not necessary to +say much. It professed to be an hotel, and accommodation for sleeping +was to be obtained there; but the well-being of the house depended +but little on custom of this class.</p> + +<p>Nor need I say much of the kitchen, a graphic description of which +would not be pleasing. Here lived a cook, who, together with Tom the +waiter, did all that servants had to do at the Kanturk Hotel. From +this kitchen lumps of beef, mutton chops, and potatoes did +occasionally emanate, all perfumed with plenteous onions; as also did +fried eggs, with bacon an inch thick, and other culinary messes too +horrible to be thought of. But drinking rather than eating was the +staple of this establishment. Such was the Kanturk Hotel in South +Main Street, Cork.</p> + +<p>It was on a disagreeable, cold, sloppy, raw, winter evening—an +evening drizzling sometimes with rain, and sometimes with sleet—that +an elderly man was driven up to the door of the hotel on a one-horse +car—or jingle, as such conveniences were then called in the south of +Ireland. He seemed to know the house, for with his outside coat all +dripping as it was he went direct to the bar-window, and as Fanny +O'Dwyer opened the door he walked into that warm precinct. There he +encountered a gentleman, dressed one would say rather beyond the +merits of the establishment, who was taking his ease at full length +on Fanny's sofa, and drinking some hot compound which was to be seen +in a tumbler on the chimney-shelf just above his head. It was now six +o'clock in the evening, and the gentleman no doubt had dined.</p> + +<p>"Well, Aby; here I am, as large as life, but as cold as death. Ugh; +what an affair that coach is! Fanny, my best of darlings, give me a +drop of something that's best for warming the cockles of an old man's +heart."</p> + +<p>"A young wife then is the best thing in life to do that, Mr. +Mollett," said Fanny, sharply, preparing, however, at the same time +some mixture which might be taken more instantaneously.</p> + +<p>"The governor's had enough of that receipt already," said the man on +the sofa; or rather the man now off the sofa, for he had slowly +arisen to shake hands with the new comer.</p> + +<p>This latter person proceeded to divest himself of his dripping +greatcoat. "Here, Tom," said he, "bring your old Cyclops eye to bear +this way, will you. Go and hang that up in the kitchen; not too near +the fire now; and get me something to eat: none of your mutton chops; +but a beefsteak if there is such a thing in this benighted place. +Well, Aby, how goes on the war?"</p> + +<p>It was clear that the elderly gentleman was quite at home in his +present quarters; for Tom, far from resenting such impertinence, as +he would immediately have done had it proceeded from an ordinary +Kanturk customer, declared "that he would do his honour's bidding av +there was such a thing as a beefsteak to be had anywhere's in the +city of Cork."</p> + +<p>And indeed the elderly gentleman was a person of whom one might +premise, judging by his voice and appearance, that he would probably +make himself at home anywhere. He was a hale hearty man, of perhaps +sixty years of age, who had certainly been handsome, and was even now +not the reverse. Or rather, one may say, that he would have been so +were it not that there was a low, restless, cunning legible in his +mouth and eyes, which robbed his countenance of all manliness. He was +a hale man, and well preserved for his time of life; but +nevertheless, the extra rubicundity of his face, and certain +incipient pimply excrescences about his nose, gave tokens that he +lived too freely. He had lived freely; and were it not that his +constitution had been more than ordinarily strong, and that constant +exercise and exposure to air had much befriended him, those pimply +excrescences would have shown themselves in a more advanced stage. +Such was Mr. Mollett senior—Mr. Matthew Mollett, with whom it will +be soon our fate to be better acquainted.</p> + +<p>The gentleman who had slowly risen from the sofa was his son, Mr. +Mollett junior—Mr. Abraham Mollett, with whom also we shall become +better acquainted. The father has been represented as not being +exactly prepossessing; but the son, according to my ideas, was much +less so. He also would be considered handsome by some persons—by +women chiefly of the Fanny O'Dwyer class, whose eyes are capable of +recognizing what is good in shape and form, but cannot recognize what +is good in tone and character. Mr. Abraham Mollett was perhaps some +thirty years of age, or rather more. He was a very smart man, with a +profusion of dark, much-oiled hair, with dark, copious +mustachoes—and mustachoes being then not common as they are now, +added to his otherwise rakish, vulgar appearance—with various rings +on his not well-washed hands, with a frilled front to his not lately +washed shirt, with a velvet collar to his coat, and patent-leather +boots upon his feet.</p> + +<p>Free living had told more upon him, young as he was, than upon his +father. His face was not yet pimply, but it was red and bloated; his +eyes were bloodshot and protruding; his hand on a morning was +unsteady; and his passion for brandy was stronger than that for +beefsteaks; whereas his father's appetite for solid food had never +flagged. Those who were intimate with the family, and were observant +of men, were wont to remark that the son would never fill the +father's shoes. These family friends, I may perhaps add, were +generally markers at billiard-tables, head grooms at race-courses, or +other men of that sharp, discerning class. Seeing that I introduce +these gentlemen to my readers at the Kanturk Hotel, in South Main +Street, Cork, it may be perhaps as well to add that they were both +Englishmen; so that mistakes on that matter may be avoided.</p> + +<p>The father, as soon as he had rid himself of his upper coat, his +dripping hat, and his goloshes, stood up with his back to the +bar-room fire, with his hands in his trousers-pockets, and the tails +of his coat stuck inside his arms.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, Aby, it was cold enough outside that infernal coach. I'm +blessed if I've a morsel of feeling in my toes yet. Why the +<span class="nowrap">d——</span> +don't they continue the railway on to Cork? It's as much as a man's +life is worth to travel in that sort of way at this time of the +year."</p> + +<p>"You'll have more of it then if you intend going out of town +to-morrow," said the son.</p> + +<p>"Well; I don't know that I shall. I shall take a day to consider of +it I think."</p> + +<p>"Consideration be bothered," said Mollett junior; "strike when the +iron's hot; that's my motto."</p> + +<p>The father here turned half round to his son and winked at him, +nodding his head slightly towards the girl, thereby giving token +that, according to his ideas, the conversation could not be +discreetly carried on before a third person.</p> + +<p>"All right," said the son, lifting his joram of brandy and water to +his mouth; an action in which he was immediately imitated by his +father, who had now received the means of doing so from the hands of +the fair Fanny.</p> + +<p>"And how about a bed, my dear?" said Mollett senior; "that's a matter +of importance too; or will be when we are getting on to the little +hours."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we won't turn you out, Mr. Mollett," said Fanny; "we'll find a +bed for you, never fear."</p> + +<p>"That's all right then, my little Venus. And now if I had some dinner +I'd sit down and make myself comfortable for the evening."</p> + +<p>As he said this, Fanny slipped out of the room, and ran down into the +kitchen to see what Tom and the cook were doing. The Molletts, father +and son, were rather more than ordinary good customers at the Kanturk +Hotel, and it was politic therefore to treat them well. Mr. Mollett +junior, moreover, was almost more than a customer; and for the sake +of the son Fanny was anxious that the father should be well treated.</p> + +<p>"Well, governor, and what have you done?" said the younger man in a +low voice, jumping up from his seat as soon as the girl had left them +alone.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've got the usual remittance from the man in Bucklersbury. +That was all as right as a trivet."</p> + +<p>"And no more than that? Then I tell you what it is; we must be down +on him at once."</p> + +<p>"But you forget that I got as much more last month, out of the usual +course. Come, Aby, don't you be unreasonable."</p> + +<p>"Bother—I tell you, governor, if he don't—" And then Miss O'Dwyer +returned to her sanctum, and the rest of the conversation was +necessarily postponed.</p> + +<p>"He's managed to get you a lovely steak, Mr. Mollett," said Fanny, +pronouncing the word as though it were written "steek." "And we've +beautiful pickled walnuts; haven't we, Mr. Aby? and there'll be +kidneys biled" (meaning potatoes) "by the time the 'steek's' ready. +You like it with the gravy in, don't you, Mr. Mollett?" And as she +spoke she drew a quartern of whisky for two of Beamish and Crawford's +draymen, who stood outside in the passage and drank it at the bar.</p> + +<p>The lovely "steek" with the gravy in it—that is to say, nearly +raw—was now ready, and father and son adjourned to the next room. +"Well, Tom, my lad of wax; and how's the world using you?" said Mr. +Mollett senior.</p> + +<p>"There ain't much difference then," said Tom; "I ain't no younger, +nor yet no richer than when yer honour left us—and what is't to be, +sir?—a pint of stout, sir?"</p> + +<p>As soon as Mr. Mollett senior had finished his dinner, and Tom had +brought the father and son materials for making whisky-punch, they +both got their knees together over the fire, and commenced the +confidential conversation which Miss O'Dwyer had interrupted on her +return to the bar-room. They spoke now almost in a whisper, with +their heads together over the fender, knowing from experience that +what Tom wanted in eyes he made up in ears.</p> + +<p>"And what did Prendergast say when he paid you the rhino?" asked the +son.</p> + +<p>"Not a word," said the other. "After all, I don't think he knows any +more than a ghost what he pays it for: I think he gets fresh +instructions every time. But, any ways, there it was, all right."</p> + +<p>"Hall right, indeed! I do believe you'd be satisfied to go on getting +a few dribblets now and then like that. And then if anything 'appened +to you, why I might go fish."</p> + +<p>"How, Aby, look here—"</p> + +<p>"It's hall very well, governor; but I'll tell you what. Since you +started off I've been thinking a good deal about it, and I've made up +my mind that this shilly-shallying won't do any good: we must strike +a blow that'll do something for us."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't think we've done so bad already, taking it +all-in-all."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's because you haven't the pluck to strike a good blow. Now +I'll just let you know what I propose—and I tell you fairly, +governor, if you'll not hear reason, I'll take the game into my own +hands."</p> + +<p>The father looked up from his drink and scowled at his son, but said +nothing in answer to this threat.</p> + +<p>"By G—— I will!" continued Aby. "It's no use 'umbugging, and I mean +to make myself understood. While you've been gone I've been down to +that place."</p> + +<p>"You 'aven't seen the old man?"</p> + +<p>"No; I 'aven't taken that step yet; but I think it's very likely I +may before long if you won't hear reason."</p> + +<p>"I was a d—— fool, Aby, ever to let you into the affair at all. +It's been going on quiet enough for the last ten years, till I let +you into the secret."</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind about that. That mischief's done. But I think +you'll find I'll pull you through a deal better than hever you'd have +pulled through yourself. You're already making twice more out of it +than you did before I knew it. As I was saying, I went down there; +and in my quiet way I did just venture on a few hinquiries."</p> + +<p>"I'll be bound you did. You'll blow it all in about another month, +and then it'll be up with the lot of us."</p> + +<p>"It's a beautiful place: a lovely spot; and hall in prime horder. +They say it's fifteen thousand a year, and that there's not a +shilling howing on the whole property. Even in these times the +tenants are paying the rent, when no one else, far and near, is +getting a penny out of them. I went by another place on the +road—Castle Desmond they call it, and I wish you'd seen the +difference. The old boy must be rolling in money."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it. There's one as I can trust has told me he's hard +up enough sometimes. Why, we've had twelve hundred in the last eight +months."</p> + +<p>"Twelve hundred! and what's that? But, dickens, governor, where has +the twelve hundred gone? I've only seen three of it, and part of +that—. Well; what do you want there, you long-eared shark, you?" +These last words were addressed to Tom, who had crept into the room, +certainly without much preparatory noise.</p> + +<p>"I was only wanting the thingumbob, yer honour," said Tom, pretending +to search diligently in the drawer for some required article.</p> + +<p>"Then take your thingumbob quickly out of that, and be +<span class="nowrap">d——</span> to you. +And look here; if you don't knock at the door when next you come in, +by heavens I'll throw this tumbler at your yead."</p> + +<p>"Sure and I will, yer honour," said Tom, withdrawing.</p> + +<p>"And where on hearth has the twelve hundred pounds gone?" asked the +son, looking severely at the father.</p> + +<p>Old Mr. Mollett made no immediate answer in words, but putting his +left hand to his right elbow, began to shake it.</p> + +<p>"I do wonder that you keep hon at that work," said Mollett junior, +reproachfully. "You never by any chance have a stroke of luck."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have been unfortunate lately; but who knows what's coming? +And I was deucedly sold by those fellows at the October meeting. If +any chap ever was safe, I ought to have been safe then; but hang me +if I didn't drop four hundred of Sir Thomas's shiners coolly on the +spot. That was the only big haul I've had out of him all at once; and +the most of it went like water through a sieve within forty-eight +hours after I touched it." And then, having finished this pathetical +little story of his misfortune, Mr. Mollett senior finished his glass +of toddy.</p> + +<p>"It's the way of the world, governor; and it's no use sighing after +spilt milk. But I'll tell you what I propose; and if you don't like +the task yourself, I have no hobjection in life to take it into my +own hands. You see the game's so much our own that there's nothing on +hearth for us to fear."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that. If we were all blown, where should we +<span class="nowrap">be—"</span></p> + +<p>"Why, she's your own—"</p> + +<p>"H-h-sh, Aby. There's that confounded long-eared fellow at the +keyhole, as sure as my name's Matthew; and if he hears you, the +game's all up with a vengeance."</p> + +<p>"Lord bless you, what could he hear? Besides, talking as we are now, +he wouldn't catch a word even if he were in the room itself. And now +I'll tell you what it is; do you go down yourself, and make your way +into the hold gentleman's room. Just send your own name in boldly. +Nobody will know what that means, except himself."</p> + +<p>"I did that once before; and I never shall forget it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you did it once before, and you have had a steady income to +live on ever since; not such an income as you might have had. Not +such an income as will do for you and me, now that we both know so +well what a fine property we have under our thumbs. But, +nevertheless, that little visit has been worth something to you."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, Aby, I never suffered so much as I did that day. I +didn't know till then that I had a soft heart."</p> + +<p>"Soft heart! Oh, bother. Such stuff as that always makes me sick. If +I 'ate anything, it's maudlin. Your former visit down there did very +well, and now you must make another, or else, by the holy poker! I'll +make it for you."</p> + +<p>"And what would you have me say to him if I did manage to see him?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I'd better go—"</p> + +<p>"That's out of the question. He wouldn't see you, or understand who +you were. And then you'd make a row, and it would all come out, and +the fat would be in the fire."</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess I should not take it quite quiet if they didn't treat +me as a gentleman should be treated. I ain't always over-quiet if I'm +put upon."</p> + +<p>"If you go near that house at all I'll have done with it. I'll give +up the game."</p> + +<p>"Well, do you go, at any rate first. Perhaps it may be well that I +should follow after with a reminder. Do you go down, and just tell +him this, quite coolly, <span class="nowrap">remember—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I shall be cool enough."</p> + +<p>"That, considering hall things, you think he and you ought +<span class="nowrap">to—"</span></p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Just divide it between you; share and share alike. Say it's fourteen +thousand—and it's more than that—that would be seven for him and +seven for you. Tell him you'll agree to that, but you won't take one +farthing less."</p> + +<p>"Aby!" said the father, almost overcome by the grandeur of his son's +ideas.</p> + +<p>"Well; and what of Haby? What's the matter now?"</p> + +<p>"Expect him to shell out seven thousand pounds a year!"</p> + +<p>"And why not? He'll do a deal more than that, I expect, if he were +quite sure that it would make all things serene. But it won't; and +therefore you must make him another hoffer."</p> + +<p>"Another offer!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He'll know well enough that you'll be thinking of his death. +And for all they do say he might pop off any day."</p> + +<p>"He's a younger man than me, Aby, by full ten years."</p> + +<p>"What of that? You may pop off any day too, mayn't you? I believe you +old fellows don't think of dying nigh as hoften as we young ones."</p> + +<p>"You young ones are always looking for us old ones to go. We all know +that well enough."</p> + +<p>"That's when you've got anything to leave behind you, which hain't +the case with you, governor, just at present. But what I was saying +is this. He'll know well enough that you can split upon his son +hafter he's gone, every bit as well as you can split on him now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I always looked to make the young gentleman pay up handsome, if +so be the old gentleman went off the hooks. And if so be he and I +should go off together like, why you'd carry on, of course. You'll +have the proofs, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I should, should I? Well, we'll look to them by-and-by. But I'll +tell you what, governor, the best way is to make all that safe. We'll +make him another hoffer—for a regular substantial family +<span class="nowrap">harrangement—"</span></p> + +<p>"A family arrangement, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; that's the way they always manage things when great family +hinterests is at stake. Let him give us a cool seven thousand a year +between us while he's alive; let him put you down for twenty thousand +when he's dead—that'd come out of the young gentleman's share of the +property, of course—and then let him give me his daughter Hemmeline, +with another twenty thousand tacked on to her skirt-tail. I should be +mum then for hever for the honour of the family."</p> + +<p>The father for a moment or two was struck dumb by the magnitude of +his son's proposition. "That's what I call playing the game firm," +continued the son. "Do you lay down your terms before him, +substantial, and then stick to 'em. 'Them's my terms, Sir Thomas,' +you'll say. 'If you don't like 'em, as I can't halter, why in course +I'll go elsewhere.' Do you be firm to that, and you'll see how the +game'll go."</p> + +<p>"And you think he'll give you his daughter in marriage?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? I'm honest born, hain't I? And she's a bastard."</p> + +<p>"But, Aby, you don't know what sort of people these are. You don't +know what her breeding has been."</p> + +<p>"D—— her breeding. I know this: she'd get a deuced pretty fellow +for her husband, and one that girls as good as her has hankered +hafter long enough. It won't do, governor, to let people as is in +their position pick and choose like. We've the hupper hand, and we +must do the picking and choosing."</p> + +<p>"She'd never have you, Aby; not if her father went down on his knees +to her to ask her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, wouldn't she? By heaven, then, she shall, and that without any +kneeling at all. She shall have me, and be deuced glad to take me. +What! she'd refuse a fellow like me when she knows that she and all +belonging to her'd be turned into the streets if she don't have me! +I'm clear of another way of thinking, then. My opinion is she'd come +to me jumping. I'll tell you what, governor, you don't know the sex."</p> + +<p>Mr. Mollett senior upon this merely shook his head. Perhaps the fact +was that he knew the sex somewhat better than his son. It had been +his fate during a portion of his life to live among people who were, +or ought to have been, gentlemen. He might have been such himself had +he not gone wrong in life from the very starting-post. But his son +had had no such opportunities. He did know and could know nothing +about ladies and gentlemen.</p> + +<p>"You're mistaken, Aby," said the old man. "They'd never suffer you to +come among them on such a footing as that. They'd sooner go forth to +the world as beggars."</p> + +<p>"Then, by G——! they shall go forth as beggars. I've said it now, +father, and I'll stick to it. You know the stuff I'm made of." As he +finished speaking, he swallowed down the last half of a third glass +of hot spirits and water, and then glared on his father with angry, +blood-shot eyes, and a red, almost lurid face. The unfortunate father +was beginning to know the son, and to feel that his son would become +his master.</p> + +<p>Shortly after this they were interrupted; and what further +conversation they had on the matter that night took place in their +joint bedroom; to which uninviting retreat it is not now necessary +that we should follow them.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-7" id="c-7"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> +<h4>THE FAMINE YEAR.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>They who were in the south of Ireland during the winter of 1846-47 +will not readily forget the agony of that period. For many, many +years preceding and up to that time, the increasing swarms of the +country had been fed upon the potato, and upon the potato only; and +now all at once the potato failed them, and the greater part of eight +million human beings were left without food.</p> + +<p>The destruction of the potato was the work of God; and it was natural +to attribute the sufferings which at once overwhelmed the unfortunate +country to God's anger—to his wrath for the misdeeds of which that +country had been guilty. For myself, I do not believe in such +exhibitions of God's anger. When wars come, and pestilence, and +famine; when the people of a land are worse than decimated, and the +living hardly able to bury the dead, I cannot coincide with those who +would deprecate God's wrath by prayers. I do not believe that our God +stalks darkly along the clouds, laying thousands low with the arrows +of death, and those thousands the most ignorant, because men who are +not ignorant have displeased Him. Nor, if in his wisdom He did do so, +can I think that men's prayers would hinder that which his wisdom had +seen to be good and right.</p> + +<p>But though I do not believe in exhibitions of God's anger, I do +believe in exhibitions of his mercy. When men by their folly and by +the shortness of their vision have brought upon themselves penalties +which seem to be overwhelming, to which no end can be seen, which +would be overwhelming were no aid coming to us but our own, then God +raises his hand, not in anger, but in mercy, and by his wisdom does +for us that for which our own wisdom has been insufficient.</p> + +<p>But on no Christian basis can I understand the justice or acknowledge +the propriety of asking our Lord to abate his wrath in detail, or to +alter his settled purpose. If He be wise, would we change his wisdom? +If He be merciful, would we limit his mercy? There comes upon us some +strange disease, and we bid Him to stay his hand. But the disease, +when it has passed by, has taught us lessons of cleanliness, which no +master less stern would have made acceptable. A famine strikes us, +and we again beg that that hand may be stayed;—beg as the Greeks +were said to beg when they thought that the anger of Phœbus was +hot against them because his priest had been dishonoured. We so beg, +thinking that God's anger is hot also against us. But, lo! the famine +passes by, and a land that had been brought to the dust by man's +folly is once more prosperous and happy.</p> + +<p>If this was ever so in the world's history, it was so in Ireland at +the time of which I am speaking. The country, especially in the south +and west, had been brought to a terrible pass;—not as so many said +and do say, by the idolatry of popery, or by the sedition of +demagogues, or even mainly by the idleness of the people. The +idolatry of popery, to my way of thinking, is bad; though not so bad +in Ireland as in most other Papist countries that I have visited. +Sedition also is bad; but in Ireland, in late years, it has not been +deep-seated—as may have been noted at Ballingarry and other places, +where endeavour was made to bring sedition to its proof. And as for +the idleness of Ireland's people, I am inclined to think they will +work under the same compulsion and same persuasion which produce work +in other countries.</p> + +<p>The fault had been the lowness of education and consequent want of +principle among the middle classes; and this fault had been found as +strongly marked among the Protestants as it had been among the Roman +Catholics. Young men were brought up to do nothing. Property was +regarded as having no duties attached to it. Men became rapacious, +and determined to extract the uttermost farthing out of the land +within their power, let the consequences to the people on that land +be what they might.</p> + +<p>We used to hear much of absentees. It was not the absence of the +absentees that did the damage, but the presence of those they left +behind them on the soil. The scourge of Ireland was the existence of +a class who looked to be gentlemen living on their property, but who +should have earned their bread by the work of their brain, or, +failing that, by the sweat of their brow. There were men to be found +in shoals through the country speaking of their properties and +boasting of their places, but who owned no properties and had no +places when the matter came to be properly sifted.</p> + +<p>Most Englishmen have heard of profit-rent. In Ireland the term is so +common that no man cannot have heard of it. It may, of course, +designate a very becoming sort of income. A man may, for instance, +take a plot of land for one hundred pounds a year, improve and build +on it till it be fairly worth one thousand pounds a year, and thus +enjoy a profit-rent of nine hundred pounds. Nothing can be better or +fairer. But in Ireland the management was very different. Men there +held tracts of ground, very often at their full value, paying for +them such proportion of rent as a farmer could afford to pay in +England and live. But the Irish tenant would by no means consent to +be a farmer. It was needful to him that he should be a gentleman, and +that his sons should be taught to live and amuse themselves as the +sons of gentlemen—barring any such small trifle as education. They +did live in this way; and to enable them to do so, they underlet +their land in small patches, and at an amount of rent to collect +which took the whole labour of their tenants, and the whole produce +of the small patch, over and above the quantity of potatoes +absolutely necessary to keep that tenant's body and soul together.</p> + +<p>And thus a state of things was engendered in Ireland which +discouraged labour, which discouraged improvements in farming, which +discouraged any produce from the land except the potato crop; which +maintained one class of men in what they considered to be the +gentility of idleness, and another class, the people of the country, +in the abjectness of poverty.</p> + +<p>It is with thorough rejoicing, almost with triumph, that I declare +that the idle, genteel class has been cut up root and branch, has +been driven forth out of its holding into the wide world, and has +been punished with the penalty of extermination. The poor cotter +suffered sorely under the famine, and under the pestilence which +followed the famine; but he, as a class, has risen from his bed of +suffering a better man. He is thriving as a labourer either in his +own country or in some newer—for him better—land to which he has +emigrated. He, even in Ireland, can now get eight and nine shillings +a week easier and with more constancy than he could get four some +fifteen years since. But the other man has gone, and his place is +left happily vacant.</p> + +<p>There are an infinite number of smaller bearings in which this +question of the famine, and of agricultural distress in Ireland, may +be regarded, and should be regarded by those who wish to understand +it. The manner in which the Poor Law was first rejected and then +accepted, and then, if one may say so, swallowed whole by the people; +the way in which emigration has affected them; the difference in the +system of labour there from that here, which in former days was so +strong that an agricultural labourer living on his wages and buying +food with them, was a person hardly to be found: all these things +must be regarded by one who would understand the matter. But seeing +that this book of mine is a novel, I have perhaps already written +more on a dry subject than many will read.</p> + +<p>Such having been the state of the country, such its wretchedness, a +merciful God sent the remedy which might avail to arrest it; and +we—we deprecated his wrath. But all this will soon be known and +acknowledged; acknowledged as it is acknowledged that new cities rise +up in splendour from the ashes into which old cities have been +consumed by fire. If this beneficent agency did not from time to time +disencumber our crowded places, we should ever be living in narrow +alleys with stinking gutters, and supply of water at the minimum.</p> + +<p>But very frightful are the flames as they rush through the chambers +of the poor, and very frightful was the course of that violent remedy +which brought Ireland out of its misfortunes. Those who saw its +course, and watched its victims, will not readily forget what they +saw.</p> + +<p>Slowly, gradually, and with a voice that was for a long time +discredited, the news spread itself through the country that the food +of the people was gone. That his own crop was rotten and useless each +cotter quickly knew, and realized the idea that he must work for +wages if he could get them, or else go to the poorhouse. That the +crop of his parish or district was gone became evident to the priest, +and the parson, and the squire; and they realized the idea that they +must fall on other parishes or other districts for support. But it +was long before the fact made itself known that there was no food in +any parish, in any district.</p> + +<p>When this was understood, men certainly did put their shoulders to +the wheel with a great effort. Much abuse at the time was thrown upon +the government; and they who took upon themselves the management of +the relief of the poor in the south-west were taken most severely to +task. I was in the country, travelling always through it, during the +whole period, and I have to say—as I did say at the time with a +voice that was not very audible—that in my opinion the measures of +the government were prompt, wise, and beneficent; and I have to say +also that the efforts of those who managed the poor were, as a rule, +unremitting, honest, impartial, and successful.</p> + +<p>The feeding of four million starving people with food, to be brought +from foreign lands, is not an easy job. No government could bring the +food itself; but by striving to do so it might effectually prevent +such bringing on the part of others. Nor when the food was there, on +the quays, was it easy to put it, in due proportions, into the four +million mouths. Some mouths, and they, alas! the weaker ones, would +remain unfed. But the opportunity was a good one for slashing +philanthropical censure; and then the business of the slashing, +censorious philanthropist is so easy, so exciting, and so pleasant!</p> + +<p>I think that no portion of Ireland suffered more severely during the +famine than the counties Cork and Kerry. The poorest parts were +perhaps the parishes lying back from the sea and near to the +mountains; and in the midst of such a district Desmond Court was +situated. The region immediately round Castle Richmond was perhaps +better. The tenants there had more means at their disposal, and did +not depend so absolutely on the potato crop; but even round Castle +Richmond the distress was very severe.</p> + +<p>Early in the year relief committees were formed, on one of which +young Herbert Fitzgerald agreed to act. His father promised, and was +prepared to give his best assistance, both by money and countenance; +but he pleaded that the state of his health hindered him from active +exertion, and therefore his son came forward in his stead on this +occasion, as it appeared probable that he would do on all others +having reference to the family property.</p> + +<p>This work brought people together who would hardly have met but for +such necessity. The priest and the parson of a parish, men who had +hitherto never been in a room together, and between whom neither had +known anything of the other but the errors of his doctrine, found +themselves fighting for the same object at the same board, and each +for the moment laid aside his religious ferocity. Gentlemen, whose +ancestors had come over with Strongbow, or maybe even with Milesius, +sat cheek by jowl with retired haberdashers, concerting new soup +kitchens, and learning on what smallest modicum of pudding made from +Indian corn a family of seven might be kept alive, and in such +condition that the father at least might be able to stand upright.</p> + +<p>The town of Kanturk was the head-quarters of that circle to which +Herbert Fitzgerald was attached, in which also would have been +included the owner of Desmond Court, had there been an owner of an +age to undertake such work. But the young earl was still under +sixteen, and the property was represented, as far as any +representation was made, by the countess.</p> + +<p>But even in such a work as this, a work which so strongly brought out +what there was of good among the upper classes, there was food for +jealousy and ill will. The name of Owen Fitzgerald at this time did +not stand high in the locality of which we are speaking. Men had +presumed to talk both to him and of him, and he replied to their +censures by scorn. He would not change his mode of living for them, +or allow them to believe that their interference could in any way +operate upon his conduct. He had therefore affected a worse character +for morals than he had perhaps truly deserved, and had thus thrown +off from him all intimacy with many of the families among whom he +lived.</p> + +<p>When, therefore, he had come forward as others had done, offering to +join his brother-magistrates and the clergyman of the district in +their efforts, they had, or he had thought that they had, looked +coldly on him. His property was half way between Kanturk and Mallow; +and when this occurred he turned his shoulder upon the former place, +and professed to act with those whose meetings were held at the +latter town. Thus he became altogether divided from that Castle +Richmond neighbourhood to which he was naturally attached by old +intimacies and family ties.</p> + +<p>It was a hard time this for the poor countess. I have endeavoured to +explain that the position in which she had been left with regard to +money was not at any time a very easy one. She possessed high rank +and the name of a countess, but very little of that wealth which +usually constitutes the chief advantage of such rank and name. But +now such means as had been at her disposal were terribly crippled. +There was no poorer district than that immediately around her, and +none, therefore, in which the poor rates rose to a more fearful +proportion of the rent. The country was, and for that matter still +is, divided, for purposes of poor-law rating, into electoral +districts. In ordinary times a man, or at any rate a lady, may live +and die in his or her own house without much noticing the limits or +peculiarities of each district. In one the rate may be one and a +penny in the pound, in another only a shilling. But the difference is +not large enough to create inquiry. It is divided between the +landlord and the tenant, and neither perhaps thinks much about it. +But when the demand made rises to seventeen or eighteen shillings in +the pound—as was the case in some districts in those days,—when out +of every pound of rent that he paid the tenant claimed to deduct nine +shillings for poor rates, that is, half the amount levied—then a +landlord becomes anxious enough as to the peculiarities of his own +electoral division.</p> + +<p>In the case of Protestant clergymen, the whole rate had to be paid by +the incumbent. A gentleman whose half-yearly rent-charge amounted to +perhaps two hundred pounds might have nine tenths of that sum +deducted from him for poor rates. I have known a case in which the +proportion has been higher than this.</p> + +<p>And then the tenants in such districts began to decline to pay any +rent at all—in very many cases could pay no rent at all. They, too, +depended on the potatoes which were gone; they, too, had been subject +to those dreadful demands for poor rates; and thus a landlord whose +property was in any way embarrassed had but a bad time of it. The +property from which Lady Desmond drew her income had been very much +embarrassed; and for her the times were very bad.</p> + +<p>In such periods of misfortune, a woman has always some friend. Let +her be who she may, some pair of broad shoulders is forthcoming on +which may be laid so much of the burden as is by herself unbearable. +It is the great privilege of womanhood, that which compensates them +for the want of those other privileges which belong exclusively to +manhood—sitting in Parliament, for instance, preaching sermons, and +going on 'Change.</p> + +<p>At this time Lady Desmond would doubtless have chosen the shoulders +of Owen Fitzgerald for the bearing of her burden, had he not turned +against her, as he had done. But now there was no hope of that. Those +broad shoulders had burdens of their own to bear of another sort, and +it was at any rate impossible that he should come to share those of +Desmond Court.</p> + +<p>But a champion was forthcoming; one, indeed, whose shoulders were +less broad; on looking at whose head and brow Lady Desmond could not +forget her years as she had done while Owen Fitzgerald had been near +her;—but a champion, nevertheless, whom she greatly prized. This was +Owen's cousin, Herbert Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," her daughter said to her one evening, as they were sitting +together in the only room which they now inhabited. "Herbert wants us +to go to that place near Kilcommon to-morrow, and says he will send +the car at two. I suppose I can go?"</p> + +<p>There were two things that Lady Desmond noticed in this: first, that +her daughter should have called young Mr. Fitzgerald by his Christian +name; and secondly, that it should have come to that with them, that +a Fitzgerald should send a vehicle for a Desmond, seeing that the +Desmond could no longer provide a vehicle for herself.</p> + +<p>"You could have had the pony-chair, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, mamma; I would not do that." The pony was now the only +quadruped kept for the countess's own behoof; and the young earl's +hunter was the only other horse in the Desmond Court stables. "I +wouldn't do that, mamma; Mary and Emmeline will not mind coming +round."</p> + +<p>"But they will have to come round again to bring you back."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma. Herbert said they wouldn't mind it. We want to see how +they are managing at the new soup kitchen they have there. That one +at Clady is very bad. The boiler won't boil at all."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my dear; only mind you wrap yourself up."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I always do."</p> + +<p>"But, Clara—" and Lady Desmond put on her sweetest, smoothest smile +as she spoke to her daughter.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma."</p> + +<p>"How long have you taken to call young Mr. Fitzgerald by his +Christian name?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I never do, mamma," said Clara, with a blush all over her face; +"not to himself, I mean. You see, Mary and Emmeline are always +talking about him."</p> + +<p>"And therefore you mean always to talk about him also."</p> + +<p>"No, mamma. But one can't help talking about him; he is doing so much +for these poor people. I don't think he ever thinks about anything +else from morning to night. Emmeline says he always goes to it again +after dinner. Don't you think he is very good about it, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear; very good indeed; almost good enough to be called +Herbert."</p> + +<p>"But I don't call him so; you know I don't," protested Clara, very +energetically.</p> + +<p>"He is very good," continued the countess; "very good indeed. I don't +know what on earth we should do without him. If he were my own son, +he could hardly be more attentive to me."</p> + +<p>"Then I may go with the girls to that place? I always forget the +name."</p> + +<p>"Gortnaclough, you mean."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma. It is all Sir Thomas's property there; and they have got +a regular kitchen, beautifully built, Her—Mr. Fitzgerald says, with +a regular cook. I do wish we could have one at Clady."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald will be here to-morrow morning, and I will talk to +him about it. I fear we have not sufficient funds there."</p> + +<p>"No; that's just it. I do wish I had some money now. You won't mind +if I am not home quite early? We all mean to dine there at the +kitchen. The girls will bring something, and then we can stay out the +whole afternoon."</p> + +<p>"It won't do for you to be out after nightfall, Clara."</p> + +<p>"No, I won't, mamma. They did want me to go home with them to Castle +Richmond for to-morrow night; but I declined that," and Clara uttered +a slight sigh, as though she had declined something that would have +been very pleasant to her.</p> + +<p>"And why did you decline it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. I didn't know whether you would like it; and +<span class="nowrap">besides—"</span></p> + +<p>"Besides what?"</p> + +<p>"You'd be here all alone, mamma."</p> + +<p>The countess got up from her chair and coming over to the place where +her daughter was sitting, kissed her on her forehead. "In such a +matter as that, I don't want you to think of me, my dear. I would +rather you went out. I must remain here in this horrid, dull, +wretched place; but that is no reason why you should be buried alive. +I would much rather that you went out sometimes."</p> + +<p>"No, mamma; I will remain with you."</p> + +<p>"It will be quite right that you should go to Castle Richmond +to-morrow. If they send their carriage round here for +<span class="nowrap">you—"</span></p> + +<p>"It'll only be the car."</p> + +<p>"Well, the car; and if the girls come all that way out of their road +in the morning to pick you up, it will be only civil that you should +go back by Castle Richmond, and you would enjoy an evening there with +the girls very much."</p> + +<p>"But I said decidedly that I would not go."</p> + +<p>"Tell them to-morrow as decidedly that you have changed your mind, +and will be delighted to accept their invitation. They will +understand that it is because you have spoken to me."</p> + +<p>"But, mamma—"</p> + +<p>"You will like going; will you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I shall like it."</p> + +<p>And so that matter was settled. On the whole, Lady Desmond was +inclined to admit within her own heart that her daughter had behaved +very well in that matter of the banishment of Owen Fitzgerald. She +knew that Clara had never seen him, and had refused to open his +letters. Very little had been said upon the subject between the +mother and daughter. Once or twice Owen's name had been mentioned; +and once, when it had been mentioned, with heavy blame on account of +his alleged sins, Clara had ventured to take his part.</p> + +<p>"People delight to say ill-natured things," she had said; "but one is +not obliged to believe them all."</p> + +<p>From that time Lady Desmond had never mentioned his name, rightly +judging that Clara would be more likely to condemn him in her own +heart if she did not hear him condemned by others: and so the mother +and daughter had gone on, as though the former had lost no friend, +and the latter had lost no lover.</p> + +<p>For some time after the love adventure, Clara had been pale and +drooping, and the countess had been frightened about her; but +latterly she had got over this. The misfortune which had fallen so +heavily upon them all seemed to have done her good. She had devoted +herself from the first to do her little quota of work towards +lessening the suffering around her, and the effort had been salutary +to her.</p> + +<p>Whether or no in her heart of hearts she did still think of Owen +Fitzgerald, her mother was unable to surmise. From the fire which had +flashed from her eyes on that day when she accused the world of +saying ill-natured things of him, Lady Desmond had been sure that +such was the case. But she had never ventured to probe her child's +heart. She had given very little confidence to Clara, and could not, +therefore, and did not expect confidence in return.</p> + +<p>Nor was Clara a girl likely in such a matter to bestow confidence on +any one. She was one who could hold her heart full, and yet not speak +of her heart's fulness. Her mother had called her a child, and in +some respects she then was so; but this childishness had been caused, +not by lack of mental power, but want of that conversation with +others which is customary to girls of her age. This want had in some +respects made her childish; for it hindered her from expressing +herself in firm tones, and caused her to blush and hesitate when she +spoke. But in some respects it had the opposite effect, and made her +older than her age, for she was thoughtful, silent, and patient of +endurance.</p> + +<p>Latterly, since this dreary famine-time had come upon them, an +intimacy had sprung up between Clara and the Castle Richmond girls, +and in a measure, too, between Clara and Herbert Fitzgerald. Lady +Desmond had seen this with great pleasure. Though she had objected to +Owen Fitzgerald for her daughter, she had no objection to the +Fitzgerald name. Herbert was his father's only son, and heir to the +finest property in the county—at any rate, to the property which at +present was the best circumstanced. Owen Fitzgerald could never be +more than a little squire, but Herbert would be a baronet. Owen's +utmost ambition would be to live at Hap House all his life, and die +the oracle of the Duhallow hunt; but Herbert would be a member of +Parliament, with a house in London. A daughter of the house of +Desmond might marry the heir of Sir Thomas Fitzgerald, and be thought +to have done well; whereas, she would disgrace herself by becoming +the mistress of Hap House. Lady Desmond, therefore, had been +delighted to see this intimacy.</p> + +<p>It had been in no spirit of fault-finding that she had remarked to +her daughter as to her use of that Christian name. What would be +better than that they should be to each other as Herbert and Clara? +But the cautious mother had known how easy it would be to frighten +her timid fawn-like child. It was no time, no time as yet, to +question her heart about this second lover—if lover he might be. The +countess was much too subtle in her way to frighten her child's heart +back to its old passion. That passion doubtless would die from want +of food. Let it be starved and die; and then this other new passion +might spring up.</p> + +<p>The Countess of Desmond had no idea that her daughter, with severe +self-questioning, had taken her own heart to task about this former +lover; had argued with herself that the man who could so sin, could +live such a life, and so live in these fearful times, was unworthy of +her love, and must be torn out of her heart, let the cost be what it +might. Of such high resolves on her daughter's part, nay, on the part +of any young girl, Lady Desmond had no knowledge.</p> + +<p>Clara Desmond had determined, slowly determined, to give up the man +whom she had owned to love. She had determined that duty and female +dignity required her to do so. And in this manner it had been done; +not by the childlike forgetfulness which her mother attributed to +her.</p> + +<p>And so it was arranged that she should stay the following night at +Castle Richmond.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-8" id="c-8"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> +<h4>GORTNACLOUGH AND BERRYHILL.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>And now at last we will get to Castle Richmond, at which place, +seeing that it gives the title to our novel, we ought to have arrived +long since.</p> + +<p>As had been before arranged, the two Miss Fitzgeralds did call at +Desmond Court early on the following day, and were delighted at being +informed by Lady Desmond that Clara had changed her mind, and would, +if they would now allow her, stay the night at Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>"The truth was, she did not like to leave me," said the countess, +whispering prettily into the ear of the eldest of the two girls; "but +I am delighted that she should have an opportunity of getting out of +this dull place for a few hours. It was so good of you to think of +her."</p> + +<p>Miss Fitzgerald made some civil answer, and away they all went. +Herbert was on horseback, and remained some minutes after them to +discuss her own difficulties with the countess, and to say a few +words about that Clady boiler that would not boil. Clara on this +subject had opened her heart to him, and he had resolved that the +boiler should be made to boil. So he said that he would go over and +look at it, resolving also to send that which would be much more +efficacious than himself, namely, the necessary means and workmen for +bringing about so desirable a result. And then he rode after the +girls, and caught the car just as it reached Gortnaclough.</p> + +<p>How they all spent their day at the soup kitchen, which however, +though so called, partook quite as much of the character of a +bake-house; how they studied the art of making yellow Indian meal +into puddings; how the girls wanted to add milk and sugar, not +understanding at first the deep principles of political economy, +which soon taught them not to waste on the comforts of a few that +which was so necessary for the life of many; how the poor women +brought in their sick ailing children, accepting the proffered food, +but bitterly complaining of it as they took it,—complaining of it +because they wanted money, with which they still thought that they +could buy potatoes—all this need not here or now be described. Our +present business is to get them all back to Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>There had been some talk of their dining at Gortnaclough, because it +was known that the ladies at Desmond Court dined early; but now that +Clara was to return to Castle Richmond, that idea was given up, and +they all got back to the house in time for the family dinner.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," said Emmeline, walking first into the drawing-room, "Lady +Clara has come back with us after all, and is going to stay here +to-night; we are so glad."</p> + +<p>Lady Fitzgerald got up from her sofa, and welcomed her young guest +with a kiss.</p> + +<p>"It is very good of you to come," she said; "very good indeed. You +won't find it dull, I hope, because I know you are thinking about the +same thing as these children."</p> + +<p>Lady Clara muttered some sort of indistinct little protest as to the +impossibility of being dull with her present friends.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she's as full of corn meal and pints of soup as any one," said +Emmeline; "and knows exactly how much turf it takes to boil fifteen +stone of pudding; don't you, Clara? But come up-stairs, for we +haven't long, and I know you are frozen. You must dress with us, +dear; for there will be no fire in your own room, as we didn't expect +you."</p> + +<p>"I wish we could get them to like it," said Clara, standing with one +foot on the fender, in the middle of the process of dressing, so as +to warm her toes; and her friend Emmeline was standing by her, with +her arm round her waist.</p> + +<p>"I don't think we shall ever do that," said Mary, who was sitting at +the glass brushing her hair; "it's so cold, and heavy, and +uncomfortable when they get it."</p> + +<p>"You see," said Emmeline, "though they did only have potatoes before, +they always had them quite warm; and though a dinner of potatoes +seems very poor, they did have it altogether, in their own houses, +you know; and I think the very cooking it was some comfort to them."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose they couldn't be taught to cook this themselves, so as +to make it comfortable in their own cabins?" said Clara, +despondingly.</p> + +<p>"Herbert says it's impossible," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"And I'm sure he knows," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"They would waste more than they would eat," said Emmeline. "Besides, +it is so hard to cook it as it should be cooked; sometimes it seems +impossible to make it soft."</p> + +<p>"So it does," said Clara, sadly; "but if we could only have it hot +for them when they come for it, wouldn't that be better?"</p> + +<p>"The great thing is to have it for them at all," said Mary the wise +(for she had been studying the matter more deeply than her friend); +"there are so many who as yet get none."</p> + +<p>"Herbert says that the millers will grind up the husks and all at the +mills, so as to make the most of it; that's what makes it so hard to +cook," said Emmeline.</p> + +<p>"How very wrong of them!" protested Clara; "but isn't Herbert going +to have a mill put up of his own?"</p> + +<p>And so they went on, till I fear they kept the Castle Richmond dinner +waiting for full fifteen minutes.</p> + +<p>Castle Richmond, too, would have been a dull house, as Lady +Fitzgerald had intimated, had it not been that there was a common +subject of such vital interest to the whole party. On that subject +they were all intent, and on that subject they talked the whole +evening, planning, preparing, and laying out schemes; devising how +their money might be made to go furthest; discussing deep questions +of political economy, and making, no doubt, many errors in their +discussions.</p> + +<p>Lady Fitzgerald took a part in all this, and so occasionally did Sir +Thomas. Indeed, on this evening he was more active than was usual +with him. He got up from his arm-chair, and came to the table, in +order that he might pore over the map of the estate with them; for +they were dividing the property into districts, and seeing how best +the poor might be visited in their own localities.</p> + +<p>And then, as he did so, he became liberal. Liberal, indeed, he always +was; but now he made offers of assistance more than his son had dared +to ask; and they were all busy, contented, and in a great degree +joyous—joyous, though their work arose from the contiguity of such +infinite misery. But what can ever be more joyous than efforts made +for lessening misery?</p> + +<p>During all this time Miss Letty was fast asleep in her own arm-chair. +But let no one on that account accuse her of a hard heart; for she +had nearly walked her old legs off that day in going about from cabin +to cabin round the demesne.</p> + +<p>"But we must consult Somers about that mill," said Sir Thomas.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course," said Herbert; "I know how to talk Somers over."</p> + +<p>This was added <i>sotto voce</i> to his mother and the girls. Now Mr. +Somers was the agent on the estate.</p> + +<p>This mill was to be at Berryhill, a spot also on Sir Thomas's +property, but in a different direction from Gortnaclough. There was +there what the Americans would call a water privilege, a stream to +which some fall of land just there gave power enough to turn a mill; +and was now a question how they might utilize that power.</p> + +<p>During the day just past Clara had been with them, but they were now +talking of what they would do when she would have left them. This +created some little feeling of awkwardness, for Clara had put her +whole heart into the work at Gortnaclough, and it was evident that +she would have been so delighted to continue with them.</p> + +<p>"But why on earth need you go home to-morrow, Lady Clara?" said +Herbert.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I must; mamma expects me, you know."</p> + +<p>"Of course we should send word. Indeed, I must send to Clady +to-morrow, and the man must pass by Desmond Court gate."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, Clara; and you can write a line. It would be such a pity +that you should not see all about the mill, now that we have talked +it over together. Do tell her to stay, mamma."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I wish she would," said Lady Fitzgerald. "Could not Lady +Desmond manage to spare you for one day?"</p> + +<p>"She is all alone, you know," said Clara, whose heart, however, was +bent on accepting the invitation.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she would come over and join us," said Lady Fitzgerald, +feeling, however, that the subject was not without danger. Sending a +carriage for a young girl like Lady Clara did very well, but it might +not answer if she were to offer to send for the Countess of Desmond.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma never goes out."</p> + +<p>"I'm quite sure she'd like you to stay," said Herbert. "After you +were all gone yesterday, she said how delighted she was to have you +go away for a little time. And she did say she thought you could not +go to a better place than Castle Richmond."</p> + +<p>"I am sure that was very kind of her," said Lady Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>"Did she?" said Clara, longingly.</p> + +<p>And so after a while it was settled that she should send a line to +her mother, saying that she had been persuaded to stay over one other +night, and that she should accompany them to inspect the site of this +embryo mill at Berryhill.</p> + +<p>"And I will write a line to the countess," said Lady Fitzgerald, +"telling her how impossible it was for you to hold your own intention +when we were all attacking you on the other side."</p> + +<p>And so the matter was settled.</p> + +<p>On the following day they were to leave home almost immediately after +breakfast; and on this occasion Miss Letty insisted on going with +them.</p> + +<p>"There's a seat on the car, I know, Herbert," she said; "for you mean +to ride; and I'm just as much interested about the mill as any of +you."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid the day would be too long for you, Aunt Letty," said +Mary: "we shall stay there, you know, till after four."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit too long. When I'm tired I shall go into Mrs. Townsend's; +the glebe is not ten minutes' drive from Berryhill."</p> + +<p>The Rev. Æneas Townsend was the rector of the parish, and he, as well +as his wife, were fast friends of Aunt Letty. As we get on in the +story we shall, I trust, become acquainted with the Rev. Æneas +Townsend and his wife. It was ultimately found that there was no +getting rid of Aunt Letty, and so the party was made up.</p> + +<p>They were all standing about the hall after breakfast, looking up +their shawls and cloaks and coats, and Herbert was in the act of +taking special and very suspicious care of Lady Clara's throat, when +there came a ring at the door. The visitor, whoever he might be, was +not kept long waiting, for one servant was in the hall, and another +just outside the front door with the car, and a third holding +Herbert's horse.</p> + +<p>"I wish to see Sir Thomas," said a man's voice as soon as the door +was opened; and the man entered the hall, and then seeing that it was +full of ladies, retreated again into the doorway. He was an elderly +man, dressed almost more than well, for there was about him a slight +affectation of dandyism; and though he had for the moment been +abashed, there was about him also a slight swagger. "Good morning, +ladies," he said, re-entering again, and bowing to young Herbert, who +stood looking at him; "I believe Sir Thomas is at home; would you +send your servant in to say that a gentleman wants to see him for a +minute or so, on very particular business? I am a little in a hurry +like."</p> + +<p>The door of the drawing-room was ajar, so that Lady Fitzgerald, who +was sitting there tranquilly in her own seat, could hear the voice. +And she did hear it, and knew that some stranger had come to trouble +her husband. But she did not come forth; why should she? was not +Herbert there—if, indeed, even Herbert could be of any service?</p> + +<p>"Shall I take your card in to Sir Thomas, sir?" said one of the +servants, coming forward.</p> + +<p>"Card!" said Mollett senior out loud; "well, if it is necessary, I +believe I have a card." And he took from his pocket a greasy +pocket-book, and extracted from it a piece of pasteboard on which his +name was written. "There; give that to Sir Thomas. I don't think +there's much doubt but that he'll see me." And then, uninvited, he +sat himself down in one of the hall chairs.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas's study, the room in which he himself sat, and in which +indeed he might almost be said to live at present,—for on many days +he only came out to dine, and then again to go to bed,—was at some +little distance to the back of the house, and was approached by a +passage from the hall. While the servant was gone, the ladies +finished their wrapping, and got up on the car.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald," said Clara, laughing, "I shan't be able to +breathe with all that on me."</p> + +<p>"Look at Mary and Emmeline," said he; "they have got twice as much. +You don't know how cold it is."</p> + +<p>"You had better have the fur close to your body," said Aunt Letty; +"look here;" and she showed that her gloves were lined with fur, and +her boots, and that she had gotten some nondescript furry article of +attire stuck in underneath the body of her dress.</p> + +<p>"But you must let me have them a little looser, Mr. Fitzgerald," said +Clara; "there, that will do," and then they all got upon the car and +started. Herbert was perhaps two minutes after them before he +mounted; but when he left the hall the man was still sitting there; +for the servant had not yet come back from his father's room.</p> + +<p>But the clatter of his horse's hoofs was still distinct enough at the +hall door when the servant did come back, and in a serious tone +desired the stranger to follow him. "Sir Thomas will see you," said +the servant, putting some stress on the word will.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I did not doubt that the least in the world," said Mr. Mollett, +as he followed the man along the passage.</p> + +<p>The morning was very cold. There had been rainy weather, but it now +appeared to be a settled frost. The roads were rough and hard, and +the man who was driving them said a word now and again to his young +master as to the expediency of getting frost nails put into the +horse's shoes. "I'd better go gently, Mr. Herbert; it may be he might +come down at some of these pitches." So they did go gently, and at +last arrived safely at Berryhill.</p> + +<p>And very busy they were there all day. The inspection of the site for +the mill was not their only employment. Here also was an +establishment for distributing food, and a crowd of poor half-fed +wretches were there to meet them. Not that at that time things were +so bad as they became afterwards. Men were not dying on the +road-side, nor as yet had the apathy of want produced its terrible +cure for the agony of hunger. The time had not yet come when the +famished living skeletons might be seen to reject the food which +could no longer serve to prolong their lives.</p> + +<p>Though this had not come as yet, the complaints of the women with +their throngs of children were bitter enough; and it was +heart-breaking too to hear the men declare that they had worked like +horses, and that it was hard upon them now to see their children +starve like dogs. For in this earlier part of the famine the people +did not seem to realize the fact that this scarcity and want had come +from God. Though they saw the potatoes rotting in their own gardens, +under their own eyes, they still seemed to think that the rich men of +the land could stay the famine if they would; that the fault was with +them; that the famine could be put down if the rich would but stir +themselves to do it. Before it was over they were well aware that no +human power could suffice to put it down. Nay, more than that; they +had almost begun to doubt the power of God to bring back better days.</p> + +<p>They strove, and toiled, and planned, and hoped at Berryhill that +day. And infinite was the good that was done by such efforts as +these. That they could not hinder God's work we all know; but much +they did do to lessen the sufferings around, and many were the lives +that were thus saved.</p> + +<p>They were all standing behind the counter of a small store that had +been hired in the village—the three girls at least, for Aunt Letty +had already gone to the glebe, and Herbert was still down at the +"water privilege," talking to a millwright and a carpenter. This was +a place at which Indian corn flour, that which after a while was +generally termed "meal" in those famine days, was sold to the poor. +At this period much of it was absolutely given away. This plan, +however, was soon found to be injurious; for hundreds would get it +who were not absolutely in want, and would then sell it;—for the +famine by no means improved the morals of the people.</p> + +<p>And therefore it was found better to sell the flour; to sell it at a +cheap rate, considerably less sometimes than the cost price; and to +put the means of buying it into the hands of the people by giving +them work, and paying them wages. Towards the end of these times, +when the full weight of the blow was understood, and the subject had +been in some sort studied, the general rule was thus to sell the meal +at its true price, hindering the exorbitant profit of hucksters by +the use of large stores, and to require that all those who could not +buy it should seek the means of living within the walls of +workhouses. The regular established workhouses,—unions as they were +called,—were not as yet numerous, but supernumerary houses were +provided in every town, and were crowded from the cellars to the +roofs.</p> + +<p>It need hardly be explained that no general rule could be established +and acted upon at once. The numbers to be dealt with were so great, +that the exceptions to all rules were overwhelming. But such and such +like were the efforts made, and these efforts ultimately were +successful.</p> + +<p>The three girls were standing behind the counter of a little store +which Sir Thomas had hired at Berryhill, when a woman came into the +place with two children in her arms and followed by four others of +different ages. She was a gaunt tall creature, with sunken cheeks and +hollow eyes, and her clothes hung about her in unintelligible rags. +There was a crowd before the counter, for those who had been answered +or served stood staring at the three ladies, and could hardly be got +to go away; but this woman pressed her way through, pushing some and +using harsh language to others, till she stood immediately opposite +to Clara.</p> + +<p>"Look at that, madam," she cried, undoing an old handkerchief which +she held in her hand, and displaying the contents on the counter; "is +that what the likes of you calls food for poor people? is that fit +'ating to give to children? Would any av ye put such stuff as that +into the stomachs of your own bairns?" and she pointed to the mess +which lay revealed upon the handkerchief.</p> + +<p>The food, as food, was not nice to look at; and could not have been +nice to eat, or probably easy of digestion when eaten.</p> + +<p>"Feel of that." And the woman rubbed her forefinger among it to show +that it was rough and hard, and that the particles were as sharp as +though sand had been mixed with it. The stuff was half-boiled Indian +meal, which had been improperly subjected at first to the full heat +of boiling water; and in its present state was bad food either for +children or grown people. "Feel of that," said the woman; "would you +like to be 'ating that yourself now?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think you have cooked it quite enough," said Clara, looking +into the woman's face, half with fear and half with pity, and +putting, as she spoke, her pretty delicate finger down into the nasty +daubed mess of parboiled yellow flour.</p> + +<p>"Cooked it!" said the woman scornfully. "All the cooking on 'arth +wouldn't make food of that fit for a Christian—feel of the roughness +of it"—and she turned to another woman who stood near her; "would +you like to be putting sharp points like that into your children's +bellies?"</p> + +<p>It was quite true that the grains of it were hard and sharp, so as to +give one an idea that it would make good eating neither for women nor +children. The millers and dealers, who of course made their profits +in these times, did frequently grind up the whole corn without +separating the grain from the husks, and the shell of a grain of +Indian corn does not, when ground, become soft flour. This woman had +reason for her complaints, as had many thousands reason for similar +complaints.</p> + +<p>"Don't be throubling the ladies, Kitty," said an old man standing by; +"sure and weren't you glad enough to be getting it."</p> + +<p>"She'd be axing the ladies to go home wid her and cook it for her +after giving it her," said another.</p> + +<p>"Who says it war guv' me?" said the angry mother. "Didn't I buy it, +here at this counter, with Mike's own hard-'arned money? and it's +chaiting us they are. Give me back my money." And she looked at Clara +as though she meant to attack her across the counter.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald is going to put up a mill of his own, and then the +corn will be better ground," said Emmeline Fitzgerald, deprecating +the woman's wrath.</p> + +<p>"Put up a mill!" said the woman, still in scorn. "Are you going to +give me back my money; or food that my poor bairns can ate?"</p> + +<p>This individual little difficulty was ended by a donation to the +angry woman of another lot of meal, in taking away which she was +careful not to leave behind her the mess which she had brought in her +handkerchief. But she expressed no thanks on being so treated.</p> + +<p>The hardest burden which had to be borne by those who exerted +themselves at this period was the ingratitude of the poor for whom +they worked;—or rather I should say thanklessness. To call them +ungrateful would imply too deep a reproach, for their convictions +were that they were being ill used by the upper classes. When they +received bad meal which they could not cook, and even in their +extreme hunger could hardly eat half-cooked; when they were desired +to leave their cabins and gardens, and flock into the wretched +barracks which were prepared for them; when they saw their children +wasting away under a suddenly altered system of diet, it would have +been unreasonable to expect that they should have been grateful. +Grateful for what? Had they not at any rate a right to claim life, to +demand food that should keep them and their young ones alive? But not +the less was it a hard task for delicate women to work hard, and to +feel that all their work was unappreciated by those whom they so +thoroughly commiserated, whose sufferings they were so anxious to +relieve.</p> + +<p>It was almost dark before they left Berryhill, and then they had to +go out of their way to pick up Aunt Letty at Mr. Townsend's house.</p> + +<p>"Don't go in whatever you do, girls," said Herbert; "we should never +get away."</p> + +<p>"Indeed we won't unpack ourselves again before we get home; will we, +Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope not. I'm very nice now, and so warm. But, Mr. Fitzgerald, +is not Mrs. Townsend very queer?"</p> + +<p>"Very queer indeed. But you mustn't say a word about her before Aunt +Letty. They are sworn brothers-in-arms."</p> + +<p>"I won't of course. But, Mr. Fitzgerald, she's very good, is she +not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, in her way. Only it's a pity she's so prejudiced."</p> + +<p>"You mean about religion?"</p> + +<p>"I mean about everything. If she wears a bonnet on her head, she'll +think you very wicked because you wear a hat."</p> + +<p>"Will she? what a very funny woman! But, Mr. Fitzgerald, I shan't +give up my hat, let her say what she will."</p> + +<p>"I should rather think not."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Townsend? we know him a little; he's very good too, isn't +he?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean me to answer you truly, or to answer you according to +the good-natured idea of never saying any ill of one's neighbour?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, both; if you can."</p> + +<p>"Oh both; must I? Well, then, I think him good as a man, but bad as a +clergyman."</p> + +<p>"But I thought he worked so very hard as a clergyman?"</p> + +<p>"So he does. But if he works evil rather than good, you can't call +him a good clergyman. Mind, you would have my opinion; and if I talk +treason and heterodoxy and infidelity and papistry, you must only +take it for what it's worth."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you won't talk infidelity."</p> + +<p>"Nor yet treason; and then, moreover, Mr. Townsend would be so much +better a clergyman, to my way of thinking, if he would sometimes +brush his hair, and occasionally put on a clean surplice. But, +remember, not a word of all this to Aunt Letty."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no; of course not."</p> + +<p>Mr. Townsend did come out of the house on the little sweep before the +door to help Miss Letty up on the car, though it was dark and +piercingly cold.</p> + +<p>"Well, young ladies, and won't you come in now and warm yourselves?"</p> + +<p>They all of course deprecated any such idea, and declared that they +were already much too late.</p> + +<p>"Richard, mind you take care going down Ballydahan Hill," said the +parson, giving a not unnecessary caution to the servant. "I came up +it just now, and it was one sheet of ice."</p> + +<p>"Now, Richard, do be careful," said Miss Letty.</p> + +<p>"Never fear, miss," said Richard.</p> + +<p>"We'll take care of you," said Herbert. "You're not frightened, Lady +Clara, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Clara; and so they started.</p> + +<p>It was quite dark and very cold, and there was a sharp hard frost. +But the lamps of the car were lighted, and the horse seemed to be on +his mettle, for he did his work well. Ballydahan Hill was not above a +mile from the glebe, and descending that, Richard, by his young +master's orders, got down from his seat and went to the animal's +head. Herbert also himself got off, and led his horse down the hill. +At first the girls were a little inclined to be frightened, and Miss +Letty found herself obliged to remind them that they couldn't melt +the frost by screaming. But they all got safely down, and were soon +chattering as fast as though they were already safe in the +drawing-room of Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>They went on without any accident, till they reached a turn in the +road, about two miles from home; and there, all in a moment, quite +suddenly, when nobody was thinking about the frost or the danger, +down came the poor horse on his side, his feet having gone quite from +under him, and a dreadful cracking sound of broken timber gave notice +that a shaft was smashed. A shaft at least was smashed; if only no +other harm was done!</p> + +<p>It can hardly be that Herbert Fitzgerald cared more for such a +stranger as Lady Clara Desmond than he did for his own sisters and +aunt; but nevertheless, it was to Lady Clara's assistance that he +first betook himself. Perhaps he had seen, or fancied that he saw, +that she had fallen with the greatest violence.</p> + +<p>"Speak, speak," said he, as he jumped from his horse close to her +side. "Are you hurt? do speak to me." And going down on his knees on +the hard ground, he essayed to lift her in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, oh dear!" said she. "No; I am not hurt; at least I think +not—only just my arm a very little. Where is Emmeline? Is Emmeline +hurt?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Emmeline, picking herself up. "But, oh dear, dear, I've +lost my muff, and I've spoiled my hat! Where are Mary and Aunt +Letty?"</p> + +<p>After some considerable confusion it was found that nothing was much +damaged except the car, one shaft of which was broken altogether in +two. Lady Clara's arm was bruised and rather sore, but the three +other ladies had altogether escaped. The quantity of clothes that had +been wrapped round them had no doubt enabled them to fall softly.</p> + +<p>"And what about the horse, Richard?" asked young Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>"He didn't come upon his knees at all at all, Master Herbert," said +Richard, scrutinizing the animal's legs with the car lamp in his +hand. "I don't think he's a taste the worse. But the car, Master +Herbert, is clane smashed."</p> + +<p>Such being found to be undoubtedly the fact, there was nothing for it +but that the ladies should walk home. Herbert again forgot that the +age of his aunt imperatively demanded all the assistance that he +could lend her, and with many lamentations that fortune and the frost +should have used her so cruelly, he gave his arm to Clara.</p> + +<p>"But do think of Miss Fitzgerald," said Clara, speaking gently into +his ear.</p> + +<p>"Who? oh, my aunt. Aunt Letty never cares for anybody's arm; she +always prefers walking alone."</p> + +<p>"Fie, Mr. Fitzgerald, fie! It is impossible to believe such an +assertion as that." And yet Clara did seem to believe it; for she +took his proffered arm without further objection.</p> + +<p>It was half-past seven when they reached the hall door, and at that +time they had all forgotten the misfortune of the car in the fun of +the dark frosty walk home. Herbert had found a boy to lead his horse, +and Richard was of course left with the ruins in the road.</p> + +<p>"And how's your arm now?" asked Herbert, tenderly, as they entered in +under the porch.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it does not hurt me hardly at all. I don't mind it in the +least." And then the door was opened for them.</p> + +<p>They all flocked into the hall, and there they were met by Lady +Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma," said Mary, "I know you're quite frightened out of your +life! But there's nothing the matter. The horse tumbled down; but +there's nobody hurt."</p> + +<p>"And we had to walk home from the turn to Ballyclough," said +Emmeline. "But, oh mamma, what's the matter?" They all now looked up +at Lady Fitzgerald, and it was evident enough that something was the +matter; something to be thought of infinitely more than that accident +on the road.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mary, Mary, what is it?" said Aunt Letty, coming forward and +taking hold of her sister-in-law's hand. "Is my brother ill?"</p> + +<p>"Sir Thomas is not very well, and I've been waiting for you so long. +Where's Herbert? I must speak to Herbert." And then the mother and +son left the hall together.</p> + +<p>There was then a silence among the four ladies that were left there +standing. At first they followed each other into the drawing-room, +all wrapped up as they were and sat on chairs apart, saying nothing +to each other. At last Aunt Letty got up.</p> + +<p>"You had better go up-stairs with Lady Clara," said she; "I will go +to your mamma."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Aunt Letty, do send us word; pray send us word," said Emmeline.</p> + +<p>Mary now began to cry. "I know he's very ill. I'm sure he's very ill. +Oh, what shall we do?"</p> + +<p>"You had better go up stairs with Lady Clara," said Aunt Letty. "I +will send you up word immediately."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't mind me; pray don't mind me," said Clara. "Pray, pray, +don't take notice of me;" and she rushed forward, and throwing +herself on her knees before Emmeline, began to kiss her.</p> + +<p>They remained here, heedless of Aunt Letty's advice, for some ten +minutes, and then Herbert came to them. The two girls flew at him +with questions; while Lady Clara stood by the window, anxious to +learn, but unwilling to thrust herself into their family matters.</p> + +<p>"My father has been much troubled to-day, and is not well," said +Herbert. "But I do not think there is anything to frighten us. Come; +let us go to dinner."</p> + +<p>The going to dinner was but a sorry farce with any of them; but +nevertheless, they went through the ceremony, each for the sake of +the others.</p> + +<p>"Mayn't we see him?" said the girls to their mother, who did come +down into the drawing-room for one moment to speak to Clara.</p> + +<p>"Not to-night, loves. He should not be disturbed." And so that day +came to an end; not satisfactorily.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-9" id="c-9"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> +<h4>FAMILY COUNCILS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>When the girls and Aunt Letty went to their chambers that night, +Herbert returned to his mother's own dressing-room, and there, seated +over the fire with her, discussed the matter of his father's sudden +attack. He had been again with his father, and Sir Thomas had seemed +glad to have him there; but now he had left him for the night.</p> + +<p>"He will sleep now, mother," said the son; "he has taken laudanum."</p> + +<p>"I fear he takes that too often now."</p> + +<p>"It was good for him to have it to-night. He did not get too much, +for I dropped it for him." And then they sat silent for a few moments +together.</p> + +<p>"Mother," said Herbert, "who can this man have been?"</p> + +<p>"I have no knowledge—no idea—no guess even," said Lady Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>"It is that man's visit that has upset him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly. I think there is no doubt of that. I was waiting for +the man to go, and went in almost before he was out of the house."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"And I found your father quite prostrated."</p> + +<p>"Not on the floor?"</p> + +<p>"No, not exactly on the floor. He was still seated on his chair, but +his head was on the table, over his arms."</p> + +<p>"I have often found him in that way, mother."</p> + +<p>"But you never saw him looking as he looked this morning, Herbert. +When I went in he was speechless, and he remained so, I should say, +for some minutes."</p> + +<p>"Was he senseless?"</p> + +<p>"No; he knew me well enough, and grasped me by the hand; and when I +would have gone to the bell to ring for assistance, he would not let +me. I thought he would have gone into a fit when I attempted it."</p> + +<p>"And what did you do?"</p> + +<p>"I sat there by him, with his hand in mine, quite quietly. And then +he uttered a long, deep sigh, and—oh, Herbert!"</p> + +<p>"Well, mother?"</p> + +<p>"At last, he burst into a flood of tears, and sobbed and cried like a +child."</p> + +<p>"Mother!"</p> + +<p>"He did, so that it was piteous to see him. But it did him good, for +he was better after it. And all the time he never let go my hand, but +held it and kissed it. And then he took me by the waist, and kissed +me, oh, so often. And all the while his tears were running like the +tears of a girl." And Lady Fitzgerald, as she told the story, could +not herself refrain from weeping.</p> + +<p>"And did he say anything afterwards about this man?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; not at first, that is. Of course I asked him who he was as soon +as I thought he could bear the question. But he turned away, and +merely said that he was a stupid man about some old London business, +and that he should have gone to Prendergast. But when, after a while, +I pressed him, he said that the man's name was Mollett, and that he +had, or pretended to have, some claim upon the city property."</p> + +<p>"A claim on the city property! Why, it's not seven hundred a year +altogether. If any Mollett could run away with it all, that loss +would not affect him like that."</p> + +<p>"So I said, Herbert; not exactly in those words, but trying to +comfort him. He then put it off by declaring that it was the +consciousness of his inability to see any one on business which +affected him so grievously."</p> + +<p>"It was that he said to me."</p> + +<p>"And there may be something in that, Herbert."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but then what should make him so weak, to begin with? If you +remember, mother, he was very well,—more like himself than usual +last night."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I observed it. He seemed to like having Clara Desmond there."</p> + +<p>"Didn't he, mother? I observed that too. But then Clara Desmond is +such a sweet creature." The mother looked at her son as he said this, +but the son did not notice the look. "I do wonder what the real truth +can be," he continued. "Do you think there is anything wrong about +the property in general? About this estate, here?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think that," said the mother, sadly.</p> + +<p>"What can it be then?" But Lady Fitzgerald sat there, and did not +answer the question. "I'll tell you what I will do, mother; I'll go +up to London, and see Prendergast, and consult him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; you mustn't do that. I am wrong to tell you all this, for he +told me to talk to no one. But it would kill me if I didn't speak of +it to you."</p> + +<p>"All the same, mother, I think it would be best to consult +Prendergast."</p> + +<p>"Not yet, Herbert. I dare say Mr. Prendergast may be a very good sort +of man, but we none of us know him. And if, as is very probable, this +is only an affair of health, it would be wrong in you to go to a +stranger. It might <span class="nowrap">look—"</span></p> + +<p>"Look what, mother?"</p> + +<p>"People might think—he, I mean—that you wanted to interfere."</p> + +<p>"But who ought to interfere on his behalf if I don't?"</p> + +<p>"Quite true, dearest; I understand what you mean, and know how good +you are. But perhaps Mr. Prendergast might not. He might think you +<span class="nowrap">wanted—"</span></p> + +<p>"Wanted what, mother? I don't understand you."</p> + +<p>"Wanted to take the things out of your father's hands."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother!"</p> + +<p>"He doesn't know you. And, what is more, I don't think he knows much +of your father. Don't go to him yet." And Herbert promised that he +would not.</p> + +<p>"And you don't think that this man was ever here before?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Well, I rather think he was here once before; many years ago—soon +after you went to school."</p> + +<p>"So long ago as that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; not that I remember him, or, indeed, ever knew of his coming +then, if he did come. But Jones says that she thinks she remembers +him."</p> + +<p>"Did Jones see him now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; she was in the hall as he passed through on his way out. And it +so happened that she let him in and out too when he came before. That +is, if it is the same man."</p> + +<p>"That's very odd."</p> + +<p>"It did not happen here. We were at Tenby for a few weeks in the +summer."</p> + +<p>"I remember; you went there with the girls just when I went back to +school."</p> + +<p>"Jones was with us, and Richard. We had none other of our own +servants. And Jones says that the same man did come then; that he +stayed with your father for an hour or two; and that when he left, +your father was depressed—almost as he was yesterday. I well +remember that. I know that a man did come to him at Tenby; and—oh, +Herbert!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, mother? Speak out at any rate to me."</p> + +<p>"Since that man came to him at Tenby he has never been like what he +was before."</p> + +<p>And then there was more questioning between them about Jones and her +remembrances. It must be explained that Jones was a very old and very +valued servant. She had originally been brought up as a child by Mrs. +Wainwright, in that Dorsetshire parsonage, and had since remained +firm to the fortunes of the young lady, whose maid she had become on +her first marriage. As her mistress had been promoted, so had Jones. +At first she had been Kitty to all the world, now she was Mrs. Jones +to the world at large, Jones to Sir Thomas and her mistress and of +late years to Herbert, and known by all manner of affectionate +sobriquets to the young ladies. Sometimes they would call her Johnny, +and sometimes the Duchess; but doubtless they and Mrs. Jones +thoroughly understood each other. By the whole establishment Mrs. +Jones was held in great respect, and by the younger portion in +extreme awe. Her breakfast and tea she had in a little sitting-room +by herself; but the solitude of this was too tremendous for her to +endure at dinner-time. At that meal she sat at the head of the table +in the servants' hall, though she never troubled herself to carve +anything except puddings and pies, for which she had a great +partiality, and of which she was supposed to be the most undoubted +and severe judge known of anywhere in that part of the country.</p> + +<p>She was supposed by all her brother and sister servants to be a very +Crœsus for wealth; and wondrous tales were told of the money she +had put by. But as she was certainly honest, and supposed to be very +generous to certain poor relations in Dorsetshire, some of these +stories were probably mythic. It was known, however, as a fact, that +two Castle Richmond butlers, one out-door steward, three neighbouring +farmers, and one wickedly ambitious coachman, had endeavoured to +tempt her to matrimony—in vain. "She didn't want none of them," she +told her mistress. "And, what was more, she wouldn't have none of +them." And therefore she remained Mrs. Jones, with brevet rank.</p> + +<p>It seemed, from what Lady Fitzgerald said, that Mrs. Jones's manner +had been somewhat mysterious about this man, Mollett. She had +endeavoured to reassure and comfort her mistress, saying that nothing +would come of it as nothing had come of that other Tenby visit, and +giving it as her counsel that the ladies should allow the whole +matter to pass by without further notice. But at the same time Lady +Fitzgerald had remarked that her manner had been very serious when +she first said that she had seen the man before.</p> + +<p>"Jones," Lady Fitzgerald had said to her, very earnestly, "if you +know more about this man than you are telling me, you are bound to +speak out, and let me know everything."</p> + +<p>"Who—I, my lady? what could I know? Only he do look to me like the +same man, and so I thought it right to say to your ladyship."</p> + +<p>Lady Fitzgerald had seen that there was nothing more to be gained by +cross-questioning, and so she had allowed the matter to drop. But she +was by no means satisfied that this servant whom she so trusted did +not know more than she had told. And then Mrs. Jones had been with +her in those dreadful Dorsetshire days, and an undefined fear began +to creep over her very soul.</p> + +<p>"God bless you, my child!" said Lady Fitzgerald, as her son got up to +leave her. And then she embraced him with more warmth even than was +her wont. "All that we can do at present is to be gentle with him, +and not to encourage people around him to talk of his illness."</p> + +<p>On the next morning Lady Fitzgerald did not come down to breakfast, +but sent her love to Clara, and begged her guest to excuse her on +account of headache. Sir Thomas rarely came in to breakfast, and +therefore his absence was not remarkable. His daughters, however, +went up to see him, as did also his sister; and they all declared +that he was very much better.</p> + +<p>"It was some sudden attack, I suppose?" said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very sudden; he has had the same before," said Herbert. "But +they do not at all affect his intellect or bodily powers. Depression +is, I suppose, the name that the doctors would call it."</p> + +<p>And then at last it became noticeable by them that Lady Clara did not +use her left arm. "Oh, Clara!" said Emmeline, "I see now that you are +hurt. How selfish we have been! Oh dear, oh dear!" And both Emmeline +and Mary immediately surrounded her, examining her arm, and almost +carrying her to the sofa.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it will be much," said Clara. "It's only a little +stiff."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Herbert, what shall we do? Do look here; the inside of her arm +is quite black."</p> + +<p>Herbert, gently touching her hand, did examine the arm, and declared +his opinion that she had received a dreadfully violent blow. Emmeline +proposed to send for a doctor to pronounce whether or no it were +broken. Mary said that she didn't think it was broken, but that she +was sure the patient ought not to be moved that day, or probably for +a week. Aunt Letty, in the mean time, prescribed a cold-water bandage +with great authority, and bounced out of the room to fetch the +necessary linen and basin of water.</p> + +<p>"It's nothing at all," continued Clara. "And indeed I shall go home +to-day; indeed I shall."</p> + +<p>"It might be very bad for your arm that you should be moved," said +Herbert.</p> + +<p>"And your staying here will not be the least trouble to us. We shall +all be so happy to have you; shall we not, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Of course we shall; and so will mamma."</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry to be here now," said Clara, "when I know you are all +in such trouble about Sir Thomas. But as for going, I shall go as +soon as ever you can make it convenient to send me. Indeed I shall." +And so the matter was discussed between them, Aunt Letty in the mean +time binding up the bruised arm with cold-water appliances.</p> + +<p>Lady Clara was quite firm about going, and, therefore, at about +twelve she was sent. I should say taken, for Emmeline insisted on +going with her in the carriage. Herbert would have gone also, but he +felt that he ought not to leave Castle Richmond that day, on account +of his father. But he would certainly ride over, he said, and learn +how her arm was the next morning.</p> + +<p>"And about Clady, you know," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"I will go on to Clady also. I did send a man there yesterday to see +about the flue. It's the flue that's wrong, I know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you; I am so much obliged to you," said Clara. And then +the carriage drove off, and Herbert returned into the morning +sitting-room with his sister Mary.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what it is, Master Herbert," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Well—what is it?"</p> + +<p>"You are going to fall in love with her young ladyship."</p> + +<p>"Am I? Is that all you know about it? And who are you going to fall +in love with pray?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! his young lordship, perhaps; only he ought to be about ten years +older, so that I'm afraid that wouldn't do. But Clara is just the age +for you. It really seems as though it were all prepared ready to your +hand."</p> + +<p>"You girls always do think that those things are ready prepared;" and +so saying, Herbert walked off with great manly dignity to some +retreat among his own books and papers, there to meditate whether +this thing were in truth prepared for him. It certainly was the fact +that the house did seem very blank to him now that Clara was gone; +and that he looked forward with impatience to the visit which it was +so necessary that he should make on the following day to Clady.</p> + +<p>The house at Castle Richmond was very silent and quiet that day. When +Emmeline came back, she and her sister remained together. Nothing had +been said to them about Mollett's visit, and they had no other idea +than that this lowness of spirits on their father's part, to which +they had gradually become accustomed, had become worse and more +dangerous to his health than ever.</p> + +<p>Aunt Letty talked much about it to Herbert, to Lady Fitzgerald, to +Jones, and to her brother, and was quite certain that she had +penetrated to the depth of the whole matter. That nasty city +property, she said, which had come with her grandmother, had always +given the family more trouble than it was worth. Indeed, her +grandmother had been a very troublesome woman altogether; and no +wonder, for though she was a Protestant herself, she had had Papist +relations in Lancashire. She distinctly remembered to have heard that +there was some flaw in the title of that property, and she knew that +it was very hard to get some of the tenants to pay any rent. That she +had always heard. She was quite sure that this man was some person +laying a claim to it, and threatening to prosecute his claim at law. +It was a thousand pities that her brother should allow such a trifle +as this,—for after all it was but a trifle, to fret his spirits and +worry him in this way. But it was the wretched state of his health: +were he once himself again, all such annoyances as that would pass +him by like the wind.</p> + +<p>It must be acknowledged that Aunt Letty's memory in this respect was +not exactly correct; for, as it happened, Sir Thomas held his little +property in the city of London by as firm a tenure as the laws and +customs of his country could give him; and seeing that his income +thence arising came from ground rents near the river, on which +property stood worth some hundreds of thousands, it was not very +probable that his tenants should be in arrear. But what she said had +some effect upon Herbert. He was not quite sure whether this might +not be the cause of his father's grief; and if the story did not have +much effect upon Lady Fitzgerald, at any rate it did as well as any +other to exercise the ingenuity and affection of Aunt Letty.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas passed the whole of that day in his own room; but during a +great portion of the day either his wife, or sister, or son was with +him. They endeavoured not to leave him alone with his own thoughts, +feeling conscious that something preyed upon his mind, though +ignorant as to what that something might be.</p> + +<p>He was quite aware of the nature of their thoughts; perfectly +conscious of the judgment they had formed respecting him. He knew +that he was subjecting himself, in the eyes not only of his own +family but of all those around him, to suspicions which must be +injurious to him, and yet he could not shake off the feeling that +depressed him.</p> + +<p>But at last he did resolve to make an attempt at doing so. For some +time in the evening he was altogether alone, and he then strove to +force his mind to work upon the matter which occupied it,—to arrange +his ideas, and bring himself into a state in which he could make a +resolution. For hours he had sat,—not thinking upon this subject, +for thought is an exertion which requires a combination of ideas and +results in the deducing of conclusions from premises; and no such +effort as that had he hitherto made,—but endeavouring to think while +he allowed the matter of his grief to lie ever before his mind's eye.</p> + +<p>He had said to himself over and over again, that it behoved him to +make some great effort to shake off this incubus that depressed him; +but yet no such effort had hitherto been even attempted. Now at last +he arose and shook himself, and promised to himself that he would be +a man. It might be that the misfortune under which he groaned was +heavy, but let one's sorrow be what it may, there is always a better +and a worse way of meeting it. Let what trouble may fall on a man's +shoulders, a man may always bear it manfully. And are not troubles +when so borne half cured? It is the flinching from pain which makes +pain so painful.</p> + +<p>This truth came home to him as he sat there that day, thinking what +he should do, endeavouring to think in what way he might best turn +himself. But there was this that was especially grievous to him, that +he had no friend whom he might consult in this matter. It was a +sorrow, the cause of which he could not explain to his own family, +and in all other troubles he had sought assistance and looked for +counsel there and there only. He had had one best, steadiest, +dearest, truest counsellor, and now it had come to pass that things +were so placed that in this great trouble he could not go to her.</p> + +<p>And now a friend was so necessary to him! He felt that he was not fit +to judge how he himself should act in this terrible emergency; that +it was absolutely necessary for him that he should allow himself to +be guided by some one else. But to whom should he appeal?</p> + +<p>"He is a cold man," said he to himself, as one name did occur to him, +"very cold, almost unfeeling; but he is honest and just." And then +again he sat and thought. "Yes, he is honest and just; and what +should I want better than honesty and justice?" And then, shuddering +as he resolved, he did resolve that he would send for this honest and +just man. He would send for him; or, perhaps better still, go to him. +At any rate, he would tell him the whole truth of his grief, and then +act as the cold, just man should bid him.</p> + +<p>But he need not do this yet—not quite yet. So at least he said to +himself, falsely. If a man decide with a fixed decision that his +tooth should come out, or his leg be cut off, let the tooth come out +or the leg be cut off on the earliest possible opportunity. It is the +flinching from such pain that is so grievously painful.</p> + +<p>But it was something to have brought his mind to bear with a fixed +purpose upon these things, and to have resolved upon what he would +do, though he still lacked strength to put his resolution immediately +to the proof.</p> + +<p>Then, later in the evening, his son came and sat with him, and he was +able in some sort to declare that the worst of that evil day had +passed from him. "I shall breakfast with you all to-morrow," he said, +and as he spoke a faint smile passed across his face.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I hope you will," said Herbert; "we shall be so delighted: but, +father, do not exert yourself too soon."</p> + +<p>"It will do me good, I think."</p> + +<p>"I am sure it will, if the fatigue be not too much."</p> + +<p>"The truth is, Herbert, I have allowed this feeling to grow upon me +till I have become weak under it. I know that I ought to make an +exertion to throw it off, and it is possible that I may succeed."</p> + +<p>Herbert muttered some few hopeful words, but he found it very +difficult to know what he ought to say. That his father had some +secret he was quite sure; and it is hard to talk to a man about his +secret, without knowing what that secret is.</p> + +<p>"I have allowed myself to fall into a weak state," continued Sir +Thomas, speaking slowly, "while by proper exertion I might have +avoided it."</p> + +<p>"You have been very ill, father," said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have been ill, very ill, certainly. But I do not know that +any doctor could have helped me."</p> + +<p>"Father—"</p> + +<p>"No, Herbert; do not ask me questions; do not inquire; at any rate, +not at present. I will endeavour—now at least I will endeavour—to +do my duty. But do not urge me by questions, or appear to notice me +if I am infirm."</p> + +<p>"But, father,—if we could comfort you?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! if you could. But, never mind, I will endeavour to shake off +this depression. And, Herbert, comfort your mother; do not let her +think much of all this, if it can be helped."</p> + +<p>"But how can it be helped?"</p> + +<p>"And tell her this: there is a matter that troubles my mind."</p> + +<p>"Is it about the property, father?"</p> + +<p>"No—yes; it certainly is about the property in one sense."</p> + +<p>"Then do not heed it; we shall none of us heed it. Who has so good a +right to say so as I?"</p> + +<p>"Bless you, my darling boy! But, Herbert, such things must be +heeded—more or less, you know: but you may tell your mother this, +and perhaps it may comfort her. I have made up my mind to go to +London and to see Prendergast; I will explain the whole of this thing +to him, and as he bids me so will I act."</p> + +<p>This was thought to be satisfactory to a certain extent both by the +mother and son. They would have been better pleased had he opened his +heart to them and told them everything; but that it was clear he +could not bring himself to do. This Mr. Prendergast they had heard +was a good man; and in his present state it was better that he should +seek counsel of any man than allow his sorrow to feed upon himself +alone.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-10" id="c-10"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> +<h4>THE RECTOR OF DRUMBARROW AND HIS WIFE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Herbert Fitzgerald, in speaking of the Rev. Æneas Townsend to Lady +Clara Desmond, had said that in his opinion the reverend gentleman +was a good man, but a bad clergyman. But there were not a few in the +county Cork who would have said just the reverse, and declared him to +be a bad man, but a good clergyman. There were others, indeed, who +knew him well, who would have declared him to be perfect in both +respects, and others again who thought him in both respects to be +very bad. Amidst these great diversities of opinion I will venture on +none of my own, but will attempt to describe him.</p> + +<p>In Ireland stanch Protestantism consists too much in a hatred of +Papistry—in that rather than in a hatred of those errors against +which we Protestants are supposed to protest. Hence the cross—which +should, I presume, be the emblem of salvation to us all—creates a +feeling of dismay and often of disgust instead of love and reverence; +and the very name of a saint savours in Irish Protestant ears of +idolatry, although Irish Protestants on every Sunday profess to +believe in a communion of such. These are the feelings rather than +the opinions of the most Protestant of Irish Protestants, and it is +intelligible that they should have been produced by the close +vicinity of Roman Catholic worship in the minds of men who are +energetic and excitable, but not always discreet or argumentative.</p> + +<p>One of such was Mr. Townsend, and few men carried their Protestant +fervour further than he did. A cross was to him what a red cloth is +supposed to be to a bull; and so averse was he to the intercession of +saints, that he always regarded as a wolf in sheep's clothing a +certain English clergyman who had written to him a letter dated from +the feast of St. Michael and All Angels. On this account Herbert +Fitzgerald took upon himself to say that he regarded him as a bad +clergyman: whereas, most of his Protestant neighbours looked upon +this enthusiasm as his chief excellence.</p> + +<p>And this admiration for him induced his friends to overlook what they +must have acknowledged to be defects in his character. Though he had +a good living—at least, what the laity in speaking of clerical +incomes is generally inclined to call a good living, we will say +amounting in value to four hundred pounds a year—he was always in +debt. This was the more inexcusable as he had no children, and had +some small private means.</p> + +<p>And nobody knew why he was in debt—in which word nobody he himself +must certainly be included. He had no personal expenses of his own; +his wife, though she was a very queer woman, as Lady Clara had said, +could hardly be called an extravagant woman; there was nothing large +or splendid about the way of living at the glebe; anybody who came +there, both he and she were willing to feed as long as they chose to +stay, and a good many in this way they did feed; but they never +invited guests; and as for giving regular fixed dinner-parties, as +parish rectors do in England, no such idea ever crossed the brain of +either Mr. or Mrs. Townsend.</p> + +<p>That they were both charitable all the world admitted; and their +admirers professed that hence arose all their difficulties. But their +charities were of a most indiscreet kind. Money they rarely had to +give, and therefore they would give promises to pay. While their +credit with the butcher and baker was good they would give meat and +bread; and both these functionaries had by this time learned that, +though Mr. Townsend might not be able to pay such bills himself, his +friends would do so, sooner or later, if duly pressed. And therefore +the larder at Drumbarrow Glebe—that was the name of the parish—was +never long empty, and then again it was never long full.</p> + +<p>But neither Mr. nor Mrs. Townsend were content to bestow their +charities without some other object than that of relieving material +wants by their alms. Many infidels, Mr. Townsend argued, had been +made believers by the miracle of the loaves and fishes; and therefore +it was permissible for him to make use of the same means for drawing +over proselytes to the true church. If he could find hungry Papists +and convert them into well-fed Protestants by one and the same +process, he must be doing a double good, he argued;—could by no +possibility be doing an evil.</p> + +<p>Such being the character of Mr. Townsend, it will not be thought +surprising that he should have his warm admirers and his hot +detractors. And they who were inclined to be among the latter were +not slow to add up certain little disagreeable eccentricities among +the list of his faults,—as young Fitzgerald had done in the matter +of the dirty surplices.</p> + +<p>Mr. Townsend's most uncompromising foe for many years had been the +Rev. Bernard M'Carthy, the parish priest for the same parish of +Drumbarrow. Father Bernard, as he was called by his own flock, or +Father Barney, as the Protestants in derision were delighted to name +him, was much more a man of the world than his Protestant colleague. +He did not do half so many absurd things as did Mr. Townsend, and +professed to laugh at what he called the Protestant madness of the +rector. But he also had been an eager, I may also say, a malicious +antagonist. What he called the "souping" system of the Protestant +clergyman stank in his nostrils—that system by which, as he stated, +the most ignorant of men were to be induced to leave their faith by +the hope of soup, or other food. He was as firmly convinced of the +inward, heart-destroying iniquity of the parson as the parson was of +that of the priest. And so these two men had learned to hate each +other. And yet neither of them were bad men.</p> + +<p>I do not wish it to be understood that this sort of feeling always +prevailed in Irish parishes between the priest and the parson even +before the days of the famine. I myself have met a priest at a +parson's table, and have known more than one parish in which the +Protestant and Roman Catholic clergymen lived together on amicable +terms. But such a feeling as that above represented was common, and +was by no means held as proof that the parties themselves were +quarrelsome or malicious. It was a part of their religious +convictions, and who dares to interfere with the religious +convictions of a clergyman?</p> + +<p>On the day but one after that on which the Castle Richmond ladies had +been thrown from their car on the frosty road, Mr. Townsend and +Father Bernard were brought together in an amicable way, or in a way +that was intended to be amicable, for the first time in their lives. +The relief committee for the district in which they both lived was +one and the same, and it was of course well that both should act on +it. When the matter was first arranged, Father Bernard took the bull +by the horns and went there; but Mr. Townsend, hearing this, did not +do so. But now that it had become evident that much work, and for a +long time, would have to be performed at these committees, it was +clear that Mr. Townsend, as a Protestant clergyman, could not remain +away without neglecting his duty. And so, after many mental struggles +and questions of conscience, the parson agreed to meet the priest.</p> + +<p>The point had been very deeply discussed between the rector and his +wife. She had given it as her opinion that priest M'Carthy was pitch, +pitch itself in its blackest turpitude, and as such could not be +touched without defilement. Had not all the Protestant clergymen of +Ireland in a body, or, at any rate, all those who were worth +anything, who could with truth be called Protestant clergymen, had +they not all refused to enter the doors of the National schools +because they could not do so without sharing their ministration there +with papist priests; with priests of the altar of Baal, as Mrs. +Townsend called them? And should they now yield, when, after all, the +assistance needed was only for the body—not for the soul?</p> + +<p>It may be seen from this that the lady's mind was not in its nature +logical; but the extreme absurdity of her arguments, though they did +not ultimately have the desired effect, by no means came home to the +understanding of her husband. He thought that there was a great deal +in what she said, and almost felt that he was yielding to +instigations from the evil one; but public opinion was too strong for +him; public opinion and the innate kindness of his own heart. He felt +that at this very moment he ought to labour specially for the bodies +of these poor people, as at other times he would labour specially for +their souls; and so he yielded.</p> + +<p>"Well," said his wife to him as he got off his car at his own door +after the meeting, "what have you done?" One might have imagined from +her tone of voice and her manner that she expected, or at least hoped +to hear that the priest had been absolutely exterminated and made +away with in the good fight.</p> + +<p>Mr. Townsend made no immediate answer, but proceeded to divest +himself of his rusty outside coat, and to rub up his stiff, grizzled, +bristly, uncombed hair with both his hands, as was his wont when he +was not quite satisfied with the state of things.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he was there?" said Mrs. Townsend.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, he was there. He is never away, I take it, when there is +any talking to be done." Now Mr. Townsend dearly loved to hear +himself talk, but no man was louder against the sins of other +orators. And then he began to ask how many minutes it wanted to +dinner-time.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Townsend knew his ways. She would not have a ghost of a chance +of getting from him a true and substantial account of what had really +passed if she persevered in direct questions to the effect. So she +pretended to drop the matter, and went and fetched her lord's +slippers, the putting on of which constituted his evening toilet; and +then, after some little hurrying inquiry in the kitchen, promised him +his dinner in fifteen minutes.</p> + +<p>"Was Herbert Fitzgerald there?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; he is always there. He's a nice young fellow; a very fine +young fellow; <span class="nowrap">but—"</span></p> + +<p>"But what?"</p> + +<p>"He thinks he understands the Irish Roman Catholics, but he +understands them no more than—than—than this slipper," he said, +having in vain cudgelled his brain for a better comparison.</p> + +<p>"You know what Aunt Letty says about him. She doubts he isn't quite +right, you know."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Townsend by this did not mean to insinuate that Herbert was at +all afflicted in that way which we attempt to designate, when we say +that one of our friends is not all right, and at the same time touch +our heads with our forefinger. She had intended to convey an +impression that the young man's religious ideas were not exactly of +that stanch, true-blue description which she admired.</p> + +<p>"Well, he has just come from Oxford, you know," said Mr. Townsend: +"and at the present moment Oxford is the most dangerous place to +which a young man can be sent."</p> + +<p>"And Sir Thomas would send him there, though I remember telling his +aunt over and over again how it would be." And Mrs. Townsend as she +spoke, shook her head sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to say, you know, that he's absolutely bitten."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know—I understand. When they come to crosses and +candlesticks, the next step to the glory of Mary is a very easy one. +I would sooner send a young man to Rome than to Oxford. At the one he +might be shocked and disgusted; but at the other he is cajoled, and +cheated, and ruined." And then Mrs. Townsend threw herself back in +her chair, and threw her eyes up towards the ceiling.</p> + +<p>But there was no hypocrisy or pretence in this expression of her +feelings. She did in her heart of hearts believe that there was some +college or club of papists at Oxford, emissaries of the Pope or of +the Jesuits. In her moments of sterner thought the latter were the +enemies she most feared; whereas, when she was simply pervaded by her +usual chronic hatred of the Irish Roman Catholic hierarchy, she was +wont to inveigh most against the Pope. And this college, she +maintained, was fearfully successful in drawing away the souls of +young English students. Indeed, at Oxford a man had no chance against +the devil. Things were better at Cambridge; though even there there +was great danger. Look at <span class="nowrap">A——</span> +and <span class="nowrap">Z——</span>; and she would name two +perverts to the Church of Rome, of whom she had learned that they +were Cambridge men. But, thank God, Trinity College still stood firm. +Her idea was, that if there were left any real Protestant truth in +the Church of England, that Church should look to feed her lambs by +the hands of shepherds chosen from that seminary, and from that +seminary only.</p> + +<p>"But isn't dinner nearly ready?" said Mr. Townsend, whose ideas were +not so exclusively Protestant as were those of his wife. "I haven't +had a morsel since breakfast." And then his wife, who was peculiarly +anxious to keep him in a good humour that all might come out about +Father Barney, made another little visit to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>At last the dinner was served. The weather was very cold, and the +rector and his wife considered it more cosy to use only the parlour, +and not to migrate into the cold air of a second room. Indeed, during +the winter months the drawing-room of Drumbarrow Glebe was only used +for visitors, and for visitors who were not intimate enough in the +house to be placed upon the worn chairs and threadbare carpet of the +dining-parlour. And very cold was that drawing-room found to be by +each visitor.</p> + +<p>But the parlour was warm enough; warm and cosy, though perhaps at +times a little close; and of evenings there would pervade it a smell +of whisky punch, not altogether acceptable to unaccustomed nostrils. +Not that the rector of Drumbarrow was by any means an intemperate +man. His single tumbler of whisky toddy, repeated only on Sundays and +some other rare occasions, would by no means equal, in point of +drinking, the ordinary port of an ordinary English clergyman. But +whisky punch does leave behind a savour of its intrinsic virtues, +delightful no doubt to those who have imbibed its grosser elements, +but not equally acceptable to others who may have been less +fortunate.</p> + +<p>During dinner there was no conversation about Herbert Fitzgerald, or +the committee, or Father Barney. The old gardener, who waited at +table with all his garden clothes on him, and whom the neighbours, +with respectful deference, called Mr. Townsend's butler, was a Roman +Catholic; as, indeed, were all the servants at the glebe, and as are, +necessarily, all the native servants in that part of the country. And +though Mr. and Mrs. Townsend put great trust in their servant Jerry +as to the ordinary duties of gardening, driving, and butlering, they +would not knowingly trust him with a word of their habitual +conversation about the things around them. Their idea was, that every +word so heard was carried to the priest, and that the priest kept a +book in which every word so uttered was written down. If this were so +through the parish, the priest must in truth have had something to +do, both for himself and his private secretary; for, in spite of all +precautions that were taken, Jerry and Jerry's brethren no doubt did +hear much of what was said. The repetitions to the priest, however, I +must take leave to doubt.</p> + +<p>But after dinner, when the hot water and whisky were on the table, +when the two old arm-chairs were drawn cozily up on the rug, each +with an old footstool before it; when the faithful wife had mixed +that glass of punch—or jug rather, for, after the old fashion, it +was brewed in such a receptacle; and when, to inspire increased +confidence, she had put into it a small extra modicum of the eloquent +spirit, then the mouth of the rector was opened, and Mrs. Townsend +was made happy.</p> + +<p>"And so Father Barney and I have met at last," said he, rather +cheerily, as the hot fumes of the toddy regaled his nostrils.</p> + +<p>"And how did he behave now?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he was decent enough—that is, as far as absolute behaviour +went. You can't have a silk purse from off a sow's ear, you know."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed; and goodness knows there's plenty of the sow's ear about +him. But now, Æneas, dear, do tell me how it all was, just from the +beginning."</p> + +<p>"He was there before me," said the husband.</p> + +<p>"Catch a weasel asleep!" said the wife.</p> + +<p>"I didn't catch him asleep at any rate," continued he. "He was there +before me; but when I went into the little room where they hold the +<span class="nowrap">meeting—"</span></p> + +<p>"It's at Berryhill, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, at the Widow Casey's. To see that woman bowing and scraping and +curtsying to Father Barney, and she his own mother's brother's +daughter, was the best thing in the world."</p> + +<p>"That was just to do him honour before the quality, you know."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. When I went in, there was nobody there but his reverence +and Master Herbert."</p> + +<p>"As thick as possible, I suppose. Dear, dear; isn't it dreadful!—Did +I put sugar enough in it, Æneas?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know; perhaps you may give me another small lump. At +any rate, you didn't forget the whisky."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it isn't a taste too strong—and after such work as you've +had to-day.—And so young Fitzgerald and Father +<span class="nowrap">Barney—"</span></p> + +<p>"Yes, there they were with their heads together. It was something +about a mill they were saying."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's perfectly dreadful!"</p> + +<p>"But Herbert stopped, and introduced me at once to Father Barney."</p> + +<p>"What! a regular introduction? I like that, indeed."</p> + +<p>"He didn't do it altogether badly. He said something about being glad +to see two gentlemen <span class="nowrap">together—"</span></p> + +<p>"A gentleman, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"—who were both so anxious to do the best they could in the parish, +and whose influence was so great—or something to that effect. And +then we shook hands."</p> + +<p>"You did shake hands?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; if I went there at all, it was necessary that I should do +that."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad it was not me, that's all. I don't think I could +shake hands with Father Barney."</p> + +<p>"There's no knowing what you can do, my dear, till you try."</p> + +<p>"H—m," said Mrs. Townsend, meaning to signify thereby that she was +still strong in the strength of her own impossibilities.</p> + +<p>"And then there was a little general conversation about the potato, +for no one came in for a quarter of an hour or so. The priest said +that they were as badly off in Limerick and Clare as we are here. +Now, I don't believe that; and when I asked him how he knew, he +quoted the 'Freeman.'"</p> + +<p>"The 'Freeman,' indeed! Just like him. I wonder it wasn't the +'Nation.'" In Mrs. Townsend's estimation, the parish priest was much +to blame because he did not draw his public information from some +newspaper specially addicted to the support of the Protestant cause.</p> + +<p>"And then Somers came in, and he took the chair. I was very much +afraid at one time that Father Barney was going to seat himself +there."</p> + +<p>"You couldn't possibly have stood that?"</p> + +<p>"I had made up my mind what to do. I should have walked about the +room, and looked on the whole affair as altogether irregular,—as +though there was no chairman. But Somers was of course the proper +man."</p> + +<p>"And who else came?"</p> + +<p>"There was O'Leary, from Boherbue."</p> + +<p>"He was another Papist?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; there was a majority of them. There was Greilly, the man +who has got that large take of land over beyond Banteer; and then +Father Barney's coadjutor came in."</p> + +<p>"What! that wretched-looking man from Gortnaclough?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he's the curate of the parish, you know."</p> + +<p>"And did you shake hands with him too?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I did; and you never saw a fellow look so ashamed of himself +in your life."</p> + +<p>"Well, there isn't much shame about them generally."</p> + +<p>"And there wasn't much about him by-and-by. You never heard a man +talk such trash in your life, till Somers put him down."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he was put down? I'm glad of that."</p> + +<p>"And to do Father Barney justice, he did tell him to hold his tongue. +The fool began to make a regular set speech."</p> + +<p>"Father Barney, I suppose, didn't choose that anybody should do that +but himself."</p> + +<p>"He did enough for the two, certainly. I never heard a man so fond of +his own voice. What he wants is to rule it all just his own way."</p> + +<p>"Of course he does; and that's just what you won't let him do. What +other reason can there be for your going there?"</p> + +<p>And so the matter was discussed. What absolute steps were taken by +the committee; how they agreed to buy so much meal of such a +merchant, at such a price, and with such funds; how it was to be +resold, and never given away on any pretext; how Mr. Somers had +explained that giving away their means was killing the goose that +laid the golden eggs, when the young priest, in an attitude for +oratory, declared that the poor had no money with which to make the +purchase; and how in a few weeks' time they would be able to grind +their own flour at Herbert Fitzgerald's mill;—all this was also +told. But the telling did not give so much gratification to Mrs. +Townsend as the sly hits against the two priests.</p> + +<p>And then, while they were still in the middle of all this; when the +punch-jug had given way to the teapot, and the rector was beginning +to bethink himself that a nap in his arm-chair would be very +refreshing, Jerry came into the room to announce that Richard had +come over from Castle Richmond with a note for "his riverence." And +so Richard was shown in.</p> + +<p>Now Richard might very well have sent in his note by Jerry, which +after all contained only some information with reference to a list of +old women which Herbert Fitzgerald had promised to send over to the +glebe. But Richard knew that the minister would wish to chat with +him, and Richard himself had no indisposition for a little +conversation.</p> + +<p>"I hope yer riverences is quite well then," said Richard, as he +tendered his note, making a double bow, so as to include them both.</p> + +<p>"Pretty well, thank you," said Mrs. Townsend. "And how's all the +family?"</p> + +<p>"Well, then, they're all rightly, considhering. The Masther's no just +what he war, you know, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not—I'm afraid not," said the rector. "You'll not take a +glass of spirits, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"Yer riverence knows I never does that," said Richard, with somewhat +of a conscious look of high morality, for he was a rigid teetotaller.</p> + +<p>"And do you mean to say that you stick to that always?" said Mrs. +Townsend, who firmly believed that no good could come out of +Nazareth, and that even abstinence from whisky must be bad if +accompanied by anything in the shape of a Roman Catholic ceremony.</p> + +<p>"I do mean to say, ma'am, that I never touched a dhrop of anything +sthronger than wather, barring tay, since the time I got the pledge +from the blessed apostle." And Richard boldly crossed himself in the +presence of them both. They knew well whom he meant by the blessed +apostle: it was Father Mathew.</p> + +<p>"Temperance is a very good thing, however we may come by it," said +Mr. Townsend, who meant to imply by this that Richard's temperance +had been come by in the worst way possible.</p> + +<p>"That's thrue for you, sir," said Richard; "but I never knew any +pledge kept, only the blessed apostle's." By which he meant to imply +that no sanctity inherent in Mr. Townsend's sacerdotal proceedings +could be of any such efficacy.</p> + +<p>And then Mr. Townsend read the note. "Ah, yes," said he; "tell Mr. +Herbert that I'm very much obliged to him. There will be no other +answer necessary."</p> + +<p>"Very well, yer riverence, I'll be sure to give Mr. Herbert the +message." And Richard made a sign as though he were going.</p> + +<p>"But tell me, Richard," said Mrs. Townsend, "is Sir Thomas any +better? for we have been really very uneasy about him."</p> + +<p>"Indeed and he is, ma'am; a dail betther this morning, the Lord be +praised."</p> + +<p>"It was a kind of a fit, wasn't it, Richard?" asked the parson.</p> + +<p>"A sort of a fit of illness of some kind, I'm thinking," said +Richard, who had no mind to speak of his family's secrets out of +doors. Whatever he might be called upon to tell the priest, at any +rate he was not called on to tell anything to the parson.</p> + +<p>"But it was very sudden this time, wasn't it, Richard?" asked the +lady; "immediately after that strange man was shown into his +room—eh?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure, ma'am, I can't say; but I don't think he was a ha'porth +worse than ordinar, till after the gentleman went away. I did hear +that he did his business with the gentleman, just as usual like."</p> + +<p>"And then he fell into a fit, didn't he, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I heard of, ma'am. He did a dail of talking about some law +business, I did hear our Mrs. Jones say; and then afther he warn't +just the betther of it."</p> + +<p>"Was that all?"</p> + +<p>"And I don't think he's none the worse for it neither, ma'am; for the +masther do seem to have more life in him this day than I'se seen this +many a month. Why, he's been out and about with her ladyship in the +pony-carriage all the morning."</p> + +<p>"Has he now? Well, I'm delighted to hear that. It is some trouble +about the English estates, I believe, that vexes him?"</p> + +<p>"Faix, then, ma'am, I don't just know what it is that ails him, +unless it be just that he has too much money for to know what to do +wid it. That'd be the sore vexation to me, I know."</p> + +<p>"Well; ah, yes; I suppose I shall see Mrs. Jones to-morrow, or at +latest the day after," said Mrs. Townsend, resolving to pique the man +by making him understand that she could easily learn all that she +wished to learn from the woman: "a great comfort Mrs. Jones must be +to her ladyship."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, ma'am; 'deed an' she is," said Richard; "'specially in the +matter of puddins and pies, and such like."</p> + +<p>He was not going to admit Mrs. Jones's superiority, seeing that he +had lived in the family long before his present mistress's marriage.</p> + +<p>"And in a great many other things too, Richard. She's quite a +confidential servant. That's because she's a Protestant, you know."</p> + +<p>Now of all men, women, and creatures living, Richard the coachman of +Castle Richmond was the most good tempered. No amount of anger or +scolding, no professional misfortune—such as the falling down of his +horse upon the ice, no hardship—such as three hours' perpetual rain +when he was upon the box—would make him cross. To him it was a +matter of perfect indifference if he were sent off with his car just +before breakfast, or called away to some stable work as the dinner +was about to smoke in the servants' hall. He was a great eater, but +what he didn't eat one day he could eat the next. Such things never +ruffled him, nor was he ever known to say that such a job wasn't his +work. He was always willing to nurse a baby, or dig potatoes, or cook +a dinner, to the best of his ability, when asked to do so; but he +could not endure to be made less of than a Protestant; and of all +Protestants he could not endure to be made less of than Mrs. Jones.</p> + +<p>"'Cause she's a Protestant, is it, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, Richard; you can't but see that Protestants are more +trusted, more respected, more thought about than Romanists, can you?"</p> + +<p>"'Deed then I don't know, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"But look at Mrs. Jones."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I looks at her often enough; and she's well enough too for a +woman. But we all know her weakness."</p> + +<p>"What's that, Richard?" asked Mrs. Townsend, with some interest +expressed in her tone; for she was not above listening to a little +scandal, even about the servants of her great neighbours.</p> + +<p>"Why, she do often talk about things she don't understand. But she's +a great hand at puddins and pies, and that's what one mostly looks +for in a woman."</p> + +<p>This was enough for Mrs. Townsend for the present, and so Richard was +allowed to take his departure, in full self-confidence that he had +been one too many for the parson's wife.</p> + +<p>"Jerry," said Richard, as they walked out into the yard together to +get the Castle Richmond pony, "does they often thry to make a +Prothestant of you now?"</p> + +<p>"Prothestants be d——," said Jerry, who by no means shared in +Richard's good gifts as to temper.</p> + +<p>"Well, I wouldn't say that; at laist, not of all of 'em."</p> + +<p>"The likes of them's used to it," said Jerry.</p> + +<p>And then Richard, not waiting to do further battle on behalf of his +Protestant friends, trotted out of the yard.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-11" id="c-11"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> +<h4>SECOND LOVE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>On the day after Clara's departure, Herbert did, as a matter of +course, make his promised visit at Desmond Court. It was on that day +that Sir Thomas had been driving about in the pony-carriage with Lady +Fitzgerald, as Richard had reported. Herbert had been with his father +in the morning, and then having seen him and his mother well packed +up in their shawls and cloaks, had mounted his horse and ridden off.</p> + +<p>"I may be kept some time," said he, "as I have promised to go on to +Clady, and see after that soup kitchen."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder if Herbert became attached to Clara Desmond," +said the mother to Sir Thomas, soon after they had begun their +excursion.</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?" said the baronet; and his tone was certainly not +exactly that of approbation.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; I certainly do think it probable. I am sure he admires +her, and I think it very likely to come to more. Would there be any +objection?"</p> + +<p>"They are both very young," said Sir Thomas.</p> + +<p>"But in Herbert's position will not a young marriage be the best +thing for him?"</p> + +<p>"And she has no fortune; not a shilling. If he does marry young, +quite young you know, it might be prudent that his wife should have +something of her own."</p> + +<p>"They'd live here," said Lady Fitzgerald, who knew that of all men +her husband was usually most free from mercenary feelings and an +over-anxiety as to increased wealth, either for himself or for his +children; "and I think it would be such a comfort to you. Herbert, +you see, is so fond of county business, and so little anxious for +what young men generally consider pleasure."</p> + +<p>There was nothing more said about it at that moment; for the question +in some measure touched upon money matters and considerations as to +property, from all of which Lady Fitzgerald at present wished to keep +her husband's mind free. But towards the end of the drive he himself +again referred to it.</p> + +<p>"She is a nice girl, isn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Very nice, I think; as far as I've seen her."</p> + +<p>"She is pretty, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Very pretty; more than pretty; much more. She will be beautiful."</p> + +<p>"But she is such a mere child. You do not think that anything will +come of it immediately;—not quite immediately?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no; certainly not quite immediately. I think Herbert is not +calculated to be very sudden in any such feelings, or in the +expression of them: but I do think such an event very probable before +the winter is over."</p> + +<p>In the mean time Herbert spent the whole day over at Desmond Court, +or at Clady. He found the countess delighted to see him, and both she +and Lady Clara went on with him to Clady. It was past five and quite +dark before he reached Castle Richmond, so that he barely got home in +time to dress for dinner.</p> + +<p>The dinner-party that evening was more pleasant than usual. Sir +Thomas not only dined with them, but came into the drawing-room after +dinner, and to a certain extent joined in their conversation. Lady +Fitzgerald could see that this was done by a great effort; but it was +not remarked by Aunt Letty and the others, who were delighted to have +him with them, and to see him once more interested about their +interests.</p> + +<p>And now the building of the mill had been settled, and the final +orders were to be given by Herbert at the spot on the following +morning.</p> + +<p>"We can go with you to Berryhill, I suppose, can't we?" said Mary.</p> + +<p>"I shall be in a great hurry," said Herbert, who clearly did not wish +to be encumbered by his sisters on this special expedition.</p> + +<p>"And why are you to be in such a hurry to-morrow?" asked Aunt Letty.</p> + +<p>"Well, I shall be hurried; I have promised to go to Clady again, and +I must be back here early, and must get another horse."</p> + +<p>"Why, Herbert, you are becoming a Hercules of energy," said his +father, smiling: "you will have enough to do if you look to all the +soup kitchens on the Desmond property as well as our own."</p> + +<p>"I made a sort of promise about this particular affair at Clady, and +I must carry it out," said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"And you'll pay your devoirs to the fair Lady Clara on your way home +of course," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"More than probable," he replied.</p> + +<p>"And stay so late again that you'll hardly be here in time for +dinner," continued Mary: to which little sally her brother vouchsafed +no answer.</p> + +<p>But Emmeline said nothing. Lady Clara was specially her friend, and +she was too anxious to secure such a sister-in-law to make any joke +upon such a subject.</p> + +<p>On that occasion nothing more was said about it; but Sir Thomas hoped +within his heart that his wife was right in prophesying that his son +would do nothing sudden in this matter.</p> + +<p>On the following morning young Fitzgerald gave the necessary orders +at Berryhill very quickly, and then coming back remounted another +horse without going into the house. Then he trotted off to Clady, +passing the gate of Desmond Court without calling; did what he had +promised to do at Clady, or rather that which he had made to stand as +an excuse for again visiting that part of the world so quickly; and +after that, with a conscience let us hope quite clear, rode up the +avenue at Desmond Court. It was still early in the day when he got +there, probably not much after two o'clock; and yet Mary had been +quite correct in foretelling that he would only be home just in time +for dinner.</p> + +<p>But, nevertheless, he had not seen Lady Desmond. Why or how it had +occurred that she had been absent from the drawing-room the whole of +the two hours which he had passed in the house, it may be unnecessary +to explain. Such, however, had been the fact. The first five minutes +had been passed in inquiries after the bruise, and, it must be owned, +in a surgical inspection of the still discoloured arm. "It must be +very painful," he had said, looking into her face, as though by doing +so he could swear that he would so willingly bear all the pain +himself, if it were only possible to make such an exchange.</p> + +<p>"Not very," she had answered, smiling. "It is only a little stiff. I +can't quite move it easily."</p> + +<p>And then she lifted it up, and afterwards dropped it with a little +look of pain that ran through his heart.</p> + +<p>The next five minutes were taken up in discussing the case of the +recusant boiler, and then Clara discovered that she had better go and +fetch her mother. But against the immediate taking of this step he +had alleged some valid reason, and so they had gone on, till the dark +night admonished him that he could do no more than save the dinner +hour at Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>The room was nearly dark when he left her, and she got up and stood +at the front window, so that, unseen, she might see his figure as he +rode off from the house. He mounted his horse within the quadrangle, +and coming out at the great old-fashioned ugly portal, galloped off +across the green park with a loose rein and a happy heart. What is it +the song says?</p> + + +<table class="sm" style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="3"><tr><td align="left"> +<p class="noindent">"Oh, ladies, beware of a gay young knight<br /> + Who loves and who rides away."</p> +</td></tr></table> + + +<p>There was at Clara's heart, as she stood there at the window, some +feeling of the expediency of being beware, some shadow of doubt as to +the wisdom of what she had done. He rode away gaily, with a happy +spirit, for he had won that on the winning of which he had been +intent. No necessity for caution presented itself to him. He had seen +and loved; had then asked, and had not asked in vain.</p> + +<p>She stood gazing after him, as long as her straining eye could catch +any outline of his figure as it disappeared through the gloom of the +evening. As long as she could see him, or even fancy that she still +saw him, she thought only of his excellence; of his high character, +his kind heart, his talents—which in her estimation were ranked +perhaps above their real value—his tastes, which coincided so well +with her own, his quiet yet manly bearing, his useful pursuits, his +gait, appearance, and demeanour. All these were of a nature to win +the heart of such a girl as Clara Desmond; and then, probably, in +some indistinct way, she remembered the broad acres to which he was +the heir, and comforted herself by reflecting that this at least was +a match which none would think disgraceful for a daughter even of an +Earl of Desmond.</p> + +<p>But sadder thoughts did come when that figure had wholly disappeared. +Her eye, looking out into the darkness, could not but see another +figure on which it had often in past times delighted almost +unconsciously to dwell. There, walking on that very road, another +lover, another Fitzgerald, had sworn that he loved her; and had truly +sworn so, as she well knew. She had never doubted his truth to her, +and did not doubt it now;—and yet she had given herself away to +another.</p> + +<p>And in many things he too, that other lover, had been noble and +gracious, and fit for a woman to love. In person he exceeded all that +she had ever seen or dreamed of; and why should we think that +personal excellence is to count for nothing in female judgment, when +in that of men it ranks so immeasurably above all other excellences? +His bearing, too, was chivalrous and bold, his language full of +poetry, and his manner of loving eager, impetuous, and of a kin to +worship. Then, too, he was now in misfortune; and when has that +failed to soften even the softness of a woman's heart?</p> + +<p>It was impossible that she should not make comparisons, comparisons +that were so distasteful to her; impossible, also, that she should +not accuse herself of some falseness to that first lover. The time to +us, my friends, seems short enough since she was walking there, and +listening with childish delight to Owen's protestations of love. It +was but little more than one year since: but to her those months had +been very long. And, reader, if thou hast arrived at any period of +life which enables thee to count thy past years by lustrums; if thou +art at a time of life, past thirty we will say, hast thou not found +that thy years, which are now short enough, were long in those bygone +days?</p> + +<p>Those fourteen months were to her the space almost of a second life, +as she now looked back upon them. When those earlier vows were made, +what had she cared for prudence, for the world's esteem, or an +alliance that might be becoming to her? That Owen Fitzgerald was a +gentleman of high blood and ancient family, so much she had cared to +know; for the rest, she had only cared to feel this, that her heart +beat high with pleasure when he was with her.</p> + +<p>Did her heart beat as high now, when his cousin was beside her? No; +she felt that it did not. And sometimes she felt, or feared to feel, +that it might beat high again when she should again see the lover +whom her judgment had rejected.</p> + +<p>Her judgment had rejected him altogether long before an idea had at +all presented itself to her that Herbert Fitzgerald could become her +suitor. Nor had this been done wholly in obedience to her mother's +mandate. She had realized in her own mind the conviction that Owen +Fitzgerald was not a man with whom any girl could at present safely +link her fortune. She knew well that he was idle, dissipated, and +extravagant; and she could not believe that these vices had arisen +only from his banishment from her, and that they would cease and +vanish whenever that banishment might cease.</p> + +<p>Messages came to her, in underhand ways—ways well understood in +Ireland, and not always ignored in England—to the effect that all +his misdoings arose from his unhappiness; that he drank and gambled +only because the gates of Desmond Court were no longer open to him. +There was that in Clara's heart which did for a while predispose her +to believe somewhat of this, to hope that it might not be altogether +false. Could any girl loving such a man not have had some such hope? +But then the stories of these revelries became worse and worse, and +it was dinned into her ears that these doings had been running on in +all their enormity before that day of his banishment. And so, +silently and sadly, with no outspoken word either to mother or +brother, she had resolved to give him up.</p> + +<p>There was no necessity to her for any outspoken word. She had +promised her mother to hold no intercourse with the man; and she had +kept and would keep her promise. Why say more about it? How she might +have reconciled her promise to her mother with an enduring +engagement, had Owen Fitzgerald's conduct allowed her to regard her +engagement as enduring,—that had been a sore trouble to her while +hope had remained; but now no hope remained, and that trouble was +over.</p> + +<p>And then Herbert Fitzgerald had come across her path, and those +sweet, loving, kind Fitzgerald girls, who were always ready to cover +her with such sweet caresses, with whom she had known more of the +happiness of friendliness than ever she had felt before. They threw +themselves upon her like sisters, and she had never before enjoyed +sisterly treatment. He had come across her path; and from the first +moment she had become conscious of his admiration.</p> + +<p>She knew herself to be penniless, and dreaded that she should be +looked upon as wishing to catch the rich heir. But every one had +conspired to throw them together. Lady Fitzgerald had welcomed her +like a mother, with more caressing soft tenderness than her own +mother usually vouchsafed to her; and even Sir Thomas had gone out of +his usual way to be kind to her.</p> + +<p>That her mother would approve of such a marriage she could not doubt. +Lady Desmond in these latter days had not said much to her about +Owen; but she had said very much of the horrors of poverty. And she +had been too subtle to praise the virtues of Herbert with open plain +words; but she had praised the comforts of a handsome income and +well-established family mansion. Clara at these times had understood +more than had been intended, and had, therefore, put herself on her +guard against her mother's worldly wisdom; but, nevertheless, the +dropping of the water had in some little measure hollowed the stone +beneath.</p> + +<p>And thus, thinking of these things, she stood at the window for some +half-hour after the form of her accepted lover had become invisible +in the gathering gloom of the evening.</p> + +<p>And then her mother entered the room, and candles were brought. Lady +Desmond was all smiles and benignity, as she had been for this last +week past, while Herbert Fitzgerald had been coming and going almost +daily at Desmond Court. But Clara understood this benignity, and +disliked it.</p> + +<p>It was, however, now necessary that everything should be told. +Herbert had declared that he should at once inform his father and +mother, and obtain their permission for his marriage. He spoke of it +as a matter on which there was no occasion for any doubt or +misgiving. He was an only son, he said, and trusted and loved in +everything. His father never opposed him on any subject whatever; and +would, he was sure, consent to any match he might propose. "But as to +you," he added, with a lover's flattering fervour, "they are all so +fond of you, they all think so much of you, that my only fear is that +I shall be jealous. They'll all make love to you, Aunt Letty +included."</p> + +<p>It was therefore essential that she should at once tell her mother, +and ask her mother's leave. She had once before confessed a tale of +love, and had done so with palpitation of the heart, with trembling +of the limbs, and floods of tears. Then her tale had been received +with harsh sternness. Now she could tell her story without any +trembling, with no tears; but it was almost indifferent to her +whether her mother was harsh or tender.</p> + +<p>"What! has Mr. Fitzgerald gone?" said the countess, on entering the +room.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma; this half-hour," said Clara, not as yet coming away from +the window.</p> + +<p>"I did not hear his horse, and imagined he was here still. I hope he +has not thought me terribly uncivil, but I could not well leave what +I was doing."</p> + +<p>To this little make-believe speech Clara did not think it necessary +to return any answer. She was thinking how she would begin to say +that for saying which there was so strong a necessity, and she could +not take a part in small false badinage on a subject which was so +near her heart.</p> + +<p>"And what about that stupid mason at Clady?" asked the countess, +still making believe.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald was there again to-day, mamma; and I think it will be +all right now; but he did not say much about it."</p> + +<p>"Why not? you were all so full of it yesterday."</p> + +<p>Clara, who had half turned round towards the light, now again turned +herself towards the window. This task must be done; but the doing of +it was so disagreeable! How was she to tell her mother that she loved +this man, seeing that so short a time since she had declared that she +loved another?</p> + +<p>"And what was he talking about, love?" said the countess, ever so +graciously. "Or, perhaps, no questioning on the matter can be +allowed. May I ask questions, or may I not? eh, Clara?" and then the +mother, walking up towards the window, put her fair white hands upon +her daughter's two shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Of course you may inquire," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Then I do inquire—immediately. What has this <i>preux chevalier</i> been +saying to my Clara, that makes her stand thus solemn and silent, +gazing out into the dark night?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma!"</p> + +<p>"Well, love?"</p> + +<p>"Herbert Fitzgerald has—has asked me to be his wife. He has proposed +to me."</p> + +<p>The mother's arm now encircled the daughter lovingly, and the +mother's lips were pressed to the daughter's forehead. "Herbert +Fitzgerald has asked you to be his wife, has he? And what answer has +my bonny bird deigned to make to so audacious a request?"</p> + +<p>Lady Desmond had never before spoken to her daughter in tones so +gracious, in a manner so flattering, so caressing, so affectionate. +But Clara would not open her heart to her mother's tenderness. She +could not look into her mother's face, and welcome her mother's +consent with unutterable joy, as she would have done had that consent +been given a year since to a less prudent proposition. That marriage +for which she was now to ask her mother's sanction would of course be +sanctioned. She had no favour to beg; nothing for which to be +grateful. With a slight motion, unconsciously, unwillingly, but not +the less positively, she repulsed her mother's caress as she answered +her question.</p> + +<p>"I have accepted him, mamma; that is, of course, if you do not +object."</p> + +<p>"My own, own child!" said the countess, seizing her daughter in her +arms, and pressing her to her bosom. And in truth Clara was, now +probably for the first time, her own heart's daughter. Her son, +though he was but a poor earl, was Earl of Desmond. He too, though in +truth but a poor earl, was not absolutely destitute,—would in truth +be blessed with a fair future. But Lady Clara had hitherto been felt +only as a weight. She had been born poor as poverty itself, and +hitherto had shown so little disposition to find for herself a remedy +for this crushing evil! But now—now matters were indeed changed. She +had obtained for herself the best match in the whole country round, +and, in doing so, had sacrificed her heart's young love. Was she not +entitled to all a mother's tenderness? Who knew, who could know the +miseries of poverty so well as the Countess of Desmond? Who then +could feel so much gratitude to a child for prudently escaping from +them? Lady Desmond did feel grateful to her daughter.</p> + +<p>"My own, own child; my happy girl," she repeated. "He is a man to +whom any mother in all the land would be proud to see her daughter +married. Never, never did I see a young man so perfectly worthy of a +girl's love. He is so thoroughly well educated, so thoroughly well +conducted, so good-looking, so warm-hearted, so advantageously +situated in all his circumstances. Of course he will go into +Parliament, and then any course is open to him. The property is, I +believe, wholly unembarrassed, and there are no younger brothers. You +may say that the place is his own already, for old Sir Thomas is +almost nobody. I do wish you joy, my own dearest, dearest Clara!" +After which burst of maternal eloquence, the countess pressed her +lips to those of her child, and gave her a mother's warmest kiss.</p> + +<p>Clara was conscious that she was thoroughly dissatisfied with her +mother, but she could not exactly say why it was so. She did return +her mother's kiss, but she did it coldly, and with lips that were not +eager.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you think that I have done right, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Right, my love! Of course I think that you have done right: only I +give you no credit, dearest; none in the least; for how could you +help loving one so lovable in every way as dear Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"Credit! no, there is no credit," she said, not choosing to share her +mother's pleasantry.</p> + +<p>"But there is this credit. Had you not been one of the sweetest girls +that ever was born, he would not have loved you."</p> + +<p>"He has loved me because there was no one else here," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! No one else here, indeed! Has he not the power if he +pleases to go and choose whomever he will in all London. Had he been +mercenary, and wanted money," said the countess, in a tone which +showed how thoroughly she despised any such vice, "he might have had +what he would. But then he could not have had my Clara. But he has +looked for beauty and manners and high-bred tastes, and an +affectionate heart; and, in my opinion, he could not have been more +successful in his search." After which second burst of eloquence, she +again kissed her daughter.</p> + +<p>'Twas thus, at that moment, that she congratulated the wife of the +future Sir Herbert Fitzgerald; and then she allowed Clara to go up to +her own room, there to meditate quietly on what she had done, and on +that which she was about to do. But late in the evening, Lady +Desmond, whose mind was thoroughly full of the subject, again broke +out into triumph.</p> + +<p>"You must write to Patrick to-morrow, Clara. He must hear the good +news from no one but yourself."</p> + +<p>"Had we not better wait a little, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Why, my love? You hardly know how anxious your brother is for your +welfare."</p> + +<p>"I knew it was right to tell you, mamma—"</p> + +<p>"Right to tell me! of course it was. You could not have had the heart +to keep it from me for half a day."</p> + +<p>"But perhaps it may be better not to mention it further till we +<span class="nowrap">know—"</span></p> + +<p>"Till we know what?" said the countess with a look of fear about her +brow.</p> + +<p>"Whether Sir Thomas and Lady Fitzgerald will wish it. If they +<span class="nowrap">object—"</span></p> + +<p>"Object! why should they object? how can they object? They are not +mercenary people; and you are an earl's daughter. And Herbert is not +like a girl. The property is his own, entailed on him, and he may do +as he pleases."</p> + +<p>"In such a matter I am sure he would not wish to displease either his +father or his mother."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, my dear; quite nonsense; you do not at all see the +difference between a young man and a girl. He has a right to do +exactly as he likes in such a matter. But I am quite sure that they +will not object. Why should they? How can they?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald says that they will not," Clara admitted, almost +grudgingly.</p> + +<p>"Of course they will not. I don't suppose they could bring themselves +to object to anything he might suggest. I never knew a young man so +happily situated in this respect. He is quite a free agent. I don't +think they would say much to him if he insisted on marrying the +cook-maid. Indeed, it seems to me that his word is quite paramount at +Castle Richmond."</p> + +<p>"All the same, mamma, I would rather not write to Patrick till +something more has been settled."</p> + +<p>"You are wrong there, Clara. If anything disagreeable should happen, +which is quite impossible, it would be absolutely necessary that your +brother should know. Believe me, my love, I only advise you for your +own good."</p> + +<p>"But Mr. Fitzgerald will probably be here to-morrow; or if not +to-morrow, next day."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt he will, love. But why do you call him Mr. +Fitzgerald? You were calling him Herbert the other day. Don't you +remember how I scolded you? I should not scold you now."</p> + +<p>Clara made no answer to this, and then the subject was allowed to +rest for that night. She would call him Herbert, she said to herself; +but not to her mother. She would keep the use of that name till she +could talk with Emmeline as a sister. Of all her anticipated +pleasures, that of having now a real sister was perhaps the greatest; +or, rather, that of being able to talk about Herbert with one whom +she could love and treat as a sister. But Herbert himself would exact +the use of his own Christian name, for the delight of his own ears; +that was a matter of course; that, doubtless, had been already done.</p> + +<p>And then mother and daughter went to bed. The countess, as she did +so, was certainly happy to her heart's core. Could it be that she had +some hope, unrecognized by herself, that Owen Fitzgerald might now +once more be welcomed at Desmond Court? that something might now be +done to rescue him from that slough of despond?</p> + +<p>And Clara too was happy, though her happiness was mixed. She did love +Herbert Fitzgerald. She was sure of that. She said so to herself over +and over again. Love him! of course she loved him, and would cherish +him as her lord and husband to the last day of her life, the last +gasp of her breath.</p> + +<p>But still, as sleep came upon her eyelids, she saw in her memory the +bright flash of that other lover's countenance, when he first +astonished her with the avowal of his love, as he walked beside her +under the elms, with his horse following at his heels.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-12" id="c-12"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> +<h4>DOUBTS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>I believe there is no period of life so happy as that in which a +thriving lover leaves his mistress after his first success. His joy +is more perfect then than at the absolute moment of his own eager +vow, and her half-assenting blushes. Then he is thinking mostly of +her, and is to a certain degree embarrassed by the effort necessary +for success. But when the promise has once been given to him, and he +is able to escape into the domain of his own heart, he is as a +conqueror who has mastered half a continent by his own strategy.</p> + +<p>It never occurs to him, he hardly believes, that his success is no +more than that which is the ordinary lot of mortal man. He never +reflects that all the old married fogies whom he knows and despises, +have just as much ground for pride, if such pride were enduring; that +every fat, silent, dull, somnolent old lady whom he sees and quizzes, +has at some period been deemed as worthy a prize as his priceless +galleon; and so deemed by as bold a captor as himself.</p> + +<p>Some one has said that every young mother, when her first child is +born, regards the babe as the most wonderful production of that +description which the world has yet seen. And this too is true. But I +doubt even whether that conviction is so strong as the conviction of +the young successful lover, that he has achieved a triumph which +should ennoble him down to late generations. As he goes along he has +a contempt for other men; for they know nothing of such glory as his. +As he pores over his "Blackstone," he remembers that he does so, not +so much that he may acquire law, as that he may acquire Fanny; and +then all other porers over "Blackstone" are low and mean in his +sight—are mercenary in their views and unfortunate in their ideas, +for they have no Fanny in view.</p> + +<p>Herbert Fitzgerald had this proud feeling strong within his heart as +he galloped away across the greensward, and trotted fast along the +road, home to Castle Richmond. She was compounded of all +excellences—so he swore to himself over and over again—and being so +compounded, she had consented to bestow all these excellences upon +him. Being herself goddess-like, she had promised to take him as the +object of her world's worship. So he trotted on fast and faster, as +though conscious of the half-continent which he had won by his skill +and valour.</p> + +<p>She had told him about his cousin Owen. Indeed, the greater number of +the soft musical words which she had spoken in that long three hours' +colloquy had been spoken on this special point. It had behoved her to +tell him all; and she thought that she had done so. Nay, she had done +so with absolute truth—to the best of her heart's power.</p> + +<p>"You were so young then," he had argued; "so very young."</p> + +<p>"Yes, very young. I am not very old now, you know," and she smiled +sweetly on him.</p> + +<p>"No, no; but a year makes so much difference. You were all but a +child then. You do not love him now, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"No; I do not love him now," she had answered.</p> + +<p>And then he exacted a second, a third, a fourth assurance, that she +did absolutely, actually, and with her whole heart love him, him +Herbert, in lieu of that other him, poor Owen; and with this he, +Herbert, was contented. Content; nay, but proud, elated with triumph, +and conscious of victory. In this spirit he rode home as fast as his +horse could carry him.</p> + +<p>He too had to tell his tale to those to whom he owed obedience, and +to beg that they would look upon his intended bride with eyes of love +and with parental affection. But in this respect he was hardly +troubled with more doubt than Clara had felt. How could any one +object to his Clara?</p> + +<p>There are young men who, from their positions in life, are obliged to +abstain from early marriage, or to look for dowries with their wives. +But he, luckily, was not fettered in this way. He could marry as he +pleased, so long as she whom he might choose brought with her gentle +blood, a good heart, a sweet temper, and such attraction of person +and manners as might make the establishment at Castle Richmond proud +of his young bride. And of whom could that establishment be more +proud than of Lady Clara Desmond? So he rode home without any doubt +to clog his happiness.</p> + +<p>But he had a source of joy which Clara wanted. She was almost +indifferent to her mother's satisfaction; but Herbert looked forward +with the liveliest, keenest anticipation to his mother's gratified +caresses and unqualified approval—to his father's kind smile and +warm assurance of consent. Clara had made herself known at Castle +Richmond; and he had no doubt but that all this would be added to his +cup of happiness. There was therefore no alloy to debase his virgin +gold as he trotted quickly into the stable-yard.</p> + +<p>But he resolved that he would say nothing about the matter that +night. He could not well tell them all in full conclave together. +Early after breakfast he would go to his father's room; and after +that, he would find his mother. There would then be no doubt that the +news would duly leak out among his sisters and Aunt Letty.</p> + +<p>"Again only just barely in time, Herbert," said Mary, as they +clustered round the fire before dinner.</p> + +<p>"You can't say I ever keep you waiting; and I really think that's +some praise for a man who has got a good many things on his hand."</p> + +<p>"So it is, Herbert," said Emmeline. "But we have done something too. +We have been over to Berryhill; and the people have already begun +there: they were at work with their pickaxes among the rocks by the +river-side."</p> + +<p>"So much the better. Was Mr. Somers there?"</p> + +<p>"We did not see him; but he had been there," said Aunt Letty. "But +Mrs. Townsend found us. And who do you think came up to us in the +most courteous, affable, condescending way?"</p> + +<p>"Who? I don't know. Brady, the builder, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed: Brady was not half so civil, for he kept himself to his +own work. It was the Rev. Mr. M'Carthy, if you please."</p> + +<p>"I only hope you were civil to him," said Herbert, with some slight +suffusion of colour over his face; for he rather doubted the conduct +of his aunt to the priest, especially as her great Protestant ally, +Mrs. Townsend, was of the party.</p> + +<p>"Civil! I don't know what you would have, unless you wanted me to +embrace him. He shook hands with us all round. I really thought Mrs. +Townsend would have looked him into the river when he came to her."</p> + +<p>"She always was the quintessence of absurdity and prejudice," said +he.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Herbert!" exclaimed Aunt Letty.</p> + +<p>"Well; and what of 'Oh, Herbert?' I say she is so. If you and Mary +and Emmeline did not look him into the river when he shook hands with +you, why should she do so? He is an ordained priest even according to +her own tenets,—only she knows nothing of what her own tenets are."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what they are. They are the substantial, true, and +holy doctrines of the Protestant religion, founded on the gospel. +Mrs. Townsend is a thoroughly Protestant woman; one who cannot abide +the sorceries of popery."</p> + +<p>"Hates them as a mad dog hates water; and with the same amount of +judgment. We none of us wish to be drowned; but nevertheless there +are some good qualities in water."</p> + +<p>"But there are no good qualities in popery," said Aunt Letty, with +her most extreme energy.</p> + +<p>"Are there not?" said Herbert. "I should have thought that belief in +Christ, belief in the Bible, belief in the doctrine of a Saviour's +atonement, were good qualities. Even the Mahommedan's religion has +some qualities that are good."</p> + +<p>"I would sooner be a Mahommedan than a Papist," said Aunt Letty, +somewhat thoughtlessly, but very stoutly.</p> + +<p>"You would alter your opinion after the first week in a harem," said +Herbert. And then there was a burst of laughter, in which Aunt Letty +herself joined. "I would sooner go there than go to confession," she +whispered to Mary, as they all walked off to dinner.</p> + +<p>"And how is the Lady Clara's arm?" asked Mary, as soon as they were +again once more round the fire.</p> + +<p>"The Lady Clara's arm is still very blue," said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"And I suppose it took you half an hour to weep over it?" continued +his sister.</p> + +<p>"Exactly, by Shrewsbury clock."</p> + +<p>"And while you were weeping over the arm, what happened to the hand? +She did not surrender it, did she, in return for so much tenderness +on your part?"</p> + +<p>Emmeline thought that Mary was very pertinacious in her badinage, and +was going to bid her hold her tongue; but she observed that Herbert +blushed, and walked away without further answer. He went to the +further end of the long room, and there threw himself on to a sofa. +"Could it be that it was all settled?" thought Emmeline to herself.</p> + +<p>She followed him to the sofa, and sitting beside him, took hold of +his arm. "Oh, Herbert! if there is anything to tell, do tell me."</p> + +<p>"Anything to tell!" said he. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! you know. I do love her so dearly. I shall never be contented to +love any one else as your wife—not to love her really, really with +all my heart."</p> + +<p>"What geese you girls are!—you are always thinking of love, and +weddings, and orange-blossoms."</p> + +<p>"It is only for you I think about them," said Emmeline. "I know there +is something to tell. Dear Herbert, do tell me."</p> + +<p>"There is a young bachelor duke coming here to-morrow. He has a +million a year, and three counties all his own; he has blue eyes, and +is the handsomest man that ever was seen. Is that news enough?"</p> + +<p>"Very well, Herbert. I would tell you anything."</p> + +<p>"Well; tell me anything."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you this. I know you're in love with Clara Desmond, and +I'm sure she's in love with you; and I believe you are both engaged, +and you're not nice at all to have a secret from me. I never tease +you, as Mary does, and it would make me so happy to know it."</p> + +<p>Upon this he put his arm round her waist and whispered one word into +her ear. She gave an exclamation of delight; and as the tears came +into her eyes congratulated him with a kiss. "Oh dear, oh dear! I am +so happy!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Hush—sh," he whispered. "I knew how it would be if I told you."</p> + +<p>"But they will all know to-morrow, will they not?"</p> + +<p>"Leave that to me. You have coaxed me out of my secret, and you are +bound to keep it." And then he went away well pleased. This +description of delight on his sister's part was the first instalment +of that joy which he had promised himself from the satisfaction of +his family.</p> + +<p>Lady Fitzgerald had watched all that had passed, and had already +learned her mistake—her mistake in that she had prophesied that no +immediate proposal was likely to be made by her son. She now knew +well enough that he had made such a proposal, and that he had been +accepted.</p> + +<p>And this greatly grieved her. She had felt certain from the few +slight words which Sir Thomas had spoken that there were valid +reasons why her son should not marry a penniless girl. That +conversation, joined to other things, to the man's visit, and her +husband's deep dejection, had convinced her that all was not right. +Some misfortune was impending over them, and there had been that in +her own early history which filled her with dismay as she thought of +this.</p> + +<p>She had ardently desired to caution her son in this respect,—to +guard him, if possible, against future disappointment and future +sorrow. But she could not do so without obtaining in some sort her +husband's assent to her doing so. She resolved that she would talk it +over with Sir Thomas. But the subject was one so full of pain, and he +was so ill, and therefore she had put it off.</p> + +<p>And now she saw that the injury was done. Nevertheless, she said +nothing either to Emmeline or to Herbert. If the injury were done, +what good could now result from talking? She doubtless would hear it +all soon enough. So she sat still, watching them.</p> + +<p>On the following morning Sir Thomas did not come out to breakfast. +Herbert went into his room quite early, as was always his custom; and +as he left it for the breakfast-parlour he said, "Father, I should +like to speak to you just now about something of importance."</p> + +<p>"Something of importance, Herbert; what is it? Anything wrong?" For +Sir Thomas was nervous, and easily frightened.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no; nothing is wrong. It is nothing that will annoy you; at +least I think not. But it will keep till after breakfast. I will come +in again the moment breakfast is over." And so saying he left the +room with a light step.</p> + +<p>In the breakfast-parlour it seemed to him as though everybody was +conscious of some important fact. His mother's kiss was peculiarly +solemn and full of solicitude; Aunt Letty smirked as though she was +aware of something—something over and above the great Protestant +tenets which usually supported her; and Mary had no joke to fling at +him.</p> + +<p>"Emmeline," he whispered, "you have told."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," she replied. But what mattered it? Everybody would know +now in a few minutes. So he ate his breakfast, and then returned to +Sir Thomas.</p> + +<p>"Father," said he, as soon as he had got into the arm-chair, in which +it was his custom to sit when talking with Sir Thomas, "I hope what I +am going to tell you will give you pleasure. I have proposed to a +young lady, and she has—accepted me."</p> + +<p>"You have proposed, and have been accepted!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>"And the young lady—?"</p> + +<p>"Is Lady Clara Desmond. I hope you will say that you approve of it. +She has no fortune, as we all know, but that will hardly matter to +me; and I think you will allow that in every other respect she +<span class="nowrap">is—"</span></p> + +<p>Perfect, Herbert would have said, had he dared to express his true +meaning. But he paused for a moment to look for a less triumphant +word; and then paused again, and left his sentence incomplete, when +he saw the expression of his father's face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father! you do not mean to say that you do not like her?"</p> + +<p>But it was not dislike that was expressed in his father's face, as +Herbert felt the moment after he had spoken. There was pain there, +and solicitude, and disappointment; a look of sorrow at the tidings +thus conveyed to him; but nothing that seemed to betoken dislike of +any person.</p> + +<p>"What is it, sir? Why do you not speak to me? Can it be that you +disapprove of my marrying?"</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas certainly did disapprove of his son's marrying, but he +lacked the courage to say so. Much misery that had hitherto come upon +him, and that was about to come on all those whom he loved so well, +arose from this lack of courage. He did not dare to tell his son that +he advised him for the present to put aside all such hopes. It would +have been terrible for him to do so; but he knew that in not doing so +he was occasioning sorrow that would be more terrible.</p> + +<p>And yet he did not do it. Herbert saw clearly that the project was +distasteful to his father,—that project which he had hoped to have +seen received with so much delight; but nothing was said to him which +tended to make him alter his purpose.</p> + +<p>"Do you not like her?" he asked his father, almost piteously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I do like her, we all like her, very much indeed, +Herbert."</p> + +<p>"Then why—"</p> + +<p>"You are so young, my boy, and she is so very young, +<span class="nowrap">and—"</span></p> + +<p>"And what?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Herbert, it is not always practicable for the son even of a man +of property to marry so early in life as this. She has nothing, you +know."</p> + +<p>"No," said the young man, proudly; "I never thought of looking for +money."</p> + +<p>"But in your position it is so essential if a young man wishes to +marry."</p> + +<p>Herbert had always regarded his father as the most liberal man +breathing,—as open-hearted and open-handed almost to a fault. To +him, his only son, he had ever been so, refusing him nothing, and +latterly allowing him to do almost as he would with the management of +the estate. He could not understand that this liberality should be +turned to parsimony on such an occasion as that of his son's +marriage.</p> + +<p>"You think then, sir, that I ought not to marry Lady Clara?" said +Herbert very bitterly.</p> + +<p>"I like her excessively," said Sir Thomas. "I think she is a sweet +girl, a very sweet girl, all that I or your mother could desire to +see in your wife; <span class="nowrap">but—"</span></p> + +<p>"But she is not rich."</p> + +<p>"Do not speak to me in that tone, my boy," said Sir Thomas, with an +expression that would have moved his enemy to pity, let alone his +son. His son did pity him, and ceased to wear the angry expression of +face which had so wounded his father.</p> + +<p>"But, father, I do not understand you," he said. "Is there any real +objection why I should not marry? I am more than twenty-two, and you, +I think, married earlier than that."</p> + +<p>In answer to this Sir Thomas only sighed meekly and piteously.</p> + +<p>"If you mean to say," continued the son, "that it will be +inconvenient to you to make me any +<span class="nowrap">allowance—"</span></p> + +<p>"No, no, no; you are of course entitled to what you want, and as long +as I can give it, you shall have it."</p> + +<p>"As long as you can give it, father!"</p> + +<p>"As long as it is in my power, I mean. What can I want of anything +but for you—for you and them?"</p> + +<p>After this Herbert sat silent for a while, leaning on his arm. He +knew that there existed some mischief, but he could not fathom it. +Had he been prudent, he would have felt that there was some +impediment to his love; some evil which it behoved him to fathom +before he allowed his love to share it; but when was a lover prudent?</p> + +<p>"We should live here, should we not, father? No second establishment +would be necessary."</p> + +<p>"Of course you would live here," said Sir Thomas, glad to be able to +look at the subject on any side that was not painful. "Of course you +would live here. For the matter of that, Herbert, the house should be +considered as your own if you so wished it."</p> + +<p>Against this the son put in his most violent protest. Nothing on +earth should make him consider himself master of Castle Richmond as +long as his father lived. Nor would Clara,—his Clara, wish it. He +knew her well, he boasted. It would amply suffice to her to live +there with them all. Was not the house large enough? And, indeed, +where else could he live, seeing that all his interests were +naturally centred upon the property?</p> + +<p>And then Sir Thomas did give his consent. It would be wrong to say +that it was wrung from him. He gave it willingly enough, as far as +the present moment was concerned. When it was once settled, he +assured his son that he would love Clara as his daughter. But, +<span class="nowrap">nevertheless—</span></p> + +<p>The father knew that he had done wrong; and Herbert knew that he +also, he himself, had done wrongly. He was aware that there was +something which he did not understand. But he had promised to see +Clara either that day or the next, and he could not bring himself to +unsay all that he had said to her. He left his father's room +sorrowful at heart, and discontented. He had expected that his +tidings would have been received in so far other a manner; that he +would have been able to go from his father's study up stairs to his +mother's room with so exulting a step; that his news, when once the +matter was ratified by his father's approval, would have flown about +the house with so loud a note of triumph. And now it was so +different! His father had consented; but it was too plain that there +was no room for any triumph.</p> + +<p>"Well, Herbert!" said Emmeline, jumping up to meet him as he returned +to a small back drawing-room, through which he had gone to his +father's dressing-room. She had calculated that he would come there, +and that she might thus get the first word from him after the +interview was over.</p> + +<p>But there was a frown upon his brow, and displeasure in his eyes. +There was none of that bright smile of gratified pride with which she +had expected that her greeting would have been met. "Is there +anything wrong?" she said. "He does not disapprove, does he?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind; and do leave me now. I never can make you understand +that one is not always in a humour for joking." And so saying, he put +her aside, and passed on.</p> + +<p>Joking! That was indeed hard upon poor Emmeline, seeing that her +thoughts were so full of him, that her heart beat so warmly for his +promised bride. But she said nothing, shrinking back abashed, and +vanishing out of the way. Could it be possible that her father should +have refused to receive Lady Clara Desmond as his daughter-in-law?</p> + +<p>He then betook himself to a private territory of his own, where he +might be sure that he would remain undisturbed for some half-hour or +so. He would go to his mother, of course, but not quite immediately. +He would think over the matter, endeavouring to ascertain what it was +that had made his father's manner and words so painful to him.</p> + +<p>But he could not get his thoughts to work rightly;—which getting of +the thoughts to work rightly is, by-the-by, as I take it, the hardest +work which a man is called upon to do. Not that the subject to be +thought about need in itself be difficult. Were one to say that +thoughts about hydrostatics and pneumatics are difficult to the +multitude, or that mental efforts in regions of political economy or +ethical philosophy are beyond ordinary reach, one would only +pronounce an evident truism, an absurd platitude. But let any man +take any subject fully within his own mind's scope, and strive to +think about it steadily, with some attempt at calculation as to +results. The chances are his mind will fly off, will-he-nill-he, to +some utterly different matter. When he wishes to debate within +himself that question of his wife's temper, he will find himself +considering whether he may not judiciously give away half a dozen +pairs of those old boots; or when it behoves him to decide whether it +shall be manure and a green crop, or a fallow season and then grass +seeds, he cannot keep himself from inward inquiry as to the meaning +of that peculiar smile on Mrs. Walker's face when he shook hands with +her last night.</p> + +<p>Lord Brougham and Professor Faraday can, no doubt, command their +thoughts. If many men could do so, there would be many Lord Broughams +and many Professor Faradays.</p> + +<p>At the present moment Herbert Fitzgerald had no right to consider +himself as following in the steps of either one or other of these +great men. He wished to think about his father's circumstances, but +his mind would fly off to Clara Desmond and her perfections. And +thus, though he remained there for half an hour, with his back to the +fire and his hands in his pockets, his deliberations had done him no +good whatever,—had rather done him harm, seeing that he had only +warmed himself into a firmer determination to go on with what he was +doing. And then he went to his mother.</p> + +<p>She kissed him, and spoke very tenderly, nay affectionately, about +Clara; but even she, even his mother, did not speak joyously; and she +also said something about the difficulty of providing a maintenance +for a married son. Then to her he burst forth, and spoke somewhat +loudly.</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand all this, mother. If either you or my father +know any reason why I should be treated differently from other sons, +you ought to tell me; not leave me to grope about in the dark."</p> + +<p>"But, my boy, we both think that no son was ever entitled to more +consideration, or to kinder or more liberal treatment."</p> + +<p>"Why do I hear all this, then, about the difficulty of my marrying? +Or if I hear so much, why do I not hear more? I know pretty well, I +believe, what is my father's income."</p> + +<p>"If you do not, he would tell you for the asking."</p> + +<p>"And I know that I must be the heir to it, whatever it is,—not that +that feeling would make any difference in my dealings with him, not +the least. And, under these circumstances, I cannot conceive why he +and you should look coldly upon my marriage."</p> + +<p>"I look coldly on it, Herbert!"</p> + +<p>"Do you not? Do you not tell me that there will be no income for me? +If that is to be so; if that really is the case; if the property has +so dwindled away, or become <span class="nowrap">embarrassed—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Herbert! there never was a man less likely to injure his son's +property than your father."</p> + +<p>"I do not mean that, mother. Let him do what he likes with it, I +should not upbraid him, even in my thoughts. But if it be +embarrassed; if it has dwindled away; if there be any reason why I +should not regard myself as altogether untrammelled with regard to +money, he ought to tell me. I cannot accuse myself of expensive +tastes."</p> + +<p>"Dearest Herbert, nobody accuses you of anything."</p> + +<p>"But I do desire to marry; and now I have engaged myself, and will +not break from my engagement, unless it be shown to me that I am +bound in honour to do so. Then, <span class="nowrap">indeed—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Herbert! I do not know what you mean."</p> + +<p>"I mean this: that I expect that Clara shall be received as my wife +with open <span class="nowrap">arms—"</span></p> + +<p>"And so she shall be if she comes."</p> + +<p>"Or else that some reason should be given me why she should not come. +As to income, something must be done, I suppose. If the means at our +disposal are less than I have been taught to believe, I at any rate +will not complain. But they cannot, I think, be so small as to afford +any just reason why I should not marry."</p> + +<p>"Your father, you see, is ill, and one can hardly talk to him fully +upon such matters at present."</p> + +<p>"Then I will speak to Somers. He, at any rate, must know how the +property is circumstanced, and I suppose he will not hesitate to tell +me."</p> + +<p>"I don't think Somers can tell you anything."</p> + +<p>"Then what is it? As for the London estate, mother, that is all +moonshine. What if it were gone altogether? It may be that it is that +which vexes my father; but if so, it is a monomania."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my boy, do not use such a word!"</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean. If any doubt as to that is creating this +despondency, it only shows that though we are bound to respect and +relieve my father's state of mind, we are not at all bound to share +it. What would it really matter, mother, if that place in London were +washed away by the Thames? There is more than enough left for us all, +<span class="nowrap">unless—"</span></p> + +<p>"Ah, Herbert, that is it."</p> + +<p>"Then I will go to Somers, and he shall tell me. My father's interest +in this property cannot have been involved without his knowledge; and +circumstanced as we and my father are, he is bound to tell me."</p> + +<p>"If there be anything within his knowledge to tell, he will tell it."</p> + +<p>"And if there be nothing within his knowledge, then I can only look +upon all this as a disease on my poor father's part. I will do all I +can to comfort him in it; but it would be madness to destroy my whole +happiness because he labours under delusions."</p> + +<p>Lady Fitzgerald did not know what further to say. She half believed +that Sir Thomas did labour under some delusion; but then she half +believed also that he had upon his mind a sorrow, terribly real, +which was in no sort delusive. Under such circumstances, how could +she advise her son? Instead of advising him, she caressed him.</p> + +<p>"But I may claim this from you, mother, that if Somers tells me +nothing which ought to make me break my word to Clara, you will +receive her as your daughter. You will promise me that, will you +not?"</p> + +<p>Lady Fitzgerald did promise, warmly; assuring him that she already +dearly loved Clara Desmond, that she would delight in having such a +daughter-in-law, and that she would go to her to welcome her as such +as soon as ever he should bid her do so. With this Herbert was +somewhat comforted, and immediately started on his search after Mr. +Somers.</p> + +<p>I do not think that any person is to be found, as a rule, attached to +English estates whose position is analogous to that of an Irish +agent. And there is a wide misunderstanding in England as to these +Irish functionaries. I have attempted, some pages back, to describe +the national delinquencies of a middleman, or profit-renter. In +England we are apt to think that the agents on Irish properties are +to be charged with similar shortcomings. This I can assert to be a +great mistake; and I believe that, as a class, the agents on Irish +properties do their duty in a manner beneficial to the people.</p> + +<p>That there are, or were, many agents who were also middlemen, or +profit-renters, and that in this second position they were a nuisance +to the country, is no doubt true. But they were no nuisance in their +working capacity as agents. That there are some bad agents there can +be no doubt, as there are also some bad shoemakers.</p> + +<p>The duties towards an estate which an agent performs in Ireland are, +I believe, generally shared in England between three or four +different persons. The family lawyer performs part, the estate +steward performs part, and the landlord himself performs part;—as to +small estates, by far the greater part.</p> + +<p>In Ireland, let the estate be ever so small—eight hundred a year we +will say—all the working of the property is managed by the agent. It +is he who knows the tenants, and the limits of their holdings; it is +he who arranges leases, and allows—or much more generally does not +allow—for improvements. He takes the rent, and gives the order for +the ejection of tenants if he cannot get it.</p> + +<p>I am far from saying that it would not be well that much of this +should be done by the landlord himself;—that all of it should be so +done on a small property. But it is done by agents; and, as a rule +is, I think, done honestly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Somers was agent to the Castle Richmond property, and as he took +to himself as such five per cent. on all rents paid, and as he was +agent also to sundry other small properties in the neighbourhood, he +succeeded in making a very snug income. He had also an excellent +house on the estate, and was altogether very much thought of; on the +whole, perhaps, more than was Sir Thomas. But in this respect it was +probable that Herbert might soon take the lead.</p> + +<p>He was a large, heavy, consequential man, always very busy, as though +aware of being one of the most important wheels that kept the Irish +clock agoing; but he was honest, kind-hearted in the main, true as +steel to his employers, and good-humoured—as long as he was allowed +to have his own way. In these latter days he had been a little soured +by Herbert's interference, and had even gone so far as to say that, +"in his humble judgment, Mr. Fitzgerald was wrong in doing"—so and +so. But he generally called him Herbert, was always kind to him, and +in his heart of hearts loved him dearly. But that was a matter of +course, for had he not been agent to the estate before Herbert was +born?</p> + +<p>Immediately after his interview with his mother, Mr. Herbert rode +over to Mr. Somers's house, and there found him sitting alone in his +office. He dashed immediately into the subject that had brought him +there. "I have come, Mr. Somers," said he, "to ask you a question +about the property."</p> + +<p>"About the Castle Richmond property?" said Mr. Somers, rather +surprised by his visitor's manner.</p> + +<p>"Yes; you know in what a state my poor father now is."</p> + +<p>"I know that Sir Thomas is not very well. I am sorry to say that it +is long since he has been quite himself."</p> + +<p>"There is something that is preying upon his spirits."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid so, Herbert."</p> + +<p>"Then tell me fairly, Mr. Somers, do you know what it is?"</p> + +<p>"Not—in—the least. I have no conception whatever, and never have +had any. I know no cause for trouble that should disquiet him."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing wrong about the property?"</p> + +<p>"Not to my knowledge."</p> + +<p>"Who has the title-deeds?"</p> + +<p>"They are at Coutts's."</p> + +<p>"You are sure of that?"</p> + +<p>"Well; as sure as a man can be of a thing that he does not see. I +have never seen them there; indeed, have never seen them at all; but +I feel no doubt in my own mind as to their being at the bankers."</p> + +<p>"Is there much due on the estate?"</p> + +<p>"Very little. No estate in county Cork has less on it. Miss Letty has +her income, and when Poulnasherry was bought,—that townland lying +just under Berryhill, where the gorse cover is, part of the purchase +money was left on mortgage. That is still due; but the interest is +less than a hundred a year."</p> + +<p>"And that is all?"</p> + +<p>"All that I know of."</p> + +<p>"Could there be encumbrances without your knowing it?"</p> + +<p>"I think not. I think it is impossible. Of all men your father is the +last to encumber his estates in a manner unknown to his agent, and to +pay off the interest in secret."</p> + +<p>"What is it then, Mr. Somers?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know." And then Mr. Somers paused. "Of course you have +heard of a visit he received the other day from a stranger?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I heard of it."</p> + +<p>"People about here are talking of it. And he—that man, with a +younger man—they are still living in Cork, at a little +drinking-house in South Main Street. The younger man has been seen +down here twice."</p> + +<p>"But what can that mean?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. I tell you everything that I do know."</p> + +<p>Herbert exacted a promise from him that he would continue to tell him +everything which he might learn, and then rode back to Castle +Richmond.</p> + +<p>"The whole thing must be a delusion," he said to himself; and +resolved that there was no valid reason why he should make Clara +unhappy by any reference to the circumstance.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-13" id="c-13"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> +<h4>MR. MOLLETT RETURNS TO SOUTH MAIN STREET.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>I must now take my readers back to that very unsavoury public-house +in South Main Street, Cork, in which, for the present, lived Mr. +Matthew Mollett and his son Abraham.</p> + +<p>I need hardly explain to a discerning public that Mr. Matthew Mollett +was the gentleman who made that momentous call at Castle Richmond, +and flurried all that household.</p> + +<p>"Drat it!" said Mrs. Jones to herself on that day, as soon as she had +regained the solitude of her own private apartment, after having +taken a long look at Mr. Mollett in the hall. On that occasion she +sat down on a low chair in the middle of the room, put her two hands +down substantially on her two knees, gave a long sigh, and then made +the above exclamation,—"Drat it!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones was still thoroughly a Saxon, although she had lived for +so many years among the Celts. But it was only when she was quite +alone that she allowed herself the indulgence of so peculiarly Saxon +a mode of expressing either her surprise or indignation.</p> + +<p>"It's the same man," she said to herself, "as come that day, as sure +as eggs;" and then for five minutes she maintained her position, +cogitating. "And he's like the other fellow too," she continued. +"Only, somehow he's not like him." And then another pause. "And yet +he is; only it can't be; and he ain't just so tall, and he's older +like." And then, still meditating, Mrs. Jones kept her position for +full ten minutes longer; at the end of which time she got up and +shook herself. She deserved to be bracketed with Lord Brougham and +Professor Faraday, for she had kept her mind intent on her subject, +and had come to a resolution. "I won't say nothing to nobody, +noways," was the expression of her mind's purpose. "Only I'll tell +missus as how he was the man as come to Wales." And she did tell so +much to her mistress—as we have before learned.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mollett had gone down from Cork to Castle Richmond in one of +those delightful Irish vehicles called a covered car. An +inside-covered car is an equipage much given to shaking, seeing that +it has a heavy top like a London cab, and that it runs on a pair of +wheels. It is entered from behind, and slopes backwards. The sitter +sits sideways, between a cracked window on one side and a cracked +doorway on the other; and as a draught is always going in at the ear +next the window, and out at the ear next the door, it is about as +cold and comfortless a vehicle for winter as may be well imagined. +Now the journey from Castle Richmond to Cork has to be made right +across the Boggeragh Mountains. It is over twenty miles Irish; and +the road is never very good. Mr. Mollett, therefore, was five hours +in the covered car on his return journey; and as he had stopped for +lunch at Kanturk, and had not hurried himself at that meal, it was +very dark and very cold when he reached the house in South Main +Street.</p> + +<p>I think I have explained that Mr. Mollett senior was not absolutely a +drunkard; but nevertheless, he was not averse to spirits in cold +weather, and on this journey had warmed himself with whisky once or +twice on the road. He had found a shebeen house when he crossed the +Nad river, and another on the mountain-top, and a third at the point +where the road passes near the village of Blarney, and at all these +convenient resting-spots Mr. Mollett had endeavoured to warm himself.</p> + +<p>There are men who do not become absolutely drunk, but who do become +absolutely cross when they drink more than is good for them; and of +such men Mr. Mollett was one. What with the cold air, and what with +the whisky, and what with the jolting, Mr. Mollett was very cross +when he reached the Kanturk Hotel, so that he only cursed the driver +instead of giving him the expected gratuity.</p> + +<p>"I'll come to yer honour in the morning," said the driver.</p> + +<p>"You may go to the devil in the morning," answered Mr. Mollett; and +this was the first intimation of his return which reached the ears of +his expectant son.</p> + +<p>"There's the governor," said Aby, who was then flirting with Miss +O'Dwyer in the bar. "Somebody's been stroking him the wrong way of +the 'air."</p> + +<p>The charms of Miss O'Dwyer in these idle days had been too much for +the prudence of Mr. Abraham Mollett; by far too much, considering +that in his sterner moments his ambition led him to contemplate a +match with a young lady of much higher rank in life. But wine, which +"inspires us" and fires us</p> + + +<table class="sm" style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="3"><tr><td align="left"> +<p class="noindent">"With courage, love, and joy,"</p> +</td></tr></table> + + +<p class="noindent">had inspired him with +courage to forget his prudence, and with love +for the lovely Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Now, nonsense, Mr. Aby," she had said to him a few minutes before +the wheels of the covered car were heard in South Main Street. "You +know you main nothing of the sort."</p> + +<p>"By 'eavens, Fanny, I mean every word of it; may this drop be my +poison if I don't. This piece of business here keeps me and the +governor hon and hoff like, and will do for some weeks perhaps; but +when that's done, honly say the word, and I'll make you Mrs. M. Isn't +that fair now?"</p> + +<p>"But, Mr. Aby—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind the mister, Fan, between friends."</p> + +<p>"La! I couldn't call you Aby without it; could I?"</p> + +<p>"Try, my darling."</p> + +<p>"Well—Aby—there now. It does sound so uppish, don't it? But tell me +this now; what is the business that you and the old gentleman is +about down at Kanturk?"</p> + +<p>Abraham Mollett hereupon had put one finger to his nose, and then +winked his eye.</p> + +<p>"If you care about me, as you say you do, you wouldn't be shy of just +telling me as much as that."</p> + +<p>"That's business, Fan; and business and love don't hamalgamate like +whisky and sugar."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Aby; I don't want to have +anything to do with a man who won't show his rispect by telling me +his sacrets."</p> + +<p>"That's it, is it, Fan?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you think I can't keep a sacret. You think I'd be telling +father, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's about some money that's due to him down there."</p> + +<p>"Who from?"</p> + +<p>"He expects to get it from some of those Fitzgerald people."</p> + +<p>In saying so much Mr. Mollett the younger had not utterly abandoned +all prudence. He knew very well that the car-driver and others would +be aware that his father had been to Castle Richmond; and that it was +more than probable that either he or his father would have to make +further visits there. Indeed, he had almost determined that he would +go down to the baronet himself. Under these circumstances it might be +well that some pretext for these visits should be given.</p> + +<p>"Which Fitzgerald, Mr. Aby? Is it the Hap House young man?"</p> + +<p>"Hap House. I never heard of such a place. These people live at +Castle Richmond."</p> + +<p>"Oh—h—h! If Mr. Mollett have money due there, sure he have a good +mark to go upon. Why, Sir Thomas is about the richest man in these +parts."</p> + +<p>"And who is this other man; at 'Appy—what is it you call his place?"</p> + +<p>"Hap House. Oh, it's he is the thorough-going young gentleman. Only +they say he's a leetle too fast. To my mind, Mr. Owen is the +finest-looking man to be seen anywhere's in the county Cork."</p> + +<p>"He's a flame of yours, is he, Fan?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you main by a flame. But there's not a girl in +Cork but what likes the glance of his eye. They do say that he'd have +Lady Clara Desmond; only there ain't no money."</p> + +<p>"And what's he to these other people?"</p> + +<p>"Cousin, I believe; or hardly so much as that, I'm thinking. But all +the same if anything was to happen to young Mr. Herbert, it would all +go to him."</p> + +<p>"It would, would it?"</p> + +<p>"So people say."</p> + +<p>"Mr. 'Erbert is the son of the old cock at Castle Richmond, isn't +he?"</p> + +<p>"Just so. He's the young cock; he, he, he!"</p> + +<p>"And if he was to be—nowhere like; not his father's son at all, for +instance, it would all go to this 'andsome 'Appy 'Ouse man; would +it?"</p> + +<p>"Every shilling, they say; house, title, and all."</p> + +<p>"Hum," said Mr. Abraham Mollett; and he began again to calculate his +family chances. Perhaps, after all, this handsome young man who was +at present too poor to marry his noble lady love might be the more +liberal man to deal with. But then any dealings with him would kill +the golden goose at once. All would depend on the size of the one egg +which might be extracted.</p> + +<p>He certainly felt, however, that this Fitzgerald family arrangement +was one which it was beneficial that he should know; but he felt also +that it would be by no means necessary at present to communicate the +information to his father. He put it by in his mind, regarding it as +a fund on which he might draw if occasion should require. It might +perhaps be pleasant for him to make the acquaintance of this 'andsome +young Fitzgerald of 'Appy 'Ouse.</p> + +<p>"And now, Fan, my darling, give us a kiss," said he, getting up from +his seat.</p> + +<p>"'Deed and I won't," said Fan, withdrawing herself among the bottles +and glasses.</p> + +<p>"'Deed and you shall, my love," said Aby, pertinaciously, as he +prepared to follow her through the brittle ware.</p> + +<p>"Hu—sh—be aisy now. There's Tom. He's ears for everything, and eyes +like a cat."</p> + +<p>"What do I care for Tom?"</p> + +<p>"And father 'll be coming in. Be aisy, I tell you. I won't now, Mr. +Aby; and that's enough. You'll break the bottle."</p> + +<p>"D—— the bottle. That's smashed hany way. Come, Fan, what's a kiss +among friends?"</p> + +<p>"Cock you up with kisses, indeed! how bad you are for dainties! +There; do you hear that? That's the old gentleman;" and then, as the +voice of Mr. Mollett senior was heard abusing the car-driver, Miss +O'Dwyer smoothed her apron, put her hands to her side hair, and +removed the debris of the broken bottle.</p> + +<p>"Well, governor," said Aby, "how goes it?"</p> + +<p>"How goes it, indeed! It goes pretty well, I dare say, in here, where +you can sit drinking toddy all the evening, and doing nothing."</p> + +<p>"Why, what on hearth would you have me be doing? Better here than +paddling about in the streets, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"If you could do a stroke of work now and then to earn your bread, it +might be better." Now Aby knew from experience that whenever his +father talked to him about earning his bread, he was half drunk and +whole cross. So he made no immediate reply on that point.</p> + +<p>"You are cold I suppose, governor, and had better get a bit of +something to eat, and a little tea."</p> + +<p>"And put my feet in hot water, and tallow my nose, and go to bed, +hadn't I? Miss O'Dwyer, I'll trouble you to mix me a glass of +brandy-punch. Of all the roads I ever travelled, that's the longest +and hardest to get over. Dashed, if I didn't begin to think I'd never +be here." And so saying he flung himself into a chair, and put up his +feet on the two hobs.</p> + +<p>There was a kettle on one of them, which the young lady pushed a +little nearer to the hot coals, in order to show that the water +should be boiling; and as she did so Aby gave her a wink over his +father's shoulder, by way of conveying to her an intimation that "the +governor was a little cut," or in other language tipsy, and that the +brandy-punch should be brewed with a discreet view to past events of +the same description. All which Miss O'Dwyer perfectly understood.</p> + +<p>It may easily be conceived that Aby was especially anxious to receive +tidings of what had been done this day down in the Kanturk +neighbourhood. He had given his views to his father, as will be +remembered; and though Mr. Mollett senior had not professed himself +as absolutely agreeing with them, he had nevertheless owned that he +was imbued with the necessity of taking some great step. He had gone +down to take this great step, and Aby was very anxious to know how it +had been taken.</p> + +<p>When the father and son were both sober, or when the son was tipsy, +or when the father was absolutely drunk—an accident which would +occur occasionally, the spirit and pluck of the son was in the +ascendant. He at such times was the more masterful of the two, and +generally contrived, either by persuasion or bullying, to govern his +governor. But when it did happen that Mollett père was half drunk and +cross with drink, then, at such moments, Mollett fils had to +acknowledge to himself that his governor was not to be governed.</p> + +<p>And, indeed, at such moments his governor could be very +disagreeable—could say nasty, bitter things, showing very little +parental affection, and make himself altogether bad society, not only +to his son, but to his son's companions also. Now it appeared to Aby +that his father was at present in this condition.</p> + +<p>He had only to egg him on to further drinking, and the respectable +gentleman would become stupid, noisy, soft, and affectionate. But +then, when in that state, he would blab terribly. It was much with +the view of keeping him from that state, that under the present +circumstances the son remained with the father. To do the father +justice, it may be asserted that he knew his own weakness, and that, +knowing it, he had abstained from heavy drinking since he had taken +in hand this great piece of diplomacy.</p> + +<p>"But you must be hungry, governor; won't you take a bit of +something?"</p> + +<p>"Shall we get you a steek, Mr. Mollett?" asked Miss O'Dwyer, +hospitably, "or just a bit of bacon with a couple of eggs or so? It +wouldn't be a minute, you know?"</p> + +<p>"Your eggs are all addled and bad," said Mr. Mollett; "and as for a +beef-steak, it's my belief there isn't such a thing in all Ireland." +After which civil speech, Miss O'Dwyer winked at Aby, as much as to +say, "You see what a state he's in."</p> + +<p>"Have a bit of buttered toast and a cup of tea, governor," suggested +the son.</p> + +<p>"I'm d—— if I do," replied the father. "You're become uncommon fond +of tea of late—that is, for other people. I don't see you take much +of it yourself."</p> + +<p>"A cup of tay is the thing to warm one afther such a journey as +you've had; that's certain, Mr. Mollett," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Them's your ideas about warming, are they, my dear?" said the +elderly gentleman. "Do you come and sit down on my knee here for a +few minutes or so, and that'd warm me better than all the 'tay' in +the world."</p> + +<p>Aby showed by his face that he was immeasurably disgusted by the +iniquitous coarseness of this overture. Miss O'Dwyer, however, +looking at the gentleman's age, and his state as regarded liquor, +passed it over as of no moment whatsoever. So that when, in the later +part of the evening, Aby expressed to that young lady his deep +disgust, she merely said, "Oh, bother; what matters an old man like +that?"</p> + +<p>And then, when they were at this pass, Mr. O'Dwyer came in. He did +not interfere much with his daughter in the bar room, but he would +occasionally take a dandy of punch there, and ask how things were +going on in doors. He was a fat, thickset man, with a good-humoured +face, a flattened nose, and a great aptitude for stable occupations. +He was part owner of the Kanturk car, as has been before said, and +was the proprietor of sundry other cars, open cars and covered cars, +plying for hire in the streets of Cork.</p> + +<p>"I hope the mare took your honour well down to Kanturk and back +again," said he, addressing his elder customer with a chuck of his +head intended for a bow.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you call well," said Mr. Mollett. "She hadn't a +leg to stand upon for the last three hours."</p> + +<p>"Not a leg to stand upon! Faix, then, and it's she'd have the four +good legs if she travelled every inch of the way from Donagh-a-Dee to +Ti-vora," to which distance Mr. O'Dwyer specially referred as being +supposed to be the longest known in Ireland.</p> + +<p>"She may be able to do that; but I'm blessed if she's fit to go to +Kanturk and back."</p> + +<p>"She's done the work, anyhow," said Mr. O'Dwyer, who evidently +thought that this last argument was conclusive.</p> + +<p>"And a precious time she's been about it. Why, my goodness, it would +have been better for me to have walked it. As Sir Thomas said to +<span class="nowrap">me—"</span></p> + +<p>"What! did you see Sir Thomas Fitzgerald?"</p> + +<p>Hereupon Aby gave his father a nudge; but the father either did not +appreciate the nudge, or did not choose to obey it.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I did see him. Why shouldn't I?"</p> + +<p>"Only they do say he's hard to get to speak to now-a-days. He's not +over well, you know, these years back."</p> + +<p>"Well or ill he'll see me, I take it, when I go that distance to ask +him. There's no doubt about that; is there, Aby?"</p> + +<p>"Can't say, I'm sure, not knowing the gentleman," said Aby.</p> + +<p>"We holds land from Sir Thomas, we do; that is, me and my brother +Mick, and a better landlord ain't nowhere," said Mr. O'Dwyer.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're one of the tenants, are you? The rents are paid pretty +well, ain't they?"</p> + +<p>"To the day," said Mr. O'Dwyer, proudly.</p> + +<p>"What would you think now—" Mr. Mollett was continuing; but Aby +interrupted him somewhat violently.</p> + +<p>"Hold your confounded stupid tongue, will you, you old jolterhead;" +and on this occasion he put his hand on his father's shoulder and +shook him.</p> + +<p>"Who are you calling jolterhead? Who do you dare to speak to in that +way? you impudent young cub you. Am I to ask your leave when I want +to open my mouth?"</p> + +<p>Aby had well known that his father in his present mood would not +stand the manner in which the interruption was attempted. Nor did he +wish to quarrel before the publican and his daughter. But anything +was better than allowing his father to continue in the strain in +which he was talking.</p> + +<p>"You are talking of things which you don't hunderstand, and about +people you don't know," said Aby. "You've had a drop too much on the +road too, and you 'ad better go to bed."</p> + +<p>Old Mollett turned round to strike at his son; but even in his +present state he was somewhat quelled by Aby's eye. Aby was keenly +alive to the necessity for prudence on his father's part, though he +was by no means able to be prudent himself.</p> + +<p>"Talking of things which I don't understand, am I?" said the old man. +"That's all you know about it. Give me another glass of that brandy +toddy, my dear."</p> + +<p>But Aby's look had quelled, or at any rate silenced him; and though +he did advance another stage in tipsiness before they succeeded in +getting him off to bed, he said no more about Sir Thomas Fitzgerald +or his Castle Richmond secrets.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he had said enough to cause suspicion. One would not +have imagined, on looking at Mr. O'Dwyer, that he was a very crafty +person, or one of whose finesse in affairs of the world it would be +necessary to stand much in awe. He seemed to be thick, and stolid, +and incapable of deep inquiry; but, nevertheless, he was as fond of +his neighbours' affairs as another, and knew as much about the +affairs of his neighbours at Kanturk as any man in the county Cork.</p> + +<p>He himself was a Kanturk man, and his wife had been a Kanturk woman; +no less a person, indeed, than the sister of Father Bernard M'Carthy, +rest her soul;—for it was now at peace, let us all hope. She had +been dead these ten years; but he did not the less keep up his +connection with the old town, or with his brother-in-law the priest, +or with the affairs of the persons there adjacent; especially, we may +say, those of his landlord, Sir Thomas Fitzgerald, under whom he +still held a small farm, in conjunction with his brother Mick, the +publican at Kanturk.</p> + +<p>"What's all that about Sir Thomas?" said he to his daughter in a low +voice as soon as the Molletts had left the bar.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't just know," said Fanny. She was a good daughter, and +loved her father, whose indoor affairs she kept tight enough for him. +But she had hardly made up her mind as yet whether or no it would +suit her to be Mrs. Abraham Mollett. Should such be her destiny, it +might be as well for her not to talk about her husband's matters.</p> + +<p>"Is it true that the old man did see Sir Thomas to-day?"</p> + +<p>"You heard what passed, father; but I suppose it is true."</p> + +<p>"And the young 'un has been down to Kanturk two or three times. What +can the like of them have to do with Sir Thomas?"</p> + +<p>To this Fanny could only say that she knew nothing about it, which in +the main was true. Aby, indeed, had said that his father had gone +down to collect money that was due to him; but then Fanny did not +believe all that Aby said.</p> + +<p>"I don't like that young 'un at all," continued Mr. O'Dwyer. "He's a +nasty, sneaking fellow, as cares for no one but his own belly. I'm +not over fond of the old 'un neither."</p> + +<p>"They is both free enough with their money, father," said the prudent +daughter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they is welcome in the way of business, in course. But look +here, Fan; don't you have nothing to say to that Aby; do you hear +me?"</p> + +<p>"Who? I? ha, ha, ha!"</p> + +<p>"It's all very well laughing; but mind what I says, for I won't have +it. He is a nasty, sneaking, good-for-nothing fellow, besides being a +heretic. What'd your uncle Bernard say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! for the matter of that, if I took a liking to a fellow I +shouldn't ask Uncle Bernard what he had to say. If he didn't like it, +I suppose he might do the other thing."</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't have it. Do you hear that?"</p> + +<p>"Laws, father, what nonsense you do talk. Who's thinking about the +man? He comes here for what he wants to ate and dhrink, and I suppose +the house is free to him as another. If not we'd betther just shut up +the front door." After which she tossed herself up and began to wipe +her glasses in a rather dignified manner.</p> + +<p>Mr. O'Dwyer sat smoking his pipe and chewing the cud of his +reflections. "They ain't afther no good; I'm sure of that." In saying +which, however, he referred to the doings of the Molletts down at +Kanturk, rather than to any amatory proceedings which might have +taken place between the young man and his daughter.</p> + +<p>On the following morning Mr. Mollett senior awoke with a racking +headache. My belief is, that when men pay this penalty for drinking, +they are partly absolved from other penalties. The penalties on drink +are various. I mean those which affect the body, exclusive of those +which affect the mind. There are great red swollen noses, very +disagreeable both to the wearer and his acquaintances; there are +morning headaches, awful to be thought of; there are sick stomachs, +by which means the offender escapes through a speedy purgatory; there +are sallow cheeks, sunken eyes, and shaking shoulders; there are very +big bellies, and no bellies at all; and there is delirium tremens. +For the most part a man escapes with one of these penalties. If he +have a racking headache, his general health does not usually suffer +so much as though he had endured no such immediate vengeance from +violated nature. Young Aby when he drank had no headaches; but his +eye was bloodshot, his cheek bloated, and his hand shook. His father, +on the other hand, could not raise his head after a debauch; but when +that was gone, all ill results of his imprudence seemed to have +vanished.</p> + +<p>At about noon on that day Aby was sitting by his father's bedside. Up +to that time it had been quite impossible to induce him to speak a +word. He could only groan, swallow soda-water with "hairs of the dog +that bit him" in it, and lay with his head between his arms. But soon +after noon Aby did induce him to say a word or two. The door of the +room was closely shut, the little table was strewed with soda-water +bottles and last drops of small goes of brandy. Aby himself had a +cigar in his mouth, and on the floor near the bed-foot was a plate +with a cold, greasy mutton chop, Aby having endeavoured in vain to +induce his father to fortify exhausted nature by eating. The +appearance of the room and the air within it would not have been +pleasant to fastidious people. But then the Molletts were not +fastidious.</p> + +<p>"You did see Sir Thomas, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did see him. I wish, Aby, you'd let me lie just for another +hour or so. I'd be all right then. The jolting of that confounded car +has nearly shaken my head to pieces."</p> + +<p>But Aby was by no means inclined to be so merciful. The probability +was that he would be able to pump his father more thoroughly in his +present weak state than he might do in a later part of the afternoon; +so he persevered.</p> + +<p>"But, governor, it's so important we should know what we're about. +Did you see any one else except himself?"</p> + +<p>"I saw them all I believe, except her. I was told she never showed in +the morning; but I'm blessed if I don't think I saw the skirt of her +dress through an open door. I'll tell you what, Aby, I could not +stand that."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, father, after hall it'll be better I should manage the +business down there."</p> + +<p>"I believe there won't be much more to manage. But, Aby, do leave me +now, there's a good fellow; then in another hour or so I'll get up, +and we'll have it all out."</p> + +<p>"When you're out in the open air and comfortable, it won't be fair to +be bothering you with business. Come, governor, ten minutes will tell +the whole of it if you'll only mind your eye. How did you begin with +Sir Thomas?" And then Aby went to the door, opened it very gently, +and satisfied himself that there was nobody listening on the +landing-place.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mollett sighed wearily, but he knew that his only hope was to get +this job of talking over. "What was it you were saying, Aby?"</p> + +<p>"How did you begin with Sir Thomas?"</p> + +<p>"How did I begin with him? Let me see. Oh! I just told him who I was; +and then he turned away and looked down under the fire like, and I +thought he was going to make a faint of it."</p> + +<p>"I didn't suppose he would be very glad to see you, governor."</p> + +<p>"When I saw how badly he took it, and how wretched he seemed, I +almost made up my mind to go away and never trouble him any more."</p> + +<p>"You did, did you?"</p> + +<p>"And just to take what he'd choose to give me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, them's your hideas, hare they? Then I tell you what; I shall +just take the matter into my own hands hentirely. You have no more +'eart than a chicken."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's very well, Aby; but you did not see him."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that would make hany difference? When a man's a job of +work to do, 'e should do it. Them's my notions. Do you think a man +like that is to go and hact in that way, and then not pay for it? +Whose wife is she I'd like to know?"</p> + +<p>There was a tone of injured justice about Aby which almost roused the +father to participate in the son's indignation. "Well; I did my best, +though the old gentleman was in such a taking," said he.</p> + +<p>"And what was your best? Come, out with it at once."</p> + +<p>"I—m-m. I—just told him who I was, you know."</p> + +<p>"I guess he understood that quite well."</p> + +<p>"And then I said things weren't going exactly well with me."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't have said that at all. What matters that to him? What +you hask for you hask for because you're able to demand it. That's +the ground for hus to take, and by +<span class="nowrap">——</span> I'll take it too. There shall +be no 'alf-measures with me."</p> + +<p>"And then I told him—just what we were agreed, you know."</p> + +<p>"That we'd go snacks in the whole concern?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't exactly say that."</p> + +<p>"Then what the devil did you say?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I told him that, looking at what the property was, twelve +hundred pounds wasn't much."</p> + +<p>"I should think not either."</p> + +<p>"And that if his son was to be allowed to have it +<span class="nowrap">all—"</span></p> + +<p>"A bastard, you know, keeping it away from the proper heir." It may +almost be doubted whether, in so speaking, Aby did not almost think +that he himself had a legitimate right to inherit the property at +Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>"He must look to pay up handsome."</p> + +<p>"But did you say what 'andsome meant?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I didn't—not then. He fell about upon the table like, and I +wasn't quite sure he wouldn't make a die of it; and then heaven knows +what might have happened to me."</p> + +<p>"Psha; you 'as no pluck, governor."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what it is, Aby, I ain't so sure you'd have such an +uncommon deal of pluck yourself."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll try, at any rate."</p> + +<p>"It isn't such a pleasant thing to see an old gentleman in that +state. And what would happen if he chose to ring the bell and order +the police to take me? Have you ever thought of that?"</p> + +<p>"Gammon."</p> + +<p>"But it isn't gammon. A word from him would put me into quod, and +there I should be for the rest of my days. But what would you care +for that?" And poor Mr. Mollett senior shook under the bedclothes as +his attention became turned to this very dreary aspect of his +affairs. "Pluck, indeed! I'll tell you what it is, Aby, I often +wonder at my own pluck."</p> + +<p>"Psha! Wouldn't a word from you split upon him, and upon her, and +upon the young 'un, and ruin 'em? Or a word from me either, for the +matter of that?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Mollett senior shook again. He repented now, as he had already +done twenty times, that he had taken that son of his into his +confidence.</p> + +<p>"And what on hearth did you say to him?" continued Aby.</p> + +<p>"Well, not much more then; at least, not very much more. There was a +good deal of words, but they didn't seem to lead to much, except +this, just to make him understand that he must come down handsome."</p> + +<p>"And there was nothing done about Hemmiline?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the father, rather shortly.</p> + +<p>"If that was settled, that would be the clincher. There would be no +further trouble to nobody then. It would be all smooth sailing for +your life, governor, and lots of tin."</p> + +<p>"I tell you what it is, Aby, you may just drop that, for I won't have +the young lady bothered about it, nor yet the young lady's father."</p> + +<p>"You won't, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I won't; so there's an end of it."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I may pay my distresses to any young lady if I think +fitting."</p> + +<p>"And have yourself kicked into the ditch."</p> + +<p>"I know too much for kicking, governor."</p> + +<p>"They shall know as much as you do, and more too, if you go on with +that. There's a measure in all things. I won't have it done, so I +tell you." And the father turned his face round to the wall.</p> + +<p>This was by no means the end of the conversation, though we need not +verbatim go through any more of it. It appeared that old Mollett had +told Sir Thomas that his permanent silence could be purchased by +nothing short of a settled "genteel" income for himself and his son, +no absolute sum having been mentioned; and that Sir Thomas had +required a fortnight for his answer, which answer was to be conveyed +to Mr. Mollett verbally at the end of that time. It was agreed that +Mr. Mollett should repeat his visit to Castle Richmond on that day +fortnight.</p> + +<p>"In the mean time I'll go down and freshen the old gentleman up a +bit," said Aby, as he left his father's bedroom.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-14" id="c-14"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> +<h4>THE REJECTED SUITOR.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>After the interview between Herbert and his mother, it became an +understood thing at Castle Richmond that he was engaged to Lady +Clara. Sir Thomas raised no further objection, although it was clear +to all the immediate family that he was by no means gratified at his +son's engagement. Very little more passed between Sir Thomas and Lady +Fitzgerald on the subject. He merely said that he would consider the +question of his son's income, and expressed a hope, or perhaps an +opinion rather than a hope, that the marriage would not take place +quite immediately.</p> + +<p>Under these circumstances, Herbert hardly spoke further to his father +upon the matter. He certainly did feel sore that he should be so +treated—that he should be made to understand that there was a +difficulty, but that the difficulty could not be explained to him. No +absolute opposition was however made, and he would not therefore +complain. As to money, he would say nothing till something should be +said to him.</p> + +<p>With his mother, however, the matter was different. She had said that +she would welcome Clara; and she did so. Immediately after speaking +to Sir Thomas she drove over to Desmond Court, and said soft, sweet +things to Clara in her most winning way;—said soft things also to +the countess, who received them very graciously; took Clara home to +Castle Richmond for that night, somewhat to the surprise and much to +the gratification of Herbert, who found her sitting slily with the +other girls when he came in before dinner; and arranged for her to +make a longer visit after the interval of a week or two. Herbert, +therefore, was on thoroughly good terms with his mother, and did +enjoy some of the delights which he had promised himself.</p> + +<p>With his sisters, also, and especially with Emmeline, he was once +more in a good humour. To her he made ample apology for his former +crossness, and received ample absolution. "I was so harassed," he +said, "by my father's manner that I hardly knew what I was doing. And +even now, when I think of his evident dislike to the marriage, it +nearly drives me wild." The truth of all which Emmeline sadly +acknowledged. How could any of them talk of their father except in a +strain of sadness?</p> + +<p>All these things did not happen in the drawing-room at Castle +Richmond without also being discussed in the kitchen. It was soon +known over the house that Master Herbert was to marry Lady Clara, +and, indeed, there was no great pretence of keeping it secret. The +girls told the duchess, as they called Mrs. Jones—of course in +confidence—but Mrs. Jones knew what such confidence meant, +especially as the matter was more than once distinctly alluded to by +her ladyship; and thus the story was told, in confidence, to +everybody in the establishment, and then repeated by them, in +confidence also, to nearly everybody out of it.</p> + +<p>Ill news, they say, flies fast; and this news, which, going in that +direction, became ill, soon flew to Hap House.</p> + +<p>"So young Fitzgerald and the divine Clara are to hit it off, are +they?" said Captain Donnellan, who had driven over from Buttevant +barracks to breakfast at Hap House on a hunting-morning.</p> + +<p>There were other men present, more intimate friends of Owen than this +captain, who had known of Owen's misfortune in that quarter; and a +sign was made to Donnellan to bid him drop the subject; but it was +too late.</p> + +<p>"Who? my cousin Herbert," said Owen, sharply. "Have you heard of +this, Barry?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Barry, "those sort of things are always being said, you +know. I did hear something of it somewhere. But I can't say I thought +much about it." And then the subject was dropped during that +morning's breakfast. They all went to the hunt, and in the course of +the day Owen contrived to learn that the report was well founded.</p> + +<p>That evening, as the countess and her daughter were sitting together +over the fire, the gray-headed old butler brought in a letter upon an +old silver salver, saying, "For Lady Clara, if you please, my lady."</p> + +<p>The countess not unnaturally thought that the despatch had come from +Castle Richmond, and smiled graciously as Clara put out her hand for +the missive. Lady Desmond again let her eyes drop upon the book which +she was reading, as though to show that she was by far too confiding +a mamma to interfere in any correspondence between her daughter and +her daughter's lover. At the moment Lady Clara had been doing +nothing. Her work was, indeed, on her lap, and her workbox was at her +elbow; but her thoughts had been far away; far away as regards idea, +though not so as to absolute locality; for in her mind she was +walking beneath those elm-trees, and a man was near her, with a horse +following at his heels.</p> + +<p>"The messenger is to wait for an answer, my lady," said the old +butler, with a second nod, which on this occasion was addressed to +Clara; and then the man withdrew.</p> + +<p>Lady Clara blushed ruby red up to the roots of her hair when her eyes +fell on the address of the letter, for she knew it to be in the +handwriting of Owen Fitzgerald. Perhaps the countess from the corner +of her eye may have observed some portion of her daughter's blushes; +but if so, she said nothing, attributing them to Clara's natural +bashfulness in her present position. "She will get over it soon," the +countess may probably have said to herself.</p> + +<p>Clara was indecisive, disturbed in her mind, and wretched. Owen had +sent her other letters; but they had been brought to her +surreptitiously, had been tendered to her in secret, and had always +been returned by her unopened. She had not told her mother of these; +at least, not purposely or at the moment: but she had been at no +trouble to conceal the facts; and when the countess had once asked, +she freely told her what had happened with an absence of any +confusion which had quite put Lady Desmond at her ease. But this +letter was brought to her in the most open manner, and an answer to +it openly demanded.</p> + +<p>She turned it round slowly in her hand, and then looking up, said, +"Mamma, this is from Owen Fitzgerald; what had I better do with it?"</p> + +<p>"From Owen Fitzgerald! Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma." And then the countess had also to consider what steps +under such circumstances had better be taken. In the mean time Clara +held out her hand, tendering the letter to her mother.</p> + +<p>"You had better open it, my dear, and read it. No doubt it must be +answered." Lady Desmond felt that now there could be no danger from +Owen Fitzgerald. Indeed she thought that there was not a remembrance +of him left in her daughter's bosom; that the old love, such +baby-love as there had been, had vanished, quite swept out of that +little heart by this new love of a brighter sort. But then Lady +Desmond knew nothing of her daughter.</p> + +<p>So instructed, Clara broke the seal, and read the letter, which ran +<span class="nowrap">thus:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Hap House, February, 184—.</p> + +<p class="noindent">My promised Love,</p> + +<p>For let what will happen, such you are; I have this +morning heard tidings which, if true, will go far to drive +me to despair. But I will not believe them from any lips +save your own. I have heard that you are engaged to marry +Herbert Fitzgerald. At once, however, I declare that I do +not believe the statement. I have known you too well to +think that you can be false.</p> + +<p>But, at any rate, I beg the favour of an interview with +you. After what has passed I think that under any +circumstances I have a right to demand it. I have pledged +myself to you; and as that pledge has been accepted, I am +entitled to some consideration.</p> + +<p>I write this letter to you openly, being quite willing +that you should show it to your mother if you think fit. +My messenger will wait, and I do implore you to send me an +answer. And remember, Lady Clara, that, having accepted my +love, you cannot whistle me down the wind as though I were +of no account. After what has passed between us, you +cannot surely refuse to see me once more.</p> + +<p class="ind8">Ever your own—if you will have it so,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Owen Fitzgerald</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>She read the letter very slowly, ever and anon looking up at her +mother's face, and seeing that her mother was—not reading her book, +but pretending to read it. When she had finished it, she held it for +a moment, and then said, "Mamma, will you not look at it?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my dear, if you wish me to do so." And she took the +letter from her daughter's hand, and read it.</p> + +<p>"Just what one would expect from him, my dear; eager, impetuous, and +thoughtless. One should not blame him much, for he does not mean to +do harm. But if he had any sense, he would know that he was taking +trouble for nothing."</p> + +<p>"And what shall I do, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I really think that I should answer him." It was delightful to +see the perfect confidence which the mother had in her daughter. "And +I think I should see him, if he will insist upon it. It is foolish in +him to persist in remembering two words which you spoke to him as a +child; but perhaps it will be well that you should tell him yourself +that you were a child when you spoke those two words."</p> + +<p>And then Clara sent off the following reply, written under her +mother's dictation; though the countess strove very hard to convince +her daughter that she was wording it out of her own +<span class="nowrap">head:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>Lady Clara Desmond presents her compliments to Mr. Owen +Fitzgerald, and will see Mr. Owen Fitzgerald at Desmond +Court at two o'clock to-morrow, if Mr. Owen Fitzgerald +persists in demanding such an interview. Lady Clara +Desmond, however, wishes to express her opinion that it +would be better avoided.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Desmond Court,<br /> +Thursday evening.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The countess thought that this note was very cold and formal, and +would be altogether conclusive; but, nevertheless, at about eleven +o'clock that night there came another messenger from Hap House with +another letter, saying that Owen would be at Desmond Court at two +o'clock on the following day.</p> + +<p>"He is very foolish; that is all I can say," said the countess.</p> + +<p>All that night and all the next morning poor Clara was very wretched. +That she had been right to give up a suitor who lived such a life as +Owen Fitzgerald lived she could not doubt. But, nevertheless, was she +true in giving him up? Had she made any stipulation as to his life +when she accepted his love? If he called her false, as doubtless he +would call her, how would she defend herself? Had she any defence to +offer? It was not only that she had rejected him, a poor lover; but +she had accepted a rich lover! What could she say to him when he +upbraided her for such sordid conduct?</p> + +<p>And then as to her whistling him down the wind. Did she wish to do +that? In what state did her heart stand towards him? Might it not be +that, let her be ever so much on her guard, she would show him some +tenderness,—tenderness which would be treason to her present +affianced suitor? Oh, why had her mother desired her to go through +such an interview as this!</p> + +<p>When two o'clock came Clara was in the drawing-room. She had said +nothing to her mother as to the manner in which this meeting should +take place. But then at first she had had an idea that Lady Desmond +would be present. But as the time came near Clara was still alone. +When her watch told her that it was already two, she was still by +herself; and when the old servant, opening the door, announced that +Mr. Fitzgerald was there, she was still unsupported by the presence +of any companion. It was very surprising that on such an occasion her +mother should have kept herself away.</p> + +<p>She had not seen Owen Fitzgerald since that day when they had walked +together under the elm-trees, and it can hardly be said that she saw +him now. She had a feeling that she had injured him—had deceived, +and in a manner betrayed him; and that feeling became so powerful +with her that she hardly dared to look him in the face.</p> + +<p>He, when he entered the room, walked straight up to her, and offered +her his hand. He, too, looked round the room to see whether Lady +Desmond was there, and not finding her, was surprised. He had hardly +hoped that such an opportunity would be allowed to him for declaring +the strength of his passion.</p> + +<p>She got up, and taking his hand, muttered something; it certainly did +not matter what, for it was inaudible; but such as the words were, +they were the first spoken between them.</p> + +<p>"Lady Clara," he began; and then stopped himself; and, considering, +recommenced—"Clara, a report has reached my ears which I will +believe from no lips but your own."</p> + +<p>She now sat down on a sofa, and pointed to a chair for him, but he +remained standing, and did so during the whole interview; or rather, +walking; for when he became energetic and impetuous, he moved about +from place to place in the room, as though incapable of fixing +himself in one position.</p> + +<p>Clara was ignorant whether or no it behoved her to rebuke him for +calling her simply by her Christian name. She thought that she ought +to do so, but she did not do it.</p> + +<p>"I have been told," he continued, "that you have engaged yourself to +marry Herbert Fitzgerald; and I have now come to hear a contradiction +of this from yourself."</p> + +<p>"But, Mr. Fitzgerald, it is true."</p> + +<p>"It is true that Herbert Fitzgerald is your accepted lover?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, looking down upon the ground, and blushing deeply as +she said it.</p> + +<p>There was a pause of a few moments, during which she felt that the +full fire of his glance was fixed upon her, and then he spoke.</p> + +<p>"You may well be ashamed to confess it," he said; "you may well feel +that you dare not look me in the face as you pronounce the words. I +would have believed it, Clara, from no other mouth than your own."</p> + +<p>It appeared to Clara herself now as though she were greatly a +culprit. She had not a word to say in her own defence. All those +arguments as to Owen's ill course of life were forgotten; and she +could only remember that she had acknowledged that she loved him, and +that she was now acknowledging that she loved another.</p> + +<p>But now Owen had made his accusation; and as it was not answered, he +hardly knew how to proceed. He walked about the room, endeavouring to +think what he had better say next.</p> + +<p>"I know this, Clara; it is your mother's doing, and not your own. You +could not bring yourself to be false, unless by her instigation."</p> + +<p>"No," said she; "you are wrong there. It is not my mother's doing: +what I have done, I have done myself."</p> + +<p>"Is it not true," he asked, "that your word was pledged to me? Had +you not promised me that you would be my wife?"</p> + +<p>"I was very young," she said, falling back upon the only excuse which +occurred to her at the moment as being possible to be used without +incriminating him.</p> + +<p>"Young! Is not that your mother's teaching? Why, those were her very +words when she came to me at my house. I did not know that youth was +any excuse for falsehood."</p> + +<p>"But it may be an excuse for folly," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Folly! what folly? The folly of loving a poor suitor; the folly of +being willing to marry a man who has not a large estate! Clara, I did +not think that you could have learned so much in so short a time."</p> + +<p>All this was very hard upon her. She felt that it was hard, for she +knew that he had done that which entitled her to regard her pledge to +him as at an end; but the circumstances were such that she could not +excuse herself.</p> + +<p>"Am I to understand," said Owen Fitzgerald, "that all that has passed +between us is to go for nothing? that such promises as we have made +to each other are to be of no account? To me they are sacred pledges, +from which I would not escape even if I could."</p> + +<p>As he then paused for a reply, she was obliged to say something.</p> + +<p>"I hope you have not come here to upbraid me, Mr. Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>"Clara," he continued, "I have passed the last year with perfect +reliance upon your faith. I need hardly tell you that it has not been +passed happily, for it has been passed without seeing you. But though +you have been absent from me, I have never doubted you. I have known +that it was necessary that we should wait—wait perhaps till years +should make you mistress of your own actions: but nevertheless I was +not unhappy, for I was sure of your love."</p> + +<p>Now it was undoubtedly the case that Fitzgerald was treating her +unfairly; and though she had not her wits enough about her to +ascertain this by process of argument, nevertheless the idea did come +home to her. It was true that she had promised her love to this man, +as far as such promise could be conveyed by one word of assent; but +it was true also that she had been almost a child when she pronounced +that word, and that things which had since occurred had entitled her +to annul any amount of contract to which she might have been supposed +to bind herself by that one word. She bethought herself, therefore, +that as she was so hard pressed she was forced to defend herself.</p> + +<p>"I was very young then, Mr. Fitzgerald, and hardly knew what I was +saying: afterwards, when mamma spoke to me, I felt that I was bound +to obey her."</p> + +<p>"What, to obey her by forgetting me?"</p> + +<p>"No; I have never forgotten you, and never shall. I remember too well +your kindness to my brother; your kindness to us all."</p> + +<p>"Psha! you know I do not speak of that. Are you bound to obey your +mother by forgetting that you have loved me?"</p> + +<p>She paused a moment before she answered him, looking now full before +her,—hardly yet bold enough to look him in the face.</p> + +<p>"No," she said; "I have not forgotten that I loved you. I shall never +forget it. Child as I was, it shall never be forgotten. But I cannot +love you now—not in the manner you would have me."</p> + +<p>"And why not, Lady Clara? Why is love to cease on your part—to be +thrown aside so easily by you, while with me it remains so stern a +fact, and so deep a necessity? Is that just? When the bargain has +once been made, should it not be equally binding on us both?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think you are fair to me, Mr. Fitzgerald," she said; and +some spirit was now rising in her bosom.</p> + +<p>"Not fair to you? Do you say that I am unfair to you? Speak but one +word to say that the troth which you pledged me a year since shall +still remain unbroken, and I will at once leave you till you yourself +shall name the time when my suit may be renewed."</p> + +<p>"You know that I cannot do that."</p> + +<p>"And why not? I know that you ought to do it."</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Fitzgerald, I ought not. I am now engaged to your cousin, +with the consent of mamma and of his friends. I can say nothing to +you now which I cannot repeat to him; nor can I say anything which +shall oppose his wishes."</p> + +<p>"He is then so much more to you now than I am?"</p> + +<p>"He is everything to me now."</p> + +<p>"That is all the reply I am to get then! You acknowledge your +falseness, and throw me off without vouchsafing me any answer beyond +this."</p> + +<p>"What would you have me say? I did do that which was wrong and +foolish, when—when we were walking there on the avenue. I did give a +promise which I cannot now keep. It was all so hurried that I hardly +remember what I said. But of this I am sure, that if I have caused +you unhappiness, I am very sorry to have done so. I cannot alter it +all now; I cannot unsay what I said then; nor can I offer you that +which I have now absolutely given to another."</p> + +<p>And then, as she finished speaking, she did pluck up courage to look +him in the face. She was now standing as well as he; but she was so +standing that the table, which was placed near the sofa, was still +between him and her. As she finished speaking the door opened, and +the Countess of Desmond walked slowly into the room.</p> + +<p>Owen Fitzgerald, when he saw her, bowed low before her, and then +frankly offered her his hand. There was something in his manner to +ladies devoid of all bashfulness, and yet never too bold. He seemed +to be aware that in speaking to any lady, be she who she might, he +was only exercising his undoubted privilege as a man. He never hummed +and hawed and shook in his shoes as though the majesty of womanhood +were too great for his encounter. There are such men, and many of +them, who carry this dread to the last day of their long lives. I +have often wondered what women think of men who regard women as too +awful for the free exercise of open speech.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald," she said, accepting the hand which he offered to +her, but resuming her own very quickly, and then standing before him +in all the dignity which she was able to assume, "I quite concurred +with my daughter that it was right that she should see you, as you +insisted on such an interview; but you must excuse me if I interrupt +it. I must protect her from the embarrassment which your—your +vehemence may occasion her."</p> + +<p>"Lady Desmond," he replied, "you are quite at liberty, as far as I am +concerned, to hear all that passes between us. Your daughter is +betrothed to me, and I have come to claim from her the fulfilment of +her promise."</p> + +<p>"For shame, Mr. Fitzgerald, for shame! When she was a child you +extracted from her one word of folly; and now you would take +advantage of that foolish word; now, when you know that she is +engaged to a man she loves with the full consent of all her friends. +I thought I knew you well enough to feel sure that you were not so +ungenerous."</p> + +<p>"Ungenerous! no; I have not that generosity which would enable me to +give up my very heart's blood, the only joy of my soul, to such a one +as my cousin Herbert."</p> + +<p>"You have nothing to give up, Mr. Fitzgerald: you must have known +from the very first that my daughter could not marry +<span class="nowrap">you—"</span></p> + +<p>"Not marry me! And why not, Lady Desmond? Is not my blood as good as +his?—unless, indeed, you are prepared to sell your child to the +highest bidder!"</p> + +<p>"Clara, my dear, I think you had better leave the room," said the +countess; "no doubt you have assured Mr. Fitzgerald that you are +engaged to his cousin Herbert."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Then he can have no further claim on your attendance, and his +vehemence will terrify you."</p> + +<p>"Vehement! how can I help being vehement when, like a ruined gambler, +I am throwing my last chance for such a stake?"</p> + +<p>And then he intercepted Clara as she stepped towards the drawing-room +door. She stopped in her course, and stood still, looking down upon +the ground.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald," said the countess, "I will thank you to let Lady +Clara leave the room. She has given you the answer for which you have +asked, and it would not be right in me to permit her to be subjected +to further embarrassment."</p> + +<p>"I will only ask her to listen to one word. Clara—"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald, you have no right to address my daughter with that +freedom," said the countess; but Owen hardly seemed to hear her.</p> + +<p>"I here, in your hearing, protest against your marriage with Herbert +Fitzgerald. I claim your love as my own. I bid you think of the +promise which you gave me; and I tell you that as I loved you then +with all my heart, so do I love you at this moment; so shall I love +you always. Now I will not hinder you any longer."</p> + +<p>And then he opened the door for her, and she passed on, bowing to +him, and muttering some word of farewell that was inaudible.</p> + +<p>He stood for a moment with the door in his hand, meditating whether +he might not say good morning to the countess without returning into +the room; but as he so stood she called him. "Mr. Fitzgerald," she +said; and so he therefore came back, and once more closed the door.</p> + +<p>And then he saw that the countenance of Lady Desmond was much +changed. Hitherto she had been every inch the countess, stern and +cold and haughty; but now she looked at him as she used to look in +those old winter evenings when they were accustomed to talk together +over the evening fire in close friendliness, while she, Lady Desmond, +would speak to him in the intimacy of her heart of her children, +Patrick and Clara.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald," she said, and the tone of her voice also was +changed. "You are hardly fair to us; are you?"</p> + +<p>"Not fair, Lady Desmond?"</p> + +<p>"No, not fair. Sit down now, and listen to me for a moment. If you +had a child, a penniless girl like Clara, would you be glad to see +her married to such a one as you are yourself?"</p> + +<p>"In what way do you mean? Speak out, Lady Desmond."</p> + +<p>"No; I will not speak out, for I would not hurt you. I myself am too +fond of you—as an old friend, to wish to do so. That you may marry +and live happily, live near us here, so that we may know you, I most +heartily desire. But you cannot marry that child."</p> + +<p>"And why not, if she loves me?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, not even if she did. Wealth and position are necessary to the +station in which she has been born. She is an earl's daughter, +penniless as she is. I will have no secrets from you. As a mother, I +could not give her to one whose career is such as yours. As the widow +of an earl, I could not give her to one whose means of maintaining +her are so small. If you will think of this, you will hardly be angry +with me."</p> + +<p>"Love is nothing then?"</p> + +<p>"Is all to be sacrificed to your love? Think of it, Mr. Fitzgerald, +and let me have the happiness of knowing that you consent to this +match."</p> + +<p>"Never!" said he. "Never!" And so he left the room, without wishing +her further farewell.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-15" id="c-15"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> +<h4>DIPLOMACY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>About a week after the last conversation that has been related as +having taken place at the Kanturk Hotel, Mr. Mollett junior was on +his way to Castle Richmond. He had on that occasion stated his +intention of making such a journey with the view of "freshening the +old gentleman up a bit;" and although his father did all in his power +to prevent the journey, going so far on one occasion as to swear that +if it was made he would throw over the game altogether, nevertheless +Aby persevered.</p> + +<p>"You may leave the boards whenever you like, governor," said Aby. "I +know quite enough of the part to carry on the play."</p> + +<p>"You think you do," said the father in his anger; "but you'll find +yourself in the dark yet before you've done."</p> + +<p>And then again he expostulated in a different tone. "You'll ruin it +all, Aby; you will indeed; you don't know all the circumstances; +indeed you don't."</p> + +<p>"Don't I?" said Aby. "Then I'll not be long learning them."</p> + +<p>The father did what he could; but he had no means of keeping his son +at home, and so Aby went. Aby doubtless entertained an idea that his +father was deficient in pluck for the management of so difficult a +matter, and that he could supply what his father wanted. So he +dressed himself in his best, and having hired a gig and a man who he +flattered himself would look like a private servant, he started from +Cork, and drove himself to Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>He had on different occasions been down in the neighbourhood, +prowling about like a thief in the night, picking up information as +he called it, and seeing how the land lay; but he had never yet +presented himself to any one within the precincts of the Castle +Richmond demesne. His present intention was to drive up to the front +door, and ask at once for Sir Thomas Fitzgerald, sending in his card +if need be, on which were printed the +<span class="nowrap">words:—</span></p> + + +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="3"><tr><td align="left"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Mr. Abraham +Mollett</span>, Junior.</p> +</td></tr></table> + + +<p class="noindent">With the additional words, +"Piccadilly, London," written in the +left-hand lower corner.</p> + +<p>"I'll take the bull by the horns," said he to himself. "It's better +to make the spoon at once, even if we do run some small chance of +spoiling the horn." And that he might be well enabled to carry out +his purpose with reference to this bull, he lifted his flask to his +mouth as soon as he had passed through the great demesne gate, and +took a long pull at it. "There's nothing like a little jumping +powder," he said, speaking to himself again, and then he drove boldly +up the avenue.</p> + +<p>He had not yet come in sight of the house when he met two gentlemen +walking on the road. They, as he approached, stood a little on one +side, not only so as to allow him to pass, but to watch him as he did +so. They were Mr. Somers and Herbert Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>"It is the younger of those two men. I'm nearly certain of it," said +Somers as the gig approached. "I saw him as he walked by me in +Kanturk Street, and I don't think I can mistake the horrid impudence +of his face. I beg your pardon, sir,"—and now he addressed Mollett +in the gig—"but are you going up to the house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; that's my notion just at present. Any commands that way?"</p> + +<p>"This is Mr. Fitzgerald—Mr. Herbert Fitzgerald; and I am Mr. Somers, +the agent. Can we do anything for you?"</p> + +<p>Aby Mollett raised his hat, and the two gentlemen touched theirs. +"Thank'ee, sir," said Aby; "but I believe my business must be with +the worthy baro-nett himself; more particularly as I 'appen to know +that he's at home."</p> + +<p>"My father is not very well," said Herbert, "and I do not think that +he will be able to see you."</p> + +<p>"I'll take the liberty of hasking and of sending in my card," said +Aby; and he gave his horse a flick as intending thus to cut short the +conversation. But Mr. Somers had put his hand upon the bridle, and +the beast was contented to stand still.</p> + +<p>"If you'll have the kindness to wait a moment," said Mr. Somers; and +he put on a look of severity, which he well knew how to assume, and +which somewhat cowed poor Aby. "You have been down here before, I +think," continued Mr. Somers.</p> + +<p>"What, at Castle Richmond? No, I haven't. And if I had, what's that +to you if Sir Thomas chooses to see me? I hain't hintruding, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>"You've been down at Kanturk before—once or twice; for I have seen +you."</p> + +<p>"And supposing I've been there ten or twelve times,—what is there in +that?" said Aby.</p> + +<p>Mr. Somers still held the horse's head, and stood a moment +considering.</p> + +<p>"I'll thank you to let go my 'oss," said Aby raising his whip and +shaking the reins.</p> + +<p>"What do you say your name is?" asked Mr. Somers.</p> + +<p>"I didn't say my name was anything yet. I hain't ashamed of it, +however, nor hasn't hany cause to be. That's my name, and if you'll +send my card in to Sir Thomas, with my compliments, and say that +hi've three words to say to him very particular; why hi'll be obliged +to you." And then Mr. Mollett handed Mr. Somers his card.</p> + +<p>"Mollett!" said Mr. Somers very unceremoniously. "Mollett, Mollett. +Do you know the name, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>Herbert said that he did not.</p> + +<p>"It's about business I suppose?" asked Mr. Somers.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Aby; "private business; very particular."</p> + +<p>"The same that brought your father here;" and Mr. Somers again looked +into his face with a close scrutiny.</p> + +<p>Aby was abashed, and for a moment or two he did not answer. "Well, +then; it is the same business," he said at last. "And I'll thank you +to let me go on. I'm not used to be stopped in this way."</p> + +<p>"You can follow us up to the house," said Mr. Somers to him. "Come +here, Herbert." And then they walked along the road in such a way +that Aby was forced to allow his horse to walk after them.</p> + +<p>"These are the men who are doing it," said Mr. Somers in a whisper to +his companion. "Whatever is in the wind, whatever may be the cause of +your father's trouble, they are concerned in it. They are probably +getting money from him in some way."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?"</p> + +<p>"I do. We must not force ourselves upon your father's confidence, but +we must endeavour to save him from this misery. Do you go in to him +with this card. Do not show it to him too suddenly; and then find out +whether he really wishes to see the man. I will stay about the place; +for it may be possible that a magistrate will be wanted, and in such +a matter you had better not act."</p> + +<p>They were now at the hall-door, and Somers, turning to Mollett, told +him that Mr. Herbert Fitzgerald would carry the card to his father. +And then he added, seeing that Mollett was going to come down, "You +had better stay in the gig till Mr. Fitzgerald comes back; just sit +where you are; you'll get an answer all in good time."</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas was crouching over the fire in his study when his son +entered, with his eyes fixed upon a letter which he held in his hand, +and which, when he saw Herbert, he closed up and put away.</p> + +<p>"Father," said Herbert, in a cheerful every-day voice, as though he +had nothing special to communicate, "there is a man in a gig out +there. He says he wants to see you."</p> + +<p>"A man in a gig!" and Herbert could see that his father had already +begun to tremble. But every sound made him tremble now.</p> + +<p>"Yes; a man in a gig. What is it he says his name is? I have his card +here. A young man."</p> + +<p>"Oh, a young man?" said Sir Thomas.</p> + +<p>"Yes, here it is. Abraham Mollett. I can't say that your friend seems +to be very respectable, in spite of his gig," and Herbert handed the +card to his father.</p> + +<p>The son purposely looked away as he mentioned the name, as his great +anxiety was not to occasion distress. But he felt that the sound of +the word had been terrible in his father's ears. Sir Thomas had risen +from his chair; but he now sat down again, or rather fell into it. +But nevertheless he took the card, and said that he would see the +man.</p> + +<p>"A young man do you say, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father, a young man. And, father, if you are not well, tell me +what the business is and let me see him."</p> + +<p>But Sir Thomas persisted, shaking his head, and saying that he would +see the man himself.</p> + +<p>"Somers is out there. Will you let him do it?"</p> + +<p>"No. I wonder, Herbert, that you can tease me so. Let the man be sent +in here. But, oh, Herbert—<span class="nowrap">Herbert—!"</span></p> + +<p>The young man rushed round and kneeled at his father's knee. "What is +it, father? Why will you not tell me? I know you have some grief, and +cannot you trust me? Do you not know that you can trust me?"</p> + +<p>"My poor boy, my poor boy!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, father? If this man here is concerned in it, let me see +him."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no."</p> + +<p>"Or at any rate let me be with you when he is here. Let me share your +trouble if I can do nothing to cure it."</p> + +<p>"Herbert, my darling, leave me and send him in. If it be necessary +that you should bear this calamity, it will come upon you soon +enough."</p> + +<p>"But I am afraid of this man—for your sake, father."</p> + +<p>"He will do me no harm; let him come to me. But, Herbert, say nothing +to Somers about this. Somers has not seen the man; has he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; we both spoke to him together as he drove up the avenue."</p> + +<p>"And what did he say? Did he say anything?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing but that he wanted to see you, and then he gave his card to +Mr. Somers. Mr. Somers wished to save you from the annoyance."</p> + +<p>"Why should it annoy me to see any man? Let Mr. Somers mind his own +business. Surely I can have business of my own without his +interference." With this Herbert left his father, and returned to the +hall-door to usher in Mr. Mollett junior.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Mr. Somers, who was standing by the hall fire, and who +joined Herbert at the front door.</p> + +<p>"My father will see the man."</p> + +<p>"And have you learned who he is?"</p> + +<p>"I have learned nothing but this—that Sir Thomas does not wish that +we should inquire. Now, Mr. Mollett, Sir Thomas will see you; so you +can come down. Make haste now, and remember that you are not to stay +long, for my father is ill." And then leading Aby through the hall +and along a passage, he introduced him into Sir Thomas's room.</p> + +<p>"And Herbert—" said the father; whereupon Herbert again turned +round. His father was endeavouring to stand, but supporting himself +by the back of his chair. "Do not disturb me for half an hour; but +come to me then, and knock at the door. This gentleman will have done +by that time."</p> + +<p>"If we do not put a stop to this, your father will be in a mad-house +or on his death-bed before long." So spoke Mr. Somers in a low, +solemn whisper when Herbert again joined him at the hall-door.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, sir; sit down," said Sir Thomas, endeavouring to be civil +and to seem at his ease at the same time. Aby was himself so much +bewildered for the moment, that he hardly perceived the embarrassment +under which the baronet was labouring.</p> + +<p>Aby sat down, in the way usual to such men in such places, on the +corner of his chair, and put his hat on the ground between his feet. +Then he took out his handkerchief and blew his nose, and after that +he expressed an opinion that he was in the presence of Sir Thomas +Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>"And you are Mr. Abraham Mollett," said Sir Thomas.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sir Thomas, that's my name. I believe, Sir Thomas, that you +have the pleasure of some slight acquaintance with my father, Mr. +Matthew Mollett?"</p> + +<p>What a pleasure under such circumstances! Sir Thomas, however, nodded +his head, and Aby went on.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, Sir Thomas, business is business; and my father, 'e ain't +a good man of business. A gen'leman like you, Sir Thomas, has seen +that with 'alf an eye, I know." And then he waited a moment for an +answer; but as he got none he proceeded.</p> + +<p>"My governor's one of the best of fellows going, but 'e ain't sharp +and decisive. Sharp's the word now a days, Sir Thomas; ain't it?" and +he spoke this in a manner so suited to the doctrine which he intended +to inculcate, that the poor old gentleman almost jumped up in his +chair.</p> + +<p>And Aby, seeing this, seated himself more comfortably in his own. The +awe which the gilt bindings of the books and the thorough comfort of +the room had at first inspired was already beginning to fade away. He +had come there to bully, and though his courage had failed him for a +moment under the stern eye of Mr. Somers, it quickly returned to him +now that he was able to see how weak was his actual victim.</p> + +<p>"Sharp's the word, Sir Thomas; and my governor, 'e ain't sharp—not +sharp as he ought to be in such a matter as this. This is what I +calls a real bit of cheese. Now it's no good going on piddling and +peddling in such a case as this; is it now, Sir Thomas?"</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas muttered something, but it was no more than a groan.</p> + +<p>"Not the least use," continued Aby. "Now the question, as I takes it, +is this. There's your son there as fetched me in 'ere; a fine young +gen'leman 'e is, as ever I saw; I will say that. Well, now; who's to +have this 'ere property when you walk the plank—as walk it you must +some day, in course? Is it to be this son of yours, or is it to be +this other Fitzgerald of 'Appy 'Ouse? Now, if you ask me, I'm all for +your son, though maybe he mayn't be all right as regards the dam."</p> + +<p>There was certainly some truth in what Aby had said with reference to +his father. Mr. Mollett senior had never debated the matter in terms +sharp and decisive as these were. Think who they were of whom this +brute was talking to that wretched gentleman; the wife of his bosom, +than whom no wife was ever more dearly prized; the son of his love, +the centre of all his hopes, the heir of his wealth—if that might +still be so. And yet he listened to such words as these, and did not +call in his servants to turn the speaker of them out of his doors.</p> + +<p>"I've no wish for that 'Appy 'Ouse man, Sir Thomas; not the least. +And as for your good lady, she's nothing to me one way or the +other—whatever she may be to my +<span class="nowrap">governor—"</span> and here there fell a +spasm upon the poor man's heart, which nearly brought him from the +chair to the ground; but, nevertheless, he still contained +himself—"my governor's former lady, my own mother," continued Aby, +"whom I never see'd, she'd gone to kingdom come, you know, before +that time, Sir Thomas. There hain't no doubt about that. So you +<span class="nowrap">see—"</span> +and hereupon he dropped his voice from the tone which he had +hitherto been using to an absolute whisper, and drawing his chair +close to that of the baronet, and putting his hands upon his knees, +brought his mouth close to his companion's ear—"So you see," he +said, "when that youngster was born, Lady F. was Mrs. M.—wasn't she? +and for the matter of that, Lady F. is Mrs. M. to this very hour. +That's the real chat; ain't it, Sir Thomas? My stepmother, you know. +The governor could take her away with him to-morrow if he chose, +according to the law of the land—couldn't he now?"</p> + +<p>There was no piddling or peddling about this at any rate. Old Mollett +in discussing the matter with his victim had done so by hints and +inuendos, through long windings, by signs and the dropping of a few +dark words. He had never once mentioned in full terms the name of +Lady Fitzgerald; had never absolutely stated that he did possess or +ever had possessed a wife. It had been sufficient for him to imbue +Sir Thomas with the knowledge that his son Herbert was in great +danger as to his heritage. Doubtless the two had understood each +other; but the absolute naked horror of the surmised facts had been +kept delicately out of sight. But such delicacy was not to Aby's +taste. Sharp, short, and decisive; that was his motto. No "longæ +ambages" for him. The whip was in his hand, as he thought, and he +could best master the team by using it.</p> + +<p>And yet Sir Thomas lived and bore it. As he sat there half stupefied, +numbed as it were by the intensity of his grief, he wondered at his +own power of endurance. "She is Mrs. M., you know; ain't she now?" He +could sit there and hear that, and yet live through it. So much he +could do, and did do; but as for speaking, that was beyond him.</p> + +<p>Young Mollett thought that this "freshening up of the old gentleman" +seemed to answer; so he continued. "Yes, Sir Thomas, your son's my +favourite, I tell you fairly. But then, you know, if I backs the +favourite, in course I likes to win upon him. How is it to be, now?" +and then he paused for an answer, which, however, was not +forthcoming.</p> + +<p>"You see you haven't been dealing quite on the square with the +governor. You two is, has it were, in a boat together. We'll call +that boat the Lady F., or the Mrs. M., which ever you like;"—and +then Aby laughed, for the conceit pleased him—"but the hearnings of +that boat should be divided hequally. Ain't that about the ticket? +heh, Sir Thomas? Come, don't be down on your luck. A little quiet +talkee-talkee between you and me'll soon put this small matter on a +right footing."</p> + +<p>"What is it you want? tell me at once," at last groaned the poor man.</p> + +<p>"Well now, that's something like; and I'll tell you what we want. +There are only two of us you know, the governor and I; and very +lonely we are, for it's a sad thing for a man to have the wife of his +bosom taken from him."</p> + +<p>Then there was a groan which struck even Aby's ear; but Sir Thomas +was still alive and listening, and so he went on.</p> + +<p>"This property here, Sir Thomas, is a good twelve thousand a year. I +know hall about it as though I'd been 'andling it myself for the last +ten years. And a great deal of cutting there is in twelve thousand a +year. You've 'ad your whack out of it, and now we wants to have +hourn. That's Henglish, hain't it?"</p> + +<p>"Did your father send you here, Mr. Mollett?"</p> + +<p>"Never you mind who sent me, Sir Thomas. Perhaps he did, and perhaps +he didn't. Perhaps I came without hany sending. Perhaps I'm more hup +to this sort of work than he is. At any rate, I've got the part +pretty well by 'eart—you see that, don't you? Well, hour hultimatum +about the business is this. Forty thousand pounds paid down on the +nail, half to the governor, and half to your 'umble servant, before +the end of this year; a couple of thousand more in hand for the +year's hexpenses—and—and—a couple of hundred or so now at once +before I leave you; for to tell the truth we're run huncommonly dry +just at the present moment." And then Aby drew his breath and paused +for an answer.</p> + +<p>Poor Sir Thomas was now almost broken down. His head swam round and +round, and he felt that he was in a whirlpool from which there was no +escape. He had heard the sum named, and knew that he had no power of +raising it. His interest in the estate was but for his life, and that +life was now all but run out. He had already begun to feel that his +son must be sacrificed, but he had struggled and endured in order +that he might save his wife. But what could he do now? What further +struggle could he make? His present most eager desire was that that +horrid man should be removed from his hearing and his eyesight.</p> + +<p>But Aby had not yet done: he had hitherto omitted to mention one not +inconsiderable portion of the amicable arrangement which, according +to him, would have the effect of once more placing the two families +comfortably on their feet. "There's one other pint, Sir Thomas," he +continued, "and hif I can bring you and your good lady to my way of +thinking on that, why, we may all be comfortable for all that is come +and gone. You've a daughter Hemmeline."</p> + +<p>"What!" said Sir Thomas, turning upon him; for there was still so +much of life left in him that he could turn upon his foe when he +heard his daughter's name thus polluted.</p> + +<p>"Has lovely a gal to my way of thinking as my heyes ever rested on; +and I'm not haccounted a bad judge of such cattle, I can tell you, +Sir Thomas."</p> + +<p>"That will do, that will do," said Sir Thomas, attempting to rise, +but still holding on by the back of his chair. "You can go now, sir; +I cannot hear more from you."</p> + +<p>"Go!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; go."</p> + +<p>"I know a trick worth two of that, Sir Thomas. If you like to give me +your daughter Hemmeline for my wife, whatever her fortin's to be, +I'll take it as part of my half of the forty thousand pounds. There +now." And then Aby again waited for a reply.</p> + +<p>But now there came a knock at the door, and following quick upon the +knock Herbert entered the room. "Well, father," said the son.</p> + +<p>"Herbert!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father;" and he went round and supported his father on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Herbert, will you tell that man to go?"</p> + +<p>"Come, sir, you have disturbed my father enough; will you have the +kindness to leave him now?"</p> + +<p>"I may chance to disturb him more, and you too, sir, if you treat me +in that way. Let go my arm, sir. Am I to have any answer from you, +Sir Thomas?"</p> + +<p>But Sir Thomas could make no further attempt at speaking. He was now +once more seated in his chair, holding his son's hand, and when he +again heard Mollett's voice he merely made a sign for him to go.</p> + +<p>"You see the state my father is in, Mr. Mollett," said Herbert; "I do +not know what is the nature of your business, but whatever it may be, +you must leave him now." And he made a slight attempt to push the +visitor towards the door.</p> + +<p>"You'd better take care what you're doing, Mr. Fitzgerald," said +Mollett. "By <span class="nowrap">——</span> you had! +If you anger me, I might say a word that I +couldn't unsay again, which would put you into queer street, I can +tell you."</p> + +<p>"Don't quarrel with him, my boy; pray don't quarrel with him, but let +him leave me," said Sir Thomas.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Mollett, you see my father's state; you must be aware that it is +imperative that he should be left alone."</p> + +<p>"I don't know nothing about that, young gen'leman; business is +business, and I hain't got hany answer to my proposals. Sir Thomas, +do you say 'Yes' to them proposals." But Sir Thomas was still dumb. +"To all but the last? Come," continued Aby, "that was put in quite as +much for your good as it was for mine." But not a word came from the +baronet.</p> + +<p>"Then I shan't stir," said Aby, again seating himself.</p> + +<p>"Then I shall have the servants in," said Herbert, "and a magistrate +who is in the hall;" and he put his hand towards the handle of the +bell.</p> + +<p>"Well, as the old gen'leman's hill, I'll go now and come again. But +look you here, Sir Thomas, you have got my proposals, and if I don't +get an answer to them in three days' time,—why you'll hear from me +in another way, that's all. And so will her ladyship." And with this +threat Mr. Abraham Mollett allowed himself to be conducted through +the passage into the hall, and from thence to his gig.</p> + +<p>"See that he drives away; see that he goes," said Herbert to Mr. +Somers, who was still staying about the place.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll drive away fast enough," said Aby, as he stepped into the +gig, "and come back fast enough too," he muttered to himself. In the +mean time Herbert had run back to his father's room.</p> + +<p>"Has he gone?" murmured Sir Thomas.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he has gone. There; you can hear the wheels of his gig on the +gravel."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my boy, my poor boy!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, father? Why do you not tell me? Why do you allow such +men as that to come and harass you, when a word would keep them from +you? Father, good cannot come of it."</p> + +<p>"No, Herbert, no; good will not come of it. There is no good to come +at all."</p> + +<p>"Then why will you not tell us?"</p> + +<p>"You will know it all soon enough. But Herbert, do not say a word to +your mother. Not a word as you value my love. Let us save her while +we can. You promise me that."</p> + +<p>Herbert gave him the required promise.</p> + +<p>"Look here," and he took up the letter which he had before crumpled +in his hand. "Mr. Prendergast will be here next week. I shall tell +everything to him."</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards Sir Thomas went to his bed, and there by his bedside +his wife sat for the rest of the evening. But he said no word to her +of his sorrow.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Prendergast is coming here," said Herbert to Mr. Somers.</p> + +<p>"I am glad of it, though I do not know him," said Mr. Somers. "For, +my dear boy, it is necessary that there should be some one here."</p> + + +<p><a name="c-16" id="c-16"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> +<h4>THE PATH BENEATH THE ELMS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It will be remembered that in the last chapter but one Owen +Fitzgerald left Lady Desmond in the drawing-room at Desmond Court +somewhat abruptly, having absolutely refused to make peace with the +Desmond faction by giving his consent to the marriage between Clara +and his cousin Herbert. And it will perhaps be remembered also, that +Lady Desmond had asked for this consent in a manner that was almost +humble. She had shown herself most anxious to keep on friendly terms +with the rake of Hap House,—rake and roué, gambler and spendthrift, +as he was reputed to be,—if only he would abandon his insane claim +to the hand of Clara Desmond. But this feeling she had shown when +they two were alone together, after Clara had left them. As long as +her daughter had been present, Lady Desmond had maintained her tone +of indignation and defiance; but, when the door was closed and they +two were alone, she had become kind in her language and almost +tender.</p> + +<p>My readers will probably conceive that she had so acted, overcome by +her affection for Owen Fitzgerald and with a fixed resolve to win him +for herself. Men and women when they are written about are always +supposed to have fixed resolves, though in life they are so seldom +found to be thus armed. To speak the truth, the countess had had no +fixed resolve in the matter, either when she had thought about Owen's +coming, or when, subsequently, she had found herself alone with him +in her drawing-room. That Clara should not marry him,—on so much she +had resolved long ago. But all danger on that head was, it may be +said, over. Clara, like a good child, had behaved in the best +possible manner; had abandoned her first lover, a lover that was poor +and unfitted for her, as soon as told to do so; and had found for +herself a second lover, who was rich, and proper, and in every way +desirable. As regards Clara, the countess felt herself to be safe; +and, to give her her due, she had been satisfied that the matter +should so rest. She had not sought any further interview with +Fitzgerald. He had come there against her advice, and she had gone to +meet him prompted by the necessity of supporting her daughter, and +without any other views of her own.</p> + +<p>But when she found herself alone with him; when she looked into his +face, and saw how handsome, how noble, how good it was—good in its +inherent manliness and bravery—she could not but long that this feud +should be over, and that she might be able once more to welcome him +as her friend. If only he would give up this frantic passion, this +futile, wicked, senseless attempt to make them all wretched by an +insane marriage, would it not be sweet again to make some effort to +rescue him from the evil ways into which he had fallen?</p> + +<p>But Owen himself would make no response to this feeling. Clara +Desmond was his love, and he would, of his own consent, yield her to +no one. In truth, he was, in a certain degree, mad on this subject. +He did think that because the young girl had given him a promise—had +said to him a word or two which he called a promise—she was now of +right his bride; that there belonged to him an indefeasible property +in her heart, in her loveliness, in the inexpressible tenderness of +her young springing beauty, of which no subsequent renouncing on her +part could fairly and honestly deprive him. That others should oppose +the match was intelligible to him; but it was hardly intelligible +that she should betray him. And, as yet, he did not believe that she +herself was the mainspring of this renouncing. Others, the countess +and the Castle Richmond people, had frightened her into falseness; +and, therefore, it became him to maintain his right by any +means—almost by any means, within his power. Give her up of his own +free will and voice! Say that Herbert Fitzgerald should take her with +his consent! that she should go as a bride to Castle Richmond, while +he stood by and smiled, and wished them joy! Never! And so he rode +away with a stern heart, leaving her standing there with something of +sternness about her heart also.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Clara, when she was sure that her rejected suitor +was well away from the place, put on her bonnet and walked out. It +was her wont at this time to do so; and she was becoming almost a +creature of habit, shut up as she was in that old dreary barrack. Her +mother very rarely went with her; and she habitually performed the +same journey over the same ground, at the same hour, day after day. +So it had been, and so it was still,—unless Herbert Fitzgerald were +with her.</p> + +<p>On the present occasion she saw no more of her mother before she left +the house. She passed the drawing-room door, and seeing that it was +ajar, knew that the countess was there; but she had nothing to say to +her mother as to the late interview, unless her mother had aught to +say to her. So she passed on. In truth her mother had nothing to say +to her. She was sitting there alone, with her head resting on her +hand, with that sternness at her heart and a cloud upon her brow, but +she was not thinking of her daughter. Had she not, with her skill and +motherly care, provided well for Clara? Had she not saved her +daughter from all the perils which beset the path of a young girl? +Had she not so brought her child up and put her forth into the world, +that, portionless as that child was, all the best things of the world +had been showered into her lap? Why should the countess think more of +her daughter? It was of herself she was thinking; and of what her +life would be all alone, absolutely alone, in that huge frightful +home of hers, without a friend, almost without an acquaintance, +without one soul near her whom she could love or who would love her. +She had put out her hand to Owen Fitzgerald, and he had rejected it. +Her he had regarded merely as the mother of the woman he loved. And +then the Countess of Desmond began to ask herself if she were old and +wrinkled and ugly, only fit to be a dowager in mind, body, and in +name!</p> + +<p>Over the same ground! Yes, always over the same ground. Lady Clara +never varied her walk. It went from the front entrance of the court, +with one great curve, down to the old ruined lodge which opened on to +the road running from Kanturk to Cork. It was here that the row of +elm trees stood, and it was here that she had once walked with a hot, +eager lover beside her, while a docile horse followed behind their +feet. It was here that she walked daily; and was it possible that she +should walk here without thinking of him?</p> + +<p>It was always on the little well-worn path by the road-side, not on +the road itself, that she took her measured exercise; and now, as she +went along, she saw on the moist earth the fresh prints of a horse's +hoofs. He also had ridden down the same way, choosing to pass over +the absolute spot in which those words had been uttered, thinking of +that moment, as she also was thinking of it. She felt sure that such +had been the case. She knew that it was this that had brought him +there—there on to the foot-traces which they had made together.</p> + +<p>And did he then love her so truly,—with a love so hot, so eager, so +deeply planted in his very soul? Was it really true that a passion +for her had so filled his heart, that his whole life must by that be +made or marred? Had she done this thing to him? Had she so impressed +her image on his mind that he must be wretched without her? Was she +so much to him, so completely all in all as regarded his future +worldly happiness? Those words of his, asserting that love—her +love—was to him a stern fact, a deep necessity—recurred over and +over again to her mind. Could it really be that in doing as she had +done, in giving herself to another after she had promised herself to +him, she had committed an injustice which would constantly be brought +up against her by him and by her own conscience? Had she in truth +deceived and betrayed him,—deserted him because he was poor, and +given herself over to a rich lover because of his riches?</p> + +<p>As she thought of this she forgot again that fact—which, indeed, she +had never more than half realized in her mind—that he had justified +her in separating herself from him by his reckless course of living; +that his conduct must be held to have so justified her, let the +pledge between them have been of what nature it might. Now, as she +walked up and down that path, she thought nothing of his wickedness +and his sins; she thought only of the vows to which she had once +listened, and the renewal of those vows to which it was now so +necessary that her ear should be deaf.</p> + +<p>But was her heart deaf to them? She swore to herself, over and over +again, scores and scores of oaths, that it was so; but each time that +she swore, some lowest corner in the depth of her conscience seemed +to charge her with a falsehood. Why was it that in all her hours of +thinking she so much oftener saw his face, Owen's, than she did that +other face of which in duty she was bound to think and dream? It was +in vain that she told herself that she was afraid of Owen, and +therefore thought of him. The tone of his voice that rang in her ears +the oftenest was not that of his anger and sternness, but the tone of +his first assurance of love—that tone which had been so +inexpressibly sweet to her—that to which she had listened on this +very spot where she now walked slowly, thinking of him. The look of +his which was ever present to her eyes was not that on which she had +almost feared to gaze but an hour ago; but the form and spirit which +his countenance had worn when they were together on that +well-remembered day.</p> + +<p>And then she would think, or try to think, of Herbert, and of all his +virtues and of all his goodness. He too loved her well. She never +doubted that. He had come to her with soft words, and pleasant +smiles, and sweet honeyed compliments—compliments which had been +sweet to her as they are to all girls; but his soft words, and +pleasant smiles, and honeyed love-making had never given her so +strong a thrill of strange delight as had those few words from Owen. +Her very heart's core had been affected by the vigour of his +affection. There had been in it a mysterious grandeur which had half +charmed and half frightened her. It had made her feel that he, were +it fated that she should belong to him, would indeed be her lord and +ruler; that his was a spirit before which hers would bend and feel +itself subdued. With him she could realize all that she had dreamed +of woman's love; and that dream which is so sweet to some women—of +woman's subjugation. But could it be the same with him to whom she +was now positively affianced, with him to whom she knew that she did +now owe all her duty? She feared that it was not the same.</p> + +<p>And then again she swore that she loved him. She thought over all his +excellences; how good he was as a son—how fondly his sisters loved +him—how inimitable was his conduct in these hard trying times. And +she remembered also that it was right in every way that she should +love him. Her mother and brother approved of it. Those who were to be +her new relatives approved of it. It was in every way fitting. +Pecuniary considerations were so favourable! But when she thought of +that her heart sank low within her breast. Was it true that she had +sold herself at her mother's bidding? Should not the remembrance of +Owen's poverty have made her true to him had nothing else done so?</p> + +<p>But be all that as it might, one thing, at any rate, was clear to +her, that it was now her fate, her duty—and, as she repeated again +and again, her wish to marry Herbert. No thought of rebellion against +him and her mother ever occurred to her as desirable or possible. She +would be to him a true and loving wife, a wife in very heart and +soul. But, nevertheless, walking thus beneath those trees, she could +not but think of Owen Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>In this mood she had gone twice down from the house to the lodge and +back again; and now again she had reached the lodge the third time, +making thus her last journey: for in these solitary walks her work +was measured. The exercise was needful, but there was little in the +task to make her prolong it beyond what was necessary. But now, as +she was turning for the last time, she heard the sound of a horse's +hoof coming fast along the road; and looking from the gate, she saw +that Herbert was coming to her. She had not expected him, but now she +waited at the gate to meet him.</p> + +<p>It had been arranged that she was to go over in a few days to Castle +Richmond, and stay there for a fortnight. This had been settled +shortly before the visit made by Mr. Mollett junior, at that place, +and had not as yet been unsettled. But as soon as it was known that +Sir Thomas had summoned Mr. Prendergast from London, it was felt by +them all that it would be as well that Clara's visit should be +postponed. Herbert had been especially cautioned by his father, at +the time of Mollett's visit, not to tell his mother anything of what +had occurred, and to a certain extent he had kept his promise. But it +was of course necessary that Lady Fitzgerald should know that Mr. +Prendergast was coming to the house, and it was of course impossible +to keep from her the fact that his visit was connected with the +lamentable state of her husband's health and spirits. Indeed, she +knew as much as that without any telling. It was not probable that +Mr. Prendergast should come there now on a visit of pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Whatever this may be that weighs upon his mind," Herbert had said, +"he will be better for talking it over with a man whom he trusts."</p> + +<p>"And why not with Somers?" said Lady Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>"Somers is too often with him, too near to him in all the affairs of +his life. I really think he is wise to send for Mr. Prendergast. We +do not know him, but I believe him to be a good man."</p> + +<p>Then Lady Fitzgerald had expressed herself as satisfied—as satisfied +as she could be, seeing that her husband would not take her into his +confidence; and after this it was settled that Herbert should at once +ride over to Desmond Court, and explain that Clara's visit had better +be postponed.</p> + +<p>Herbert got off his horse at the gate, and gave it to one of the +children at the lodge to lead after him. His horse would not follow +him, Clara said to herself as they walked back together towards the +house. She could not prevent her mind running off in that direction. +She would fain not have thought of Owen as she thus hung upon +Herbert's arm, but as yet she had not learned to control her +thoughts. His horse had followed him lovingly—the dogs about the +place had always loved him—the men and women of the whole country +round, old and young, all spoke of him with a sort of love: everybody +admired him. As all this passed through her brain, she was hanging on +her accepted lover's arm, and listening to his soft sweet words.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! it will be much better," she said, answering his proposal +that she should put off her visit to Castle Richmond. "But I am so +sorry that Sir Thomas should be ill. Mr. Prendergast is not a doctor, +is he?"</p> + +<p>And then Herbert explained that Mr. Prendergast was not a doctor, +that he was a physician for the mind rather than for the body. +Regarding Clara as already one of his own family, he told her as much +as he had told his mother. He explained that there was some deep +sorrow weighing on his father's heart of which they none of them knew +anything save its existence; that there might be some misfortune +coming on Sir Thomas of which he, Herbert, could not even guess the +nature; but that everything would be told to this Mr. Prendergast.</p> + +<p>"It is very sad," said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"Very sad; very sad," said Clara, with tears in her eyes. "Poor +gentleman! I wish that we could comfort him."</p> + +<p>"And I do hope that we may," said Herbert. "Somers seems to think +that his mind is partly affected, and that this misfortune, whatever +it be, may not improbably be less serious than we anticipate;—that +it weighs heavier on him than it would do, were he altogether well."</p> + +<p>"And your mother, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; she also is to be pitied. Sometimes, for moments, she seems +to dread some terrible misfortune; but I believe that in her calm +judgment she thinks that our worst calamity is the state of my +father's health."</p> + +<p>Neither in discussing the matter with his mother or Clara, nor in +thinking it over when alone, did it ever occur to Herbert that he +himself might be individually subject to the misfortune over which +his father brooded. Sir Thomas had spoken piteously to him, and +called him poor, and had seemed to grieve over what might happen to +him; but this had been taken by the son as a part of his father's +malady.</p> + +<p>Everything around him was now melancholy, and therefore these terms +had not seemed to have any special force of their own. He did not +think it necessary to warn Clara that bad days might be in store for +both of them, or to caution her that their path of love might yet be +made rough.</p> + +<p>"And whom do you think I met, just now, on horseback?" he asked, as +soon as this question of her visit had been decided.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Owen Fitzgerald, probably," said Clara. "He went from hence +about an hour since."</p> + +<p>"Owen Fitzgerald here!" he repeated, as though the tidings of such a +visit having been made were not exactly pleasant to him. "I thought +that Lady Desmond did not even see him now."</p> + +<p>"His visit was to me, Herbert, and I will explain it to you. I was +just going to tell you when you first came in, only you began about +Castle Richmond."</p> + +<p>"And have you seen him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I saw him. Mamma thought it best. Yesterday he wrote a note +to me which I will show you." And then she gave him such an account +of the interview as was possible to her, making it, at any rate, +intelligible to him that Owen had come thither to claim her for +himself, having heard the rumour of her engagement to his cousin.</p> + +<p>"It was inexcusable on his part—unpardonable!" said Herbert, +speaking with an angry spot on his face, and with more energy than +was usual with him.</p> + +<p>"Was it? why?" said Clara, innocently. She felt unconsciously that it +was painful to her to hear Owen ill spoken of by her lover, and that +she would fain excuse him if she could.</p> + +<p>"Why, dearest? Think what motives he could have had; what other +object than to place you in a painful position, and to cause trouble +and vexation to us all. Did he not know that we were engaged?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; he knew that;—at least, no; I am not quite sure—I think he +said that he had heard it but did +<span class="nowrap">not—"</span></p> + +<p>"Did not what, love?"</p> + +<p>"I think he said he did not quite believe it;" and then she was +forced, much against her will, to describe to her betrothed how Owen +had boldly claimed her as his own.</p> + +<p>"His conduct has been unpardonable," said Herbert, again. "Nay, it +has been ungentlemanlike. He has intruded himself where he well knew +that he was not wanted; and he has done so taking advantage of a few +words which, under the present circumstances, he should force himself +to forget."</p> + +<p>"But, Herbert, it is I that have been to blame."</p> + +<p>"No; you have not been in the least to blame. I tell you honestly +that I can lay no blame at your door. At the age you were then, it +was impossible that you should know your own mind. And even had your +promise to him been of a much more binding nature, his subsequent +conduct, and your mother's remonstrance, as well as your own age, +would have released you from it without any taint of falsehood. He +knew all this as well as I do; and I am surprised that he should have +forced his way into your mother's house with the mere object of +causing you embarrassment."</p> + +<p>It was marvellous how well Herbert Fitzgerald could lay down the law +on the subject of Clara's conduct, and on all that was due to her, +and all that was not due to Owen. He was the victor; he had gained +the prize; and therefore it was so easy for him to acquit his +promised bride, and heap reproaches on the head of his rejected +rival. Owen had been told that he was not wanted, and of course +should have been satisfied with his answer. Why should he intrude +himself among happy people with his absurd aspirations? For were they +not absurd? Was it not monstrous on his part to suppose that he could +marry Clara Desmond?</p> + +<p>It was in this way that Herbert regarded the matter. But it was not +exactly in that way that Clara looked at it. "He did not force his +way in," she said. "He wrote to ask if we would see him; and mamma +said that she thought it better."</p> + +<p>"That is forcing his way in the sense that I meant it; and if I find +that he gives further annoyance I shall tell him what I think about +it. I will not have you persecuted."</p> + +<p>"Herbert, if you quarrel with him you will make me wretched. I think +it would kill me."</p> + +<p>"I shall not do it if I can help it, Clara. But it is my duty to +protect you, and if it becomes necessary I must do so; you have no +father, and no brother of an age to speak to him, and that +consideration alone should have saved you from such an attack."</p> + +<p>Clara said nothing more, for she knew that she could not speak out to +him the feelings of her heart. She could not plead to him that she +had injured Owen, that she had loved him and then given him up; that +she had been false to him: she could not confess that, after all, the +tribute of such a man's love could not be regarded by her as an +offence. So she said nothing further, but walked on in silence, +leaning on his arm.</p> + +<p>They were now close to the house, and as they drew near to it Lady +Desmond met them on the door-step. "I dare say you have heard that we +had a visitor here this morning," she said, taking Herbert's hand in +an affectionate motherly way, and smiling on him with all her +sweetness.</p> + +<p>Herbert said that he had heard it, and expressed an opinion that Mr. +Owen Fitzgerald would have been acting far more wisely to have +remained at home at Hap House.</p> + +<p>"Yes, perhaps so; certainly so," said Lady Desmond, putting her arm +within that of her future son, and walking back with him through the +great hall. "He would have been wiser; he would have saved dear Clara +from a painful half-hour, and he would have saved himself from +perhaps years of sorrow. He has been very foolish to remember Clara's +childhood as he does remember it. But, my dear Herbert, what can we +do? You lords of creation sometimes will be foolish even about such +trifling things as women's hearts."</p> + +<p>And then, when Herbert still persisted that Owen's conduct had been +inexcusable and ungentlemanlike, she softly flattered him into +quiescence. "You must not forget," she said, "that he perhaps has +loved Clara almost as truly as you do. And then what harm can he do? +It is not very probable that he should succeed in winning Clara away +from you!"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, it is not that I mean. It is for Clara's sake."</p> + +<p>"And she, probably, will never see him again till she is your wife. +That event will, I suppose, take place at no very remote period."</p> + +<p>"As soon as ever my father's health will admit. That is if I can +persuade Clara to be so merciful."</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth, Herbert, I think you could persuade her to +anything. Of course we must not hurry her too much. As for me, my +losing her will be very sad; you can understand that; but I would not +allow any feeling of my own to stand in her way for half-an-hour."</p> + +<p>"She will be very near you, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she will; and therefore, as I was saying, it would be absurd +for you to quarrel with Mr. Owen Fitzgerald. For myself, I am sorry +for him—very sorry for him. You know the whole story of what +occurred between him and Clara, and of course you will understand +that my duty at that time was plain. Clara behaved admirably, and if +only he would not be so foolish, the whole matter might be forgotten. +As far as you and I are concerned I think it may be forgotten."</p> + +<p>"But then his coming here?"</p> + +<p>"That will not be repeated. I thought it better to show him that we +were not afraid of him, and therefore I permitted it. Had I conceived +that you would have <span class="nowrap">objected—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"Well, there was not much for you to be afraid of, certainly," said +the countess. And so he was appeased, and left the house promising +that he, at any rate, would do nothing that might lead to a quarrel +with his cousin Owen.</p> + +<p>Clara, who had still kept on her bonnet, again walked down with him +to the lodge, and encountered his first earnest supplication that an +early day should be named for their marriage. She had many reasons, +excellent good reasons, to allege why this should not be the case. +When was a girl of seventeen without such reasons? And it is so +reasonable that she should have such reasons. That period of having +love made to her must be by far the brightest in her life. Is it not +always a pity that it should be abridged?</p> + +<p>"But your father's illness, Herbert, you know."</p> + +<p>Herbert acknowledged that, to a certain extent, his father's illness +was a reason—only to a certain extent. It would be worse than +useless to think of waiting till his father's health should be +altogether strong. Just for the present, till Mr. Prendergast should +have gone, and perhaps for a fortnight longer, it might be well to +wait. But after that—and then he pressed very closely the hand which +rested on his arm. And so the matter was discussed between them with +language and arguments which were by no means original.</p> + +<p>At the gate, just as Herbert was about to remount his horse, they +were encountered by a sight which for years past had not been +uncommon in the south of Ireland, but which had become frightfully +common during the last two or three months. A woman was standing +there, of whom you could hardly say that she was clothed, though she +was involved in a mass of rags which covered her nakedness. Her head +was all uncovered, and her wild black hair was streaming round her +face. Behind her back hung two children enveloped among the rags in +some mysterious way; and round about her on the road stood three +others, of whom the two younger were almost absolutely naked. The +eldest of the five was not above seven. They all had the same wild +black eyes, and wild elfish straggling locks; but neither the mother +nor the children were comely. She was short and broad in the +shoulders, though wretchedly thin; her bare legs seemed to be of +nearly the same thickness up to the knee, and the naked limbs of the +children were like yellow sticks. It is strange how various are the +kinds of physical development among the Celtic peasantry in Ireland. +In many places they are singularly beautiful, especially as children; +and even after labour and sickness shall have told on them as labour +and sickness will tell, they still retain a certain softness and +grace which is very nearly akin to beauty. But then again in a +neighbouring district they will be found to be squat, uncouth, and in +no way attractive to the eye. The tint of the complexion, the nature +of the hair, the colour of the eyes, shall be the same. But in one +place it will seem as though noble blood had produced delicate limbs +and elegant stature, whereas in the other a want of noble blood had +produced the reverse. The peasants of Clare, Limerick, and Tipperary +are, in this way, much more comely than those of Cork and Kerry.</p> + +<p>When Herbert and Clara reached the gate they found this mother with +her five children crouching at the ditch-side, although it was still +mid-winter. They had seen him enter the demesne, and were now waiting +with the patience of poverty for his return.</p> + +<p>"An' the holy Virgin guide an' save you, my lady," said the woman, +almost frightening Clara by the sudden way in which she came forward, +"an' you too, Misther Herbert; and for the love of heaven do +something for a poor crathur whose five starving childher have not +had wholesome food within their lips for the last week past."</p> + +<p>Clara looked at them piteously and put her hand towards her pocket. +Her purse was never well furnished, and now in these bad days was +usually empty. At the present moment it was wholly so. "I have +nothing to give her; not a penny," she said, whispering to her lover.</p> + +<p>But Herbert had learned deep lessons of political economy, and was by +no means disposed to give promiscuous charity on the road-side. "What +is your name," said he; "and from where do you come?"</p> + +<p>"Shure, an' it's yer honor knows me well enough; and her ladyship +too; may the heavens be her bed. And don't I come from Clady; that is +two long miles the fur side of it? And my name is Bridget Sheehy. +Shure, an' yer ladyship remembers me at Clady the first day ye war +over there about the biler."</p> + +<p>Clara looked at her, and thought that she did remember her, but she +said nothing. "And who is your husband?" said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"Murty Brien, plaze yer honor;" and the woman ducked a curtsey with +the heavy load of two children on her back. It must be understood +that among the poorer classes in the south and west of Ireland it is +almost rare for a married woman to call herself or to be called by +her husband's name.</p> + +<p>"And is he not at work?"</p> + +<p>"Shure, an' he is, yer honor—down beyant Kinsale by the say. But +what's four shilling a week for a man's diet, let alone a woman and +five bairns?"</p> + +<p>"And so he has deserted you?"</p> + +<p>"No, yer honor; he's not dasarted me thin. He's a good man and a +kind, av' he had the mains. But we've a cabin up here, on her +ladyship's ground that is; and he has sent me up among my own people, +hoping that times would come round; but faix, yer honor, I'm thinking +that they'll never come round, no more."</p> + +<p>"And what do you want now, Bridget?"</p> + +<p>"What is it I'm wanting? just a thrifle of money then to get a sup of +milk for thim five childher as is starving and dying for the want of +it." And she pointed to the wretched, naked brood around her with a +gesture which in spite of her ugliness had in it something of tragic +grandeur.</p> + +<p>"But you know that we will not give money. They will take you in at +the poorhouse at Kanturk."</p> + +<p>"Is it the poorhouse, yer honor?"</p> + +<p>"Or, if you get a ticket from your priest they will give you meal +twice a week at Clady. You know that. Why do you not go to Father +Connellan?"</p> + +<p>"Is it the mail? An' shure an' haven't I had it, the last month past; +nothin' else; not a taste of a piaty or a dhrop of milk for nigh a +month, and now look at the childher. Look at them, my lady. They are +dyin' by the very road-side." And she undid the bundle at her back, +and laying the two babes down on the road showed that the elder of +them was in truth in a fearful state. It was a child nearly two years +of age, but its little legs seemed to have withered away; its cheeks +were wan, and yellow and sunken, and the two teeth which it had +already cut were seen with terrible plainness through its emaciated +lips. Its head and forehead were covered with sores; and then the +mother, moving aside the rags, showed that its back and legs were in +the same state. "Look to that," she said, almost with scorn. "That's +what the mail has done—my black curses be upon it, and the day that +it first come nigh the counthry." And then again she covered the +child and began to resume her load.</p> + +<p>"Do give her something, Herbert, pray do," said Clara, with her whole +face suffused with tears.</p> + +<p>"You know that we cannot give away money," said Herbert, arguing with +Bridget Sheehy, and not answering Clara at the moment. "You +understand enough of what is being done to know that. Why do you not +go into the Union?"</p> + +<p>"Shure thin an' I'll jist tramp on as fur as Hap House, I and my +childher; that is av' they do not die by the road-side. Come on, +bairns. Mr. Owen won't be afther sending me to the Kanturk union when +I tell him that I've travelled all thim miles to get a dhrink of milk +for a sick babe; more by token when I tells him also that I'm one of +the Desmond tinantry. It's he that loves the Desmonds, Lady +Clara,—loves them as his own heart's blood. And it's I that wish him +good luck with his love, in spite of all that's come and gone yet. +Come on, bairns, come along; we have seven weary miles to walk." And +then, having rearranged her burden on her back, she prepared again to +start.</p> + +<p>Herbert Fitzgerald, from the first moment of his interrogating the +woman, had of course known that he would give her somewhat. In spite +of all his political economy, there were but few days in which he did +not empty his pocket of his loose silver, with these culpable +deviations from his theoretical philosophy. But yet he felt that it +was his duty to insist on his rules, as far as his heart would allow +him to do so. It was a settled thing at their relief committee that +there should be no giving away of money to chance applicants for +alms. What money each had to bestow would go twice further by being +brought to the general fund—by being expended with forethought and +discrimination. This was the system which all attempted, which all +resolved to adopt who were then living in the south of Ireland. But +the system was impracticable, for it required frames of iron and +hearts of adamant. It was impossible not to waste money in +almsgiving.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Herbert!" said Clara, imploringly, as the woman prepared to +start.</p> + +<p>"Bridget, come here," said Herbert, and he spoke very seriously, for +the woman's allusion to Owen Fitzgerald had driven a cloud across his +brow. "Your child is very ill, and therefore I will give you +something to help you," and he gave her a shilling and two sixpences.</p> + +<p>"May the God in heaven bless you thin, and make you happy, whoever +wins the bright darling by your side; and may the good days come back +to yer house and all that belongs to it. May yer wife clave to you +all her days, and be a good mother to your childher." And she would +have gone on further with her blessing had not he interrupted her.</p> + +<p>"Go on now, my good woman," said he, "and take your children where +they may be warm. If you will be advised by me, you will go to the +Union at Kanturk." And so the woman passed on still blessing them. +Very shortly after this none of them required pressing to go to the +workhouse. Every building that could be arranged for the purpose was +filled to overflowing as soon as it was ready. But the worst of the +famine had not come upon them as yet. And then Herbert rode back to +Castle Richmond.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-17" id="c-17"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> +<h4>FATHER BARNEY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Mick O'Dwyer's public-house at Kanturk was by no means so pretentious +an establishment as that kept by his brother in South Main Street, +Cork, but it was on the whole much less nasty. It was a drinking-shop +and a public car office, and such places in Ireland are seldom very +nice; but there was no attempt at hotel grandeur, and the little room +in which the family lived behind the bar was never invaded by +customers.</p> + +<p>On one evening just at this time—at the time, that is, with which we +have been lately concerned—three persons were sitting in this room +over a cup of tea. There was a gentleman, middle-aged, but none the +worse on that account, who has already been introduced in these pages +as Father Bernard M'Carthy. He was the parish priest of Drumbarrow; +and as his parish comprised a portion of the town of Kanturk, he +lived, not exactly in the town, but within a mile of it. His sister +had married Mr. O'Dwyer of South Main Street, and therefore he was +quite at home in the little back parlour of Mick O'Dwyer's house in +Kanturk. Indeed Father Bernard was a man who made himself at home in +the houses of most of his parishioners,—and of some who were not his +parishioners.</p> + +<p>His companions on the present occasion were two ladies who seemed to +be emulous in supplying his wants. The younger and more attractive of +the two was also an old friend of ours, being no other than Fanny +O'Dwyer from South Main Street. Actuated, doubtless, by some +important motive she had left her bar at home for one night, having +come down to Kanturk by her father's car, with the intention of +returning by it in the morning. She was seated as a guest here on the +corner of the sofa near the fire, but nevertheless she was neither +too proud nor too strange in her position to administer as best she +might to the comfort of her uncle.</p> + +<p>The other lady was Mistress O'Dwyer, the lady of the mansion. She was +fat, very; by no means fair, and perhaps something over forty. But +nevertheless there were those who thought that she had her charms. A +better hand at curing a side of bacon there was not in the county +Cork, nor a woman who was more knowing in keeping a house straight +and snug over her husband's head. That she had been worth more than a +fortune to Mick O'Dwyer was admitted by all in Kanturk; for it was +known to all that Mick O'Dwyer was not himself a good hand at keeping +a house straight and snug.</p> + +<p>"Another cup of tay, Father Bernard," said this lady. "It'll be more +to your liking now than the first, you'll find." Father Barney, +perfectly reliant on her word, handed in his cup.</p> + +<p>"And the muffin is quite hot," said Fanny, stooping down to a tray +which stood before the peat fire, holding the muffin dish. "But +perhaps you'd like a morsel of buttered toast; say the word, uncle, +and I'll make it in a brace of seconds."</p> + +<p>"In course she will," said Mrs. O'Dwyer: "and happy too, av you'll +only say that you have a fancy, Father Bernard."</p> + +<p>But Father Bernard would not own to any such fancy. The muffin, he +said, was quite to his liking, and so was the tea; and from the +manner in which he disposed of these delicacies, even Mrs. Townsend +might have admitted that this assertion was true, though she was wont +to express her belief that nothing but lies could, by any +possibility, fall from his mouth.</p> + +<p>"And they have been staying with you now for some weeks, haven't +they?" said Father Barney.</p> + +<p>"Off and on," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"But there's one of them mostly there, isn't he?" added the priest.</p> + +<p>"The two of them is mostly there, just now. Sometimes one goes away +for a day or two, and sometimes the other."</p> + +<p>"And they have no business which keeps them in Cork?" continued the +priest, who seemed to be very curious on the matter.</p> + +<p>"Well, they do have business, I suppose," said Fanny, "but av so I +never sees it." Fanny O'Dwyer had a great respect for her uncle, +seeing that he filled an exalted position, and was a connexion of +whom she could be justly proud; but, though she had now come down to +Kanturk with the view of having a good talk with her aunt and uncle +about the Molletts, she would only tell as much as she liked to tell, +even to the parish priest of Drumbarrow. And we may as well explain +here that Fanny had now permanently made up her mind to reject the +suit of Mr. Abraham Mollett. As she had allowed herself to see more +and more of the little domestic ways of that gentleman, and to become +intimate with him as a girl should become with the man she intends to +marry, she had gradually learned to think that he hardly came up to +her beau ideal of a lover. That he was crafty and false did not +perhaps offend her as it should have done. Dear Fanny, excellent and +gracious as she was, could herself be crafty on occasions. He drank +too, but that came in the way of her profession. It is hard, perhaps, +for a barmaid to feel much severity against that offence. But in +addition to this Aby was selfish and cruel and insolent, and seldom +altogether good tempered. He was bad to his father, and bad to those +below him whom he employed. Old Mollett would give away his sixpences +with a fairly liberal hand, unless when he was exasperated by drink +and fatigue. But Aby seldom gave away a penny. Fanny had sharp eyes, +and soon felt that her English lover was not a man to be loved, +though he had two rings, a gold chain, and half a dozen fine +waistcoats.</p> + +<p>And then another offence had come to light in which the Molletts were +both concerned. Since their arrival in South Main Street they had +been excellent customers—indeed quite a godsend, in this light, to +Fanny, who had her own peculiar profit out of such house-customers as +they were. They had paid their money like true Britons,—not +regularly indeed, for regularity had not been desired, but by a five +pound now, and another in a day or two, just as they were wanted. +Nothing indeed could be better than this, for bills so paid are +seldom rigidly scrutinized. But of late, within the last week, +Fanny's requests for funds had not been so promptly met, and only on +the day before her visit to Kanturk she had been forced to get her +father to take a bill from Mr. Mollett senior for £20 at two months' +date. This was a great come-down, as both Fanny and her father felt, +and they had begun to think that it might be well to bring their +connexion with the Molletts to a close. What if an end had come to +the money of these people, and their bills should be dishonoured when +due? It was all very well for a man to have claims against Sir Thomas +Fitzgerald, but Fanny O'Dwyer had already learnt that nothing goes so +far in this world as ready cash.</p> + +<p>"They do have business, I suppose," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"It won't be worth much, I'm thinking," said Mrs. O'Dwyer, "when they +can't pay their weekly bills at a house of public entertainment, +without flying their names at two months' date."</p> + +<p>Mrs. O'Dwyer hated any such payments herself, and looked on them as +certain signs of immorality. That every man should take his drop of +drink, consume it noiselessly, and pay for it immediately—that was +her idea of propriety in its highest form.</p> + +<p>"And they've been down here three or four times, each of them," said +Father Barney, thinking deeply on the subject.</p> + +<p>"I believe they have," said Fanny. "But of course I don't know much +of where they've been to."</p> + +<p>Father Barney knew very well that his dear niece had been on much +more intimate terms with her guest than she pretended. The rumours +had reached his ears some time since that the younger of the two +strangers in South Main Street was making himself agreeable to the +heiress of the hotel, and he had intended to come down upon her with +all the might of an uncle, and, if necessary, with all the authority +of the Church. But now that Fanny had discarded her lover, he wisely +felt that it would be well for him to know nothing about it. Both +uncles and priests may know too much—very foolishly.</p> + +<p>"I have seen them here myself," said he, "and they have both been up +at Castle Richmond."</p> + +<p>"They do say as poor Sir Thomas is in a bad way," said Mrs. O'Dwyer, +shaking her head piteously.</p> + +<p>"And yet he sees these men," said Father Barney. "I know that for +certain. He has seen them, though he will rarely see anybody +now-a-days."</p> + +<p>"Young Mr. Herbert is a-doing most of the business up about the +place," said Mrs. O'Dwyer. "And people do say as how he is going to +make a match of it with Lady Clara Desmond. And it's the lucky girl +she'll be, for he's a nice young fellow entirely."</p> + +<p>"Not half equal to her other Joe, Mr. Owen that is," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know that, my dear. Such a house and property as +Castle Richmond is not likely to go a-begging among the young women. +And then Mr. Herbert is not so rampageous like as him of Hap House, +by all accounts."</p> + +<p>But Father Barney still kept to his subject. "And they are both at +your place at the present moment, eh, Fanny?"</p> + +<p>"They was to dine there, after I left."</p> + +<p>"And the old man said he'd be down here again next Thursday," +continued the priest. "I heard that for certain. I'll tell you what +it is, they're not after any good here. They are Protestants, ain't +they?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, black Protestants," said Mrs. O'Dwyer. "But you are not taking +your tay, Father Bernard," and she again filled his cup for him.</p> + +<p>"If you'll take my advice, Fanny, you'll give them nothing more +without seeing their money. They'll come to no good here, I'm sure of +that. They're afther some mischief with that poor old gentleman at +Castle Richmond, and it's my belief the police will have them before +they've done."</p> + +<p>"Like enough," said Mrs. O'Dwyer.</p> + +<p>"They may have them to-morrow, for what I care," said Fanny, who +could not help feeling that Aby Mollett had at one time been not +altogether left without hope as her suitor.</p> + +<p>"But you wouldn't like anything like that to happen in your father's +house," said Father Barney.</p> + +<p>"Bringing throuble and disgrace on an honest name," said Mrs. +O'Dwyer.</p> + +<p>"There'd be no disgrace as I knows of," said Fanny, stoutly. "Father +makes his money by the public, and in course he takes in any that +comes the way with money in their pockets to pay the shot."</p> + +<p>"But these Molletts ain't got the money to pay the shot," said Mrs. +O'Dwyer, causticly. "You've about sucked 'em dhry, I'm thinking, and +they owes you more now than you're like to get from 'em."</p> + +<p>"I suppose father 'll have to take that bill up," said Fanny, +assenting. And so it was settled down there among them that the +Molletts were to have the cold shoulder, and that they should in fact +be turned out of the Kanturk Hotel as quickly as this could be done. +"Better a small loss at first, than a big one at last," said Mrs. +O'Dwyer, with much wisdom. "They'll come to mischief down here, as +sure as my name's M'Carthy," said the priest. "And I'd be sorry your +father should be mixed up in it."</p> + +<p>And then by degrees the conversation was changed, but not till the +tea-things had been taken away, and a square small bottle of very +particular whisky put on the table in its place. And the sugar also +was brought, and boiling water in an immense jug, as though Father +Barney were going to make a deep potation indeed, and a lemon in a +wine glass; and then the priest was invited, with much hospitality, +to make himself comfortable. Nor did the luxuries prepared for him +end here; but Fanny, the pretty Fan herself, filled a pipe for him, +and pretended that she would light it, for such priests are merry +enough sometimes, and can joke as well as other men with their pretty +nieces.</p> + +<p>"But you're not mixing your punch, Father Bernard," said Mrs. +O'Dwyer, with a plaintive melancholy voice, "and the wather getting +cowld and all! Faix then, Father Bernard, I'll mix it for ye, so I +will." And so she did, and well she knew how. And then she made +another for herself and her niece, urging that "a thimbleful would do +Fanny all the good in life afther her ride acrass them cowld +mountains," and the priest looked on assenting, blowing the +comfortable streams of smoke from his nostrils.</p> + +<p>"And so, Father Bernard, you and Parson Townsend is to meet again +to-morrow at Gortnaclough." Whereupon Father Bernard owned that such +was the case, with a nod, not caring to disturb the pipe which lay +comfortably on his lower lip.</p> + +<p>"Well, well; only to think on it," continued Mrs. O'Dwyer. "That the +same room should hould the two of ye." And she lifted up her hands +and shook her head.</p> + +<p>"It houlds us both very comfortable, I can assure you, Mrs. O'Dwyer."</p> + +<p>"And he ain't rampageous and highty-tighty? He don't give hisself no +airs?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no; nothing in particular. Why should the man be such a fool +as that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, in course? But they are such fools, Father Bernard. They does +think theyselves such grand folks. Now don't they? I'd give a dandy +of punch all round to the company just to hear you put him down once; +I would. But he isn't upsetting at all, then?"</p> + +<p>"Not the last time we met, he wasn't; and I don't think he intends +it. Things have come to that now that the parsons know where they are +and what they have to look to. They're getting a lesson they'll not +forget in a hurry. Where are their rent charges to come from—can you +tell me that, Mrs. O'Dwyer?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. O'Dwyer could not, but she remarked that pride would always have +a fall. "And there's no pride like Protesthant pride," said Fanny. +"It is so upsetting, I can't abide it." All which tended to show that +she had quite given up her Protestant lover.</p> + +<p>"And is it getthing worse than iver with the poor crathurs?" said +Mrs. O'Dwyer, referring, not to the Protestants, but to the victims +of the famine.</p> + +<p>"Indeed it's getting no betther," said the priest, "and I'm fearing +it will be worse before it is over. I haven't married one couple in +Drumbarrow since November last."</p> + +<p>"And that's a heavy sign, Father Bernard."</p> + +<p>"The surest sign in the world that they have no money among them at +all, at all. And it is bad with thim, Mrs. O'Dwyer,—very bad, very +bad indeed."</p> + +<p>"Glory be to God, the poor cratures!" said the soft-hearted lady. "It +isn't much the like of us have to give away, Father Bernard; I +needn't be telling you that. But we'll help, you know,—we'll help."</p> + +<p>"And so will father, uncle Bernard. If you're so bad off about here I +know he'll give you a thrifle for the asking." In a short time, +however, it came to pass that those in the cities could spare no aid +to the country. Indeed it may be a question whether the city poverty +was not the harder of the two.</p> + +<p>"God bless you both—you've soft hearts, I know." And Father Barney +put his punch to his lips. "Whatever you can do for me shall not be +thrown away. And I'll tell you what, Mrs. O'Dwyer, it does behove us +all to put our best foot out now. We will not let them say that the +Papists would do nothing for their own poor."</p> + +<p>"'Deed then an' they'll say anything of us, Father Bernard. There's +nothing too hot or too heavy for them."</p> + +<p>"At any rate let us not deserve it, Mrs. O'Dwyer. There will be a lot +of them at Gortnaclough to-morrow, and I shall tell them that we, on +our side, won't be wanting. To give them their due, I must say that +they are working well. That young Herbert Fitzgerald's a trump, +whether he's Protestant or Catholic."</p> + +<p>"An' they do say he's a strong bearing towards the ould religion," +said Mrs. O'Dwyer. "God bless his sweet young face av' he'd come back +to us. That's what I say."</p> + +<p>"God bless his face any way, say I," said Father Barney, with a wider +philanthropy. "He is doing his best for the people, and the time has +come now when we must hang together, if it be any way possible." And +with this the priest finished his pipe, and wishing the ladies good +night, walked away to his own house.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-18" id="c-18"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> +<h4>THE RELIEF COMMITTEE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>At this time the famine was beginning to be systematised. The +sternest among landlords and masters were driven to acknowledge that +the people had not got food or the means of earning it. The people +themselves were learning that a great national calamity had happened, +and that the work was God's work; and the Government had fully +recognized the necessity of taking the whole matter into its own +hands. They were responsible for the preservation of the people, and +they acknowledged their responsibility.</p> + +<p>And then two great rules seemed to get themselves laid down—not by +general consent, for there were many who greatly contested their +wisdom—but by some force strong enough to make itself dominant. The +first was, that the food to be provided should be earned and not +given away. And the second was, that the providing of that food +should be left to private competition, and not in any way be +undertaken by the Government. I make bold to say that both these +rules were wise and good.</p> + +<p>But how should the people work? That Government should supply the +wages was of course an understood necessity; and it was also +necessary that on all such work the amount of wages should be +regulated by the price at which provisions might fix themselves. +These points produced questions which were hotly debated by the +Relief Committees of the different districts; but at last it got +itself decided, again by the hands of Government, that all hills +along the country roads should be cut away, and that the people +should be employed on this work. They were so employed,—very little +to the advantage of the roads for that or some following years.</p> + +<p>"So you have begun, my men," said Herbert to a gang of labourers whom +he found collected at a certain point on Ballydahan Hill, which lay +on his road from Castle Richmond to Gortnaclough. In saying this he +had certainly paid them an unmerited compliment, for they had +hitherto begun nothing. Some thirty or forty wretched-looking men +were clustered together in the dirt and slop and mud, on the brow of +the hill, armed with such various tools as each was able to +find—with tools, for the most part, which would go but a little way +in making Ballydahan Hill level or accessible. This question of tools +also came to a sort of understood settlement before long; and within +three months of the time of which I am writing legions of +wheelbarrows were to be seen lying near every hill; wheelbarrows in +hundreds and thousands. The fate of those myriads of wheelbarrows has +always been a mystery to me.</p> + +<p>"So you have begun, my men," said Herbert, addressing them in a +kindly voice. There was a couple of gangsmen with them, men a little +above the others in appearance, but apparently incapable of +commencing the work in hand, for they also were standing idle, +leaning against a bit of wooden paling. It had, however, been decided +that the works at Ballydahan Hill should begin on this day, and there +were the men assembled. One fact admitted of no doubt, namely, this, +that the wages would begin from this day.</p> + +<p>And then the men came and clustered round Herbert's horse. They were +wretched-looking creatures, half-clad, discontented, with hungry +eyes, each having at his heart's core a deep sense of injustice done +personally upon him. They hated this work of cutting hills from the +commencement to the end,—hated it, though it was to bring them wages +and save them and theirs from actual famine and death. They had not +been accustomed to the discomfort of being taken far from their homes +to their daily work. Very many of them had never worked regularly for +wages, day after day, and week after week. Up to this time such was +not the habit of Irish cottiers. They held their own land, and +laboured there for a spell; and then they would work for a spell, as +men do in England, taking wages; and then they would be idle for a +spell. It was not exactly a profitable mode of life, but it had its +comforts; and now these unfortunates who felt themselves to be driven +forth like cattle in droves for the first time, suffered the full +wretchedness of their position. They were not rough and unruly, or +inclined to be troublesome and perhaps violent, as men similarly +circumstanced so often are in England;—as Irishmen are when +collected in gangs out of Ireland. They had no aptitudes for such +roughness, and no spirits for such violence. But they were +melancholy, given to complaint, apathetic, and utterly without +interest in that they were doing.</p> + +<p>"Yz, yer honer," said one man who was standing, shaking himself, with +his hands enveloped in the rags of his pockets. He had on no coat, +and the keen north wind seemed to be blowing through his bones; cold, +however, as he was, he would do nothing towards warming himself, +unless that occasional shake can be considered as a doing of +something. "Yz, yer honer; we've begun thin since before daylight +this blessed morning."</p> + +<p>It was now eleven o'clock, and a pick-axe had not been put into the +ground, nor the work marked.</p> + +<p>"Been here before daylight!" said Herbert. "And has there been nobody +to set you to work?"</p> + +<p>"Divil a sowl, yer honer," said another, who was sitting on a +hedge-bank leaning with both his hands on a hoe, which he held +between his legs, "barring Thady Molloy and Shawn Brady; they two do +be over us, but they knows nothin' o' such jobs as this."</p> + +<p>Thady Molloy and Shawn Brady had with the others moved up so as to be +close to Herbert's horse, but they said not a word towards +vindicating their own fitness for command.</p> + +<p>"And it's mortial cowld standing here thin," said another, "without a +bit to ate or a sup to dhrink since last night, and then only a lump +of the yally mail." And the speaker moved about on his toes and +heels, desirous of keeping his blood in circulation with the smallest +possible amount of trouble.</p> + +<p>"I'm telling the boys it's home we'd betther be going," said a +fourth.</p> + +<p>"And lose the tizzy they've promised us," said he of the hoe.</p> + +<p>"Sorrow a tizzy they'll pay any of yez for standing here all day," +said an ill-looking little wretch of a fellow, with a black muzzle +and a squinting eye; "ye may all die in the road first." And the man +turned away among the crowd, as an Irishman does who has made his +speech and does not want to be answered.</p> + +<p>"You need have no fear about that, my men," said Herbert. "Whether +you be put to work or no you'll receive your wages; you may take my +word for that."</p> + +<p>"I've been telling 'em that for the last half-hour," said the man +with the hoe, now rising to his feet. "'Shure an' didn't Mr. Somers +be telling us that we'd have saxpence each day as long we war here +afore daylight?' said I, yer honer; 'an' shure an' wasn't it black +night when we war here this blessed morning, and devil a fear of the +tizzy?' said I. But it's mortial cowld, an' it'd be asier for uz to +be doing a spell of work than crouching about on our hunkers down on +the wet ground."</p> + +<p>All this was true. It had been specially enjoined upon them to be +early at their work. An Irishman as a rule will not come regularly to +his task. It is a very difficult thing to secure his services every +morning at six o'clock; but make a special point,—tell him that you +want him very early, and he will come to you in the middle of the +night. Breakfast every morning punctually at eight o'clock is almost +impossible in Ireland; but if you want one special breakfast, so that +you may start by a train at 4 <span class="smallcaps">a.m.</span>, +you are sure to be served. No +irregular effort is distasteful to an Irishman of the lower classes, +not if it entails on him the loss of a day's food and the loss of a +night's rest; the actual pleasure of the irregularity repays him for +all this, and he never tells you that this or that is not his work. +He prefers work that is not his own. Your coachman will have no +objection to turn the mangle, but heaven and earth put together won't +persuade him to take the horses out to exercise every morning at the +same hour. These men had been told to come early, and they had been +there on the road-side since five o'clock. It was not surprising that +they were cold and hungry, listless and unhappy.</p> + +<p>And then, as young Fitzgerald was questioning the so-named gangmen as +to the instructions they had received, a jaunting car came up to the +foot of the hill. "We war to wait for the ongineer," Shawn Brady had +said, "an' shure an' we have waited." "An' here's one of Misther +Carroll's cars from Mallow," said Thady Molloy, "and that's the +ongineer hisself." Thady Molloy was right; this was the engineer +himself, who had now arrived from Mallow. From this time forth, and +for the next twelve months, the country was full of engineers, or of +men who were so called. I do not say this in disparagement; but the +engineers were like the yellow meal. When there is an immense demand, +and that a suddenly immense demand, for any article, it is seldom +easy to get it very good. In those days men became engineers with a +short amount of apprenticeship, but, as a rule, they did not do their +work badly. In such days as those, men, if they be men at all, will +put their shoulders to the wheel.</p> + +<p>The engineer was driven up to where they were standing, and he jumped +off the car among the men who were to work under him with rather a +pretentious air. He had not observed, or probably had not known, +Herbert Fitzgerald. He was a very young fellow, still under +one-and-twenty, beardless, light-haired, blue-eyed, and fresh from +England. "And what hill is this?" said he to the driver.</p> + +<p>"Ballydahan, shure, yer honer. That last war Connick-a-coppul, and +that other, the big un intirely, where the crass road takes away to +Buttevant, that was Glounthauneroughtymore. Faix and that's been the +murthering hill for cattle since first I knew it. Bedad yer honer 'll +make it smooth as a bowling-green."</p> + +<p>"Ballydahan," said the young man, taking a paper out of his pocket +and looking up the names in his list, "I've got it. There should be +thirty-seven of them here."</p> + +<p>"Shure an' here we are these siven hours," said our friend of the +hoe, "and mighty cowld we are."</p> + +<p>"Thady Molloy and Shawn Brady," called out the engineer, managing +thoroughly to Anglicise the pronunciation of the names, though they +were not Celtically composite to any great degree.</p> + +<p>"Yez, we's here," said Thady, coming forward. And then Herbert came +up and introduced himself, and the young engineer took off his hat. +"I came away from Mallow before eight," said he apologetically; "but +I have four of these places to look after, and when one gets to one +of them it is impossible to get away again. There was one place where +I was kept two hours before I could get one of the men to understand +what they were to do. What is it you call that big hill?"</p> + +<p>"Glounthauneroughtymore, yer honer," said the driver, to whom the +name was as easy and familiar as his own.</p> + +<p>"And you are going to set these men to work now?" said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't suppose they'll do much to-day, Mr. Fitzgerald. But I +must try and explain to the head men how they are to begin. They have +none of them any tools, you see." And then he called out again. +"Thady Molloy and Shawn Brady."</p> + +<p>"We's here," said Thady again; "we did not exactly know whether yer +honer'd be afther beginning at the top or the botthom. That's all +that war staying us."</p> + +<p>"Never fear," said Shawn, "but we'll have ould Ballydahan level in +less than no time. We're the boys that can do it, fair and aisy."</p> + +<p>It appeared to Herbert that the young engineer seemed to be rather +bewildered by the job of work before him, and therefore he rode on, +not stopping to embarrass him by any inspection of his work. In +process of time no doubt so much of the top of Ballydahan Hill was +carried to the bottom as made the whole road altogether impassable +for many months. But the great object was gained; the men were fed, +and were not fed by charity. What did it matter, that the springs of +every conveyance in the county Cork were shattered by the process, +and that the works resulted in myriads of wheelbarrows?</p> + +<p>And then, as he rode on towards Gortnaclough, Herbert was overtaken +by his friend the parson, who was also going to the meeting of the +relief committee. "You have not seen the men at Ballydahan Hill, have +you?" said Herbert.</p> + +<p>Mr. Townsend explained that he had not seen them. His road had struck +on to that on which they now were not far from the top of the hill. +"But I knew they were to be there this morning," said Mr. Townsend.</p> + +<p>"They have sent quite a lad of a fellow to show them how to work," +said Herbert. "I fear we shall all come to grief with these +road-cuttings."</p> + +<p>"For heaven's sake don't say that at the meeting," said Mr. Townsend, +"or you'll be playing the priests' game out and out. Father Barney +has done all in his power to prevent the works."</p> + +<p>"But what if Father Barney be right?" said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"But he's not right," said the parson, energetically. "He's +altogether wrong. I never knew one of them right in my life yet in +anything. How can they be right?"</p> + +<p>"But I think you are mixing up road-making and Church doctrine, Mr. +Townsend."</p> + +<p>"I hope I may never be in danger of mixing up God and the devil. You +cannot touch pitch and not be defiled. Remember that, Herbert +Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>"I will remember nothing of the kind," said Herbert. "Am I to set +myself up as a judge and say that this is pitch and that is pitch? Do +you remember St. Peter on the housetop? Was not he afraid of what was +unclean?"</p> + +<p>"The meaning of that was that he was to convert the Gentiles, and not +give way to their errors. He was to contend with them and not give +way an inch till he had driven them from their idolatry." Mr. +Townsend had been specially primed by his wife that morning with +vigorous hostility against Father Barney, and was grieved to his +heart at finding that his young friend was prepared to take the +priest's part in anything. In this matter of the roads Mr. Townsend +was doubtless right, but hardly on the score of the arguments +assigned by him.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to say that there should be no road-making," said +Herbert, after a pause. "The general opinion seems to be that we +can't do better. I only say that we shall come to grief about it. +Those poor fellows there have as much idea of cutting down a hill as +I have; and it seems to me that the young lad whom I left with them +has not much more."</p> + +<p>"They'll learn all in good time."</p> + +<p>"Let us hope it will be in good time."</p> + +<p>"If we once let them have the idea that we are to feed them in +idleness," said Mr. Townsend, "they will want to go on for ever in +the same way. And then, when they receive such immense sums in money +wages, the priests will be sure to get their share. If the matter had +been left to me, I would have paid the men in meal. I would never +have given them money. They should have worked and got their food. +The priest will get a penny out of every shilling; you'll see else." +And so the matter was discussed between them as they went along to +Gortnaclough.</p> + +<p>When they reached the room in which the committee was held they found +Mr. Somers already in the chair. Priest McCarthy was there also, with +his coadjutor, the Rev. Columb Creagh—Father Columb as he was always +called; and there was a Mr. O'Leary from Boherbuy, one of the +middlemen as they were formerly named,—though by the way I never +knew that word to be current in Ireland; it is familiar to all, and +was I suppose common some few years since, but I never heard the +peasants calling such persons by that title. He was one of those with +whom the present times were likely to go very hard. He was not a bad +man, unless in so far as this, that he had no idea of owing any duty +to others beyond himself and his family. His doctrine at present +amounted to this, that if you left the people alone and gave them no +false hopes, they would contrive to live somehow. He believed in a +good deal, but he had no belief whatever in starvation,—none as yet. +It was probable enough that some belief in this might come to him now +before long. There were also one or two others; men who had some +stake in the country, but men who hadn't a tithe of the interest +possessed by Sir Thomas Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>Mr. Townsend again went through the ceremony of shaking hands with +his reverend brethren, and, on this occasion, did not seem to be much +the worse for it. Indeed, in looking at the two men cursorily a +stranger might have said that the condescension was all on the other +side. Mr. M'Carthy was dressed quite smartly. His black clothes were +spruce and glossy; his gloves, of which he still kept on one and +showed the other, were quite new; he was clean shaven, and altogether +he had a shiny, bright, ebon appearance about him that quite did a +credit to his side of the church. But our friend the parson was +discreditably shabby. His clothes were all brown, his white neck-tie +could hardly have been clean during the last forty-eight hours, and +was tied in a knot, which had worked itself nearly round to his ear +as he had sat sideways on the car; his boots were ugly and badly +brushed, and his hat was very little better than some of those worn +by the workmen—so called—at Ballydahan Hill. But, nevertheless, on +looking accurately into the faces of both, one might see which man +was the better nurtured and the better born. That operation with the +sow's ear is, one may say, seldom successful with the first +generation.</p> + +<p>"A beautiful morning, this," said the coadjutor, addressing Herbert +Fitzgerald, with a very mild voice and an unutterable look of +friendship; as though he might have said, "Here we are in a boat +together, and of course we are all very fond of each other." To tell +the truth, Father Columb was not a nice-looking young man. He was +red-haired, slightly marked with the small-pox, and had a low +forehead and cunning eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is, a nice morning," said Herbert. "We don't expect anybody +else here, do we, Somers?"</p> + +<p>"At any rate we won't wait," said Somers. So he sat down in the +arm-chair, and they all went to work.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid, Mr. Somers," said Mr. M'Carthy from the other end of +the table, where he had constituted himself a sort of deputy +chairman, "I am afraid we are going on a wrong tack." The priest had +shuffled away his chair as he began to speak, and was now standing +with his hands upon the table. It is singular how strong a propensity +some men have to get upon their legs in this way.</p> + +<p>"How so, Mr. M'Carthy?" said Somers. "But shan't we be all more +comfortable if we keep our chairs? There'll be less ceremony, won't +there, Mr. Townsend?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! certainly," said Townsend.</p> + +<p>"Less liable to interruption, perhaps, on our legs," said Father +Columb, smiling blandly.</p> + +<p>But Mr. M'Carthy was far too wise to fight the question, so he sat +down. "Just as you like," said he; "I can talk any way, sitting or +standing, walking or riding; it's all one to me. But I'll tell you +how we are on the wrong tack. We shall never get these men to work in +gangs on the road. Never. They have not been accustomed to be driven +like droves of sheep."</p> + +<p>"But droves of sheep don't work on the road," said Mr. Townsend.</p> + +<p>"I know that, Mr. Townsend," continued Mr. M'Carthy. "I am quite well +aware of that. But droves of sheep are driven, and these men won't +bear it."</p> + +<p>"'Deed an' they won't," said Father Columb, having altogether laid +aside his bland smile now that the time had come, as he thought, to +speak up for the people. "They may bear it in England, but they won't +here." And the sternness of his eye was almost invincible.</p> + +<p>"If they are so foolish, they must be taught better manners," said +Mr. Townsend. "But you'll find they'll work just as other men +do—look at the navvies."</p> + +<p>"And look at the navvies' wages," said Father Columb.</p> + +<p>"Besides the navvies only go if they like it," said the parish +priest.</p> + +<p>"And these men need not go unless they like it," said Mr. Somers. +"Only with this proviso, that if they cannot manage for themselves +they must fall into our way of managing for them."</p> + +<p>"What I say, is this," said Mr. O'Leary. "Let 'em manage for +'emselves. God bless my sowl! Why we shall be skinned alive if we +have to pay all this money back to Government. If Government chooses +to squander thousands in this way, Government should bear the brunt. +That's what I say." Eventually, Government, that is the whole nation, +did bear the brunt. But it would not have been very wise to promise +this at the time.</p> + +<p>"But we need hardly debate all that at the present moment," said Mr. +Somers. "That matter of the roads has already been decided for us, +and we can't alter it if we would."</p> + +<p>"Then we may as well shut up shop," said Mr. O'Leary.</p> + +<p>"It's all very aisy to talk in that way," said Father Columb; "but +the Government, as you call it, can't make men work. It can't force +eight millions of the finest pisantry on God's +<span class="nowrap">earth—,"</span> and Father +Columb was, by degrees, pushing away the seat from under him, when he +was cruelly and ruthlessly stopped by his own parish priest.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon for a moment, Creagh," said he; "but perhaps we +are getting a little out of the track. What Mr. Somers says is very +true. If these men won't work on the road—and I don't think they +will—the responsibility is not on us. That matter has been decided +for us."</p> + +<p>"Men will sooner work anywhere than starve," said Mr. Townsend.</p> + +<p>"Some men will," said Father Columb, with a great deal of meaning in +his tone. What he intended to convey was this—that Protestants, no +doubt, would do so, under the dominion of the flesh; but that Roman +Catholics, being under the dominion of the Spirit, would perish +first.</p> + +<p>"At any rate we must try," said Father M'Carthy.</p> + +<p>"Exactly," said Mr. Somers; "and what we have now to do is to see how +we may best enable these workers to live on their wages, and how +those others are to live, who, when all is done, will get no wages."</p> + +<p>"I think we had better turn shopkeepers ourselves, and open stores +for them everywhere," said Herbert. "That is what we are doing +already at Berryhill."</p> + +<p>"And import our own corn," said the parson.</p> + +<p>"And where are we to get the money?" said the priest.</p> + +<p>"And why are we to ruin the merchants?" said O'Leary, whose brother +was in the flour-trade, in Cork.</p> + +<p>"And shut up all the small shopkeepers," said Father Columb, whose +mother was established in that line in the neighbourhood of +Castleisland.</p> + +<p>"We could not do it," said Somers. "The demand upon us would be so +great, that we should certainly break down. And then where would we +be?"</p> + +<p>"But for a time, Somers," pleaded Herbert.</p> + +<p>"For a time we may do something in that way, till other means present +themselves. But we must refuse all out-door relief. They who cannot +or do not bring money must go into the workhouses."</p> + +<p>"You will not get houses in county Cork sufficient to hold them," +said Father Bernard. And so the debate went on, not altogether +without some sparks of wisdom, with many sparks also of eager +benevolence, and some few passing clouds of fuliginous self-interest. +And then lists were produced, with the names on them of all who were +supposed to be in want—which were about to become, before long, +lists of the whole population of the country. And at last it was +decided among them, that in their district nothing should be +absolutely given away, except to old women and widows,—which +kindhearted clause was speedily neutralised by women becoming widows +while their husbands were still living; and it was decided also, that +as long as their money lasted, the soup-kitchen at Berryhill should +be kept open, and mill kept going, and the little shop maintained, so +that to some extent a check might be maintained on the prices of the +hucksters. And in this way they got through their work, not perhaps +with the sagacity of Solomon, but as I have said, with an average +amount of wisdom, as will always be the case when men set about their +tasks with true hearts and honest minds.</p> + +<p>And then, when they parted, the two clergymen of the parish shook +hands with each other again, having perhaps less animosity against +each other than they had ever felt before. There had been a joke or +two over the table, at which both had laughed. The priest had wisely +shown some deference to the parson, and the parson had immediately +returned it, by referring some question to the priest. How often does +it not happen that when we come across those whom we have hated and +avoided all our lives, we find that they are not quite so bad as we +had thought? That old gentleman of whom we wot is never so black as +he has been painted.</p> + +<p>The work of the committee took them nearly the whole day, so that +they did not separate till it was nearly dark. When they did so, +Somers and Herbert Fitzgerald rode home together.</p> + +<p>"I always live in mortal fear," said Herbert, "that Townsend and the +priests will break out into warfare."</p> + +<p>"As they haven't done it yet, they won't do it now," said Somers. +"M'Carthy is not without sense, and Townsend, queer and intolerant as +he is, has good feeling. If he and Father Columb were left together, +I don't know what might happen. Mr. Prendergast is to be with you the +day after to-morrow, is he not?"</p> + +<p>"So I understood my father to say."</p> + +<p>"Will you let me give you a bit of advice, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"Then don't be in the house much on the day after he comes. He'll +arrive, probably, to dinner."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he will."</p> + +<p>"If so, leave Castle Richmond after breakfast the next morning, and +do not return till near dinner-time. It may be that your father will +not wish you to be near him. Whatever this matter may be, you may be +sure that you will know it before Mr. Prendergast leaves the country. +I am very glad that he is coming."</p> + +<p>Herbert promised that he would take this advice, and he thought +himself that among other things he might go over to inspect that +Clady boiler, and of course call at Desmond Court on his way. And +then, when they got near to Castle Richmond they parted company, Mr. +Somers stopping at his own place, and Herbert riding home alone.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-19" id="c-19"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> +<h4>THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>On the day named by Herbert, and only an hour before dinner, Mr. +Prendergast did arrive at Castle Richmond. The Great Southern and +Western Railway was not then open as far as Mallow, and the journey +from Dublin was long and tedious. "I'll see him of course," said Sir +Thomas to Lady Fitzgerald; "but I'll put off this business till +to-morrow." This he said in a tone of distress and agony, which +showed too plainly how he dreaded the work which he had before him. +"But you'll come in to dinner," Lady Fitzgerald had said. "No," he +answered, "not to-day, love; I have to think about this." And he put +his hand up to his head, as though this thinking about it had already +been too much for him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast was a man over sixty years of age, being, in fact, +considerably senior to Sir Thomas himself. But no one would have +dreamed of calling Mr. Prendergast an old man. He was short of +stature, well made, and in good proportion; he was wiry, strong, and +almost robust. He walked as though in putting his foot to the earth +he always wished to proclaim that he was afraid of no man and no +thing. His hair was grizzled, and his whiskers were grey, and round +about his mouth his face was wrinkled; but with him even these things +hardly seemed to be signs of old age. He was said by many who knew +him to be a stern man, and there was that in his face which seemed to +warrant such a character. But he had also the reputation of being a +very just man; and those who knew him best could tell tales of him +which proved that his sternness was at any rate compatible with a +wide benevolence. He was a man who himself had known but little +mental suffering, and who owned no mental weakness; and it might be, +therefore, that he was impatient of such weakness in others. To +chance acquaintances his manners were not soft, or perhaps palatable; +but to his old friends his very brusqueness was pleasing. He was a +bachelor, well off in the world, and, to a certain extent, fond of +society. He was a solicitor by profession, having his office +somewhere in the purlieus of Lincoln's Inn, and living in an +old-fashioned house not far distant from that classic spot. I have +said that he owned no mental weakness. When I say further that he was +slightly afflicted with personal vanity, and thought a good deal +about the set of his hair, the shape of his coat, the fit of his +boots, the whiteness of his hands, and the external trim of his +umbrella, perhaps I may be considered to have contradicted myself. +But such was the case. He was a handsome man too, with clear, bright, +gray eyes, a well-defined nose, and expressive mouth—of which the +lips, however, were somewhat too thin. No man with thin lips ever +seems to me to be genially human at all points.</p> + +<p>Such was Mr. Prendergast; and my readers will, I trust, feel for Sir +Thomas, and pity him, in that he was about to place his wounds in the +hands of so ruthless a surgeon. But a surgeon, to be of use, should +be ruthless in one sense. He should have the power of cutting and +cauterizing, of phlebotomy and bone-handling without effect on his +own nerves. This power Mr. Prendergast possessed, and therefore it +may be said that Sir Thomas had chosen his surgeon judiciously. None +of the Castle Richmond family, except Sir Thomas himself, had ever +seen this gentleman, nor had Sir Thomas often come across him of late +years. But he was what we in England call an old family friend; and I +doubt whether we in England have any more valuable English +characteristic than that of having old family friends. Old family +feuds are not common with us now-a-days—not so common as with some +other people. Sons who now hated their father's enemies would have +but a bad chance before a commission of lunacy; but an old family +friend is supposed to stick to one from generation to generation.</p> + +<p>On his arrival at Castle Richmond he was taken in to Sir Thomas +before dinner. "You find me but in a poor state," said Sir Thomas, +shaking in his fear of what was before him, as the poor wretch does +before an iron-wristed dentist who is about to operate. "You will be +better soon," Mr. Prendergast had said, as a man always does say +under such circumstances. What other remark was possible to him? "Sir +Thomas thinks that he had better not trouble you with business +to-night," said Lady Fitzgerald. To this also Mr. Prendergast agreed +willingly. "We shall both of us be fresher to-morrow, after +breakfast," he remarked, as if any time made any difference to +him,—as though he were not always fresh, and ready for any work that +might turn up.</p> + +<p>That evening was not passed very pleasantly by the family at Castle +Richmond. To all of them Mr. Prendergast was absolutely a stranger, +and was hardly the man to ingratiate himself with strangers at the +first interview. And then, too, they were all somewhat afraid of him. +He had come down thither on some business which was to them +altogether mysterious, and, as far as they knew, he, and he alone, +was to be intrusted with the mystery. He of course said nothing to +them on the subject, but he looked in their eyes as though he were +conscious of being replete with secret importance; and on this very +account they were afraid of him. And then poor Lady Fitzgerald, +though she bore up against the weight of her misery better than did +her husband, was herself very wretched. She could not bring herself +to believe that all this would end in nothing; that Mr. Prendergast +would put everything right, and that after his departure they would +go on as happily as ever. This was the doctrine of the younger part +of the family, who would not think that anything was radically wrong. +But Lady Fitzgerald had always at her heart the memory of her early +marriage troubles, and she feared greatly, though she feared she knew +not what.</p> + +<p>Herbert Fitzgerald and Aunt Letty did endeavour to keep up some +conversation with Mr. Prendergast; and the Irish famine was, of +course, the subject. But this did not go on pleasantly. Mr. +Prendergast was desirous of information; but the statements which +were made to him one moment by young Fitzgerald were contradicted in +the next by his aunt. He would declare that the better educated of +the Roman Catholics were prepared to do their duty by their country, +whereas Aunt Letty would consider herself bound both by party feeling +and religious duty, to prove that the Roman Catholics were bad in +everything.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Herbert, to hear you say so!" she exclaimed at one time, "it +makes me tremble in my shoes. It is dreadful to think that those +people should have got such a hold over you."</p> + +<p>"I really think that the Roman Catholic priests are liberal in their +ideas and moral in their conduct." This was the speech which had made +Aunt Letty tremble in her shoes, and it may, therefore, be conceived +that Mr. Prendergast did not find himself able to form any firm +opinion from the statements then made to him. Instead of doing so, he +set them both down as "Wild Irish," whom it would be insane to trust, +and of whom it was absurd to make inquiries. It may, however, be +possibly the case that Mr. Prendergast himself had his own prejudices +as well as Aunt Letty and Herbert Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>On the following morning they were still more mute at breakfast. The +time was coming in which Mr. Prendergast was to go to work, and even +he, gifted though he was with iron nerves, began to feel somewhat +unpleasantly the nature of the task which he had undertaken. Lady +Fitzgerald did not appear at all. Indeed, during the whole of +breakfast-time and up to the moment at which Mr. Prendergast was +summoned, she was sitting with her husband, holding his hand in hers, +and looking tenderly but painfully into his face. She so sat with him +for above an hour, but he spoke to her no word of this revelation he +was about to make. Herbert and the girls, and even Aunt Letty, sat +solemn and silent, as though it was known by them all that something +dreadful was to be said and done. At last Herbert, who had left the +room, returned to it. "My father will see you now, Mr. Prendergast, +if you will step up to him," said he; and then he ran to his mother +and told her that he should leave the house till dinner-time.</p> + +<p>"But if he sends for you, Herbert, should you not be in the way?"</p> + +<p>"It is more likely that he should send for you; and, were I to remain +here, I should be going into his room when he did not want me." And +then he mounted his horse and rode off.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast, with serious air and slow steps, and solemn resolve +to do what he had to do at any rate with justice, walked away from +the dining-room to the baronet's study. The task of an old friend is +not always a pleasant one, and Mr. Prendergast felt that it was not +so at the present moment. "Be gentle with him," said Aunt Letty, +catching hold of his arm as he went through the passage. He merely +moved his head twice, in token of assent, and then passed on into the +room.</p> + +<p>The reader will have learnt by this time, with tolerable accuracy, +what was the nature of the revelation which Sir Thomas was called +upon to make, and he will be tolerably certain as to the advice which +Mr. Prendergast, as an honest man, would give. In that respect there +was no difficulty. The laws of meum and tuum are sufficiently clear +if a man will open his eyes to look at them. In this case they were +altogether clear. These broad acres of Castle Richmond did belong to +Sir Thomas—for his life. But after his death they could not belong +to his son Herbert. It was a matter which admitted of no doubt. No +question as to whether the Molletts would or would not hold their +tongue could bear upon it in the least. Justice in this case must be +done, even though the heavens should fall. It was sad and piteous. +Stern and hard as was the man who pronounced this doom, nevertheless +the salt tear collected in his eyes and blinded him as he looked upon +the anguish which his judgment had occasioned.</p> + +<p>Yes, Herbert must be told that he in the world was nobody; that he +must earn his bread, and set about doing so right soon. Who could say +that his father's life was worth a twelvemonth's purchase? He must be +told that he was nobody in the world, and instructed also to tell her +whom he loved, an Earl's daughter, the same tidings; that he was +nobody, that he would come to possess no property, and that in the +law's eyes did not possess even a name. How would his young heart +suffice for the endurance of so terrible a calamity? And those pretty +girls, so softly brought up—so tenderly nurtured; it must be +explained to them too that they must no longer be proud of their +father's lineage and their mother's fame. And that other Fitzgerald +must be summoned and told of all this; he on whom they had looked +down, whom the young heir had robbed of his love, whom they had cast +out from among them as unworthy. Notice must be sent to him that he +was the heir to Castle Richmond, that he would reign as the future +baronet in those gracious chambers. It was he who could now make a +great county lady of the daughter of the countess.</p> + +<p>"It will be very soon, very soon," sobbed forth the poor victim. And +indeed, to look at him one might say that it would be soon. There +were moments when Mr. Prendergast hardly thought that he would live +through that frightful day.</p> + +<p>But all of which we have yet spoken hardly operated upon the +baronet's mind in creating that stupor of sorrow which now weighed +him to the earth. It was none of these things that utterly broke him +down and crushed him like a mangled reed. He had hardly mind left to +remember his children. It was for the wife of his bosom that he +sorrowed.</p> + +<p>The wife of his bosom! He persisted in so calling her through the +whole interview, and, even in his weakness, obliged the strong man +before him so to name her also. She was his wife before God, and +should be his to the end. Ah! for how short a time was that! "Is she +to leave me?" he once said, turning to his friend, with his hands +clasped together, praying that some mercy might be shown to his +wretchedness. "Is she to leave me?" he repeated, and then sank on his +knees upon the floor.</p> + +<p>And how was Mr. Prendergast to answer this question? How was he to +decide whether or no this man and woman might still live together as +husband and wife? Oh, my reader, think of it if you can, and put +yourself for a moment in the place of that old family friend! "Tell +me, tell me; is she to leave me?" repeated the poor victim of all +this misery.</p> + +<p>The sternness and justice of the man at last gave way. "No," said he, +"that cannot, I should think, be necessary. They cannot demand that." +"But you won't desert me?" said Sir Thomas, when this crumb of +comfort was handed to him. And he remembered as he spoke, the +bloodshot eyes of the miscreant who had dared to tell him that the +wife of his bosom might be legally torn from him by the hands of +another man. "You won't desert me?" said Sir Thomas; meaning by that, +to bind his friend to an obligation that, at any rate, his wife +should not be taken from him.</p> + +<p>"No," said Mr. Prendergast, "I will not desert you; certainly not +that; certainly not that." Just then it was in his heart to promise +almost anything that he was asked. Who could have refused such solace +as this to a man so terribly overburthened?</p> + +<p>But there was another point of view at which Mr. Prendergast had +looked from the commencement, but at which he could not get Sir +Thomas to look at all. It certainly was necessary that the whole +truth in this matter should be made known and declared openly. This +fair inheritance must go to the right owner and not to the wrong. +Though the affliction on Sir Thomas was very heavy, and would be +equally so on all the family, he would not on that account, for the +sake of saving him and them from that affliction, be justified in +robbing another person of what was legally and actually that other +person's property. It was a matter of astonishment to Mr. Prendergast +that a conscientious man, as Sir Thomas certainly was, should have +been able to look at the matter in any other light; that he should +ever have brought himself to have dealings in the matter with Mr. +Mollett. Justice in the case was clear, and the truth must be +declared. But then they must take good care to find out absolutely +what the truth was. Having heard all that Sir Thomas had to say, and +having sifted all that he did hear, Mr. Prendergast thoroughly +believed, in his heart of hearts, that that wretched miscreant was +the actual and true husband of the poor lady whom he would have to +see. But it was necessary that this should be proved. Castle Richmond +for the family, and all earthly peace of mind for that unfortunate +lady and gentleman were not to be given up on the bare word of a +scheming scoundrel, for whom no crime would be too black, and no +cruelty too monstrous. The proofs must be looked into before anything +was done, and they must be looked into before anything was said—to +Lady Fitzgerald. We surely may give her that name as yet.</p> + +<p>But then, how were they to get at the proofs—at the proofs one way +or the other? That Mollett himself had his marriage certificate Sir +Thomas declared. That evidence had been brought home to his own mind +of the identity of the man—though what was the nature of that +evidence he could not now describe—as to that he was quite explicit. +Indeed, as I have said above, he almost refused to consider the +question as admitting of a doubt. That Mollett was the man to whom +his wife had been married he thoroughly believed; and, to tell the +truth, Mr. Prendergast was afraid to urge him to look for much +comfort in this direction. The whole manner of the man, Mollett, had +been such as to show that he himself was sure of his ground. Mr. +Prendergast could hardly doubt that he was the man, although he felt +himself bound to remark that nothing should be said to Lady +Fitzgerald till inquiry had been made. Mr. Mollett himself would be +at Castle Richmond on the next day but one, in accordance with the +appointment made by himself; and, if necessary, he could be kept in +custody till he had been identified as being the man, or as not being +the man, who had married Miss Wainwright.</p> + +<p>"There is nobody living with you now who knew Lady Fitzgerald at—?" +asked Mr. Prendergast.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Sir Thomas, "there is one maid servant." And then he +explained how Mrs. Jones had lived with his wife before her first +marriage, during those few months in which she had been called Mrs. +Talbot, and from that day even up to the present hour.</p> + +<p>"Then she must have known this man," said Mr. Prendergast.</p> + +<p>But Sir Thomas was not in a frame of mind at all suited to the +sifting of evidence. He did not care to say anything about Mrs. +Jones; he got no crumb of comfort out of that view of the matter. +Things had come out, unwittingly for the most part, in his +conversations with Mollett, which made him quite certain as to the +truth of the main part of the story. All those Dorsetshire localities +were well known to the man, the bearings of the house, the +circumstances of Mr. Wainwright's parsonage, the whole history of +those months; so that on this subject Sir Thomas had no doubt; and we +may as well know at once that there was no room for doubt. Our friend +of the Kanturk Hotel, South Main Street, Cork, was the man who, +thirty years before, had married the child-daughter of the +Dorsetshire parson.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast, however, stood awhile before the fire balancing the +evidence. "The woman must have known him," he said to himself, "and +surely she could tell us whether he be like the man. And Lady +Fitzgerald herself would know; but then who would have the hardness +of heart to ask Lady Fitzgerald to confront that man?"</p> + +<p>He remained with Sir Thomas that day for hours. The long winter +evening had begun to make itself felt by its increasing gloom before +he left him. Wine and biscuits were sent in to them, but neither of +them even noticed the man who brought them. Twice in the day, +however, Mr. Prendergast gave the baronet a glass of sherry, which +the latter swallowed unconsciously; and then, at about four, the +lawyer prepared to take his leave. "I will see you early to-morrow," +said he, "immediately after breakfast."</p> + +<p>"You are going then?" said Sir Thomas, who greatly dreaded being left +alone.</p> + +<p>"Not away, you know," said Mr. Prendergast. "I am not going to leave +the house."</p> + +<p>"No," said Sir Thomas; "no, of course not, +<span class="nowrap">but—"</span> and then he paused.</p> + +<p>"Eh!" said Mr. Prendergast, "you were saying something."</p> + +<p>"They will be coming in to me now," said Sir Thomas, wailing like a +child; "now, when you are gone; and what am I to say to them?"</p> + +<p>"I would say nothing at present; nothing to-day."</p> + +<p>"And my wife?" he asked, again. Through this interview he studiously +called her his wife. "Is—is she to know it?"</p> + +<p>"When we are assured that this man's story is true, Sir Thomas, she +must know it. That will probably be very soon,—in a day or two. Till +then I think you had better tell her nothing."</p> + +<p>"And what shall I say to her?"</p> + +<p>"Say nothing. I think it probable that she will not ask any +questions. If she does, tell her that the business between you and me +is not yet over. I will tell your son that at present he had better +not speak to you on the subject of my visit here." And then he again +took the hand of the unfortunate gentleman, and having pressed it +with more tenderness than seemed to belong to him, he left the room.</p> + +<p>He left the room, and hurried into the hall and out of the house; but +as he did so he could see that he was watched by Lady Fitzgerald. She +was on the alert to go to her husband as soon as she should know that +he was alone. Of what then took place between those two we need say +nothing, but will wander forth for a while with Mr. Prendergast into +the wide-spreading park.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast had been used to hard work all his life, but he had +never undergone a day of severer toil than that through which he had +just past. Nor was it yet over. He had laid it down in a broad way as +his opinion that the whole truth in this matter should be declared to +the world, let the consequences be what they might; and to this +opinion Sir Thomas had acceded without a word of expostulation. But +in this was by no means included all that portion of the burden which +now fell upon Mr. Prendergast's shoulders. It would be for him to +look into the evidence, and then it would be for him also—heavy and +worst task of all—to break the matter to Lady Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>As he sauntered out into the park, to wander about for half an hour +in the dusk of the evening, his head was throbbing with pain. The +family friend in this instance had certainly been severely taxed in +the exercise of his friendship. And what was he to do next? How was +he to conduct himself that evening in the family circle, knowing, as +he so well did, that his coming there was to bring destruction upon +them all? "Be tender to him," Aunt Letty had said, little knowing how +great a call there would be on his tenderness of heart, and how +little scope for any tenderness of purpose.</p> + +<p>And was it absolutely necessary that that blow should fall in all its +severity? He asked himself this question over and over again, and +always had to acknowledge that it was necessary. There could be no +possible mitigation. The son must be told that he was no son—no son +in the eye of the law; the wife must be told that she was no wife, +and the distant relative must be made acquainted with his golden +prospects. The position of Herbert and Clara, and of their promised +marriage, had been explained to him,—and all that too must be +shivered into fragments. How was it possible that the penniless +daughter of an earl should give herself in marriage to a youth, who +was not only penniless also, but illegitimate and without a +profession? Look at it in which way he would, it was all misery and +ruin, and it had fallen upon him to pronounce the doom!</p> + +<p>He could not himself believe that there was any doubt as to the +general truth of Mollett's statement. He would of course inquire. He +would hear what the man had to say and see what he had to adduce. He +would also examine that old servant, and, if necessary—and if +possible also—he would induce Lady Fitzgerald to see the man. But he +did feel convinced that on this point there was no doubt. And then he +lifted up his hands in astonishment at the folly which had been +committed by a marriage under such circumstances—as wise men will do +in the decline of years, when young people in the heyday of youth +have not been wise. "If they had waited for a term of years," he +said, "and if he then had not presented himself!" A term of years, +such as Jacob served for Rachel, seems so light an affair to old +bachelors looking back at the loves of their young friends.</p> + +<p>And so he walked about in the dusk by no means a happy man, nor in +any way satisfied with the work which was still before him. How was +he to face Lady Fitzgerald, or tell her of her fate? In what words +must he describe to Herbert Fitzgerald the position which in future +he must fill? The past had been dreadful to him, and the future would +be no less so, in spite of his character as a hard, stern man.</p> + +<p>When he returned to the house he met young Fitzgerald in the hall. +"Have you been to your father?" he asked immediately. Herbert, in a +low voice, and with a saddened face, said that he had just come from +his father's room; but Mr. Prendergast at once knew that nothing of +the truth had been told to him. "You found him very weak," said Mr. +Prendergast. "Oh, very weak," said Herbert. "More than weak, utterly +prostrate. He was lying on the sofa almost unable to speak. My mother +was with him and is still there."</p> + +<p>"And she?" He was painfully anxious to know whether Sir Thomas had +been weak enough—or strong enough—to tell his wife any of the story +which that morning had been told to him.</p> + +<p>"She is doing what she can to comfort him," said Herbert; "but it is +very hard for her to be left so utterly in the dark."</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast was passing on to his room, but at the foot of the +stairs Herbert stopped him again, going up the stairs with him, and +almost whispering into his <span class="nowrap">ear—</span></p> + +<p>"I trust, Mr. Prendergast," said he, "that things are not to go on in +this way."</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Mr. Prendergast.</p> + +<p>"Because it is unbearable—unbearable for my mother and for me, and +for us all. My mother thinks that some terrible thing has happened to +the property; but if so, why should I not be told?"</p> + +<p>"Of anything that really has happened, or does happen, you will be +told."</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether you are aware of it, Mr. Prendergast, but I am +engaged to be married. And I have been given to understand—that is, +I thought that this might take place very soon. My mother seems to +think that your coming here may—may defer it. If so, I think I have +a right to expect that something shall be told to me."</p> + +<p>"Certainly you have a right, my dear young friend. But Mr. +Fitzgerald, for your own sake, for all our sakes, wait patiently for +a few hours."</p> + +<p>"I have waited patiently."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know it. You have behaved admirably. But I cannot speak to +you now. This time the day after to-morrow, I will tell you +everything that I know. But do not speak of this to your mother. I +make this promise only to you." And then he passed on into his +bed-room.</p> + +<p>With this Herbert was obliged to be content. That evening he again +saw his father and mother, but he told them nothing of what had +passed between him and Mr. Prendergast. Lady Fitzgerald remained in +the study with Sir Thomas the whole evening, nay, almost the whole +night, and the slow hours as they passed there were very dreadful. No +one came to table but Aunt Letty, Mr. Prendergast, and Herbert, and +between them hardly a word was spoken. The poor girls had found +themselves utterly unable to appear. They were dissolved in tears, +and crouching over the fire in their own room. And the moment that +Aunt Letty left the table Mr. Prendergast arose also. He was +suffering, he said, cruelly from headache, and would ask permission +to go to his chamber. It would have been impossible for him to have +sat there pretending to sip his wine with Herbert Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>After this Herbert again went to his father, and then, in the gloom +of the evening, he found Mr. Somers in the office, a little +magistrate's room, that was used both by him and by Sir Thomas. But +nothing passed between them. Herbert had nothing to tell. And then at +about nine he also went up to his bedroom. A more melancholy day than +that had never shed its gloom upon Castle Richmond.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-20" id="c-20"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> +<h4>TWO WITNESSES.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Mr. Prendergast had given himself two days to do all that was to be +done, before he told Herbert Fitzgerald the whole of the family +history. He had promised that he would then let him know all that +there was to be known; and he had done so advisedly, considering that +it would be manifestly unjust to leave him in the dark an hour longer +than was absolutely necessary. To expect that Sir Thomas himself +should, with his own breath and his own words, make the revelation +either to his son or to his wife, was to expect a manifest +impossibility. He would, altogether, have sank under such an effort, +as he had already sank under the effort of telling it to Mr. +Prendergast; nor could it be left to the judgment of Sir Thomas to +say when the story should be told. He had now absolutely abandoned +all judgment in the matter. He had placed himself in the hands of a +friend, and he now expected that that friend should do all that there +was to be done. Mr. Prendergast had therefore felt himself justified +in making this promise.</p> + +<p>But how was he to set about the necessary intervening work, and how +pass the intervening hours? It had already been decided that Mr. +Abraham Mollett, when he called, should be shown, as usual, into the +study, but that he should there find himself confronted, not with Sir +Thomas, but with Mr. Prendergast. But there was some doubt whether or +no Mr. Mollett would come. It might be that he had means of +ascertaining what strangers arrived at Castle Richmond; and it might +be, that he would, under the present circumstances, think it +expedient to stay away. This visit, however, was not to take place +till the second day after that on which Mr. Prendergast had heard the +story; and, in the meantime, he had that examination of Mrs. Jones to +arrange and conduct.</p> + +<p>The breakfast was again very sad. The girls suggested to their +brother that he and Mr. Prendergast should sit together by themselves +in a small breakfast parlour, but to this he would not assent. +Nothing could be more difficult or embarrassing than a conversation +between himself and that gentleman, and he moreover was unwilling to +let it be thought in the household that affairs were going utterly +wrong in the family. On this matter he need hardly have disturbed +himself, for the household was fully convinced that things were going +very wrong. Maid-servants and men-servants can read the meaning of +heavy brows and sad faces, of long meetings and whispered +consultations, as well as their betters. The two girls, therefore, +and Aunt Letty, appeared at the breakfast-table, but it was as though +so many ghosts had assembled round the urn.</p> + +<p>Immediately after breakfast, Mr. Prendergast applied to Aunt Letty. +"Miss Fitzgerald," said he, "I think you have an old servant of the +name of Jones living here."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sure," said Aunt Letty. "She was living with my sister-in-law +before her marriage."</p> + +<p>"Exactly,—and ever since too, I believe," said Mr. Prendergast, with +a lawyer's instinctive desire to divert suspicion from the true +point.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, always; Mrs. Jones is quite one of ourselves."</p> + +<p>"Then would you do me the favour to beg Mrs. Jones to oblige me with +her company for half an hour or so. There is an excellent fire in my +room, and perhaps Mrs. Jones would not object to step there."</p> + +<p>Aunt Letty promised that Mrs. Jones should be sent, merely suggesting +the breakfast-parlour, instead of the bed-room; and to the +breakfast-parlour Mr. Prendergast at once betook himself. "What can +she know about the London property, or about the Irish property?" +thought Aunt Letty, to herself; and then it occurred to her that, +perhaps, all these troubles arose from some source altogether +distinct from the property.</p> + +<p>In about a quarter of an hour, a knock came to the breakfast-parlour +door, and Mrs. Jones, having been duly summoned, entered the room +with a very clean cap and apron, and with a very low curtsey. "Good +morning, Mrs. Jones," said Mr. Prendergast; "pray take a seat;" and +he pointed to an arm-chair that was comfortably placed near the fire, +on the further side of the hearth-rug. Mrs. Jones sat herself down, +crossed her hands on her lap, and looked the very personification of +meek obedience.</p> + +<p>And yet there was something about her which seemed to justify the +soubriquet of duchess, which the girls had given to her. She had a +certain grandeur about her cap, and a majestical set about the skirt +of her dress, and a rigour in the lines of her mouth, which indicated +a habit of command, and a confidence in her own dignity, which might +be supposed to be the very clearest attribute of duchessdom.</p> + +<p>"You have been in this family a long time, I am told, Mrs. Jones," +said Mr. Prendergast, using his pleasantest voice.</p> + +<p>"A very long time indeed," said Mrs. Jones.</p> + +<p>"And in a very confidential situation, too. I am told by Sir Thomas +that pretty nearly the whole management of the house is left in your +hands?"</p> + +<p>"Sir Thomas is very kind, sir; Sir Thomas always was very kind,—poor +gentleman!"</p> + +<p>"Poor gentleman, indeed! you may well say that, Mrs. Jones. This +family is in great affliction; you are no doubt aware of that." And +Mr. Prendergast as he spoke got up, went to the door, and saw that it +was firmly closed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones acknowledged that she was aware of it. "It was +impossible," she said, "for servants to shut their eyes to things, if +they tried ever so."</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course," said Mr. Prendergast; "and particularly for a +person so attached to them all as you are."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Pendrergrass, I am attached to them, certainly. I have +seed 'em all born, sir—that is, the young ladies and Mr. Herbert. +And as for her ladyship, I didn't see her born, in course, for we're +both of an age. But it comes much to the same thing, like."</p> + +<p>"Exactly, exactly; you are quite one of themselves, as Sir Thomas's +sister said to me just now. 'Mrs. Jones is quite one of ourselves.' +Those were her very words."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I'm much obliged to Miss Letty."</p> + +<p>"Well, as I was saying, a great sorrow has come upon them all, Mrs. +Jones. Now will you tell me this—do you know what it is? Can you +guess at all? Do the servants know, down stairs?"</p> + +<p>"I'd rather not be guessing on any such matters, Mr. Pendrergrass. +And as for them, if they were impudent enough for the like, they'd +never dare to tell me. Them Irish servants is very impudent betimes, +only they're good at the heart too, and there isn't one'd hurt a dog +belonging to the family."</p> + +<p>"I am sure they would not," said Mr. Prendergast. "But you yourself, +you don't know what this trouble is?"</p> + +<p>"Not a know," said Mrs. Jones, looking down and smoothing her apron.</p> + +<p>"Well, now. Of course you understand, Mrs. Jones—and I must explain +this to you to account for my questions. Of course you understand +that I am here as Sir Thomas's friend, to set certain matters right +for him if I can."</p> + +<p>"I supposed as much as that, if you please, sir."</p> + +<p>"And any questions that I may ask you, I ask altogether on his +behalf—on his behalf and on that of his wife, Lady Fitzgerald. I +tell you, that you may have no scruples as to answering me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, I have no scruples as to that. But of course, sir, in +anything I say I must be guided by—<span class="nowrap">by—"</span></p> + +<p>"By your own judgment you were going to say."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; begging pardon for mentioning such a thing to the likes of +you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Quite right; quite right. Everybody should use their own judgment in +everything they do or say, more or less. But now, Mrs. Jones, I want +to know this: you remember her ladyship's first marriage, I dare +say."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I remember it," said Mrs. Jones, shaking her head.</p> + +<p>"It was a sad affair, wasn't it? I remember it well, though I was +very young then. So were you too, Mrs. Jones."</p> + +<p>"Young enough, surely, sir; and foolish enough too. We were the most +of us that, then, sir."</p> + +<p>"True, true; so we were. But you remember the man, don't you—her +ladyship's husband? Mr. Talbot, he called himself." And Mr. +Prendergast took some trouble to look as though he did not at all +wish to frighten her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do remember him." This she said after a considerable pause. +"But it is a very long time ago, you know, Mr. Pendrergrass."</p> + +<p>"A very long time. But I am sure you do remember. You lived in the +house, you know, for some months."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did. He was my master for three months, or thereabouts; and +to tell the truth, I never got my wages for those three months yet. +But that's neither here nor there."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe now, Mrs. Jones, that that Mr. Talbot is still +alive?" He asked the question in a very soft voice, and endeavoured +not to startle her by his look as he did so. But it was necessary to +his purpose that he should keep his eye upon her. Half the answer to +his question was to be conveyed by the effect on the muscles of her +face which that question would produce. She might perhaps command her +voice to tell a falsehood, but be unable to command her face to +support it.</p> + +<p>"Believe what, sir?" said she, and the lawyer could immediately +perceive that she did believe and probably knew that that man who had +called himself Talbot was still alive.</p> + +<p>"Do you believe, Mrs. Jones, that he is alive—her ladyship's former +husband, you know?"</p> + +<p>The question was so terrible in its nature, that Mrs. Jones +absolutely shook under it. Did she think that that man was still +alive? Why, if she thought that what was she to think of her +ladyship? It was in that manner that she would have answered the +question, had she known how; but she did not know; she had therefore +to look about her for some other words which might be equally +evasive. Those which she selected served her turn just as well. "Lord +bless you, sir!" she said. It was not that the words were expressive, +but the tone was decidedly so. It was as though she said, "How can +that man be alive, who has been dead these twenty years and more?" +But nevertheless, she was giving evidence all the time against the +cause of her poor mistress.</p> + +<p>"You think, then, that he is dead?"</p> + +<p>"Dead, sir! Oh, laws! why shouldn't he be dead?" And then there was a +pause between them for a couple of minutes.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Jones," said Mr. Prendergast, when he had well considered the +matter, "my belief is that your only object and wish is to do good to +your master and mistress."</p> + +<p>"Surely, sir, surely; it would be my bounden duty to do them good, if +I knew how."</p> + +<p>"I will tell you how. Speak out to me the whole truth openly and +freely. I am here as the friend of Sir Thomas and of her ladyship. He +has sent to me that I may advise him what to do in a great trouble +that has befallen him, and I cannot give him good advice till I know +the truth."</p> + +<p>"What good could it do him, poor gentleman, to know that that man is +alive?"</p> + +<p>"It will do him good to know the truth; to know whether he be alive +or no. Until he knows that he cannot act properly."</p> + +<p>"Poor gentleman! poor gentleman!" said Mrs. Jones, putting her +handkerchief up to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"If you have any information in this matter—and I think you have, +Mrs. Jones—or even any suspicion, it is your duty to tell me."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, I'm sure I don't say against that. You are Sir Thomas's +friend to be sure, and no doubt you know best. And I'm a poor +ignorant woman. But to speak candidly, sir, I don't feel myself free +to talk on this matter. I haven't never made nor marred since I've +been in this family, not in such matters as them. What I've seed, +I've kep' to myself, and when I've had my suspecs, as a woman can't +but have 'em, I've kep' them to myself also. And saving your +presence, sir, and meaning no offence to a gentleman like you," and +here she got up from her chair and made another curtsey, "I think I'd +liefer hold my tongue than say anything more on this matter." And +then she remained standing as though she expected permission to +retire.</p> + +<p>But there was still another pause, and Mr. Prendergast sat looking at +the fire. "Don't you know, ma'am," at last he said, with almost an +angry voice, "that the man was here, in this house, last week?" And +now he turned round at her and looked her full in the face. He did +not, however, know Mrs. Jones. It might be difficult to coax her into +free communication, but it was altogether out of his power to +frighten her into it.</p> + +<p>"What I knows, sir, I knows," said she, "and what I don't know, I +don't know. And if you please, sir, Lady Fitzgerald—she's my missus; +and if I'm to be said anything more to about this here matter, why, +I'd choose that her ladyship should be by." And then she made a +little motion as though to walk towards the door, but Mr. Prendergast +managed to stop her.</p> + +<p>"But we want to spare Lady Fitzgerald, if we can—at any rate for a +while," said he. "You would not wish to bring more sorrow upon her, +would you?"</p> + +<p>"God forbid, Mr. Pendrergrass; and if I could take the sorrow from +her heart, I would willingly, and bear it myself to the grave; for +her ladyship has been a good lady to me. But no good never did come, +and never will, of servants talking of their missusses. And so if you +please, sir, I'll make bold to"—and again she made an attempt to +reach the door.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Prendergast was not yet persuaded that he could not get from +the good old woman the information that he wanted, and he was +persuaded that she had the information if only she could be prevailed +upon to impart it. So he again stopped her, though on this occasion +she made some slight attempt to pass him by as she did so. "I don't +think," said she, "that there will be much use in my staying here +longer."</p> + +<p>"Wait half a minute, Mrs. Jones, just half a minute. If I could only +make you understand how we are all circumstanced here. And I tell you +what; though you will trust me with nothing, I will trust you with +everything."</p> + +<p>"I don't want no trust, sir; not about all this."</p> + +<p>"But listen to me. Sir Thomas has reason to believe—nay, he feels +quite sure—that this man is alive."</p> + +<p>"Poor gentleman! poor gentleman!"</p> + +<p>"And has been here in this house two or three times within the last +month. Sir Thomas is full sure of this. Now can you tell me whether +the man who did come was this Talbot, or was not? If you can answer +that positively, either one way or the other, you will do a service +to the whole family,—which shall not go unrewarded."</p> + +<p>"I don't want no reward, sir. Ask me to tattle of them for rewards, +after thirty years!" And she put her apron up to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, for the good of the family. Can you say positively that +the man who came here to your master was Talbot, or that he was not?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed then, sir, I can't say anything positively, nor for that +matter, not impositively either." And then she shut herself up +doggedly, and sat with compressed lips, determined to resist all the +lawyer's arts.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast did not immediately give up the game, but he failed +in learning from her any more than what she had already told him. He +felt confident that she did know the secret of this man's existence +and presence in the south of Ireland, but he was forced to satisfy +himself with that conviction. So he let her go, giving her his hand +as she went in token of respect, and receiving her demure curtsey +with his kindest smile. "It may be," thought he to himself, "that I +have not done with her yet."</p> + +<p>And then he passed another tedious day,—a day that was terribly +tedious to them all. He paid a visit to Sir Thomas; but as that +arrangement about Mollett's visit had been made between them, it was +not necessary that anything should be done or said about the business +on hand. It was understood that further action was to be stayed till +that visit was over, and therefore for the present he had nothing to +say to Sir Thomas. He did not see Lady Fitzgerald throughout the +whole day, and it appeared to him, not unnaturally, that she +purposely kept out of his way, anticipating evil from his coming. He +took a walk with Herbert and Mr. Somers, and was driven as far as the +soup-kitchen and mill at Berry Hill, inquiring into the state of the +poor, or rather pretending to inquire. It was a pretence with them +all, for at the present moment their minds were intent on other +things. And then there was that terrible dinner, that mockery of a +meal, at which the three ladies were constrained to appear, but at +which they found it impossible to eat or to speak. Mr. Somers had +been asked to join the party, so that the scene after dinner might be +less painful; but even he felt that he could not talk as was his +ordinary wont. Horrible suspicions of the truth had gradually come +upon him; and with a suspicion of such a truth—of such a tragedy in +the very household—how could he, or how could any one hold a +conversation? and then at about half-past nine, Mr. Prendergast was +again in his bed-room.</p> + +<p>On the next morning he was early with Sir Thomas, persuading him to +relinquish altogether the use of his study for that day. On that +evening they were to have another interview there, in which Mr. +Prendergast was to tell his friend the result of what had been done. +And then he had to arrange certain manœuvring with the servants in +which he was forced to obtain the assistance of Herbert. Mollett was +to be introduced into the study immediately on his arrival, and this +was to be done in such a manner that Mrs. Jones might assuredly be +ignorant of his arrival. On this duty our old friend Richard was +employed, and it was contrived that Mrs. Jones should be kept +upstairs with her mistress. All this was difficult enough, but he +could not explain even to Herbert the reason why such scheming was +necessary. Herbert, however, obeyed in silence, knowing that +something dreadful was about to fall on them.</p> + +<p>Immediately after breakfast Mr. Prendergast betook himself to the +study, and there remained with his London newspaper in his hand. A +dozen times he began a leading article, in which the law was laid +down with great perspicuity and certainty as to the present state of +Ireland; but had the writer been treating of the Sandwich Islands he +could not have attracted less of his attention. He found it +impossible to read. On that evening he would have to reveal to +Herbert Fitzgerald what was to be his fate!</p> + +<p>Matthew Mollett at his last interview with Sir Thomas had promised to +call on this day, and had been counting the days till that one should +arrive on which he might keep his promise. He was terribly in want of +cash, and as we all know Aby had entirely failed in raising the +wind—any immediate fund of wind—on the occasion of his visit to the +baronet; and now, when this morning came, old Mollett was early on +the road. Aby had talked of going with him, but Aby had failed so +signally on the occasion of the visit which he did make to Castle +Richmond, that he had been without the moral strength to persist in +his purpose.</p> + +<p>"Then I shall write to the baronet and go alone to London," said +Mollett, père.</p> + +<p>"Bother!" replied Mollett, fils. "You hain't got the cash, governor."</p> + +<p>"I've got what 'll take me there, my boy, whether you know it or not. +And Sir Thomas 'll be ready enough to send me a remittance when I'm +once out of this country."</p> + +<p>And so Aby had given way,—partly perhaps in terror of Mr. Somers' +countenance; and Matthew Mollett started again in a covered car on +that cold journey over the Boggeragh mountains. It was still +mid-winter, being now about the end of February, and the country was +colder, and wetter, and more wretched, and the people in that +desolate district more ragged and more starved than when he had last +crossed it. But what were their rags and starvation to him? He was +worse off than they were. They were merely dying, as all men must do. +But he was inhabiting a hell on earth, which no man need do. They +came out to him in shoals begging; but they came in vain, getting +nothing from him but a curse through his chattering teeth. What right +had they to torment with their misery one so much more wretched than +themselves?</p> + +<p>At a little before twelve the covered car was at the front door of +Castle Richmond house, and there was Richard under the porch. On +former occasions Mr. Mollett had experienced some little delay in +making his way into the baronet's presence. The servants had looked +cold upon him, and he had felt as though there might be hot +ploughshares under his feet at any step which he took. But now +everything seemed to be made easy. Richard took him in tow without a +moment's delay, told him confidentially that Sir Thomas was waiting +for him, bade the covered car to be driven round into the yard with a +voice that was uncommonly civil, seeing that it was addressed to a +Cork carman, and then ushered Mr. Mollett through the hall and down +the passage without one moment's delay. Wretched as he had been +during his journey—wretched as an infernal spirit—his hopes were +now again elated, and he dreamed of a golden paradise. There was +something pleasant in feeling his mastery over that poor old +shattered baronet.</p> + +<p>"The gentleman to wait upon Sir Thomas," said Richard, opening the +study door; and then Mr. Mollett senior found himself in the presence +of Mr. Prendergast.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast was sitting in a high-backed easy chair, facing the +fire, when the announcement was made, and therefore Mollett still +fancied that he was in the presence of Sir Thomas until he was well +into the room and the door was closed upon him; otherwise he might +probably have turned on his heels and bolted. He had had three or +four interviews with Mr. Prendergast, having received different sums +of money from that gentleman's hands, and had felt on all such +occasions that he was being looked through and through. Mr. +Prendergast had asked but few questions, never going into the matter +of his, Mollett's, pecuniary connexion with Sir Thomas; but there had +always been that in the lawyer's eye which had frightened the +miscreant, which had quelled his bluster as soon as it was assumed, +and had told him that he was known for a blackguard and a scoundrel. +And now when this man, with the terrible gray eye, got up from Sir +Thomas's chair, and wheeling round confronted him, looking him full +in the face, and frowning on him as an honest man does frown on an +unconvicted rascal—when, I say, this happened to Mr. Mollett senior, +he thoroughly at that moment wished himself back in London. He turned +his eye round to the door, but that was closed behind him. He looked +around to see whether Sir Thomas was there, but no one was in the +room with him but Mr. Prendergast. Then he stood still, and as that +gentleman did not address him, he was obliged to speak; the silence +was too awful for him—"Oh, Mr. Prendergast!" said he. "Is that you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Mollett, it is I."</p> + +<p>"Oh, ah—I suppose you are here about business of your own. I was +wishing to see Sir Thomas about a little business of my own; maybe +he's not in the way."</p> + +<p>"No, he is not; not exactly. But perhaps, Mr. Mollett, I can do as +well. You have known me before, you know, and you may say to me +openly anything you have to say to Sir Thomas."</p> + +<p>"Well; I don't know about that, sir; my business is with the +baronet—particular." Mr. Mollett, as he spoke, strained every nerve +to do so without appearance of dismay; but his efforts were +altogether ineffectual. He could not bring himself to look Mr. +Prendergast in the face for a moment, or avoid feeling like a dog +that dreads being kicked. All manner of fears came upon him, and he +would at the moment have given up all his hopes of money from the +Castle Richmond people to have been free from Mr. Prendergast and his +influence. And yet Mollett was not a coward in the ordinary sense of +the word. Indeed he had been very daring in the whole management of +this affair. But then a course of crime makes such violent demands on +a man's courage. Let any one think of the difference of attacking a +thief, and being attacked as a thief! We are apt to call bad men +cowards without much consideration. Mr. Mollett was not without +pluck, but his pluck was now quelled. The circumstances were too +strong against him.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, Mr. Mollett—; and, look here, sir; never mind turning +to the door; you can't go now till you and I have had some +conversation. You may make up your mind to this: you will never see +Sir Thomas Fitzgerald again—unless indeed he should be in the +witness-box when you are standing in the dock."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Prendergast; sir!"</p> + +<p>"Well. Have you any reason to give why you should not be put in the +dock? How much money have you got from Sir Thomas during the last two +years by means of those threats which you have been using? You were +well aware when you set about this business that you were committing +felony; and have probably felt tolerably sure at times that you would +some day be brought up short. That day has come."</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast had made up his mind that nothing could be gained by +soft usage with Mr. Mollett. Indeed nothing could be gained in any +way, by any usage, unless it could be shown that Mollett and Talbot +were not the same person. He could afford therefore to tell the +scoundrel that he was a scoundrel, and to declare against him—war to +the knife. The more that Mollett trembled, the more abject he became, +the easier would be the task Mr. Prendergast now had in hand. "Well, +sir," he continued, "are you going to tell me what business has +brought you here to-day?"</p> + +<p>But Mr. Mollett, though he did shake in his shoes, did not look at +the matter exactly in the same light. He could not believe that Sir +Thomas would himself throw up the game on any consideration, or that +Mr. Prendergast as his friend would throw it up on his behalf. He, +Mollett, had a strong feeling that he could have continued to deal +easily with Sir Thomas, and that it might be very hard to deal at all +with Mr. Prendergast; but nevertheless the game was still open. Mr. +Prendergast would probably distrust the fact of his being the lady's +husband, and it would be for him therefore to use the indubitable +proofs of the facts that were in his possession.</p> + +<p>"Sir Thomas knows very well what I've come about," he began, slowly; +"and if he's told you, why you know too; and in that +<span class="nowrap">case—."</span></p> + +<p>But what might or might not happen in that case Mr. Mollett had not +now an opportunity of explaining, for the door opened and Mrs. Jones +entered the room.</p> + +<p>"When that man comes this morning," Mr. Prendergast had said to +Herbert, "I must get you to induce Mrs. Jones to come to us in the +study as soon as may be." He had not at all explained to Herbert why +this was necessary, nor had he been at any pains to prevent the young +heir from thinking and feeling that some terrible mystery hung over +the house. There was a terrible mystery—which indeed would be more +terrible still when it ceased to be mysterious. He therefore quietly +explained to Herbert what he desired to have done, and Herbert, +awaiting the promised communication of that evening, quietly did as +he was bid.</p> + +<p>"You must go down to him, Jones," he had said.</p> + +<p>"But I'd rather not, sir. I was with him yesterday for two mortal +hours; and, oh, Mr. Herbert! it ain't for no good."</p> + +<p>But Herbert was inexorable; and Mrs. Jones, feeling herself overcome +by the weight of the misfortune that was oppressing them all, obeyed, +and descending to her master's study, knocked at the door. She knew +that Mr. Prendergast was there, and she knew that Sir Thomas was not; +but she did not know that any stranger was in the room with Mr. +Prendergast. Mr. Mollett had not heard the knock, nor, indeed, had +Mr. Prendergast; but Mrs. Jones having gone through this ceremony, +opened the door and entered.</p> + +<p>"Sir Thomas knows; does he?" said Mr. Prendergast, when Mollett +ceased to speak on the woman's entrance. "Oh, Mrs. Jones, good +morning. Here is your old master, Mr. Talbot."</p> + +<p>Mollett of course turned round, and found himself confronted with the +woman. They stared at each other for some moments, and then Mollett +said, in a low dull voice, "Yes, she knows me; it was she that lived +with her at Tallyho Lodge."</p> + +<p>"You remember him now, Mrs. Jones; don't you?" said Mr. Prendergast.</p> + +<p>For another moment or two Mrs. Jones stood silent; and then she +acknowledged herself overcome, and felt that the world around her had +become too much for her. "Yes," said she, slowly; "I remembers him," +and then sinking into a chair near the door, she put her apron up to +her eyes, and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"No doubt about that; she remembers me well enough," said Mollett, +thinking that this was so much gained on his side. "But there ain't a +doubt about the matter at all, Mr. Prendergast. You look here, and +you'll see it all as plain as black and white." And Mr. Mollett +dragged a large pocket-book from his coat, and took out of it certain +documents, which he held before Mr. Prendergast's eyes, still keeping +them in his own hand. "Oh, I'm all right; I am," said Mollett.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are, are you?" said the lawyer, just glancing at the paper, +which he would not appear to heed. "I am glad you think so."</p> + +<p>"If there were any doubt about it, she'd know," said he, pointing +away up towards the body of the house. Both Mr. Prendergast and Mrs. +Jones understood well who was that she to whom he alluded.</p> + +<p>"You are satisfied at any rate, Mrs. Jones," said the lawyer. But +Mrs. Jones had hidden her face in her apron, and would not look up. +She could not understand why this friend of the family should push +the matter so dreadfully against them. If he would rise from his +chair and destroy that wretch who stood before them, then indeed he +might be called a friend!</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast had now betaken himself to the door, and was standing +with his back to it, and with his hands in his trousers-pockets, +close to the chair on which Mrs. Jones was sitting. He had resolved +that he would get that woman's spoken evidence out of her; and he had +gotten it. But now, what was he to do with her next?—with her or +with the late Mr. Talbot of Tallyho Lodge? And having satisfied +himself of that fact, which from the commencement he had never +doubted, what could he best do to spare the poor lady who was so +terribly implicated in this man's presence?</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Jones," said he, standing over her, and gently touching her +shoulder, "I am sorry to have pained you in this way; but it was +necessary that we should know, without a doubt, who this man is,—and +who he was. Truth is always the best, you know. So good a woman as +you cannot but understand that."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is, sir,—I suppose it is," said Mrs. Jones, through +her tears, now thoroughly humbled. The world was pretty nearly at an +end, as far as she was concerned. Here, in this very house of Castle +Richmond, in Sir Thomas's own room, was her ladyship's former +husband, acknowledged as such! What further fall of the planet into +broken fragments could terrify, or drive her from her course more +thoroughly than this? Truth! yes, truth in the abstract, might be +very good. But such a truth as this! how could any one ever say that +that was good? Such was the working of her mind; but she took no +trouble to express her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Yes," continued Mr. Prendergast, speaking still in a low voice, with +a tone that was almost tender, "truth is always best. Look at this +wretched man here! He would have killed the whole family—destroyed +them one by one—had they consented to assist him in concealing the +fact of his existence. The whole truth will now be known; and it is +very dreadful; but it will not be so dreadful as the want of truth."</p> + +<p>"My poor lady! my poor lady!" almost screamed Mrs. Jones from under +her apron, wagging her head, and becoming almost convulsive in her +grief.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is very sad. But you will live to acknowledge that even this +is better than living in that man's power."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that," said Mollett. "I am not so bad as you'd make me. +I don't want to distress the lady."</p> + +<p>"No, not if you are allowed to rob the gentleman till there's not a +guinea left for you to suck at. I know pretty well the extent of the +evil that's in you. If we were to kick you from here to Cork, you'd +forgive all that, so that we still allowed you to go on with your +trade. I wonder how much money you've had from him altogether?"</p> + +<p>"What does the money signify? What does the money signify?" said Mrs. +Jones, still wagging her head beneath her apron. "Why didn't Sir +Thomas go on paying it, and then my lady need know nothing about it?"</p> + +<p>It was clear that Mrs. Jones would not look at the matter in a proper +light. As far as she could see, there was no reason why a fair +bargain should not have been made between Mollett and Sir +Thomas,—made and kept on both sides, with mutual convenience. That +doing of justice at the cost of falling heavens was not intelligible +to her limited philosophy. Nor did she bethink herself, that a leech +will not give over sucking until it be gorged with blood. Mr. +Prendergast knew that such leeches as Mr. Mollett never leave the +skin as long as there is a drop of blood left within the veins.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast was still standing against the door, where he had +placed himself to prevent the unauthorized departure of either Mrs. +Jones or Mr. Mollett; but now he was bethinking himself that he might +as well bring this interview to an end. "Mr. Mollett," said he, "you +are probably beginning to understand that you will not get much more +money from the Castle Richmond family?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to do any harm to any of them," said Mollett, humbly; +"and if I don't make myself troublesome, I hope Sir Thomas will +consider me."</p> + +<p>"It is out of your power, sir, to do any further harm to any of them. +You don't pretend to think that after what has passed, you can have +any personal authority over that unfortunate lady?"</p> + +<p>"My poor mistress! my poor mistress!" sobbed Mrs. Jones.</p> + +<p>"You cannot do more injury than you at present have done. No one is +now afraid of you; no one here will ever give you another shilling. +When and in what form you will be prosecuted for inducing Sir Thomas +to give you money, I cannot yet tell. Now, you may go; and I strongly +advise you never to show your face here again. If the people about +here knew who you are, and what you are, they would not let you off +the property with a whole bone in your skin. Now go, sir. Do you hear +me?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, Mr. Prendergast, I have not intended any harm!"</p> + +<p>"Go, sir!"</p> + +<p>"And even now, Mr. Prendergast, it can all be made straight, and I +will leave the country altogether, if you wish +<span class="nowrap">it—"</span></p> + +<p>"Go, sir!" shouted Mr. Prendergast. "If you do not move at once, I +will ring the bell for the servants!"</p> + +<p>"Then, if misfortune comes upon them, it is your doing, and not +mine," said Mollett.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Pendrergrass, if it can be hushed +<span class="nowrap">up—"</span> said Mrs. Jones, +rising from her chair and coming up to him with her hands clasped +together. "Don't send him away in your anger; don't'ee now, sir. +Think of her ladyship. Do, do, do;" and the woman took hold of his +arm, and looked up into his face with her eyes swimming with tears. +Then going to the door she closed it, and returning again, touched +his arm, and again appealed to him. "Think of Mr. Herbert, sir, and +the young ladies! What are they to be called, sir, if this man is to +be my lady's husband? Oh, Mr. Pendrergrass, let him go away, out of +the kingdom; do let him go away."</p> + +<p>"I'll be off to Australia by the next boat, if you'll only say the +word," said Mollett. To give him his due, he was not at that moment +thinking altogether of himself and of what he might get. The idea of +the misery which he had brought on these people did, to a certain +measure, come home to him. And it certainly did come home to him +also, that his own position was very perilous.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Jones," said the lawyer, seeming to pay no attention whatever +to Mollett's words, "you know nothing of such men as that. If I were +to take him at his word now, he would turn upon Sir Thomas again +before three weeks were over."</p> + +<p>"By ——, I would not! By all that is holy, I would not. Mr. +Prendergast, <span class="nowrap">do—."</span></p> + +<p>"Mr. Mollett, I will trouble you to walk out of this house. I have +nothing further to say to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well, sir." And then slowly Mollett took his departure, and +finding his covered car at the door, got into it without saying +another word to any of the Castle Richmond family.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Jones," said Mr. Prendergast, as soon as Mollett was gone, "I +believe I need not trouble you any further. Your conduct has done you +great honour, and I respect you greatly as an honest woman and an +affectionate friend."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones could only acknowledge this by loud sobs.</p> + +<p>"For the present, if you will take my advice, you will say nothing of +this to your mistress."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, no; I shall say nothing. Oh, dear! oh dear!"</p> + +<p>"The whole matter will be known soon, but in the mean time, we may as +well remain silent. Good day to you." And then Mrs. Jones also left +the room, and Mr. Prendergast was alone.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-21" id="c-21"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> +<h4>FAIR ARGUMENTS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>As Mollett left the house he saw two men walking down the road away +from the sweep before the hall door, and as he passed them he +recognised one as the young gentleman of the house. He also saw that +a horse followed behind them, on the grass by the roadside, not led +by the hand, but following with the reins laid loose upon his neck. +They took no notice of him or his car, but allowed him to pass as +though he had no concern whatever with the destinies of either of +them. They were Herbert and Owen Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>The reader will perhaps remember the way in which Owen left Desmond +Court on the occasion of his last visit there. It cannot be said that +what he had heard had in any way humbled him, nor indeed had it +taught him to think that Clara Desmond looked at him altogether with +indifference. Greatly as she had injured him, he could not bring +himself to look upon her as the chief sinner. It was Lady Desmond who +had done it all. It was she who had turned against him because of his +poverty, who had sold her daughter to his rich cousin, and robbed him +of the love which he had won for himself. Or perhaps not of the +love—it might be that this was yet his; and if so, was it not +possible that he might beat the countess at her own weapons? Thinking +over this, he felt that it was necessary for him to do something, to +take some step; and therefore he resolved to go boldly to his cousin, +and tell him that he regarded Lady Clara Desmond as still his own.</p> + +<p>On this morning, therefore, he had ridden up to the Castle Richmond +door. It was now many months since he had been there, and he was no +longer entitled to enter the house on the acknowledged intimate +footing of a cousin. He rode up, and asked the servant with grave +ceremony whether Mr. Herbert Fitzgerald were at home. He would not go +in, he said, but if Mr. Herbert were there he would wait for him at +the porch. Herbert at the time was standing in the dining-room, all +alone, gloomily leaning against the mantelpiece. There was nothing +for him to do during the whole of that day but wait for the evening, +when the promised revelation would be made to him. He knew that +Mollett and Mrs. Jones were with Mr. Prendergast in the study, but +what was the matter now being investigated between them—that he did +not know. And till he knew that, closely as he was himself concerned, +he could meddle with nothing. But it was already past noon and the +evening would soon be there.</p> + +<p>In this mood he was interrupted by being told that his cousin Owen +was at the door. "He won't come in at all, Mr. Herbert," Richard had +said; for Richard, according to order, was still waiting about the +porch; "but he says that you are to go to him there." And then +Herbert, after considering the matter for a moment, joined his cousin +at the front entrance.</p> + +<p>"I want to speak to you a few words," said Owen; "but as I hear that +Sir Thomas is not well, I will not go into the house; perhaps you +will walk with me as far as the lodge. Never mind the mare, she will +not go astray." And so Herbert got his hat and accompanied him. For +the first hundred yards neither of them said anything. Owen would not +speak of Clara till he was well out of hearing from the house, and at +the present moment Herbert had not much inclination to commence a +conversation on any subject.</p> + +<p>Owen was the first to speak. "Herbert," said he, "I have been told +that you are engaged to marry Lady Clara Desmond."</p> + +<p>"And so I am," said Herbert, feeling very little inclined to admit of +any question as to his privilege in that respect. Things were +happening around him which might have—Heaven only knows what +consequence. He did fear—fear with a terrible dread that something +might occur which would shatter the cup of his happiness, and rob him +of the fruition of his hopes. But nothing had occurred as yet. "And +so I am," he said; "it is no wonder that you should have heard it, +for it has been kept no secret. And I also have heard of your visit +to Desmond Court. It might have been as well, I think, if you had +stayed away."</p> + +<p>"I thought differently," said Owen, frowning blackly. "I thought that +the most straightforward thing for me was to go there openly, having +announced my intention, and tell them both, mother and daughter, that +I hold myself as engaged to Lady Clara, and that I hold her as +engaged to me."</p> + +<p>"That is absurd nonsense. She cannot be engaged to two persons."</p> + +<p>"Anything that interferes with you, you will of course think absurd. +I think otherwise. It is hardly more than twelve months since she and +I were walking there together, and then she promised me her love. I +had known her long and well, when you had hardly seen her. I knew her +and loved her; and what is more, she loved me. Remember, it is not I +only that say so. She said it herself, and swore that nothing should +change her. I do not believe that anything has changed her."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that at present she cares nothing for me? Owen, +you must be mad on this matter."</p> + +<p>"Mad; yes, of course; if I think that any girl can care for me while +you are in the way. Strange as it may appear, I am as mad even as +that. There are people who will not sell themselves even for money +and titles. I say again, that I do not believe her to be changed. She +has been weak, and her mother has persuaded her. To her mother, rank +and money, titles and property, are everything. She has sold her +daughter, and I have come to ask you, whether, under such +circumstances, you intend to accept the purchase."</p> + +<p>In his ordinary mood Herbert Fitzgerald was by no means a quarrelsome +man. Indeed we may go further than that, and say that he was very +much the reverse. His mind was argumentative rather than impulsive, +and in all matters he was readier to persuade than overcome. But his +ordinary nature had been changed. It was quite new with him to be +nervous and fretful, but he was so at the present moment. He was +deeply concerned in the circumstances around him, but yet had been +allowed no voice in them. In this affair that was so peculiarly his +own,—this of his promised bride, he was determined that no voice +should be heard but his own; and now, contrary to his wont, he was +ready enough to quarrel with his cousin.</p> + +<p>Of Owen we may say, that he was a man prone to fighting of all sorts, +and on all occasions. By fighting I do not mean the old-fashioned +resource of putting an end to fighting by the aid of two pistols, +which were harmless in nineteen cases out of twenty. In saying that +Owen Fitzgerald was prone to fight, I do not allude to fighting of +that sort; I mean that he was impulsive, and ever anxious to contend +and conquer. To yield was to him ignoble, even though he might know +that he was yielding to the right. To strive for mastery was to him +noble, even though he strove against those who had a right to rule, +and strove on behalf of the wrong. Such was the nature of his mind +and spirit; and this nature had impelled him to his present +enterprise at Castle Richmond. But he had gone thither with an +unwonted resolve not to be passionate. He had, he had said to +himself, right on his side, and he had purposed to argue it out +fairly with his more cold-blooded cousin. The reader may probably +guess the result of these fair arguments on such a subject. "And I +have come to ask you," he said, "whether under such circumstances you +intend to accept the purchase?"</p> + +<p>"I will not allow you to speak of Lady Desmond in such language; nor +of her daughter," said Herbert, angrily.</p> + +<p>"Ah! but, Herbert, you must allow me; I have been ill used in this +matter, and I have a right to make myself heard."</p> + +<p>"Is it I that have ill used you? I did not know before that gentlemen +made loud complaints of such ill usage from the hands of ladies."</p> + +<p>"If the ill usage, as you please to call it—"</p> + +<p>"It is your own word."</p> + +<p>"Very well. If this ill usage came from Clara Desmond herself, I +should be the last person to complain of it; and you would be the +last person to whom I should make complaint. But I feel sure that it +is not so. She is acting under the influence of her mother, who has +frightened her into this thing which she is doing. I do not believe +that she is false herself."</p> + +<p>"I am sure that she is not false. We are quite agreed there, but it +is not likely that we should agree further. To tell you the truth +frankly I think you are ill-judged to speak to me on such a topic."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps in that respect you will allow me to think for myself. But I +have not yet said that which I came to say. My belief is that unfair +and improper restraint is put upon Clara Desmond, that she has been +induced by her mother to accept your offer in opposition to her own +wishes, and that therefore it is my duty to look upon her as still +betrothed to me. I do so regard her, and shall act under such +conviction. The first thing that I do therefore is to call upon you +to relinquish your claim."</p> + +<p>"What, to give her up?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to give her up;—to acknowledge that you cannot honestly call +upon her to fulfil her pledge to you."</p> + +<p>"The man must be raving," Herbert said.</p> + +<p>"Very probably; but remember this, it may be that he will rave to +some purpose, when such insolence will be but of little avail to you. +Raving! Yes, I suppose that a man poor as I am must be mad indeed to +set his heart upon anything that you may choose to fancy."</p> + +<p>"All that is nonsense; Owen, I ask for nothing but my own. I won her +love fairly, and I mean to keep it firmly."</p> + +<p>"You may possibly have won her hand, but never her heart. You are +rich, and it may be that even she will condescend to barter her hand; +but I doubt it; I altogether doubt it. It is her mother's doing, as +it was plain enough for me to see the other day at Desmond Court; but +much as she may fear her mother, I cannot think that she will go to +the altar with a lie in her mouth."</p> + +<p>And then they walked on in silence for a few yards. Herbert was +anxious to get back to the house, and was by no means desirous of +continuing this conversation with his cousin. He at any rate could +get nothing by talking about Lady Clara Desmond to Owen Fitzgerald. +He stopped therefore on the path, and said, that if Owen had nothing +further to say, he, Herbert, would go back to the house.</p> + +<p>"Nothing further! Nothing further, if you understand me; but you do +not. You are not honest enough in this matter to understand any +purpose but your own."</p> + +<p>"I tell you what, Owen: I did not come out here to hear myself +abused; and I will not stand it. According to my idea you had no +right whatever to speak to me about Lady Clara Desmond. But you are +my cousin; and therefore I have borne it. It may be as well that we +should both understand that it is once for all. I will not listen to +you again on the same subject."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you won't. Upon my word you are a very great man! You will tell +me next, I suppose, that this is your demesne, and will warn me off!"</p> + +<p>"Even if I did that, I should not be wrong, under such provocation."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir; then I will go off. But remember this, Herbert +Fitzgerald, you shall live to rue the day when you treated me with +such insolence. And remember this also, Clara Desmond is not your +wife as yet. Everything now seems happy with you, and fortunate; you +have wealth and a fine house, and a family round you, while I am +there all alone, left like a dog, as far as my own relatives are +concerned. But yet it may come to pass that the Earl of Desmond's +daughter will prefer my hand to yours, and my house to your house. +They who mount high may chance to get a fall." And then, having +uttered this caution, he turned to his mare, and putting his hand +upon the saddle, jumped into his seat, and pressing her into a +gallop, darted off across the grass.</p> + +<p>He had not meant anything specially by his threat; but his heart was +sore within him. During some weeks past, he had become sick of the +life that he was leading. He had begun to hate his own solitary +house—his house that was either solitary, or filled with riot and +noise. He sighed for the quiet hours that were once his at Desmond +Court, and the privilege of constant entrance there, which was now +denied him. His cousin Herbert had everything at his command—wealth, +station, family ties, society, and all the consideration of high +place. Every blessing was at the feet of the young heir; but every +blessing was not enough, unless Clara Desmond was also added. All +this seemed so cruel to him, as he sat alone in his parlour at Hap +House, meditating on his future course of life! And then he would +think of Clara's promise, of her assurance that nothing should +frighten her from her pledge. He thought of this as though the words +had been spoken to him only yesterday. He pondered over these things +till he hated his cousin Herbert; and hating him, he vowed that Clara +Desmond should not be his wife. "Is he to have everything?" he would +say to himself. "No, by heavens! not everything. He has enough, and +may be contented; but he shall not have all." And now, with similar +thoughts running through his mind, he rode back to Hap House.</p> + +<p>And Herbert turned back to Castle Richmond. As he approached the +front door, he met Mr. Prendergast, who was leaving the house; but +they had no conversation with each other. Herbert was in hopes that +he might now, at once, be put out of suspense. Mollett was gone; and +would it not be better that the tale should be told? But it was clear +that Mr. Prendergast had no intention of lessening by an hour the +interval he had given himself. He merely muttered a few words passing +on, and Herbert went into the house.</p> + +<p>And then there was another long, tedious, dull afternoon. Herbert sat +with his sisters, but they had not the heart to talk to each other. +At about four a note was brought to him. It was from Mr. Prendergast, +begging Herbert to meet him in Sir Thomas's study at eight. Sir +Thomas had not been there during the day; and now did not intend to +leave his own room. They dined at half-past six; and the appointment +was therefore to take place almost immediately after dinner.</p> + +<p>"Tell Mr. Prendergast that I will be there," he said to the servant. +And so that afternoon passed away, and the dinner also, very slowly +and very sadly.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-22" id="c-22"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII.</h3> +<h4>THE TELLING OF THE TALE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>The dinner passed away as the former dinners had done; and as soon as +Aunt Letty got up Mr. Prendergast also rose, and touching Herbert on +his shoulder, whispered into his ear, "You'll come to me at eight +then." Herbert nodded his head; and when he was alone he looked at +his watch. These slow dinners were not actually very long, and there +still remained to him some three-quarters of an hour for +anticipation.</p> + +<p>What was to be the nature of this history? That it would affect +himself personally in the closest manner he could not but know. There +seemed to be no doubt on the minds of any of them that the affair was +one of money, and his father's money questions were his money +questions. Mr. Prendergast would not have been sent for with +reference to any trifle; nor would any pecuniary difficulty that was +not very serious have thrown his father into such a state of misery. +Could it be that the fair inheritance was absolutely in danger?</p> + +<p>Herbert Fitzgerald was by no means a selfish man. As regarded +himself, he could have met ruin in the face with more equanimity than +most young men so circumstanced. The gilt of the world had not eaten +into his soul; his heart was not as yet wedded to the splendour of +pinchbeck. This is saying much for him; for how seldom is it that the +hearts and souls of the young are able to withstand pinchbeck and +gilding? He was free from this pusillanimity; free as yet as regarded +himself; but he was hardly free as regarded his betrothed. He had +promised her, not in spoken words but in his thoughts, rank, wealth, +and all the luxuries of his promised high position; and now on her +behalf, it nearly broke his heart to think that they might be +endangered.</p> + +<p>Of his mother's history, he can hardly be said to have known +anything. That there had been something tragic in her early life; +that something had occurred before his father's marriage; and that +his mother had been married twice, he had learned,—he hardly knew +when or from whom. But on such matters there had never been +conversation between him and any of his own family; and it never +occurred to him that all this sorrow arose in any way from this +subject. That his father had taken some fatal step with regard to the +property—had done some foolish thing for which he could not forgive +himself, that was the idea with which his mind was filled.</p> + +<p>He waited, with his watch in his hand, till the dial showed him that +it was exactly eight; and then, with a sinking heart, he walked +slowly out of the dining-room along the passage, and into his +father's study. For an instant he stood with the handle in his hand. +He had been terribly anxious for the arrival of this moment, but now +that it had come, he would almost fain have had it again postponed. +His heart sank very low as he turned the lock, and entering, found +himself in the presence of Mr. Prendergast.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast was standing with his back to the fire. For him, too, +the last hour had been full of bitterness; his heart also had sunk +low within him; his blood had run cold within his veins: he too, had +it been possible, would have put off this wretched hour.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast, it may be, was not much given to poetry; but the +feeling, if not the words, were there within him. The work which a +friend has to perform for a friend is so much heavier than that which +comes in the way of any profession!</p> + +<p>When Herbert entered the room, Mr. Prendergast came forward from +where he was standing, and took him by the hand. "This is a very sad +affair," he said; "very sad."</p> + +<p>"At present I know nothing about it," said Herbert. "As I see people +about me so unhappy, I suppose it is sad. If there be anything that I +hate, it is a mystery."</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Mr. Fitzgerald," said the other; "sit down." And Mr. +Prendergast himself sat down in the chair that was ordinarily +occupied by Sir Thomas. Although he had been thinking about it all +the day, he had not even yet made up his mind how he was to begin his +story. Even now he could not help thinking whether it might be +possible for him to leave it untold. But it was not possible.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald," said he, "you must prepare yourself for tidings +which are very grievous indeed—very grievous."</p> + +<p>"Whatever it is I must bear it," said he.</p> + +<p>"I hope you have that moral strength which enables a man to bear +misfortune. I have not known you in happy days, and therefore perhaps +can hardly judge; but it seems to me that you do possess such +courage. Did I not think so, I could hardly go through the task that +is before me."</p> + +<p>Here he paused as though he expected some reply, some assurance that +his young friend did possess this strength of which he spoke; but +Herbert said nothing—nothing out loud. "If it were only for myself! +if it were only for myself!" It was thus that he spoke to his own +heart.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald," continued the lawyer, "I do not know how far you +may be acquainted with the history of your mother's first marriage."</p> + +<p>Herbert said that he was hardly acquainted with it in any degree; and +explained that he merely knew the fact that his mother had been +married before she met Sir Thomas.</p> + +<p>"I do not know that I need recount all the circumstances to you now, +though doubtless you will learn them. Your mother's conduct +throughout was, I believe, admirable."</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure of that. No amount of evidence could make me believe +the contrary."</p> + +<p>"And there is no tittle of evidence to make any one think so. But in +her early youth, when she was quite a child, she was given in +marriage to a man—to a man of whom it is impossible to speak in +terms too black, or in language too strong. And now, this +<span class="nowrap">day—"</span></p> + +<p>But here he paused. It had been his intention to say that that very +man, the first husband of this loved mother now looked upon as dead +for so many years, this miscreant of whom he had spoken—that this +man had been in that room that very day. But he hardly knew how to +frame the words.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Herbert, "well;" and he spoke in a hoarse voice that was +scarcely audible.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast was afraid to bring out the very pith of his story in +so abrupt a manner. He wished to have the work over, to feel, that as +regarded Herbert it was done,—but his heart failed him when he came +to it.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, going back as it were to his former thoughts. "A +heartless, cruel, debauched, unscrupulous man; one in whose bosom no +good thing seemed to have been implanted. Your father, when he first +knew your mother, had every reason to believe that this man was +dead."</p> + +<p>"And he was not dead?" Mr. Prendergast could see that the young man's +face became perfectly pale as he uttered these words. He became pale, +and clutched hold of the table with his hand, and there sat with +mouth open and staring eyes.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid not," said Mr. Prendergast; "I am afraid not."</p> + +<p>"And—"</p> + +<p>"I must go further than that, and tell you that he is still living."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Prendergast, Mr. Prendergast!" exclaimed the poor fellow, rising +up from his chair and shouting out as though for mercy. Mr. +Prendergast also rose from his seat, and coming up to him took him by +the arm. "My dear boy, my dear boy, I am obliged to tell you. It is +necessary that you should know it. The fact is as I say, and it is +now for you to show that you are a man."</p> + +<p>Who was ever called upon for a stronger proof of manhood than this? +In nine cases out of ten it is not for oneself that one has to be +brave. A man, we may almost say, is no man, whose own individual +sufferings call for the exercise of much courage. But we are all so +mixed up and conjoined with others—with others who are weaker and +dearer than ourselves, that great sorrows do require great powers of +endurance.</p> + +<p>By degrees, as he stood there in silence, the whole truth made its +way into his mind,—as he stood there with his arm still tenderly +pressed by that old man. No one now would have called the lawyer +stern in looking at him, for the tears were coursing down his cheeks. +But no tears came to the relief of young Fitzgerald as the truth +slowly came upon him, fold by fold, black cloud upon cloud, till the +whole horizon of his life's prospect was dark as death. He stood +there silent for some few minutes hardly conscious that he was not +alone, as he saw all his joys disappearing from before his mind's +eye, one by one; his family pride, the pleasant high-toned duties of +his station, his promised seat in Parliament and prosperous ambition, +the full respect of all the world around him, his wealth and pride of +place—for let no man be credited who boasts that he can part with +these without regret. All these were gone. But there were losses more +bitter than these. How could he think of his affianced bride? and how +could he think of his mother?</p> + +<p>No tears came to his relief while the truth, with all its bearings, +burnt itself into his very soul, but his face expressed such agony +that it was terrible to be seen. Mr. Prendergast could stand that +silence no longer, so at last he spoke. He spoke,—for the sake of +words; for all his tale had been told.</p> + +<p>"You saw the man that was here yesterday? That was he, who then +called himself Talbot."</p> + +<p>"What! the man that went away in the car? Mollett?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; that was the man."</p> + +<p>Herbert had said that no evidence could be sufficient to make him +believe that his mother had been in any way culpable: and such +probably was the case. He had that reliance on his mother—that +assurance in his mind that everything coming from her must be +good—that he could not believe her capable of ill. But, +nevertheless, he could not prevent himself from asking within his own +breast, how it had been possible that his mother should ever have +been concerned with such a wretch as that. It was a question which +could not fail to make itself audible. What being on earth was +sweeter than his mother, more excellent, more noble, more fitted for +the world's high places, more absolutely entitled to that universal +respect which seemed to be given to her as her own by right? And what +being could be more loathsome, more contemptible than he, who was, as +he was now told, his mother's husband? There was in it a want of +verisimilitude which almost gave him comfort,—which almost taught +him to think that he might disbelieve the story that was told to him. +Poor fellow! he had yet to learn the difference that years may make +in men and women—for better as well as for worse. Circumstances had +given to the poor half-educated village girl the simple dignity of +high station; as circumstances had also brought to the lowest dregs +of human existence the man, whose personal bearing, and apparent +worldly standing had been held sufficient to give warrant that he was +of gentle breeding and of honest standing; nay, her good fortune in +such a marriage had once been almost begrudged her by all her maiden +neighbours.</p> + +<p>But Herbert, as he thought of this, was almost encouraged to +disbelieve the story. To him, with his knowledge of what his mother +was, and such knowledge as he also had of that man, it did not seem +possible. "But how is all this known?" he muttered forth at last.</p> + +<p>"I fear there is no doubt of its truth," said Mr. Prendergast. "Your +father has no doubt whatever; has had none—I must tell you this +plainly—for some months."</p> + +<p>"For some months! And why have I not been told?"</p> + +<p>"Do not be hard upon your father."</p> + +<p>"Hard! no; of course I would not be hard upon him."</p> + +<p>"The burden he has had to bear has been very terrible. He has thought +that by payments of money to this man the whole thing might be +concealed. As is always the case when such payments are made, the +insatiable love of money grew by what it fed on. He would have poured +out every shilling into that man's hands, and would have died, +himself a beggar—have died speedily too under such torments—and yet +no good would have been done. The harpy would have come upon you; and +you—after you had innocently assumed a title that was not your own +and taken a property to which you have no right, you then would have +had to own—that which your father must own now."</p> + +<p>"If it be so," said Herbert, slowly, "it must be acknowledged."</p> + +<p>"Just so, Mr. Fitzgerald; just so. I know you will feel that—in such +matters we can only sail safely by the truth. There is no other +compass worth a man's while to look at."</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Herbert, with hoarse voice. "One does not wish +to be a robber and a thief. My cousin shall have what is his own." +And then he involuntarily thought of the interview they had had on +that very day. "But why did he not tell me when I spoke to him of +her?" he said, with something approaching to bitterness in his voice +and a slight struggle in his throat that was almost premonitory of a +sob.</p> + +<p>"Ah! it is there that I fear for you. I know what your feelings are; +but think of his sorrows, and do not be hard on him."</p> + +<p>"Ah me, ah me!" exclaimed Herbert.</p> + +<p>"I fear that he will not be with you long. He has already endured +till he is now almost past the power of suffering more. And yet there +is so much more that he must suffer!"</p> + +<p>"My poor father!"</p> + +<p>"Think what such as he must have gone through in bringing himself +into contact with that man; and all this has been done that he might +spare you and your mother. Think of the wound to his conscience +before he would have lowered himself to an unworthy bargain with a +swindler. But this has been done that you might have that which you +have been taught to look on as your own. He has been wrong. No other +verdict can be given. But you, at any rate, can be tender to such a +fault; you and your mother."</p> + +<p>"I will—I will," said Herbert. "But if it had happened a month since +I could have borne it." And then he thought of his mother, and hated +himself for what he had said. How could he have borne that with +patience? "And there is no doubt, you say?"</p> + +<p>"I think none. The man carries his proofs with him. An old servant +here in the house, too, knows him."</p> + +<p>"What, Mrs. Jones?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; Mrs. Jones. And the burden of further proof must now, of +course, be thrown on us,—not on him. Directly that we believe the +statement, it is for us to ascertain its truth. You and your father +must not be seen to hold a false position before the world."</p> + +<p>"And what are we to do now?"</p> + +<p>"I fear that your mother must be told, and Mr. Owen Fitzgerald; and +then we must together openly prove the facts, either in one way or in +the other. It will be better that we should do this together;—that +is, you and your cousin Owen conjointly. Do it openly, before the +world,—so that the world may know that each of you desires only what +is honestly his own. For myself I tell you fairly that I have no +doubt of the truth of what I have told you; but further proof is +certainly needed. Had I any doubt I would not propose to tell your +mother. As it is I think it will be wrong to keep her longer in the +dark."</p> + +<p>"Does she suspect nothing?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. She has more power of self-control than your father. +She has not spoken to me ten words since I have been in the house, +and in not doing so I have thought that she was right."</p> + +<p>"My own mother; my dear mother!"</p> + +<p>"If you ask me my opinion, I think that she does suspect the +truth,—very vaguely, with an indefinite feeling that the calamity +which weighs so heavily on your father, has come from this source. +She, dear lady, is greatly to be pitied. But God has made her of +firmer material than your father, and I think that she will bear her +sorrow with a higher courage."</p> + +<p>"And she is to be told also?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so. I do not see how we can avoid it. If we do not tell +her we must attempt to conceal it, and that attempt must needs be +futile when we are engaged in making open inquiry on the subject. +Your cousin, when he hears of this, will of course be anxious to know +what his real prospects are."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. He will be anxious, and determined too."</p> + +<p>"And then, when all the world will know it, how is your mother to be +kept in the dark? And that which she fears and anticipates is as bad, +probably, as the actual truth. If my advice be followed nothing will +be kept from her."</p> + +<p>"We are in your hands, I suppose, Mr. Prendergast?"</p> + +<p>"I can only act as my judgment directs me."</p> + +<p>"And who is to tell her?" This he asked with a shudder, and almost in +a whisper. The very idea of undertaking such a duty seemed almost too +much for him. And yet he must undertake a duty almost as terrible; he +himself—no one but him—must endure the anguish of repeating this +story to Clara Desmond and to the countess. But now the question had +reference to his own mother. "And who is to tell her?" he asked.</p> + +<p>For a moment or two Mr. Prendergast stood silent. He had not +hitherto, in so many words, undertaken this task—this that would be +the most dreadful of all. But if he did not undertake it, who would? +"I suppose that I must do it," at last he said, very gently.</p> + +<p>"And when?"</p> + +<p>"As soon as I have told your cousin. I will go down to him to-morrow +after breakfast. Is it probable that I shall find him at home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you are there before ten. The hounds meet to-morrow at +Cecilstown, within three miles of him, and he will not leave home +till near eleven. But it is possible that he may have a house full of +men with him."</p> + +<p>"At any rate I will try. On such an occasion as this he may surely +let his friends go to the hunt without him."</p> + +<p>And then between nine and ten this interview came to an end. "Mr. +Fitzgerald," said Mr. Prendergast, as he pressed Herbert's hand, "you +have borne all this as a man should do. No loss of fortune can ruin +one who is so well able to endure misfortune." But in this Mr. +Prendergast was perhaps mistaken. His knowledge of human nature had +not carried him sufficiently far. A man's courage under calamity is +only tested when he is left in solitude. The meanest among us can +bear up while strange eyes are looking at us. And then Mr. +Prendergast went away, and he was alone.</p> + +<p>It had been his habit during the whole of this period of his father's +illness to go to Sir Thomas at or before bedtime. These visits had +usually been made to the study, the room in which he was now +standing; but when his father had gone to his bedroom at an earlier +hour, Herbert had always seen him there. Was he to go to him now—now +that he had heard all this? And if so, how was he to bear himself +there, in his father's presence? He stood still, thinking of this, +till the hand of the clock showed him that it was past ten, and then +it struck him that his father might be waiting for him. It would not +do for him now, at such a moment, to appear wanting in that attention +which he had always shown. He was still his father's son, though he +had lost the right to bear his father's name. He was nameless now, a +man utterly without respect or standing-place in the world, a being +whom the law ignored except as the possessor of a mere life; such was +he now, instead of one whose rights and privileges, whose property +and rank all the statutes of the realm and customs of his country +delighted to honour and protect. This he repeated to himself over and +over again. It was to such a pass as this, to this bitter +disappointment that his father had brought him. But yet it should not +be said of him that he had begun to neglect his father as soon as he +had heard the story.</p> + +<p>So with a weary step he walked up stairs, and found Sir Thomas in +bed, with his mother sitting by the bedside. His mother held out her +hand to him, and he took it, leaning against the bedside. "Has Mr. +Prendergast left you?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He told her that Mr. Prendergast had left him, and gone to his own +room for the night. "And have you been with him all the evening?" she +asked. She had no special motive in so asking, but both the father +and the son shuddered at the question. "Yes," said Herbert; "I have +been with him, and now I have come to wish my father good night; and +you too, mother, if you intend to remain here." But Lady Fitzgerald +got up, telling Herbert that she would leave him with Sir Thomas; and +before either of them could hinder her from departing, the father and +the son were alone together.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas, when the door closed, looked furtively up into his son's +face. Might it be that he could read there how much had been already +told, or how much still remained to be disclosed? That Herbert was to +learn it all that evening, he knew; but it might be that Mr. +Prendergast had failed to perform his task. Sir Thomas in his heart +trusted that he had failed. He looked up furtively into Herbert's +face, but at the moment there was nothing there that he could read. +There was nothing there but black misery; and every face round him +for many days past had worn that aspect.</p> + +<p>For a minute or two Herbert said nothing, for he had not made up his +mind whether or no he would that night disturb his father's rest. But +he could not speak in his ordinary voice, or bid his father +good-night as though nothing special to him had happened. "Father," +said he, after a short pause, "father, I know it all now."</p> + +<p>"My boy, my poor boy, my unfortunate boy!"</p> + +<p>"Father," said Herbert, "do not be unhappy about me, I can bear it." +And then he thought again of his bride—his bride as she was to have +been; but nevertheless he repeated his last words, "I can bear it, +father!"</p> + +<p>"I have meant it for the best, Herbert," said the poor man, pleading +to his child.</p> + +<p>"I know that; all of us well know that. But what Mr. Prendergast says +is true; it is better that it should be known. That man would have +killed you had you kept it longer to yourself."</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas hid his face upon the pillow as the remembrance of what he +had endured in those meetings came upon him. The blow that had told +heaviest was that visit from the son, and the threats which the man +had made still rung in his ears—"When that youngster was born Lady +F. was Mrs. M., wasn't she? … My governor could take her away +to-morrow, according to the law of the land, couldn't he now?" These +words, and more such as these, had nearly killed him at the time, and +now, as they recurred to him, he burst out into childish tears. Poor +man! the days of his manhood had gone, and nothing but the tears of a +second bitter childhood remained to him. The hot iron had entered +into his soul, and shrivelled up the very muscles of his mind's +strength.</p> + +<p>Herbert, without much thought of what he was doing, knelt down by the +bedside and put his hand upon that of his father which lay out upon +the sheet. There he knelt for one or two minutes, watching and +listening to his father's sobs. "You will be better now, father," he +said, "for the great weight of this terrible secret will be off your +mind." But Sir Thomas did not answer him. With him there could never +be any better. All things belonging to him had gone to ruin. All +those around him whom he had loved—and he had loved those around him +very dearly—were brought to poverty, and sorrow, and disgrace. The +power of feeling this was left to him, but the power of enduring this +with manhood was gone. The blow had come upon him too late in life.</p> + +<p>And Herbert himself, as he knelt there, could hardly forbear from +tears. Now, at such a moment as this, he could think of no one but +his father, the author of his being, who lay there so grievously +afflicted by sorrows which were in nowise selfish. "Father," he said +at last, "will you pray with me?" And then when the poor sufferer had +turned his face towards him, he poured forth his prayer to his +Saviour that they all in that family might be enabled to bear the +heavy sorrows which God in his mercy and wisdom had now thought fit +to lay upon them. I will not make his words profane by repeating them +here, but one may say confidently that they were not uttered in vain.</p> + +<p>"And now, dearest father, good night," he said as he rose from his +knees; and stretching over the bed, he kissed his father's forehead.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-23" id="c-23"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3> +<h4>BEFORE BREAKFAST AT HAP HOUSE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It may be imagined that Mr. Mollett's drive back to Cork after his +last visit to Castle Richmond had not been very pleasant; and indeed +it may be said that his present circumstances altogether were as +unpleasant as his worst enemies could desire. I have endeavoured to +excite the sympathy of those who are going with me through this story +for the sufferings of that family of the Fitzgeralds; but how shall I +succeed in exciting their sympathy for this other family of the +Molletts? And yet why not? If we are to sympathise only with the +good, or worse still, only with the graceful, how little will there +be in our character that is better than terrestrial? Those Molletts +also were human, and had strings to their hearts, at which the world +would now probably pull with sufficient vigour. For myself I can +truly say that my strongest feeling is for their wretchedness.</p> + +<p>The father and son had more than once boasted among themselves that +the game they were now playing was a high one; that they were, in +fact, gambling for mighty stakes. And in truth, as long as the money +came in to them—flowing in as the result of their own craft in this +game—the excitement had about it something that was very +pleasurable. There was danger, which makes all games pleasant; there +was money in handfuls for daily expenses—those daily wants of the +appetite, which are to such men more important by far than the +distant necessities of life; there was a possibility of future +grandeur, an opening out of magnificent ideas of fortune, which +charmed them greatly as they thought about it. What might they not do +with forty thousand pounds divided between them, or even with a +thousand a year each, settled on them for life? and surely their +secret was worth that money! Nay, was it not palpable to the meanest +calculation that it was worth much more? Had they not the selling of +twelve thousand a year for ever and ever to this family of +Fitzgerald?</p> + +<p>But for the last fortnight things had begun to go astray with them. +Money easily come by goes easily, and money badly come by goes badly. +Theirs had come easily and badly, and had so gone. What necessity +could there be for economy with such a milch-cow as that close to +their elbows? So both of them had thought, if not argued; and there +had been no economy—no economy in the use of that very costly +amusement, the dice-box; and now, at the present moment, ready money +having failed to be the result of either of the two last visits to +Castle Richmond, the family funds were running low.</p> + +<p>It may be said that ready money for the moment was the one desire +nearest to the heart of Mollett père, when he took that last journey +over the Boggeragh mountains—ready money wherewith to satisfy the +pressing claims of Miss O'Dwyer, and bring back civility, or rather +servility, to the face and manner of Tom the waiter at the Kanturk +Hotel. Very little of that servility can be enjoyed by persons of the +Mollett class when money ceases to be ready in their hands and +pockets, and there is, perhaps, nothing that they enjoy so keenly as +servility. Mollett père had gone down determined that that comfort +should at any rate be forthcoming to him, whatever answer might be +given to those other grander demands, and we know what success had +attended his mission. He had looked to find his tame milch-cow +trembling in her accustomed stall, and he had found a resolute bull +there in her place—a bull whom he could by no means take by the +horns. He had got no money, and before he had reached Cork he had +begun to comprehend that it was not probable that he should get more +from that source.</p> + +<p>During a part of the interview between him and Mr. Prendergast, some +spark of mercy towards his victims had glimmered into his heart. When +it was explained to him that the game was to be given up, that the +family at Castle Richmond was prepared to acknowledge the truth, and +that the effort made was with the view of proving that the poor lady +up stairs was not entitled to the name she bore rather than that she +was so entitled, then some slight promptings of a better spirit did +for a while tempt him to be merciful. "Oh, what are you about to do?" +he would have said had Mr. Prendergast admitted of speech from him. +"Why make this terrible sacrifice? Matters have not come to that. +There is no need for you to drag to the light this terrible fact. I +will not divulge it—no not although you are hard upon me in regard +to these terms of mine. I will still keep it to myself, and trust to +you,—to you who are all so rich and able to pay, for what +consideration you may please to give me." This was the state of his +mind when Mrs. Jones's evidence was being slowly evoked from her; but +it had undergone a considerable change before he reached Cork. By +that time he had taught himself to understand that there was no +longer a chance to him of any consideration whatever. Slowly he had +brought it home to himself that these people had resolutely +determined to blow up the ground on which they themselves stood. This +he perceived was their honesty. He did not understand the nature of a +feeling which could induce so fatal a suicide, but he did understand +that the feeling was there, and that the suicide would be completed.</p> + +<p>And now what was he to do next in the way of earning his bread? +Various thoughts ran through his brain, and different +resolves—half-formed but still, perhaps, capable of shape—presented +themselves to him for the future. It was still on the cards—on the +cards, but barely so—that he might make money out of these people; +but he must wait perhaps for weeks before he again commenced such an +attempt. He might perhaps make money out of them, and be merciful to +them at the same time;—not money by thousands and tens of thousands; +that golden dream was gone for ever; but still money that might be +comfortably luxurious as long as it could be made to last. But then +on one special point he made a firm and final resolution,—whatever +new scheme he might hatch he alone would manage. Never again would he +call into his councils that son of his loins whose rapacious greed +had, as he felt sure, brought upon him all this ruin. Had Aby not +gone to Castle Richmond, with his cruelty and his greed, frightening +to the very death the soul of that poor baronet by the enormity of +his demands, Mr. Prendergast would not have been there. Of what +further chance of Castle Richmond pickings there might be Aby should +know nothing. He and his son would no longer hunt in couples. He +would shake him off in that escape which they must both now make from +Cork, and he would not care how long it might be before he again saw +his countenance.</p> + +<p>But then that question of ready money; and that other question, +perhaps as interesting, touching a criminal prosecution! How was he +to escape if he could not raise the wind? And how could he raise the +wind now that his milch-cow had run so dry? He had promised the +O'Dwyers money that evening, and had struggled hard to make that +promise with an easy face. He now had none to give them. His orders +at the inn were treated almost with contempt. For the last three days +they had given him what he wanted to eat and drink, but would hardly +give him all that he wanted. When he called for brandy they brought +him whisky, and it had only been by hard begging, and by oaths as to +the promised money, that he had induced them to supply him with the +car which had taken him on his fruitless journey to Castle Richmond. +As he was driven up to the door in South Main Street, his heart was +very sad on all these subjects.</p> + +<p>Aby was again sitting within the bar, but was no longer basking in +the sunshine of Fanny's smiles. He was sitting there because Fanny +had not yet mustered courage to turn him out. He was half-drunk, for +it had been found impossible to keep spirits from him. And there had +been hot words between him and Fanny, in which she had twitted him +with his unpaid bill, and he had twitted her with her former love. +And things had gone from bad to worse, and she had all but called in +Tom for aid in getting quit of him; she had, however, refrained, +thinking of the money that might be coming, and waiting also till her +father should arrive. Fanny's love for Mr. Abraham Mollett had not +been long lived.</p> + +<p>I will not describe another scene such as those which had of late +been frequent in the Kanturk Hotel. The father and the son soon found +themselves together in the small room in which they now both slept, +at the top of the house; and Aby, tipsy as he was, understood the +whole of what had happened at Castle Richmond. When he heard that Mr. +Prendergast was seen in that room in lieu of Sir Thomas, he knew at +once that the game had been abandoned. "But something may yet be done +at 'Appy 'ouse," Aby said to himself, "only one must be deuced +quick."</p> + +<p>The father and the son of course quarrelled frightfully, like dogs +over the memory of a bone which had been arrested from the jaws of +both of them. Aby said that his father had lost everything by his +pusillanimity, and old Mollett declared that his son had destroyed +all by his rashness. But we need not repeat their quarrels, nor +repeat all that passed between them and Tom before food was +forthcoming to satisfy the old man's wants. As he ate he calculated +how much he might probably raise upon his watch towards taking him to +London, and how best he might get off from Cork without leaving any +scent in the nostrils of his son. His clothes he must leave behind +him at the inn, at least all that he could not pack upon his person. +Lately he had made himself comfortable in this respect, and he +sorrowed over the fine linen which he had worn but once or twice +since it had been bought with the last instalment from Sir Thomas. +Nevertheless in this way he did make up his mind for the morrow's +campaign.</p> + +<p>And Aby also made up his mind. Something at any rate he had learned +from Fanny O'Dwyer in return for his honeyed words. When Herbert +Fitzgerald should cease to be the heir to Castle Richmond, Owen +Fitzgerald of Hap House would be the happy man. That knowledge was +his own in absolute independence of his father, and there might still +be time for him to use it. He knew well the locality of Hap House, +and he would be there early on the following morning. These tidings +had probably not as yet reached the owner of that blessed abode, and +if he could be the first to tell him—! The game there too might be +pretty enough, if it were played well, by such a master-hand as his +own. Yes; he would be at Hap House early in the morning;—but then, +how to get there?</p> + +<p>He left his father preparing for bed, and going down into the bar +found Mr. O'Dwyer and his daughter there in close consultation. They +were endeavouring to arrive, by their joint wisdom, at some +conclusion as to what they should do with their two guests. Fanny was +for turning them out at once. "The first loss is the least," said +she. "And they is so disrispectable. I niver know what they're +afther, and always is expecting the p'lice will be down on them." But +the father shook his head. He had done nothing wrong; the police +could not hurt him; and thirty pounds, as he told his daughter, with +much emphasis, was "a deuced sight of money." "The first loss is the +least," said Fanny, perseveringly; and then Aby entered to them.</p> + +<p>"My father has made a mull of this matter again," said he, going at +once into the middle of the subject. "'E 'as come back without a +shiner."</p> + +<p>"I'll be bound he has," said Mr. O'Dwyer, sarcastically.</p> + +<p>"And that when 'e'd only got to go two or three miles further, and +hall his troubles would have been over."</p> + +<p>"Troubles over, would they?" said Fanny. "I wish he'd have the +goodness to get over his little troubles in this house, by paying us +our bill. You'll have to walk if it's not done, and that to-morrow, +Mr. Mollett; and so I tell you; and take nothing with you, I can tell +you. Father 'll have the police to see to that."</p> + +<p>"Don't you be so cruel now, Miss Fanny," said Aby, with a leering +look. "I tell you what it is, Mr. O'Dwyer, I must go down again to +them diggings very early to-morrow, starting, say, at four o'clock."</p> + +<p>"You'll not have a foot out of my stables," said Mr. O'Dwyer. "That's +all."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Mr. O'Dwyer; there's been a sight of money due to us from +those Fitzgerald people down there. You know 'em; and whether they're +hable to pay or not. I won't deny but what father's 'ad the best of +it,—'ad the best of it, and sent it trolling, bad luck to him. But +there's no good looking hafter spilt milk; is there?"</p> + +<p>"If so be that Sir Thomas owed the likes of you money, he would have +paid it without your tramping down there time after time to look for +it. He's not one of that sort."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said Fanny; "and I don't believe anything about your +seeing Sir Thomas."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we've seed him hoften enough. There's no mistake about that. But +<span class="nowrap">now—"</span> and then, +with a mysterious air and low voice, he explained to +them, that this considerable balance of money still due to them was +to be paid by the cousin, "Mr. Owen of Appy 'ouse." And to +substantiate all his story, he exhibited a letter from Mr. +Prendergast to his father, which some months since had intimated that +a sum of money would be paid on behalf of Sir Thomas Fitzgerald, if +Mr. Mollett would call at Mr. Prendergast's office at a certain hour. +The ultimate effect of all this was, that the car was granted for the +morning, with certain dire threats as to any further breach of +engagement.</p> + +<p>Very early on the following morning Aby was astir, hoping that he +might manage to complete his not elaborate toilet without disturbing +his father's slumbers. For, it must be known, he had been very urgent +with the O'Dwyers as to the necessity of keeping this journey of his +a secret from his "governor." But the governor was wide awake, +looking at him out of the corner of his closed eye whenever his back +was turned, and not caring much what he was about to do with himself. +Mollett père wished to be left alone for that morning, that he also +might play his little game in his own solitary fashion, and was not +at all disposed to question the movements of his son.</p> + +<p>At about five Aby started for Hap House. His toilet, I have said, was +not elaborate; but in this I have perhaps wronged him. Up there in +the bed-room he did not waste much time over his soap and water; but +he was aware that first impressions are everything, and that one +young man should appear smart and clever before another if he wished +to carry any effect with him; so he took his brush and comb in his +pocket, and a pot of grease with which he was wont to polish his long +side-locks, and he hurriedly grasped up his pins, and his rings, and +the satin stock which Fanny in her kinder mood had folded for him; +and then, during his long journey to Hap House, he did perform a +toilet which may, perhaps, be fairly called elaborate.</p> + +<p>There was a long, tortuous, narrow avenue, going from the Mallow and +Kanturk road down to Hap House, which impressed Aby with the idea +that the man on whom he was now about to call was also a big +gentleman, and made him more uneasy than he would have been had he +entered a place with less pretence. There is a story current, that in +the west of England the grandeur of middle-aged maiden ladies is +measured by the length of the tail of their cats; and Aby had a +perhaps equally correct idea, that the length of the private drive up +to a gentleman's house, was a fair criterion of the splendour of his +position. If this man had about him as much grandeur as Sir Thomas +himself, would he be so anxious as Aby had hoped to obtain the +additional grandeur of Sir Thomas? It was in that direction that his +mind was operating when he got down from the car and rang at the +door-bell.</p> + +<p>Mr. Owen, as everybody called him, was at home, but not down; and so +Aby was shown into the dining-room. It was now considerably past +nine; and the servant told him that his master must be there soon, as +he had to eat his breakfast and be at the hunt by eleven. The servant +at Hap House was more unsophisticated than those at Castle Richmond, +and Aby's personal adornments had had their effect. He found himself +sitting in the room with the cups and saucers,—aye, and with the +silver tea-spoons; and began again to trust that his mission might be +successful.</p> + +<p>And then the door opened, and a man appeared, clad from top to toe in +hunting costume. This was not Owen Fitzgerald, but his friend Captain +Donnellan. As it had happened, Captain Donnellan was the only guest +who had graced the festivities of Hap House on the previous evening; +and now he appeared at the breakfast table before his host. Aby got +up from his chair when the gentleman entered, and was proceeding to +business; but the Captain gave him to understand that the master of +the house was not yet in presence, and so Aby sat down again. What +was he to do when the master did arrive? His story was not one which +would well bear telling before a third person.</p> + +<p>And then, while Captain Donnellan was scanning this visitor to his +friend Owen, and bethinking himself whether he might not be a +sheriff's officer, and whether if so some notice ought not to be +conveyed up stairs to the master of the house, another car was driven +up to the front door. In this case the arrival was from Castle +Richmond, and the two servants knew each other well. "Thady," said +Richard, with much authority in his voice, "this gentl'man is Mr. +Prendergast from our place, and he must see the masther before he +goes to the hunt." "Faix and the masther 'll have something to do +this blessed morning," said Thady, as he showed Mr. Prendergast also +into the dining-room, and went up stairs to inform his master that +there was yet another gentleman come upon business. "The Captain has +got 'em both to hisself," said Thady, as he closed the door.</p> + +<p>The name of Mr. "Pendhrergrast," as the Irish servants generally +called him, was quite unknown to the owner of Hap House, as was also +that of Mr. Mollett, which had been brought up to him the first of +the two; but Owen began to think that there must be something very +unusual in a day so singularly ushered in to him. Callers at Hap +House on business were very few, unless when tradesmen in want of +money occasionally dropped in upon him. But now that he was so +summoned Owen began to bestir himself with his boots and breeches. A +gentleman's costume for a hunting morning is always a slow +one—sometimes so slow and tedious as to make him think of +forswearing such articles of dress for all future ages. But now he +did bestir himself,—in a moody melancholy sort of manner; for his +manner in all things latterly had become moody and melancholy.</p> + +<p>In the mean time Captain Donnellan and the two strangers sat almost +in silence in the dining-room. The Captain, though he did not perhaps +know much of things noticeable in this world, did know something of a +gentleman, and was therefore not led away, as poor Thady had been, by +Aby's hat and rings. He had stared Aby full in the face when he +entered the room, and having explained that he was not the master of +the house, had not vouchsafed another word. But then he had also seen +that Mr. Prendergast was of a different class, and had said a civil +word or two, asking him to come near the fire, and suggesting that +Owen would be down in less than five minutes. "But the old cock +wouldn't crow," as he afterwards remarked to his friend, and so they +all three sat in silence, the Captain being very busy about his +knees, as hunting gentlemen sometimes are when they come down to +bachelor breakfasts.</p> + +<p>And then at last Owen Fitzgerald entered the room. He has been +described as a handsome man, but in no dress did he look so well as +when equipped for a day's sport. And what dress that Englishmen ever +wear is so handsome as this? Or we may perhaps say what other dress +does English custom allow them that is in any respect not the reverse +of handsome. We have come to be so dingy,—in our taste I was going +to say, but it is rather in our want of taste,—so careless of any of +the laws of beauty in the folds and lines and hues of our dress, so +opposed to grace in the arrangement of our persons, that it is not +permitted to the ordinary English gentleman to be anything else but +ugly. Chimney-pot hats, swallow-tailed coats, and pantaloons that fit +nothing, came creeping in upon us, one after the other, while the +Georges reigned—creeping in upon us with such pictures as we painted +under the reign of West, and such houses as we built under the reign +of Nash, till the English eye required to rest on that which was +constrained, dull, and graceless. For the last two score of years it +has come to this, that if a man go in handsome attire he is a +popinjay and a vain fool; and as it is better to be ugly than to be +accounted vain I would not counsel a young friend to leave the beaten +track on the strength of his own judgment. But not the less is the +beaten track to be condemned, and abandoned, and abolished, if such +be in any way possible. Beauty is good in all things; and I cannot +but think that those old Venetian senators, and Florentine men of +Council, owed somewhat of their country's pride and power to the +manner in which they clipped their beards and wore their flowing +garments.</p> + +<p>But an Englishman may still make himself brave when he goes forth +into the hunting field. Custom there allows him colour, and garments +that fit his limbs. Strength is the outward characteristic of +manhood, and at the covert-side he may appear strong. Look at men as +they walk along Fleet-street, and ask yourself whether any outward +sign of manhood or strength can be seen there. And of gentle manhood +outward dignity should be the trade mark. I will not say that such +outward dignity is incompatible with a black hat and plaid trousers, +for the eye instructed by habit will search out dignity for itself +wherever it may truly exist, let it be hidden by what vile covering +it may. But any man who can look well at his club, will look better +as he clusters round the hounds; while many a one who is comely +there, is mean enough as he stands on the hearth-rug before his club +fire. In my mind men, like churches and books, and women too, should +be brave, not mean, in their outward garniture.</p> + +<p>And Owen, as I have said, was brave as he walked into his +dining-room. The sorrow which weighed on his heart had not wrinkled +his brow, but had given him a set dignity of purpose. His tall +figure, which his present dress allowed to be seen, was perfect in +its symmetry of strength. His bright chestnut hair clustered round +his forehead, and his eye shone like that of a hawk. They must have +been wrong who said that he commonly spent his nights over the +wine-cup. That pleasure always leaves its disgusting traces round the +lips; and Owen Fitzgerald's lips were as full and lusty as Apollo's. +Mollett, as he saw him, was stricken with envy. "If I could only get +enough money out of this affair to look like that," was his first +thought, as his eye fell on the future heir; not understanding, poor +wretch that he was, that all the gold of California could not bring +him one inch nearer to the goal he aimed at. I think I have said +before, that your silk purse will not get itself made out of that +coarse material with which there are so many attempts to manufacture +that article. And Mr. Prendergast rose from his chair when he saw +him, with a respect that was almost involuntary. He had not heard men +speak well of Owen Fitzgerald;—not that ill-natured things had been +said by the family at Castle Richmond, but circumstances had +prevented the possibility of their praising him. If a relative or +friend be spoken of without praise, he is, in fact, censured. From +what he had heard he had certainly not expected a man who would look +so noble as did the owner of Hap House, who now came forward to ask +him his business.</p> + +<p>Both Mr. Prendergast and Aby Mollett rose at the same time. Since the +arrival of the latter gentleman, Aby had been wondering who he might +be, but no idea that he was that lawyer from Castle Richmond had +entered his head. That he was a stranger like himself, Aby saw; but +he did not connect him with his own business. Indeed he had not yet +realized the belief, though his father had done so, that the truth +would be revealed by those at Castle Richmond to him at Hap House. +His object now was that the old gentleman should say his say and +begone, leaving him to dispose of the other young man in the +top-boots as best he might. But then, as it happened, that was also +Mr. Prendergast's line of action.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said Owen, "I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting; +but the fact is that I am so seldom honoured in this way in a +morning, that I was hardly ready. Donnellan, there's the tea; don't +mind waiting. These gentlemen will perhaps join us." And then he +looked hard at Aby, as though he trusted in Providence that no such +profanation would be done to his table-cloth.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I have breakfasted," said Mr. Prendergast.</p> + +<p>"And so 'ave I," said Aby, who had eaten a penny loaf in the car, and +would have been delighted to sit down at that rich table. But he was +a little beside himself, and not able to pluck up courage for such an +effort.</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether you two gentlemen have come about the same +business," said Owen, looking from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"No," said Mr. Prendergast, very confidently, but not very correctly. +"I wish to speak to you, Mr. Fitzgerald, for a few minutes: but my +business with you is quite private."</p> + +<p>"So is mine," said Aby, "very private; very private indeed."</p> + +<p>"Well, gentlemen, I have just half an hour in which to eat my +breakfast, attend to business, get on my horse and leave the house. +Out of that twenty-five minutes are very much at your service. +Donnellan, I beg your pardon. Do pitch into the broiled bones while +they are hot; never mind me. And now, gentlemen, if you will walk +with me into the other room. First come first served: that I suppose +should be the order." And he opened the door and stood with it ajar +in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I will wait, Mr. Fitzgerald, if you please," said Mr. Prendergast; +and as he spoke he motioned Mollett with his hand to go to the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I can wait, sir; I'd rather wait, sir. I would indeed," said +Aby. "My business is a little particular; and if you'll go on, sir, +I'll take up with the gen'leman as soon as you've done, sir."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Prendergast was accustomed to have his own way. "I should +prefer that you should go first, sir. And to tell the truth, Mr. +Fitzgerald, what I have to say to you will take some time. It is of +much importance, to yourself and to others; and I fear that you will +probably find that it will detain you from your amusement to-day."</p> + +<p>Owen looked black as he heard this. The hounds were going to draw a +covert of his own; and he was not in the habit of remaining away from +the drawing of any coverts, belonging to himself or others, on any +provocation whatever. "That will be rather hard," said he, +"considering that I do not know any more than the man in the moon +what you've come about."</p> + +<p>"You shall be the sole judge yourself, sir, of the importance of my +business with you," said Mr. Prendergast.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr.— I forget your name," said Owen.</p> + +<p>"My name's Mollett," said Aby. Whereupon Mr. Prendergast looked up at +him very sharply, but he said nothing.—He said nothing, but he +looked very sharply indeed. He now knew well who this man was, and +guessed with tolerable accuracy the cause of his visit. But, +nevertheless, at the moment he said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Come along, then, Mr. Mollett. I hope your affair is not likely to +be a very long one also. Perhaps you'll excuse my having a cup of tea +sent in to me as you talk to me. There is nothing like saving time +when such very important business is on the tapis. Donnellan, send +Thady in with a cup of tea, like a good fellow. Now, Mr. Mollett."</p> + +<p>Mr. Mollett rose slowly from his chair, and followed his host. He +would have given all he possessed in the world, and that was very +little, to have had the coast clear. But in such an emergency, what +was he to do? By the time he had reached the door of the +drawing-room, he had all but made up his mind to tell Fitzgerald +that, seeing there was so much other business on hand this morning at +Hap House, this special piece of business of his must stand over. But +then, how could he go back to Cork empty-handed? So he followed Owen +into the room, and there opened his budget with what courage he had +left to him.</p> + +<p>Captain Donnellan, as he employed himself on the broiled bones, twice +invited Mr. Prendergast to assist him; but in vain. Donnellan +remained there, waiting for Owen, till eleven; and then got on his +horse. "You'll tell Fitzgerald, will you, that I've started? He'll +see nothing of to-day's hunt; that's clear."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he will," said Mr. Prendergast.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-24" id="c-24"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3> +<h4>AFTER BREAKFAST AT HAP HOUSE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>"I don't think he will," said Mr. Prendergast; and as he spoke, +Captain Donnellan's ear could detect that there was something +approaching to sarcasm in the tone of the old man's voice. The +Captain was quite sure that his friend would not be even at the heel +of the hunt that day; and without further compunction proceeded to +fasten his buckskin gloves round his wrists. The meet was so near to +them, that they had both intended to ride their own hunters from the +door; and the two nags were now being led up and down upon the +gravel.</p> + +<p>But at this moment a terrible noise was heard to take place in the +hall. There was a rush and crushing there which made even Mr. +Prendergast to jump from his chair, and drove Captain Donnellan to +forget his gloves and run to the door.</p> + +<p>It was as though all the winds of heaven were being driven down the +passage, and as though each separate wind was shod with heavy-heeled +boots. Captain Donnellan ran to the door, and Mr. Prendergast with +slower steps followed him. When it was opened, Owen was to be seen in +the hall, apparently in a state of great excitement; and the +gentleman whom he had lately asked to breakfast,—he was to be seen +also, in a position of unmistakeable discomfort. He was at that +moment proceeding, with the utmost violence, into a large round bed +of bushes, which stood in the middle of the great sweep before the +door of the house, his feet just touching the ground as he went; and +then, having reached his bourne, he penetrated face foremost into the +thicket, and in an instant disappeared. He had been kicked out of the +house. Owen Fitzgerald had taken him by the shoulders, with a run +along the passage and hall, and having reached the door, had applied +the flat of his foot violently to poor Aby's back, and sent him +flying down the stone steps. And now, as Captain Donnellan and Mr. +Prendergast stood looking on, Mr. Mollett junior buried himself +altogether out of sight among the shrubs.</p> + +<p>"You have done for that fellow, at any rate, Owen," said Captain +Donnellan, glancing for a moment at Mr. Prendergast. "I should say +that he will never get out of that alive."</p> + +<p>"Not if he wait till I pick him out," said Owen, breathing very hard +after his exertion. "An infernal scoundrel! And now, Mr. Prendergast, +if you are ready, sir, I am." It was as much as he could do to finish +these few words with that sang froid which he desired to assume, so +violent was his attempt at breathing after his late exercise.</p> + +<p>It was impossible not to conceive the idea that, as one disagreeable +visitor had been disposed of in a somewhat summary fashion, so might +be the other also. Mr. Prendergast did not look like a man who was in +the habit of leaving gentlemen's houses in the manner just now +adopted by Mr. Mollett; but nevertheless, as they had come together, +both unwished for and unwelcome, Captain Donnellan did for a moment +bethink himself whether there might not be more of such fun, if he +remained there on the spot. At any rate, it would not do for him to +go to the hunt while such deeds as these were being done. It might be +that his assistance would be wanted.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast smiled, with a saturnine and somewhat bitter +smile—the nearest approach to a laugh in which he was known to +indulge,—for the same notion came also into his head. "He has +disposed of him, and now he is thinking how he will dispose of me." +Such was Mr. Prendergast's thought about the matter; and that made +him smile. And then, too, he was pleased at what he had seen. That +this Mollett was the son of that other Mollett, with whom he had been +closeted at Castle Richmond, was plain enough; it was plain enough +also to him, used as he was to trace out in his mind the courses of +action which men would follow, that Mollett junior, having heard of +his father's calamitous failure at Castle Richmond, had come down to +Hap House to see what he could make out of the hitherto unconscious +heir. It had been matter of great doubt with Mr. Prendergast, when he +first heard young Mollett's name mentioned, whether or no he would +allow him to make his attempt. He, Mr. Prendergast, could by a word +have spoilt the game; but acting, as he was forced to act, on the +spur of the moment, he resolved to permit Mr. Mollett junior to play +out his play. He would be yet in time to prevent any ill result to +Mr. Fitzgerald, should that gentleman be weak enough to succumb to +any such ill results. As things had now turned out Mr. Prendergast +rejoiced that Mr. Mollett junior had been permitted to play out his +play. "And now, Mr. Prendergast, if you are ready, I am," said Owen.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we had better first pick up the gentleman among the trees," +said Mr. Prendergast. And he and Captain Donnellan went down into the +bushes.</p> + +<p>"Do as you please about that," said Owen. "I have touched him once +and shall not touch him again." And he walked back into the +dining-room.</p> + +<p>One of the grooms who were leading the horses had now gone to the +assistance of the fallen hero; and as Captain Donnellan also had +already penetrated as far as Aby's shoulders, Mr. Prendergast, +thinking that he was not needed, returned also to the house. "I hope +he is not seriously hurt," he said.</p> + +<p>"Not he," said Owen. "Those sort of men are as used to be kicked, as +girls are to be kissed; and it comes as naturally to them. But +anything short of having his bones broken will be less than he +deserves."</p> + +<p>"May I ask what was the nature of his offence?"</p> + +<p>Owen remained silent for a moment, looking his guest full in the +face. "Well; not exactly," said he. "He has been talking of people of +whom he knows nothing, but it would not be well for me to repeat what +he has said to a perfect stranger."</p> + +<p>"Quite right, Mr. Fitzgerald; it would not be well. But there can be +no harm in my repeating it to you. He came here to get money from you +for certain tidings which he brought; tidings which if true would be +of great importance to you. As I take it, however, he has altogether +failed in his object."</p> + +<p>"And how do you come to know all this, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Merely from having heard that man mention his own name. I also have +come with the same tidings; and as I ask for no money for +communicating them, you may believe them to be true on my telling."</p> + +<p>"What tidings?" asked Owen, with a frown, and an angry jerk in his +voice. No remotest notion had yet come in upon his mind that there +was any truth in the story that had been told him. He had looked upon +it all as a lie, and had regarded Mollett as a sorry knave who had +come to him with a poor and low attempt at raising a few pounds. And +even now he did not believe. Mr. Prendergast's words had been too +sudden to produce belief of so great a fact, and his first thought +was that an endeavour was being made to fool him.</p> + +<p>"Those tidings which that man has told you," said Mr. Prendergast, +solemnly. "That you should not have believed them from him shows only +your discretion. But from me you may believe them. I have come from +Castle Richmond, and am here as a messenger from Sir Thomas,—from +Sir Thomas and from his son. When the matter became clear to them +both, then it was felt that you also should be made acquainted with +it."</p> + +<p>Owen Fitzgerald now sat down, and looked up into the lawyer's face, +staring at him. I may say that the power of saying much was for the +moment taken away from him by the words that he heard. What! was it +really possible that that title, that property, that place of honour +in the country was to be his when one frail old man should drop away? +And then again was it really true that all this immeasurable misery +was to fall—had fallen—upon that family whom he had once known so +well? It was but yesterday that he had been threatening all manner of +evil to his cousin Herbert; and had his threats been proved true so +quickly? But there was no shadow of triumph in his feelings. Owen +Fitzgerald was a man of many faults. He was reckless, passionate, +prone to depreciate the opinion of others, extravagant in his +thoughts and habits, ever ready to fight, both morally and +physically, those who did not at a moment's notice agree with him. He +was a man who would at once make up his mind that the world was wrong +when the world condemned him, and who would not in compliance with +any argument allow himself to be so. But he was not avaricious, nor +cruel, nor self-seeking, nor vindictive. In his anger he could +pronounce all manner of ill things against his enemy, as he had +pronounced some ill things against Herbert; but it was not in him to +keep up a sustained wish that those ill things should really come to +pass. This news which he now heard, and which he did not yet fully +credit, struck him with awe, but created no triumph in his bosom. He +realized the catastrophe as it affected his cousins of Castle +Richmond rather than as it affected himself.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that Lady Fitzgerald—" and then he stopped +himself. He had not the courage to ask the question which was in his +mind. Could it really be the case that Lady Fitzgerald,—that she +whom all the world had so long honoured under that name, was in truth +the wife of that man's father,—of the father of that wretch whom he +had just spurned from his house? The tragedy was so deep that he +could not believe in it.</p> + +<p>"We fear that it is so, Mr. Fitzgerald," said Mr. Prendergast. "That +it certainly is so I cannot say. And therefore, if I may take the +liberty to give you counsel, I would advise you not to make too +certain of this change in your prospects."</p> + +<p>"Too certain!" said he, with a bitter laugh. "Do you suppose then +that I would wish to see all this ruin accomplished? Heavens and +earth! Lady Fitzgerald—! I cannot believe it."</p> + +<p>And then Captain Donnellan also returned to the room. "Fitzgerald," +said he, "what the mischief are we to do with this fellow? He says +that he can't walk, and he bleeds from his face like a pig."</p> + +<p>"What fellow? Oh, do what you like with him. Here: give him a pound +note, and let him go to the <span class="nowrap">d——.</span> +And Donnellan, for heaven's sake +go to Cecilstown at once. Do not wait for me. I have business that +will keep me here all day."</p> + +<p>"But I do not know what to do with this fellow that's bleeding," said +the captain, piteously, as he took the proffered note. "If he puts up +with a pound note for what you've done to him, he's softer than what +I take him for."</p> + +<p>"He will be very glad to be allowed to escape without being given up +to the police," said Mr. Prendergast.</p> + +<p>"But I don't know what to do with him," said Captain Donnellan. "He +says that he can't stand."</p> + +<p>"Then lay him down on the dunghill," said Owen Fitzgerald; "but for +heaven's sake do not let him interrupt me. And, Donnellan, you will +altogether lose the day if you stay any longer." Whereupon the +captain, seeing that in very truth he was not wanted, did take +himself off, casting as he went one farewell look on Aby as he lay +groaning on the turf on the far side of the tuft of bushes.</p> + +<p>"He's kilt intirely, I'm thinking, yer honor," said Thady, who was +standing over him on the other side.</p> + +<p>"He'll come to life again before dinner-time," said the Captain.</p> + +<p>"Oh, in course he'll do that, yer honor," said Thady; and then added +sotto voce, to himself, as the captain rode down the avenue, "Faix, +an' I don't know about that. Shure an' it's the masther has a heavy +hand." And then Thady stood for a while perplexed, endeavouring to +reanimate Aby by a sight of the pound note which he held out visibly +between his thumb and fingers.</p> + +<p>And now Mr. Prendergast and Owen were again alone. "And what am I to +do?" said Owen, after a pause of a minute or two; and he asked the +question with a serious solemn voice.</p> + +<p>"Just for the present—for the next day or two—I think that you +should do nothing. As soon as the first agony of this time is over at +Castle Richmond, I think that Herbert should see you. It would be +very desirable that he and you should take in concert such +proceedings as will certainly become necessary. The absolute proof of +the truth of this story must be obtained. You understand, I hope, Mr. +Fitzgerald, that the case still admits of doubt."</p> + +<p>Owen nodded his head impatiently, as though it were needless on the +part of Mr. Prendergast to insist upon this. He did not wish to take +it for true a moment sooner than was necessary.</p> + +<p>"It is my duty to give you this caution. Many lawyers—I presume you +know that I am a <span class="nowrap">lawyer—"</span></p> + +<p>"I did not know it," said Owen; "but it makes no difference."</p> + +<p>"Thank you; that's very kind," said Mr. Prendergast; but the sarcasm +was altogether lost upon his hearer. "Some lawyers, as I was saying, +would in such a case have advised their clients to keep all their +suspicions, nay all their knowledge, to themselves. Why play the game +of an adversary? they would ask. But I have thought it better that we +should have no adversary."</p> + +<p>"And you will have none," said Owen; "none in me at least."</p> + +<p>"I am much gratified in so perceiving, and in having such evidence +that my advice has not been indiscreet. It occurred to me that if you +received the first intimation of these circumstances from other +sources, you would be bound on your own behalf to employ an agent to +look after your own interests."</p> + +<p>"I should have done nothing of the kind," said Owen.</p> + +<p>"Ah, but, my dear young friend, in such a case it would have been +your duty to do so."</p> + +<p>"Then I should have neglected my duty. And do you tell Herbert this +from me, that let the truth be what it may, I shall never interrupt +him in his title or his property. It is not there that I shall look +either for justice or revenge. He will understand what I mean."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Prendergast did not, by any means; nor did he enter into the +tone of Owen Fitzgerald's mind. They were both just men, but just in +an essentially different manner. The justice of Mr. Prendergast had +come of thought and education. As a young man, when entering on his +profession, he was probably less just than he was now. He had thought +about matters of law and equity, till thought had shown to him the +beauty of equity as it should be practised,—often by the aid of law, +and not unfrequently in spite of law. Such was the justice of Mr. +Prendergast. That of Owen Fitzgerald had come of impulse and nature, +and was the justice of a very young man rather than of a very wise +one. That title and property did not, as he felt, of justice belong +to him, but to his cousin. What difference could it make in the true +justice of things, whether or no that wretched man was still alive +whom all the world had regarded as dead? In justice he ought to be +dead. Now that this calamity of the man's life had fallen upon Sir +Thomas and Lady Fitzgerald and his cousin Herbert, it would not be +for him to aggravate it by seizing upon a heritage which might +possibly accrue to him under the letter of the world's law, but which +could not accrue to him under heaven's law. Such was the justice of +Owen Fitzgerald; and we may say this of it in its dispraise, as +comparing it with that other justice, that whereas that of Mr. +Prendergast would wear for ever, through ages and ages, that other +justice of Owen's would hardly have stood the pull of a ten years' +struggle. When children came to him, would he not have thought of +what might have been theirs by right; and then have thought of what +ought to be theirs by right; and so on?</p> + +<p>But in speaking of justice, he had also spoken of revenge, and Mr. +Prendergast was altogether in the dark. What revenge? He did not know +that poor Owen had lost a love, and that Herbert had found it. In the +midst of all the confused thoughts which this astounding intelligence +had brought upon him, Owen still thought of his love. There Herbert +had robbed him—robbed him by means of his wealth; and in that matter +he desired justice—justice or revenge. He wanted back his love. Let +him have that and Herbert might yet be welcome to his title and +estates.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast remained there for some half-hour longer, explaining +what ought to be done, and how it ought to be done. Of course he +combated that idea of Owen's, that the property might be allowed to +remain in the hands of the wrong heir. Had that been consonant with +his ideas of justice he would not have made his visit to Hap House +this morning. Right must have its way, and if it should be that Lady +Fitzgerald's marriage with Sir Thomas had not been legal, Owen, on +Sir Thomas's death, must become Sir Owen, and Herbert could not +become Sir Herbert. So much to the mind of Mr. Prendergast was as +clear as crystal. Let justice be done, even though these Castle +Richmond heavens should fall in ruins.</p> + +<p>And then he took his departure, leaving Owen to his solitude, much +perplexed. "And where is that man?" Mr. Prendergast asked, as he got +on to his car.</p> + +<p>"Bedad thin, yer honer, he's very bad intirely. He's jist sitthing +over the kitchen fire, moaning and croning this way and that, but +sorrow a word he's spoke since the masther hoisted him out o' the big +hall door. And thin for blood—why, saving yer honer's presence, he's +one mash of gore."</p> + +<p>"You'd better wash his face for him, and give him a little tea," said +Mr. Prendergast, and then he drove away.</p> + +<p>And strange ideas floated across Owen Fitzgerald's brain as he sat +there alone, in his hunting gear, leaning on the still covered +breakfast-table. They floated across his brain backwards and +forwards, and at last remained there, taking almost the form of a +definite purpose. He would make a bargain with Herbert; let each of +them keep that which was fairly his own; let Herbert have all the +broad lands of Castle Richmond; let him have the title, the seat in +parliament, and the county honour; but for him, Owen—let him have +Clara Desmond. He desired nothing that was not fairly his own; but as +his own he did regard her, and without her he did not know how to +face the future of his life. And in suggesting this arrangement to +himself, he did not altogether throw over her feelings; he did take +into account her heart, though he did not take into account her +worldly prospects. She had loved him—him—Owen; and he would not +teach himself to believe that she did not love him still. Her mother +had been too powerful for her, and she had weakly yielded; but as to +her heart—Owen could not bring himself to believe that that was gone +from him.</p> + +<p>They two would make a bargain,—he and his cousin. Honour and renown, +and the money and the title would be everything to his cousin. +Herbert had been brought up to expect these things, and all the world +around him had expected them for him. It would be terrible to him to +find himself robbed of them. But the loss of Clara Desmond was +equally terrible to Owen Fitzgerald. He allowed his heart to fill +itself with a romantic sense of honour, teaching him that it behoved +him as a man not to give up his love. Without her he would live +disgraced in his own estimation; but who would not think the better +of him for refraining from the possession of those Castle Richmond +acres? Yes; he would make a bargain with Herbert. Who was there in +the world to deny his right to do so?</p> + +<p>As he sat revolving these things in his mind, he suddenly heard a +rushing sound, as of many horsemen down the avenue, and going to the +window, he saw two or three leading men of the hunt, accompanied by +the gray-haired old huntsman; and through and about and under the +horsemen were the dogs, running in and out of the laurels which +skirted the road, with their noses down, giving every now and then +short yelps as they caught up the uncertain scent from the leaves on +the ground, and hurried on upon the trail of their game.</p> + +<p>"Yo ho! to him, Messenger; hark to him, Maybird; good bitch, +Merrylass. He's down here, gen'lemen, and he'll never get away alive. +He came to a bad place when he looked out for going to ground +anywhere near Mr. Owen."</p> + +<p>And then there came, fast trotting down through the other horsemen, +making his way eagerly to the front, a stout heavy man, with a florid +handsome face and eager eye. He might be some fifty years of age, but +no lad there of three-and-twenty was so anxious and impetuous as he. +He was riding a large-boned, fast-trotting bay horse, that pressed on +as eagerly as his rider. As he hurried forward all made way for him, +till he was close to the shrubs in the front of the house.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul, gentlemen," he said, in an angry voice, "how, in the +name of all that's good, are hounds to hunt if you press them down +the road in that way? By heavens, Barry, you are enough to drive a +man wild. Yoicks, Merrylass! there it is, Pat;"—Pat was the +huntsman—"outside the low wall there, down towards the river." This +was Sam O'Grady, the master of the Duhallow hounds, the god of Owen's +idolatry. No better fellow ever lived, and no master of hounds, so +good; such at least was the opinion common among Duhallow sportsmen.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yer honer,—he did skirt round there, I knows that; but he's +been among them laurels at the bottom, and he'll be about the place +and outhouses somewhere. There's a drain here that I knows on, and he +knows on. But Mr. Owen, he knows on it too; and there aint a chance +for him." So argued Pat, the Duhallow huntsman, the experienced craft +of whose aged mind enabled him to run counter to the cutest dodges of +the cutest fox in that and any of the three neighbouring baronies.</p> + +<p>And now the sweep before the door was crowded with red coats; and +Owen, looking from his dining-room window, felt that he must take +some step. As an ordinary rule, had the hunt thus drifted near his +homestead, he would have been off his horse and down among his +bottles, sending up sherry and cherry-brandy; and there would have +been comfortable drink in plenty, and cold meat, perhaps, not in +plenty; and every one would have been welcome in and out of the +house. But now there was that at his heart which forbade him to mix +with the men who knew him so well, and among whom he was customarily +so loudly joyous. Dressed as he was, he could not go among them +without explaining why he had remained at home; and as to that, he +felt that he was not able to give any explanation at the present +moment.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with Owen?" said one fellow to Captain Donnellan.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I hardly know. Two chaps came to him this morning, +before he was up; about business, they said. He nearly murdered one +of them out of hand; and I believe that he's locked up somewhere with +the other this minute."</p> + +<p>But in the meantime a servant came up to Mr. O'Grady, and, touching +his hat, asked the master of the hunt to go into the house for a +moment; and then Mr. O'Grady, dismounting, entered in through the +front door. He was only there two minutes, for his mind was still +outside, among the laurels, with the fox; but as he put his foot +again into the stirrup, he said to those around him that they must +hurry away, and not disturb Owen Fitzgerald that day. It may, +therefore, easily be imagined that the mystery would spread quickly +through that portion of the county of Cork.</p> + +<p>They must hurry away;—but not before they could give an account of +their fox. Neither for gods nor men must he be left, as long as his +skin was whole above ground. There is an importance attaching to the +pursuit of a fox, which gives it a character quite distinct from that +of any other amusement which men follow in these realms. It justifies +almost anything that men can do, and that at any place and in any +season. There is about it a sanctity which forbids interruption, and +makes its votaries safe under any circumstances of trespass or +intrusion. A man in a hunting county who opposes the county hunt must +be a misanthrope, willing to live in seclusion, fond of being in +Coventry, and in love with the enmity of his fellow-creatures. There +are such men, but they are regarded as lepers by those around them. +All this adds to the nobleness of the noble sport, and makes it +worthy of a man's energies.</p> + +<p>And then the crowd of huntsmen hurried round from the front of the +house to a paddock at the back, and then again through the stable +yard to the front. The hounds were about—here, there, and +everywhere, as any one ignorant of the craft would have said, but +still always on the scent of that doomed beast. From one thicket to +another he tried to hide himself, but the moist leaves of the +underwood told quickly of his whereabouts. He tried every hole and +cranny about the house, but every hole and corner had been stopped by +Owen's jealous care. He would have lived disgraced for ever in his +own estimation, had a fox gone to ground anywhere about his domicile. +At last a loud whoop was heard just in front of the hall door. The +poor fox, with his last gasp of strength, had betaken himself to the +thicket before the door, and there the dogs had killed him, at the +very spot on which Aby Mollett had fallen.</p> + +<p>Standing well back from the window, still thinking of Clara Desmond, +Owen Fitzgerald saw the fate of the hunted animal; he saw the head +and tail severed from the carcase by old Pat, and the body thrown to +the hounds,—a ceremony over which he had presided so many scores of +times; and then, when the dogs had ceased to growl over the bloody +fragments, he saw the hunt move away, back along the avenue to the +high road. All this he saw, but still he was thinking of Clara +Desmond.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-25" id="c-25"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXV.</h3> +<h4>A MUDDY WALK ON A WET MORNING.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>All that day of the hunt was passed very quietly at Castle Richmond. +Herbert did not once leave the house, having begged Mr. Somers to +make his excuse at a Relief Committee which it would have been his +business to attend. A great portion of the day he spent with his +father, who lay all but motionless, in a state that was apparently +half comatose. During all those long hours very little was said +between them about this tragedy of their family. Why should more be +said now; now that the worst had befallen them—all that worst, to +hide which Sir Thomas had endured such superhuman agony? And then +four or five times during the day he went to his mother, but with her +he did not stay long. To her he could hardly speak upon any subject, +for to her as yet the story had not been told.</p> + +<p>And she, when he thus came to her from time to time, with a soft word +or two, or a softer kiss, would ask him no question. She knew that he +had learned the whole, and knew also from the solemn cloud on his +brow that that whole must be very dreadful. Indeed we may surmise +that her woman's heart had by this time guessed somewhat of the +truth. But she would inquire of no one. Jones, she was sure, knew it +all; but she did not ask a single question of her servant. It would +be told to her when it was fitting. Why should she move in the +matter?</p> + +<p>Whenever Herbert entered her room she tried to receive him with +something of a smile. It was clear enough that she was always glad of +his coming, and that she made some little show of welcoming him. A +book was always put away, very softly and by the slightest motion; +but Herbert well knew what that book was, and whence his mother +sought that strength which enabled her to live through such an ordeal +as this.</p> + +<p>And his sisters were to be seen, moving slowly about the house like +the very ghosts of their former selves. Their voices were hardly +heard; no ring of customary laughter ever came from the room in which +they sat; when they passed their brother in the house they hardly +dared to whisper to him. As to sitting down at table now with Mr. +Prendergast, that effort was wholly abandoned; they kept themselves +even from the sound of his footsteps.</p> + +<p>Aunt Letty perhaps spoke more than the others, but what could she +speak to the purpose? "Herbert," she once said, as she caught him +close by the door of the library and almost pulled him into the +room—"Herbert, I charge you to tell me what all this is!"</p> + +<p>"I can tell you nothing, dear aunt, nothing;—nothing as yet."</p> + +<p>"But, Herbert, tell me this; is it about my sister?" For very many +years past Aunt Letty had always called Lady Fitzgerald her sister.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you nothing;—nothing to-day."</p> + +<p>"Then, to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I do not know—we must let Mr. Prendergast manage this matter as he +will. I have taken nothing on myself, Aunt Letty—nothing."</p> + +<p>"Then I tell you what, Herbert; it will kill me. It will kill us all, +as it is killing your father and your darling mother. I tell you that +it is killing her fast. Human nature cannot bear it. For myself I +could endure anything if I were trusted." And sitting down in one of +the high-backed library chairs she burst into a flood of tears; a +sight which, as regarded Aunt Letty, Herbert had never seen before.</p> + +<p>What if they all died? thought Herbert to himself in the bitterness +of the moment. There was that in store for some of them which was +worse than death. What business had Aunt Letty to talk of her misery? +Of course she was wretched, as they all were; but how could she +appreciate the burden that was on his back? What was Clara Desmond to +her?</p> + +<p>Shortly after noon Mr. Prendergast was back at the house; but he +slunk up to his room, and no one saw anything of him. At half-past +six he came down, and Herbert constrained himself to sit at the table +while dinner was served; and so the day passed away. One more day +only Mr. Prendergast was to stay at Castle Richmond; and then, if, as +he expected, certain letters should reach him on that morning, he was +to start for London late on the following day. It may well be +imagined that he was not desirous of prolonging his visit.</p> + +<p>Early on the following morning Herbert started for a long solitary +walk. On that day Mr. Prendergast was to tell everything to his +mother, and it was determined between them that her son should not be +in the house during the telling. In the evening, when he came home, +he was to see her. So he started on his walk, resolving some other +things also in his mind before he went. He would reach Desmond Court +before he returned home that day, and let the two ladies there know +the fate that was before them. Then, after that, they might let him +know what was to be his fate;—but on this head he would not hurry +them.</p> + +<p>So he started on his walk, resolving to go round by Gortnaclough on +his way to Desmond Court, and then to return home from that place. +The road would be more than twenty long Irish miles; but he felt that +the hard work would be of service. It was instinct rather than +thought which taught him that it would be good for him to put some +strain on the muscles of his body, and thus relieve the muscles of +his mind. If his limbs could become thoroughly tired,—thoroughly +tired so that he might wish to rest—then he might hope that for a +moment he might cease to think of all this sorrow which encompassed +him.</p> + +<p>So he started on his walk, taking with him a thick cudgel and his own +thoughts. He went away across the demesne and down into the road that +led away by Gortnaclough and Boherbue towards Castleisland and the +wilds of county Kerry. As he went, the men about the place refrained +from speaking to him, for they all knew that bad news had come to the +big house. They looked at him with lowered eyes and with tenderness +in their hearts, for they loved the very name of Fitzgerald. The love +which a poor Irishman feels for the gentleman whom he regards as his +master—"his masther," though he has probably never received from +him, in money, wages for a day's work, and in all his intercourse has +been the man who has paid money and not the man who received it—the +love which he nevertheless feels, if he has been occasionally looked +on with a smiling face and accosted with a kindly word, is +astonishing to an Englishman. I will not say that the feeling is +altogether good. Love should come of love. Where personal love exists +on one side, and not even personal regard on the other, there must be +some mixture of servility. That unbounded respect for human grandeur +cannot be altogether good; for human greatness, if the greatness be +properly sifted, it may be so.</p> + +<p>He got down into the road, and went forth upon his journey at a rapid +pace. The mud was deep upon the way, but he went through the thickest +without a thought of it. He had not been out long before there came +on a cold, light, drizzling rain, such a rain as gradually but surely +makes its way into the innermost rag of a man's clothing, running up +the inside of his waterproof coat, and penetrating by its +perseverance the very folds of his necktie. Such cold, drizzling rain +is the commonest phase of hard weather during Irish winters, and +those who are out and about get used to it and treat it tenderly. +They are euphemistical as to the weather, calling it hazy and soft, +and never allowing themselves to carry bad language on such a subject +beyond the word dull. And yet at such a time one breathes the rain +and again exhales it, and become as it were oneself a water spirit, +assuming an aqueous fishlike nature into one's inner fibres. It must +be acknowledged that a man does sometimes get wet in Ireland; but +then a wetting there brings no cold in the head, no husky voice, no +need for multitudinous pocket-handkerchiefs, as it does here in this +land of catarrhs. It is the east wind and not the rain that kills; +and of east wind in the south of Ireland they know nothing.</p> + +<p>But Herbert walked on quite unmindful of the mist, swinging his thick +stick in his hand, and ever increasing his pace as he went. He was +usually a man careful of such things, but it was nothing to him now +whether he were wet or dry. His mind was so full of the immediate +circumstances of his destiny that he could not think of small +external accidents. What was to be his future life in this world, and +how was he to fight the battle that was now before him? That was the +question which he continually asked himself, and yet never succeeded +in answering. How was he to come down from the throne on which early +circumstances had placed him, and hustle and struggle among the crowd +for such approach to other thrones as his sinews and shoulders might +procure for him? If he had been only born to the struggle, he said to +himself, how easy and pleasant it would have been to him! But to find +himself thus cast out from his place by an accident—cast out with +the eyes of all the world upon him; to be talked of, and pointed at, +and pitied; to have little aids offered him by men whom he regarded +as beneath him—all this was terribly sore, and the burden was almost +too much for his strength. "I do not care for the money," he said to +himself a dozen times; and in saying so he spoke in one sense truly. +But he did care for things which money buys; for outward respect, +permission to speak with authority among his fellow-men, for power +and place, and the feeling that he was prominent in his walk of life. +To be in advance of other men, that is the desire which is strongest +in the hearts of all strong men; and in that desire how terrible a +fall had he not received from this catastrophe!</p> + +<p>And what were they all to do, he and his mother and his sisters? How +were they to act—now, at once? In what way were they to carry +themselves when this man of law and judgment should have gone from +them? For himself, his course of action must depend much upon the +word which might be spoken to him to-day at Desmond Court. There +would still be a drop of comfort left at the bottom of his cup if he +might be allowed to hope there. But in truth he feared greatly. What +the countess would say to him he thought he could foretell; what it +would behove him to say himself—in matter, though not in words—that +he knew well. Would not the two sayings tally well together? and +could it be right for him even to hope that the love of a girl of +seventeen should stand firm against her mother's will, when her lover +himself could not dare to press his suit? And then another reflection +pressed on his mind sorely. Clara had already given up one poor lover +at her mother's instance; might she not resume that lover, also at +her mother's instance, now that he was no longer poor? What if Owen +Fitzgerald should take from him everything!</p> + +<p>And so he walked on through the mud and rain, always swinging his big +stick. Perhaps, after all, the worst of it was over with him, when he +could argue with himself in this way. It is the first plunge into the +cold water that gives the shock. We may almost say that every human +misery will cease to be miserable if it be duly faced; and something +is done towards conquering our miseries, when we face them in any +degree, even if not with due courage. Herbert had taken his plunge +into the deep, dark, cold, comfortless pool of misfortune; and he +felt that the waters around him were very cold. But the plunge had +been taken, and the worst, perhaps, was gone by.</p> + +<p>As he approached near to Gortnaclough, he came upon one of those +gangs of road-destroyers who were now at work everywhere, earning +their pittance of "yellow meal" with a pickaxe and a wheelbarrow. In +some sort or other the labourers had been got to their work. Gangsmen +there were with lists, who did see, more or less accurately, that the +men, before they received their sixpence or eightpence for their +day's work, did at any rate pass their day with some sort of tool in +their hands. And consequently the surface of the hill began to +disappear, and there were chasms in the road, which caused those who +travelled on wheels to sit still, staring across with angry eyes, and +sometimes to apostrophize the doer of these deeds with very naughty +words. The doer was the Board of Works, or the "Board" as it was +familiarly termed; and were it not that those ill words must have +returned to the bosoms which vented them, and have flown no further, +no Board could ever have been so terribly curse-laden. To find +oneself at last utterly stopped, after proceeding with great strain +to one's horse for half a mile through an artificial quagmire of +slush up to the wheelbox, is harassing to the customary traveller; +and men at that crisis did not bethink themselves quite so frequently +as they should have done, that a people perishing from famine is more +harassing.</p> + +<p>But Herbert was not on wheels, and was proceeding through the slush +and across the chasm, regardless of it all, when he was stopped by +some of the men. All the land thereabouts was Castle Richmond +property; and it was not probable that the young master of it all +would be allowed to pass through some two score of his own tenantry +without greetings, and petitions, and blessings, and complaints.</p> + +<p>"Faix, yer honer, thin, Mr. Herbert," said one man, standing at the +bottom of the hill, with the half-filled wheelbarrow still hanging in +his hands—an Englishman would have put down the barrow while he was +speaking, making some inner calculation about the waste of his +muscles; but an Irishman would despise himself for such low +economy—"Faix, thin, yer honer, Mr. Herbert; an' it's yourself is a +sight good for sore eyes. May the heavens be your bed, for it's you +is the frind to a poor man."</p> + +<p>"How are you, Pat?" said Herbert, without intending to stop. "How are +you, Mooney? I hope the work suits you all." And then he would at +once have passed on, with his hat pressed down low over his brow.</p> + +<p>But this could be by no means allowed. In the first place, the +excitement arising from the young master's presence was too valuable +to be lost so suddenly; and then, when might again occur so excellent +a time for some mention of their heavy grievances? Men whose whole +amount of worldly good consists in a bare allowance of nauseous food, +just sufficient to keep body and soul together, must be excused if +they wish to utter their complaints to ears that can hear them.</p> + +<p>"Arrah, yer honer, thin, we're none on us very well; and how could +we, with the male at a penny a pound?" said Pat.</p> + +<p>"Sorrow to it for male," said Mooney. "It's the worst vittles iver a +man tooked into the inside of him. Saving yer honer's presence it's +as much as I can do to raise the bare arm of me since the day I first +began with the yally male."</p> + +<p>"It's as wake as cats we all is," said another, who from the weary +way in which he dragged his limbs about certainly did not himself +seem to be gifted with much animal strength.</p> + +<p>"And the childer is worse, yer honer," said a fourth. "The male is +bad for them intirely. Saving yer honer's presence, their bellies is +gone away most to nothing."</p> + +<p>"And there's six of us in family, yer honer," said Pat. "Six mouths +to feed; and what's eight pennorth of yally male among such a lot as +that; let alone the Sundays, when there's nothing?"</p> + +<p>"An' shure, Mr. Herbert," said another, a small man with a squeaking +voice, whose rags of clothes hardly hung on to his body, "warn't I +here with the other boys the last Friday as iver was? Ax Pat Condon +else, yer honer; and yet when they comed to give out the wages, they +sconced me <span class="nowrap">of—."</span> +And so on. There were as many complaints to be made +as there were men, if only he could bring himself to listen to them.</p> + +<p>On ordinary occasions Herbert would listen to them, and answer them, +and give them, at any rate, the satisfaction which they derived from +discoursing with him, if he could give them no other satisfaction. +But now, on this day, with his own burden so heavy at his heart, he +could not even do this. He could not think of their sorrows; his own +sorrow seemed to him to be so much the heavier. So he passed on, +running the gauntlet through them as best he might, and shaking them +off from him, as they attempted to cling round his steps. Nothing is +so powerful in making a man selfish as misfortune.</p> + +<p>And then he went on to Gortnaclough. He had not chosen his walk to +this place with any fixed object, except this perhaps, that it +enabled him to return home round by Desmond Court. It was one of the +places at which a Relief Committee sat every fortnight, and there was +a soup-kitchen here, which, however, had not been so successful as +the one at Berryhill; and it was the place of residence selected by +Father Barney's coadjutor. But in spite of all this, when Herbert +found himself in the wretched, dirty, straggling, damp street of the +village, he did not know what to do or where to betake himself. That +every eye in Gortnaclough would be upon him was a matter of course. +He could hardly turn round on his heel and retrace his steps through +the village, as he would have to do in going to Desmond Court, +without showing some pretext for his coming there; so he walked into +the little shop which was attached to the soup-kitchen, and there he +found the Rev. Mr. Columb Creagh, giving his orders to the little +girl behind the counter.</p> + +<p>Herbert Fitzgerald was customarily very civil to the Roman Catholic +priests around him,—somewhat more so, indeed, than seemed good to +those very excellent ladies, Mrs. Townsend and Aunt Letty; but it +always went against the grain with him to be civil to the Rev. Columb +Creagh; and on this special day it would have gone against the grain +with him to be civil to anybody. But the coadjutor knew his +character, and was delighted to have an opportunity of talking to +him, when he could do so without being snubbed either by Mr. Somers, +the chairman, or by his own parish priest. Mr. Creagh had rejoiced +much at the idea of forming one at the same council board with county +magistrates and Protestant parsons; but the fruition of his promised +delights had never quite reached his lips. He had been like Sancho +Panza in his government; he had sat down to the grand table day after +day, but had never yet been allowed to enjoy the rich dish of his own +oratory. Whenever he had proposed to help himself, Mr. Somers or +Father Barney had stopped his mouth. Now probably he might be able to +say a word or two; and though the glory would not be equal to that of +making a speech at the Committee, still it would be something to be +seen talking on equal terms, and on affairs of state, to the young +heir of Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald! well, I declare! And how are you, sir?" And he took +off his hat and bowed, and got hold of Herbert's hand, shaking it +ruthlessly; and altogether he made him very disagreeable.</p> + +<p>Herbert, though his mind was not really intent on the subject, asked +some question of the girl as to the amount of meal that had been +sold, and desired to see the little passbook that they kept at the +shop.</p> + +<p>"We are doing pretty well, Mr. Fitzgerald," said the coadjutor; +"pretty well. I always keep my eye on, for fear things should go +wrong, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't think they'll do that," said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"No; I hope not. But it's always good to be on the safe side, you +know. And to tell you the truth, I don't think we're altogether on +the right tack about them shops. It's very hard on a poor +<span class="nowrap">woman—"</span></p> + +<p>Now the fact was, though the Relief Committee at Gortnaclough was +attended by magistrates, priests, and parsons, the shop there was +Herbert Fitzgerald's own affair. It had been stocked with his or his +father's money; the flour was sold without profit at his risk, and +the rent of the house and wages of the woman who kept it came out of +his own pocket-money. Under these circumstances he did not see cause +why Mr. Creagh should interfere, and at the present moment was not +well inclined to put up with such interference.</p> + +<p>"We do the best we can, Mr. Creagh," said he, interrupting the +priest. "And no good will be done at such a time as this by +unnecessary difficulties."</p> + +<p>"No, no, certainly not. But still I do think—" And Mr. Creagh was +girding up his loins for eloquence, when he was again interrupted.</p> + +<p>"I am rather in a hurry to-day," said Herbert, "and therefore, if you +please, we won't make any change now. Never mind the book to-day, +Sally. Good day, Mr. Creagh." And so saying, he left the shop and +walked rapidly back out of the village.</p> + +<p>The poor coadjutor was left alone at the shop-door, anathematizing in +his heart the pride of all Protestants. He had been told that this +Mr. Fitzgerald was different from others, that he was a man fond of +priests and addicted to the "ould religion;" and so hearing, he had +resolved to make the most of such an excellent disposition. But he +was forced to confess to himself that they were all alike. Mr. Somers +could not have been more imperious, nor Mr. Townsend more insolent.</p> + +<p>And then, through the still drizzling rain, Herbert walked on to +Desmond Court. By the time that he reached the desolate-looking lodge +at the demesne gate, he was nearly wet through, and was besmeared +with mud up to his knees. But he had thought nothing of this as he +walked along. His mind had been intent on the scene that was before +him. In what words was he to break the news to Clara Desmond and her +mother? and with what words would they receive the tidings? The +former question he had by no means answered to his own satisfaction, +when, all muddy and wet, he passed up to the house through that +desolate gate.</p> + +<p>"Is Lady Desmond at home?" he asked of the butler. "Her ladyship is +at home," said the gray-haired old man, with his blandest smile, "and +so is Lady Clara." He had already learned to look on the heir of +Castle Richmond as the coming saviour of the impoverished Desmond +family.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-26" id="c-26"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVI.</h3> +<h4>COMFORTLESS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>"But, Mr. Herbert, yer honor, you're wet through and +through—surely," said the butler, as soon as Fitzgerald was well +inside the hall. Herbert muttered something about his being only +damp, and that it did not signify. But it did signify,—very +much,—in the butler's estimation. Whose being wet through could +signify more; for was not Mr. Herbert to be a baronet, and to have +the spending of twelve thousand a year; and would he not be the +future husband of Lady Clara? not signify indeed!</p> + +<p>"An' shure, Mr. Herbert, you haven't walked to Desmond Court this +blessed morning. Tare an' ages! Well; there's no knowing what you +young gentlemen won't do. But I'll see and get a pair of trousers of +my Lord's ready for you in two minutes. Faix, and he's nearly as big +as yourself, now, Mr. Herbert."</p> + +<p>But Herbert would hardly speak to him, and gave no assent whatever as +to his proposition for borrowing the Earl's clothes. "I'll go in as I +am," said he. And the old man looking into his face saw that there +was something wrong. "Shure an' he ain't going to sthrike off now," +said this Irish Caleb Balderstone to himself. He also as well as some +others about Desmond Court had feared greatly that Lady Clara would +throw herself away upon a poor lover.</p> + +<p>It was now past noon, and Fitzgerald pressed forward into the room in +which Lady Clara usually sat. It was the same in which she had +received Owen's visit, and here of a morning she was usually to be +found alone; but on this occasion when he opened the door he found +that her mother was with her. Since the day on which Clara had +disposed of herself so excellently, the mother had spent more of her +time with her daughter. Looking at Clara now through Herbert +Fitzgerald's eyes, the Countess had began to confess to herself that +her child did possess beauty and charm.</p> + +<p>She got up to greet her future son-in-law with a sweet smile and that +charming quiet welcome with which a woman so well knows how to make +her house pleasant to a man that is welcome to it. And Clara, not +rising, but turning her head round and looking at him, greeted him +also. He came forward and took both their hands, and it was not till +he had held Clara's for half a minute in his own that they both saw +that he was more than ordinarily serious. "I hope Sir Thomas is not +worse," said Lady Desmond, with that voice of feigned interest which +is so common. After all, if anything should happen to the poor old +weak gentleman, might it not be as well?</p> + +<p>"My father has not been very well these last two days," he said.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry," said Clara. "And your mother, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>"But Herbert, how wet you are. You must have walked," said the +Countess.</p> + +<p>Herbert, in a few dull words said that he had walked. He had thought +that the walk would be good for him, and he had not expected that it +would be so wet. And then Lady Desmond, looking carefully into his +face, saw that in truth he was very serious;—so much so that she +knew that he had come there on account of his seriousness. But still +his sorrow did not in any degree go to her heart. He was grieving +doubtless for his father,—or his mother. The house at Castle +Richmond was probably sad, because sickness and fear of death were +there;—nay perhaps death itself now hanging over some loved head. +But what was this to her? She had had her own sorrows;—enough of +them perhaps to account for her being selfish. So with a solemn face, +but with nothing amiss about her heart, she again asked for tidings +from Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>"Do tell us," said Clara, getting up. "I am afraid Sir Thomas is very +ill." The old baronet had been kind to her, and she did regard him. +To her it was a sorrow to think that there should be any sorrow at +Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he is ill," said Herbert. "We have had a gentleman from London +with us for the last few days—a friend of my father's. His name is +Mr. Prendergast."</p> + +<p>"Is he a doctor?" asked the Countess.</p> + +<p>"No, not a doctor," said Herbert. "He is a lawyer."</p> + +<p>It was very hard for him to begin his story; and perhaps the more so +in that he was wet through and covered with mud. He now felt cold and +clammy, and began to have an idea that he should not be seated there +in that room in such a guise. Clara, too, had instinctively learned +from his face, and tone, and general bearing that something truly was +the matter. At other times when he had been there, since that day on +which he had been accepted, he had been completely master of himself. +Perhaps it had almost been deemed a fault in him that he had had none +of the timidity or hesitation of a lover. He had seemed to feel, no +doubt, that he, with his fortune and position at his back, need feel +no scruple in accepting as his own the fair hand for which he had +asked. But now—nothing could be more different from this than his +manner was now.</p> + +<p>Lady Desmond was now surprised, though probably not as yet +frightened. Why should a lawyer have come from London to visit Sir +Thomas at a period of such illness? and why should Herbert have +walked over to Desmond Court to tell them of this illness? There must +be something in this lawyer's coming which was intended to bear in +some way on her daughter's marriage. "But, Herbert," she said, "you +are quite wet. Will you not put on some of Patrick's things?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," said he; "I shall not stay long. I shall soon have +said what I have got to say."</p> + +<p>"But do, Herbert," said Clara. "I cannot bear to see you so +uncomfortable. And then you will not be in such a hurry to go back."</p> + +<p>"Ill as my father is," said he, "I cannot stay long; but I have +thought it my duty to come over and tell you—tell you what has +happened at Castle Richmond."</p> + +<p>And now the countess was frightened. There was that in Herbert's tone +of voice and the form of his countenance which was enough to frighten +any woman. What had happened at Castle Richmond? what could have +happened there to make necessary the presence of a lawyer, and at the +same time thus to sadden her future son-in-law? And Clara also was +frightened, though she knew not why. His manner was so different from +that which was usual; he was so cold, and serious, and awe-struck, +that she could not but be unhappy.</p> + +<p>"And what is it?" said the Countess.</p> + +<p>Herbert then sat for a few minutes silent, thinking how best he +should tell them his story. He had been all the morning resolving to +tell it, but he had in nowise as yet fixed upon any method. It was +all so terribly tragic, so frightful in the extent of its reality, +that he hardly knew how it would be possible for him to get through +his task.</p> + +<p>"I hope that no misfortune has come upon any of the family," said +Lady Desmond, now beginning to think that there might be misfortunes +which would affect her own daughter more nearly than the illness +either of the baronet or of his wife.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope not!" said Clara, getting up and clasping her hands. +"What is it, Herbert? why don't you speak?" And coming round to him, +she took hold of his arm.</p> + +<p>"Dearest Clara," he said, looking at her with more tenderness than +had ever been usual with him, "I think that you had better leave us. +I could tell it better to your mother alone."</p> + +<p>"Do, Clara, love. Go, dearest, and we will call you by-and-by."</p> + +<p>Clara moved away very slowly towards the door, and then she turned +round. "If it is anything that makes you unhappy, Herbert," she said, +"I must know it before you leave me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; either I or your mother—. You shall be told, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, you shall be told," said the countess. "And now go, my +darling." Thus dismissed, Clara did go, and betook herself to her own +chamber. Had Owen had sorrows to tell her, he would have told them to +herself; of that she was quite sure. "And now, Herbert, for heaven's +sake what is it?" said the countess, pale with terror. She was fully +certain now that something was to be spoken which would be calculated +to interfere with her daughter's prospects.</p> + +<p>We all know the story which Herbert had to tell, and we need not +therefore again be present at the telling of it. Sitting there, wet +through, in Lady Desmond's drawing-room, he did contrive to utter it +all—the whole of it from the beginning to the end, making it clearly +to be understood that he was no longer Fitzgerald of Castle Richmond, +but a nameless, pennyless outcast, without the hope of portion or +position, doomed from henceforth to earn his bread in the sweat of +his brow—if only he could be fortunate enough to find the means of +earning it.</p> + +<p>Nor did Lady Desmond once interrupt him in his story. She sat +perfectly still, listening to him almost with unmoved face. She was +too wise to let him know what the instant working of her mind might +be before she had made her own fixed resolve; and she had conceived +the truth much before he had completed the telling of it. We +generally use three times the number of words which are necessary for +the purpose which we have in hand; but had he used six times the +number, she would not have interrupted him. It was good in him to +give her this time to determine in what tone and with what words she +would speak, when speaking on her part should become absolutely +necessary. "And now," he concluded by saying—and at this time he was +standing up on the rug—"you know it all, Lady Desmond. It will +perhaps be best that Clara should learn it from you."</p> + +<p>He had said not a word of giving up his pretensions to Lady Clara's +hand; but then neither had he in any way hinted that the match +should, in his opinion, be regarded as unbroken. He had not spoken of +his sorrow at bringing down all this poverty on his wife; and surely +he would have so spoken had he thought their engagement was still +valid; but then he had not himself pointed out that the engagement +must necessarily be broken, as, in Lady Desmond's opinion, he +certainly should have done.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said she, in a cold, low, meaningless voice—in a voice that +told nothing by its tones—"Lady Clara had better hear it from me." +But in the title which she gave her daughter, Herbert instantly read +his doom. He, however, remained silent. It was for the countess now +to speak.</p> + +<p>"But it is possible it may not be true," she said, speaking almost in +a whisper, looking, not into his face, but by him, at the fire.</p> + +<p>"It is possible; but so barely possible, that I did not think it +right to keep the matter from you any longer."</p> + +<p>"It would have been very wrong—very wicked, I may say," said the +countess.</p> + +<p>"It is only two days since I knew anything of it myself," said he, +vindicating himself.</p> + +<p>"You were of course bound to let me know immediately," she said, +harshly.</p> + +<p>"And I have let you know immediately, Lady Desmond." And then they +were both again silent for a while.</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Prendergast thinks there is no doubt?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"None," said Herbert, very decidedly.</p> + +<p>"And he has told your cousin Owen?"</p> + +<p>"He did so yesterday; and by this time my poor mother knows it also." +And then there was another period of silence.</p> + +<p>During the whole time Lady Desmond had uttered no one word of +condolence—not a syllable of commiseration for all the sufferings +that had come upon Herbert and his family; and he was beginning to +hate her for her harshness. The tenor of her countenance had become +hard; and she received all his words as a judge might have taken +them, merely wanting evidence before he pronounced his verdict. The +evidence she was beginning to think sufficient, and there could be no +doubt as to her verdict. After what she had heard, a match between +Herbert Fitzgerald and her daughter would be out of the question. "It +is very dreadful," she said, thinking only of her own child, and +absolutely shivering at the danger which had been incurred.</p> + +<p>"It is very dreadful," said Herbert, shivering also. It was almost +incredible to him that his great sorrow should be received in such a +way by one who had professed to be so dear a friend to him.</p> + +<p>"And what do you propose to do, Mr. Fitzgerald?" said the countess.</p> + +<p>"What do I propose?" he said, repeating her words. "Hitherto I have +had neither time nor heart to propose anything. Such a misfortune as +that which I have told you does not break upon a man without +disturbing for a while his power of resolving. I have thought so much +of my mother, and of Clara, since Mr. Prendergast told me all this, +that—that—<span class="nowrap">that—"</span> +And then a slight gurgling struggle fell upon his +throat and hindered him from speaking. He did not quite sob out, and +he determined that he would not do so. If she could be so harsh and +strong, he would be harsh and strong also.</p> + +<p>And again Lady Desmond sat silent, still thinking how she had better +speak and act. After all she was not so cruel nor so bad as Herbert +Fitzgerald thought her. What had the Fitzgeralds done for her that +she should sorrow for their sorrows? She had lived there, in that old +ugly barrack, long desolate, full of dreary wretchedness and poverty, +and Lady Fitzgerald in her prosperity had never come to her to soften +the hardness of her life. She had come over to Ireland a countess, +and a countess she had been, proud enough at first in her little +glory—too proud, no doubt; and proud enough afterwards in her +loneliness and poverty; and there she had lived—alone. Whether the +fault had been her own or no, she owed little to the kindness of any +one; for no one had done aught to relieve her bitterness. And then +her weak puny child had grown up in the same shade, and was now a +lovely woman, gifted with high birth, and that special priceless +beauty which high blood so often gives. There was a prize now within +the walls of that old barrack—something to be won—something for +which a man would strive, and a mother smile that her son might win +it. And now Lady Fitzgerald had come to her. She had never complained +of this, she said to herself. The bargain between Clara Desmond and +Herbert Fitzgerald had been good for both of them, and let it be made +and settled as a bargain. Young Herbert Fitzgerald had money and +position; her daughter had beauty and high blood. Let it be a +bargain. But in all this there was nothing to make her love that rich +prosperous family at Castle Richmond. There are those whose nature it +is to love new-found friends at a few hours' warning, but the +Countess of Desmond was not one of them. The bargain had been made, +and her daughter would have been able to perform her part of it. She +was still able to give that which she had stipulated to give. But +Herbert Fitzgerald was now a bankrupt, and could give nothing! Would +it not have been madness to suppose that the bargain should still +hold good?</p> + +<p>One person and one only had come to her at Desmond Court, whose +coming had been a solace to her weariness. Of all those among whom +she had lived in cold desolateness for so many years, one only had +got near her heart. There had been but one Irish voice that she had +cared to hear; and the owner of that voice had loved her child +instead of loving her.</p> + +<p>And she had borne that wretchedness too, if not well, at least +bravely. True she had separated that lover from her daughter; but the +circumstances of both had made it right for her, as a mother, to do +so. What mother, circumstanced as she had been, would have given her +girl to Owen Fitzgerald? So she had banished from the house the only +voice that sounded sweetly in her ears, and again she had been alone.</p> + +<p>And then, perhaps, thoughts had come to her, when Herbert Fitzgerald +was frequent about the place, a rich and thriving wooer, that Owen +might come again to Desmond Court, when Clara had gone to Castle +Richmond. Years were stealing over her. Ah, yes. She knew that full +well. All her youth and the pride of her days she had given up for +that countess-ship which she now wore so gloomily—given up for +pieces of gold which had turned to stone and slate and dirt within +her grasp. Years, alas, were fast stealing over her! But nevertheless +she had something to give. Her woman's beauty was not all faded; and +she had a heart which was as yet virgin—which had hitherto loved no +other man. Might not that suffice to cover a few years, seeing that +in return she wanted nothing but love? And so she had thought, +lingering over her hopes, while Herbert was there at his wooing.</p> + +<p>It may be imagined with what feelings at her heart she had seen and +listened to the frantic attempt made by Owen to get back his childish +love. But that too she had borne, bravely, if not well. It had not +angered her that her child was loved by the only man she had ever +loved herself. She had stroked her daughter's hair that day, and +kissed her cheek, and bade her be happy with her better, richer +lover. And had she not been right in this? Nor had she been angry +even with Owen. She could forgive him all, because she loved him. But +might there not even yet be a chance for her when Clara should in +very truth have gone to Castle Richmond?</p> + +<p>But now! How was she to think about all this now? And thinking of +these things, how was it possible that she should have heart left to +feel for the miseries of Lady Fitzgerald? With all her miseries would +not Lady Fitzgerald still be more fortunate than she? Let come what +might, Lady Fitzgerald had had a life of prosperity and love. No; she +could not think of Lady Fitzgerald, nor of Herbert: she could only +think of Owen Fitzgerald, of her daughter, and of herself.</p> + +<p>He, Owen, was now the heir to Castle Richmond, and would, as far as +she could learn, soon become the actual possessor. He, who had been +cast forth from Desmond Court as too poor and contemptible in the +world's eye to be her daughter's suitor, would become the rich +inheritor of all those broad acres, and that old coveted family +honour. And this Owen still loved her daughter—loved her not as +Herbert did, with a quiet, gentleman-like, every-day attachment, but +with the old, true, passionate love of which she had read in books, +and dreamed herself, before she had sold herself to be a countess. +That Owen did so love her daughter, she was very sure. And then, as +to her daughter; that she did not still love this new heir in her +heart of hearts—of that the mother was by no means sure. That her +child had chosen the better part in choosing money and a title, she +had not doubted; and that having so chosen Clara would be happy,—of +that also she did not doubt. Clara was young, she would say, and her +heart in a few months would follow her hand.</p> + +<p>But now! How was she to decide, sitting there with Herbert Fitzgerald +before her, gloomy as death, cold, shivering, and muddy, telling of +his own disasters with no more courage than a whipped dog? As she +looked at him she declared to herself twenty times in half a second +that he had not about him a tithe of the manhood of his cousin Owen. +Women love a bold front, and a voice that will never own its master +to have been beaten in the world's fight. Had Owen came there with +such a story, he would have claimed his right boldly to the lady's +hand, in spite of all that the world had done to him.</p> + +<p>"Let her have him," said Lady Desmond to herself; and the struggle +within her bosom was made and over. No wonder that Herbert, looking +into her face for pity, should find that she was harsh and cruel. She +had been sacrificing herself, and had completed the sacrifice. Owen +Fitzgerald, the heir to Castle Richmond, Sir Owen as he would soon +be, should have her daughter. They two, at any rate, should be happy. +And she—she would live there at Desmond Court, lonely as she had +ever lived. While all this was passing through her mind, she hardly +thought of Herbert and his sorrows. That he must be given up and +abandoned, and left to make what best fight he could by himself; as +to that how was it possible that she as a mother should have any +doubt?</p> + +<p>And yet it was a pity—a thousand pities. Herbert Fitzgerald, with +his domestic virtues, his industry and thorough respectability, would +so exactly have suited Clara's taste and mode of life—had he only +continued to be the heir of Castle Richmond. She and Owen would not +enter upon the world together with nearly the same fair chance of +happiness. Who could prophecy to what Owen might be led with his +passionate impulses, his strong will, his unbridled temper, and his +love of pleasure? That he was noble-hearted, affectionate, brave, and +tender in his inmost spirit, Lady Desmond was very sure; but were +such the qualities which would make her daughter happy? When Clara +should come to know her future lord as Clara's mother knew him, would +Clara love him and worship him as her mother did? The mother believed +that Clara had not in her bosom heart enough for such a love. But +then, as I have said before, the mother did not know the daughter.</p> + +<p>"You say that you will break all this to Clara," said Herbert, having +during this silence turned over some of his thoughts also in his +mind. "If so I may as well leave you now. You can imagine that I am +anxious to get back to my mother."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it will be better that I should tell her. It is very sad, very +sad, very sad indeed."</p> + +<p>"Yes; it is a hard load for a man to bear," he answered, speaking +very, very slowly. "But for myself I think I can bear it, +<span class="nowrap">if—"</span></p> + +<p>"If what?" asked the countess.</p> + +<p>"If Clara can bear it."</p> + +<p>And now it was necessary that Lady Desmond should speak out. She did +not mean to be unnecessarily harsh; but she did mean to be decided, +and as she spoke her face became stern and ill-favoured. "That Clara +will be terribly distressed," she said, "terribly, terribly +distressed," repeating her words with great emphasis, "of that I am +quite sure. She is very young, and will, I hope, in time get over it. +And then too I think she is one whose feelings, young as she is, have +never conquered her judgment. Therefore I do believe that, with God's +mercy, she will be able to bear it. But, Mr. +<span class="nowrap">Fitzgerald—"</span></p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you feel with me—and I am sure that with your excellent +judgment it is a thing of course—that everything must be over +between you and Lady Clara." And then she came to a full stop as +though all had been said that could be considered necessary.</p> + +<p>Herbert did not answer at once, but stood there shivering and shaking +in his misery. He was all but overcome by the chill of his wet +garments; and though he struggled to throw off the dead feeling of +utter cold which struck him to the heart, he was quite unable to +master it. He could hardly forgive himself that on such an occasion +he should have been so conquered by his own outer feelings, but now +he could not help himself. He was weak with hunger too—though he did +not know it, for he had hardly eaten food that day, and was nearly +exhausted with the unaccustomed amount of hard exercise which he had +taken. He was moreover thoroughly wet through, and heavy laden with +the mud of the road. It was no wonder that Lady Desmond had said to +herself that he looked like a whipped dog.</p> + +<p>"That must be as Lady Clara shall decide," he said at last, barely +uttering the words through his chattering teeth.</p> + +<p>"It must be as I say," said the countess firmly; "whether by her +decision or by yours—or if necessary by mine. But if your feelings +are, as I take them to be, those of a man of honour, you will not +leave it to me or to her. What! now that you have the world to +struggle with, would you seek to drag her down into the struggle?"</p> + +<p>"Our union was to be for better or worse. I would have given her all +the better, <span class="nowrap">and—"</span></p> + +<p>"Yes; and had there been a union she would have bravely borne her +part in sharing the worst. But who ought to be so thankful as you +that this truth has broken upon you before you had clogged yourself +with a wife of high birth but without fortune? Alone, a man educated +as you are, with your talents, may face the world without fearing +anything. But how could you make your way now if my daughter were +your wife? When you think of it, Mr. Fitzgerald, you will cease to +wish for it."</p> + +<p>"Never; I have given my heart to your daughter, and I cannot take +back the gift. She has accepted it, and she cannot return it."</p> + +<p>"And what would you have her do?" Lady Desmond asked, with anger and +almost passion in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Wait—as I must wait," said Herbert. "That will be her duty, as I +believe it will also be her wish."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and wear out her young heart here in solitude for the next ten +years, and then learn when her beauty and her youth are gone—. But +no, Mr. Fitzgerald; I will not allow myself to contemplate such a +prospect either for her or for you. Under the lamentable +circumstances which you have now told me it is imperative that this +match should be broken off. Ask your own mother and hear what she +will say. And if you are a man you will not throw upon my poor child +the hard task of declaring that it must be so. You, by your calamity, +are unable to perform your contract with her; and it is for you to +announce that that contract is therefore over."</p> + +<p>Herbert in his present state was unable to argue with Lady Desmond. +He had in his brain, and mind, and heart, and soul—at least so he +said to himself afterwards, having perhaps but a loose idea of the +different functions of these four different properties—a thorough +conviction that as he and Clara had sworn to each other that for life +they would live together and love each other, no misfortune to either +of them could justify the other in breaking that oath;—could even +justify him in breaking it, though he was the one on whom misfortune +had fallen. He, no doubt, had first loved Clara for her beauty; but +would he have ceased to love her, or have cast her from him, if, by +God's will, her beauty had perished and gone from her? Would he not +have held her closer to his heart, and told her, with strong +comforting vows, that his love had now gone deeper than that; that +they were already of the same bone, of the same flesh, of the same +family and hearthstone? He knew himself in this, and knew that he +would have been proud so to do, and so to feel,—that he would have +cast from him with utter indignation any who would have counselled +him to do or to feel differently. And why should Clara's heart be +different from his?</p> + +<p>All this, I say, was his strong conviction. But, nevertheless, her +heart might be different. She might look on that engagement of theirs +with altogether other thoughts and other ideas; and if so his voice +should never reproach her;—not his voice, however his heart might do +so. Such might be the case with her, but he did not think it; and +therefore he would not pronounce that decision which Clara's mother +expected from him.</p> + +<p>"When you have told her of this, I suppose I may be allowed to see +her," he said, avoiding the direct proposition which Lady Desmond had +made to him.</p> + +<p>"Allowed to see her?" said Lady Desmond, now also in her turn +speaking very slowly. "I cannot answer that question as yet; not +quite immediately, I should say. But if you will leave the matter in +my hands, I will write to you, if not to-morrow, then the next day."</p> + +<p>"I would sooner that she should write."</p> + +<p>"I cannot promise that—I do not know how far her good sense and +strength may support her under this affliction. That she will suffer +terribly, on your account as well as on her own, you may be quite +sure." And then, again, there was a pause of some moments.</p> + +<p>"I at any rate shall write to her," he then said, "and shall tell her +that I expect her to see me. Her will in this matter shall be my +will. If she thinks that her misery will be greater in being engaged +to a poor man, than,—than in relinquishing her love, she shall hear +no word from me to overpersuade her. But, Lady Desmond, I will say +nothing that shall authorize her to think that she is given up by me, +till I have in some way learned from herself, what her own feelings +are. And now I will say good-bye to you."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," said the countess, thinking that it might be as well that +the interview should be ended. "But, Mr. Fitzgerald, you are very +wet; and I fear that you are very cold. You had better take something +before you go." Countess as she was she had no carriage in which she +could send him home; no horse even on which he could ride. "Nothing, +thank you, Lady Desmond," he said; and so, without offering her the +courtesy of his hand he walked out of the room.</p> + +<p>He was very angry with her, as he tried to make the blood run quicker +in his veins by hurrying down the avenue into the road at his +quickest pace. So angry with her, that for a while, in his +indignation, he almost forgot his father and his mother and his own +family tragedy. That she should have wished to save her daughter from +such a marriage might have been natural; but that she should have +treated him so coldly, so harshly—without one spark of love or +pity,—him, who to her had been so loyal during his courtship of her +daughter! It was almost incredible to him. Was not his story one that +would have melted the heart of a stranger—at which men would weep? +He himself had seen tears in the eyes of that dry time-worn +world-used London lawyer, as the full depth of the calamity had +forced itself upon his heart. Yes, Mr. Prendergast had not been able +to repress his tears when he told the tale; but Lady Desmond had shed +no tears when the tale had been told to her. No soft woman's message +had been sent to the afflicted mother on whom it had pleased God to +allow so heavy a hand to fall. No word of tenderness had been uttered +for the sinking father. There had been no feeling for the household +which was to have been so nearly linked with her own. No. Looking +round with greedy eyes for wealth for her daughter, Lady Desmond had +found a match that suited her. Now that match no longer suited her +greed, and she could throw from her without a struggle to her +feelings the suitor that was now poor, and the family of the suitor +that was now neither grand nor powerful.</p> + +<p>And then too he felt angry with Clara, though he knew that as yet, at +any rate, he had no cause. In spite of what he had said and felt, he +would imagine to himself that she also would be cold and untrue. "Let +her go," he said to himself. "Love is worth nothing—nothing if it +does not believe itself to be of more worth than everything beside. +If she does not love me now in my misery—if she would not choose me +now for her husband—her love has never been worthy the name. Love +that has no faith in itself, that does not value itself above all +worldly things, is nothing. If it be not so with her, let her go back +to him."</p> + +<p>It may easily be understood who was the him. And then Herbert walked +on so rapidly that at length his strength almost failed him, and in +his exhaustion he had more than once to lean against a gate on the +road-side. With difficulty at last he got home, and dragged himself +up the long avenue to the front door. Even yet he was not warm +through to his heart, and he felt as he entered the house that he was +quite unfitted for the work which he might yet have to do before he +could go to his bed.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-27" id="c-27"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3> +<h4>COMFORTED.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>When Herbert Fitzgerald got back to Castle Richmond it was nearly +dark. He opened the hall door without ringing the bell, and walking +at once into the dining-room, threw himself into a large leathern +chair which always stood near the fire-place. There was a bright fire +burning on the hearth, and he drew himself close to it, putting his +wet feet up on to the fender, thinking that he would at any rate warm +himself before he went in among any of the family. The room, with its +deep red curtains and ruby-embossed paper, was almost dark, and he +knew that he might remain there unseen and unnoticed for the next +half hour. If he could only get a glass of wine! He tried the +cellaret, which was as often open as locked, but now unfortunately it +was closed. In such a case it was impossible to say whether the +butler had the key or Aunt Letty; so he sat himself down without that +luxury.</p> + +<p>By this time, as he well knew, all would have been told to his +mother, and his first duty would be to go to her—to go to her and +comfort her, if comfort might be possible, by telling her that he +could bear it all; that as far as he was concerned title and wealth +and a proud name were as nothing to him in comparison with his +mother's love. In whatever guise he may have appeared before Lady +Desmond, he would not go to his mother with a fainting heart. She +should not hear his teeth chatter, nor see his limbs shake. So he sat +himself down there that he might become warm, and in five minutes he +was fast asleep.</p> + +<p>How long he slept he did not know; not very long, probably; but when +he awoke it was quite dark. He gazed at the fire for a moment, +bethought himself of where he was and why, shook himself to get rid +of his slumber, and then roused himself in his chair. As he did so a +soft sweet voice close to his shoulder spoke to him. "Herbert," it +said, "are you awake?" And he found that his mother, seated by his +side on a low stool, had been watching him in his sleep.</p> + +<p>"Mother!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Herbert, my child, my son!" And the mother and son were fast locked +in each other's arms.</p> + +<p>He had sat down there thinking how he would go to his mother and +offer her solace in her sorrow; how he would bid her be of good +cheer, and encourage her to bear the world as the world had now +fallen to her lot. He had pictured to himself that he would find her +sinking in despair, and had promised himself that with his vows, his +kisses, and his prayers, he would bring her back to her +self-confidence, and induce her to acknowledge that God's mercy was +yet good to her. But now, on awakening, he discovered that she had +been tending him in his misery, and watching him while he slept, that +she might comfort him with her caresses the moment that he awoke to +the remembrance of his misfortunes.</p> + +<p>"Herbert, Herbert, my son, my son!" she said again, as she pressed +him close in her arms.</p> + +<p>"Mother, has he told you?"</p> + +<p>Yes, she had learned it all; but hardly more than she had known +before; or, at any rate, not more than she had expected. As she now +told him, for many days past she had felt that this trouble which had +fallen upon his father must have come from the circumstances of their +marriage. And she would have spoken out, she said, when the idea +became clear to her, had she not then been told that Mr. Prendergast +had been invited to come thither from London. Then she knew that she +had better remain silent, at any rate till his visit had been made.</p> + +<p>And Herbert again sat in the chair, and his mother crouched, or +almost kneeled, on the cushion at his knee. "Dearest, dearest, +dearest mother," he said, as he supported her head against his +shoulder, "we must love each other now more than ever we have loved."</p> + +<p>"And you forgive us, Herbert, for all that we have done to you?"</p> + +<p>"Mother, if you speak in that way to me you will kill me. My darling, +darling mother!"</p> + +<p>There was but little more said between them upon the matter—but +little more, at least, in words; but there was an infinity of +caresses, and deep—deep assurances of undying love and confidence. +And then she asked him about his bride, and he told her where he had +been, and what had happened. "You must not claim her, Herbert," she +said to him. "God is good, and will teach you to bear even that +also."</p> + +<p>"Must I not?" he asked, with a sadly plaintive voice.</p> + +<p>"No, my child. You invited her to share your prosperity, and would it +be <span class="nowrap">just—"</span></p> + +<p>"But, mother, if she wills it?"</p> + +<p>"It is for you to give her back her troth, then leave it to time and +her own heart."</p> + +<p>"But if she love me, mother, she will not take back her troth. Would +I take back hers because she was in sorrow?"</p> + +<p>"Men and women, Herbert, are different. The oak cares not whether the +creeper which hangs to it be weak or strong. If it be weak the oak +can give it strength. But the staff which has to support the creeper +must needs have strength of its own."</p> + +<p>He made no further answer to her, but understood that he must do as +she bade him. He understood now also, without many arguments within +himself, that he had no right to expect from Clara Desmond that +adherence to him and his misfortunes which he would have owed to her +had she been unfortunate. He understood this now; but still he hoped. +"Two hearts that have once become as one cannot be separated," he +said to himself that night, as he resolved that it was his duty to +write to her, unconditionally returning to her her pledges.</p> + +<p>"But, Herbert, what a state you are in!" said Lady Fitzgerald, as the +flame of the coal glimmering out, threw a faint light upon his +clothes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother; I have been walking."</p> + +<p>"And you are wet!"</p> + +<p>"I am nearly dry now. I was wet. But, mother, I am tired and fagged. +It would do me good if I could get a glass of wine."</p> + +<p>She rang the bell, and gave her orders calmly—though every servant +in the house now knew the whole truth,—and then lit a candle +herself, and looked at him. "My child, what have you done to +yourself? Oh, Herbert, you will be ill!" And then, with his arm round +her waist, she took him up to her own room, and sat by him while he +took off his muddy boots and clammy socks, and made him hot drinks, +and tended him as she had done when he was a child. And yet she had +that day heard of her great ruin! With truth, indeed, had Mr. +Prendergast said that she was made of more enduring material than Sir +Thomas.</p> + +<p>And she endeavoured to persuade him to go to his bed; but in this he +would not listen to her. He must, he said, see his father that night. +"You have been with him, mother, +since—<span class="nowrap">since—."</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; directly after Mr. Prendergast left me."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"He cried like a child, Herbert. We both sobbed together like two +children. It was very piteous. But I think I left him better than he +has been. He knows now that those men cannot come again to harass +him."</p> + +<p>Herbert gnashed his teeth, and clenched his fist as he thought of +them; but he could not speak of them, or mention their name before +his mother. What must her thoughts be, as she remembered that elder +man and looked back to her early childhood!</p> + +<p>"He is very weak," she went on to say: "almost helplessly weak now, +and does not seem to think of leaving his bed. I have begged him to +let me send to Dublin for Sir Henry; but he says that nothing ails +him."</p> + +<p>"And who is with him now, mother?"</p> + +<p>"The girls are both there."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Prendergast?"</p> + +<p>Lady Fitzgerald then explained to him, that Mr. Prendergast had +returned to Dublin that afternoon, starting twenty-four hours earlier +than he intended,—or, at any rate, than he had said that he +intended. Having done his work there, he had felt that he would now +only be in the way. And, moreover, though his work was done at Castle +Richmond, other work in the same matter had still to be done in +England. Mr. Prendergast had very little doubt as to the truth of +Mollett's story;—indeed we may say he had no doubt; otherwise he +would hardly have made it known to all that world round Castle +Richmond. But nevertheless it behoved him thoroughly to sift the +matter. He felt tolerably sure that he should find Mollett in London; +and whether he did or no, he should be able to identify, or not to +identify, that scoundrel with the Mr. Talbot who had hired Chevy +Chase Lodge, in Dorsetshire, and who had undoubtedly married poor +Mary Wainwright.</p> + +<p>"He left a kind message for you," said Lady Fitzgerald.—My readers +must excuse me if I still call her Lady Fitzgerald, for I cannot +bring my pen to the use of any other name. And it was so also with +the dependents and neighbours of Castle Richmond, when the time came +that the poor lady felt that she was bound publicly to drop her +title. It was not in her power to drop it; no effort that she could +make would induce those around her to call her by another name.</p> + +<p>"He bade me say," she continued, "that if your future course of life +should take you to London, you are to go to him, and look to him as +another father. He has no child of his own," he said, "and you shall +be to him as a son."</p> + +<p>"I will be no one's son but yours,—yours and my father's," he said, +again embracing her.</p> + +<p>And then, when, under his mother's eye, he had eaten and drank and +made himself warm, he did go to his father and found both his sisters +sitting there. They came and clustered round him, taking hold of his +hands and looking up into his face, loving him, and pitying him, and +caressing him with their eyes; but standing there by their father's +bed, they said little or nothing. Nor did Sir Thomas say +much;—except this, indeed, that, just as Herbert was leaving him, he +declared with a faint voice, that henceforth his son should be master +of that house, and the disposer of that property—"As long as I +live!" he exclaimed with his weak voice; "as long as I live!"</p> + +<p>"No, father; not so."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! as long as I live. It will be little that you will have, +even so—very little. But so it shall be as long as I live."</p> + +<p>Very little indeed, poor man, for, alas! his days were numbered.</p> + +<p>And then, when Herbert left the room, Emmeline followed him. She had +ever been his dearest sister, and now she longed to be with him that +she might tell him how she loved him, and comfort him with her tears. +And Clara too—Clara whom she had welcomed as a sister!—she must +learn now how Clara would behave, for she had already made herself +sure that her brother had been at Desmond Court, the herald of his +own ruin.</p> + +<p>"May I come with you, Herbert?" she asked, closing in round him and +getting under his arm. How could he refuse her? So they went together +and sat over a fire in a small room that was sacred to her and her +sister, and there, with many sobs on her part and much would-be brave +contempt of poverty on his, they talked over the altered world as it +now showed itself before them.</p> + +<p>"And you did not see her?" she asked, when with many efforts she had +brought the subject round to Clara Desmond and her brother's walk to +Desmond Court.</p> + +<p>"No; she left the room at my own bidding. I could not have told it +myself to her."</p> + +<p>"And you cannot know then what she would say?"</p> + +<p>"No, I cannot know what she would say; but I know now what I must say +myself. All that is over, Emmeline. I cannot ask her to marry a +beggar."</p> + +<p>"Ask her; no! there will be no need of asking her; she has already +given you her promise. You do not think that she will desert you? you +do not wish it?"</p> + +<p>Herein were contained two distinct questions, the latter of which +Herbert did not care to answer. "I shall not call it desertion," he +said; "indeed the proposal will come from me. I shall write to her, +telling her that she need think about me no longer. Only that I am so +weary I would do it now."</p> + +<p>"And how will she answer you? If she is the Clara that I take her for +she will throw your proposal back into your face. She will tell you +that it is not in your power to reject her now. She will swear to +you, that let your words be what they may, she will think of +you—more now than she has ever thought in better days. She will tell +you of her love in words that she could not use before. I know she +will. I know that she is good, and true, and honest, and generous. +Oh, I should die if I thought she were false! But, Herbert, I am sure +that she is true. You can write your letter, and we shall see."</p> + +<p>Herbert, with wise arguments learned from his mother, reasoned with +his sister, explaining to her that Clara was now by no means bound to +cling to him; but as he spoke them his arm fastened itself closely +round his sister's waist, for the words which she uttered with so +much energy were comfortable to him.</p> + +<p>And then, seated there, before he moved from the room, he made her +bring him pens, ink, and paper, and he wrote his letter to Clara +Desmond. She would fain have stayed with him while he did so, sitting +at his feet, and looking into his face, and trying to encourage his +hope as to what Clara's answer might be; but this he would not allow; +so she went again to her father's room, having succeeded in obtaining +a promise that Clara's answer should be shown to her. And the letter, +when it was written, copied, and recopied, ran as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Castle Richmond, —— night.</p> + +<p class="noindent">My dearest Clara,—<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">It was with great +difficulty that he could satisfy himself with that, +or indeed with any other mode of commencement. In the short little +love-notes which had hitherto gone from him, sent from house to +house, he had written to her with appellations of endearment of his +own—as all lovers do; and as all lovers seem to think that no lovers +have done before themselves—with appellations which are so sweet to +those who write, and so musical to those who read, but which sound so +ludicrous when barbarously made public in hideous law courts by +brazen-browed lawyers with mercenary tongues. In this way only had he +written, and each of these sweet silly songs of love had been as full +of honey as words could make it. But he had never yet written to her, +on a full sheet of paper, a sensible positive letter containing +thoughts and facts, as men do write to women and women also to men, +when the lollypops and candied sugar-drops of early love have passed +away. Now he was to write his first serious letter to her,—and +probably his last,—and it was with difficulty that he could get +himself over the first three words; but there they were decided on at +last.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">My dearest Clara,</p> + +<p>Before you get this your mother will have told you all +that which I could not bring myself to speak out +yesterday, as long as you were in the room. I am sure you +will understand now why I begged you to go away, and will +not think the worse of me for doing so. You now know the +whole truth, and I am sure that you will feel for us all +here.</p> + +<p>Having thought a good deal upon the matter, chiefly during +my walk home from Desmond Court, and indeed since I have +been at home, I have come to the resolution that +everything between us must be over. It would be unmanly in +me to wish to ruin you because I myself am ruined. Our +engagement was, of course, made on the presumption that I +should inherit my father's estate; as it is I shall not do +so, and therefore I beg that you will regard that +engagement as at an end. Of my own love for you I will say +nothing. But I know that you have loved me truly, and that +all this, therefore, will cause you great grief. It is +better, however, that it should be so, than that I should +seek to hold you to a promise which was made under such +different circumstances.</p> + +<p>You will, of course, show this letter to your mother. She, +at any rate, will approve of what I am now doing; and so +will you when you allow yourself to consider it calmly.</p> + +<p>We have not known each other so long that there is much +for us to give back to each other. If you do not think it +wrong I should like still to keep that lock of your hair, +to remind me of my first love—and, as I think, my only +one. And you, I hope, will not be afraid to have near you +the one little present that I made you.</p> + +<p>And now, dearest Clara, good-bye. Let us always think, +each of the other, as of a very dear friend. May God bless +you, and preserve you, and make you happy.</p> + +<p class="ind12">Yours, with sincere affection,</p> + +<p class="ind14"><span class="smallcaps">Herbert Fitzgerald</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This, when at last he had succeeded in writing it, he read over and +over again; but on each occasion he said to himself that it was cold +and passionless, stilted and unmeaning. It by no means pleased him, +and seemed as though it could bring but one answer—a cold +acquiescence in the proposal which he so coldly made. But yet he knew +not how to improve it. And after all it was a true exposition of that +which he had determined to say. All the world—her world and his +world—would think it better that they should part; and let the +struggle cost him what it would, he would teach himself to wish that +it might be so—if not for his own sake, then for hers. So he +fastened the letter, and taking it with him determined to send it +over, so that it should reach Clara quite early on the following +morning.</p> + +<p>And then having once more visited his father, and once more kissed +his mother, he betook himself to bed. It had been with him one of +those days which seem to pass away without reference to usual hours +and periods. It had been long dark, and he seemed to have been +hanging about the house, doing nothing and aiding nobody, till he was +weary of himself. So he went off to bed, almost wondering, as he +bethought himself of what had happened to him within the last two +days, that he was able to bear the burden of his life so easily as he +did. He betook himself to bed; and with the letter close at his hand, +so that he might despatch it when he awoke, he was soon asleep. After +all, that walk, terrible as it had been, was in the end serviceable +to him.</p> + +<p>He slept without waking till the light of the February morning was +beginning to dawn into his room, and then he was roused by a servant +knocking at the door. It was grievous enough, that awaking to his +sorrow after the pleasant dreams of the night.</p> + +<p>"Here is a letter, Mr. Herbert, from Desmond Court," said Richard. +"The boy as brought it says as <span class="nowrap">how—"</span></p> + +<p>"A letter from Desmond Court," said Herbert, putting out his hand +greedily.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Herbert. The boy's been here this hour and better. I warn't +just up and about myself, or I wouldn't have let 'em keep it from +you, not half a minute."</p> + +<p>"And where is he? I have a letter to send to Desmond Court. But never +mind. <span class="nowrap">Perhaps—"</span></p> + +<p>"It's no good minding, for the gossoon's gone back any ways." And +then Richard, having drawn the blind, and placed a little table by +the bed-head, left his young master to read the despatch from Desmond +Court. Herbert, till he saw the writing, feared that it was from the +countess; but the letter was from Clara. She also had thought good to +write before she betook herself to bed, and she had been earlier in +despatching her messenger. Here is her letter:<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">Dear Herbert, my own Herbert,</p> + +<p>I have heard it all. But remember this; nothing, nothing, +<span class="u">nothing</span> can make any change between you +and me. I will +hear of no arguments that are to separate us. I know +beforehand what you will say, but I will not regard +it—not in the least. I love you ten times the more for +all your unhappiness; and as I would have shared your good +fortune, I claim my right to share your bad fortune. +<span class="u">Pray +believe me</span>, that nothing shall turn me from this; for I +will <span class="u">not be given up</span>.</p> + +<p>Give my kindest love to your dear, dear, dearest +mother—my mother, as she is and must be; and to my +darling girls. I do so wish I could be with them, and with +you, my own Herbert. I cannot help writing in confusion, +but I will explain all when I see you. I have been so +unhappy.</p> + +<p class="ind15">Your own faithful</p> + +<p class="ind20"><span class="smallcaps">Clara</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Having read this, Herbert Fitzgerald, in spite of his affliction, was +comforted.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-28" id="c-28"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h3> +<h4>FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Herbert as he started from his bed with this letter in his hand felt +that he could yet hold up his head against all that the world could +do to him. How could he be really unhappy while he possessed such an +assurance of love as this, and while his mother was able to give him +so glorious an example of endurance? He was not really unhappy. The +low-spirited broken-hearted wretchedness of the preceding day seemed +to have departed from him as he hurried on his clothes, and went off +to his sister's room that he might show his letter to Emmeline in +accordance with the promise he had made her.</p> + +<p>"May I come in?" he said, knocking at the door. "I must come in, for +I have something to show you." But the two girls were dressing and he +could not be admitted. Emmeline, however, promised to come to him, +and in about three minutes she was out in the cold little +sitting-room which adjoined their bed-room with her slippers on, and +her dressing gown wrapped round her, an object presentable to no male +eyes but those of her brother.</p> + +<p>"Emmeline," said he, "I have got a letter this morning."</p> + +<p>"Not from Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, from Clara. There; you may read it;" and he handed her the +precious epistle.</p> + +<p>"But she could not have got your letter?" said Emmeline, before she +looked at the one in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, for I have it here. I must write another now; but in +truth I do not know what to say. I can be as generous as she is."</p> + +<p>And then his sister read the letter. "My own Clara!" she exclaimed, +as she saw what was the tenor of it. "Did I not tell you so, Herbert? +I knew well what she would do and say. Love you ten times better!—of +course she does. What honest girl would not? My own beautiful Clara, +I knew I could depend on her. I did not doubt her for one moment." +But in this particular it must be acknowledged that Miss Emmeline +Fitzgerald hardly confined herself to the strictest veracity, for she +had lain awake half the night perplexed with doubt. What, oh what, if +Clara should be untrue! Such had been the burden of her doubting +midnight thoughts. "'I will not be given up,'" she continued, quoting +the letter. "No; of course not. And I tell you what, Herbert, you +must not dare to talk of giving her up. Money and titles may be +tossed to and fro, but not hearts. How beautifully she speaks of dear +mamma!" and now the tears began to run down the young lady's cheeks. +"Oh, I do wish she could be with us! My darling, darling, darling +Clara! Unhappy? Yes: I am sure Lady Desmond will give her no peace. +But never mind. She will be true through it all; and I said so from +the first." And then she fell to crying, and embracing her brother, +and declaring that nothing now should make her altogether unhappy.</p> + +<p>"But, Emmeline, you must not think that I shall take her at her word. +It is very generous of <span class="nowrap">her—"</span></p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Herbert!" And then there was another torrent of eloquence, +in answering which Herbert found that his arguments were of very +little efficacy.</p> + +<p>And now we must go back to Desmond Court, and see under what all but +overwhelming difficulties poor Clara wrote her affectionate letter. +And in the first place it should be pointed out how very wrong +Herbert had been in going to Desmond Court on foot, through the mud +and rain. A man can hardly bear himself nobly unless his outer aspect +be in some degree noble. It may be very sad, this having to admit +that the tailor does in great part make the man; but such I fear is +undoubtedly the fact. Could the Chancellor look dignified on the +woolsack, if he had had an accident with his wig, or allowed his +robes to be torn or soiled? Does not half the piety of a bishop +reside in his lawn sleeves, and all his meekness in his anti-virile +apron? Had Herbert understood the world he would have had out the +best pair of horses standing in the Castle Richmond stables, when +going to Desmond Court on such an errand. He would have brushed his +hair, and anointed himself; he would have clothed himself in his rich +Spanish cloak; he would have seen that his hat was brushed, and his +boots spotless; and then with all due solemnity but with head erect, +he would have told his tale out boldly. The countess would still have +wished to be rid of him, hearing that he was a pauper; but she would +have lacked the courage to turn him from the house as she had done.</p> + +<p>But seeing how wobegone he was and wretched, how mean to look at, and +low in his outward presence, she had been able to assume the mastery, +and had kept it throughout the interview. And having done this her +opinion of his prowess naturally became low, and she felt that he +would have been unable to press his cause against her.</p> + +<p>For some time after he had departed, she sat alone in the room in +which she had received him. She expected every minute that Clara +would come down to her, still wishing however that she might be left +for a while alone. But Clara did not come, and she was able to pursue +her thoughts.</p> + +<p>How very terrible was this tragedy that had fallen out in her close +neighbourhood! That was the first thought that came to her now that +Herbert had left her. How terrible, overwhelming, and fatal! What +calamity could fall upon a woman so calamitous as this which had now +overtaken that poor lady at Castle Richmond? Could she live and +support such a burden? Could she bear the eyes of people, when she +knew the light in which she must be now regarded? To lose at one +blow, her name, her pride of place, her woman's rank and high +respect! Could it be possible that she would still live on? It was +thus that Lady Desmond thought; and had any one told her that this +degraded mother would that very day come down from her room, and sit +watchful by her sleeping son, in order that she might comfort and +encourage him when he awoke, she would not have found it in her heart +to believe such a marvel. But then Lady Desmond knew but one solace +in her sorrows—had but one comfort in her sad reflections. She was +Countess of Desmond, and that was all. To Lady Fitzgerald had been +vouchsafed other solace and other comforts.</p> + +<p>And then, on one point the countess made herself fixed as fate, by +thinking and re-thinking upon it till no doubt remained upon her +mind. The match between Clara and Herbert must be broken off, let the +cost be what it might; and—a point on which there was more room for +doubt, and more pain in coming to a conclusion—that other match with +the more fortunate cousin must be encouraged and carried out. For +herself, if her hope was small while Owen was needy and of poor +account, what hope could there be now that he would be rich and +great? Moreover, Owen loved Clara, and not herself; and Clara's hand +would once more be vacant and ready for the winning. For herself, her +only chance had been in Clara's coming marriage.</p> + +<p>In all this she knew that there would be difficulty. She was sure +enough that Clara would at first feel the imprudent generosity of +youth, and offer to join her poverty to Herbert's poverty. That was a +matter of course. She, Lady Desmond herself, would have done this, at +Clara's age,—so at least to herself she said, and also to her +daughter. But a little time, and a little patience, and a little care +would set all this in a proper light. Herbert would go away and would +gradually be forgotten. Owen would again come forth from beneath the +clouds, with renewed splendour; and then, was it not probable that, +in her very heart of hearts, Owen was the man whom Clara had ever +loved?</p> + +<p>And thus having realized to herself the facts which Herbert had told +her, she prepared to make them known to her daughter. She got up from +her chair, intending at first to seek her, and then, changing her +purpose, rang the bell and sent for her. She was astonished to find +how violently she herself was affected; not so much by the +circumstances, as by this duty which had fallen to her of telling +them to her child. She put one hand upon the other and felt that she +herself was in a tremor, and was conscious that the blood was running +quick round her heart. Clara came down, and going to her customary +seat waited till her mother should speak to her.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald has brought very dreadful news," Lady Desmond said, +after a minute's pause.</p> + +<p>"Oh mamma!" said Clara. She had expected bad tidings, having thought +of all manner of miseries while she had been up stairs alone; but +there was that in her mother's voice which seemed to be worse than +the worst of her anticipations.</p> + +<p>"Dreadful, indeed, my child! It is my duty to tell them to you; but I +must caution you, before I do so, to place a guard upon your +feelings. That which I have to say must necessarily alter all your +future prospects, and, unfortunately, make your marrying Herbert +Fitzgerald quite impossible."</p> + +<p>"Mamma!" she exclaimed, with a loud voice, jumping from her chair. +"Not marry him! Why; what can he have done? Is it his wish to break +it off?"</p> + +<p>Lady Desmond had calculated that she would best effect her object by +at once impressing her daughter with the idea that, under the +circumstances which were about to be narrated, this marriage would +not only be imprudent, but altogether impracticable and out of the +question. Clara must be made to understand at once, that the +circumstances gave her no option,—that the affair was of such a +nature as to make it a thing manifest to everybody, that she could +not now marry Herbert Fitzgerald. She must not be left to think +whether she could, or whether she could not, exercise her own +generosity. And therefore, not without discretion, the countess +announced at once to her the conclusion at which it would be +necessary to arrive. But Clara was not a girl to adopt such a +conclusion on any other judgment than her own, or to be led in such a +matter by the feelings of any other person.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, my dear, and I will explain it all. But, dearest Clara, +grieved as I must be to grieve you, I am bound to tell you again that +it must be as I say. For both your sakes it must be so; but +especially, perhaps, for his. But when I have told you my story, you +will understand that this must be so."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, then, mother." She said this, for Lady Desmond had again +paused.</p> + +<p>"Won't you sit down, dearest?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; it does not matter;" and Clara, at her mother's bidding, +sat down, and then the story was told to her.</p> + +<p>It was a difficult tale for a mother to tell to so young a child—to +a child whom she had regarded as being so very young. There were +various little points of law which she thought that she was obliged +to explain; how it was necessary that the Castle Richmond property +should go to an heir-at-law, and how it was impossible that Herbert +should be that heir-at-law, seeing that he had not been born in +lawful wedlock. All these things Lady Desmond attempted to explain, +or was about to attempt such explanation, but desisted on finding +that her daughter understood them as well as she herself did. And +then she had to make it also intelligible to Clara that Owen would be +called on, when Sir Thomas should die, to fill the position and enjoy +the wealth accruing to the heir of Castle Richmond. When Owen +Fitzgerald's name was mentioned a slight blush came upon Clara's +cheek; it was very slight, but nevertheless her mother saw it, and +took advantage of it to say a word in Owen's favour.</p> + +<p>"Poor Owen!" she said. "He will not be the first to triumph in this +change of fortune."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he will not," said Clara. "He is much too generous for +that." And then the countess began to hope that the task might not be +so very difficult. Ignorant woman! Had she been able to read one page +in her daughter's heart, she would have known that the task was +impossible. After that the story was told out to the end without +further interruption; and then Clara, hiding her face within her +hands on the head of the sofa, uttered one long piteous moan.</p> + +<p>"It is all very dreadful," said the countess.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lady Fitzgerald, dear Lady Fitzgerald!" sobbed forth Clara.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. Poor Lady Fitzgerald! Her fate is so dreadful that I +know not how to think of it."</p> + +<p>"But, mamma—" and as she spoke Clara pushed back from her forehead +her hair with both her hands, showing, as she did so, the form of her +forehead, and the firmness of purpose that was written there, legible +to any eyes that could read. "But, mamma, you are wrong about my not +marrying Herbert Fitzgerald. Why should I not marry him? Not now, as +we, perhaps, might have done but for this; but at some future time +when he may think himself able to support a wife. Mamma, I shall not +break our engagement; certainly not."</p> + +<p>This was said in a tone of voice so very decided that Lady Desmond +had to acknowledge to herself that there would be difficulty in her +task. But she still did not doubt that she would have her way, if not +by concession on the part of her daughter, then by concession on the +part of Herbert Fitzgerald. "I can understand your generosity of +feeling, my dear," she said; "and at your age I should probably have +felt the same. And therefore I do not ask you to take any steps +towards breaking your engagement. The offer must come from Mr. +Fitzgerald, and I have no doubt that it will come. He, as a man of +honour, will know that he cannot now offer to marry you; and he will +also know, as a man of sense, that it would be ruin for him to think +of—of such a marriage under his present circumstances."</p> + +<p>"Why, mamma? Why should it be ruin to him?"</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear? Do you think that a wife with a titled name can be of +advantage to a young man who has not only got his bread to earn, but +even to look out for a way in which he may earn it?"</p> + +<p>"If there be nothing to hurt him but the titled name, that difficulty +shall be easily conquered."</p> + +<p>"Dearest Clara, you know what I mean. You must be aware that a girl +of your rank, and brought up as you have been, cannot be a fitting +wife for a man who will now have to struggle with the world at every +turn."</p> + +<p>Clara, as this was said to her, and as she prepared to answer, +blushed deeply, for she felt herself obliged to speak on a matter +which had never yet been subject of speech between her and her +mother. "Mamma," she said, "I cannot agree with you there. I may have +what the world calls rank; but nevertheless we have been poor, and I +have not been brought up with costly habits. Why should I not live +with my husband as—as—as poorly as I have lived with my mother? You +are not rich, dear mamma, and why should I be?"</p> + +<p>Lady Desmond did not answer her daughter at once; but she was not +silent because an answer failed her. Her answer would have been ready +enough had she dared to speak it out. "Yes, it is true; we have been +poor. I, your mother, did by my imprudence bring down upon my head +and on yours absolute, unrelenting, pitiless poverty. And because I +did so, I have never known one happy hour. I have spent my days in +bitter remorse—in regretting the want of those things which it has +been the more terrible to want as they are the customary attributes +of people of my rank. I have been driven to hate those around me who +have been rich, because I have been poor. I have been utterly +friendless because I have been poor. I have been able to do none of +those sweet, soft, lovely things, by doing which other women win the +smiles of the world, because I have been poor. Poverty and rank +together have made me wretched—have left me without employment, +without society, and without love. And now would you tell me that +because I have been poor you would choose to be poor also?" It would +have been thus that she would have answered, had she been accustomed +to speak out her thoughts. But she had ever been accustomed to +conceal them.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking quite as much of him as of you," at last she said. +"Such an engagement to you would be fraught with much misery, but to +him it would be ruinous."</p> + +<p>"I do not think it, mamma."</p> + +<p>"But it is not necessary, Clara, that you should do anything. You +will wait, of course, and see what Herbert may say himself."</p> + +<p>"Herbert—"</p> + +<p>"Wait half a moment, my love. I shall be very much surprised if we do +not find that Mr. Fitzgerald himself will tell you that the match +must be abandoned."</p> + +<p>"But that will make no difference, mamma."</p> + +<p>"No difference, my dear! You cannot marry him against his will. You +do not mean to say that you would wish to bind him to his engagement, +if he himself thought it would be to his disadvantage?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I will bind him to it."</p> + +<p>"Clara!"</p> + +<p>"I will make him know that it is not for his disadvantage. I will +make him understand that a friend and companion who loves him as I +love him—as no one else will ever love him now—for I love him +because he was so high-fortuned when he came to me, and because he is +now so low-fortuned—that such a wife as I will be, cannot be a +burden to him. I will cling to him whether he throws me off or no. A +word from him might have broken our engagement before, but a thousand +words cannot do it now."</p> + +<p>Lady Desmond stared at her daughter, for Clara, in her excitement, +was walking up and down the room. The countess had certainly not +expected all this, and she was beginning to think that the subject +for the present might as well be left alone. But Clara had not done +as yet.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," she said, "I will not do anything without telling you; but I +cannot leave Herbert in all his misery to think that I have no +sympathy with him. I shall write to him."</p> + +<p>"Not before he writes to you, Clara! You would not wish to be +indelicate?"</p> + +<p>"I know but little about delicacy—what people call delicacy; but I +will not be ungenerous or unkind. Mamma, you brought us two together. +Was it not so? Did you not do so, fearing that I might—might still +care for Herbert's cousin? You did it; and half wishing to obey you, +half attracted by all his goodness, I did learn to love Herbert +Fitzgerald; and I did learn to forget—no; but I learned to cease to +love his cousin. You did this and rejoiced at it; and now what you +did must remain done."</p> + +<p>"But, dearest Clara, it will not be for his good."</p> + +<p>"It shall be for his good. Mamma, I would not desert him now for all +that the world could give me. Neither for mother nor brother could I +do that. Without your leave I would not have given him the right to +regard me as his own; but now I cannot take that right back again, +even at your wish. I must write to him at once, mamma, and tell him +this."</p> + +<p>"Clara, at any rate you must not do that; that at least I must +forbid."</p> + +<p>"Mother, you cannot forbid it now," the daughter said, after walking +twice the length of the room in silence. "If I be not allowed to send +a letter, I shall leave the house and go to him."</p> + +<p>This was all very dreadful. Lady Desmond was astounded at the manner +in which her daughter carried herself, and the voice with which she +spoke. The form of her face was altered, and the very step with which +she trod was unlike her usual gait. What would Lady Desmond do? She +was not prepared to confine her daughter as a prisoner, nor could she +publicly forbid the people about the place to go upon her message.</p> + +<p>"I did not expect that you would have been so undutiful," she said.</p> + +<p>"I hope I am not so," Clara answered. "But now my first duty is to +him. Did you not sanction our loving each other? People cannot call +back their hearts and their pledges."</p> + +<p>"You will at any rate wait till to-morrow, Clara."</p> + +<p>"It is dark now," said Clara, despondingly, looking out through the +window upon the falling night; "I suppose I cannot send to-night."</p> + +<p>"And you will show me what you write, dearest?"</p> + +<p>"No, mamma. If I wrote it for your eyes it could not be the same as +if I wrote it only for his."</p> + +<p>Very gloomy, sombre, and silent, was the Countess of Desmond all that +night. Nothing further was said about the Fitzgeralds between her and +her daughter, before they went to bed; and then Lady Desmond did +speak a few futile words.</p> + +<p>"Clara," she said. "You had better think over what we have been +saying, in bed to-night. You will be more collected to-morrow +morning."</p> + +<p>"I shall think of it of course," said Clara; "but thinking can make +no difference," and then just touching her mother's forehead with her +lips she went off slowly to her room.</p> + +<p>What sort of a letter she wrote when she got there, we have already +seen; and have seen also that she took effective steps to have her +letter carried to Castle Richmond at an hour sufficiently early in +the morning. There was no danger that the countess would stop the +message, for the letter had been read twenty times by Emmeline and +Mary, and had been carried by Herbert to his mother's room, before +Lady Desmond had left her bed. "Do not set your heart on it too +warmly," said Herbert's mother to him.</p> + +<p>"But is she not excellent?" said Herbert. "It is because she speaks +of you in such a <span class="nowrap">way—"</span></p> + +<p>"You would not wish to bring her into misery, because of her +excellence."</p> + +<p>"But, mother, I am still a man," said Herbert. This was too much for +the suffering woman, the one fault of whose life had brought her son +to such a pass, and throwing her arm round his neck she wept upon his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>There were other messengers went and came that day between Desmond +Court and Castle Richmond. Clara and her mother saw nothing of each +other early in the morning; they did not breakfast together, nor was +there a word said between them on the subject of the Fitzgeralds. But +Lady Desmond early in the morning—early for her that is—sent her +note also to Castle Richmond. It was addressed to Aunt Letty, Miss +Letitia Fitzgerald, and went to say that Lady Desmond was very +anxious to see Miss Letty. Under the present circumstances of the +family, as described to Lady Desmond by Mr. Herbert Fitzgerald, she +felt that she could not ask to see "his mother;"—it was thus that +she overcame the difficulty which presented itself to her as to the +proper title now to be given to Lady Fitzgerald;—but perhaps Miss +Letty would be good enough to see her, if she called at such and such +an hour. Aunt Letty, much perplexed, had nothing for it, but to say +that she would see her. The countess must now be looked on as closely +connected with the family—at any rate until that match were broken +off; and therefore Aunt Letty had no alternative. And so, precisely +at the hour named, the countess and Aunt Letty were seated together +in the little breakfast-room of which mention has before been made.</p> + +<p>No two women were ever closeted together who were more unlike each +other,—except that they had one common strong love for family rank. +But in Aunt Letty it must be acknowledged that this passion was not +unwholesome or malevolent in its course of action. She delighted in +being a Fitzgerald, and in knowing that her branch of the Fitzgeralds +had been considerable people ever since her Norman ancestor had come +over to Ireland with Strongbow. But then she had a useful idea that +considerable people should do a considerable deal of good. Her family +pride operated more inwardly than outwardly,—inwardly as regarded +her own family, and not outwardly as regarded the world. Her brother, +and her nephew, and her sister-in-law, and nieces, were, she thought, +among the highest commoners in Ireland; they were gentlefolks of the +first water, and walked openly before the world accordingly, proving +their claim to gentle blood by gentle deeds and honest conduct. +Perhaps she did think too much of the Fitzgeralds of Castle Richmond; +but the sin was one of which no recording angel could have made much +in his entry. That she was a stupid old woman, prejudiced in the +highest degree, and horribly ignorant of all the world beyond her own +very narrow circle,—even of that, I do not think that the recording +angel could, under the circumstances, have made a great deal.</p> + +<p>And now how was her family pride affected by this horrible +catastrophe that had been made known to her? Herbert the heir, whom +as heir she had almost idolized, was nobody. Her sister-in-law, whom +she had learned to love with the whole of her big heart, was no +sister-in-law. Her brother was one, who, in lieu of adding glory to +the family, would always be regarded as the most unfortunate of the +Fitzgerald baronets. But with her, human nature was stronger than +family pride, and she loved them all, not better, but more tenderly +than ever.</p> + +<p>The two ladies were closeted together for about two hours; and then, +when the door was opened, Aunt Letty might have been seen with her +bonnet much on one side, and her poor old eyes and cheeks red with +weeping. The countess, too, held her handkerchief to her eyes as she +got back into her pony carriage. She saw no one else there but Aunt +Letty; and from her mood when she returned to Desmond Court it might +be surmised that from Aunt Letty she had learned little to comfort +her.</p> + +<p>"They will be beggars!" she said to herself—"beggars!"—when the +door of her own room had closed upon her. And there are few people in +the world who held such beggary in less esteem than did the Countess +of Desmond. It may almost be said that she hated herself on account +of her own poverty.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-29" id="c-29"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIX.</h3> +<h4>ILL NEWS FLIES FAST.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>A dull, cold, wretched week passed over their heads at Castle +Richmond, during which they did nothing but realize the truth of +their position; and then came a letter from Mr. Prendergast, +addressed to Herbert, in which he stated that such inquiries as he +had hitherto made left no doubt on his mind that the man named +Mollett, who had lately made repeated visits at Castle Richmond, was +he who had formerly taken the house in Dorsetshire under the name of +Talbot. In his packet Mr. Prendergast sent copies of documents and of +verbal evidence which he had managed to obtain; but with the actual +details of these it is not necessary that I should trouble those who +are following me in this story. In this letter Mr. Prendergast also +recommended that some intercourse should be had with Owen Fitzgerald. +It was expedient, he said, that all the parties concerned should +recognise Owen's position as the heir presumptive to the title and +estate; and as he, he said, had found Mr. Fitzgerald of Hap House to +be forbearing, generous, and high-spirited, he thought that this +intercourse might be conducted without enmity or ill blood. And then +he suggested that Mr. Somers should see Owen Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>All this Herbert explained to his father gently and without +complaint; but it seemed now as though Sir Thomas had ceased to +interest himself in the matter. Such battle as it had been in his +power to make he had made to save his son's heritage and his wife's +name and happiness, even at the expense of his own conscience. That +battle had gone altogether against him, and now there was nothing +left for him but to turn his face to the wall and die. Absolute ruin, +through his fault, had come upon him and all that belonged to +him,—ruin that would now be known to the world at large; and it was +beyond his power to face that world again. In that the glory was gone +from the house of his son, and of his son's mother, the glory was +gone from his own house. He made no attempt to leave his bed, though +strongly recommended so to do by his own family doctor. And then a +physician came down from Dublin, who could only feel, whatever he +might say, how impossible it is to administer to a mind diseased. The +mind of that poor man was diseased past all curing in this world, and +there was nothing left for him but to die.</p> + +<p>Herbert, of course, answered Clara's letter, but he did not go over +to see her during that week, nor indeed for some little time +afterwards. He answered it at considerable length, professing his +ready willingness to give back to Clara her troth, and even +recommending her, with very strong logic and unanswerable arguments +of worldly sense, to regard their union as unwise and even +impossible; but nevertheless there protruded through all his sense +and all his rhetoric, evidences of love and of a desire for love +returned, which were much more unanswerable than his arguments, and +much stronger than his logic. Clara read his letter, not as he would +have advised her to read it, but certainly in the manner which best +pleased his heart, and answered it again, declaring that all that he +said was no avail. He might be false to her if he would. If through +fickleness of heart and purpose he chose to abandon her, she would +never complain—never at least aloud. But she would not be false to +him; nor were her inclinations such as to make it likely that she +should be fickle, even though her affection might be tried by a delay +of years. Love with her had been too serious to be thrown aside. All +which was rather strong language on the part of a young lady, but was +thought by those other young ladies at Castle Richmond to show the +very essence of becoming young-ladyhood. They pronounced Clara to be +perfect in feeling and in judgment, and Herbert could not find it in +his heart to contradict them.</p> + +<p>And of all these doings, writings, and resolves, Clara dutifully told +her mother. Poor Lady Desmond was at her wits' end in the matter. She +could scold her daughter, but she had no other power of doing +anything. Clara had so taken the bit between her teeth that it was no +longer possible to check her with any usual rein. In these days young +ladies are seldom deprived by force of paper, pen, and ink; and the +absolute incarceration of such an offender would be still more +unusual. Another countess would have taken her daughter away, either +to London and a series of balls, or to the South of Italy, or to the +family castle in the North of Scotland; but poor Lady Desmond had not +the power of other countesses. Now that it was put to the trial, she +found that she had no power, even over her own daughter. "Mamma, it +was your own doing," Clara would say; and the countess would feel +that this alluded not only to her daughter's engagement with Herbert +the disinherited, but also to her non-engagement with Owen the heir.</p> + +<p>Under these circumstances Lady Desmond sent for her son. The earl was +still at Eton, but was now grown to be almost a man—such a man as +forward Eton boys are at sixteen—tall, and lathy, and handsome, with +soft incipient whiskers, a bold brow and blushing cheeks, with all a +boy's love for frolic still strong within him, but some touch of a +man's pride to check it. In her difficulty Lady Desmond sent for the +young earl, who had now not been home since the previous midsummer, +hoping that his young manhood might have some effect in saving his +sister from the disgrace of a marriage which would make her so +totally bankrupt both in wealth and rank.</p> + +<p>Mr. Somers did go once to Hap House, at Herbert's instigation; but +very little came of his visit. He had always disliked Owen, regarding +him as an unthrift, any close connexion with whom could only bring +contamination on the Fitzgerald property; and Owen had returned the +feeling tenfold. His pride had been wounded by what he had considered +to be the agent's insolence, and he had stigmatised Mr. Somers to his +friends as a self-seeking, mercenary prig. Very little, therefore, +came of the visit. Mr. Somers, to give him his due, had attempted to +do his best; being anxious, for Herbert's sake, to conciliate Owen; +perhaps having—and why not?—some eye to the future agency. But Owen +was hard, and cold, and uncommunicative,—very unlike what he had +before been to Mr. Prendergast. But then Mr. Prendergast had never +offended his pride.</p> + +<p>"You may tell my cousin Herbert," he said, with some little special +emphasis on the word cousin, "that I shall be glad to see him, as +soon as he feels himself able to meet me. It will be for the good of +us both that we should have some conversation together. Will you tell +him, Mr. Somers, that I shall be happy to go to him, or to see him +here? Perhaps my going to Castle Richmond, during the present illness +of Sir Thomas, may be inconvenient." And this was all that Mr. Somers +could get from him.</p> + +<p>In a very short time the whole story became known to everybody round +the neighbourhood. And what would have been the good of keeping it +secret? There are some secrets,—kept as secrets because they cannot +well be discussed openly,—which may be allowed to leak out with so +much advantage! The day must come, and that apparently at no distant +time, when all the world would know the fate of that Fitzgerald +family; when Sir Owen must walk into the hall of Castle Richmond, the +undoubted owner of the mansion and demesne. Why then keep it secret? +Herbert openly declared his wish to Mr. Somers that there should be +no secret in the matter. "There is no disgrace," he said, thinking of +his mother; "nothing to be ashamed of, let the world say what it +will."</p> + +<p>Down in the servants' hall the news came to them gradually, whispered +about from one to another. They hardly understood what it meant, or +how it had come to pass; but they did know that their master's +marriage had been no marriage, and that their master's son was no +heir. Mrs. Jones said not a word in the matter to any one. Indeed, +since that day on which she had been confronted with Mollett, she had +not associated with the servants at all, but had kept herself close +to her mistress. She understood what it all meant perfectly; and the +depth of the tragedy had so cowed her spirit that she hardly dared to +speak of it. Who told the servants,—or who does tell servants of +such matters, it is impossible to say; but before Mr. Prendergast had +been three days out of the house they all knew that the Mr. Owen of +Hap House was to be the future master of Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>"An' a sore day it'll be; a sore day, a sore day," said Richard, +seated in an arm-chair by the fire, at the end of the servants' hall, +shaking his head despondingly.</p> + +<p>"Faix, an' you may say that," said Corney, the footman. "That Misther +Owen will go tatthering away to the divil, when the old place comes +into his hans. No fear he'll make it fly."</p> + +<p>"Sorrow seize the ould lawyer for coming down here at all at all," +said the cook.</p> + +<p>"I never knew no good come of thim dry ould bachelors," said Biddy +the housemaid; "specially the Englishers."</p> + +<p>"The two of yez are no better nor simpletons," said Richard, +magisterially. "'Twarn't he that done it. The likes of him couldn't +do the likes o' that."</p> + +<p>"And what was it as done it?" said Biddy.</p> + +<p>"Ax no questions, and may be you'll be tould no lies," replied +Richard.</p> + +<p>"In course we all knows it's along of her ladyship's marriage which +warn't no marriage," said the cook. "May the heavens be her bed when +the Lord takes her! A betther lady nor a kinder-hearted niver stepped +the floor of a kitchen."</p> + +<p>"'Deed an that's thrue for you, cook," said Biddy, with the corner of +her apron up to her eyes. "But tell me, Richard, won't poor Mr. +Herbert have nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Never you mind about Mr. Herbert," said Richard, who had seen Biddy +grow up from a slip of a girl, and therefore was competent to snub +her at every word.</p> + +<p>"Ah, but I do mind," said the girl. "I minds more about him than ere +a one of 'em; and av' that Lady Clara won't have em a cause of +<span class="nowrap">this—"</span></p> + +<p>"Not a step she won't, thin," said Corney. "She'll go back to Mr. +Owen. He was her fust love. You'll see else." And so the matter was +discussed in the servants' hall at the great house.</p> + +<p>But perhaps the greatest surprise, the greatest curiosity, and the +greatest consternation, were felt at the parsonage. The rumour +reached Mr. Townsend at one of the Relief Committees;—and Mrs. +Townsend from the mouth of one of her servants, during his absence, +on the same day; and when Mr. Townsend returned to the parsonage, +they met each other with blank faces.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Æneas!" said she, before she could get his greatcoat from off +his shoulders, "have you heard the news?"</p> + +<p>"What news?—about Castle Richmond?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; about Castle Richmond." And then she knew that he had heard it.</p> + +<p>Some glimmering of Lady Fitzgerald's early history had been known to +both of them, as it had been known almost to all in the country; but +in late years this history had been so much forgotten, that men had +ceased to talk of it, and this calamity therefore came with all the +weight of a new misfortune.</p> + +<p>"And, Æneas, who told you of it?" she asked, as they sat together +over the fire, in their dingy, dirty parlour.</p> + +<p>"Well, strange to say, I heard it first from Father Barney."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mercy! and is it all about the country in that way?"</p> + +<p>"Herbert, you know, has not been at any one of the Committees for the +last ten days, and Mr. Somers for the last week past has been as +silent as death; so much so, that that horrid creature, Father +Columb, would have made a regular set speech the other day at +Gortnaclough, if I hadn't put him down."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear, dear!" said Mrs. Townsend.</p> + +<p>"And I was talking to Father Barney about this, to-day—about Mr. +Somers, that is."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes!"</p> + +<p>"And then he said, 'I suppose you know what has happened at Castle +Richmond?'"</p> + +<p>"How on earth had he learned?" asked Mrs. Townsend, jealous that a +Roman Catholic priest should have heard such completely Protestant +news before the Protestant parson and his wife.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they learn everything—from the servants I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Of course, the mean creatures!" said Mrs. Townsend, forgetting, +probably, her own little conversation with her own man of all work +that morning. "But go on, Æneas."</p> + +<p>"'What has happened,' said I, 'at Castle Richmond?' 'Oh, you haven't +heard,' said he. And I was obliged to own that I had not, though I +saw that it gave him a kind of triumph. 'Why,' said he, 'very bad +news has reached them indeed; the worst of news.' And then he told me +about Lady Fitzgerald. To give him his due, I must say that he was +very sorry—very sorry. 'The poor young fellow!' he said—'The poor +young fellow!' And I saw that he turned away his face to hide a +tear."</p> + +<p>"Crocodile tears!" said Mrs. Townsend.</p> + +<p>"No, they were not," said her reverend lord; "and Father Barney is +not so bad as I once thought him."</p> + +<p>"I hope you are not going over too, Æneas?" And his consort almost +cried as such a horrid thought entered her head. In her ideas any +feeling short of absolute enmity to a servant of the Church of Rome +was an abandonment of some portion of the Protestant basis of the +Church of England. "The small end of the wedge," she would call it, +when people around her would suggest that the heart of a Roman +Catholic priest might possibly not be altogether black and devilish.</p> + +<p>"Well, I hope not, my dear," said Mr. Townsend, with a slight touch +of sarcasm in his voice. "But, as I was saying, Father Barney told me +then that this Mr. <span class="nowrap">Prendergast—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I had known of his being there from the day of his coming."</p> + +<p>"This Mr. Prendergast, it seems, knew the whole affair, from +beginning to end."</p> + +<p>"But how did he know it, Æneas?"</p> + +<p>"That I can't tell you. He was a friend of Sir Thomas before his +marriage; I know that. And he has told them that it is of no use +their attempting to keep it secret. He was over at Hap House with +Owen Fitzgerald before he went."</p> + +<p>"And has Owen Fitzgerald been told?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he has been told—told that he is to be the next heir; so +Father Barney says."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Townsend wished in her heart that the news could have reached +her through a purer source; but all this, coming though it did from +Father Barney, tallied too completely with what she herself had heard +to leave on her mind any doubt of its truth. And then she began to +think of Lady Fitzgerald and her condition, of Herbert and of his, +and of the condition of them all, till by degrees her mind passed +away from Father Barney and all his iniquities.</p> + +<p>"It is very dreadful," she said, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Very dreadful, very dreadful. I hardly know how to think of it. And +I fear that Sir Thomas will not live many months to give them even +the benefit of his life interest."</p> + +<p>"And when he dies all will be gone?"</p> + +<p>"Everything."</p> + +<p>And then tears stood in her eyes also, and in his also after a while. +It is very easy for a clergyman in his pulpit to preach eloquently +upon the vileness of worldly wealth, and the futility of worldly +station; but where will you ever find one, who, when the time of +proof shall come, will give proof that he himself feels what he +preaches? Mr. Townsend was customarily loud and eager upon this +subject, and yet he was now shedding tears because his young friend +Herbert was deprived of his inheritance.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-30" id="c-30"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXX.</h3> +<h4>PALLIDA MORS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Mr. Somers, returning from Hap House, gave Owen's message to Herbert +Fitzgerald, but at the same time told him that he did not think any +good would come of such a meeting.</p> + +<p>"I went over there," he said, "because I would not willingly omit +anything that Mr. Prendergast had suggested; but I did not expect any +good to come of it. You know what I have always thought of Owen +Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>"But Mr. Prendergast said that he behaved so well."</p> + +<p>"He did not know Prendergast, and was cowed for the moment by what he +had heard. That was natural enough. You do as you like, however; only +do not have him over to Castle Richmond."</p> + +<p>Owen, however, did not trust solely to Mr. Somers, but on the +following day wrote to Herbert, suggesting that they had better meet, +and begging that the place and time of meeting might be named. He +himself again suggested Hap House, and declared that he would be at +home on any day and at any hour that his "cousin" might name, "only," +as he added, "the sooner the better." Herbert wrote back by the same +messenger, saying that he would be with him early on the following +morning; and on the following morning he drove up to the door of Hap +House, while Owen was still sitting with his coffee-pot and knife and +fork before him.</p> + +<p>Captain Donnellan, whom we saw there on the occasion of our first +morning visit, was now gone, and Owen Fitzgerald was all alone in his +home. The captain had been an accustomed guest, spending perhaps half +his time there during the hunting season; but since Mr. Prendergast +had been at Hap House, he had been made to understand that the master +would fain be alone. And since that day Owen had never hunted, nor +been noticed in his old haunts, nor had been seen talking to his old +friends. He had remained at home, sitting over the fire thinking, +wandering up and down his own avenue, or standing about the stable, +idly, almost unconscious of the grooming of his horses. Once and once +only he had been mounted; and then as the dusk of evening was coming +on he had trotted over quickly to Desmond Court, as though he had in +hand some purport of great moment; but if so he changed his mind when +he came to the gate, for he walked on slowly for three or four +hundred yards beyond it, and then turning his horse's head, slowly +made his way back past the gate, and then trotted quickly home to Hap +House. In these moments of his life he must make or mar himself for +life; 'twas so that he felt it; and how should he make himself, or +how avoid the marring? That was the question which he now strove to +answer.</p> + +<p>When Herbert entered the room, he rose from his chair, and walked +quickly up to his visitor, with extended hand, and a look of welcome +in his face. His manner was very different from that with which he +had turned and parted from his cousin, not many days since in the +demesne at Castle Richmond. Then he had intended absolutely to defy +Herbert Fitzgerald; but there was no spirit of defiance now, either +in his hand, or face, or in the tone of his voice.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad you have come," said he. "I hope you understood that +I would have gone to you, only that I thought it might be better for +both of us to be here."</p> + +<p>Herbert said something to the effect that he had been quite willing +to come over to Hap House. But he was not at the moment so +self-possessed as the other, and hardly knew how to begin the subject +which was to be discussed between them.</p> + +<p>"Of course you know that Mr. Prendergast was here?" said Owen.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Somers also? I tell you fairly, Herbert, that when Mr. +Somers came, I was not willing to say much to him. What has to be +said must be said between you and me, and not to any third party. I +could not open my heart, nor yet speak my thoughts to Mr. Somers."</p> + +<p>In answer to this, Herbert again said that Owen need have no scruple +in speaking to him. "It is all plain sailing; too plain, I fear," +said he. "There is no doubt whatever now as to the truth of what Mr. +Prendergast has told you."</p> + +<p>And then having said so much, Herbert waited for Owen to speak. He, +Herbert himself, had little or nothing to say. Castle Richmond with +its title and acres was not to be his, but was to be the property of +this man with whom he was now sitting. When that was actually and +positively understood between them, there was nothing further to be +said; nothing as far as Herbert knew. That other sorrow of his, that +other and deeper sorrow which affected his mother's name and +station,—as to that he did not find himself called on to speak to +Owen Fitzgerald. Nor was it necessary that he should say anything as +to his great consolation—the consolation which had reached him from +Clara Desmond.</p> + +<p>"And is it true, Herbert," asked Owen at last, "that my uncle is so +very ill?" In the time of their kindly intercourse, Owen had always +called Sir Thomas his uncle, though latterly he had ceased to do so.</p> + +<p>"He is very ill; very ill indeed," said Herbert. This was a subject +in which Owen had certainly a right to feel interested, seeing that +his own investiture would follow immediately on the death of Sir +Thomas; but Herbert almost felt that the question might as well have +been spared. It had been asked, however, almost solely with the view +of gaining some few moments.</p> + +<p>"Herbert," he said at last, standing up from his chair, as he made an +effort to begin his speech, "I don't know how far you will believe me +when I tell you that all this news has caused me great sorrow. I +grieve for your father and your mother, and for you, from the very +bottom of my heart."</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of you," said Herbert. "But the blow has fallen, and +as for myself, I believe that I can bear it. I do not care so very +much about the property."</p> + +<p>"Nor do I;" and now Owen spoke rather louder, and with his own look +of strong impulse about his mouth and forehead. "Nor do I care so +much about the property. You were welcome to it; and are so still. I +have never coveted it from you, and do not covet it."</p> + +<p>"It will be yours now without coveting," replied Herbert; and then +there was another pause, during which Herbert sat still, while Owen +stood leaning with his back against the mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>"Herbert," said he, after they had thus remained silent for two or +three minutes, "I have made up my mind on this matter, and I will +tell you truly what I do desire, and what I do not. I do not desire +your inheritance, but I do desire that Clara Desmond shall be my +wife."</p> + +<p>"Owen," said the other, also getting up, "I did not expect when I +came here that you would have spoken to me about this."</p> + +<p>"It was that we might speak about this that I asked you to come here. +But listen to me. When I say that I want Clara Desmond to be my wife, +I mean to say that I want that, and that only. It may be true that I +am, or shall be, legally the heir to your father's estate. Herbert, I +will relinquish all that, because I do not feel it to be my own. I +will relinquish it in any way that may separate myself from it most +thoroughly. But in return, do you separate yourself from her who was +my own before you had ever known her."</p> + +<p>And thus he did make the proposition as to which he had been making +up his mind since the morning on which Mr. Prendergast had come to +him.</p> + +<p>Herbert for a while was struck dumb with amazement, not so much at +the quixotic generosity of the proposal, as at the singular mind of +the man in thinking that such a plan could be carried out. Herbert's +best quality was no doubt his sturdy common sense, and that was +shocked by a suggestion which presumed that all the legalities and +ordinary bonds of life could be upset by such an agreement between +two young men. He knew that Owen Fitzgerald could not give away his +title to an estate of fourteen thousand a year in this off-hand way, +and that no one could accept such a gift were it possible to be +given. The estate and title must belong to Owen, and could not +possibly belong to any one else, merely at his word and fancy. And +then again, how could the love of a girl like Clara Desmond be +bandied to and fro at the will of any suitor or suitors? That she had +once accepted Owen's love, Herbert knew; but since that, in a soberer +mood, and with maturer judgment, she had accepted his. How could he +give it up to another, or how could that other take possession of it +if so abandoned? The bargain was one quite impossible to be carried +out; and yet Owen in proposing it had fully intended to be as good as +his word.</p> + +<p>"That is impossible," said Herbert in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Why impossible? May I not do what I like with that which is my own? +It is not impossible. I will have nothing to do with that property of +yours. In fact, it is not my own, and I will not take it; I will not +rob you of that which you have been born to expect. But in return for +<span class="nowrap">this—"</span></p> + +<p>"Owen, do not talk of it; would you abandon a girl whom you loved for +any wealth, or any property?"</p> + +<p>"You cannot love her as I love her. I will talk to you on this matter +openly, as I have never yet talked to any one. Since first I saw +Clara Desmond, the only wish of my life has been that I might have +her for my wife. I have longed for her as a child longs—if you know +what I mean by that. When I saw that she was old enough to understand +what love meant, I told her what was in my heart, and she accepted my +love. She swore to me that she would be mine, let mother or brother +say what they would. As sure as you are standing there a living man +she loved me with all truth. And that I loved her—! Herbert, I have +never loved aught but her; nothing else!—neither man nor woman, nor +wealth nor title. All I ask is that I may have that which was my +own."</p> + +<p>"But, Owen—" and Herbert touched his cousin's arm.</p> + +<p>"Well; why do you not speak? I have spoken plainly enough."</p> + +<p>"It is not easy to speak plainly on all subjects. I would not, if I +could avoid it, say a word that would hurt your feelings."</p> + +<p>"Never mind my feelings. Speak out, and let us have the truth, in +God's name. My feelings have never been much considered yet—either +in this matter or in any other."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," said Herbert, "that the giving of Lady Clara's hand +cannot depend on your will, or on mine."</p> + +<p>"You mean her mother."</p> + +<p>"No, by no means. Her mother now would be the last to favour me. I +mean herself. If she loves me, as I hope and believe—nay, am +<span class="nowrap">sure—"</span></p> + +<p>"She did love me!" shouted Owen.</p> + +<p>"But even if so—. I do not now say anything of that; but even if so, +surely you would not have her marry you if she does not love you +still? You would not wish her to be your wife if her heart belongs to +me?"</p> + +<p>"It has been given you at her mother's bidding."</p> + +<p>"However given it is now my own and it cannot be returned. Look here, +Owen. I will show you her last two letters, if you will allow me; not +in pride, I hope, but that you may truly know what are her wishes." +And he took from his breast, where they had been ever since he +received them, the two letters which Clara had written to him. Owen +read them both twice over before he spoke, first one and then the +other, and an indescribable look of pain fell on his brow as he did +so. They were so tenderly worded, so sweet, so generous! He would +have given all the world to have had those letters addressed by her +to himself. But even they did not convince him. His heart had never +changed, and he could not believe that there had been any change in +hers.</p> + +<p>"I might have known," he said, as he gave them back, "that she would +be too noble to abandon you in your distress. As long as you were +rich I might have had some chance of getting her back, despite the +machinations of her mother. But now that she thinks you are poor—." +And then he stopped, and hid his face between his hands.</p> + +<p>And in what he had last said there was undoubtedly something of +truth. Clara's love for Herbert had never been passionate, till +passion had been created by his misfortune. And in her thoughts of +Owen there had been much of regret. Though she had resolved to +withdraw her love, she had not wholly ceased to love him. Judgment +had bade her to break her word to him, and she had obeyed her +judgment. She had admitted to herself that her mother was right in +telling her that she could not join her own bankrupt fortunes to the +fortunes of one who was both poor and a spendthrift; and thus she had +plucked from her heart the picture of the man she had loved,—or +endeavoured so to pluck it. Some love for him, however, had +unwittingly lingered there. And then Herbert had come with his suit, +a suitor fitted for her in every way. She had not loved him as she +had loved Owen. She had never felt that she could worship him, and +tremble at the tones of his voice, and watch the glance of his eye, +and gaze into his face as though he were half divine. But she +acknowledged his worth, and valued him: she knew that it behoved her +to choose some suitor as her husband; and now that her dream was +gone, where could she choose better than here? And thus Herbert had +been accepted. He had been accepted, but the dream was not wholly +gone. Owen was in adversity, ill spoken of by those around her, +shunned by his own relatives, living darkly, away from all that is +soft in life; and for these reasons Clara could not wholly forget her +dream. She had, in some sort, unconsciously clung to her old love, +till he to whom she had plighted her new troth was in adversity,—and +then all was changed. Then her love for Herbert did become a passion; +and then, as Owen had become rich, she felt that she could think of +him without remorse. He was quite right in perceiving that his chance +was gone now that Herbert had ceased to be rich.</p> + +<p>"Owen," said Herbert, and his voice was full of tenderness, for at +this moment he felt that he did love and pity his cousin, "we must +each of us bear the weight which fortune has thrown on us. It may be +that we are neither of us to be envied. I have lost all that men +generally value, and <span class="nowrap">you—."</span></p> + +<p>"I have lost all on earth that is valuable to me. But no; it is not +lost,—not lost as yet. As long as her name is Clara Desmond, she is +as open for me to win as she is for you. And, Herbert, think of it +before you make me your enemy. See what I offer you,—not as a +bargain, mind you. I give up all my title to your father's property. +I will sign any paper that your lawyers may bring to me, which may +serve to give you back your inheritance. As for me, I would scorn to +take that which belongs in justice to another. I will not have your +property. Come what may, I will not have it. I will give it up to +you, either as to my enemy or as to my friend."</p> + +<p>"I sincerely hope that we may be friends, but what you say is +impossible."</p> + +<p>"It is not impossible. I hereby pledge myself that I will not take an +acre of your father's lands; but I pledge myself also that I will +always be your enemy if Clara Desmond becomes your wife: and I mean +what I say. I have set my heart on one thing, and on one thing only, +and if I am ruined in that I am ruined indeed."</p> + +<p>Herbert remained silent, for he had nothing further that he knew how +to plead; he felt as other men would feel, that each of them must +keep that which Fate had given him. Fate had decreed that Owen should +be the heir to Castle Richmond, and the decree thus gone forth must +stand valid; and Fate had also decreed that Owen should be rejected +by Clara Desmond, which other decree, as Herbert thought, must be +held as valid also. But he had no further inclination to argue upon +the subject: his cousin was becoming hot and angry; and Herbert was +beginning to wish that he was on his way home, that he might be once +more at his father's bedside, or in his mother's room, comforting her +and being comforted.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Owen, after a while in his deep-toned voice; "what do +you say to my offer?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing further to say: we must each take our own course; as +for me, I have lost everything but one thing, and it is not likely +that I shall throw that away from me."</p> + +<p>"Nor, so help me Heaven in my need! will I let that thing be filched +from me. I have offered you kindness and brotherly love, and wealth, +and all that friendship could do for a man; give me my way in this, +and I will be to you such a comrade and such a brother."</p> + +<p>"Should I be a man, Owen, were I to give up this?"</p> + +<p>"Be a man! Yes! It is pride on your part. You do not love her; you +have never loved her as I have loved; you have not sat apart long +months and months thinking of her, as I have done. From the time she +was a child I marked her as my own. As God will help me when I die, +she is all that I have coveted in this world;—all! But her I have +coveted with such longings of the heart, that I cannot bring myself +to live without her;—nor will I." And then again they both were +silent.</p> + +<p>"It may be as well that we should part now," said Herbert at last. "I +do not know that we can gain anything by further talking on this +subject."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know that best; but I have one further question to ask +you."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Owen?"</p> + +<p>"You still think of marrying Clara Desmond?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; of course I think of it."</p> + +<p>"And when? I presume you are not so chicken-hearted as to be afraid +of speaking out openly what you intend to do."</p> + +<p>"I cannot say when; I had hoped that it would have been very soon; +but all this will of course delay it. It may be years first."</p> + +<p>These last were the only pleasant words that Owen had heard. If there +were to be a delay of years, might not his chance still be as good as +Herbert's? But then this delay was to be the consequence of his +cousin's ruined prospects—and the accomplishment of that ruin Owen +had pledged himself to prevent! Was he by his own deed to enable his +enemy to take that very step which he was so firmly resolved to +prevent?</p> + +<p>"You will give me your promise," said he, "that you will not marry +her for the next three years? Make me that promise, and I will make +you the same."</p> + +<p>Herbert felt that there could be no possibility of his now marrying +within the time named, but nevertheless he would not bring himself to +make such a promise as this. He would make no bargain about Clara +Desmond, about his Clara, which could in any way admit a doubt as to +his own right. Had Owen asked him to promise that he would not marry +her during the next week he would have given no such pledge. "No," +said he, "I cannot promise that."</p> + +<p>"She is now only seventeen."</p> + +<p>"It does not matter. I will make no such promise, because on such a +subject you have no right to ask for any. When she will consent to +run her risk of happiness in coming to me, then I shall marry her."</p> + +<p>Owen was now walking up and down the room with rapid steps. "You have +not the courage to fight me fairly," said he.</p> + +<p>"I do not wish to fight you at all."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but you must fight me! Shall I see the prey taken out of my +jaws, and not struggle for it? No, by heavens! you must fight me; and +I tell you fairly, that the fight shall be as hard as I can make it. +I have offered you that which one living man is seldom able to offer +to another,—money, and land, and wealth, and station; all these +things I throw away from me, because I feel that they should be +yours; and I ask only in return the love of a young girl. I ask that +because I feel that it should be mine. If it has gone from me—which +I do not believe—it has been filched and stolen by a thief in the +night. She did love me, if a girl ever loved a man; but she was +separated from me, and I bore that patiently because I trusted her. +But she was young and weak, and her mother was strong and crafty. She +has accepted you at her mother's instance; and were I base enough to +keep from you your father's inheritance, her mother would no more +give her to you now than she would to me then. This is true; and if +you know it to be true—as you do know, you will be mean, and +dastard, and a coward—you will be no Fitzgerald if you keep from me +that which I have a right to claim as my own. Not fight! Ay, but you +must fight. We cannot both live here in this country if Clara Desmond +become your wife. Mark my words, if that take place, you and I cannot +live here alongside of each other's houses." He paused for a moment +after this, and then added, "You can go now if you will, for I have +said out my say."</p> + +<p>And Herbert did go,—almost without uttering a word of adieu. What +could he say in answer to such threats as these? That his cousin was +in every way unreasonable,—as unreasonable in his generosity as he +was in his claims, he felt convinced. But an unreasonable man, though +he is one whom one would fain conquer by arguments were it possible, +is the very man on whom arguments have no avail. A madman is mad +because he is mad. Herbert had a great deal that was very sensible to +allege in favour of his views, but what use of alleging anything of +sense to such a mind as that of Owen Fitzgerald? So he went his way +without further speech.</p> + +<p>When he was gone, Owen for a time went on walking his room, and then +sank again into his chair. Abominably irrational as his method of +arranging all these family difficulties will no doubt seem to all who +may read of it, to him it had appeared not only an easy but a happy +mode of bringing back contentment to everybody. He was quite serious +in his intention of giving up his position as heir to Castle +Richmond. Mr. Prendergast had explained to him that the property was +entailed as far as him, but no farther; and had done this, doubtless, +with the view, not then expressed, to some friendly arrangement by +which a small portion of the property might be saved and restored to +the children of Sir Thomas. But Owen had looked at it quite in +another light. He had, in justice, no right to inquire into all those +circumstances of his old cousin's marriage. Such a union was a +marriage in the eye of God, and should be held as such by him. He +would take no advantage of so terrible an accident.</p> + +<p>He would take no advantage. So he said to himself over and over +again; but yet, as he said it, he resolved that he would take +advantage. He would not touch the estate; but surely if he abstained +from touching it, Herbert would be generous enough to leave to him +the solace of his love! And he had no scruple in allotting to Clara +the poorer husband instead of the richer. He was no poorer now than +when she had accepted him. Looking at it in that light, had he not a +right to claim that she should abide by her first acceptance? Could +any one be found to justify the theory that a girl may throw over a +poor lover because a rich lover comes in the way? Owen had his own +ideas of right and wrong—ideas which were not without a basis of +strong, rugged justice; and nothing could be more antagonistic to +them than such a doctrine as this. And then he still believed in his +heart that he was dearer to Clara than that other richer suitor. He +heard of her from time to time, and those who had spoken to him had +spoken of her as pining for love of him. In this there had been much +of the flattery of servants, and something of the subservience of +those about him who wished to stand well in his graces. But he had +believed it. He was not a conceited man, nor even a vain man. He did +not think himself more clever than his cousin; and as for personal +appearance, it was a matter to which his thoughts never descended; +but he had about him a self-dependence and assurance in his own +manhood, which forbade him to doubt the love of one who had told him +that she loved him.</p> + +<p>And he did not believe in Herbert's love. His cousin was, as he +thought, of a calibre too cold for love. That Clara was valued by +him, Owen did not doubt—valued for her beauty, for her rank, for her +grace and peerless manner; but what had such value as that to do with +love? Would Herbert sacrifice everything for Clara Desmond? would he +bid Pelion fall on Ossa? would he drink up Esil? All this would Owen +do, and more; he would do more than any Laertes had ever dreamed. He +would give up for now and for ever all title to those rich lands +which made the Fitzgeralds of Castle Richmond the men of greatest +mark in all their county.</p> + +<p>And thus he fanned himself into a fury as he thought of his cousin's +want of generosity. Herbert would be the heir, and because he was the +heir he would be the favoured lover. But there might yet be time and +opportunity; and at any rate Clara should not marry without knowing +what was the whole truth. Herbert was ungenerous, but Clara still +might be just. If not,—then, as he had said before, he would fight +out the battle to the end as with an enemy.</p> + +<p>Herbert, when he got on to his horse to ride home, was forced to +acknowledge to himself that no good whatever had come from his visit +to Hap House. Words had been spoken which might have been much better +left unspoken. An angry man will often cling to his anger because his +anger has been spoken; he will do evil because he has threatened +evil, and is ashamed to be better than his words. And there was no +comfort to be derived from those lavish promises made by Owen with +regard to the property. To Herbert's mind they were mere +moonshine—very graceful on the part of the maker, but meaning +nothing. No one could have Castle Richmond but him who owned it +legally. Owen Fitzgerald would become Sir Owen, and would, as a +matter of course, be Sir Owen of Castle Richmond. There was no +comfort on that score; and then, on that other score, there was so +much discomfort. Of giving up his bride Herbert never for a moment +thought; but he did think, with increasing annoyance, of the angry +threats which had been pronounced against him.</p> + +<p>When he rode into the stable-yard as was his wont, he found Richard +waiting for him. This was not customary; as in these latter days +Richard, though he always drove the car, as a sort of subsidiary +coachman to the young ladies to whom the car was supposed to belong +in fee, did not act as general groom. He had been promoted beyond +this, and was a sort of hanger-on about the house, half indoor +servant and half out, doing very much what he liked, and giving +advice to everybody, from the cook downwards. He thanked God that he +knew his place, he would often say; but nobody else knew it. +Nevertheless everybody liked him; even the poor housemaid whom he +snubbed.</p> + +<p>"Is anything the matter?" asked Herbert, looking at the man's +sorrow-laden face.</p> + +<p>"'Deed an' there is, Mr. Herbert; Sir Thomas is—"</p> + +<p>"My father is not dead!" exclaimed Herbert.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, Mr. Herbert; it's not so bad as that; but he is very +failing,—very failing. My lady is with him now."</p> + +<p>Herbert ran into the house, and at the bottom of the chief stairs he +met one of his sisters who had heard the steps of his horse. "Oh, +Herbert, I am so glad you have come!" said she. Her eyes and cheeks +were red with tears, and her hand, as her brother took it, was cold +and numbed.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Mary? is he worse?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, so much worse. Mamma and Emmeline are there. He has asked for +you three or four times, and always says that he is dying. I had +better go up and say that you are here."</p> + +<p>"And what does my mother think of it?"</p> + +<p>"She has never left him, and therefore I cannot tell; but I know from +her face that she thinks that he is—dying. Shall I go up, Herbert?" +and so she went, and Herbert, following softly on his toes, stood in +the corridor outside the bedroom-door, waiting till his arrival +should have been announced. It was but a minute, and then his sister, +returning to the door, summoned him to enter.</p> + +<p>The room had been nearly darkened, but as there were no curtains to +the bed, Herbert could see his mother's face as she knelt on a stool +at the bedside. His father was turned away from him, and lay with his +hand inside his wife's, and Emmeline was sitting on the foot of the +bed, with her face between her hands, striving to stifle her sobs. +"Here is Herbert now, dearest," said Lady Fitzgerald, with a low, +soft voice, almost a whisper, yet clear enough to cause no effort in +the hearing. "I knew that he would not be long." And Herbert, obeying +the signal of his mother's eye, passed round to the other side of the +bed.</p> + +<p>"Father," said he, "are you not so well to-day?"</p> + +<p>"My poor boy, my poor ruined boy!" said the dying man, hardly +articulating the words as he dropped his wife's hand and took that of +his son. Herbert found that it was wet, and clammy, and cold, and +almost powerless in its feeble grasp.</p> + +<p>"Dearest father, you are wrong if you let that trouble you; all that +will never trouble me. Is it not well that a man should earn his own +bread? Is it not the lot of all good men?" But still the old man +murmured with his broken voice, "My poor boy, my poor boy!"</p> + +<p>The hopes and aspirations of his eldest son are as the breath of his +nostrils to an Englishman who has been born to land and fortune. What +had not this poor man endured in order that his son might be Sir +Herbert Fitzgerald of Castle Richmond? But this was no longer +possible; and from the moment that this had been brought home to him, +the father had felt that for him there was nothing left but to die. +"My poor boy," he muttered, "tell me that you have forgiven me."</p> + +<p>And then they all knelt round the bed and prayed with him; and +afterwards they tried to comfort him, telling him how good he had +been to them; and his wife whispered in his ear that if there had +been fault, the fault was hers, but that her conscience told her that +such fault had been forgiven; and while she said this she motioned +the children away from him, and strove to make him understand that +human misery could never kill the soul, and should never utterly +depress the spirit. "Dearest love," she said, still whispering to him +in her low, sweet voice—so dear to him, but utterly inaudible +beyond—"if you would cease to accuse yourself so bitterly, you might +yet be better, and remain with us to comfort us."</p> + +<p>But the slender, half-knit man, whose arms are without muscles and +whose back is without pith, will strive in vain to lift the weight +which the brawny vigour of another tosses from the ground almost +without an effort. It is with the mind and the spirit as with the +body; only this, that the muscles of the body can be measured, but +not so those of the spirit. Lady Fitzgerald was made of other stuff +than Sir Thomas; and that which to her had cost an effort, but with +an effort had been done surely, was to him as impossible as the +labour of Hercules. "My poor boy, my poor ruined boy!" he still +muttered, as she strove to comfort him.</p> + +<p>"Mamma has sent for Mr. Townsend," Emmeline whispered to her brother, +as they stood together in the bow of the window.</p> + +<p>"And do you really think he is so bad as that?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure that mamma does. I believe he had some sort of a fit +before you came. At any rate, he did not speak for two hours."</p> + +<p>"And was not Finucane here?" Finucane was the Mallow doctor.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but he had left before papa became so much worse. Mamma has +sent for him also."</p> + +<p>But I do not know that it boots to dally longer in a dying chamber. +It is an axiom of old that the stage curtain should be drawn before +the inexorable one enters in upon his final work. Doctor Finucane did +come, but his coming was all in vain. Sir Thomas had known that it +was in vain, and so also had his patient wife. There was that mind +diseased, towards the cure of which no Doctor Finucane could make any +possible approach. And Mr. Townsend came also, let us hope not in +vain; though the cure which he fain would have perfected can hardly +be effected in such moments as those. Let us hope that it had been +already effected. The only crying sin which we can lay to the charge +of the dying man is that of which we have spoken; he had endeavoured +by pensioning falsehood and fraud to preserve for his wife her name, +and for his son that son's inheritance. Even over this, deep as it +was, the recording angel may have dropped some cleansing tears of +pity.</p> + +<p>That night the poor man died, and the Fitzgeralds who sat in the +chambers of Castle Richmond were no longer the owners of the mansion. +There was no speech of Sir Herbert among the servants as there would +have been had these tidings not have reached them. Dr. Finucane had +remained in the house, and even he, in speaking of the son, had shown +that he knew the story. They were strangers there now, as they all +knew—intruders, as they would soon be considered in the house of +their cousin Owen; or rather not their cousin. In that he was above +them by right of his blood, they had no right to claim him as their +relation.</p> + +<p>It may be said that at such a moment all this should not have been +thought of; but those who say so know little, as I imagine, of the +true effect of sorrow. No wife and no children ever grieved more +heartily for a father; but their grief was blacker and more gloomy in +that they knew that they were outcasts in the world.</p> + +<p>And during that long night as Herbert and his sisters sat up cowering +round the fire, he told them of all that had been said at Hap House. +"And can it not be as he says?" Mary had asked.</p> + +<p>"And that Herbert should give up his wife!" said Emmeline.</p> + +<p>"No; but that other thing."</p> + +<p>"Do not dream of it," said Herbert. "It is all, all impossible. The +house that we are now in belongs to Sir Owen Fitzgerald."</p> + + +<p><a name="c-31" id="c-31"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXI.</h3> +<h4>THE FIRST MONTH.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>And now I will beg my readers to suppose a month to have passed by +since Sir Thomas Fitzgerald died. It was a busy month in Ireland. It +may probably be said that so large a sum of money had never been +circulated in the country in any one month since money had been known +there; and yet it may also be said that so frightful a mortality had +never occurred there from the want of that which money brings. It was +well understood by all men now that the customary food of the country +had disappeared. There was no longer any difference of opinion +between rich and poor, between Protestant and Roman Catholic; as to +that, no man dared now to say that the poor, if left to themselves, +could feed themselves, or to allege that the sufferings of the +country arose from the machinations of money-making speculators. The +famine was an established fact, and all men knew that it was God's +doing,—all men knew this, though few could recognize as yet with how +much mercy God's hand was stretched out over the country.</p> + +<p>Or may it not perhaps be truer to say that in such matters there is +no such thing as mercy—no special mercies—no other mercy than that +fatherly, forbearing, all-seeing, perfect goodness by which the +Creator is ever adapting this world to the wants of His creatures, +and rectifying the evils arising from their faults and follies? <i>Sed +quo Musa tendis?</i> Such discourses of the gods as these are not to be +fitly handled in such small measures.</p> + +<p>At any rate, there was the famine, undoubted now by any one; and +death, who in visiting Castle Richmond may be said to have knocked at +the towers of a king, was busy enough also among the cabins of the +poor. And now the great fault of those who were the most affected was +becoming one which would not have been at first sight expected. One +would think that starving men would become violent, taking food by +open theft—feeling, and perhaps not without some truth, that the +agony of their want robbed such robberies of its sin. But such was by +no means the case. I only remember one instance in which the bakers' +shops were attacked; and in that instance the work was done by those +who were undergoing no real suffering. At Clonmel, in Tipperary, the +bread was one morning stripped away from the bakers' shops; but at +that time, and in that place, there was nothing approaching to +famine. The fault of the people was apathy. It was the feeling of the +multitude that the world and all that was good in it was passing away +from them; that exertion was useless, and hope hopeless. "Ah, me! +your honour," said a man to me, "there'll never be a bit and a sup +again in the county Cork! The life of the world is fairly gone!"</p> + +<p>And it was very hard to repress this feeling. The energy of a man +depends so much on the outward circumstances that encumber him! It is +so hard to work when work seems hopeless—so hard to trust where the +basis of our faith is so far removed from sight! When large tracts of +land went out of cultivation, was it not natural to think that +agriculture was receding from the country, leaving the green hills +once more to be brown and barren, as hills once green have become in +other countries? And when men were falling in the highways, and women +would sit with their babes in their arms, listless till death should +come to them, was it not natural to think that death was making a +huge success—that he, the inexorable one, was now the inexorable +indeed?</p> + +<p>There were greatly trusting hearts that could withstand the weight of +this terrible pressure, and thinking minds which saw that good would +come out of this great evil; but such hearts and such minds were not +to be looked for among the suffering poor; and were not, perhaps, +often found even among those who were not poor or suffering. It was +very hard to be thus trusting and thoughtful while everything around +was full of awe and agony.</p> + +<p>The people, however, were conscious of God's work, and were becoming +dull and apathetic. They clustered about the roads, working lazily +while their strength lasted them; and afterwards, when strength +failed them for this, they clustered more largely in the poor-houses. +And in every town—in every assemblage of houses which in England +would be called a village, there was a poor-house. Any big barrack of +a tenement that could be obtained at a moment's notice, whatever the +rent, became a poor-house in the course of twelve hours;—in twelve, +nay, in two hours. What was necessary but the bare walls, and a +supply of yellow meal? Bad provision this for all a man's wants,—as +was said often enough by irrational philanthropists; but better +provision than no shelter and no yellow meal! It was bad that men +should be locked up at night without any of the appliances of +decency; bad that they should be herded together for day after day +with no resource but the eating twice a day of enough unsavoury food +to keep life and soul together;—very bad, ye philanthropical +irrationalists! But is not a choice of evils all that is left to us +in many a contingency? Was not even this better than that life and +soul should be allowed to part, without any effort at preserving +their union?</p> + +<p>And thus life and soul were kept together, the government of the day +having wisely seen what, at so short a notice, was possible for them +to do, and what was absolutely impossible. It is in such emergencies +as these that the watching and the wisdom of a government are +necessary; and I shall always think—as I did think then—that the +wisdom of its action and the wisdom of its abstinence from action +were very good. And now again the fields in Ireland are green, and +the markets are busy, and money is chucked to and fro like a +weathercock which the players do not wish to have abiding with them; +and the tardy speculator going over to look for a bit of land comes +back muttering angrily that fancy prices are demanded. "They'll run +you up to thirty-three years' purchase," says the tardy speculator, +thinking, as it seems, that he is specially ill used. Agricultural +wages have been nearly doubled in Ireland during the last fifteen +years. Think of that, Master Brook. Work for which, at six shillings +a week, there would be a hundred hungry claimants in 1845,—in the +good old days before the famine, when repeal was so immediately +expected—will now fetch ten shillings, the claimants being by no +means numerous. In 1843 and 1844, I knew men to work for fourpence a +day—something over the dole on which we are told, being mostly +incredulous as we hear it, that a Coolie labourer can feed himself +with rice in India;—not one man or two men, the broken down +incapables of the parish, but the best labour of the country. One and +twopence is now about the cheapest rate at which a man can be hired +for agricultural purposes. While this is so, and while the prices are +progressing, there is no cause for fear, let Bishops A and B, and +Archbishops C and D fret and fume with never so great vexation +touching the clipped honours of their father the Pope.</p> + +<p>But again; Quo Musa tendis? I could write on this subject for a week +were it not that Rhadamanthus awaits me, Rhadamanthus the critic; and +Rhadamanthus is, of all things, impatient of an episode.</p> + +<p>Life and soul were kept together in those terrible days;—that is, +the Irish life and soul generally. There were many slips, in which +the union was violently dissolved,—many cases in which the yellow +meal allowed was not sufficient, or in which it did not reach the +sufferer in time to prevent such dissolution,—cases which when +numbered together amounted to thousands. And then the pestilence +came, taking its victims by tens of thousands,—but that was after +the time with which we shall have concern here; and immigration +followed, taking those who were saved by hundreds of thousands. But +the millions are still there, a thriving people; for His mercy +endureth for ever.</p> + +<p>During this month, the month ensuing upon the death of Sir Thomas +Fitzgerald, Herbert could of course pay no outward attention to the +wants or relief of the people. He could make no offer of assistance, +for nothing belonged to him; nor could he aid in the councils of the +committees, for no one could have defined the position of the +speaker. And during that month nothing was defined about Castle +Richmond. Lady Fitzgerald was still always called by her title. The +people of the country, including the tradesmen of the neighbouring +towns, addressed the owner of Hap House as Sir Owen; and gradually +the name was working itself into common use, though he had taken no +steps to make himself legally entitled to wear it. But no one spoke +of Sir Herbert. The story was so generally known, that none were so +ignorant as to suppose him to be his father's heir. The servants +about the place still called him Mr. Herbert, orders to that effect +having been specially given; and the peasants of the country, with +that tact which graces them, and with that anxiety to abstain from +giving pain which always accompanies them unless when angered, +carefully called him by no name. They knew that he was not Sir +Herbert; but they would not believe but what, perchance, he might be +so yet on some future day. So they took off their old hats to him, +and passed him silently in his sorrow; or if they spoke to him, +addressed his honour simply, omitting all mention of that Christian +name, which the poor Irishman is generally so fond of using. "Mister +Blake" sounds cold and unkindly in his ears. It is the "Masther," or +"His honour," or if possible "Misther Thady." Or if there be any +handle, that is used with avidity. Pat is a happy man when he can +address his landlord as "Sir Patrick."</p> + +<p>But now the "ould masther's son" could be called by no name. Men knew +not what he was to be, though they knew well that he was not that +which he ought to be. And there were some who attempted to worship +Owen as the rising sun; but for such of them as had never worshipped +him before that game was rather hopeless. In those days he was not +much seen, neither hunting nor entertaining company; but when seen he +was rough enough with those who made any deep attempt to ingratiate +themselves with his coming mightiness. And during this month he went +over to London, having been specially invited so to do by Mr. +Prendergast; but very little came of his visit there, except that it +was certified to him that he was beyond all doubt the baronet. "And +there shall be no unnecessary delay, Sir Owen," said Mr. Prendergast, +"in putting you into full possession of all your rights." In answer +to which Owen had replied that he was not anxious to be put in +possession of any rights. That as far as any active doing of his own +was concerned, the title might lie in abeyance, and that regarding +the property he would make known his wish to Mr. Prendergast very +quickly after his return to Ireland. But he intimated at the same +time that there could be no ground for disturbing Lady Fitzgerald, as +he had no intention under any circumstances of living at Castle +Richmond.</p> + +<p>"Had you not better tell Lady Fitzgerald that yourself?" said Mr. +Prendergast, catching at the idea that his friend's widow—my readers +will allow me so to call her—might be allowed to live undisturbed at +the family mansion, if not for life, at any rate for a few years. If +this young man were so generous, why should it not be so? He would +not want the big house, at any rate, till he were married.</p> + +<p>"It would be better that you should say so," said Owen. "I have +particular reasons for not wishing to go there."</p> + +<p>"But allow me to say, my dear young friend—and I hope I may call you +so, for I greatly admire the way in which you have taken all these +tidings—that I would venture to advise you to drop the remembrance +of any unpleasantness that may have existed. You should now feel +yourself to be the closest friend of that family."</p> + +<p>"So I would if—," and then Owen stopped short, though Mr. +Prendergast gave him plenty of time to finish his sentence were he +minded to do so.</p> + +<p>"In your present position," continued the lawyer, "your influence +will be very great."</p> + +<p>"I can't explain it all," said Owen; "but I don't think my influence +will be great at all. And what is more, I do not want any influence +of that sort. I wish Lady Fitzgerald to understand that she is at +perfect liberty to stay where she is,—as far as I am concerned. Not +as a favour from me, mind; for I do not think that she would take a +favour from my hands."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear sir!"</p> + +<p>"Therefore you had better write to her about remaining there."</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast did write to her, or rather to Herbert: but in doing +so he thought it right to say that the permission to live at Castle +Richmond should be regarded as a kindness granted them by their +relative. "It is a kindness which, under the circumstances, your +mother may, I think, accept without compunction; at any rate, for +some time to come,—till she shall have suited herself without +hurrying her choice; but, nevertheless, it must be regarded as a +generous offer on his part; and I do hope, my dear Herbert, that you +and he will be fast friends."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Prendergast did not in the least comprehend the workings of +Owen's mind; and Herbert, who knew more of them than any one else, +did not understand them altogether. Owen had no idea of granting any +favour to his relatives, who, as he thought, had never granted any to +him. What Owen wanted,—or what he told himself that he wanted,—was +justice. It was his duty as a just man to abstain from taking hold of +those acres, and he was prepared to do his duty. But it was equally +Herbert's duty as a just man to abstain from taking hold of Clara +Desmond, and he was resolved that he would never be Herbert's friend +if Herbert did not perform that duty. And then, though he felt +himself bound to give up the acres,—though he did regard this as an +imperative duty, he nevertheless felt also that something was due to +him for his readiness to perform such a duty,—that some reward +should be conceded to him; what this reward was to be, or rather what +he wished it to be, we all know.</p> + +<p>Herbert had utterly refused to engage in any such negotiation; but +Owen, nevertheless, would not cease to think that something might yet +be done. Who was so generous as Clara, and would not Clara herself +speak out if she knew how much her old lover was prepared to do for +this newer lover? Half a dozen times Owen made up his mind to explain +the whole thing to Mr. Prendergast; but when he found himself in the +presence of the lawyer, he could not talk about love. Young men are +so apt to think that their seniors in age cannot understand romance, +or acknowledge the force of a passion. But here they are wrong, for +there would be as much romance after forty as before, I take it, were +it not checked by the fear of ridicule. So Owen stayed a week in +London, seeing Mr. Prendergast every day; and then he returned to Hap +House.</p> + +<p>In the mean time life went on at a very sad pace at Desmond Court. +There was no concord whatever between the two ladies residing there. +The mother was silent, gloomy, and sometimes bitter, seldom saying a +word about Herbert Fitzgerald or his prospects, but saying that word +with great fixity of purpose when it was spoken. "No one," she said, +"should attribute to her the poverty and misery of her child. That +marriage should not take place from her house, or with her consent." +And Clara for the most part was silent also. In answer to such words +as the above she would say nothing; but when, as did happen once or +twice, she was forced to speak, she declared openly enough that no +earthly consideration should induce her to give up her engagement.</p> + +<p>And then the young earl came home, brought away from his school in +order that his authority might have effect on his sister. To speak +the truth, he was unwilling enough to interfere, and would have +declined to come at all could he have dared to do so. Eton was now +more pleasant to him than Desmond Court, which, indeed, had but +little of pleasantness to offer to a lad such as he was now. He was +sixteen, and manly for his age; but the question in dispute at +Desmond Court offered little attraction even to a manly boy of +sixteen. In that former question as to Owen he had said a word or +two, knowing that Owen could not be looked upon as a fitting husband +for his sister; but now he knew not how to counsel her again as to +Herbert, seeing that it was but the other day that he had written a +long letter, congratulating her on that connection.</p> + +<p>Towards the end of the month, however, he did arrive, making glad his +mother's heart as she looked at his strong limbs and his handsome +open face. And Clara, too, threw herself so warmly into his arms that +he did feel glad that he had come to her. "Oh, Patrick, it is so +sweet to have you here!" she said, before his mother had had time to +speak to him.</p> + +<p>"Dearest Clara!"</p> + +<p>"But, Patrick, you must not be cruel to me. Look here, Patrick; you +are my only brother, and I so love you that I would not offend you or +turn you against me for worlds. You are the head of our family, too, +and nothing should be done that you do not like. But if so much +depends on you, you must think well before you decide on anything."</p> + +<p>He opened his young eyes and looked intently into her face, for there +was an earnestness in her words that almost frightened him. "You must +think well of it all before you speak, Patrick; and remember this, +you and I must be honest and honourable, whether we be poor or no. +You remember about Owen Fitzgerald, how I gave way then because I +could do so without dishonour. But +<span class="nowrap">now—"</span></p> + +<p>"But, Clara, I do not understand it all as yet."</p> + +<p>"No; you cannot,—not as yet—and I will let mamma tell you the +story. All I ask is this, that you will think of my honour before you +say a word that can favour either her or me." And then he promised +her that he would do so; and his mother, when on the following +morning she told him all the history, found him reserved and silent.</p> + +<p>"Look at his position," said the mother, pleading her cause before +her son. "He is illegitimate, +<span class="nowrap">and—"</span></p> + +<p>"Yes, but mother—"</p> + +<p>"I know all that, my dear; I know what you would say; and no one can +pity Mr. Fitzgerald's position more than I do; but you would not on +that account have your sister ruined. It is romance on her part."</p> + +<p>"But what does he say?"</p> + +<p>"He is quite willing to give up the match. He has told me so, and +said as much to his aunt, whom I have seen three times on the +subject."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that he wishes to give it up?"</p> + +<p>"No,—at least I don't know. If he does, he cannot express such a +wish, because Clara is so headstrong. Patrick, in my heart I do not +believe that she cares for him. I have doubted it for some time."</p> + +<p>"But you wanted her to marry him."</p> + +<p>"So I did. It was an excellent match, and in a certain way she did +like him; and then, you know, there was that great danger about poor +Owen. It was a great danger then. But now she is so determined about +this, because she thinks it would be ungenerous to go back from her +word; and in this way she will ruin the very man she wishes to serve. +Of course he cannot break off the match if she persists in it. What I +want you to perceive is this, that he, utterly penniless as he is, +will have to begin the world with a clog round his neck, because she +is so obstinate. What could possibly be worse for him than a titled +wife without a penny?" And in this way the countess pleaded her side +of the question before her son.</p> + +<p>It was quite true that she had been three times to Castle Richmond, +and had thrice driven Aunt Letty into a state bordering on +distraction. If she could only get the Castle Richmond people to take +it up as they ought to do! It was thus she argued with herself,—and +with Aunt Letty also, endeavouring to persuade her that these two +young people would undoubtedly ruin each other, unless those who were +really wise and prudent, and who understood the world—such as Aunt +Letty, for instance—would interfere to prevent it.</p> + +<p>Aunt Letty on the whole did agree with her, though she greatly +disliked her. Miss Fitzgerald had strongly planted within her bosom +the prudent old-world notion, that young gentlefolks should not love +each other unless they have plenty of money; and that, if +unfortunately such did love each other, it was better that they +should suffer all the pangs of hopeless love than marry and trust to +God and their wits for bread and cheese. To which opinion of Aunt +Letty's, as well as to some others entertained by that lady with much +pertinacity, I cannot subscribe myself as an adherent.</p> + +<p>Lady Desmond had wit enough to discover that Aunt Letty did agree +with her in the main, and on this account she was eager in seeking +her assistance. Lady Fitzgerald of course could not be seen, and +there was no one else at Castle Richmond who could be supposed to +have any weight with Herbert. And therefore Lady Desmond was very +eloquent with Aunt Letty, talking much of the future miseries of the +two young people, till the old lady had promised to use her best +efforts in enlisting Lady Fitzgerald on the same side. "You cannot +wonder, Miss Fitzgerald, that I should wish to put an end to the +cruel position in which my poor girl is placed. You know how much a +girl suffers from that kind of thing."</p> + +<p>Aunt Letty did dislike Lady Desmond very much; but, nevertheless, she +could not deny the truth of all this; and therefore it may be said +that the visits of the countess to Castle Richmond were on the whole +successful.</p> + +<p>And the month wore itself away also in that sad household, and the +Fitzgeralds were gradually becoming used to their position. Family +discussions were held among them as to what they should do, and where +they should live in future. Mr. Prendergast had written, seeing that +Owen had persisted in refusing to make the offer personally +himself—saying that there was no hurry for any removal. "Sir Owen," +he said,—having considered deeply whether or no he would call him by +the title or no, and having resolved that it would be best to do so +at once—"Sir Owen was inclined to behave very generously. Lady +Fitzgerald could have the house and demesne at any rate for twelve +months, and by that time the personal property left by Sir Thomas +would be realized, and there would be enough," Mr. Prendergast said, +"for the three ladies to live 'in decent quiet comfort.'" Mr. +Prendergast had taken care before he left Castle Richmond that a will +should be made and duly executed by Sir Thomas, leaving what money he +had to his three children by name,—in trust for their mother's use. +Till the girls should be of age that trust would be vested in +Herbert.</p> + +<p>"Decent quiet comfort!" said Mary to her brother and sister as they +conned the letter over; "how comfortless it sounds!"</p> + +<p>And so the first month after the death of Sir Thomas passed by, and +the misfortunes of the Fitzgerald family ceased to be the only +subject spoken of by the inhabitants of county Cork.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-32" id="c-32"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXII.</h3> +<h4>PREPARATIONS FOR GOING.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>At the end of the month, Herbert began to prepare himself for facing +the world. The first question to be answered was that one which is so +frequently asked in most families, but which had never yet been +necessary in this—What profession would he follow? All manners of +ways by which an educated man can earn his bread had been turned over +in his mind, and in the minds of those who loved him, beginning with +the revenues of the Archbishop of Armagh, which was Aunt Letty's +idea, and ending with a seat at a government desk, which was his own. +Mr. Prendergast had counselled the law; not his own lower branch of +the profession, but a barrister's full-blown wig, adding, in his +letter to Lady Fitzgerald, that if Herbert would come to London, and +settle in chambers, he, Mr. Prendergast, would see that his life was +made agreeable to him. But Mr. Somers gave other advice. In those +days Assistant Poor-Law Commissioners were being appointed in +Ireland, almost by the score, and Mr. Somers declared that Herbert +had only to signify his wish for such a position, and he would get +it. The interest which he had taken in the welfare of the poor around +him was well known, and as his own story was well known also, there +could be no doubt that the government would be willing to assist one +so circumstanced, and who when assisted would make himself so useful. +Such was the advice of Mr. Somers; and he might have been right but +for this, that both Herbert and Lady Fitzgerald felt that it would be +well for them to move out of that neighbourhood,—out of Ireland +altogether, if such could be possible.</p> + +<p>Aunt Letty was strong for the Church. A young man who had +distinguished himself at the University so signally as her nephew had +done, taking his degree at the very first attempt, and that in so +high a class of honour as the fourth, would not fail to succeed in +the Church. He might not perhaps succeed as to Armagh; that she +admitted, but there were some thirty other bishoprics to be had, and +it would be odd if, with his talents, he did not get one of them. +Think what it would be if he were to return to his own country as +Bishop of Cork, Cloyne, and Ross, as to which amalgamation of sees, +however, Aunt Letty had her own ideas. He was slightly tainted with +the venom of Puseyism, Aunt Letty said to herself; but nothing would +dispel this with so much certainty as the theological studies +necessary for ordination. And then Aunt Letty talked it over by the +hour together with Mrs. Townsend, and both those ladies were agreed +that Herbert should get himself ordained as quickly as possible;—not +in England, where there might be danger even in ordination, but in +good, wholesome, Protestant Ireland, where a Church of England +clergyman was a clergyman of the Church of England, and not a priest, +slipping about in the mud half way between England and Rome.</p> + +<p>Herbert himself was anxious to get some employment by which he might +immediately earn his bread, but not unnaturally wished that London +should be the scene of his work. Anywhere in Ireland he would be +known as the Fitzgerald who ought to have been Fitzgerald of Castle +Richmond. And then too, he, as other young men, had an undefined +idea, that as he must earn his bread London should be his ground. He +had at first been not ill inclined to that Church project, and had +thus given a sort of ground on which Aunt Letty was able to +stand,—had, as it were, given her some authority for carrying on an +agitation in furtherance of her own views; but Herbert himself soon +gave up this idea. A man, he thought, to be a clergyman should have a +very strong predilection in favour of that profession; and so he +gradually abandoned that idea,—actuated, as poor Aunt Letty feared, +by the agency of the evil one, working through the means of Puseyism.</p> + +<p>His mother and sisters were in favour of Mr. Prendergast's views, and +as it was gradually found by them all that there would not be any +immediate pressure as regarded pecuniary means, that seemed at last +to be their decision. Herbert would remain yet for three or four +weeks at Castle Richmond, till matters there were somewhat more +thoroughly settled, and would then put himself into the hands of Mr. +Prendergast in London. Mr. Prendergast would select a legal tutor for +him, and proper legal chambers; and then not long afterwards his +mother and sisters should follow, and they would live together at +some small villa residence near St. John's Wood Road, or perhaps out +at Brompton.</p> + +<p>It is astonishing how quickly in this world of ours chaos will settle +itself into decent and graceful order, when it is properly looked in +the face, and handled with a steady hand which is not sparing of the +broom. Some three months since, everything at Castle Richmond was +ruin; such ruin, indeed, that the very power of living under it +seemed to be doubtful. When first Mr. Prendergast arrived there, a +feeling came upon them all as though they might hardly dare to live +in a world which would look at them as so thoroughly degraded. As +regards means, they would be beggars! and as regards position, so +much worse than beggars! A broken world was in truth falling about +their ears, and it was felt to be impossible that they should endure +its convulsions and yet live.</p> + +<p>But now the world had fallen, the ruin had come, and they were +already strong in future hopes. They had dared to look at their +chaos, and found that it still contained the elements of order. There +was much still that marred their happiness, and forbade the +joyousness of other days. Their poor father had gone from them in +their misery, and the house was still a house of mourning; and their +mother too, though she bore up so wonderfully against her fate, and +for their sakes hoped and planned and listened to their wishes, was a +stricken woman. That she would never smile again with any heartfelt +joy they were all sure. But, nevertheless, their chaos was conquered, +and there was hope that the fields of life would again show +themselves green and fruitful.</p> + +<p>On one subject their mother never spoke to them, nor had even Herbert +dared to speak to her: not a word had been said in that house since +Mr. Prendergast left it as to the future whereabouts or future doings +of that man to whom she had once given her hand at the altar. But she +had ventured to ask by letter a question of Mr. Prendergast. Her +question had been this: What must I do that he may not come to me or +to my children? In answer to this Mr. Prendergast had told her, after +some delay, that he believed she need fear nothing. He had seen the +man, and he thought that he might assure her that she would not be +troubled in that respect.</p> + +<p>"It is possible," said Mr. Prendergast, "that he may apply to you by +letter for money. If so, give him no answer whatever, but send his +letters to me."</p> + +<p>"And are you all going?" asked Mrs. Townsend of Aunt Letty, with a +lachrymose voice soon after the fate of the family was decided. They +were sitting together with their knees over the fire in Mrs. +Townsend's dining-parlour, in which the perilous state of the country +had been discussed by them for many a pleasant hour together.</p> + +<p>"Well, I think we shall; you see, my sister would never be happy +here."</p> + +<p>"No, no; the shock and the change would be too great for her. Poor +Lady Fitzgerald! And when is that man coming into the house?"</p> + +<p>"What, Owen?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! Sir Owen I suppose he is now."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know; he does not seem to be in any hurry. I believe +that he has said that my sister may continue to live there if she +pleases. But of course she cannot do that."</p> + +<p>"They do say about the country," whispered Mrs. Townsend, "that he +refuses to be the heir at all. He certainly has not had any cards +printed with the title on them—I know that as a fact."</p> + +<p>"He is a very singular man, very. You know I never could bear him," +said Aunt Letty.</p> + +<p>"No, nor I either. He has not been to our church once these six +months. But it's very odd, isn't it? Of course you know the story?"</p> + +<p>"What story?" asked Aunt Letty.</p> + +<p>"About Lady Clara. Owen Fitzgerald was dreadfully in love with her +before your Herbert had ever seen her. And they do say that he has +sworn his cousin shall never live if he marries her."</p> + +<p>"They can never marry now, you know. Only think of it. There would be +three hundred a year between them.—Not at present, that is," added +Aunt Letty, looking forward to a future period after her own death.</p> + +<p>"That is very little, very little indeed," said Mrs. Townsend, +remembering, however, that she herself had married on less. "But, +Miss Fitzgerald, if Herbert does not marry her do you think this Owen +will?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think she'd have him. I am quite sure she would not."</p> + +<p>"Not when he has all the property, and the title too?"</p> + +<p>"No, nor double as much. What would people say of her if she did? +But, however, there is no fear, for she declares that nothing shall +induce her to give up her engagement with our Herbert."</p> + +<p>And so they discussed it backward and forward in every way, each +having her own theory as to that singular rumour which was going +about the country, signifying that Owen had declined to accept the +title. Aunt Letty, however, would not believe that any good could +come from so polluted a source, and declared that he had his own +reasons for the delay. "It's not for any love of us," she said, "if +he refuses to take either that or the estate." And in this she was +right. But she would have been more surprised still had she learned +that Owen's forbearance arose from a strong anxiety to do what was +just in the matter.</p> + +<p>"And so Herbert won't go into the Church?"</p> + +<p>And Letty shook her head sorrowing.</p> + +<p>"Æneas would have been so glad to have taken him for a twelvemonth's +reading," said Mrs. Townsend. "He could have come here, you know, +when you went away, and been ordained at Cork, and got a curacy close +in the neighbourhood, where he was known. It would have been so nice; +wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>Aunt Letty would not exactly have advised the scheme as suggested by +Mrs. Townsend. Her ideas as to Herbert's clerical studies would have +been higher than this. Trinity College, Dublin, was in her estimation +the only place left for good Church of England ecclesiastical +teaching. But as Herbert was obstinately bent on declining sacerdotal +life, there was no use in dispelling Mrs. Townsend's bright vision.</p> + +<p>"It's all of no use," she said; "he is determined to go to the bar."</p> + +<p>"The bar is very respectable," said Mrs. Townsend, kindly.</p> + +<p>"And you mean to go with them, too?" said Mrs. Townsend, after +another pause. "You'll hardly be happy, I'm thinking, so far away +from your old home."</p> + +<p>"It is sad to change at my time of life," said Aunt Letty, +plaintively. "I'm sixty-two now."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Mrs. Townsend, who, however, knew her age to a day.</p> + +<p>"Sixty-two if I live another week, and I have never yet had any home +but Castle Richmond. There I was born, and till the other day I had +every reason to trust that there I might die. But what does it +matter?"</p> + +<p>"No, that's true of course; what does it matter where we are while we +linger in this vale of tears? But couldn't you get a little place for +yourself somewhere near here? There's Callaghan's cottage, with the +two-acre piece for a cow, and as nice a spot of a garden as there is +in the county Cork."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't separate myself from her now," said Aunt Letty, "for all +the cottages and all the gardens in Ireland. The Lord has been +pleased to throw us together, and together we will finish our +pilgrimage. Whither she goes, I will go, and where she lodges, I will +lodge; her people shall be my people, and her God my God." And then +Mrs. Townsend said nothing further of Callaghan's pretty cottage, or +of the two-acre piece.</p> + +<p>But one reason for her going Aunt Letty did not give, even to her +friend Mrs. Townsend. Her income, that which belonged exclusively to +herself, was in no way affected by these sad Castle Richmond +revolutions. This was a comfortable,—we may say a generous provision +for an old maiden lady, amounting to some six hundred a year, settled +upon her for life, and this, if added to what could be saved and +scraped together, would enable them to live comfortably as far as +means were concerned, in that suburban villa to which they were +looking forward. But without Aunt Letty's income that suburban villa +must be but a poor home. Mr. Prendergast had calculated that some +fourteen thousand pounds would represent the remaining property of +the family, with which it would be necessary to purchase government +stock. Such being the case, Aunt Letty's income was very material to +them.</p> + +<p>"I trust you will be able to find some one there who will preach the +gospel to you," said Mrs. Townsend, in a tone that showed how serious +were her misgivings on the subject.</p> + +<p>"I will search for such a one at any rate," said Aunt Letty. "You +need not be afraid that I shall be a backslider."</p> + +<p>"But they have crosses now over the communion tables in the churches +in England," said Mrs. Townsend.</p> + +<p>"I know it is very bad," said Aunt Letty. "But there will always be a +remnant left. The Lord will not utterly desert us." And then she took +her departure, leaving Mrs. Townsend with the conviction that the +land to which her friend was going was one in which the light of the +gospel no longer shone in its purity.</p> + +<p>It was not wonderful that they should all be anxious to get away from +Castle Richmond, for the house there was now not a pleasant one in +which to live. Let all those who have houses and the adjuncts of +houses think how considerable a part of their life's pleasures +consists in their interest in the things around them. When will the +sea-kale be fit to cut, and when will the crocuses come up? will the +violets be sweeter than ever? and the geranium cuttings, are they +thriving? we have dug, and manured, and sown, and we look forward to +the reaping, and to see our garners full. The very furniture which +ministers to our daily uses is loved and petted; and in decorating +our rooms we educate ourselves in design. The place in church which +has been our own for years,—is not that dear to us, and the voice +that has told us of God's tidings—even though the drone become more +evident as it waxes in years, and though it grows feeble and +indolent? And the faces of those who have lived around us, do we not +love them too, the servants who have worked for us, and the children +who have first toddled beneath our eyes and prattled in our ears, and +now run their strong races, screaming loudly, splashing us as they +pass—very unpleasantly? Do we not love them all? Do they not all +contribute to the great sum of our enjoyment? All men love such +things, more or less, even though they know it not. And women love +them even more than men.</p> + +<p>And the Fitzgeralds were about to leave them all. The early buds of +spring were now showing themselves, but how was it possible that they +should look to them? One loves the bud because one expects the +flower. The sea-kale now was beyond their notice, and though they +plucked the crocuses, they did so with tears upon their cheeks. After +much consideration the church had been abandoned by all except Aunt +Letty and Herbert. That Lady Fitzgerald should go there was +impossible, and the girls were only too glad to be allowed to stay +with their mother. And the schools in which they had taught since the +first day in which teaching had been possible for them, had to be +abandoned with such true pangs of heartfelt sorrow.</p> + +<p>From the time when their misery first came upon them, from the days +when it first began to be understood that the world had gone wrong at +Castle Richmond, this separation from the schools had commenced. The +work had been dropped for a while, but the dropping had in fact been +final, and there was nothing further to be done than the saddest of +all leavetaking. The girls had sent word to the children, perhaps +imprudently, that they would go down and say a word of adieu to their +pupils. The children had of course told their mothers, and when the +girls reached the two neat buildings which stood at the corner of the +park, there were there to meet them, not unnaturally, a concourse of +women and children.</p> + +<p>In former prosperous days the people about Castle Richmond had, as a +rule, been better to do than their neighbours. Money wages had been +more plentiful, and there had been little or no subletting of land; +the children had been somewhat more neatly clothed, and the women +less haggard in their faces; but this difference was hardly +perceptible any longer. To them, the Miss Fitzgeralds, looking at the +poverty-stricken assemblage, it almost seemed as though the +misfortune of their house had brought down its immediate consequences +on all who had lived within their circle; but this was the work of +the famine. In those days one could rarely see any member of a +peasant's family bearing in his face a look of health. The yellow +meal was a useful food—the most useful, doubtless, which could at +that time be found; but it was not one that was gratifying either to +the eye or palate.</p> + +<p>The girls had almost regretted their offer before they had left the +house. It would have been better, they said to themselves, to have +had the children up in the hall, and there to have spoken their +farewells, and made their little presents. The very entering those +schoolrooms again would almost be too much for them; but this +consideration was now too late, and when they got to the corner of +the gate, they found that there was a crowd to receive them. "Mary, I +must go back," said Emmeline, when she first saw them; but Aunt +Letty, who was with them, stepped forward, and they soon found +themselves in the schoolroom.</p> + +<p>"We have come to say good-bye to you all," said Aunt Letty, trying to +begin a speech.</p> + +<p>"May the heavens be yer bed then, the lot of yez, for ye war always +good to the poor. May the Blessed Virgin guide and protect ye +wherever ye be;"—a blessing against which Aunt Letty at once entered +a little inward protest, perturbed though she was in spirit. "May the +heavens rain glory on yer heads, for ye war always the finest family +that war ever in the county Cork!"</p> + +<p>"You know, I dare say, that we are going to leave you," continued +Aunt Letty.</p> + +<p>"We knows it, we knows it; sorrow come to them as did it all. Faix, +an' there'll niver be any good in the counthry, at all at all, when +you're gone, Miss Emmeline; an' what'll we do at all for the want of +yez, and when shall we see the likes of yez? Eh, Miss Letty, but +there'll be sore eyes weeping for ye; and for her leddyship too; may +the Lord Almighty bless her, and presarve her, and carry her sowl to +glory when she dies; for av there war iver a good woman on God's +'arth, that woman is Leddy Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>And then Aunt Letty found that there was no necessity for her to +continue her speech, and indeed no possibility of her doing so even +if she were so minded. The children began to wail and cry, and the +mothers also mixed loud sobbings with their loud prayers; and +Emmeline and Mary, dissolved in tears, sat themselves down, drawing +to them the youngest bairns and those whom they had loved the best, +kissing their sallow, famine-stricken, unwholesome faces, and weeping +over them with a love of which hitherto they had been hardly +conscious.</p> + +<p>There was not much more in the way of speech possible to any of them, +for even Aunt Letty was far gone in tender wailing; and it was +wonderful to see the liberties that were taken even with that +venerable bonnet. The women had first of all taken hold of her hands +to kiss them, and had kissed her feet, and her garments, and her +shoulders, and then behind her back they had made crosses on her, +although they knew how dreadfully she would have raged had she caught +them polluting her by such doings; and they grasped her arms and +embraced them, till at last, those who were more daring, reached her +forehead and her face, and poor old Aunt Letty, who in her emotion +could not now utter a syllable, was almost pulled to pieces among +them.</p> + +<p>Mary and Emmeline had altogether surrendered themselves, and were the +centres of clusters of children who hung upon them. And the sobs now +were no longer low and tearful, but they had grown into long, +protracted groanings, and loud wailings, and clapping of hands, and +tearings of the hair. O, my reader, have you ever seen a railway +train taking its departure from an Irish station, with a freight of +Irish emigrants? if so, you know how the hair is torn, and how the +hands are clapped, and how the low moanings gradually swell into +notes of loud lamentation. It means nothing, I have heard men +say,—men and women too. But such men and women are wrong. It means +much; it means this: that those who are separated, not only love each +other, but are anxious to tell each other that they so love. We have +all heard of demonstrative people. A demonstrative person, I take it, +is he who is desirous of speaking out what is in his heart. For +myself I am inclined to think that such speaking out has its good +ends. "The faculty of silence! is it not of all things the most +beautiful?" That is the doctrine preached by a great latter-day +philosopher; for myself, I think that the faculty of speech is much +more beautiful—of speech if it be made but by howlings, and +wailings, and loud clappings of the hand. What is in a man, let it +come out and be known to those around him; if it be bad it will find +correction; if it be good it will spread and be beneficent.</p> + +<p>And then one woman made herself audible over the sobs of the crowding +children; she was a gaunt, high-boned woman, but she would have been +comely, if not handsome, had not the famine come upon her. She held a +baby in her arms, and another little toddling thing had been hanging +on her dress till Emmeline had seen it, and plucked it away; and it +was now sitting in her lap quite composed, and sucking a piece of +cake that had been given to it. "An' it's a bad day for us all," said +the woman, beginning in a low voice, which became louder and louder +as she went on; "it's a bad day for us all that takes away from us +the only rale friends that we iver had, and the back of my hand to +them that have come in the way, bringin' sorrow, an' desolation, an' +misery on gentlefolks that have been good to the poor since iver the +poor have been in the land; rale gentlefolks, sich as there ain't no +others to be found nowadays in any of these parts. O'hone, o'hone! +but it's a bad day for us and for the childer; for where shall we +find the dhrop to comfort us or the bit to ate when the sickness +comes on us, as it's likely to come now, when the Fitzgeralds is out +of the counthry. May the Lord bless them, and keep them, and presarve +them, and the Holy Virgin have them in her keepin'!"</p> + +<p>"Wh—i—s—h—h," said Aunt Letty, who could not allow such idolatry +to pass by unobserved or unrebuked.</p> + +<p>"An' shure the blessin' of a poor woman cannot haram you," continued +the mother; "an' I'll tell you what, neighbours, it'll be a bad day +for him that folk call the heir when he puts his foot in that house."</p> + +<p>"'Deed an' that's thrue for you, Bridget Magrath," said another voice +from among the crowd of women.</p> + +<p>"A bad day intirely," continued the woman, with the baby; "av the +house stans over his head when he does the like o' that, there'll be +no justice in the heavens."</p> + +<p>"But, Mrs. Magrath," said Aunt Letty, trying to interrupt her, "you +must not speak in that way; you are mistaken in supposing that Mr. +<span class="nowrap">Owen—"</span></p> + +<p>"We'll all live to see," said the woman; "for the time's comin' quick +upon us now. But it's a bad law that kills our ould masther over our +heads, an' takes away from us our ould misthress. An' as for him they +calls Mr. <span class="nowrap">Owen—"</span></p> + +<p>But the ladies found it impossible to listen to her any longer, so +with some difficulty they extricated themselves from the crowd by +which they were surrounded, and once more shaking hands with those +who were nearest to them escaped into the park, and made their way +back towards the house.</p> + +<p>They had not expected so much demonstration, and were not a little +disconcerted at the scene which had taken place. Aunt Letty had never +been so handled in her life, and hardly knew how to make her bonnet +sit comfortably on her head; and the two girls were speechless till +they were half across the park.</p> + +<p>"I am glad we have been," said Emmeline at last, as soon as the +remains of her emotion would allow her to articulate her words.</p> + +<p>"It would have been dreadful to have gone away without seeing them," +said Mary. "Poor creatures, poor dear creatures; we shall never again +have any more people to be fond of us like that!"</p> + +<p>"There is no knowing," said Aunt Letty; "the Lord giveth and the Lord +taketh away, and blessed is the name of the Lord. You are both young, +and may come back again; but for <span class="nowrap">me—"</span></p> + +<p>"Dear Aunt Letty, if we come back you shall come too."</p> + +<p>"If I only thought that my bones could lie here near my brother's. +But never mind; what signifies it where our bones lie?" And then they +were silent for a while, till Aunt Letty spoke again. "I mean to be +quite happy over in England; I believe I shall be happiest of you all +if I can find any clergyman who is not half perverted to idolatry."</p> + +<p>This took place some time before the ladies left Castle +Richmond,—perhaps as much as three weeks; it was even before +Herbert's departure, who started for London the day but one after the +scene here recorded; he had gone to various places to take his last +farewell; to see the Townsends at the parsonage; to call on Father +Barney at Kanturk, and had even shaken hands with the Rev. Mr. +Creagh, at Gortnaclough. But one farewell visit had been put off for +the last. It was now arranged that he was to go over to Desmond Court +and see Clara before he went. There had been some difficulty in this, +for Lady Desmond had at first declared that she could not feel +justified in asking him into her house; but the earl was now at home, +and her ladyship had at last given her consent: he was to see the +countess first, and was afterwards to see Clara—alone. He had +declared that he would not go there unless he were to be allowed an +interview with her in private. The countess, as I have said, at last +consented, trusting that her previous eloquence might be efficacious +in counteracting the ill effects of her daughter's imprudence. On the +day after that interview he was to start for London; "never to +return," as he said to Emmeline, "unless he came to seek his wife."</p> + +<p>"But you will come to seek your wife," said Emmeline, stoutly; "I +shall think you faint-hearted if you doubt it."</p> + + +<p><a name="c-33" id="c-33"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h3> +<h4>THE LAST STAGE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>On the day before his departure for London, Herbert Fitzgerald once +more got on his horse—the horse that was to be no longer his after +that day—and rode off towards Desmond Court. He had already +perceived how foolish he had been in walking thither through the mud +and rain when last he went there, and how much he had lost by his sad +appearance that day, and by his want of personal comfort. So he +dressed himself with some care—dressing not for his love, but for +the countess,—and taking his silver-mounted whip in his gloved hand, +he got up on his well-groomed nag with more spirit than he had +hitherto felt.</p> + +<p>Nothing could be better than the manner in which, at this time, the +servants about Castle Richmond conducted themselves. Most of +them—indeed, all but three—had been told that they must go; and in +so telling them, the truth had been explained. It had been "found," +Aunt Letty said to one of the elder among them, that Mr. Herbert was +not the heir to the property, and therefore the family was obliged to +go away. Mrs. Jones of course accompanied her mistress. Richard had +been told, both by Herbert and by Aunt Letty, that he had better +remain and live on a small patch of land that should be provided for +him. But in answer to this he stated his intention of removing +himself to London. If the London air was fit for "my leddy and Miss +Letty," it would be fit for him. "It's no good any more talking, Mr. +Herbert," said Richard, "I main to go." So there was no more talking, +and he did go.</p> + +<p>But all the other servants took their month's warning with tears and +blessings, and strove one beyond another how they might best serve +the ladies of the family to the end. "I'd lose the little fingers off +me to go with you, Miss Emmeline; so I would," said one poor +girl,—all in vain. If they could not keep a retinue of servants in +Ireland, it was clear enough that they could not keep them in London.</p> + +<p>The groom who held the horse for Herbert to mount, touched his hat +respectfully as his young master rode off slowly down the avenue, and +then went back to the stables to meditate with awe on the changes +which had happened in his time, and to bethink himself whether or no +he could bring himself to serve in the stables of Owen the usurper.</p> + +<p>Herbert did not take the direct road to Desmond Court, but went round +as though he were going to Gortnaclough, and then turning away from +the Gortnaclough road, made his way by a cross lane towards Clady and +the mountains. He hardly knew himself whether he had any object in +this beyond one which he did not express even to himself,—that, +namely, of not being seen on the way leading to Desmond Court. But +this he did do, thereby riding out of the district with which he was +most thoroughly acquainted, and passing by cabins and patches of now +deserted land which were strange to him. It was a poor, bleak, damp, +undrained country, lying beyond the confines of his father's +property, which in good days had never been pleasant to the eye, but +which now in these days—days that were so decidedly bad, was +anything but pleasant. It was one of those tracts of land which had +been divided and subdivided among the cottiers till the fields had +dwindled down to parts of acres, each surrounded by rude low banks, +which of themselves seemed to occupy a quarter of the surface of the +land. The original landmarks, the big earthen banks,—banks so large +that a horse might walk on the top of them,—were still visible +enough, showing to the practised eye what had once been the fields +into which the land had been divided; but these had since been +bisected and crossected, and intersected by family arrangements, in +which brothers had been jealous of brothers, and fathers of their +children, till each little lot contained but a rood or two of +available surface.</p> + +<p>This had been miserable enough to look at, even when those roods had +been cropped with potatoes or oats; but now they were not cropped at +all, nor was there preparation being made for cropping them. They had +been let out under the con-acre system, at so much a rood, for the +potato season, at rents amounting sometimes to ten or twelve pounds +the acre; but nobody would take them now. There, in that electoral +division, the whole proceeds of such land would hardly have paid the +poor rates, and therefore the land was left uncultivated.</p> + +<p>The winter was over, for it was now April, and had any tillage been +intended, it would have been commenced—even in Ireland. It was the +beginning of April, but the weather was still stormy and cold, and +the east wind, which, as a rule, strikes Ireland with but a light +hand, was blowing sharply. On a sudden a squall of rain came on,—one +of those spring squalls which are so piercingly cold, but which are +sure to pass by rapidly, if the wayfarer will have patience to wait +for them. Herbert, remembering his former discomfiture, resolved that +he would have such patience, and dismounting from his horse at a +cabin on the road-side, entered it himself, and led his horse in +after him. In England no one would think of taking his steed into a +poor man's cottage, and would hardly put his beast into a cottager's +shed without leave asked and granted; but people are more intimate +with each other, and take greater liberties in Ireland. It is no +uncommon thing on a wet hunting-day to see a cabin packed with +horses, and the children moving about among them, almost as +unconcernedly as though the animals were pigs. But then the Irish +horses are so well mannered and good-natured.</p> + +<p>The cabin was one abutting as it were on the road, not standing back +upon the land, as is most customary; and it was built in an angle at +a spot where the road made a turn, so that two sides of it stood +close out in the wayside. It was small and wretched to look at, +without any sort of outside shed, or even a scrap of potato-garden +attached to it,—a miserable, low-roofed, damp, ragged tenement, as +wretched as any that might be seen even in the county Cork.</p> + +<p>But the nakedness of the exterior was as nothing to the nakedness of +the interior. When Herbert entered, followed by his horse, his eye +glanced round the dark place, and it seemed to be empty of +everything. There was no fire on the hearth, though a fire on the +hearth is the easiest of all luxuries for an Irishman to acquire, and +the last which he is willing to lose. There was not an article of +furniture in the whole place; neither chairs, nor table, nor bed, nor +dresser; there was there neither dish, nor cup, nor plate, nor even +the iron pot in which all the cookery of the Irish cottiers' menage +is usually carried on. Beneath his feet was the damp earthen floor, +and around him were damp, cracked walls, and over his head was the +old lumpy thatch, through which the water was already dropping; but +inside was to be seen none of those articles of daily use which are +usually to be found in the houses even of the poorest.</p> + +<p>But, nevertheless, the place was inhabited. Squatting in the middle +of the cabin, seated on her legs crossed under her, with nothing +between her and the wet earth, there crouched a woman with a child in +her arms. At first, so dark was the place, Herbert hardly thought +that the object before him was a human being. She did not move when +he entered, or speak to him, or in any way show sign of surprise that +he should have come there. There was room for him and his horse +without pushing her from her place; and, as it seemed, he might have +stayed there and taken his departure without any sign having been +made by her.</p> + +<p>But as his eyes became used to the light he saw her eyes gleaming +brightly through the gloom. They were very large and bright as they +turned round upon him while he moved—large and bright, but with a +dull, unwholesome brightness,—a brightness that had in it none of +the light of life.</p> + +<p>And then he looked at her more closely. She had on her some rag of +clothing which barely sufficed to cover her nakedness, and the baby +which she held in her arms was covered in some sort; but he could +see, as he came to stand close over her, that these garments were but +loose rags which were hardly fastened round her body. Her rough short +hair hung down upon her back, clotted with dirt, and the head and +face of the child which she held was covered with dirt and sores. On +no more wretched object, in its desolate solitude, did the eye of man +ever fall.</p> + +<p>In those days there was a form of face which came upon the sufferers +when their state of misery was far advanced, and which was a sure +sign that their last stage of misery was nearly run. The mouth would +fall and seem to hang, the lips at the two ends of the mouth would be +dragged down, and the lower parts of the cheeks would fall as though +they had been dragged and pulled. There were no signs of acute agony +when this phasis of countenance was to be seen, none of the horrid +symptoms of gnawing hunger by which one generally supposes that +famine is accompanied. The look is one of apathy, desolation, and +death. When custom had made these signs easily legible, the poor +doomed wretch was known with certainty. "It's no use in life meddling +with him; he's gone," said a lady to me in the far west of the south +of Ireland, while the poor boy, whose doom was thus spoken, stood by +listening. Her delicacy did not equal her energy in doing good,—for +she did much good; but in truth it was difficult to be delicate when +the hands were so full. And then she pointed out to me the signs on +the lad's face, and I found that her reading was correct.</p> + +<p>The famine was not old enough at the time of which we are speaking +for Herbert to have learned all this, or he would have known that +there was no hope left in this world for the poor creature whom he +saw before him. The skin of her cheek had fallen, and her mouth was +dragged, and the mark of death was upon her; but the agony of want +was past. She sat there listless, indifferent, hardly capable of +suffering, even for her child, waiting her doom unconsciously.</p> + +<p>As he had entered without eliciting a word from her, so might he have +departed without any outward sign of notice; but this would have been +impossible on his part. "I have come in out of the rain for shelter," +said he, looking down on her.</p> + +<p>"Out o' the rain, is it?" said she, still fixing on him her glassy +bright eyes. "Yer honour's welcome thin." But she did not attempt to +move, nor show any of those symptoms of reverence which are habitual +to the Irish when those of a higher rank enter their cabins.</p> + +<p>"You seem to be very poorly off here," said Herbert, looking round +the bare walls of the cabin. "Have you no chair, and no bed to lie +on?"</p> + +<p>"'Deed no," said she.</p> + +<p>"And no fire?" said he, for the damp and chill of the place struck +through to his bones.</p> + +<p>"'Deed no," she said again; but she made no wail as to her wants, and +uttered no complaint as to her misery.</p> + +<p>"And are you living here by yourself, without furniture or utensils +of any kind?"</p> + +<p>"It's jist as yer honour sees it," answered she.</p> + +<p>For a while Herbert stood still, looking round him, for the woman was +so motionless and uncommunicative that he hardly knew how to talk to +her. That she was in the lowest depth of distress was evident enough, +and it behoved him to administer to her immediate wants before he +left her; but what could he do for one who seemed to be so +indifferent to herself? He stood for a time looking round him till he +could see through the gloom that there was a bundle of straw lying in +the dark corner beyond the hearth, and that the straw was huddled up, +as though there were something lying under it. Seeing this he left +the bridle of his horse, and stepping across the cabin moved the +straw with the handle of his whip. As he did so he turned his back +from the wall in which the small window-hole had been pierced, so +that a gleam of light fell upon the bundle at his feet, and he could +see that the body of a child was lying there, stripped of every +vestige of clothing.</p> + +<p>For a minute or two he said nothing—hardly, indeed, knowing how to +speak, and looking from the corpselike woman back to the lifelike +corpse, and then from the corpse back to the woman, as though he +expected that she would say something unasked. But she did not say a +word, though she so turned her head that her eyes rested on him.</p> + +<p>He then knelt down and put his hand upon the body, and found that it +was not yet stone cold. The child apparently had been about four +years old, while that still living in her arms might perhaps be half +that age.</p> + +<p>"Was she your own?" asked Herbert, speaking hardly above his breath.</p> + +<p>"'Deed, yes!" said the woman. "She was my own, own little Kitty." But +there was no tear in her eye or gurgling sob audible from her throat.</p> + +<p>"And when did she die?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"'Deed, thin, and I don't jist know—not exactly;" and sinking lower +down upon her haunches, she put up to her forehead the hand with +which she had supported herself on the floor—the hand which was not +occupied with the baby, and pushing back with it the loose hairs from +her face, tried to make an effort at thinking.</p> + +<p>"She was alive in the night, wasn't she?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I b'lieve thin she was, yer honour. 'Twas broad day, I'm thinking, +when she guv' over moaning. She warn't that way when he went away."</p> + +<p>"And who's he?"</p> + +<p>"Jist Mike, thin."</p> + +<p>"And is Mike your husband?" he asked. She was not very willing to +talk; but it appeared at last that Mike was her husband, and that +having become a cripple through rheumatism, he had not been able to +work on the roads. In this condition he and his should of course have +gone into a poor-house. It was easy enough to give such advice in +such cases when one came across them, and such advice when given at +that time was usually followed; but there were so many who had no +advice, who could get no aid, who knew not which way to turn +themselves! This wretched man had succeeded in finding some one who +would give him his food—food enough to keep himself alive—for such +work as he could do in spite of his rheumatism, and this work to the +last he would not abandon. Even this was better to him than the +poor-house. But then, as long as a man found work out of the +poor-house, his wife and children would not be admitted into it. They +would not be admitted if the fact of the working husband was known. +The rule in itself was salutary, as without it a man could work, +earning such wages as were adjudged to be needful for a family, and +at the same time send his wife and children to be supported on the +rates. But in some cases, such as this, it pressed very cruelly. +Exceptions were of course made in such cases, if they were known: but +then it was so hard to know them!</p> + +<p>This man Mike, the husband of that woman, and the father of those +children, alive and dead, had now gone to his work, leaving his home +without one morsel of food within it, and the wife of his bosom and +children of his love without the hope of getting any. And then +looking closely round him, Herbert could see that a small basin or +bowl lay on the floor near her, capable of holding perhaps a pint; +and on lifting it he saw that there still clung to it a few grains of +uncooked Indian corn-flour—the yellow meal, as it was called. Her +husband, she said at last, had brought home with him in his cap a +handful of this flour, stolen from the place where he was +working—perhaps a quarter of a pound, then worth over a farthing, +and she had mixed this with water in a basin; and this was the food +which had sustained her, or rather had not sustained her, since +yesterday morning—her and her two children, the one that was living +and the one that was dead.</p> + +<p>Such was her story, told by her in the fewest of words. And then he +asked her as to her hopes for the future. But though she cared, as it +seemed, but little for the past, for the future she cared less. +"'Deed, thin, an' I don't jist know." She would say no more than +that, and would not even raise her voice to ask for alms when he +pitied her in her misery. But with her the agony of death was already +over.</p> + +<p>"And the child that you have in your arms," he said, "is it not +cold?" And he stood close over her, and put out his hand and touched +the baby's body. As he did so, she made some motion as though to +arrange the clothing closer round the child's limbs, but Herbert +could see that she was making an effort to hide her own nakedness. It +was the only effort that she made while he stood there beside her.</p> + +<p>"Is she not cold?" he said again, when he had turned his face away to +relieve her from her embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Cowld," she muttered, with a vacant face and wondering tone of +voice, as though she did not quite understand him. "I suppose she is +could. Why wouldn't she be could? We're could enough, if that's all." +But still she did not stir from the spot on which she sat; and the +child, though it gave from time to time a low moan that was almost +inaudible, lay still in her arms, with its big eyes staring into +vacancy.</p> + +<p>He felt that he was stricken with horror as he remained there in the +cabin with the dying woman and the naked corpse of the poor dead +child. But what was he to do? He could not go and leave them without +succour. The woman had made no plaint of her suffering, and had asked +for nothing; but he felt that it would be impossible to abandon her +without offering her relief; nor was it possible that he should leave +the body of the child in that horribly ghastly state. So he took from +his pocket his silk handkerchief, and, returning to the corner of the +cabin, spread it as a covering over the corpse. At first he did not +like to touch the small naked dwindled remains of humanity from which +life had fled; but gradually he overcame his disgust, and kneeling +down, he straightened the limbs and closed the eyes, and folded the +handkerchief round the slender body. The mother looked on him the +while, shaking her head slowly, as though asking him with all the +voice that was left to her, whether it were not piteous; but of words +she still uttered none.</p> + +<p>And then he took from his pocket a silver coin or two, and tendered +them to her. These she did take, muttering some word of thanks, but +they caused in her no emotion of joy. "She was there waiting," she +said, "till Mike should return," and there she would still wait, even +though she should die with the silver in her hand.</p> + +<p>"I will send some one to you," he said, as he took his departure; +"some one that shall take the poor child and bury it, and who shall +move you and the other one into the workhouse." She thanked him once +more with some low muttered words, but the promise brought her no +joy. And when the succour came it was all too late, for the mother +and the two children never left the cabin till they left it together, +wrapped in their workhouse shrouds.</p> + +<p>Herbert, as he remounted his horse and rode quietly on, forgot for a +while both himself and Clara Desmond. Whatever might be the extent of +his own calamity, how could he think himself unhappy after what he +had seen? how could he repine at aught that the world had done for +him, having now witnessed to how low a state of misery a fellow human +being might be brought? Could he, after that, dare to consider +himself unfortunate?</p> + +<p>Before he reached Desmond Court he did make some arrangements for the +poor woman, and directed that a cart might be sent for her, so that +she might be carried to the union workhouse at Kanturk. But his +efforts in her service were of little avail. People then did not +think much of a dying woman, and were in no special hurry to obey +Herbert's behest.</p> + +<p>"A woman to be carried to the union, is it? For Mr. Fitzgerald, eh? +What Mr. Fitzgerald says must be done, in course. But sure av' it's +done before dark, won't that be time enough for the likes of her?"</p> + +<p>But had they flown to the spot on the wings of love, it would not +have sufficed to prolong her life one day. Her doom had been spoken +before Herbert had entered the cabin.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-34" id="c-34"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h3> +<h4>FAREWELL.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>He was two hours later than he had intended as he rode up the avenue +to Lady Desmond's gate, and his chief thought at the moment was how +he should describe to the countess the scene he had just witnessed. +Why describe it at all? That is what we should all say. He had come +there to talk about other things—about other things which must be +discussed, and which would require all his wits. Let him keep that +poor woman on his mind, but not embarrass himself with any mention of +her for the present. This, no doubt, would have been wise if only it +had been possible; but out of the full heart the mouth speaks.</p> + +<p>But Lady Desmond had not witnessed the scene which I have attempted +to describe, and her heart, therefore, was not full of it, and was +not inclined to be so filled. And so, in answer to Herbert's +exclamation, "Oh, Lady Desmond, I have seen such a sight!" she gave +him but little encouragement to describe it, and by her coldness, +reserve, and dignity, soon quelled the expression of his feelings.</p> + +<p>The earl was present and shook hands very cordially with Herbert when +he entered the room; and he, being more susceptible as being younger, +and not having yet become habituated to the famine as his mother was, +did express some eager sympathy. He would immediately go down, or +send Fahy with the car, and have her brought up and saved; but his +mother had other work to do and soon put a stop to all this.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald," said she, speaking with a smile upon her face, and +with much high-bred dignity of demeanour, "as you and Lady Clara both +wish to see each other before you leave the country, and as you have +known each other so intimately, and considering all the +circumstances, I have not thought it well absolutely to forbid an +interview. But I do doubt its expediency; I do, indeed. And Lord +Desmond, who feels for your late misfortune as we all do, perfectly +agrees with me. He thinks that it would be much wiser for you both to +have parted without the pain of a meeting, seeing how impossible it +is that you should ever be more to each other than you are now." And +then she appealed to her son, who stood by, looking not quite so +wise, nor even quite so decided as his mother's words would seem to +make him.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; upon my word I don't see how it's to be," said the young +earl. "I am deuced sorry for it for one, and I wish I was well off, +so that I could give Clara a pot of money, and then I should not care +so much about your not being the baronet."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you must see, Mr. Fitzgerald, and I know that you do see +it because you have very properly said so, that a marriage between +you and Lady Clara is now impossible. For her such an engagement +would be very bad—very bad indeed; but for you it would be utter +ruin. Indeed, it would be ruin for you both. Unencumbered as you will +be, and with the good connection which you will have, and with your +excellent talents, it will be quite within your reach to win for +yourself a high position. But with you, as with other gentlemen who +have to work their way, marriage must come late in life, unless you +marry an heiress. This I think is thoroughly understood by all people +in our position; and I am sure that it is understood by your +excellent mother, for whom I always had and still have the most +unfeigned respect. As this is so undoubtedly the case, and as I +cannot of course consent that Lady Clara should remain hampered by an +engagement which would in all human probability hang over the ten +best years of her life, I thought it wise that you should not see +each other. I have, however, allowed myself to be overruled; and now +I must only trust to your honour, forbearance, and prudence to +protect my child from what might possibly be the ill effects of her +own affectionate feelings. That she is romantic,—enthusiastic to a +fault I should perhaps rather call it—I need not tell you. She +thinks that your misfortune demands from her a sacrifice of herself; +but you, I know, will feel that, even were such a sacrifice available +to you, it would not become you to accept it. Because you have +fallen, you will not wish to drag her down; more especially as you +can rise again—and she could not."</p> + +<p>So spoke the countess, with much worldly wisdom, and with +considerable tact in adjusting her words to the object which she had +in view. Herbert, as he stood before her silent during the period of +her oration, did feel that it would be well for him to give up his +love, and go away in utter solitude of heart to those dingy studies +which Mr. Prendergast was preparing for him. His love, or rather the +assurance of Clara's love, had been his great consolation. But what +right had he, with all the advantages of youth, and health, and +friends, and education, to require consolation? And then from moment +to moment he thought of the woman whom he had left in the cabin, and +confessed that he did not dare to call himself unhappy.</p> + +<p>He had listened attentively, although he did thus think of other +eloquence besides that of the countess—of the eloquence of that +silent, solitary, dying woman; but when she had done he hardly knew +what to say for himself. She did make him feel that it would be +ungenerous in him to persist in his engagement; but then again, +Clara's letters and his sister's arguments had made him feel that it +was impossible to abandon it. They pleaded of heart-feelings so well +that he could not resist them; and the countess—she pleaded so well +as to world's prudence that he could not resist her.</p> + +<p>"I would not willingly do anything to injure Lady Clara," he said.</p> + +<p>"That's what we all knew," said the young earl. "You see, what is a +girl to do like her? Love in a cottage is all very well, and all +that; and as for riches, I don't care about them. It would be a pity +if I did, for I shall be about the poorest nobleman in the three +kingdoms, I suppose. But a chap when he marries should have +something; shouldn't he now?"</p> + +<p>To tell the truth the earl had been very much divided in his opinions +since he had come home, veering round a point or two this way or a +point or two that, in obedience to the blast of eloquence to which he +might be last subjected. But latterly the idea had grown upon him +that Clara might possibly marry Owen Fitzgerald. There was about Owen +a strange fascination which all felt who had once loved him. To the +world he was rough and haughty, imperious in his commands, and +exacting even in his fellowship; but to the few whom he absolutely +loved, whom he had taken into his heart's core, no man ever was more +tender or more gracious. Clara, though she had resolved to banish him +from her heart, had found it impossible to do so till Herbert's +misfortunes had given him a charm in her eyes which was not all his +own. Clara's mother had loved him—had loved him as she never before +had loved; and now she loved him still, though she had so strongly +determined that her love should be that of a mother, and not that of +a wife. And the young earl, now that Owen's name was again rife in +his ears, remembered all the pleasantness of former days. He had +never again found such a companion as Owen had been. He had met no +other friend to whom he could talk of sport and a man's outward +pleasures when his mind was that way given, and to whom he could also +talk of soft inward things,—the heart's feelings, and aspirations, +and wants. Owen would be as tender with him as a woman, allowing the +young lad's arm round his body, listening to words which the outer +world would have called bosh—and have derided as girlish. So at +least thought the young earl to himself. And all boys long to be +allowed utterance occasionally for these soft tender things;—as also +do all men, unless the devil's share in the world has become +altogether uppermost with them.</p> + +<p>And the young lad's heart hankered after his old friend. He had +listened to his sister, and for a while had taken her part; but his +mother had since whispered to him that Owen would now be the better +suitor, the preferable brother-in-law; and that in fact Clara loved +Owen the best, though she felt herself bound by honour to his +kinsman. And then she reminded her son of Clara's former love for +Owen—a love which he himself had witnessed; and he thought of the +day when with so much regret he had told his friend that he was +unsuited to wed with an earl's penniless daughter. Of the subsequent +pleasantness which had come with Herbert's arrival, he had seen +little or nothing. He had been told by letter that Herbert +Fitzgerald, the prosperous heir of Castle Richmond, was to be his +future brother-in-law, and he had been satisfied. But now, if Owen +could return—how pleasant it would be!</p> + +<p>"But a chap when he marries should have something; shouldn't he now?" +So spoke the young earl, re-echoing his mother's prudence.</p> + +<p>Herbert did not quite like this interference on the boy's part. Was +he to explain to a young lad from Eton what his future intentions +were with reference to his mode of living and period of marriage? "Of +course," he said, addressing himself to the countess, "I shall not +insist on an engagement made under such different circumstances."</p> + +<p>"Nor will you allow her to do so through a romantic feeling of +generosity," said the countess.</p> + +<p>"You should know your own daughter, Lady Desmond, better than I do," +he answered; "but I cannot say what I may do at her instance till I +shall have seen her."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that you will allow a girl of her age to talk you +into a proceeding which you know to be wrong?"</p> + +<p>"I will allow no one," he said, "to talk me into a proceeding which I +know to be wrong; nor will I allow any one to talk me out of a +proceeding which I believe to be right." And then, having uttered +these somewhat grandiloquent words, he shut himself up as though +there were no longer any need for discussing the subject.</p> + +<p>"My poor child!" said the countess, in a low tremulous voice, as +though she did not intend him to hear them. "My poor unfortunate +child!" Herbert as he did hear them thought of the woman in the +cabin, and of her misfortunes and of her children. "Come, Patrick," +continued the countess, "it is perhaps useless for us to say anything +further at present. If you will remain here, Mr. Fitzgerald, for a +minute or two, I will send Lady Clara to wait upon you;" and then +curtsying with great dignity she withdrew, and the young earl +scuffled out after her. "Mamma," he said, as he went, "he is +determined that he will have her."</p> + +<p>"My poor child!" answered the countess.</p> + +<p>"And if I were in his place I should be determined also. You may as +well give it up. Not but that I like Owen a thousand times the best."</p> + +<p>Herbert did wait there for some five minutes, and then the door was +opened very gently, was gently closed again, and Clara Desmond was in +the room. He came towards her respectfully, holding out his hand that +he might take hers; but before he had thought of how she would act +she was in his arms. Hitherto, of all betrothed maidens, she had been +the most retiring. Sometimes he had thought her cold when she had +left the seat by his side to go and nestle closely by his sister. She +had avoided the touch of his hand and the pressure of his arm, and +had gone from him speechless, if not with anger then with dismay, +when he had carried the warmth of his love beyond the touch of his +hand or the pressure of his arm. But now she rushed into his embrace +and hid her face upon his shoulder, as though she were over glad to +return to the heart from which those around her had endeavoured to +banish her. Was he or was he not to speak of his love? That had been +the question which he had asked himself when left alone there for +those five minutes, with the eloquence of the countess ringing in his +ears. Now that question had in truth been answered for him.</p> + +<p>"Herbert," she said, "Herbert! I have so sorrowed for you; but I know +that you have borne it like a man."</p> + +<p>She was thinking of what he had now half forgotten,—the position +which he had lost, those hopes which had all been shipwrecked, his +title surrendered to another, and his lost estates. She was thinking +of them as the loss affected him; but he, he had reconciled himself +to all that,—unless all that were to separate him from his promised +bride.</p> + +<p>"Dearest Clara," he said, with his arm close round her waist, while +neither anger nor dismay appeared to disturb the sweetness of that +position, "the letter which you wrote me has been my chief comfort." +Now if he had any intention of liberating Clara from the bond of her +engagement,—if he really had any feeling that it behoved him not to +involve her in the worldly losses which had come upon him,—he was +taking a very bad way of carrying out his views in that respect. +Instead of confessing the comfort which he had received from that +letter, and holding her close to his breast while he did confess it, +he should have stood away from her—quite as far apart as he had done +from the countess; and he should have argued with her, showing her +how foolish and imprudent her letter had been, explaining that it +behoved her now to repress her feelings, and teaching her that peers' +daughters as well as housemaids should look out for situations which +would suit them, guided by prudence and a view to the wages,—not +follow the dictates of impulse and of the heart. This is what he +should have done, according, I believe, to the views of most men and +women. Instead of that he held her there as close as he could hold +her, and left her to do the most of the speaking. I think he was +right. According to my ideas woman's love should be regarded as fair +prize of war,—as long as the war has been carried on with due +adherence to the recognized law of nations. When it has been fairly +won, let it be firmly held. I have no opinion of that theory of +giving up.</p> + +<p>"You knew that I would not abandon you! Did you not know it? say that +you knew it?" said Clara, and then she insisted on having an answer.</p> + +<p>"I could hardly dare to think that there was so much happiness left +for me," said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"Then you were a traitor to your love, sir; a false traitor." But +deep as was the offence for which she arraigned him, it was clear to +see that the pardon came as quick as the conviction. "And was +Emmeline so untrue to me also as to believe that?"</p> + +<p>"Emmeline said—" and then he told her what Emmeline had said.</p> + +<p>"Dearest, dearest Emmeline! give her a whole heart-load of love from +me; now mind you do,—and to Mary, too. And remember this, sir; that +I love Emmeline ten times better than I do you; twenty times—, +because she knew me. Oh, if she had mistrusted +<span class="nowrap">me—!"</span></p> + +<p>"And do you think that I mistrusted you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you did; you know you did, sir. You wrote and told me so;—and +now, this very day, you come here to act as though you mistrusted me +still. You know you have, only you have not the courage to go on with +the acting."</p> + +<p>And then he began to defend himself, showing how ill it would have +become him to have kept her bound to her engagements had she feared +poverty as most girls in her position would have feared it. But on +this point she would not hear much from him, lest the very fact of +her hearing it should make it seem that such a line of conduct were +possible to her.</p> + +<p>"You know nothing about most girls, sir, or about any, I am afraid; +not even about one. And if most girls were frightfully heartless, +which they are not, what right had you to liken me to most girls? +Emmeline knew better, and why could not you take her as a type of +most girls? You have behaved very badly, Master Herbert, and you know +it; and nothing on earth shall make me forgive you; nothing—but your +promise that you will not so misjudge me any more." And then the +tears came to his eyes, and her face was again hidden on his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>It was not very probable that after such a commencement the interview +would terminate in a manner favourable to the wishes of the countess. +Clara swore to her lover that she had given him all that she had to +give,—her heart, and will, and very self; and swore, also, that she +could not and would not take back the gift. She would remain as she +was now as long as he thought proper, and would come to him whenever +he should tell her that his home was large enough for them both. And +so that matter was settled between them.</p> + +<p>Then she had much to say about his mother and sisters, and a word too +about his poor father. And now that it was settled between them so +fixedly, that come what might they were to float together in the same +boat down the river of life, she had a question or two also to ask, +and her approbation to give or to withhold, as to his future +prospects. He was not to think, she told him, of deciding on anything +without at any rate telling her. So he had to explain to her all the +family plans, making her know why he had decided on the law as his +own path to fortune, and asking for and obtaining her consent to all +his proposed measures.</p> + +<p>In this way her view of the matter became more and more firmly +adopted as that which should be the view resolutely to be taken by +them both. The countess had felt that that interview would be fatal +to her; and she had been right. But how could she have prevented it? +Twenty times she had resolved that she would prevent it; but twenty +times she had been forced to confess that she was powerless to do so. +In these days a mother even can only exercise such power over a child +as public opinion permits her to use. "Mother, it was you who brought +us together, and you cannot separate us now." That had always been +Clara's argument, leaving the countess helpless, except as far as she +could work on Herbert's generosity. That she had tried,—and, as we +have seen, been foiled there also. If only she could have taken her +daughter away while the Castle Richmond family were still mersed in +the bitter depth of their suffering,—at that moment when the blows +were falling on them! Then, indeed, she might have done something; +but she was not like other titled mothers. In such a step as this she +was absolutely without the means.</p> + +<p>Thus talking together they remained closeted for a most +unconscionable time. Clara had had her purpose to carry out, and to +Herbert the moments had been too precious to cause him any regret as +they passed. But now at last a knock was heard at the door, and Lady +Desmond, without waiting for an answer to it, entered the room. Clara +immediately started from her seat, not as though she were either +guilty or tremulous, but with a brave resolve to go on with her +purposed plan.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," she said, "it is fixed now; it cannot be altered now."</p> + +<p>"What is fixed, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Herbert and I have renewed our engagement, and nothing must now +break it, unless we die."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fitzgerald, if this be true your conduct to my daughter has been +unmanly as well as ungenerous."</p> + +<p>"Lady Desmond, it is true; and I think that my conduct is neither +unmanly nor ungenerous."</p> + +<p>"Your own relations are against you, sir."</p> + +<p>"What relations?" asked Clara, sharply.</p> + +<p>"I am not speaking to you, Clara; your absurdity and romance are so +great that I cannot speak to you."</p> + +<p>"What relations, Herbert?" again asked Clara; for she would not for +the world have had Lady Fitzgerald against her.</p> + +<p>"Lady Desmond has, I believe, seen my Aunt Letty two or three times +lately; I suppose she must mean her."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Clara, turning away as though she were now satisfied. And +then Herbert, escaping from the house as quickly as he could, rode +home with a renewal of that feeling of triumph which he had once +enjoyed before when returning from Desmond Court to Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>On the next day Herbert started for London. The parting was sad +enough, and the occasion of it was such that it could hardly be +otherwise. "I am quite sure of one thing," he said to his sister +Emmeline, "I shall never see Castle Richmond again." And, indeed, one +may say that small as might be his chance of doing so, his wish to do +so must be still less. There could be no possible inducement to him +to come back to a place which had so nearly been his own, and the +possession of which he had lost in so painful a manner. Every tree +about the place, every path across the wide park, every hedge and +ditch and hidden leafy corner, had had for him a special +interest,—for they had all been his own. But all that was now over. +They were not only not his own, but they belonged to one who was +mounting into his seat of power over his head.</p> + +<p>He had spent the long evening before his last dinner in going round +the whole demesne alone, so that no eye should witness what he felt. +None but those who have known the charms of a country-house early in +life can conceive the intimacy to which a man attains with all the +various trifling objects round his own locality; how he knows the +bark of every tree, and the bend of every bough; how he has marked +where the rich grass grows in tufts, and where the poorer soil is +always dry and bare; how he watches the nests of the rooks, and the +holes of the rabbits, and has learned where the thrushes build, and +can show the branch on which the linnet sits. All these things had +been dear to Herbert, and they all required at his hand some last +farewell. Every dog, too, he had to see, and to lay his hand on the +neck of every horse. This making of his final adieu under such +circumstances was melancholy enough.</p> + +<p>And then, too, later in the evening, after dinner, all the servants +were called into the parlour that he might shake hands with them. +There was not one of them who had not hoped, as lately as three +months since, that he or she would live to call Herbert Fitzgerald +master. Indeed, he had already been their master—their young master. +All Irish servants especially love to pay respect to the "young +masther;" but Herbert now was to be their master no longer, and the +probability was that he would never see one of them again.</p> + +<p>He schooled himself to go through the ordeal with a manly gait and +with dry eyes, and he did it; but their eyes were not dry, not even +those of the men. Mrs. Jones and a favourite girl whom the young +ladies patronized were not of the number, for it had been decided +that they should follow the fortunes of their mistress; but Richard +was there, standing a little apart from the others, as being now on a +different footing. He was to go also, but before the scene was over +he also had taken to sobbing violently.</p> + +<p>"I wish you all well and happy," said Herbert, making his little +speech, "and regret deeply that the intercourse between us should be +thus suddenly severed. You have served me and mine well and truly, +and it is hard upon you now, that you should be bid to go and seek +another home elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"It isn't that we mind, Mr. Herbert; it ain't that as frets us," said +one of the men.</p> + +<p>"It ain't that at all, at all," said Richard, doing chorus; "but that +yer honour should be robbed of what is yer honour's own."</p> + +<p>"But you all know that we cannot help it," continued Herbert; "a +misfortune has come upon us which nobody could have foreseen, and +therefore we are obliged to part with our old friends and servants."</p> + +<p>At the word friends the maid-servants all sobbed. "And 'deed we is +your frinds, and true frinds, too," wailed the cook.</p> + +<p>"I know you are, and it grieves me to feel that I shall see you no +more. But you must not be led to think by what Richard says that +anybody is depriving me of that which ought to be my own. I am now +leaving Castle Richmond because it is not my own, but justly belongs +to another;—to another who, I must in justice tell you, is in no +hurry to claim his inheritance. We none of us have any ground for +displeasure against the present owner of this place, my cousin, Sir +Owen Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>"We don't know nothing about Sir Owen," said one voice.</p> + +<p>"And don't want," said another, convulsed with sobs.</p> + +<p>"He's a very good sort of young gentleman—of his own kind, no +doubt," said Richard.</p> + +<p>"But you can all of you understand," continued Herbert, "that as this +place is no longer our own, we are obliged to leave it; and as we +shall live in a very different way in the home to which we are going, +we are obliged to part with you, though we have no reason to find +fault with any one among you. I am going to-morrow morning early, and +my mother and sisters will follow after me in a few weeks. It will be +a sad thing too for them to say good-bye to you all, as it is for me +now; but it cannot be helped. God bless you all, and I hope that you +will find good masters and kind mistresses, with whom you may live +comfortably, as I hope you have done here."</p> + +<p>"We can't find no other mistresses like her leddyship," sobbed out +the senior housemaid.</p> + +<p>"There ain't niver such a one in the county Cork," said the cook; "in +a week of Sundays you wouldn't hear the breath out of her above her +own swait nathural voice."</p> + +<p>"I've driv' her since iver—" began Richard; but he was going to say +since ever she was married, but he remembered that this allusion +would be unbecoming, so he turned his face to the door-post, and +began to wail bitterly.</p> + +<p>And then Herbert shook hands with them all, and it was pretty to see +how the girls wiped their hands in their aprons before they gave them +to him, and how they afterwards left the room with their aprons up to +their faces. The women walked out first, and then the men, hanging +down their heads, and muttering as they went, each some little prayer +that fortune and prosperity might return to the house of Fitzgerald. +The property might go, but according to their views Herbert was +always, and always would be, the head of the house. And then, last of +all, Richard went. "There ain't one of 'em, Mr. Herbert, as wouldn't +guv his fist to go wid yer, and think nothing about the wages."</p> + +<p>He was to start very early, and his packing was all completed that +night. "I do so wish we were going with you," said Emmeline, sitting +in his room on the top of a corded box, which was to follow him by +some slower conveyance.</p> + +<p>"And I do so wish I was staying with you," said he.</p> + +<p>"What is the good of staying here now?" said she; "what pleasure can +there be in it? I hardly dare to go outside the house door for fear I +should be seen."</p> + +<p>"But why? We have done nothing that we need be ashamed of."</p> + +<p>"No; I know that. But, Herbert, do you not find that the pity of the +people is hard to bear? It is written in their eyes, and meets one at +every turn."</p> + +<p>"We shall get rid of that very soon. In a few months we shall be +clean forgotten."</p> + +<p>"I do not know about being forgotten."</p> + +<p>"You will be as clean forgotten,—as though you had never existed. +And all these servants who are now so fond of us, in three months' +time will be just as fond of Owen Fitzgerald, if he will let them +stay here; it's the way of the world."</p> + +<p>That Herbert should have indulged in a little morbid misanthropy on +such an occasion was not surprising. But I take leave to think that +he was wrong in his philosophy; we do make new friends when we lose +our old friends, and the heart is capable of cure as is the body; +were it not so, how terrible would be our fate in this world! But we +are so apt to find fault with God's goodness to us in this respect, +arguing, of others if not of ourselves, that the heart once widowed +should remain a widow through all time. I, for one, think that the +heart should receive its new spouses with what alacrity it may, and +always with thankfulness.</p> + +<p>"I suppose Lady Desmond will let us see Clara," said Emmeline.</p> + +<p>"Of course you must see her. If you knew how much she talks about +you, you would not think of leaving Ireland without seeing her."</p> + +<p>"Dear Clara! I am sure she does not love me better than I do her. But +suppose that Lady Desmond won't let us see her! and I know that it +will be so. That grave old man with the bald head will come out and +say that 'the Lady Clara is not at home,' and then we shall have to +leave without seeing her. But it does not matter with her as it might +with others, for I know that her heart will be with us."</p> + +<p>"If you write beforehand to say that you are coming, and explain that +you are doing so to say good-bye, then I think they will admit you."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and the countess would take care to be there, so that I could +not say one word to Clara about you. Oh, Herbert! I would give +anything if I could have her here for one day,—only for one day." +But when they talked it over they both of them decided that this +would not be practicable. Clara could not stay away from her own +house without her mother's leave, and it was not probable that her +mother would give her permission to stay at Castle Richmond.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-35" id="c-35"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXV.</h3> +<h4>HERBERT FITZGERALD IN LONDON.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>On the following morning the whole household was up and dressed very +early. Lady Fitzgerald—the poor lady made many futile attempts to +drop her title, but hitherto without any shadow of success—Lady +Fitzgerald was down in the breakfast parlour at seven, as also were +Aunt Letty, and Mary, and Emmeline. Herbert had begged his mother not +to allow herself to be disturbed, alleging that there was no cause, +seeing that they all so soon would meet in London; but she was +determined that she would superintend his last meal at Castle +Richmond. The servants brought in the trays with melancholy silence, +and now that the absolute moment of parting had come the girls could +not speak lest the tears should come and choke them. It was not that +they were about to part with him; that parting would only be for a +month. But he was now about to part from all that ought to have been +his own. He sat down at the table in his accustomed place, with a +forced smile on his face, but without a word, and his sisters put +before him his cup of tea, and the slice of ham that had been cut for +him, and his portion of bread. That he was making an effort they all +saw. He bowed his head down over the tea to sip it and took the knife +in his hand, and then he looked up at them, for he knew that their +eyes were on him; he looked up at them to show that he could still +endure it. But, alas! he could not endure it. The struggle was too +much for him; he pushed his plate violently from him into the middle +of the table, and dropping his head upon his hands he burst forth +into audible lamentations.</p> + +<p>Oh, my friends! be not hard on him in that he was thus weeping like a +woman. It was not for his lost wealth that he was wailing, nor even +for the name or splendour that could be no longer his; nor was it for +his father's memory, though he had truly loved his father; nor for +his mother's sorrow, or the tragedy of her life's history. For none +of these things were his tears flowing and his sobs coming so +violently that it nearly choked him to repress them. Nor could he +himself have said why he was weeping.</p> + +<p>It was the hundred small things from which he was parting for ever +that thus disturbed him. The chair on which he sat, the carpet on the +floor, the table on which he leaned, the dull old picture of his +great-grandfather over the fireplace,—they were all his old familiar +friends, they were all part of Castle Richmond,—of that Castle +Richmond which he might never be allowed to see again.</p> + +<p>His mother and sisters came to him, hanging over him, and they joined +their tears together. "Do not tell her that I was like this," said he +at last.</p> + +<p>"She will love you the better for it if she has a true woman's heart +within her breast," said his mother.</p> + +<p>"As true a heart as ever breathed," said Emmeline through her sobs.</p> + +<p>And then they pressed him to eat, but it was in vain. He knew that +the food would choke him if he attempted it. So he gulped down the +cup of tea, and with one kiss to his mother he rushed from them, +refusing Aunt Letty's proffered embrace, passing through the line of +servants without another word to one of them, and burying himself in +the post-chaise which was to carry him the first stage on his +melancholy journey.</p> + +<p>It was a melancholy journey all through. From the time that he left +the door at Castle Richmond that was no longer his own, till he +reached the Euston Station in London, he spoke no word to any one +more than was absolutely necessary for the purposes of his +travelling. Nothing could be more sad than the prospect of his +residence in London. Not that he was without friends there, for he +belonged to a fashionable club to which he could still adhere if it +so pleased him, and had all his old Oxford comrades to fall back upon +if that were of any service to him. But how is a man to walk into his +club who yesterday was known as his father's eldest son and the heir +to a baronetcy and twelve thousand a year, and who to-day is known as +nobody's son and the heir to nothing? Men would feel so much for him +and pity him so deeply! That was the worst feature of his present +position. He could hardly dare to show himself more than was +absolutely necessary till the newness of his tragedy was worn off.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast had taken lodgings for him, in which he was to remain +till he could settle himself in the same house with his mother. And +this house, in which they were all to live, had also been taken,—up +in that cheerful locality near Harrow-on-the-Hill, called St. John's +Wood Road, the cab fares to which from any central part of London are +so very ruinous. But that house was not yet ready, and so he went +into lodgings in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Mr. Prendergast had chosen +this locality because it was near the chambers of that great Chancery +barrister, Mr. Die, under whose beneficent wing Herbert Fitzgerald +was destined to learn all the mysteries of the Chancery bar. The +sanctuary of Mr. Die's wig was in Stone Buildings, immediately close +to that milky way of vice-chancellors, whose separate courts cluster +about the old chapel of Lincoln's Inn; and here was Herbert to sit, +studious, for the next three years,—to sit there instead of at the +various relief committees in the vicinity of Kanturk. And why could +he not be as happy at the one as at the other? Would not Mr. Die be +as amusing as Mr. Townsend; and the arguments of Vice-Chancellor +Stuart's court quite as instructive as those heard in the committee +room at Gortnaclough?</p> + +<p>On the morning of his arrival in London he drove to his lodgings, and +found a note there from Mr. Prendergast asking him to dinner on that +day, and promising to take him to Mr. Die on the following morning. +Mr. Prendergast kept a bachelor's house in Bloomsbury Square, not +very far from Lincoln's Inn—just across Holborn, as all Londoners +know; and there he would expect Herbert at seven o'clock. "I will not +ask any one to meet you," he said, "because you will be tired after +your journey, and perhaps more inclined to talk to me than to +strangers."</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast was one of those old-fashioned people who think that +a spacious substantial house in Bloomsbury Square, at a rent of a +hundred and twenty pounds a year, is better worth having than a +narrow, lath and plaster, ill-built tenement at nearly double the +price out westward of the Parks. A quite new man is necessarily +afraid of such a locality as Bloomsbury Square, for he has no chance +of getting any one into his house if he do not live westward. Who +would dine with Mr. Jones in Woburn Terrace, unless he had known Mr. +Jones all his days, or unless Jones were known as a top sawyer in +some walk of life? But Mr. Prendergast was well enough known to his +old friends to be allowed to live where he pleased, and he was not +very anxious to add to their number by any new fashionable +allurements.</p> + +<p>Herbert sent over to Bloomsbury Square to say that he would be there +at seven o'clock, and then sat himself down in his new lodgings. It +was but a dingy abode, consisting of a narrow sitting-room looking +out into the big square from over a covered archway, and a narrower +bedroom looking backwards into a dull, dirty-looking, crooked street. +Nothing, he thought, could be more melancholy than such a home. But +then what did it signify? His days would be passed in Mr. Die's +chambers, and his evenings would be spent over his law books with +closed windows and copious burnings of the midnight oil. For Herbert +had wisely resolved that hard work, and hard work alone, could +mitigate the misery of his present position.</p> + +<p>But he had no work for the present day. He could not at once unpack +his portmanteau and begin his law studies on the moment. It was about +noon when he had completed the former preparation, and eaten such +breakfast as his new London landlady had gotten for him. And the +breakfast had not of itself been bad, for Mrs. Whereas had been a +daughter of Themis all her life, waiting upon scions of the law since +first she had been able to run for a penn'orth of milk. She had been +laundress on a stairs for ten years, having married a law stationer's +apprentice, and now she owned the dingy house over the covered way, +and let her own lodgings with her own furniture; nor was she often +without friends who would recommend her zeal and honesty, and make +excuse for the imperiousness of her ways and the too great fluency of +her by no means servile tongue.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs.—," said Herbert. "I beg your pardon, but might I ask your +name?"</p> + +<p>"No offence, sir; none in life. My name's Whereas. Martha Whereas, +and 'as been now for five-and-twenty year. There be'ant many of the +gen'lemen about the courts here as don't know some'at of me. And I +knew some'at of them too, before they carried their wigs so grandly. +My husband, that's Whereas,—you'll all'ays find him at the little +stationer's shop outside the gate in Carey Street. You'll know him +some of these days, I'll go bail, if you're going to Mr. Die; anyways +you'll know his handwrite. Tea to your liking, sir? I all'ays gets +cream for gentlemen, sir, unless they tells me not. Milk a 'alfpenny, +sir; cream tuppence; three 'alfpence difference; hain't it, sir? So +now you can do as you pleases, and if you like bacon and heggs to +your breakfastesses you've only to say the words. But then the heggs +hain't heggs, that's the truth; and they hain't chickens, but some'at +betwixt the two."</p> + +<p>And so she went on during the whole time that he was eating, moving +about from place to place, and putting back into the places which she +had chosen for them anything which he had chanced to move; now +dusting a bit of furniture with her apron, and then leaning on the +back of a chair while she asked him some question as to his habits +and future mode of living. She also wore a bonnet, apparently as a +customary part of her house costume, and Herbert could not help +thinking that she looked very like his Aunt Letty.</p> + +<p>But when she had gone and taken the breakfast things with her, then +began the tedium of the day. It seemed to him as though he had no +means of commencing his life in London until he had been with Mr. +Prendergast or Mr. Die. And so new did it all feel to him, so strange +and wonderful, that he hardly dared to go out of the house by himself +and wander about the premises of the Inn. He was not absolutely a +stranger in London, for he had been elected at a club before he had +left Oxford, and had been up in town twice, staying on each occasion +some few weeks. Had he therefore been asked about the metropolis some +four months since at Castle Richmond, he would have professed that he +knew it well. Starting from Pall Mall he could have gone to any of +the central theatres, or to the Parks, or to the houses of +Parliament, or to the picture galleries in June. But now in that +dingy big square he felt himself to be absolutely a stranger; and +when he did venture out he watched the corners, in order that he +might find his way back without asking questions.</p> + +<p>And then he roamed round the squares and about the little courts, and +found out where were Stone Buildings,—so called because they are so +dull and dead and stony-hearted: and as his courage increased he made +his way into one of the courts, and stood up for a while on an +uncomfortable narrow step, so that he might watch the proceedings as +they went on, and it all seemed to him to be dull and deadly. There +was no life and amusement such as he had seen at the Assize Court in +county Cork, when he was sworn in as one of the Grand Jury. There the +gentlemen in wigs—for on the Munster circuit they do wear wigs, or +at any rate did then—laughed and winked and talked together +joyously; and when a Roman Catholic fisherman from Berehaven was put +into the dock for destroying the boat and nets of a Protestant +fisherman from Dingle in county Kerry, who had chanced to come that +way, "not fishing at all, at all, yer honour, but just souping," as +the Papist prisoner averred with great emphasis, the gentlemen of the +robe had gone to the fight with all the animation and courage of +Matadors and Picadors in a bull-ring. It was delightful to see the +way in which Roman Catholic skill combated Protestant fury, with a +substratum below of Irish fun which showed to everybody that it was +not all quite in earnest;—that the great O'Fagan and the great +Fitzberesford could sit down together afterwards with all the +pleasure in life over their modicum of claret in the barristers' room +at the Imperial hotel. And then the judge had added to the life of +the meeting, helping to bamboozle and make miserable a wretch of a +witness who had been caught in the act of seeing the boat smashed +with a fragment of rock, and was now, in consequence, being impaled +alive by his lordship's assistance.</p> + +<p>"What do you say your name is?" demanded his lordship, angrily.</p> + +<p>"Rowland Houghton," said the miserable stray Saxon tourist who had so +unfortunately strayed that way on the occasion.</p> + +<p>"What?" repeated the judge, whose ears were sharper to such sounds as +O'Shaughnessy, Macgillycuddy, and O'Callaghan.</p> + +<p>"Rowland Houghton," said the offender, in his distress; quicker, +louder, and perhaps not more distinctly than before.</p> + +<p>"What does the man say?" said the judge, turning his head down +towards a satellite who sat on a bench beneath his cushion.</p> + +<p>The gentleman appealed to pronounced the name for the judge's hearing +with a full rolling Irish brogue, that gave great delight through all +the court; "R-rowland Hough-h-ton, me lor-r-d."</p> + +<p>Whereupon his lordship threw up his hands in dismay. "Oulan Outan!" +said he. "Oulan Outan! I never heard such a name in my life!" And +then, having thoroughly impaled the wicked witness, and added +materially to the amusement of the day, the judge wrote down the name +in his book; and there it is to this day, no doubt, Oulan Outan. And +when one thinks of it, it was monstrous that an English witness +should go into an Irish law court with such a name as Rowland +Houghton.</p> + +<p>But here, in the dark dingy court to which Herbert had penetrated in +Lincoln's Inn, there was no such life as this. Here, whatever skill +there might be, was of a dark subterranean nature, quite +unintelligible to any minds but those of experts; and as for fury or +fun, there was no spark either of one or of the other. The judge sat +back in his seat, a tall, handsome, speechless man, not asleep, for +his eye from time to time moved slowly from the dingy barrister who +was on his legs to another dingy barrister who was sitting with his +hands in his pockets, and with his eyes fixed upon the ceiling. The +gentleman who was in the act of pleading had a huge open paper in his +hand, from which he droned forth certain legal quiddities of the +dullest and most uninteresting nature. He was in earnest, for there +was a perpetual energy in his drone, as a droning bee might drone who +was known to drone louder than other drones. But it was a continuous +energy supported by perseverance, and not by impulse; and seemed to +come of a fixed determination to continue the reading of that paper +till all the world should be asleep. A great part of the world around +was asleep; but the judge's eye was still open, and one might say +that the barrister was resolved to go on till that eye should have +become closed in token of his success.</p> + +<p>Herbert remained there for an hour, thinking that he might learn +something that would be serviceable to him in his coming legal +career; but at the end of the hour the same thing was going on,—the +judge's eye was still open, and the lawyer's drone was still +sounding; and so he came away, having found himself absolutely dozing +in the uncomfortable position in which he was standing.</p> + +<p>At last the day wore away, and at seven o'clock he found himself in +Mr. Prendergast's hall in Bloomsbury Square; and his hat and umbrella +were taken away from him by an old servant looking very much like Mr. +Prendergast himself;—having about him the same look of the stiffness +of years, and the same look also of excellent preservation and care.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Prendergast is in the library, sir, if you please," said the old +servant; and so saying he ushered Herbert into the back down-stairs +room. It was a spacious, lofty apartment, well fitted up for a +library, and furnished for that purpose with exceeding care;—such a +room as one does not find in the flashy new houses in the west, where +the dining-room and drawing-room occupy all of the house that is +visible. But then, how few of those who live in flashy new houses in +the west require to have libraries in London!</p> + +<p>As he entered the room Mr. Prendergast came forward to meet him, and +seemed heartily glad to see him. There was a cordiality about him +which Herbert had never recognized at Castle Richmond, and an +appearance of enjoyment which had seemed to be almost foreign to the +lawyer's nature. Herbert perhaps had not calculated, as he should +have done, that Mr. Prendergast's mission in Ireland had not admitted +of much enjoyment. Mr. Prendergast had gone there to do a job of +work, and that he had done, very thoroughly; but he certainly had not +enjoyed himself.</p> + +<p>There was time for only few words before the old man again entered +the room, announcing dinner; and those few words had no reference +whatever to the Castle Richmond sorrow. He had spoken of Herbert's +lodging, and of his journey, and a word or two of Mr. Die, and then +they went in to dinner. And at dinner too the conversation wholly +turned upon indifferent matters, upon reform at Oxford, the state of +parties, and of the peculiar idiosyncrasies of the Irish Low Church +clergymen, on all of which subjects Herbert found that Mr. +Prendergast had a tolerably strong opinion of his own. The dinner was +very good, though by no means showy,—as might have been expected in +a house in Bloomsbury Square—and the wine excellent, as might have +been expected in any house inhabited by Mr. Prendergast.</p> + +<p>And then, when the dinner was over, and the old servant had slowly +removed his last tray, when they had each got into an arm-chair, and +were seated at properly comfortable distances from the fire, Mr. +Prendergast began to talk freely; not that he at once plunged into +the middle of the old history, or began with lugubrious force to +recapitulate the horrors that were now partly over; but gradually he +veered round to those points as to which he thought it good that he +should speak before setting Herbert at work on his new London life.</p> + +<p>"You drink claret, I suppose?" said Mr. Prendergast, as he adjusted a +portion of the table for their evening symposium.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Herbert, not caring very much at that moment what the +wine was.</p> + +<p>"You'll find that pretty good; a good deal better than what you'll +get in most houses in London nowadays. But you know a man always +likes his own wine, and especially an old man."</p> + +<p>Herbert said something about it being very good, but did not give +that attention to the matter which Mr. Prendergast thought that it +deserved. Indeed, he was thinking more about Mr. Die and Stone +Buildings than about the wine.</p> + +<p>"And how do you find my old friend Mrs. Whereas?" asked the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"She seems to be a very attentive sort of woman."</p> + +<p>"Yes; rather too much so sometimes. People do say that she never +knows how to hold her tongue. But she won't rob you, nor yet poison +you; and in these days that is saying a very great deal for a woman +in London." And then there was a pause, as Mr. Prendergast sipped his +wine with slow complacency. "And we are to go to Mr. Die to-morrow, I +suppose?" he said, beginning again. To which Herbert replied that he +would be ready at any time in the morning that might be suitable.</p> + +<p>"The sooner you get into harness the better. It is not only that you +have much to learn, but you have much to forget also."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Herbert, "I have much to forget indeed; more than I can +forget, I'm afraid, Mr. Prendergast."</p> + +<p>"There is, I fancy, no sorrow which a man cannot forget; that is, as +far as the memory of it is likely to be painful to him. You will not +absolutely cease to remember Castle Richmond and all its +circumstances; you will still think of the place and all the people +whom you knew there; but you will learn to do so without the pain +which of course you now suffer. That is what I mean by forgetting."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't complain, sir."</p> + +<p>"No, I know you don't; and that is the reason why I am so anxious to +see you happy. You have borne the whole matter so well that I am +quite sure that you will be able to live happily in this new life. +That is what I mean when I say that you will forget Castle Richmond."</p> + +<p>Herbert bethought himself of Clara Desmond, and of the woman whom he +had seen in the cabin, and reflected that even at present he had no +right to be unhappy.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have no thought of going back to Ireland?" said Mr. +Prendergast.</p> + +<p>"Oh, none in the least."</p> + +<p>"On the whole I think you are right. No doubt a family connection is +a great assistance to a barrister, and there would be reasons which +would make attorneys in Ireland throw business into your hands at an +early period of your life. Your history would give you an <i>éclat</i> +there, if you know what I mean."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, perfectly; but I don't want that."</p> + +<p>"No. It is a kind of assistance which in my opinion a man should not +desire. In the first place, it does not last. A man so bouyed up is +apt to trust to such support, instead of his own steady exertions; +and the firmest of friends won't stick to a lawyer long if he can get +better law for his money elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"There should be no friendship in such matters, I think."</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't say that. But the friendship should come of the +service, not the service of the friendship. Good, hard, steady, and +enduring work,—work that does not demand immediate acknowledgment +and reward, but that can afford to look forward for its results,—it +is that, and that only which in my opinion will insure to a man +permanent success."</p> + +<p>"It is hard though for a poor man to work so many years without an +income," said Herbert, thinking of Lady Clara Desmond.</p> + +<p>"Not hard if you get the price of your work at last. But you can have +your choice. A moderate fixed income can now be had by any barrister +early in life,—by any barrister of fair parts and sound +acquirements. There are more barristers now filling salaried places +than practising in the courts."</p> + +<p>"But those places are given by favour."</p> + +<p>"No; not so generally,—or if by favour, by that sort of favour which +is as likely to come to you as to another. Such places are not given +to incompetent young men because their fathers and mothers ask for +them. But won't you fill your glass?"</p> + +<p>"I am doing very well, thank you."</p> + +<p>"You'll do better if you'll fill your glass, and let me have the +bottle back. But you are thinking of the good old historical days +when you talk of barristers having to wait for their incomes. There +has been a great change in that respect,—for the better, as you of +course will think. Now-a-days a man is taken away from his +boat-racing and his skittle-ground to be made a judge. A little law +and a great fund of physical strength—that is the extent of the +demand." And Mr. Prendergast plainly showed by the tone of his voice +that he did not admire the wisdom of this new policy of which he +spoke.</p> + +<p>"But I suppose a man must work five years before he can earn +anything," said Herbert, still despondingly; for five years is a long +time to an expectant lover.</p> + +<p>"Fifteen years of unpaid labour used not to be thought too great a +price to pay for ultimate success," said Mr. Prendergast, almost +sighing at the degeneracy of the age. "But men in those days were +ambitious and patient."</p> + +<p>"And now they are ambitious and impatient," suggested Herbert.</p> + +<p>"Covetous and impatient might perhaps be the truer epithets," said +Mr. Prendergast with grim sarcasm.</p> + +<p>It is sad for a man to feel, when he knows that he is fast going down +the hill of life, that the experience of old age is to be no longer +valued nor its wisdom appreciated. The elderly man of this day thinks +that he has been robbed of his chance in life. When he was in his +full physical vigour he was not old enough for mental success. He was +still winning his spurs at forty. But at fifty—so does the world +change—he learns that he is past his work. By some unconscious and +unlucky leap he has passed from the unripeness of youth to the decay +of age, without even knowing what it was to be in his prime. A man +should always seize his opportunity; but the changes of the times in +which he has lived have never allowed him to have one. There has been +no period of flood in his tide which might lead him on to fortune. +While he has been waiting patiently for high water the ebb has come +upon him. Mr. Prendergast himself had been a successful man, and his +regrets, therefore, were philosophical rather than practical. As for +Herbert, he did not look upon the question at all in the same light +as his elderly friend, and on the whole was rather exhilarated by the +tone of Mr. Prendergast's sarcasm. Perhaps Mr. Prendergast had +intended that such should be its effect.</p> + +<p>The long evening passed away cosily enough, leaving on Herbert's mind +an impression that in choosing to be a barrister he had certainly +chosen the noblest walk of life in which a man could earn his bread. +Mr. Prendergast did not promise him either fame or fortune, nor did +he speak by any means in high enthusiastic language; he said much of +the necessity of long hours, of tedious work, of Amaryllis left by +herself in the shade, and of Neæra's locks unheeded; but nevertheless +he spoke in a manner to arouse the ambition and satisfy the longings +of the young man who listened to him. There were much wisdom in what +he did, and much benevolence also.</p> + +<p>And then at about eleven o'clock, Herbert having sat out the second +bottle of claret, betook himself to his bed at the lodgings over the +covered way.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-36" id="c-36"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h3> +<h4>HOW THE EARL WAS WON.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It was not quite at first that the countess could explain to her son +how she now wished that Owen Fitzgerald might become her son-in-law. +She had been so steadfast in her opposition to Owen when the earl had +last spoken of the matter, and had said so much of the wickedly +dissipated life which Owen was leading, that she feared to shock the +boy. But by degrees she brought the matter round, speaking of Owen's +great good fortune, pointing out how much better he was suited for +riches than for poverty, insisting warmly on all his good qualities +and high feelings, and then saying at last, as it were without +thought, "Poor Clara! She has been unfortunate, for at one time she +loved Owen Fitzgerald much better than she will ever love his cousin +Herbert."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so, mother?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure of it. The truth is, Patrick, you do not understand your +sister; and indeed it is hard to do so. I have also always had an +inward fear that she had now engaged herself to a man whom she did +not love. Of course as things were then it was impossible that she +should marry Owen; and I was glad to break her off from that feeling. +But she never loved Herbert Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>"Why, she is determined to have him, even now."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes! That is where you do not understand her. Now, at this +special moment, her heart is touched by his misfortune, and she +thinks herself bound by her engagement to sacrifice herself with him. +But that is not love. She has never loved any one but Owen,—and who +can wonder at it? for he is a man made for a woman to love."</p> + +<p>The earl said nothing for a while, but sat balancing himself on the +back legs of his chair. And then, as though a new idea had struck +him, he exclaimed, "If I thought that, mother, I would find out what +Owen thinks of it himself."</p> + +<p>"Poor Owen!" said the countess. "There is no doubt as to what he +thinks;" and then she left the room, not wishing to carry the +conversation any further.</p> + +<p>Two days after this, and without any further hint from his mother, he +betook himself along the banks of the river to Hap House. In his +course thither he never let his horse put a foot upon the road, but +kept low down upon the water meadows, leaping over all the fences, as +he had so often done with the man whom he was now going to see. It +was here, among these banks, that he had received his earliest +lessons in horsemanship, and they had all been given by Owen +Fitzgerald. It had been a thousand pities, he had thought, that Owen +had been so poor as to make it necessary for them all to discourage +that love affair with Clara. He would have been so delighted to +welcome Owen as his brother-in-law. And as he strode along over the +ground, and landed himself knowingly over the crabbed fences, he +began to think how much pleasanter the country would be for him if he +had a downright good fellow and crack sportsman as his fast friend at +Castle Richmond. Sir Owen Fitzgerald of Castle Richmond! He would be +the man to whom he would be delighted to give his sister Clara.</p> + +<p>And then he hopped in from one of Owen's fields into a small paddock +at the back of Owen's house, and seeing one of the stable-boys about +the place, asked him if his master was at home.</p> + +<p>"Shure an' he's here thin, yer honour;" and Lord Desmond could hear +the boy whispering, "It's the young lord hisself." In a moment Owen +Fitzgerald was standing by his horse's side. It was the first time +that Owen had seen one of the family since the news had been spread +abroad concerning his right to the inheritance of Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>"Desmond," said he, taking the lad's hand with one of his, and +putting the other on the animal's neck, "this is very good of you. I +am delighted to see you. I had heard that you were in the country."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have been home for this week past. But things are all so at +sixes and sevens among us all that a fellow can't go and do just what +he would like."</p> + +<p>Owen well understood what he meant. "Indeed they are at sixes and +sevens; you may well say that. But get off your horse, old fellow, +and come into the house. Why, what a lather of heat the mare's in."</p> + +<p>"Isn't she? it's quite dreadful. That chap of ours has no more idea +of condition than I have of—of—of—of an archbishop. I've just +trotted along the fields, and put her over a ditch or two, and you +see the state she's in. It's a beastly shame."</p> + +<p>"I know of old what your trottings are, Desmond; and what a ditch or +two means. You've been at every bank between this and Banteer as +though you were going for a steeplechase plate."</p> + +<p>"Upon my honour, Owen—"</p> + +<p>"Look here, Patsey. Walk that mare up and down here, between this +gate and that post, till the big sweat has all dried on her; and then +stick to her with a whisp of straw till she's as soft as silk. Do you +hear?"</p> + +<p>Patsey said that he did hear; and then Owen, throwing his arm over +the earl's shoulder, walked slowly towards the house.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, old boy," said Owen, +pressing his young friend with something almost like an embrace. "You +will hardly believe how long it is since I have seen a face that I +cared to look at."</p> + +<p>"Haven't you?" said the young lord, wondering. He knew that +Fitzgerald had now become heir to a very large fortune, or rather the +possessor of that fortune, and he could not understand why a man who +had been so popular while he was poor should be deserted now that he +was rich.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, have I not. Things are all at sixes and sevens as you +say. Let me see. Donnellan was here when you last saw me; and I was +soon tired of him when things became serious."</p> + +<p>"I don't wonder you were tired of him."</p> + +<p>"But, Desmond, how's your mother?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she's very well. These are bad times for poor people like us, +you know."</p> + +<p>"And your sister?"</p> + +<p>"She's pretty well too, thank you." And then there was a pause. +"You've had a great change in your fortune since I saw you, have you +not?" said the earl, after a minute or two. And there it occurred to +him for the first time, that, having refused his sister to this man +when he was poor, he had now come to offer her to him when he was +rich. "Not that that was the reason," he said to himself. "But it was +impossible then, and now it would be so pleasant."</p> + +<p>"It is a sad history, is it not?" said Owen.</p> + +<p>"Very sad," said the earl, remembering, however, that he had ridden +over there with his heart full of joy,—of joy occasioned by that +very catastrophe which now, following his friend's words like a +parrot, he declared to be so very sad.</p> + +<p>And now they were in the dining-room in which Owen usually lived, and +were both standing on the rug, as two men always do stand when they +first get into a room together. And it was clear to see that neither +of them knew how to break at once into the sort of loving, genial +talk which each was longing to have with the other. It is so easy to +speak when one has little or nothing to say; but often so difficult +when there is much that must be said: and the same paradox is equally +true of writing.</p> + +<p>Then Owen walked away to the window, looking out among the shrubs +into which Aby Mollett had been precipitated, as though he could +collect his thoughts there; and in a moment or two the earl followed +him, and looked out also among the shrubs. "They killed a fox exactly +there the other day; didn't they?" asked the earl, indicating the +spot by a nod of his head.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they did." And then there was another pause. "I'll tell you +what it is, Desmond," Owen said at last, going back to the rug and +speaking with an effort. "As the people say, 'a sight of you is good +for sore eyes.' There is a positive joy to me in seeing you. It is +like a cup of cold water when a man is thirsty. But I cannot put the +drink to my lips till I know on what terms we are to meet. When last +we saw each other, we were speaking of your sister; and now that we +meet again, we must again speak of her. Desmond, all my thoughts are +of her; I dream of her at night, and find myself talking to her +spirit when I wake in the morning. I have much else that I ought to +think of; but I go about thinking of nothing but of her. I am told +that she is engaged to my cousin Herbert. Nay, she has told me so +herself, and I know that it is so. But if she becomes his wife—any +man's wife but mine—I cannot live in this country."</p> + +<p>He had not said one word of that state of things in his life's +history of which the country side was so full. He had spoken of +Herbert, but he had not alluded to Herbert's fall. He had spoken of +such hope as he still might have with reference to Clara Desmond; but +he did not make the slightest reference to that change in his +fortunes—in his fortunes, and in those of his rival—which might +have so strong a bias on those hopes, and which ought so to have in +the minds of all worldly, prudent people. It was to speak of this +specially that Lord Desmond had come thither; and then, if +opportunity should offer, to lead away the subject to that other one; +but now Owen had begun at the wrong end. If called upon to speak +about his sister at once, what could the brother say, except that she +was engaged to Herbert Fitzgerald?</p> + +<p>"Tell me this, Desmond, whom does your sister love?" said Owen, +speaking almost fiercely in his earnestness. "I know so much of you, +at any rate, that whatever may be your feelings you will not lie to +me,"—thereby communicating to the young lord an accusation, which he +very well understood, against the truth of the countess, his mother.</p> + +<p>"When I have spoken to her about this she declares that she is +engaged to Herbert Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>"Engaged to him! yes, I know that; I do not doubt that. It has been +dinned into my ears now for the last six months till it is impossible +to doubt it. And she will marry him too, if no one interferes to +prevent it. I do not doubt that either. But, Desmond, that is not the +question that I have asked. She did love me; and then she was ordered +by her mother to abandon that love, and to give her heart to another. +That in words she has been obedient, I know well; but what I doubt is +this,—that she has in truth been able so to chuck her heart about +like a shuttlecock. I can only say that I am not able to do it."</p> + +<p>How was the earl to answer him? The very line of argument which +Owen's mind was taking was exactly that which the young lord himself +desired to promote. He too was desirous that Clara should go back to +her first love. He himself thought strongly that Owen was a man more +fitted than Herbert for the worshipful adoration of such a girl as +his sister Clara. But then he, Desmond, had opposed the match while +Owen was poor, and how was he to frame words by which he might +encourage it now that Owen was rich?</p> + +<p>"I have been so little with her, that I hardly know," he said. "But, +<span class="nowrap">Owen—"</span></p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"It is so difficult for me to talk to you about all this."</p> + +<p>"Is it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. You know that I have always liked you—always. No chap was +ever such a friend to me as you have been;" and he squeezed Owen's +arm with strong boyish love.</p> + +<p>"I know all about it," said Owen.</p> + +<p>"Well; then all that happened about Clara. I was young then, you +know,"—he was now sixteen—"and had not thought anything about it. +The idea of you and Clara falling in love had never occurred to me. +Boys are so blind, you know. But when it did happen—you remember +that day, old fellow, when you and I met down at the gate?"</p> + +<p>"Remember it!" said Owen. He would remember it, as he thought, when +half an eternity should have passed over his head.</p> + +<p>"And I told you then what I thought. I don't think I am a particular +fellow myself about money and rank and that sort of thing. I am as +poor as a church mouse, and so I shall always remain; and for myself +I don't care about it. But for one's sister, Owen—you never had a +sister, had you?"</p> + +<p>"Never," said Owen, hardly thinking of the question.</p> + +<p>"One is obliged to think of such things for her. We should all go to +rack and ruin, the whole family of us, box and dice,—as indeed we +have pretty well already—if some of us did not begin to look about +us. I don't suppose I shall ever marry and have a family. I couldn't +afford it, you know. And in that case Clara's son would be Earl of +Desmond; or if I died she would be Countess of Desmond in her own +right." And the young lord looked the personification of family +prudence.</p> + +<p>"I know all that," said Owen; "but you do not suppose that I was +thinking of it?"</p> + +<p>"What; as regards yourself. No; I am sure you never did. But, looking +to all that, it would never have done for her to marry a man as poor +as you were. It is not a comfortable thing to be a very poor +nobleman, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>Owen again remained silent. He wanted to talk the earl over into +favouring his views, but he wanted to do so as Owen of Hap House, not +as Owen of Castle Richmond. He perceived at once from the tone of the +boy's voice, and even from his words, that there was no longer +anything to be feared from the brother's opposition; and perceiving +this, he thought that the mother's opposition might now perhaps also +be removed. But it was quite manifest that this had come from what +was supposed to be his altered position. "A man as poor as you were," +Lord Desmond had said, urging that though now the marriage might be +well enough, in those former days it would have been madness. The +line of argument was very clear; but as Owen was as poor as ever, and +intended to remain so, there was nothing in it to comfort him.</p> + +<p>"I cannot say that I, myself, have so much worldly wisdom as you +have," said he at last, with something like a sneer.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that is just what I knew you would say. You think that I am +coming to you now, and offering to make up matters between you and +Clara because you are rich!"</p> + +<p>"But can you make up matters between me and Clara?" said Owen, +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I do not know. The countess seems to think it might be so."</p> + +<p>And then again Owen was silent, walking about the room with his hands +behind his back. Then after all the one thing of this world which his +eye regarded as desirable was within his reach. He had then been +right in supposing that that face which had once looked up to his so +full of love had been a true reflex of the girl's heart,—that it had +indicated to him love which was not changeable. It was true that +Clara, having accepted a suitor at her mother's order, might now be +allowed to come back to him! As he thought of this, he wondered at +the endurance and obedience of a woman's heart which could thus give +up all that it held as sacred at the instance of another. But even +this, though it was but little flattering to Clara, by no means +lessened the transport which he felt. He had had that pride in +himself, that he had never ceased to believe that she loved him. Full +of that thought, of which he had not dared to speak, he had gone +about, gloomily miserable since the news of her engagement with +Herbert had reached him, and now he learned, as he thought with +certainty, that his belief had been well grounded. Through all that +had passed Clara Desmond did love him still!</p> + +<p>But as to this overture of reconciliation that was now made to him; +how was he to accept it or reject it? It was made to him because he +was believed to be Sir Owen Fitzgerald of Castle Richmond, a baronet +of twelve thousand a year, instead of a poor squire, whose wife would +have to look narrowly to the kitchen, in order that food in +sufficiency might be forthcoming for the parlour. That he would +become Sir Owen he thought probable; but that he would be Sir Owen of +Hap House and not of Castle Richmond he had firmly resolved. He had +thought of this for long hours and hours together, and felt that he +could never again be happy were he to put his foot into that house as +its owner. Every tenant would scorn him, every servant would hate +him, every neighbour would condemn him; but this would be as nothing +to his hatred of himself, to his own scorn and his own condemnation. +And yet how great was the temptation to him now! If he would consent +to call himself master of Castle Richmond, Clara's hand might still +be his.</p> + +<p>So he thought; but those who know Clara Desmond better than he did +will know how false were his hopes. She was hardly the girl to have +gone back to a lover when he was rich, whom she had rejected when he +was poor.</p> + +<p>"Desmond," said he, "come here and sit down;" and both sat leaning on +the table together, with their arms touching. "I understand it all +now I think; and remember this, my boy, that whomever I may blame, I +do not blame you; that you are true and honest I am sure; and, +indeed, there is only one person whom I do blame." He did not say +that this one person was the countess, but the earl knew just as well +as though he had been told.</p> + +<p>"I understand all this now," he repeated, "and before we go any +further, I must tell you one thing; I shall never be owner of Castle +Richmond."</p> + +<p>"Why, I thought it was all settled!" said the earl, looking up with +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all is settled. To every bargain there must be two +parties, and I have never yet become a party to the bargain which +shall make me owner of Castle Richmond."</p> + +<p>"But is it not yours of right?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know what you call right."</p> + +<p>"Right of inheritance," said the earl, who, having succeeded to his +own rank by the strength of the same right enduring through many +ages, looked upon it as the one substantial palladium of the country.</p> + +<p>"Look here, old fellow, and I'll tell you my views about this. Sir +Thomas Fitzgerald, when he married that poor lady who is still +staying at Castle Richmond, did so in the face of the world with the +full assurance that he made her his legal wife. Whether such a case +as this ever occurred before I don't know, but I am sure of this that +in the eye of God she is his widow. Herbert Fitzgerald was brought up +as the heir to all that estate, and I cannot see that he can fairly +be robbed of that right because another man has been a villain. The +title he cannot have, I suppose, because the law won't give it him; +but the property can be made over to him, and as far as I am +concerned it shall be made over. No earthly consideration shall +induce me to put my hand upon it, for in doing so I should look upon +myself as a thief and a scoundrel."</p> + +<p>"And you mean then that Herbert will have it all, just the same as it +was before?"</p> + +<p>"Just the same as regards the estate."</p> + +<p>"Then why has he gone away?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot answer for him. I can only tell you what I shall do. I dare +say it may take months before it is all settled. But now, Desmond, +you know how I stand; I am Owen Fitzgerald of Hap House, now as I +have ever been, that and nothing more,—for as to the handle to my +name it is not worth talking about."</p> + +<p>They were still sitting at the table, and now they both sat silent, +not looking at each other, but with their eyes fixed on the wood. +Owen had in his hand a pen, which he had taken from the mantelpiece, +and unconsciously began to trace signs on the polished surface before +him. The earl sat with his forehead leaning on his two hands, +thinking what he was to say next. He felt that he himself loved the +man better than ever; but when his mother should come to hear all +this, what would she say?</p> + +<p>"You know it all now, my boy," said Owen, looking up at last; and as +he did so there was an expression about his face to which the young +earl thought that he had never seen the like. There was a gleam in +his eye which, though not of joy, was so bright; and a smile round +his mouth which was so sweet, though full of sadness! "How can she +not love him?" said he to himself, thinking of his sister. "And now, +Desmond, go back to your mother and tell her all. She has sent you +here."</p> + +<p>"No, she did not send me," said the boy, stoutly,—almost angrily; +"she does not even know that I have come."</p> + +<p>"Go back then to your sister."</p> + +<p>"Nor does she know it."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, go back to them, and tell them both what I have told +you; and tell them this also, that I, Owen Fitzgerald of Hap House, +still love her better than all that the world else can give me; +indeed, there is nothing else that I do love,—except you, Desmond. +But tell them also that I am Owen of Hap House still—that and +nothing more."</p> + +<p>"Owen," said the lad, looking up at him; and Fitzgerald as he glanced +into the boy's face could see that there was that arising within his +breast which almost prevented him from speaking.</p> + +<p>"And look, Desmond," continued Fitzgerald; "do not think that I shall +blame you because you turn from me, or call you mercenary. Do you do +what you think right. What you said just now of your sister's—, +well, of the possibility of our marriage, you said under the idea +that I was a rich man. You now find that I am a poor man; and you may +consider that the words were never spoken."</p> + +<p>"Owen!" said the boy again; and now that which was before rising in +his breast had risen to his brow and cheeks, and was telling its tale +plainly in his eyes. And then he rose from his chair, turning away +his face, and walking towards the window; but before he had gone two +steps he turned again, and throwing himself on Fitzgerald's breast, +he burst out into a passion of tears.</p> + +<p>"Come, old fellow, what is this? This will never do," said Owen. But +his own eyes were full of tears also, and he too was nearly past +speaking.</p> + +<p>"I know you will think—I am a boy and a—fool," said the earl, +through his sobs, as soon as he could speak; "but I can't—help it."</p> + +<p>"I think you are the dearest, finest, best fellow that ever lived," +said Fitzgerald, pressing him with his arm.</p> + +<p>"And I'll tell you what, Owen, you should have her to-morrow if it +were in my power, for, by heaven! there is not another man so worthy +of a girl in all the world; and I'll tell her so; and I don't care +what the countess says. And, Owen, come what come may, you shall +always have my word;" and then he stood apart, and rubbing his eyes +with his arm tried to look like a man who was giving this pledge from +his judgment, not from his impulse.</p> + +<p>"It all depends on this, Desmond; whom does she love? See her alone, +Desmond, and talk softly to her, and find out that." This he said +thoughtfully, for in his mind "love should still be lord of all."</p> + +<p>"By heavens! if I were her, I know whom I should love," said the +brother.</p> + +<p>"I would not have her as a gift if she did not love me," said Owen, +proudly; "but if she do, I have a right to claim her as my own."</p> + +<p>And then they parted, and the earl rode back home with a quieter pace +than that which had brought him there, and in a different mood. He +had pledged himself now to Owen,—not to Owen of Castle Richmond, but +to Owen of Hap House—and he intended to redeem his pledge if it were +possible. He had been so conquered by the nobleness of his friend, +that he had forgotten his solicitude for his family and his sister.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-37" id="c-37"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h3> +<h4>A TALE OF A TURBOT.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It would have been Owen Fitzgerald's desire to disclaim the +inheritance which chance had put in his way in absolute silence, had +such a course been possible to him. And, indeed, not being very well +conversant with matters of business, he had thought for a while that +this might be done—or at any rate something not far different from +this. To those who had hitherto spoken to him upon the subject, to +Mr. Prendergast, Mr. Somers, and his cousin, he had disclaimed the +inheritance, and that he had thought would have sufficed. That Sir +Thomas should die so quickly after the discovery had not of course +been expected by anybody; and much, therefore, had not been thought +at the moment of these disclaimers;—neither at the moment, nor +indeed afterwards, when Sir Thomas did die.</p> + +<p>Even Mr. Somers was prepared to admit that as the game had been given +up,—as his branch of the Fitzgeralds, acting under the advice of +their friend and lawyer, admitted that the property must go from +them—even he, much as he contested within his own breast the +propriety of Mr. Prendergast's decisions, was fain to admit now that +it was Owen's business to walk in upon the property. Any words which +he may have spoken on the impulse of the moment were empty words. +When a man becomes heir to twelve thousand a year, he does not give +it up in a freak of benevolence. And, therefore, when Sir Thomas had +been dead some four or five weeks, and when Herbert had gone away +from the scene which was no longer one of interest to him, it was +necessary that something should be done.</p> + +<p>During the last two or three days of his life Sir Thomas had executed +a new will, in which he admitted that his son was not the heir to his +estates, and so disposed of such moneys as it was in his power to +leave as he would have done had Herbert been a younger son. Early in +his life he himself had added something to the property, some two or +three hundred a year, and this, also, he left of course to his own +family. Such having been done, there would have been no opposition +made to Owen had he immediately claimed the inheritance; but as he +made no claim, and took no step whatever,—as he appeared neither by +himself, nor by letter, nor by lawyer, nor by agent,—as no rumour +ever got about as to what he intended to do, Mr. Somers found it +necessary to write to him. This he did on the day of Herbert's +departure, merely asking him, perhaps with scant courtesy, who was +his man of business, in order that he, Mr. Somers, as agent to the +late proprietor, might confer with him. With but scant courtesy,—for +Mr. Somers had made one visit to Hap House since the news had been +known, with some intention of ingratiating himself with the future +heir; but his tenders had not been graciously received. Mr. Somers +was a proud man, and though his position in life depended on the +income he received from the Castle Richmond estate, he would not make +any further overture. So his letter was somewhat of the shortest, and +merely contained the request above named.</p> + +<p>Owen's reply was sharp, immediate, and equally short, and was carried +back by the messenger from Castle Richmond who had brought the +letter, to which it was an answer. It was as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Hap House, Thursday morning, two o'clock.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>(There was no other date; and Owen probably was unaware that his +letter being written at two <span class="smallcaps">p.m.</span> +was not written on Thursday morning.)</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">Dear Sir,</p> + +<p>I have got no lawyer, and no man of business; nor do I +mean to employ any if I can help it. I intend to make no +claim to Mr. Herbert Fitzgerald's property of Castle +Richmond; and if it be necessary that I should sign any +legal document making over to him any claim that I may +have, I am prepared to do so at any moment. As he has got +a lawyer, he can get this arranged, and I suppose Mr. +Prendergast had better do it.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind6">I am, dear sir,</span><br /> +<span class="ind8">Your faithful servant,</span></p> + +<p class="ind10"><span class="smallcaps">Owen Fitzgerald</span> of +Hap House.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>And with those four or five lines he thought it would be practicable +for him to close the whole affair.</p> + +<p>This happened on the day of Herbert's departure, and on the day +preceding Lord Desmond's visit to Hap House; so that on the occasion +of that visit, Owen looked upon the deed as fully done. He had put it +quite beyond his own power to recede now, even had he so wished. And +then came the tidings to him,—true tidings as he thought,—that +Clara was still within his reach if only he were master of Castle +Richmond. That this view of his position did for a moment shake him I +will not deny; but it was only for a moment: and then it was that he +had looked up at Clara's brother, and bade him go back to his mother +and sister, and tell them that Owen of Hap House was Owen of Hap +House still;—that and nothing more. Clara Desmond might be bought at +a price which would be too costly even for such a prize as her. It +was well for him that he so resolved, for at no price could she have +been bought.</p> + +<p>Mr. Somers, when he received that letter, was much inclined to doubt +whether or no it might not be well to take Owen at his word. After +all, what just right had he to the estate? According to the eternal +and unalterable laws of right and wrong ought it not to belong to +Herbert Fitzgerald? Mr. Somers allowed his wish on this occasion to +be father to many thoughts much at variance from that line of +thinking which was customary to him as a man of business. In his +ordinary moods, law with him was law, and a legal claim a legal +claim. Had he been all his life agent to the Hap House property +instead of to that of Castle Richmond, a thought so romantic would +never have entered his head. He would have scouted a man as nearly a +maniac who should suggest to him that his client ought to surrender +an undoubted inheritance of twelve thousand a year on a point of +feeling. He would have rejected it as a proposed crime, and talked +much of the indefeasible rights of the coming heirs of the new heir. +He would have been as firm as a rock, and as trenchant as a sword in +defence of his patron's claims. But now, having in his hands that +short, pithy letter from Owen Fitzgerald, he could not but look at +the matter in a more Christian light. After all was not justice, +immutable justice, better than law? And would not the property be +enough for both of them? Might not law and justice make a compromise? +Let Owen be the baronet, and take a slice of four or five thousand, +and add that to Hap House; and then if these things were well +arranged, might not Mr. Somers still be agent to them both?</p> + +<p>Meditating all this in his newly tuned romantic frame of mind Mr. +Somers sat down and wrote a long letter to Mr. Prendergast, enclosing +the short letter from Owen, and saying all that he, as a man of +business with a new dash of romance, could say on such a subject. +This letter, not having slept on the road as Herbert did in Dublin, +and having been conveyed with that lightning rapidity for which the +British Post-office has ever been remarkable—and especially that +portion of it which has reference to the sister island,—was in Mr. +Prendergast's pocket when Herbert dined with him. That letter, and +another to which we shall have to refer more specially. But so much +at variance were Mr. Prendergast's ideas from those entertained by +Mr. Somers, that he would not even speak to Herbert on the subject. +Perhaps, also, that other more important letter, which, if we live, +we shall read at length, might also have had some effect in keeping +him silent.</p> + +<p>But in truth Mr. Somers' mind, and that of Mr. Prendergast, did not +work in harmony on this subject. Judging of the two men together by +their usual deeds and ascertained character, we may say that there +was much more romance about Mr. Prendergast than there was about Mr. +Somers. But then it was a general romance, and not one with an +individual object. Or perhaps we may say, without injury to Mr. +Somers, that it was a true feeling, and not a false one. Mr. +Prendergast, also, was much more anxious for the welfare of Herbert +Fitzgerald than that of his cousin; but then he could feel on behalf +of the man for whom he was interested that it did not behove him to +take a present of an estate from the hands of the true owner.</p> + +<p>For more than a week Mr. Somers waited, but got no reply to his +letter, and heard nothing from Mr. Prendergast; and during this time +he was really puzzled as to what he should do. As regarded himself, +he did not know at what moment his income might end, or how long he +and his family might be allowed to inhabit the house which he now +held: and then he could take no steps as to the tenants; could +neither receive money nor pay it away, and was altogether at his +wits' ends. Lady Fitzgerald looked to him for counsel in everything, +and he did not know how to counsel her. Arrangements were to be made +for an auction in the house as soon as she should be able to move; +but would it not be a thousand pities to sell all the furniture if +there was a prospect of the family returning? And so he waited for +Mr. Prendergast's letter with an uneasy heart and vexation of spirit.</p> + +<p>But still he attended the relief committees, and worked at the +soup-kitchens attached to the estate, as though he were still the +agent to Castle Richmond; and still debated warmly with Father Barney +on one side, and Mr. Townsend on the other, on that vexatious +question of out-door relief. And now the famine was in full swing; +and, strange to say, men had ceased to be uncomfortable about +it;—such men, that is, as Mr. Somers and Mr. Townsend. The cutting +off of maimed limbs, and wrenching out from their sockets of smashed +bones, is by no means shocking to the skilled practitioner. And dying +paupers, with "the drag" in their face—that certain sign of coming +death of which I have spoken—no longer struck men to the heart. Like +the skilled surgeon, they worked hard enough at what good they could +do, and worked the better in that they could treat the cases without +express compassion for the individuals that met their eyes. In +administering relief one may rob five unseen sufferers of what would +keep them in life if one is moved to bestow all that is comfortable +on one sufferer that is seen. Was it wise to spend money in +alleviating the last hours of those whose doom was already spoken, +which money, if duly used, might save the lives of others not yet so +far gone in misery? And so in one sense those who were the best in +the county, who worked the hardest for the poor and spent their time +most completely among them, became the hardest of heart, and most +obdurate in their denials. It was strange to see devoted women +neglecting the wants of the dying, so that they might husband their +strength and time and means for the wants of those who might still be +kept among the living.</p> + +<p>At this time there came over to the parish of Drumbarrow a young +English clergyman who might be said to be in many respects the very +opposite to Mr. Townsend. Two men could hardly be found in the same +profession more opposite in their ideas, lives, purposes, and +pursuits;—with this similarity, however, that each was a sincere, +and on the whole an honest man. The Rev. Mr. Carter was much the +junior, being at that time under thirty. He had now visited Ireland +with the sole object of working among the poor, and distributing +according to his own judgment certain funds which had been collected +for this purpose in England.</p> + +<p>And indeed there did often exist in England at this time a +misapprehension as to Irish wants, which led to some misuses of the +funds which England so liberally sent. It came at that time to be the +duty of a certain public officer to inquire into a charge made +against a seemingly respectable man in the far west of Ireland, +purporting that he had appropriated to his own use a sum of twelve +pounds sent to him for the relief of the poor of his parish. It had +been sent by three English maiden ladies to the relieving officer of +the parish of Kilcoutymorrow, and had come to his hands, he then +filling that position. He, so the charge said,—and unfortunately +said so with only too much truth,—had put the twelve pounds into his +own private pocket. The officer's duty in the matter took him to the +chairman of the Relief Committee, a stanch old Roman Catholic +gentleman nearly eighty years of age, with a hoary head and white +beard, and a Milesian name that had come down to him through +centuries of Catholic ancestors;—a man urbane in his manner, of the +old school, an Irishman such as one does meet still here and there +through the country, but now not often—one who above all things was +true to the old religion.</p> + +<p>Then the officer of the government told his story to the old Irish +gentleman—with many words, for there were all manner of small +collateral proofs, to all of which the old Irish gentleman listened +with a courtesy and patience which were admirable. And when the +officer of the government had done, the old Irish gentleman thus +<span class="nowrap">replied:—</span></p> + +<p>"My neighbour Hobbs,"—such was the culprit's name—"has undoubtedly +done this thing. He has certainly spent upon his own uses the +generous offering made to our poor parish by those noble-minded +ladies, the three Miss Walkers. But he has acted with perfect honesty +in the matter."</p> + +<p>"What!" said the government officer, "robbing the poor, and at such a +time as this!"</p> + +<p>"No robbery at all, dear sir," said the good old Irish gentleman, +with the blandest of all possible smiles; "the excellent Miss Walkers +sent their money for the Protestant poor of the parish of +Kilcoutymorrow, and Mr. Hobbs is the only Protestant within it." And +from the twinkle in the old man's eye, it was clear to see that his +triumph consisted in this,—that not only he had but one Protestant +in the parish, but that that Protestant should have learned so little +from his religion.</p> + +<p>But this is an episode. And nowadays no episodes are allowed.</p> + +<p>And now Mr. Carter had come over to see that if possible certain +English funds were distributed according to the wishes of the +generous English hearts by whom they had been sent. For as some +English, such as the three Miss Walkers, feared on the one hand that +the Babylonish woman so rampant in Ireland might swallow up their +money for Babylonish purposes; so, on the other hand, did others +dread that the too stanch Protestantism of the church militant in +that country might expend the funds collected for undoubted bodily +wants in administering to the supposed wants of the soul. No such +faults did, in truth, at that time prevail. The indomitable force of +the famine had absolutely knocked down all that; but there had been +things done in Ireland, before the famine came upon them, which gave +reasonable suspicion for such fears.</p> + +<p>Mr. Townsend among others had been very active in soliciting aid from +England, and hence had arisen a correspondence between him and Mr. +Carter; and now Mr. Carter had arrived at Drumbarrow with a +respectable sum to his credit at the provincial bank, and an intense +desire to make himself useful in this time of sore need. Mr. Carter +was a tall, thin, austere-looking man; one, seemingly, who had +macerated himself inwardly and outwardly by hard living. He had a +high, narrow forehead, a sparse amount of animal development, thin +lips, and a piercing, sharp, gray eye. He was a man, too, of few +words, and would have been altogether harsh in his appearance had +there not been that in the twinkle of his eye which seemed to say +that, in spite of all that his gait said to the contrary, the cockles +of his heart might yet be reached by some play of wit—if only the +wit were to his taste.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carter was a man of personal means, so that he not only was not +dependent on his profession, but was able—as he also was willing—to +aid that profession by his liberality. In one thing only was he +personally expensive. As to his eating and drinking it was, or might +have been for any solicitude of his own, little more than bread and +water. As for the comforts of home, he had none, for since his +ordination his missions had ever been migrating. But he always +dressed with care, and consequently with expense, for careful +dressing is ever expensive. He always wore new black gloves, and a +very long black coat which never degenerated to rust, black cloth +trousers, a high black silk waistcoat, and a new black hat. +Everything about him was black except his neck, and that was always +scrupulously white.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carter was a good man—one may say a very good man—for he gave +up himself and his money to carry out high views of charity and +religion, in which he was sincere with the sincerity of his whole +heart, and from which he looked for no reward save such as the godly +ever seek. But yet there was about him too much of the Pharisee. He +was greatly inclined to condemn other men, and to think none +righteous who differed from him. And now he had come to Ireland with +a certain conviction that the clergy of his own church there were men +not to be trusted; that they were mere Irish, and little better in +their habits and doctrines than under-bred dissenters. He had been +elsewhere in the country before he visited Drumbarrow, and had shown +this too plainly; but then Mr. Carter was a very young man, and it is +not perhaps fair to expect zeal and discretion also from those who +are very young.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Townsend had heard of him, and was in dismay when she found that +he was to stay with them at Drumbarrow parsonage for three days. If +Mr. Carter did not like clerical characters of her stamp, neither did +she like them of the stamp of Mr. Carter. She had heard of him, of +his austerity, of his look, of his habits, and in her heart she +believed him to be a Jesuit. Had she possessed full sway herself in +the parish of Drumbarrow, no bodies should have been saved at such +terrible peril to the souls of the whole parish. But this Mr. Carter +came with such recommendation—with such assurances of money given +and to be given, of service done and to be done,—that there was no +refusing him. And so the husband, more worldly wise than his wife, +had invited the Jesuit to his parsonage.</p> + +<p>"You'll find, Æneas, he'll have mass in his room in the morning +instead of coming to family prayers," said the wife.</p> + +<p>"But what on earth shall we give him for dinner?" said the husband, +whose soul at the present moment was among the flesh-pots; and indeed +Mrs. Townsend had also turned over that question in her prudent mind.</p> + +<p>"He'll not eat meat in Lent, you may be sure," said Mrs. Townsend, +remembering that that was the present period of the year.</p> + +<p>"And if he would there is none for him to eat," said Mr. Townsend, +calling to mind the way in which the larder had of late been emptied.</p> + +<p>Protestant clergymen in Ireland in those days had very frequently +other reasons for fasting than those prescribed by ecclesiastical +canons. A well-nurtured lady, the wife of a parish rector in the +county Cork, showed me her larder one day about that time. It +contained two large loaves of bread, and a pan full of stuff which I +should have called paste, but which she called porridge. It was all +that she had for herself, her husband, her children, and her charity. +Her servants had left her before she came to that pass. And she was a +well-nurtured, handsome, educated woman, born to such comforts as you +and I enjoy every day,—oh, my reader! perhaps without much giving of +thanks for them. Poor lady! the struggle was too much for her, and +she died under it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Townsend was, as I have said, the very opposite to Mr. Carter, +but he also was a man who could do without the comforts of life, if +the comforts of life did not come readily in his way. He liked his +glass of whisky punch dearly, and had an idea that it was good for +him. Not caring much about personal debts, he would go in debt for +whisky. But if the whisky and credit were at an end, the loss did not +make him miserable. He was a man with a large appetite, and who took +great advantage of a good dinner when it was before him; nay, he +would go a long distance to insure a good dinner; but, nevertheless, +he would leave himself without the means of getting a mutton chop, +and then not be unhappy. Now Mr. Carter would have been very unhappy +had he been left without his superfine long black coat.</p> + +<p>In tendering his invitation to Mr. Carter, Mr. Townsend had explained +that with him the <i>res angusta domi</i>, which was always a prevailing +disease, had been heightened by the circumstances of the time; but +that of such crust and cup as he had, his brother English clergyman +would be made most welcome to partake. In answer to this, Mr. Carter +had explained that in these days good men thought but little of +crusts and cups, and that as regarded himself, nature had so made him +that he had but few concupiscences of that sort. And then, all this +having been so far explained and settled, Mr. Carter came.</p> + +<p>The first day the two clergymen spent together at Berryhill, and +found plenty to employ them. They were now like enough to be in want +of funds at that Berryhill soup-kitchen, seeing that the great fount +of supplies, the house, namely, of Castle Richmond, would soon have +stopped running altogether. And Mr. Carter was ready to provide funds +to some moderate extent if all his questions were answered +satisfactorily. "There was to be no making of Protestants," he said, +"by giving away of soup purchased with his money." Mr. Townsend +thought that this might have been spared him. "I regret to say," +replied he, with some touch of sarcasm, "that we have no time for +that now." "And so better," said Mr. Carter, with a sarcasm of a +blunter sort. "So better. Let us not clog our alms with impossible +conditions which will only create falsehood." "Any conditions are out +of the question when one has to feed a whole parish," answered Mr. +Townsend.</p> + +<p>And then Mr. Carter would teach them how to boil their yellow meal, +on which subject he had a theory totally opposite to the practice of +the woman employed at the soup-kitchen. "Av we war to hocus it that, +yer riverence," said Mrs. Daly, turning to Mr. Townsend, "the +crathurs couldn't ate a bit of it; it wouldn't bile at all, at all, +not like that."</p> + +<p>"Try it, woman," said Mr. Carter, when he had uttered his receipt +oracularly for the third time.</p> + +<p>"'Deed an' I won't," said Mrs. Daly, whose presence there was pretty +nearly a labour of love, and who was therefore independent. "It'd be +a sin an' a shame to spile Christian vittels in them times, an' I +won't do it." And then there was some hard work that day; and though +Mr. Townsend kept his temper with his visitor, seeing that he had +much to get and nothing to give, he did not on this occasion learn to +alter his general opinion of his brethren of the English high church.</p> + +<p>And then, when they got home, very hungry after their toil, Mr. +Townsend made another apology for the poorness of his table. "I am +almost ashamed," said he, "to ask an English gentleman to sit down to +such a dinner as Mrs. Townsend will put before you."</p> + +<p>"And indeed then it isn't much," said Mrs. Townsend; "just a bit of +fish I found going the road."</p> + +<p>"My dear madam, anything will suffice," said Mr. Carter, somewhat +pretentiously. And anything would have sufficed. Had they put before +him a mess of that paste of which I have spoken he would have ate it +and said nothing,—ate enough of it at least to sustain him till the +morrow.</p> + +<p>But things had not come to so bad a pass as this at Drumbarrow +parsonage; and, indeed, that day fortune had been +propitious;—fortune which ever favours the daring. Mrs. Townsend, +knowing that she had really nothing in the house, had sent Jerry to +waylay the Lent fishmonger, who twice a week was known to make his +way from Kanturk to Mallow with a donkey and panniers; and Jerry had +returned with a prize.</p> + +<p>And now they sat down to dinner, and lo and behold, to the great +surprise of Mr. Carter, and perhaps also to the surprise of the host, +a magnificent turbot smoked upon the board. The fins no doubt had +been cut off to render possible the insertion of the animal into the +largest of the Drumbarrow parsonage kitchen-pots,—an injury against +which Mr. Townsend immediately exclaimed angrily. "My goodness, they +have cut off the fins!" said he, holding up both hands in deep +dismay. According to his philosophy, if he did have a turbot, why +should he not have it with all its perfections about it—fins and +all?</p> + +<p>"My dear Æneas!" said Mrs. Townsend, looking at him with that agony +of domestic distress which all wives so well know how to assume.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carter said nothing. He said not a word, but he thought much. +This then was their pretended poorness of living! with all their mock +humility, these false Irishmen could not resist the opportunity of +showing off before the English stranger, and of putting on their +table before him a dish which an English dean could afford only on +gala days. And then this clergyman, who was so loudly anxious for the +poor, could not repress the sorrow of his heart because the rich +delicacy was somewhat marred in the cooking. "It was too bad," +thought Mr. Carter to himself, "too bad."</p> + +<p>"None, thank you," said he, drawing himself up with gloomy +reprobation of countenance. "I will not take any fish, I am much +obliged to you."</p> + +<p>Then the face of Mrs. Townsend was one on which neither Christian nor +heathen could have looked without horror and grief. What, the man +whom in her heart she believed to be a Jesuit, and for whom +nevertheless, Jesuit though he was, she had condescended to cater +with all her woman's wit!—this man, I say, would not eat fish in +Lent! And it was horrible to her warm Irish heart to think that after +that fish now upon the table there was nothing to come but two or +three square inches of cold bacon. Not eat turbot in Lent! Had he +been one of her own sort she might have given him credit for true +antagonism to popery; but every inch of his coat gave the lie to such +a supposition as that.</p> + +<p>"Do take a bit," said Mr. Townsend, hospitably. "The fins should not +have been cut off, otherwise I never saw a finer fish in my life."</p> + +<p>"None, I am very much obliged to you," said Mr. Carter, with sternest +reprobation of feature.</p> + +<p>It was too much for Mrs. Townsend. "Oh, Æneas," said she, "what are +we to do?" Mr. Townsend merely shrugged his shoulders, while he +helped himself. His feelings were less acute, perhaps, than those of +his wife, and he, no doubt, was much more hungry. Mr. Carter the +while sat by, saying nothing, but looking daggers. He also was +hungry, but under such circumstances he would rather starve than eat.</p> + +<p>"Don't you ever eat fish, Mr. Carter?" said Mr. Townsend, proceeding +to help himself for a second time, and poking about round the edges +of the delicate creature before him for some relics of the glutinous +morsels which he loved so well. He was not, however, enjoying it as +he should have done, for seeing that his guest ate none, and that his +wife's appetite was thoroughly marred, he was alone in his +occupation. No one but a glutton could have feasted well under such +circumstances, and Mr. Townsend was not a glutton.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, I will eat none to-day," said Mr. Carter, sitting bolt +upright, and fixing his keen gray eyes on the wall opposite.</p> + +<p>"Then you may take away, Biddy; I've done with it. But it's a +thousand pities such a fish should have been so wasted."</p> + +<p>The female heart of Mrs. Townsend could stand these wrongs no longer, +and with a tear in one corner of her eye, and a gleam of anger in the +other, she at length thus spoke out. "I am sure then I don't know +what you will eat, Mr. Carter, and I did think that all you English +clergymen always ate fish in Lent,—and indeed nothing else; for +indeed people do say that you are much the same as the papists in +that respect."</p> + +<p>"Hush, my dear!" said Mr. Townsend.</p> + +<p>"Well, but I can't hush when there's nothing for the gentleman to +eat."</p> + +<p>"My dear madam, such a matter does not signify in the least," said +Mr. Carter, not unbending an inch.</p> + +<p>"But it does signify; it signifies a great deal; and so you'd know if +you were a family man;"—"as you ought to be," Mrs. Townsend would +have been delighted to add. "And I'm sure I sent Jerry five miles, +and he was gone four hours to get that bit of fish from Paddy +Magrath, as he stops always at Ballygibblin Gate; and indeed I +thought myself so lucky, for I only gave Jerry one and sixpence. But +they had an uncommon take of fish yesterday at Skibbereen, +<span class="nowrap">and—"</span></p> + +<p>"One and sixpence!" said Mr. Carter, now slightly relaxing his brow +for the first time.</p> + +<p>"I'd have got it for one and three," said Mr. Townsend, upon whose +mind an inkling of the truth was beginning to dawn.</p> + +<p>"Indeed and you wouldn't, Æneas; and Jerry was forced to promise the +man a glass of whisky the first time he comes this road, which he +does sometimes. That fish weighed over nine pounds, every ounce of +it."</p> + +<p>"Nine fiddlesticks," said Mr. Townsend.</p> + +<p>"I weighed it myself, Æneas, with my own hands, and it was nine +pounds four ounces before we were obliged to cut it, and as firm as a +rock the flesh was."</p> + +<p>"For one and sixpence!" said Mr. Carter, relaxing still a little +further, and condescending to look his hostess in the face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for one and six; and now—"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I'd have bought it for one and four, fins and all," said +the parson, determined to interrupt his wife in her pathos.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you would not then," said his wife, taking his assertion in +earnest. "You could never market against Jerry in your life; I will +say that for him."</p> + +<p>"If you'll allow me to change my mind, I think I will have a little +bit of it," said Mr. Carter, almost humbly.</p> + +<p>"By all means," said Mr. Townsend. "Biddy, bring that fish back. Now +I think of it, I have not half dined myself yet."</p> + +<p>And then they all three forgot their ill humours, and enjoyed their +dinner thoroughly,—in spite of the acknowledged fault as touching +the lost fins of the animal.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-38" id="c-38"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h3> +<h4>CONDEMNED.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>I have said that Lord Desmond rode home from Hap House that day in a +quieter mood and at a slower pace than that which had brought him +thither; and in truth it was so. He had things to think of now much +more serious than any that had filled his mind as he had cantered +along, joyously hoping that after all he might have for his brother +the man that he loved, and the owner of Castle Richmond also. This +was now impossible; but he felt that he loved Owen better than ever +he had done, and he was pledged to fight Owen's battle, let Owen be +ever so poor.</p> + +<p>"And what does it signify after all?" he said to himself, as he rode +along. "We shall all be poor together, and then we sha'n't mind it so +much; and if I don't marry, Hap House itself will be something to add +to the property;" and then he made up his mind that he could be happy +enough, living at Desmond Court all his life, so long as he could +have Owen Fitzgerald near him to make life palatable.</p> + +<p>That night he spoke to no one on the subject, at least to no one of +his own accord. When they were alone his mother asked him where he +had been; and when she learned that he had been at Hap House, she +questioned him much as to what had passed between him and Owen; but +he would tell her nothing, merely saying that Owen had spoken of +Clara with his usual ecstasy of love, but declining to go into the +subject at any length. The countess, however, gathered from him that +he and Owen were on kindly terms together, and so far she felt +satisfied.</p> + +<p>On the following morning he made up his mind "to have it out," as he +called it, with Clara; but when the hour came his courage failed him: +it was a difficult task—that which he was now to undertake—of +explaining to her his wish that she should go back to her old lover, +not because he was no longer poor, but, as it were in spite of his +poverty, and as a reward to him for consenting to remain poor. As he +had thought about it while riding home, it had seemed feasible +enough. He would tell her how nobly Owen was going to behave to +Herbert, and would put it to her whether, as he intended willingly to +abandon the estate, he ought not to be put into possession of the +wife. There was a romantic justice about this which he thought would +touch Clara's heart. But on the following morning when he came to +think what words he would use for making his little proposition, the +picture did not seem to him to be so beautiful. If Clara really loved +Herbert—and she had declared that she did twenty times over—it +would be absurd to expect her to give him up merely because he was +not a ruined man. But then, which did she love? His mother declared +that she loved Owen. "That's the real question," said the earl to +himself, as on the second morning he made up his mind that he would +"have it out" with Clara without any further delay. He must be true +to Owen; that was his first great duty at the present moment.</p> + +<p>"Clara, I want to talk to you," he said, breaking suddenly into the +room where she usually sat alone o' mornings. "I was at Hap House the +day before yesterday with Owen Fitzgerald, and to tell you the truth +at once, we were talking about you the whole time we were there. And +now what I want is, that something should be settled, so that we may +all understand one another."</p> + +<p>These words he spoke to her quite abruptly. When he first said that +he wished to speak to her, she had got up from her chair to welcome +him, for she dearly loved to have him there. There was nothing she +liked better than having him to herself when he was in a soft +brotherly humour; and then she would interest herself about his +horse, and his dogs, and his gun, and predict his life for him, +sending him up as a peer to Parliament, and giving him a noble wife, +and promising him that he should be such a Desmond as would redeem +all the family from their distresses. But now as he rapidly brought +out his words, she found that on this day her prophecies must regard +herself chiefly.</p> + +<p>"Surely, Patrick, it is easy enough to understand me," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know; I don't in the least mean to find fault with +you."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that, dearest," she said, laying her hand upon his arm.</p> + +<p>"But my mother says one thing, and you another, and Owen another; and +I myself, I hardly know what to say."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Patrick, it is simply this: I became engaged to Herbert +with my mother's sanction and yours; and +<span class="nowrap">now—"</span></p> + +<p>"Stop a moment," said the impetuous boy, "and do not pledge yourself +to anything till you have heard me. I know that you are cut to the +heart about Herbert Fitzgerald losing his property."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed; not at all cut to the heart; that is as regards myself."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean as regards yourself; I mean as regards him. I have +heard you say over and over again that it is a piteous thing that he +should be so treated. Have I not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have said that, and I think so."</p> + +<p>"And I think that most of your great—great—great love for him, if +you will, comes from that sort of feeling."</p> + +<p>"But, Patrick, it came long before."</p> + +<p>"Dear Clara, do listen to me, will you? You may at any rate do as +much as that for me." And then Clara stood perfectly mute, looking +into his handsome face as he continued to rattle out his words at +her.</p> + +<p>"Now if you please, Clara, you may have the means of giving back to +him all his property, every shilling that he ever had, or expected to +have. Owen Fitzgerald,—who certainly is the finest fellow that ever +I came across in all my life, or ever shall, if I live to five +hundred,—says that he will make over every acre of Castle Richmond +back to his cousin Herbert +<span class="nowrap">if—"</span> Oh, my lord, my lord, what a scheme +is this you are concocting to entrap your sister! Owen Fitzgerald +inserted no "if," as you are well aware! "If," he continued, with +some little qualm of conscience, "if you will consent to be his +wife."</p> + +<p>"Patrick!"</p> + +<p>"Listen, now listen. He thinks, and, Clara, by the heavens above me! +I think also that you did love him better than you ever loved Herbert +Fitzgerald." Clara as she heard these words blushed ruby red up to +her very hair, but she said never a word. "And I think, and he +thinks, that you are bound now to Herbert by his misfortunes—that +you feel that you cannot desert him because he has fallen so low. By +George, Clara, I am proud of you for sticking to him through thick +and thin, now that he is down! But the matter will be very difficult +if you have the means of giving back to him all that he has lost, as +you have. Owen will be poor, but he is a prince among men. By heaven, +Clara, if you will only say that he is your choice, Herbert shall +have back all Castle Richmond! and I—I shall never marry, and you +may give to the man that I love as my brother all that there is left +to us of Desmond."</p> + +<p>There was something grand about the lad's eager tone of voice as he +made his wild proposal, and something grand also about his heart. He +meant what he said, foolish as he was either to mean or to say it. +Clara burst into tears, and threw herself into his arms. "You don't +understand," she said, through her sobs, "my own, own brother; you do +not understand."</p> + +<p>"But, by Jove! I think I do understand. As sure as you are a living +girl he will give back Castle Richmond to Herbert Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>She recovered herself, and leaving her brother's arms, walked away to +the window, and from thence looked down to that path beneath the elms +which was the spot in the world which she thought of the oftenest; +but as she gazed, there was no lack of loyalty in her heart to the +man to whom she was betrothed. It seemed to her as though those +childish days had been in another life; as though Owen had been her +lover in another world,—a sweet, childish, innocent, happy world +which she remembered well, but which was now dissevered from her by +an impassable gulf. She thought of his few words of love,—so few +that she remembered every word that he had then spoken, and thought +of them with a singular mixture of pain and pleasure. And now she +heard of his noble self-denial with a thrill which was in no degree +enhanced by the fact that she, or even Herbert, was to be the gainer +by it. She rejoiced at his nobility, merely because it was a joy to +her to know that he was so noble. And yet all through this she was +true to Herbert. Another work-a-day world had come upon her in her +womanhood, and as that came she had learned to love a man of another +stamp, with a love that was quieter, more subdued, and perhaps, as +she thought, more enduring. Whatever might be Herbert's lot in life, +that lot she would share. Her love for Owen should never be more to +her than a dream.</p> + +<p>"Did he send you to me?" she said at last, without turning her face +away from the window.</p> + +<p>"Yes, then, he did; he did send me to you, and he told me to say that +as Owen of Hap House he loved you still. And I, I promised to do his +bidding; and I promised, moreover, that as far as my good word could +go with you, he should have it. And now you know it all; if you care +for my pleasure in the matter you will take Owen, and let Herbert +have his property. By Jove! if he is treated in that way he cannot +complain."</p> + +<p>"Patrick," said she, returning to him and again laying her hand on +him. "You must now take my message also. You must go to him and bid +him come here that I may see him."</p> + +<p>"Who? Owen?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Owen Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>"Very well, I have no objection in life." And the earl thought that +the difficulty was really about to be overcome. "And about my +mother?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell mamma."</p> + +<p>"And what shall I say to Owen?"</p> + +<p>"Say nothing to him, but bid him come here. But wait, Patrick; yes; +he must not misunderstand me; I can never, never, never marry him."</p> + +<p>"Clara!"</p> + +<p>"Never, never; it is impossible. Dear Patrick, I am so sorry to make +you unhappy, and I love you so very dearly,—better than ever, I +think, for speaking as you do now. But that can never be. Let him +come here, however, and I myself will tell him all." At last, +disgusted and unhappy though he was, the earl did accept the +commission, and again on that afternoon rode across the fields to Hap +House.</p> + +<p>"I will tell him nothing but that he is to come," said the earl to +himself as he went thither. And he did tell Owen nothing else. +Fitzgerald questioned him much, but learned but little from him. "By +heavens, Owen," he said, "you must settle the matter between you, for +I don't understand it. She has bid me ask you to come to her; and now +you must fight your own battle." Fitzgerald of course said that he +would obey, and so Lord Desmond left him.</p> + +<p>In the evening Clara told her mother. "Owen Fitzgerald is to be here +to-morrow," she said.</p> + +<p>"Owen Fitzgerald; is he?" said the countess. She hardly knew how to +bear herself, or how to interfere so as to assist her own object; or +how not to interfere, lest she should mar it.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma. Patrick saw him the other day, and I think it is better +that I should see him also."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my dear. But you must be aware, Clara, that you have been +so very—I don't wish to say headstrong exactly—so very +<i>entêtée</i> +about your own affairs, that I hardly know how to speak of them. If +your brother is in your confidence I shall be satisfied."</p> + +<p>"He is in my confidence; and so may you be also, mamma, if you +please."</p> + +<p>But the countess thought it better not to have any conversation +forced upon her at that moment; and so she asked her daughter for no +further show of confidence then. It would probably be as well that +Owen should come and plead his own cause.</p> + +<p>And Owen did come. All that night and on the next morning the poor +girl remained alone in a state of terrible doubt. She had sent for +her old lover, thinking at the moment that no one could explain to +him in language so clear as her own what was her fixed resolve. And +she had too been so moved by the splendour of his offer, that she +longed to tell him what she thought of it. The grandeur of that offer +was enhanced tenfold in her mind by the fact that it had been so +framed as to include her in this comparative poverty with which Owen +himself was prepared to rest contented. He had known that she was not +to be bought by wealth, and had given her credit for a nobility that +was akin to his own.</p> + +<p>But yet, now that the moment was coming, how was she to talk to him? +How was she to speak the words which would rob him of his hope, and +tell him that he did not, could not, never could possess that one +treasure which he desired more than houses and lands, or station and +rank? Alas, alas! If it could have been otherwise! If it could have +been otherwise! She also was in love with poverty;—but at any rate, +no one could accuse her now of sacrificing a poor lover for a rich +one. Herbert Fitzgerald would be poor enough.</p> + +<p>And then he came. They had hitherto met but once since that +afternoon, now so long ago—that afternoon to which she looked back +as to another former world—and that meeting had been in the very +room in which she was now prepared to receive him. But her feelings +towards him had been very different then. Then he had almost forced +himself upon her, and for months previously she had heard nothing of +him but what was evil. He had come complaining loudly, and her heart +had been somewhat hardened against him. Now he was there at her +bidding, and her heart and very soul were full of tenderness. She +rose rapidly, and sat down again, and then again rose as she heard +his footsteps; but when he entered the room she was standing in the +middle of it.</p> + +<p>"Clara," he said, taking the hand which she mechanically held out, "I +have come here now at your brother's request."</p> + +<p>Her name sounded so sweet upon his lips. No idea occurred to her that +she ought to be angry with him for using it. Angry with him! Could it +be possible that she should ever be angry with him—that she ever had +been so?</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "Patrick said something to me which made me think +that it would be better that we should meet."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; it is better. If people are honest they had always better +say to each other's faces that which they have to say."</p> + +<p>"I mean to be honest, Mr. Fitzgerald."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am sure you do; and so do I also. And if this is so, why +cannot we say each to the other that which we have to say? My tale +will be a very short one; but it will be true if it is short."</p> + +<p>"But, Mr. Fitzgerald—"</p> + +<p>"Well, Clara?"</p> + +<p>"Will you not sit down?" And she herself sat upon the sofa; and he +drew a chair for himself near to her; but he was too impetuous to +remain seated on it long. During the interview between them he was +sometimes standing, and sometimes walking quickly about the room; and +then for a moment he would sit down, or lean down over her on the +sofa arm.</p> + +<p>"But, Mr. Fitzgerald, it is my tale that I wish you to hear."</p> + +<p>"Well; I will listen to it." But he did not listen; for before she +had spoken a dozen words he had interrupted her, and poured out upon +her his own wild plans and generous schemes. She, poor girl, had +thought to tell him that she loved Herbert, and Herbert only—as a +lover. But that if she could love him, him Owen, as a brother and a +friend, that love she would so willingly give him. And then she would +have gone on to say how impossible it would have been for Herbert, +under any circumstances, to have availed himself of such generosity +as that which had been offered. But her eloquence was all cut short +in the bud. How could she speak with such a storm of impulse raging +before her as that which was now strong within Owen Fitzgerald's +bosom?</p> + +<p>He interrupted her before she had spoken a dozen words, in order that +he might exhibit before her eyes the project with which his bosom was +filled. This he did, standing for the most part before her, looking +down upon her as she sat beneath him, with her eyes fixed upon the +floor, while his were riveted on her down-turned face. She knew it +all before—all this that he had to say to her, or she would hardly +have understood it from his words, they were so rapid and vehement. +And yet they were tender, too; spoken in a loving tone, and +containing ever and anon assurances of respect, and a resolve to be +guided now and for ever by her wishes,—even though those wishes +should be utterly subversive of his happiness.</p> + +<p>"And now you know it all," he said, at last. "And as for my cousin's +property, that is safe enough. No earthly consideration would induce +me to put a hand upon that, seeing that by all justice it is his." +But in this she hardly yet quite understood him. "Let him have what +luck he may in other respects, he shall still be master of Castle +Richmond. If it were that that you wanted—as I know it is not—that +I cannot give you. I cannot tell you with what scorn I should regard +myself if I were to take advantage of such an accident as this to rob +any man of his estate."</p> + +<p>Her brother had been right, so Clara felt, when he declared that Owen +Fitzgerald was the finest fellow that ever he had come across. She +made another such declaration within her own heart, only with words +that were more natural to her. He was the noblest gentleman of whom +she had ever heard, or read, or thought.</p> + +<p>"But," continued Owen, "as I will not interfere with him in that +which should be his, neither should he interfere with me in that +which should be mine. Clara, the only estate that I claim is your +heart."</p> + +<p>And that estate she could not give him. On that at any rate she was +fixed. She could not barter herself about from one to the other +either as a make-weight or a counterpoise. All his pleading was in +vain; all his generosity would fail in securing to him this one +reward that he desired. And now she had to tell him so.</p> + +<p>"Your brother seems to think," he continued, "that you still—;" but +now it was her turn to interrupt him.</p> + +<p>"Patrick is mistaken," she said, with her eyes still fixed upon the +ground.</p> + +<p>"What. You will tell me, then, that I am utterly indifferent to you?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, no; I did not say so." And now she got up and took hold of +his arm, and looked into his face imploringly. "I did not say so. +But, oh, Mr. Fitzgerald, be kind to me, be forbearing with me, be +good to me," and she almost embraced his arm as she appealed to him, +with her eyes all swimming with tears.</p> + +<p>"Good to you!" he said. And a strong passion came upon him, urging +him to throw his arm round her slender body, and press her to his +bosom. Good to her! would he not protect her with his life's blood +against all the world if she would only come to him? "Good to you, +Clara! Can you not trust me that I will be good to you if you will +let me?"</p> + +<p>"But not so, Owen." It was the first time she had ever called him by +his name, and she blushed again as she remembered that it was so. +"Not good, as you mean, for now I must trust to another for that +goodness. Herbert must be my husband, Owen; but will not you be our +friend?"</p> + +<p>"Herbert must be your husband!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes. It is so. Do not look at me in that way, pray do not; +what would you have me do? You would not have me false to my troth, +and false to my own heart, because you are generous. Be generous to +me—to me also."</p> + +<p>He turned away from her, and walked the whole length of the long +room; away and back, before he answered her, and even then, when he +had returned to her, he stood, looking at her before he spoke. And +she now looked full into his face, hoping, but yet fearing; hoping +that he might yield to her; and fearing his terrible displeasure +should he not yield.</p> + +<p>"Clara," he said; and he spoke solemnly, slowly, and in a mood unlike +his own,—"I cannot as yet read your heart clearly; nor do I know +whether you can quite so read it yourself."</p> + +<p>"I can, I can," she answered quickly; "and you shall know it +all—all, if you wish."</p> + +<p>"I want to know but one thing. Whom is it that you love? And, +<span class="nowrap">Clara—,"</span> and +this he said interrupting her as she was about to +speak. "I do not ask you to whom you are engaged. You have engaged +yourself both to him and to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald!"</p> + +<p>"I do not blame you; not in the least. But is it not so? as to that I +will ask no question, and say nothing; only this, that so far we are +equal. But now ask of your own heart, and then answer me. Whom is it +then you love?"</p> + +<p>"Herbert Fitzgerald," she said. The words hardly formed themselves +into a whisper, but nevertheless they were audible enough to him.</p> + +<p>"Then I have no further business here," he said, and turned about as +though to leave the room.</p> + +<p>But she ran forward and stopped him, standing between him and the +door. "Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald, do not leave me like that. Say one word of +kindness to me before you go. Tell me that you forgive me for the +injury I have done you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I forgive you."</p> + +<p>"And is that all? Oh, I will love you so, if you will let me;—as +your friend, as your sister; you shall be our dearest, best, and +nearest friend. You do not know how good he is. Owen, will you not +tell me that you will love me as a brother loves?"</p> + +<p>"No!" and the sternness of his face was such that it was dreadful to +look on it. "I will tell you nothing that is false."</p> + +<p>"And would that be false?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, false as hell! What, sit by at his hearth-stone and see you +leaning on his bosom! Sleep under his roof while you were in his +arms! No, Lady Clara, that would not be possible. That virtue, if it +be virtue, I cannot possess."</p> + +<p>"And you must go from me in anger? If you knew what I am suffering +you would not speak to me so cruelly."</p> + +<p>"Cruel! I would not wish to be cruel to you; certainly not now, for +we shall not meet again; if ever, not for many years. I do not think +that I have been cruel to you."</p> + +<p>"Then say one word of kindness before you go!"</p> + +<p>"A word of kindness! Well; what shall I say? Every night, as I have +lain in my bed, I have said words of kindness to you, +since—since—since longer than you will remember; since I first knew +you as a child. Do you ever think of the day when you walked with me +round by the bridge?"</p> + +<p>"It is bootless thinking of that now."</p> + +<p>"Bootless! yes, and words of kindness are bootless. Between you and +me, such words should be full of love, or they would have no meaning. +What can I say to you that shall be both kind and true?"</p> + +<p>"Bid God bless me before you leave me."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will say that. May God bless you, in this world and in the +next! And now, Lady Clara Desmond, good-bye!" and he tendered to her +his hand.</p> + +<p>She took it, and pressed it between both of hers, and looked up into +his face, and stood so while the fast tears ran down her face. He +must have been more or less than man had he not relented then. "And +Owen," she said, "dear Owen, may God in his mercy bless you also, and +make you happy, and give you some one that you can love, +and—and—teach you in your heart to forgive the injury I have done +you." And then she stooped down her head and pressed her lips upon +the hand which she held within her own.</p> + +<p>"Forgive you! Well—I do forgive you. Perhaps it may be right that we +should both forgive; though I have not wittingly brought unhappiness +upon you. But what there is to be forgiven on my side, I do forgive. +And—and I hope that you may be happy." They were the last words that +he spoke; and then leading her back to her seat, he placed her there, +and without turning to look at her again, he left the room.</p> + +<p>He hurried down into the court, and called for his horse. As he stood +there, when his foot was in the stirrup, and his hand on the animal's +neck, Lord Desmond came up to him. "Good-bye, Desmond," he said. "It +is all over; God knows when you and I may meet again." And without +waiting for a word of reply he rode out under the porch, and putting +spurs to his horse, galloped fast across the park. The earl, when he +spoke of it afterwards to his mother, said that Owen's face had been +as it were a thundercloud.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-39" id="c-39"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h3> +<h4>FOX-HUNTING IN SPINNY LANE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>I think it will be acknowledged that Mr. Prendergast had said no word +throughout the conversation recorded in a late chapter as having +taken place between him and Herbert Fitzgerald over their wine, which +could lead Herbert to think it possible that he might yet recover his +lost inheritance; but nevertheless during the whole of that evening +he held in his pocket a letter, received by him only that afternoon, +which did encourage him to think that such an event might at any rate +be possible. And, indeed, he held in his pocket two letters, having a +tendency to the same effect, but we shall have nothing now to say as +to that letter from Mr. Somers of which we have spoken before.</p> + +<p>It must be understood that up to this time certain inquiries had been +going on with reference to the life of Mr. Matthew Mollett, and that +these inquiries were being made by agents employed by Mr. +Prendergast. He had found that Mollett's identity with Talbot had +been so fully proved as to make it, in his opinion, absolutely +necessary that Herbert and his mother should openly give up Castle +Richmond. But, nevertheless, without a hope, and in obedience solely +to what he felt that prudence demanded in so momentous a matter, he +did prosecute all manner of inquiries;—but prosecuted them +altogether in vain. And now, O thou most acute of lawyers, this new +twinkling spark of hope has come to thee from a source whence thou +least expectedst it!</p> + +<p><i>Quod minime reris Graiâ pandetur ab urbe.</i></p> + +<p>And then, as soon as Herbert was gone from him, crossing one leg over +the other as he sat in his easy chair, he took it from his pocket and +read it for the third time. The signature at the end of it was very +plain and legible, being that of a scholar no less accomplished than +Mr. Abraham Mollett. This letter we will have entire, though it was +not perhaps as short as it might have been. It ran as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">45 Tabernacle row London.<br /> +April—1847.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Respectit Sir—</p> + +<p>In hall them doings about the Fitsjerrals at Carsal +Richmon I halways felt the most profound respict for you +because you wanted to do the thing as was rite wich was +what I halways wanted to myself only coodent becase of the +guvnor. "Let the right un win, guvnor," said I, hover hand +hover again; but no, he woodent. And what cood the likes +of me do then seeing as ow I was obligated by the forth +comanment to honor my father and mother, wich however if +it wasent that she was ded leving me a horphand there +woodent av been none of this trobbel. If she ad livd Mr. +Pindargrasp Ide av been brot hup honest, and thats what I +weps for. But she dide and my guvnor why hes been a gitten +the rong side of the post hever sins that hunfortunate +day. Praps you knows Mr. Pindargrasp what it is to lose a +mother in your herly hinfantsey. But I was at the guvnor +hovers and hovers agin, but hall of no yuse. "He as stumpt +hoff with my missus and now he shall stump hup the reddy." +Them was my guvnors hown words halways. Well, Mr. +Pindargrasp; what does I do. It warnt no good my talking +to him he was for going so confounedly the rong side of +the post. But I new as how Appy ouse Fitsjerral was the +orse as ort to win. Leestways I thawt I new it, and so you +thawt too Mr. Pindargrasp only we was both running the +rong cent. But what did I do when I was so confounedly +disgusted by my guvnor ankring after the baronnites money +wich it wasnt rite nor yet onest. Why I went meself to +Appy ouse as you noes Mr. Pindargrasp, and was the first +to tel the Appy ouse gent hall about it. But wat dos he +do. Hoh, Mr. Pindargrasp, I shal never forgit that faitel +day and only he got me hunewairs by the scruf of the nek +Im has good a man as he hevery day of the week. But you +was ther Mr. Pindargrasp and noes wat I got for befrindin +the Appy ouse side wich was agin the guvnor and he as brot +me to the loest pich of distress in the way of rino seein +the guvnor as cut of my halowence becase I wint agin his +hinterest.</p> + +<p>And now Mr. Pindargrasp I ave a terrible secret to +hunraffel wich will put the sadel on the rite orse at last +and as I does hall this agin my own guvnor wich of corse I +love derely I do hope Mr. Pindargrasp you wont see me +haltoogether left in the lerch. A litel something to go on +with at furst wood be very agrebbel for indeed Mr. +Pindargrasp its uncommon low water with your umbel servant +at this presant moment. And now wat I has to say is +this—Lady Fits warnt niver my guvnors wife hat all becase +why hed a wife alivin has I can pruv and will and shes +alivin now number 7 Spinny lane Centbotollfs intheheast. +Now I do call that noos worse a Jews high Mr. Pindargrasp +and I opes youll see me honestly delt with sein as how I +coms forward and tels it hall without any haskin and cood +keep it all to miself and no one coodent be the wiser only +I chews to do the thing as is rite.</p> + +<p>You may fine out hall about it hall at number 7 Spinny +lane and I advises you to go there immejat. Missus Mary +Swan thats what she calls herself but her richeous name +his Mollett—and why not seein who is er usban. So no more +at presence but will com foward hany day to pruv hall this +agin my guvnor becase he arnt doing the thing as is rite +and I looks to you Mr. Pindargrasp to see as I gits someat +ansum sein as ow I coms forward agin the Appy ouse gent +and for the hother party oos side you is a bakkin.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind10">I ham respictit Sir</span><br /> +<span class="ind12">Your umbel servant to command,</span></p> + +<p class="ind18"><span class="smallcaps">Abm. Mollett</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>I cannot say that Mr. Prendergast believed much of this terribly long +epistle when he first received it, or felt himself imbued with any +great hope that his old friend's wife might be restored to her name +and rank, and his old friend's son to his estate and fortune. But +nevertheless he knew that it was worth inquiry. That Aby Mollett had +been kicked out of Hap House in a manner that must have been +mortifying to his feelings, Mr. Prendergast had himself seen; and +that he would, therefore, do anything in his power to injure Owen +Fitzgerald, Mr. Prendergast was quite sure. That he was a viler +wretch even than his father, Mr. Prendergast suspected,—having been +led to think so by words which had fallen from Sir Thomas, and being +further confirmed in that opinion by the letter now in his hand. He +was not, therefore, led into any strong opinion that these new +tidings were of value. And, indeed, he was prone to disbelieve them, +because they ran counter to a conviction which had already been made +in his own heart, and had been extensively acted on by him. +Nevertheless he resolved that even Aby's letter deserved attention, +and that it should receive that attention early on the following +morning.</p> + +<p>And thus he had sat for the three hours after dinner, chatting +comfortably with his young friend, and holding this letter in his +pocket. Had he shown it to Herbert, or spoken of it, he would have +utterly disturbed the equilibrium of the embryo law student, and +rendered his entrance in Mr. Die's chambers absolutely futile. "Ten +will not be too early for you," he had said. "Mr. Die is always in +his room by that hour." Herbert had of course declared that ten would +not be at all too early for him; and Mr. Prendergast had observed +that after leaving Mr. Die's chambers, he himself would go on to the +City. He might have said beyond the City, for his intended expedition +was to Spinny Lane, at St. Botolph's in the East.</p> + +<p>When Herbert was gone he sat musing over his fire with Aby's letter +still in his hand. A lawyer has always a sort of affection for a +scoundrel,—such affection as a hunting man has for a fox. He loves +to watch the skill and dodges of the animal, to study the wiles by +which he lives, and to circumvent them by wiles of his own, still +more wily. It is his glory to run the beast down; but then he would +not for worlds run him down, except in conformity with certain laws, +fixed by old custom for the guidance of men in such sports. And the +two-legged vermin is adapted for pursuit as is the fox with four +legs. He is an unclean animal, leaving a scent upon his trail, which +the nose of your acute law hound can pick up over almost any ground. +And the more wily the beast is, the longer he can run, the more +trouble he can give in the pursuit, the longer he can stand up before +a pack of legal hounds, the better does the forensic sportsman love +and value him. There are foxes of so excellent a nature, so keen in +their dodges, so perfect in their cunning, so skilful in evasion, +that a sportsman cannot find it in his heart to push them to their +destruction unless the field be very large so that many eyes are +looking on. And the feeling is I think the same with lawyers.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast had always felt a tenderness towards the Molletts, +father and son,—a tenderness which would by no means have prevented +him from sending them both to the halter had that been necessary, and +had they put themselves so far in his power. Much as the sportsman +loves the fox, it is a moment to him of keen enjoyment when he puts +his heavy boot on the beast's body,—the expectant dogs standing +round demanding their prey—and there both beheads and betails him. +"A grand old dog," he says to those around him. "I know him well. It +was he who took us that day from Poulnarer, through Castlecor, and +right away to Drumcollogher." And then he throws the heavy carcass to +the hungry hounds. And so could Mr. Prendergast have delivered up +either of the Molletts to be devoured by the dogs of the law; but he +did not the less love them tenderly while they were yet running.</p> + +<p>And so he sat with the letter in his hand, smiling to think that the +father and son had come to grief among themselves; smiling also at +the dodge by which, as he thought most probable, Aby Mollett was +striving to injure the man who had kicked him, and raise a little +money for his own private needs. There was too much earnestness in +that prayer for cash to leave Mr. Prendergast in any doubt as to +Aby's trust that money would be forthcoming. There must be something +in the dodge, or Aby would not have had such trust.</p> + +<p>And the lawyer felt that he might, perhaps, be inclined to give some +little assistance to poor Aby in the soreness of his needs. Foxes +will not do well in any country which is not provided with their +natural food. Rats they eat, and if rats be plentiful it is so far +good. But one should not begrudge them occasional geese and turkeys, +or even break one's heart if they like a lamb in season. A fox will +always run well when he has come far from home seeking his breakfast.</p> + +<p>Poor Aby, when he had been so cruelly treated by the "gent of Appy +ouse," whose side in the family dispute he had latterly been so +anxious to take, had remained crouching for some hour or two in +Owen's kitchen, absolutely mute. The servants there for a while felt +sure that he was dying; but in their master's present mood they did +not dare to go near him with any such tidings. And then when the +hounds were gone, and the place was again quiet, Aby gradually roused +himself, allowed them to wash the blood from his hands and face, to +restore him to life by whisky and scraps of food, and gradually got +himself into his car, and so back to the Kanturk Hotel, in South Main +Street, Cork.</p> + +<p>But, alas, his state there was more wretched by far than it had been +in the Hap House kitchen. That his father had fled was no more than +he expected. Each had known that the other would now play some +separate secret game. But not the less did he complain loudly when he +heard that "his guvnor" had not paid the bill, and had left neither +money nor message for him. How Fanny had scorned and upbraided him, +and ordered Tom to turn him out of the house "neck and crop;" how he +had squared at Tom, and ultimately had been turned out of the house +"neck and crop,"—whatever that may mean—by Fanny's father, needs +not here to be particularly narrated. With much suffering and many +privations—such as foxes in their solitary wanderings so often +know—he did find his way to London; and did, moreover, by means of +such wiles as foxes have, find out something as to his "guvnor's" +whereabouts, and some secrets also as to his "guvnor" which his +"guvnor" would fain have kept to himself had it been possible. And +then, also, he again found for himself a sort of home—or hole +rather—in his old original gorse covert of London; somewhere among +the Jews we may surmise, from the name of the row from which he +dated; and here, setting to work once more with his usual cunning +industry,—for your fox is very industrious,—he once more attempted +to build up a slender fortune by means of the "Fitsjerral" family. +The grand days in which he could look for the hand of the fair +Emmeline were all gone by; but still the property had been too good +not to leave something for which he might grasp. Properly worked, by +himself alone, as he said to himself, it might still yield him some +comfortable returns, especially as he should be able to throw over +that "confouned old guvnor of his."</p> + +<p>He remained at home the whole of the day after his letter was +written, indeed for the next three days, thinking that Mr. +Prendergast would come to him, or send for him; but Mr. Prendergast +did neither the one nor the other. Mr. Prendergast took his advice +instead, and putting himself into a Hansom cab, had himself driven to +"Centbotollfs intheheast."</p> + +<p>Spinny Lane, St. Botolph's in the East, when at last it was found, +was not exactly the sort of place that Mr. Prendergast had expected. +It must be known that he did not allow the cabman to drive him up to +the very door indicated, nor even to the lane itself; but contented +himself with leaving the cab at St. Botolph's church. The huntsman in +looking after his game is as wily as the fox himself. Men do not talk +at the covert side—or at any rate they ought not. And they should +stand together discreetly at the non-running side. All manner of +wiles and silences and discretions are necessary, though too often +broken through by the uninstructed,—much to their own discomfort. +And so in hunting his fox, Mr. Prendergast did not dash up loudly +into the covert, but discreetly left his cab at the church of St. +Botolph's.</p> + +<p>Spinny Lane, when at last found by intelligence given to him at the +baker's,—never in such unknown regions ask a lad in the street, for +he invariably will accompany you, talking of your whereabouts very +loudly, so that people stare at you, and ask each other what can +possibly be your business in those parts. Spinny Lane, I say, was not +the sort of locality that he had expected. He knew the look of the +half-protected, half-condemned Alsatias of the present-day rascals, +and Spinny Lane did not at all bear their character. It was a street +of small new tenements, built, as yet, only on one side of the way, +with the pavement only one third finished, and the stones in the road +as yet unbroken and untrodden. Of such streets there are thousands +now round London. They are to be found in every suburb, creating +wonder in all thoughtful minds as to who can be their tens of +thousands of occupants. The houses are a little too good for +artisans, too small and too silent to be the abode of various +lodgers, and too mean for clerks who live on salaries. They are as +dull-looking as Lethe itself, dull and silent, dingy and repulsive. +But they are not discreditable in appearance, and never have that +Mohawk look which by some unknown sympathy in bricks and mortar +attaches itself to the residences of professional ruffians.</p> + +<p>Number seven he found to be as quiet and decent a house as any in the +row, and having inspected it from a little distance he walked up +briskly to the door, and rang the bell. He walked up briskly in order +that his advance might not be seen; unless, indeed, as he began to +think not impossible, Aby's statement was altogether a hoax.</p> + +<p>"Does a woman named Mrs. Mary Swan live here?" he asked of a +decent-looking young woman of some seven or eight and twenty, who +opened the door for him. She was decent looking, but poverty stricken +and wan with work and care, and with that heaviness about her which +perpetual sorrow always gives. Otherwise she would not have been ill +featured; and even as it was she was feminine and soft in her gait +and manner. "Does Mrs. Mary Swan live here?" asked Mr. Prendergast in +a mild voice.</p> + +<p>She at once said Mrs. Mary Swan did live there; but she stood with +the door in her hand by no means fully opened, as though she did not +wish to ask him to enter; and yet there was nothing in her tone to +repel him. Mr. Prendergast at once felt that he was on the right +scent, and that it behoved him at any rate to make his way into that +house; for if ever a modest-looking daughter was like an +immodest-looking father, that young woman was like Mr. Mollett +senior.</p> + +<p>"Then I will see her, if you please," said Mr. Prendergast, entering +the passage without her invitation. Not that he pushed in with +roughness; but she receded before the authority of his tone, and +obeyed the command which she read in his eye. The poor young woman +hesitated as though it had been her intention to declare that Mrs. +Swan was not within; but if so, she had not strength to carry out her +purpose, for in the next moment Mr. Prendergast found himself in the +presence of the woman he had come to seek.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Mary Swan?" said Mr. Prendergast, asking a question as to her +identity.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, that is my name," said a sickly-looking elderly woman, +rising from her chair.</p> + +<p>The room in which the two had been sitting was very poor; but +nevertheless it was neat, and arranged with some attention to +appearance. It was not carpeted, but there was a piece of drugget +some three yards long spread before the fireplace. The wall had been +papered from time to time with scraps of different coloured paper, as +opportunity offered. The table on which the work of the two women was +lying was very old and somewhat rickety, but it was of mahogany; and +Mrs. Mary Swan herself was accommodated with a high-backed arm-chair, +which gave some appearance of comfort to her position. It was now +spring; but they had a small, very small fire in the small grate, on +which a pot had been placed in hopes that it might be induced to +boil. All these things did the eye of Mr. Prendergast take in; but +the fact which his eye took in with its keenest glance was +this,—that on the other side of the fire to that on which sat Mrs. +Mary Swan, there was a second arm-chair standing close over the +fender, an ordinary old mahogany chair, in which it was evident that +the younger woman had not been sitting. Her place had been close to +the table-side, where her needles and thread were still lying. But +the arm-chair was placed idly away from any accommodation for work, +and had, as Mr. Prendergast thought, been recently filled by some +idle person.</p> + +<p>The woman who rose from her chair as she declared herself to be Mary +Swan was old and sickly looking, but nevertheless there was that +about her which was prepossessing. Her face was thin and delicate and +pale, and not hard and coarse; her voice was low, as a woman's should +be, and her hands were white and small. Her clothes, though very +poor, were neat, and worn as a poor lady might have worn them. Though +there was in her face an aspect almost of terror as she owned to her +name in the stranger's presence, yet there was also about her a +certain amount of female dignity, which made Mr. Prendergast feel +that it behoved him to treat her not only with gentleness, but also +with respect.</p> + +<p>"I want to say a few words to you," said he, "in consequence of a +letter I have received; perhaps you will allow me to sit down for a +minute or two."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir, certainly. This is my daughter, Mary Swan; do you +wish that she should leave the room, sir?" And Mary Swan, as her +mother spoke, got up and prepared to depart quietly.</p> + +<p>"By no means, by no means," said Mr. Prendergast, putting his hand +out so as to detain her. "I would much rather that she should remain, +as it may be very likely that she may assist me in my inquiries. You +will know who I am, no doubt, when I mention my name; Mr. Mollett +will have mentioned me to you—I am Mr. Prendergast."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, he never did," said Mrs. Swan.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Mr. Prendergast, having ascertained that Mr. Mollett was +at any rate well known at No. 7 Spinny Lane. "I thought that he might +probably have done so. He is at home at present, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"Sir?" said Mary Swan senior.</p> + +<p>"Your father is at home, I believe?" said Mr. Prendergast, turning to +the younger woman.</p> + +<p>"Sir?" said Mary Swan junior. It was clear at any rate that the women +were not practised liars, for they could not bring themselves on the +spur of the moment to deny that he was in the house.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast did not wish to be confronted at present with Matthew +Mollett. Such a step might or might not be desirable before the +termination of the interview; but at the present moment he thought +that he might probably learn more from the two women as they were +than he would do if Mollett were with them.</p> + +<p>It had been acknowledged to him that Mollett was living in that +house, that he was now at home, and also that the younger woman +present before him was the child of Mollett and of Mary Swan the +elder. That the young woman was older than Herbert Fitzgerald, and +that therefore the connection between Mollett and her mother must +have been prior to that marriage down in Dorsetshire, he was sure; +but then it might still be possible that there had been no marriage +between Mollett and Mary Swan. If he could show that they had been +man and wife when that child was born, then would his old friend Mr. +Die lose his new pupil.</p> + +<p>"I have a letter in my pocket, Mrs. Swan, from Abraham +<span class="nowrap">Mollett—"</span> Mr. +Prendergast commenced, pulling out the letter in question.</p> + +<p>"He is nothing to me, sir," said the woman, almost in a tone of +anger. "I know nothing whatever about him."</p> + +<p>"So I should have supposed from the respectability of your +appearance, if I may be allowed to say so."</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all, sir; and as for that, we do try to keep ourselves +respectable. But this is a very hard world for some people to live +in. It has been very hard to me and this poor girl here."</p> + +<p>"It is a hard world to some people, and to some honest people, +too,—which is harder still."</p> + +<p>"We've always tried to be honest," said Mary Swan the elder.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you have; and permit me to say, madam, that you will find +it at the last to be the best policy;—at the last, even as far as +this world is concerned. But about this letter—I can assure you that +I have never thought of identifying you with Abraham Mollett."</p> + +<p>"His mother was dead, sir, before ever I set eyes on him or his +father; and though I tried to do +<span class="nowrap">my—"</span> and then she stopped herself +suddenly. Honesty might be the best policy, but, nevertheless, was it +necessary that she should tell everything to this stranger?</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes; Abraham's mother was dead before you were married," said +Mr. Prendergast, hunting his fox ever so craftily,—his fox whom he +knew to be lying in ambush up stairs. It was of course possible that +old Mollett should slip away out of the back door and over a wall. If +foxes did not do those sort of things they would not be worth half +the attention that is paid to them. But Mr. Prendergast was well on +the scent; all that a sportsman wants is good scent. He would rather +not have a view till the run comes to its close. "But," continued Mr. +Prendergast, "it is necessary that I should say a few words to you +about this letter. Abraham's mother was, I suppose, not exactly +an—an educated woman?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw her, sir."</p> + +<p>"She died when he was very young?"</p> + +<p>"Four years old, sir."</p> + +<p>"And her son hardly seems to have had much education?"</p> + +<p>"It was his own fault, sir; I sent him to school when he came to me, +though, goodness knows, sir, I was short enough of means of doing so. +He had better opportunities than my own daughter there; and though I +say it myself, who ought not to say it, she is a good scholar."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure she is,—and a very good young woman too, if I can judge by +her appearance. But about this letter. I am afraid your husband has +not been so particular in his way of living as he should have been."</p> + +<p>"What could I do, sir? a poor weak woman!"</p> + +<p>"Nothing; what you could do, I'm sure you did do."</p> + +<p>"I've always kept a house over my head, though it's very humble, as +you see, sir. And he has had a morsel to eat and a cup to drink of +when he has come here. It is not often that he has troubled me this +many years past."</p> + +<p>"Mother," said Mary Swan the younger, "the gentleman won't care to +know about, about all that between you and father."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but it is just what I do care to know."</p> + +<p>"But, sir, father perhaps mightn't choose it." The obedience of women +to men—to those men to whom they are legally bound—is, I think, the +most remarkable trait in human nature. Nothing equals it but the +instinctive loyalty of a dog. Of course we hear of gray mares, and of +garments worn by the wrong persons. Xanthippe doubtless did live, and +the character from time to time is repeated; but the rule, I think, +is as I have said.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Swan," said Mr. Prendergast, "I should think myself dishonest +were I to worm your secrets out of you, seeing that you are yourself +so truthful and so respectable." Perhaps it may be thought that Mr. +Prendergast was a little late in looking at the matter in this light. +"But it behoves me to learn much of the early history of your +husband, who is now living with you here, and whose name, as I take +it, is not Swan, but Mollett. Your maiden name probably was Swan?"</p> + +<p>"But I was honestly married, sir, in the parish church at Putney, and +that young woman was honestly born."</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure of it. I have never doubted it. But as I was saying, +I have come here for information about your husband, and I do not +like to ask you questions off your guard,"—oh, Mr. +Prendergast!—"and therefore I think it right to tell you, that +neither I nor those for whom I am concerned have any wish to bear +more heavily than we can help upon your husband, if he will only come +forward with willingness to do that which we can make him do either +willingly or unwillingly."</p> + +<p>"But what was it about Abraham's letter, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it does not so much signify now."</p> + +<p>"It was he sent you here, was it, sir? How has he learned where we +are, Mary?" and the poor woman turned to her daughter. "The truth is, +sir, he has never known anything of us for these twenty years; nor we +of him. I have not set eyes on him for more than twenty years,—not +that I know of. And he never knew me by any other name than Swan, and +when he was a child he took me for his aunt."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't known then that you and his father were husband and wife?"</p> + +<p>"I have always thought he didn't, sir. But how—"</p> + +<p>Then after all the young fox had not been so full of craft as the +elder one, thought Mr. Prendergast to himself. But nevertheless, he +still liked the old fox best. There are foxes that run so uncommonly +short that you can never get a burst after them.</p> + +<p>"I suppose, Mrs. Swan," continued Mr. Prendergast, "that you have +heard the name of Fitzgerald?"</p> + +<p>The poor woman sat silent and amazed, but after a moment the daughter +answered him. "My mother, sir, would rather that you should ask her +no questions."</p> + +<p>"But, my good girl, your mother, I suppose, would wish to protect +your father, and she would not wish to answer these questions in a +court of law."</p> + +<p>"Heaven forbid!" said the poor woman.</p> + +<p>"Your father has behaved very badly to an unfortunate lady whose +friend I am, and on her behalf I must learn the truth."</p> + +<p>"He has behaved badly, sir, to a great many ladies," said Mrs. Swan, +or Mrs. Mollett as we may now call her.</p> + +<p>"You are aware, are you not, that he went through a form of marriage +with this lady many years ago?" said Mr. Prendergast, almost +severely.</p> + +<p>"Let him answer for himself," said the true wife. "Mary, go up +stairs, and ask your father to come down."</p> + + +<p><a name="c-40" id="c-40"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XL.</h3> +<h4>THE FOX IN HIS EARTH.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Mary Swan the younger hesitated a moment before she executed her +mother's order, not saying anything, but looking doubtfully up into +her mother's face. "Go, my dear," said the old woman, "and ask your +father to come down. It is no use denying him."</p> + +<p>"None in the least," said Mr. Prendergast; and then the daughter +went.</p> + +<p>For ten minutes the lawyer and the old woman sat alone, during which +time the ear of the former was keenly alive to any steps that might +be heard on the stairs or above head. Not that he would himself have +taken any active measures to prevent Mr. Mollett's escape, had such +an attempt been made. The woman could be a better witness for him +than the man, and there would be no fear of her running. +Nevertheless, he was anxious that Mollett should, of his own accord, +come into his presence.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to keep you so long waiting, sir," said Mrs. Swan.</p> + +<p>"It does not signify. I can easily understand that your husband +should wish to reflect a little before he speaks to me. I can forgive +that."</p> + +<p>"And, sir—"</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. Mollett?"</p> + +<p>"Are you going to do anything to punish him, sir? If a poor woman may +venture to speak a word, I would beg you on my bended knees to be +merciful to him. If you would forgive him now I think he would live +honest, and be sorry for what he has done."</p> + +<p>"He has worked terrible evil," said Mr. Prendergast solemnly. "Do you +know that he has harassed a poor gentleman into his grave?"</p> + +<p>"Heaven be merciful to him!" said the poor woman. "But, sir, was not +that his son? Was it not Abraham Mollett who did that? Oh, sir, if +you will let a poor wife speak, it is he that has been worse than his +father."</p> + +<p>Before Mr. Prendergast had made up his mind how he would answer her, +he heard the sound of footsteps slowly descending upon the stairs. +They were those of a person who stepped heavily and feebly, and it +was still a minute before the door was opened.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said the woman. "Sir," and as she spoke she looked eagerly +into his face—"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that +trespass against us. We should all remember that, sir."</p> + +<p>"True, Mrs. Mollett, quite true;" and Mr. Prendergast rose from his +chair as the door opened.</p> + +<p>It will be remembered that Mr. Prendergast and Matthew Mollett had +met once before, in the room usually occupied by Sir Thomas +Fitzgerald. On that occasion Mr. Mollett had at any rate entered the +chamber with some of the prestige of power about him. He had come to +Castle Richmond as the man having the whip hand; and though his +courage had certainly fallen somewhat before he left it, nevertheless +he had not been so beaten down but what he was able to say a word or +two for himself. He had been well in health and decent in appearance, +and even as he left the room had hardly realized the absolute ruin +which had fallen upon him.</p> + +<p>But now he looked as though he had realized it with sufficient +clearness. He was lean and sick and pale, and seemed to be ten years +older than when Mr. Prendergast had last seen him. He was wrapped in +an old dressing-gown, and had a night-cap on his head, and coughed +violently before he got himself into his chair. It is hard for any +tame domestic animal to know through what fire and water a poor fox +is driven as it is hunted from hole to hole and covert to covert. It +is a wonderful fact, but no less a fact, that no men work so hard and +work for so little pay as scoundrels who strive to live without any +work at all, and to feed on the sweat of other men's brows. Poor +Matthew Mollett had suffered dire misfortune, had encountered very +hard lines, betwixt that day on which he stole away from the Kanturk +Hotel in South Main Street, Cork, and that other day on which he +presented himself, cold and hungry and almost sick to death, at the +door of his wife's house in Spinny Lane, St. Botolph's in the East.</p> + +<p>He never showed himself there unless when hard pressed indeed, and +then he would skulk in, seeking for shelter and food, and pleading +with bated voice his husband right to assistance and comfort. Nor was +his plea ever denied him.</p> + +<p>On this occasion he had arrived in very bad plight indeed: he had +brought away from Cork nothing but what he could carry on his body, +and had been forced to pawn what he could pawn in order that he might +subsist And then he had been taken with ague, and with the fit strong +on him had crawled away to Spinny Lane, and had there been nursed by +the mother and daughter whom he had ill used, deserted, and betrayed. +"When the devil was sick the devil a monk would be;" and now his +wife, credulous as all women are in such matters, believed the +devil's protestations. A time may perhaps come when even— But +stop!—or I may chance to tread on the corns of orthodoxy. What I +mean to insinuate is this; that it was on the cards that Mr. Mollett +would now at last turn over a new leaf.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Mollett?" said Mr. Prendergast. "I am sorry to +see you looking so poorly."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. I am poorly enough certainly. I have been very ill since I +last had the pleasure of seeing you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, that was at Castle Richmond; was it not? Well, you have +done the best thing that a man can do; you have come home to your +wife and family now that you are ill and require their attendance."</p> + +<p>Mr. Mollett looked up at him with a countenance full of unutterable +woe and weakness. What was he to say on such a subject in such a +company? There sat his wife and daughter, his veritable wife and +true-born daughter, on whom he was now dependent, and in whose hands +he lay, as a sick man does lie in the hands of women: could he deny +them? And there sat the awful Mr. Prendergast, the representative of +all that Fitzgerald interest which he had so wronged, and who up to +this morning had at any rate believed the story with which he, +Mollett, had pushed his fortunes in county Cork. Could he in his +presence acknowledge that Lady Fitzgerald had never been his wife? It +must be confessed that he was in a sore plight. And then remember his +ague!</p> + +<p>"You feel yourself tolerably comfortable, I suppose, now that you are +with your wife and daughter," continued Mr. Prendergast, most +inhumanly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mollett continued to look at him so piteously from beneath his +nightcap. "I am better than I was, thank you, sir," said he.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing like the bosom of one's family for restoring one to +health; is there, Mrs. Mollett;—or for keeping one in health?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you gentlemen would think so," said she, drily.</p> + +<p>"As for me, I never was blessed with a wife. When I am sick I have to +trust to hired attendance. In that respect I am not so fortunate as +your husband; I am only an old bachelor."</p> + +<p>"Oh, ain't you, sir?" said Mrs. Mollett; "and perhaps it's best so. +It ain't all married people that are the happiest."</p> + +<p>The daughter during this time was sitting intent on her work, not +lifting her face from the shirt she was sewing. But an observer might +have seen from her forehead and eye that she was not only listening +to what was said, but thinking and meditating on the scene before +her.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Mollett," said Mr. Prendergast, "you at any rate are not +an old bachelor." Mr. Mollett still looked piteously at him, but said +nothing. It may be thought that in all this Mr. Prendergast was more +cruel than necessary, but it must be remembered that it was incumbent +on him to bring the poor wretch before him down absolutely on his +marrow-bones. Mollett must be made to confess his sin, and own that +this woman before him was his real wife; and the time for mercy had +not commenced till that had been done.</p> + +<p>And then his daughter spoke, seeing how things were going with him. +"Father," said she, "this gentleman has called because he has had a +letter from Abraham Mollett; and he was speaking about what Abraham +has been doing in Ireland."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, oh dear!" said poor Mollett. "The unfortunate young man; +that wretched, unfortunate, young man! He will bring me to the grave +at last—to the grave at last."</p> + +<p>"Come, Mr. Mollett," said Mr. Prendergast, now getting up and +standing with his back to the fire, "I do not know that you and I +need beat about the bush much longer. I suppose I may speak openly +before these ladies as to what has been taking place in county Cork."</p> + +<p>"Sir!" said Mr. Mollett, with a look of deprecation about his mouth +that ought to have moved the lawyer's heart.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about it," said Mrs. Mollett, very stiffly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, we do know something about it; and the gentleman may +speak out if it so pleases him. It will be better, father, for you +that he should do so."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my dear," said Mr. Mollett, in the lowest possible voice; +"whatever the gentleman likes—only I do +<span class="nowrap">hope—"</span> and he uttered a +deep sigh, and gave no further expression to his hopes or wishes.</p> + +<p>"I presume, in the first place," began Mr. Prendergast, "that this +lady here is your legal wife, and this younger lady your legitimate +daughter? There is no doubt I take it as to that?"</p> + +<p>"Not—any—doubt—in the world, sir," said the Mrs. Mollett, who +claimed to be so de jure. "I have got my marriage lines to show, sir. +Abraham's mother was dead just six months before we came together; +and then we were married just six months after that."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Mollett; I suppose you do not wish to contradict that?"</p> + +<p>"He can't, sir, whether he wish it or not," said Mrs. Mollett.</p> + +<p>"Could you show me that—that marriage certificate?" asked Mr. +Prendergast.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mollett looked rather doubtful as to this. It may be, that much +as she trusted in her husband's reform, she did not wish to let him +know where she kept this important palladium of her rights.</p> + +<p>"It can be forthcoming, sir, whenever it may be wanted," said Mary +Mollett the younger; and then Mr. Prendergast, seeing what was +passing through the minds of the two women, did not press that matter +any further.</p> + +<p>"But I should be glad to hear from your own lips, Mr. Mollett, that +you acknowledge the marriage, which took place at—at Fulham, I think +you said, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"At Putney, sir; at Putney parish church, in the year of our Lord +eighteen hundred and fourteen."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that was the year before Mr. Mollett went into Dorsetshire."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. He didn't stay with me long, not at that time. He went +away and left me; and then all that happened, that you know of—down +in Dorsetshire, as they told me. And afterwards when he went away on +his keeping, leaving Aby behind, I took the child, and said that I +was his aunt. There were reasons then; and I feared— But never mind +about that, sir; for anything that I was wrong enough to say then to +the contrary, I am his lawful wedded wife, and before my face he +won't deny it. And then when he was sore pressed and in trouble he +came back to me, and after that Mary here was born; and one other, a +boy, who, God rest him, has gone from these troubles. And since that +it is not often that he has been with me. But now, now that he is +here, you should have pity on us, and give him another chance."</p> + +<p>But still Mr. Mollett had said nothing himself. He sat during all +this time, wearily moving his head to and fro, as though the +conversation were anything but comfortable to him. And, indeed, it +cannot be presumed to have been very pleasant. He moved his head +slowly and wearily to and fro; every now and then lifting up one hand +weakly, as though deprecating any recurrence to circumstances so +decidedly unpleasant. But Mr. Prendergast was determined that he +should speak.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Mollett," said he, "I must beg you to say in so many words, +whether the statement of this lady is correct or is incorrect. Do you +acknowledge her for your lawful wife?"</p> + +<p>"He daren't deny me, sir," said the woman, who was, perhaps, a little +too eager in the matter.</p> + +<p>"Father, why don't you behave like a man and speak?" said his +daughter, now turning upon him. "You have done ill to all of us;—to +so many; but <span class="nowrap">now—"</span></p> + +<p>"And are you going to turn against me, Mary?" he whined out, almost +crying.</p> + +<p>"Turn against you! no, I have never done that. But look at mother. +Would you let that gentleman think that she is—what I won't name +before him? Will you say that I am not your honest-born child? You +have done very wickedly, and you must now make what amends is in your +power. If you do not answer him here he will make you answer in some +worse place than this."</p> + +<p>"What is it I am to say, sir?" he whined out again.</p> + +<p>"Is this lady here your legal wife?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said the poor man, whimpering.</p> + +<p>"And that marriage ceremony which you went through in Dorsetshire +with Miss Wainwright was not a legal marriage?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose not, sir."</p> + +<p>"You were well aware at the time that you were committing bigamy?"</p> + +<p>"Sir!"</p> + +<p>"You knew, I say, that you were committing bigamy; that the child +whom you were professing to marry would not become your wife through +that ceremony. I say that you knew all this at the time? Come, Mr. +Mollett, answer me, if you do not wish me to have you dragged out of +this by a policeman and taken at once before a magistrate."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir! be merciful to us; pray be merciful to us," said Mrs. +Mollett, holding up her apron to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Father, why don't you speak out plainly to the gentleman? He will +forgive you, if you do that."</p> + +<p>"Am I to criminate myself, sir?" said Mr. Mollett, still in the +humblest voice in the world, and hardly above his breath.</p> + +<p>After all, this fox had still some running left in him, Mr. +Prendergast thought to himself. He was not even yet so thoroughly +beaten but what he had a dodge or two remaining at his service. "Am I +to criminate myself, sir?" he asked, as innocently as a child might +ask whether or no she were to stand longer in the corner.</p> + +<p>"You may do as you like about that, Mr. Mollett," said the lawyer; "I +am neither a magistrate nor a policeman; and at the present moment I +am not acting even as a lawyer. I am the friend of a family whom you +have misused and defrauded most outrageously. You have killed the +father of that <span class="nowrap">family—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, gracious!" said Mrs. Mollett.</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam, he has done so; and nearly broken the heart of that poor +lady, and driven her son from the house which is his own. You have +done all this in order that you might swindle them out of money for +your vile indulgences, while you left your own wife and your own +child to starve at home. In the whole course of my life I never came +across so mean a scoundrel; and now you chaffer with me as to whether +or no you shall criminate yourself! Scoundrel and villain as you +are—a double-dyed scoundrel, still there are reasons why I shall not +wish to have you gibbeted, as you deserve."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, he has done nothing that would come to that!" said the poor +wife.</p> + +<p>"You had better let the gentleman finish," said the daughter. "He +doesn't mean that father will be hung."</p> + +<p>"It would be too good for him," said Mr. Prendergast, who was now +absolutely almost out of temper. "But I do not wish to be his +executioner. For the peace of that family which you have so brutally +plundered and ill used, I shall remain quiet,—if I can attain my +object without a public prosecution. But, remember, that I guarantee +nothing to you. For aught I know you may be in gaol before the night +is come. All I have to tell you is this, that if by obtaining a +confession from you I am able to restore my friends to their property +without a prosecution, I shall do so. Now you may answer me or not, +as you like."</p> + +<p>"Trust him, father," said the daughter. "It will be best for you."</p> + +<p>"But I have told him everything," said Mollett. "What more does he +want of me?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to give your written acknowledgment that when you went +through that ceremony of marriage with Miss Wainwright in +Dorsetshire, you committed bigamy, and that you knew at that time +that you were doing so."</p> + +<p>Mr. Mollett, as a matter of course, gave him the written document, +and then Mr. Prendergast took his leave, bowing graciously to the two +women, and not deigning to cast his eyes again on the abject wretch +who crouched by the fire.</p> + +<p>"Don't be hard on a poor creature who has fallen so low," said Mrs. +Mollett as he left the room. But Mary Mollett junior followed him to +the door and opened it for him. "Sir," she said, addressing him with +some hesitation as he was preparing to depart.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Mollett; if I could do anything for you it would gratify +me, for I sincerely feel for you,—both for you and for your mother."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir; I don't know that there is anything you can do for +us—except to spare him. The thief on the cross was forgiven, sir."</p> + +<p>"But the thief on the cross repented."</p> + +<p>"And who shall say that he does not repent? You cannot tell of his +heart by scripture word, as you can of that other one. But our Lord +has taught us that it is good to forgive the worst of sinners. Tell +that poor lady to think of this when she remembers him in her +prayers."</p> + +<p>"I will, Miss Mollett; indeed, indeed I will;" and then as he left +her he gave her his hand in token of respect. And so he walked away +out of Spinny Lane.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-41" id="c-41"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLI.</h3> +<h4>THE LOBBY OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Mr. Prendergast as he walked out of Spinny Lane, and back to St. +Botolph's church, and as he returned thence again to Bloomsbury +Square in his cab, had a good deal of which to think. In the first +place it must be explained that he was not altogether self-satisfied +with the manner in which things had gone. That he would have made +almost any sacrifice to recover the property for Herbert Fitzgerald, +is certainly true; and it is as true that he would have omitted no +possible effort to discover all that which he had now discovered, +almost without necessity for any effort. But nevertheless he was not +altogether pleased; he had made up his mind a month or two ago that +Lady Fitzgerald was not the lawful wife of her husband; and had come +to this conclusion on, as he still thought, sufficient evidence. But +now he was proved to have been wrong; his character for shrewdness +and discernment would be damaged, and his great ally and chum Mr. +Die, the Chancery barrister, would be down on him with unmitigated +sarcasm. A man who has been right so frequently as Mr. Prendergast, +does not like to find that he is ever in the wrong. And then, had his +decision not have been sudden, might not the life of that old baronet +have been saved?</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast could not help feeling this in some degree as he +drove away to Bloomsbury Square; but nevertheless he had also the +feeling of having achieved a great triumph. It was with him as with a +man who has made a fortune when he has declared to his friends that +he should infallibly be ruined. It piques him to think how wrong he +has been in his prophecy; but still it is very pleasant to have made +one's fortune.</p> + +<p>When he found himself at the top of Chancery Lane in Holborn, he +stopped his cab and got out of it. He had by that time made up his +mind as to what he would do; so he walked briskly down to Stone +Buildings, and nodding to the old clerk, with whom he was very +intimate, asked if he could see Mr. Die. It was his second visit to +those chambers that morning, seeing that he had been there early in +the day, introducing Herbert to his new Gamaliel. "Yes, Mr. Die is +in," said the clerk, smiling; and so Mr. Prendergast passed on into +the well-known dingy temple of the Chancery god himself.</p> + +<p>There he remained for full an hour, a message in the meanwhile having +been sent out to Herbert Fitzgerald, begging him not to leave the +chambers till he should have seen Mr. Die; "and your friend Mr. +Prendergast is with him," said the clerk. "A very nice gentleman is +Mr. Prendergast, uncommon clever too; but it seems to me that he +never can hold his own when he comes across our Mr. Die."</p> + +<p>At the end of the hour Herbert was summoned into the sanctum, and +there he found Mr. Die sitting in his accustomed chair, with his body +much bent, nursing the calf of his leg, which was always enveloped in +a black, well-fitting close pantaloon, and smiling very blandly. Mr. +Prendergast had in his countenance not quite so sweet an aspect. Mr. +Die had repeated to him, perhaps once too often, a very well-known +motto of his; one by the aid of which he professed to have steered +himself safely through the shoals of life—himself and perhaps some +others. It was a motto which he would have loved to see inscribed +over the great gates of the noble inn to which he belonged; and +which, indeed, a few years since might have been inscribed there with +much justice. "Festinâ lentè," Mr. Die would say to all those who +came to him in any sort of hurry. And then when men accused him of +being dilatory by premeditation, he would say no, he had always +recommended despatch. "Festinâ," he would say; "festinâ" by all +means; but "festinâ lentè." The doctrine had at any rate thriven with +the teacher, for Mr. Die had amassed a large fortune.</p> + +<p>Herbert at once saw that Mr. Prendergast was a little fluttered. +Judging from what he had seen of the lawyer in Ireland, he would have +said that it was impossible to flutter Mr. Prendergast; but in truth +greatness is great only till it encounters greater greatness. Mars +and Apollo are terrible and magnificent gods till one is enabled to +see them seated at the foot of Jove's great throne. That Apollo, Mr. +Prendergast, though greatly in favour with the old Chancery Jupiter, +had now been reminded that he had also on this occasion driven his +team too fast, and been nearly as indiscreet in his own rash +offering.</p> + +<p>"We are very sorry to keep you waiting here, Mr. Fitzgerald," said +Mr. Die, giving his hand to the young man without, however, rising +from his chair; "especially sorry, seeing that it is your first day +in harness. But your friend Mr. Prendergast thinks it as well that we +should talk over together a piece of business which does not seem as +yet to be quite settled."</p> + +<p>Herbert of course declared that he had been in no hurry to go away; +he was, he said, quite ready to talk over anything; but to his mind +at that moment nothing occurred more momentous than the nature of the +agreement between himself and Mr. Die. There was an honorarium which +it was presumed Mr. Die would expect, and which Herbert Fitzgerald +had ready for the occasion.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know how to describe what has taken place this morning +since I saw you," said Mr. Prendergast, whose features told plainly +that something more important than the honorarium was now on the +tapis.</p> + +<p>"What has taken place?" said Herbert, whose mind now flew off to +Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>"Gently, gently," said Mr. Die; "in the whole course of my legal +experience,—and that now has been a very long experience,—I have +never come across so,—so singular a family history as this of yours, +Mr. Fitzgerald. When our friend Mr. Prendergast here, on his return +from Ireland, first told me the whole of it, I was inclined to think +that he had formed a right and just +<span class="nowrap">decision—"</span></p> + +<p>"There can be no doubt about that," said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"Stop a moment, my dear sir; wait half a moment—a just decision, I +say—regarding the evidence of the facts as conclusive. But I was not +quite so certain that he might not have been a little—premature +perhaps may be too strong a word—a little too assured in taking +those facts as proved."</p> + +<p>"But they were proved," said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"I shall always maintain that there was ample ground to induce me to +recommend your poor father so to regard them," said Mr. Prendergast, +stoutly. "You must remember that those men would instantly have been +at work on the other side; indeed, one of them did attempt it."</p> + +<p>"Without any signal success, I believe," said Mr. Die.</p> + +<p>"My father thought you were quite right, Mr. Prendergast," said +Herbert, with a tear forming in his eye; "and though it may be +possible that the affair hurried him to his death, there was no +alternative but that he should know the whole." At this Mr. +Prendergast seemed to wince as he sat in his chair. "And I am sure of +this," continued Herbert, "that had he been left to the villanies of +those two men, his last days would have been much less comfortable +than they were. My mother feels that quite as strongly as I do." And +then Mr. Prendergast looked as though he were somewhat reassured.</p> + +<p>"It was a difficult crisis in which to act," said Mr. Prendergast, +"and I can only say that I did so to the best of my poor judgment."</p> + +<p>"It was a difficult crisis in which to act," said Mr. Die, assenting.</p> + +<p>"But why is all this brought up now?" asked Herbert.</p> + +<p>"Festinâ lentè," said Mr. Die; "lentè, lentè lentè; always lentè. The +more haste we make in trying to understand each other, with the less +speed shall we arrive at that object."</p> + +<p>"What is it, Mr. Prendergast?" again demanded Herbert, who was now +too greatly excited to care much for the Chancery wisdom of the great +barrister. "Has anything new turned up about—about those Molletts?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Herbert, something has turned up—"</p> + +<p>"Remember, Prendergast, that your evidence is again incomplete."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, sir, I do not think it is: it would be sufficient for +any intellectual jury in a Common Law court," said Mr. Prendergast, +who sometimes, behind his back, gave to Mr. Die the surname of +Cunctator.</p> + +<p>"But juries in Common Law courts are not always intelligent. And you +may be sure, Prendergast, that any gentleman taking up the case on +the other side would have as much to say for his client as your +counsel would have for yours. Remember, you have not even been to +Putney yet."</p> + +<p>"Been to Putney!" said Herbert, who was becoming uneasy.</p> + +<p>"The onus probandi would lie with them," said Mr. Prendergast. "We +take possession of that which is our own till it is proved to belong +to others."</p> + +<p>"You have already abandoned the possession."</p> + +<p>"No; we have done nothing already: we have taken no legal step; when +we <span class="nowrap">believed—"</span></p> + +<p>"Having by your own act put yourself in your present position, I +think you ought to be very careful before you take up another."</p> + +<p>"Certainly we ought to be careful. But I do maintain that we may be +too punctilious. As a matter of course I shall go to Putney."</p> + +<p>"To Putney!" said Herbert Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Herbert, and now, if Mr. Die will permit, I will tell you what +has happened. On yesterday afternoon, before you came to dine with +me, I received that letter. No, that is from your cousin, Owen +Fitzgerald. You must see that also by-and-by. It was this one,—from +the younger Mollett, the man whom you saw that day in your poor +father's room."</p> + +<p>Herbert anxiously put out his hand for the letter, but he was again +interrupted by Mr. Die. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Fitzgerald, for a +moment. Prendergast, let me see that letter again, will you?" And +taking hold of it, he proceeded to read it very carefully, still +nursing his leg with his left hand, while he held the letter with his +right.</p> + +<p>"What's it all about?" said Herbert, appealing to Prendergast almost +in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Lentè, lentè, lentè, my dear Mr. Fitzgerald," said Mr. Die, while +his eyes were still intent upon the paper. "If you will take +advantage of the experience of gray hairs, and bald heads,"—his own +was as bald all round as a big white stone—"you must put up with +some of the disadvantages of a momentary delay. Suppose now, +Prendergast, that he is acting in concert with those people in—what +do you call the street?"</p> + +<p>"In Spinny Lane."</p> + +<p>"Yes; with his father and the two women there."</p> + +<p>"What could they gain by that?"</p> + +<p>"Share with him whatever he might be able to get out of you."</p> + +<p>"The man would never accuse himself of bigamy for that. Besides, you +should have seen the women, Die."</p> + +<p>"Seen the women! Tsh—tsh—tsh; I have seen enough of them, young and +old, to know that a clean apron and a humble tone and a down-turned +eye don't always go with a true tongue and an honest heart. Women are +now the most successful swindlers of the age! That profession at any +rate is not closed against them."</p> + +<p>"You will not find these women to be swindlers; at least I think +not."</p> + +<p>"Ah! but we want to be sure, Prendergast;" and then Mr. Die finished +the letter, very leisurely, as Herbert thought.</p> + +<p>When he had finished it, he folded it up and gave it back to Mr. +Prendergast. "I don't think but what you've a strong primâ facie +case; so strong that perhaps you are right to explain the whole +matter to our young friend here, who is so deeply concerned in it. +But at the same time I should caution him that the matter is still +enveloped in doubt."</p> + +<p>Herbert eagerly put out his hand for the letter. "You may trust me +with it," said he: "I am not of a sanguine temperament, nor easily +excited; and you may be sure that I will not take it for more than it +is worth." So saying, he at last got hold of the letter, and managed +to read it through much more quickly than Mr. Die had done. As he did +so he became very red in the face, and too plainly showed that he had +made a false boast in speaking of the coolness of his temperament. +Indeed, the stakes were so high that it was difficult for a young man +to be cool while he was playing the game: he had made up his mind to +lose, and to that he had been reconciled; but now again every pulse +of his heart and every nerve of his body was disturbed. "Was never +his wife," he said out loud when he got to that part of the letter. +"His real wife living now in Spinny Lane! Do you believe that Mr. +Prendergast?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," said the attorney.</p> + +<p>"Lentè, lentè, lentè," said the barrister, quite oppressed by his +friend's unprofessional abruptness.</p> + +<p>"But I do believe it," said Mr. Prendergast: "you must always +understand, Herbert, that this new story may possibly not be +<span class="nowrap">true—"</span></p> + +<p>"Quite possible," said Mr. Die, with something almost approaching to +a slight laugh.</p> + +<p>"But the evidence is so strong," continued the other, "that I do +believe it heartily. I have been to that house, and seen the man, old +Mollett, and the woman whom I believe to be his wife, and a daughter +who lives with them. As far as my poor judgment goes," and he made a +bow of deference towards the barrister, whose face, however, seemed +to say, that in his opinion the judgment of his friend Mr. +Prendergast did not always go very far—"As far as my poor judgment +goes, the women are honest and respectable. The man is as great a +villain as there is unhung—unless his son be a greater one; but he +is now so driven into a corner, that the truth may be more +serviceable to him than a lie."</p> + +<p>"People of that sort are never driven into a corner," said Mr. Die; +"they may sometimes be crushed to death."</p> + +<p>"Well, I believe the matter is as I tell you. There at any rate is +Mollett's assurance that it is so. The woman has been residing in the +same place for years, and will come forward at any time to prove that +she was married to this man before he ever saw—before he went to +Dorsetshire: she has her marriage certificate; and as far as I can +learn there is no one able or willing to raise the question against +you. Your cousin Owen certainly will not do so."</p> + +<p>"It will hardly do to depend upon that," said Mr. Die, with another +sneer. "Twelve thousand a year is a great provocative to litigation."</p> + +<p>"If he does we must fight him; that's all. Of course steps will be +taken at once to get together in the proper legal form all evidence +of every description which may bear on the subject, so that should +the question ever be raised again, the whole matter may be in a +nutshell."</p> + +<p>"You'll find it a nutshell very difficult to crack in five-and-twenty +years' time," said Mr. Die.</p> + +<p>"And what would you advise me to do?" asked Herbert.</p> + +<p>That after all was now the main question, and it was discussed +between them for a long time, till the shades of evening came upon +them, and the dull dingy chambers became almost dark as they sat +there. Mr. Die at first conceived that it would be well that Herbert +should still stick to the law. What indeed could be more conducive to +salutary equanimity in the mind of a young man so singularly +circumstanced, than the study of Blackstone, of Coke, and of Chitty? +as long as he remained there, at work in those chambers, amusing +himself occasionally with the eloquence of the neighbouring courts, +there might be reasonable hope that he would be able to keep his mind +equally poised, so that neither success nor failure as regarded his +Irish inheritance should affect him injuriously. Thus at least argued +Mr. Die. But at this point Herbert seemed to have views of his own: +he said that in the first place he must be with his mother; and then, +in the next place, as it was now clear that he was not to throw up +Castle Richmond—as it would not now behove him to allow any one else +to call himself master there,—it would be his duty to reassume the +place of master. "The onus probandi will now rest with them," he +said, repeating Mr. Prendergast's words; and then he was ultimately +successful in persuading even Mr. Die to agree that it would be +better for him to go to Ireland than to remain in London, sipping the +delicious honey of Chancery buttercups.</p> + +<p>"And you will assume the title, I suppose?" said Mr. Die.</p> + +<p>"Not at any rate till I get to Castle Richmond," he said, blushing. +He had so completely abandoned all thought of being Sir Herbert +Fitzgerald, that he had now almost felt ashamed of saying that he +should so far presume as to call himself by that name.</p> + +<p>And then he and Mr. Prendergast went away and dined together, leaving +Mr. Die to complete his legal work for the day. At this he would +often sit till nine or ten, or even eleven in the evening, without +any apparent ill results from such effects, and then go home to his +dinner and port wine. He was already nearly seventy, and work seemed +to have no effect on him. In what Medea's caldron is it that the +great lawyers so cook themselves, that they are able to achieve half +an immortality, even while the body still clings to the soul? Mr. +Die, though he would talk of his bald head, had no idea of giving way +to time. Superannuated! The men who think of superannuation at sixty +are those whose lives have been idle, not they who have really +buckled themselves to work. It is my opinion that nothing seasons the +mind for endurance like hard work. Port wine should perhaps be added.</p> + +<p>It was not till Herbert once more found himself alone that he fully +realized this new change in his position. He had dined with Mr. +Prendergast at that gentleman's club, and had been specially called +upon to enjoy himself, drinking as it were to his own restoration in +large glasses of some special claret, which Mr. Prendergast assured +him was very extraordinary.</p> + +<p>"You may be as satisfied as that you are sitting there that that's +34," said he; "and I hardly know anywhere else that you'll get it."</p> + +<p>This assertion Herbert was not in the least inclined to dispute. In +the first place, he was not quite clear what 34 meant, and then any +other number, 32 or 36, would have suited his palate as well. But he +drank the 34, and tried to look as though he appreciated it.</p> + +<p>"Our wines here are wonderfully cheap," said Mr. Prendergast, +becoming confidential; "but nevertheless we have raised the price of +that to twelve shillings. We'll have another bottle."</p> + +<p>During all this Herbert could hardly think of his own fate and +fortune, though, indeed, he could hardly think of anything else. He +was eager to be alone, that he might think, and was nearly +broken-hearted when the second bottle of 34 made its appearance. +Something, however, was arranged in those intercalary moments between +the raising of the glasses. Mr. Prendergast said that he would write +both to Owen Fitzgerald and to Mr. Somers; and it was agreed that +Herbert should immediately return to Castle Richmond, merely giving +his mother time to have notice of his coming.</p> + +<p>And then at last he got away, and started by himself for a night walk +through the streets of London. It seemed to him now to be a month +since he had arrived there; but in truth it was only on the yesterday +that he had got out of the train at the Euston Station. He had come +up, looking forward to live in London all his life, and now his +London life was over,—unless, indeed, those other hopes should come +back to him, unless he should appear again, not as a student in Mr. +Die's chamber, but as one of the council of the legislature assembled +to make laws for the governance of Mr. Die and of others. It was +singular how greatly this episode in his life had humbled him in his +own esteem. Six months ago he had thought himself almost too good for +Castle Richmond, and had regarded a seat in Parliament as the only +place which he could fitly fill without violation to his nature. But +now he felt as though he should hardly dare to show himself within +the walls of that assembly. He had been so knocked about by +circumstances, so rudely toppled from his high place,—he had found +it necessary to put himself so completely into the hands of other +people, that his self-pride had all left him. That it would in fact +return might be held as certain, but the lesson which he had learned +would not altogether be thrown away upon him.</p> + +<p>At this moment, as I was saying, he felt himself to be completely +humbled. A lie spoken by one of the meanest of God's creatures had +turned him away from all his pursuits, and broken all his hopes; and +now another word from this man was to restore him,—if only that +other word should not appear to be the greater lie! and then that +there should be such question as to his mother's name and fame—as to +the very name by which she should now be called! that it should +depend on the amount of infamy of which that wretch had been guilty, +whether or no the woman whom in the world he most honoured was +entitled to any share of respect from the world around her! That she +was entitled to the respect of all good men, let the truth in these +matters be where it might, Herbert knew, and all who heard the story +would acknowledge. But respect is of two sorts, and the outer respect +of the world cannot be parted with conveniently.</p> + +<p>He did acknowledge himself to be a humbled man,—more so than he had +ever yet done, or had been like to do, while conscious of the loss +which had fallen on him. It was at this moment when he began to +perceive that his fortune would return to him, when he became aware +that he was knocked about like a shuttlecock from a battledore, that +his pride came by its first fall. Mollett was in truth the great +man,—the Warwick who was to make and unmake the kings of Castle +Richmond. A month ago, and it had pleased Earl Mollett to say that +Owen Fitzgerald should reign; but there had been a turn upon the +cards, and now he, King Herbert, was to be again installed.</p> + +<p>He walked down all alone through St. James's Street, and by Pall Mall +and Charing Cross, feeling rather than thinking of all this. Those +doubts of Mr. Die did not trouble him much. He fully believed that he +should regain his title and property; or rather that he should never +lose them. But he thought that he could never show himself about the +country again as he had done before all this was known. In spite of +his good fortune he was sad at heart, little conscious of the good +that all this would do him.</p> + +<p>He went on by the Horse Guards and Treasury Chambers into Parliament +Street, and so up to the new Houses of Parliament, and sauntered into +Westminster Hall; and there, at the privileged door between the lamps +on his left hand, he saw busy men going in and out, some slow and +dignified, others hot, hasty, and anxious, and he felt as though the +regions to and from which they passed must be far out of his reach. +Could he aspire to pass those august lamp-posts, he whose very name +depended on what in truth might have been the early doings of a low +scoundrel who was now skulking from the law?</p> + +<p>And then he went on, and mounting by the public stairs and anterooms +found his way to the lobby of the house. There he stood with his back +to the ginger-beer stall, moody and melancholy, looking on as men in +the crowd pushed forward to speak to members whom they knew; or, as +it sometimes appeared, to members whom they did not know. There was +somewhat of interest going on in the house, for the throng was thick, +and ordinary men sometimes jostled themselves on into the middle of +the hall—with impious steps; for on those centre stones none but +legislators should presume to stand.</p> + +<p>"Stand back, gentlemen, stand back; back a little, if you please, +sir," said a very courteous but peremptory policeman, so moving the +throng that Herbert, who had been behind, in no way anxious for a +forward place, or for distinguishing nods from passing members, found +himself suddenly in the front rank, in the immediate neighbourhood of +a cluster of young senators who were cooling themselves in the lobby +after the ardour of the debate.</p> + +<p>"It was as pretty a thing as ever I saw in my life," said one, "and +beautifully ridden." Surely it must have been the Spring Meeting and +not the debate that they were discussing.</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about that," said another, and the voice sounded +on Herbert's ears as it might almost be the voice of a brother. "I +know I lost the odds. But I'll have a bottle of soda-water. Hallo, +Fitzgerald! Why—;" and then the young member stopped himself, for +Herbert Fitzgerald's story was rife about London at this time.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Moulsey?" said Herbert, very glumly, for he did not +at all like being recognized. This was Lord Moulsey, the eldest son +of the Earl of Hampton Court, who was now member for the River +Regions, and had been one of Herbert's most intimate friends at +Oxford.</p> + +<p>"I did not exactly expect to see you here," said Lord Moulsey, +drawing him apart. "And upon my soul I was never so cut up in my life +as when I heard all that. Is it true?"</p> + +<p>"True! why no;—it was true, but I don't think it is. That is to +say—upon my word I don't know. It's all unsettled—Good evening to +you." And again nodding his head at his old friend in a very sombre +manner, he skulked off and made his way out of Westminster Hall.</p> + +<p>"Do you know who that was?" said Lord Moulsey going back to his ally. +"That was young Fitzgerald, the poor fellow who has been done out of +his title and all his property. You have heard about his mother, +haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Was that young Fitzgerald?" said the other senator, apparently more +interested in this subject than he had even been about the pretty +riding. "I wish I'd looked at him. Poor fellow! How does he bear it?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word then, I never saw a fellow so changed in my life. He +and I were like brothers, but he would hardly speak to me. Perhaps I +ought to have written to him. But he says it's not settled."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all gammon. It's settled enough. Why they've given up the +place. I heard all about it the other day from Sullivan O'Leary. They +are not even making any fight. Sullivan O'Leary says they are the +greatest fools in the world."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I think young Fitzgerald was mad just now. His manner +was so very odd."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder. I know I should go mad if my mother turned out +to be somebody else's wife." And then they both sauntered away.</p> + +<p>Herbert was doubly angry with himself as he made his way down into +the noble old hall,—angry that he had gone where there was a +possibility of his being recognized, and angry also that he had +behaved himself with so little presence of mind when he was +recognized. He felt that he had been taken aback, that he had been +beside himself, and unable to maintain his own dignity; he had run +away from his old intimate friend because he had been unable to bear +being looked on as the hero of a family tragedy. "He would go back to +Ireland," he said to himself, "and he would never leave it again. +Perhaps he might teach himself there to endure the eyes and voices of +men around him. Nothing at any rate should induce him to come again +to London." And so he went home to bed in a mood by no means so happy +as might have been expected from the result of the day's doings. And +yet he had been cheerful enough when he went to Mr. Die's chambers in +the morning.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-42" id="c-42"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLII.</h3> +<h4>ANOTHER JOURNEY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>On the following day he did go back to Ireland, stopping a night in +Dublin on the road, so that his mother might receive his letter, and +that his cousin and Somers might receive those written by Mr. +Prendergast. He spent one night in Dublin, and then went on, so that +he might arrive at Castle Richmond after dark. In his present mood he +dreaded to be seen returning, even by his own people about the place.</p> + +<p>At Buttevant he was met by his own car and by Richard, as he had +desired; but he found that he was utterly frustrated as to that +method of seating himself in his vehicle which he had promised to +himself. He was still glum and gloomy enough when the coach stopped, +for he had been all alone, thinking over many things—thinking of his +father's death and his mother's early life—of all that he had +suffered and might yet have to suffer, and above all things dreading +the consciousness that men were talking of him and staring at him. In +this mood he was preparing to leave the coach when he found himself +approaching near to that Buttevant stage; but he had more to go +through at present than he expected.</p> + +<p>"There's his honour—Hurrah! God bless his sweet face that's come +among us agin this day! Hurrah for Sir Herbert, boys! hurrah! The +rail ould Fitzgerald 'll be back agin among us, glory be to God and +the Blessed Virgin! Hurrah for Sir Herbert!" and then there was a +shout that seemed to be repeated all down the street of Buttevant.</p> + +<p>But that was nothing to what was coming. Herbert, when he first heard +this, retreated for a moment back into the coach. But there was +little use in that. It was necessary that he should descend, and had +he not done so he would have been dragged out. He put his foot on the +steps, and then found himself seized in the arms of a man outside, +and pressed and embraced as though he had been a baby.</p> + +<p>"Ugh, ugh, ugh!" exclaimed a voice, the owner of which intended to +send forth notes of joy; but so overcome was he by the intensity of +his own feelings that he was in nowise able to moderate his voice +either for joy or sorrow. "Ugh, ugh, ugh! Eh! Sir Herbert! but it's I +that am proud to see yer honour this day,—wid yer ouwn name, wid yer +ouwn name. Glory be to God; oh dear! oh dear! And I knew the Lord'd +niver forgit us that way, and let the warld go intirely wrong like +that. For av you weren't the masther, Sir Herbert, as you are, the +Lord presarve you to us, divil a masther'd iver be able to hould a +foot in Castle Richmond, and that's God's ouwn thruth."</p> + +<p>"And that's thrue for you, Richard," said another, whom Herbert in +the confusion could not recognize, though his voice was familiar to +him. "'Deed and the boys had it all made out. But what matthers now +Sir Herbert's back?"</p> + +<p>"And God bless the day and the hour that he came to us!" And then +leaving his master's arm and coat to which he had still stuck, he +began to busy himself loudly about the travelling gear. "Coachman, +where's Sir Herbert's portmantel? Yes; that's Sir Herbert's hat-box. +'Deed, an' I ought to know it well. And the black bag; yes, that'll +be Sir Herbert's, to be sure," and so on.</p> + +<p>Nor was this all. The name seemed to run like wildfire through all +the Buttevantians there assembled; and no sound seemed to reach our +hero's name but that of Sir Herbert, Sir Herbert. Everybody took hold +of him, and kissed his hand, and pulled his skirts, and stroked his +face. His hat was knocked off, and put on again amid thousands of +blessings. It was nearly dark, and his eyes were dazed by the coach +lanterns which were carried about, so that he could hardly see his +friends; but the one sound which was dinned into his ears was that of +Sir Herbert, Sir Herbert.</p> + +<p>Had he thought about it when starting from Dublin early that morning +he would have said that it would have killed him to have heard +himself so greeted in the public street, but as it was he found that +he got over it very easily. Before he was well seated on his car it +may be questioned whether he was not so used to his name, that he +would have been startled to hear himself designated as Mr. +Fitzgerald. For half a minute he had been wretched, and had felt a +disgust at poor Richard which he thought at the moment would be +insuperable; but when he was on the car, and the poor fellow came +round to tuck the apron in under his feet, he could not help giving +him his hand, and fraternizing with him.</p> + +<p>"And how is my mother, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"'Deed then, Sir Herbert, me lady is surprising—very quiet-like; but +her leddyship was always that, and as sweet to them as comes nigh her +as flowers in May; but sure that's nathural to her leddyship."</p> + +<p>"And, Richard—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sir Herbert."</p> + +<p>"Was Mr. Owen over at Castle Richmond since I left?"</p> + +<p>"Sorrow a foot, Sir Herbert. Nor no one ain't heard on him, nor seen +him. And I will say this on <span class="nowrap">him—"</span></p> + +<p>"Don't say anything against him, Richard."</p> + +<p>"No, surely not, seeing he is yer honour's far-away cousin, Sir +Herbert. But what I war going to say warn't agin Mr. Owen at all, at +all. For they do say that cart-ropes wouldn't have dragged him to +Castle Richmond; and that only yer honour has come back to yer +own,—and why not?—there wouldn't have been any masther in Castle +Richmond at all, at all. That's what they do say."</p> + +<p>"There's no knowing how it will go yet, Richard."</p> + +<p>"'Deed, an' I know how it 'll go very well, Sir Herbert, and so does +Mr. Somers, God bless him! 'Twas only this morning he tould me. An', +faix, it's he has the right to be glad."</p> + +<p>"He is a very old friend."</p> + +<p>"So is we all ould frinds, an' we're all glad—out of our skins wid +gladness, Sir Herbert. 'Deed an' I thought the eend of the warld had +come when I heerd it, for my head went round and round and round as I +stood in the stable, and only for the fork I had a hould of, I'd have +been down among the crathur's legs."</p> + +<p>And then it struck Herbert that as they were going on he heard the +footsteps of some one running after the car, always at an equal +distance behind them. "Who's that running, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"Sure an' that's just Larry Carson, yer honour's own boy, that minds +yer honour's own nag, Sir Herbert. But, faix, I suppose ye'll be +having a dozen of 'em now."</p> + +<p>"Stop and take him up; you've room there."</p> + +<p>"Room enough, Sir Herbert, an' yer honour's so good. Here, Larry, yer +born fool, Sir Herbert says ye're to get up. He would come over, Sir +Herbert, just to say he'd been the first to see yer honour."</p> + +<p>"God—bless—yer honour—Sir Herbert," exclaimed the poor fellow, out +of breath, as he took his seat. It was his voice that Sir Herbert had +recognized among the crowd, angry enough at that moment. But in +future days it was remembered in Larry Carson's favour, that he had +come over to Castle Richmond to see his master, contented to run the +whole road back to Castle Richmond behind the car. A better fate, +however, was his, for he made one in the triumphal entry up the +avenue.</p> + +<p>When they got to the lodge it was quite dark—so dark that even +Richard, who was experienced in night-driving, declared that a cat +could not see. However, they turned in at the great gates without any +accident, the accustomed woman coming out to open them.</p> + +<p>"An' is his honour there thin?" said the woman; "and may God bless +you, Sir Herbert, and ye're welcome back to yer own; so ye are!"</p> + +<p>And then a warm large hand was laid upon his leg, and a warm voice +sounded greeting in his ear. "Herbert, my boy, how are you? This is +well, is it not?" It was Mr. Somers who had been waiting there for +him at the lodge gate.</p> + +<p>Upon the whole he could not but acknowledge to himself that it was +well. Mr. Somers got up beside him on the car, so that by this time +it was well laden. "And how does my mother take it?" Herbert asked.</p> + +<p>"Very quietly. Your Aunt Letty told me that she had spent most of her +time in prayer since she heard it. But Miss Letty seems to think that +on your account she is very full of joy."</p> + +<p>"And the girls?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! the girls—what girls? Well, they must answer for themselves; I +left them about half an hour ago, and now you hear their voices in +the porch."</p> + +<p>He did hear the voices in the porch plainly, though he could not +distinguish them, as the horse's feet and the car wheels rattled over +the gravel. But as the car stopped at the door with somewhat of a +crash, he heard Emmeline say, "There's Herbert," and then as he got +down they all retreated in among the lights in the hall.</p> + +<p>"God bless your honour, Sir Herbert. An' it's you that are welcome +back this blessed night to Castle Richmond." Such and such like were +the greetings which met him from twenty different voices as he +essayed to enter the house. Every servant and groom about the place +was there, and some few of the nearest tenants,—of those who had +lived near enough to hear the glad tidings since the morning. A +dozen, at any rate, took his hands as he strove to make his way +through them, and though he was never quite sure about it, he +believed that one or two had kissed him in the dark. At last he found +himself in the hall, and even then the first person who got hold of +him was Mrs. Jones.</p> + +<p>"And so you've come back to us after all, Mr. Herbert—Sir Herbert I +should say, begging your pardon, sir; and it's all right about my +lady. I never thought to be so happy again, never—never—never." And +then she retreated with her apron up to her eyes, leaving him in the +arms of Aunt Letty.</p> + +<p>"The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of +the Lord. Oh! Herbert, my darling boy. I hope this may be a lesson +and a warning to you, so that you may flee from the wrath to come." +Aunt Letty, had time been allowed to her, would certainly have shown +that the evil had all come from tampering with papistical +abominations; and that the returning prosperity of the house of +Castle Richmond was due to Protestant energy and truth. But much time +was not allowed to Aunt Letty, as Herbert hurried on after his +sisters.</p> + +<p>As he had advanced they had retreated, and now he heard them in the +drawing-room. He began to be conscious that they were not +alone,—that they had some visitor with them, and began to be +conscious also who that visitor was. And when he got himself at last +into the room, sure enough there were three girls there, two running +forward to meet him from the fireplace to which they had retreated, +and the other lingering a little in their rear.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Herbert!" and "oh, Herbert!" and then their arms were thrown +about his neck, and their warm kisses were on his cheeks—kisses not +unmixed with tears; for of course they began to cry immediately that +he was with them, though their eyes had been dry enough for the two +or three hours before. Their arms were about his neck, and their +kisses on his cheeks, I have said,—meaning thereby the arms and +kisses of his sisters, for the third young lady still lingered a +little in the rear.</p> + +<p>"Was it not lucky Clara was here when the news came to us this +morning?" said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Such difficulty as we have had to get her," said Emmeline. "It was +to have been her farewell visit to us; but we will have no more +farewells now; will we, Clara?"</p> + +<p>And now at last he had his arm round her waist, or as near to that +position as he was destined to get it on the present occasion. She +gave him her hand, and let him hold that fast, and smiled on him +through her soft tears, and was gracious to him with her sweet words +and pleasant looks; but she would not come forward and kiss him +boldly as she had done when last they had met at Desmond Court. He +attempted it now; but he could get his lips no nearer to hers than +her forehead; and when he tried to hold her she slipped away from +him, and he continually found himself in the embraces of his +sisters,—which was not the same thing at all. "Never mind," he said +to himself; "his day would soon come round."</p> + +<p>"You did not expect to find Clara here, did you?" asked Emmeline.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know what I have expected, or not expected, for the last +two days. No, certainly, I had no hope of seeing her to-night."</p> + +<p>"I trust I am not in the way," said Clara.</p> + +<p>Whereupon he made another attempt with his arm, but when he thought +he had caught his prize, Emmeline was again within his grasp.</p> + +<p>"And my mother?" he then said. It must be remembered that he had only +yet been in the room for three minutes, though his little efforts +have taken longer than that in the telling.</p> + +<p>"She is up stairs, and you are to go to her. But I told her that we +should keep you for a quarter of an hour, and you have not been here +half that time yet."</p> + +<p>"And how has she borne all this?"</p> + +<p>"Why, well on the whole. When first she heard it this morning, which +she did before any of us, you <span class="nowrap">know—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I wrote to her."</p> + +<p>"But your letter told her nothing. Mr. Somers came down almost as +soon as your letter was here. He had heard also—from Mr. +Prendergast, I think it was, and Mr. Prendergast said a great deal +more than you did."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"We thought she was going to be ill at first, for she became so very +pale,—flushing up sometimes for half a minute or so; but after an +hour or two she became quite calm. She has seen nobody since but us +and Aunt Letty."</p> + +<p>"She saw me," said Clara.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you; you are one of us now,—just the same as ourselves, +isn't she, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>Not exactly the same, Herbert thought. And then he went up stairs to +his mother.</p> + +<p>This interview I will not attempt to describe. Lady Fitzgerald had +become a stricken woman from the first moment that she had heard that +that man had returned to life, who in her early girlhood had come to +her as a suitor. Nay, this had been so from the first moment that she +had expected his return. And these misfortunes had come upon her so +quickly that, though they had not shattered her in body and mind as +they had shattered her husband, nevertheless they had told terribly +on her heart. The coming of those men, the agony of Sir Thomas, the +telling of the story as it had been told to her by Mr. Prendergast, +the resolve to abandon everything—even a name by which she might be +called, as far as she herself was concerned, the death of her +husband, and then the departure of her ruined son, had, one may say, +been enough to destroy the spirit of any woman. Her spirit they had +not utterly destroyed. Her powers of endurance were great,—and she +had endured, still hoping. But as the uttermost malice of adversity +had not been able altogether to depress her, so neither did returning +prosperity exalt her,—as far as she herself was concerned. She +rejoiced for her children greatly, thanking God that she had not +entailed on them an existence without a name. But for herself, as she +now told Herbert, outside life was all over. Her children and the +poor she might still have with her, but beyond, nothing in this +world;—to them would be confined all her wishes on this side the +grave.</p> + +<p>But nevertheless she could be warm in her greetings to her son. She +could understand that though she were dead to the world he need not +be so,—nor indeed ought to be so. Things that were now all ending +with her were but beginning with him. She had no feeling that taught +her to think that it was bad for him to be a man of rank and fortune, +the head of his family, and the privileged one of his race. It had +been perhaps her greatest misery that she, by her doing, had placed +him in the terrible position which he had lately been called upon to +fill.</p> + +<p>"Dearest mother, it did not make me unhappy," he said, caressing her.</p> + +<p>"You bore it like a man, Herbert, as I shall ever remember. But it +did make me unhappy,—more unhappy than it should have done, when we +remember how very short is our time here below."</p> + +<p>He remained with his mother for more than an hour, and then returned +to the drawing-room, where the girls were waiting for him with the +tea-things arranged before them.</p> + +<p>"I was very nearly coming up to fetch you," said Mary, "only that we +knew how much mamma must have to say to you."</p> + +<p>"We dined early because we are all so upset," said Emmeline; "and +Clara must be dying for her tea."</p> + +<p>"And why should Clara die for tea any more than any one else?" asked +Lady Clara herself.</p> + +<p>I will not venture to say what hour it was before they separated for +bed. They sat there with their feet over the fender, talking about +things gone and things coming,—and there were so many of such things +for them to discuss! Even yet, as one of the girls remarked, Lady +Desmond had not heard of the last change, or if she had so heard, had +had no time to communicate with her daughter upon the subject.</p> + +<p>And then Owen was spoken of with the warmest praise by them all, and +Clara explained openly what had been the full tenor of his intended +conduct.</p> + +<p>"That would have been impossible," said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"But it was not the less noble in him, was it?" said Clara, eagerly. +But she did not tell how Owen Fitzgerald had prayed that her love +might be given back to him, as his reward for what he wished to do on +behalf of his cousin. Now, at least, at this moment it was not told; +yet the day did come when all that was described,—a day when Owen in +his absence was regarded by them both among the dearest of their +friends.</p> + +<p>But even on that night Clara resolved that he should have some meed +of praise. "Has he not been noble?" she said, appealing to him who +was to be her husband; "has he not been very noble?"</p> + +<p>Herbert, too happy to be jealous, acknowledged that it was so.</p> + + +<p><a name="c-43" id="c-43"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIII.</h3> +<h4>PLAYING ROUNDERS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>My story is nearly at its close, and all readers will now know how it +is to end. Those difficulties raised by Mr. Die were all made to +vanish; and though he implored Mr. Prendergast over and over again to +go about this business with a moderated eagerness, that gentleman +would not consent to let any grass grow under his heels till he had +made assurance doubly sure, and had seen Herbert Fitzgerald firmly +seated on his throne. All that the women in Spinny Lane had told him +was quite true. The register was found in the archives of the parish +of Putney, and Mr. Prendergast was able to prove that Mr. Matthew +Mollett, now of Spinny Lane, and the Mr. Matthew Mollett then +designated as of Newmarket in Cambridgeshire, were one and the same +person; therefore Mr. Mollett's marriage with Miss Wainwright was no +marriage, and therefore, also, the marriage between Sir Thomas +Fitzgerald and that lady was a true marriage; all which things will +now be plain to any novel-reading capacity, mean as such capacity may +be in respect to legal law.</p> + +<p>And I have only further to tell in respect to this part of my story, +that the Molletts, both father and son, escaped all punishment for +the frauds and villanies related in these pages—except such +punishment as these frauds and villanies, acting by their own innate +destructive forces and poisons, brought down upon their unfortunate +heads. For so allowing them to escape I shall be held by many to have +been deficient in sound teaching. "What!" men will say, "not punish +your evil principle! Allow the prevailing evil genius of your book to +escape scot free, without administering any of that condign +punishment which it would have been so easy for you to allot to them! +Had you not treadmills to your hand, and all manner of new prison +disciplines? Should not Matthew have repented in the sackcloth of +solitary confinement, and Aby have munched and crunched between his +teeth the bitter ashes of prison bread and water? Nay, for such +offences as those did you wot of no penal settlements? Were not +Portland and Spike Islands gaping for them? Had you no memory of +Dartmoor and the Bermudas?"</p> + +<p>Gentle readers, no; not in this instance shall Spike Island or the +Bermudas be asked to give us their assistance. There is a sackcloth +harsher to the skin than that of the penal settlement, and ashes more +bitter in the crunching than convict rations. It would be sad indeed +if we thought that those rascals who escape the law escape also the +just reward of their rascality. May it not rather be believed that +the whole life of the professional rascal is one long wretched +punishment, to which, if he could but know it, the rations and +comparative innocence of Bermuda would be so preferable? Is he not +always rolling the stone of Sysiphus, gyrating on the wheel of Ixion, +hankering after the waters of Tantalus, filling the sieves of the +daughters of Danaüs? He pours into his sieve stolen corn beyond +measure, but no grain will stay there. He lifts to his lips rich +cups, but Rhadamanthus the policeman allows him no moment for a +draught. The wheel of justice is ever going, while his poor hanging +head is in a whirl. The stone which he rolls never perches for a +moment at the top of the hill, for the trade which he follows admits +of no rest. Have I not said truly that he is hunted like a fox, +driven from covert to covert with his poor empty craving belly? +prowling about through the wet night, he returns with his prey, and +finds that he is shut out from his lair; his bloodshot eye is ever +over his shoulder, and his advanced foot is ever ready for a start; +he stinks in the nostrils of the hounds of the law, and is held by +all men to be vermin.</p> + +<p>One would say that the rascal, if he but knew the truth, would look +forward to Spike Island and the Bermudas with impatience and +raptures. The cold, hungry, friendless, solitary doom of unconvicted +rascaldom has ever seemed to me to be the most wretched phase of +human existence,—that phase of living in which the liver can trust +no one, and be trusted by none; in which the heart is ever quailing +at the policeman's hat, and the eye ever shrinking from the +policeman's gaze. The convict does trust his gaoler, at any rate his +master gaoler, and in so doing is not all wretched. It is Bill Sikes +before conviction that I have ever pitied. Any man can endure to be +hanged; but how can any man have taken that Bill Sikes' walk and have +lived through it?</p> + +<p>To such punishments will we leave the Molletts, hoping of the elder +one, that under the care of those ministering angels in Spinny Lane, +his heart may yet be softened; hoping also for the younger one that +some ministering angel may be appointed also for his aid. 'Tis a +grievous piece of work though, that of a ministering angel to such a +soul as his. And now, having seen them so far on their mortal career, +we will take our leave of both of them.</p> + +<p>Mr. Prendergast's object in sparing them was of course that of saving +Lady Fitzgerald from the terrible pain of having her name brought +forward at any trial. She never spoke of this, even to Herbert, +allowing those in whom she trusted to manage those things for her +without an expression of anxiety on her own part; but she was not the +less thankful when she found that no public notice was to be taken of +the matter.</p> + +<p>Very shortly after Herbert's return to Castle Richmond, it was +notified to him that he need have no fear as to his inheritance; and +it was so notified with the great additional comfort of an assuring +opinion from Mr. Die. He then openly called himself Sir Herbert, took +upon himself the property which became his by right of the entail, +and issued orders for the preparation of his marriage settlement. +During this period he saw Owen Fitzgerald; but he did so in the +presence of Mr. Somers, and not a word was then said about Lady Clara +Desmond. Both the gentlemen, Herbert and Mr. Somers, cordially +thanked the master of Hap House for the way in which he had behaved +to the Castle Richmond family, and in reference to the Castle +Richmond property during the terrible events of the last two months; +but Owen took their thanks somewhat haughtily. He shook hands warmly +enough with his cousin, wishing him joy on the arrangement of his +affairs, and was at first less distant than usual with Mr. Somers; +but when they alluded to his own conduct, and expressed their +gratitude, he declared that he had done nothing for which thanks were +due, and that he begged it to be understood that he laid claim to no +gratitude. Had he acted otherwise, he said, he would have deserved to +be kicked out of the presence of all honest men; and to be thanked +for the ordinary conduct of a gentleman was almost an insult. This he +said looking chiefly at Mr. Somers, and then turning to his cousin, +he asked him if he intended to remain in the country.</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," said Herbert.</p> + +<p>"I shall not," said Owen; "and if you know any one who will take a +lease of Hap House for ten or twelve years, I shall be glad to find a +tenant."</p> + +<p>"And you, where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"To Africa in the first instance," said he; "there seems to be some +good hunting there, and I think that I shall try it."</p> + +<p>The new tidings were not long in reaching Desmond Court, and the +countess was all alone when she first heard them. With very great +difficulty, taking as it were the bit between her teeth, Clara had +managed to get over to Castle Richmond that she might pay a last +visit to the Fitzgerald girls. At this time Lady Desmond's mind was +in a terribly distracted state. The rumour was rife about the country +that Owen had refused to accept the property; and the countess +herself had of course been made aware that he had so refused. But she +was too keenly awake to the affairs of the world to suppose that such +a refusal could continue long in force; neither, as she knew well, +could Herbert accept of that which was offered to him. It might be +that for some years to come the property might be unenjoyed; the rich +fruit might fall rotten from the wall; but what would that avail to +her or to her child? Herbert would still be a nameless man, and could +never be master of Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless Clara carried her point, and went over to her friends, +leaving the countess all alone. She had now permitted her son to +return to Eton, finding that he was powerless to aid her. The young +earl was quite willing that his sister should marry Owen Fitzgerald; +but he was not willing to use any power of persuasion that he might +have, in what his mother considered a useful or legitimate manner. He +talked of rewarding Owen for his generosity; but Clara would have +nothing to do either with the generosity or with the reward. And so +Lady Desmond was left alone, hearing that even Owen, Owen himself, +had now given up the quest, and feeling that it was useless to have +any further hope. "She will make her own bed," the countess said to +herself, "and she must lie on it."</p> + +<p>And then came this rumour that after all Herbert was to be the man. +It first reached her ears about the same time that Herbert arrived at +his own house, but it did so in such a manner as to make but little +impression at the moment. Lady Desmond had but few gossips, and in a +general way heard but little of what was doing in the country. On +this occasion the Caleb Balderston of her house came in, making +stately bows to his mistress, and with low voice, and eyes wide open, +told her what a gossoon running over from Castle Richmond had +reported in the kitchen of Desmond Court. "At any rate, my lady, Mr. +Herbert is expected this evening at the house;" and then Caleb +Balderston, bowing stately again, left the room. This did not make +much impression, but it made some.</p> + +<p>And then on the following day Clara wrote to her: this she did after +deep consideration and much consultation with her friends. It would +be unkind, they argued, to leave Lady Desmond in ignorance on such a +subject; and therefore a note was written very guardedly, the joint +production of the three, in which, with the expression of many +doubts, it was told that perhaps after all Herbert might yet be the +man. But even then the countess did not believe it.</p> + +<p>But during the next week the rumour became a fact through the +country, and everybody knew, even the Countess of Desmond, that all +that family history was again changed. Lady Fitzgerald, whom they had +all known, was Lady Fitzgerald still, and Herbert was once more on +his throne. When rumours thus became a fact, there was no longer any +doubt about the matter. The countryside did not say that, "perhaps +after all so and so would go in such and such a way," or that "legal +doubts having been entertained, the gentlemen of the long robe were +about to do this and that." By the end of the first week the affair +was as surely settled in county Cork as though the line of the +Fitzgeralds had never been disturbed; and Sir Herbert was fully +seated on his throne.</p> + +<p>It was well then for poor Owen that he had never assumed the regalia +of royalty: had he done so his fall would have been very dreadful; as +it was, not only were all those pangs spared to him, but he achieved +at once an immense popularity through the whole country. Everybody +called him poor Owen, and declared how well he had behaved. Some +expressed almost a regret that his generosity should go unrewarded, +and others went so far as to give him his reward: he was to marry +Emmeline Fitzgerald, they said at the clubs in Cork, and a +considerable slice of the property was destined to give additional +charms to the young lady's hand and heart. For a month or so Owen +Fitzgerald was the most popular man in the south of Ireland; that is, +as far as a man can be popular who never shows himself.</p> + +<p>And the countess had to answer her daughter's letter. "If this be +so," she said, "of course I shall be well pleased. My anxiety has +been only for your welfare, to further which I have been willing to +make any possible sacrifice." Clara when she read this did not know +what sacrifice had been made, nor had the countess thought as she +wrote the words what had been the sacrifice to which she had thus +alluded, though her heart was ever conscious of it, unconsciously. +And the countess sent her love to them all at Castle Richmond. "She +did not fear," she said, "that they would misinterpret her. Lady +Fitzgerald, she was sure, would perfectly understand that she had +endeavoured to do her duty by her child." It was by no means a bad +letter, and, which was better, was in the main a true letter. +According to her light she had striven to do her duty, and her +conduct was not misjudged, at any rate at Castle Richmond.</p> + +<p>"You must not think harshly of mamma," said Clara to her future +mother-in-law.</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Lady Fitzgerald. "I certainly do not think harshly of +her. In her position I should probably have acted as she has done." +The difference, however, between them was this, that it was all but +impossible that Lady Fitzgerald should not sympathize with her +children, while it was almost impossible that the Countess of Desmond +should do so.</p> + +<p>And so Lady Desmond remained all alone at Desmond Court, brooding +over the things as they now were. For the present it was better that +Clara should remain at Castle Richmond, and nothing therefore was +said of her return on either side. She could not add to her mother's +comfort at home, and why should she not remain happy where she was? +She was already a Fitzgerald in heart rather than a Desmond; and was +it not well that she should be so? If she could love Herbert +Fitzgerald, that was well also. Since the day on which he had +appeared at Desmond Court, wet and dirty and wretched, with a broken +spirit and fortunes as draggled as his dress, he had lost all claim +to be a hero in the estimation of Lady Desmond. To her those only +were heroes whose pride and spirit were never draggled; and such a +hero there still was in her close neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>Lady Desmond herself was a woman of a mercenary spirit; so at least +it will be said and thought of her. But she was not altogether so, +although the two facts were strong against her that she had sold +herself for a title, and had been willing to sell her daughter for a +fortune. Poverty she herself had endured upon the whole with +patience; and though she hated and scorned it from her very soul, she +would now have given herself in marriage to a poor man without rank +or station,—she, a countess, and the mother of an earl; and that she +would have done with all the romantic love of a girl of sixteen, +though she was now a woman verging upon forty!</p> + +<p>Men and women only know so much of themselves and others as +circumstances and their destiny have allowed to appear. Had it +perchance fallen to thy lot, O my forensic friend, heavy laden with +the wisdom of the law, to write tales such as this of mine, how +charmingly might not thy characters have come forth upon the +canvas—how much more charmingly than I can limn them! While, on the +other hand, ignorant as thou now tellest me that I am of the very +alphabet of the courts, had thy wig been allotted to me, I might have +gathered guineas thick as daisies in summer, while to thee perhaps +they come no faster than snow-drops in the early spring. It is all in +our destiny. Chance had thrown that terrible earl in the way of the +poor girl in her early youth, and she had married him. She had +married him, and all idea of love had flown from her heart. All idea +of love, but not all the capacity—as now within this last year or +two she had learned, so much to her cost.</p> + +<p>Long months had passed since she had first owned this to herself, +since she had dared to tell herself that it was possible even for her +to begin the world again, and to play the game which women love to +play, once at least before they die. She could have worshipped this +man, and sat at his feet, and endowed him in her heart with heroism, +and given him her soft brown hair to play with when it suited her +Hercules to rest from his labours. She could have forgotten her +years, and have forgotten too the children who had now grown up to +seize the world from beneath her feet—to seize it before she herself +had enjoyed it. She could have forgotten all that was past, and have +been every whit as young as her own daughter. If only—!</p> + +<p>It is so, I believe, with most of us who have begun to turn the hill. +I myself could go on to that common that is at this moment before me, +and join that game of rounders with the most intense delight. "By +George! you fellow, you've no eyes; didn't you see that he hadn't put +his foot in the hole. He'll get back now that long-backed, +hard-hitting chap, and your side is done for the next half-hour!" But +then they would all be awestruck for a while; and after that, when +they grew to be familiar with me, they would laugh at me because I +loomed large in my running, and returned to my ground scant of +breath. Alas, alas! I know that it would not do. So I pass by, +imperious in my heavy manhood, and one of the lads respectfully +abstains from me though the ball is under my very feet.</p> + +<p>But then I have had my game of rounders. No horrible old earl with +gloating eyes carried me off in my childhood and robbed me of the +pleasure of my youth. That part of my cake has been eaten, and, in +spite of some occasional headache, has been digested not altogether +unsatisfactorily. Lady Desmond had as yet been allowed no slice of +her cake. She had never yet taken her side in any game of rounders. +But she too had looked on and seen how jocund was the play; she also +had acknowledged that that running in the ring, that stout hitting of +the ball, that innocent craft, that bringing back by her own skill +and with her own hand of some long-backed fellow, would be pleasant +to her as well as to others. If only she now could be chosen in at +that game! But what if the side that she cared for would not have +her?</p> + +<p>But <i>tempus edax rerum</i>, though it had hardly nibbled at her heart or +wishes, had been feeding on the freshness of her brow and the bloom +of her lips. The child with whom she would have loved to play kept +aloof from her too, and would not pick up the ball when it rolled to +his feet. All this, if one thinks of it, is hard to bear. It is very +hard to have had no period for rounders, not to be able even to look +back to one's games, and to talk of them to one's old comrades! "But +why then did she allow herself to be carried off by the wicked +wrinkled earl with the gloating eyes?" asks of me the prettiest girl +in the world, just turned eighteen. Oh heavens! Is it not possible +that one should have one more game of rounders? Quite impossible, O +my fat friend! And therefore I answer the young lady somewhat grimly. +"Take care that thou also art not carried off by a wrinkled earl. Is +thy heart free from all vanity? Of what nature is the heroism that +thou worshippest?" "A nice young man!" she says, boldly, though in +words somewhat different. "If so it will be well for thee; but did I +not see thine eyes hankering the other day after the precious stones +of Ophir, and thy mouth watering for the flesh-pots of Egypt? Was I +not watching thee as thou sattest at that counter, so frightfully +intent? Beware!" "The grumpy old fellow with the bald head!" she said +shortly afterwards to her bosom friend, not careful that her words +should be duly inaudible.</p> + +<p>Some idea that all was not yet over with her had come upon her poor +heart,—upon Lady Desmond's heart, soon after Owen Fitzgerald had +made himself familiar in her old mansion. We have read how that idea +was banished, and how she had ultimately resolved that that man whom +she could have loved herself should be given up to her own child when +she thought that he was no longer poor and of low rank. She could not +sympathize with her daughter,—love with her love, and rejoice with +her joy; but she could do her duty by her, and according to her +lights she endeavoured so to do.</p> + +<p>But now again all was turned and changed and altered. Owen of Hap +House was once more Owen of Hap House only, but still in her eyes +heroic, as it behoved a man to be. He would not creep about the +country with moaning voice and melancholy eyes, with draggled dress +and outward signs of wretchedness. He might be wretched, but he would +still be manly. Could it be possible that to her should yet be given +the privilege of soothing that noble, unbending wretchedness? By no +means possible, poor, heart-laden countess; thy years are all against +thee. Girls whose mouths will water unduly for the flesh-pots of +Egypt must in after life undergo such penalties as these. Art thou +not a countess?</p> + +<p>But not so did she answer herself. Might it not be possible? Ah, +might it not be possible? And as the question was even then being +asked, perhaps for the ten thousandth time, Owen Fitzgerald stood +before her. She had not yet seen him since the new news had gone +abroad, and had hardly yet conceived how it might be possible that +she should do so. But now as she thought of him there he was. They +two were together,—alone together; and the door by which he had +entered had closed upon him before she was aware of his presence.</p> + +<p>"Owen Fitzgerald!" she said, starting up and giving him both her +hands. This she did, not of judgment, nor yet from passion, but of +impulse. She had been thinking of him with such kindly thoughts, and +now he was there it became natural that her greeting should be +kindly. It was more so than it had ever been to any but her son since +the wrinkled, gloating earl had come and fetched her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Owen Fitzgerald," said he, taking the two hands that were +offered to him, and holding them awhile; not pressing them as a man +who loved her, who could have loved her, would have done. "After all +that has gone and passed between us, Lady Desmond, I cannot leave the +country without saying one word of farewell to you."</p> + +<p>"Leave the country!" she exclaimed. "And where are you going?"</p> + +<p>As she looked into his face with her hands still in his,—for she did +not on the moment withdraw them, she felt that he had never before +looked so noble, so handsome, so grand. Leave the country! ah, yes; +and why should not she leave it also? What was there to bind her to +those odious walls in which she had been immolated during the best +half of her life?</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" she asked, looking almost wildly up at him.</p> + +<p>"Somewhere very far a-field, Lady Desmond," he said; and then the +hands dropped from him. "You will understand at any rate that Hap +House will not be a fitting residence for me."</p> + +<p>"I hate the whole country," said she, "the whole place hereabouts. I +have never been happy here. Happy! I have never been other than +unhappy. I have been wretched. What would I not give to leave it +also?"</p> + +<p>"To you it cannot be intolerable as it will be to me. You have known +so thoroughly where all my hopes were garnered, that I need not tell +you why I must go from Hap House. I think that I have been wronged, +but I do not desire that others should think so. And as for you and +me, Lady Desmond, though we have been enemies, we have been friends +also."</p> + +<p>"Enemies!" said she, "I hope not." And she spoke so softly, so unlike +her usual self, in the tones so suited to a loving, clinging woman, +that though he did not understand it, he was startled at her +tenderness. "I have never felt that you were my enemy, Mr. +Fitzgerald; and certainly I never was an enemy to you."</p> + +<p>"Well; we were opposed to each other. I thought that you were robbing +me of all I valued in life; and you, you +<span class="nowrap">thought—"</span></p> + +<p>"I thought that Clara's happiness demanded rank and wealth and +position. There; I tell you my sins fairly. You may say that I was +mercenary if you will,—mercenary for her. I thought that I knew what +would be needful for her. Can you be angry with a mother for that?"</p> + +<p>"She had given me a promise! But never mind. It is all over now. I +did not come to upbraid you, but to tell you that I now know how it +must be, and that I am going."</p> + +<p>"Had you won her, Owen," said the countess, looking intently into his +face, "had you won her, she would not have made you happy."</p> + +<p>"As to that it was for me to judge—for me and her. I thought it +would, and was willing to peril all in the trial. And so was +she—willing at one time. But never mind; it is useless to talk of +that."</p> + +<p>"Quite useless now."</p> + +<p>"I did think—when it was as they said in my power to give him back +his own,—I did think;—but no, it would have been mean to look for +payment. It is all over, and I will say nothing further; not a word. +I am not a girl to harp on such a thing day after day, and to grow +sick with love. I shall be better away. And therefore I am going, and +I have now come to say good-bye, because we were friends in old days, +Lady Desmond."</p> + +<p>Friends in old days! They were old days to him, but they were no more +than the other day to her. It was as yet hardly more than two years +since she had first known him, and yet he looked on the acquaintance +as one that had run out its time and required to be ended. She would +so fain have been able to think that the beginning only had as yet +come to them. But there he was, anxious to bid her adieu, and what +was she to say to him?</p> + +<p>"Yes, we were friends. You have been my only friend here I think. You +will hardly believe with how much true friendship I have thought of +you when the feud between us—if it was a feud—was at the strongest. +Owen Fitzgerald, I have loved you through it all."</p> + +<p>Loved him? She was so handsome as she spoke, so womanly, so graceful, +there was still about her so much of the charm of beauty, that he +could hardly take the word when coming from her mouth as applicable +to ordinary friendship. And yet he did so take it. They had all loved +each other—as friends should love—and now that he was going she had +chosen to say as much. He felt the blood tingle his cheek at the +sound of her words; but he was not vain enough to take it in its +usual sense. "Then we will part as friends," said he—tamely enough.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we will part," she said. And as she spoke the blood mantled +deep on her neck and cheek and forehead, and a spirit came out of her +eye, such as never had shone there before in his presence. "Yes, we +will part," and she took up his right hand, and held it closely, +pressed between both her own. "And as we must part I will tell you +all. Owen Fitzgerald, I have loved you with all my heart,—with all +the love that a woman has to give. I have loved you, and have never +loved any other. Stop, stop," for he was going to interrupt her. "You +shall hear me now to the last,—and for the last time. I have loved +you with such love—such love as you perhaps felt for her, but as she +will never feel. But you shall not say, nay you shall not think that +I have been selfish. I would have kept you from her when you were +poor as you are now,—not because I loved you. No; you will never +think that of me. And when I thought that you were rich, and the head +of your family, I did all that I could to bring her back for you. Did +I not, Owen?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think you did," he muttered between his teeth, hardly knowing +how to speak.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed I did so. Others may say that I was selfish for my +child, but you shall not think that I was selfish for myself. I sent +for Patrick, and bade him go to you. I strove as mothers do strive +for their children. I taught myself,—I strove to teach myself to +forget that I had loved you. I swore on my knees that I would love +you only as my son,—as my dear, dear son. Nay, Owen, I did; on my +knees before my God."</p> + +<p>He turned away from her to rub the tears from his eyes, and in doing +so he dragged his hand away from her. But she followed him, and again +took it. "You will hear me to the end now," she said; "will you not? +you will not begrudge me that? And then came these other tidings, and +all that scheme was dashed to the ground. It was better so, Owen; you +would not have been happy with the +<span class="nowrap">property—"</span></p> + +<p>"I should never have taken it."</p> + +<p>"And she, she would have clung closer to him as a poor man than ever +she had done when he was rich. She is her mother's daughter there. +And then—then— But I need not tell you more. You will know it all +now. If you had become rich, I would have ceased to love you; but I +shall never cease now that you are again poor,—now that you are Owen +of Hap House again, as you sent us word yourself that day."</p> + +<p>And then she ceased, and bending down her head bathed his hand with +her tears. Had any one asked him that morning, he would have said +that it was impossible that the Countess of Desmond should weep. And +now the tears were streaming from her eyes as though she were a +broken-hearted girl. And so she was. Her girlhood had been postponed +and marred,—not destroyed and made away with, by the wrinkled earl +with the gloating eyes.</p> + +<p>She had said all now, and she stood there, still holding his hand in +hers, but with her head turned from him. It was his turn to speak +now, and how was he to answer her. I know how most men would have +answered;—by the pressure of an arm, by a warm kiss, by a promise of +love, and by a feeling that such love was possible. And then most men +would have gone home, leaving the woman triumphant, and have repented +bitterly as they sat moody over their own fires, with their +wine-bottles before them. But it was not so with Owen Fitzgerald. His +heart was to him a reality. He had loved with all his power and +strength, with all the vigour of his soul,—having chosen to love. +But he would not now be enticed by pity into a bastard feeling, which +would die away when the tenderness of the moment was no longer +present to his eye and touch. His love for Clara had been such that +he could not even say that he loved another.</p> + +<p>"Dear Lady Desmond," he began.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Owen; we are to part now, part for ever," she said; "speak to me +once in your life as though we were equal friends. Cannot you forget +for one minute that I am Countess of Desmond?"</p> + +<p>Mary, Countess of Desmond; such was her name and title. But so little +familiar had he been with the name by which he had never heard her +called, that in his confusion he could not remember it. And had he +done so, he could not have brought himself to use it. "Yes," he said; +"we must part. It is impossible for me to remain here."</p> + +<p>"Doubly impossible now," she replied, half reproaching him.</p> + +<p>"Yes; doubly impossible now. Is it not better that the truth should +be spoken?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. I have spoken it—too plainly."</p> + +<p>"And so will I speak it plainly. We cannot control our own hearts, +Lady Desmond. It is, as you say, doubly impossible now. All the love +I have had to give she has had,—and has. Such being so, why should I +stay here? or could you wish that I should do so?"</p> + +<p>"I do not wish it." That was true enough. The wish would have been to +wander away with him.</p> + +<p>"I must go, and shall start at once. My very things are packed for my +going. I will not be here to have the sound of their marriage bells +jangling in my ears. I will not be pointed at as the man who has been +duped on every side."</p> + +<p>"Ah me, that I was a man too,—that I could go away and make for +myself a life!"</p> + +<p>"You have Desmond with you."</p> + +<p>"No, no. He will go too; of course he will go. He will go, and I +shall be utterly alone. What a fool I am,—what an ass, that by this +time I have not learned to bear it!"</p> + +<p>"They will always be near you at Castle Richmond."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Owen, how little you understand! Have we been friends while we +lived under the same roof? And now that she is there, do you think +that she will heed me? I tell you that you do not know her. She is +excellent, good, devoted; but cold as ice. She will live among the +poor, and grace his table; and he will have all that he wants. In +twelve months, Owen, she would have turned your heart to a stone."</p> + +<p>"It is that already I think," said he. "At any rate, it will be so to +all others. Good-bye, Lady Desmond."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Owen; and God bless you. My secret will be safe with you."</p> + +<p>"Safe! yes, it will be safe." And then, as she put her cheek up to +him, he kissed it and left her.</p> + +<p>He had been very stern. She had laid bare to him her whole heart, and +he had answered her love by never a word. He had made no reply in any +shape,—given her no thanks for her heart's treasure. He had +responded to her affection by no tenderness. He had not even said +that this might have been so, had that other not have come to pass. +By no word had he alluded to her confession,—but had regarded her +delusion as monstrous, a thing of which no word was to be spoken.</p> + +<p>So at least said the countess to herself, sitting there all alone +where he had left her. "He regards me as old and worn. In his eyes I +am wrinkled and ugly." 'Twas thus that her thoughts expressed +themselves; and then she walked across the room towards the mirror, +but when there she could not look in it: she turned her back upon it +without a glance, and returned to her seat by the window. What +mattered it now? It was her doom to live there alone for the term of +life with which it might still please God to afflict her.</p> + +<p>And then looking out from the window her eyes fell upon Owen as he +rode slowly down across the park. His horse was walking very slowly, +and it seemed as though he himself were unconscious of the pace. As +long as he remained in sight she did not take her eyes from his +figure, gazing at him painfully as he grew dimmer and more dim in the +distance. Then at last he turned behind the bushes near the lodge, +and she felt that she was all alone. It was the last that she ever +saw of Owen Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>Unfortunate girl, marred in thy childhood by that wrinkled earl with +the gloating eyes; or marred rather by thine own vanity! Those +flesh-pots of Egypt! Are they not always thus bitter in the eating?</p> + + +<p><a name="c-44" id="c-44"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIV.</h3> +<h4>CONCLUSION.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>And now my story is told; and were it not for the fashion of the +thing, this last short chapter might be spared. It shall at any rate +be very short.</p> + +<p>Were it not that I eschew the fashion of double names for a book, +thinking that no amount of ingenuity in this respect will make a bad +book pass muster, whereas a good book will turn out as such though no +such ingenuity be displayed, I might have called this "A Tale of the +Famine Year in Ireland." At the period of the year to which the story +has brought us—and at which it will leave us—the famine was at its +very worst. People were beginning to believe that there would never +be a bit more to eat in the land, and that the time for hope and +energy was gone. Land was becoming of no value, and the only thing +regarded was a sufficiency of food to keep body and soul together. +Under such circumstances it was difficult to hope.</p> + +<p>But energy without hope is impossible, and therefore was there such +an apathy and deadness through the country. It was not that they did +not work who were most concerned to work. The amount of conscientious +work then done was most praiseworthy. But it was done almost without +hope of success, and done chiefly as a matter of conscience. There +was a feeling, which was not often expressed but which seemed to +prevail everywhere, that ginger would not again be hot in the mouth, +and that in very truth the time for cakes and ale in this world was +all over. It was this feeling that made a residence in Ireland at +that period so very sad.</p> + +<p>Ah me! how little do we know what is coming to us! Irish cakes and +ale were done and over for this world, we all thought. But in truth +the Irish cakes were only then a-baking, and the Irish ale was being +brewed. I am not sure that these good things are yet quite fit for +the palates of the guest;—not as fit as a little more time will make +them. The cake is still too new,—cakes often are; and the ale is not +sufficiently mellowed. But of this I am sure, that the cakes and ale +are there;—and the ginger, too, very hot in the mouth. Let a +committee of Irish landlords say how the rents are paid now, and what +amount of arrears was due through the country when the famine came +among them. Rents paid to the day: that is the ginger hot in the +mouth which best pleases the palate of a country gentleman.</p> + +<p>But if one did in truth write a tale of the famine, after that it +would behove the author to write a tale of the pestilence; and then +another, a tale of the exodus. These three wonderful events, +following each other, were the blessings coming from Omniscience and +Omnipotence by which the black clouds were driven from the Irish +firmament. If one, through it all, could have dared to hope, and have +had from the first that wisdom which has learned to acknowledge that +His mercy endureth for ever! And then the same author going on with +his series would give in his last set,—Ireland in her prosperity.</p> + +<p>Of all those who did true good conscientious work at this time, none +exceeded in energy our friend Herbert Fitzgerald after his return to +Castle Richmond. It seemed to him as though some thank-offering were +due from him for all the good things that Providence had showered +upon him, and the best thank-offering that he could give was a +devoted attention to the interest of the poor around him. Mr. Somers +soon resigned to him the chair at those committee meetings at +Berryhill and Gortnaclough, and it was acknowledged that the Castle +Richmond arrangements for soup-kitchens, out-door relief, and +labour-gangs, might be taken as a model for the south of Ireland. Few +other men were able to go to the work with means so ample and with +hands so perfectly free. Mr. Carter even, who by this time had become +cemented in a warm trilateral friendship with Father Barney and the +Rev. Æneas Townsend, was obliged to own that many a young English +country gentleman might take a lesson from Sir Herbert Fitzgerald in +the duties peculiar to his position.</p> + +<p>His marriage did not take place till full six months after the period +to which our story has brought us. Baronets with twelve thousand a +year cannot be married off the hooks, as may be done with ordinary +mortals. Settlements of a grandiose nature were required, and were +duly concocted. Perhaps Mr. Die had something to say to them, so that +the great maxim of the law was brought into play. Perhaps also, +though of this Herbert heard no word, it was thought inexpedient to +hurry matters while any further inquiry was possible in that affair +of the Mollett connection. Mr. Die and Mr. Prendergast were certainly +going about, still drawing all coverts far and near, lest their fox +might not have been fairly run to his last earth. But, as I have +said, no tidings as to this reached Castle Richmond. There, in +Ireland, no man troubled himself further with any doubt upon the +subject; and Sir Herbert took his title and received his rents, by +the hands of Mr. Somers, exactly as though the Molletts, father and +son, had never appeared in those parts.</p> + +<p>It was six months before the marriage was celebrated, but during a +considerable part of that time Clara remained a visitor at Castle +Richmond. To Lady Fitzgerald she was now the same as a daughter, and +to Aunt Letty the same as a niece. By the girls she had for months +been regarded as a sister. So she remained in the house of which she +was to be the mistress, learning to know their ways, and ingratiating +herself with those who were to be dependent on her.</p> + +<p>"But I had rather stay with you, mamma, if you will allow me," Clara +had said to her mother when the countess was making some arrangement +with her that she should return to Castle Richmond. "I shall be +leaving you altogether so soon now!" And she got up close to her +mother's side caressingly, and would fain have pressed into her arms +and kissed her, and have talked to her of what was coming, as a +daughter loves to talk to a loving mother. But Lady Desmond's heart +was sore and sad and harsh, and she preferred to be alone.</p> + +<p>"You will be better at Castle Richmond, my dear: you will be much +happier there, of course. There can be no reason why you should come +again into the gloom of this prison."</p> + +<p>"But I should be with you, dearest mamma."</p> + +<p>"It is better that you should be with the Fitzgeralds now; and as for +me—I must learn to live alone. Indeed I have learned it, so you need +not mind for me." Clara was rebuffed by the tone rather than the +words, but she still looked up into her mother's face wistfully. "Go, +my dear," said the countess—"I would sooner be alone at present." +And so Clara went. It was hard upon her that even now her mother +would not accept her love.</p> + +<p>But Lady Desmond could not be cordial with her daughter. She made +more than one struggle to do so, but always failed. She could,—she +thought that she could, have watched her child's happiness with +contentment had Clara married Owen Fitzgerald—Sir Owen, as he would +then have been. But now she could only remember that Owen was lost to +them both, lost through her child's fault. She did not hate Clara: +nay, she would have made any sacrifice for her daughter's welfare; +but she could not take her lovingly to her bosom. So she shut herself +up alone, in her prison as she called it, and then looked back upon +the errors of her life. It was as well for her to look back as to +look forward, for what joy was there for which she could dare to +hope?</p> + +<p>In the days that were coming, however, she did relax something of her +sternness. Clara was of course married from Desmond Court, and the +very necessity of making some preparations for this festivity was in +itself salutary. But indeed it could hardly be called a +festivity,—it was so quiet and sombre. Clara had but two +bridesmaids, and they were Mary and Emmeline Fitzgerald. The young +earl gave away his sister, and Aunt Letty was there, and Mr. +Prendergast, who had come over about the settlements; Mr. Somers also +attended, and the ceremony was performed by our old friend Mr. +Townsend. Beyond these there were no guests at the wedding of Sir +Herbert Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>The young earl was there, and at the last the wedding had been +postponed a week for his coming. He had left Eton at Midsummer in +order that he might travel for a couple of years with Owen Fitzgerald +before he went to Oxford. It had been the lad's own request, and had +been for a while refused by Owen. But Fitzgerald had at last given +way to the earl's love, and they had started together for Norway.</p> + +<p>"They want me to be home," he had said one morning to his friend.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes; I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"Do you know why?" They had never spoken a word about Clara since +they had left England together, and the earl now dreaded to mention +her name.</p> + +<p>"Know why!" replied Owen; "of course I do. It is to give away your +sister. Go home, Desmond, my boy; when you have returned we will talk +about her. I shall bear it better when I know that she is his wife."</p> + +<p>And so it was with them. For two years Lord Desmond travelled with +him, and after that Owen Fitzgerald went on upon his wanderings +alone. Many a long year has run by since that, and yet he has never +come back to Hap House. Men of the county Cork now talk of him as one +whom they knew long since. He who took his house as a stranger is a +stranger no longer in the country, and the place that Owen left +vacant has been filled. The hounds of Duhallow would not recognize +his voice, nor would the steed in the stable follow gently at his +heels. But there is yet one left who thinks of him, hoping that she +may yet see him before she dies.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CASTLE RICHMOND***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 5897-h.txt or 5897-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/8/9/5897">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/8/9/5897</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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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